#open invitation for any giant to come pick me up and throw me as hard as u can | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kpop---scenarios · 3 years ago

Text

Torn Apart

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Warning: Smut, Angst, Heartbreak

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Chanyeols bestfriend Maya comes to town, and things don't go quite as planned.

Taglist: @biaswreckingfics @littlebetafefe @skittlez-area512 @ohsehunxv

When Chanyeol asked you to be his girlfriend, four years ago, you didn't think it was possible to be any happier. Your relationship with him was almost perfect. Yes you had your ups and downs with him, like any couple but you felt as though you were stronger than any obstacle that could be thrown at you.

You thought.

You had never really been the jealous type, you trusted Chanyeol, even if you didn't trust some of the women he was around but you never voiced it. You always kept it to yourself, unwilling to let jealousy be one of the reasons why the two of you fought. You always believed that if you and your partner had trust that it didn't matter what anyone else did. Chanyeol had women that were friends and you got along with them, you had met all of his friends, of course in the amount of time you were dating. Though, there was one friend that he spoke about often that you had yet to meet.

M, as Chanyeol referred to him, was his best friend in the entire world who had moved to a different country after college. They kept in touch often, talking on the phone a few times a week to keep up with each other. You were happy for him, you were happy that he had such an amazing relationship with M. And you were happy for a few moments when Chanyeol burst through the door this evening, spewing out nonsense in his excited state.

"It's happening Y/N!" He exclaims, plopping down on the couch beside you.

"What?" You ask, your excitement building as you anticipate his answer.

"M is coming for a visit!" He yells. Your mouth drops before turning into a smile.

"Oh my god." You laugh. "I can't wait to meet him!" You yell.

"Him?" Chanyeol chuckles. "Y/N, M stands for Maya. Didn't I tell you that?" He wonders. You search his eyes and he seems absolutely sure he told you that and you are absolutely sure he did not tell you that.

"Oh." You say, sitting back. "So M is a girl.. Maya." You say.

"Y/N.." Chanyeol trails off.

"I can't wait to meet her." You smile. "I'm really happy for you." You finish off.

And you were. But you couldn't help but feel weary about how much they spoke considering he didn't talk to his other female friends that much. You were open minded and were sure you'd get along with her just as you did any other woman.

"Go get ready quick, we're going to meet Baekhyun, Jongdae and his wife." Chanye tells you, standing up to walk to your shared room. "I can't wait to tell them. They're going to be so excited."

"I'm sorry, what?" Baekhyun asks, his face clearly unamused by Chanyeol's news.

"Maya is coming to town! Woo-hoo." He says, trying to amp everyone up and raise his glass for a cheer, but everyone falls silent.

"Didn't she move away like 6 years ago?" Jongdae asks, taking a sip of his beer.

"Yeah, but we've kept in contact." Chanyeol says, placing his glass on the table.

"But why?" Baekhyun asks, taking a shot, his face displeased by the news more than the liquor.

"You're just jealous she never fell for your pretty face and 'slick moves'." Chanyeol laughs.

Baekhyun bursts out laughing as he waves his hand in front of his face. "Not at all." He chuckles. "I never hit on her. I had no interest in her, ever." Baekhyun shudders.

"I don't know how to tell you this man." Jongdae sighs. "She was into you back then, and I can guarantee she's still into you now." He says.

Chanyeol is still for a moment before he begins to laugh. "There's no way. She's not into me." He laughs, taking a drink. He looks at you and laughs again. "She's definitely not." He says to you. You weren't sure what he was trying to do, but he wasn't reassuring you in the least.

A few days later Chanyeol barely kissed you as he rushed out the door to meet Sehun, another friend who happened to also be friends with Maya. The night before Chanyeol had jokingly told you that Sehun had shipped him and Maya together but Chanyeol couldn't see it, he didn't think that he was good enough for her. That honestly hurt you a little bit.

You stayed in the apartment and waited, and waited and you had heard nothing from Chanyeol in hours. You didn't know what was happening and honestly it made you a little anxious until the door knob to the front door turned and Chanyeol, Sehun and a beautiful black haired girl walked in.

"That place was trash." Sehun laughed. "Our Maya deserves much better."

"Sehun." She squeals. "You're too much." She finishes with a giggle.

"And Channie, oh my god. You're so handsome. I've just missed you." She pouts, throwing her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Chanyeol grins as he hugs her back. Your eye ever so slightly twitches as you stand there watching.

"Oh, hey Y/N." Sehun says, placing Maya's suitcase down.

"You're Y/N?" She asks, looking you up and down. "You're so adorable." She giggles as he shuffles her way towards you, pulling you in for an awkward hug. You can feel the tension between the two of you, radiating from her body but you weren't sure what you had done to her to make her dislike you already.

"So Maya." You begin, pulling away from her. "What are you going to do while you're here?" You ask.

"Oh I have everything planned out." Chanyeol interrupts. "We're going to go to that pizza place we went to in college." He laughs, making her giggle along with him.

"Can we please go to that Cafe? You know the one where.. " She pauses as Chanyeol interjects.

"Where I spilled my drink all over myself because I was so nervous? You and Sehun enjoyed that" Chanyeol laughs.

"You were so cute." She laughs, before looking at you. "He told me I was so beautiful it made his hand shake." She smiles.

"We could go now?" Sehun pipes up, making everyone excitedly agree. The three of them move towards the doorway, leaving you standing there.

"Aren't you coming?" Chanyeol asks, turning around to look at you.

"Oh, yeah, sure." You smile, grabbing your purse. As the four of you walk out the door, you can't help but feel unwanted by at least two of the people there.

Over the next few days, the invites you received became less and less. Chanyeol and Maya had decided to go to a pizza parlor that they frequented in college, and you were the afterthought after they had already made plans to go. Even when Chanyeol invited you, you could feel that Maya didn't want you there but you tried to ignore it and went along with them anyway.

"Oh my god." Maya giggles. "You're right, this place hasn't changed at all." She laughs, looking around the parlor. "This is the exact table we always sat at too, oh Channie, you sure know how to make a girl so happy." She squeals, leaning her head on his shoulder. Chanyeol let out a small chuckle as he looked at her, almost admiring her leaning onto him as you sat across from the two friends, who looked alot like a couple.

"Chanyeol? Maya?" You hear from in front of you. A little old Italian man walks up to the table with a giant smile on his face, looking at the two. "I thought that was you guys! It's been years." He smiles. "Please tell me you're finally together. I always thought the two of you would make such an amazing couple." He says, praising them and ignoring your existence.

"This is my girlfriend actually." Chanyeol laughs, gesturing to you.

"But who knows what the future holds." Maya chuckles, giving you a quick glare before focusing on Chanyeol once again.

Maya made your blood boil. You were positive she was trying to take Chanyeol from you, but you knew your innocent boyfriend would never see it. He was far too invested in their friendship to think anything more could ever happen between the two of them. But that didn't stop you from absolutely hating this girl.

That night you walked back home, behind Chanyeol and Maya who had linked arms and were deep in a discussion about something. You shivered with your arms crossed as the cool breeze hit you head on. You walked a little faster, standing next to your boyfriend and looking at him with a smile on your face. Just as he noticed you, he began shrugging off his jacket.

"Oh babe, you're so sweet. I was just about to ask you for your jacket." You grin.

"Oh, sorry Y/N, Maya asked for it already." He says, handing her the jacket.

"Thanks handsome." She purrs. You stop walking and watch this girl put his jacket on and smell it, complementing the smell of his cologne, the one that you picked out for him. Instead of saying anything you just walked faster, passing the two of them and making it back to the apartment faster. That night you went to bed early, trying to avoid saying something that you probably should not say.

That night Chanyeol crawled in beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in closer to him. He nuzzled his head into your neck as he breathed in your scent. "I'm sorry about the jacket baby." He breathes. "I should have given it to you."

"It's fine." You sigh. "You know I love you right?"

"I love you, so much baby." He whispers, pushing his hard cock into your ass. "So much."

You let out a small whimper as he reaches down, lifting up your shirt and lifting your leg to rest on his hip. He pulls down his boxers, just enough for his cock to spring free before he pushes himself inside of you, stretching out your pussy.

"Fuck." You hiss, as your eyes roll back. It had been too long since you felt him inside of you. Chanyeol slowly thrusts his hips, pulling himself in and out of you, the sounds of your heavy breathes filling the room. "So fucking tight." He groans, his hand reaching under your shirt to cup your breast, squeezing it as he fucks you.

You let out a loud moan making him cover your mouth with his hand, making it easier for him to hold you close, as he continues sliding his cock in and out of you. Chanyeol moves his hand down from your mouth and in between your lips, his fingertips touching your clit causing you to let out a heavy breath. His finger turns in circles as he rubs your sweet spot, his thrusts becoming a little faster as his own orgasm builds.

"You need to cum for me, baby." He groans, now not caring about being loud. The sound of skin slapping fills the room along with your moans as you squeeze your pussy around his cock, gripping it tightly.

"Cum baby, cum." He grunts. Your hand grips the bedsheet as your orgasm takes over, pushing through your entire body. Chanyeol holds onto you tightly as he thrusts harder, cumming even harder, shooting his load inside of you, both of you left panting as he pulls out of you and rolls on his back. You get up and head to the bathroom to clean yourself up and as you go, you can hear Chanyeol whispering "I'll always love you.." mumbling a name before drifting off to sleep.

The next morning you wake up in the late morning, Chanyeol's side of the bed is already cold, he's been gone for a while already. You check your phone and there's nothing from him, there's no note in the living room. You knock on Maya's door, peeking inside and seeing she's gone as well. You're a little upset that he didn't tell you anything but you decided to try and let it go, even though it seemed like you had been letting a lot go in the past few days that she had been around.

That night, around 8pm, Chanyeol and Maya entered the apartment laughing together before even noticing your presence in the living room.

"Oh hey babe." Chanyeol says, seeing you sitting on the couch, watching a show.

You said nothing. He didn't want to contact you all day, so why should you even respond?

"I'm going to go take a shower." Maya announces, heading to the bathroom and leaving you and Chanyeol in the living room alone.

"You okay?" He asks, sitting next to you, placing his large hand onto your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze.

"Where were you?" You ask, turning to look at him, clearly unimpressed.

"We just went out to meet some old friends babe." He says. "I'm sorry I didn't text or anything, we got caught up." He sighs.

You let out a sigh as well. You have a hard time being mad at him. "I'm sorry I was mad. You had left before I woke up and I didn't know anything, it sucked." You explain. "Are you hungry? I can order dinner?" You suggest picking up your phone.

"That's okay." He smiles, standing up. "Maya and I went to that new Italian restaurant for dinner. It was really good." He exclaims.

"The new one? The one that I wanted to try with you? That we made plans to go together?" You ask, feeling hurt by this.

"Shit.. I'm sorry baby. I didn't even think about that. We can still go. It'll be good!" He says, trying to make the situation a little better.

"Ooh, where are we going?" You hear from around the corner. Out pops Maya, draped in a towel, water droplets still running down her body.

"Y/N and I are going to go to that Italian restaurant." Chanyeol tells her.

"It's so good. I'd go back there. Just let me know when." She smiles, walking back to her room. You look at Chanyeol and roll your eyes and head to your room. Your appetite was completely gone.

The next day, Chanyeol had told you that he and Maya were going to meet some friends, and you were welcome to come, if you wanted to.

"I'm good." You say. "You go."

Chanyeol and Maya left the apartment, giggling to each other about whatever they had been talking about and you thought nothing of it. Until two hours later you got a text from Baekhyun, asking you why you weren't at Jongdae's.

[7:58pm] You: What do you mean, why am I not there. Is something happening tonight?:

[8:01pm] Baekhyun: Their annual potluck dinner?? Did Chanyeol not tell you?

You sit there, gripping your phone as you replay your conversation with Chanyeol in your head. Never once had he mentioned a potluck dinner, or the fact that they were going to meet friends that were also your friends.

[8:06pm] You: No he didn't tell me. Just said they were meeting friends and I could come. And Maya added "if you wanted too."

[8:09pm] Baekhyun: Typical. Chanyeol and Maya made your Buffalo chicken dip. I want to hate it. But I can't. Sehun keeps calling them Mayeol. I hate that.

So he didn't tell you about the dinner, but they also cooked a dish together to bring. Seemed like she was more in a relationship with Chanyeol than you were. You didn't even know what to say to him, or how to bring it up, but this hurt you. You were torn on what to do. Did you let it go or did you confront him? Your mind was telling you to let it go but your heart most definitely wanted to talk to him about it and let him know how hurt you had been by this.

A few hours later you hear the door being unlocked. You ignore the sounds of talking as they enter the apartment, focusing your eyes and ears on the drama you had currently been binging.

"Hey Y/N." Chanyeol smiles, walking into the living room. Maya walks directly past the both of you and into her room, closing the door behind her.

"Don't hey me." You spit.

"Woah, what did I do?" Chanyeol asks, standing up.

"It's what you didn't do." You fiercely whisper. "Baek texted me and asked me why I wasn't at the annual potluck that I have attended for the last 4 years. It's really embarrassing to say that you, my boyfriend, neglected to tell me and instead brought Maya." You spit. "Not to mention that you made my fucking recipe with her!"

Chanyeol stands there looking dumbfounded as you quietly yell at him, fully aware that Maya was in the next room. You had had enough. You were being excluded on purpose and you were 98% sure she wanted to take Chanyeol from you, but he was to blind to see it. Your nails are digging into your palms as you try to control your breathing.

"I've had enough of her here. She needs to find somewhere else to stay. I can't do this anymore." You say, tears brimming in your eyes.

"Y/N, she's my best friend, I can't just kick her out." He sighs.

"Out of everything I've said, that's what you have to comment on? So what am I to you? A replacement until who you truly want finally came back?" You ask. You don't even give him a chance to reply. "You better sleep on the couch tonight or I might actually choke you like I want to do right now." You sigh, walking into your bedroom and slamming the door.

The next morning you walk into your living room, rubbing your eyes and you see Chanyeol laying on the couch, half asleep with Maya sitting on top of him smiling while eating a bowl of cereal. Before you can say anything, there's a knock at the door, taking you out of the room before you lose it. You open the door and there stands Sehun with a smile on his face, until he sees you and then it drops. "Maya here?" He asks.

"Obviously." You sigh, letting him in and pointing to the living room. When you return, Chanyeol is sitting up with a blush spread across his face as Maya sits on the other side of the couch, looking annoyed as she finishes her cereal.

"Me and Chanyeol will move your stuff into my place and then we'll go look at places today, okay?" He smiles, sitting across from Maya.

"Sounds wonderful." She grins.

"You're moving here?" You ask, shocked.

"Of course." She smirks.

Chanyeol and Sehun leave the room, grabbing Maya's things and heading out to take them to Sehun's place, leaving you alone with this woman.

"Look." She starts off. You think she's going to offer some kind of apology, but you should have known better. "I was stupid to take off all those years ago, I loved Chanyeol then and I love him now. The two of you are still just.. dating, aren't you? Has he even brought up marriage to you yet? It's funny, because he always used to tell me he didn't see the point of being with someone unless he knew he was going to marry them, and that he would know by 2 years into dating. And you two have been together for how long? And still no ring? What a shame." She smiles.

"You can't have him." You bark. "He's mine."

"Is he though? I don't know about that one." She whispers as the door opens, and Sehun calls for Maya. "See you later. Thanks for having me." She smiles, grabbing her purse and walking out of your apartment. The door closes and Chanyeol didn't even come to say goodbye to you or anything.

Over the next few days, things with Chanyeol had been weird. When he crawled into bed with you, his back was turned to you, and he wouldn't cuddle with you anymore. Sometimes you woke up in the morning and he was sleeping on the couch. You didn't quite understand what was going on, or you just chose not to see it.

"Morning." You smile at him, walking into the kitchen. You go up to him for a kiss, and he looks at you before turning away.

"Sorry Y/N, gotta make a call." He mumbles, walking out of the kitchen and out the front door.

Some nights he didn't come home until extremely late, or just later then his usual and it was killing you slowly.

Today you didn't hear from him all day, until he showed up back at home, at 9pm. "Hey." He sighs, walking into the kitchen.

"Hi." You whisper back. "What's going on with you? Why are you out so late all the time?"

"Y/N, you know I'm just hanging out with friends.

"Friends." You scoff. "Maya. She wants you." You blurt out. "Did you know that? Because we haven't talked about marriage, and apparently you said you'd propose to the one after two years and we've been together for four. So to her she thinks she has a chance." You whisper the last part.

"Christ Y/N, what is your obsession with her wanting me. We're just friends." He snaps.

"I didn't know friends made out like that." You yell.

Chanyeol says nothing, just stares at you, and you get the worst feeling in your stomach.

"I saw you today, in front of the library." You say. "I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to think that she kissed you and you would push her off. But you pulled her in instead. So clearly she does have a chance. " You whisper.

"Y/N.. it's.. it's complicated." He stutters. "I didn't think I had feelings for her.. until she came back and then everything came rushing back. I love you.. but I also love her. I've loved you both for so long. I don't know what to do." He mumbles.

"I refuse to be anything but someone's first choice." You sniffle. "Go, be with her then. I'm done."

"Y/N please, just give me some time to sort things out." He begs.

"Why? When there's a possibility it's not me, I'm not going to wait around for you to decide if you love me enough, or love her more. My heart has been through enough by you. If you really did truly love me, you wouldn't even be questioning it right now, Chanyeol. You've made your decision already, now get out."

Chanyeol walked out of your apartment without any more words spoken. You still loved him, and you were pretty sure you always would, even if you had been torn apart.

285 notes · View notes

sashi-ya · 3 years ago

Note

Hiya ! If requests are still open for this week could I ask for Marco with a tiny fem!s/o with a size kink ??? Thank you so much and hope you’re having a great day 💕💕💕

Hi darling!! Of course! I hope you like it ♥ Thank u for your request and all of the support! Have a great weekend ♥ ~

NSFW ~ Marco x F! Tiny! Reader ~ You Are So Tight For Me ~

TW: NSFW. Size kink. Best friends to lovers. Sex at a party. Unprotected sex. Kind of rough sex.

WC: 1.7K

Tag list: @undercoverweeeb @mistyroselove

Marco and you have always been good friends, really good friends. You love him as much as he loves you, yet, you too never ever had any romantic or sexual interaction before. You are so close, people usually think you two are a couple, yet you aren’t. Still…

You > Oiiii pineapple birb, are you up for tonight’s party at Izo’s? Pineapple Birb > Oi Tontatta, yeah. Be ready at 8.

“Tontatta? What does he mean with “Tontatta”??... OH…” you say while throwing the phone to the bed and realizing he was mocking you by your short height. “You fucking giant pineapple…” you grunt as you enter the shower.

-----

The sound of Marco’s pick up horn announces he is already waiting for you outside. You take your bag and keys and head out.

“G’Night” you say, struggling to enter the vehicle. “Why the hell did he buy such a big car?” you think while stretching your arm to close the door. Of course, you fail in the first attempt so the doctor bends over you and closes the door. Marco is not huge but compared to you it’s pretty big. He pats your lap, strongly, laughing. “Why the hell are you so tiny?” he says. And you can’t help but squirm a little on the seat thinking about his huge hand over your thigh in a friendly way that you wish was with other intentions.

Rolling your eyes you tell him to stop making fun of you and start driving. “Fineee” he says and hits the gas. Music blasting suddenly makes you forget about the touch of his hand over your thigh and you two sing -shout- “Good 4 U” by Olivia Rodrigo.

Marco parks over Izo’s house. He descends the pick-up and helps you. “Jump to pappa” he says, laughing. You frown and burn holes into his eyes. “Shut up” you say as he snatches you from under your shoulders and puts you down on the street. You are surprised, he has never helped you like this. Still, you act annoyed, “Who does he think he is to treat me like this?” you think.

Walking towards the door, you can see from the window the shadow of a boy wearing a straw hat running around. “Luffy” Marco and you say, laughing.

The night goes by with alcohol and food, so much food. Sanji cooked the equivalent of three full restaurants just for you -specially Luffy-. Everybody is a little tipsy, and so do you. Kiku, Izo’s sister, comes up with the idea of watching a horror movie. Everybody, except Chopper and Usopp agreed. Law and Robin decided the title, and oh boy, that was gore…

The boys set up the projector, and everybody takes his place. Sanji and Zoro begin fighting because apparently, they were “too close to each other” on the couch. Everybody look at them thinking the same, “why the fuck do you sit together if you don’t want to be close?” but then all of you remember they haven’t still figured out how much they love each other. So, for the sake of the group’s peace, Marco suggests that you could sit over his lap, and so they will have more room.

You agree instantly and sit over Marco’s legs. Your back laying over his chest. You are so used to him that this doesn’t represent a problem for you. But then, Marco snakes his arms around your waist and presses you tight against his lap. “What is this boy playing tonight?” you think.

Somehow, the idea of feeling so tiny, so squeezed against his body is making your core feel a little… fancy.

The movie starts, and so far, you haven’t gotten scared until the murderer appears out of nowhere and stabs the victim from his back. You jump over Marco’s lap, so suddenly that he also gets scared. “Shh” he whispers in your ear. A shiver runs through your spine, as you feel Marco’s warm breath on your neck. “Sorry…” you excuse yourself. “It’s ok” he says, and rests his chin over your shoulder, squeezing your waist even tighter. You gasp and fidget your ass over his groin. “Fuck it, he wants me” you think. And indeed, you feel how a hard -huge- bulge grows under your bottom… All of a sudden, a different movie plays on your head, the idea of him fucking you with his huge member makes you wet, so wet.

You start to act scared with every little scene, and with that, a little hump over him that makes his member grow harder and harder. No one will notice, everything is dark, they are all into the movie. And with the last little jump, Marco has had enough “Stop doing that or I’ll have to fuck you right here in front of our friends” he whispers. You swallow, you wanted to turn him on, but you’ve never expected he would be so straightforward to you.

You slowly turn around your face, his nose touching your cheek. “Then fuck me if you dare” you tell him. A sexy side smirk draws on his lips, and his hands pressed your lower belly so your sex could feel perfectly how hard he is. You realize you are probably gonna have a big time when taking him all inside, and that fans the fire inside you. “I’m gonna go to the restroom” you tell him, with an inviting grin. He lets go of you, and you walk upstairs.

A few minutes later, the bathroom opens and Marco looks at you up and down, scanning you with lustful eyes. You sexily take your jacket off and let it fall to the ground. He closes the door behind him and walks steadily towards you.

His right hand squeezes your throat. His left leg in between your legs, lifting you up as your back is pressed against the cold tiles of the bathroom. “Come on, hump over my leg now” Marco says. You try to gasp for air and do as he tells you to. You rub your sex against his thigh, your legs hang at each side. He is so big compared to you…

He then grabs you by your waist and sits you over the bathroom counter. You spread your legs, so he can come closer. His mouth invades yours, lustfully, feral. This felt way better than the times you’ve dreamt of it.

When he is satisfied with the taste of your mouth, he lifts you up. You cross your legs around his waist and Marco carries you to the next room. Who knows whose room it is? but you don’t care… He throws you to bed, you lay on your back while he unbuttons his white shirt. You enjoy the show of the big man in front of you, your body begs to be destroyed, to be fucked.

“Marco…” you mumble. “Hm?” he asks. “Fuck me, rough” you tell him. “You sure? I’m afraid I’ll destroy your insides” he says while leaning over you, already taking off your pants. “That’s exactly what I want” you say and bite your lip. “You little whore” he says laughing and pounces into you.

He bites your neck; you carve your nails on his back. His huge hands take off your shirt, exposing your perfect body to him. “God, why are you so tiny? I’m gonna rip you” he says, with one of your nipples on his mouth. You moan as his tongue wets your breasts.

He then traces a path of wet smooches from your tits towards your sex. He licks and kisses your hot skin, and you squirm. Yet, you are anxious to see his member, you’ve been wanting to see that huge dick in front and inside you for so long…

A finger enters your sex. “Oh, even my finger feels tight inside you… I wonder how I am gonna fuck your little cunt?” he asks, and that turns you so fucking much, he has no idea. Then, the second finger in. Slowly, but surely you dilate enough -or so that’s what you thought- to receive his shaft.

“I think I can manage to fuck you like this” Marco says while lowers the zipper of his jeans. You swallow, you want it inside now. He finally flashes his eight inches dick to you. You widen your eyes and he notices it. “Are you sure?” he asks. “Fucking destroy me, Marco” you tell him, delighted by the huge member in front of your eyes.

“Sure, my dear” he says, and aligns the tip of his dick with your entrance. You are so wet that it slides perfectly and even if Marco tries to hold back not to hurt you, he can’t take it any longer. Soon, he is balls deep inside you. You whine, loud enough for the whole house to hear you. “Shhh, little whore” he shushes you and covers your mouth with his hand.

You feel your walls stretch, they burn, but you love it. A bulge forms in your lower stomach whenever he is deep inside you, you watch it and the image makes both of you extremely aroused. He is indeed destroying your tiny body, and you are enjoying every single moment of it.

And after intense thrusts, your insides clenches around him as you are ready to fall into an intense orgasm. “Mhh babe… you are so tight. Even after fucking you so much” Marco whines. You moan as the last deep plunges send you to climax heaven. You squirt on the base of his dick, so hard, relieving the pressure, biting Marco’s shoulder.

He does the same a few seconds after, and he does not back off until your insides get filled fully with his warm seed…

“So, are we dating now?” he finally speaks, while resting after an amazing fuck. “Well, yeah, finally” you tell him and laugh soundly. Everybody knew that, except you two…

“We should come back, don’t you think?” you say. “I hope they didn’t hear us…” Marco tells you kissing your forehead… ♥ ~

#marco the phoenix #marco one piece #marco x you #marco x reader #marco the pineapple #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x oc #one piece x marco #marco imagine #sashi ya

183 notes · View notes

phykios · 3 years ago

Text

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

Update: Annabeth has not done what needs to be done.

August moves over into September, hot and sweltering days giving way to the first few hints of the coming autumn chill. One unseasonably cold night, Annabeth had gone to bed wrapped in one of Percy’s old Paris Opera sweaters, waking up with it and wearing it home to ward off the chill of the morning drizzle, like some a normal girlfriend would.

It’s a problem, she knows, but she just cannot quit this man.

And boy did she try, about a hundred different times.

One time, she spent an entire Tuesday before seeing him googling around until she found a picture. It was three years old, and it showed Mittie--oh, sorry, Her Royal Highness Margherita--at a soccer game in Moscow. Next to her is the handsomest man in the world. Percy’s hair is shorter, and something about his windbreaker reminds her of some of the crew boys she knew at Harvard. They aren’t touching, but they are both smiling. This is the kind of girl Percy deserves. This is the kind of girl he should want. His type. She reminds herself of it for hours before meeting him at a show. But the smile he gives her is nothing like the one in the pictures with the princess. And when he whispers what he wants to do to her that evening, she just can’t do it.

She even took him to his favorite pizza place once to soften the blow. But then she thought about how her dumping him would forever taint the magic of Antonio’s for the both of them, and she just couldn’t abide that.

So she kept putting it off. And putting it off. And putting it off.

And then he asked her to dinner with his parents again, on his one night off in three weeks.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to bring you something?” he asks for the fourth time, concern making his connection thin and tinny.

“It’s just a little stomach thing,” she lies, shaking out a ramen flavor packet. “I’ll be fine. You go have fun with your mom.”

“Okay. I’ll call later to check up on you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to be asleep.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah.”

He clicks off. Her apartment is very quiet. For lack of anything else to do, she decides to check her mail.

Who even mails anything anymore, she thinks.

Rifling through the pile of wasted paper, she sighs at the banality of it all. Junk, junk, junk, NYCB brochure she needs to cancel, junk… Harvard?

She peers at it.

The red seal is unmistakable, as is her name, printed in neat, black ink. “Ms. Annabeth Chase.” Why are they contacting her? And more importantly, who the fuck gave them her address?

Hands shaking, she unfolds it. “Dear Ms. Chase,” it reads, “Thank you for your generous contribution to the Harvard Graduate School of Design. As one of our most promising graduates, we are so pleased and thrilled to receive your encouragement. With your gift, we were able to reach our fundraising goal of $2.5million, which will go to support the various operations of the school, so that we can continue to provide a top-notch education for your fellow students. You do make a difference for us, and we are immensely thankful for you!” And then it goes on. “As a thank you for your generous gift of $15,000, we would like to invite you to the Alistair Moore dinner for distinguished graduates and faculty. We would be delighted to receive you at...”

She can’t finish, dyslexia scrambling the words in front of her. Or maybe that’s just her, trembling so hard she has to sit down. Fifteen thousand. The Alistair Moore dinner. She knows it well, yet another fancy networking event, like the Eta Industries party. Bile rises in her throat. Who would…

The answer hits her like a freight train. Only one person would be so bold.

Crumpling the letter in her fist, she pulls out her phone, dialing the number she still stubbornly has memorized, despite deleting it off her contacts list.

She isn’t sure if she’s upset that she gets his voicemail, or relieved. “Hey, dad. It’s me,” she says, grimacing as she starts off like he wouldn’t recognize her voice. Like it’s any other phone call. “I got your message. The Alistair Moore dinner? I’m not going. I told you, I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. What I need,” she sneers, “is for you to butt out and leave me the hell alone.”

Then she hangs up, before she can chicken out and delete it.

She shoves the letter into her recycling bin, down to the very bottom. Out of sight and out of mind.

Well, her night is pretty much ruined.

Ramen growing colder, she lies on her couch, her head hanging over the edge, studiously not looking at her phone. She shouldn’t have left that message. She shouldn’t have opened that letter. She shouldn’t have rebuffed Percy’s invitation. Or maybe she was right, in all those situations. Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. Her leg bounces, frantic, stomach roiling.

Like a gunshot, her phone vibrates on her coffee table. Annabeth catapults herself up, reaching for it, nearly dropping it, even as her eyes begin to blur. Please let it be her dad. Please let it be anyone else but her dad. Please. Please. Please.

checking in, writes Percy. feeling any better?

With a sob, she hits call. He picks up after the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, softly. “Everything okay?”

“Can,” she hiccups. God damn it. God damn her. “Can you please come over?”

She can feel his demeanor change over the phone. “I’ll be right there,” he says, calm and collected. “What’s your address?”

Her address is supposed to be a secret. No one is supposed to know where she lives. She doesn’t even like Luke knowing where she lives, and he might be the closest thing she has to family right now. But she tells Percy, and he promises to be there within thirty minutes. Throwing her arms over her face, she lies back down, breathing through her nose so she doesn’t vomit.

He makes it in twenty. here is the simple text, devoid of any hearts or emojis, and she buzzes him up. Less than a minute later, he knocks on her door. “It’s open,” she calls, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Softly, the door clicks open, someone smoothly and quietly stepping inside. “Annabeth?”

“Here,” she moans. She should get up to greet him. She can’t feel her legs. She can’t feel anything at all.

The couch dips as someone sits next to her, a warm, large hand on her shoulder, and she can’t help but open her eyes. Percy is there in his blue sweater that she returned the last time she had slept over at Nico’s apartment, his brow furrowed in worry, but he’s smiling a little, too, just happy to see her, to see that she’s safe. In his other hand, he holds up a plastic bag. “I brought you a cookie,” he says, gently. “Chocolate chip.”

Annabeth blinks. “It’s… blue.”

He nods. “It is.”

Blue cookies. His mom’s special recipe, he had told her, for bad days of aching feet, harsh dance instructors, and school bullies.

The dam breaks.

She launches herself into Percy’s embrace, sobbing. He tucks her head into his neck, his arms coming up around her. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I’m--I’m so sorry,” she gets out, in between heaving breaths. “I just--I didn’t want to be alone and--”

He shakes his head against hers, his nose in her hair. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

They sit there for a long, long time, him holding her as she cries, pathetic. She can only imagine what it must be like from Percy’s end: here he was, having a lovely dinner with his mother uptown on his night off, only to get a frantic call from his hookup, demanding that he drop everything and rush to her side. And he did. He even fucking brought her one of his mom’s special cookies.

She does not deserve this perfect, amazing man.

It’s that thought more than anything else that pulls her out of her spiral, her sobs abating somewhat. “There we go,” he says, sweetly. “I’m going to get you some water, okay? Be right back.”

Resisting the urge to hold onto his sleeve like some kind of child, she lets him pull away, stepping into her kitchen. Head aching and eyes puffy, she can’t even really register the fact that he is in her apartment right now. Her secret hideaway. Her sanctum sanctorum. He can see her tasteful couches and her expensive coffee maker and her giant TV screen.

But honestly? She doesn’t care about any of that right now. All she cares about is the long, solid line of Percy’s body next to hers as he sits back down next to her, handing her a glass of water. She drinks it down, greedily, falling back against him, his hand automatically coming up to her shoulder, and she turns into his side, drinking him in, just as desperate.

They don’t speak, just holding onto each other.

As she drifts off, there on her couch, her arm around Percy’s midsection, she only has one real thought in her head.

Forget the apartment--this is her sanctum sanctorum. This is her safe space.

***

Annabeth wakes up in a bed that isn’t her own, in an apartment that isn’t her own.

It reminds her, weirdly enough of her mom’s apartment, she thinks as she sits up in the soft, cream sheets, here in New York. She had only ever been a handful of times, whenever her mother deigned to claim her for their allotted family time. She doesn’t remember much about that place--mostly the skyline through the window, the low, uncomfortable furniture, the spotless, empty kitchen.

Across from the bed is a mirror, squat and wide. Annabeth has her hair back, her face devoid of metal. She looks tired, she thinks, and maybe a little older, dark, heavy bags beneath her eyes. She’s wearing a real, actual set of pajamas, rather than a sweater or an oversized shirt, pale pink silk tight around her body.

Shaking her head, she looks down, and spies a thin band of gold on her left hand, which rests on her stomach, sporting a slight, but noticeable curve.

Only then does she realize it’s a dream. She lets out a grateful sigh. Just a dream.

It seems like a pretty boring one, too. She’s older, a little fatter, and has a nicer apartment. Somewhere in the distance is the indistinct sound of a person singing. And beyond that the even more indistinct sound of the city.

Stumbling out of bed, her feet falling into a pair of soft, pink slippers, perfectly positioned next to her bed, she makes her way out into the apartment. The walls are cream, decorated with generic seaside landscapes, a nondescript sailboat in the background against an unchanging, cornflower blue sky.

The kitchen is empty. Breakfast is cooked, laid out on a placemat at the kitchen island, but no one is there eating it. No one is there cleaning up, or making coffee. The food looks delicious, like a magazine spread: a perfectly made bowl of granola and yogurt, a lemon poppyseed muffin, a glass of orange juice on the side. Nutritious. Small.

It’s weird. It’s really weird.

Moving on, she enters the living room. There’s a little girl on her knees, maybe three or four, she’s wearing a red pinafore over a white polo shirt and Mary Janes shined like the top of the Chrysler building. The preschool version of a prep-school uniform. She’s hunched over the glass coffee table, frizzy blonde curls bouncing as she moves her hand back and forth, scribbling with a colored pencil on a piece of paper.

All of a sudden, she notices Annabeth standing there.

“Mommy!” She jumps up, holding the pencil behind her back, her green eyes wide with apprehension. “I--I was--”

She hears whistling, and turns to see… well, it's Percy, but he looks nothing like her Percy. His hair is cropped shorter, parted and moussed perfectly flat. He’s in a three piece suit. He’s in trousers. Not a pair of sweatpants or a muscle tee in sight.

He stops when he sees her. “Sorry, didn’t know you were awake, wouldn’t have been singing.” Which makes no sense, Because Annabeth loves Percy’s ambient music. He looks around her, speaking to his--to the girl, “I told you you’d have to stop when mommy got up.”

Annabeth glances at the little girl, who nods too solemnly.

“Don’t worry,” this stranger wearing Percy’s face says, “She’s ready for school. She is ready for her Math qualification. I only said she could draw for a little, to calm herself down.” He glances at the girl again. “Put your things back in the art box, and we’ll go to school. I have an 8:30 meeting with the board.”

The little girl runs off. Holding her paper and her pencils close to her chest, like she’s afraid someone is going to take them away from her. Maybe someone is.

Percy turns to her. “I confirmed our reservations at 7 tonight at Sarabeth’s with your mother’s assistant this morning. And the nanny is going to stay late, so we don’t have to bring her.”

The her in question reappears just then. She’s so small. And she’s carrying a backpack. She looks like that breakfast, out of a magazine. But normally kids in magazines smile.

“Are you ready?” Annabeth’s voice finally says.

A beat, then she nods again. “Yes, mommy.”

“Good,” she says. Outside, the sunlight through the windows isn’t so bright anymore, but dark and cold, like a solar eclipse. “Make me proud.”

And she turns to go back to bed, but the floor has disappeared, and she steps on nothing, tumbling down into the void.

With a start, she wakes up again in her bed, to the smell of breakfast in the air. Which is confusing, because she’s pretty sure she fell asleep on the couch, and she usually doesn’t wake up in time for breakfast, let alone actually make it herself: she has Percy for that, now.

Right. Percy.

It comes back to her in flashes: the donation, the voicemail, calling Percy out of desperation. Inviting him into her room, her bed. Falling asleep in his arms.

She physically shakes her head, roughly scrubbing her face, forcing herself further into consciousness. The light coming through her window is grey and weak, doing absolutely nothing to help her out. The morning feels muted, for some reason, like it’s very far away. Maybe it was her nightmare.

She can’t hear Percy, Annabeth realizes. That’s what’s wrong. She can smell breakfast, but she can’t hear him puttering away. She doesn’t hear the clanking of pans as he tries to be quiet, or his off-key humming, or the dull thump of footfalls on her floor as he practices his steps.

God, how late did she sleep? If he has to leave for a morning class he usually makes sure to wake her up, first. For a kiss if nothing else.

But when she pads out to her kitchen, she’s stunned to find Percy still there, sitting at her warped kitchen table. There are two plates in front of him, eggs and bacon untouched and cooling. He’s fully dressed, too, in his dark jeans and stupid dance pun t-shirt: “Girls Just Wanna Have Buns,” his sweater on the empty chair. Annabeth had been weirdly looking forward to wearing that this morning; he likes seeing her in his clothes, and she likes seeing him without them. It’s a system that works for them, typically leading to a lot of smiles, a couple giggles, and maybe another round or two before he has to leave.

He’s not smiling now. His gaze is fixed on his plate, hands in his lap. “Morning,” she croaks, softly.

Percy lifts his eyes to her, unfathomable like the sea. “Morning.”

Something in her stops her from sliding into the seat across from him. Standing gives her strength, gives her power that she doesn’t want to give up. She may not be able to tell what Percy is thinking right now, but she knows when someone is gearing up for a fight. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“What’s the matter?”

He is uncharacteristically still. Annabeth has gotten so used to him expressing himself via his body, the stillness is unsettling. Percy holds her gaze for a moment, then sucks in a breath, sitting up a little bit straighter. “I kicked over your recycling by mistake, and when I was cleaning up, I…” He bites his lip, a little ashamed. “I accidentally read some of your mail.”

“Okay.” He can’t be that broken up about her junk mail, can he?

It’s only then that she sees it, laid out neatly next to the breakfast plate. The letter has been carefully uncrumpled, but the red Harvard seal is as obnoxiously bright as ever. “I don’t mean to pry, but…” Percy licks his lips, gathering his words together. “I thought you didn’t get into Harvard?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“It’s just--this is from the Graduate School of Design,” he continues, looking at the page as if to confirm it. “And the dean says you were one of their ‘most promising graduates,’ here, so. That means you have, what, a master’s degree? Right?”

Still, she doesn’t say anything.

Percy rubs a hand over his mouth, square jaw squaring further. “I guess I just don’t understand why you lied to me.”

“I never--” she blurts.

“I mean, were you trying to spare my New Yorker sensibilities by telling me you didn’t get in? Did you think I would actually care?”

There’s nothing she can say in response. So she doesn’t.

After a moment, he blows out a sharp breath. “So. Fifteen thousand dollars, huh.”

She sighs, looking away. It’s not like Annabeth doesn’t hate it, too. “I didn’t do that,” she says, crossing her arms. “My dad did it, he just put it under my name.”

“And, he did that… why? I mean,” he tilts his head, a little bewildered. “I thought you guys weren’t on speaking terms.”

“To try and get me to network again, probably.” She shrugs. “And I’m not on speaking terms with him. He just hasn’t gotten the memo yet.”

He hasn’t raised his voice at all. He hasn’t moved from his seat, or made any kind of threatening gesture, but like an approaching storm cloud, she can feel the anger rolling in, dense and crackling. “Does he do this a lot, your dad? Throw his money around for you?”

“It’s not like I asked him to.”

But he’s shaking his head, rueful. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You know, I thought it was weird that you could afford an apartment in the East Village with a bedroom on periodic architecture contracts, but I’m guessing he pays for that, too?”

He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from bristling. “It’s a trust fund,” she snaps. “It’s still my money.”

“A trust fund,” he says, softly. “Right.”

Anger lances through her, cold and burning. Just because her dad had set it up for her didn’t mean that she wouldn’t use it. “Yeah, a trust fund. Is that a crime, now?”

He opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut with an audible click. Pushing his chair out, he stands up, hands flat on the table. “I should go and get ready for my class. I’ll… I’ll text you later, okay?” Percy takes a step towards her, hands reaching for her on instinct, then pauses. “See you around.”

Percy leaves without so much as a look back, closing the door so quietly she can barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears.

#my fic #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #ballet au #😈😈😈#darkmagyk #happy endings onlyyyyyyyy #percabeth fic #PJO

56 notes · View notes

echo-of-sounds · 4 years ago

Text

birthday cake

-Fatgum x f!reader-

Headcanons and smut drabble for Taishiro’s birthday! (It isn’t until tomorrow but I don’t post on the weekends so I’m posting it early!)

Please throw him a surprise party. He would be so grateful. And so, so cute. His eyes would light up. His smile would grow. His love for you would blossom to the extremes. Invite all his friends. All. He wants everyone there. Even his intern kids. Everyone needs to be there to celebrate and have fun together!

For a day out with him, find some festival or fair to go to. He loves the games even if he never wins. If he somehow manages to win one, he’ll choose the largest stuffed bear and give it to you despite it being his birthday. He wants you to have something big to cuddle when he isn’t home. And what’s better than a giant teddy bear? You can put one of his shirts on it so it smells like him.

A movie marathon is also another terrific option. Cover the couch with pillows and blankets, litter the coffee table with snacks and drinks, and spend three whole days just watching movies and cuddling. He doesn’t get as much time with you as he wants so it would be refreshing for him. Of course, sex could get mingled in between the snuggles and movies.

Some gifts are rather obvious: food and clothing. He’d appreciate new cookbooks. It doesn’t matter the cuisine- Italian, Mexican, Indian, Irish- he’s always willing to try new dishes. Plus, cooking with you is one of his favorite pastimes so it gives him more things to explore with you.

He could use nicer clothing. He has mainly sweatshirts and t-shirts. Buy a nice suit jacket and a few ties for him. He looks so handsome in purple but he so rarely wears it.

Though he doesn’t wear them a lot because of his job, he does like the aesthetics of rings and necklaces. Keep them simple and masculine, and he’ll definitely appreciate the gift. A chain with a plain pendant or a black smooth ring would be nice. He’d love it even more if it was engraved with your name or anniversary.

However, at the end of the day, Tai would be grateful for pretty much any gift. If it’s from you and you put thought into it, he’s bound to love it. It’s really hard to go wrong with him.

After saying goodbye to the last guest, you closed the door with a sigh of relief. You turned around, smiling, “I love you but that was way too many people.”

“But you handled them so well.” Taishiro leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Thank you for the party.”

“Anything for the birthday boy. I love you.” You stood on your tip-toes to kiss his lips.

He mumbled it back, picking you up and setting you on the counter. “Do I have any more presents to open?”

“Not sure. You might need to check the closet or under the bed. Who knows?”

“Nah. I see one right in front of me.” He slipped off your shirt and undid your bra, letting him pinch and pull your nipples. You leaned forward with the light tugging.

He took off the cake’s plastic container. A finger dipped into the frosting and brought the warm chocolate cream to your nipples. Rainbow sprinkles spread across your skin.

“Really?”

“Oh, really,” he smirked, thoroughly painting the frosting around, making sure to completely cover both nipples. Melted drips trickled to your stomach.

“You’re going to clean them right?”

“Of course I will.” He grabbed one breast. His large tongue started at the trickles, licking up to the bottom of your breast. “It tastes better when it’s on you.”

Your back curved closer to his mouth, wanting it. His tongue returned, hot and wet, stroking to your nipple, sucking off the cream. You sighed his name at the painfully slow licking. He chuckled, finishing that one breast with a cruel nipple bite.

“Tai!” you jerked.

He just laughed and went to his next snack. A hand flattened against your shorts, rubbing in a not-so-gentle motion. You rocked on the counter for friction. The licks turned to full-mouth sucking as he cleaned the cream and ate the sprinkles.

Your leg moved in between his. It felt like his erection was already full, almost like he was aroused during the party. You asked with a smile, “How long have you been hard?”

After one final big suck, he popped off your nipple to reply, “Too long.”

He lifted you to the floor and dropped the last of your clothing. His hand returned to you, brushing back and forth over your clit. You grabbed his shirt. He kissed your forehead, keeping the hard motion. The rapidly-growing wetness coated his hand. It rubbed off onto your thighs. Using his arm, he pressed up firmly, lifting you onto your tippy-toes. You bit his sleeve to stifle any moans and whines.

“You got wet pretty quickly. Do you want me to eat you or just fuck you?”

“Just fuck me.”

“Turn around.”

You did, leaning your forearms on the counter. A hand smoothed over your spine while two fingers slicked in. They curled down. You wriggled backward, wishing for more.

“You know I gotta stretch you first, baby.” He kissed your shoulder, carefully adding another finger. They sought your front wall and easily found the spot you liked. The perfect pressure roused an intense moan.

Warm frosting decorated your back. His tongue brushed along your skin, sucking, nipping, licking everywhere. “So damn good,” he groaned.

Fingers curved down and down again. You were stretched. You were wet. You jerked on his hand. “Tai, come on. I’m ready.”

They left you empty. You turned in time to see him use those soaked fingers to scoop up frosting. They slipped into his mouth next, letting him taste you and the chocolate. He licked with grin and glee. “Seriously, you should try this.”

“Taishiro, just fuck me already, please.” You leaned on the counter for him.

“Alright but you’re missing out.”

The sound of his pants undoing shot a tingle up your spine. Hands held your hips and he entered gently like he always did, making sure you were prepared enough. He seated fully inside in one sink. You took a few deep breaths, familiarizing yourself with the thickness.

At your say-so, the thrusts started. A long pull out, then a heavy push in. They built excitedly, jostling you against the counter. Despite his warm heart and sweet temper, his thrusts turned rough and brutal. But it never hurt, each one only inflicted vivid moans and affectionate gaps.

“Faster.” Your breasts pressed to the chilly tiles. You grasped at them. Fingers found nothing to hold through the increasing speed.

Your feet left the floor at an intense thrust. Hands stayed on your hips, squeezing encouragement. “You’re doing so good, baby, just perfect.”

“Fuck, Tai!” you cried out his name as he hit your inmost part. It was a keen pleasure, fat and solid, heaving in and out, that only he could give. Muscles twitched at the continuous weight thumping against them.

He pushed you further onto the counter and opened your legs wide. You bent your knees, wrapping your calves around his sides. Depth and hunger grew. Your heart pounded. Heat flooded, tensing. You gripped his wrists, pleading for more, knowing you were right there.

Hips snapped. Thrusts slammed. Groans swelled.

The heat burst. Your back went rigid as you came, yet your body still managed to hump back, dripping wetness against him. You gasped into the tiles through his unending movements.

“Good job, baby,” he grunted without breaking his pace. Your hips were lifted and dragged for a better angle, letting him slick in louder. His groans dulled into guttural huffs.

“Tai, are you-”

“Where do you want me?”

“In me. In me,” you moaned, barely getting the words out before he sunk deep, tight. Moans rose to loving whines, feeling him lean over you, rooting his fingers into your waist as he released.

He kissed your neck and shoulders while his body relaxed. You reached back for his flushed cheek, whispering, “Happy birthday, honey. I love you.”

Lips moved to your jaw, exaggerating the smooching sounds. You both laughed. “I love you too.”

When he pulled out, you tried to stand. Hands didn’t let you. He spread you instead, taking a long, broad lick, finishing with a pleasant kiss to your clit.

You sighed, “What are you doing?”

You could hear the grin on his face when he said, “I’m not finished with my birthday cake yet.”

#fatgum #fatgum x reader #fatgum smut #fatgum headcanons #fatgum imagine #taishiro toyomitsu #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #bnha fatgum #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha

855 notes · View notes

ficclings · 4 years ago

Text

Y/N - Reindeer Hybrid

Yoongi - Amur Leopard Hybrid.

A/N: I got super carried away with this and it was supposed to be up for Christmas but my brain shut down for a bit and it missed my own deadline. I haven’t proofread this but I wanted to get it out there. Again it’s a bulletfic as I’m terrified to write proper full fanfictions for KPop but I hope that you all enjoy it anyways. Please like or comment if you would...be...so kind to...

Y/N always had a small aversion to Christmas.

This wasn’t because she despised the day or anything, it was how she was teased relentlessly because she was a Reindeer Hybrid.

She thankfully didn’t have giant antlers like the actual Reindeer; she could hide them with a hat whenever the season arrived.

She could handle herself with the comments but it was always appreciated when her best friend Hoseok stood up for her; his strong Stallion aura greatly intimidating when he needed it to be.

She often stayed at home during winter and worked on her computer, trying to look as if she was at all interested in what her colleagues were saying to her via their small little video chat.

Staying at home wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing in the world but she did enjoy a couple of things.

She could go do things in her home like taking a break often and having a small nap whenever she started to get a headache from working too hard.

Also, she got to listen to her neighbour.

Her neighbour was an amazing rapper and even though a lot of people would assume she liked musicals, she actually enjoyed rap and heavy metal the most; dabbling in a love for all Japanese music.

He had the deepest voice she’d ever heard when it came to rap and sometimes he spoke so fast that it took her a moment to comprehend just what the hell had happened.

Y/N always wanted to sound an applause afterward but knew it would most likely be a little weird for him to suddenly hear the squeals of a mostly shut in Reindeer Hybrid.

He always practiced right as the afternoon started for a couple of hours and then she would hear nothing from him again until the next day at the same time.

Unknowingly, he became apart of her routine.

It was like having small daily concerts just for her and as each day passed she found herself gaining a little crush despite most of her knowledge of him came from listening to him through her bedroom wall and one small shared glance they had had with one another when she had just come back from gathering supplies for her Instax Camera.

He was about the same height as her with gorgeous fluffy black hair; bucket hat covering any indication on whether or not he was a Hybrid.

Dressed in all black with only one red tie to add colour, he looked like an absoloute dream to Y/N and she nearly walked right into her front door when she finally got a look at his eyes.

Wonderful dark eyes that held such sleepiness in them; something she found rather endearing.

The moment quickly ended though when she felt her face completely burn up and she hurried into the apartment, leaning against her closed door with a loud gasp of air as she tried to calm down her small panic.

He was there again.

Right by her wall, where she worked, rapping like he was born to do it and her hands immediately stopped typing.

She clambered over her bed and pressed her ear to the wall, smiling and her small tail tingled with excitement.

He added music?!

She clenched her fists tightly with such utter happiness; her mouth opening and before she knew it, she let out a great big “You’re so cool!”.

Y/N froze with wide eyes as the music stopped suddenly and the silence began to pound in her ears; fingers twitching and she curled up away from the wall.

“Hello?”

Oh no, he’s talking to her.

His voice is so close to the wall that she couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t talking to her.

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to speak and she began to nervously pull at her right antler.

Then a knock at her front door just about made her heart drop to her feet.

“Fuck,”

Why did this situation have to arise? She’s so bloody awkward with social interactions!

“I know you’re in there Reindeer,”

Oh that made her shiver for some reason and her tail twitched as she managed to get herself to move off her butt and open the door; eyes glued to the floor with red decorating her skin and if he could see that, he never mentioned it.

“Have you been listening to me?”

She just nodded like one of those stupid bird desk toys.

“Sorry,”

Brilliant response.

Stunningly eloquent

“What did you think?”

That one question allowed for a friendship to blossom between the two of you.

His name was Min Yoongi and he was a very lazy Amur Leopard Hybrid.

But a very handsome one.

One that made Y/N want to throw up in nervousness whenever they hung out, which was practically everyday despite her having to work whilst he lazed on her sofa and played on her Playstation.

It was one of those blinding crushes where if Y/N were in a cartoon a pink mist would be surrounding her and hearts and butterflies would dance around her face.

It really didn’t help that winter was also when her Reindeer side would go a bit loopy with hormones and would make her act like, just such a moron around Yoongi.

He had no idea.

He was very clueless when it came to women’s inner turmoil let alone a female hyrbid’s inner turmoil.

Y/N was a woman that he was interested in knowing the inner turmoil of though; she was just...special to him for some reason.

He could blame it on the fact that she was a Doe and very skittish and it brought out his protective side.

Something that made Y/N feel fuzzy.

It was also a bit of a problem when both Yoongi and Hoseok were standing up for you at the same time because they were both very Alpha but Hoseok would always calm down quickly and just nudged Yoongi playfully on the shoulder.

Hoseok loved Yoongi too, it was nice to have a brother to help him out with guy things; something that always made Y/N laugh.

Anyways.

Yoongi had discovered a lot about Y/N when it came to himself.

She liked his ears.

Like a lot.

It was annoying at the beginning because he wasn’t used to it and they kept flicking around as it tickled to no end.

Now he just sat there most days as she ran her forefinger and thumb around on his soft fur.

It made him feel slightly warm under the collar now.

It wasn’t his fault.

You’re just so fucking cute with everything you do.

Even your grumpiness towards Christmas was adorable to him.

The pride he feels when you give him an applause after he practices was the best feeling in the world...only second to the ears.

Your eyes get so big as you stare at him and he almost always falters in his rapping whenever he catches your gaze, red flashing against his pale skin.

“When you get famous you have to invite me on tour!”

Oh his heart aches.

Oh look at your little hands grasping his arm in graceful giddiness.

Oh your antlers are so fucking cute and oh god look at your little tail.

He wants to tug on your tail.

Not entirely sure why.

But he does know that the thought sends him to the shower every night.

Uh-oh you’re talking to him and he hasn’t been listening.

Totally not imagining things a friend should never imagine.

“Yoo?”

OH SHE CALLED HIM YOO.

He was pretty sure he was malfunctioning because there was a very concerned expression on your lovely face.

“W-what?” his canines bit harshly down on his bottom lip as he stuttered.

“You alright?”

Y/N’s hands were tugging on the fabric of his shirt as she tried to look at his face more.

“You’re so red,” she giggled quietly feeling quite drunk on nothing but her own Hybrid side.

Yoongi’s breath got stuck in his throat when the wave of your hormones suddenly slapped him across the face.

He really wished you were sitting directly next to him in your comfy clothes.

You looked so soft in them that he just wanted to gather you up in his arms and rub all over your scent gland.

“I’m good, Reindeer,” he practically purred out getting a scent of mints and chestnuts, setting his skin on fire.

Neither of you have any clue as to who actually made the first move but Y/N found herself laying on top of Yoongi on the sofa, kissing him with the most amount of passion she’d ever felt.

Soon finding her hands gripping the back of the sofa as Yoongi helped her ride him, his face first pressed against her collarbone; hot breath panting against her causing goosebumps before he buried his face in her neck as he continued to scent her heavily.

Your little cries of “oh Yoo,” made his brain feel as if it were melting into a puddle of heaven.

His large hands shyly cupping your backside before finally, finally getting the pleasure of tugging your tail causing a delightful and horrifically erotic squeal to leave your swollen lips.

Both of them consenting before they took the plunge and bit into each other gland as their release rushed over them; fingers causing cuts into each other’s skin as they shook.

After you two had become a mated couple (with the approval of one Hoseok of course), Yoongi had made it his mission to get you at least a little interested in the Christmas Spirit of things.

And boy did he.

His plan would only come into effect on the actual day.

And with his arms wrapped tightly around you on Christmas morning (both of you walking around practically glued to each other after heavy love making the night before) he led you towards the bathroom where he’d hidden his present.

“Merry Christmas, Reindeer,” he bit flirtatiously on your earlobe before opening the door.

A sharp bark sounded around before it was followed by loud squeals from you, hands picking up the small brown dog and snuggling into it’s warm, warm body.

“Oh he’s lovely, oh Yoongi,” cuddling into the Leopards side, he purred in content.

“Holly,”

He looked down at you, eyebrow raised.

“It’s Christmas,” you stated with a determined expression

“His name is Holly,”

214 notes · View notes

marvelslut16 · 4 years ago

Text

I missed you, Doll

Prompt number: 13 “I missed this”

Fandom: Marvel

Paring: 40s!Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: G

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, spinsters, and

A/N: Like always, I procrastinated so this isn’t really up to my standards. I really wanted to use a lot more 40s slang but I was running out of time. Either way, first time writing for 40s Bucky, and Bucky in general, but I absolutely love 40s Bucky. Also slight AU I suppose since Hydra and the serum don’t exist in this story.

Growing up being best friends with Steve and Bucky caused many in the neighborhood to look down upon you, the older women in the neighborhood found it unbecoming that a young lady was spending her time with boys. Their distaste for you only seemed to grow when you started to wear trousers in your teenage years, that way you could keep up with Bucky and you could move around easier to defend Steve. Now in your early twenties your neighbors consider you to be a spinster.

You were about to practically beg Stevie to marry you, your parents would never approve but at least that way they would get off your back, but they arranged for you to marry a man fresh out of the army. His name is Bernard, he’s in his early forties and with just a few chaperoned dates you could tell he had an alcohol problem, a souse. He made it very clear that he didn’t like pants on a lady and if you ever wanted a proposal from him that you would have to wear skirts and dresses only. Your parents heard the ultimatum and burned every pair of trousers in your possession, leaving you with no other option than the flowy garments. After your parents forced you to say yes to his proposal Bernard forbade you from seeing Steve, your best friend and last connection to Bucky.

Every night you would cry yourself to sleep to the picture of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, the edges frayed from how often you clutched it. The picture was never far from your reach, always keeping it by your side tucked into a pocket of your handbag. Bernard didn’t know of the photo and neither did your parents, Bucky would send your letters to Steve’s apartment knowing they wouldn’t be intercepted by your overbearing parents that way.

Bucky Barnes was a dream boat, he had women practically throwing themselves at his feet, even the married women. He would flirt with you constantly, but he flirted with every woman so you didn’t let it get to your head, especially when he started to date Dot before he was deployed. Much like every other woman you fell for Bucky and his charm, especially the caring side only you and Steve saw first hand. You had hoped that over the years his feelings would grow to match your own, but he never seemed to want to settle down, especially with you.

Your father is throwing a party today, one where he officially announces to your relatives that you're engaged to Bernard and to be married by the end of the year. You can’t help but hide in a quiet corner and cry, you imagined this day since you were a child and none of it was how you imagined. Your father wasn’t announcing your engagement to Bucky, Steve by his side- he wasn’t even invited to the party. And neither was Rebecca Barnes, your best friend besides the boys and practically your sister.

A knock on the door pulls you away from your silent tears, figuring it’s another guest for your party. You stand and flatten your blue dress with white polka dots and wipe your eyes with your gloved fingers, before faking a smile and opening the door. The figure on the other side of said door is the last person you ever expected to see again. Standing before you in all his glory is Bucky still in uniform, he looks stronger and even more handsome than when he left almost a year ago.

Before you can say anything he swoops you into a hug, lifting you from the ground and spinning you around happily. When he sets you back on your feet he keeps his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You bury your own face into his strong shoulder, trying not to shake and alert him to the tears falling from your eyes.

“I missed this,” he murmurs into your hair, strong arms pulling you impossibly closer to him. “I missed you, doll.”

“I missed you too, Bucky,” your voice breaks, Bucky tries to pull away to see what’s wrong when he hears this. But you won’t let him. You just want a few more moments of bliss before you're never allowed to see him or be in his arms again.

“You stopped writing to me doll, why?” hurt laces his voice, causing your shoulders to shake as tears stream harder and faster. This time Bucky successfully pulls away slightly, right hand reaching up to caress your face, his calloused thumb wiping the tears away as they fall. “Steve and Rebecca both told me I needed to come see for myself when they picked me up from the station earlier. But you look fine, beautiful even, even if you aren’t in trousers. I wrote to you last month hoping you’d be there to pick me up.

“(Y/N), sweetheart, who’s at the door?” before you can tell Bucky of the new developments, Bernard’s voice pulls you away from Bucky. You take a giant step away from the man you love, his face falls as his hand slips from your cheek, you look at the ground in hopes to calm your nerves and stop your tears.

“Who are you?” there’s malice in Bucky’s voice as Bernard rounds the corner and into the front room with you and Bucky.

“I’m Bernard, (Y/N)’s future husband,” Bernard glares up at Bucky, turning to you and kissing you on the cheek, the stench of alcohol rolling off of him in waves. You try to pull away from his chapped lips but his arm snakes around your waist to keep you close, hand too close to your rear for your liking. “Who are you?”

“Sergeant James Barnes,” Bucky straightens his back and squares his shoulders, towering over Bernard in hopes to intimidate the older man. “I’m (Y/N)’s best friend and I was hoping to speak with her, seeing as how I just got home.”

“Seeing as she’s promised to me,” you let out a yelp as Bernard’s fingers dig painfully into your hip bone. “I’m afraid that’s inappropriate and I cannot allow it.”

“(Y/N) who’s at the door?” you father calls, too busy squirming trying to get out of Bernard’s hold you don’t answer him. He soon rounds the corner, eyes widening as he sees who's at the door.

“Mr. (Y/L/N),” Bucky’s voice is strained as he glares at your father, his face softens as he turns to look at you. “Doll, tell me he’s treating you well and I’ll be on my way.”

“He’s not,” Bernard's grip so tightly you're surprised he hasn’t broken your bone or his fingers. “I can’t marry him Bucky, I tried to say no. No to marrying him, no to going on dates, but they forced me to.”

Bucky’s jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth down hard. He reaches forward, roughly grabbing Bernard’s hand and removing it from your waist, and gently pulling you into his arms. The sergeant’s deadly glare leaves Bernard and lands on your father.

“You knew of my intentions with your daughter,” you know he’s fighting to keep his voice low so as not to alert the guests in the other rooms of the house. “And you still tried to arrange her to marry someone else while I was gone?”

“What are you talking about,” you rest your hand on Bucky’s chest as you stare hopefully into his crystal blue eyes.

“I would like to know that too,” Bernard glares at both men in the room.

“Before I left,” Bucky pushes a stray hair away from your eyes, talking to you as if you're the only in the room with him. “I made my intentions clear to your father that when I got home, if you’d have me that is, I wanted to marry you.”

“You do?” tears start to well up in your eyes, but for the first time in a long time they’re happy tears. Bucky nods, calloused thumb caressing your cheek again. “What about Dot? You two seemed to be going steady before you left.”

“She was in love with her milkman, and I was in love with you,” Bucky rests his forehead on yours. “I wanted to keep it a secret, ask you to marry me in person. But I couldn't wait any longer so I asked you in a letter, but then you stopped responding and I was worried I scared you off.”

“You could never scare me off Buck,” your hands slide up his chest and into the short strands of his chestnut hair. “I love you too much for that. Why else would I put up with you all these years?”

For the second time today, Bucky lifts you off your feet and twirls you around. “You’re making me the happiest man alive,” Bucky murmurs as he sets your giggling self down. “So doll, (Y/N), the love of my life, my best friend, would you put me out of my misery and be my wife?”

Bucky drops to his knee and pulls out the ring Steve brought to the station with him earlier, the ring Bucky bought for you before being shipped off, the ring that he wanted to give you before he left but he didn’t have your father’s permission. The diamond glints on the rays of sunlight streaming in from the picture window in the room. “Yes! Yes, of course!” you nod happily, and Bucky grins up at you as he slides the ring on your finger- it’s a perfect fit.

You can hear the protests from Bernard and your father behind you, but both you and Bucky choose to ignore them. You don’t care about what either of them have to say, all you care about is the future you’ll finally get to have with Bucky, the man you’ve always loved. Bucky stands up and pulls you in for a searing kiss, your first ever kiss. Sparks shoot from your lips down to your toes, causing them to curl in pleasure. It’s a kiss you’ll remember for a lifetime, one you'll tell your children and grandchildren about. And there was no one you’d rather share it with than one James Buchanan Barnes.

Permeant tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny

490 notes · View notes

lordabovehelpme · 4 years ago

Note

hiii! I was wondering if u could write something from the same “universe” as Lazy Days bc it’s my favorite fic of yours!!! Maybe they go on a picnic or something? I have no clue but it’s one of my all time favorites! If you can’t I understand💖 have a wonderful day Lordy!💕

A Day at the Lake- Din Djarin x Reader

@jedi-jesi coming in clutch with another amazing moodboard. Like how does she make them so perfect?!?

A/n: Awww hello! I am so happy you enjoyed Lazy day so much becuase I had a blast writing it. You guys are just fueling my baby fever. I hope you have an amazing day too! I hope you like this one!

This is a continuation of my fic, Lazy day, which can be found here. :)

Warnings: Children, pregnancy.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Arms up.” Your daughter flings her arms up above her head and waits patiently for you to take her dress off. She giggles and squeals when you tickle her exposed tummy.

“Mommy, stop it.” Laughing yourself, you fold her dress and stuff it into the backpack.

“Alright, go join your brother. But be careful and do not go any further than your waist. Make sure you stay next to him.” She gives you a thumbs up and runs off to the shore of the lake. Biting your lip, you watch as the two children splash each other in the warm water.

“They’ll be fine. Stop worrying, remember how I taught them how to swim and float?” Your husband grabs your hips and brings you into his chest.

You sigh and lean into him, eyes never leaving your two bundles of joy. “I can’t help it. They’re my babies.”

“Mmm I know cyar’ika. Here, come sit down with me and Grogu.”

At the sound of his name, the child lifts his head and smiles. His arms lift up towards you and he coos, wanting you to snuggle him. Letting out a shaky breath you give one last glance at your son and daughter and walk over to the blanket.

It’s a wonderful day for swimming and your children begged you and Din to let them go to the lake. The sun shines bright in the sky and the bugs chirp in delight. Blades of grass twirl in the slight breeze and flowers brighten the small meadow.

You rest your back against your husband's chest and place the child in between your legs. One large palm trails away from your hips to rest on your swollen stomach.

He was so happy when you informed him for the third time that he is going to be a father. Although, you’re not quite sure why he was so shocked, because he had you in his bed for a whole weekend.

His helmet rests on your shoulder as he peers at his kids, hand moving and searching for his newest. As if on cue, a foot is pushed up against your stomach.

“Cyar’ika! Did you feel that?” He sounds so happy and pure, as if this was your first pregnancy. His fingers try and grab the foot, however your unborn child seems smarter than him. The child kicks another portion of your stomach, almost taunting your over excited husband.

“Din, love, you seem to have forgotten that the little beast is in my stomach.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as they both prod at your skin. “Hmm, he’s a warrior.” The child will kick a spot and just before Din can grab it they’ll kick another spot.

“He?” Amusement leaks from your voice from his assumption. “What makes you so sure?”

“I just have a feeling.”

Before you can say anything else a small wet body launches onto your husbands back, flinging water droplets onto you. “Daddy come play!”

Tiny hands slap all over his helmet while your daughter runs into your arms. “Oh no no no, you’re wet!” But before you can stop her, she plasters her tiny body against your own, soaking your shirt.

The mandalorian bursts out in laughter and throws his son over his shoulder. “Be right back cyare.” Standing up from behind you, he jogs towards the lake. Loud laughs come from your son as he pounds on his fathers back, his legs kicking up in the air.

“Daddy! Don’t hurt him!” Your daughter launches from your arms and bounds after them.

Din grunts as he throws his son over his shoulder and into the flowing water. “Come here you little princess.” Grabbing your daughter under her armpits he tosses her in right after.

A loud battle cry comes from both your children as they try and bring your husband down and into the water. Grogu’s ears perk up as he watches and he squeals in delight. Soon enough, the great man falls and creates a large splash that all three kids gleam at.

The child looks up at you and points at your three goofballs. “Hmm wanna go join them?” He nods and flashes you a toothy smile. “Alright.” Sighing, you wobble your way up onto your feet. It’s always a struggle picking the child up, adding your round belly does nothing to help.

Finally, when he is secure in your arms, you walk over to the shore. The children are taking turns jumping off of your husbands shoulders into the deep water. All four of them are laughing about as hard as they can.

“Mommy, look how far I go!” Your son eggs you to look at him while he stands on the beskar. “Mommy! Mommy!”

“I see you. Go ahead, show me.” At your confirmation, he takes a giant leap and plummets into the water. When he emerges you greet him with loud claps and many words of affirmation.

“Mommy, watch me! I can jump too!” Your daughter, ever the competitor, tries to get your attention. When she sees you watching her, she grabs your husband's outstretched hand and flings herself off his shoulders.

“Wow, both of you are so good! Who knew I had such little fighters?”

They gleam under your praise and run over to envelope you in a hug.

“Wait for me.” Wadding over to you, your husband's large arms wrap around your entire family. You’ve given up on staying dry at this point, the sun will warm you anyway.

***

“You sure wore them out.” Your hushed voice flows to him as you look at both children asleep in each of his arms. His armor is off, including his helmet, so you don’t miss the way his eyes soften at you. Grogu has already been placed in his hammock above the kids bunks.

A soft chuckle falls from his lips as you sit down beside him. “They had fun.” Leaning over you press a kiss to your daughter, her only acknowledgement is the way she snuggles in further to his embrace. “Let me go put them down.” Nodding, you press another kiss to your son.

His eyes open slightly, “Night mommy.”

Your heart swells with love and you brush his hair away from his face. “Goodnight my love.” You watch as your husband carries your children away to their beds.

When he emerges back from the ladder without children in his arms you let out a content sigh and smile at him. He smiles back and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Hey handsome.”

He hums at you and sits down in the pilot seat, spreading his legs in an inviting way. “Come here mesh’la.”

Standing up, you situate yourself atop his thighs. Your hands cup his cheeks and rub at the scratchy stubble. Pressing his face, you squish his cheeks together making his lips pucker up. A loud giggle breaks from your mouth and you throw your head back in laughter.

He moves his lips like a fish and you only laugh harder. Deciding his mouth looks too tempting to leave alone anymore, you press a kiss to him. He hums in approval and tries as hard as he can to move his lips against your own.

Smiling against him you finally give him mercy and release his cheeks. “I love you.”

You feel his mouth twitch up into a grin and he rests his forehead against your own as you both catch your breath. “Love you too cyare.”

The two of you stare at each other for a while, just getting lost in each other's eyes. His hands trail over your body, memorising your skin. Your own lace into his soft curls and scratch at his scalp.

“I need to cut your hair soon, it's starting to peak out from your helmet.”

Totally disregarding your comment, he looks down at your stomach. “I’m sure he’s a boy.”

Laughter bubbles up from you and you look down at his hands that rub over your belly. “But if they’re a boy then it’ll be four against two.”

“Guess we’ll have to make another then.”

“Din!” You slap his arm at how matter-of-fact he sounded. His eyes wrinkle with how wide he is grinning. Shaking your head you kiss him again, a smile working itself onto your own features.

He leans back and wiggles his eyebrows at you. Giggling you tuck your head into the crevice between his chin and his shoulder. His hands rub at your lower back, trying to ease your pain.

“I love you, you oversized tin can.”

His chest rumbles in laughter and you feel him press a kiss to your head. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, cyare.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part three: Delivery Day

Okay so I loved writing this. I hope you guys liked it!

Feedback is always appreciated.

Love, Lordy :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space

If you want to be added to my tag list just send me an ask or comment saying you want to! :)

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #tw: pregnancy #pregnant!reader #x reader #tw: child #lovely anon #anon reply

281 notes · View notes

unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

Marinette: Stone Cold

Ok so i love this prompt but it took forever to get to. And as soon as I did its like suddenly I was swamped with everything. So frustrating. But I finally finished it. And I love it. @vixen-uchiha

Marinette was six-years-old when her parents died in a car crash. She had been at school when the vice principle, Mrs. Valmontes, stopped by and pulled her out of class. The little black haired girl had known something was wrong instantly as Valmontes had smiled just a little hard at her and much more gently than what she was known for.

Still, she had been really surprised to see Office Raincomprix, her classmate Sabrina’s dad, waiting for her in the principle. Marinette always thought he was really nice; always jolly and quick to lend a hand to the teacher at the end of the day if he got to class early to pick up Sabrina. However, he too, seemed rather despondent when Marinette entered the room. His partner, a rookie named Lorna, looked really sad too.

They took her down to the station where she was led to one of the back offices. Sabrina’s dad waited with her there. And then woman name Susanna LeFlont, who Marinette would later learn was a grief counselor. Then they told her.

Susanna held her as she cried and begged and called them liars, until she couldn’t cry anymore. And then they gave her a stuffed animal, and said they would try calling her relatives to pick her up.

They came back an hour later, saying they got ahold of her parents’ emergency contact…

Marinette’s Uncle Jareth Dupain.

She had frowned when they said his name because to her he had never been Jareth Dupain. No, he was always her cool Uncle Jagged. So it took her a second to remember that his real name was Jareth Dupain-Stone, her father’s younger half-brother. Marinette even briefly remember her dad mentioning having to change their emergency contact after his mom, Gina, passed away a few ago.

He was only 20 when Marinette born and he was always a budding Rockstar so he wasn’t around too much. And 6 years later he was the biggest rockstar in the world. Still, that didn’t stop him from rushing to the police station, Penny hot on his trail, and pulled his sweet niece into the biggest hug he could.

Jagged took his niece to the hotel room to get her settled and had Penny go back to the bakery to get some of her things. He didn’t think it was a smart idea to take her there yet; not when the wounds were still so fresh.

Still as the twenty-six year old Rockstar stared at the small form cuddled up to Fang, he realized for the first time that he was all Marinette had in the world; the only family she had left. The only family he had left.

So he knew, despite the lawyers taking days to contact him regarding who Marinette’s guardian would be, that it was him. Jagged was the person Tom had entrusted to protect and watch the most precious thing he had the entire world; his daughter. And he wouldn’t let his brother down.

Tom had always been the best big brother anyone could have. And when Jagged’s own father, Tom’s Stepfather (as tom’s own father had suffered a heartache when Tom was a teen), had walked out, Tom had stepped up. He showed Jagged, who was still called Jareth at the time, how to be a man. He believed in Jagged’s rockstar dream when Jagged didn’t even believe in them himself.

Jagged would do right Tom, by Sabine; he would do what they would do if the situation was reversed and they were given Jagged’s kid to care for.

He would raise Marinette as he own. And though he knew would never come close to being the father that Tom Dupain had been…

Jagged would damn well try to be.

…

Jagged Stone, Shattered Roses, Nightmare’s Hail Mary, Unmasked Dragon, True Born Rejects, and Emancipated Mirrors were some of the biggest rock band in the world. Whenever, they went on tour together, they were the epitome of what people thought Rock Stars were. They were loud. They partied all night. Groupies hung around everywhere. To them, it was paradise. When all the bands were invited to go on the Kings of Neverland tour, with Jagged Stone headlining, they expected very much the same as they were used to. Jagged always had the most Rockin tour bus. His parties were legendary. They came to expect it.

However, when Neon Savage (front man of the Shattered Roses), Austin Knight (Leader of Unmasked dragon and lead Guitarist), and Niklaus Bane (Lead vocalist of True Born Rejects) showed up with beers and all other sorts of alcohol the day before their opening concert for the tour, they came across something very unexpected.

Or rather someone.

A little Asian girl with pigtails in her Blue hair, a tiara on her head, in a rainbow tutu paired with a black too large Guns N Roses shirt, her hand on her hips, no shoes, and a rather large crocodile next to her.

“What’s with the ballerina?” Austin asked. He had dyed silver hair done in a stereotypical emo style, grey eyes, and too many piercings. He was slim and tall.

Niklaus sighed in relief, “Oh good, you see her too!” He had curly blond hair, dark brown eyes, and wore mostly black. He had ripped jeans and a red tie. The tie was as red as the whites of his looked. “Why is your hair blue?”

“Because Uncle said I could,” She answered and pointed a figure at them, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Savage scoffed, “You got that twisted, kid.” He was a bulk guy, with long dark hair, and a severe expression on his face. His arms were covered in tattoos. He played in a metal band, and it was obvious. “Where’s your mommy?”

“Dead,” The little girl said bluntly. “I live with my Uncle Jagged now. This his tour bus, and you’re not supposed to be here.” She glared at them. “Fang, Stranger Danger!”

What happened next was a bit of a blur. One minute they were fine, the next they were being chased around Jagged’s tour bus by a rather vicious crocodile while pint-sized twerp laughed.

Lucky for them, their yells for help were overheard by Penny and Jagged who had been working in back, “What’s going on?” Penny asked as she ran in.

“Mates, what the h. e. double hockey sticks is going on?” Jagged asked right on his assistant’s tail.

Austin, who had jumped on top one of the shelves, gave Jagged a confused look, “Better question; what the hell did you just say?”

“Ooohhhh! There’s five bucks for the swear jar!” The little girl taunted.

Jagged glared at rockstar, “Watch it! A Kid’s in the room!”

Savage glared at his longtime friend, “Who the fuck do you think set Fang on us?!” He cast a dark look at the crocodile. “Stranger danger my ass! I’ve known you sent you hatched, you overgrown cheap pair of boots.”

“That’s ten buck for the swear jar!” The girl said.

“Ten bucks?” Austin frowned. “Kinda of steep for just two swear words.”

“I swear to God-” Savage growled but was cut off.

“Chill, mate,” Jagged said. “This is my niece Marinette.” He gave her a loving smile. She beamed up at him brightly. He had been taking care of her for a year now. “I told ya about her.”

“You didn’t say she was Satan!” Austin whined. Fang had bitten him, the slowest of the three, quite a lot, and he had a giant hole in his jacket.

“I’m not Satan,” Marinette huffed. “I’m a ballerina, princess, Rockstar on my way to a tea party with Duchess Rosy Sparkles, of the Unicorn Fairies. And guess what, you’re not invited!”

“Oh that’s just mean,” Niklaus complained.

“She sicked a mini dinosaur on us,” Savaged hissed.

“Yeah, well, now she hurt my feelings.”

Jagged sighed. The guys were some of his closest friends, and by the look up the “entertainment” they brought, they were ready to raze it up like always. But things had changed. Jagged couldn’t be that guy anymore. “Marinette’s staying with me from now on,” He reminded them. “No parties on the tour. She has a bedtime. And doesn’t need to see “us” at our finest, no matter how Rockin we are.” Jagged shrugged. “Spread the world, my bus is off limits.”

The rock stars grumbled a bit but didn’t leave. They could hang with Jagged without presence of booze, weed, loud music, and groupies. It would be a little weird but they’d managed. Jagged was their friend; they’d known him before any of them became famous and stayed close well after. They hadn’t been there for him as much as they wanted to after Tom died; too many commitments, too many required appearances in different countries that had taken them away. But they were there now. And if being there for one of their best friends meant regularly chilling with a six-year-old, then they’d deal.

Savage grunted, “Austin, get rid of the booze.”

“By ‘get rid of’, I assume you meant put back in my tour bus,” The silver haired guitarist corrected.

Niklaus raised his hand like he was a student in class, “I get the whole no alcohol thing; that stuff will kill ya. But what your feelings on pot?”

Jagged just sighed. It was going to be a long summer.

The three musician, and even the other Rockers on tour, slowly but surely got used to the seemingly near constant presence of a six-year-old around Jagged or running around backstage. And the swear jar was a serious thing. It didn’t count when they were singing on stage but off it and anywhere near Marinette and they found themselves forking over five dollars for ever swear word. It added up a lot. And quickly.

Jagged’s tour bus, instead of being the Party palace it used to be, now was the chill zone. It was also the cleanest of all the tour buses. No empty beer bottles everywhere. No one random passed out anywhere. No having to watch out for throw up. No rabid fans, as Jagged had increased his security to Tony Stark worthy levels.

All they had to do was mind their manners and remember that Marinette was very impressionable at her age.

“OH screw you!!!!!!” Savage roared as he jumped up and frantically mashed buttons on his controller. “I’m not losing!”

They had been babysitting Marinette all day while Jagged did an interview Buzzfeed.

Austin snickered, “Says you.” His character raced past Savage’s. Only for something to hit him and send poor little Yoshi spinning out of control. “Did you- did you just blue shell me, bitch?” He hissed at Niklaus.

“Nooo!” Niklaus said sarcastically. “Hey!!! Not nice, brat!” He told Marinette after a banana caused him to slip off the ice.

Marinette smiled easily, but there was a determined look in her eyes. Her hair was jelled into a faux-hawk courtesy of Ashley Crimson, from lead singer for Emancipated Mirrors, an all-girl punk rock band.

“Die, scumbag!” Ashley roared as her racer zoomed by. She was a vivacious redhead. Her and her bandmates got used to being some of the only girls around that weren’t either working for one of the rock stars or were scantily clad fangirls who do “anything” to get backstage.

“You’re going down, twerp!” Savage told Marinette.

“Bite me!” She snapped back just as Jagged and Penny walked into the tour bus.

Jagged crossed his arms, “What did you morons do to my sweet little niece?”

“Nothing!” Niklaus, Ashley, Savage, and Austin chimed together.

“Savage taught me to throw a punch, and or kill a man.” Marinette smiled happily. “I helped Austin set up a glitter bomb in Nightmare’s Hail Mary tour bus. Niklaus and I are banned from Chuckie Cheese. Ashley and I spray painted her ex boyfriend’s car. Cleo and I got arrested. We disturbed the peace!!” Cleo was a pink haired girl who played drummer from Nightmare’s Hail Mary. She had to rush off for her own interview. “Oh and we’ve only been Playing Mario kart for an hour but they each owe like a hundred bucks to the swear jar.”

There was silence as the words were processed.

“And not one of us taught her how to keep a freaking secret?” Ashley face palmed.

Jagged just sighed.

…

For the next few years that was Marinette’s life. Austin, Niklaus, Savage and Ashley became pseudo Uncles and Aunt to Marinette.

She spent most of her childhood on tour with her Uncle; going from to place, concert after concert. Marinette was homeschooled and didn’t mind it. Jagged went on tour with a bunch of different people over the years and she got to meet all sorts musicians; Clara Nightingale, Ed Sheeran, Adam Levine, Brendon Urie from Panic! At the Disco, Taylor Swift. Her favorite were the award shows though. Through them, she got to meet all her favorite actors. And was inspired to start designing on her own clothes after seeing so many fabulous looks. She got to model and do some acting. In her free time, she ran a very popular fashion blog/youtube channel.

The press had always loved her. To them, she was Marinette Stone (Jagged didn’t want her real name released to the media). She was always on the best dressed list, frequently seen with various celebrities, and could be found on the cover of various magazine.

However, when Marinette was eleven, she begged her Uncle to let her go to school with other kids. She was getting older and she wanted to have some type of normal childhood. It took him a year to agree. Her uncle Jagged had become quite protective over the years.

So Marinette went back to Paris. She cut her hair, used her given name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Her Uncle bought a grand penthouse not too far away from her new school, and whenever he was gone her bodyguard, a sweet woman named Harlow who was former CIA, was in charge of her. She started at her new school with a smile on her face.

Not long after, she became the hero Ladybug.

Everything was great. She had friends, a normal social life, went to school with other kids her age. She wasn’t constantly being followed around by paparazzi. She still ran her fashion blog and had frequently updates. It was perfect.

It took two years for it to go bust.

The reason’s name was Lila Rossi.

And she was the biggest liar Marinette had ever met. And Marinette had grown up in the entertainment industry.

Lila made wild claims that the other kids just ate up. A simple google search could refute all of them. The ones Marinette could stand was always about Jagged. Like her Uncle, or an airline, would be reckless enough to let a kid race on to an airport to save a cat; not that Jagged had ever own one. Fang was territorial.

Lila made her out to be a bully, and slowly Marinette lost all her friends. Her only one left was Adrien, her partner Chat Noir. The blond and Marinette had modeled together a few times and he had recognized Marinette despite her new looked but he kept it a secret. Because of their history, Marinette developed a crush on the other and Adrien was quick to lose his crush on Ladybug once he found out it was his dear friend behind the mask.

When Marinette was exiled to the back, Adrien was quick to join her (much to Lila’s fury) and nothing could change his mind. Mostly because he was sick of Lila always touching him despite his vocal protests, and Bustier not doing anything about it.

Soon Marinette things started being messed up or destroyed; her homework, her sketchbooks and pencils, her jacket. She was tripped and called rude names. Her cellphone, (Well one of her phones. She had two; one she used as Marinette Stone. One for Marinette Dupain-Cheng; a number only her classmates had.) was filled with mean texts.

Bustier caved to demands and had her excluded from class trips and events due to being a negative influence; again Adrien decided not to go either, and Lila was Akumatized once he said this. Marinette hadn’t been surprised. Bustier always ignored the bullying and harassment clearly happening in front of her. Still, Marinette decided to start recording her classes a hidden camera on her desk, on the corner of the celling and even on top of the whiteboard behind Bustier. It was just in case anything took a serious turn.

Still losing all her friends because of a few promises and dreams of glitz and glamour had been a wakeup call. Her Uncle had warned her. Her Aunt Penny, who Jagged had married with Marinette was ten, had warned her. So did Savage, Ashley, Cleo, Austin, Clara, and Niklaus. They told Marinette to watch out for fake friends and gold diggers, coattail clingers and desperate wannabes; people who would sell out every secret she had to the paparazzi behind her back just for five minutes in the spot light. So called friends who would do anything to get ahead, to get famous.

And it was clear that’s who most of her ex-friends were. Even Lila learned the hard way. When she told Alya about her mom meeting with some important celebrity about their Go Green initiative, this wasn’t a lie as it would turn out. However, the glasses-wearing girl posted it online, despite Lila legitimately asking her to keep it a secret. Lila got in big trouble with her mom apparently.

The teacher, Bustier, was awful but she always had been. Marinette ignored it in the past because at least she had her friends. But if that witch told Marinette to be a better example one more time, it was over.

Everything came to a head after Marinette got expelled, granted she was brought back after evidence that it was impossible for her to have cheated surfaced, and the bluenette decided enough was enough. She finally gave in and told her Uncle everything.

Jagged was pissed. He cursed up a storm; enough to fill the swear jar ten times over and buy Marinette a car.

It took a while to get him to calm down. And to convince him that Marinette could handle it. She had a plan.

Still, she remembered that Uncle was a wild card.

Friday, during lunch, Marinette was eating in the cafeteria, when suddenly the lunchroom doors burst open, “Marinette,” Jagged called as he entered, trailed by a happy Penny and bodyguards “Where’s my favorite little fashion designer?”

Marinette just sighed.

Adrien smirked at her; looking way too amused. The jerk must’ve known. She had thought it was strange that he wanted to eat in the cafeteria. The two rarely ate on the school grounds, opting and preferring to go to local restaurants rather than deal with terrible food and pesky classmates. Still Marinette didn’t mind as long as they away from her classmates. And they did.

Kagami, Aurore, and Claude gave her perplexed looks.

The students in the cafeteria went wild. Girls and guys screamed, and tried to get pictures. Jagged ignored them and went straight to Marinette’s table, walking passed where Bustier’s student at lunch. Alya shook Lila’s shoulder and pointed at Jagged, and loudly asked if Lila could get her an interview. Lila looked horrified.

Jagged beamed when he reached Marinette, “There you are, you’ve been ignoring my texts,” He accused. Which to be fair, Marinette had been. Her Uncle had been coming up with way too many revenge plots to be healthy. “I decided I need a new look for the VMAs; something rockin, something tasteful, something to show remind the world the amazingness that the Rock Gods have blessed them with.”

“I’m at school,” Marinette told him.

He smirked, “Then Learn to answer a text,” The Rock star shrugged. “But fine; we can talk later. How about at my concert, yeah. You and your friends” he motioned to the kids at Marinette’s table, “Can have backstage passes. We’ll talk then. But I really want you to wow me. Maybe get a matching hat for Fang too.”

“Fang?” Adrien asked innocently. Still Marinette could practically hear see the script he was reading off of. “Is that your cat?”

Jagged gasped as if insulted, “Cat? Do you think I’d ever own anything as ordinary as a cat? Me? Jagged Stone?! I should be insulted, mate. I hate cats, always have. Never owned one, never will. Fang’s a crocodile. Marinette’s knows. Fang loves her.”

“That is strange,” Kagami shot Marinette a smirk which caused Marinette to nearly hiss at the betrayal. Kagami knew too?! “Lila said you did.”

“Lila?” Jagged asked. “Who’s Lila? I don’t know a Lila.”

“Lila Rossi?” Aurore offered. “The Ladyblog practically swears in an interview that Lila Rossi saved your cat from being hit by a plane or something.”

Jagged scoffed, “What a loud of bull! Any journalist that believes that is not worth the pen they write with.” Gasps were heard. “But I heard that rumor. Didn’t know where it was from. Thanks for letting me know who I should sue. This Ladyblog and Lila Rossi will be hearing from my lawyers.”

It was a photo finish as to who fainted first; Alya or Lila.

Lila went home right after that. This caused the reactions of the class to be split. Half the class still defended Lila; refusing to believe their golden ticket was lying. The other half was ready to burn her at the stake; they had carried her books, done her homework, wrote her notes, nearly everything for her.

Marinette just sat back and watched with amused eyes. If they thought this was bad, they hadn’t seen anything yet.

That weekend Marinette Stone released a video on her blog about bullying. She had been mentioning her own trouble with bullying for months and people had asked her for more information.

The title of the video was:

Bullying Stone: The Expose

In it Marinette revealed that at her school she went by Marinette Dupain-Cheng, her real name, and had a new look. She told about how much she liked school at first. And they what changed; that it all started when a new girl arrived and started telling lies about celebrities about Marinette. She told the story of how she was expelled; and just how many procedures were broken when it happened.

Marinette used the recordings she had of class, and even showed up the horrible texts she got.

“As you can see the teacher does nothing,” Marinette frowned. “It’s all happening right in front of her and she does nothing. In the next video, you’ll see someone being sexually harassed, in front of the teacher and she doing nothing about it. And then what victim blaming looks like. Again, as a reminder, all these videos and pictures are unedited.” She had offered to blur Adrien’s face but he declined, and even appeared in the video too and talked about his own experience.

At the end of the video, Marinette looked straight at the camera, “Anyone can be bullied; famous or otherwise. If you’re being bullied; speak up. Tell your parents, your Aunts, your Uncles, your siblings, your cousins, teachers who you know will actually do something about it. I waited too long to tell someone. I regret that. They thought what they were doing was hurting me. They thought I’d be miserable without them. They thought I’d cry and break and come crawling back to them. They thought wrong. You can bully Stone but it takes a hell of a lot more than that to break it.”

The video went viral in an hour. And people were angry. The people who knew Marinette and loved her were beyond furious. Jagged, even more so, as he hadn’t seen the videos before, read the texts.

Marinette Stone’s phone blew up with texts and calls. She was tweeted and retweeted thousands of times. And she got far too many, ‘You want me to kick their asses for you. I can kick their asses for you,” texts. But she had known she’d get them.

The Ladyblog was ripped for lies by celebrities who been lied about on site and fans.

Gabriel Agreste, Adrien told her, was pissed about what had been happening to Adrien, in front of a teacher no less. Lila Rossi fired. And if Lila ever had dreams about working in the fashion industry, they were over.

Savage, after berating her for not kicking Lila’s ass, told her he and the gang (Austin, Cleo, Ashley, and And Niklaus) was coming over for some Mario Kart and artery clogging fast food.

When the call disconnect, Marinette got a text from him.

Why did you sic Fang on them?

And that’s a five for the swear jar!

Marinette couldn’t stop laughing.

#ml salt #ml fic #ml salt fic #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette deserves better #adrien deserves better #adrien agreste #alya salt #class salt

3K notes · View notes

hufflesmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

New Beginnings

A/N: hi, just dropping in to say I’m writing again >:D enjoy this slow burn. Also, surprise, it’s not a lizard man story though I do have one in the works so there is that.

~*~*~*~

Torren swung the ax down, splitting the log in two. Sweat beaded his brow as the sun bore down on him. He stuck the ax down in the wood stump and stood, wiping away the sweat with the back of his hand as he looked up at the sky. Just past noon, he’d have to get a move on if he was going to be on time for the kings summon. If he even wanted to take the job, whatever it was. If King Richard the second wished to hire a mercenary, it surely couldn’t be for anything fun. He clearly didn’t want to waste his own men for this, which meant that Torren was likely going to die during his job.

And yet… the money he would get if he lived. He could retire, and finally live his dream of being the towns hermit to its fullest potential. As in, he only ever comes into town on stormy nights to buy ten kegs of ale and disappear for another three months. He grew his own food, hunted his own meat. Of course he kept messing up his tomato plants which meant he had to go into town to get those, but once he can figure it out then mission Hermit was a go.

Stepping back, he grabbed the shirt he had draped over a nearby branch and walked towards his home. It was a nice little shack, one he’d built from scratch back when he was just a young boy. He had found the location by accident really, one minute he was being chased by his elder brothers, the next he was standing in a clearing with a pond and no one in sight for miles. At first it was just a cool hideout, somewhere he could go to get away from his crazy family and village bullies. But over the years he spent more and more time here, fixing it up and expanding the facilities. Next thing he knew he had completely moved in and claimed the land officially as his.

Tossing the shirt on the couch, he walked into his bedroom and opened his dresser. He wasn’t sure what he’d need really, if this was a quick trip, and he hoped it was, he’d only really need two shirts, pants and his washing supplies. He already had his armor on, his swords were already by the door, polished and ready to go. He grabbed the shirts, extra pants, and his bag of supplies and stuffed them into a bag that he could tack onto his horses saddle. He’d grab a small coin purse for food and drink, which should cover him for his trip if he was careful. If he ran out of coin he’d only have to offer to chop wood for inns or something like that.

As he turned to leave, bag in hand, he stopped by the kitchen and grabbed the oat bag for Sweetie. Most of the time she was content to just chew on grass, or even break into gardens and devour everything in sight. But oats, how she loved oats.

The sun glared at him as he exited the house, he stopped briefly to lock it up before continuing down the path to the pasture. He could already see the giant grazing peacefully, black tail flicking away bugs as her dappled gray coat shone silver in the sunlight. She was truly a magnificent horse, holding a presence without even trying. She was a draft horse, one of the few capable of holding a full grown orc. And she was an absolute sweetie, hence, her name.

“Got something for you, Sweetie,” Torren called as he entered the stall part of the pasture, grinning as her large head shot up, ears pointed forward and nostrils flaring. She smelled the oats like sharks smell blood in the water. With a graceful trot, she soon stood in front of him, towering over him by two feet. She bent down and nuzzled his cheek lovingly, snorting into his ear as he tried to shove her away. “We don’t have time to cuddle, girl. The King wants us at the castle by midday tomorrow.”

Sweetie snorted and stood upright again, flank twitching as she moved past him and into the tacking area. She was smart, smarter than most horses he’d met. She waited patiently as he began to saddle her, taking his time to secure the bag and oats in a place where she couldn’t get to it. She was tricksy, especially when it came to oats. But she also knew that those were a night time snack, something that he wouldn’t just give out unless they narrowly avoided death and allowed her to have something to chew on while he fought off a panic attack.

He slid the reins over her head, patting her cheek as she opened her mouth to allow the rod to go in. Once she was fully outfitted, he lead her out of the stalls and closed the doors behind her. He swung up onto her back, and settled in. Gathering the reins, he clicked his tongue and set off down the dirt path that lead into town. The castle wasn’t too far, if he traveled nonstop today he’d be able to make it before midday tomorrow. Talk to the king, get the job done, and they’d be home before they knew it.

~*~*~*~

Reaching the castle, Torren almost turned back around. He’d heard the rumors, how King Richard the second seemed to… overcompensate. The walls around the kingdom were large, but not as large as the damn castle. It towered over everything, almost as if it was a direct challenge to the gods. It was also very, very ugly with its pale brown coloring and lack of windows.

Showing his summons slip to the guards at the gate, he slowly made his way into the kingdom. It was another thing that irked him about King Richard, he was a man with “purist” beliefs. No race other than human was allowed past the walls without a proper invite. There was no trading, or apprenticeship allowed between humans and others. Which raised another red flag about this job offer, why would a king who hates his kind specifically ask him to complete a task for him.

Torren tightened his fist on the reins as he watched the crowd wearily. He was going to die, either here or on this job if he wasn’t careful enough. The townsfolk weren’t bad, they looked more open to him than the guards did, but he didn’t dare interact with them. Not even to the young children who waved at him for the guards were watching him just as closely as he was watching them.

Reaching the palace, he climbed off of Sweetie’s back and handed the reins over to the stable boy, a warning look in his eyes. If they mistreated her, he would rip all of their spines from their backs and beat them to death with it. Torren turned to look at the guards that approached him, back stiff as he towered over them. It was almost laughable, how they escorted him into the palace.

The inside of the castle was just as ugly as the outside, the same beige walls, no decorations whatsoever. Whoever helped the king design this deserved to be publicly executed. Knights stood at every corner, some seemed to be standing at random places the further they got in. It was almost as if someone had just told them to pick a window and stand. The guards increased as they drew closer to the throne room, all of them standing at attention as they stopped in the middle. The guards beside him stood at attention, hands over heart and back straight.

One of the guards announced the arrival of the king, everyone else following in salute. Torren looked up in expectation for the infamous King Richard the Second. Looking, looking, out of confusion, his gaze drew down to the floor when an irritated cough sounded.

Oh, oh gods…

Torren had to physically bite his tongue as he took in the sight of King Richard the second. No wonder the castle was so large and hideous, this man barely stood past a humans waist. He recalled an old nickname for the king, one that was immediately outlawed in the towns surrounding his kingdom. Little Dick Jr, the bane of all of Pufort.

Torren knelt in front of the tiny king before any more offense could be given. And he had a lot to give at this moment in time. “Your grace,” he said stiffly.

“Rise,” came the nasally response. “Do you know why I've called you here, orc?” Dick Jr asked once Torren towered over him again.

“No, m'lord.”

“I am a king without a queen, I'm basically a laughing stock in all the kingdoms!” Torren was willing to put money on it, that wasn't the reason why, but he knew better than to say that. “But there's a princess, locked away in a tower due east. And she will be my bride.”

“And you wish me to retrieve her?” Torren asked for clarification. That didn't sound so hard at all.

“Yes, it's a week’s journey all together, the roads are treacherous, but I'm sure you're no stranger to that,” again, nothing dangerous. “And then of course there's the active volcano and lava surrounding the castle and the dragon guarding it.” Ah, there it is.

“I see, that doesn't sound too difficult for me,” Torren said, lying through his teeth. He could handle bandits, he could even sneak past a fucking dragon. But lava? An active volcano? That was something he'd never experienced before and wasn't too keen on the idea.

“Perfect, we will discuss your payment when you get back. Godspeed, I wish to be married by the end of the month!” Little Dick Jr clapped his hands twice, alerting the guards that he was done talking to the half orc.

Torren bowed his head and turned to make his leave. If he walked fast enough, he could get out of this city by the time the king reached the stairs. The guards had attempted to follow him out, but after they had to literally run to keep up they quit. It wasn't like he was going to do anything anyways.

He eyed the gods awful bust of Dick jr. and contemplated tripping into it…

No, no. Not yet.

~*~*~*~

If there were small miracles, Torren may have found one. Sweetie was in perfect condition when he had retrieved her, granted she had been touched by the stable hands and she made sure to voice her displeasure by biting his shirt and nearly throwing him into a mud pile. Sweetie was a sweetheart up until she had the wrath of the gods placed upon her.

They had made their way out of the kingdom as fast as they could, and Torren was grateful that the guards didn’t give him an official escort out of the kingdom. Though, he had noticed several guards watching him carefully if he lingered too long in an area. Sure, there was traffic, but he was an orc, that was an unforgivable crime don’t you know? He half expected to get harassed when he passed by the front gate guards, but he was uncomfortably surprised to find that they did not.

Oh, he was going to die on this mission. He should have gotten his affairs in order, who was going to take after Sweetie when he was gone? His brothers were half a kingdom away and his neighbors didn’t know he existed. Now, he was realizing as he traversed the hills, it was a bad time to be a hermit. Sweetie was smart though, maybe she’d find a new hermit to adopt and go about her life.

Okay, maybe he should focus on traveling and not his soon to be untimely demise.

Torren had just crested the hill overlooking the neighboring village when a shout came from his right. Looking over, he was wary to see an elf making his way over on his own sturdy steed. The elf seemed friendly enough, though most elves he met rarely stayed friendly. He paused and waited for the elf to approach, keeping a hand on his dagger just in case.

The elf wasn’t bad looking, kind of handsome really if Torren was being honest with himself. Tall, a bit taller than most of the elves he met, golden skin that would make King Midas jealous. Long brown hair braided back in practicality rather than aesthetic, though it was a tad too ornate for pure practicality. He was dressed in simple leathers, with elven embroidery up around the shoulders, partially obscured by the cloak he wore.

“Hail, friend! I see you came from Pufort, a fine accomplishment for those of us considered too “unpure”,” the elf gave a laugh as he settled beside Sweetie. “Gavril, merc for hire,” he introduced himself as he put his hand out.

“Torren,” Torren said as he took the hand and shook it once. A mutual respect was given to the elf, some mercs stuck together, especially those around Pufort. The land wasn’t known for tolerance, mostly the guards fault, and so it wasn’t common to see many mercs who weren’t human. “What brings you to Pufort?”

“Ah, but the king, of course!” Gavril gave the man a bright smile before his smile dropped. “Better to talk here than in the village. Less ears.”

Torren felt his heart drop at the comment, dear gods was this the end? He hadn’t even made it out of Pufort yet! Gods, the amount of fun his brothers would have when they find out that he died in Pufort of all places…

“I can see you’re freaking out, fear not, I am not going to say “long live Dickie”,” Gavril let out a laugh, and Torren didn’t appreciate it, like, at all. “He hired me a month back, and when I disappeared he chose to hire you.”

“And I should believe you, why?” Torren actually did believe him, it was just the dick move that Dickie would pull. But he was a distrustful man by nature, and so grilling the elf it was.

“Why would I lie? Being here in of itself is a death sentence for me if one of his guards spots me,” Gavril shrugged. “No, I felt as if the job was far too… strange for me to complete without the full story.”

“And that story was?” Torren raised a brow as he shifted on Sweetie, who snorted in warning as she grazed.

“The princess, she’s apparently the daughter of the neighboring kingdom, Aster. I did my research and went to them with the information on Richard. They don’t like the idea of an unsavory man such as him “rescuing” their daughter in such an unhonorable way,” Gavril leaned a bit as his voice dropped. “I was riding by, coming back from another business that I had to attend, when I happened to have heard he had another summons, I thought it was only fair to let you know about it all.”

“And what, exactly, are you hoping to inform me of other than the princesses misfortunes?” Torren leaned slightly in despite himself.

“I’m to meet another fellow, a minotaur by the name of Jardor. He was the princess's guard before she was imprisoned so she’d be more trusting of us. Her parents hired me to take her Aster instead of Pufort, and their offer is extended to any other mercenary hired by Richard.”

“And this is legitimate? How do you know they won’t cast you off to Richards' wrath once they have their daughter?”

Gavril nodded as he sat upright. “A fair question, I, myself, found myself doubting it. However, I asked around their former employers and found that they were actually credible. I understand that you have no reason to believe me, but if you are curious you are more than welcome to come with me to meet up with Jardor.”

“And where is he?” Surely a minotaur would be noticeable around a place like Pufort.

“He was smart enough not to come to the welcoming land of Pufort,” Gavril said with a grin. “He’s in Halder’s Rest in the neighboring village, Stonewall, I believe.”

“And you just happened to be riding by Pufort and saw me?” Torren raised a brow as he leaned back.

Gavril let out a soft laugh. “Fair enough, I might have been lingering around to see what the little man’s reaction would have been.”

“How? You couldn’t have been allowed in the city.”

“It’s actually fairly easy to sneak in if you find the really dumb guards,” Gavril said with a smirk. “If you talk fast and use big words to explain away things, they simply just let you in.”

Torren shook his head, “very well. I’ll come with you to this Jardor, but I make no promises that I will join you.”

“Of course,” Gavril gave a bow to his head. “Now, what do you think are the odds that these kind folk will allow us to rest in their undoubtedly comfortable inn?”

“‘Us’?” Torren looked at the elf with furrowed brows. Surely he didn’t think they were going to travel to Halder’s Rest together, did he?

“Yes, ‘us’,” Gavril said with a raised brow. “Surely you didn’t think I’d just abandon you to these unwashed masses, did you?”

“Yes?” Torren wasn’t sure who he pissed off up there, but he was fairly sure he didn’t deserve this kind of forced upon companionship here.

“Oh, my friend,” Gavril gave a sympathetic pout before clapping Torren on the shoulder. “You’re stuck with me.”

Gods help him.

~*~*~*~

Turns out, the good folk were not willing to rent out their plentiful rooms to two distinguished gentlemen like them. So, seeing as the guards started gathering around them once they exited, the duo had opted to camp out on the spacious planes outside of the village. Pro: it was a nice night out with the stars shining bright; con: there were wolves and they very much were eyeing them as a snack.

Luckily for them, the wolves found a rather unfortunate deer and left them alone for the rest of the night. After that, the sleeping got easier, though Torren still kept a hand on his dagger under his pillow. And if he noticed that Gavril did the same with his staff, well, he wasn’t going to be one to talk.

The morning was a tense affair, Gavril had cooked and while it smelt delicious Torren wasn’t one for accepting food from strangers. But his mother also raised a gentleman with manners so he ate anyway. And it pissed him off more that it was, indeed, delicious in all honesty.

They set off not long afterwards, mounting their steeds and making their way to Stonewall, a village that was a good two hours away. Both Sweetie and Torren did their best to ride ahead of Gavril and his steed, Farren, however the two seemed to be professionals Thorn in his Side, for they stayed right on his heels, humming a stupid little song.

Torren really pissed off some of the gods.

But, by the Grace of the gods, they finally made it to Halder's Rest with minimal spats. Or, "character building" in Gavril's mind. The vast difference between Aster's civilians and Pufort's was easily spotted. Where an inhuman was hard to see even just passing through in Pufort, it was hard to not see them in Aster. From vendors, to guards, to just a milk maiden lizard girl.

It felt… welcoming.

"Halder's Rest is just down the road,'' Gavril said as he led Farren though the bustling roads.

Torren let him take the reins, not sure if he should run or not. He had no idea really what sort of situation he was walking into. One kingdom was going to be pissed off, that was for sure. Either Pufort or Aster, and he wasn’t sure which one was better. Aster wasn’t known for its military, sure it had it, but no one had seen it in action in well over a hundred years. They preferred to stay diplomatic in negotiations, and somehow it’s worked so far. And yet, he feared what Aster would do if King Richard the Seconded got his grubby little hands on their daughter.

But another part feared what the King would do to him if he failed to deliver the princess. He wasn’t the first mercenary, and even Gavril admitted he was cheating death when he hung around Pufort waiting for Torren to leave. Pufort was well known for their military power. King Richard was always willing to fling a fleet at a neighboring kingdom, or hell, even his own people, if he felt there was even a hint of offense at him and his legitimacy of his rule.

He should run, Torren realized. Like now, right now-

“Hey, there he is!” Gavril said as he pointed at the minotaur guard that stood outside the inn with his arms crossed. “Jardor!”

Jardor looked up with irritation on his face. He was big, even for a minotaur and just as uniquely colored. Most minotaurs that Torren had come across were either brown or black with white colorations. But Jardor was a multi-colored minotaur, white based but he had russet, black, brown and gray mottled on the skin that was exposed through his armor. His horns were wide and angled high, making him more imposing.

“Stop calling attention to us,” the guard hissed as they drew closer. “You could jeopardize the mission.”

“Oh, please,” Gavril rolled his eyes. “There’s only milkmaids here, it’s not that dangerous.”

“The king could find out and send his fleet,” Torren hissed at the elf.

“Exactly,” Jardor snorted as he shifted his stance. “Our success depends heavily on stealth. Until we deliver the princess back to the capital of Aster, we are not out of the weeds yet.”

Gavril sighed heavily but nodded. “So, are we heading out or is there other business we need to attend to first here?”

“We’ll head out, most of the pleasantries can be exchanged on the road,” Jardor said as he led them to the guards stables and pulled his draft horse out of the stall. As he mounted, Torren surveyed the town. It was a nice place to be, he supposed. But he still preferred his privacy.

“I don’t believe we met,” Jardor said to him as they set out. “I’m the Princesses’ guard, Jardor Stoneskin. And you?”

“Torren Azorrn,” Torren said finally. “Just got hired from the King-”

“-and poached from me once he left,” Gavril interjected with a cheerful grin.

“Yes,” Torren agreed with a heavy sighed.

Jardor snorted and shook his head. “Of course,” he sighed. “I apologize for him, he was supposed to go home and then make his way back here. Though I am glad he did make the detour, I doubt I would have survived the trip with just the two of us.”

Torren found himself smiling as Gavril let out a gasp of mock hurt. “It is nice to have a more level headed company,” he agreed as Gavril mumbled to himself as the two men snickered.

“I will have you two know, I am pleasant company!” Gavril said as he steered his horse next to Sweetie.

“Of course, my friend,” Jardor said evenly with a placating smile. “Of course.”

“Why did you have to return home, anyways?” Torren asked with a raised brow at the elf. He had only mentioned business arrangements, but going home was an entirely different thing “Was that the other business you mentioned earlier?”

“It was,” Gavril said defensively. “I have people at home who were waiting on me, had to let them know I’d be back for good later than anticipated.”

Torren nodded and left it at that, he wasn’t going to judge people for their personal affairs, he knew that if he was still in contact with his own brothers he’d be doing the same. They lapsed into a silence after that, save for the occasional direction change from Jardor the other two were content with just following him. Finally, Torren found himself speaking up. “Jardor, if you’re the princesses’ guard, then why aren’t you with her?”

“Ah, there are two princesses in Aster, the one who is heir to the throne and the second in line should anything happen to the eldest sibling,” Jardor said. “The princess I served was the second in line, though she loathed the whole thing,” he added with a soft smile. “When she was...cursed, I was ordered to stay behind and help protect her sister.”

“So she’s cursed?” Gavril asked with a frown. “You didn’t mention that.”

Jardor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, yes, she’s cursed,” he said stiffly. “The sooner she comes home, I’m sure she’ll be closer to breaking that curse.”

“Isn’t true love usually the factor in those curses?” Gavril asked with a furrowed brow as Torren studied the minotaur.

“Yes, but that is not the case here,” Jardor said with such confidence neither mercenary knew what to do with that.

“So what is this curse?” Torren asked. “Why was she moved to such a remote location, surrounded by lava and a dragon?”

“It was considered necessary by the Throne, it was not my place to question it,” Jardor said stiffly.

“So you did disagree,” Gavril noted. “Which means it likely isn’t a curse, and that makes me so much more intrigued, don’t you feel the same, Torren?”

Torren didn’t comment. But he did note that the minotaur was clearly hiding something, and that made him all the more wary of this job. He should have just stayed home.

“Must you grate on my nerves, elf-boy?” Jardor snapped as he looked at the elven mercenary.

“Ah, elf-boy is actually my younger brother, a cute lad but not nearly as annoying as me, elf-man,” Gavril said with a grin, but it dropped quickly in the wake of a grim expression on his face. “Look, we can deal with a dragon, and even the lava. But if she’s cursed, we need to know exactly what we’re walking into.”

“Nothing dangerous,” Jardor promised, and the two men relaxed just a bit at that. The situation was weird, but Jardor radiated a trusting aura that it was hard to suspect they were walking into a trap. At least for Gavril, Torren always assumed there would be a trap involved when he traveled with others. “Just let me take the lead when we get to the tower, a familiar face will help her.”

“How long has she been locked away?” Torren asked finally.

“Seven years,” Jardor said with a weary look in his eyes, and deeper down, pain. “It’s high time for her to come home.” He nudged his horse, kicking her into a faster gait as they made their way out of Aster and into the wildlands. “That said, we’re a three day journey away from the tower, it’s in a remote part of the country that few travel by. We shouldn’t face any resistance before the volcano.”

“Well then, let’s get ourselves a princess,” Gavril said with a smirk at Torren as he sent Farren barreling after Jardor.

Torren sighed heavily and patted Sweetie’s neck, “let’s get this over with,” he said to her as he nudged her side gently, a gentle permission to run with the other horses, a permission that she gladly took as she galloped next to their two companions. In just three days, he’ll be fighting off a dragon surrounded by molten lava just to rescue a princess. That was the only certain thing he knew about this mission, if there was a curse, if they could get her to Aster before the King found out, if he still was getting paid.

Gods, was he still getting paid?

~*~*~*~

[eye of the tiger blasting]

Jardor kept the lead, forging ahead when Gavril decided that bickering with Torren was a Lovely Idea. Both men, both adult men, were constantly five seconds away from getting into a slapping fight that escalated when Gavril, a four year old apparently trapped in a twenty eight year old's body, claimed that Torren had hit him.

Jardor just let it happen when Torren really did hit him.

Setting up camp was a horrid affair, all three of them were skilled in camping, but those skills had varying degrees. Jardor could put up an excellent tent, but the sleeping cot kept getting tangled and eventually he just laid out on the mess with a stoic resolve. Torren was an expert in putting out his sleeping cot, but his tent kept falling out on one side and eventually he just moved Sweetie over to help keep it propped up with the promises of getting her an extra big bag of oats. And Gavril would put his tent up, but in the process of laying out his sleeping cot the tent would fall. When he’d try to put the cot up first, the tent would fall and he’d have to find his way back out again. And so, in a moment where his remaining two brain cells bumped together, he tied his tent up to the branches of the tree keeping it up and elevated while Torren glared at him from the inside of his lopsided tent that was beginning to smell of horse.

The morning didn’t help anything either.

Torren, used to years of cooking and traveling by himself, had woken up early and made himself, and only himself, a nice breakfast. The other two, woken by the pleasant smell of bacon and the heavenly sizzle of fresh eggs being cooked, came out of their tents with growling stomachs and crushing disappointment when they spotted Torren eating it all by himself. Jardor was disappointed, Gavril was dismayed. The two had to fend for themselves, Jardor splitting a piece of jerky with the elf as they glared subtly in Jardor’s case, and blatantly in Gavril’s.

When they finally set back out again, it was in lesser spirits than the day before. They were less than a day away, according to the smell of sulfur that got increasingly heavier as they traveled on. Gavril could see why no one had rescued the princess prior till now, the lands around the volcano were barren, the roads treacherous by hungry wolves. It was dangerous even for the three of them, he couldn’t imagine a merchant or a lone adventurer braving this land.

Well, maybe Torren.

But everyone else would be fucked.

Jardor let out a soft laugh up ahead and slowed to a stop at the crest of the hill. He glanced back at the two catching up, a light shining in his eyes as he grinned at them. “We’re here,” he announced as the tower, tall and magnificent, loomed below. It wasn’t exactly just a remote tower, Gavril could make out some crumbling structures of a once beautiful palace. He wondered, hoped really, that it was still stable and safe for the princess, surely her parent’s wouldn’t have dumped her into this hell hole if it was unstable. He paused, actually, he’s met some gods awful parent’s. It was a high possibility. But that was neither here nor there, the tower was still far enough away, but they would arrive there within the hour if they paced themselves. They still couldn’t spot the dragon, and none of them were willing to go head on against a fucking dragon.

Torren opened his mouth to speak, to ask what the plan was in case the dragon reared its head. But before he could utter a single word, a horn sounded from behind them. The three turned on their steeds to watch as a troop of soldiers made their way towards the tower, banners flying high, and armor glittering in the sunlight.

Pufort.

"Fuck," Gavril said with pursed lips.

Fuck was right.

~*~*~*~

Princess Amirah was absolutely, and positively bored. She had nothing else to paint, unless Harold suddenly changed their mind about her painting his scales. She’s run dramatically through the hallways a dozen times this morning, and really she wasn’t feeling it for a thirteenth time. All the books have been read, a countless amount of times. At this point she could quote the books and she did, constantly, to Harold as they cleaned their teeth from their meal each night. Harold never spoke as to whether or not they enjoyed it, but she assumed they would have put an end to it by now if they didn’t.

She sighed heavily as she paced her room, paint brush in hand as she tried to figure out a new canvas. There was still some room on the window sill, maybe even the dresser if she painted small enough. She paused by the open window, the smell of sulfur no longer bothered her as she breathed it in. She barely remembered the smell of fresh, clean air. Or the sound of bustling streets, the maids coming in with sweet hushed words, her mothers hugs…

Amirah shook her head and smacked her cheek chastisingly with her paint brush. No, no thoughts like that, she’s survived seven years without those things, she can survive many more. In all honesty, she probably could leave. It wasn’t like anyone was going to come looking for her of all the princesses in this unholy tower. They were more likely to go for the skinny blonde overlooking the ocean than her. Which was fine, she was the second born princess of Aster, her sister was always considered the prettiest, the fairest, the princess that all should aspire to be.

Amirah made it her mission to defy that expectation. She hated the princess duties that her mother and sister had forced her to attend. She hated the expectations that were expected of her as the second in line to the throne. To marry a neighboring kingdom, to secure an alliance between the two. To have their heirs and continue the bloodline. It all made her squeamish honestly. In a perfect life, she wouldn’t mind marrying and settling down on her own terms with someone that she truly loved. But she didn’t have the perfect life, she had her mothers expectations and her sister's legacy.

She was honestly safer in the tower than back home.

A strange sound filled the air, and a frown pulled at her lips as she looked off outside. She adjusted her glasses as another horn sounded, a horn of all things. Why would a horn be here, who was blowing the damned thing. They were going to wake Harold up!

Leaning out the window, Amirah let out a gasp as banners crested over the hill. Banners that belonged to Pufort, the kingdom ruled by King Richard. In the distance, she spotted three men charging ahead of the group, and hope glittered in her heart as she spied familiar horns. Was Jardor really here? She didn't know who the other men were, or what she assumed were male honestly she knew some beefy female knights, oh gods was Clarissa here? That would truly make her day.

Before she could speculate, however, a loud roar filled the air and shook the ground. Clinging to the wall, Amirah looked up in slight fear. She knew that roar, and what it meant. A challenge, anyone who wanted her, had to go through them.

May the Divines bless their poor souls.

#exophilia #orcs #elves #minotaurs #orc boyfriend #elf boyfriend #god i havent posted in so long i forgot how to tag akdjskjrfjew #ok #this is gonna be a SLOW BURN POLYCULE #with a fourth wheel who is there for the clusterfuck #guess who is who this week on WHEN WILL HUFFLES CONTINUE THIS #lmao #kidding I have chapter two in the works bitches #my mental health is questionable but waking up at 4 am now has it merrits #you aren't ready for the concoctions i have in store #edited this bc I forgot that google docs doesn't trasfer to tumblr like it does on ff.net #my writing #sfw

134 notes · View notes

captainsimagines · 3 years ago

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Seven

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

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

Part 7 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

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

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; strong language; canon-level violence (explosions); mentions of alcohol poisoning; mention of Infinity War/Endgame deaths; perceived domestic partner abuse (no such thing actually happens!); concussions and minor injuries; mentions of arranged marriages; mentions of drug smuggling and human smuggling; lying; ANGST!

Word Count: 14,100+

A/N: So close to the finish line...

Spain, 2024, 5:07 pm.

“Get the damn ice cream, Peter. I’m not holding you back.”

The kid sped down the sidewalk as fast as his feet would let him, skips in his steps and ignoring the chastising yells from Bucky.

“You’re letting him have sugar?” Bucky whines, sluggish in his own steps. The Spanish summer sun was blaring, burning your forehead and building the same cold craving in your throat. It was just the three of you, carefree but melting, happy but annoyed with the constant proximity of each other. The villa (if you could call it that, it was more of a cottage) was listed as having three rooms - not the two you were stuck with. Bucky was at the last inch of self-control, begging you to switch with him - if only for one night - because ‘the kid fuckin’ talks in his sleep, doll! One more night and I might smother him.’

It was Bucky’s idea to take a little vacation. A year after the blip and only a few months after Peter’s world was turned upside down, a vacation seemed like the best choice. Preferably somewhere that was quiet and somewhat rural - somewhere you guys won’t be easily recognized.

So the three of you packed and flew across the pond. In all honesty, you hadn’t even told the rest of the team where you were going besides Wanda. One day you were greeting them in the common room and preparing lunch, the other you were throwing your suitcase in one of the two vacant rooms in this little Spanish cottage. The three of you were truly off the map in terms of late notice.

“Let the kid live. He’s having a mid-life crisis at eighteen.”

“I’ve had more mid-life crisis’s than his age combined. He’s not special.” The pointed look on your face had Bucky sighing in small defeat. “Okay, okay.”

These past two weeks in shared solitude, even if this trip was supposed to be relaxing, was beginning to melt into a tiresome routine. Well, just nights. The days were mild at best. And to make matters worse, you and Bucky had been dodging the team’s calls, messages that you left for voicemail. Bucky had clicked ‘end call’ more times than he could count and his excuse was always, ‘ the kid doesn’t want to leave, doll.’ Even annoyed with Peter, Bucky wanted only the best.

It was only a matter of time until your phones were tracked and you were forced to come home. Everyone probably knew where you were anyway - you weren’t exactly hiding. But since you already got a good two weeks in, you figured they had taken some sympathy.

“Think we can get him to visit a museum today or something?”

Bucky shrugged, lining up at the coffee stand near the ice cream cart. “Saw him checking out banana bread recipes last night. Seems more like a baking day.”

You could go for some banana bread. Ordering two iced coffees and making more miscellaneous small talk while waiting for Peter to order, you studied the streets of Spain. The country had suffered greatly when, cruelly, more than half their population disappeared. Left in proper ruins, no one believed it would ever recover. But then there was an election, a change in the structural government, and it just… did. They rebuilt themselves better than any country had, in your opinion.

It was a rather calm day with minimal people out and about. It was exactly what you guys deserved after every mission - in your case, after a long month of PR recovery after that bar fight alongside Sam.

“You bake, Barnes?”

He smiled fully, “Any chance I get.”

“You guys want anything?” Peter yelled out, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waited. You waved him off. “You sure? It’s pretty cheap for summer prices!”

After rejecting Peter’s dozen ice cream questions and offers, the three of you decided the heat was a little too much to bear, even with sunscreen. Peter spoke most of the way. Something about that banana bread.

Bucky, being the baker, helped him choose the best recipe of the four Peter had bookmarked and soon the kitchen was only half dirty with eggs and mashed bananas.

“What do you mean a cup of baking soda, kid? Use your eyes,” Bucky yelled in second hand embarrassment. “I don’t think a cup of baking soda goes in anything.”

“Read right here, dude,” Peter poked at his tablet. “A cuuuu... okay. Okay, I see what I read wrong.”

“You two better be making me some good ass banana bread today. I don’t want to throw up!” You had opted to let the two men have their fun in the kitchen. You tried to bake, but you were more of a cook than anything else.

“You could be reading out the directions.”

“I could do a lot of things,” you respond with the emphasis on “could”.

The doorbell interrupted your no-so-real argument. Peter snickered, “You could get the door.”

With a displeased grunt and a straightened middle finger to the kid, you opened the door to find two people who were definitely not invited. Clint, with this magical and massive smile on his face and Steve, with his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed.

“Oh, would you look at that. Guests! Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Now, how and why?” Bucky groaned. But his actions contradict his words as he went to give Steve a hug, covered in flour and all.

“Hey, Clint,” you mumbled, purposely ignoring the super soldier side-eyeing you. “Care to tell us what you’re doing here?

Clint returned your warm smile, “See, Cap? They’re safe. Can we go now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in a rather demanding way. “We’re here to take them home, Clint.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Eh, you might be. But I’m here to soak up some of this Spanish sun.” A low grunt sounded in the back of Clint’s throat as he spoke. He was already making his way to pick at the mashed ingredients.

“You heard the man, pal,” Bucky slaps Steve’s shoulder, leaving him at the door as well. Awkwardly left alone, you blow a small raspberry and step aside to let Steve in. Bucky continues, “We’re here to soak up some sun. And I’m not done soakin’.”

With great protest, Steve maneuvers Bucky away from the kitchen and into the hallway beside the master bedroom. With both super soldiers out of the way, you finally go to help Peter with mixing. “Why did he come, really?”

Clint shrugs, arms deep inside your cabinets and collecting whatever desserts you had pre-packaged. “Honestly? I think he missed you guys.”

“All this drama because he misses Bucky? He could have just shown up declaring truce and had a nice little vacation,” you mumbled, glaring at Steve from behind.

“Think he felt like he needed an excuse to even show up. But they really are asking for you guys back home. Threatened to arrest your ass.”

“Lucky me.”

You could make out snippets of their tiny argument up ahead.

‘You could have called.’

‘You haven’t been answering the phone, Buck.’

‘I’ve been relaxing.’

A heavy sigh.

‘I just thought we told each other everything.’

‘Believe it or not, Steve… but I’ve got more friends now. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m not trying to ignore you, I - I just needed to help another friend out this time.’

Peter, with great care, washes his hands and makes sure there aren't any random mashes of banana on his clothing before he side-steps you and Clint to interrupt the very ‘private’ conversation between the super soldiers. “Hey, Mr. Steve- Cap, hey.”

Steve immediately lets his hard gaze falter. “Hey, kid. You doin’ good?”

Peter nods in response.

“He’s doing great! Much needed vacation that still isn’t over.”

“Buck.”

Inserting yourself may not have been the best option. “Give it up, Rogers. We’re on vacation. And until the kid says he’s ready to go home, we go home.”

Peter fumbles, “Oh, please don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m not good with confrontation.”

Bucky quickly answers before Steve can, “It’s not confrontation, Peter. We love being out here and if it’s helping your mental health, we’re not going to take that away from you.”

Steve blinks and his expression looks like one of hurt. “You think I wanna do that? The literal president has been asking for your location. You’re not allowed to leave the country.”

You shrug, “Well, no one told me that.”

“Buck, you were just granted immunity three months ago. And you go and drop off the face of the earth?”

“I’m literally in Spain.”

Steve blinks again. He really can’t believe he’s got to deal with two people with similar personalities. “Your point?”

“On Earth…?”

Clint decides to make his presence known. He has even inserted the poured batter into the glass tray for you guys. “Why don’t we just stay with ‘em, Cap? God knows you need a vacation, too.”

“We have two rooms. You’d be bunking on the floor,” you say, pointing to random areas on the floor.

Clint waves his hand in the air, “Not the worst place I’ve slept in.”

“I’m being hounded day and night to bring you three home.” Steve looks about ready to burst into tears of frustration.

“Turn off your phone?”

Steve whips his head and stomps to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. “You really think it’s that easy? You really think I wasn’t worried when my two best friends just disappeared one night and didn’t tell me?”

Two.

Best.

Friends.

Before you could even comment, Bucky puts on the dramatics. “We ran away together, Stevie. We meant to tell you.”

Steve takes a moment, just staring at the ceiling and piecing together his thoughts. “Joke all you want, Buck. I’m bringing you home.”

“Ste-”

“No!” He’s stomping back to the front door now. “I’ve had enough! I can’t stand not knowing where you guys are all day when bad things keep happening in this world. Just… just come home.”

All is quiet besides the quiet munching of Clint and his rogue cookie. Steve’s face did this thing when he was at war with himself, anxiety crawling up his arms or panic weighing his empty stomach down. His face drained color and that perfect renaissance oil lost its blush, blended paint that turned a murky gray. A masterpiece lost in storage.

“I can take the couch,” you whisper, arms erupting in goosebumps. “You guys can stay the night and we’ll go home tomorrow, okay? Or somewhere pre-approved, I guess.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Neither did Peter.

Steve's imaginary painter adds the softest pink back to Steve’s cheeks as you compile a mess of blankets and pillows for him.

Present Day, 2025, 7:15 am

There’s a warmth near you as you begin to lazily shuffle against the sheets, heavy on your chest but comfortable all in all.

There are no worries, no sudden bursts of Avenger business, no fights needing to be fought. Simply Steve warm against you with sunlight draping over his bare and freckled shoulders.

The serum enhanced for the sole purpose of strength and survival. And sure, it healed the body quicker than the average human body could naturally, but the one thing it couldn’t do was strip personality.

Steve had freckles splattered along his broad shoulders and down to in between his shoulder blades, light in color and all similar in size. Something a lot of people hated about themselves and tried to cover up while others tried to mimic. The serum was supposed to heal damaged skin, sunburnt areas, birthmarks, and even moles - at least, that’s what the official 1943 report had claimed.

But over the years, Steve had continued to age and grow into his new body. And while he couldn’t get dangerously sick anymore, anything unknown could still occur. No one had the same serum as Steve and last Tony had heard, Peggy had spilled the last remnants of Steve’s original DNA (blood they took before the procedure) in the Hudson. Bucky seemed to be experiencing the same natural changes as well.

It had been proven that neither Steve nor Bucky could carry or transmit diseases, experience abnormal cell production, nor could they develop a lifelong ailment without severe reason.

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Clint called one morning while deep in a routine mission (somewhere in Africa, you really don’t remember) to relay the news that, ‘you guys aren’t gonna fucking believe this - yeah Rogers, I’m telling them the hilarious news right now - Steve’s appendix just up and exploded last night - hey! He just stole - hold on. Give me back my hearing aid, you abelist fuck!’.

Steve had stretch marks on his back from the procedure, his elbow still hurt from time to time after he had snapped it a year ago, and the white scar above his right hip reminded him that even super soldiers are not exempt from the wonders of the appendix.

His breathing was slow and his eyelids flickered. Seemed he was enjoying his first deep sleep in a while. You craned your neck to try and read the cable box across the room, slightly making out a seven in the front before you gave up. You were due for your annual eye appointment, anyway.

Steve did have perfect eyesight though, so damn him.

You shrugged the sheets from your arms. He was on his stomach, cheek planted on your chest and right foot dangling off the side of the bed. His left arm was draped over your middle and his right was tucked inside a pillowcase. His hair draped over his forehead and some of it was still tucked behind his ears.

Careful to not wake him, you gently traced the ridge of his nose with your index finger, resting it on the tip that always turned bright pink regardless of mood. Once at the end, you went back up to trace it again.

“Beak,” you whispered more to yourself, and you bit your lip to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle.

Steve was here, next to and near you, and he was so warm.

You could have stayed in bed for hours, sleeping and cuddling and fucking, and you would bet your left kidney that Steve wanted that too. It was impossible to question it, it had to be, because Steve was too genuine. You had met hundreds of men in your life: some the literal devil, some cowards, some reserved, and rarely, some genuine at heart. Steve fit some category that didn’t even exist.

You wanted to love him and hate him. You wanted to make love and fuck him. You wanted to kiss him and annoy him. He checked a box that didn’t exist but that you would just have to reserve for him. The annoying little shit who could lift Thor’s hammer.

The door almost ripped off its hinges by the brute force of someone’s leg. You didn’t even fully register being crushed by Steve until his elbow stabbed you right in the gut.

“Rogers!” you groaned in pain and half trying to reach for your pistol on the bedside table.

There was a collective gasp of surprise (and maybe terror) from the people that just broke down your door. After yesterday’s unplanned run-in with Ramirez, no doubt this was called-for.

“Oh, hell…” Sam grumbled, lowering his gun the second he realized two of his friends were sharing one bed. “Lemme guess, the other bed’s mattress was too firm but this one’s just right.”

Bucky stood behind him, a knowing smirk plastered on his smug face. He looked between you and Steve, ignoring the way Scott was practically pulling his shoulder down in pure fits of laughter. Didn’t take much for Scott to tip himself over and almost drag Bucky down with him.

“Couldn’t you knock?” Steve nearly yelled, body still trying to shield yours even though you were fully dressed. You were struggling to push him away in pure embarrassment, but he seemed intent with this form of protection.

“You weren’t answering your phone! We changed our check-in times to seven instead of eight, remember?”

Steve, ever the gentleman, brought the sheets up higher for you and finally lifted himself out of bed.

And Bucky, ever the gentleman who has been spending way too much time with Clint, nodded his head toward you. “You two fuck?”

Mouth dropping in humiliation, you pulled the sheets up over your head and screamed into the temporary cover. Steve sputtered over whatever explanation he was thinking of pulling out of his ass.

“You two fucked,” Bucky smugly confirmed.

Steve pulled on the nearest shirt and went to kick Scott, who was ‘criss-cross apple-sauced’ on the floor and laughing way too loudly. “Is it really any of your business?”

“Man, that’s an answer!” Sam was about to fall into the same fit as Scott.

Annoyed, and fueled by that annoyance, you ripped the sheets off and marched for the bathroom. “You really want to know, you nosy little fucks? We did fuck and he made me come three times. Ask him how, I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two, no matter how embarrassed he may seem right now.”

You left him alone. You literally just exposed him and you left him alone with the wolves.

All was quiet until Sam blew a small raspberry. “Three times?”

Bucky didn’t need to speak to show he was about to tease the hell out of you. He simply sipped his coffee until he emptied it, and then refilled it. You couldn’t even finish a single mug yet because you were waiting to break the tension.

Looking around the hotel bar because he still valued your privacy, Bucky made sure to keep his voice low. “Three times?”

Half wanting to slap the smirk off his face and the other half wanting to announce Steve’s naughty accomplishment, you settled for pouring more coffee into your mug.

“Don’t you dare hold what I said against me, I literally had just woken up.”

“Mm, yeah. I remember how you literally moaned Thor’s name when you were startled awake from a nap in the living room.”

“Bucky!” you yelled, turning your shoulders inwards when you received a few odd looks from other early risers. Well, some were early risers. The person closest to the door was an agent, as was the other eating breakfast at the bar. “You promised you would never mention that again!”

He shook his head with amusement, “I can’t believe you swore me to secrecy when Loki basically told everyone.”

“He-!” Choking on your own spit, you slid lower into your booth. “That mischievous, conniving, son of a bitch.”

“In all honesty, I think that was his way of flirting with you.”

“Telling everyone I had a wet dream about his brother?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

You smirked, “Oh, trust me. I know.”

Bucky squinted, guilty in his spoken words. “All I’m saying is, it’s nice that you didn’t just write Steve off with us, as if nothing happened.”

It made your heart swell that even in a moment with you, Bucky would still always protect Steve.

“I would never. We actually talked last night and he really apologized.”

“Really?” His eyes were hopeful.

“He did. And as cliche as it sounds, one thing led to another.”

You realized your earlier words were contradictory when Bucky sighed sadly, “This better not have been a one time thing. I’ll strangle you both.”

You scoffed and finally took a piece of that blueberry muffin on your plate. “Screw you, Barnes. It’s Steve we’re talking about. I’d give him the world if I could.”

That made Bucky blush. “God, I’m stupidly happy for him. I always said he’d need to find a dame who had as big of a mouth as he does.”

Rolling your eyes, you offered him some of that muffin. He gladly broke off a piece. “Don’t go marrying us off just yet.”

“Doll, he almost imploded when we discovered you slept together. Teasing him about proposing might just kill him.”

You laughed at that. Although Steve had admitted he regretted the time you lost, there wasn’t any chance he would push you any further. He was probably comfortable with taking things slow, no matter the history. You had that in common.

“Seems we’re all just gonna have to make sure we don’t cause his demise.”

Smiling as he chewed, Bucky played with your feet under the table. Safe moments like these always occurred before a mission, no matter how simple or heavy they were. And like people love to say, you never fought with each other before. Just in case.

Going to bed angry was another thing entirely. That, the whole team was proficient in.

“You ready for tonight?”

Yesterday had definitely turned you against the very concept of family reunions, what with the small ache between your shoulders. You were angry with Seda, with Ernesto, disappointed with Ramirez, and neutral toward your sister.

God, your sister. This would be the first time since you left Mexico for school and SHIELD that you would be seeing her, as well as your other siblings. Jackeline was perhaps the only sibling you had some real memories with. Everyone else was already deep in the business or far away from the chaos. The team only knew of two other siblings who rsvp’d. The others: radio silence.

“Part of me just wants a normal family wedding. I’m kinda hoping we can just end it all tonight.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bucky chuckled, finishing off your muffin for you. “You’ll get some closure soon enough.”

There was no such thing as closure. Just less of a constant sting.

“Bucky,” you spoke seriously now. “My father made Steve sign something yesterday.”

“He told us at the debrief yesterday.”

“When did you have a debrief?”

Bucky scooted in his booth, quickly explaining. “Uh well, it wasn’t so much of a debrief as it was a simple overview. Just a heads up.”

You tilted your head, somewhat unconvinced. “Uh-huh… but we could void it, right? He had a fucking notary there and everything.”

“We can declare it void, yeah Y/N,” he grabbed your hand over the table. “He won’t get tangled in this.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. “I’m really glad you guys are gonna help us.”

He returned your smile. “Anything for family.”

Family.

After all these years of self-hatred and despising your own blood, you blinded yourself of the simple truth that you already had a real family. Whether you were accepted after Sokovia, or after you helped Steve escape with Bucky, or after those long five years, you were accepted. And you accepted them right back.

The briefing goes as expected. Didn’t seem like anyone was going to live down the now obvious fact that you and Steve had slept together after years of unnoticed pining. You simply took the teasing in stride, better than Steve even, who stuffed his face full of chips in embarrassment.

The plan was simple but ever-evolving. The three of them will hang back: Bucky at the hotel, Scott and Sam at the nearby base with Torres. The base was fifteen minutes from the estate, hidden behind those same pine trees but the perfect cover - it was a nearby diner. Steve will still take the shield, FRIDAY was installed on your personal phones, and any weapons you attached to your person were specifically made to deter metal detectors. Once in, it was mingle, mingle, mingle.

There were going to be a thousand questions to answer: What in the world is Captain America doing here? Is he here to cause trouble? Are you two seriously dating? So, Captain America being one of us means holding Thor’s hammer was a myth, aye?

Then you would move on to the more important guests. Jackeline’s greeting would be more of a reunion. But flying under and over the radar had to walk the same line - you needed to mix in with the crowd and make sure they see you participating, but then escape for a little while to continue the mission.

Once in, the task was to electronically and physically retrieve everything Scott didn’t have time to yesterday, plus the new information Ernesto got for today and tomorrow. His latest emails, list of contacts, checks, birth certificates, video evidence.

“Do we all know our duties?”

You wanted to wrap up Steve’s commanding voice and keep it a special secret, a secret that was yours and the team’s to share.

“We got it, Cap. For the tenth time this week - you two okay?”

Sam was rewarded with a slanted smile. “Everytime you ask me that, I’ll lie.”

He nods, “At least you admit it. You’re not alone in this.”

“For years,” you continued, “It’s been that way. I guess I’m both ready for it to end and not. I want them behind bars. I don’t want the repercussions.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky agrees. “At least part of the fight will be over.”

Beside you, Steve clenches his jaw. “We’re always fighting.”

Bucky grins at him, “Yeah.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he leans forward to squeeze Steve’s thigh. “At least it’s not with each other anymore.”

They weren’t lying when they said vibranium was lightweight. Felt different from nano-tech and was an obvious change from your regular body suit. You felt protected and stylish. Good, because even though you weren’t obligated to impress those vultures, there were still a few cousins and extended family members you wanted compliments from. And?

The black turtleneck was warmer than you expected and didn’t strangle you. You were a bundle of velvet bliss right now. The cuffs were a golden brown, completely made from vibranium. Modeling in the mirror, you whispered a few ‘pew-pew’s as you blocked pretend bullets. C’mon, golden bracelets? You were basically Wonder Woman.

The tights were your own, thin and black and you could still see there were faint bruises on your knees from training. Once all that was situated, you pulled on the long skirt and tucked in the bottom of your shirt, glad the way the high-waisted design sucked everything in. The skirt was the same golden brown as the cuffs, shorter in the front and wavy as it draped down the back, barely reaching your ankles. You tied the skirt’s belt in a tight bow and pulled on the black boots Shuri had also sent you. The heel was thick and short, and the boot was pretty tight around the top of your ankle.

Time was ticking on that well-deserved goody basket you were meaning to send to the royal siblings.

Hoop earrings, three rings dressing your left hand, a simple golden necklace - now you need to do your hair and make-up.

Steve was just patiently waiting for his turn in the bathroom, bless his heart.

“Scott said the files are in his personal belongings. We suspect he’s planning to smuggle over fifty people tomorrow. Their records should be hidden away in those belongings, too.”

Sam always kept a leveled head in dire situations like these. He was rational and helpful, always waited until the job was done and everyone was safe before he had a drink or a cry. It was safest, perhaps the most fair thing the Avengers could do for the public after destroying half the cities they fought in. The media didn’t need to know about the late-night fights, alcohol poisoning, or frequent therapy sessions. Your coping methods were all different - Steve has no doubt Sam will immediately pack an overnight bag and Bucky to visit his sister and nephews once the wedding concluded.

Steve? Well, Steve was surprisingly calm, all things considered.

“You get any hits yet? Anything from Ramirez that could help us find those people sooner?”

Sam sighs sadly, shaking his head. “It’s looking like we’re heading into a full-on fight.”

That’s not what Steve wanted to hear. A ‘full-on’ fight almost always had accidents, misfires, innocent casualties, and a few cuts and scrapes to add to his own personal collection.

“Sam,” Steve puts down the files in his hand and shuts off his monitor to signal he’s done researching for the night. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You know,” Sam smiles at him, “I’m gettin’ real tired hearin’ you say that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. Sam gently exhales - Steve can feel it.

“You two really are the same.” Sam points at Steve and to the bathroom door. “Always apologizing for shit you can’t control.”

Steve looks down to his feet, a blush in his pale cheeks. After failing to clip his cufflinks on his own, he holds his arms out to Sam who happily clips them for him.

“Is it real?”

Steve pauses. He doesn’t really need to think about it because he knows. He’s known for a while even if he was on autopilot. The pause only serves to help him catch his breath from the happy prickle that crawls up his spine. “As real as second chances go.”

Sam laughs and claps his shoulder, “I get it. We seem to get a hell of a lotta those.”

Now that the mission was truly kicking into gear, fucking full speed ahead, Steve had no other choice but to pull shreds of Captain America from that metaphorical attic of his. Took everything in him to revert back, never fully, and each time would be different from the last. Sometimes it was mentally draining being responsible for a whole team and creating the plans, other times he regretfully felt like a colonizer, an intruder who followed orders from the top and was forced to execute them. This time around, he was stepping into uncharted territory, but still familiar, and he had a million roles to mime.

“Steeeve.”

His smile was instant and he gravitated to your voice. “Hmm?”

“So, I have an idea for a hairstyle,” you reply, throwing open the bathroom door with a brush in one hand and the other holding the top layers of your hair up. “I got enough hair for it.”

“Tell me about it. It gets in the way of everything.”

“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, still trying to shovel more hair higher. “I curled it, so all I gotta do is tug this upper half up into a ponytail while the rest stays down. But can you help? My shoulders still hurt and I haven’t taken my advil yet.”

Steve shuffles back into the room to grab you two pills before he replaces his hands with yours. “So, just lift it up?”

You hum confirmation, watching Steve in the mirror as he pulled your thick curls higher, snapped the hair tie between his teeth, and tied it all. He pulled the strands outward so the high curls still fell around your face. The hairstyle would have been easier with extensions (for a much fuller look) but if you had to throw your body around these next two days, you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of having them pulled off.

“Thank you,” you blush. These moments were so intimate, so sweet, just you and Steve. “You need any help?”

Steve looks down at himself. He had already tied his own tie. He could style his own hair and comb his beard. “I think I’m good. Forgot to pack cologne, though.”

“I’ve got some perfume in my suitcase. There should be one in there that isn’t too flowery.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Not really a problem, doll.”

Pulling on his suit jacket and reaching for your suitcase to set it on the bed, he miscalculated the balance he was so obviously lacking. Instead of toppling head first himself, he fumbles your suitcase and spills its contents on your bed. He stills for a second, looking to the closed bathroom door to see if you popped your head through to ask what the hell that sound was. But it remained closed, and Steve silently groaned because of his clumsiness.

He tries his best to roll the clothing items back in, cursing whenever he would accidentally squeeze a perfume bottle you had hidden in there. He counted three. The one he picks smells like roses.

Amongst the ruins he finds your passport, multiple IDs, and two pairs of sunglasses. He chuckles to himself and thinks, we’ve been here for four days and she hasn’t worn these once.

A torn piece of paper stood out from the pile, folded neatly in its own envelope but still damaged.

CLINT

Curious, Steve opens the envelope, wholeheartedly expecting to find the written contents from the archer himself, but pauses when he reads the simple sentence, in your handwriting.

‘After careful deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I want you to have all my video games.’

If Steve didn’t know any better, and judging by the multiple other letters peeking through the torn tape from the corner of your suitcase, it sounded like a goodbye letter.

“What’s taking so long?”

Startled, Steve shoves the letter under the pile of clothes. “Uh, my clumsy ass spilled your clothes everywhere so I’m being good and fixing everything.”

“...annoying.”

Still, you stayed inside the bathroom.

He glanced back just to make sure. And he knew he shouldn’t be snooping, the guilt was already eating away at him, but he now noticed the lump under the torn tape and another envelope poking through.

They were all signed for different people. Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey -

The devil on his shoulder drowned the cries of the angel.

Opening his, he prays for his quick reading skills to aid him before you realized what he was doing.

Steve,

Believe when I say that I thought I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…

I don’t really know why I’m writing these letters besides the thrill of morbidity for my untimely death or because I’m an amateur writer on the side. I never know what to say to you, anyway. Whether it’s in person or on paper. I’ve got a hundred drawn-up speeches in my head I almost say to you. But they don’t come out when I want them to and it seems a bit much to write out the words to several imaginary crumpled pieces of paper.

This will have to do.

Steve, I know for a fact, deep in whatever soul I have left, that you are a good man.

When the world fell apart, I held on to you. I don’t know why. Natasha bugged me about it, sent me those signature smirks of hers whenever we did anything remotely weird. She believed something was going on between us and I would get so angry with her because it was like she saw something I couldn’t. And I wanted to see it. Wrap it up for myself and live in the softness.

You slept by my side when I would ask, you let me look through your private sketchbook to help ease my mind, and you would jump at every chance to shield me from danger. Even when you know I can take care of myself. I don't know how many times I have to remind you.

I don’t understand why you shut me out after we brought our friends back. And at the time, it hurt like hell. I literally wanted to kill you and then myself. It made no sense, it still doesn’t. I won’t lie and say it still surprises me or that it no longer hurts. ‘Cause I’m numb to it now and the pain is more of a dull ache.

But I guess you had your reasons, no matter how hurtful, how ridiculous, no matter how stupid.

Fuck, why didn’t you get some of that life Tony had always wanted for you? The question eats me alive. Maybe you did move on, maybe you would miss us too much, I truly don’t know. When you confessed to wanting some form of that life when we rescued Wanda, it just confused me more.

Then my father basically declared war and you cut me out. I can’t help but think you stayed behind to help me finish this, what with that righteous streak of yours, but if it is the case, then I am so sorry.

You deserve to live, Steve.

Guess what I really want to close with is this: find that life you always wanted. Buy a boat, or a cabin in the secluded woods and become a lumberjack, travel, open your own art museum - hell, erase all traces of your identity and sell painted landscapes for a living.

In any form you find it, just try. You know I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.

With as much love in me,

The swirl of your name leaves him disoriented, and slightly paralyzed. Steve licks the envelope closed.

Steve puts the very existence and contents of your letter to the back of his mind for the time being. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, no time to dissect it word for word. He’ll focus on it later. He still doesn’t know what reaction he should be experiencing. The letter was unexpected, yes, but it’s the matter of you writing a goodbye letter - as if you weren’t going to make it out of here alive. And that about saws Steve in two.

Steve thinks the elevator comes too fast and wonders what he could do to stop time. The mics on your neck generate enough noise for you to hear the static on the other end. No one is currently online, and Steve cherishes the little moments he’s getting before having to transition into ‘Captain America’ mode.

There wasn’t much time today to truly bask in the afterglow. The moment the elevator opens Steve literally drags you inside and captures your lips in a rather chaste kiss. It surprises you momentarily but you’re responding, and it’s fluid and familiar. The kiss is brief, but it feels as if your years mold into this single act, and Steve’s smiling wider than he has today when the first thing you say as you part is that maybe you chose the wrong shade of lipstick because it looks too damn dark on his lips.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and he looks over at you one last time in the privacy you’re afforded. He’s got that good ache in his chest again and it’s both calming and a little bittersweet, because staring at you is like staring at the sun - it hurts to look at for a long time but oh, so tempting.

The lawn was separated into two halves with only one fully decorated and the other still under a tarp, hidden because it was mid-construction and to not spoil the surprise. Over to the side, just left of the large lake, there was an extra tarp the workers were manning in case the clouds in the sky decided to cry.

Jackeline had chosen violet as her main color scheme, with golden hues stitched alongside. The flowers, soft lights, marble floor, and desserts were all violet; the curtains and tarps, plates and glasses, flowers on the wall, and Jackeline’s rehearsal dress were all gold. Ernesto must have spent over a million dollars in the decorations alone.

Everyone donned their best designers and since only family was in attendance today, the little amount of people were easily outdone one right after the other. In total, there were fifteen guests, and that included you and Steve: Ernesto, Seda, the groom’s father, Jackeline’s mother, two of your half-brothers, three aunts (sister’s of Ernesto), two cousins, the maid of honor, and Marcus White.

They have already fawned over Steve, some with a major guard up as expected, but as Ernesto explains the specifics, everyone becomes more pleased than weary. ‘It was just too good to be true that the Avengers were all good’, someone announces. Steve grips your hand just a little tighter.

The mere absence of Ramirez was enough of an answer: he really was going to be eliminated.

Across from your private corner, cheers and claps sound as the happy couple finally emerges. Even your father leaves mid-conversation to go greet her.

She’s a fifties masterpiece. Her dark hair cascades in uneven but gentle layers, framing her face and she’s both glossy and matte. Her skin is darker and her eyebrows are fuller, widow’ peak and strong jaw, thin neck and perfectly rounded shoulders. She has a painted blush on her high cheekbones, dark eyeshadow and a faint cat eye, and the reddest, fullest lips that are already spitting wit as she greets her more serious guests. Her voice is high but steady and she’s so obviously the center of attention, she’s the literal bride, but you bet she could take over the room even if she wasn’t. Her fiancé, surprisingly enough, trails behind her as if he too is in a trance, greeting the same guests and attempting to match her enthusiasm. She’s making herself known, and she’s succeeding.

It isn’t until she locks her sight on you that Steve finally mumbles a quiet ‘woah’ underneath a shaky breath and you can’t blame him, dear god you can’t, because seeing her for the first time in six years is eating away at you. She’s nineteen, young and sweet, and still trapped in the world you were planning to destroy.

Her first reaction is to run into your arms and hold you tightly, the force swinging you from side to side. Her giggles are contagious and you find yourself reacting similarly, grip tightening as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how proud she is that you have saved the world ten times over. The statement is overwhelming, but you find yourself nodding along in place of anything verbal.

Steve is patient as he witnesses this family reunion, standing at your side with respect and a tint of scarlet staining his cheeks. Finally, Jackeline turns to greet him and for a scary second, Steve sees Peggy.

“No way!” She keeps her voice low. “I could have sworn my bit-... uh, my bunch of tias were lying about you really being here.”

Steve shakes the fifties image from his head. The resemblance, even if Jackeline has more slanted eyes and a larger forehead, is uncanny. “Thank you so much for inviting us. The ride up was a bitch but we made the most of it.”

Jackeline stutters over her own laugh. “Oh.” She looks to you with a wide grin. “Oh, he’s a keeper.”

“Thought so myself,” you grin back. “You should hear him swear during a football game.”

“All men turn into animals when their teams don’t live up to expectations.”

Her accent is thicker than yours. Living in New York for over 10 years definitely helped smooth over some dialect and create your own voice. But Jackeline’s, considering she had never lived outside of Mexico, was thick and silky and resembled a place you no longer called home.

She pulls the man behind her forward, effectively interrupting and ending the conversation he was having with one of your cousins. “This is Julian. Julian, this is my one and only sister and her boyfriend!”

Julian, bless his heart, holds out a slightly shaking hand for you to shake. You do so, and try to convey calmness through it. When you watch his glance fall to Steve and feel his hand start to shake yours more rapidly, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“It’s an honor!” Julian finally says, voice deep and wracked with some nerves. He shakes Steve’s hand when he gets the chance. “Captain.”

“Please,” Jackeline rolls her eyes. “He’s just like us! You should be swooning over my sister, who is probably going to be the one to kill you if you ever hurt me.”

Julian blinks. His eyes go from Steve to you, contemplating his next move without wanting to seem rude. He nods in your direction. “I don’t doubt you would. Excuse me if I came off as rude. I’m just starstruck by this one here, is all.”

His accent matches Jackeline’s.

Steve waves his hand through the air. “You are not the first tonight, son.”

Sometimes you forget that Steve is an old man. Biologically, he’s in his mid-thirties. Ever changing and growing old as normal, but his soul is old. From a different time and out of it. The mere nickname he just gave Julian, no doubt because of his young age, leaves you averting your eyes and turning away to smile up at one of the many golden chandeliers.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight. The party may seem small right now, but trust me, half of Mexico will be dancing with us tomorrow night.” Jackeline bounces in place, hand intertwining with Julian’s, and she leans in to speak more clearly with you. “Meet me later? We have so much to catch up on.”

Agreeing, you watch the happy couple leave to converse with the few other guests.

Steve turns toward you, eyes squinted in amusement. “Is she really cheating on him with a man of the cloth?”

You can’t help the involuntary snort that leaves your nose. “The photos were watermarked, right? Time stamped? Maybe they’re old.”

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs two champagne glasses as the tray flies by him. “She’s got a way about her. Reminds me of a dame from this book I read a while back.”

Sipping your drink, you ponder. “What book?”

“The one where the dude gets shot at the end.”

“Oh, you mean every book from the 20th century?”

Steve laughs, “That twenties one!”

Mouth dropping, you push at his chest and turn to walk away. “You did not just compare her to Daisy from The Great Gatsby!”

Steve follows. “That’s the one! Honest! She has this way about her!”

It’s not long after a few dances and photographs that you’re all seated for the actual dinner. There are three long tables, two parallel to each other and the main one perpendicular. You don’t know if it’s a power move or whatever, but your name cards are placed on one of the parallel tables. But it doesn’t bother you much since you have a front view of Seda and your father.

Dinner is a six-course meal. Not that you assumed any different - Ernesto really went all out for his youngest child (that you know of). Your mics are picking up conversations left and right so you’re actually able to enjoy the meal. Salad, soup, a weird looking appetizer that’s actually quite delicious, the main course of either chicken/fish/or steak, and two desserts. All throughout, Steve is actually having the time of his life being fed so well.

“Answer me this,” Steve leans in to whisper in your ear. “Are those hearts or paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling?”

You smiled against the ridge of your champagne glass, “You mean those clay flowers?”

“Is that what they are?” He pauses for a long second, squinting.

“Are your eyes going bad?”

“Eyes don’t go bad.”

Your mouth falls open. “Your eyes are going bad!”

“Again,” Steve holds up a finger. “My eyes are just fine, not bad.”

Something else to add to that list you had made in the morning.

“This is fucking fantastic.”

Steve, still trying to casually squint, huffs. “Annoying...”

You bump his shoulder and lean in to whisper quietly. “Turns you on.”

Steve just blushes.

It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, what with the great food and surprisingly good conversation with one of your brothers beside him. Steve’s already built a much stronger rapport with the thirty-something year old man than you have. There’s a stab of guilt for a second, a need to duck and drown in shame, when you realize you can’t even remember his name.

Ernesto stands to announce toasts. His is brief and not all that fatherly, but it’s the longest you’ve heard him string some nice words together. Seda follows, brief as well, and includes a childhood anecdote about her. Jackeline’s mother is a young woman, somewhere between forty and fifty, and her toast is only a sentence long - ‘Solo quiero que estas contenta, mi amor.’ For the first time tonight, Bucky voices his thoughts over the mic with a quiet and sad sounding hum.

Ernesto lifts himself from his chair, swatting away his men who go to help him. He has the microphone again and he’s walking toward you, face neutral. You know better than to refuse in front of this big of a crowd. Steve squeezes your hand before you stand and he remains beaming up at you from his seat.

You’ve seen it in the movies - raise the glass, say some words, end it nicely. It’s what you do. But it feels surreal, almost unnerving when you don’t recognize the faces looking back at you.

“Here’s to you,” you lift your champagne glass, looking around at the happy yet solemn faces at the small table.

“You deserve all the happiness available to you. You are so lucky to have each other,” you finish the toast and drink your whole glass. There is no applause, just sad smiles in response. You’re not asking for much, you never had.

Tony and Pepper share a quick kiss, thanking everyone around the table quickly as the two cakes are being cut. Their wedding was limited, with only a few people in attendance. Whoever was left. Tony’s cabin could obviously accommodate more people, but he had only requested the gathering of those he could stomach to see. But when that turned out to only be Pepper and Happy, he was forced to open the doors to more.

So, you accepted your chocolate cake from Rhodey as he handed it to you. Shared some quick chit-chat with Steve and Natasha; greeted Thor as he made his first appearance in a while, hair now longer and baggy clothes hanging from his body, a tortured smile on his aging face; and sat through Happy’s own speech, enjoying his refreshing and joyful attitude.

But now you stood in front of the kitchen sink, staring at the hidden picture frame behind the mugs - a reminder of what was really missing from this special day.

You studied Peter’s awkward smile and demeanor, his expression youthful and frozen in time. He became foggy, silver clouds blotting his cheeks and his hair went white, and soon the sink sounded with a tiny ‘clunk!’ as you wept silently.

You felt a hand slide into your own, squeezing with care and understanding. You looked up to see Steve, his eyes watching your face. He gave you one more gentle squeeze, the same tortured smile as Thor’s on his beautiful face, and walked to his room to retire for the night.

Glass raised in the air, you swallow in hopes of not choking over any word because of your nerves.

“Here’s to you,” you start, already deciding this was going to be like pulling a band-aid. “May this world treat you kind, and that you are kind to each other, and that it’s all that matters.”

Steve forgets to drink. He can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting to cry.

Everyone watches as Steve leads you onto the dance floor which is intimidating with its glittering violet light and marble that resembles polished glass. If these were the decorations for the rehearsal dinner, Steve can’t even begin to bet on how tomorrow’s going to look.

Steve holds you close, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other framing your spine. It’s like a tight hug. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

You step on his foot once again. “Shut up, Steve. Tell me your real thoughts.”

“Who, me?”

“Steve.”

“You suck at dancing.”

“There it is.”

It isn’t hard to sneak away once everyone piles onto the dance floor. Steve shares a few dances with your aunts before excusing himself to use the bathroom.

The mission itself goes rather smoothly. Infiltrating and collecting information was childsplay. Amateur. You’ve done it a thousand times and your father isn’t exactly a tech wizard. Neither is Seda.

You find the electronic bank records Scott couldn’t yesterday, as well as a detailed spreadsheet (more like a hitlist) dating ten years back. In the same file, this actually only slightly encrypted (slightly), are the names of high-level players involved. It’s color-coded, some names familiar because of their involvement with Hydra, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you notice that red means eliminated, black means still at large, and blue means ally.

There’s a lump in your throat as you scroll through and find Steve’s name, thankfully in blue. It’s expected, so you simply move on, until you find yours. And it’s in black.

It should terrify you, have you running for the hills and tucking your tail between your legs but you’re won’t because Steve’s name is blue.

That’s all that matters.

There’s still no concrete information about the shipment, nothing online or on a loose post-it note. It’s non-existent and that’s suspicious and you don’t know why you don’t voice that to Steve. He’s listening at the door and responding to Sam’s questions. You and Scott are the hackers of the group after all.

You scan through drawers and cabinets, snapping photos of things you can’t take just yet and filing the papers you can. Papers detailing contracts and miscellaneous connections: lawyers, doctors, politicians, police. Once that’s done, you shrink the evidence to the size of a fingernail with the help of Scott’s tech and hide it in your bra.

Surprisingly enough, the two of you are able to slip out of the office and the first couple living rooms undetected. Until Jackeline herself appears, pulling down her dress as she exits the bathroom. Steve, stunned by the presence of anyone, pulls you toward his chest with unfocused strength. You hiss loudly and naturally go to cup your injured elbow. It takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s done and who he’s done it to.

Jackeline nearly stumbles over her heels out of pure clumsiness but her mouth parts as she notices you and the harsh sound you make. If she truly saw or heard anything, she’s keeping it to herself it seems.

“Ernesto wanted to see me before we called it a night,” Steve says, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He doesn’t outright say he’s sorry; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. So he braves a smile, sends you a look, and excuses himself.

No conversation ever comes naturally - or, rather they take at least minimal effort from either party. You say the first thing you can think of and that’s to congratulate her again.

Your rambling sort of sounds like the toast you gave earlier, but Jackeline either doesn’t want to embarrass you or simply doesn’t notice. She waits for the pause in your voice before she finally speaks.

“Before I start, don’t hate me for this.”

“That’s not a good way to start a sente-” Your face is smacked to the side absurdly hard and you can feel the sting at the base of your neck. You look back at your sister with wide eyes.

“You couldn’t leave the world dead? He was finally dead!”

Baffled, you rub at your sore cheek. “Why am I the one getting the most blame for that? I followed a fucking raccoon around and I didn’t even snap my fingers!”

“Sorry,” she blinks, eyebrows scrunching as she thinks of the next thing to say. “Sorry, I just… it was that easy to kill him and then he just… wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were also dead.”

“I was.”

“And we brought back trillions.”

“I know.”

Never once did you wonder what your siblings might have thought. More than half of them were separated from this life, while a few remained and conquered their allowed sectors. Ernesto had never discussed which of his children would take over his seat. But when he was dusted and Seda assumed power, it was clear not one sibling wanted anything to do with it. Or they were just too scared to outright disobey Seda and his tyranny.

Jackeline stands tall, shoulders straight and chin held high. She didn’t seem to worry about the repercussions of her actions - she knows who you are and what you are capable of. The smack seemed deliberate but restrained.

“So?” It’s the only word you can muster up.

“Please don’t judge me.” Her confidence falters and her eyebrows push down even further. “I know you know.”

“You gotta spell it out because I know a lot of things.”

Sighing deeply, she grabs the hand you’re using to rub at your cheek. She grips it tightly as she speaks. “I love him. But he’s impossible to love now and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, Jackeline…”

You could have contacted her. You were on social media - you could have followed her, maybe messaged her annually - hell, called her once in a while to simply check in. The ticket you got was always a temporary one: go to school and find a way to make the trade routes easier to travel. School finished, you found Fury, and you created an alternate identity and background plan to trick your family into doing just what they ordered. And during all that time, Jackeline was barely in her pre-teens, probably scared and alone and missing her only sister. This was just you throwing that smack out of proportion but there was truth in it all. Wasn’t there?

“Julian’s okay. I agreed to this arranged marriage. I’m sure I can grow to love him,” she shrugs, biting her lip as it begins to quiver.

Her eyes are no longer happy - perhaps that was the wrong word to use after she had just confided in you about the reality of her upcoming union. But they definitely seem more dull in comparison to the joyfulness she presented earlier tonight.

“Jackeline, you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gone those five years. He had to move on.” You drop your shoulders and lean forward to give her a hug. No matter how badly you wanted to wrap your hands around Ernesto’s neck, they had more use tenderly wrapped around your sister.

Relishing the feeling for only a moment longer, Jackeline is ignited once again. “Besides, I should be telling you that! I saw the way that… that fascist pulled you. If he’s hurting you, I’ll kill him.”

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head. “Oh.”

She looks at you as if you’re going to admit abuse and confide in her like she did you. “No, it’s okay. Steve’s perfect, he’s… wonderful.”

Jackeline shakes her head rapidly, “Don’t you lie to me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not lying. But you gotta trust me. I’ll explain later-”

“Explain what?”

Seda breaks the conversation and you forget to curse inwardly. Instead, a mumbled ‘fuck’ is heard. It only serves to fuel the flame. Jackeline flashes a rehearsed smile, and she truly is your sister because for a sad moment she looks exactly like you.

“Explain why she never returned my calls to be my maid of honor! I swear, this one is always so busy she forgets I exist!”

“She is,” Seda agrees, grinning like he already knows what the original conversation was about. “Always busy.”

Jackeline keeps the same smile and is about to continue fanning the flames when Seda interrupts again. “Jackie, your father wanted me to speak with your sister alone for a moment. It has to do with tomorrow’s shipment.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t keep her for too long, okay? Tomorrow’s a late start but we all need our beauty sleep.” Jackeline leaves and fails to look over her shoulder to double check on you.

Seda steps closer, arms swinging casually like he’s pondering the possibilities of what he could do without Steve present. But instead of focusing solely on him, you listen to the soft sound of Bucky’s voice through the mic as he tells you that he’s listening in and he’s here.

“What did she say to you?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

He snaps immediately, gripping your cheeks in one hand so you can’t move your head. “When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut around me?”

“You asked.” Smacking his hand away would have been frowned upon before, but not anymore. Free reign if need be. “Besides, when will you learn that that will never happen?”

“You can’t believe anything she tells you. Ernesto’s only two daughters are mistakes, both threats to his reign. Never submissive, always asking questions-”

You grunt almost comically, “Men and their irrational fears of women… What did I ever do to you?”

He pauses and you notice how his angry eyes always seem to water from his frustration. “You brought him back.”

“I also brought back trillions.”

“You know,” his face does something unpleasant. “Before Jackeline was dusted, she had been seeing that priest.”

“How could you possibly know-”

“He was so devastated by her loss. Found God, became a changed man.”

“Seda, what are you playing at?”

“She came back.” He lifts one finger. “He couldn’t resist.” He raises another. “Didn’t take long for Ernesto to find out.” The third one is the last, and he mimics a small explosion as he concludes. “But don’t worry, we took care of him.”

You never once believed the Devil was this angry, red demon with horns atop his head and a sharp tail, voice booming as he ruled the underworld with the weapons of pain and suffering. He didn’t possess or haunt random places. If anything, the Devil himself was simply a metaphor, a representation of the evil in a living world. It only made people comfortable to create an image, no matter how ridiculous.

Once you even thought the Devil was Hades, and he wasn’t all that bad when it truly came down to the root of all problems. He oversaw the underworld but he didn’t take life, he didn’t cause the pain, he simply watched and ruled. That maybe Hades was real considering Thor was, and he was just chilling in the underworld bored out of his mind.

But the evil the Devil represented was a constant in this world already, in your life from start to finish, and Seda’s eyes held something unspeakable. Dark brown eyes almost black, left cheek twitching with the urge to smile grotesquely, the tense nature of his broad shoulders. He was no massive man, a few inches taller than you, but he was a giant in a world in which Hades lacked and the Devil persisted.

“But Julian-”

Seda scoffs, “Julian was her rebound. Got mixed up in the business, with Ernesto - but I don’t doubt he loves Jackeline.”

You’re this close to breaking the man’s fingers. He doesn’t stop counting his supposed triumphs. “When were the pictures taken?”

“Don’t do that,” he laughs as he finally steps away from you. “Ask your real question.”

Your smile was involuntary. So was Seda’s. It was the one thing you had in common: smiling at things that weren’t funny. “Did you threaten him? Torture him? Kill him yet?”

“... Jackeline will never know.”

Your mouth parts slowly like you’re still digesting his words. “You unimaginable bastard.”

If you had to bet, you would have placed all your money on Ernesto being the giant to fear. He had hurt you in countless ways, used you and discarded what he didn’t like, put you in the line of fire for his own gain. He had taken pleasure in knowing you hurt, in knowing what you had lost and suffered. He mocked your sacrifice time and time again. And there was a sentence you had never uttered out loud for fear of what you might do, or what anyone hearing you might do, that Ernesto had said one chilly November night only a year after the world returned. It was a thought so suppressed you almost always forgot it had been real. ‘A shame the Widow did what she did - what an unbelievable asset wasted over something pointless.’

No one outside your circle could possibly understand. They didn’t have to - but to dismiss the main reason he was retaking his tainted throne... insanity.

But something in Seda’s voice moved even the most dormant areas in your soul. The giant was a man with nothing and everything to lose but with the power to choose which. Staring at him for too long prompted an uncomfortable sting across your waterline like his glare burned. Such a normal looking man with short dark hair and an aging face. He stared at you with a set look, one that told you he knew something you didn’t. Like he controlled giants even bigger than him. He wasn’t Hades, who restrained himself and hid in the shadows of a world he was forced to rule - he was the Devil’s metaphor, with red strains licking his tan skin and eyes sharp enough to puncture.

With a small tilt of his head and a strangled grin, he finally turns to leave. “Have a safe drive home.”

After saying a quick goodbye to Jackeline and securing the estate, you hurried to get to your car and leave. Ernesto had just sent you a quick nod of the head and reminded Steve he needed to see him again before the wedding started. All your leftover energy literally went into pulling open the passenger door.

Out of instinct now, you wait until the car is past the gates and a good mile from the hidden entrance before speaking freely.

“We get everything?”

The night is dark and you can barely see the outline of the trees. The sky is covered with gray clouds and there are no lampposts to provide light. It’s really just your headlights. “I think so. I think.”

Steve can sense the hesitancy in your answer. “What’s wrong?”

You shake with an exaggerated shiver, “Seda was being creepy… just more than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was probably communicating and online with Sam during his conversation with Ernesto and completely missed the one you had with Seda.

“Fuckin’ didn’t think it could get weirder, but Jackeline mentioned how this was basically an arranged marriage and then Seda,” you stop suddenly. The uneasiness was creeping back.

“An arranged marriage? Fuck, what else is this mission going to throw at us?”

‘Captain?’

Steve’s hands accidentally swerve the steering wheel as response to the small fright. “... Was that your phone or mine?”

You fumbled through your mini purse for your phone. “Me. Hey? Friday?”

‘The one and only. I hope that didn’t frighten you because I really need your attention right about now.’

Steve chuckles, eyes straight ahead as he drives. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

‘My readings are picking up something strange. The vehicle, even if I’m not able to virtually connect, seems to be stalling.’ Torres did curse you two before you left for renting a car made before 2013.

“What do you mean? It’s working just fine.”

You set your phone down on the dash to start looking around the interior of the car.

‘The pedal, yes Captain. But I’m afraid my readings are focused on the brakes.’

You bite your tongue and scrunch up your nose. What else could possibly happen tonight? “That’s always fun to hear, great. Greaaaat.”

“Friday, what are you picking up?” Steve’s voice is more stern and even if he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s trying to ignore your coping mechanism of joking during dire situations.

‘It seems that when they took the vehicle for parking, they attached something to the brake lines. Sort of like a trigger sensor. Do not slow down.’

“We’re stuck? We can’t stop?”

‘Everytime the Captain de-accelerates, the sensor heats up. That’s what my readings are.’

“Fuck,” you unclipped your seatbelt and turned your body toward Steve. “Fuck!”

“Friday, what do we do?” The least Steve could do is be the level-headed one here.

‘Exactly what you’re thinking, Captain. The shield’s in the trunk.’

“We can’t exactly get to it!” You don’t mean to scream at Friday. You’re sure she’s used to adrenaline induced attacks guided toward her and never about her.

‘The burners were produced by Stark Industries for our very own spy unit. They are equipped with a taser, flashlight, and laser.’

Jumping so your feet were planted firmly on the passenger seat, you make sure everything is in place: the stolen files, your gun, your phone, and earpiece. “Keep your foot on that pedal, Rogers. I don’t feel like blowing up tonight.”

He releases a shaky breath, hands turning pale from the grip he has on the steering wheel. “You and me both.”

“Friday?” Your voice is only slightly timid, but you manage to move your body out from the front seats and to the back.

‘The laser, Agent Y/LN. Cut through the seats.’

Nodding along to her instructions, you search for the burner under your skirt and unstrap it from the holster. Pulling its ancient antenna outward, Friday verbally guides you through the very simple instruction. The laser blasts out unexpectedly at first making you squeal, which in turn causes Friday (a literal AI) to chuckle. You’re thankful the antenna was facing the back seats already.

“Doing good back there?”

You respond with a low grunt as you carefully carve out the largest rectangle you can create. “You better have shoved the thing close. Any stop signs up ahead?”

Steve’s getting worried now, but instead of putting you more on edge, he hides it pretty well. “Thank god this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even give his response acknowledgement as you finally pull the leather, metal, and weird cushion filling away and spot the shield. “I got it, got it, got it.”

‘My sensors suggest you’ll have a good five seconds to escape the vehicle once the Captain releases the pedal.’

You make sure your hair is in the tightest ponytail known to man and that your skirt is bunched up in your free arm. You strap the shield onto the other. “Steve, you gonna be alright?”

His eyes are still focused on the road, but he braves a look in the mirror back at you. His voice is stern but not demanding. “I know you hate the damn shield but bend your legs, jump sideways, and tuck your head.”

“Yeah,” you nod along. Damn straight you’ll put your hate aside for one second if it’s here to save your life. “You better jump on time, you understand me?”

“Sam,” Steve keeps the speed steady and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding from the sound of you kicking open the back door. “Sam, Widow. Widow.”

Before you jump, the asphalt a never ending, rapid glare of absolute darkness, you leave your phone on the seat in case Steve still needs her. “Friday, send Sam and Torres our location. They’re the only ones who can fly in undetected. Tell them what you told us.”

‘Will do, Agent Y/LN.’

“Be careful.”

You smirk at him, “Don’t be a hero and crash this one into the ice, yeah?”

You don’t wait for his reaction and instead take the plunge. The shield makes a hard impact with the asphalt down below, screeching for what seems like an eternity before slowing down. You did as instructed: knees tucked into your chest as far as you were able, head doing the same. By the time the ride finally ends and you’ve gone partially deaf, you can make out the sound of a loud explosion a close distance away. The heat from the sudden burst of wind nips at your face. You’ve also gone partially blind.

Your poor boots are definitely ruined and there’s a faint tell of a bruised ankle in the works. The arm attached to the shield will also need to be popped back into place - it shouldn’t feel this loose. Luckily, your head and torso were completely unscathed.

Lifting yourself up the best you could without straining anything too much, you noticed the car still in flames but driven off the road.

“He jumped, he jumped, he jumped,” you repeat, limping as quickly as you could, shield still attached to your arm. The closer you get the clearer everything becomes, regardless of the smoke. “Steve.”

You squint through the orange light and the dark of night. The fire wasn’t all that loud in its crackles and it doesn’t take you long to realize while tapping your ears that you lost your earpiece.

“Steve,” you try again, adrenaline still pumping but panic seeping in. As if on cue, you can make out his body laying far away from the car relatively unharmed. “Ah, shit.” You drop down on your knees and wince involuntarily. Slapping his cheeks doesn’t wake him up, neither does gently shaking him. You don’t want to do anything to hurt him more.

The sound of gravel popping kicks you back into spy mode. Hide. This was a hit, of course it was, and they were coming to see their job done.

“You so owe me,” you groan as you unstrap the shield to throw it into the woods, the faint tell of it hitting a tree enough to make you work faster. You hook your arms underneath Steve’s armpits and bend your knees, breathing in deeply and out a few times before pulling him with all your strength. There’s pain shooting up your arm but you try to ignore it. Small whimpers escape you as you pull harder and finally make it a good distance from the wreckage. You sit Steve, still unconscious, behind one of those massive pine trees and sit next to him after retrieving the shield.

It’s only two black SUV’s that come to check their hard work. They’re bending down and using their own fire extinguishers, snapping their own photos, the works. It isn’t until Seda walks over to admire the wreckage that you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming.

You’re seated in front of Steve now with the shield in front of you when a sudden movement to your left startles you. Before you scream, however, a hand covers your mouth.

“Shh, shh.” Sam. Your eyes fill with tears.

“I’ve got him. Torres is coming for you, alright? I’m the only one who can carry him out.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you. You’re silently helping Sam strap Steve against his chest as Seda and his men are now investigating the woods. You can hear them close, cursing and yelling about finding you.

“Go a little further. Down there,” Sam points in front of you. “Torres is parked and waiting. Go.”

“Don’t drop him.” Sam stifles his laugh.

You follow his directions, limping as quickly as you can, and finally find Torres, your second knight in shining armor of the night.

After an all clear from the medical team, Steve is left alone in your hotel room to rest. He still hasn’t woken up but Helen isn’t worried since his scans show no major damage. Small talk with the rest of the team fills in the time but it’s like you’re not really there, merely a participant on a loop. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re covered in scratches and smoky ash and you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to kill something.

Your father wanted you dead. And showing up to the wedding was just going to anger him more but it had to be done. But you were tired, so fucking tired, tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep or rest.

You let your hair down but stay in your tattered clothing, making yourself useful as best you can. You answer questions, you review footage, you draft up some reports. Bucky tries to sit you down at one point, but he backs off when you simply shake your head and give him that famous broken smile.

You’re sitting at your desk trying to save some of your phone’s cloud through the connected email. Sam has already ordered you a new phone. On the computer to your left, you’re scanning and uploading the files you stole tonight. On the right, your little butterfly is transcribing conversations from yesterday.

The transcription is finished before the uploads. It prints.

SEDA: ‘Ernesto needs to know how many more women we can get from Jonathon. I thought you said your Italian contact was up to date?’

UNKNOWN: ‘He is. But the women are coming from here instead. Got a load of ten just now.’

SEDA: ‘The shipment goes out during the wedding. Not before, not after. We can’t fuck this up for Ernesto and we cannot have the stars and stripes finding out.’

UNKNOWN: ‘Ernesto plans to mention it to him tomorrow.’

SEDA: ‘Then make sure he keeps quiet about it.’

The bitter taste in your mouth returns and you have to run to the nearest bathroom.

Steve wakes just an hour after, disoriented but able to discern who he is. “What happened?”

You’re standing at the foot of his bed, having just got there a few minutes before, practically on the verge of tears. “... Did you know?”

There it was. Any hope of truly coming to terms with this new world order or his role in it, any hope of feeling like he did before he succumbed to the American war propaganda and became a science experiment, crumbling before him. The heavy weight that were your shoulders, crumbling like shaky mountains. His own, tense and straining and urging him to get out of bed.

He’s been in the trenches when the smell of gas and blood clogged his nostrils and made him dizzy. He’s experienced loss a thousand times over, just heinous instances of despair where he swore he was torn in two. He’s lost on his own accord and pretended like the world was still on its axis.

And he knew his time was up. He just thought he’d have more than a day to enjoy it. “I was going to tell you.”

It’s like the air is punched out of you. “You knew?”

“Please, listen, please,” he scrambles out of bed.

“What the fuck, Rogers?”

“Ramirez told us yesterday. I swear I only found out yesterday. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You’re stepping away from him. He’s almost on his hands and knees and you’re stepping away from him. “Before?”

Steve makes a pained noise. “Yes, but please-”

“No! You kept this to yourself and you had the fucking audacity to share the same bed as me?”

“Please, let me explain-” He tries to reach out but you side-step him. He reacts like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Please, just let me explain. We all know - Bucky, Sam, Torres, we all know.”

Your face does something he’s never seen it do. “Fuck?”

He’s talking faster now, words just spilling on the floor and into the air and he doesn’t know what else to do. “We’re tracking it. We have a plan set. We were supposed to tell you tomorrow before the wedding.” He stops to take in a breath. “I was going to tell you.”

“You went behind my back.”

“If I would have told you, you would have done something horrible tonight! We need your father alive to find those people!”

Eyes wide in shock and anguish, you step further away from him. Each step was the equivalent of a dagger plunging deep into Steve’s heart, twisting and burning its way to the depths of his vulnerability. He wanted to succumb to the pain - after all, he deserved it.

“That would have been my choice to make!”

Now he pushed forward, shoulders hunched and palms turned upward as if he was pleading for a crumb of understanding. “I was gonna kill him.”

He drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. You remained perfectly still, a tree stump with no cover. “I was gonna shoot him between the eyes when I first found out. But if I had done that, then we would never know the location of those people.”

His weight was pulling you down and you felt his wet cheek against your stomach. “I deserved to know.”

His grip tightened, “You did. But if you would have known-”

“I would have known. Period.”

He had to know how much he weighed. But Steve leaned his body onto yours harder, afraid you would vanish and god forbid turn to dust. It didn’t really register in his mind that, even though he was holding you in place, you weren’t exactly trying to escape his hold either.

He had let you go once and he’ll be goddamned if he let you go again.

“It ate me alive. I hated doing this-”

You pushed against his shoulders and sensed his reluctance to let go. Instead, you look down at him and tense your jaw. “Steve, you don’t hate me, do you?”

His face dropped and his grip loosened. You should just slap him across the face, Steve thinks, because how in the world were you thinking that at this moment? Never did he think you would find a way to twist this - to somehow blame yourself for his mistake. Took a long time to see it, but you were just as righteous as he was. It would get you both killed someday.

“Why do you think that? What in the world would make you think that after all this time? After everything?”

He lets you push him away so he could stand but he makes sure to keep his hands on you. A tangible promise that you are real.

“You agreed to help me catch a drug lord. You didn’t sign up for this extra mess.”

“We may not always know what we’re up against,” Steve began, sniffing and wiping at his wet face. God, he felt like such a mess. “But I could never fucking hate you. Don’t even think that.”

“You sure?” your voice cracks, hands slightly shaking from the need to touch him too. “Captain America didn’t sign up for this.”

He shakes his head almost violently, “No, no. Don’t go there. I am not him, I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“Steve-”

“No! I’ve hated the title for a while now. I’m done. I’ve hated my reflection for years and years.” The tiny whine in the middle of your throat gurgled and your hands moved instantly to cup his cheeks. “I represent no one but myself. I’m tired of others thinking I’m the same man from ten years ago, or the same man from the forties, or the same man from last week just because they’re enamored by that star on my chest.”

He tilts his head to lean into your touch, “I am helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. I signed up for this work, I intend to finish it. Not Captain America, but me - Steve, me.”

“You’re still making me feel like it’s something you have to do.”

“I admit that I was never overly fond of the idea of being wrapped up in this,” Steve admits, hands now cupping yours over his cheeks. “But toppling this empire will keep you safe.”

As heartwarming as that sounded, you broke the fantasy. “The minute we take the giants out, they’ll elect someone new.”

“But we take the giants out. The giants that hurt you.”

He’s right, like always.

“Steve,” you say quietly, bringing his face closer to kiss away his tears. You’re struggling to keep the tippy-toes and your ankle is screaming for a break, but you persist. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“No more secrets.”

“None, I swear, I promise.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you make sure his eyes are locked on yours before you speak. “I’m not walking away this time. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Steve’s mouth releases a big burst of air like he was holding it in, and he wraps you in a hug that promises the same.

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

A/N: Wooooo that took forever lol xxMoni

52 notes · View notes