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jksian · 4 months ago

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When the end comes

You loved him with all your heart, held onto the person you knew will never be yours; but, the only regret you had was, you weren't able to tell him about those feelings.

Pairing: best friends brother JK x reader

Genre: ANGSTY, unrequited love

W/c: mid length?

warnings: depressing thoughts and implied suicidal thoughts, character dea*h, workplace harrasment, illness, family drama and step-parent, one sided love from oc' s side, tattoo artist Jk, age gape

A/N- This story is incomplete and I don't intend to continue it, but I'm still posting it because I wanted to share it with you guys and since many of you expressed your desire to read it :⁠-⁠)

It was during the autumn season when he first met you.

Not in a literal sense; but that was the day he thought he finally come to knew you. A side of you, he never thought he would be able to witness.

Just like the sight in front of him right now.

He did not even fathom the idea of seeing you like this. Beautiful eyes which once shined so brightly under the sun; are now closed. Not even a hint of flickering of your eyelashes which you usually do while being extremely nervous.

Now, autumn has returned again; but, despite the comforting warmth of the cozy weather being replaced by the harsh wind blowing away the leaves from the trees, creating the atmosphere unbearably gloomy and dull.

Because the warmth is gone, along with you.

…

15 years ago…

“Why is he coming, now!? Fuck, I have to meet Sam!” Jia was beyond frustrated after knowing that her brother was coming to picked her up from the school.

Both you and Jia had been friends since your childhood. From being scolded by teachers to helping each other in anything and everything and being the ‘crime in partners’ duo, everyone in your school knew you two were inseparable.

She was always been a free-spirited girl. Generous and helpful, she was kind of a friend who stick by your side in bad times. Other than that, there were many good things about her and one of those were, her brother.

Jeon Jungkook.

The first time when you laid your eyes on him, you couldn’t able to remove the image of his glowing face ever since then. He was gorgeous as well as kind. You were smitten by his beauty. He was popular among girls. With a face like that, it was a very common fact, girls often got trapped by his good-looks which wielded them to the world of imagination.

And, you were one of those girls.

You often found yourself daydreaming about him, made silly scenarios in your little head. Your weekly visits to his sister’s house and getting to watch him closely more than any of those girls could, doesn’t help with your increasing amount of fake scenarios growing inside of your mind.

It was a stupid little crush, but you still held onto the possibilities of those cringe worthy romantic stories in your head to manifest it into reality.

Whenever he was around, every time you got a little bit shy but you tried your best to hide it from others.

“Someone clearly isn’t happy to see me.” Your best friend’s brother sing song those words towards his sister, pointing out her scowl which was very much evident on her face upon seeing him. The fact that she was planning on meeting her so-called-date in the name of fake extra classes would be caught red-handed, made her panicked and mad.

“H-hello.” You asked him even though your heart was racing at the speed of 100 mph and your hand was sweating like the Niagara waterfall, you still conjured up some courage to start the conversation.

“Moon? How are you?” He immediately replied with a sweet smile on his face. People often compared his face with the bunny and you can say why. There are some significant similarities.

You got a little bit flustered whenever he used that name. He gave that name to you because you loved the moon. So much so that you escaped from your school with your Jia to watch the night sky.

It was the first time you witnessed the true beauty of the moon. Sitting on the edge of the river near her house, you both admired the shinning moon light spreading on the water as it sparkled.

You both got scolded for your little escaped not just from your parents but your teachers also. From that moment, he gave you the name ‘moon.’

He was in his sophomore year of college, got an scholarship to study in abroad. It was winter at that time when he got back in his own country during holidays. Even though the atmosphere was cold, Jungkook radiated warmth wherever he goes. He was always been the one who shined brightly in whatever he did.

Jia’s endless pleading didn’t helped much in convincing her brother, so she didn’t had any choice but to went back home. Through out the way to her home, she kept on cussing him.

“You go on dates too! Even, you have a girlfriend!” That was the first time you experienced your first heart break. It felt like someone had put a knife into your heart.

“So? Are you the same age as me?” Jungkook reasoned with her but the thing you noticed that, he didn’t denied it. Your friend wasn’t lying.

The brother-sister duo busy their selves in an argument about “Jia should go on a date or not” where you went silent, had a emotional turmoil within you. It was so random, your little heart weren’t prepare for that news.

The thought of your crush loving someone else who was never gonna be you, shattered your heart. That day, you cried your heart out into your pillow at night when no one was around to heard your broken sobs.

…

Thanksgiving came and it was time for celebration. It was the time for eating delicious food, show our gratitude to the universe and spending time with our loved ones.

But, you weren’t particularly enjoying.

Every year, the Jeon’s and your family celebrated most of the occasions together, due to your father and Mr. Jeon being friends apart from your friendship with their daughter. But , this year, one more family joined in. You didn’t mind if it was just another random someone, but it wasn’t someone random.

The food was excellent as always. Mrs. Jeon had always been a great cook. All the food was mouth-watering but still, you found your self concentrating more on the scene unfolding in front of you rather than your food.

Jungkook invited his girlfriend to his house on Thanksgiving. That was the first time you saw the girl, your crush was in love with.

She was beautiful would be an understatement. Long, silky hair which was dyed brown, tall with a sweet personality. Anyone could have said on the first glance at them that, they were made for each other. There were many similarities between them too, like both were studying at the same college, Jungkook being art major and she was in the literature department, both belonged to the same city but never met each other before and the most importantly, both were at the same age.

Where you were four years younger than him, basically same age as his sister.

He probably think of you as his sister. No. Definitely he did.

You were burning with rage when you saw them holding hands. Even though everyone was around them, they didn’t seem to care much. It also seemed like Jungkook’s family liked her so much. They were happy that their son have met someone who made him happy. Both their families were happy about their relationship.

When it was evening, everyone was chattering and laughing inside the house but you were on the balcony, standing alone. You couldn’t help but cry. It was too much for you. You’d been crying for days now, but now that you’ve seen his girlfriend, there was no denying that it was real. Their relationship was real and you didn’t had a chance anymore.

“Moon is watching the moon?” You didn’t noticed when Jungkook came here. You abruptly wiped your tears away from your cheeks. He came closer to you and stand beside you, you took a step away, tried harder to hide your face from him.

When he noticed you hadn’t answered his question, he continued “I picked the right name for you, didn’t I?” he asked again, tried to humor you but you were nowhere near to laugh or even smile at his jokes.

You were standing there silently, not staring at the sky anymore. You lowered your gaze and your head fall downwards, shoulders slumped. He must had sensed that something was wrong with you, that’s why he asked “Hey, are you okay–,”

Before he can finish his sentence, an ugly sob slipped past your mouth, unable to held it back anymore. This time he didn’t held back, he placed his hand on your shoulder and made you look at him. You were insistent on not to face him so he settled with just holding you by your shoulder.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks without any resistance but his hands felt comforting even though he was the one hurting you at that time.

“What happened? Does someone hurt you?” you could sense the concern in his voice, his voice was so soft like he was afraid of hurting you. That made you cry even harder.

“____, please tell me what happened?” This time he was rubbing your arms up and down, a gesture of comfort. He patiently stand there until you calmed down and was ready to talk.

When he saw you finally wiping your tears away, he took a loose strand of your hair and tuck it behind your ear. That little affection felt like someone poked a needle into your heart.

“I like someone.”

You whisper to him , tried your hardest to not burst out crying again. You saw his expression turned into confusion, so you continued “But, He doesn’t like me.”

Again, your eyes were filling with tears. The image of them together encrusted into your mind will always hunt your down for sure.

Jungkook seemed to contemplate on how to respond to you. Then, he asked “How could you know that he doesn’t likes you?”

“Because, he has a girlfriend.”

Jungkook was taken aback by your statement. He looked at you with sympathy in his eyes, like he was sad about the situation you were in.

“I- are you sure? Also, do I know them by any chance?”

You avoided his gaze but nodded to his question. You were afraid that he might know about your secret crush on him. What if, he hates you after knowing that he was the person you likes?

No no, you couldn’t let that happen.

“how old is he?”

“Same age as yours. And, I’m sure that he has a girlfriend. I’ve seen them together the other day. You- you might know him but I don’t know…” You shifted on your feet, fidgeted under his curious gaze. He was staring at you, you felt that even though you were looking at the other direction.

“May I know his nam– ,”

“No.” Before he could ask the question, you dismissed immediately. There’s no way in hell you were gonna tell him that.

After seeing your defensive state, he didn’t push that question onto you anymore.

“Okay. You know, you’re a beautiful girl, right? You’ll find someone better than him in the future who will love you.” His smile was surreal, he was looking at you like you were the only one existed in the world, Eyes so gentle.

He was such a kind person, always helping who was in need, from offering jacket to a random person at a cold night to rescuing you from getting embarrassed in front of thousands of people on your first day of period. Even if you tried to assume that he was being caring only to you, that you’re special to him, you knew it wasn’t true.

You were just a random girl who was happened to be his sister’s friend.

He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to you. Your tears were as stubborn as you were, “If he is my age then, that means he is older than you –,” the realization hit him.

“–___, he didn’t do anything to you right?” his worrisome expression made you think that why does that matter? His brows were pinched as he searched for your eyes.

“N-no, why are you asking that?”

“You should be careful from people, especially older guys. I’m not saying all the older guys are bad, but you haven’t see much of the world yet, so it might be difficult for you to identify who is good. You also haven’t matured enough–,”

“What do you mean by that!?” you got offended by the those words. Matureness doesn’t comes from age, also why was he acting like a seventy years old grandpa?

He got off guard from the sudden change in your tone. Shifted on his feet, he tried to make you understand his prospective, “I mean, many guys in our college targets younger girls like you to take advantage of, and… I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“W-why?” you wiped your nose with his handkerchief as you asked.

“Who wants something bad happens to the people they care about?” his smile was so genuine, the way he looked at you back then, made you feel things you’d never felt for anyone else.

That night you realized that, maybe, your silly little crush on him wasn’t just a crush. It was more than that. Something that might ruin you in the end but, still you let that thing to engulfed you completely.

That night, you found comfort in the person who was the reason behind your heart break.

…

That year, your father got transferred to a different country, so without a doubt, it was the time when you part your ways with your best friend.

It was painful, parting ways with the friend you’ve spend your almost entire life, but what’s more painful, was not able to see your childhood love ever again.

That was the last time you saw Jungkook on your way to the airport, walking hand in hand with his girlfriend.

You didn’t knew back then when someone’s in love, how they looked like. That radiant smile on his face and the glitter in his eyes when he looked at her shined so brightly made you think that, maybe it was the face of a man in love.

But, the sad thing was, you were not the reason behind that smile on his face.

…

8 years ago

Life wouldn’t be anymore shittier.

After you left your country, you tried your hardest to overcome and forget about Jungkook.

You left everything behind and those memories you’d made with some of the closest people there, weren’t leaving your mind even for some moments. Every little thing you did back then, reminded you of them, especially Jungkook.

Still, you managed.

You did graduated from a college and got a job. Everything was going fine until you found out that you had pancreatic cancer.

Doctors said that it wasn’t in it’s last stage yet but after thousands of medications and appointments for half an year, before that day, they declared that you only had 10 months to live only.

Not even an year.

It was so unfair. You had dreams and goals which you still had to achieve but life had other plans for you.

Your health wasn’t well enough to maintain a 9-5 job, but, you still did it because you didn’t wanted to be a burden on your family.

You were twenty-four when you realized your life was going to end soon.

“What is this!? Are you gonna present this in front of the client?” Your boss shouted at you, that bald-faced nuisance who doesn’t even know how to pronounce ‘future’. Yeah, his future was as clear as his empty bald-head.

You’ve submitted the same project for the third time, because he wasn’t ‘satisfied’ with your work, but the truth was, he doesn’t even turned the first page of it to check. Clearly, he was just messing around with you or to be honest, harassing you.

The reason behind it – rejection. You rejected his offer of ‘get a promotion just by spending a night with him’. He was adamant on sleeping with you. His flirty remarks wasn’t very subtle, you knew this pervert would come to this point at sometime.

“Make this again!” he threw the file across the table towards you. It hits you and you cursed under your breath.

“What was that?” he asked, his chimpanzee like face contort with anger once again.

He got a pretty punchable face.

“Have you checked my project, sir?” there was mockery in your voice which his one brain cell wasn’t able to comprehend.

“What nonsense are you talking about?” his brows were pinched together, flared his nose like a fucking dragon.

“I submitted the same project for the third time yet, you didn’t noticed that. Is your ego got hurt so much so that after my rejection, you’re doing this pity things to me now?”

His face goes through seven stages of grief, fear flashed through his eyes but, soon turned into rage. He abruptly stood up from his chair, banging his fist on the table, “What the hell are you talking about!? Have you forgotten your place? Don’t cross the limit, ____. You’re nothing, a good for nothing! You should know that, I’m your senior here, talk to me with respect! Or –,”

“Or what? Are you gonna complain? You know, I’m also going to complain about something…” You said, your tone as calm as ever but eyes hard as a rock.

He knew, what filthy texts he had sent you and obviously, you didn’t deleted them even though he had told you to. You thought, he might explode right at that moment out of anger, “Are you threatening me? Huh? What? Are you gonna complain about me now?”

“Yes, you asshole.”

“Bitch–,” He was going to hit you with a file but before he could do that, your colleagues interrupted and he stopped midway, pretending like nothing happened.

You stormed out of his office, never minding him calling your name continuously. Everyone in your office looked at you like you’d grown two horns on your head. You didn’t gave them any attention and straight up went to the CEO’s office.

He had threatened you countless times about how you were gonna lose your job if you don’t work how he wants you to, accordingly.

But, you had nothing to lose anymore.

After you filed a complain and submitted the resignation letter, you left that company. For good.

On the way to your home, you called your parents and told the you left your job. Your step-mom was more furious than your own dad.

Of course, you knew that would happen but what was the benefit of continuing the job when you won’t be alive anymore.

You hang up the call as soon as you heard her shouting from the other side.

You felt lost. What were you doing all these years?

Barely surviving.

You didn’t even know how it felt to live life. Not surviving, living.

All you did was, earning money with your fragile health to make it stronger but instead, it worsen even more at the end.

Now, you were on the brink of death.

Is it okay to leave everything behind? You thought. It wasn’t like you had much left in your life anyway. Your parents were stressed all the time because of you. Your sister were depressed after knowing about your condition.

Is it too soon to die in this moment? You asked yourself while standing at the edge of the bridge which connected two cities together. Staring at the river below, almost 136 meters high. You kept on staring blankly at the way water flows by, wondering where it might took you if you jump at this instance.

Before, your intrusive thoughts controlled you, your eyes landed on a bird, it’s wing crippled. It kept on chirping and tried to fly, but every time it does, landed on the surface of the barrier.

You slowly shifted closer to it, not wanted to scared it away and held it in your palms gently, “Hey, let me bandage you, okay? You will be able to fly again then!”

Fortunately, you had a small box of fast aid kit with you. Being a full-time patient and a regular visitor to the hospital, you got accustomed with the medical kits and medicines.

You swiftly bandaged the wounded wing carefully while rubbing its back.

“Do you have a name?”

The bird wiggled into your hold a little. You realized how dumb that question was, but you’d always liked talking to animals even though they couldn’t reply back to you or even understood you. All they did was, stare at your face dumbfoundedly, probably judging the crazy women in front of them.

After you were done, you released it from your hold and you saw the bird flying again.

The happiness you felt at that moment was indescribable. It felt like, you were cured from your deathly disease and your death sentence has been halt for a long period of time.

You felt like, you could live your life, just like that bird.

You felt…alive for a moment.

You didn’t knew when you started crying, tears ran down on your cheeks, on their own. You saw the bird fly happily. It wasn’t fully recovered yet, but still, the determination and courage ignited something inside of you.

At that moment, you regain the courage to live your life.

Not surviving anymore but, living your life to its fullest. At least for once.

…

Convincing your family wasn’t easy, especially your step-mother.

You had decided that, you want to spend your last days of your life in your hometown, which meant, you all had to move back to your old country where, once you left everything behind.

“I want to live my life before I die, dad. I want to live and do all those things while I’m still alive… because I don’t want regret it on my last days. Please, let me fulfil all those dreams before I left this earth?”

You father rarely saw you crying since you’d grown up. Not that you often cried in front of people, you always preferred crying silently in the dark of your room, hiding from everyone.

It was surprising to him.

But, the most surprising thing was, when you saw tears in his eyes. Your father was someone who believed that, crying was a sign of weakness.

But, he didn’t showed that to you, hiding his face from you, he said, “Then go, start packing your bags.”

You didn’t believe your own ears, did you heard it right?

You couldn’t contained your excitement as you hugged your father from behind and said, “Thank you.”

Tears breamed from your eyes after realizing that, finally you were going back to your country.

…

The streets still looked almost the same where you had spent your entire childhood, just not as much calm and warm as it used to be.

So many residents were built there now, it was more hectic and crowded. Thankfully, your old house was on sale at that time. The owner whom your father had sold that house to, wanted to sell it and your father bought it.

The walls of that house held so many memories, many untold truths and evidence of your cruel sleepless nights. The whispers of heart break buried in a corner of your room. All those memories came back to your mind and you found yourself day-dreaming about your old crush again.

“Where Jungkook might be right now?”

“What are you thinking about?” your sister came up behind you, noticing your eyes fixed on the direction of his house.

Your sister had graduated at the same year when you guys moved here. You were more than happy that she decided to start her career here and stayed with you, at least for that reason, you were able to spent your last days with her.

She knew about every single thing happened in your life and Jungkook wasn’t exceptional.

“Nothing…”

“Don’t lie. You were thinking about Jungkook, right?”

Oh god. Hearing that name after so many years, felt surreal. It only intensified the longing you were feeling all those years. Your eyes slightly widened but you dismissed immediately.

“No, you idiot. Go and do your work.”

“You don’t? Okay then, if you say so… but you should probably call Jia, she will be so happy to see you again!”

“I’ll call her later but now, my head is aching! Can you please make me some tea?” you pouted at her, gave her those innocent doe eyes. She glared at you in return, with bombastic side eyes, she left the room.

You giggled and heard her cursing back at you. You laughed a little more at that. Your bond with your sister was special. Something very close to your heart. She was the only family you had, according to you.

Your parents got divorced when you were only twelve years old, so figuring out what was going on and adjusting to the situation was difficult for you. Separating from your mother was especially harder, you thought of her as your best friend but…

No one’s gonna stay with you for forever and you learned it the hard way.

Ever since then, so many things changed in your life. Your father married again in the hope that, you and your sister might be able to experience the motherly love from her, but instead you got more pain and suffering.

She was at your throat for every single second, peace was something you used to crave, if not love. You never felt at home. When you found out about your disease, it was a disaster; but still, all she cared about was money.

How thoughtful!

You decided to take your sister’s advice and called your best friend. After eight years, you were again in your hometown. It was so nostalgic that you got emotional.

All the furniture were yet to be settled, your bed wasn’t ready to be used so you took a seat on your window, staring outside.

As you saw the canvas of the evening sky transforms into a masterpiece of hues, a tapestry of twilight unfolds, painted in soft pastels — a symphony of peach, lavender, and whispers of indigo. That moment felt celestial as your heart filled with an unknown warmth and you found yourself embracing your own body into your arms.

You had called her few times in all those years and she did too; but, with time, the busy schedules and hectic day to day life forced both of you to grew apart. The calls kept on reducing in number and, then it stopped altogether.

The call rang for four times before she picked up. For some moments, you were just staring at each other’s faces, network wasn’t working on your favor so it took time to get a clear picture of her face.

“You’re still alive?” was the first thing she asked you, very typical ‘Jia’ like behavior.

“Yeah, I’m still alive. Thank you very much! How are you?” you humored her and you saw her scoffed.

“You tell me, where were you? Huh? NO calls! NO massages!… were you gone underground or something? Oh no, wait! You forgot about me, right?”

She kept on blabbering her nonsense, falsely accusing you, dramatically thrown tantrums at you. You saw her brows pinched together as she glared at you which was supposed to be intimidating.

“Well, I’m in our hometown.”

“…What?!”

She couldn’t believe your words so you turned the camera around and gave her the view of the street where you guys used to run and play.

You saw her eyes widened and mouth gaped at the view, she scrutinized the area a little bit longer and made sure it was indeed her hometown.

“Fuck, bro! why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I wanted to surprise you, but well, looks like you’re not here.”

Her face turned into a sad expression from irritation, mirroring your own face.

You knew you would’ve told her, but you genuinely wanted to gave her a surprise with your arrival, in which failed miserably!

“It’s fine, I’m coming home in a few days.” That comforted you to some extent, knowing that you would be able to meet your best friend after all those years finally, before you die. It certainly gave you some comfort.

No one knew about your condition except your family, not even your best friend. The reason being, you wanted a normal life.

You didn’t wanted those sympathetic looks from others or them doing things for your just because you are gonna die soon.

No, you wanted them to act normal, just like they always did.

You didn’t wanted them to felt some urgency or pressure.

You didn’t wanted them to feel bad or guilty for you.

No, you wanted them to treat you normally, just like they had been with you ever since they met you.

Just a normal life before you die, where you can enjoy every second of your life and live it with others. Was that too much to ask for?

“Come back soon then,” Your smile held a sense of nostalgia and melancholy in it and for a brief second, you thought you saw tears in her eyes.

“By the way, have you informed others?” She changed the subject, probably didn’t wanted to cry at that moment of happiness.

“Yeah, we are going to meet at a club in this evening.”

“That’s great! Have fun then and also… is Jay coming?” she smirked at the camera and arched a brow at you.

Having a crush was different but this guy was on another level. He was head over heels for you. You never understood his obsession or love (what he used to say) for you. He was the same age as Jungkook. It wasn’t like he wasn’t good looking, on the contrary, he was charming. A guy for any girl would fall for. Topper of his class with that cute face of his, he got the whole package.

But, you never felt anything for him. So the first time he confessed to you, you straight up said ‘no’. Maybe it was a bit rude, not that you were denying but You never grasped the concept of leaving someone in ambiguity without providing a clear response, especially when it involved feelings.

“Do you want me to bonk you in the head? Why would he come to our reunion party? Come on…he isn’t even belong to our friend circle!” You said in disbelief and she rolled her eyes a little more.

“Dude, he was obsessing over you for such a long time! I’m sure he might be into you after all these year– ,”

“Jia–, you know how I feel about this–,” Yeah, she does. She knew everything, “Can we please drop it?”

She dropped the topic after your pleading. You always got irritated whenever she acted this way, teasing you by someone’s name who had a crush on you, constantly encouraged you to start dating one of them. You being you, never listened to her.

You both talked about things in general after that and then hang up.

Yeah, it was good. If not telling anyone about your sickness helped you live the way you wanted to, then, it’s okay.

As soon as you hang up the call, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach. You breathed in and out as you tried to endure it. Probably because you hadn’t took your medications yet. That’s why it was happening. You’d accustomed with all this by that time, so it wasn’t any thing new to you.

You were fine.

…

The city you lived in looked different but still, there was a familiarity in it.

Sidewalks hum with activity as people strolled, laughter echoed from cafes, and the distant sounds of traffic created a vibrant urban symphony. The evening air carried a blend of aromas from food vendors, filled your noses trills and made your stomach grumbled.

You met with your school friends at the club 15 minutes away from your house as planned. Coming to a club doesn’t made sense to you, because you weren’t able to drink alcohol, but.. well… you were there because of your… friends.

You sat on a stool which were lined the polished counter, where patrons sipped drinks and shared laughter. You watched your friends danced across the crowded dance floor, lost in their own world.

You saw Kai from your friends group, approaching you, came straight at the direction where you were seated. You quickly reverted your eyes to somewhere, acted like you hadn’t even noticed him just now, like any other introvert, focusing on your drink in your hand.

“Hey, ____! Long time no see.” Yeah, it would be longer if he weren’t just interrupted your peaceful time there.

He was grinning ear to ear like he just found some treasure. You adjusted yourself to looked at him, “Yeah, Hey! How are you?”

“Oh fine, just living the busy life of a busy man. You say, what you’re been up to these days?” oh, nothing special, just waiting to be embraced by death and, oh! Also trying to have a peaceful time which now has been disrupted. You hoped you’d be able to say that on his face but… oh, well… manners!

“Nothing special –,” He pulled a stool beside you and hopped on it, “You say?”

You watched him settling beside you comfortably. You internally rolled your eyes when you realized he probably wasn’t going anywhere soon.

He started talking about his life which you didn’t mind any attention to, you were busy finding loopholes to escaped the man in front of you. You eyes darted frantically everywhere around the club to found any of your friends, anyone, but the crowd made it harder to spot any of them.

He offered you a tequila which you politely refused. Then, he continued insisting on buying you a drink, his words laced with determination, the alcohol in his system clearly kicked out at that moment. The background buzz of the bar heightened as he tried to charm you into accepting, created a moment of tension which wasn’t a good kind.

Despite your clear signal of disinterest, he remained persistent. It ultimately left you annoyed than ever. The last time, your refusal was harsh, words came out of your mouth was rude but the situation particularly made it harder for you to be calm, “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want a drink? It would be great if leave me alone.”

He took that to his heart, it seemed, because the look he gave you was similar to Chihuahua dogs when angry. You never got what this boy’s problem was, even any other boy who tried to pursued you before.

Why boys don’t know when to stop and have no shame? Universal question. The whole world wanted to know the answer, included yourself.

“Why the attitude? I’m just trying to be friendly! Damn, seems like you don’t deserve that–,” He scoffed, “you’ve become more hot, not gonna lie; but, that hard-to-get bitchy attitude is still there.”

The audacity he had!

You raised an eyebrow but maintained your composure. “Friendly doesn’t usually come with comments like that. It’s about mutual respect,” You retorted.

He leaned against the counter, undeterred. “Come on, no need to be so serious. I’m just being honest here. You were always good looking and now, you looks irresistible, but the attitude…”

You sighed, contemplated on if you walked out of there or slap him across his face, “Honesty is appreciated when it’s respectful. Your comments are crossing the line.”

Unfazed, he chuckled, “I just call it like I see it. No harm meant.”

“Well, it’s causing harm. I value my personal space and expect to be treated with respect,” You stated firmly.

He scoffed again, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to loosen up a bit. Not every compliment is an attack.”

As his audacity reached new heights with an attempt to grab your arm, frustration surged within you. You were on the verge of snapping back, but just in the nick of time, a familiar voice called your name, halting your impending outburst.

“Hey, there you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

You turned your face to your left and saw Jungkook standing there, a n knowing smile on his face which he usually made when he got annoyed or angry.

Relieved and equally surprised to hear his familiar voice, you redirected your attention, grateful for the interruption regardless.

You stared at him with wide eyes, still thinking that if he was real or not. He glanced at the guy who had attempted to grab your arm, his smile faded into a more serious expression. “Is everything okay here?" Jungkook asked, his tone carried a subtle warning.

The guy got tensed, visibly uncomfortable under Jungkook’s scrutiny, stammered, “Just a misunderstanding, man.”

Jungkook’s demeanor remained stern as he replied, “Best not to misunderstand personal boundaries. She’s not interested.”

His hand was on your shoulder in a comforting manner. With that, Jungkook subtly positioned himself between you and the guy, creating a clear physical barrier. The unwelcome intruder, perhaps sensed the shift in dynamics, made a hasty exit. His protective side kicked out.…

…Like any other big brother might had.

Being the protective big brother he was, Jungkook had a younger sister, so dealing with guys hitting on her became a familiar scenario for him. He had accumulated experience in handling such situations.

Yeah, he still saw you like his little sister.

“Jungkook…” Words came out breathy form your mouth like you still hadn’t believe him standing there. The feeling you had buried in a corner of your heart years ago resurfaced once again, the bittersweet warmth you used to feel whenever you saw him bloomed inside of your heart.

Jungkook’s gaze held a mix of familiarity and affection, and you found myself lost in the moment, the years melting away.

“Hey –,” He said softly as he stand in front of you, “Are you okay?”

When he smiled at you, you realized his smile was still the same, radiated warmth and playfulness. That boyish innocence was still there but with a mix of mature allure that time. That doe-like, expressive eyes that held a certain depth, his gaze was both inviting and enigmatic, in which you found yourself drowned.

There were significant changes in his appearance though, like the tattoos on his arm and those piercings on his eyebrows, ears and even his lips. You stared at him absentmindedly before he spoke, “Moon? I asked if you’re okay?” That name again!

“Yeah, right… I’m okay. Thank you, Jungkook.”

He smiled at your response as he said, “I didn’t knew you were in the town.”

“Yeah, no one does actually. I wanted to surprise Jia, but she is out of the country so…’

“Right, she is.” Then silence settled between you two. Before it could got more awkward, Jungkook said, “So…how is life going?” as he took the seat on which Kai was settled before.

How were you gonna answer that? Your life… you felt like it was never yours. You moved out of the country because of your father, you got a college degree so you could help your family financially, then you diagnosed with a disease which eventually going to kill you so you didn’t had much time left.

But, in all of these, what you did for yourselves? When was the time you actually lived your life?

You didn’t had an answer to that tbh.

“Nothing special. My dad got retired so we thought about coming back to our country.” You answered, swirling the glass of virgin mojito in your hand. “and, what about you?”

“Me?” He asked, his doe eyes staring wide at you, chucking a little, he replied, “Came back to my home after realizing, I’m not gonna get a job there any time soon, not bad though–,” He glanced over your shoulder as you saw something flickered in his eyes, “ –Then thought about starting my own business, now I got my own tattoo shop.”

You saw him frequently glancing over your shoulder, as if someone was behind you whome was trying to see.

“Oh! That’s awesome!”

He didn’t replied and kept staring at a particular direction behind you. When you attempted to look behind, he stopped you by grabbing your arm. “Yeah, it is.”

He let out a laugh which clearly indicated his nervousness. “Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Is someone behind me?”

“Yeah… it’s just my ex.”

He said that casually as if he wasn’t just trying to desperately snatch a glance at her. You didn’t understand, his ex?

You remember his girlfriend. What was her name again?

Nina? Nanny? Ah, no. Yes!

Nancy. She was his girlfriend whom he invited to the thanksgiving party. As far as you knew, they were still dating according to Jia even though she confessed that to you a long time ago.

“Umm– Jungkook? I need more context to understand what you’re talking about. So, fill me in what I’m missing out?” You squinted at him dramatically and he laughed a little at your ministration.

That same smile which was enough to make your heart flutter and skip a beat.

“It’s nothing, just that…” He paused midway and glanced over your head again before continuing, “We broke things up a few months ago. Decided to go separate ways because we didn’t work out eventually?”

There was a question mark at the end, you wondered why was that for. Was he not know why they broke up? That’s sounds silly. Maybe, he was confused after they broke things up and thought that he made a mistake there? He might still wanted to be with her?

Before your train of thought escalate even further, He tapped you on your shoulder and brought you back to the reality, “Earth to ___,” You saw him smiling at you, “What are you thinking?”

You were wearing off shoulders, so, the naked touch of his fingers upon your skin kindled a transient flame, imprinting an indelible mark of his presence that will linger unwelcomed for the next few days.

“N-nothing, what were you saying again?” shaking the dizziness from witnessing the stars in his eyes, you asked. It’s normal for a human being like you, feeling dizzy after touched by someone made of stars. Gotta be grounded, you aren’t allowed to touch the stars, you reminded yourself.

“I asked, if you want to dance with me. Would you?” He asked as he extended his hand for you. You knew, you shouldn’t touch the stars but the shining flow of it made you blinded to the upcoming consequences of your actions.

You should knew well, why he was asking for a dance. His ex was still behind you so the only reason would be to – made her jealous, still you reciprocated.

You warned him about your lack of knowledge in dancing, nonetheless, he pulled you to the dance floor.

Placed your hands on his shoulder and his on your waist, he instructed you to move. As soon as, you two stepped on the dance floor, the song changed to a melodic one from a upbeat song.

Apocalypse by cigarettes after sex started playing in the background and you found yourself staring at the men in front of you for a second before you broke the eye contact.

Even thought you turned you face to the other side you could feel his eyes on you, making your mind go blank.

He pulled you closer, bodies Pressed together as both of you started to move in sync with the music. His breath hit the side of your face, making your breath hitched after knowing the close proximity between you two.

“____,” He called, your name sounded pretty from his lips, “Look at me.”

It sounded like a demand but his tone suggested other wise. Tender and delicate, as his soft lips brushed against your hairline, made you gulped the lump forming in your throat.

You did look him in the eyes. His gaze, held galaxies within, each flicker echoing the poetry of an undiscovered universe, in which you found yourself lost.

“You’re doing good. Just don’t think too much and let your body move according to the rhythm –,” He said, his gaze focused on your face, closer than before. The ambient lighting casted a soft glow, accentuating his delicate features, his words gave you courage, an unfamiliar sense of comfort and his face made you thought that you had someone you could rely on.

In that shared gaze, time momentarily freezes and you found yourself falling for him, again.

“Aish…I sounded like some know-it-all, I think? don’t mind it, please.” There was nervousness in his voice, fleeting glances searched for reassurance to make sure you didn’t found that offensive.

You didn’t help but realized how thoughtful and considerate a person could be that he was worrying about something so small. It wasn’t even sounded offensive to you, it was just a suggestion, guidance to someone who doesn’t know the ‘D’ of dancing.

Like a delicate melody played on uncertain notes—a sincere expression that made his words all the more genuine and endearing and you found that oddly charming.

You couldn’t help but smiled at him, “Don’t worry, I didn’t mind at all, but… I might get offended if you don’t tell me the truth right now.” You teased, slightly grinding at him.

He pinched his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Are you. . . Somehow trying to make your ex jealous? Because if you are, I think it’s working.”

His eyes widened a bit, clearly wasn’t expecting something like that. He, again, glanced over to the girl who was still standing at the same spot for ten minutes, observing every move you two made.

“I– No–, I mean not exactly,” He looked at you with a hint of guilt in his eyes, giving you an apologetic smile, “Well, not gonna lie. I did tried to make her kinda jealous – but it wasn’t the entire reason why I asked you for a dance.” You found a hint of panic in his eyes, again looking like he didn’t wanted to offend by any means, which you found enduring. Why does he cared so much? You thought.

You couldn’t help but saw this little things in people, especially the people you held close to your heart.

“Then, why did you asked?”

“Because, I wanted to.” He said casually, as if he didn’t just made you skipped your heart beat a little faster. You shifted your gaze to the other side, feeling weird emotions about the person you wouldn’t felt. Nonetheless, you chuckled a little bit.

“You would have told me earlier, then I might have put more effort.”

“So, you aren’t putting effort yet?” He giggled, eyes gleamed under the light.

“No – I didn’t mean that, but, now we have a mission in our hands, so we better win it!”

He made a look of knowing, realized what you were implying. He let out a chuckle, shook his head at you adorably and gripped your hand a bit firmly, pulling you a little bit closer as if there were any gap in between.

Your chest flashed against his, the burning heat of your cheeks might be visible by then, you felt his thumb rubbing slowly at your waist where he was holding you. That small gesture was supposed to be comforting but it only made your cheeks grew a shade brighter.

You thanked the dimly lights of the club.

The evening went by just the two of you holding each other close as you swung your bodies to the unfamiliar melodies. This time, there was no barrier in between you two, like, ‘he see me as his sister’ or ‘he has a girlfriend.’

…

Sometimes, It was hard for you to understand Jia.

That one time when she asked if she could borrow your white gown on her birthday. Of course you gave that to her. It was her birthday party in the evening, so you didn’t grasp the fact why she wanted to wore something …old, when she had a new dress waiting for her in her wardrobe.

But, then switched her dress to that very new black dress in the middle of that party. When you asked her, she refused to gave you an explanation, which baffled you and left you confused.

Even though you didn’t liked her odd behavior that night, you let that slipped.

“Taehyung is looking at your direction –,” one of the girls from your class whispered in your ears as she giggled like a typical teen girl next to you.

All of your friends were sitting at the cafeteria, munching on your food. It was a typical boring day at school until your eyes landed on Jungkook. He was in the senior year and also the captain of school soccer team.

When you were busy drooling over him, your friends started making their own theories.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him staring at ___ quite often.” Other girl from your same table passed a comment.

Kim Taehyung was in the soccer team as well but a year older than Jungkook, but they were like brothers, the ‘IT’ best friend duo. It was quite usual for you to saw Taehyung whenever Jungkook was around. He was with him almost all the time.

But, you never noticed him staring at you. You thought they were making silly scenarios in their little head in hope of some Juicy gossip until you noticed, Kim Taehyung staring at your direction.

“Stop, guys! He is probably looking at somewhere else or looking for someone? Who knows!” You shrugged them off, not wanted to participate in their nonsense.

The men, they were talking about was the ‘sweetheart’ of your high school, every other girl was smitten by him, so it was a bit difficult for you to accept that he might had a crush on you.

“___, you are dangerously oblivious.” Then they laughed as if they just discovered the funniest joke of the century, their laughter echoed through out the cafeteria except from you and Jia.

It was easy to assume someone’s weight just by looking at the structure of their body until you had to carry them.

“Fuck! He is heavy dude!” Jia cursed under her breath, unable to hide the suffering of carrying Jimin all the way up to the 5th floor to Jungkook’s apartment.

“He doesn’t seem like–,” You were about to trip and fall, but adjusted yourself quickly. “yeah, he is heavy.”

The knock on his door wasn’t too loud as you made sure not to woke any neighbors up 2 in the morning.

You heard a groan along with some footsteps before the door swung open in front of you and you wished that you wouldn’t saw what you’d saw.

There was Jungkook, naked and standing in his full glory. Thank God, he had a sweat pant on.

You immediately looked down out of respect and…well, shyness? Because the way your cheeks heat up was embarrassing. You were flustered and you hoped, no one noticed.

Jungkook made a surprised gasped and scrunched his brows out of confusion, “What are you guys doing here at this hour? I- wait, is that jimin?”

“Yes!! Now help us, dummy.” Jungkook grabbed Jimin’s arm but not before shooting a glare at his sister’s direction, gave her a look of ‘you better shut the fuck up.’

He took jimin from you two and carried him like his weight was nothing, held him like a feather. Before the three of you could reach out to the sofa, you saw Taehyung came out of another room.

“What’s going on in the middle of the night?” His deep voice was an octave lower, clearly he was in his dreamland. With a scowl, he rubbed his eyes and looked at his very drunk friend, “Wait – Is that jimi– Is he dead?” He dramatically gasped.

“No. But, tell me, are you two…gay?” She asked them quietly, made it more dramatic by her expressions. Her mischievous eyes shifted to Taehyung from Jungkook, then again on Jungkook.

Taehyung gave a glare at her direction, no words left from his mouth. The poor guy just woke up at the middle of the night and accused of fucking Jungkook. You held your laughter back, didn’t wanted to make it more chaotic than it already was.

“No– I mean you look like you just had a rough night and–,”

“Jia, will you shut up?” Jungkook’s voice was stern, as if he was holding himself back. His sister knew how to get on his nerves, for sure.

Ignoring the fact that she was about to bring scolded by her elder brother, she took the responsibility and filled him up with the information.

“We were at this bar and we saw Jimin there…lying on a couch. The owner was searching for his friends but, since they weren’t there, we took him here.” She chirped, feigning innocence as if she didn’t just called her brother gay.

Jia decided to met you at this famous bar, again you went along with the idea even though you knew the fact that, you won’t be able to drink anything.

At least you liked the ambience of the bar, until you found a very drunk blonde haired guy laying on a couch, almost knocked out. The owner was literally about to kick him out if it weren’t for you and Jia arrived at the right time.

“He was supposed to join us.” Taehyung shook his head in disappointment, letting out a huff, he walked over to Jimin who was finally knocked out on Jungkook’s couch. Following Taehyung’s lead, you sit beside Jimin, scrutinizing his face for any discomfort he might had.

Your gaze briefly flickered towards Jungkook, caught him staring at you, before he quickly averted his eyes towards Taehyung. You knew, it wasn’t anything you might had thought of, but the way your stomach flipped over wasn’t something normal.

“What you guys were even doing?” Jia asked exaggeratedly, squinted her eyes at both men in front of her suspiciously.

Yes, Jungkook and Taehyung was like brothers since they were in high school, probably saw shits of each other which might had never been seen by anyone, their bromance was top-notch but that doesn’t allow people to question about their sexuality. You knew, Jia was just joking and probably pulling her brother’s leg off and besides, Jungkook has a girlfriend. Or so, had.

They might broke up, but the possibility of him having feelings for her was strong, because of the dance you two had that night at the club. No person who doesn’t had any feelings for their ex would did such thing to just made them jealous. He doesn’t said that, he doesn’t had to, it was all clear in his eyes or so you noticed.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jeongguk #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #fanfic #jksian🤍

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innorogers · 5 months ago

Text

Nightmare

Steve Rogers x Reader (You)

Summary: Steve stood in front of the mirror, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was still a world beyond your home, and he had to face it.

Warning: Minors DNI / A little smut / bj / Angst / Hydra Past / Missunderstandings / He wants to say I love you / This is getting dark as the WB logos in HP movies / Strugglings / He is so in love with you / Your past is coming back and kick your both asses

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Also: You don't have to read the previous chapters, but it would enhance the experience if you did. And thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️

Chapter 1: Insomnia | Chapter 2: Lucid | Chapter 3: Reverie

“God…!” Steve's head falls back, his body arching, knuckles turning white as he holds on tightly onto the sheets, moans ragged and labored, his chest rising and falling covered in sweat.

His hand tucking your hair, trying to be as gentle as possible, but he is finding that impossible. As you fasten your mouth and hand movements, more deep breaths are escaping his lips as waves of pleasure wash over him.

"Babe... that feels so good... don't stop... Please don't stop..."

Your quickened pace is driving him more and more over the edge, as suddenly his entire body lost in pleasure, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him, the sheets gripping tightly in his hands as he releases warm and low in your mouth.

“Jesus…” His body shuddering as he came hard, thoroughly quenched til the very last drop, his breath coming in gasps and pants, not being able to speak as he looks at you: puffy lips, disheveled hair, sweat drops in your perfect breasts, your silky skin marked with his handprints all over body, and you were wiping your lips.

“Damn...” He pulls you close for a kiss, still breathing heavily, as if trying to recover from his ecstasy. “Babe, don’t… look at me like that… or I’m gonna lose it... again.”

“Wait, what?” You laugh, stepping out of bed. “That’s on me?! I didn’t do anything this time.” You were barely awake when he started. It’s not like it’s your fault you weren’t wearing anything from last night.

“That’s... arguable.” Steve murmurs, sinking back into the pillows, still riding the high of the moment. His breathing starts to slow, but then he notices you’re already in the bathroom. “Wait, no cuddling?!”

“We’ve been ‘cuddling’ all night!” You call from the shower. “And... we’ve talked about this. Tony is gonna be here in an hour.” And I don’t want to smell like sex.

Steve chuckles in resignation, raising his voice so you can hear him over the water. “Can I join you?”

“We both know how that’s gonna end…”

“Yeah, yeah, alright...” he laughs, reluctantly pulling himself out of bed, grabs his discarded clothes, making a half-hearted attempt to tidy the room. “God, we made a mess in here, didn’t we?”

By the time you’re out of the shower, the room is already cleaned up (he's done his best). It’s a far cry from how things used to be: Steve's things are everywhere now. His toothbrush in your bathroom, clothes hanging in your closet, some files scattered on the desk in your lab that's across from your private dorm.

You’re not even sure when it happened, but your secluded, tucked away 20 minutes from the main Avengers compound lab, has become more than just yours. It makes sense, actually, he wasn’t leaving at night. Or in the mornings. Or... really, ever.

At first, Steve would come over for dates. Then those dates turned into 'I'll come by later' and eventually into 'whenever he had the chance.' Now his mug is in the sink, his slippers are under your bed, and his coat has claimed a permanent spot by the door.

He’s here. So, naturally, Sam and Natasha started coming by too.

They didn’t want to at first—especially after Tony warned them: Don’t go near the place if the windows are foggy or steamed. And the first time they showed up, the windows were, in fact, foggy.

So, they waited outside, feeding the mosquitoes and staring at the overgrown grass.

But they had important “For your eyes only” files, and waiting beat facing Commander Hill’s irritation later. After counting all the daisies in the field—twice—they finally gave in. Sam knocked (covering his eyes), you answered (fully dressed), and they came in for a cup of tea. A carrot cake later, they became regulars.

Your lab has a charm they can’t resist: plants hang from every corner, spilling over shelves and framing the windows that let in the golden sunlight. The warm, earthy scent of the greenery mixes with the subtle perfume from your humidifiers. A soft glow of the sunlight filters through, casting a golden hue over everything. The kitchen always smells like freshly baked cookies, and the tea is good, but the coffee is great.

Your space feels like a hidden sanctuary in the sunset. And amidst all this, there’s a relaxed and laughing, perfectly at home Steve. One that they’ve never seen before.

So of course, big boss Mr. Stark wasn’t going to be excluded.

“Remind me again why he’s coming?” Steve asked as he stepped into the shower. You were brushing your teeth, and he leaned over to kiss your shoulder, and…Yup, you were right; he knew exactly how things would’ve ended if he’d joined you earlier.

“I don’t know… there’s no meeting agenda. But technically, we are living in his compound, so…” you said, now brushing your hair and spritzing perfume. Then, after a pause, you added, “I think it has something to do with the New Era Project.”

Steve didn’t respond right away, but you caught the frown on his face through the steam of the shower. “Are you part of that?” he asked after a moment.

“Nope.” You began towel-drying your hair. “I don’t make or design weapons. I just fix your gear and armory and… sometimes I pitch cool new ideas to Tony during brainstorm sessions. You know, Level A clearance, remember?”

Steve chuckled—yeah, he remembered. You had access to all files and records, but only if Tony Stark himself granted it. Actually, he was the only one who could authorize your access and tokens. There were only two people in the entire organization with that kind of clearance: you and Peter Parker.

Your existence here was… special. Only level 3 and above tech personnel knew about you, and they practically worshiped you. You were the one who “optimized their code, fine-tuned algorithms that seemed impossible to crack, recalibrated testing protocols when simulations failed, and stepped in when machines were on the verge of catastrophic failure.” (That was Bruce’s wording. Steve didn't get shit of what he said, just referred to you as “my brilliant genius who fixes all that stuff.”) And the thing that stood out the most? You never took credit for the successes.

Selfless. That was the word Tony used when describing you. But he also said: “And that drives me nuts, because when you lack human ambition, what’s going to keep you around, right?”

Human ambition. The phrase echoed in Steve’s mind as he turned off the water with a sigh. He knew he had been avoiding the truth. Falling so hard for you that he didn’t want to face the reality. There was more to you than he fully understood, and deep down, he wasn’t sure he was ready to know the whole truth.

“I’ll make coffee,” you called from outside, interrupting his thoughts. “You staying for breakfast, or heading straight to training?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay for coffee,” he replied, wrapping a towel around himself and standing in front of the mirror.

There, staring back at him, was a man madly in love. But as much as he wanted to be only that—just a man in love—he wasn’t. There was still a world beyond your lab, and he had to face it.

He sighed again, suspecting exactly what Tony was going to discuss with you.

The coffee was ready, and croissants were on the table when Tony arrived. He greeted you with a cheek kiss and smirked at Steve, who was just walking out the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

“There’s a scene I thought I’d never see.” Tony quipped as you placed a mug in front of him. “Aren’t you late, Cap?”

“Aren’t you early?” Steve shot back from the room.

“Actually, I’m late. I hung out in the car for a bit.” Tony tilted his head toward the window, a mocking grin spreading across his face. “The windows were steamed up, so I…” he clicked his tongue, “didn’t want to interrupt.”

He turned to you, smiling. “This coffee’s great, hon. Any chance you’d consider making it a regular thing in the common room?”

“No. She wouldn’t,” Steve answered, now dressed in his training gear. He kissed you goodbye, shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry babe, gotta go. Guess you were right, I am late.”

Tony shot him an I told you so look.

“Coffee.” you said, handing Steve a travel mug, then cupped his face with a smile. “Kiss.”

Inhaling your fresh perfume, Steve sighed, enchanted, as he leaned down to kiss you. “Thanks…” He held back the I love you that nearly escaped his lips.

“Get something to eat after training, okay?” you said casually, unaware of how close he was to confessing.

“Yes ma’am.” He gave you a lingering glance, clearly wanting another kiss—or a few—before turning to Tony. “Easy, ok?” he warned.

“You hear that, hon? Easy on me,” Tony said with a grin, raising his mug to wave Steve off. “See you later, Cap.”

As the door closed behind Steve, Tony looked at you, “You know… that’s the best I’ve seen him in years.” He mused, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug.

Then, after a brief pause, with a playful smile. “And the best I’ve seen of you, of course.”

You smiled back. “It’s not like you’ve been around much to see me anyway.” You patted his hand.

“Not that I’m complaining. You’ve given me all the quiet and peace I could ever ask for.” You glanced down at the table with a soft smile. “And purpose.”

Tony stayed silent as the golden morning light filtered through the windows, casting lines of warmth and shadow across the table.

“Did you… tell him?” he asked, hesitating just as the light reached his mug.

“No. I, um…” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m scared.”

“God,” he sighed in resignation. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. And…” he shook his head, rolling his eyes, “I think his problem will eventually be, ‘Why didn’t you come sooner?’”

He huffed. “It’s your call, but trust me—he always wants to know the truth, no matter how hard it might be.”

“I know. It’s just…” You admitted quietly, “I’m scared of him being… disappointed.”

“Then he can fuck off,” Tony shot back without hesitation, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And die alone on his moral highlands.”

You laughed. Tony always knew how to make you laugh. After a few moments, you softened and asked, “What’s wrong, Tony? What’s really troubling you?”

“You mean besides the fact that one of my top-secret employees, whom I’ve kept hidden from everyone’s sight for years, is actually dating… I mean, no, we’re way past dating, right? I’d say… in a relationship with one of the most famous men in the world, who’s also the high commander of this… you know, little group of heroes that saves the universe from time to time? Yeah, there’s actually one tiny, tiny thing that keeps me awake at night…”

You sipped your coffee, still smiling. “What?”

“I’m having second thoughts about the New Era Project.”

You raised your eyebrows, and asked after some pause. “Do you want me to join?” Because you would, if he asked.

“No.” He was firm. “No, it’s not that. I’d never ask you to do that. It’s just… I’m having trouble piecing everything together. I don’t have the full picture. ” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“The UN have been a pain in my ass since I flew out in a can suit in Afghanistan, but now… they’re... They’re being… nice.”

“And that’s a bad thing.” You raised an eyebrow, not sure whether you were asking or confirming.

“It’s incredibly dangerous and extremely suspicious.”

“I thought our little demonstration of power during Thanos would’ve made everyone play nice,” you said, grimacing as if to say, Duh.

“They even offered to cancel the Sokovian Accords.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked, surprised. “Is that even still a thing? I thought after the Blip…”

“Nobody had the time or the mood to talk about that during the Snap, so it just stayed there.” Tony explained, handing you his mug as you stood up to refill it.

“Well, that’s a generous offer,” you said, pouring more coffee. “But as you said…”

You paused, thinking for a moment.

“If rationality and facts can’t give you the full picture, maybe intuition will.” You sat back down, placing the mug in front of Tony. “What does your gut tell you? Animal instincts in the face of danger are 99% accurate, you know.”

Tony’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I don’t know. That’s what’s keeping me up at night. We’ve faced big threats before, but this... this feels different. Like they’re not reacting to a threat, but preparing for one.”

“Patience.” you murmured.

“Say what?” Tony hadn’t caught it.

“The Art of War,” you recalled. “‘He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious.’” You nodded. “So if the picture isn’t clear, you wait for them to make the first move.”

That look crossed Tony’s face—the one he wore when you or Bruce finished a thought before him, or when you completed a task well before the deadline with an unexpected approach. The “finally, someone speaking my language” look.

“They’ve already made the first move, haven’t they?” you observed him closely.

Tony sat up, a slight smile of pride tugging at his lips. “Yes. They’re sending someone to… cooperate.”

“So… how do I fit into all this?” you asked quietly. “Strategies of war, deciphering enemy intentions, gathering intel, hacking systems… you’ve got quite a team for that. The Team. How can I help?”

Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair as the sunlight shifted, casting shadows across the room. He paused, staring out the window before turning back to you, something close to worry in his eyes for the first time.

“You fit in because you’re one of the few people I trust to see things clearly. No agenda. No ego. You can do things quietly, behind the scenes. And, frankly, you’re smarter than half the people working on this project…” He hesitated and added with a smirk, “...or the entire compound.”

After a brief pause, Tony confessed in a giving up tone.

“And because I need your superpowers to sense if this guy is hiding something—something that our metal detectors and scanners can’t catch. These days, I don’t even trust that the people we meet are… well, human. Thanks to Danvers.”

Just like at the opening ceremony, he needed you to assess if there was anything suspicious about the people present. You nodded in understanding.

“Who are they sending?”

There were two files in front of him, both giving him the same headache. And Steve didn’t wanted to start with either of them.

One was yours: HE0012, “Twelve.” Your code name—Hydra Experiment Number Twelve—and your real name, (If Twelve could even considered a name, but that was they’d given to you) both stamped on a complete profile folder of your classified information: layers upon layers of secrecy wrapped around your past, barely considered something near light reading.

The second file, labeled “FYEO - New Era Project” was a brick of a report, hundreds of pages long, more of a book than a document. It detailed, in excruciating pain-ass precision, the project's goal: a forced reconciliation between the Avengers and Stark Industries. The initiative was meant to foster collaborative research and development of cutting-edge technologies designed to bolster global defense systems.

Officially, the report framed it as ensuring global protection “in case of need,” but Steve knew the truth beneath the diplomatic phrasing. It was about weapons—gear, tools, anything needed to combat the next alien invasion, or any kind of catastrophic threat Earth might face.

Steve remembered Tony’s struggle with this report, how the stress weighed on him. Tony had been stuck between igniting another Civil War or throwing the damn thing in the nearest firepit.

But seems now, that Tony had done what Tony does best: handed the problem to Steve.

Damn it, Tony.

“Captain.” Jarvis’s polite voice sounded through the nearest screen. “A guest has just entered the main building. Agent Charles Frazer from the New Era Special Committee has been announced.”

Steve sighed, shoving both files aside. He couldn’t even catch a break. “Background?” He asked as he glanced at the screen, pulling up Frazer’s information.

“Agent Frazer is currently serving with the UN Special Commission, previously tasked with supervising enhanced human activities under the Sokovian Accords. Before that, he was a top agent at MI6.” Jarvis relayed in his usual, steady tone.

“Great. I’ll meet him in the lobby. Where’s Tony?”

“Sir is en route from R&D 001 and will arrive in three and a half minutes. Agent Frazer is already in the lobby, Captain.”

“Fine.” Steve muttered, standing up. “Also ask Commander Hill to meet us there.”

From the second-floor glass railing, Steve looked down and spotted Frazer standing in the waiting area. The man was definitely an agent, but his military background was obvious in the way he stood—rigid, alert, scanning the room, it all pointed to someone used to being on guard, despite his polite, diplomatic smile and the small nods he gave to passing staff.

After a moment of observation, Steve made his way downstairs before Frazer could notice he was being watched.

“Agent.” Steve greeted, extending a firm hand.

“Captain.” Charles Frazer responded with a wide, courteous smile. One that appeared genuine but not intrusive. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Steve was about to continue when Tony, Bruce, and you entered the room, caught up in a heated conversation.

“…so wait, are you telling me the material adapted in real-time? Enhanced its resistance with every applied force threshold—like it learned from the stress points?” Bruce’s voice was filled with astonished excitement.

“Yeah, we saw a 32% increase in tensile strength under standard shear stress.” You replied softly, barely looking up from your coffee mug.

“What about quantum resonance feedback?” Tony waved a hand, pressing for more details. “Is it boosting absorption capabilities?”

“It’s actually forming a self-reinforcing lattice that distributes the force across the entire molecular framework, but…” You trailed off as you noticed Steve. A soft smile lit up your face, your eyes brightening upon seeing him.

Steve, for a split second, returned the smile but quickly recovered his professional demeanor. “Dr. Lancaster,” he greeted you, then nodded to the others. “Tony, Bruce—this is Agent…”

A loud crash cut him off.

Steve whipped around to see you standing there, your face as pale as your lab coat. Your mug lay shattered on the floor, coffee splattered across your clothes, but you didn’t seem to notice. Your gaze was locked on Agent Frazer’s face, your breath frozen, your body completely still.

“…Four?” The word barely escaped your lips, a whisper under the weight of everyone’s surprise.

Agent Frazer’s reaction was almost identical.

His confident smile vanished in an instant—from confusion, to shock, and then to an almost frozen state mirroring yours, his eyes reflected the same haunting familiarity. It wasn’t just shock; it was a mix of fear, disbelief, and perhaps even something darker—like a flood of old memories being unlocked all at once.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, staring at each other in stunned silence. Slowly, Frazer’s gaze locked onto yours, and recognition began to settle over his face. He slowly lifted a trembling hand toward your chin, his voice cracking as he murmured, “Twelve?”

“How…?”

“Let’s take this to a more private room.” Tony, ever the first to break the silence, said firmly even before you could go on. His eyes weren’t on you—they were glued to Steve, gauging his reaction.

Steve stood rigid, his jaw was set, his face unreadable as he observed the silent exchange between you and Frazer.

“Yes, let’s do that.” Steve said, his voice firm but soft. A few people in the background had started to notice the unusual scene unfolding and were beginning to glance your way. So it was to act quickly. He stepped closer to you, a part of him instinctively wanting to put a hand on your shoulder, or hold your hand to offer some comfort in the midst of the shock, but he hesitated. His hand hovered for a second before he drew it back.

As the group moved to a quieter, more secluded room, the air was thick with unspoken questions, and no one dared to break the fragile silence. All eyes were on you and Agent Frazer, as though the past had suddenly come crashing into the present, and no one was sure how to navigate the ruins.

You met with Commander Hill in the middle of the hallway. She quickly noted the tension in the unusual group, scanning Agent Frazer as fast as she could with her x-ray inspection mode and cautious glare.

“Is… everything okay?” She instantly reacted, reading the room. “Meeting 9 is available.” She looked at Steve and Tony and communicated in their own silent way: And it’s ready.

Ready meant that the room could provide total privacy while also functioning as the most advanced interrogation room. Everything would be recorded, with real-time facial expression analysis by Friday or Jarvis. The room’s ambiance would shift according to participants' moods, creating the most relaxing and comforting environment possible, encouraging the participants to say anything and everything that needed to be known.

But of course, you didn’t know that, and neither did Agent Frazer— or Four. You hadn’t yet recovered from the shock, so you barely heard Tony when he said, “We’ll just leave you to it,” or noticed the worried look Steve had given you. You didn’t look back; your eyes remained locked on Four’s.

“How…” You broke the silence after a long pause, sensing that both your breaths had softened. You began to regain some rationality and composure. “How did you escape? I… I thought you were dead…”

Four closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stay as calm as possible.

He didn’t know where to start with.

“I was…”

He didn’t look at you; his gaze was fixed on the floor, lost in some distant moment from the past.

“The cryostasis pod that held me…malfunctioned, but instead of shutting down, it went into some sort of low-energy survival mode—almost like it was trying to protect me. Left me hanging on the edge of life, just the basics kept intact.”

His accent was you remembered, a perfect blend of British and Russian, a strange yet polished combination of both. He talked as in Times New Roman.

“I reckon I stayed that way for years… like being stuck in some frozen limbo. Like wandering in some desert between hell and heaven.”

Four’s lips curled into a fragile, ironic smile: “That Hydra fortress in Caithness was too well-hidden. I’d have gone unnoticed until I wasted away, but when Hydra fell, every strategic spot on the globe became suspicious. British intel ran sweeps over the area… and they found me.”

You remained silent, memories flashing through your mind. You knew why the cryostasis pod had malfunctioned in the first place.

After the Battle of New York, the remaining Hydra forces had started shutting down their less critical underground fortresses. Caithness, where Four was held, had probably been vital during the war, but your files were far too confidential, buried too deep to be easily retrieved. That place must have been overlooked as obsolete.

Then came the Battle in Washington, when Steve crushed Hydra for good, and Black Widow exposed Hydra’s files, Caithness would have landed on British radar.

The world had been holding its breath, watching the Avengers’ actions since New York.

It wouldn’t surprise you if British intelligence wanted to keep Four for their own research—a super soldier hidden, repaired, filled with selective truths, and molded into a loyal agent. Their own secret Avenger, integrated into their best special forces.

“They kept your memory?” you asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Bits of it.” Four replied, offering a smile, sensing your concern. He wanted to ease the pain of what he’d gone through during his rebirth. “Britain’s tech wasn’t as advanced as Hydra’s.”

He glanced around and sighed. “And they were definitely far away from… this. They didn’t push it too far, just in case it might… break me and ruin everything.”

“Do you remember… everything?” you asked, finally looking into his eyes.

“Not everything. Just pieces, fragments. Sometimes I get flashbacks in my dreams…” Four’s eyes softened as he looked at you, a faint smile touching his lips, his voice tender with nostalgia.

“You were a brilliant tree climber... I remember that odd old oak tree deep in the forest. Grand and ancient. You’d scramble up to the top branches and shake them until the leaves fell, making a pile on the ground. Then Five and Seven would dash over and dive in, like a pair of foxes.”

“And once, you hid a rock under the leaves, and Seven jumped right onto it…” You were lost in the memory too.

“He hit it so hard…” Four chuckled, his gaze drifting to that long-lost time.

“We did everything to stop the bleeding before heading back, but he looked like…”

“A smashed tomato can.” You both said at the same time. And then you both laughed.

“I was grounded, of course. Bloody big time.” Four leaned back in his chair. “Six days of detention because, naturally, our blood was ‘precious,’ and Seven’s was everywhere. They had to clean up so thoroughly, it was like they burned the place down.”

“And you came by on the fifth night…” Four’s went gentle, as if telling a bedtime story. “You snuck in and gave me a piece of bread. And a golden leaf.”

He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tight.

“I’m so glad to see you, little sister.” His voice was filled with pain.

“When I woke up… I thought I was alone in this world.”

“Me too.” You whispered, though your eyes were elsewhere, lost in the shadows of the past.

“Me too…”

Steve could feel his teeth clenching. He tried desperately to release the pressure building in his fists, but the anger was overwhelming.

He suddenly understood why he hadn’t been able to even open your file before—it was fear. He didn’t want to feel this powerless, like he does now, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what you’d been through.

Tony might have made a joke, something like, “Well, at least he’s only her brother.” but Steve could sense the tension in his voice.

“This is so…” Fucked up. Sam stood beside Steve, watching closely. “Any lie detected?”

“Facial analysis shows 99% veracity. The 1% is due to human factors beyond my calculations.” Friday’s voice echoed through the room.

“If the story’s true, it’s not impossible,” Natasha chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “When the files went public, someone must have taken action.”

“It just smells like there’s a cat hidden in the closet, y’all know?” Sam muttered, arms crossed, shaking his head. “Like, really? Now? The agent overseeing all this Sokovia Accords 2.0 stuff just so happens to be ex-Hydra, ex-experiment, and he shows up now? Like literally walking right to her. Now? When she’s…” He gestured pointedly. “With Steve? Why not before?”

“Maybe he was gone during the Blip?” Natasha suggested. “Look, I’m just trying to figure this out. Not saying the guy’s a saint, but…”

She glanced at Steve, who had turned into some kind of statue, staring at the screen, trying to read your every move, every reaction.

“We do have ex-Hydras doing just fine…” Bucky is one. You are one. Natasha didn’t say it, but it hung in the air, unspoken yet clear.

“Alright, first things first.” Maria stepped in, standing next to Steve. “What do we do with this guy? He’s still carrying the UN Special title, and…” She pulled up his file. “One thing’s for sure—his records are impeccable. At least on paper.”

Steve didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, where you were holding hands with Four. It wasn’t romantic, he could tell. You were pressing his hand, patting his back. You looked relaxed. The painful part of remembering was over, and now you were chatting about his life after MI6 gave him a new identity.

And you were smiling. You tilted your head slightly, something you always did when listening intently.

“Tony.” Steve suddenly spoke up, his voice low but steady. “Why are you so quiet?”

Steve hadn’t raised his voice, but the room instantly turned to Iron Man.

“Maybe I have nothing to say.”

“Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to know the answer.” Steve shot back, his tone sharper now. He didn’t say it aloud, but Tony knew. He knew exactly why Steve was looking at him like that.

But as always, Tony didn’t flinch under Steve’s scrutinizing glare, nor did he step back.

“I think Dr. Lancaster is just the perfect person for this job.” Tony said, quietly but with precision, locking eyes with Steve.

“Fuck! Tony!” Steve’s fists slammed down on the desk so hard that everything on it bounced. “She’s out of the New Era Project.” he said, gritting his teeth.

“She’s Level A.” Tony stepped closer, meeting Steve’s gaze up close.

“And she happens to be top of R&D. Yes, I asked her to be here this morning, to check on this guy… just like she’s been doing since day one when she entered this compound.”

“So yeah, she can show him around, talk about super-intelligent things that normal people won’t understand, as long as it fits within the clearance I’ve given her. It’s not like I’m ordering her to do anything.”

Tony leaned in even closer to Steve’s face. “You can stay and hang out if you want. But seriously… and this is me being brutally honest, like you’ve always wanted.” His voice was calm, firm, unwavering.

“Did you really think you could keep her out of this? Out of your life? Our life?”

He opened his arms slightly, giving Steve a knowing look. “Stop acting as your decisions are better than hers, Steve. She knew exactly what she was signing up for.”

“I’m honored, but my pressure it’s on its peaks.” Four muttered, walking beside you down the long aisle that led from “Sustainable Technologies & Environmental Innovation” to the “Space Exploration & Interstellar Travel Engineering” hall.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you caught the reflection in the sleek glass walls: a serious, determined, and ‘touch my girl by a hair and I’ll kill the fuck out of you’ Steve, and a ‘I have so much more important and real shit to deal with right now than this’ face Maria walking behind you.

“I mean I’m just a public employee. I expected both high commanders to receive me, but not to walk us all the way.” Four teased: “Remember when we had to escort the king during the war?”

“I thought that was the proudest day of your life.”

“It was, until this.” Four laughed, letting out a long, amused sigh after a pause. Then, more sincerely, “But you should be proud too, Twelve. Look at what you’ve accomplished.”

Four’s gaze lifted, drawn to the towering structures and intricate technology around him—robotics designed to repair spacecraft mid-flight, drones engineered for planetary terraforming. His eyes followed the sleek contours of prototype exosuits encased behind glass, shimmering with the pulse of energy cores yet to be tested.

Even with all the cutting-edge tech he’d seen around the world, he couldn’t help but admire the scale of innovation unfolding here—the flawless precision, the harmony between form and function, and the dedication and sense of unity the folks around here were putting on their work.

“Everything here... it’s like stepping into the future.” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of awe. “Back in the day, we only dreamt of machines like this. Now it’s real. I can feel the intelligence in the air, the potential of what this place can do.”

He paused in front of an android prototype, its sensors lighting up as though acknowledging his presence.

“This is what happens when visionaries are free to play with the impossible. And you are part of it. You should be proud. It’s the realization of everything we once hoped for. ”

Steve and Maria exchanged a glance at his words, and Steve’s gaze immediately shifted to you. He was desperate for you to turn, to look at him the way you always did—like you understood him without a single word needing to be spoken. But since the moment you walked out of Room 9 with Four, your gaze hadn’t found his. Not once.

You stayed silent upon your brother’s words. Your gaze was still, serene, and silent. There was no emotion beyond that on your face. Your eyes rested lightly on Four's expressions, then moved softly to the equipment he was examining. You were as still as a pond on a windless day. And your eyes…Steve could always interpret the emotions they held, if you offered him a glimpse, but you never did.

“Is it?” you murmured, emotionless. Neither Four nor Maria caught it, but Steve did. And it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

He watched you, hoping—no, needing—you to turn around, to meet his eyes with the same openness you always had. He knew you could feel his gaze, feel his desperate hope that you would just look at him. But you didn’t. You kept walking a few steps behind Four, and the space between you and Steve grew wider with every step.

He wanted to call your name, to pull you aside, to ask if you were okay, if this was too much for you. But something held him back. What if you didn’t respond the way he hoped? What if Four’s presence here was dragging you back into the person you were before? What if you weren’t the person he had fallen so deeply in love with? And what if… what if you didn’t love him back the way he loved you? Or worse, what if you were still exactly what Hydra wanted you to be?

What if…this is the real you?

Steve’s heart was at war with itself. He had fought through battles where the stakes were higher than anything he could imagine here, but the battlefield of emotions felt far more treacherous. His love for you was the one thing he held onto with unyielding certainty—something unshakable. But now, he felt it flickering, like a candle fighting to stay lit in a growing storm.

Every time he looked at you, searching for a sign that you still belonged to him in the way he believed you did, it felt like reaching out for something just beyond his grasp.

It wasn’t the distance you kept from him physically that hurt the most. It was the emotional wall—thick, invisible, but undeniably there. His rationale, the part of him that always tried to be fair, tried to stay calm, told him not to jump to conclusions, not to doubt you. But the love-struck, emotional side of him—the part that saw you as his everything—was falling down into the vast uncertain sea of fear.

Four’s voice pulled him back from his thoughts, he was talking in low, but Steve overheard anyway.

“What are you really working on?” He was genuinely curious: “I’ve always known you were the best of us in intelligence but…this is…” he said in an obvious ‘wow’: “Mr. Stark said that you are on top of R&D, and you are also guiding the way, so I bet it is something…dramatic.”

“I can show you my workspace.” You smirk quietly, your voice a little bit proud, as a sibling that wanted to show off her new toys: “It’s not…dramatic. At least not complicated for you to read.”

“I…” Steve spoke up at the same time he frowned, but held back on calling out your name: “Dr. Lancaster. I don’t think…”

“We’ll be fine, Captain.” You interrupted him, but he could only see your back when you answered, still not looking back for a second: “I’ve got the clearance, no worries.” You said as you walked straight forward without hesitation.

Of course, you weren't leading Four to your lab—your home with Steve, your recluse sanctuary out of the compounds. That would’ve been too much. Even for Steve, it would’ve crossed a line he couldn’t forgive, and you weren’t a monster, like, duh.

Instead, you led Four toward your personal workspace. Or how Tony liked to call it: "the genius playroom", where cutting-edge tech, half-finished projects, and too many abandoned coffee mugs cluttered the surfaces—remnants of late-night brainstorming sessions with him and Bruce.

The room was chaotic brilliance in its purest form. Holographic models of Stark tech hovered in the air like suspended thoughts, caught in an endless cycle of innovation. Transparent screens flashed data faster than any normal person could process: only a select few could follow the constant stream of figures and projections (Three, actually, if Wakandian minds, or Dr. Cho weren't around). Half-assembled drones and sleek energy cores, still pulsating with untapped potential, were scattered around workbenches. Tony’s famous bean bag chairs—“sometimes the ass needs to think before the brain catches up”—occupied one corner, breaking the space's otherwise high-tech aesthetic.

The room was alive with invention, buzzing with the frenetic energy of genius minds always in motion. It was your playground, your escape, and the damn Thursday’s night that you couldn’t make it home and Steve's always resent.

“Bloody hell...” Four’s voice broke through the hum of machinery as he stepped into the room. His eyes widened, slowly sweeping across the multitude of inventions and half-finished designs.

"This is... whoa...little sister, you did find your spot in the world, didn't you?" he muttered, genuine awe in his voice.

You watched him, standing close enough to catch every flicker of his gaze, how his eyes darted from one holographic projection to the next, lingering just a bit too long. As if he was, scanning.

"Well, welcome to The Crib." You said with a casual shrug, already moving toward one of the many touchscreens embedded into the workbenches. You tapped a few commands, and the room sprang to life. Holographic blueprints of your latest projects filled the space between you and Four.

"Where the magic is born. Core of the Avengers and Stark Industries inventions, we usually break a lot of rules here...and stuff, too."

Behind you, Steve and Maria stepped into the room, but your focus remained on the task at hand. Your heart began racing so fast it was going out of your chest, but you pushed it aside. You had work to do.

And a sense of unease gnawed at Steve, making his hair stand on end and his senses become hyper-alert. There was something wrong. Really wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but a chill crawled up his spine, making his muscles tense.

He exchanged a glance with Maria—she felt it too. The air was too thick, too still. He could hear your heart beating, too fast, too loud.

You kept moving, subtly positioning yourself near the wall, your body shielding a button—one Steve hadn’t noticed before.

“Four?” Your voice was soft and casual. You were watching him carefully, studying his reactions like you were dissecting his every move.

“Mhm?” He didn’t look back, his attention still locked on the blueprints projected across the room, soaking up every detail.

“When did you say we escorted the king?” You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, your position relaxed, but gaze distant. “Was it at the beginning of the war? Or when it was almost over?”

“Beginning. Why?” Four turned to face you, a smile still hanging on his lips. “Why do you ask?”

“Because we were Hydra back then.” You said, voice level but resolute. “We didn’t escort people. Not the alliance, at least.”

Four’s smile faltered. It froze on his face.

“Who are you?” Your voice remained calm, but there was a razor edge beneath the surface. “And why are you pretending to be my brother?”

"Shit!" Maria immediately pulled out her gun, aiming straight at Four—no, Agent Frazer's—head, her finger tight on the trigger.

Steve stayed still, fists clenched, eyes rapidly calculating every option in the room: the exits, the distance between you and Four, and how fast he could get to either of you. In a matter of seconds, hundreds of plans flashed through his mind, each one detailing how things could go down.

Four's face remained calm, but the shift in his eyes betrayed him. The mask of the amiable older brother slipped, revealing the cold, calculating operative underneath—the same one who had greeted Captain America this morning: the perfect spy, shifting personas like a chameleon, adapting to every situation.

A slow, smug smile curled across his lips, replacing the affectionate facade he wore seconds ago.

"How did you know?" he asked, tilting his head, examining you. He seemed almost impressed by your unflinching calm, as if you'd been expecting this all along.

"'It's the realization of everything we once hoped for.'" Your gaze was unwavering, your tone even as you repeated his earlier words.

"What?"

You lowered your eyelids, the weight of old memories seeping into your voice, barely a whisper.

"You’ve said that this tech, this…unrealistic world leadered by heroes, is something that we hoped for… is not."

You didn’t know whom you were talking to, to Four, to Steve, or to yourself.

“We were kids. Trapped in a cage. We never hoped for any of this.” You paused: “My brother and sisters died before I was even grown up. And they didn’t dream big. We didn't have the chance or dared to do so.”

Steve's heart clenched. He had sensed this, but hearing you say it still hit harder than expected.

"You knew?" Four's tone shifted, darker, more dangerous. His eyes gleamed like a predator closing in on its prey. "From the beginning?"

"Easy, Frazer." Maria warned, her aim steady. "You even blink, and I'll put a bullet in your pretty forehead."

"Of course I knew…" you said calmly. "And I know you're wearing a retinal lens—a live-streaming neural interface that captures everything you see, using nanotransceivers to broadcast it live via ultra-broadband frequencies to a secure hub."

Steve's mind clicked into place. You had the ability to see the composition of materials in everything around you. It was why Tony often had you blend in with the crowd, to detect anything out of place or hidden in plain sight.

"Then you know it's too late." Four's grin widened, a victorious glint in his eyes. "I've already got everything I need, little sister."

"Do you?" You smiled—a smile Steve knew all too well, the one that meant you were about to love what happened next.

You snapped your fingers.

"Revelio."

The world around you shimmered, peeling away like burning paper. The high-tech lab setup dissolved, revealing a The Crib instead, but it didn’t have all the advanced technology drafts as it was shown to Four. It was a clean, organized, fancy lab, not revealing anything confidential, it looked brand new..

"Binary Augmented Retro-Framing. Or BARF." you said, almost sighing. "It's on the market. The records are public. Tony loves to play with it."

"You think you're so smart." Frazer sneered, a cruel twist to his lips. "Or good. You think joining these superheroes will erase what you are? What you really are? You're nothing but a monstrous experiment."

"You're right." Your expression didn’t falter, not even a twitch. "My brothers and sisters were better." You continued watching him, calm as ever. "But you didn’t come all this way just for some tech demo, did you?"

"No." Frazer's smirk returned, sharper than before. "I came to confirm something, and I did. But there’s one last thing I wanted to check, just in case."

Steve's instincts kicked in, but he knew it was already too late.

Frazer locked eyes with you, and his voice dropped, firm and deliberate:

"Мечта."

End

Continue to:

5: Awakening |

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

Woohooo...damn!! OMG thank you for reading thus far! Hope you really enjoyed it like I did writing it, it was a rollercoaster of emotions, tho.

Next chapter is finished already so I'll see you on next Friday! And I couldn't help myself on the "Revelio" part, I just had to give that dramatic line, if there were background music asin the movies, that's when it comes to play XD

Alright, let me know what do you think! (Also if you thought this was intense then next chapter is worse...xD)

Love.,

Moon.

Shoot, I completely forgot, but it was mentioned by the brilliant @steviebbboi & @jamneuromain that I should have a taglist? So mentioning here, will edit when I have it ready ❤️

#captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers smut #original character #this is a very long chapter

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inkk-tv · 2 months ago

Text

[ ꜰᴏᴏᴛʙᴀʟʟ ᴘᴜʙ ɢᴏʟꜰ : ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ]

Admittedly, it's only when she's standing in the park across from the first pub that she realises exactly what she's gotten herself into. "This feels unfair." "Aw, come on Luce," Arthur says with half a smile, swapping his t-shirt for their team kit. "Have a bit of faith."

in which: Lucy is reluctantly recruited into Chris' pub golf video at the last minute, but it turns out to be very worth it.

4.7k words [ masterlist ] [ part two ]

[oc x arthurtv x chrismd] [warnings: excessive drinking, sexual inudendos]

There’s a certain risk that comes with renting an office in a building full of youtubers. Mainly being ambushed in the kitchen by a camera for a reaction or her two cents on whatever challenge video was underway is not an uncommon occurrence. Although, being fully roped into a video is never too far out of the realm of possibility.

Luckily, there’s only one person with the gaul to break into her office, and that’s Chris.

It’s been affectionately nicknamed, ‘the fishbowl’.

Sitting right on the hallway's bend, with two walls and a giant door of nothing but glass that means anyone who steps out the lift can see right into her office. Hence the name. Once she showed up to find someone had stuck fish and bubble stickers all over the windows- she’s pretty sure it was Sam, who does all her captioning, but she’s never gotten him to confess it.

It’s a pretty decent workspace despite the lack of privacy. Lucy’s desk is off to one side, and the three desks for her London-based employees are in a little cluster to the right of it. Only Shelly, the head editor and Lucy had been in today, but it’s nearing five pm and Shelly had headed off about twenty minutes prior, so it’s just Lucy hauled up alone working on a script as she hides from the rest of the building.

Chris invites himself in. As always. For some reason, the wall of glass just doesn’t present the same barrier to him as it does to everyone else.

She glances up as the door hinges open, the soundproofing scraps against the carpet before closing with a soft click. There’s something a little frantic in his expression- not exactly panic, but stress maybe- and he’s got a white monster energy can that's dripping condensation in one hand and a takeaway bag from the fish and chip shop two blocks over that uses the perfect amount of salt, in the other.

Lucy is no fool. She knows a bribe when she sees one. "No."

All the tension leaks from his shoulders as Chris heaves a defeated sigh, falling back onto the two seater couch just inside the door. "But I haven't even asked yet."

"But you brought me an incentive." She points out and Chris leans over to thunk the can down on the corner of her desk he could reach. Lucy scrunches her nose up at the ring of water that settles underneath it. "You didn't even do that last time and that involved having footballs booted at me for three hours."

Objectively, Lucy has fun on the ChrisMD channel. She’d always been an active person and while the dreams of being a professional athlete did not work out for her like many others, she does still like sports, especially if they’re team based. Chris’s videos are perhaps the most fun variant of them she’s experienced since quitting her Sunday league team back in uni.

But Lucy drew a hard line in the sand after the break up.

The problem with having fun on Chris’ videos, is that somewhere along the line, wires got a bit crossed. Lucy isn’t really all too sure when it happened, but she remembers realising. Looking at Chris, and realising she fancied him. It was four months before, and she spent all of it agonising over every conversation they had, kicking herself for liking a taken man, beating herself up over every word or glance as the guilt of it all ate away at her.

Then he was single and the biggest motivator for Lucy to shut her fucking mouth and stomp down her feelings, she got a little worried things would run away from her. She wasn’t keen to make a mess of things, in private or on the internet, so she took a step back.

It does help that in her last appearance on the ChrisMD channel, she took a particularly solid shot from Simon Minter to the stomach during the World Cup Ball video. A few days later, Lucy's flatmate had bullied her into going to A and E where they found out she’d managed to acquire a cracked rib.

Simon- bless him- still apologises every time she runs into him.

Lucy doesn’t know how to thank him for giving her a reasonable excuse to avoid Chris for an extended period of time.

"You had fun." Chris points out with a roll of his eyes, unpacking the takeaway bag to set two boxes on the coffee table in front of him, opening one and digging into a calamari meal.

"And a broken bone."

Another sigh. "This isn't goal keeping."

Lucy's hands still over her keyboard, little cursor blinking on page is of what was going to be a 12 page script. She huffs a breath, telling herself that she will at least hear the man out.

It was a stupid thing really, fancying him. It’s probably one of those prolonged exposure things, she spent so much time with him that things got blurry in her mind. But the controlled exposure has been working. No more nights out if he was going and no one on one hang outs for the past few months have really helped her get a handle on things. Make the lines of platonic and romantic a little clearer in her head.

Even if he’s grown a beard that looks annoyingly good on him. She’s allowed to appreciate it without fancying him. Or at least, that’s how she tries to tell her flatmate.

Lucy had put measures in place, a little bit of distance to get over her puppy crush and they had been working.

The little bubbliness she used to get has been smothered in the past few months. They’d done Chip’s karting race together just fine and she’s been significantly more invested in the occasional hinge date she secures. Lucy’s building her way up towards nights out again, knowing that he’ll be there and trusting her mouth to not run away from her. Maybe filming with him would be good- keeping her contained to the version of herself that the internet is allowed to see, the version that never fancied one of her coworkers.

When she pushes her chair out from the desk and turns to level Chris with a look, considering it for a few long moments before sighing and looking up to the ceiling, already regretting what she hasn't agreed to yet. There's a smile on Chris' face - he knows he's won. Apparently, Ciaran Carlin managed to snag himself a case of food poisoning the day of Chris' 'pub golf' shoot ("thought you did football content" - "Its football themed.") so they were down one whole player. Hence why Chris was there, a few moments from dropping to his knees to beg.

Lucy is, admittedly an outlier amongst the office. At least in terms of content creation. It's actually the Fellas Studio building, but those who invested in the business to help the boys get it up and running, like Chris and Lucy, have their own office space inside. She makes video essays with the occasional social commentary video mixed in - a far cry from Chris' football challenges or the min-maxing style of videos that seems to have taken over the platform in the last few years.

So their friendship has stayed mostly off camera, as she doesn’t often have people on her main channel, posting occasional vlogs on her second channel but he’s only ever made the cut once or twice. The most the internet knows of Lucy Bell and Chris Dixon is that he’s roped her into a few football challenges over the years.

When it comes to Chris’s channel, Lucy does make for a good feature. She’s just tipped over four million subscribers in the last few months, with almost a completely different audience, so it brings in a lot of new viewers. She’s not half bad at football either, a few years playing football in uni meant she could keep up with most of the UK YouTube scene if Chris begged nicely enough.

"Alright, but it’s an extra twenty quid for each time you bite me."

The biting gets her every time. She’s always had a bit of a thing for it, teeth marks and hickeys. It’s a condition that Lucy adds to save her own sanity more than anything.

See, there’s something about Chris when he’s drunk that just makes the man want to bite. Sink his teeth into whichever friend is closest after a pint or two. Doesn’t matter where, hand arm or neck- he’s even gone for her ear once. He’s not handsy per-say, because none of it was sexual really, but it couldn’t be called clingy either because he got way too mean.

Cuteness aggression seems to fit the bill. But no matter what someone was to call it, the fact is, Chris gets his teeth out when he’s drinking.

Maybe charging him for it will be enough to remind him not to.

Chris grins. "Done."

Turns out, the pub golf ‘night-out’ she had been lured into starts at one pm.

Admittedly, it's only when she's standing in the park across from the first pub that she realises exactly what she's gotten herself into. "This feels unfair."

The line up was clearly in no way designed for fairness. With the 'English team' consisting of Lucy, Chris and Arthur-TV, going against the 'German Team' of Stephen Tries, Bambino Becky and Harry Wroetoshaw.

Now Lucy isn’t a lightweight- at least not proportionally. For a woman of five five, she could hold her drink. But Chris Dixon on the other hand, who was the same height, most definitely was a lightweight. There was not a whole lot of faith to be put in their alcohol tolerance.

"Aw, come on Luce," Arthur says, swapping his t-shirt for their team kit. "Have a bit of faith."

She ducks her head to hide the quick frown that flashes over her face. There’s only two people who call her ‘Luce’ and that’s Chris and her flatmate, Spencer. It’s obvious where he’s picked it up from and the thought of Chris chatting about her to one of his friends with such familiarity is enough to make her stomach flutter. Today was not going to be good.

Lucy's met Arthur before, in passing. At parties or events, seen him at the office once or twice when he'd presumedly come to film with someone. He’s good friends with George and Arthur Hill too. She knows him and Chris have been mates since school, and that he's one of the most frequent victims of the ChrisMD channel. Miraculously, she's never ended up on a set with him before.

She hopes he holds his drink well.

"A little hard to have faith when Becky and Harry are gonna drink us under the table." She says, thumbing at the team jersey she’s been given.

It’s soft, more so than she expected.

Football has never much been Lucy’s thing. She was on a team during her uni years, but that was more social than competitive. She owns a couple of kits, her old uni jersey that was mainly a work shirt and the Brighton Jersey her brother bought her for Christmas one year- Lucy makes sure to wear it whenever she watches a game. But that’s about the extent of it, she’s never had much reason to go buy an official kit.

But apparently for the football-ification of pub golf, team jerseys were a must.

The tag says it’s their away kit from the 1990 world cup and the fabric is so abrasively red, Lucy feels like a stop sign when she pulls it on. It doesn’t help that it was originally bought for Ciaran, so it’s two sizes too large. Sadly it completely tanks her outfit, the black skater skirt and platform mary-janes with lacy white socks had gone so much better with the cosy white knit sweater she’d started the day in, but it does sort of work. Even if it makes her look like a pick-me girl.

The collar slips about on her shoulders and Lucy pulls the collar about a little, trying to make it sit properly, which apparently, Chris takes as an invitation.

He comes up from behind and drapes his arms over her shoulders- not exactly unusual behaviour from him, but it does typically take a few more drinks. There’s not even a moment of hesitation before Chris sinks his teeth into the meat of her shoulder, biting down. Not hard enough to hurt exactly, more like a pinch.

She doesn’t yelp but grunts a little, swatting at his hair to duck out of his grip. When he backs off, there’s a dark semi-circle on the jersey, highlighting where he’d bitten at the material. “Right. That’s twenty quid then.”

Chris blinks, then rolls his eyes. “What? No, come one. We haven’t even started filming yet.”

He’s smiling though, watching as Lucy digs a black marker out of her purse and bites the lid off to draw a thick line on the inside of her right forearm. “A deal is a deal, Chris.”

“We’ll if we’re keeping track like that, someone else has to be in charge of the pen.” He plucks it from her fingers and Lucy goes to swipe it back but he pulls it up high above both their heads.

She could snatch it back. They’re about the same height; every time someone whips out a tape measure they end up with a different answer to who is taller, so it always depends on the shoes. Today, she’s even wearing platforms with more than enough heel to beat out Chris' white air forces but Lucy’s not sacrificing a single sliver of her dignity to jump for the marker.

Perhaps realising that she’s not taking the bait, he holds it out to Arthur instead, who has been watching them with a raised eyebrow. “What’s this then?”

“Lucy agreed to be in the video, if I paid her twenty pounds each time I bit her.” Chris says, looking a little proud of himself for some reason, as if wrangling her into a video was some sort of impressive feat. “But I don’t trust her to not just draw a bunch of lines.”

“Damn. That’s smart, you’ll make a couple hundred quid today, easy.” Arthur plucks the marker out of Chris’ fingers and looks at it a little funny. “Will you give me twenty every time you bite me?”

The marker is tucked away into the pocket of his shorts with a grin.

“You were coming no matter what.”

“With you looking like that, damn right I was.” Arthur holds his hand up for a high-five, probably more of a reflex than anything. Chris doesn't go for it, but Lucy does, swinging up to her tiptoes, to clap her palm against his.

“Come on,” He grins at Lucy, keeping their hands clasped for a few seconds with the momentum and it has her feeling a little better about the afternoon ahead.

One of the film crew, Sam she thinks his name is, waves Lucy over to mic her up. They make their way through the ‘before game interviews’, with the warning they will be spliced with the aftermath that was to be recorded at the last pub.

"Are you going to enjoy today?" Chris pokes the mic against the tip of her nose and Lucy scrunches it up a little at the feeling of scratchy foam.

"Considering I was bribed to be here, no." She plays the reluctant friend well, but they both know she’d been happy to help Chris out in his time of crisis and that she probably wouldn’t end up chasing him up about the money she was supposedly charging him per bite.

The first two holes (“It’s Goal, Luce. Use the right terminology.”) left their team with a rather bleak outlook.

Lucy’s played enough drinking games in her life to be able to down a pint in one go, so that isn’t a problem. She chugs the IPA, so while it’s down in one, Lucy is left with a bitter taste in her mouth, complaining to the table that if she was forced to drink beer, it should at least be lager. Arthur and Chris both down theirs in one, but are cautioned for shit jokes and chose to do a shot each instead of taking the additional points.

The second pub is no hands, white sambuca shots, but they get a bench so it’s not much hassle to lean down and get her lips around the glass rim and knock it back.

But when they’re done, and Arthur’s wandered off, her, Chris and Harry pounce on his backpack to turn it inside out. It makes her feel like she’s back in secondary playing silly pranks when someone leaves their bag unattended. Tragically he comes back with the news that he’s thrown up. Twice. There’s an attempt to blame the McDonalds wrap he’d scranned a bit too quickly but Calfreezey is not a forgiving referee and they are penalised three points, leaving them at seven as Chris has failed to down his shot in one.

“We are not winning that dominos pizza.” Arthur whines, frowning down at his inside out bag.

Lucy holds her hands out, an unspoken gesture that he accepts with a smile and starts piling his belongings into her hands. “Cheer up Mr.Television. I’ll Deliveroo one to the last pub.”

“And ruin Chris’ incentive? Where’s your competitive spirit Miss Bell?” He quips back, grabbing a fist full of his bag’s canvas and turning it back out the right way, shoving his pencil case and jacket back into it.

There’s an instinct to roll her eyes at the last name but fair is fair. She did sort of do it to him first. “I think winning for us is already a lost cause. Becky and Harry can outdrink us all.”

Arthur zips his bag up and swings it over his shoulders, heading for the door but glancing back at her as he speaks. “Not Stephen?”

“He’s more of a mascot I think.” Lucy muses, skipping up to his side and out the door as he holds it with one hand. “Like Chris.”

“Fair enough, they are the two lightweights.” He says, jutting his chin out to where Chris and Stephen were squabbling a good hundred metres up the footpath. “You seem a bit better at handling the beers than Chris to be honest.”

She can’t quite stop the way her nose scrunches at the memories of parties and chundering in bushes out the front of train stations. Lucy hisses through her teeth. “Yeah, I had a few too many nights out in Uni. Spiked my tolerance.”

There’s this little quirk of Arthur’s head, like he’s a curious cat that’s been offered a toy mouse to play with. “I didn’t know you went to uni, what did you study?”

“Journalism. Hence the video essays- if you know what kind of videos I do.”

“Not to brag, but I'm kind of subscribed.” He puts on a little bit of a voice, an impression of the typical ‘nice guy’ when he says it with an exaggerated roll of the eyes that earns a smile.

“Really?” This time it’s Lucy who’s tilting her head, peering up at him a little from under the few loose strands of hair that hang over her forehead and it makes Arthur sort of sheepish.

“Oh yeah,” He pulls out his phone and opens the youtube app. She’s in his subscriptions tab, along the top bar even. “I really like the rage bait one. And the one about the barbie movies.”

“You actually watch my videos?” He must do. The rage bait one was recent but Lucy’s deep-dive into the animated barbie movies of the early two-thousands was from her uni days, buried under six years of more recent uploads.

“Yeah, they’re good. Informative, funny.”

Lucy blushes. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Arthur. I’ll check out your channel after today, promise.”

“It’s not much, a lot of reality TV content- hence the name. I started with Airline freakouts and ended up with ninety-day fiancé.” He holds out his phone for her to take with his own channel pulled up.

She flicks though, and it is admittedly a lot of ninety-day fiancé, but when she flicks the ‘popular’ filter on, some of the thumbnails look kind of familiar. “Wait, like the old ‘Airline UK’ show? I used to watch some of those.”

Arthur grins. “Really?”

“Yeah, just compilations of the passengers screaming at the easy jet desk.”

There’s a mental note to watch them when she gets home (pr depending on how drunk she ends up, tomorrow) and see if they’re familiar.

It happens every now and then, watching a video then realising years later you’ve just met the person who made it. A couple of months after meeting George Clarkey at the gym she realised she’d watched him chase a beep around his garage on tiktok a year earlier.

“Maybe you saw some of mine.” Arthur offers a little shyly, as if he’s nervous about suggesting it. “They did decent numbers. It’s how I got started with youtube.”

“Yeah?”

He hums in agreement. “Needed something to pay the bills in Uni and youtube ended up being way more fun than Law.”

Lucy can’t help the judgemental tone that sneaks into her voice. “You studied Law?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He scoffs with a smile.

“No you’re just nicer than all the other law students I met while in Uni. Most of them were right pricks.”

Especially the one she’d dated in second year. He’d been good at first, but after a couple of pints he was anyone's. The guy played up on her all the time and it wasn’t until he tried hitting on the first year who’d just moved into Lucy’s student Accommodation that she finally called it off.

After that, all the law students who tried to chat her up at the Uni bars left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Not Arthur though. He isn’t quite a law student, she supposes, he’s a youtuber and Lucy does get on well with most of the UK scene. They were a good bunch and any of the dickheads were pretty easy to weed out- there is a couple she fully avoids, simply because she couldn’t be arsed putting up with them. Lucy scribbles Arthur’s name on the mental list of people she wouldn’t mind chatting to at the next party.

He’s got decent chat, certainly better than some of the dull people she’s put up with out of politeness and when he smiles, it’s a flash of pearly white. Teeth that all line up perfect- save for his pointed canines. She could stand to see it a bit more often, carve out some space for it in her chest amongst the fluttering of butterflies. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Luce.”

“Hurry up you two, stop dawdling!” Chris shouts from out the front of pub number three.

They wave him off with a few jeered ‘yeah, yeah’s but do pick up the pace a little.

“I meant to ask earlier,” Arthur says. “Want to put your purse in my bag? it looks like it’s bothering you.”

Her purse has been bothering her. It was the one she’d taken into the office and was more for fashion than function, a little black leather crossbody bag that she’s had over one shoulder so it doesn't make her boobs look weird on camera. It’s only really got her phone, earbuds and keys in it. She’s been keeping it at her hip with one hand but it’s getting tiring. “Yeah, thanks Arthur.”

He tucks it away gently, with much more care than he’d had with his own portable charger and pencil case a few minutes earlier. Arthur’s sweeter than she expected.

Not many of the youtube boys were sweet. Nice, friendly even, but part of being amongst them meant she could take the banter and hard hitting. Catch hurled comments that strangers would say border on cruel with her bleeding hands and hurl them back. There’s an added layer, being a woman online appearing on channels with a male dominated audience. A thick oily sheen that taints the comments of collab videos.

But Lucy has managed to find the youtubers she could stomach, some of which she spends more time with than others. George is her gym buddy, even if he’s been slacking lately. Will lacks enough of a social life that he tends to rot in the office just as late as she does so they always end up ordering Deliveroo and shit talking for an extra hour or two. She doesn’t mind the occasional pint with Harry or Tobi either. They’re all sweet, but sweet enough that it's threatening to make her blush? Well, only Chris made that far.

Lucy tucks that thought away and settles into the seat at the end of the table, tapping the toes of her shoes together idly as the production team set up go-pros and camera angles.

Pub number three was goalie rules. Six seconds to down a pint and it had to be done with keeper gloves.

All six sets set on the table are Large and it looks utterly ridiculous when they all don the gloves. Black and green leathery material that’s oddly padded on the inside, it feels weird enough that it sort of captivates her for a few moments, the new sensation against her hands. Lucy keeps balling her fists up then splaying her fingers again, listening to the scrunch of them before pressing her hands flat against the table to feel the padding compress and spring back up slightly when she released the pressure.

Arthur has a similar reaction, although he just starts running his hands over everything. From the wooden table to his own legs. Down Lucy’s right forearm where it rests on the table, over Chris’s head. The latter of which, he does so much that it actually gets a reaction, which Lucy is starting to think most of Arthur’s oddities don’t.

“Stop rubbing my head!” Chris squeaks, ducking away from Arthur’s widespread palms that are messing up his quiff. “Rub the head I want to be rubbed!”

Lucy snorts into her keeper glove when Chris gestures rudely to his crotch and Stephen goes to kick it from under the table.

Thankfully, before things can devolve into more dick jokes, a member of Chris’s team brings over a tray of pints.

Lucy and Arthur both get it down in one, but Chris fails- laughing after about an inch and having to set the drink down. Easy to say, no one is impressed and he earns them a yellow card for time wasting.

“How have you done worse than the females?” Arthur jokes, setting Chris’ still half full glass between Lucy and Becky’s empty ones.

“We’ll take ourselves back to the kitchen.” Becky declares, raising a hand for a high five that Arthur meets- an assurance that it’s all jokes- before leaning in to stage whisper to Lucy. “There might be pints in there.”

Despite England's mostly good performance, Calfreezy once again proves that he’s out to get them as he issues two yellows and a red card. Lucy and Chris take the penalty shots- tequila upon request- and there’s three points added to their tally as well.

It burns the back of her mouth and stings against her tongue. Whichever production member had fetched their shots did not return with the curiosity of a chaser. Still, it’s easier to down than a pint so Lucy takes what she can get.

Although, everyone seems to be under the impression that it’s going to finish her. Probably because she keels over coughing after getting it down. It’s the closest Lucy’s come to spitting out a drink all afternoon, which is saying something considering the IPA at the first pub was utter shit.

Her reaction has Steven so confident in his team’s performance that he starts demanding forfeits, anything from shots of the winners choice to public spankings in ‘piccadilly square’.

While Lucy focuses on not tripping over the drag of her platform shoes, the taste of tequila lingers on her tongue and haunts her all the way to the next pub.

[ masterlist ] [ part two ]

ink note: and we are underway! thanks so much for reading! feel free to send asks about the fic or check out the notes at the bottom of Lucy's masterlist to see how this fic is going to develop.

[ if you would like to be added to the fic's tag list, let me know in an ask and you'll be tagged when each chapter goes up :) ]

#arthurtv #arthurtv fics #arthurtv x oc #arthurtv x chrismd #arthur frederick #arthur frederick x oc #arthur frederick fics #chrismd #chrismd x oc #chrismd fics #chrismd x arthurtv x oc #chris dixon #chris dixon fics #chris dixon x oc

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daylighted · 18 days ago

Text

ㅤㅤ ㅤa birthday like this ─ dean winchester.

baby sister!winchester oc & dean winchester, called bug. or, the only one to remember her big brother's birthday.

not a series! exists purely for writing ideas i get that cannot fit an x reader plotline. dean is 22, bug is 6. bug will gradually age in each possible coming part.

warnings. pure fluff! dean's birthday has the baby fever so high. there's, like, background angst, but it's nothing too bad<3

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dean winchester decided that morning that he was not celebrating his birthday today. it'd been an idea long in the inner workings of his brain, mostly because there was no reason to celebrate it, on his end.

sam was away on a high school trip. john wouldn't be home for weeks, dean figured, so he signed the return slip in his place to at least grant his little brother that simple sense of normalcy. and bug was only starting to figure out that she was a person, let alone know what days were important compared to other days.

john was notorious for forgetting birthdays. he'd had a little girl when dean was sixteen and brought her home and seemed to forget that she even existed, most of the time.

the idea was cemented the morning of january 24th, when he woke up to his cellphone ringing on the bedside table next to him. for a moment, he really thought that his dad was calling to tell him happy birthday. for a moment, he was almost struck speechless.

but all john said on the other side of the line was a location, and a general debriefing of a case, before not-so-politely telling him to get on it.

dean was not disappointed, because he hadn't been expecting anything. but he was irritated. it was a prime example of the fact that he was only at home right now because someone needed to watch over bug, and it certainly wasn't going to be her father, who slipped away at the first chance he got. conveniently, dean was not told what to do with bug, so long as he took his father's orders and got shit done.

he slipped out of bed, a hand ruffling through his sleep mussed mop. through his gapped door, he could already hear bug singing to herself, and the sound of something getting scribbled on. of course he was set to have to clean crayon off of the walls on his birthday.

he changes out of his pajamas quickly and into a variation of his everyday wardrobe, and sighs heavily as he pushes open his bedroom door, bracing himself for the worst.

to dean's surprise, there was no mess. just a little girl sitting at the small kitchen table, hair more mussed than his was, still wearing the cowboy hat pajamas she loved so dearly. a piece of paper was in front of her, one that was being utterly decimated by the scribbles of a red crayon.

"hey, baby bug," dean sighs, his lips pulling into a tight smile, "hate to interrupt your riveting morning, but dad's got us goin' on the road tonight."

"on the road?" she asks, her head tilting to the side. still, her eyes don't leave the paper, her eyebrows furrowed as she focuses so heavily on the scribblings.

dean huffs out a laugh. "tell me about it."

bug is quiet for a second, the only sound in the room being the rough etches of her crayon against the paper. he realizes very quickly that if he wants to be in the car and to georgia before sundown, he's going to have to take matters into his own hands and get his baby sister moving.

his footsteps echo on the hardwood of the apartment's floor as he approaches, clapping his hands together a couple of times to gather bug's attention. his arms slip under hers as he yanks her out of the dinning chair. bug's fist crumples her paper to grab it as she's yanked, already stringing out unintelligible noises that he assumes are little kid curses.

"i know, i know," he says, tucking her to his chest with one arm as he carries her into what was once her and sam's shared room, but has now become hers alone. "but i wanna beat the sunset, and we can't do that if we're coloring all day."

bug's head tilts again. she looks so much like dean, sometimes. she's only his sister half-biologically, but there's so much of him and sam in her that he forgets it often. sam's little smile when she's amused, dean's nose scrunch when she's pissy. her nose is extremely scrunched up right now.

"can i bring my picture?" she asks as he rifles through the mess that was her room. at one point, a low point, he got tired of being her primary caregiver and let it get to this point. toys everywhere, sam's clothes littering the floor, her clothes in his dressers, her favorite dresses in her toy box...

he'd clean it up eventually, he promises himself every day. but rarely did he get time for himself or time at all to try, and most nights anyways, he had bug in his bed, an arm secured around her. there was no way he was going to run the risk of nearly losing her like he had with sam so long ago, when she was too little to know that possibility even existed.

dean helps her get properly dressed, running a brush through the tangly knots of her hair, before he answers. "promise not to color all over baby?"

the smile in the mirror's reflection was often the one thing that kept him from losing his mind. no, bug was not something he asked for, especially not to play father over her, but he could never be mad at her for that. "i promise."

"then sure," he says with a little shrug, grabbing a little sparkly ponytail from the top of the dresser and looping it through her hair, "only bring like, six colors, though. so we know if you lost 'em."

"my favorite ones?"

dean shrugs again, giving her ponytail a little tug before leaning down to scoop her up again. "you bring your favorite ones, i'll make sure we don't leave 'em anywhere, yeah? extra special crayon patrol duty."

packing for these on-the-spot trips had become routine at this point. bug had gotten used to it, too, by now, even unceremoniously declaring herself on snack duty, which meant dean was eating strawberry banana puffs and sipping apple juice for the duration of the drive. he handled the scarier stuff; the weapons, the toiletries, and diapers, before she'd grown up and no longer needed them.

it gives him pause for a second, when he's loading her into her carseat in the back, at how big she's gotten. does their dad even know that bug is nearly at his waist now? that she can argue dean in circles?

he doubts it. their dad didn't even remember his oldest's birthday, after all.

dean studies the map and the route while bug scribbles more in the background, still humming to herself. he's certain it's a baby medley of metallica songs, as certain as he is that this trip is going to take past sunset, regardless.

he scrubs a hand over his face and tries, really tries, to keep the irritation at a minimum. it was never bug's fault, but he wished sometimes that he didn't have to drag her into all of this, and so young, too.

the drive is strenuous; back roads melting into back roads, driving through small towns of people who also don't know it's his birthday. at least they have an excuse.

"dean!" bug screeches over the rock music, and when he glances in the rearview mirror, he meets her bright-eyed expression. "blue or purple?"

dean's mouth scrunches up as he thinks, an expression that bug mimics in the reflection back at him. his heart warms. "both."

"i can't do that!"

dean scoffs. "baby bug, you can do anything. you could make the freakin' sky green, if y'wanted."

he's guessing at this point, unsure of what she was even coloring back there. he hadn't gotten a glance at it back in the apartment, and definitely couldn't see anything but a mass of blurry colors from the rearview mirror.

"there is no sky." said as if dean was supposed to know the inner workings of his baby sister's brain. "it is a flower."

"blue petals, purple petals. easy."

one more glance in the mirror, and he watches as bug's expression shifts in realization. catches the start of an approving nod. of course he knew what he was talking about; who did anyone think taught her how to color within the lines?

it's always peaceful, somehow, on these long drives. bug keeps him company, which he actually appreciates. the silence might have ruined him if he kept subjecting himself to it. he remembers a time when she used to wake up from every car nap wailing, and he'd have to pull over and soothe her to sleep or handfeed her strawberry banana puffs. now, she was pretty much a little human, and he still couldn't believe it.

not his daughter, but he loved her like one, he thought. dean only wished that their father did, too.

the diner he pulls into is a little rundown, but he knows from experience that these are the best ones. hole in the walls of small towns that don't get the luxury of keeping them secret. he finds them all.

it's not even ten seconds after they're seated that bug cuts in, interrupting the waitress's rehearsed lines. "it's his birthday."

dean actually falters, stuttering over the stern words about politeness and whatever else you're supposed to teach to kids to not let them turn into his father.

the waitress's eyebrows raise, a little smile curling on her mouth. "that so?" she taps her pen on the pad of paper in her fingers before she looks over at dean. he doesn't like this. there was some sort of communication in that look on her face and on bug's that he was not getting. "want a milkshake?"

"no," dean starts, his lips pulled tight, his throat tight, everything a bit more intense now, for some reason, couldn't understand why.

at the same time, bug says, "yes."

the waitress winks and stalks off before he can do a thing about it. "baby bug." his voice is stern, but not as stern as he wants it to be.

bug sits up straighter in her seat, tilting her chin up in a way that indicated he was about to have his ass handed to him. "why don't you want a milkshake?"

the truth was that he didn't want a birthday, but he couldn't explain his pessimism to a toddler, so he says, "because big kids want something stronger than milkshakes."

"two milkshakes?"

his eyes close for a second. alcohol is probably not a good thing to teach toddlers about, either. "i didn't even think you knew today was my birthday," he says instead, nudging her little hand over the tabletop.

a look of pure befuddlement crosses over bug's expression. "i know birthdays."

the picture that she'd been working on all day makes an appearance on the table. he knew she'd been clutching something in her hand when he carried her into the diner, but hadn't been very focused on what she was doing. it'd been a long day, long drive. it was probably a crayon she'd lose and they'd have to come back in for before they continued driving. extra special crayon patrol duty and all.

it's edges are crumpled from her little fist gripping it so tightly, and the fold of it is jagged, but there in front of him is a card. the front of it is entirely made up of red hearts, only little bits of white paper peeking between them.

dean's eyes flick between her and the card a couple of times, his jaw loosing and closing and opening again. "you've been making this for me? all day?"

"it is very special." bug adjusts on her side of the booth, balanced on her knees as she leans across to the center of the table to open it. "look."

on one side is a giant purple and blue flower. purple petals scattered between blue petals, and a clear mix of blue and purple for the stem, layered atop each other. on the other side, in big letters, some backwards, some uppercase and some lowercase, is happy birthday dean!!!!!

dean feels a little like a baby himself, with the way his breath hitches. he can't cry over a birthday card. how pathetic would that make him?

"the back is not done." she slides the card closer to dean, urging him to take it, nose scrunching up in that familiar contempt. "you said we have to come n' eat."

dean takes it from her, flipping it over to see what had her so twisted up. his eyes actually do well up, then, at the sight of a big stick figure drawn in blue and purple, and a littler one next to it, holding its hand, in blue, purple, and pink. the dress on the littler one, as she said, was not done. neither was the green sky.

"thank you," he says, his voice a little more breathless than he wanted it to be, a lot more choked up than he expected. "m'gonna keep this forever, y'know."

bug doesn't even look fazed at the fact that he was damn near crying over a handmade birthday card. in fact, she looks downright smug, wearing sam's dimpled smile. "y'better. i worked really hard."

"yeah, baby bug. it shows."

the waitress slides a milkshake in front of dean, and a littler one in front of bug. then she turns without another word to go to the back of house again. dean's a little too raw to care that they hadn't even ordered yet, plucking the cherry off the top of the whipped cream and chewing on it to keep from thinking too hard.

bug's chugged half of her milkshake by the time the waitress comes back, a slice of pie on a little plate with a lit candle in its center. "it's not much, but..." she trails off, glancing between bug and dean with a little smile, "i figured this was a very big deal."

bug nods furiously, still not having stopped drinking her pink milkshake. the sugar rush was going to be impossible when they reached the hotel, but with how light dean was feeling, he might end up jumping on the bed with her.

"make a wish!" bug huffs, her little leg kicking out at dean's knee beneath the table.

dean stares down at the cherry pie, the whipped cream hiding the candle's base in it's foam. what did you wish for when things never tended to go right?

in his pocket, dean's phone buzzes. he blinks once, blinks twice, before answering. "sam?"

"hey!" sam's voice is like a soothing distraction to the ache in his chest. he figured the field trip would take up most of sam's attention, hadn't been expecting any sort of phone call or word from him until he came home. he'd had a lifetime of doubts that kept him from believing that anyone could consider him. "happy birthday, dean."

his heart falters in his chest again. dean smiles before he can stop himself. "thanks, sammy," he says, his voice still rough on the edges, "wanna talk to bug?"

bug's already reaching across the table to steal the phone, and as she does, dean considers the candlelit pie again. he listens to sam's muffled voice from the other side of the booth, and bug's excited recounting of her birthday card making, and he knows what to wish for.

another birthday like this, dean thinks, as the flame dissipates into smoke.

───────────────────────────────────

notes, cried writing this thank u for asking. this was one of those shower ideas that wouldn't go away, so... wrote it! anything for my birthday baby.

tags. @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @florchids @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous

#──★ dahlia's jrnl #sibling!reader #baby sibling!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester drabble #supernatural #spn #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #supernatural drabble #spn drabble #happy birthday dean winchester!#i don't remember who made this divider #but if u know #pls let a girl know

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Adult Education Part 7 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica can't get enough of the comfort she feels around Jake, and he can't help but press her to define what they are doing. Everything feels heated and still sweet when they hang out for the day, and when she brings up the alumni event, he's immediately onboard.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, eventually 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jessica couldn't remember the last time she felt this comfortable and confident around someone else. She had grown into the understanding that her own company was the best company for her, and especially for the past year, she had kept contact with most people to a minimum. Keeping them at a professional arm's length as much as possible. But when she was with Jake, she didn't feel like she needed to be quiet and keep her head down to survive.

"I got pretty much every kind of snack for today," he told her as they stood in his kitchen. "Just because I don't know all of your favorites yet."

Yet. That was the second time he'd made her heart flutter like this. He also told her he was getting attached to her. And now his cheeks were a little pink as she picked up some chips and salsa.

"I told you I'm not picky as long as you have Sam Adams for me."

"I'll make sure I always have it," he promised as he took two bottles out of the refrigerator and followed her to the living room. "You relax and shout to me if anyone scores, okay?"

"Where are you going?" she asked from her spot on the couch as he set the beers down and left again. She noticed the stack of journals she'd given him were sitting near the corner of the coffee table.

"Just going to add everything to the crockpot so we can have dinner later."

Jessica settled back into the cushions and watched him walk away, his shirt hugging his broad shoulders. He was perhaps even more handsome than Brian Conley, which was something she would have never thought possible. When she and Brian were sleeping together, she thought he was the most attractive man she'd ever seen. Ten years older. Gray hair mixed in with chestnut brown. Icy blue eyes. But now she was coming around to the idea of someone her own age, with lighter hair and pretty green eyes.

When Jake returned a minute later and settled down right next to her, even though there was plenty of room, she asked, "How old are you?"

He took the jar of salsa from her hand and opened it as he said, "Thirty. I'd ask you how old you are, but my mom would be really disappointed if she ever learned that I did. So if you'd like to tell me, that's fine, but I'm not asking."

Jessica laughed as she opened the bag of chips and curled her legs up onto the couch so her thigh was resting on his. "How would your mom ever find out anyway?"

Jake scoffed as he scooped salsa onto a chip. "You don't think she's going to want to meet my girlfriend?" He shoved the whole thing into his mouth before grabbing more. "She'd get the information out of you somehow, I'm sure."

She sat there quietly and broke a chip in half before nibbling on it as she tried not to smile. She hadn't been in a relationship since right after grad school. Most guys didn't seem inclined to want to do more than sleep with her. Her brand of nerdy was a hard sell. She was smarter than almost everyone else, she was introverted, and she preferred playing Dungeons & Dragons or reading a book to going out. Well, excluding an evening at Chippy's.

"I'm thirty one," she said softly with a grin.

"Perfect," he replied, casually scooping more salsa onto a chip. "I also wouldn't be upset if you told me if you bought that green underwear you were looking at on your phone."

She started nibbling on the other half of the chip as Jake's arm rubbed hers. "Maybe." He was looking at her out of the corner of his eye before turning away from the football game completely to face her. "Okay... yes, I bought the set," she said, biting her lip. "You're missing the game."

"I don't really care about the game all that much. Like I said before, I think I've gotta be the world's worst Longhorns fan."

"You're terrible," she confirmed as he held out the jar of salsa for her.

His gaze dipped down to her lips. "Why are you so far away?" he asked softly.

She wanted to laugh, because she was practically sitting on his lap. Instead she leaned in and kissed his cheek as she said, "What was I thinking?" Jake's body was big and warm and cozy as he draped his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled in close to him with her cheek resting on his chest. She dipped a chip into the jar he was holding and teased him with it before she shoved it into his mouth.

"Thanks, Baby," he murmured as he chewed it up. Then she took the jar and the chips and set them on the table and grabbed the beers instead. They sat cuddled up, sipping the drinks, and Jake was actually less annoying when the Longhorns scored than she had anticipated. She just relaxed into him as the condensation from her bottle dripped occasionally onto his jeans, but he didn't complain, so she didn't move.

"You want another one now?" he asked, taking her empty bottle in the same hand as his and kissing her hair.

"No," she whispered. "And don't get up. I'm comfortable."

"Okay," he replied softly, leaning forward just enough to let the bottles drop with a thud onto the area rug.

Jessica pushed him back with her palm on his abs, and she bit her lip as she felt his muscles. "I said don't move."

"You're in charge, Reedy."

--------------------------

This was all wildly thrilling for Jake. He was with a beautiful woman who wanted to chill on his couch and run her hand back and forth across his abs while they watched football together. He never did this kind of thing. Ever. This was indulgent in a way he didn't usually operate.

When Jessica looked up at him through her eyelashes, he reached over and adjusted her glasses. Then he felt her hand dip inside his shirt and come to rest just above his jeans, fingers stroking almost to the point of tickling. And he wasn't even watching the game. Maybe it was halftime. He wasn't sure. It didn't matter.

Why did he suddenly want a girlfriend so badly that he kept thinking about it? He was thinking about how this could be a normal weekend for him. And how he could have Jessica curled up with him like this in bed.

He was staring. He knew he was. But so was she. And her small hand was moving across his skin in the most addicting way. "Reedy," he whispered, and that was all it took. She planted her hand with her fingertips inside his jeans, and Jake groaned as she kissed him. When her hand slid up his abs to his chest and pulled his shirt up with it, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her until she was in his lap.

In the deepest recesses of his brain, Jake knew he couldn't let anything too wild happen today. Just kissing. Just like this. But when he let his hand trail down to Jessica's round ass, he realized the fabric of her leggings was thin and that he could feel her thong through it. It felt lacy. He wanted to know what it looked like.

He palmed her a little rougher, until she broke the kiss and rubbed herself against him. "Oh, Jessica," he groaned, taking in the sight of her wide eyes and crooked glasses. She was raking her fingers slowly through his chest hair while Jake squeezed her butt. He couldn't think straight as her lips met his again, and then his hand was up the back of her shirt.

Her skin was so damn soft, and Jake was not going to be able to conceal the fact that he was getting hard for her when her knee kept nudging him through his jeans. Her feather soft kisses were becoming more demanding as she brought her other hand up to ruin his tidy hair. And fuck if he could control himself.

In an instant, she was on her back along the couch with Jake on top of her. She let out a surprised giggle as her head came to rest on the cushion. "This okay?" he asked, kissing along her jaw.

Jessica responded by spreading her thighs so he could settle against her, and Jake had to keep reminding himself that this was a marathon, not a sprint. But her body was warm and inviting, and she was so responsive to his touch. Every gasp from her lips had him pushing his hands a little further up her sides and sucking a little harder on her neck.

"Jake," she moaned, rolling her hips up against him.

"Fuck," he gasped, one hand sliding between her back and the couch as he pushed himself against her this time. Her lips were parted, and she was digging her fingers into his shoulders. Jake moaned when she wrapped one leg around his hip. Her shirt was pushed up almost to her tits, and he wanted to taste all of her skin. But she pulled him close for another kiss, and Jake knew he had to pump the brakes.

He slowed it all down, easing his hand up to her back instead of her perfect ass. He let each kiss taper off until his lips were barely brushing hers. And then he felt her leg slide down from his hip as she took his hand and guided it further up her shirt until he was touching her bra. She chased his lips as he pulled away from her, and now she looked embarrassed.

"Jessica. Not a horny quickie on the couch. Not for our first time together."

"Okay. Right," she whispered, her fingers tracing along his neck. "Do you want to go to your bedroom?"

He kissed her cheek and said, "I think we should save it for another day."

As he slowly let his hand trail down her tummy, she turned her face toward the TV and laughed a little awkwardly. "Is it that obvious that it's been a long time for me? I'm sure that's not the case for you."

He didn't quite know what to say. "No, it's not obvious. And no, you're not wrong," he murmured, his brow creasing as he leaned closer for a soft kiss. Had it really just been two weeks ago that he brought someone home from the bar? "But it has actually been a very long time since someone mattered like you do. So the pacing is kind of important to me."

"You're sweet." A pretty smile touched her lips, and then he let himself kiss her belly before pulling her up so she was sitting and looking at him. Her hair was a little messy, and her glasses were crooked again, and Jake was suddenly afraid he was going to fuck this all up. She adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers and leaned in to kiss him one time.

It really was halftime now, and Jake watched her stand and look through the stack of journals on the table. Her voice was still soft and breathless as she glanced at him and asked, "Where's the one with my phone number? I wanted to show you something in the article I wrote."

Jake wanted to laugh or maybe cry. This woman thought he was smart. Well, he knew he was smart, but nobody else ever seemed to care if he was. "It's in my bedroom."

"It's in your bedroom?"

"Yeah," he replied easily. "I'm keeping that one for sure. You can have the rest of the journals back, but not that one. I worked hard for that phone number."

She giggled. "You really did. And you did great. Can I get it out of your room?"

He thought he was going to respond by telling her yes, but instead he suddenly asked, "Are you seeing anyone else?"

Now her expression was surprised as she came to stand between his spread legs, and he looked up at her. "Are you asking me if I'm meeting other men at Chippy's and during my office hours?"

Jake nodded and swallowed hard as she bent at the waist and let her hands rest on his knees. "Yeah. I'm sure Chippy would be delighted to see you with someone else."

"No," she laughed. "I'm not seeing anyone else. Are you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Good." Her hands slid up to his thighs as she kissed him, which was doing nothing to help him get rid of the awkward half erection he was sporting. "Is it cool if I grab the journal from your room?"

"Yeah," he grunted. "You'll see it in there."

When he watched her walk away, he groaned and sprawled out on the couch. He needed to pull himself together, or she would definitely be taking someone else to Chippy's soon.

-----------------------------

To Jessica's immediate delight, she found the journal on Jake's nightstand. It was even folded open to the page with her article and phone number. She picked it up and headed back to the couch where he was sprawled out now with his head propped up on the pillow. Hot, needy sex had sounded delicious twenty minutes ago when he was grinding against her, but when she looked at him right now, she knew that's not what she needed. She'd had plenty of that in Brian's office and the backseat of his SUV.

She didn't want to think about him. Not when Jake was reaching for her hand and pulling her down on top of him like she weighed nothing. He didn't even grunt or groan as she settled chest to chest with him. Her legs were tangled with his as he wrapped his arms around her, and she tried to keep the journal from getting smashed.

"What do you want to talk about? I think I have the whole thing memorized," he said softly, keeping his attention on her even though the second half of the game was on.

"I wanted to show you how I wrote about your Super Hornets," she said, unable to stop smiling now.

"Yeah, I saw that. You know more about the damn things than I do, Dr. Reed."

She laughed. "I'm Dr. Reed again?"

"Jessica," he whispered in that drawl that made her heart clench as he rubbed her back. "You ever been up in one before? You wanna fly with me one day?"

She let the journal slide to the floor as she gaped at him. "Would I be allowed? I've always wanted to!"

He shrugged. "I can investigate it. Or I could always sneak you out onto the tarmac after dark so you can sit in the cockpit."

"That sounds scandalous."

"It would be," he confirmed with a smirk. "You could sit on my lap. I could show my throttle. Teach you how to use it."

Jessica felt warm as she kissed him, his hands heavy on her lower back. But it was sweet and intentional instead of rushed even though she was straddling his abs. She was always at least slightly turned on when she was around Jake, and she was starting to suspect he felt the same way. But his restraint was sexy.

"I like this," she whispered between soft kisses as she ran the tip of her nose up along his.

"Me too, Baby," he replied, and when she bit her lip and pulled away a few inches to smile, he looked like he was in awe.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I just can't believe you're into me."

She rolled her eyes. "You're handsome. Everyone is into you."

"That's not what I meant," he said with a laugh. "And you're obviously better than everyone else."

Jessica had to reel in her ridiculous grin as she threaded her fingers through his soft hair. "Hey, can I ask you something? And feel free to say no, because it's probably going to be really, very dumb, and I won't be upset if you don't want to go-"

"Yes."

She stared at him for a beat. "I didn't even ask it yet."

"I know. Whatever it is, I'm in."

Once again, he was making her feel warm inside. And he still hadn't looked at the game. "So you'll be my date for a posh fraternity fundraiser for alumni weekend?"

He pushed her hair back behind her ear and said, "I don't think posh and fraternity belong in the same sentence together, but yes. I'd love to be your date. Since we're exclusive now."

"Oh, that was smoothe Lieutenant." She found herself tracing the lettering on his shirt as her cheek came to rest on his shoulder.

"I thought so, too," he whispered. Then she dozed off on him.

-------------------------

Jake held Jessica while she slept, her breaths soft on his neck while he watched the end of the game. He should really get up and stir the chili, but he didn't want to disturb her. If dinner wasn't edible, he would just order a pizza instead. No big deal.

She finally seemed fully comfortable with him. She was letting him hold her while she napped, and she wasn't shying away from the idea of them dating. He knew there was more to the picture with the way she made him work for it and the rumors Bradshaw's wife told him about. But she was so fucking sweet, Jake didn't care about what anyone else said. And it honestly turned him on when she made him earn his privileges with her.

She moaned softly in her sleep and wrapped her arm around him. He was going to have to ask Bradshaw or his wife what to wear to a frat party. That's somewhere he never thought he'd be caught dead, but he found himself wanting to make Jessica happy. So exceptions could be made.

Suddenly she popped up with both palms planted on his chest. "I can't believe I fell asleep," she mumbled, and Jake smiled at the mark on her face from where her glasses had been pressing.

"You want dinner?" he asked as she sat up straddling his hips. Her shirt had slipped a bit, and he could see the strap of her bra. And honestly, this position was enough to get him going, the way her breasts were clearly pressed together inside her A&M tee. When she nodded, he scooped her up as he sat and then stood.

She slid down his body with a little giggle, and soon they were both sitting on the stools at his kitchen island. He watched her dip a tortilla chip into her bowl of chili and take a bite. "This is so good," she gushed. "I don't know how to cook anything. You just put stuff in a crock pot? And it just cooks it into a meal?"

"Yep," he replied, trying not to laugh at the look on her face. Now he was thinking about buying her a crock pot. What the fuck was wrong with him? She took another bite and closed her eyes like it was the most pleasurable thing she'd ever tasted. "Baby, has nobody ever cooked for you before?"

"No," she moaned. "Unless you include my mom, and I only get to eat that for holidays. If I can manage to get back to Massachusetts."

He stroked her cheek with his fingers and said, "You want me to bring you dinner again this week? When you have office hours?"

She moaned again and climbed onto his lap to finish eating. Which turned into her straddling him again while he ran his hands all over her perfect ass again. And once again he could hardly believe he pumped the brakes so hard earlier, because eventually her lips were on his neck and her glasses were pressing into his jaw.

"If you come by on Tuesday, I'll wear something cute to work," she informed him, and his head tipped back.

"You always look cute."

"Then I'll wear something sexy."

Jake grunted. "Baby, you always look sexy." A few more brushes of her lips, and he found himself asking, "Do you want to spend the night?"

"Oh," she gasped, but she kissed his Adam's apple before pulling her lips away from him.

"We could cuddle. Make out," he clarified, meeting her eyes as she adjusted her glasses. "I could make you breakfast."

She bit her lip and then said, "See, this isn't fair. Now you know that the secret way to get me to do anything is with food. And I don't know what your secret is yet."

"Apparently it's girls with glasses."

Now she was laughing as she planted her hands on his shoulders. "I have a lot of work to do tomorrow at home. I need to start making up midterm exam questions."

"I could help you," he murmured, only half joking. "I solved your problem correctly the day we met, remember?"

"Jake, I will remember for the rest of my life how earnest you were the day we met."

He smiled, and he found his heart swelling with pride. "So you'll stay?"

"Next time," she whispered. "Next time I'll stay. And we can do more than cuddle and make out."

Jake pulled her a little closer with his hands still on her butt. "Yeah. Let's do that."

Eventually he packed up a container with the extra chili and linked his fingers with hers. He walked her to her car and kissed her until they were out of breath, and then he let her leave. But he missed her warmth and her hands on him. He ended up rereading her journal articles and looking up a recipe to make for Tuesday while he imagined just how sexy her outfit might be.

-------------------------

They are exclusive. She ordered the green set. She's dressing sexy on Tuesday. I'm ready. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 6 months ago

Text

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 12

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Some kissing. Implied Smut.

Word Count: 4,418

A/N: Here's Ch. 12. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

A/N 2: Within this chapter there's a reference to a popular waltz written in 1891, called After the Ball. I've included a link to a YouTube version so you can have an idea what it sounds like. The title of the song will be the link, within the body of the chapter.

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Early the next morning, Dean woke to Y/N's restless sighs and her constant shifting beside him. It seemed like she might be having less than pleasant dreams.

Cupping her jaw, he tried to soothe her with a soft kiss to the forehead. It worked and she stopped moving around so much. But a small frown still puckered her brow. Dean pulled her a little closer against him and she sighed softly as her face relaxed back into a calm sleep.

He hoped it wasn't him and their fight that was troubling her dreams. God knew he hadn't slept at all the night before; instead he spent all night missing her soft presence beside him.

He was getting a little too used to having her there, a little too used to having her in his life all together. She was clearly still up in the air about whether she was going to say yes or no to him.

I should create a little distance, just in case, he thought, stay home for one whole day and night. I need to be prepared for the possibility of her leaving in four days time.

But when he thought of her leaving, he felt a pit start to open in his stomach. And the idea of spending another one of their possibly limited days and nights away from her, made him start to feel panicked, and he absolutely hated that feeling.

He gritted his teeth. Definitely need some distance.

Y/N shifted again, burying her face in his shoulder, her soft sigh making a mockery of his warning to himself. He leaned down to kiss her temple and then her forehead.

She moaned lightly and rolled onto her back. Ignoring his body's response to the moan, he leaned down to place a soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

Like something from a fairytale, Y/N's eyes fluttered open and she stared at him a moment before her lips curved into a warm smile and she stretched, reaching her arms up over her head and giving another, much longer moan that was simply too hard for Dean to ignore.

So as she finished stretching, Dean rolled on top of her, bracing his weight on his forearms, and capturing her lips in a deep, probing, and very un-fairytale like kiss.

A soft whimper escaped her throat and he instinctively rolled his hips against the soft heat at the apex of her thighs and groaned deeply. Sometimes he wanted her so badly he could hardly breathe.

Sometimes? His inner voice mocked him.

As he ended the kiss, he pulled back and studied the lines of her face, marveling yet again at just how beautiful she truly was.

Y/N was slightly breathless as she gazed up at him.

“Well, good morning.” She said, her voice husky with sleep and desire.

“Merry Christmas.” Dean responded.

Y/N chuckled. “And a very, merry Christmas to you.”

He dipped his head and kissed her again, and again, and soon he was lost in the way she clung to him, the way her breath hitched when he slipped his hand between their bodies and stroked her, the way his name fell from her lips like drops of honey, sweet and utterly delicious.

Distancing himself could come later, he decided - tomorrow. After all, it was Christmas; he deserved the gift of Y/N.

Eventually, a long time later, they actually got up and started their day.

Y/N wandered into the bathroom doorway as he began to lather up his shaving soap with his horse hair brush and then apply it to his cheeks.

“So, I'm assuming you've also been invited to Christmas dinner?” She asked.

He grinned at her, with half his face lathered. “The Christmas dinner that's being prepared in my kitchen and served in my dining room?” He chuckled, going back to spreading the soap across his face. “Yeah, I got an invite.”

He finished covering his face and turned to look at her. “I thought we'd get there around one o’clock, since dinner starts at two?”

He picked up his straight razor and slowly dragged it across his cheek, removing the soap, and the whiskers with it.

“Oh I don't know if -” Y/N stopped as he took another swipe with the razor. “Aren't you afraid you'll cut yourself with that thing?”

Caught off guard by the question, it took Dean a moment to answer. He chuckled again and shook his head before continuing. “Not really, no. Been shaving since I was sixteen, I'm kind of used to it by now.”

He rinsed off the blade in the sink and then held it out to her.

“Wanna try?”

Y/N shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not! I'm not going to be responsible for scarring that beautiful face.”

Dean scoffed and laughed, taking the next swipe with the razor. “So, what don't you know about?” He said, referring to her earlier, truncated statement.

“Oh.” Y/N shook her head. “I don't know if we should go to dinner together. At the same time I mean. Won't that be a little obvious that we're…staying together?”

Dean dropped his hand as he was about to scrape off more whiskers, turning his head to fix Y/N with an incredulous look.

“Sweetheart, they're staying in my house and I've barely been home once since I moved you into this hotel.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “They know.”

He had to shake his head at Y/N's predictable blush.

She shrugged. “I suppose, but…”

Dean sighed. “Look, at the very least, they know we've been spending time together, right? So, is it really so strange that I'd offer to pick you up and drive you over?”

Y/N shook her head and Dean nodded. “Exactly.”

He went back to shaving as Y/N continued to watch him from the doorway. After a few minutes of silence, just as he was finishing up, Y/N cleared her throat.

“Can I ask you about something I didn't get the chance to last night?”

Dean grinned as he rinsed off his razor and left it open to dry fully.

“Uh oh. Do you have more phrases you want to know the meaning of?”

Y/N shook her head firmly, turning bright red, and Dean laughed as he bent to the sink to rinse away the last of the shaving soap.

Taking a deep breath Y/N spoke softly. “No, I was wondering…what happens when you…when you get married?”

Dean froze for a moment, the water rushing down the drain before he slowly stood straight and shut off the tap.

He could feel his stomach sink to his toes and then lodge in his throat. He tried to keep his voice steady as he grabbed a towel.

“That won't happen.”

Y/N let out a small, humorless chuckle. “Oh, you say that now. But then one day you'll see some beautiful young debutante across a crowded ballroom and fall head over heels, sweep her off her feet and march her down the aisle.”

“No.” He said succinctly before burying his face in the towel and rubbing it briskly over his cheeks.

“But, how do you know that?”

He pulled the towel away and scowled at her. “Because I know.”

She opened her mouth to speak again, but he slashed his hand through the air, raising his voice.

“No enough, Y/N! That's not something you'll ever have to worry about, so just drop it.”

The silence was loud between them as Y/N nodded.

“Alright.” She said softly.

The look on her face made Dean feel rotten for shouting at her, but he could still feel the panic rising and he needed to shut it down immediately.

He rubbed at his cheeks with the towel again before tossing it aside and walking over to her in the doorway. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms and bent forward to kiss her briefly.

“Why don't you ring for breakfast?”

Y/N nodded again and offered a small smile. “Alright. Though I feel a little like Ebenezer Scrooge, making the staff work on Christmas morning.”

Dean chuckled and nodded towards the end of the bed.

“My billfold is in the inside pocket of my suit jacket that you passionately tossed onto the floor last night.” He said, appreciating the pink that tinged her cheeks at that reminder.

“Grab it and pull out as much cash as you want for a nice Christmas bonus for the staff. Ease our Scrooge-ish guilt.”

Y/N laughed softly. “Alright. Eggs and sausages for you?”

Dean nodded. “Perfect.”

As Y/N moved off to get them breakfast, Dean took a deep breath and forced calm through his body.

It was Christmas; he just wanted to enjoy the day and not let the subject of marriage sour everything.

With that in mind, he forced a smile as he walked back into the room.

“Oh, and a coffee, black.”

***

Y/N leaned back from the table as she finished off the last of her honey-drizzled croissant and licked her finger tips with ravenous delight.

“That was so delicious I could eat a dozen of them myself!"

Dean chuckled and leaned over to thumb away some of the flaky pastry that had stuck to her bottom lip before kissing her softly.

He pulled away, licking his lips. “Mmm…yep, delicious.” He said with a gentle smile.

His green eyes radiated warmth as they stared into hers and Y/N felt her insides turn to mush. She lowered her gaze; she couldn't keep believing those looks.

Yes, Dean liked her, he was obviously attracted to her, and seemed to enjoy spending time with her. But that was where things ended for him.

He'd been perfectly clear about his obvious disdain for the idea of marrying her. She'd merely mentioned the subject of marriage and he'd angrily shouted her down.

It didn't take a genius to understand the rejection in that anger. She wouldn't bring it up again. She didn't need to have her heart pulverized any further.

She loved him and he liked her. And that was the end of it.

She smiled at him now and pushed away from the table. “I got you something for Christmas.”

He grinned and nodded. “Me too.” He went to his greatcoat where it hung by the door and reached into an inside pocket.

Feeling happiness bubble up inside of her despite everything, Y/N went to the top drawer of her wardrobe where a small square box was wrapped and hidden.

They sat in the big green chairs, shifting them slightly so they faced each other a little more.

Y/N quickly passed Dean his gift. “Open it. I hope you like it. I picked it out two days ago and have been dying to give it to you. I'm bad at keeping secrets.”

Dean chuckled as he tore away the wrapping and lifted the lid of the flat box. He reached in to lift out a blue and green striped, silk tie.

“Y/N this is beautiful. But you spent too much money on it.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, it's fine.”

She'd bought it out of her own meager savings because it didn't feel right to buy something for Dean with his own money. It had been a little pricey, but it was worth it to see him looking at it so admiringly.

“So, you like it?”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “It's great and I can wear it to dinner. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Y/N said shyly.

Dean passed her a medium-sized, square box; it was white, and wrapped with a silver bow.

“The bow got a little crushed in my pocket, sorry.” He said, trying to fluff it back up.

Y/N chuckled as she took the box from him. She untied the bow and quickly attached to the end of her braid.

“No, it's perfect.”

Dean smiled. “Suits you.” He nodded impatiently towards the box. “Open it.” He said, excitedly.

Y/N laughed. “Alright, alright.”

She lifted off the lid and pushed aside the shredded paper inside, trying to see what it was protecting.

Lying beneath the paper was a small glass ornament. Y/N picked it up slowly and gasped when she saw what it was.

“It's a snow globe.” Dean said, enthusiastically. “Well, sort of “ He finished with a grin.

It was a snow globe, except instead of snow falling, there were tiny, soft pink flower petals floating within the scene encased in glass.

There was a lush painted scene of a rolling green hill and a path lined with cherry trees rising up over it. Tiny, carved, painted people strolled under the trees, while off to the side, a huge fairway had been created in miniature.

There was a big ferris wheel and a carousel. Games were shown, ring toss, and bullseye. More tiny people played the games, forever frozen in their playful excitement.

The globe sat atop a beautiful, polished, cherry wood base, intricately carved with curling, trailing vines and leaves. And in the very middle of the base, in bold, black lettering, were the words “The Omaha World’s Fair. 1898.”

It was exquisitely created, a perfect miniature depiction of springtime and joy. It was so beautiful and so perfect a gift, that it brought tears to Y/N’s eyes which she rapidly blinked away. She looked up at Dean, and she must have seemed stunned because he gave her a puzzled look.

“Do you like it?”

Y/N could only nod as she tilted it upside down again to make the flower petals float. She could hear the smile in Dean’s voice even if she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the idyllic scene to see it.

“I figured it would have to do until we can get you to the real thing in a few years.” He said. Y/N finally turned her head to look back at him.

“It’s perfect, Dean. So, incredibly beautiful.”

“Good.” He said with a slightly shy smile. He gave a small shrug. “I saw it in a little curio shop window on my way to work a few days ago and I just had to stop and get it for you.”

He pointed towards the globe. “It’s a music box too. Look at the bottom.”

Y/N turned it over to find a winding mechanism on the bottom. She twisted it as far as it would go, and the popular waltz After the Ball, began playing in bright, sparkly notes.

As she flipped the ornament right side up, she gave a little squeal of delight, pointing to the fair scene inside. “The ferris wheel and carousel are moving!”

Y/N watched the intricate movements and the gentle fall of the petals and was completely and utterly entranced by the beauty and ingenuity on display.

Impulsively, she set down the globe on the table and launched herself into Dean’s arms.

“Oof!” He grunted as she leapt on him.

“I love it so much, Dean. Thank you.”

He nodded. “I'm glad. And you're very welcome.”

He bent his head and spent a moment kissing her senseless before sweeping her up into his arms and waltzing her around the room as she clung to his neck and giggled helplessly.

After a minute she was giddily dizzy, and as the last notes of the music box fell away she buried her face in Dean’s neck to try and stop the room spinning. He finally landed them back in the green chair and she dared to open her eyes.

She laid her hand against his jaw and pulled his lips down to hers. When she pulled away there were tears in her eyes again.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.” She told him truthfully.

Dean kissed the tip of her nose and then each corner of her mouth. “Good.” He said with a gentle smile. They sat cuddled in the chair for a little while, just enjoying each other’s warmth and closeness.

Finally Dean kissed the top of her head. “Hey, that storm last night blew away most of the freezing weather. Wanna take a walk? Might be the only time in New York when we get the sidewalks mostly to ourselves.”

Y/N laughed. “That sounds wonderful.”

Dean patted her hip and she climbed off of him. “Then let’s go.” He said with enthusiasm as he headed off to get dressed.

Y/N sank back onto the chair for a moment and picked up her gift, tilting it and winding it up again to watch the scene unfold, with Dean’s words echoing in her mind.

“I figured it would have to do until we can get you to the real thing in a few years.”

For a moment she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to dwell on the happy picture she conjured. She and Dean dressed in their finest spring fashions and strolling the fairways and cherry tree lined sidewalks. Sam and Jessica walked ahead of them, with Lucy between them, holding their hands. Their laughter was carried away by the soft breezes that pulled at her skirts and ruffled Lucy's hair.

The idyllic image melted away though, when she realized that even if she and Dean were still together in three and a half year’s time, they wouldn’t be strolling hand in hand, walking with his family, out in public at such a wholesome, family outing. If they went, they’d go after dark, and they’d go alone. Happy family time was not meant for mistresses.

She set the snow globe down along with her ridiculous fantasies, and moved off to get dressed.

***

“Miss Y/N!” As Y/N stepped through the door that the butler, Grant, held open, Lucy Winchester tackled her, wrapping her little arms as far as they could reach around Y/N’s legs, nearly bowling her over.

“Lucy!” Jessica called out as she and Sam came into the foyer. “For pity’s sake, let Miss Y/N through the door before you attack her.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing. “No, it’s fine. I’ve missed you too, little miss.” She said, patting the girl's dark hair.

Dean walked in behind Y/N and gave Lucy a pretend scowl. “What’s this? Are you saving any of those hugs for your uncle who has spoiled you so rotten this Christmas?”

Lucy squealed and immediately ran at Dean so he could throw her up in the air and then into his arms.

Jessica came forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a crooked grin. “Yes, a messenger delivered all her gifts yesterday. It was everything we could do to keep her from tearing into them immediately. You have indeed, utterly spoiled her. I mean, you always spoil her, but this might be considered obscene.”

Dean grinned. “It isn’t every Christmas that I actually get to see my little Luce on Christmas Day. Gotta make it special.” He then walked out of the entryway with Lucy still in his arms, playing a game where he pretended to drop her, just so he could catch her again, over and over.

Jessica just rolled her eyes indulgently and led them all into the parlor where the Christmas tree sat in all its majestic glory.

They relaxed in the parlor for almost an hour, visiting and chatting, about Sam's conference, about all the places Jessica and Lucy had been throughout New York.

Dean told them about taking Y/N skating. “Couldn't stay on her feet.” He tattled with a teasing grin.

Y/N blushed. “I told you, it's been a long time since I skated.”

“Well, you won't be able to use that excuse next time.” Dean teased her and everyone laughed.

When they finally went into the dining room for dinner, Y/N gasped. The table was laid out beautifully and extravagantly.

“Jessica! This is stunning.” she praised.

Jessica smiled. “Thank you, but I couldn't have possibly put this together without Mrs. Simmons” She turned to Dean. “You should count yourself lucky to have her as your housekeeper, and maybe consider giving her a raise.”

Dean grinned as he pulled out Y/N's chair and then sat beside her. “I'll do that.”

Everything was beyond delicious and Jessica reminded Dean to give his cook, Mrs. Plessi, a raise too.

The conversation flowed surprisingly easy. Y/N had been worried things would be stilted or awkward with everything that was going on. But the dinner was filled with laughter and happiness and Y/N was having a wonderful time, pushing aside all the negativity that wanted to bubble up inside her.

After dinner was finished and they were all fuller than they needed to be, they moved back into the parlor, so everyone could exchange gifts.

Y/N got a beautiful pair of kidskin gloves from Sam and Jessica and a crudely stitched, pincushion doll from Lucy. She suspected the little one had gotten a lot of help from Jessica, but the little girl's eyes shone proudly as Y/N exclaimed over how beautiful it was and how talented a seamstress Lucy was.

She spent the rest of the afternoon playing with all her new toys, introducing her porcelain doll, Esmeralda, to the stuffed bear and cloth doll her parents had gotten for her, and promising they were all going to be best friends.

She gave Sam and Jessica a pretty little glass ornament for their tree with the words, “Christmas 1900” painted on it, and she gave Lucy a book of nursery rhymes.

The adults all exchanged gifts, but of course Lucy got the most gifts of them all, and a lot of those were from Dean. She went a little mad as she pulled them all open. Her screeching joy over the last gift she opened, a porcelain doll with real hair, had everyone laughing.

Eventually, she put her dolls to sleep and crawled up on Dean's lap to get him to read her some of her nursery rhymes. He obliged and the silliness of the rhymes kept them all entertained for a while.

Y/N looked at Lucy in Dean's lap, her rosy cheeks glowing with delight as he read to her, and she felt her heart swell in her chest.

Halfway through the book, Dean set it down and repositioned Lucy in his lap.

“These nursery rhymes are great, but I think we should go for a horsey ride. What do you think?”

“Oh boy!” Lucy cried, clapping her hands.

“Oh boy.” Sam said with a groan. “Not this close to bedtime.“ He told Dean, who chose to ignore him

He sat Lucy on his knee so that it looked like she was riding sidesaddle. Moving his leg sedately up and down, he sung the simple words to the nursery rhyme.

“This is the way a lady rides, lady rides, lady rides. This is the way a lady rides all through the town.”

Shifting her so that one chubby leg dangled on either side of his knee, he picked up the pace slightly, but still kept a steady rhythmic ”prancing” throughout the next part of the song.

“This is the way a gentleman rides, gentleman rides, gentleman rides. This is the way a gentleman rides all through the town.”

Lucy began giggling like mad, obviously well-aware of what was coming next.

“Hang on, l’il pardner!” Dean told Lucy in a would-be western accent.

He began bouncing and twisting his knee all around like a broncing bull, making Lucy squeal and grab on to her Uncle's kneecap. Dean had an iron grip around her waist as he sang the last verse.

“This is the way a cowboy rides, cowboy rides, cowboy rides. This is the way a cowboy rides all through the town.”

He kept her on the bucking bronco for a little while, slowing down every once in a while, only to speed back up and start Lucy cackling all over again.

This will never be mine. I'll never have this with him.

Y/N was laughing as she watched the sheer delight on her little student's face. Sam and Jessica were laughing too, and it was a warm, precious moment.

But it was in that precise moment, when her heart was full and happy, that the realization pierced through Y/N once again.

It was impossible. Even if she stayed with Dean, no matter what, she'd never have this simple, domestic happiness. She'd never watch him bounce their little girl on his knee, never go to the park together as a family and watch him teach their son to fly a kite.

They wouldn't sit down to Christmas or Easter dinners with friends and family. She and Dean wouldn't watch their children grow up, would never watch each other grow old.

She'd get a few years with Dean at most, and when he was through, her only option would be to move into another man's bed. Maybe she'd be able to wait a year, maybe even longer if Dean was generous.

But no matter what, even if Dean gave her enough to live off of for ten years, they would be empty years. Alone years.

This would never be her life.

Tears gathered fast and thick behind her eyes, and she looked away from Dean and Lucy quickly.

“Excuse me.” She said with what she hoped was a believable smile, as she walked briskly from the room. She escaped across the foyer and into Dean's study just before she broke into tears.

She sat down on the couch and buried her face in her hands, the tears flowing freely despite her desperate attempt to make them stop.

The door opened and Y/N jumped up, worried it was going to be Dean. But instead Jessica was poking her head around the door and then sliding inside.

“I thought I saw you disappear into this room.” She said gently.

Y/N tried to dash away her tears surreptitiously. But Jessica had already seen them. She didn't seem surprised by them, and she didn't ask Y/N what was wrong.

She simply stepped forward and placed a consoling hand on Y/N's arm.

“You love him.” She said plainly, but with immense sympathy in her tone.

Y/N thought about lying, but there was no point. So she nodded and felt a sob escape her chest. Jessica stepped forward and pulled Y/N into a hug, wrapping her up tightly and letting Y/N muffle her tears in the soft green wool of her dress.

Y/N cried until her throat hurt and her head ached. When she was finished, Jessica sat beside her on the couch for a little while.

“I'm sorry, Y/N.” She said quietly.

But Y/N shook her head. “No, you warned me.”

Jessica sighed. “I'm still sorry you're being hurt. I could maybe talk to him abou-”

“No!” Y/N said immediately. The only thing she could think of that would be worse than loving Dean when he didn't love her back, was him knowing how she felt and being annoyed by her unwanted feelings or else, worst of all, feeling sorry for her.

“No, it's fine, I don't think there's anything to say to him that's going to change his mind. But thank you.”

Jessica nodded. “I'll give you a few minutes alone, and I'll make sure no one comes in here till you come out.”

Y/N nodded and gave Jessica a smile, grateful to get the time to try and look presentable again.

When she was alone, she took deep shuddering breaths and smoothed down her hair. As she let her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks recover, thoughts began to unfold in her mind and she came to another realization.

She couldn't say yes to Dean.

She couldn't have him for a little while and then just lose him; she couldn't have him, without ever really having him. If walking away now was going to break her heart, how much worse would it be after she'd spent years with him and was then forced to walk away?

She couldn't say yes.

But she also realized that before they parted ways there was one thing she had to do.

Eventually she felt a little more normal, and looking at her reflection in the darkened window, it looked like most of the traces of her tears were gone. So, she rejoined the group in the parlor.

They only stayed another few minutes however, since it was getting to be past Lucy's bedtime.

There were many good wishes exchanged and sleepy hugs from Lucy. Jessica gave Y/N another quick, tight hug, and she and Dean were soon on their way in the hack that rolled up outside the door.

As they made their way through the deserted New York City streets, Y/N slid closer to Dean on the seat, wrapping her arms around his and leaning her head on his shoulder as they bumped along the cobblestone.

She held his hand all the way through the snowy path that led to the garden doors; she didn't want to let go of him.

But when they got inside, they separated so Dean could light some lamps and Y/N could get out of her coat and boots. After Dean had done the same, she was again at his side. She pulled him close and kissed him softly.

Dean tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back. He looked down at her with heat in his gaze and she allowed all her passion for him to show in hers.

“I want to give you something for Christmas.” She whispered.

Dean smiled and pulled his tie loose, lifting the end towards her. “But you already did.”

Y/N shook her head. “I want to give you something else too.”

“Alright. What's that?” Dean asked with a warm smile.

Y/N hesitated for the span of a breath before answering.

“Me.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

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#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester au #dean winchester fan fic series #dean winchester au series #dean winchester au fan fic #dean winchester

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kaleldobrev · 4 months ago

Text

Jennifer Love Hewitted (6) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Joey Baxter (Ghost!OC) & Dr. Falko (Ghost!OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing (2x), Age Gap (15 years), Emotional Bonding, Vulnerable Dean, Vulnerable Reader, Misogynistic Comments & Sexual Tension

Authors Note: Get ready for some traumatic reader backstory of why she got into hunting | One more part after this guys! | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | As always, thoughts are in italics and the “POV’s” switch between Dean & Reader | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⬸ Go Back & Read Chapter 5

Dean took over driving for you, as you looked out of the passenger side window; tears still slightly in your eyes. You were almost done telling the story of how you started hunting, but yet, there was still so much to tell. But even with the small amount you had told Dean, it was an amount that people rarely got — it was basically the extent of the knowledge your parents were given.

“Can I ask you something?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, and nodded. “Of course.”

“It’s about Joey,” Dean began. “And I’ll preface this now, you don’t have to answer. I just wanna understand.”

“What about Joey?” You asked.

“Is the reason your speciality is in poltergeists, is because Joey was one?” He asked, and you felt your heart almost sink, and your face slowly dropped into a frown.

“Y-yeah,” you mumbled. “Yes,” you answered again, but more prominently. “His…his spirit was attached to his dog tags but…not anymore. I um…I was able to put him to rest.”

“Without burning them?” Dean questioned, slightly intrigued. “Huh,” he said, tilting his head.

You nodded. “When his parents got his dog tags and the flag, they told me that if I ever wanted to come over and just sit in his room, I could. And for the longest time, I just…I couldn’t do it. I felt like if I did, I would break down, and I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to just sit in his room and stare at all the pictures of him and reminisce about all the memories we had together. But, that changed when I overheard his mother talking to my mom about how things in his room wouldn’t be where they used to be. Or how randomly certain objects would be broken.” You sighed, thinking back. “I asked her if I could sit in his room for a while, and when I did, it felt…weird. Weird in the sense of, there was this energy that was there that was confused.”

“And that was Joey?” Dean asked, and you nodded in response.

“When I was sitting in his room, I…saw him. And, it’s weird because…I wasn’t scared. I would have been I mean, normal people get scared when they see ghosts but…not me…I was…happy in a way because I didn’t properly get to say goodbye to him.”

5 years ago…

As you sat on the floor thinking about all of the memories you had with Joey, and the moments that you knew would never happen with him, your heart felt crushed, and your stomach felt like it was in knots. You had lost a person you had known practically your entire life, someone that you had loved with all of your being, and you never got to say goodbye to him; and never got to tell him how much he truly meant to you. Yes, Joey knew how much you had loved him, but he (at least you thought), didn’t know the extent in which you did.

Your parents and his would often joke that the two of you would end up together; and what started out as a joke, was something that sounded like a strong and real possibility to you, it was something that you didn’t dislike by any means. He was kind, funny, and made you feel safe. He was someone that you could talk to about anything, and would always listen to you ramble on about anything. You loved him, and even now, you weren’t entirely sure if it was romantic or platonic love — you just knew that you loved him, and loved the idea of spending the rest of your life with him, no matter what that looked like.

“Oh Joey,” you mumbled, hugging your knees close to your chest, staring down at the floor.

“I miss you so much,” you heard a male voice say; the voice sounding scarily similar to Joey’s. “I wish you could see me.”

You felt like you should be scared hearing his voice, but you weren’t. Everything in your entire body was giving the exact opposite — you were glad, glad to hear the sound of his voice.

As you started to look up from the floor, you noticed brown boots with legs attached to them, that weren’t there previously. Your heart was rushing, but you felt calm at the same time. When you had looked up, the legs that were attached to those boots were Joey. He wasn’t solid, but he was solid enough that it felt like he was actually standing there. “Joey,” you said, and smiled briefly, trying to contain the tears in your eyes.

“You can see me?” He asked, his tone mixed with happiness, confusion and relief.

“Yes,” you nodded. “And I miss you too.”

Present Day…

“I was able to put him to rest by telling him that I loved him.” You stopped picking at your cuticles and looked up at Dean, who was now looking back at you. You couldn’t tell what look he was giving you, but it was far from pity; and you were extremely thankful for that, because the last thing you wanted was for him to pity you. “And I think that’s all he wanted to hear, because as soon as I said that, he said he saw a woman that wanted to take him.”

“He saw a reaper,” Dean stated.

“He did,” you replied back. “And that’s why my specialty is in poltergeists, and why I got into hunting the way I did. I wanted to be able to not only help people but…monsters that might have lost their way.”

“You’re the only person besides me that knows the full story,” you stated.

Dean didn’t know what to say, but he was intrigued to say the least, hearing how you got into hunting so young, and how you viewed monsters compared to other hunters he had met over the years. When he first started out, he didn’t view it the way you had viewed it, nor did he view the way he did now. He was raised to believe that hunting was black and white and there was no gray area. There was either good or evil. But over the years, he had come to realize that hunting wasn’t as black and white as his father had led on; that there were so many gray areas he didn’t realize were there. And besides Bobby, brother, and Garth, you were one of the first hunters to have that point of view. It was refreshing.

“Thanks for telling me,” Dean said. “I know it must of been hard to. Getting into this line of work ain’t easy, that’s for sure.”

“It sure isn’t. My parents didn’t want me to do this obviously but, they know that there is nothing else I’d rather do than this,” you said, and he could hear a slight smile on your lips. “I feel, I feel like hunting is what I was meant to do.”

Dean couldn’t help but agree, as much as he wanted to disagree. For years, he had mixed feelings about hunting. He’s loved and hated it on and off. At times, he felt that this was the only thing he could see himself doing, but at others, he saw himself doing a variety of other things than this. Mechanic, firefighter; those were his top two. Hell, even rock star at one point.

Multiple times, he had tried to have a normal life away from all this; but each and every time, he always managed to get roped back in. He knew, that as long as he was alive, this is what he was going to be doing, whether he liked it or not. He was meant for this like you were.

Arriving at the university, Dean didn’t pull into the lot as when the two of you were doing some reconnaissance on the place, you had found that the university parking lot (mainly the medical building) had a crap ton of cameras; and the last thing either one of you wanted was to have your truck or his Baby tracked by the police. You have never been on the police’s radar, but Dean on the other hand, had been on the FBI’s Most Wanted list more times than he could count at this point — an impressive yet not so impressive feat in itself.

Walking to the back of the building, you managed to find a dumpster that was conveniently below a window that the two of you could jump on and use as a way to get in. “Jack pot,” you grinned. “Lift me up?” You asked Dean.

As Dean lifted you, you couldn’t help but notice how gentle he was weirdly being; and you weren’t quite sure why. “Now’s not the time to be gentle,” you said, and you heard Dean let out a small chuckle.

“Kinky,” you saw him wink, and you rolled your eyes at his response.

Getting on top of the dumper, Dean followed you up, and you opened up the window; thankful that it was weirdly not locked, and shimmied your way in; followed by Dean, who had a little bit more of a struggle getting into the window than you did.

Compared to your graceful fall to your feet from the window, Dean on the other hand…not so much, as he practically fell almost face first onto the floor. Hearing the loud thud, your heart started to beat wildly, praying no one else was here that could have possibly heard that. You turned to Dean, who was currently getting up from the floor, wiping his jeans off as he stood up. “You okay there Spider-Man?” You joked, smirking at him.

“You okay there Spider-Man?” He mocked, mumbling.

Finding the medical instruments was the easy part, but the not so easy part was them being behind some glass. “Okay MacGuyver, you have anything to break this?” He asked. “Because the only way I see breaking this glass is with my gun.”

You gave him a confused look. “Shooting the glass is your first instinct?” He shrugged. “Interesting,” you said, tilting your heard. “I have this.” You went into your pocket and pulled out a large hunting knife, handing it handle first to Dean. “Would you like to do the honors?” Dean looked at the knife for a moment, eyeing it up and down. “Take it, it won’t bite,” you said.

Taking the knife from your hand, Dean held it in his for a moment. “This fit in your pocket?” He asked. You were intrigued that, that was what he was most interested in, not the fact that you had a large hunting knife like that in your pocket to begin with.

“Yeah. You can never be too prepared,” you said, shrugging.

“Couldn’t agree more,” he grinned, as he started making clean cuts on the glass.

He was impressed by how sharp this knife was, and how easily you had managed to fit this in your jacket pocket given the length. What impressed him even more was the fact that you didn’t even have anything covering the blade; it was simply just protected by the pocket inside your jacket.

The more time he spent with you, the more he didn’t want to spend without you. In the short amount of time he had spent with you, he had felt a sense of peace and comfort; something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Yes, he felt a sense of peace at the Bunker, and sometimes around Sam and Cas; but, with you, it was a different kind of peace and comfort, like he could be more himself around you. And he guessed that you may have felt the same way, as you told him the story about Joey, a story that you never really told people, but had told him. You even cried in front of him.

Holding you in the truck while you were crying, he didn’t feel bad for you, and he didn’t pity you; he understood the hurt that you were feeling, and understood the kind of pain that you were feeling. So many times in his life, he has had to say goodbye to the ones he loved; and it always felt like a knife to the chest or a bullet to the heart. It reminded him of the feeling he experienced when the Hell Hounds ripped him to shreds before he went to Hell.

Once Dean cut the glass, he handed you back your knife, and he started to remove the instruments one by one. The both of you exchanging looks of confusion. “Why does this feel like it’s too easy?” You asked him.

“If it’s too easy, we’re probably missing something,” Dean suggested. “It’s never this fucking easy.”

As if that was some kind of cue, Falko appeared in front of you. The look on his face wasn’t one of anger, it looked almost confused. “What are you doing?” He asked, and you and Dean exchanged looks again before looking at Falko.

“Please tell me you’re seeing that too?” You asked Dean.

“I sure am,” he said, continuing to make eye contact with the spirit.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Falko said, this time, his tone was angrier; his hands behind his back.

Dean looked at you, and gave you the look. “What?” You whispered to him.

“Do the thing,” Dean half whispered.

“What thing?” You whispered back.

“That poltergeist sixth sense shit you did with Joey,” he said.

“What makes you think it’s gonna work on him?” You whispered through gritted teeth.

As if Falko was tired of you and Dean going back and forth, he snapped his fingers, and both you and Dean were on the other side of the room, pinned against the wall. “I don’t like when people touch my equipment,” he said calmly. He tried to touch his own equipment that you and Dean had removed from the glass, but it was useless, his fingers just went through them. “All I want to do is finish my work, and I can’t do that if people keep taking what’s mine,” his voice was starting to get angry now.

“Are you sure you can’t do the thing?” Dean asked, looking at you, the two of you still pinned to the wall.

You rolled your eyes. “No Dean, I can’t do the thing.”

“Can you try?” Dean asked, his voice almost begging, but not fully; it almost sounded a tad desperate.

You rolled your eyes again. “For the love of,” you mumbled. “Hey doctor Falko,” you said, and Falko looked at you. “I know how you can finish your work.”

He tilted his head and walked toward you; the smell of blood and rubbing alcohol hit your nose. “How my dear?” He asked. “Are you going to let me continue my work on you?” He reached out his hand toward your hair, and much like the instruments, he couldn’t touch you.

“No, but, I can do you something better,” you began. “You may not like the sound of it but, it’s the only way you’ll be able to finish your work. You just have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” He asked, and he let out a small chuckle. “But you’re a woman my dear. Why should I trust anything a woman has to say?” Wow, misogynistic much? You thought, trying your best not to roll his eyes.

“Fine don’t trust me. Then you’ll never know how you can continue on with your work,” you said. “Your life’s work, might I add.”

Falko looked between you and Dean, and it seemed as though Falko was starting to get frustrated with you. You were teasing him, and his ego wouldn’t allow someone like you to do that to him. That’s when Falko looked over at Dean. “Do you know what she is talking about?” He moved close to Dean, and it was his turn to smell the rubbing alcohol and blood in his nose now. “Huh, what’s this?” He asked, and reached out toward Dean. Part of his sleeve had fell down his arm, revealing the Mark. “Never in my years have I ever seen such a thing.” Again, Falko couldn’t touch what he wanted, and both you and Dean were starting to see him getting more and more frustrated.

“I’ll make you a deal —” Dean began.

Falko chuckled. “You’re in no position to be making deals with me, son.”

“Fine. Don’t make a deal with me. Then you’ll never know what this beauty can do,” Dean teased, grinning at the doctor.

“The both of you are infuriating,” Falko mumbled harshly. “What’s the deal? I need to finish my life’s work. I’ll do anything to be remembered.”

Jackpot, Dean thought. “I’ll tell you what this can do if you listen to her first. If you don’t listen to her, then no deal.”

“I could always just kill you both,” Falko said, as he started pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back.

“You could but, then you’ll never know the things that him and I know. We’re the only ones that can tell you how you can finish your life’s work without interruption and all of the resources you could ever dream of,” the words you spoke rolled off your tongue with ease. How many times have you done this before? Dean wondered.

Falko was starting to get more angry, items in the room you were in were starting to shake, and shake violently. “Last chance doctor,” you said. You had no fear in this situation, and Dean was impressed at how calm you were right now. The items kept shaking violently, and you were still calm as could be. “Five…four…” you started to count down, and the more you counted, the more violent the shaking got. “Two…”

“Okay!” Falko shouted, and everything stopped shaking, you and Dean fell to the ground. “Tell me,” he said, as he stood over you. Dean couldn’t help but start to tense up, seeing how close the doctor was to you. He didn’t want anything to happen to you; he would never be able to forgive himself if something did. But he knew deep down, that you could handle yourself — he needed to trust you in this moment like you’ve trusted him this far.

You got up, and the doctor towered over you. “May I?” You asked him, his facial expression not happy in the slightest. You were the last person he had wanted to trust right now, but he nodded.

You walked over to his instruments, and picked them up, placing them in a small metal bowl on the table. You made sure to keep eye contact with the doctor so he could see every single one of your movements. You bent down just enough to grab the rubbing alcohol from below the table and started to slowly pour them onto the instruments. Falko was about to open up his mouth, but you started talking before he could say anything. “I’m cleaning them. Once I clean them, I’ll be able to show you,” you reassured him. His hands quickly turned into fists. “I’m going into my pocket to grab my lighter.” You slowly went into your pocket and grabbed your lighter, Falko watching your every move. You didn’t know how this was working, but for a doctor, he was incredibly naive.

Quickly, fire appeared from it, and you placed it into the bowl, Falko’s face changed instantly. “What…” he mumbled. And he looked down; flames starting to appear at his feet and moved upwards towards his torso. “What did you do? You stupid girl!” He screamed.

You smirked. “Showing you how to continue your life’s work. I thought that’s what you wanted?” Your smirk continued as both you and Dean watched Falko disappear into flames, listening to him scream in an agony that you were strangely used to when it came to a salt and burn.

Within minutes, Falko completely disappeared, and the instruments started to blacken. “You full on Jennifer Love Hewitted him,” Dean said impressed.

⤑ Move Forward & Read The Epilogue (Not yet available)

Tag List:@madzzz0797 ⋆ @dumb-fawkin-bitch ⋆ @nancymcl ⋆ @deanbrainrotwritings ⋆ @roseblue373 ⋆ @jackles010378 ⋆ @deansbbyx ⋆ @uncle-eggy ⋆ @queenie32 ⋆ @jzackles ⋆ @shy-taylorsversion ⋆ @ladysparkles78 ⋆ @zepskies ⋆ @samslvrgirl ⋆ @peachhiz ⋆ @t1asstuff ⋆ @kr804573 ⋆ @lmhf1 ⋆ @perpetualabsurdity ⋆ @10ava01 ⋆ @stoneyggirl2 ⋆ @deans-spinster-witch ⋆ @littletomboy2 ⋆ @foxyjwls007 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @mrlonelycat ⋆ @hobby27

Weren’t Tagged & Think You Should Have?

If you weren’t tagged and think you should have, I’m sorry about that! But there may be a few reasons for that. You did not fill out the Google Form List (which can be filled out using this link), you do not have your mentions on, you currently do not follow me, or your visibility has been set so no one will be able to search for you (which is explained in this PSA here)

If you’re having trouble filling out the form, don’t hesitate to send me a message or leave a comment! 🩷

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #dean x you #dean x reader #reader insert #female reader #the 15 year problem

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sci-fi-disney-prince · 11 months ago

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Garrett Hedlund Mini March Fic Madness

In honor of March Madness, I created this master list of Garrett Hedlund character fanfics and may update it even after March. This may not be mobile/tablet-friendly.

Note: This may not have all of the stories posted on Tumblr and/or elsewhere since I am only one person and could only find as much as I can and unfortunately get distracted by Garrett along the way.

Also, these do not belong to me. These stories belong to these lovely fanfic writers credited below and to the people behind the original source material. Do keep in mind that many of these fanfics are targeted for 18 years of age and older, so reader discretion is advised.

Tagged: @the-blind-assassin-12 (the person behind March Fic Madness 2024)

Key: ❤️‍🔥 = Smut(ty)/Explicit 🍬 = Fluff ❤️‍🩹 = Angst

Updated as of May 5, 2024

Sci-fi-Disney-prince’s G.H. Corner coming soon

Special Events

@/triplefrontier-anniversary (A fanfic and art event to celebrate Triple Frontier's 5th anniversary which is run by @romanarose and @for-a-longlongtime that goes from March 1st-March 14th. Take out the slash to go to their page)

Masterlists

Mitch Keller x F!OC Waitress Oneshot Masterlist by @marmie-noir [Content warning: violence, sex, and 18+ content] ❤️‍🔥

TriFRambles’ Masterlist by @triframbles

Delta Landscaping Mainlist by @rhoorl ❤️‍🔥

Benny Miller Masterlist by @dameronscopilot [some 🍬, some ❤️‍🔥]

Garrett Hedlund Masterlist by @dameronscopilot 🍬❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹

Benjamin "Benny" Miller Masterlist by @musings-of-a-rose [Some Fluff, Some Angst, Some Smut, some all of the above]

FishBen Rec List by @thirstworldproblemss [Some fluff, some angst, some smut, some all of the above]

phoenixhalliwell Masterlist by @phoenixhalliwell [includes Triple Frontier guys x Gender Neutral!reader]

Individual Stories

Triple Frontier

"Every Kiss Begins With A Mistletoe" by @kittyofalltrades [Santi and Benny x Reader] ❤️‍🔥

"Not So Silent Night" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Office Party Love" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader] 🍬

Sleepy Benny by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader] 🍬

"I’m gonna keep you in love with me for a while" by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader] ❤️‍🔥

"An Unexpected Discovery" by @pilothusband [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Benny's Favorite Librarian" by @kittyofalltrades [Benny x Reader]❤️‍🔥

"Before I Go" by @cowboystokes (deactivated) [Benny x Black!Reader (Co-Parents)]

"Drunk Poetry" by @violentdelightsandviolentends [Benny x female reader - Content warning: cursing and alcohol mention] 🍬

"I see my shot" by @writefightandflightclub [Benny x female reader - Content warnings: alcohol, mildly steamy making-out, swearing, “unrequited” feelings and implied possible public sex acts (fade to black).] ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

"I've loved you three summers now, honey, I want them all." by @bullet-prooflove [Benny x Reader]

"Disinhibition" by @busycryin [Benny x Reader - Content warning: Injury, bad words, mentions of sex] 🍬

"Slow Motion" by @miss-beep-beep [Benny x Viet!OFC - Content Warning - some cursing and kisses] 🍬❤️‍🩹

Four Brothers

"Hopper saves a boy’s pieces, Joyce puts him back together" by @imeanwhynotbruv (Jack Mercer Stranger Things AU/crossover - TW: abuse)

"Number" by @jackmercerenthuiast (Jack Mercer x Reader - Content warning: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, suggestive language, and gang violence)

Tron: Legacy

"Masks" by @ivorydragoness44 [Sam Flynn x Reader] ❤️‍🩹

"iii. morning kisses. waking up next to your significant other and pulling them up and capturing their lips to yours." by @solar-siren [Sam Flynn x Tron] 🍬

Tulsa King

More from other movies/shows/projects in the new masterlist

#benny miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #jack mercer #four brothers #garrett hedlund #tron: legacy #sam flynn #tulsa king #mitch keller #four brothers fanfic #Tulsa king fanfic #marchficmadness24

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novelsbynia · 3 months ago

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GEMINI:PROLOGUE

Ethan Landry X OC

Warning: blood,language,pregnancy,violence, mentions of smut.

——————————————

October 31st Halloween

"Great Job. Both of you." Bailey praised the two Ghost faces on both his right and left. "You?" Tara asked shocked. The three sisters stood there across from Bailey and the two masked figures. "Yeah. Of course me. Frankly, I expected more from the three of you after what you did to us."

"What do you mean "us"?" Scar looked at the two Ghost faces, still curious who was behind the masks. The taller Ghostface on Baileys left grabbed the bottom of their mask to slowly reveal the culprit underneath.

Scarlett's heart stopped for second and her breath hitched. Her throat felt warm and if she swallowed it could cause a breakdown. Seeing her boyfriend's face come out from under the white plastic. She started to shake her head in disbelief as Ethan shot a sadistic smile their way.

"Ta-da!" Bailey laughed looking over at the three sisters and back at his son. "No." Scarlett whispered. Sam and Tara looked over at their sister. Sam knew her pain. It's a horrible feeling knowing the person you love was the one who wants to hurt you. What they didn't know was there was more to it than their relationship now.

"Mindy was right. It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean all I had to do to meet you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha literally named Chad. Fuck! It felt good to kill him! And you-" Ethan pointed his knife over to Scarlett. "You know how easy it was to make you love me." Ethan laughed causing Scarlett's heart to once again drop.

"Didn't take much after that to fuck me. Did it?" She felt sick, unfortunately for her in this situation it could be a number of things. Her eyes letting the tears escape her quietly as she stood there in disbelief as the two stood their smiling.

"Recognize this? This was your grandmother's Sam. Nancy Loomis? Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? Speaking of family...." Ethan pointed his knife the the beat up Ghostface mask he's been gallivanting in. "Wait for it." Bailey interrupted. ".....My names not Ethan Landry. Is it dad?"

""Dad"?" Scarlett questioned as Bailey started laughing. He brushed a piece of Ethan's hair out of his eyes then gripped his shoulder. He was proud. "Wait. If it's you two, that just leaves..." Sam Gulped before continuing. "Mindy?"

The last Ghostface lifted the mask revealing the final accomplice. "Hey, roomies. You didn't see that one coming, did you?" The three were taken back. No, no that couldn't be possible. She was dead, Quinn was dead. Scarlett took her attention away from the redhead back to her boyfriend or now ex in his dark robe. Their eyes met and Ethan shot her a smirk.

"Yeah because you died!" Tara exclaimed. "Kind of didn't. Though it was a good way to get off the suspect list. Stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy on the train. That sort of thing." Quinn explained. "Yep, and I just made sure I was first on the scene so I could switch her body out with a fresh one. Little fake blood, a prosthetic. You'd be amazed at what a grieving father can get away with." Bailey smiled proud of his children.

"I got Stu Macher's mask. He was my favorite." Quinn held up her mask as she walked around the display cases and placed it on the mannequin head. Scarlett watched Ethan go around the display on her right and place the mask on the mannequin with Nancy Loomis's old bloody clothes.

Scarlett watched as he gave her a quick wink with his once lovable browns. Which have turned to an unrecognizable dark cold tone. "Nice. That's number three. That's two. Which leaves your father's. This is what we've been counting down to, Sam. I'm gonna need you to put it on." Bailey pulled out Billy Loomis's mask out of his jacket. Scarlett was trying to focus back and forth from Bailey back to Ethan. Who was perched over the display with hunger, ready to attack given the word.

Sam looked at the mask in Bailey's hand then back up at Bailey himself. He had to be crazy. Clearly he was Sam thought to herself. "Fuck you!" Sam spat as she knocked the mask out of Bailey's hand. Ethan quickly leaned over the display and sliced Sam's shoulder. "You stay the fuck away from them!" Scarlett yelled at Ethan as Sam held her wound. Ethan chuckled at Scarlett as he moved around the displays. Tara grabbed a brick back up from the floor ready incase she had to strike.

"What? What is this? You did this as a family?" Sam turned to Bailey as she held her bleeding shoulder. "Hell yeah, bitch. You should know better than anyone." Quinn stomped forward towards Sam but was quickly cut off by Tara and Scarlett.

"They're still not getting it." Ethan laughed as he walked over next to his sister. Knife extended ready to strike again. Scarlett looked down at his knife then back up at Ethan and Quinn. "I don't know what you believe, but I didn't commit those murders in Woodsboro. It wasn't me!" Sam tried to explain. "Oh we know that. Of course you didn't. You think this is based on some bullshit conspiracy theory? Come on. Who do you think started the rumors about you in the first place?" Bailey gestured behind Sam. Sam turned around to see Quinn holding up her hand with the knife in it.

"Do you know how easy it was to turn Sam from the hero of Woodsboro into the villain? How easy it was to convince the world to believe the worst in people rather than the best?" Quinn explained. "Because it's not enough to just kill someone these days. You have to assassinate their character first. So when Dad here "discovers" your horribly mutilated bodies..." Ethan started.

Scarlett gulped the pressure in her throat back down as she listened to Ethan talk about mutilating them. Her thoughts were paused when Quinn lunged forward a bit in front of Tara causing her to squeal. "...posed with Sam wearing her father's mask, he'll say some poor dumb bastard read on the internet that you're the real Ghostface and took matters into their own deluded hands." Ethan finished as he pointed the knife at Sam.

"Exactly! Thats why it's the perfect alibi. And all the best lies are based on the truth. You're a killer. Just like your father." Bailey pointed his finger at Sam. "No, I'm not!" Sam yelled. "Yes, you are, you motherfucker! You killed our brother!" Quinn shouted.

"What are you talking about?" Sam shook her head. "You said your brother died in a car accident." Scarlett looked at Quinn confused. "Oh no, you sweet, dumb thing. He died in Woodsboro...." Ethan pointed his knife at Scarlett then back at Sam "...at the hands of your bitch sister." Scarlett looked over at Sam and Tara who had the look of realization on their faces."You're Richie's family." Sam turned to Bailey. "Yeah." Bailey whispered as he slowly nodded.

"Ding-ding-ding-ding! She's finally starting to get it." Ethan stepped forward and plunged his knife in Sam's chest near her shoulder before quickly pulling it out. "Go! Go!" Scarlett grabbed Sam's hand as Tara followed. Scarlett pushed over the mannequin display of Nancy Loomis's mask and outfit to create an opening in the display circle that was once blocking them in.

"Now! It wasn't until I saw that photograph of what you'd actually done to him that I knew." Bailey yelled. Ethan and Quinn quickly ran around the display on either side to block off the two. Scarlett grabbed a brick off the ground. Ethan stepped towards her but quickly stepped back dodging a swing from Scarlett. "That I knew you had to fucking die! You had to be punished! Along with anyone else who stands in our way."

Sam applied pressure to her arm once more as she stepped in front of Quinn blocking her from Tara and Scarlett. Sam's eyes darkened as she looked glanced up at Quinn. "There she is. There's the fucking killer." Quinn held her knife up to Sam's throat. "Real great parenting job by the way." Scarlett snarked at Bailey. "Shut your whore fucking mouth!" Quinn yelled as she took the knife away from Sam's throat and pushed Scarlett back through the whole they created in the display ring. "Shit." Tara muttered as the two followed their sister. "You okay?" Sam helped her Scarlett up. Ethan and Quinn quickly made their way back to the sisters, holding their knives up behind them.

"Have I been a perfect Dad? No. Have I maybe overindulged Richie's love of these little movies? Yeah, maybe. For me, they're just a little dark. But Richie really loved them. He loved them! He even made a few of his own. Did you know? Did you know?" Bailey turned around to watch the projector behind them play Richie's self made Stab movie.

"There's a very special nod between a father and his first son." Bailey added. Scarlett turned her head to see Ethan behind her. A frown on his face he was trying not to let show, tears in his eyes he was trying to now let fall. He's attention was drawn to the curtain with the projection above them. His eyes landed back down on Scarlett. Thats when she knew. He was doing this not only for Richie.

"Which is why I helped him build this collection." Bailey turned around gesturing to all the artifacts around them. "This was all his?" Tara asked looking at the displays around her. "Yes, he's a very passionate collector. And he inspired others. We had to kill those two wannabe film students because, well, we had to kill you first, Sam. I put the theater in their name, then good ole Detective Bailey would've just stumbled on it. But I didn't have to because, by golly, that Gale Weathers is one hell of a journalist. I built a tribute to my son. Which is why this is where you have to die, Sam. Surrounded by all the things he loved the most." Bailey explained.

"What happens next? After you're done with us you just disappear?!" Sam exclaimed. "No! We got to hurry over to the hospital and make sure Mindy and Gale don't pull through..." Sam looked over at her sisters and down at their hands. A brick in each then back up at the two. "....because everybody dies Sam! Everyone who had anything to do with the death of my son suffers and dies." Bailey lifted his gun up to Sam.

"Yeah!Fuck yeah they do!" Quinn yelled. "Now put on the mask." Bailey hissed. "He was so pathetic." Sam panted as she shook her head. "What?Thats not true." Bailey objected."Yeah, your son, he was a man-baby who made his girlfriend so all the killing." Sam continued to taunt.

"He was a strong, virile young man!" Bailey gripped his gun harder. "He was a limp-dick little fuck who cried before I slit his throat." Sam spat. "Shut the fuck up!" Quinn yelled as she lunged forward to Sam. Scarlett quickly gripped the brick and swung at Quinn knocking her to the ground coughing up her own blood. Suddenly the sound of gun shots rang through the air. The three turned to see Kirby firing off. Bailey quickly made his way behind the curtain to another hallways escaping the shots.

Quinn used all her strength at the current moment and lifted herself up off the ground. She tried her best to run behind the curtain to follow her father. "Sam come on!" Tara yelled as her and Scarlett tried to make a run for it. Ethan sprinted towards Kirby and quickly threw her to the ground. He grabbed another knife in the pockets of his robe.

"Recognize this?" Ethan held up the older scarlet covered blade. "Fuck you." Kirby spat. Ethan in one swift movement jabbed the knife into Kirby's abdomen. Ripping the flesh of the scar before it. "Fuck" Kirby groaned.

Grabbing a brick from the rubble on the ground beside her, Sam ran up behind Ethan. Who was currently still taunting Kirby from above her. She rammed the side of his head with the brick causing Ethan to fall over in pain. Sam hurried over to Kirby lying on the ground, knife in her old scar. "Sorry, but I kind of need this." Kirby groaned as Sam quickly grabbed the knife lodged in Kirby's abdomen."Fuck em up." Kirby panted.

"Sam come on!" Scar yelled as her and Tara stood by the end of the ladder next to the wall to lead them upstairs. Sam put the knife in her belt then froze. She looked over to Ethan on the ground unconscious. Now was her time. He was out, he couldn't fight back. Sam turned to look back at her sister waiting by the ladder.

Tara anxiously waiting for her to move while Scarlett looking at her and back at Ethan. Her eyes full of fear and worry. Sam looked back at Ethan. "Damn it." She muttered before turning back at the two.

"Go! Go! Go! I'll meet you up there!" Sam told them. Tara hesitated as her hands froze on the wood.

"Where are you going?" Scarlett asked. "Scarlett just go!" Sam yelled before disappearing through the curtain on the stage.

"Tara go!" Scarlett instructed as her sister started climbing the ladder. Once Tara hit the top she turned toward her sister below. "Go! I'm right behind you." Tara nodded once again at her sister's instructions and started making her way down the hallway. Scarlet grabbed the sides of the older wooden ladder climbing the first two steps.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ethan grabbed Scarlett's right leg as she went for the third step. Grabbing her hard as he tugged her down the ladder. "No. No. No." Scarlett pleaded as she hit the ground trying to get away. Ethan reached down and with his left, he grabbed Scarlett by the throat. Ethan lifted her up and slammed her against the wall next to the ladder.

"Hi there, Princess. I was hoping I would get just one more time with you alone. Remember the last time I had you pinned against a wall?" Ethan smirked. "Fuck you." Scar gasped as Ethan's hand applied pressure. "No, no, no sweetheart we already did that remember?" Ethan chuckled.

Scarlett flinched as Ethan quickly brought his knife up to the brick on the wall behind her. The sound of scraping rang through Scarlett's ear. His grip getting tighter on her throat. "Ethan." Scar moaned trying to get more air.

"Sounded like that too." Ethan brought his lips to her ear close to his knife. "Why? Why me? Why do this?" Scarlett asked. "Were you not paying attention? At all!" Ethan exclaimed. "You know that's not what I meant." Scarlett needed to know.

She knew this wasn't the same Ethan she had learn to love. That Ethan was just a mirage. She needed to know why he would do this though. Why take the extra step to be with her? "Consider it plot."

"You know doing this isn't going to make your dad love you more." Scarlett's words snapped something inside him. He took her body off the wall only to slam it back into it again. Scarlett groaned in pain as she felt the sting in the back of her head from the bricks. "I don't need him to love me."

"It really seems like you do. Like you're doing this for him not for you." Her words weren't helping his anger as it was starting to spill over. "I'm doing this for me you bitch!"

"Scar! Scarlette! Scar!" Scarlett could hear her sisters call out for her. Tears slowly escaped her eyes. Ethan took his thumb and wiped away her ongoing tears. She could feel the cold metal of the knife. The knife with her sister's blood on it on the side of her face. With the same hand he's using to wipe her tear could be the same one to kill her any second.

"I want you to know I did love you at some point." Ethan leaned his forehead onto hers. The words made Scarlett's tears fall faster. "Ethan. Ethan I-" Scarlett stuttered. "But that's just not enough." Scarlett saw Ethan move his hand back with the knife ready to plunge. Panic set in her. She didn't want to but she knew what she had to do. She went into full panic mode as she yelled-

"ETHAN!! NO WAIT!! I'M PREGNANT!"

————————————————————

Chapter one up now!!!

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cloveroctobers · 7 months ago

Text

FALSE STARTS — CARMY BERZATTO [Summer Writings]

A/N: Getting down to my final collection to these summer writings…I strongly debated if I wanted to even write for carm this time around, the man is always going through it…not saying that I won’t ever again because I ofc have love for the guy but whew!!! Never giving up on him but—you guys get it? You just have to let some things sink in after watching the seasons…so here’s something possibly short? Knowing me my definition of short is not always reliable kinda like Carmy’s mental state—OOP. Too much?

WARNINGS: Added a OC, another berzatto again to the mix because I can also see Kyle being on the show and I’ve got a soft spot for him as well SORRY! I feel it in my spirit for smile 2 that it’s NOT going to end well but let’s be delusional! Slight reference to that horror movie in here as well, Still x reader based but you just have a name since I didn’t want to write in 2nd POV, along with some background for you and Carmy’s friendship, language, mentions of s**c***e & some spoilers for season three if you’re not caught up yet!

SYNOPSIS: Carmy runs into more than just his past and blood, forever learning what his next steps are, if his head will let him that is.

*GIFS BELONG TO: @emziess + @andrew3garfield !

☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘

The last thing Carmy expected was to see, Joel Berzatto at the pick up window during the lunch rush. Carmy’s been on autopilot the second week into the grand opening and he was already frustrated with the new hires. They didn’t have what it takes and Carmy didn’t have the patience to teach them, especially when they didn’t put in the effort to learn.

All they cared about was a paycheck.

He couldn’t teach what should have already been known.

Carmy already shocked himself, not blowing a fuse, deciding to just head out back silently with a carton of cigarettes. He vowed at some point he was going to quit these things and faught hard about the stick that was perched in between his lips. He’s pacing along the rocks and dirt on the side of the bear, back of his lighter racking against his fingers as he took a two minute break.

There was no time to make it five.

“Carmen,” a voice greets, making his bright blues turn to the voice.

It’s Joel.

Michelle’s younger brother.

He’s got a bag to go, bunched up underneath his fingers and his badge on his waist glimmers from underneath his earthy toned attire for work. Carmen reminds himself to blink, coming to terms that this is indeed his family—on his father’s side—at his place of business.

“Joel?” Carmen echoes but it’s more of a question.

Joel snickers as there’s still a great distance between the two family members, “yeah I was wondering when I was going to get caught red handed.”

Carmen clears his throat after removing the cigarette from his lips, “you’ve ordered something to go?”

That’s obvious but he’s trying to fill up the silence, which is always so loud even in the city.

Joel scratches at his brow, a small smile playing on his face, “‘Course I did. I was in the area and my partner wanted some other shit, he’s vegan or vegetarian and I knew that would be a disappointment so I snuck over here to get my money’s worth.”

“Yeah?” Carmy’s eyes flick back to the bag, “what’s your poison?”

Joel laughs, “can’t ever go wrong with a classic, am I right?”

Which only meant one thing: Italian Beef with extra peppers, just how he always got it, even when they were younger. Joel was older than Carmy, more around Nat’s age but he always found a way to bring up something to talk about once Michelle, Mikey, and Richie brought the house down with their boisterous voices.

“I’ve mentioned to Sugar that Sam and I can’t wait to try out the dinner menu but it hasn’t been the best time…” Joel hints, almost as if he’s apologizing for not showing his face.

There was tension at the beginning.

Joel was this big detective.

Always the persistent one and trying to solve something. It only made sense that he chose this profession but Joel did piss the family off when he tried to come up with this conspiracy theory that Mikey didn’t kill himself and that someone else pulled the trigger. His perspective? It was probably someone who Mikey bought those painkillers off of and in Joel’s mind, he thought he was doing the family a good service but instead he had his own denial about Mikey’s passing as well.

There’s been two big death’s in Joel’s life that he had to face before with his fiancée who took her own life as well. A psychologist at that. That happened years before Mikey…and Carmy can only imagine how fucked he’s been in the head too and maybe detective work gave him some sort of solace—in a twisted way.

They were family after all and grief is handled in different ways they say!

Carmy picks up on the name referred to and questions, “Sammy? You guys are still together?”

Joel snickers but doesn’t seem offended by any means, “Yeah, can’t seem to get rid of her.”

He jokes but Carmy knows that would be the last thing Joel wanted.

“She always tells me to send her love whenever I do stop by for lunch…we just don’t want to disrupt anything you guys have going on.” Joel admits and that actually makes Carmy frown.

He clenched his eyes shut for a moment with a shake of his head, “she wouldn’t—you guys wouldn’t. You’re both family too…it’s just been a lot.”

“Yeah but at some point I think we’ve got to stop making excuses,” Joel shrugs, “No pressure on our end. You should stop by the house one day, Samora would love to see you. It’s been awhile you know?”

Carmy nods.

It has.

Samora’s been one of Carmy’s oldest friends.

The friendship happened to be one of those, catch you when I catch you type of things, or if seeing someone mutual and he so happened to come up, she always related her love for him. That’s just how they operated, even if was at a distance and there wasn’t any bad blood.

Life went on.

Separately for them.

And she’s apparently been going strong with his blood cousin, Joel, for who knows how long? Carmy can’t believe he’s almost forgot what it felt like to have a friend like her.

“Yeah, I should.” Carmy agrees, “Nat’s got your number right? I’ll have to get it from her and reach out to see what’s best for you guys?”

Joel raised his brows at this.

He didn’t think Carmy would even respond to that. Carmy’s always been the kind of guy that found the nicest corner in the room and chose to stay there, it was what he was comfortable with: seeing all sides of the room and the nearest exit.

“Well Sam’s mostly working out of the house now, business picked back up for her in the last year, thankfully.” Joel answers with an inhale, “I’m the one that’s mostly gone all the time not getting the chance to really live in the house but…whenever you want. We don’t mind pop in’s—usually.”

Carmy nods, “cool—uh? I got to get back in there but I hope you enjoy the sandwich and maybe fucking try something else huh?”

Joel’s always been the sandwich and chips kind of guy. Easy going. Compassionate and soft spoken. Carmy’s only ever saw Joel pissed one time as far as he can remember. Of course when carmy brought up the interest of taking cooking seriously, Joel offered a listening ear and would admit he hardly knew what kind of fancy dishes Carmy was talking about but once he brought out the sketches? Sold! Joel couldn’t be more thrilled to see Carmy finding something to be passionate about.

It took time but he did it.

Joel picks up on Carmy’s teasing tone and points the bag at him, “I don’t tell you how to run your business, Carm. So don’t get in between a man and his favorite hoagie.”

A crooked smile appears on Carmy’s face at that as he slowly starts to retreat, “alright, fair enough.”

“Keep it up, bear.” Joel tells Carm, “beginnings can be rough but everything looks phenomenal…from what I can see anyway.”

Did it feel that way?

Carmy couldn’t tell you.

A week and three months it took for Carmy to show up to the familiar Greystone. It was after the review came in and Carmy was back on mode: disconnect, taking a much needed walk that led him right back to the usual busy area where the home sat; that had history there. He’s not positive how long he’s been standing there, peering up at the picturesque home beyond the fence.

Eventually he works up the nerve to stand at the front door, head just kissing it as he debates about knocking. His stomach feels like an off track dryer machine and his head is telling him that he has no place showing up to this house. Samora wouldn’t want to see him and Joel was just talking back then, never expecting Carmy to take up the invitation.

Carmy’s got the number from Sugar and found out where they stayed. It was the same address of where Sammy grew up, a home from her great grandparents that was passed all the way down to her. Legally she got the greystone since her foster turned adopted siblings weren’t biologically in the family and only one of them seemed to put up a fight about it anyway, only wanting the cash and not caring about how significant the home was.

He remembered that.

And so, he knocks.

He’s heading towards the gate by the time the front door swings open but the sound of the woman calling out his name, stops him in his tracks. He exhaled, dropping his hand from pulling the gate back, lifting his head before turning back to the woman on the stoop.

“It is you! Well don’t just stand there, get up here you little turd.” She’s waving her hands along and Carmy moves.

They’re face to face and it’s been ages.

Both of their eyes traces over one another’s faces but Samora is the first to yank him by the shoulders into her arms. He’s tense but finds himself placing his chin into her own shoulder, shaky hands going to her spine. Samora’s hugs have always been tight but Carmy’s never had a problem with pressure.

Much.

“Damn, I hope I didn’t get paint all on your fresh suit. What’s that? Givenchy?” Samora pokes fun as she playfully flicks the tip of his nose.

Carmy smacks her hand away realizing that she is in fact covered in paint all over her shorts overalls and there’s a dry paint swatch right on her left cheek. A awful chartreuse color, which she always seemed to like the brightest of colors others like to hate on.

In a sense Samora tried to see the good in most things.

“No,” Carmy feels a small smirk appear on his own cheek, “you’re good.”

And she welcomes him inside.

The once old home has been refreshed and Carmy can’t tell you the last time he’s been in here but the changes are evident. The first set of walls were now white, making the short entry way feel bigger and as they both turn to the right towards the living room, the view of the front porch at night feels like many summers ago when they both would sit out there, him on his back, arms tucked behind his head and Samora right beside him cross legged as she stared out towards the traffic lights.

They could sit out there for hours together, comfortable in silence or Carmy listening to Samora curse up a storm when she got confused trying to learn chess with a board her great-grandfather made. A slab of wood with a built in drawer to keep the pieces on the side, it would get stuck sometimes but she always handled with care.

“Carmen Berzatto…can’t believe you came to see little ‘ol me…unless you’re looking for Joel?” Samora says over her shoulder, still waving him along through the dinning room towards the grand kitchen.

He awkwardly stands off to the side in the kitchen while Samora lets out a yawn with a shake of her head before moving forward with searching through the cabinets. “I uh—not necessarily.”

“He’s at work anyway, getting buried into another one of his insane cases that he’s not supposed to tell me about but we all know how I am—I’m going to find out regardless.” Samora places two shot glasses down, noticing that Carmy had moved closer to the island counter now.

He did know actually.

They went to school together, been through a lot of typical high school bullshit together. He always felt like the sidekick, whereas he was the shy and reserved one, Samora had other friends that she didn’t mind putting to the side to hang out with Carmy for. Her response would be whenever Carmy asked why she kicked them to the curb to be around someone boring would be, “I know who my lifelong friends are, surely.”

“Surely,” was always Samora’s word and, “Duh,” happened to be Nat’s.

Sophomore year when Konstantinos “Tino,” Pappas found his next target in Carmy and thought it would be funny to sic his Rottweiler on him one day (he had asthma and could barely run a mile but loved skateboarding) when he had to walk home alone after school one day, he glossed over it, saying that he just tried to hop the fence as a shortcut to get home and got stuck on it instead.

He didn’t mention the dog snatching his backpack, or the nasty nip mark on his lower back, his shirt ripping after it got stuck on the spikes, and colliding face first with a sharp rock, that left a faint knick on his cheek until this day, if you got close enough to see it you would notice. Donna believed Carmy’s lies although she knew Carmy was a more take his time kind of kid but all she wanted to do was get back to her daily cocktail, Nat was concerned but Carmy also brushed her off, saying he was fine, and when Mikey saw the marks, he hammered him with questions, leaving a teenage Carmy to grow sick of his big brother being on his case so he shut him out too.

And what did Mikey Berzatto do?

He went right to a sick Samora to find out what she knew. She had been home for the past three days, down with a fever she caught from her new foster sibling and swore that she would find out. Shook on it with the older Berzatto, who bid his farewells of how good she is to his kid brother, which meant she would always be good people in Mikey’s eyes. And when she did find out? She came right back to school that Monday, noticing the laughter from Tino and his friends down by their locker with a whole camcorder of the incident, which wasn’t far from her’s and Carmy’s.

Carmy lifted his hand to greet the teen but when she was on a mission? It was tunnel vision. She didn’t care if there were teachers at the end of the hall, she snatched the camcorder from one of Tino’s friends, shoving him out of the way, before getting to Tino. A fist met his eye that day and that resulted in a suspension and detention after learning what Tino did.

If you thought Carmy was pissed before about Nat’s overbearing nurturing ways and Mikey bugging him about the marks, then you can only imagine how annoyed he was with Samora after that. That resulted in a stupid fight and with Samora even dating Tino for two whole days—the goal was to break his heart anyway.

Teenagers? Am I right?

“Check this out,” Samora grins as she pours this green liquid into the shot glasses and makes sure to get a piece of cucumber? floating at the top to decorate it with, “I’ve been experimenting and since Joel can’t be my rodent of a taste taster tonight. I present to you chef Carmy, Cold Cucumber green Gazpacho. A chilled soup—as I’m sure you are aware of—since you know how I feel about soups in the summer.”

“…you want me to try this?” Carmy picks up the glass, eyeing it.

Samora dips her head, “surely and if you don’t do that pinched lip thing, then I know it’s trash.”

Carmy flicks his eyes to her with a frown, “what’re you talking about?”

She folds her first four fingers over her thumb, tapping them together, “I don’t know! It’s a thing! You do it when you’re yelling too but at least I know you’re focused so, go on.”

Carmy shakes his head with a slow close of his eyes. He didn’t know what she was talking about at all but he can’t say he was surprised she picked up on this, she was an interior decorator after all.

Detail was always crucial.

“That’s,” Carmy starts after seeing Samora toss her head back not long after himself, “fresh.”

Samora grins, “not bad for a beginner, huh? Easy peasy and quick! Make sure you shout me out if you make this an appetizer or something at the restaurant, will ya?”

“You got it.” Carmy comments making a mental note to do something green next time on the menu, savoring the smooth and freshness with a hint of a zing dish as Samora carefully places the bowl back into the fridge.

Sighing she turns to rest her elbows onto the counter, “Now…bestie Carmy Berzatto…what’s wrong?”

His eyes shift, “N-Nothing. I saw Joel the other day and he brought you up—

“How long ago was that?” She interrupts.

He fires back, “…awhile? Does it matter?”

“No…you know I don’t sweat the small stuff.” She blinks, “Long as I knew you were thriving then that’s all I can wish for but I know my friend and I’m sensing that you’re not okay. You’re avoiding.”

Carmy’s tapping his finger along the side of the glass but Samora doesn’t relax her burning stare, “what—

“Did you see your niece yet?” Samora quizzes and he quickly closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair, she can tell he’s mentally cursing at himself, “she’s a beautiful baby. I had groceries sent to Nat and Pete’s the other day—

“Is this your way of reminding me of how shitty I’ve been at communicating and being present because I don’t need it. I already feel that.”

Samora sticks her tongue in her cheek and pushes back, “No shock there, Carmy. I know you. So what exactly triggered you today that made you finally come here to see me?”

Carmy starts chewing on his lips, eyes not connecting with Samora’s as she tilted her head to the side, waiting. It feels like forever to get an answer so Samora moves around the island, squeezing his shoulder, “let’s go up to the roof, maybe the fresh air and not the fumes of paint will help ease you into it. Thanks for knocking by the way, I may have seen a glimpse of the other side because of it before you got here.”

“What?” Carmy spits out in concern as she pulls at his wrist.

Samora laughs, “if you tell Joel, I’ll have to keep you here and bury you in the front yard.”

Carmy blinks with a roll of his eyes.

They’re on the rooftop, there’s less cars as the night carries on. Carmy’s lost count of how many times the street lights flick from red, yellow, to green and back again. Samora allows carmy to take his time, one leg curled up underneath her with her head thrown back staring up at the twinkle of stars on a hot summer night. There’s barely a breeze but they’re alright.

“I saw the shit stain tonight.”

Samora tossed an arm over her forehead, leaned back in the comfy cushioned blue lounge chair, “yeah? There’s plenty here in chicago, so which one? Don’t tell me you saw the walking jump-scare, Tino?”

“Who?” Carmy presses but Samora can tell he’s not going down that path of the past.

She fans her hand to tell him to continue.

“This guy. One of the best chef’s I worked for in New York, he was at the funeral. There was a funeral for this restaurant, Ever.” Carmy begins to tell his old friend, mindful that she’s been out of the loop.

Samora looks around the night sky and snaps her fingers with a nod of her head, “yeah um, Chelly—mostly Stevie said something about a strict chef you were working with but of course it was vague, which leaves me to believe that you didn’t tell chelly much but she’s great at reading in between the lines much like myself.”

Carmy doesn’t tell her exactly what Chef David said to him a hour ago but tells her what his words made him feel yet again. Small. Incapable. How he has to triple check everything, take charge with no regard for his team that’s supposed to be family, and ultimately that he shouldn’t have a team because he was better off alone. How he should be grateful to be where he is now because of all that Chef David taught him.

“Oh nooooo, Chef charred asshole better be lucky I wasn’t there,” Samora mumbles, “He sounds like a narcissistic dick of a man who gets off on attempting to morph you into him and to me? That doesn’t sound like a brilliant or best of the best chef or even a person! it sounds weak and miserable.”

“It’s what I signed up for.” Carmy almost argues and Samora sits up.

She knows this stems from much more than what he experienced in that restaurant in New York.

“I haven’t been around you in a while but I’ve always been on the sidelines. You accomplished all of these things because you knew you could—you fought. You worked hard and earned this.” Samora reassures, “but these false ideas that you have because of what someone else caused shouldn’t diminish anything that you’ve done and continue to do.”

Carmy pulls out his phone and a pack of chewing gum, “tell that to my brain then. The review is up, Sammy.”

Samora’s eyes meet Carmy’s as he shoves a square piece into his mouth, elbows on his knees as they start to bounce, head dropping just a bit. She reaches for the phone, giving him a side eye since there’s no passcode on it, and is brought right to a webpage.

~THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE~

Reviewed by Ad. Shap

Carmen doesn’t have to look at Samora’s face to take in her reaction. He ultimately knows it’ll be different from what the blue in his brain says. There were many things wrong with the review, mostly wrong than good and that’s why he needed someone from the outside to see before seeing how the crew digested this.

Samora usually does this humming when she’s reading or thinking about something and that doesn’t seem to change. When she’s finished she puts the phone face down on the outdoor table and folds her fingers together as she sits back.

“Well…That was reminiscent to my short lived cookie career.”

Carmy widens his eyes as he sets them back on his friend.

She shields her face instantly, “whoa turn down the opacity on those things will ya?”

“Your cookie business failed.”

“Um, no. Fuck you for that by the way,” Samora glared, “I view it as that wasn’t the way the chapter was meant to be told. I wasn’t heavily devoted to culinary like you. Nobody is that I know of. It was just a hobby for me but you turned your craft into something much more: breathe, sleep—well—you let it consume you pros and cons. Surely these reviews are deeply important because impressions are…tricky but not everything is the way you see it.”

Carmy scoffs with a rub to his lips in annoyance, “what the fuck do you mean it’s not the way I see it? It’s my business and I’ve been backstabbed by a prick I worked with—

“Carmy—

“I can’t be a screw up! I won’t be. I’ve been at this for so long and I’m more than tired and shitty in the head but not enough to throw it all away no matter what some four eyed fucker with a typewriter for a laptop says!” Carmy is on his feet now pacing, “I picked up what Mikey left behind, I put in the time and the effort, I removed parts of myself to be untouchable—

Samora shakes her head, “you’re not though and some part of you knows that. None of us are unbreakable, babe. You just…start over as many times until it feels right.”

“See I don’t—

Carmy swallows the lump in his throat to speak clearly, “that’s the problem, I don’t think I know what feels right or if I ever did. I just know circumstances.”

Samora inhales as she gets to her feet too, “okay then. Take everything that you bottled up and let it out there.” She points over the edge of the balcony, “you have to try to acknowledge the good and let some things go or you’ll forever feel stuck instead of moving forward…but I’m no therapist just a decorator who’s still annoyed that you didn’t reach out to revamp the bear—but that’s another conversation, just a friend who knows a little something something that’ll help.”

“Uh, something something?” Carmy repeats feeling his heart race as Samora waved her painted hand out for Carmy’s tatted one.

He takes her hand as she leads the way to the balcony but not close enough to trigger any vertigo. Carmy always loved the view at Samora’s compared to his own childhood home, which contrasted with no view at all—his bedroom didn’t have any windows, just a closed in space—and he was stuck hearing the common yelling between Donna and Mikey.

Carmy could see the top of a neighbor’s red brick building (thanks to how many floors the greystone had) across the street, along with another home to the left and a row of other houses to the right. Behind the house across the street sat the changing color of lights and beyond that was the liveliness of Chicago in the distance, the farmer’s market he personally loved and had Tina make the runs to, other great eateries, and music spots also weren’t far from Samora’s.

The woman rests a hand right in the center of his chest and Carmy can feel himself panting, “No one ever has to know if you have it all figured out…nobody truly does. Put down some of those dishes bear, out there. Not to hibernate but to be the best version of yourself for you and not what anyone tells you, you should be.”

His eyes burn and he feels like he might let some tears fall some more tonight and he finds that comfort in Samora. Something good from his past that was still present although his version is always different, he doesn’t mind much if she see’s any water that slips from the corners. He knows she won’t say anything about it, and her hand doesn’t move from his chest as she’s almost coaching him how to deal with just a portion of his bullshit.

He couldn’t figure it out for himself.

Yet he was willing to learn.

The scream curdles from the back of his throat, bursting through his lips into the night. He curls into his stomach some, the weight present, the firmness of Samora’s hand on his chest, and his face is hot in the summer air, turning pink as he fights to breathe through his screams. Samora is right there with him, her screams were much more melodic, like she’s had the practice while Carmy is testing it out.

His screams have been buried just like everything else he’s bottled up for years.

After, his throat is raw and voice hoarse as he sniffs, he abruptly turns to Samora, pulling her into another hug. She isn’t tense against him, small laughter falling through her own lips while Carmy hold’s onto her.

Calming down.

“love you,” he manages to get out while Samora scratches his back.

She knows he means it and it’s probably something he needed to hear back as of lately.

Samora sighs, “love you too, turd.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pulling back to meet her stare and she winks at him.

“…if I didn’t love the both of you, I might be highly concerned at whatever the hell that was.” Joel announces his arrival after a few moments of silence.

His arms are folded but he’s got that Berzatto sly grin on his lips as Carmy slowly lets his hands fall from Samora’s forearms. The shorter haired man makes his way over to the two, hands going to both of their shoulders as he peers back and forth.

“You made it.”

“I—yeah.” Carmy clears his throat with a shake of his head, “I did.”

“Good,” Joel dips his head but it feels more like a question than a comment.

carmy shrugs.

Samora claps her hands gaining both cousins’ attention, “let’s have some of Mora’s Mosa’s as a celebratory of the night—was the work day alright for you, love?”

Joel awkwardly nods his head back and forth as a way to show that it was so-so.

“Works for me!” Samora yells, “to the kitchen!”

“It’s midnight, honey.” Joel tells Samora who twists her lips to the side, “and I’m sure Carmy doesn’t want any of that green shit you had in the fridge.”

Samora gasps, “damn, who knew my boyfriend would be my biggest critic?”

“Oh c’mon, don’t get sensitive on me now!”

She shrugs his hand from her shoulder while Joel’s low lidded eyes sends a look to Carmy who raises his hands in surrender.

In a hoarse tone he replies, “I actually like the gazpacho so…you’re on your own with that one.”

“Woooow, okay.” Joel breathes out a laugh, then bites down on his bottom lip while Carmy moves to grab his phone and fallen gum pack.

Carmy then turns to watch the two bicker like an old married couple but it doesn’t get loud at all. Joel does talk with his hands to get his point across and Carmy can pinpoint the exact moment Samora cracks, the corner of her nose twitches with amusement before Joel tests the waters, gripping her hips to place a tender kiss on her lips, which Samora seems to kiss back before they break apart. Smiles on both of their faces before they turn back to Carmy who’s attempting to sneak off down the steps.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Joel asks, “you think you can just go off when you and I didn’t get any one on one time?”

Carmy taps his phone against his hand, “It’s getting late, don’t want to impose any further.”

Joel rolls his eyes, tossing an arm across Carmy’s shoulder, “shut your trap, you’re home, man.”

And with that Carmy is led back into the house.

He doesn’t think he’s slept long, but when he checks the time on his slowly dying phone, it’s already later into the next morning.

8:37am and he has no idea what this day is going to look like but it’s a Sunday…maybe for once he doesn’t have to. One of the rooms he’s tucked in belonged to one of Samora’s adopted brothers, Jacobi, Carmy guesses since there’s still a large crack against the ceiling thanks to a lighting strike that occurred way back when they were all kids.

He sits up for a while, taking in the view one last time before he starts to make his exit. He’s walking down the path towards the gate and stops as he hears the front door open.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Samora tells him as he turns to face her, the woman hugging her robe to herself as she’s sitting on the front step.

Carmy stretches a small smile on his dry lips, “Never that,” he jokes, “thanks for always being here, Sammy. Dunno if I ever told you that enough…probably not since I’m always in my head but uh—give Joel my thanks too for me this time.”

Samora dips her head and says, “Surely.”

Carmy scoffs as he pulls the gate back before putting his palm up in the air, “see you soon.”

“After while, crocodile.” She kisses her fingertips before waving them at him.

Samora watches Carmy go, hoping he starts putting the pieces together instead of forcing it all apart like he’s always been accustomed to.

When Monday comes along, his hands are resting along the trimming of white counter as he’s slightly shifting his head back and forth at all the greenery situated in front of him.

“Morning Chef,” Marcus greets first as he’s followed in by Tina.

Carmy nods his head in greeting.

Tina’s eyes immediately go to all the herbs and vegetables, “Jeffery, what’s all this?”

“Something new, green, for the menu.” Carmy informs, “I realized we haven’t had family dinner in a while and i want all of your inputs for what we’ll have tonight.”

Tina and Marcus share a glance, having a feeling that this had something to do with the new review. They all briefly talked about it in the group chat over the weekend.

“Okay, cool. We’re gonna just go put our stuff down.” Marcus points and Carmy keeps his eyes on the ingredients.

“Take your time, Chefs.” Carmy calls out after some time as the two have already started making their way towards the lockers.

He closes his eyes, trying to slow the rising beat of his heart, deeply inhaling as he ignores the contrast of oxygen between his two nostrils, that was another problem he’s gotten used to, his eyes open just in time to meet the green again as the back doors swing open, revealing the rest of his team gradually.

Carmy had work to do and he’s never been afraid of hard work.

☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

#Spotify #queued #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season 3 #the bear s3 #Carmen berzatto #Carmen carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto #Carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x oc #jeremy allen white #kyle gallner #smile movie #smile joel #summer writings

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livingdreams97 · 5 months ago

Text

Tara Carpenter -- "The lies I keep" (Part 4)

Tara Carpenter x Male reader/oc

Summary: Having a normal life is difficult after the one she considered her best friend tries to kill her and causes distrust in everyone she meets. But something or rather someone manages to enter her heart and hiding that person is the best thing that occurs to her.

Words: 4.328

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Masterlist

Tara's POV

A chill runs down my spine as the name and photo lights up the screen of my sister's phone. The memory of his sadistic laughter as he tried to kill my sister and his voice filling the first floor of Amber's house as he recounted his plan chills me.

Richie Kirsch.

Tara: How the fuck..?- I leave the question hanging in the air without understanding how it is possible.

Sam: I didn't get to delete the contact. - she answers without taking her eyes off the phone. - They're using your number. - she says simply.

Tara: Don't answer, let it ring.- I tell her when I see her thumb move towards the green button.

My sister ignores me and decides to answer the call. She quickly puts the phone to her ear and looks around the dark and almost desolate street.

Sam: Who is it? - she asks seriously. - Think very seriously about whether you really want to do this, because the last two who tried ended up dead. - she says with venom in her voice and I look between my sister's angry face and my boyfriend's confused one.

Y/n: Tara.- he calls me in a whisper and when I look at him he gestures with his head in front of us.

I look where he is pointing, seeing a figure dressed in dark clothing with a hood and walking towards us looking like he is talking on the phone.

I give my sister a quick push, alerting her to the person approaching us. My boyfriend stands in front of us in a projective manner, but the guy walks past us calmly, looking at us strangely.

Sam: So what? You protect us now? - she asks the person on the other end of the line. - Don't believe everything they say on the internet, asshole. - she insults him venomously. - You watch yours. - she threatens him.

Not a second later, I feel an arm go around my shoulders and wrap around my neck. I open my eyes in fear, seeing a knife and Ghostface's mask next to my face.

Y/n: Tara!- he exclaims, moving quickly and grabbing the knife arm, preventing me from being stabbed with it.

I take advantage of the moment and throw my elbow back, hitting ghostface in the face and with the help of my sister we push him to the ground.

Sam: Run!- she tells us, standing behind me and pushing me forward.

We run down the sidewalk, calling for help and seeing Ghostface already standing up running behind us. We turn to the right and see a bodega that we enter without hesitation.

Sam: You have to help us.- she asks the guy from the store at the same time as me.

Tara: Help, please!- I ask as soon as we approach the counter. -You have to call the police, there's a man outside who's n...- I desperately ask the store worker, ignoring the customers and being interrupted by the doorbell.

Ghostface enters the store and walks calmly towards us, without any hurry while we walk backwards.

XY: Any problems, ghost? - a man asks ghostface, standing in front of him.

The guy doesn't have time to react, before ghostafece moves quickly and stabs him several times in the stomach. Another man tries to separate him from the victim, receiving a stab in the side of the neck and being thrown to the side as if he was nothing.

We walk backwards, watching as he walks towards us at a leisurely pace, causing panic inside me.

Shopman: Hey! - he calls and quickly shoots Ghostface with the shotgun. -Go to the back room.- he tells us after coming out from behind the counter and seeing that the person he shot is no longer there.

The three of us quickly move to the door on our left side, attempting to open the back room door and realizing that it is locked.

Tara: Keys, we need the keys.- I say after running back to the hallway and getting the shopman's attention.

He grabs the keys that he has tied to his waist, trying to untie them and give them to me. But before he can let go of the keys, Ghostface appears and before we know it the clerk is already on the ground with a gunshot wound to the face.

Y/n: Fuck.- he whispers, impressed by what he just saw.

Sam: Hide.- she whispers to us, pulling us both through the corridors of the bodega.

The three of us crouch down, trying not to be seen by the killer and to be able to escape. We stay still, trying to listen for any noise so we can know where our attacker is.

By some miracle, we hear the sound of a package being stepped on where it had been when it had killed the owner of the bodega. We barely move a few centimeters before a shot is heard and the glass of the refrigerators behind us explodes.

Y/n: Shit.- he whispers barely perceptibly, causing me to look back and see him with blood on his arm and hand.

But before I can approach him or say anything, the sound of another gunshot fills the warehouse and several things from the shelves fall on top of us.

Sam: Come on.- says rushing us so we can move quickly.

We hide across one of the hallways, trying to hide as best as possible, the three of us stuck together. Sam grabs a can from the floor as quietly as possible and throws it away from us.

The noise the can makes when it falls to the ground causes Ghostface to walk towards the noise and we take advantage of it to move.

But as luck would have it, one of the glass pieces on the floor makes a noise and we freeze. The store falls completely silent for a few seconds, except for the background music.

Before we know it, the three of us have pushed a shelf over Ghostface and run out of the store. As soon as we cross the door, two police cars pull up in front of us and we turn back toward the store.

I notice that the door to the back room is now open and the mask the killer was wearing is now on the floor of the cellar.

I look at my sister, watching as the police enter the warehouse and search for the murderer.

Paramedic: Are you okay? - I hear someone ask us and I turn to see a paramedic approaching us.

Sam: Yes, thank you.- he answers with a small grimace.

Tara: Y/n needs his arm looked at.- I tell her quickly, turning to my boyfriend and seeing the blood stain the forearm of his shirt.

The paramedic takes my boyfriend to the ambulance, where they begin to treat him and heal the cuts on his arm and hand.

I look at my sister, worried about what is about to come and guilty for having brought Y/n into this whole thing.

POV Your

We have been in an interrogation room for more than half an hour, with rather unpleasant images scattered on the table and without knowing when they will let us go.

Tara is leaning on the table between her sister and me, her eyes closed and completely silent. Sam on the other hand is leaning back in the chair, with her arms crossed over her chest and a tired expression on her face.

I, on the other hand, have my back leaning against my chair and my head thrown back looking at the ceiling, completely exhausted and bored of waiting.

A while later, the door to the room opens and Detective Bailey enters. From what Tara told me when we arrived, he is the father of her roommate Quinn.

Bailey: This was found next to the body, on the floor at the crime scene.- he tells us, showing a Ghostface mask in an evidence bag and leaving it on the table. -The DNA says it belongs to someone named Richie Kirsch. Does that ring a bell?- he asks, looking at the three of us.

Sam: That sounds familiar to us, yes.- she answers in a somewhat vague way.

Tara: Whoever attacked us was wearing a different mask.- she tells the detective. -More battered, like an older one.- she explains in a simple way.

Bailey: I have to ask.- he begins, clearing his throat. -Do you have any alibi for today?- he asks us and my girlfriend is the first to respond.

Tara: I was at a party with friends and Y/n was with me too.- she answers and I nod confirming the alibi.

Sam: And I was in therapy, I can give you his contact and he'll confirm it to you.- she answers, making the detective write something on a piece of paper. -And then I saw Tara and the rest at the party, where I tased Y/n.- she finishes telling her alibi and I can see how the detective looks at me surprised.

I just make a face frowning my lips, remembering the moment and feeling my body shudder at the painful memory of the moment.

Tara places her hand on my thigh, leaving a light squeeze there and offering me a slight smile at the memory of what her sister has done.

Bailey: And that was before or after this? - he asks, searching for something on his phone and playing a video in which someone threw a soda at her.

Sam: Before.- she answers simply.

Tara: As you can see, we have been accompanied at all times. - she points out to make it clear that we have nothing to do with anything that has happened.

Sam: So our friend's father happens to be in charge of the case? - she says with some curiosity and distrust due to the coincidence.

Bailey: It's a small world, isn't it? - he shakes his head slightly. - Well, actually, the colleague who was going to take charge of the case offered it to me because it involved Quinn, but I can give it back to you if you feel uncomfortable - he assures the three of us, but at no time does he take his eyes off the eldest of the three.

Y/n: Well, I would feel more comfortable if you returned the case.- I commented, crossing my arms, earning a dirty look from the detective. -Don't take it personally, it's just that I don't know you and I don't think it's appropriate. Besides, isn't it illegal to participate or lead an investigation in which a family member is involved?- I asked him without stopping looking into his eyes.

Bailey: It's okay, because I'm going to be objective at all times.- he assures me firmly, but I can see that he's annoyed by the slight tremor in his right eyebrow.

Y/n: I'm not saying that you can't be objective in case that your daughter turns out to be a suspect, but the law says one thing and that is; no agent can participate in a case when any member of the close family is involved in said case.- I remind him raising an eyebrow. -Or is that not so?- I ask him tilting my head to the side.

Bailey: Yes it is.- he agrees with me, pressing his lips together in clear annoyance. -But in this case there won't be any problem, because I can vouch for Quinn not been involved and that she is innocent.- he assures the three of us, but from what I see I'm not the only one who doesn't completely trust what he says.

Y/n: And who would vouch for you? - I ask him with a slight smile, amused by the reactions I'm getting from the detective and the gestures he's making to keep from exploding.

Bailey: Any of my colleagues can do it.- he replies between his teeth. -So if you want me to return the case, it's up to you.- he repeats again, ignoring that I don't agree and looking at the brunette.

Sam: Okay.- she nods without being very convinced and I look at her shaking my head.

There is something I don't like about this man, he has a weird vibe and is not at all sincere. Besides, coincidences are a thing and this is a clear case of abuse of power.

Bailey: Okay.- he nods with a slight smile taking out another envelope. -If the man who attacked you stole your ID and left it next to the body, it's probably someone close to you.- he assures her leaving the evidence bag with Sam's ID full of blood in front of the owner. -Since when do you know your friends?- he asks mainly directed to the sisters.

Tara: We moved here for the summer semester with Mindy and Chad about six months ago. So Quinn, Ethan, Anika and Y/n have been friends ever since then or so.- she replies giving me a smile when she says my name and I return it.

Bailey: Well, I think I can rule out Quinn and that's one less we have to worry about.- he assures us causing the three of us to look at each other.

Y/n: If that's the case, I canvouch for Tara and Sam, which means two fewer people.- I refute his reasoning. -And Tara and Sam can rule out Chad and Mindy, which would mean two more people less; according to your reasoning. Plus I would expect Tara to also rule me out for being her boyfriend, which only leaves us with two possible suspects.- I commented, looking at him with some superiority when I noticed the slight tremor of his eyelid.

The girls look at me in surprise at what I just said, receiving a slight nod from Sam and a proud smile from my girlfriend.

The detective falls silent, watching me and taking a deep breath before speaking again.

Bailey: Do either of you have anyone who wants to attack you? - he asks the question directed at the Carpenter sisters, ignoring my comment completely.

Tara: No one who is still alive.- she answers after thinking about it for a few seconds.

Bailey: Wow.- he says surprised by the response of the shortest of all those present.

The four's attention moves to the door, when an agent opens it and leans inside the interrogation room.

Agent: The FBI, they say they have jurisdiction over the case.- he informs the detective, who gets up from his seat and leaves the place, closing the door behind him.

The three of us stayed silent for a few moments, during which we all let out tired sighs.

Y/n: I'm going to say it because I'm sure the three of us thought it.- I whisper, breaking the silence and turning my body towards the sisters. -Don't you find this whole situation a little strange?- I ask them, looking towards the door over my shoulder.

Tara: What do you mean? - she asks me confused and looking at her sister for support.

Y/n: I mean, Bailey is insisting on Quinn's innocence too much without giving any reason other than the fact that she's his daughter.- I begin to explain and the eldest of the sisters nods in agreement. -Besides, when he asked if we felt uncomfortable with him taking the case, I said that I preferred another detective and he ignored me because I didn't say what he wanted to hear.- I point out, looking towards the door again.

Tara: But is it true that since he is Quinn's father he can't participate in the case? - she asks me with sincere interest.

Y/n: Yes.- I nod. -If someone higher position than him finds out, they could open a file on him for participating and having access to privileged information, since you could manipulate evidence or alter the course of the investigation. They could also take away his badge and prohibit him from working as an agent again depending on the type of investigation.- I explain it in the simplest way possible so that they both understand.

Sam: Wait.- she says, getting my attention. -How do you know all this?- she asks me with confusion and interest.

Tara: Y/n is studying to be a lawyer.- she answers on my behalf, provoking a surprised and impressed reaction from her older sister at the information.

Sam: But I thought you met in class? - she asks, completely lost.

On the way from the winery to the police station in the police car we had some time to talk. Sam gave me the third degree, asking about my family, how Tara and I met, and about our relationship.

So you could say that's what her little sister has been hiding from her since she met me six months ago in our introduction to production class.

Y/n: And we did it.- I assure her with a smile. -I took the introduction to production class to earn extra credits.- I explain, shrugging my shoulders.

Sam: So you don't trust him either? - she asks me, referring to her roommate's father.

Y/n: Not at all, and the way he tried to remove his daughter from the list of suspects, I don't trust her completely either.- I answer.

Sam: At least we agree that Bailey is not someone to be trusted.- she assures and both her sister and I nod in agreement with what he says.

Tara: And Quinn? - she asks looking at her sister and me.

Sam: Let's keep some distance from her, but we'll continue acting as usual with her.- she answers her sister and she nods in response. -Now let's get out of here and go home.- she tells us getting up from the chair and I do the same.

My girlfriend interlaces her right hand with my good hand that is not bandaged, before starting to walk behind her sister and me behind both of them.

Sam: Kirby?- she asks, stopping next to an open room where Quinn's father and a familiar-looking short-haired blonde girl are.

Kirby: Hello Sam.- she greets her back leaving the room with a slight smile and hugging her.

Sam: But what..?- she asks with evident confusion returning the hug.

Kirby: Tara.- greets my girlfriend and gives me a quick look, making me shake my head discreetly.

Sam: You're the FBI? - she asks the blonde in disbelief, receiving a nod in response.

Bailey: Do you know each other? - he asks with some frustration in his voice, looking between the two older women.

Sam: Yes.- she answers looking between the two agents. -We went to Woodsboro High Toghether. She was a senior when I started.- she explains simply.

Kirby: We have something in common, yes.- she confirms with a slightly lost look. -Look, I don't want us to measure who has the largest jurisdiction, I just want to help. I'll scratch your back, etc.- she says to Agent Bailey, handing him some documents and I bite my lip to hold back my laughter.

Tara: Don't laugh.- she whispers to me when she sees my face, giving me a light punch in the stomach with her elbow and giving me a dirty look.

Bailey: Good.- she nods, receiving more documents from a police officer. -Thank you.- he thanks, looking at the bag with the Ghostface mask. -The mask was left in the store. There are traces of DNA from two individuals: Charlie Walker and Jill Roberts, both already deceased.- he reads what is written on the mask and I look at the blonde quickly, feeling a phantom pain in my back.

Kirby: The masked killers of 2011.- she says receiving the mask and giving me a subtle look. -Charlie Walker did this to me.- she explains lifting her shirt a little so the scars on her side are visible. -That's why I'm interested in these cases.- she explains lowering the edge of her shirt. -Is this the mask he was wearing when he attacked you?- she asks the girls directly.

Tara: No.- she immediately denies, since the one the murderer was wearing when he attacked us was older and worn out.

Bailey: So, he leaves them on purpose.- he announces looking at the FBI agent.

Kirby: Whoever is behind this has studied previous killers who came before.- she says, looking at the mask in her hand.- Maybe he believes Sam is the latest in a long line.- she says, looking at the one mentioned.

Sam: Okay, good luck with that.- he says to both agents. -We're leaving town.- she says, looking at her sister, and the two of them start walking, with me being pulled slightly by my girlfriend's intertwined hand.

Bailey: I'm sorry, but that's not possible.- he denies causing the three of us to stop and look at the two police officers. -You three are persons of interest on a double homicide, so you can't leave New York.- he tells the three of us and I glare at him.

Tara: Are you serious? - she asks the older agent, letting go of my hand and taking a step towards him.

Kirby: He's right.- she supports with a lost look. -But if we work together...- she begins to say looking at the oldest of the Carpenters.

Sam: Let's go.- she says to her sister and the two of them walk away.

I stand still for a few seconds, watching Kirby and trying to have a mental conversation with her. She gives me a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

Tara: Y/n!- I hear her calling me, so I make a face at the agents and run to where my girlfriend and sister are.

The three of us walk in complete silence, with Sam in the lead and me behind, keeping Tara between us. As soon as we walk through the doors of the police station, we see a group of reporters who, as soon as they see the sisters leave, approach and start asking questions.

Sam glances at me quickly, motioning me towards the group and then to her sister. I nod as I walk over to my girlfriend and pull her against my chest and quickly walk behind her sister through the reporters.

Gale: Gale Weathers, Channel 4.- I hear behind me and my body immediately freezes. -Do you think you're the reason Ghostface has come to the Big Apple?- she asks the Carpenters.

Y/n: Shit.- I mumbled through my teeth, closing my eyes tightly for a few seconds.

I stand still with my back to her, not wanting her to see me and recognize me. But out of the corner of my eye I can see Sam making a sudden movement, so I turn with my eyes wide open and watch as Gale dodges a punch.

Gale: Nice try, sweete, but i´ve done this dance before.- she replies proudly before his eyes stray from Sam for a few seconds. -Y/n.- she whispers in surprise when she sees me.

But the reporter doesn't have time to say anything else, as my girlfriend's fist hits her left cheek with force and turns her face.

Everyone around us exclaims in surprise at the blow. Gale turns around holding his cheek and looking at my girlfriend completely shocked by the blow.

Tara: Don't even come near us.- she threatens, grabbing my hand again and pulling us away from the reporters.

Gale: Are you still mad at me? - I hear her ask behind us.

Sam: You said you wouldn't write a book about what happened and then you wrote it. - she reproaches her with obvious annoyance.

Gale: Come on!- she exclaims exasperatedly. - Someone was going to write about it! It's my job. - she argues defensively.

Tara: I hear you couldn´t sell the movie rights- she reproaches her with an impassive face.

Gale: It´s... it´s all about true crime limited series these days.- she tells my girlfriend in response to her attack.

Sam: After everything we've been through together.- she reproaches the reporter. - What would Dewey think? - she asks her maliciously and I open my eyes in surprise.

Y/n: Sam, you've gone too far, that's not the point.- I tell her with some annoyance at the use of the reporter's late ex-husband who died last year.

Gale: Don't worry, Y/n.- she tells me, causing me to grimace. -That was a low blow.- she reproaches the eldest Carpenter.

Sam: So is your book.- she reproaches her back taking a step towards her. -You called me "unstable" and "a born killer."- she reproaches her lowering her voice.

Gale: That´s taken out of context - defends herself, trying to lighten the mood.

Sam: It's a literal quote. - she reminds her annoyed by the description.

Tara: You don´t think what you wrote has something to do with what is happening to us? - she asks her with a certain accusatory tone.

Sam:Come on.- she tells us starting to walk towards one of the taxis.

Gale: Hey, I talked to Sidney.- she says causing the girls to stop and look at her.

Tara: She's not coming here, is she? - she asks with some uncertainty.

Gale: No.- she shakes her head. -She sends her love, but she is going to a safe place with Mark and the kids.- she explains, reassuring the sisters. -She deserves to have her happy ending.- she assures with a certain sparkle in her eyes.

Sam: On that much, we agree.- she says to end the conversation, turning around and opening the taxi door to get in.

Gale: Hey, I want to catch this fucker as much as you do.- she says as she approaches the car.

Tara: Maybe.- she says before getting into the taxi. -Or maybe you're just afraid that without Ghostface in your life, you're gonna fade away.- she attacks her to get into the vehicle with her sister.

Y/n: Call you later?- I ask in a whisper, receiving a slight nod from the reporter and with that I get in the car as well.

The driver starts the car, at the same time I close the door and put on my seatbelt.

We started to move towards the sisters apartment, or at least that's what I concluded. Sam's intention was to go home and pack her suitcase. Plus, the rest of their group will probably still be in their apartment and want to know what happened.

Tara: I have a question.- she says after a few moments of silence, drawing both her sister's attention and mine. -How did Gale know your name?- she asks me, looking me straight in the eyes.

I swallow heavily, looking at the intense look my girlfriend is giving me and the tension building inside the cab.

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