#i was bundled up in my jacket with the hood up ready to take the dog out

[a-sleepy-ginger]

12/2/24

❆❅❆❅❆

Woke up in clean comfy bedsheets

Got birthday wishes

Made millionaires shortbread

Got chocolate muffin

Gave brother a fright by accident

Felt cute wearing my jacket

Got a nice gift from my friend

Mother showed me my great nanny's jewellery and we talked (found out that apparently my fingers are small?)

Was cosy while taking dog out on his walk in heavy rain

Talked with family

Tried blood orange for the first time and liked it

Listened to my favourite songs

Managed to get out of going to see my grandma (she's not a nice person)

A sign of affection anime was really cute

[lovingseventeen]

hiii, can you do where reader is very sensitive to cold with seventeen please

svt with a reader who’s sensitive to cold ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a/n: omg i eat up stuff like this aaaa,,, hope i do your request justice!!

seungcheol:

❒ always ready to give you his sweater or his jacket

❒ sends you texts to remind you to bundle up

❒ even if he’s a little busy that day so he can’t see you you’ll receive a morning baby,, it’s cold today so you should wear that scarf i got you!

❒ even if he’s on tour he checks the weather of where you are to see if he should be concerned

jeonghan:

❒ takes your hand and puts it into his pocket while you walk together

❒ nothing needs to be said, it’s one of the swiftest actions in the world

❒ checks up on you every couple of minutes, scanning your face to see if you’re shivering

joshua:

❒ always always keeps heat packs on himself during the winter

❒ before you can even say anything about the weather he’s already handing you a heat pack to hold or slipping it into your pocket

jun:

❒ also ready to shed one of his layers at any moment

❒ also asks “do you need anything?” as he’s looking at you so attentively

❒ offers to run to the nearest convenience store or cafe for a warm drink

❒ no request is too much <3

hoshi:

❒ if you’re at home trust that he’ll never let you get cold

❒ always brings you close for cuddles to share body heat

❒ he claims it’s so you won’t get cold and it partially is, but it’s also because he really just loves having you so close

wonwoo:

❒ always takes one of your hand in both of his and he alternates so both are warm :’)

❒ the first time he noticed you were kind of rubbing your hands together he took your hands and tried to warm them with his breath

❒ he runs his thumbs over your knuckles awh

❒ has a habit of randomly holding your hands to check if they’re cold

woozi:

❒ always searches your eyes, maybe places a hand on your thigh

❒ “are you alright?” and his eyes are filled with concern and care

❒ always keeps an extra sweater in his car just in case

❒ “just stay here, i’ll be back” before you even say anything and he’s already jogging off to grab the sweater

dokyeom:

❒ unashamed in almost cuddling you in public

❒ he’s very attentive and notices when your arms wrap around yourself

❒ will pull you into a hug as he rubs his hand up and down your back to try to warm you up

❒ breaths into your neck as he speaks for extra added warmth

❒ “let’s warm you up, yeah?”

mingyu:

❒ welcomes you into the warmth of his jacket

❒ the two of you could be waiting for a taxi maybe and as you’re standing outside, he comes up behind you and wraps you into his jacket with him

❒ “cant have you getting cold” he tells you, resting his chin on top of your head

❒ it is indeed very warm and toasty in there

minghao:

❒ adjusts your jacket, hat, scarf, or all of the above to bundle you up

❒ you’re protesting when he puts your hood over your head and starts pulling the drawstrings

❒ “you always get cold, it’s okay if you look like a munchkin as long as you’re warm”

seungkwan:

❒ lightly scold you when he sees you shivering

❒ he tuts, head tilting and all, “why didn’t you wear something warmer?”

❒ he can’t be strict with you for too long because he sees you wrapping your cardigan around yourself a little tighter and he’s automatically pulling you into him

❒ “come here, you’re not getting cold on my watch”

vernon:

❒ walks with an arm around your waist when you’re outside

❒ doesn’t even want to risk you starting to get cold so this is his physical reminder to use him as a heater

❒ always gives you his beanie on particularly chilly days (he also thinks they look better on you)

dino:

❒ picks you up from your apartment for a date and of course he’s greeting you with a tight hug

❒ he’s always so concerned though lol

❒ always does this little routine check to see if you’re dressed warm enough

❒ “maybe bring a scarf?”

❒ “do you have a sweater underneath that jacket, because it’s cold”

❒ one time he’s looking at you and his eyebrows are furrowed and you can’t help but ask, “why, do i look bad or something?”

❒ his expression changes as he’s trying to defend himself- “what? no! i was trying to think if it’s windy outside and if i should get you more bundled up”

[russellsppttemplates]

mick "wearing" rora or baby seb in a wrap sling 😍

(the bulky chest and narrow waist but with a cute baby attached to them is too much for my poor poor ovaries to handle.

Note: as you can see, dad!Mick and mentioning his waist and back get me going

"Do you want to go outside today?", Mick asked you as he looked out of the window as he finished washing the mugs from breakfast, seeing it was a nice sunny day.

"It would be nice to leave the house", you commented, looking at Angie, "and I bet she would love to go on a W-A-L-K", you spelled, knowing the word would send her running, "I'll go get ready then, she's still sleeping, but I think she'll wake up soon", you said, excusing yourself and making your way upstairs.

When you reached your bedroom, you set the baby monitor on your bed while you looked for something comfortable to wear, finding a pair of leggings and a comfortable hooded jacket, looking for some socks and then heading to check on Aurora, having seen her move a little bit on the monitor's screen. So, reaching her bedroom, where you saw your baby girl wagging her little arms, cooing up to you when she heard you walk inside the room, "hello, my little bunny", you smiled, "did you have a good nap?", you asked as you helped her out of the cot, picking her up so you could change her diaper, "I hope you did, because papa has a fun morning planned for us".

Unfastening her body suit, you managed to change her diaper all in one go before choosing a warmer outfit so you could go outside without her getting cold.

Packing the diaper bag, you slung it over your shoulder while holding Aurora in your arms, heading downstairs to see Mick adjusting Angie's collar, "all good, Angie", he said before the dog noticed you two, making her way to you, "look, Rora, it's your best friend!", you exclaimed.

Since you had brought Aurora home, Angie had taken it upon her responsibility to always look out for the little baby whenever she was in the room, finding her many times asleep at the feet/bottom the furniture pieces your daughter would sleep and play on.

"Do we need her buggy?", you asked, "the ground there has a few stones, it will be bumpy for her", you recalled, "I was thinking we could put her in the wrap sling", your husband said and you nodded, seeing him grab the soft fabric from one of the cabinets.

"Can I carry her?", Mick asked, "I know you usually do it, but I want to try it of that's okay", he said, a hint of blush on his cheeks as he looked hopeful at you, making you chuckle at his cuteness, "sure, let me help you, though", you said, laying your daughter on the large sofa so she could wait comfortably.

Grabbing the material, you wrapped it around Mick's narrow waist, pulling each end over his broad shoulders, "grab these, please, I can't pull them all the way in front of you on my own", you asked, giggling at your struggle before finally being able to manage all the cross patterns in in torso, "are you just feeling me up or is this all needed?", your husband giggled as you swatted his chest playfully, rearranging the fabric, "can you blame me though? All this is doing is hugging your very handsome and well looking torso", you said as you went to kiss his lip, turning around to grab Aurora so she could be secured in the bundled fabric, "Hello, my little love, ready for a walk?", he said before kissing the top of her head, hands going around where her butt was.

The walk was slow paced, since you were still taking it easy, Angie always near you as you and Mick talked about some gossips he had heard and other news you had to share, "You can let your arms go from around her, you know? It's the whole point of wearing a sling after all", you teased your husband, seeing his arms locked around the bundled up baby, "I know, but I like having one here", he said as his other hand went to lace yours. Throughout the whole walk, your heart fluttered everytime Aurora would make a little noise, Mick explaining to her everything you were seeing and enjoying the family day out.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[yourfavouritebookseller]

20th October - 26th October 2014

Bookseller Log 2

This was an exhausting, chaotic week so I may have trouble remembering everything. Already I think doing this weekly might be the wrong route for this.

Book donations have been poor this week at my work in terms of interesting finds. There's plenty of crime and thriller, older woman's fiction and way too many cook books. I had someone come in and ask if we had any Blind Date With a Book's left which was nice. I told her that they were none left but come end of November and into December they will be ready to buy as Christmas Presents.

There are seven put by at the moment. One of them Is The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones which was such a surprise to get donated.

I was covering a shift at our new store in the city and I was trying very hard not to do their books as I've got my own system and I didn't want to step on anyone's toes but alas I ended up doing some.

It was a difficult shift, and that's not just the book side of things. It was very overwhelming as I looked at their stock, there was no way I was going to be able to make it perfect. Firstly, I found a bunch of Terry Pratchett on the shelf priced way too low as the week before I sold a huge bundle at mine for over 20 quid. Everything was mixed, no organisation, YA mixed in with inappropriate stuff, library plastic covers still attached and all in all it looked like no one cared.

I always have a hard time trying to explain my love of books to any of my co-workers. Something like the above won't matter to everybody, but when you take the time to display things and decide what you think will sell the best customers will take notice. They'll see the stock and know that its not just thrown out without a second thought.

I ended up buying five books from the shop, ones that I had heard about before but the real reason was that I wanted to support the store and I'd rather put my cash back into the books. They also had old vintage books in the stock room that I knew I'd be able to sell at my branch as they don't have a separate display for special priced one. I asked politely and put on my pleading eyes to take them to sell which they agreed was the best idea.

I took away Raggedy Ann in the Deep Deep Woods by Johnny Gruelle 1930 edition. The Madonna of the Goldfinch by Amy Steedman, 1918 edition. Annals of the Parish by John Galt, 1910 edition. Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character by Dean Ramsay, 1912 edition and still had a little of the dust jacket left and Robin Hood and His Life in the Merry Greenwood which I couldn't find an exact date for.

The next day at my store I priced and put them out and two sold that day.

[just-a-collared-dove]

the warmth of the sun shines down on us as we walk along the riverbank. it is brisk, chilly, a slight wind in the air but nothing unbearable.

you're bundled up in your jacket and a knit beanie, me in my most favorite hoodie with the hood pulled up, as you walk on my left, arm-in-arm, as I have Pate (my cane) in my right hand.

as we walk, we see ducks wading by in the river; a small boat goes whizzing past upstream; at one point, a partially submerged log with a few branches still protruding also drifts past in the opposite direction, upon which a gull has landed and made himself a vessel for the time being.

on our other wise, a park boundary. we can hear kids yelling from a playground just over the hill. people come and go from the paths amongst its tree with their dogs, on bikes or roller skates.

but we just continue to walk, just you and i.

there's a bench up ahead, and as we approach, you look at me as though to ask if I need a moment. i just smile.

we stop and have a seat. you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone and start to take a few pictures of another gathering of ducks on the riverbank just in front of us. i watch as you train your eye on your screen and zoom in carefully to snap a few photos.

one duck in particular has caught your eye and seems to have noticed you too, as it's looking right at you and ... is it posing? did it... did it just vogue?

as you snap a few more photos, i stretch and bend my left leg for a few moments. it is stiff and only slightly uncomfortable with the cold, but i've been managing just fine, thanks to you.

*awoOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo*

A train whistle goes off nearby and sends the ducks scattering. As they fly off a few yards down river, you get back up to your feet and head back towards me, smiling as you glance up from your phone, waving it in the air as you return.

"I think I got some good ones," you say as you sit down next to me on the bench. "i am excited to take a look when we get back."

i continue to stretch my leg, before crossing it over my right. as i do, my foot knocks into my cane and sends it clattering to the ground.

"ah, damn," i say as i watch it land.

you place your hand on my knee, before starting to get up. "i'll get it," you start, but i put my hand on yours.

"leave it, i'll get it when i'm ready."

you sit back down, leaving your hand on my knee, and we just sit there for a short while watching the day go by.

another few boats skip past us in each direction on the river; several older couples out power walking, younger couples walking holding hands as they enter or leave the park, folks with their dogs jogging past. the sun continues to shine brightly, warming us from the coolness of the air and its soft breeze. you gently stroke my knee and leg as we sit, and i clutch onto your arm with my hand, rubbing it slowly and comfortingly.

eventually, i nudge you gently to signal i'm ready to continue on our walk. you get up before i do, and without a word, you've circled around and grabbed my cane from the ground. after you've dusted it off briefly, you hand it to me and help me to my feet.

"thank you," i say, planting a small kiss on your cheek. we once again link arms and step back onto the path to continue on toward the town center for lunch.

[twenty-thirty-two]

Storm

Natasha Romanoff x female!reader

a/n: okay so for the hot chocolate part, I make my hc with something called Abuelita look it up and you’ll see what I mean, that’s pretty much what I envisioned.

Please understand that because I am 18+, I do not want minors on my page or reading my work

I do not consent to my work being reposted on other sites, translated, or copied

“There’s report of a really bad snowstorm tomorrow, малышка.” Nat’s worried tone carried through the speaker of your phone.

Unfortunately for you, she was right, the storm is said to begin later that night and carry onto the following day, with no idea as to when it would cease.

To make matters worse, Natasha was away on a mission. Few details were shared with you in an effort to maintain its secrecy. She didn’t know when she’d be home but it was safe to say that she’d be gone for a while. For now, you were stuck in your shared home, alone.

“I need you to be careful, my love. Try not to leave the house.” Her words snap you out of your trance and while she can’t see you, you give her a small smile.

“I’ve no plans to leave the house, Nat, I promise I’ll be safe here.” Your words bring Natasha some relief, she hates being away from you for such undetermined amounts of time.

The two of you continue your conversation for another half hour before Natasha has to go. You bid your goodbyes and hesitantly end the call. You plop down onto your bed and release a breath. It gets a bit lonely so your calls with Natasha always make your days a bit more better.

You decide that it’s late enough and start getting ready for bed. On your way to get a glass of water, you look out the window and see little flurries beginning to grace the earth. You begin to dread having to shovel the snow all on your own. At least with Natasha, you had some company and managed to make it fun.

With your girlfriend being gone, you make sure to have some sitcom in the background so that it’s not too quiet. Once you get settled into bed, you check your phone once more before you let yourself get drifted off into the land of dreams.

You roll over in bed in order to get comfortable, but you manage to get a peek of blinding snow outside. It didn’t matter whether there was barely light outside or not, the piles upon piles of snow illuminated your room.

You didn’t want to leave the warmth that was brought to you by your comforter and even less when you saw that the clock read 5:02 am, but you knew that if you didn’t start shoveling, you’d hate yourself later on.

Forcefully, you throw your comforter to the other side of the bed and begrudgingly welcomed the cold air. You were already wearing sweatpants but seeing that the weather was in single digits, you opted for some leggings underneath. You grabbed one of Natasha’s hoodies and threw it on.

By the end, you were nicely bundled up, wearing a hat, the hood from the hoodie, gloves, your jacket and your boots. You head out and are instantly met with freezing temperatures that you didn’t expect. You grabbed your shovel and got to work.

You had a method to shoveling, Natasha often poked fun at you for it, but even so, it got the job done. You focused on the side walk and the staircase in front of the house. You left the inner part of your home to the end. It didn’t help that as you shoveled, flurries of snow continued to fall only at a rapid pace.

There were times where you had to take a break because of how heavy the snow got. But by the end, you work, while well meaning, was hopeless. The once clean sidewalks and staircase was now covered in a thin layer of snowflakes. You huffed but decided not to do anything about it.

You headed back to grab the salt to throw out in order for the thin patches of ice to start melting. It was one of your favorite parts about cleaning the snow, you felt like a child throwing pieces of tiny rocks onto the ground, it reminded you of glitter in an odd way.

You started hearing the roaring of snow machines come to life. Your neighbors got a late start on cleaning and you took a look around, you started seeing more and more people bundled up and start their long journey into the cleaning process.

Putting away your supplies, you headed back inside, only as you went to go open the door, it opened on its own. You were met by a tired Natasha.

“Hi, my dear.” Her presence brought an immediate smile on your face and she stepped aside to let you in. You toed off your boots and threw your arms over the redhead.

Natasha was able to go home as she managed to complete her mission quicker than she realized and Fury sent her home. When she arrived at your shared home, she saw you completely immersed in throwing the salt on the ground. She quickly ran inside in order to surprise you when you finished.

“Nat, when did you get home?!” She smiled at how the cold weather bit your nose and your cheeks, making them a tad darker. Natasha helped you get out of your wet clothes and left you in the hoodie and leggings.

“About ten - is that my hoodie?” She pointed out, you sheepishly smile and nod, explaining that it made you feel closer to her when she wasn’t home.

“Let’s warm you up, любимая.” She linked your arms together and you walked to the kitchen. Natasha refused to let you get up and sat you down as she made some hot chocolate.

The two of you made small talk as the milk heated up enough for Natasha to throw in the chunk of chocolate. You folded your arms on the table in front of you and placed your head on top of them.

Soon enough, a mug of steaming hot chocolate was placed in front of you. Natasha sat in front of you with her own mug.

“In case I didn’t say it, I’m really glad your home, my love.” Your stuffed nose made it hard to speak which frustrated you but only brought an even bigger smile on Natasha’s face.

“I’m glad I’m home too, I had to come back and see my best girl.”

No matter how long you’ve been together, Natasha always knew the right things to say, her way with words would bring a warmth to your cheeks. It took a while for you to get used to her compliments without shying away from them, now, you preen at her comments.

As the two of you finished your remnants of hot chocolate, you grabbed both mugs and put them in the sink for later. Right now, all you wanted was to cuddle up with Natasha, practically pulling her to your shared room.

translations:

малышка - baby

любимая - darling

[restlessfandoming]

“family holiday” (pt. 1) (chilumi fic)

[SPOILERS FROM 1.1 STORY QUESTS]

Lumine finally arrives in Snezhnaya and takes Childe’s offer of visiting his home (mansion). 

(some domestic fluff uwu) 

lots of ppl have been asking for more and i love that! tysm for the encouragement and support <3 sorry this took so long to upload, i am trying very hard for all you lovelies ;__; 

also this is being split into two parts bc it is a bit longer than my other fics...but i swear im writing part 2 as fast as i can!! i just wanted to post this now so i wouldn’t keep you lovelies waiting <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“family holiday” (pt 1)

“Lumineeeeee!” Teucer shouted as she walked through the door of Childe’s home. He tackled her into a hug. 

“Well hello to you too, Teucer,” Lumine greeted back. Just as energetic as I remembered… 

“Hey! Paimon’s here too!” Paimon crossed her arms. 

Teucer broke his hug and waved energetically at Paimon. “Hi, Lumine’s toy!”

Paimon’s jaw dropped, ready to go on a rant, but Teucer already turned his attention away. 

“Big brother!” he cheered, tackling Childe into a hug as well. 

“Teucer!” Childe said enthusiastically, picking him up and slinging the little boy over his shoulder before swinging him around. Teucer erupted into gleeful giggles. 

“Big brother? Is that you?” a soft voice called. Coming down the grand stairs was a little girl who looked exactly like Childe and Teucer, her long brown hair tied in a half-up crown braid, her large blue eyes like innocent doe eyes. She looked about eight. Behind her, another sibling came trudging down the stairs, scowling, his hair appearing more ginger than the rest of the family; his face had a splattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, more prominent than Teucer’s. He was a bit older, around 11. 

Childe set Teucer down, and smiled. “Tonia,” he greeted her, gentler. He got down on one knee, and Tonia ran down the steps—her white dress flowing behind her—and jumped into his open arms. 

“It’s been too long!” she said, her voice muffled by Childe’s shoulder. 

He laughed. “It certainly has, princess.” He looked to the last sibling still standing by the stairs. “Come on, Anthon. Come here.”

Anthon let out an exasperate huff, but still made his way to his older brother, and joined Tonia in their embrace. “We don’t have to make such a big deal out of this,” he grumbled, though his arms tightening around his brother betrayed his attitude. 

“Looks like we’ve been sidelined,” Paimon muttered. 

Lumine tilted her head. “It’s kind of nice to see though…” 

Anthon’s eyes flickered to her. “Who are you?”

Tonia broke from the hug, ducking under Childe’s arms to look at Lumine, while still gripping tightly to his jacket. 

Teucer bounced over to the traveler, and placed his hands proudly on his hips. “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Lumine!”

Tonia gasped and skipped over to her, her eyes bright. “Lumine?! Like from the letters?” Teucer nodded enthusiastically. 

Childe stood and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yup, the one and only. This is her first time in Snezhnaya, so everyone be on your best behavior.” He gave Anthon a look, to which Anthon crossed his arms. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Tonia and Anthon,” Lumine said. “Your brothers have told me a lot about you two.”

Tonia smiled shyly and peered at Lumine’s face. “Woooow,” she whispered in wonderment. “You really are just as pretty as he said!” 

Lumine felt a shock to her system. Childe told them I was pretty?

Childe let out a nervous laugh, quickly scooping Tonia off the ground and ruffling her hair. “Very funny, Tonia! Why don’t we decide on dinner plans, hmm?” 

Paimon, after grumbling in the corner about being ignored, perked straight up. “Food?”

“Let’s celebrate brother and Lumine coming home! We should go to the bestest restaurant in the city!” Teucer suggested. 

“You don’t want to eat brother’s cooking?” Tonia asked, a bit of sadness tinged in her voice. 

“I think that’s a great idea, Teucer,” Childe said. He patted Tonia’s head. “How about we eat dinner at the restaurant, then we can come home and I’ll make you your favorite cake?” 

“Yay!” Tonia cheered, jumping from Childe’s arms, and joining Teucer in celebration. 

“Anthon? What would you like to do?” Childe asked. 

He shrugged. “Whatever sounds good to me.” 

“Then it’s settled! Let’s all go get ready then, okay?” Childe said. The children all ran up the stairs, and soon the foyer was quiet once more. The Harbinger let out a heavy sigh. 

“Whew! They’re a handful!” Paimon said. 

Lumine nodded. “How do they even survive while you’re away?”

Childe chuckled. “Year round I have a dedicated staff of servants and maids to look after them and the house.” (Mansion, Lumine thought.) “I gave them the weekend off while I’m back.”

“You can handle all three of them?” Lumine asked. 

“Oh? You don’t think I’m capable?” 

“I just can’t imagine you as a child raising type,” she said, recalling their various battles together. How bloodthirsty he could get. 

“The battlefield is different,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. He glanced at the stairs. “I’ve been raising my siblings since we were little.” 

No parents? She thought of her and Aether. On their own for as long as she could remember, having to explore and learn alone. Except she and Aether were twins; she never had to look after a younger sibling—let alone three. 

“Ready!” Teucer announced, bouncing down the stairs. 

Childe crossed his arms. “Just your hat? Where are your gloves? Coat? Boots?” 

Teucer giggled. “Oops! I forgot!” He raced back up the stairs. 

“And you?” he asked, turning to Lumine. “You don’t look ready either.”

“I was okay on the journey here,” she answered. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head. “It’s almost dark now. Snezhnayan nights are freezing, even more so during this time.”

“Ahh...well...we didn’t really pack...anything…,” Paimon said sheepishly. 

“Paimon I expected, but you, Lumine?” 

The traveler crossed her arms. “I’ve been a bit busy.” 

He scoffed. “Right, right. Well, we can’t have you freezing to death in the street. I’m sure there’s extra coats around here,” he said, heading up the stairs. “Come with me.”

“Oooo, Lumine, they’re probably super expensive and fluffy! Let’s go!” Paimon said, flying after Childe. Lumine rolled her eyes and followed. 

The three passed by the children’s rooms, all clothes being thrown around and excited chatter, before coming to a large door at the end of the hall. Childe’s room. He opened the door and they entered. 

It was a grand room—octangular in shape with huge windows and a tall ceiling—large, spacious, and empty save for a large bed, standing wardrobe, and side tables. There was a fine film of dusting covering all the surfaces, and the bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in for a long time. The colors were sparse, only grays, whites, blacks, and the occasional red accent. 

Childe opened the doors to the wardrobe, revealing an assortment of heavy winter coats. He pulled one out and held it out for Lumine. “I think this coat is a little older—probably the smallest one I have.” 

She put it on, the sleeves running a bit long to her fingertips, the feathered hood obscuring her face up to her nose. Childe laughed, and she stuck her tongue out at him after pulling the hood down. Despite it being old, she could still pick up a faint scent of Childe: a smell remnant of ocean waves and sandy beaches. Unexpectedly pleasant...

“If that’s too big, she can have one of my coats!” Tonia said from the doorway.  

“That is very nice of you to offer, Tonia,” Childe said. “But I think your coats might be too small.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, we’re all ready now, brother!”

The family—plus Lumine and Paimon—gathered back in the foyer with everyone bundled in their coats, hats, and gloves. And then they were on the way to the restaurant. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Lumine, look!” Teucer said, pointing at a large pond. “There are so many fishes!”

They were waiting to be seated in the restaurant lobby. A large, grandiose building, with marbled floors, vaulted ceilings, and gold furniture. There was a large pond in the middle—a miniature waterfall flowed into it. 

Too extravagant, Lumine thought. And I thought Liyue was expensive...

“Do you think we could take some fish home to eat?” Paimon asked, peering into the pond. 

Lumine gave her a deadpan expression. “Go ahead. I’ve always wanted to see how Snezhnayans deal out punishment.”

“On second thought, nevermind…”

Tonia pulled on Childe’s jacket. “Can we go to the toy store after this?”

“Toy store! Toy store! Toy store!” Teucer chanted. 

“Yes, yes, of course,” Childe said. The two children cheered. 

“They’re always so loud,” Anthon grumbled from his seat next to Lumine. 

“They’re just excited your brother is back,” Lumine said. “Aren’t you excited also?”

“I guess…” He looked at her. “Why are you here anyways?”

How do I explain that I’m on a quest to find my brother after we were banished from our journeys by an unknown god? “I want to meet all the gods of Teyvat.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. That’s impossible.”

“Actually I’ve been quite successful,” she told him. “I’ve already met a few.”

“Really?” His brows were furrowed. “What’re they like?”

Venti: drunk. Zhongli: broke. “They’re...interesting. Very powerful.”

Childe walked over to them. “Is he bothering you?” he asked Lumine. 

“She was just telling me she’s met some of the gods of Teyvat. Is that true?” he asked, scrutinizing. 

“Very much so. She’s quite strong, so don’t get on her bad side.” He gave Anthon a wink. 

“Strong enough to beat you, brother?” 

“Of course,” Lumine said, standing up. “I’ve beat your brother before.” 

“Paimon can confirm that! We kicked his butt!” 

For the first time, Anthon’s eyes seemed to light up. “You did? How?”

Childe chuckled through gritted teeth, disguised as a strained smile. “Now, now, Anthon; you seem like you want me to be beaten.”

Anthon frowned. “No, I didn’t mean that.”

“Sir? Your table is ready,” a waiter said, approaching the family. 

As Childe went to wrangle up the younger kids, Lumine stayed behind and tapped on Anthon’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” she whispered. “Why do you want to beat your brother so bad?”

Anthon shook his head. “You guys have it wrong. I don’t want to beat my brother…” His pale face flushed a bit red. “I just...I want to be stronger than him. So he doesn’t have to work so hard to protect us…” He stopped and watched his siblings sit around the table in the distance. “He shouldn’t be the only one protecting us. I can see it’s really hard work for just him. I want to be strong enough to protect him, Tonia, and Teucer also.”

Lumine’s heart warmed at Anthon’s love for his family. She missed Aether a little more. “I’ll help you.” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know what it’s like, wanting to protect a sibling.” She then gave him a teasing smile. “Plus, I’ve already beaten your brother, right?” 

“Right!” He had a little smile as well. “And he’s the strongest person I know! Well...I guess that person would be you now, right?”

Tonia came marching up to the two. “Come onnnnn, let’s go eat!” She grabbed both Lumine and Anthon’s hands and dragged them to the table. 

Afterwards, the family enjoyed an exquisite meal, and were all stuffed full of expensive foods and cheerful laughter. (The children were amazed at how much both Lumine and Paimon could scarf down.) 

The children, very quickly after finishing their meal, practically teleported to the toy store. As the children ran through the store, Lumine and Childe took the moment of rest, silently watching over them. (Paimon had retreated back into her world to recover from the feast.)

“I don’t know how you do it,” Lumine said. “I had a hard enough time with just Teucer in Liyue.”

“It’s not easy,” Childe confessed. He looked at his siblings softly. “But when I see them smiling and happy...despite everything bad in the world? I think it’s all worth it.”

How nice… His love for his family definitely matched her love for Aether. Something we have in common. She found herself enjoying this time with Childe, and his family, more enjoyable than any time she had been adventuring. It was almost like...she was...back home…

Soon enough, everyone was lined up, toys all selected and ready for purchase. Teucer tiredly tugged on Lumine’s coat, then silently held his hands up. At first, Lumine blinked, not understanding. 

“Teucer, just ask her to pick you up,” Anthon said. 

“That’s okay,” she said, pulling Teucer up off the ground—now understanding—and placing him on her hip. I think this is how you carry a kid? She didn’t have much experience with kids, save for the few she had met while in Teyvat. And those kids are far from normal... She let out a little sigh of relief when Teucer relaxed, laying his head on her shoulder. 

“Are you tired too, Tonia?” Childe asked. She shook her head, tightening her grip on his hand, clutching a doll in the other. Teucer was hugging a hilichurl stuffed animal, and Anthon held an action figure of a Lawachurl.

Upon reaching the toy seller, the old woman at the counter smiled at Childe and Lumine. “You two have such beautiful children,” she said. 

Lumine almost dropped Teucer. What?! 

“Though I have to say, they do take after their father quite a bit,” she remarked. “A shame, seeing as the mother is so beautiful.” 

Before Lumine could explain, Childe spoke. “Yes, what a shame indeed—I completely agree,” he said while smiling. 

...WHAT?!

[part two]

[storyofmychoices]

Kokoleka Wela (Hot chocolate)

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist] [Keiki Lahela]

Characters: Bryce (teenager) and Keiki Lahela (child) Book: Open Heart (prequel) Rating: General: all the fluff, winter/holiday Word Count: ~700

Synopsis: Hot cocoa is a winter must even in Hawaii. Bryce helps Keiki enjoy the perfect cup of cocoa.

Prompts: Sibling Appreciation: @choicesmonthlychallenge ; hot chocolate: @choicesdecemberchallenge2021

"More?"

"More!" She nodded. The enthusiastic five-year-old rested her chin on the counter, carefully watching the rich chocolate syrup fall into the mugs. "Almost... Okay! That's probably good."

Bryce suppressed his chuckle at her calculating expression. He added one last drizzle to each of their mugs. "What's next?"

"Marshmallows!"

Her eyes widened as she hopped up onto the stool, pulling the jar closer to her. "So. Many. Marshmallows!!!" She marveled before reaching into the container with both hands, grabbing as many of the tasty treats as she could manage. A few of the mini marshmallows fell from her grasp, spilling on the counter as she dumped handfuls of the topping into each of their mugs.

"I think that's enough!" He pulled the jar back from her as the liquid rose in the cup, threatening to spill onto the counter.

She shrugged, stealing a few marshmallows off his mug. "Your loss."

Bryce sprinkled a dusting of cinnamon and nutmeg on top. Then, with a flourish, he grabbed the can of whipped cream and constructed the perfect whipped cream mountain atop their chocolatey treat.

"Done?"

"One last thing!" He added a pinch of toasted coconut to compliment the coconut milk he used.

"Okay, now are you done?" She complained, getting impatient.

"Yes!"

"Yay!" She licked her lips and extended her arms to reach for the mug.

"Not yet!" He stopped her quickly. "Coat on. Mittens too!"

"Why?" She whined, folding her arms across her chest. Her lips turned down in a pout. "It's almost 80 degrees."

"You trust me, right?" He took her parka and held it up for her. She nodded, moving slowly toward him. "Then, trust me. I told you we were having the perfect hot cocoa—that doesn't stop with the drink."

"Fine!" She conceded, putting her arms in the jacket sleeves as he helped bundle her up.

"And the mittens," he reminded her, throwing on his weathered black leather jacket.

"Now, can I have my cocoa?!"

Bryce pulled up her hood, securing it around her face. He smiled as he took in the sight of the young girl: bundled for winter in the mountains from the waist up and ready for the beach with her shorts and flip-flops. "Yes; but, not here."

Ignoring her confused expression, he placed their mugs, a plate of gingerbread cookies, and a handful of candy canes on a try. "Come on."

He led her down the hall to the parlor room. It was perfect for his plan since their mother had set up a snowy white Christmas tree with silver adornments there.

"Ready?" He paused at the closed doors. "Go on."

Keiki signed, rolling her eyes as she opened the double doors. The cool, crisp air kissed her nose as a toothy grin spread across her face. "Woah."

"I may have turned the air conditioning all the way up and added some fans with ice to help things along," he stated proudly. "If we're going to enjoy the best hot cocoa, I thought we should do it right!"

Keiki wasted no time running toward the pile of pillows and blankets Bryce had arranged for their picnic next to the enormous and finely decorated tree.

He closed the doors behind them and followed closely behind. He set the tray down in front of his eager sister. "Now, you can have your cocoa."

Keiki wrapped her mitten-covered hands around the large mug, bringing it to her lips. "Mmm." She hummed, enjoying the way the soothing liquid warmed her cheeks despite the cool room. "So good!"

"Yeah?"

She nodded enthusiastically, taking another sip.

"Glad you like it." He reached for his mug.

"Do you think you can make it snow?" Her words were mumbled by the cookie she managed to cram in her mouth in the two seconds since he had looked away.

"Maybe next time, Keiks." He hid his growing grin behind his mug, sipping the warm treat. He shook his head softly, enjoying her excitement at it all. She would be the one thing he'd miss when he left at the end of the school year. But he couldn't think of it now; they still had months of memories to make before he worried about that. Until then, they would just have to make the most of every moment.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this little drabble 💖 I apologize if it's not good, I've been sick for the past week and am waiting for a covid test.

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!

[husbandomail-archive]

Guzma huh~ What about headcanons for him and a Nurse Joy-training reader~?

I know you said headcanons but I wrote this at 1 am and it turned into uhhhh

The first time you’d seen the monochrome man, it had been raining.

It had actually been the first night of your residency; bright-eyed and fresh from the lowest-level nursing classes, you trailed after Nurse Joy all evening like you were the shadows sewn to her bright pink heels. You’d been new to Alola after all— and of all things you’d been stationed in Hau’oli City, one of the largest cities in a region that you’d never seen before.

The day had generally been worry-free. A few children had come in asking about sunscreen for their Slowpoke; a traveling trainer had stopped by for lunch and directions; a Tauros had barreled down the street at top speed, and none of the locals had batted an eye. Apparently that was just part of daily life on this island.

“You’ll be fine,” Nurse Joy had said, and her Comfey crooned along in its own soft tones as the rain began, all the tourists scurrying inside out of the weather. “Kahuna Hala lives on this island; he also takes care of the people and their Pokémon. We’re never working alone.” She had briefly rested her hand on your shoulder, and the gentle patter of the rain against the pavement outside made you feel like a child again.

And then the glass doors slid open.

A man had stumbled in, water pooling around his feet as his scuffed sneakers sank into the Pokémon center’s plush carpets. Hunched over and clutching something to his chest, he’d shaken his head back and forth until the hood of his jacket flew off, and then his eyes had met yours— sopping wet, trembling violently, his fluffy hair all sorts of black and white, he looked like a drowned Rattata.

But when he drew himself up to his full height, he towered over you. It was intimidating as he began making his way to the desk; Nurse Joy seemed completely undisturbed as she took her place with a smile, but you realized that she’d strategically placed herself between you and the man.

“Welcome to the Pokémon Center!” It surprised you how cheery Nurse Joy managed to sound— she’d probably done this before, when you thought about it.

“I need—” the man’s voice was rough, like he didn’t use it often, or maybe he’d used it too much. He had paused, his eyes frantically darting around the room as he’d tried to gather his words. When he couldn’t catch them, he’d just shoved the bundle into her arms. “My buddy—”

You’d stretched up on your toes to get a peek over Nurse Joy’s shoulder.

A Wimpod. Smaller than usual for the species, it had curled up tightly, not even trying to run away.

“Abnormal behavior,” your training kicked in. You looked to Nurse Joy for approval. “I’ll place it in a saltwater tank while you get a treatment room ready?”

She’d nodded at you, a proud smile crossing her face as you took the little bug Pokémon. You turned and almost started walking towards the back treatment rooms, only for another bit of your training to kick its way to the forefront of your mind. In a smooth motion you whirled on your heel and bowed to the dazed man. “Your Pokémon is in good hands.”

Over the course of your training, that same man became a regular visitor. You learned his name at some point— “Guzma? Are you serious?”— and he’d gotten comfortable using yours. He was loud and boisterous and occasionally called you Nurse Joy too, even though that was decidedly not your name, but then he’d flash his toothy grin and all your frustrations would melt away.

One night when you’d been left to run the Pokémon center alone, the glass doors slid open yet again, the familiar chime jingling gently through tinny loudspeakers. You had to catch your sigh before someone heard it; today had already been a rough one, and your uniform was sticking to you uncomfortably, you were so damp with sweat. Your fingers ached where you’d pricked them by accident, and your vision blurred with exhaustion as you stumbled to the desk to greet the new visitor.

“Welcome to the Pokémon center,” you said, not even bothering with the customer service voice.

A paper coffee cup landed on the desk in front of you. Your eyes followed the hand holding it, trailing all the way up a muscled arm until you reached Guzma’s face.

“Y’ain’t too hospitable to your boy, are ya?”

You couldn’t stop the grin that crashed over your face. Guzma simply reached up and ran his free hand through his fluffy hair, seemingly struggling to look at your happy face because now his eyes were averted. He lifts the drink again until it catches your attention.

“Saw ya workin’ through the windows,” he muttered, “and y’looked tired, so— Tapu Cocoa.” His voice trailed off at the end there. If he gripped that paper cup any tighter, it would burst.

“You didn’t have to do that!” Still, you reach out and accept the drink from him. When you take a sip, the rich flavors burst through your mouth and flood you with a delicious heat that revitalizes your entire body. No wonder he’s always drinking this stuff. “Thank you—”

He waves his hand through the air and slides his oversized sunglasses down his face in a poor attempt to hide his blush. “Just don’t go tellin’ no-one that the big bad Guzma takes care of ya.”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Andy Cavenaugh

(My shitty gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Living in the middle of the desert was an interesting experience. You’d lived in the same home since you were born and yet there were still occupants of your town that you’d never seen or met; even though there was only a meager population of under 50.

- It was the sheer size of your state that did it. Everyone lived miles away from each other and any shop that was considered to be “nearby” was still at least a thirty minute drive so you only ever went into town a couple times a month. Which is how you met Andy.

- You’d driven into town with a list of supplies you’d needed and a wallet full of that months savings, ready to get your stuff and go as quickly as you could; hoping to get home before the sun rose all the way and baked you alive.

- Coincidentally, Andy was in town at the same time, loitering around the store you were attempting to shop at. You paid him no mind and went about your business until you were ready to check out.

- Once the shopkeep had rung you up, you found that you didn’t have enough money for all the things on your list and reluctantly told the man to keep something as he helped you pack up what you could afford.

- Andy watched the entire interaction from somewhere behind you as he pocketed whatever he felt like. Once you headed towards the doors of the building, he picked some cheap thing off the shelf and went to the checkout, watching you as you packed up your car.

- While the store clerk was preoccupied with the cash register, the boy snuck whatever you’d left behind into his jacket and waited another few moments for the man to hand him his actual purchase before he made his way outside.

- You were just about to get into your car when he came up to you, greeting you casually before he held out his hand and offered you the thing that you’d left behind. You looked at him in surprise before you thanked him and took it, shifting it to your other hand so that you could offer him yours in a handshake.

- The two of you introduced yourselves and he asked if you’d be interested in going out sometime. Since all you knew about him was that he was attractive and sweet enough to “buy” you the thing you couldn’t afford, you agreed and wrote down your number for him, telling him that it was nice meeting him and saying goodbye before you drove off. 

- He calls you a couple days later while out with his friends, a little liquid courage in his system and a bit of peer pressure from his buddies leading to his wonderful decision making. 

- You’re clueless and he thinks his friends will stick to their word of “heading out before you show”, which obviously doesn’t happen. You arrive and they’re still there, almost immediately inviting themselves to what was supposed to be your first date and making the night rather uncomfortable at times. 

- You can tell that your date is just as uncomfortable as you, but that doesn’t exactly make things any better. By the time the night ends, you’ve already decided that you’re probably just gonna count your losses and find a potential boyfriend elsewhere. 

- But fate seems to be on Andy’s side because the two of you find yourselves face to face a few days later. He gives you an apology, explaining everything before telling you that he’d like to see you again.

- It takes you a minute to decide but you finally agree and tell him that you’ll give it another shot, bringing up your own idea for a date in hopes that you won’t be bothered by his buddies again. He gives you a wide smile, asking when he should pick you up and thanking you genuinely just before he leaves.

- So, for your second date; though you like to consider it your first, the two of you go to whichever place you chose and wind up having a really nice time. He seems to be on his best behavior but his real personality shines through as well; and it’s one that you really enjoy.

- You probably give him a kiss on the cheek as a goodnight but the two of you share your first real kiss on your next date. You’d spent pretty much the entire night together and wound up parking off on the side of the road to stargaze for a while. 

- You were leaning against the hood of his car with him, looking up at the sky before your gaze shifted to the man beside you. He was preoccupied with watching the stars, leaving you to let your mind wander. 

“I’m glad we gave this another shot.” You said and watched as his focus shifted to you instead. 

- He gave you a smile and told you that he was too before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. 

- Congratulations, you caught yourself a firebird in the middle of the desert.

- Andy really doesn’t give a shit about how other people feel like 80% of the time, and he’s just a fan of affection in general, so there’s going to be a lot of Pda in your relationship; if you’ll allow it.

- Handholding. He likes keeping you close to him and making sure that you aren’t getting into any dangerous trouble; especially if you’re around his friends. Although he does wear his gloves a lot so; even though he gives you the occasional reassuring squeeze or strokes his thumb across your knuckles, you’ll most likely be feeling leather more than his skin.

- If someone’s kissing a face, it’s you. His lips are for your lips only, he doesn’t bother touching them to anything else; though he does enjoy when you kiss him on the cheek or jaw.

- Deep, slow kisses.

- He calls you honey or baby more than he calls you by your name. And as tough as he likes to pretend he is, he’d love to have you call him by pet names too.

- Cuddling is one of his favorite pastimes; he absolutely loves it. Most of the time, he’ll pull you in, pressing his cheek/jaw to your head and letting you lay right up against him, your head resting against his shoulder or in the crook of his neck.

- A lot of the time, he prefers to be loving in a more reserved way. He tends to show that he cares through his actions and by doing little things to make your life easier. Things like waking up early to put gas in your car or picking up things that you need from the store whenever he’s in town so that you don’t have to go.

- Sometimes, he’ll set up a sentence like he’s about to say something really sweet or you’ll ask him something expecting a cute response and he’ll just say something crude or lewd instead.

“How do I look.” He turns and looks at you, a smile gracing his face.

“Your tits look great.” He replies, barely holding in his laughter.

- He indulges you more than he cares to admit. He might occasionally act like he’s too cool but he’s too in love with you to say no and potentially make you sad.

- Tv dates. There ain’t shit else to do.

- Cruising around in his firebird; and sometimes parking somewhere to makeout.

- Going on road trips or long outings. There isn’t a whole lot to do in your town so you’ll occasionally take the long ride over to the next town in hopes of finding something fun.

- He’ll never tell you that he does but he always dodges potholes and bumpy areas during these trips so that he doesn’t wake you up while he’s driving.

- Driving out to the middle of the desert with a bundle of blankets to watch the sunrise; or stopping on the side of the road during one of your trips.

- Sitting with him while he works on his car.

- Going out into the desert to shoot or smash random junk. Vases, porcelain, tin cans; stuff like that.

- Playing pinball and other convenience store arcade games.

- Every now and again, he’ll get some money from his pops and take you out to a nice dinner; especially if it’s after the two of you are pushed into doing something you dont like and he can see that you’re upset. It’s usually because of Sam but he still feels the need to try and make it up to you and make sure that you aren’t gonna ghost him.

“Hey, why don’t we go and get some dinner,” he’ll say, a hint of nervous desperation in his voice as you walk out to his car. “You can get whatever you want. Dessert too.”

- It isn’t clear exactly how rich Andy actually is but it seems like he’s sort of embarrassed to have wealth in such a poor town. Because of this, I feel like he probably wouldn’t mention it and would try to dodge questions that would lead to him exposing the truth, maybe acting like he’s less wealthy than he is until Sam “outs” him and causes an awkward situation.

- Him stealing things for you. You’d much prefer if he just bought them but at least he doesn’t tell you whether or not he’s stolen it most of the time.

- Likes to fool around a lot; he’s rarely ever fully serious and he’s always trying to make you laugh.

- Can quote just about any western film you can name and does impressions of all the characters. He grew up on those sorts of things so he’s practically an expert by now.

- He likes messing with your stuff: putting on your clothes, using your mirror for random stuff, picking things up off your dresser and toying around with them, etc.

- My god, the change of character he has when he’s with his friends and you, compared to when he’s with his parents gives you whiplash. It’s hilarious seeing him lie and act like an angel during family dinners.

- His dad probably lectures him about manners whenever you’re with them: things like putting his elbows on the table, saying grace, how he treats you, etc. Its pretty amusing to see.

- He seems like a good guy who got mixed in with the wrong people. Sure, he enjoys a little chaos and trouble making like the rest of them but he doesn't like hurting people and you can tell from the way he acts afterward that he isn't proud; especially when you give him a look in the middle of the situation and sober him up.

- You’re dragged along with him and the boys a lot; or he’s forced to ditch you to hang out with them whenever Sam calls.

- Sam flirting with you. You know damn well that he’d make you compliment him or get you to agree with his praise of himself; and Andy would be miffed but unable to do anything besides listen to him while his knuckles whiten on his steering wheel.

- There aren’t a lot of people in your town for him to get jealous of but whenever there is, he does. Most of the time, it’s Sam or some flirtatious traveler but other times it’s your celebrity crushes or old boyfriends. He usually just bites his tongue or makes some kind of sarcastic, passive aggressive comment; it depends on who it is and how you’re reacting to them.

- He’s always looking over at you and making sure you’re alright whenever he can; especially when you’re out with his friends. He knows that getting into the trouble that they do can be dangerous and he doesn’t want anything happening to you just because Sam doesn’t know when to stop.

- The two of you get into a lot of arguments but they’re rarely ever serious. You mostly just bicker before the two of you give up and decide that it’s a pointless fight.

- Whenever you do have an argument, one that he causes and upsets you with, he always feels guilty and finds himself unable to stay mad at you. He might not verbally apologize but he will try to make it up to you in some way and tell you that he’s sorry.

- He’s not big on saying he loves you but he does say it on occasion; and definitely shows it more than he says it.

- The two of you probably get engaged on a whim a bit too early into your relationship but he’s promising to take you out of that desert city and along with him to Hollywood so the ring is a nice symbol of that oath. 

[yuzukult]

effortlessly, the epilogue (m) || jjk & reader

title: effortlessy, the epilogue pairing: jungkook x reader word count: 5.6k genre: the after high school :) + my infamous poorly written smut a/n: it’s shorter than intended but... it’s out guys! because someone asked me when I planned on posting this and I thought that I was the only one who cared about this epilogue. ;u; Thanks for mentioning it to me, because it motivated me to write it again. Enjoy! series masterlist can be found here

"I want to take care of the planet like Greta Thunberg!"

"Noooo, wouldn't you want to be something cooler? Like a soccer player? How about Lionel Messi?"

"Forget soccer! I want to do something even better... make computers like Steve Jobs!"

One of the children frowns, shoulders slouching in disappointment and frustration of his classmates. Leaning down, you brush away the bangs that cover his eyes, gently pinching his chubby cheeks full of love and care. "What's wrong, Jaemin?"

"I don't want to be like Greta Thunberg or Lion Messi or Steve Work!" He exclaims, arms thrown in the air. 

"It's Lionel Messi and Steve Jobs, Jaemin!"

"Okay, okay," You say soothingly, hands cupping and thumbs rubbing against the flesh of his cheeks delicately. "That's fine, Jaemin, you don't have to be like those people if you don't want to. You can choose whatever profession you want, and whomever you want it to be like." 

"I want to be a swimmer, like Jeon Jungkook!"

"Mm," You hum, tapping your finger against your chin as if you're pondering about Jaemin's idea. "You could, if you'd like. Have you ever met Jeon Jungkook before?"

"No," He pouts, his bottom lip jutting out in dismay. "But momma showed me videos of hyung online and he seems like a very kind person." Nodding, your hands fall into the ones of Jaemin's, swaying your arms together to calm his nerves. Children tend to be very emotional, you learn after the many years of experience with them, and Jaemin is no exception. Finding ways to tame their anxiousness was the true challenge. "Want to hear a secret?"

His eyes widen as large as the cartoons he watches on TV. "Yes! What's the secret?"

Pretending to glance out to confirm that the coast is clear and that the other children had walked away to find something more interesting to direct their attention to, you whisper into Jaemin's ear. "Jeon Jungkook was my best friend."

Jaemin gasps. "No way. Your friend? Are you just saying that to me so I can feel better?" Yes, is what you really wanted to tell him, but truth to be told, you weren't lying. Kids were incredibly smart for even noticing that adults would say things to water down the situation, but you weren't just saying anything. "Of course not. Jungkook and I go way back, way before he became a professional swimmer. I used to go to all his practices, hung out with him after them, and even attended classes with him... just like you're in one right now!"

"Do you think... Do you think you can ask Jungkook hyung to come visit us? Maybe? If you're still friends with him..." He drifts, the thought of not being able to see his hero weighing down on his shoulders again. "I'll see what I can do," Standing from where you've been crouching, you ruffle Jaemin's hair with a soft sigh escaping your lips. "Now go play with the other kids. Remember, you can be whoever you want, and everyone else can be whoever they want as well."

Right before the clock hits 3:00PM, you verify that all the little kids are geared up in their beanies, puffer jackets, shoes, and some with gloves, in preparation for their parents' arrival. When the doors open and the children line up, leaving one by one, their nose and cheeks tint pink at the harsh winds, shivering yet at the same time cheering in glee when they see their guardians pull up. 

Watching the smiles on their faces reminds you of the time that you hated the winter; brisk air smacking your cheeks in pain, freezing your face in position, fingers stiff from being exposed to the outside, and constant shaking just to warm yourself up in a clownery large winter coat. Yet, this time around, you find yourself fond of the weather, the thought of being able to spend time with your loved ones approaching and activities that could only be done during this specific season. 

"Ready to head out?" One of your co-workers asks, just as bundled up as you are, learning your lesson after leaving without a jacket that wasn't thick enough before a day ago. "Yeah, I am. Let me just get my purse first, Naeun."

It's a constant cycle everyday: swipe your transit pass onto the bus, get off, walk an obscene amount of distance, if it's a good day then you'd stop for coffee, get to school, and prep for the day before calling the students in to take attendance, then that's when the teaching starts. 

But something about today feels great, despite the snow falling from the sky that nearly has you slipping on the ice from lack of attention to anything in front of you. So, you grab something hot. After all, what's better than a cup of hot chocolate in the morning right before you're stuck in a classroom full of twenty first-graders?

Following your medium sized peppermint hot chocolate (you're rather quite enamored that you're able to find a peppermint flavor because it's your favorite), hopping out of the coffee shop with glee, you're ready to be on route to work again.

Then someone obnoxiously honks their horn.

You show no regard to this, mostly because it makes no sense to. Someone who's driving a flashy neon yellow Porsche is already gaining all the unnecessary attention in the first place, and you're not really in the mood to be categorized within that population. 

But the beeping doesn't stop.

Oddly enough, it actually feels like the car is following you. Sweating profusely, you're debating whether or not to glance to see who the driver is. Just then, your phone dings.

jeon jungkook [6:57AM]: i've been trying to get you to turn around for the past 10 minutes, could you please stop walking faster? at this rate you're going to be a runner?

Instantaneously, you stop in the midst of your steps, sharply twisting on your heel to see the owner of the flamboyant vehicle. There he was, with the driver's side window rolled down, exposing those pearly white teeth of his, paired with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

Typical.

"Jeon Jungkook, fancy meeting you here."

"Not really fancy if I had to check your location services to see where you've been. It's not fun being ignored, love." He has his arm rested on the opening, watching as you purse your lips and bounce on the tips of your toes. "Mm, wonder why that is."

"Don't be like that," He frowns, chin sitting on his arm. "Come, I'll drive you to work. Maybe we can talk along the way."

"I'm not really in the mood to talk to you at seven in the morning, Jeon."

"Please?" He begs, pools of brown that match the liquid in your cup and the sweetness it entails. Just his voice alone was warm, shooting into your chest and you're trying to convince yourself that it's the drink, not him. "Fine." You respond through your gritted teeth, rounding the hood of the car to enter the passenger seat.

Jungkook looks so happy he could burst.

On the ride to work, you don't talk. He speaks casually, sharing stories about his adventures, ones that you don't really want to hear about or was it that his current attire that's causing your mind to get fuzzy? Baby blue dress shirt with just a couple of the buttons let loose, tucked into those dark grey slacks that hug his thighs so well, that you needed to avert your eyes or else he'd see you checking him out.

He does in fact, to the point that he needs to hide the smirk that dangles on his lips, but he refrains himself because getting you to forgive him is a difficult task alone, and teasing you wouldn't get him anywhere. 

"Pull up here," You demand when he's driving by the perimeter of the building. "You don't need to drive into the yard. I don't need the teachers thinking I'm hanging out with someone driving a construction safety yellow car."

Jungkook is admittingly disappointed, hoping that he gets more time with you but he did choose a work day to meet you. "Can I see you after this?" He's suddenly bashful after approaching you confidently earlier, no semblance of high school Jungkook hinted in his personality anymore. "I don't know. Maybe. We'll see." With that, you slip out the car, greeting the parents that you pass by, sharing that beaming smile that he was wishing was for him instead. You're prettiest when you're working—the way you're talking to your students as they begin to line up to enter class, tapping their noses with your drink in hand, drowning in your oversized coat. You seem at your happiest, suddenly regretting his recent absence from your life.

Reminiscing back to the time of when you didn't know what you wanted to do with your life, where you wanted to go, and who you wanted to be were questions that were constantly thrown up in the air. He recalls those nights where he'd hear your whimpers through the wall between the bedroom and the living room, sitting at the coffee table in frustration while he prepped for bed. Life had been a crazy journey for the both of you, especially when he had gotten invited to pursue in other work opportunities. 

You're thankful when you leave work that day and don't spot the rubber duck colored car anywhere near the schoolyard, yet at the same time, slightly despondent that he didn't return. "You look down," Naeun points out, nose peeking from her scarf with her hands dug deep into the pockets of her jacket. "Expecting someone?"

"Kind of, not really," You confess, letting out a heavy sigh with water vapor in the air. "But not surprised anyways."

"Does it have anything to do with a cheddar cheese looking car?"

Choking on your saliva, you attempt to clear your throat at her recognition. "How'd... you know it had to do with a yellow car?"

She leans over, gesturing in the direction behind you with her chin. "Other than the fact that it's hard to miss a car that bright in the morning, you coming out of it is also attention grabbing. Plus, he's over there, parked in the corner with a swarm of little kids around him."

Flinching, you look in her direction, the sight of Jungkook seated on the hood of his ridiculous vehicle, uncomfortably bending over to reach the height of the flock of little children with their parents, signing autographs and exchanging words with them.

You can't tell if it's cute or making your blood boil.

When you walk over to him with Naeun by your side, he looks up with that annoying smile on his face again. "Jeon Jungkook." 

"See, Jaemin? She does know me." Jungkook teases, messing up the little boy's hair. Jaemin has a look on his face that screams nothing but elation, spilling with happiness that couldn't be fulfilled until he met his idol, Jungkook, the Olympian swimmer. "You were right! He is your best friend!"

"I said was, but you get the point." Jungkook jerks up, quickly shuffling to dip his head in the window opening of his car, pulling out a drink, handing it to you. "Would someone who was your friend get you your favorite drink?"

In a medium Starbucks cup, there's an iced cold brew with cold foam sitting on top—a drink that you had grown attached and addicted to in your first year of University, ordering it so frequently on the daily that you had to wean yourself off it. "Cold brew," You clarify, taking the drink gleefully. "I guess you remembered."

Naeun extends her hand at Jungkook, requesting a shake. "Oh my god, Jeon Jungkook, I'm a big fan. I heard that you were recently sponsored by Nike—crazy! She—" She's referring to you with a glare "—never mentioned that she was friends with a professional swimmer!"

"Didn't think it was important," You add, swirling before taking a sip of the liquid gold. "Knowing someone who swam for your country's Olympic team isn't usually brought up in an everyday conversation."

She rolls her eyes as Jungkook gifts her a warm handshake, hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. He's dressed for comfort, this afternoon as opposed to this morning, and you're curious of his schedule yet you don't ask. "Kids, time to go home, don't leave your parents waiting." You dismiss the children who whine in reaction. "But we want to talk to Jungkook!"

"I'll be back tomorrow!" He confirms, and they run away in excitement, earning a groan from you. "Tomorrow? You're actually expecting to be back tomorrow?"

"Why? You don't want to see me?"

"Jungkook, why are you even back?" You exasperate, fingers running through your tangled locks. Jungkook is starting to frustrate you and all you want to do is go home and snuggle under the covers while watching a movie while possibly grading some papers. "What's the point of all this?"

He pouts, an arm snaking around your waist to pull your frame close. "I literally came to see my girlfriend and all she does is push me away. Isn't that crazy, Naeun? The girl of my dreams agreed to date me then she pretends that I don't even exist."

Jaw dropped, Naeun can't even formulate a sentence with the new information. "I know what you're going to say next, 'why didn't you—'"

"Why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend this entire time? Why didn't you even mention that it was Jungkook! You just faked the entire time that you weren't with someone while I was tricking you into going on dates—"

"You set her up with guys?" Jungkook's brows furrowed at Naeun before looking down at you. "You let her set you up with guys?"

"I didn't go to any of those dates she organized," You mention, bringing the drink to your lips again, truly the only thing that calms your nerves despite the chaos unfolding in front of you. "I vaguely said I wasn't interested."

"You could've just said that you had a boyfriend!"

"Well, you weren't around to prove it, so did it really matter?" Shrugging your shoulders, you escape from his grasp to drag the zipper of your jacket up higher. "Anyways, I'm out. Get home safe, Naeun, let me know how it goes with that mechanic guy tonight." Tugging up your sleeve for a better view of your watch, you nod. "My bus is coming soon—"

"—I'm literally standing right here and you're still going to take the bus?"

"I'm going to take this as my cue to leave..." Naeun chimes in, quickly waving goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Jungkook-ssi?" And he nods in return, watching as she walks away.

"I can't believe you would just waltz in here like you can do whatever you want." You hiss, nearly squeezing the cup in your hand but the cold brew inside is too valuable to let go to waste. "This is my workplace, not my house."

"I would go to your house if I knew where it was. You turned off your location yesterday."

"Maybe you shouldn't have outed yourself the first time, then you would've known." He moans, pushing his hair away from his face. The length has grown tremendously since the last time you saw him,  reaching his chin with the ends curling into the shapes of his eyes when he's gleaming with a grin. "Why are you making things so difficult for the both of us?"

"I'm not." You respond nonchalantly, blinking blankly at the man before you. 

Jungkook tugs on your arm. "Then let me take you home, to our home, really, since you decided that you wanted to move out without me here when the lease ended."

"I told you I didn't want to live where stalkers were standing outside my place."

"And I told you that you should call the bodyguard my company said they'd provide for you. Why didn't you call? Why didn't you tell me?"

Truthfully, you didn't want to go through the complications of the process of getting someone to consistently watch over you on a daily basis—it was easier to just up and leave, find somewhere else to reside instead of getting attacked by his fans. "It was too complex," allowing him to pull you in between his open legs as he rests on the hood of his car. "Plus, why would I want to ask help from a guy who wouldn't even come home for our anniversary? Easier to leave instead of being disappointed all the time."

The edges of his mouth drops. "Don't say it like that. I had to work, or else I would've taken the first flight back home. All the opportunities just so happen to be in the States."

"Go live there then, you don't need to come back. It's convenient for you to find a place there anyway."

"I'm not leaving you, idiot." He counters back, irritated that you're even making such suggestions. "I told you this every single time we meet again, every phone-call, every facetime. I won't move unless it's with you." The look in his eyes is hypnotizing mixed along with his words, swaying you into his direction unless you shake your head from the thoughts, stepping back. "Fine. Drive me home, whatever. Your stuff is still there anyways. I guess you still somewhat live with me."

Jungkook takes this as a victory.

In all honesty, he loves the idea of a domestic relationship. Jungkook loves having to wake up in the morning with you sleeping on the other side of the bed, corners of your eyes filled with dry boogers that'll probably hurt when you decide to get up, and brushing your teeth together, side by side, shoving each other just to be able to spit in the tiny little sink in the apartment. He argues that he could help pay for a better place, but you reject him regardless, wanting to stay in a more affordable place, one where you can go halfsies on.

He misses watching you hover over the stove, obnoxiously monitoring whatever it is you're cooking for dinner, only for him to call you out and take over instead. Or when you're doing work on the floor with your papers and laptop sprawled across the coffee table, leaning back when your shoulders get tired, resting in between his legs with your back against the body of the couch. 

So on the route of driving you home, that’s all he can think about as you sit in silence. 

This was definitely not the plan. 

Parked in the garage of your apartment complex, the fluorescent lights don’t do a good job of piercing through the tinted windows of Jungkook’s car, which you’re super thankful for despite the obnoxious primary color he chooses. The steam fills the glass, hand pressed against the armrest on the door as you’re panting heavily, an uneven match with Jungkook’s. He has a grip on both your ass and hips, guiding as you’re grinding yourself on him, wishing to be closer than you already were.

How he has you out of your jeans is unknown. Your jackets have already been throat into the some-what backseat, your dress shirt unbuttoned with your breasts spilling from your nude bra, and his shirt is hiked up just enough to catch a glimpse of his abs. Swimming requires him to keep his body in shape and there’s no complaint from you on that.

Mouth opened, he let out a groan, feeling your tightness around his cock that made a drop of sweat fall from his forehead. “Fuck,” He curses, the sight of you in front of him clenches his heart. Jungkook thinks you’re so pretty under this light— even prettier than when he knew you in high school, it’s like the longer he knows you, the more infatuated he is. When you gyrate your hips aggressively, he suddenly can’t take it anymore, hands trailing up your spine, pushing you down against his chest before he digs his feet into the carpeted floors, hips piston up into you. 

The new angle has your stomach in knots, a soft gasp falling from your lips that only encourages him to go harder. “Can you come like this?” 

“Touch me,” You respond, and it comes out nearly as a whine but you’re too busy being fogged up by pleasure to even care. “Jeon, please,” Begging at this point, he slips himself between the two of you, thumb rubbing against the bud as your grip on his shoulders clasp firms, lips against the flesh of his neck. 

“You’re going to come now, aren’t you?” 

The way he says it hints an arrogant smirk, one you’re bothered with but you’re in the middle of something currently. It’s rhetorical, to him, because your pussy is convulsing around his dick that he’s almost reaching his limit yet he waits for you patiently. “I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” He manages to say through a heave, your eyes tightly shut closed before you reach your orgasm; a melodic moan finally releasing into his ears that he’s been expecting all night, one that you’ve been holding back to showcase that you’re still mad at him. Jungkook couldn’t care— well, just right now, since he has his dick in you, thrusting away until he hits his own orgasm, ropes of cum coating your swollen pink walls.

You’ve grown limp against his body, nose snuggled into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy but slowed from previously. He misses having you like this, bare and close to him, skin feeling light from post-sex. “I love you,” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up?”

Nodding, you barely have the strength to push yourself off his body, but he doesn’t let go of the grip he has around your mid-frame anyways, sliding the back of the seat up to straighten yourselves. Leaning over to the glove compartment, he snatches a couple tissues before slipping his limp dick out of you, wiping away your mixed come. 

When he eventually has the both of you dressed, you lead him into the building, in the elevator and up to the floor of your apartment, cheeks still tinted rosy from the act in the car. Jungkook doesn’t mind it though, he thinks it’s cute that you’re embarrassed.

If this is what it’s going to be like forever— the warmth that you give, despite the words that come from your mouth, the affection and care that you distribute just for him, and the newfound confidence you’ve discovered during college that you’re not afraid of showing him... he wants it. Forever.

“Mm, so you’re telling me that you still fucked him even though you said that you were mad at him?” 

Yura is adorable with her little baker’s hat on, working endlessly in the kitchen of her new bakery that she decided to open in Seoul after graduating culinary school. Luckily for you, it’s close enough to your apartment that you found yourself stopping by to visit frequently, stealing the goods that don’t make it out to the display fridge.

“... Possibly. I don’t know. I couldn’t help it— I didn’t get dicked down in forever. And no, don’t talk about using the dildo you gave me last year, I haven’t even touched the thing.”

“What? Nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s meaty, girthy—“

“Oh my god, please don’t continue that sentence,” You wince, palm against your forehead. “It was good, alright? I mean, sure, I finished myself off when I’m alone but yesterday, in the car—”

“You hoe— you didn’t only give your vagina to him, but you gave it to him in the car? You couldn’t even wait, could you? And what now, is he living back at the apartment?”

“I mean... he said he didn’t get a hotel because he wanted to sleep in his own bed again...”

Yura laughs, clapping her hands in amusement as the powder hits her face. “You’re so funny, you know that? Why do you keep playing this charade when you could just... let him back in?”

You sigh, plopping your body down onto the stool by the counters, elbows against the floured tops. Truthfully, caving into all the mistakes Jungkook made was something too common from you, wishing that he wasn’t good with his words and affectionate whenever he’s around you. He missed an anniversary, a 6th year anniversary, and from what you read on the forums online, it’s one of those years where relationships start to get bumpy.

“I just— I don’t want to be easy, you know? I let him get away with everything, and it’s not fair that he’s all the way in the States, doing whatever it is he’s doing, while I’m here, watching twenty to thirty little kids everyday. And I can’t tell him to stop what he’s doing because well— it’s his dream, Yura, who am I to stop him?”

“You don’t,” She responds sharply, glaring at you through her floured lashes. “You should’ve gotten on a plane to the States. It’s your anniversary, as in both you and Jungkook. It’s not his designated job to come here when it’s an anniversary to celebrate the both of you.”

There she goes again, even 6 years later after high school, Yura exhibits the realities of a situation, especially the ones that you’re in. 

“I guess...” You say faintly, slowly reaching your surrender. 

“No guessing. Please leave and go look for him. Tell him that you’re sorry, that you’re not going to be a big baby anymore. You’ve been with him for six years, and no matter how mad you get at him, he’s always coming back for more and attempting to make it up to you. Also, it’s 6:30AM... shouldn’t you already be on your way to work?”

“Oh, right, fuck, okay, thanks, Yura!” Jolting out of the bakery, you’re practically running to the school when you halt in your route at the sight of the familiar neon yellow car that’s parked on the school yard, yet again.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I’m on South Korea’s Men’s Swim Team. I’m training for 800M Freestyle Swim again, and possibly, maybe, planning to retire soon.”

Retire? The word that slips from Jungkook’s mouth is unfamiliar, mostly because he had never discussed this with you before, causing you to furrow your brows in perplexity at him as he stands in front of the black chalkboard in your classroom full of children. 

“I actually lived next door to your lovely teacher here, and we grew up together. She even coached me early in my years since I didn’t have anyone with credentials to show me. We both used to stare at the computer, day and night, renting videos from the library, and spending most of our time together just so that we could improve on my skills...” As Jungkook babbles on to the students, Naeun nudges you in the stomach.

“What?” You hiss in a whisper. Softly, she responds, “You never told me any of this! I thought we were friends! You’ve been hiding from me that you’re dating an Olympian and that you guys knew each other since you were little? What else haven’t you told me?”

“Mm,” You hum, arms crossed over your chest. “I got recruited to shadow coaches back in the university Jungkook and I attended. I rejected their offer and went undecided before coming to terms that I’d teach.”

Naeun is taken aback by all this information, stumbling back to the edge of your desk to regain her balance. “You were recruited to coach? And you rejected that offer? Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because swimming is Jungkook’s dream, not mine.”

During college, evidently enough, you had been struggling endlessly trying to figure out what you wanted to do with yourself. There were moments where you considered taking a gap year— a break from it all, go somewhere maybe to finally understand yourself and what you want to do. Jungkook’s eyes when you mentioned it to him grew wary, sad that he couldn’t be there to help you but just stare at your helpless expression through the screen of his phone. 

One thing you knew for sure, you didn’t want Jungkook to pity you. (Although, he never did. He was just too in love and couldn’t see the girl of his dreams sad.)

So you pushed harder. Met with people, asked about their experiences, requested for a mentor, and just researched. It was exactly like the time Jungkook told you he wanted to swim, so you obsessively tried to find any information on it so that you could teach him and show him things he could do in the water.

You learned that if you wanted something bad enough, you grew a drive for it.

It might’ve been when Jungkook realized that you were great at coaching. When he tried to sway you into coaching people because you were great and motivating people to do better, to try harder, and all of this without overworking them to the point of turning into dust. Despite everything, you didn’t want to coach swimming— and soon learning, you didn’t want to coach any sport. But the closest thing to it was teaching.

And a teacher was what you became.

There was already enough experience in teaching someone, or in this case, tutoring, because Jungkook sucked at it back in grade school. He always needed help, and that’s where you swooped in. Arms filled with notebooks, backpack dragging you full with textbooks while you stood at Jungkook’s front porch, ready to confuse him with letters and numbers that he learned he didn’t even need now.

“Did you know he was thinking about retirement?” Naeun sneaks in again. You shake your head, watching your boyfriend answer questions from the crowd. “No, I didn’t. He’s never even mentioned that word to me, ever.”

Just as Jungkook finishes, you holler out for the class to settle down, pushing him aside as he bumps back into the wall with a grin on his face. “Ok, class, since it’s 5 minutes before recess, I’m just going to let you guys go off. It is a Friday, so enjoy yourselves!”

Jungkook joins in when you’re zipping up the jackets and tying the shoes of the kids; they’re all too excited for an extra five minutes of recess time, saying something along the lines of, “we should ask hyung to come more often, he makes her happy enough to give us five extra minutes!” and Jungkook stifles a laugh.

Standing against the brick masonry of the building, Jungkook accompanies you. “You’re going to ask me about the whole retirement thing, aren’t you?”

“Was. But you didn’t seem like you cared enough to bring it up to me.”

He sighs, adjusting the beanie on his head. “I didn’t decide until yesterday. I’m going to be in the next Olympics then I’m retiring. I’ve made enough money from the sponsorships and I’m sure I’ll be able to keep my affiliation with Nike ‘til past that.”

Glancing over at him before looking back at the children playing in the yard, you snuggle your nose deeper into your scarf. “Why’s that? Isn’t swimming your dream?”

“It is,” He says, voice genuine and filled with honesty. “I might do some things here and there, maybe train some kid with potential. I just... I don’t know how much longer I can do this thing between us. I’m never going to give up on swimming, and there’s so many opportunities out there for me to do that includes it. But this whole... training for the Olympics thing— I’ve done it already. It’s great, I’ll do another year of it. But by the time the second time I enter, we’ll be hitting that age where it’s time to settle down.”

“We don’t need to have a set time to settle down—“

“I know that we don’t but I’m tired of this whole long distance thing. You’ve been so supportive of my dreams, and I’ve accomplished them already. It’s time that I’m here, by your side, supporting yours.”

There’s silence between the two of you, despite the constant screaming and laughing that’s coming from the playground. 

“I’m sorry,” You blurt and he only looks at you with bewilderment on his face. “I should’ve came to visit you on our anniversary instead of expecting you to come here. It was selfish of me.”

Jungkook laughs, beaming brightly with the sweetest smile upon his lips. “You used to be so timid and shy back in high school. You’ve developed into this woman who’s confident and fierce, sometimes scaring me because I never thought you could ever be like this.”

“Does it make you like me any less?”

“No,” He turns to you, tightening the scarf around your neck in prevention of slipping. “But... it makes me love you more. You’re also admitting things and apologizing. Very huge character development if you asked me. Say, how about we go home tonight and celebrate our anniversary, to make up for the one we miscommunicated about?”

“I’d... like that, very much.” You respond, chewing on your bottom lip bashfully. 

“Now,” He begins, pinching your frozen cheeks gently. “I told you I love you about... a million times since I came back. I’m still waiting for you to say it too.”

He’s still somewhat the same Jungkook from back then, hidden underneath the blanket of adulthood and experiences through college but nonetheless, just as much as he changed, you’ve loved him through every stage he’s gone through. He felt the same. “Love you too, Jeon.” And there it was, the smile that tugs on the edges of your lips that he’s been waiting for, dedicated just for him.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Nine

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 9 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; use of a derogatory slur/racist language (not said by any main character); mentions of blood and injuries; angst!  

Word Count: 11,200+

A/N: One more chapter after this - I should really stop labeling this as a mini-series considering it’s already over 100,000 total words lmao. Thank you for staying with me this long! I love you guys soooo much!!!

~

Utah Merry Hotel, January 2025, 2:09pm

     “I’m being an ol’ sport, why can’t you?” You whine, stomping your feet as you trudged up the stairs to the hotel roof. “It’s our first serious stakeout in forever! I’m pretty sure Wanda shaved her legs for this.”

Steve shoots a flustered and unsettled look over his shoulder. He’s lugging the rifles and extra equipment on both his shoulders so you know he’s truly baffled because to even attempt a look over… well, that required real effort. He doesn’t answer, however; he continues upward. 

Bucky and Clint are following close behind. They’re tired, huffing every few steps and grunting while doing so. Finally, Bucky whines and throws himself against the wall dramatically. “Remind me why we couldn’t just get Wanda and Sam to lift us up there?”

Steve readjusts one of the rifle straps while he replies, “Buck, I told you not to skip leg day.”

“I skip ‘everything’ day. I’m just now employed as a superhero, thank you very much. The serum should be enough.”

“Are we even close?” Clint asks and passes Bucky on a few steps. Bucky takes that as a challenge though and hoists himself more steps before giving up again. 

You just watch in pure amusement. Makes you really proud that your thighs are stronger than theirs. “Just a few more flights.”

They both groan in unison. Steve has already rounded the next flight, no longer waiting on the three of you. It takes several more minutes until you kick open the roof door Steve had left slightly ajar. It’s cold outside, wind howling with icy droplets whipping through your hair. It’s only fifty stories up but it’s pretty high - you can see the tops of the trees, or branches really. It’s winter in Utah and most of the trees are naked and covered in snow. You hope Bucky and Clint, the dynamic duo no one saw coming, still have good aim in this wind after a year of vacation. 

“Alright. Buck - Clint, set up over there. Y/N, you’re over there.” 

“Aye Aye, Captain.”

You set up where Steve instructed. You’ve got a simple magnifier and some binoculars - you won’t have to do any shooting today, thank the Gods. Clint’s got his arrows and Bucky’s got his sniper. Steve’s waiting for a signal from Sam if need be - he won’t need to shoot today either. 

“Wanda and Sam will let us know when the cars pass the barrier. The tech cannot, under any circumstances, pass through the gate right over there.” Steve points to the giant, black coated metal gate. There’s no one on duty. You made sure to evacuate the area and any staff before. The tech these goons are bringing in is all stolen Stark Tech. And according to Happy, strict instructions are to ‘blow it to Hell’.  

“And if it does?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously at Steve’s pointed look. 

“What’d I just say?”

Bucky laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Stevie. Calm thyne tits.” He goes back to fiddling with his rifle. “Blow the tires before they reach the gates but after they pass the barrier. Got it.”

“Peter, you in position?” Steve asks and adjusts his earpiece. 

You can hear Peter over your own mic. “Seatbelts look easy enough to break. I’m in position, I can easily pull them from the trucks.”

“Five minutes then.”

You all settle in. The cold has passed through the leather of your boots and your toes are paying the price. It makes you miss the rain of spring and the sprinkles of fall, when everything is drenched rather than frozen and your toes still have mobility. Your jacket is big enough but it scratches your neck every time you lean down to look through the magnifier. As the minutes tick by, you brave the cold and take it off. You’d rather conduct your part efficiently and without the constant distraction. 

“It’s almost forty degrees out,” Steve mumbles beside you. He’s looking over the roof balcony and into the trees. He’s squints and refuses your offer of binoculars. 

“So I get a sore throat.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Tony put a heater in all our suits. You should have worn yours.”

“My suit is half nano. It’s excessive for a stakeout.”

He huffs but you ignore him, choosing to look through the rejected binoculars instead. He shuffles, and then there’s a warm weight enveloping your shoulders. It’s his sweater, cotton and baby blue, and he lifts the hood to cover your cheeks and ears. Your stomach flip-flops.

“Uh, thank you,” you say and zip it closed.

Steve shrugs lightly, “Don’t mention it.”

So you don’t. He doesn’t look cold besides or he’s just really good at masking it. It’s quiet now; you can’t really hear the quiet mutters of Clint and Bucky enough to join in and to not mention the jacket is eating at you. You opt for a casual conversation instead while you wait. 

“Soooo… how’d your date go last week?”

Steve clears his throat and turns to you, a forced grin on his face. “They, uh, they were sweet.”

“Sweet,” you repeat, nodding at nothing and cursing yourself for creating such an awkward moment. “Going on a second one?”

He sighs and his expression actually turns truthful. “No, don’t see that happening.”

For a second, you’re appalled. Who wouldn’t give Steve a second date? He’s an absolute catch and being a famous superhero wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker for many. Or maybe it was and Steve was blaming his alias once again for no fairytale ending. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want you?”

The words leave your mouth too quickly to reel them back in. Steve’s cheeks turn pinker, both from your words and the chill, and he ducks his head low as he answers. “It’s my fault, really. They were sweet but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Mm, on your phone? Daydreaming? Were they a bore?”

Steve chuckles, “I pulled out my phone, like, once to answer a text but I was a proper gentleman!”

The tension is slowly melting and there’s a soft twinkle in his eye as he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s looked at you this way: on his own accord and not on order. “Bucky said they were, and I quote,” you lower your voice and look over at Bucky to make sure he’s distracted. “‘Cute as hell’.”

Steve gives Bucky a warm look. “Eh, it’s fine. Wasn’t the one.”

“The one,” you mock in a deep voice. “Who texted you that it was so important to ignore someone cute as hell?”

Steve hesitates and looks over the balcony as if wishing for an interruption. But the trucks aren’t near yet and Sam hasn’t given the signal. “Uh, it was Peter.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel incredibly guilty if he ruined your chances at getting laid.”

Steve shoves your shoulder a bit harder than he intended and it makes you stumble back. He quickly catches you by the arm and holds you still, a sheepish smile painting his pink face. He mumbles a quick ‘sorry’, and goes back to lean over the railing. “It’s cool, he knew.”

You fake a surprised gasp, “Even worse!”

“He needed me to stop by the compound and I did. Really, it’s okay,” Steve assures and he’s speaking a little quicker. He fidgets with his thumbs and it looks like he wants to wrap up that portion of the conversation. But he looks over at you and sighs deeply, and he rolls his eyes as his upper lip tilts upward. “Ask.”

“What’d he want?” It makes your belly all warm to know he expects this enthusiasm from you.

“Wanted me around. Buck and Wanda were out getting dinner.”

“Yeah, but like, what for?”

He gives you a knowing smile, like you walked right into that trap. “You made dinner but Peter was too nice to say he didn’t enjoy it, so he texted me knowing I would like it. Knowing I had it before. He didn’t want there to be leftovers because then you’d be sad.”

You step back and shake your head like there’s a fly swarming around. It startles you. “You left your date… during dinner… to come to the compound to eat the dinner I made instead?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“How not?”

It’s five minutes when Sam calls it in. You groan in frustration and give Steve a look that says the conversation isn’t over. 

There are four armored vehicles and the magnifier illuminates three bodies per car. The targets will be hit starting from the last to keep the explosions out of each driver’s line of sight. 

“Target acquired,” Bucky mumbles and clicks off his safety. He closes one eye and settles comfortably as he awaits Steve’s signal.         

Clint tugs back an arrow, “Same here, Cap.”

“Wanda, you ready?” Steve’s voice is lower when he’s focused. He looks over at you, your hand up with an index finger raised, and waits. Wanda answers that she’s ready and Sam counts it down. The first truck crosses the barrier, then the next, next, and finally the fourth and you drop your hand in a fast swipe. 

“Fire! Go Parker!”

Bucky shoots the back tires of all four vehicles and Clint shoots his arrows to penetrate through the passenger doors. Peter works fast, webs slinging from side to side grabbing one passenger right after the other. Once the trucks are empty, Clint activates the arrows and you all prepare for the explosions. The fourth car catches flame first and Wanda contains the explosion perfectly, balling it up into a weak bundle of light and string. She does the same to the third and second, bundles extinguishing just as quickly as they burst. But the first car swings out of control on manual and the explosion is delayed.

“Clint?”

Clint leans over the balcony and squints, as if it would help. “I don’t know. It’s not going off.” He’s clicking the detonator repeatedly, holding it up for all of you to see. 

“Wanda, the truck! The truck! Sam!” You scream as the truck crashes through the gate and hurls closer to the hotel. The commotion is enough for Bucky to pop out from his cover and the four of you watch in horror as the truck still doesn’t stop. Clint has stopped clicking the button, but it’s no use. The truck finally explodes in an outbreak of debris and electricity. The Stark Tech reacts poorly to the strain, electric gusts of smoke fire left and right and rattle the building. It feels like an earthquake, shaking the already weak foundations and old brick. Wanda catches the bottom to better contain it and tries desperately to smother it. But the shaking doesn’t stop and the corners of the roof are collapsing. 

Steve leaps to grab and pull you away and just as quickly to catch Clint’s leg before he falls over the edge. Clint is thrown back rather harshly but Steve isn’t thinking about the abuse of strength right now - no, not while Bucky slips and hangs on to a rogue pipe. Steve crawls and latches onto his hand before the pipe gives way. He yells as he tugs Bucky up with only one arm, the other having to hold onto undisturbed brick. He won't let Bucky fall. Not again.

Bucky throws his leg up and over solid ground, and you go to help Steve pull him up. Bucky’s heavy and his metal hand pinches your skin bad but he’s safe. Wanda struggles to contain the electricity but she’s succeeding. The rumbling slows until nothing moves anymore. You collapse back in exhaustion.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Bucky gasps as he rubs his face. 

“Is Wanda okay?” You mumble more to yourself and struggle to pull yourself back up. But the sudden weight of your body proves too much for the edge and in a horrible wave, you’re falling through. You practically file your nails as you try to latch onto falling brick.

“No!” You feel the scratch of someone’s fingers along your forearm and soon they’re digging into your skin, and it hurts but you figure it’s better than splitting your skull open. Pebbles of concrete are falling down onto your face and the smoke from the explosion is clogging your nostrils. You hang for a few seconds, like the person can’t believe they actually caught you. Then they begin pulling you up, lifting you to safety, and you claw the rest of the way only to tumble into Steve’s chest, shaking. 

He pulls you into his arms but they’re restless, roaming over your shoulders and through your knotted hair clumsily. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice wavers and he’s on the verge of tears, it seems. His waterline is glossy and his lips are quivering. “Answer me.”

“I’m fine, hey. Steve? I’m good.”

He pulls away and his hands hover you like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you close. I-” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

Disregarding his words is difficult, especially when you feel a second meaning to them, but you force yourself to do so. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him like this. And each time you have, it was never because of anything good. “Y-yeah. I’m good, Rogers.”

Bucky and Clint look at each other, they look at Steve, to you, and back to each other. Finally, Clint breaks the silence and huffs a light chuckle. “Are we really THAT rusty?”

Present Day, 2025, 11:45pm

    The Montana skies are clear and free of passenger planes, allowing the Quinjet to swift easily on autopilot. You could never drive this thing and the building anxiety of that reality bubbles each time it makes an unsteady bounce. 

Steve’s laying in the makeshift medical wing and though it’s against protocol, he’s on a secure line with Dr. Cho. She takes her time, albeit working as fast as possible too, and her light voice is fairly calm. It settles you to hear her speak this way. 

‘I need you to use this disinfectant, Captain Rogers. Do not pour it on all at once… Good, now dig through gently and make sure the pliers are sanitized.’

Steve digs out the bullets himself and bites down on a clean towel. He’s biting down hard enough that his teeth make a squeaking sound against it. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not do it for him. The Montana skies are beautiful, at least. It’s a good distraction. 

Steve gives a rather painful yell as he finally plucks the second bullet, cursing as a stream of blood drips onto the table. He’s got such tough skin - miracle or serum - that the bullets didn’t pass all the way through. Dr. Cho moves on to how to properly bandage the wound but Steve begins to tune her out. 

Two years mucking through mud and bodies and getting patched up every other day has prepared him for whatever life may throw during this new century. Not much has changed, it seems. 

When the line disconnects, Steve can finally just relax. He focuses on the soft rumble of the engine and your steady breaths. 

     You hold your breath as you settle the Quinjet on the open field, only half of you actually trusting automatic tech. Steve coaches you the whole time too, the little shit, and promises you’ll never be doing that again. 

Steve stumbles and teeters and falls on the porch steps with a low groan. You let him fall because you know you’d only fall with him. He catches himself with the hand he’s been pressing over the bandage while the other still holds on to you. You fight the urge to crash down with him and bite your lip as you look up to the night sky. 

“C’mon, Rogers,” you swallow down the increasing worry, “We’re almost inside.”

Steve huffs a pained laugh and nods. He grabs your arm again and with his remaining strength, pulls himself up,

The inside of the cabin looks comfier than the outside. You help Steve to the couch closest to the unlit fireplace before going out back to turn on the power. There’s a thin layer of ice in the grass so just in case, you scope out the garage and make sure there are snow supplies. Not that you really know what the hell snow supplies actually look like, but there’s a shovel and you figure that’s as much as your brain is going to piece together. 

When you get back inside, Steve’s fumbling with the coffee maker and leaving tiny fingerprints of blood over every surface he touches. You don’t comment on them, just step back and discreetly wipe the counters each time he passes. 

“Figured you’d like a pot,” Steve says. 

It damn near breaks your heart how small his voice sounds. The fact he’s stumbling around the cabin making sure you’ve got your coffee fix while he’s nursing two bullet wounds damn near snaps it in two.

“Thank you,” you respond and go to lead him back to the couch. He moans quietly when he sits and again as you lay him down. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping here,” Steve laughs and tries to hide his wince due the uncomfortable rumble. 

You smile and touch your hand to his hot cheek. His body is working overtime fighting off infection and regenerating tissue. His cheeks are a lovely scarlet red and so is the beautiful bulb of his crooked nose. He’s a little shiny, like varnish over light paint strokes, and taking the fever like a champ. “I’ll help you to the bed in a little bit. Let’s get that fever down first.”

Steve sighs, defeated, but nods. He lays his head back on the pillow and once he shuts his eyes, you get to work. The bathroom is stocked with the simple necessities: aloe vera, vapor rub, heating and cold pads, dozens of towels, and painkillers. You pop two painkillers yourself before gathering everything and dropping it on a nearby table in the kitchen. The coffee is about done brewing so you fill up a mug with bottled water and set it in the microwave for two minutes. You dip a chamomile tea bag a few times once the water is heated. There’s no teapot - you’ll apologize to Steve later. 

Once Steve’s happily sipping his tea, you start on the medicine. You wet the small towels and lay them over his forehead and bare chest. You rub aloe vera on the other cuts he obtained from hand-to-hand and finally rub the vapor rub in the dip of his neck and just below his nose. Steve gives you this funny smile as you do so, scrunching his nose and wiggling it back and forth. 

“Vicks,” you say as you show him the small container. “Heal you right up.”

“I bet,” he laughs. “Stuff smells like what I think liquid morphine would taste.” A laugh bursts from your chest, your first real instance of calm during these last few hours. You ignore his protests and smother more across his chest. 

Steve settles deeper into the couch and returns to his tea. He’s got less sweat on his skin now but he’s still red. You go to pour yourself that coffee and return to his side. The nanotech is growing stiffer and scratching your skin but you refuse to get comfortable until Steve’s fever breaks. You’re still covered in Ernesto’s blood, the red now a hellish brown, and you try not to move your face much for risk of feeling the dry pull of it. 

“Steve,” you try, but Steve shakes his head and makes sure to meet your gaze before he speaks. 

“No. The less I know the better.”

It surprises you, makes you feel more guilty, but you understand. Not telling him the full truth would be beneficial in the long run. Still, your hands hug the mug closer to your chest. “Do you think I did something bad?”

His upper lip tugs upward, “Do you think you did something bad?”

You don’t think for long. There’s not much need to. “No.”

He nods, “But you care what I think?”

“Of course I do. You’re not just my Captain anymore - you’re my friend. I care even when I’m asking you if my eggs need more salt.”

“You trust me enough to correct your cooking?” He teases, but it’s a question disguised as another. 

“I trust you enough to tell me if I need more salt. You’re not correcting it.” He laughs and dips deeper into the couch. The bandage is bleeding through, only slightly, so you move to find the first-aid kit. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”

You hum your disagreement. “I’m gonna keep it clean until you’re strong enough to shower.”

“You can always help me shower,” he mumbles into his tea. 

Rolling your eyes, you gently nudge his shoulder as you sit back down with the kit. “If you fall, I can’t catch you, you big lug. We’d have to tell everyone we screwed in there because you falling on top of me, injured, is somehow more embarrassing.”

He allows you to remove the soiled bandage and dab around the healing wounds. He’s bruising around the sides, multiple shades of green and yellow already, and the holes are stitched rather poorly. It makes you feel a little better about your own criss-cross work - even Steve sucks at it. 

“I’m sorry I had to go and get myself shot,” Steve apologizes and sucks in a deep breath when the towel drags a little too roughly. 

“Yeah, what the hell happened there?”

He almost mimics you in the way he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his arms in that ‘well, fuck if I know’ position, pursing his lips and expelling a chuckle. “Had my gun trained on Ernesto. Ernesto had his own on Ramirez. Then Seda came in and Ernesto ordered Ramirez to hand his over to Seda. Played right into Seda’s hands.”

You process the explanation slowly and dab his wound a few more times before unwrapping the clean bandage. “And the damn shield?��

Steve’s embarrassed by that small detail, he’ll admit it, because he truly was blindsided by Seda’s appearance. You were supposed to be holding him down after all. “In my defense! When it’s shrunk down and in your pocket rather than latched onto one’s arm, it’s easily forgettable.”

You clean around the wound softly before placing and taping the new bandage. The conversation settles and you’re both quiet for a long, long minute. He thanks you for cleaning him up by rubbing sweet circles into the knuckles of your right hand. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. It’s like a wave of irrefutable worry and rage, all bunched together with each emotion trying to outweigh the other. That goddamn riptide, sucking you in and keeping your head below water just for the hell of it. Breathing in harshly, you fail to keep yourself from stuttering over your words. “I’m sorry.”

Steve bites back a groan of pain as he leans over to take your cheeks in his palms. The brush of his fingertips lets you know that you’ve already started crying. You don’t much care about the facade anymore. “Doll, listen to me. Listen.”

“I never meant to leave you alone.”

“You never did.”

You bark out a wet laugh, sarcastic. “I should have run faster. I should have killed him all those years ago. I should have never brought you into this.”

“You did what you had to do,” he says, fiercely. He forgets his own strength for a second, only slightly diminished from the healing process, and loosens his tight grip against your cheeks. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I wanted to hate you,” you admit. Your bottom lip is trembling and your hands clench together over your thighs. “I wanted to hate you so much. If I did, then you getting hurt or killed on this mission wouldn’t hurt so bad. I hated you for what you did. Because it made me realize that I could never hate you at all.”

“Hey,” he tries, hands now lowering to clutch at your own. “Stop apologizing for having a heart. Stop thinking you’re not worthy of even having one.”

Your face crumbles and Steve realizes for the first time in a long time just how much you’ve been holding in. “Why didn’t you use the stones?”

Steve’s heart clenches at the sound of the crack in your voice. He hasn’t heard that crack since Clint fell to his knees without Natasha by his side. He holds onto you tighter and prepares himself for an admission he never thought he would ever have to give. “Because Peggy told me not to.”

Something confusing happens in the middle of your chest. It clenches with anger but understanding. The answer to your question was always this simple but it looks like it’s tearing Steve apart from the inside-out.

    She’s as beautiful as the day he went into the ice. All he has to do is whisper her name so sweetly, delicately, and she turns her head like she’s answering the prayer. First her knees buckle, eyes watering and blotching her vision, and she collapses on the soft grass of her backyard. Steve’s holding her the very next second, repeating that he’s real, he’s here. 

“Steve,” Peggy gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to his wet cheeks. She grips and pokes and does everything so comically that Steve laughs a wet laugh when she starts smacking him. “What is going on?”

And he tells her. Everything he can remember: the good, the bad, the wretched. He spills everything, and he spills the most delicate information of their time: he’s alive, just frozen; Bucky’s alive, just hurt; the world is saved, just broken. Whether she believes it or not Steve’s not sure, but he’s so goddamn happy to see her again that he chokes every other word. 

“And you? You’re happy?”

His eyebrows come together and he looks at Peggy like she’s speaking another language. She’s got the same red lipstick, same curl in her hair even if it’s longer now, and she’s filling out her dresses more. “Pegs, don’t ask me that.”

She detaches herself slowly from his arms, pausing their dance as she speaks. “Why not? You can’t expect me to accept that you stopped by to see me all willy-nilly after saving the universe.” Her lips twitch into a knowing smile and Steve melts. Her voice is sending him into a spiral, a world he never thought he would see again, and he realizes just how much he loves accents on women  - especially this woman. 

“I just,” he chokes out, and brushes his index finger down her cheek. “I had to see you again.”

“I get that,” Peggy says and pays no mind that the record player has stopped; she still sways gently with Steve. “But you’ve just mentioned a whole other world you’ve been a part of. You’ve got your best guy back, that Wilson fellow sounds like the life of the party, and this Agent Y/N certainly sounds like she’s been by your side through it all.”

Steve stutters in his step and holds her closer. Her stomach presses against his, and he stops abruptly. He looks down between them and runs his hand from her shoulder, down, to lay across her growing belly. “Pegs.”

She gives him the same wide and proud smile she gave him when he returned with the 107th. She lays her hand over his. “I know.” She laughs and tilts her head lovingly. “I’m happy, too.”

Steve bites his lip to keep from sobbing. He was so stupid for coming to this timeline, for ruining Peggy’s chance at happiness, for interrupting the life he already knew she created for herself. He inputted the wrong year, he suddenly realizes, and steps back arms-length from her. “I’m sorry, I was stupid to come here. I just wanted to see you and then I did, and I… I still love you, Pegs.”

“Oh,” Peggy gasps, bottom lip trembling. “Darling, do not mistake yourself, even for a second, into thinking that I do not love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for having a heart.”

He wants to argue, say he’s stupid a million more times, but he finds himself listening to her gentle words. It’s Peggy, Steve thinks. She’s always been right.

“In this world you live in, you have James?” He nods. She continues, “In this world you live in, you just lost two of your most loved friends?” He nods again. He wipes his face from forehead to chin. “In this world you live in, you have met a woman who has the same stubbornness as you; has the same self-sacrificing streak, who has your heart in such shambles that you dare call her one of your best friends?”

Steve thinks of you and how broken your smile was as you waved him goodbye, hand clenching Sam’s as Steve gathered the stones and Mjolnir. He thinks of the times you’d leap onto his back and demand a ride; the times he’s saved your ass in a firefight; how his sleep has definitely improved ever since he started calming you from nightmares - he hasn’t slept so well since before the war. He nods again.

Her eyes go soft. “Steve,” she starts and Steve knows. He doesn’t want to know. “Don’t abandon the world you’ve built for yourself. Surround yourself with the people you love. Do this for me.”

“There’s so much hate and blood waiting for me when I get back, Pegs. I don’t want to-”

“There is a difference between you not wanting to and you having to.” He drops his head and focuses on the floor. Peggy isn’t done grilling him, however, and he looks back up to grant her the respect. “You must not abandon the world you helped create. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this because I know you don’t want to.”

“Pegs.”

“I see right through you, Steve. We marched together through mud and blood before. We’ve got two years of fighting side by side under our belts. I’ve seen you at your worst, and you I. I know that face anywhere.”

“I missed you, Pegs,” Steve breathes. She cups his face with her hands and draws their foreheads together.

“The stars weren’t written in our favor. But to know that you’re alive, and that you make it, and that you actually get to live,” she bites back a sob. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“It isn’t my world to begin with.”

“No, you’re a man out of time. But so is James. You won’t abandon him now, will you?”

He chuckles low and their noses touch. “Stop making me feel guilty for wanting to find you, Peggy.”

She presses a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and finally breaks away. “And you won’t abandon that sweet girl who has put up with your nonsense for the last five years, you say?”

Steve shakes his head and meets Peggy’s gaze. “I’m just tired.”

“They are too, I bet.” He turns to the door and to Peggy, and she figures it’s almost time for him to leave. “You have been the archer and the brave, Steve. I’m absolutely certain you’ve been more. You will be more.”

Steve says his final goodbyes and stops to remember the fine details of Peggy’s face. The fifties are treating her well. Steve expected nothing less. Bright lights flash around him and he’s back to the world he wanted to leave, to hide from, and he sees you - and your mouth parts in shock.

     “And you listened to her?” you ask. 

Steve smiles, although it’s hard for him to remember that conversation. “I came back. I didn’t listen to her when she said to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love in return.”

“No, you made damn sure of that.”

“Hey,” Steve chuckles. “Don’t take smacks at me when you’re down.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just too easy sometimes.” Laughing about the two years of missed chances and spoiled friendship was not on your bingo card for this week. 

“I don’t know how this is going to play out,” you admit. Steve looks so young with a somber expression: his eyebrow creases gently without wrinkling the rest of his forehead, the side of his mouth tilts downward, and his eyelashes kiss the pink of cheeks. “I decided in the moment. So I’m fuck all out of ideas on how to proceed.”

He nods in understanding. “Guess we just have to look over our shoulders three times instead of two now.”

“Simple like that?” You scrub a hand over your face and curse inwardly when you smudge your lipstick down to your chin. You ignore it. “I know we’re Avengers, but.”

“No buts,” Steve says and moves to sit up. You help him by pushing his shoulders and he accepts your help as you struggle to the bathroom. “You helped the guy and his daughter. I’m sure he’s going to be watching our backs from now on.”

You help Steve strip from his dress pants and shoes and finally remove your suit as well. The graze on your arm is covered in brown, dried blood but the wound isn’t deep. It’ll sting like a sunburn, you know that, but it’s better than being shot through. You watch Steve enter the shower and leave the curtain drawn. His bandage is soaked again but thankfully it’s from the water and not more blood. You grab a spare towel and soak it with water and soap, and rub it across your lips and chin. 

“Let me do that,” Steve calls. You strip bare and bring the towel with you into the shower. Steve takes it and scrubs over your face, gently but more rough as he gets to your eyes. It’s an innocent moment of ‘ouch, scrub softer!’ and ‘surprised I didn’t take all your lashes off’. He helps clean your wound as well and once you’re both clean, he bandages you up and you him. 

The master bedroom is the only room without electricity so you gather some candles. It’s like the two of you won’t admit you’re currently afraid of the dark or what may lie in it. They illuminate the room in a delicate orange and it’s such a peaceful color to briefly see before falling asleep, head tucked into Steve’s chest and his heartbeat thrumming gently with your breath. 

     It’s a wonder what a night’s sleep can do. Steve’s wounds are sealed and his fever is gone, but there’s a signature left behind. A pink and white patch of skin as tender as a newborn’s, a memory. Steve pours your coffee and his tea while you trace your fingers over it.

Two hours after eating a small breakfast and securing the perimeter, a soft ding startles you from the random book you’re reading. Steve’s phone shines with a message from Sam. It simply reads: ‘Clear’. Grabbing the phone and walking out onto the porch, you find Steve sitting on one of the steps he tripped over just yesterday. He’s sketching the sky and the trees, taking his time on the lines of the branches, the strokes of the leaves, and the frost over them. He looks up, studies his surroundings, and looks back down to add a detail he previously missed. He sniffs, rubs his nose, and finally notices you leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Any news?”

You hold up his phone and nod. “Sam says we’re clear to fly in.”

Steve looks back to his drawing. You hesitate before speaking, knowing damn well an all clear means get your ass back as soon as possible. “Finish your drawing. I’ll pack whatever we need to.” Steve’s mouth parts but he shuts it just as quickly. Slowly, he nods. 

     There isn’t much to pack since you brought nothing but the clothes on your backs. Everything at the hotel was collected before the wedding and should have flown back with Scott and the others. It feels awkward stealing bottled water and processed foods to hoard on the quinjet, but it’s a necessity. Steve meets you at the quinjet doors, shows you his drawing, and volunteers to take the wheel. 

“You’re not volunteering. You’re ordering.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No license, no drive.”

“What are you? A cop?”

“Don’t think for one second I won’t actually hand the wheels over and happily crash while screaming ‘I told you so’.” 

Steve steers for the duration of your flight. The next few hours are spent just enjoying each other’s company, speaking of all things and simply catching up. It’s amazing how much you two missed from one another’s lives those two years.

      The landing base is clear and it’s Sam who’s waiting for you as the Quinjet manually lands itself. He shoots you a gap-toothed smile and extends his arms, pulling the two of you in at the same time for a strong hug. He’s talking a mile a minute about how successful the mission was, how Fury is over the moon that it’s finally over, how the DEA is thinking of congratulating everyone one by one. It’s enough to distract Steve, who’s just happy to see his best friend again, but it isn’t enough for you. The large metal doors sealing the storage facility from the rest of the compound are thrown open. Bucky stumbles through and practically sprints over to the three of you. 

“Get back on the jet,” he orders, already pulling you by the arm. You all look at one another like he’s gone mad but that’s impossible. Bucky’s paranoia isn’t something to take lightly; he’s right nine out of ten times. 

“Buck, what-?”

“Rhodes couldn’t hold them. They have warrants, Steve.”

Steve hauls Sam onto the jet as well. “Warrants for who?”

“Get down from the jet without a fight and this will all go smoothly.”

There are about twenty uniformed officers surrounding the jet. They spread out in case anyone decides to run but it seems pointless to even try. Secretary Ross points his gun directly at you, proud and tall and looking just the same as you remember him. Last time you saw him was at Tony’s funeral. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you bite, and raise your hands in cooperation. Ross shakes his head and his expression contorts into one of disgust. There are red beams coming from each gun but your friends are clean - the beams are only pointed at you.

“Agent Y/N Y/LN, you’re under arrest for multiple charges of drug smuggling, trafficking of illegal goods, the murder of Ernesto Vega and Daniel Seda, aiding and abetting drug-lord Omar Ramirez, and for conspiracy against the United States of America. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law...”

You drone out half way through. Ross finishes up the speech but no one is listening. Sam is already yelling over your Miranda Rights and Bucky’s frozen in place. Steve’s fighting his way through to Ross, pushing through the muscle until he’s face to face with him. But Ross isn’t fazed. There’s nothing left to do but exit the jet. 

Immediately there are handcuffs slapped to your wrists. Two men drag you over to the containment car that’s enforced with so much indestructible material it’s almost insulting. You weren’t enhanced - they were doing this for fun.

“You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N! Y/N!”

You don’t fight. Conspiracy… you’re surprised they didn’t just shoot you dead. Steve’s still yelling, begging to be heard, but you try to block him out. It’s not your first time being arrested but it is your first time being charged with something you didn’t do. As funny as that sounds, it’s terrifying. 

“Steve,” you say, and Steve breaks through some more hired muscle so he’s within earshot. “It’s okay.”

His face pulls up in pain, “No, you didn’t do this! They’re not listening!”

One of the officers pushes your head down roughly and tries to shove you in the backseat. You’re still looking at Steve. And those eyes, wounded and vulnerable, haunt him even after the door shuts and the car drives away.

     There’s a privilege attached to the mantle of Captain America. Perhaps he was too blind to see it during the war or just too proud he was finally being heard and respected, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s a mantle this country has never truly associated with the person but with the purpose. Steve was manufactured to help protect this country under government orders and when he defied that purpose, he disgraced the mantle. Seems like some people idolize the role a little too much. 

But he’s still Captain America. This reality has continued to clear his name from stunts he pulls and laws he breaks. And once Steve is able to walk away without so much as a scratch, he leaves bodies behind.

Sharon. Sam. Bucky. Wanda. And now you. All people who fought his fight and weren’t granted the quick privilege of that perceived pureness and holiness. He was always ready for combat, he was built for it, but he didn’t really want it. 

Did he?

Ripping that star off his chest was one thing. Accepting his new shield cemented his continual legacy as the Star-Spangled Man. He deserved to be in that cell with you. But if he learned anything about how the world works, it’s that cruelty doesn’t just win in the movies. All of his enemies started out friends and if he had to bet, he’d bet the reason they’re labeled as such is partially because of him. 

So he sits and listens to everyone’s ideas and plans, vetoing and dismissing one right after the other, his mind doing jumping jacks. He’s both there and not, drowning in the fact that he made it home and you didn’t. He doesn’t know how to sleep without the sound of your snoring anymore. 

He sits and listens. 

    The cell isn’t one you would expect for someone who has been charged for betraying her country. It’s modestly furnished: a black cot in the far right corner with a mini table beside it, a desk with some paper, and a door that leads to the private bathroom. All in all, the room’s size is that of a child’s bedroom; there’s no actual pens and pencils for risk of violent behavior and there’s a bulb camera that moves when you move. 

You’ve been trapped in worse. 

Countless detectives and investigators have visited already. They all ask the same questions: Why did you do it? Did Captain Rogers know? Who are you, really? 

You give the same answers: I didn’t do it. Of course, every single person knows. Who do you think I am?

Every time they leave more discouraged than the one before them, refusing to compare notes with one another in case they were in possession of gold. They all ignore you when you try to ask for Steve and his wellbeing. Their faces contort, they whisper to their partners, and they shake their heads in disappointment. One even goes as far as to threaten you, warning you to keep Captain Roger’s name out of your wetback mouth or else, until he’s escorted from the cell. Not that it really matters - the manipulated ideals of these people will always blur their search for the truth. And when the truth fails to satisfy such greedy manipulations, they choose to create their own.

There is one agent who peaks your interest. He offers you gum when he settles in the chair near the door. His name badge reads ‘Kavert’; it glares in the bright lights overhead and he makes no other attempt at small talk once he gets comfortable and opens his little notepad. 

That goddamn notepad, you think. Every single person before has prided themselves over it, scribbling little notes about your tone of voice, body movement, and vague answers. You never give much, Natasha had taught you better, so they always end up writing less than two bullet points before giving up. 

But Agent Kavert surprises you by opening up to a blank page, spitting his chewed gum in the middle, and then he shuts it closed. He offers you a real smile, one that doesn’t look practiced or forced. It lets you study him without being so guarded or uncomfortable. He seems young, not really a rookie but it’s obvious he’s spent more time behind a desk than out in the field. His dark hair is short, sprinkled grays near his temples, and his attire screams upper level. His build is lean, his gun is in the holster on his right hip, and a part of you knows he’d put up a hell of a fight if you tried to escape. 

“I was gonna comment on what lovely weather we’re having, but I don’t think you get out much.” 

You’re startled into a real laugh. Satisfaction washes over his face. 

“I think you’re wasting your time, Agent Kavert.”

He grins and moves to proudly pull at his jacket and present his badge. He sets the notebook to the side and leans forward to cup his hands together on his knees. 

You squint at him. There’s nothing interesting about you right now: back against the wall as you sit criss-crossed on the cot, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, hair brushed but a little greasy. Your last shower was two days ago and you figure they’ll let you have one tonight. 

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no point in hoping you’ll tell me anything you haven’t shared yet.”

“Nope.”

He hums low in his throat and tilts his head to the left. Now, he squints at you. “I just don’t get it. How did you do it? Not show up on our radar, I mean?”

It doesn’t seem like he’s calling you guilty or innocent. Already he’s one-hundred percent different from the other agents. “I wasn’t exactly hiding.”

He sits up to lean back in the chair, “Different last name, government and Avenger protection, covering your tracks so carefully even the DEA missed you.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“Yes, but,” he starts. He acts like he’s having a normal conversation on his front porch. “It still doesn’t make sense. How could Nick Fury miss this? Tony Stark? After the whole Obadiah situation, I expected him to-”

“It’s simple, really. Do you want to know or do you want to keep making assumptions?”

He’s watched the other agents leave by this point. Some couldn’t even make you talk. So he shuts up and waves his hand for you to continue. 

“Cool,” you breathe out. “First of all, I’m literally only telling you this because I’ve already been refused a lawyer or some crap like that and I highly doubt this is going to actual court. The publicity would be horrible.” 

He bites his lip but you catch the little smile forming. You continue, “And I have nothing to hide. I’m sure my Captain, my teammates, and Fury himself have given their sides. Am I right?”

Agent Kavert adjusts himself in the seat and nods in response. He doesn’t dare interrupt you now. 

“Good, then I’ll keep it sweet. They knew who I was. I was recruited to be an inside source, a double agent, and this wedding was the perfect chance to corner those men,” you declare, turning your hands palm up and shrugging your shoulders. “There, happy?”

“Double agent.” Agent Kavert chews over the words, rolling them around on his tongue a few more times. He’s squinting harder and you can see his brain working. The next sound to leave his lips is a heavy sigh and a feeling of immense irritation washes over you. It wasn’t enough.  “Are we going to be truthful yet, Agent?”

Chuckling lightly, you rest the back of your skull on the wall. It was wrong to assume he’d be any different from the others. “Of course you don’t believe me. You want more, they all do. I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”

He claps his hands on his thighs and leans forward again, loud and restless. “Then let’s get started, really: Did you or did you not let Omar Ramirez, Mexican drug-lord involved with Ernesto Vega, your father... imagine that, run away from a crime scene, evade arrest, and possibly leave the country?”

“You expect me to follow all those questions?”

“It’s not the time to be funny.”

“You were enjoying it just a second ago,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer.  “Then let me put it simply: no, I did not.”

“Did you or did you not assassinate Ernesto Vega?”

“I would have remembered such a brilliant kill if it came from my gun.”

“So that’s a no… Daniel Seda?”

“His gun was pointed at my Captain. Yes.”

“Against orders, then?”

Confusion is written all over your face and you make sure the camera knows it too. There are only so many times you can repeat yourself. “Don’t you have Steve’s report? Scott’s?”

“We have to hear the story from you, Agent.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t believe me.”

He shrugs and quickly scans you up and down. Even if he doesn’t have the tangible notepad in his hands, he’s getting away with making mental notes. “The story just isn’t piecing together the way it should be. Why would Daniel Seda murder his greatest ally and friend?”

“Our mics have already transcribed that answer for you, sir. I’m sure of it. And I’ve got sources outside of the DEA and Avengers-”

“Like Maribel Rodrigo? Another smuggler who has operated inside the cartel, HYDRA, Madripoor…”

You cut him off, angry. “Not the full story.” 

Tone of voice: defensive.

“Then that leads me to my next question.”

“Oh, fun.”

Tone of voice: sarcastic.

He speaks with a tinge of astonishment hidden in every syllable. “Why didn’t you do it? Kill Ernesto, I mean.”

“I was disarmed at the time. The Captain and I both were,” you answer, growing more impatient by the second.

He uses his hands to speak now, finger pointing along an invisible timeline detailing the order of events. “So you admit you were going to kill him if you had your weapon.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Body movement: rigid.

“Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe my boss is right, maybe the FBI is right in thinking that you are a double agent leaning more towards your roots than our boys in blue.” He says this like its scripture; like it’s some holy conspiracy he’s just found evidence for. He wants you to plant words in your mouth and in this discussion so he can pluck the evidence from the ground and water it with fire.

You scoff hard, “I hardly ever wear blue when doing your job for you.”

“Was letting Omar Ramirez escape our job or just yours?”

Telling him the truth would mean losing all credibility, all titles, all trust in your work. You know what you’ve done and you don’t regret it. Ramirez was never the biggest fish and if you spun this right, then he was simply a fish who got his meal and promptly swam away. “You assume I let him go. What evidence tells you that?”

He ignores the question and instead asks another of his. “Why were your relations kept hidden from SHIELD and the FBI?”

“That’s a question for you know who.”

He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I bet I am. But this is not some precinct where you can get my team to turn on me so easily. And this is not a situation in which they’re lying for me. I trust that whatever the Captain has said is the answer to all your questions.”

“We’re gonna unravel this case. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of sleepiness. These past two weeks have been exhausting even if you haven’t moved more than five feet from wall to wall. Having to repeat yourself to people who have already written the story for themselves is tiring. “I don’t know why you guys can’t just believe the words of myself and everyone vouching for me. We got you all the evidence. We have given you more names and connections that you’ll ever know what to do with. You don’t need to unravel anything; it’s all there! But because we weren’t able to arrest the one person you wanted, that being Ernesto, you go after me. You have White but I guess he’s not talking. And you’ll believe what you want to believe.”

“I trust my gut.”

“As simple as that, huh?” You sigh deeply and cross your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a saying the late Agent Carter used to tell all SHIELD agents when they first started out and when they came back from missions. When she retired, it was Fury who then eased our minds.” 

Agent Kavert has a harsh line creasing through the middle of his forehead and he looks deeply interested. 

“There are three sides to every story,” you recite. “Your side, my side, and the truth.” A gentle shrug of the shoulders feels like all you’re allowed to give him. “I’m not lying to you but I’m not telling you the full truth either. Just my side.”

Agent Kavert shuts his eyes and bounces his left leg. He looks conflicted and unable to formulate a response at all. He’s shaking like he’s at war with himself or with the suits on the other side of the door, but no one has come knocking yet. “Let’s say I believe you. Just for a second.”

You nod. 

“Daniel Seda murders Vega at his own daughter’s wedding. We managed to catch Marcus White and because of fault entirely, Omar Ramirez gets away. Because from what I heard, Ramirez was working with you.” He paints the picture rather mundane, but you shoot him a smile that tells him he’s on the right track. “And you and all the other Avengers were blindsided by Ramirez. You gathered all the evidence you were told to gather, worked together and played your cards right, infiltrated one of the most secure estates in the country, and fucked up so badly that you managed to let two of your biggest giants die?”

“I really think you got it spot on.”

He laughs dryly, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Once Vega was gone and Seda survived, where would you have fallen in this tree?”

He wants to retract his question the moment he sees your face fall with such a sincerity he wasn’t ready for. “That’s just it, Agent Kavert. I would have fallen.”

“And the other two? How would business work? Would Daniel Seda have been the head of it now?”

“Your answers are in the evidence we gathered. I know you guys aren’t touching it because you think I’m compromised.”

He stands from the chair and dusts off his jacket. “Your side, my side, and the truth,” he repeats. He goes to open the door but you speak quickly before he can leave. 

“They think I infiltrated SHIELD, the Avengers, and am in bed with HYDRA because they’ve been helping Ernesto’s vision all along.” Agent Kavert stops and turns back to you. “I am a double agent whose identity was kept secret to aid this country and not raise suspicions from your part. I have seen a lot of things, have done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it all for a reason.”

Agent Kavert looks almost ashamed. Tone of voice: sincere.

“Me and my Captain saved lives, our own as well, and we stopped three of the most notorious drug-lords who have been at large since the eighties. We got your giants for you. And the truth is, I have discovered: through all my pain and experience... that it’s excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.”

Agent Kavert doesn’t know if you’re talking about Ernesto, the U.S Government, yourself, or him. His eyebrows pinch together and he slowly moves to leave the room.

    It’s another week before you’re visited by someone who isn’t bringing you food or extra toilet paper. You’re picking at your cuticles when the vents above your cell begin rattling with the obvious weight of a human being. You sit dumbly on the bed, straining your ears and trying hard not to laugh as each rattle is returned with a muffled curse. The vent on the ceiling right outside your cell drops to the concrete floor. 

Ernesto’s men wouldn’t go through all that trouble to kill you James Bond style. They would have just bribed a guard. So it’s a treat when the door swings open quickly and in comes a staggering Clint, keys in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen is illuminated, showcasing what looks to be blueprints. He’s got a bandaid over his left eyebrow and dust all over his clothes.

Your upper lip twitches into a silly smile. “You’re ridiculous if you thought you wouldn’t be heard in those damn vents.”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s saying ‘maaaf’ and he plops down beside you on the cot. It’s absolutely hilarious he traveled in the vents and that the team approved this when in reality, they could have just sent Scott. “Just had to get past the first line of security. Plus, the blueprints said they were wider... I figure we’ve got a good three minutes before they check the cameras.”

It’s not the first time you sit in a cell with a time crunch. 

     The Raft is nothing special. They have you all separated by rank, meaning you were in the same vicinity as Clint, Sam, and Scott. Wanda was moved to a more secure location and you haven’t seen her since they brought you in. 

There isn’t much to do in a place like this. You tried counting how many strands of hair you had but gave up once you counted two hundred; you tried seeing if the others could hear you when you yelled out to them but the cells were soundproof; you even tried filing your nails against the uneven paint on the wall. It’s like they made life in these cells purposefully horrible - like you didn’t save the world a couple times over, c’mon. 

The camera fidgets over your head where you’re laying down and after a few seconds, it stops. The red light slowly fades and turns a bright yellow. You move to stand on the bed and reach for it, but a voice startles you from doing so. 

“Don’t mess with my magic!”

You topple over the single pillow you were given and fall flat on the bed, scrambling to shield yourself from whoever intruded. “Jesus!”

“Oh, I met him. Strange lad, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

There’s a moment where you think you must be dreaming. His hair is longer and hits his shoulders and he’s added some blue and yellow to his usual attire. But other than that, he’s alive. Truly, brilliantly, really alive. 

“Loki, what the fuck?”

“Right!” Loki claps his hands and extends them outwards, smiling.  “Ta-da!”

A few beats pass. You blink a few times just in case you’re hallucinating. Barely a week in containment… 

“I’m sorry… I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re still alive!”

He scoffs low and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. “A God never truly dies, darling.”

“Well in Greek mythology-”

“Greek mythology and I have this unsettled beef that’s been going on for about five hundred years. Do not mention Greek mythology to me.”

“Excuse me, right, I should have known that was a sensitive topic.”

Loki swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and expels a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your restraint is gone and you lunge forward to envelope him in the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. He returns it, sighing into your shoulder and holding you close. You pull away just to stare at him, watching his features as they move ever so slightly. It’s really him. 

“I-” Loki tries but stutters. He’s studying you too and he almost looks sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Does Thor know?” Loki shakes his head at your question and winces when you smack his shoulder. “Loki, Thor has been grieving you for months!”

“I’m planning on it!” You don’t believe him. He goes to rub his shoulder. “Gods, I forgot you had excellent aim.”

You look back at the camera and find that the yellow light is still glowing, dim. Loki’s magic is blocking footage out or putting footage in, you really don’t know. But it’s allowing you a few moments with the man you thought you’d never see again. “Spontaneous reincarnation aside, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”

“I’m on this planet for five-FIVE minutes, and the television has all these reports about you and everyone fighting each other?”

“Mm, right, right.”

Loki stares at you, amused. “... Care to explain?”

Your face contorts into a hundred different expressions until you finally settle on one of gentle guilt. “The person we were after was a friend of a friend. I made a judgement call and let him go.”

“You went against orders?”

“I went against the law.”

“Even better.”

With an eyebrow cocked, you give him a judging look. “Loki.”

His eyes crinkle from the intensity of his smile and you’ve missed him, you missed him so much. “That’s what I love about you. Barely starting out as an Avenger and you’re already realizing you can do more good in your own way.”

You groan quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I mainly did it for Steve. Wasn’t like it was a big ‘fuck you’ to one-hundred and seventeen nations for the hell of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Spoken like a true anti-hero.”

“You comparing me to yourself?”

Loki chuckles and runs his fingers through the strands of hair closest to your cheek. “Darling, I’m a God. No one comes close.” He sighs, serious again. “All I’m saying is that it’s refreshing to see the young break the rules.”

“I missed you,” you softly say. You can feel the nudge of his cheek turning upward against your head. 

“Always nice to hear.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to meet his gaze. “So, no reason why you came to visit me specifically?”

Loki takes one cautious look at the camera, to outside your cell, and back to you. “I too do things for your lovely Captain.” His smile grows wider. 

“What?”

He winks and tilts his head over to the giant metal doors that are starting to pry open. “See you in a minute.” 

The alarms begin blazing; there is fog filling the room, and Steve emerges from that fog with a winning smirk.

     You look over at Clint, half selfishly wishing he was Loki on another one of his midnight visits, and quickly do away with the thought. “So how’s life without me?”

“Oh, it’s great! The flowers are in bloom, the kitchen isn’t always a mess, and my bow and arrow aren’t misplaced because you wanted to have some fun with it,” he jokes, stretching far enough that his feet dig into your thigh like he’s trying to make more room for himself.  

“Not like it’s your only bow and arrow.”

He chuckles and sits up. He does a once over of the room and adjusts the frequency on his hearing aid. “They read you your rights at least?”

You wait to respond until he finishes fixing it. You speak and sign the words slowly,  “I don’t think any lawyer in America will want to take this case anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a career killer.”

Trying to refrain from smiling around Clint was nearly impossible. You look to the door quickly, “Two minutes?”

He shoots up straighter as he watches your hands, “Right! So we’re currently tracking down your sister-”

“My sister?”

“Steve thinks she’s our only hope at clearing your name.”

“Why is that? I told her to get as far away as possible.”

Clint sighs and scratches the skin just above the bandaid. “She stayed in Mexico all those years you were gone. By all accounts, Ernesto adored her. Because of that, her influence might clear your name.”

“But she stayed. All the more reason to believe she was involved as well,” you say, shaking your head.

“She’s barely out of her teens. Everything that happened, happened when she was a minor. She has a first hand account of the abuse Ernesto caused you. And Steve thinks that the Julian fellow might even come clean and admit to the arranged marriage. Shows a pattern of abuse by Ernesto to his own children. Could spin it to make it seem like you had no other choice but to follow his orders.”

You follow his hands slowly, some signs difficult to read but you latch onto the gist of his argument. You groan and lean your head back on the wall with a small thump. “They go against Ernesto and they have targets on their backs. Even my other siblings who are still involved with all of this won’t let it go.”

“Y/N… Ernesto’s dead. You know that.”

“His influence isn’t.”

There’s minimal commotion a few doors down. Clint realizes it’s time to leave. “It might never be. But we don’t get to live in the future.” He stands with another small groan and stretches as he prepares to lift himself back into the vent. “We’re living now, and it’s all any of us can do.”

“Clint?” You also stand and have to wave in his peripheral to get his attention. He turns and knows what you’re about to say even without the hand gestures. “They won’t answer me when I ask.”

His lips pull into a perceptive smile, “He’s okay. Doing what he does best - blaming himself.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

He’s had enough practice reading your lips to notice the sarcasm that drips from them. He hurries to lift himself up. “We’ve got about a million tricks up our sleeve. If Jackeline’s word or the evidence isn’t enough, we’ve always got Fury and his blackmail.”

“Yeah, half the guys who interviewed me look like they cheat on their wives, so.”

He genuinely laughs and jumps high, muttering more to himself than to you. “Up we go…”

     The team locates Jackeline just a few days after your run-in with Clint. The building saw a triple rise in security but even then it didn’t prevent undercover agents passing all the checkpoints and sliding notes with your meals. They’d leave the tray, tip their hats, and smile like they knew the cameras wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

The first note is from Bucky, with the simple message of ‘I watched a few episodes of The Crown without you… I’m sorry.’

The second comes on the same day at dinner time, this one from Wanda. ‘I think Peter is trying to flirt with your sister.’

The third isn’t slipped through with any meal, but rather through the tiny opening beneath the door. ‘Surprised we did this the legal way this time! See you soon! - Rhodey’

The final one is actually hand delivered when several guards come in to tell you you’re free to go. They’re mumbling amongst themselves, cursing the system and the privileges Avengers always get, when the smallest of the five turns to you and hands you the note. ‘I owe you one. You owe me one. Who’s counting anymore? - Joaquin’

Jackeline had been able to track down Maribel and the two of them, with such accuracy in their stories and their timelines, constructed your defense perfectly. They showed them phone records, all of the recordings from that week, had proof that you never signed a thing, and made several special deals. Jackeline promised to reveal where bodies were buried, where business was dealt with, who else was involved with Ernesto and Seda. Maribel managed to get a message to them from Ramirez, which basically cleared you from the crime they were trying to stick. Ramirez was a damn good liar, you’ll give him that, and it made you the tiniest bit sad that you’d probably never see him again. 

The tipping point was when Steve turned himself in. There was no evidence that you did anything, never signed anything, never conspired behind your teammates backs. Fury made sure not to keep a paper or electronic trail. But there was evidence that implicated Steve - the contract. No matter how badly the FBI and CIA tried to make it go away, to absolve Steve from it, he didn’t back down. It was like the story they originally wanted toppled in on itself and it was actually Steve who forced you into all of this - playing your connections and forcing your hand. The contract hadn’t been voided, still hasn’t, and they really couldn’t risk another SHIELD fiasco. So it was destroyed to protect the Stars and Stripes, and in return they promised to let you go if you didn’t tell a soul. The image you’d come to despise, that tacky red, white and blue, is starting to grow on you.

‘Let me think about that and get back to you,’ you had joked. You think they let you go sooner because they feared the truth in your joke. 

But there wasn’t anything to think about, ever, still isn’t. Steve pulled another sacrifice play and you wanted to get out as soon as possible to kick his ass. 

You leave the prison with the same clothes you had on when you entered. They smell washed and you’re thankful they allowed you to shower before you left. You ignore the looks guards and prisoners aim at you, each trying to somehow get their hits in without actually pulling their punches. This would be a media disaster either way, didn’t matter the outcome of a supposed trial, and PR was most likely struggling to prepare their defense. 

You resist the embarrassing urge to run into his arms. He’s standing right outside the gates, leaning back on the passenger side of his rusty old blue pickup, positively glowing underneath the blazing sun. You’re blinded by it, skin thanking the dangerous rays for its first touch in weeks, but it only takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. He still hasn’t shaved and his hair is getting longer, and instead of his usual tucked-in dress shirt, he’s wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded graphic tee that reads AC/DC. It was Tony’s.

You’ve only got the broken burner phone and a hair tie in your possession; it’s what was on you when you were arrested. You drop the burner in a nearby trashcan and head on over to the truck. Steve’s wide smile buckles your knees and it damn near breaks your heart. Even when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, you still saw each other at least twice a week. Going two weeks without seeing him feels like a lifetime. 

Once you're a few feet away, you stop in front of him. There are no immediate words you know to say, so you simply shrug your shoulders and give him a look that asks ‘What now?’

“Home.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer​ @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng​ @mycosmicparadise​ @missnighttigress​

[truglori]

Homebody (Ch.3)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning : Language, Slight Smut

Davio’s was the choice of the night. It was known for being one of the top restaurants with a perfect view looking out towards the city.

Scoping out the restaurant Erik’s attention was drawn to the repeated sounds of utensils clinking against porcelain plates. Along with the many voices talking amongst each other, it was driving him to the state of annoyance. If it was up to him he would have rather chosen something more quiet and isolated so that he could be focused on his date.

Bringing his mind back to what was in front of him he checked out his view. Sitting there with her titties out and her signature ice piece that rested comfortably in her cleavage, she rocked an all black dress that clung to her body perfectly.

Shyly looking up from her dessert menu Alexis caught him staring her down. She gave him a smile before setting down the laminated paper. Flipping her 26 inches of Brazilian bundles over her shoulder that she decided to wear bone straight, she leaned in to give him a better view.

“You like what you see daddy?” She teased before sipping on her glass of Rosè.

Erik eyes scanned over her one last time. “I do. You look good as fuck right now.”

“Mm thank you daddy. I got this dress earlier today just for you.” She always tried her best to impress him.

He slowly nodded his head. “Oh yeah? You showing out for me..having ya ass all out like that too.”

Erik couldn’t lie to himself even if he tried. Alexis was bad as fuck. From her perky titties that always sat up to her fat ass that looked plumped in no matter what she was wearing. To the hood she was the definition of a bad bitch and she had the attitude to match it too.

Erik ran into her almost nine months ago. They both were in the club celebrating a mutuals birthday. He noticed her when he stepped in the building with Durk and the crew. She was already in the V.I.P section with a friend on each side of her.

Making eye contact with each other for the first time that night Erik knew he had to have her just for the time being. He introduced himself to her and brought her and her friends drinks for the remainder of their time there. She didn’t put up a front either. That’s what he liked about her, she showed just as much interest and was straight forward with him. Erik didn’t have to deal with the typical cat and mouse chase game most women did whenever a man pursued them.

What he thought would be simple one night stand turned into a fling. They ended up exchanging numbers while laying in her bed after going a few rounds. The way that she sucked and fucked him had him thinking twice about ghosting her. She was the first girl to make him nut from head. That’s how skilled she was with her throat and tongue. Alexis was truly a freak and there was nothing that was off limits to him. But the more time they spent with one another the she started to get entitled and Erik couldn’t stand that shit. She was always putting their names together out in the streets which almost ruined his reputation of being low-key. He told her that if she didn’t stop running her mouth he was going to stop fucking with her and that put her in her place.

The waiter interrupted him from his thoughts as he sat down their food they ordered fifteen minutes ago.

The smell of a fresh hot and steamy steak well done along the side of creamy garlic mash potatoes invaded his nose and caused his mouth to water.

“Maybe you could take me to your place and take it off me after.” She lifted her leg up and massaged his dick through his pants with the flat part of her heel.

Erik smirked. He knew what she was trying to do but it didn’t work.

“When was the last time we went to my crib?”

“Never but-“

“So then why would I bring you there if I never did before?” He cut her sentence short.

Erik was very cautious about who he trust to know where he lived. Every single one of their sneaky links was hosted at her apartment. It may seem shallow that he couldn’t even allow the girl who he could bend over whenever he wanted to know where he laid his head but he just couldn’t trust everyone.

“Erik when is your paranoid ass gonna realize I’m not out to get you or set you up.” She rolled her eyes.

“I never said you were so why you insinuating some shit like that? You thinking about it?” He questioned.

‘This the shit I’m talking about.’

He shook his head setting down his fork to take a break from his food and picked up his glass of Hennessy.

“No. I’m just wondering why you don’t have a problem fucking me but yet I can’t even come to your place...that’s low as fuck.” She cocked her head sideways before going back to her shrimp and scallop.

“What’s wrong with me keeping my privacy? And why we gotta talk about this now, we should be enjoying ourselves.”

Erik cut the conversation no longer entertaining it. He never was the one to explain himself to someone who didn’t pay one bill where he lived and he wasn’t going to start today.

Alexis no longer wanting to vex the situation switched up the mood.

“You’re right baby but ooh guess who I seen today?”

Jogging his memory from the car ride with Amiyah earlier he already had a hint but let her speak anyways.

“Who?”

“Durkio’s sister. She works at the boutique where I got this dress from. She’s pretty..just a lil too chubby for me.” She giggled throwing her shade while bitting into some scallop.

When those words left her lips it turned Erik all the way off. What was the reason of a woman trying to denigrate another grown woman.

“You tell her that to her face?”

Alexis smacked her lips. “Why would I say that to her?”

“I don’t know, what you got against her?”

She laughed at his question. “Nothing I just stated my opinion that’s all.”

He nodded his head taking a mental note.

Some time had passed as the two ate in a comfortable silence chatting here and there. When he was finished he picked up his cloth napkin wiping his mouth. He was ready to get up out of there. Erik looked to see Alexis going through her purse. She took out her lipstick and reapplied it and that gave Erik the hint that she was also finished with her meal.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah I need you to give me some dick when we go back to my place” She spoke bluntly and out in the open not caring who could have heard her.

Grabbing his wallet he pulled out two crisps one hundred dollar bills paying for their dinner. He then got up slipping on his jacket as he watched Alexis stand up and put on her Burberry vintage trench coat.

He followed closely behind her to the exit of the restaurant before he went in front of her and held the door open. They walked to the valet and Erik gave his ticket to young man at the booth and watched him run in the direction of his car.

The wind blew softly and Alexis found herself standing directly in front of him as she slipped her hands inside his open jacket and wrapped them around his waist colliding their bodies together. The feeling of his hard abs against her breast made her nipples harden. She looked up at him watching his head stay in the same direction where the valet boy ran to get his car. Lifting one of her hands to his beard she tugged it softly grabbing his attention.

Erik shifted his eyes down in hers and recognized the look in them.

Already knowing what wine always did to her body whenever she had it let him know that she was ready to try to suck his dick while doing a handstand if she could.

She bit her lip never breaking contact. “I want you so bad right now.”

“You think you can handle me tonight? You be runnin every time when you off that Rosè. That pussy be hurting huh?” His hand grabbed her neck softly and his thumb caressing where her trachea was.

“I don’t be running it just be taking you so long to fuckin nut.” She smiled and opened her mouth sticking out her tongue.

Erik looked down at the display before bring his thumb up to it and watched as it disappeared in her mouth. Her jaws sunk in as she sucked it softly and lightly bobbed her head up and down. His balls tightened at the warm sensation on his finger bringing his memory back to the times she would do the same thing on his dick. He gave a low groan before he was interrupted with someone clearing their throat.

“Excuse me sir...your car is here.” It was the valet.

Erik grabbed his keys and walked to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for Alexis. She got in but not before lightly gripping his balls. Closing the door behind her he made his way to his side starting up the car and looked out his rear view before driving off.

It wasn’t too long when he glanced over and saw Alexis hiking up the bottom of her dress to her waist. She had no panties on and her pussy looked like it was freshly wax. Smiling at his face she leaned her seat back and spread her thighs opened. Running her nails over the inner flesh she felt herself getting warmer from the touch.

Erik was doing his best to multitask by watching the road while getting a look at her phat pussy lips every now and then.

“If you gon put it out like that you might as well play with it.” He told her biting his lip.

Following his demand she spread her lower lips with one hand as she let the fingers of her other dip into her wet opening just before bringing them to her clit rubbing it in circles. She moaned at the feeling applying more pressure. Her pussy became more wet from having him watch her. It made her excited and proud that she was able to keep his eyes distracted while taking the risk. No longer being able to hold back she stopped her stimulation and sat up with her knees on the seat. Bending down across the arm rest she put an arch deep enough in her back so that he would be able to see the butterfly tattoo on her ass cheeks.

“I wanna play with something else too.” Unbuckling his Loui Vuitton belt and zipping down his pants she took out his dick. It was so fucking heavy. The length and girth of his nine inches is what drove her to the brink of obsession. His dick took her soul every time he would fuck her and she gladly let him have it.

Wasting no time she kissed the sensitive head showing her appreciation then stuck her tongue out and ran it up and down his shaft wetting his dick up. Returning to the head of his penis she smacked the heavy tip on her lips as she pushed out some spit to make it glossy. Opening her mouth she took him in with sunken cheeks and immediately started to suck mocking her movements from ealier when they were outside.

Erik gripped her hair and moaned in his throat. She was a fucking head monster. It didn’t take him long to get hard because she knew what she was doing. Pulling her hair into a ponytail with the free hand he wasn’t driving with he switched his eyes between the road and her spitting on his dick then deep throating it.

He couldn’t hold back his smile. “You fucking nasty you know that?”

Quickly moving his hand off the steering wheel he lifted up his shirt to keep it from getting soaked and placed it back taking control again.

Seeing this, Alexis brought one hand up to his abs caressing them and then moved her way up to his chest running her fingers over his left nipple. Relaxing her throat and silently humming she was able to go deeper taking at least six inches of him without gagging.

“Fuck..” Erik mumbled under his breath.

Lifting up and wiping her mouth she smiled. “I heard that daddy.”

“Get back on that dick.” He guided her by the back of her neck feeling himself about to cum at any moment.

Giggling she played around his head flicking the underside of it. Using her right hand she massaged his balls as she took him back into her warm wet mouth and sucked his tip repeatedly producing excessive spit so that she was able to stroke him at the same time. Up and down she twisted her hand around his girth and would make a tight grip whenever she would reach the top.

This was on of the reason Erik couldn’t find himself to stop fucking with her. He could never turned down some good head and she definitely knew how to give it.

“Suck that nut out then.” He hyped her up and seen that it was working when he saw her twerking her ass cheeks.

With her staying around his sensitive head for a while he felt his stomach tightened up and his ass clenching together as his hips thrust up. He didn’t want to bust just yet but she was sucking him dry.

“Mm fuckk.” He dick spurted out his semen into her mouth and he relaxed back into his seat.

She made sure he was milked properly before she cleaned him up neatly and put his dick back in his pants and going back to the passenger side.

Reaching over she ran the tip of her nails on his neck.

“You needed that daddy...that load was big as fuck.”

“I did and you gon suck another one out of me when we make it to your crib.”

She smiled proud of her work.

“Anything for you daddy.”

___________________________________________________________________

It’s been two days since Amiyah last saw Erik. Two whole days had went by and this man still haven’t called her.

She couldn’t get him out of her mind.

Closing her eyes she kept thinking about the way he touched her. How his hands gripped her waist and rested there comfortably. His hands were tough but yet soft and gentle with her plush body.

‘What is he doing to me?’

Is the question she asked herself as she laid with her back on her bed with one leg folded on top of the other rocking it side to side while being on her phone. She had just finished cleaning her room and decided to finish setting the mood with a sweet smelling caramel drizzle three wick candle from Bath and Bodyworks that she brought herself.

It was her day off so she had nothing to do but sit in the house. Durkio was gone and Kelley was at work and aside from those two she had no one else that she could hang with. Being interrupted from scrolling on Instagram she was getting an incoming call from and local unknown number.

617-348-7677...

Amiyah sat up. The palms of her hands became sweaty as she answered with a soft voice.

“Hello..”

“Hi this is Jesse Mcwell and I am calling from our student loans forgiveness program to let you know that your application has been accepted.” The voice sounded like it was coming from a southern white women.

Amiyah inwardly groan at the customer service worker. She laughed at herself for getting nervous and excited over nothing.

“I’m sorry Jesse but you have the wrong number...I’m not in school.”

“Oh I’m sorry well thank you. Have a great day!”

“You too!”

She clicked the red button ending the call.

She smacked her lips.

“You’ll know it’s me.” She mocked Erik in his voice becoming annoyed.

That wasn’t the first time she picked up a call from a random number within that last two days that wasn’t Erik. All of them being from either an automated voice message claiming she won a free trip or last but not least the student loan office.

She picked up every single last one of them in hopes of hearing his voice.

Climbing off her bed her belly growled.

“I need some food.” She spoke to herself out loud which was a habit of hers.

Walking into the kitchen she rummage through the cabinets and refrigerator but found nothing to her liking. It was either junk food or leftover takeout from Durk. Growing easily frustrated with her hunger she blew out air and closed the pantry door.

A minute later had passed when she remembered that there was a small Jamaican spot that she liked literally right down the street. It was nothing but a three minute walk and she could make it there and back in lest then ten. Grabbing her coat and house keys she put on her Timbs and then exited her home locking the door behind her.

Going to the elevator she clicked the down button and waited for it to come up to the fourth floor so that she can get on.

The doors opened and out came her neighbor Melanie. She was some Latina that she only knew of because of the one time she walked in the apartment and found her brother bending her over in the living room. The girl was the reason Durk didn’t pick her up from work that day which lead her to having to take the bus home.

“Oh hey girl! How are you?” She tried her best making small talk with her.

Amiyah mentally rolled her eyes but gave a small smile.

“I’m good thanks!” She returned her fake energy as she stepped in the elevator and hit the lobby button.

“Tell your brother I asked about him. Let him know-“

The doors shut before she could finish her sentence. Amiyah laughed and shook her head.

“That girl know I don’t like her.”

It took nothing but a few seconds when the elevator finally came to a hault and opened the doors on the lobby floor.

Amiyah walked outside zipping up her coat and began heading in the direction of the restaurant. It took exactly how long she thought it would, less than five minutes. But being a house length away from her destination she noticed an all black BMW and sitting on top of it was a black guy as he spoke with two Dominican looking men.

Keeping her head down like how her brother taught her she was hoping to go unnoticed and not wanting to draw any attention towards her. The closer she got she couldn’t help taking a glance and picking up their conversation.

“Listen I’m not trying to make no beef.. we gotta lay low since our business is getting out there. Niggas is finding out shit and I don’t know how.” The black guy spoke with his hands folded together in front of him like he was the man in charge.

“We got you boss. We’ll make sure whatever we know gets back to you.” The taller one of the two other men spoke up confirming her thoughts.

“Yeah we gon start going low.” The shorter one finally spoke.

That was the last of the conversation she heard before she went inside the restaurant. Walking up to the cooler she slid the door open and grabbed a Calypso ocean blue lemonade. She only had to wait behind two people before she was able to put in her order.

The sudden feeling of the breeze from outside let her know that someone was coming in but she had no time to look back as the line moved and it her was her turn.

“Hi can I get a medium oxtail with rice and peas but no cabbage. Also can you add extra gravy please.” She gave the middle age lady a smile and sat her drink on the counter to unzip her Coach wallet taking out a twenty.

“Yo she good...she with me and hook it up for her.”

Turning her head to put a face to the voice that spoke for her she saw it was the guy who was sitting on his car from outside. He standing there with his hands in his pocket.Taking him in he was dressed down in a Givenchy track suit with the Moncler x Givenchy puffer jacket to match. His outfit screamed money but it was nothing she hadn’t seen before with her brother.

“Um thank you but I could’ve paid for it. It’s not that much.” She spoke softly.

He gave her a smile looking her up and down taking in her shape right in front of her.

“You good. These my people who look out for me and whoever I know.” He shrugged his shoulders letting her know that it’s nothing.

Shyly darting her eyes to the counter to grab her drink she stood to the side before turning back to the stranger.

“Well thank you but you don’t even know me.” Not trying to be rude to him but she was only stating facts.

“So then let me change that. I’m Cane.” His hand went to his chest as he introduced himself then reached out to shake her hand.

“Amiyah.” She placed her small hand in his that was huge compared to hers. She only hope that he wouldn’t notice her hand lightly sweating up which happened whenever she got nervous. It was a trait she hated about herself.

“That’s beautiful name. It kind of sound like my daughters.” Yet to have let go of her hand he stroked the back of it with his thumb stepping closer to her.

“What’s your daughters name?” Amiyah was finding herself lured into his charm as she stared deeper into his eyes.

“Janiyah.” He smirked at her before letting go.

“That’s pretty. What was your name again?"

“Cane.”

His eyes danced over her body again. She was a pretty thick girl to him. He knew as soon as she walked pass him he was hypnotized by her big ass and pretty natural round face. In his opinion she was fine as fuck but he could see the way she acted told him she probably thought differently.

She seemed insecure from how she spoke timidly and barely being able to keep eye contact. He noticed this but still went for her. If she was anything like how he thought he had her figured out to be then he knew that she could be someone who he could easily control and who he can get some pussy from time to time.

“Excuse me, your order is ready young lady.” The middle age woman broke the two from their staring contest.

Walking up to the counter she took her food along with a fork and some napkins and headed for the door. She felt him following behind so she held the door for him without bothering to turn around.

Cane laughed that she knew he was right behind her. He couldn’t help but to be hooked with the ass that she was dragging. He definitely was going to make it a priority to break her ass in.

Amiyah returning to the direction where she came from turned around to thank him one last time.

“Thank you for taking care of this. I appreciate that.”

“Well you can thank me properly by letting me take you out to dinner. Introduced you to some real Caribbean cuisine and not some street corner shack...no offense though.” He smirked.

She giggled at him down playing her choice of restaurant. “I thought you said these were your people. Why you shading them like that?”

“They are my people but that don’t mean I gotta settle ma...and neither should you.” He stepped closer occupying her space.

“Okay.” Not knowing any better and folding under his gaze she accepted his offer.

He took out his IPhone 12 and punched in the numbers that she gave him. He sent a text with just his name alone to make sure she had it.

“You need anything else. Maybe a ride? I noticed you walking” He stated genuinely.

“No I live two minutes away.” She replied letting him know she was good and waving goodbye.

“Aight I’ma hit you up later. Nice to meet you Amiyah.” He gave her a smile as he sat back on the hood of his car and watched her walk away.

‘Damn he was so fine.’

Two fine ass men in the same week asked for her number. She always made up scenarios in her head about how it would be the first time she would give a guy her number and never would have thought it would be with her brothers fine ass best friend or with a stranger who looked like money.She always thought she would get less and have to settle below her standards, but after today this was definitely a confidence booster.

Locking the door behind her she walked to the coffee table and sat her food down after she turned the tv on. Getting undressed back into her lounge wear she plopped on the couch and opened her plate to eat.

“Damn they hooked me up.” Looking at her plate she saw that it was plenty of oxtails sprawled out and extra gravy just the way she liked it.They never gave her that much oxtails that had that much meat on them before.

Cane immediately came to her head as she took in a spoonful of rice. She wondered if he was someone important to the restaurant for them take demands from him and made sure she left with a generous amount of food.

Her phone rung. Not paying attention to anything else besides the tv she answered it nonchalantly while chewing on her food expecting it to be one of those automated machines again.

“I wonder what I won this time?” She spoke to herself sucking the sauce of her fork and placing it down.

“Shit whatever you want?” Erik chuckled.

She snatched the phone away from her ear reading the number.

617-348-8357

She saved the number.

“Uh..I’m sorry Erik. I thought you were these voice messages that keep calling me.” Even though he couldn’t see her she still felt embarrassed.

“You good. Sorry I took so long to call you.”

Putting the tv on mute she sat up giving him her undivided attention. His voice sounded like he just woke up.

“That’s okay. Are you just now waking up Erik?” She giggled. Her nerves were starting to show.

“I didn’t make it home till early this morning. I been up all night.” He talked before clearing his voice.

“Oh okay.” Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and seen it was an incoming FaceTime call.

“Pick up.” His voice commanded. She was still able to hear him due to not hanging up the regular phone call yet.

She looked in the FaceTime camera and fixed her hair as well as wiping her mouth making sure there was no crumbs on her lips.

His face finally came into view as he was laying in what looked like a bed. Black satin pillows surround him. Scanning her eyes over him she noticed he had on a black durag to match.

She giggled as he kept his eyes on her not speaking yet.

“What?” Balling up her fist she used it to cover her smile.

“I can’t look at you?” He licked his lips.

He looked even finer when he was just waking up.

There was no way that she able to handle this man. From his thick lips to his voice, he was ruining her and he hadn’t even done a thing to her yet. She was starting to see a side of Erik that she didn’t know about.

“Oh my god. Why do boys say that?” She questioned acting fake annoyed.

“Well first off I’m a man so don’t make that mistake slipping up calling me a boy again. Aight?” He spoke lowly keeping his eyes on her.

Biting her lip, she tested him. “Erik I can call you whatever I want.”

His chuckle broke the silence.” You tryna make me pull up on you or sum shit? Stop fuckin playing with me.”

She put him on mute and sat the phone down hiding the camera.

‘Sis we is not wetting up these panties today.’

Her thighs clenched together from his threat. She couldn’t take how he could get her sticky down there so quickly. It felt different compared to how it felt when she she would play with herself. That would take her some time before she got aroused but with Erik every look he gave her and every word he spoke to her had her pussy spilling.

“So you gon put me on pause while you play with that pussy?”

She picked up the phone unmuting it.

“Shut up Erik!” She replied pretending to be unfazed.

“I like the way my name come off them soft ass lips.” Erik laughed and teased her watching her come undone in front of him.

“Could you stop?” She turned the phone away only showing part of her face to hide her smile for a second before turning it back.

“What? Say my name again?” He licked his bottom lip while watching hers.

‘Oh my goddd...what is he doing?!’

“I just said it.”

Playfully rolling her eyes she played tough with him but he saw through it.

“Say that shit again while you looking me in the eye.”

He demanded her putting an arm behind his head while waiting for her to respond.

“Erik..” What she meant to come out in a vex tone exited out as a light moan instead.

“Wassup baby.” His deep laughter came through the phone.

Erik watched as the look on her face became flustered. He only wanted to tease her. He liked how she looked when she became nervous. She tried her best to match his energy trying to be tough at first but he shut that down. It surprised him learning that she kind of had a smart ass mouth but clearly it didn’t take much to fix.

“You’re annoying.” At this point Amiyah wanted to just get under her covers and hide.

“I’m just fuckin with you. Told you I’m a grown ass man...don’t be playing with me like that.”

“I hear you.”

“What you do today?” He changed the conversation.

“Nothing it was my day off so I just cleaned my room and just got back from the Jamaican spot. You know the one down the street?”

He nodded his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“You spend ya money on that shit. I had way better Jamaican food.”

She smacked her lips. “ First of all don’t do my spot and second I didn’t have to pay for it today. Some guy spotted me.” She spoke quickly without thinking.

“What you mean some guy spot you? He paid for it?” Erik sat up in bed because her last sentence caught his attention.

“Yeah he was nice but that was it.” She tried her best to diffuse the kind act.

“Nah don’t trust that. Niggas out here always gon want something in return even for something as simple as buying yo ass a meal. Don’t accept nothing next time.” He enlightened her.

She shook her head deciding not to bring up the fact she gave him her phone number.

“Let’s chill tonight?” He broke her train of thought.

She smiled widely. “To do what and go where?” She rushed the questions.

“Whatever you want to. I just want to see you in person.” He eyes examined her beautiful face as she blushed.

“How about we go see a movie and go to a diner or something after.”

That was a certain type of date she always fantasized about and now she was able to take a chance at living it.

He smiled at her excitement. “Bet. I’m pick you up at seven and you don’t gotta dress up but wear something nice for me okay?”

“Okay.” Her soft voice made his dick jump.

“Aight talk to you later.” He smiled and ended the call.

‘Let me go rub this kitty real quick because his ass is too much.’

__________________________________________________________________

Part Four

Please excuse any mistakes!

Cane is at the top.

Tag-list

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @uzumaki-rebellion @blowmymbackout @curls-and-crosses @madamslayyy @goddessofthundathighs @eriksjournal @wakandamama @wawakanda-btch @wakandas-vibranium @wakandaforeverwrites @ghostfacekill-monger @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose

[koutarousangel]

dancing in the rain

includes :  bokuto kōtarō, iwaizumi hajime, sugawara kōshi.

prompt : getting caught in the rain with them

music recs : dancing in the rain ━ rad museum

a/n : my dummy head thought up of this when it was raining on the weekend and i remembered how much i used to love running through the rain when i was still in school 🥺 

he’d seen the clouds hanging overhead with rain threatening to fall and he’d made it a point to come and pick you up after work, not wanting you to take the train home and risk getting soaked.

but as he sat in his car, a ways away from the front door of your office, he remembers that he totally forgot to bring an umbrella. 

when the first couple of raindrops fell on the car windshield, bo’s in full thinking™ mode, but as he sees you come out of your office with a small pout on your face, all rational ideas go out the window.

this man runs towards you, bolts as if he’s running drills with the national team and to the regular passerby, it looks suspicious as all hell 

but when he stops in front of you, is like “hi angel” and drops a quick kiss to your lips, whoever was ready to give him a two footed tackle to stop him is at ease.

places his jacket on top of your head to shield you before turning around and crouching down, signaling for you to get on his back.

you hop up, holding onto the jacket with one hand and wrapping your free arm around his shoulders, and he catches you by the thighs with ease. you make sure to cover his head with the jacket too as he runs towards the car.

basically the both of you are in complete fits of laughter.

but his plan worked because you get to the car relatively dry.

“the beautiful princess has been rescued from evil!”

“bo, baby, it’s just rain”

“it can make you sick, so it’s evil.”

as soon as the two of you get home and you shower, he bundles the two of you up in blankets and the cuddles are out of this world.

coffee run dates with iwa are sacred

so sacred, that even when the both of you see that it was probably going to rain, you decided to go anyway.

the shop was close to your house, you were going to be inside for the majority of the time anyway, and maybe as you were going home, the rain would let up.

spoiler alert: it didn’t

you didn’t mind staying inside the warm shop with iwa, consuming drink after drink and just talking about anything and everything.

but at one point the incredibly tired barista was shooting dirty glares, paired with a forced polite smile that had one message get out.

so you did but you stood at the door just watching the rain for a moment, breathing in the beautiful smell of fresh rainfall.

“you’re gonna catch a cold, cover your head dummy” iwa doesn’t even give you a chance before he pulls your hood over your head. 

you’d insisted on wearing one of his hoodies, so it was a bit too big on you, so as soon as he did that, the edge of the hood covered your eyes, causing you to tilt your head and look from underneath it.

iwa clicks his tongue and chuckles, before he says “you’re fucking adorable” shakes his head and adjusts the hood and presses a kiss to your forehead, slinging his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him as he opened the umbrella.

you wrapped your arms around his waist and the two of you walked in tandem towards your home. 

you’d promised to meet him after work so that you could go get food together. this was something you did regularly since there was a nice spot close to the school he worked at, and you just liked spending time together outside of the house.

the wrench in your plans were the dark grey clouds hanging overhead as soon as you left your workplace and began making your way towards suga’s.

as soon as he sees you, he jogs over and picks you up and spins you, setting you down and placing a kiss on your lips.

even if you’d facetimed at one point during one of the breaks, or if you’d been texting all day, he still always proclaims an “i missed you, sweetheart.”

it never failed to make your heart flutter.

you voiced your concern about the rain and he just waves you off, “it’s just a little bit of rain, it won’t be a problem.”

turns out it was, because instead of a couple of sweet droplets of water, it was a full on thunderstorm.

instead of letting it be a dampener on the mood, suga took your hand and grinned mischievously, pulling you out from underneath the slight bit of cover you had under the bus stop you’d decided to seek shelter in, out into the pouring rain.

��SUGAWARA WHAT THE FUCK?”

he just laughs and pulls you close to his chest, swaying from side to side with you in his arms, “c’mon baby dance with me,” a slight pout on his lips as he poked at your cheek with the tip of his nose.

you were soaking wet anyway so might as well ; he twirls you around, sways with you, all while humming random tunes and laughing with you.

it’s only when he starts to feel you shivering that he’s just like “okay, dance time’s over, let’s get you home.”

you bribe him and tell him that he owes you a warm shower the moment that you get home ... he doesn’t even try to object. 

[beyond-the-birthday-massacre]

Good Night (#little-butterfly-writes contest submission)

Heyy! I wrote the most fluffy self-insert entry I could muster for the #little-butterfly-writes contest hosted by @little-butterfly-writes! I haven’t written for self-inserts for a long time and I’ve forgotten how fun it is to be self-indulgent :)) 10/10 highly recommend you to write one too! I named my MC Athena so I’ll use that name :)  

Fandom: MLQC - Gavin & Athena 

Genre: Fluff 

Word Count: 1473 

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At last, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

The entire company had dealt with the high workload for weeks in order to meet the strict deadlines. The heavy pressure was finally off my shoulders after wrapping up the filming and editing for the big project. 

The office became more quiet as the crew members left for the day. Currently, I was one of the last people there, Minor being the other. For the past few weeks, we had always been the last ones. I underestimated him and his work ethic. He would say the same phrase around sunset: “Hey, Athena! It’s getting pretty late. Think we should call it a day?”

Every day, I would encourage him to head out first and every day, he’d insist we both leave together. 

Minor watched me lock the front doors, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So! Any plans for tonight?” he asked.

Rattling the handle, I murmured, “Not really…” Suddenly rewatching my favourite shows didn’t seem as appealing as it did when I had been busy. The temptation of procrastination vanished when I needed it the most.

Minor glanced at his phone screen. “That’s great! I’ll see ya later, boss!” With that, he walked away.

“Huh?” I stared at his shrinking figure until he turned the corner of the block. He really zoned out, but I didn’t blame him. His expression held nothing but pride and relief that the project was finally over.

***

When I got home, I turned on my laptop. Although Minor never failed to get me out of the office, he couldn’t stop me from working here. Everything was done but revising some materials wouldn’t hurt. Plus, I should look over the reports that I needed to submit next week. 

Frankly, I wasn’t sure how much time passed when I got up to take a long shower. After drying off, I grabbed the first comfortable thing in the closet and realized it was Gavin’s white T-shirt.

Gavin had left for a mission a few weeks ago. The mission was highly classified so I decided not to bother him for the duration of the time. My workload started piling up then and I distracted myself as best as I could. Now that work was out of the way, Gavin’s gentle eyes were back in my mind. When I imagined him smiling, I couldn’t help but do so myself. If I couldn’t see him soon, at least I could meet him in my dreams.

I turned off the light and pulled the covers to my chest, staring at the balcony window as I waited to drift off. There were traces of clouds across the glowing moon and I couldn’t bear to turn away from the serene view. It felt like I was staring at it for eternity until a shadow suddenly appeared. His amber eyes shone against the moonlight and the night wind rippled at his STF jacket, sweeping his hood down.

Before I knew it, I was already opening the balcony door, letting the chilly breeze spill in. “Gavin! You’re back!”

He nodded. Despite the time of day, Gavin didn’t look tired. In fact, with his steady composure and uniform, he looked like he was ready for another day at the Special Task Force. “Mm. The mission finished just now. I wanted to see you,” he said matter-of-factly. 

No matter how long I hadn’t heard his voice, it was distinct and recognizable. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until I gave him a tight hug. It was then when I felt a sudden drop of temperature and I withdrew abruptly: “Geez, you’re freezing!”

Smiling, he tugged me close again, stroking my black hair. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. But you . . .” He furrowed his brow, noticing my loose-fitting ‘dress’. Even in the dim room, the familiar shade of red on his ears was evident. He shed his jacket and I tried to stop him, but he managed to wrap it around me.

“You need it more,” I insisted. “You’re gonna catch a cold.” 

“It’s alright. I have something better.”

His hand slipped into mine. I couldn’t help but hold it tighter in hopes of generating more warmth for him. I brought him to the bed and bundled the blanket around him.

“How long were you flying? You know it gets colder at night,” I scolded, embracing him as we laid over the pillows. He wasn’t shivering but I held him close, unwilling to let go.

He burrowed into my chest and I could feel his smile through the thin fabric. “I promise to be more careful next time.”

“You always say that! Especially about your injuries. Speaking of which, let me see them.” Before Gavin could react, I yanked the blanket away, inspecting his forearms and his torso. 

“Ahem, I’m-I’m okay, really,” he assured, his ears burning bright again when I pulled at his button up shirt. I only found old scars that had already been engraved into my memory. 

Gavin brought my restless hands to his face. His gaze towards me never wavered. “I’m telling you the truth,” he said earnestly and kissed the back of each hand. He wrapped the blanket around us, nuzzling into my chest again. 

Relief steadied my heartbeat until he looked up at me and spoke in a low tone: “Before I left for the mission, I swore I wouldn’t get injured.” He paused, pressing closer. “Do I get a reward for honouring this promise?” 

Whether he was intentionally giving me the subtle, big, ol’ puppy eyes or not, I couldn’t refuse. Brushing his soft, brown fringe back, I pecked his forehead. “There,” I said, a smile playing across my lips. “How’s that?”

He frowned and cleared his throat. “I also made sure not to skip any meals.”

I gave a peck on his cheek. 

“I kept my sleep schedule consistent too.”

“Eight hours?”

“Mm.” 

“Was it eight hours or not?”

He nuzzled deeper into the crook of my neck, hiding his expression. Gavin’s face seemed to have warmed up since his arrival. I started laughing when he playfully bit me.

“Okay, okay, I understand. Agent B-7 has a tight schedule and he works very hard. Here,” I leaned towards his mouth and he closed his eyes, waiting expectantly. His anticipation made my heart flutter, but I couldn’t resist messing with him. In the last second, I moved lower and pressed my lips to his own neck, nibbling it for good measure and for payback. 

His soft groan was barely audible before he pulled me back, pinning me down into the pillows. “I don’t think you’re being fair, Athena. Seems like you’ve forgotten about your own sleep schedule.”

I froze but I tried my best to keep my cool. “My sleep schedule is fine, thank you very much, Officer.”

Feigning doubt, he hummed. “I’m not sure. You’ve been working overtime ever since I left.” He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining mine for reaction. “If Minor hadn’t insisted any earlier, you’d be at the office until midnight every day.”

My eyes widened. “Minor?! Aw, why am I even surprised?” Now to think of it, Minor had started to work longer hours around the day of Gavin’s departure. All this time I was hoping it was because Minor had been engrossed with the Miracle Finder project, not because of a task assigned by Officer Gavin.

“It’s almost 1 am. I should’ve found you fast asleep by now. How do I know if this isn’t a bad habit of yours?” Gavin leaned in, his proximity repelled my fleeting thoughts. His blue and black uniform made him seem so much more intimidating. “So,” he murmured, “are you ready to confess?”

I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt, but his grin knocked down my wishful thinking. “Okay, okay. I lied. My schedule is terrible.”

“Mm.” Satisfied, he released his grip on my wrists. “Let me help you fix it. Is this okay?” He cradled me in his arms, snuggling close. “If not, I can count sheep with you again.”

I giggled, recalling that night with all the sheep. It felt like nothing yet everything had changed. Sighing contently, I leaned into his broad chest. His heartbeat was calm, lulling me to drowsiness. “I think it’s working,” I mumbled, “as always.”

Gavin chuckled as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. His steady gaze was genuine and pure. “I sleep better when I’m with you too.”

My eyelids grew heavy and with the last source of energy that I could gather, I lifted my head and kissed him. His lips were soft against mine and when his parted in shock, I deepened the kiss. I could hear his heartbeat racing as I slumped against him again. 

“There. For everything you’ve done for me.”

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Final notes: I hoped you like it! A lot of things have changed in the MLQC fandom, but I hope everyone is doing well! Reading/writing anything about comfort characters really helps me so I had fun writing this!

I also write for luciensgunsee in Instagram --- it’s mlqc x reader stuff so if you’re interested in that, do check it out! I might put the extended, uncut versions of those scenarios here in Tumblr?? If anyone is interested, please let me know :))

[starculler]

Whumptober 2021: Day 1

Word Count: 2489

Read on AO3

“Jason.”

Dick turned his head, trying to get a proper look at his brother without adding momentum to his slow, circular spin. His arms had gone alarmingly numb a while ago, pinned above his head, bound at the wrists by the same thick cord he hung from, and bearing the bulk of his weight unless he stretched out onto the tips of his toes. He considered doing so for a moment if for nothing else than to plant Jason firmly in his line of sight, but figured his peace of mind wasn’t quite worth stretching the painful length of bruising up and down his torso.

He’d managed well enough for the … hours? Days? Time had started to blend together after a spectacularly precise his to the side of his head, the blood long-dried and flaking against his cheek and jaw where it had dripped down from his hairline. His lack of broken bones — not for lack of trying if the pain in his sides was anything to go by — were at least a point in his favor. A little luck on his side, though he wouldn’t hold his breath hoping it stayed that way. It was a matter of if not when, as Jason’s own swollen, mottled-purple bruised wrist had proved.

“Jason,” he rasped again, wincing at the dull ache in his throat. “Jason, please,” he said, hating the frustrated edge leaking into his voice, “this isn’t the time for—”

“For what, Dick-face?” Jason snapped, voice echoing and too-loud in the still silence of whatever damp basement they’d been stashed in. “For more of your fucking martyr-hero stick? Maybe another round of trying to bullshit those fuckers into letting us go ‘cause that went so well last time? Maybe —”

Dick frowned as he finally circled back around to facing Jason, still bound at his ankles and wrists and cuffed to the leg of what might have been an old, rusted water heater or an antique stove after he’d slipped his restraints once already. He’d been caught only because he’d tried to help Dick. Jason’s next attempt had been a sore point since.

“Just,” Jason snarled, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. “Just keep your useless trap shut unless there’s an actual idea rolling around in that empty fuckin’ head of yours.”

Thick, acrid anger burned through Dick’s chest and bubbled, useless, in his throat. His head throbbed, the steady drumbeat in his skull he’d felt since the hit that might as well have dissolved his concept of time in this godforsaken place growing to a much less negligible roar. He breathed through the pain and anger and the sudden nausea roiling in his stomach, the same slow, measured breaths Bruce had taught him as a kid. It would only do so much, but better that, he figured, than either letting his mouth run away from him or throwing up. Again.

“Jason,” he tried again once he’d sorted through the worst of what he felt, and wondered if he’d wind up with the name tattooed to his tongue from how much he’d repeated it. Had he ever used Jason’s name so often before now?

“Got anything new to say?” Dick pressed his lips into a thin, grim line and remained silent. Jason sneered. “Then shut the fuck up already.”

Dick sighed. He tried to shift, numb, prickling fingers wrapping clumsily around the cord keeping him suspended, and pulled to ease some of the pull on his shoulders only to slip. He hissed through clenched teeth, scrambling to stretch onto his toes and ignoring the ache along his sides and the burn in his back. There were more than bruises there, he knew — he’d screamed himself hoarse as they’d worked him over — but had refused to give it much thought beyond a brief acknowledgment of the pain. He stayed on his toes just long enough to breathe through what he’d done before easing off, slow and careful as he let his arms take the brunt of his weight again.

Jason’s head ducked, glaring once more at the cold, cement floor the second Dick’s gaze focused back on him. Some distant, probably slightly hysterical part of him wanted to laugh at that glimpse of concern he’d caught in his brother’s eyes. The anger for him rather than directed at him. It was nice, in a way, to know Jason cared — to be shown, however unwillingly. They had never really been close: Dick too distant to a brother he hadn’t wanted before Jason’s death, and too distracted after he’d come back to life and mellowed out enough to really come back to the family. It was nice, but unhelpful.

More than anything, Dick needed the ruthlessness the Red Hood was known for. He needed the man able, if not willing, to do what was needed for the sake of a plan. Not that Dick’s plan was much of one. He understood Jason’s anger in that regard. If anyone had told Dick to willingly leave one of his family in danger, he would have sucker-punched them in the face or worse. But he was the more injured of the two, strung up and beat and barely coherent most of the time because he’d spent his time running his mouth to keep their captors’ focus on him rather than on his brother.

Close or not, Dick had decided years ago that he’d do what he could to keep his family safe. If that meant taking a beating to spare someone else, then so be it. Even if it really fucking sucked.

“Jason,” he tried again, and rushed to talk when Jason’s head snapped up, glaring and ready to shout over him if need be. “No, shut up,” Dick hissed, gratified when Jason grimaced, fuming but silent. “I’m not telling you to abandon me here.” He was, they both knew he was, but there was no need to say it out loud. Their captors were playing with them right now, hoping to make Jason talk by hurting Dick. The chances of Dick dying after Jason was gone, though, were high. Still… “You’re not abandoning me. You’re getting help. We need help. Even if you somehow managed to get me down with a broken wrist, I don’t think I could walk out of here on my own and, again, you have a broken wrist. There’s just no way you’re getting me out of here alone.

“No,” he snapped when Jason moved to argue. “We’re good, can’t do what we do if we weren’t, but we’re only human.” Dick sucked in a single shaky breath and forced a grin that further split his lower lip. “I know you’ll come back for me, you and B and anyone else you can get your hands on. But first, you need to get out of here, find out where we are, and make the call. Got it?”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jason growled, but there was no real heat to it. His shoulder had slumped, face twisted into a frown, and resignation visible in every line of his body. Dick was right and he knew it. “You’re not dyin’ here Dick-face,” he said, sharp and unhappy.

“I’m not,” Dick agreed despite the knots his stomach tied itself into.

Jason nodded, slow, and got to work getting free. The light across the room was too dim for Dick to see clearly — little more than the outline of Jason’s body and a few details catching the light visible, but he was enough of an escape artist himself to guess what Jason was doing. It would have been easier, faster, if they’d been caught as Red Hood and Nightwing instead of Jason Todd and Dick Grayson, but not impossible. All of them tended to carry at least some basic supplies on their person: lock picks, multi-purpose tools, a knife or two.

Dick held his breath while Jason worked, praying they hadn’t wasted too much time arguing and hesitating, and let it out all in a rush when he heard the distinct click of a cuff unlocking. He watched Jason stand, gingerly checking his fractured wrist and hissing when his fingers brushed it. Dick flashed him a smile, smaller this time but no less full of the same false confidence he’d injected into his earlier grin. And just as see-through. Jason frowned, nodded once, and stalked to the room’s only exit. After a brief moment spent listening for people on the other side and another to pick the lock, Jason strode through, silent as a shadow despite his bulk, and left Dick alone in the silence and near darkness.

Without another person there to occupy him, despite how neither had spoken much beyond brief check-ins and arguing about escape plans, time grew fuzzy. It seemed to slip through metaphorical fingers, no way to tell how long it had been since Jason had slipped out. The only relief was the lack of sound — no shouting, running, storming the basement, or anything else that might have indicated that Jason had been caught.

It was a relief.

It was a relief, until it wasn’t.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Jason couldn’t breathe.

The stale air cycling through his helmet tasted sour, made worse by the mingling damp, mold and the thick, coppery stench of blood. A fine tremor started in his hand, his white-knuckled grip on his pistol tightening until it threatened to either crack the grip or snap his fingers. He breathed in the deep, meditative breaths they all tended to use, but it did little to lessen the tightness in his chest and even less to banish the red haze creeping in at the edges of his vision.

A hand settled on his back under his jacket and pressed into the sweat-damp sweater he’d been wearing since they’d been caught, small but steadying. Firm and warm. A comfort and a warning bundled together in that special way only Cass managed. Calm, it seemed to say, but he could feel the way it shook, just slight enough that if he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been trying to focus on anything else but what lay in front of him. He swallowed, wanting to gag on the taste in his mouth. Wanting to storm out of this stupid cellar and press the muzzle of his gun to the temple of the nearest idiot and pull the trigger.

He wanted to crawl out of his skin. Crawl back in his grave. Be anyone or anywhere else because then, at least, this wouldn’t be his fault. He wanted to go back in time and strangle his brother for his idiotic ideas and too-good-self-sacrificial bullshit and find a way to switch places. Let Jason be the one on the floor because at least he’d already died. He’d lived the torture, the hopelessness, the last trembling breath before the explosion and the brief, concussive burn, so hot he’d felt cold. That, too, had been his fault.

It was funny, just a little, in an odd, hysteric kind of way.

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t cry. Didn’t move until Cassandra took him by the wrist and pulled him back up the stairs and out of the basement. His broken wrist throbbed, braced and in a sling because he’d refused anything more time consuming in lieu of going back personally with the others. It had taken him over an hour to find his way out of the maze of a hotel their captors had holed up in — some old place half fallen over with more rotted wood than intact some few miles outside of town — and another one and a half to find another living person with a cellphone.

Cass and Stephanie had found him some time after he called, his jacket, helmet, and guns in hand despite how they told him they were supposed to take him back to the cave so Alfred could check him over. Bruce, Tim, the demon brat, and Duke had gone after Dick. The girls hadn’t needed much convincing at all to take him there too once they’d at least stabilized his wrist and gotten him half-dressed in his Red Hood gear.

Stephanie and Duke were on the main floor, tense but trying to look casual where they leaned against moth-eaten, damaged furniture. Cass pulled him in their direction and past, out the door and into the cool, night air. Jason breathed it in with numb relief. He nearly jumped when another smaller hand touched his back, a brief pat before pulling away, and he looked to find Stephanie on his right and Duke on her other side.

“B commed,” she said, subdued and strained. “They made it to the hospital and N’s been taken in for surgery.” Her breath hitched, voice cracking toward the end. “They’re not sure if he’ll …”

“He will,” Jason rasped. “If there’s one thing I know,” he said, voice noticeably thick even through his helmet’s modulation, “it’s that luck fucking loves him. ‘S not about to run out any time soon.”

That pulled a startled laugh out of all three of them, and Jason’s lips pulled into an unwilling grin despite himself. He forced himself to breathe in sweet, fresh air and let some of the tension in his body drain out on the exhale. Dick would be fine, he told himself. The day Dick Grayson died without a single gray hair on his head was the day hell froze over, even if Jason had to drag him back to life kicking and screaming to make that true.

“I think we should make him a cake, for when he gets back,” Stephanie said, voice pitched up in a mostly poor attempt to cheer herself and them up. Duke nodded, about to say something when Cass interrupted with a cheerful chirp of:

“Two cakes.”

“Four,” Duke doubled to the girls’ obvious delight.

Jason groaned, tipping his head back dramatically and drawled, “None of you hellions are touching A’s goddamn kitchen. I’m not sitting through gross, obscure recipes for a week just ‘cause you decided to try playing baker.”

“I can bake!” Stephanie groused, and Jason laughed.

“You can go to a bakery,” Jason shot back. Stephanie huffed and Duke clapped her on the back while Cass muffled a small laugh of her own behind her hand.

Jason breathed in and finally holstered his gun as they reached the three bikes the trio had ridden in on. Dick would be okay, he told himself again, and for now he could do this. Play nice. Be a big brother. He owed that much, at least.

“I’ll bake,” Jason said giving the three a look before they hopped on their bikes, “and you can help.” He rolled his eyes behind his helmet as one cheer and two laughs rang out, then pulled himself carefully onto the back of Cass’ bike as she revved the engine, waiting for him to grab onto her so they could get back home.