#pretty sure I managed to hit the prompt dead center too

[triscribeaucollection]

Fingers crossed I think I've got the flash fiction piece I'm going to submit to that magazine

Just need to wait for Certain Individuals to CHECK THEIR PHONE and read it to give me a thumbs up or thumbs down

The Bothering will continue until I get a response

[datleggy]

Buddie prompt: aggressively pro-buddie Helena and Ramon Diaz, who are ecstatic when Eddie tells them he's dating, and then utterly befuddled when he introduces Ana. But they decide to bite their tongues about it (Buck, their future son in law, has talked to them about respecting Eddie's decisions, however dumb, after all), until Ana (unwittingly? Innocently? No matter) makes a comment about Buck, and then all bets are off.

Hope this inspires you!

Helena is so relieved that Eddie finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them, that she could cry. She feels awful that it took her so long to realize it. 

It had been on Eddie’s last visit to Texas, when he and his crew had been fighting wildfires, that Ramon--her dense as can be when it comes to matters of the heart husband of all people--had noticed that their son was in love. 

Helena still remembers saying goodbye to her son and his two teammates, remembers Ramon closing the door, waiting exactly all of five seconds before turning to her and saying, “I’m happy for him. He’s so stubborn, I didn’t know if he’d ever let himself get that close to someone again.” 

And Helena had been confused at first, and then even chuckled when Ramon had explained calmly that clearly their son was dating his coworker Buck, until she’d stopped to really give it a moment’s thought. It had hit her all at once, how obvious those two were, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since they’d started dating and why Eddie hadn’t said anything yet. 

She’s seen the photos on Instagram, Helena thinks, as their plane lands. Buck smiling next to her grandbaby after helping her son build him a skateboard he could safely ride in the park. Buck standing shoulder to shoulder with Eddie behind Tia and Christopher in that Christmas photo at the station. The selfie Eddie posted of him and Buck with the giant cast still on his leg the day of the ceremony for when he was no longer a probationary firefighter with the 118. 

Really, she should’ve figured it out months ago. 

When Eddie had called and told her he’d started dating again and that the next time they came to visit he’d make an introduction Helena had been thrilled! 

Ramon drives them from the airport to their son’s place in their rental and Helena rambles on about how she hopes Buck isn’t too nervous to see them again, now that the cat’s out of the bag. 

When they arrive Eddie greets them at the door with a big hug and ushers his parents inside and Helena is so ready to step into the living room and welcome Buck into the family with open arms, to show her son that there was nothing to be afraid of, that they love him and nothing in the world would change that--

Only to be met with....not Buck? 

“Oh,” Helena stops dead in her tracks and Ramon stands beside her looking about as confused as she feels. “Hello.” she smiles politely enough. 

The woman sitting next to Christopher on the couch stands up and she’s absolutely stunning, her curls bouncing on her shoulders when she stands up to exchange hello’s. “It’s so nice to meet you both. My name is Ana.” 

The rest of the afternoon goes by just fine, but Eddie can tell something is amiss the entire time, though he does a good job of hiding it from Ana, who’s her usual charming self through out lunch. 

She has to take a work call at some point and excuses herself to another room and that’s when Eddie turns to his parents and half-whispers. “Ok, I know those looks. What’s wrong?” 

Helena shakes her head, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, what is it? Ana is perfect. She’s incredibly smart, she’s funny, she’s got a great job, good head on her shoulders, and Christopher loves her--so again, I ask, what’s wrong?” 

Ramon follows his wife’s lead. “Mijo, really, it’s nothing. She’s great. We’re happy for you. I think we’re just a little tired from the flight, that’s all.” 

Eddie narrows his eyes slightly but decides there isn’t much sleuthing that can be done at the moment, so all he can do is take them at their word for now. “Fine, if you say so.” 

They’re in the middle of watching Nemo when Buck's name comes up.

"When the tsunami happened Buck and I sang 'just keep swimming' like Dory." Christopher grins up at his dad and Eddie ruffles the curls on his head playfully. It helps Christopher to be able to openly talk about what he went through that day, the good and the bad.

"You never told me Buck was there that day." Ana comments off handedly.

Eddie nods, "Huh, I thought I mentioned it? Buck took him to the pier that morning."

"It was scary but Buck saved me." Christopher tells his grandma, who reaches across the couch to squeeze his arm. Helena had been horrified to hear what had happened at the time; it still gives her anxiety just thinking about it.

"That's right." She says softly.

"I thought some woman you didn't know carried him to one of the tents, and that's how you two were reunited, no?" Ana asks.

"Yeah, but before that, during the initial impact Buck was with Christopher, he managed to get him up to this firetruck in the middle of everything. It was after he dove back into the water to save someone that a second wave came and swept Christopher right off and they got separated from there." Eddie recalls solemnly.

There had been blood running down the dirty wet bandage on his arm, he'd been soaked to the bone, exhausted and barely standing upright. It wasn't until Christopher had been found that Buck had allowed himself to collapse.

"Oh..." Ana frowns.

Ramon puts a hand over his heart and sighs. "It's a miracle, really."

Ana doesn't mean to say it outloud, but the words comes tumbling out of her mouth without warning. "And you're still friends with him?"

Eddie blinks. "What?"

"I'm sorry, really, it's just--I don't understand." Ana rubs her shoulder self consciously, fully aware of the fact that everyone is looking at her. "Look, Edmundo, you nearly bit my head off when Christopher got a skinned knee under my watch but you're still best friends with the man who lost your son for God only knows how long? It doesn't make any sense to me."

Ana knows how overprotective Eddie is of his son, and in fact, that's one of the reasons she likes him so much; she admires that about him and this? It doesn't track with the man she knows.

Helena wants to open her mouth and she say something in defense of Buck--he's a good man, after all. But she knows better than to get between a couple in an argument, especially given how bias she is towards her future son in law...

Instead, she clears her throat and looks at Christopher, "Honey, how about you help me and Grandpa unpack? I bought a lot of fun things from Texas for you."

Christopher doesn't want to go. His Dad looks upset. Ana looks upset. He wants to stay and help. If Ana met Buck she would understand, Christopher's sure of it. But his grandparents are already leading him down the hall and to the guest room.

Christopher hangs out with his grandparents for a few minutes before fibbing and telling them he needs to use the bathroom. They both offer to help him but he insists that he can do it himself, promising to call out if he needs them.

He sneaks the home phone into the bathroom with him and dials a number he knows by heart at this point. He waits a couple of rings before the call connects.

"Hey, what's up?" Buck's voice comes through the other end. He sounds distracted.

"Bucky? Can you come get me?" He whispers into the phone.

He hears a small commotion and then a stifled 'ow!' and then: "Chris? Are you ok? You're home, right? What's wrong? Where's Eddie?"

"I'm home. I'm ok. But--" there's a knock on the door and it startles Christopher into accidentally hanging up the phone before he can explain the situation in it's entirety.

"It was a tsunami." Eddie sighs, "It wouldn't be fair to hold something like that over his head. And look, you weren't there. You didn't see the look on his face, you don't know how many hours he spent crying out Christopher's name at the top of his lungs, injured and looking nonstop through the rubble for him--"

"Yeah, which he wouldn't have had to do if he hadn't lost him in the first place. It sounds like he was too busy playing hero for strangers to watch your son." Ana folds her arms across her chest. "I don't want to fight. Especially not with your parents here. Honestly, I'm just confused? We don't have to talk about this right now. I can go. I just want to apologize to your parents and Christopher first, before I leave, for," she sighs, embarrassed, "well, for causing a scene. This is not the way I'd pictured meeting your parents."

"You know, if you just met Buck I really think you would--"

A cacophony of knocks at the door make the both of them jump. Ana looks at Eddie. "Were you expecting anyone else?"

"Christopher!? Christopher I'm here, open up!"

Eddie gapes. "...Buck?"

"Did you...call him over?" Ana didn't even see him reach for his phone.

"What? No, of course not." Eddie starts towards the door--the knocking has gotten so boisterous he's pretty sure Buck's about to break down his door--but Ana beats him to it.

At this point Eddie's parents and Christopher are in the hallway wondering what all that racket is.

Ana lets the door swing open, and if she's being entirely honest she's not sure what she's planning on saying to the man who's essentially at the center of her first real argument with her boyfriend, but whatever it was, it goes up in smoke when she takes in the sight of him.

Buck is taller than she'd pictured but that's not what's got her speechless.

He's standing at the doorway, chest heaving, clearly having rushed out of his house, where he was very obviously in the middle of shaving, if the shaving cream still smeared on a third of his face is any indication. He's in sweatpants and a white undershirt that's got little drops of blood on the front from where he must have cut himself while shaving. There's a bright red cut running down the underside of his chin.

"Um." Ana can't do much except stare, wide eyed.

Buck blinks at her, "Uh...Ana?" He suddenly realizes all the people in the house behind her are looking at him in a kind of stupor.

She nods slowly. "Buck?"

Buck nods sheepishly, "Uh... So, I am clearly interrupting something here."

"You came!" Christopher moves past all of the adults in the corridor and throws himself at Buck's legs.

Buck lifts the kid up easily enough, crutches and all, "Yeah, about that," he gently pinches his cheek, eliciting a giggle out of Christopher, "What was that phone call all about? You nearly gave me a heart attack, bud."

Eddie groans. "Christopher, did you call Buck to come all the way over here in the middle of the day?" He walks over and uses the cuff of his shirt sleeve to wipe away the rest of the shaving cream on the side of Buck's face. The look on his face is fond as he does so. "What did this little menace say to get you over here in such a rush?"

Christopher pouts. "I just told him to come get me. I thought if Miss Ana met my Bucky she'd know how come you're still best friends." He grips at Buck's t shirt tightly. "You can't stop being friends, Dad. I love Buck. He's my friend too."

Buck frowns. "Umm..."

Eddie gives him an apologetic look. "Sorry, it's not--it's complicated. I promise to explain everything later. Right now isn't really a great time--"

Ana interrupts hesitantly. "Actually, now is probably good. I need to get home soon, it's getting pretty late, so I should get going." She turns to Helena and Ramon. "It was very nice to meet you both." She scoohches past Buck and Christopher and practically sprints to where she parked her car, aware of the fact that Eddie is calling out her name and only half a step behind her.

It's not until they're several blocks down the street that she swivels around and he nearly topples into her in his haste. "Ana, please, I don't want you to leave like this. I really didn't call him over." He reaches into his back pocket and shows her his phone. "See?"

Ana takes the phone and presses her lips together thinly. "He called you like twenty times on his way over."

Eddie frowns. His phone must have been on silent. It's no wonder Buck rushed over like he did. "He was just worried about Christopher--"

Ana sighs resignedly. "No, I know. It's obvious, how much your best friend cares about your son. I can see why he's still in your life. And I think I can also see why that means you don't really have any room for me in it..."

Eddie shakes his head. "What? Why would you say that?"

Ana looks him in the eye, intent as can be on reading him. Eddie had smiled so warmly, creating such an unintentionally intimate moment when all he'd done was swipe at the other mans face with his sleeve...

"You don't even know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"I think this is something you and Buck need to sort out yourselves. Goodbye Edmundo."

Eddie closes the door behind him as he steps inside, a little heartbroken and a lot confused.

There's noise coming from the kitchen and so Eddie follows it to the source. Ramon is telling Buck about how to sear the perfect steak by the stove while Helena and Christopher set the table.

"Is everything alright?" Helena asks, when she notices him by the entryway.

Eddie nods, lying when he says. "Yeah, all good Mom."

She gives him a knowing look but keeps her mouth shut. "Honey, take Buck here to your room, let him borrow one of your shirts. And maybe a razor?"

Buck chuckles shyly. "It's fine, really. I should probably get going too--"

Ramon shushes him. "Nonsense. Go, go, get changed and get your butt back into this kitchen. Scoot."

Eddie takes Buck by the shoulders and drags him to his room, where he finds a worn gray Henley for him. "Here."

Buck thanks him before stripping out of his white undershirt and throwing on the clean shirt.

Eddie plops himself down on his bed with a sigh. "Hey, I'm sorry about all this mess. And on your one day off, too."

Buck sits down beside him, bumping their shoulders together. "I don't really know what's going on but, are you doing ok?"

"I don't know," Eddie makes a face. "I think I got broken up with today."

Buck cringes. "Shit, I'm sorry, what happened?"

That's a good question. Eddie ponders that a moment. Ana had said it herself: she understood perfectly why Eddie didn't blame Buck for what happened during the tsunami and she had seen first hand how much Buck cares for Christopher for herself today.

So, why?

"She said that there wasn't any room for her in my life?" Eddie scratches the back of his head. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this dating stuff anymore."

"Aw, c'mon man," Buck pats him on the back. "You fall off the bike you gotta get right back on." He turns his body all the way around so that he's facing Eddie fully. "Dude, you're a catch. You're a handsome, badass firefighter, you've got the best kid, and hey--you got me." Buck grins toothily.

Eddie rolls his eyes, though he can't help but smile. "So what I'm hearing here is that I'm stuck with you?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." Buck laughs.

Eddie leans back on his arms and looks up at his best friend, pensive. "Promise?"

Buck extends his pinky and wiggles it in front of Eddie, who smiles as he wraps his pinky around Buck's. "Promise."

.

[animeyanderelover]

Hii 💖Can you do Minato with prompt 84?

Seems to not fit him at first glance, but he is a dangerous cookie after all. I got some inspiration from a post from @kyoties. It's inspired from this one Sakura x Yandere!Minato comic. Also, Minato is very manipulative and cunning in here. I just felt in the mood for some angsty stuff.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, controlling behavior, manipulation, bribing, blackmailing, blood, killing

Prompt 84: “I’m not the most violent person, but I’m willing to change that if it means having you.”

It's not like you weren't used to seeing blood, you were a shinobi after all and had seen some crazy shit after all. There had even been this one time where you had witnessed a man bombing himself for the sake of not getting caught. People were all deep down a bit crazy, it wasn't anything new to you. Everyone had a darker side somewhere lurking in them. In the end it all depended on how good someone could control it. A good self-control was the essence to many things, if not to all. You could achieve about anything with it because in the end cold-hearted cruelty was always superior to hot-blooded violence. It sharpened the mind, made you think before acting and allowed you to fool others, manipulating them into acting like you wished. It was a simple fact you had seen very often before. No one was really a good person, everyone was able to do brutal things, horrible things.

So why? Why was your heart in so much pain right now? Hadn't you been prepared for a day where someone you thought you were close with would show his real face? Hadn't you always reminded yourself that everyone had a different and cold side to them, including you? It had after all always been basic knowledge for you. Thinking deeper about it, maybe you weren't in so much pain right now because you had not seen it coming. Maybe it was just that seeing even him being like this as well had just extinguished a small flame of hope in you which he had mangaged to lit in you. This stupid thought that maybe there were people in this world who weren't like this. Who weren't two-faced. But you had been tricked by him, the person you had even thought to have fallen in love with. Now you weren't so sure anymore if the man, tainted in blood was really the same you had always felt your heart fluttering around.

"Who...who are you?", you managed to croak out, feeling like you were about to faint here and then. So many fights, so many battles, so much blood. It had of course always affected you, but never ike this. You were achingly aware, too aware, of everything right now. The warm and sticky feeling of blood all over you, the wind causing you to shiver, the shadows the corpses were throwing on the ground and his presence, feeling more terrifying than anything you had ever sensed before. It felt like all warmth had been abandoned from him, someone you had sometimes compared to as sunshine. But know you had a hard time believing that this man was the same at who's back you were currently staring with quievering eyes, having troubles breathing properly. Who was this?

Upon hearing your voice, Minato seemed to come back to his senses, turning slowly around to look you in your eyes. It was the first time since his sudden arrival that you were finally facing him. His clothes were stained with red liquid, his face spattered with it as well. It looked pretty bad even though you doubted any of this blood belonged to him. No, all of it belonged to the men who were now laying lifelessly on the ground, all the blood creating a huge puddle in which center you two were standing. It made you feel nauseous, the intense stench of it making bile raise up your throat, your stomach feeling like a hungry rat was greedily biting it's way outside.

But this wasn't what mae you break out in cold sweat, leading your whole body to shake uncontrollably and heart pounding with ony pure fear in your heart. No, it was this look he had in his eyes. You remembered that his eyes had always reminded you of an ocean. They were deep and yet possessed this certain sparkle in them, something that reminded you that he was alive. But right now there was nothing. They were completely empty, the color in them seeming much more pale and less powerful in comparison to how you remembered them. Even the eyes of the now dead people surrounding you appeared more lively, fear, desperation and horror visible in them. They were all dead, but looked more alive than Minato in that moment.

"What are you talking about? It's me. Minato." You suppressed the urge to shake your head, eyes staring even more horrified at him after hearing his voice. Nothing, not a single emotion in them. It was just as cold and empty as his eyes. By now he had shifted his complete attention to you, eyes being, despite any sign of emotion, intense in it's own way. You felt like the coldness in him was starting to seep in the air around him, you suddenly starting to freeze, chills dancing up and down your body. "But this isn't the important question now." He stepped closer, towering over your sitting form. "What are you doing here? If I remember right, you were supposed to take a break from missions due to your injuries. So why is it that I find you miles away from the village, engaging in a fight that you couldn't win from the very start? Didn't I tell you, order you, to let me take care of this? I thought that you wouldn't be that risking to try to chase down those shinobi all by yourself. I thought you were more mature than this."

Those words hurt, they hit you like arrows, you feeling hot and cold shame, embarrassment, frustration and anger washing over you, nearly making your head spin in the process. In all the times you had spend with him, you couldn't remember a single time he had ever sounded that harsh, that cruel. Sure, you could recall times where he had been more strict on you, but never like this. You knew that he wasn't wrong. In fact he was right. You had let yourself get carried away, had been careless and risked your own life. And yet..."Be quiet. How can you possibly understand how I feel right now? How I felt back then?" Your voice had gone very quiet, you squeezing the fabric right over your heart, glaring at the ground. Your eyes started stinging, everything becoming blurry before you felt hot tears streaming down your face. "How can you understand how it feels to lose comrades you've known for years all because you were too unable to to protect them? All of them...they died because of me."

It hurt, only remembering it made you feel like someone was stabbing a poisenous blade right in your heart. "I-I couldn't safe them. They all ended up sacrificing themselves for me. My whole team...wiped out in an instant. And I was the only one who made it put alive. And the worst is that all of them died for nothing. I couldn't even give them a meaningful and honorable death. Their families...I couldn't even tell them that the death of their children helped the village, much less face them." Minato was listening attentively, his gaze slowly faltering upon seeing you in such a devastated state. "(y/n)...they were my people too. I know how you feel, I'm in pain as well. But that is no reason to chase blinded by hatred after them. What would have it done good if you would have died in here as well? You would have dishonored their wish to let you continue life. I told you I would make sure that they would be punished for their crimes. Didn't you trust me enough or why did you still decide to go solo?"

"Because I wanted to be the one to catch them and make them pay." Your face was by now stained with a mix made out of blood, sweat and tears. "It's not like I didn't trust you with your promise. It's just that I knew that if I wouldn't at least help to catch, I would have never been able to forgive myself and be confident." You slowly looked up, revealing your pained expression. "I know that this was reckless. But what else could I have done? I just had to do this myself. I don't expect you to understand this, you aren't someone who launches without a plan or lets himself get carried away from his feeling. That's why I knew you wouldn't let me join the team. And that's why I sneaked out myself. I wanted to give their death a meaning as the one who took it from them."

By now it looked like a a bit of warmth had returned to his eyes, giving you a somewhat sympathetic yet still strict look. "I do get why you did it. But what did you hope to gain from this? It won't bring back your team by risking your life nor will it help you feel better. The only thing this would have earned you if I wouldn't have found you would have been the same fate. You should have trusted me and your other comrades. You were in no condition to fight. You had no plan, not the physical skills to do it and certainly not the mentality. Charging in just to feel better about yourself. What were you thinking?"

You scoffed angrily, slowly starting to get back on your feet. A sudden stinging pain in your side made you groan, stumbling nearly back on the ground before you managed to gain your balance back. Your hand snatched automatically under your clothes, pressing against the spot where the pain was coming from. When you pulled back, fresh blood was glistening on your hand. Minato instantly stepped closer to you, a look of concern crossing his face and started stretching his hand out, wanting to help you. "Are you fine? Let me take a short look and-" He stopped when you rudely slapped his hand away, making a shocked look flash over his face. "You think I did this to feel better? Are you kidding me? I'll never feel better about this, no matter what I do. I let them get killed and I'm wel aware that nothing I will do in the future will completely restore me. But still..." You clenched your fists, feeling anger boiling up inside of you. "What other motivation and reason would I have needed besides their pride and memories I'm carrying?!?! You will never be able to understand me!! You didn't saw it!! You merely feel a part of what I'm feeling!! It was my mission!! My responsibility!! And I failed!! How could you ever possibly understand me?!?! Besides, I was only planning on capturing them!! I'm not stupid with thinking when I kill them everything will be fine!! You were the one who just now lost total control and slaughtered them all!! What right do you have to lecture me about what I did wrong when you aren't any better?!?! No matter what you say, I don't regret what I did!! And I would do it over and over again and if you try to stop me, I'll make sure that I'll never have to see you again and stopping me from doing the right thing!!"

You had pushed yourself against him, a furious look on your face, glaring with pure anger at him. And for a short moment everything suddenly seemed to quiet down, even the noises in the forest stopping as if everything was watching you two right now. Minato looked in denial, not believing that you had just lashed out on him like this. "You're right. I'm normally not like this." He looked like he himself was stunned with what he had done. "I'm not the most violent person, but I'm willing to change that if it means having you." He didn't look you in the eyes for a while, glancing at what he had done. But only a few moments later his expression darkened, the previous warmth in his eyes suddenly all gone again. "Just who do you think you're talking to?" His voice was slightly raised, clearly irked about your disrespectful behavior just now. "Do you think you can talk to your Hokage like this? You must not let your anger out on me because you're currently a bit too agitated. The fact reminds that you disobeyed me which could have led to your certain death if I wouldn't have stepped in, meaning you brought my life with your impulsive acting indirectly in danger as well. Not only that, but the village suffered casualties because of you. Those men were needed alive, but because of you they're dead now. Are you even aware in what a bad position you're in exactly?"

Anger turned temporarily in pure disbelief, you looking completely flabbbergasted at him. "What do you mean that they're dead because of me? You were the one who killed them." You felt dread washing over you when being met with his firm gaze, getting a really bad feeling. "And who is there to confirm this?" You nearly choken on the air. "W-what do you mean by this?"

"We're far away from the village. Those guys are dead. No one saw us. It would be in the end your word against mine. And I do hope you know whom the village would believe more. There are even people who can confirm to have you seen leaving the village plus the fact that you took a lot of paperbombs and weapons with you. And you have a very solid motive as well, you even told people you would chase them mercilessly down and revenge your teammates. Everyone would believe it was you. I only came to see you having killed them all."

You had no words, this shameless blackmailing of his having just robbed you your ability to speak properly. Your brain needed a long moment to fiddle a few half-decent sentences together. "Y-you're deranged. Are you seriously blackmailing me now? What has gotten into you?" You didn't know if the slight stirring in his eyes was something akin to regret, maybe you were right now just too much in shock to comprehend and judge properly. The sudden knowledge that someone you had comsidered your best friend had just done the unspeakable to you had blown you completely off-guard. You felt betrayed, bitterness starting to seep into your heart and mind, accompanied by a white-blazing wrath. How could he do this to you?! "You...I hate you." Your face twisted into an angry mask. "I'll make sure that I'll have to see you after this never again!"

Some rational-thinking part of you cursed at you to remain calm, to not do what you were about to do. But your mind was too darkened up to listen, ignoring all the screaming pain you felt when you suddenly tensed all your muscles up and the knowledge that you could not beat him, grabbing angrily a kunai. You felt confused when looking at Mina-. No, at that man in front of you. Who was that? You had never seen him before. Was that the reason why you felt no hesitation to attack him? Because you didn't recognize the man you had shared precious memories with?

"Wait, something is wrong." Time seemed to slow down for a bit, a sudden hyperawareness grabbing you and sharpening your senses unbelievably. You felt a million different thoughts were racing through your mind in less than a second. "Why-why isn't he moving?" Minato was clearly looking at you, he had to know that you were about to launch at him. So why didn't he make any attempts to dodge your attack. Did he want to get hurt by you? But why? A sudden rustling from the trees made your eyes shift in an instant to the noises and the source of it. And that's when realization hit you like a lightning. "SHIT! Did they arrive just now?!"

You had no time to react anymore, the only thing you did manage to do was shifting your course a bit. But you still landed a solid blow, ramming the sharply formed iron in his shoulder, causing him to hiss in pain and jump a bit back. You watched only in horror, sitting helplessly on the ground as all the Anbu were surrounding you in only the matter of a few miniseconds. One rushed instantly to Minato who pulled with a slightly pained expression the kunai out of his freshly created wound, the Anbu instantly pulling out a piece of fabric and pressing it against the bleeding. "Lord Hokage! What happened in here?"

No! You tried to move, but the moment you did, you were thrown harshly to the ground, one of the many members twisting your arm painfully behind your back. "Hey! Let her go. It's fine." Though you couldn't see the face of the person, male judging from his body, you could hear the slight confusion in his voice. "But Lord Hokage...they just attacked you and..." He looked a bit around, the place demolished from all the paperbombs you had used before Minato had elegantly and fastly killed them all. You realized with terror that nothing in here hinted that he had killed or interacted in this fight. He had even used one of your kunais which he had picked up and dropped after being finished. The same kunai with which you had just stabbed him. What had you done. "...and they killed them all. We needed those people for information gathering. Their knowledge was important."

"I know it looks a bit difficult. But they didn't intend to do it. You need to try to see it from their perspective. It must have left a traumatic impact on them. It's terrifying to witness something like this. Especially given the fact that it was their first mission as a team leader. And also, look closer. They lost a lot of blood already. I'm sure that their barely conscious by now. It was a bit my mistake as well. I creeped up from behind them. They probably mistook me as another enemy."

In one point he was right. You were at this point barely keeping it together, black spots dancing in front of your eyes. You still noticed how everyone was looking at you, judging whether to trust you or not. "He might be right. I was assigned to watch over them when they were first delievered in the hospital. I remember that they suffered from nightmares, bad ones. And they are indeed very badly hurt. Stop pressing your body on them like this. They're already very pale and don't look good. Instead of being cautious of them, we should focus on getting them back to the village. Hatred can lead you to becoming blind and for them it must have been an especially mind-and heartshattering experience." You might have felt the smallest bit of gratitude for the woman, but it didn't change much in the end. You were still caught attacking the Hokage and everyone was, just like Minato, had predicted, sure that you were the one who had killed the ninja.

"I want you all to keep this a secret. (y/n) shouldn't have to suffer and endure even more than they already did." Some of the Anbu looked shocked at Minato, other ones accepted his decision, even though more reluctant. "So you're plan on doing nothing? Lord Hokage, by all respect, but there has to be at least a bit of consequences for their behavior."

"I know that. I wasn't planning on letting them go just like this." You had by now lost all the will to fight, one of the Anbu having to support you because you didn't possess the strength to stand on your own. You had by now soaked your top completely on the one side, the bleeding having really stopped. But despite knowing that fainting was very likely at any moment, you forced to focus on what he was having in mind for you.

"I was thinking about remiving their title as a jonin from them, maybe even making them retire for a bit. I don't think that after this experience they'll be able to continue as they used to do. It just left too much of an impact and affected them mentally. I hope by stopping them for a while, they'll have time to recover from their experience. I'll make sure they do. You know that I care for them a lot."

Up until now you had never noticed how talented he really was in lying. But now that you were the victim, you could only be stunned as well as scared of his charms and ways of making people trust him. You had never even thought how terrifying he really was before because you had seen him as a friend. "A friend..."

Before you finally passed out, collapsing due to the blood loss and because everything had just been to much for you, you had one last thought, a resenting and pained smile on your face. "Not anymore. I just realized that this was the same Minato I knew all along. I just never saw what he didn't want me to see. And now I'm paying the price for my naivety."

[blueskrugs]

I Wanna Know You | Matthew Tkachuk

I heard this hannah montana song in a store at the beginning of december, immediately thought of Matthew, and then spent a week with it stuck in my head and trying to plan it out. sorry this isn’t a request, but I needed a break from writing them to remember why I loved writing. yikes. anyway, apparently I’m still incapable of writing fics that aren’t based on or inspired by songs. maybe one day...

length: 2.4k words

When I saw you over there, I didn't mean to stare But my mind was everywhere, I wanna know you

Matthew Tkachuk was magnetic. He’d always been like that, loud, the center of attention, lighting up whatever room he’d walked into. He thrived when all eyes were on him, and he lived to make people smile. That’s where you met him, at a party just before the start of the season, in Gio’s backyard on a night that wasn’t quite summer and not quite fall, either.

You were friends with Johnny's girlfriend, and she’d insisted that you come along. She’d told you that no one would care, and she had been right, because no one had paid you any mind other than asking what you wanted to drink. Besides, looking around, you were pretty sure other people had brought plus-ones or plus-twos and threes. 

Matthew was holding court in a corner of the yard, always with a shitty beer in his hand and a small crowd of people around him. Your eyes kept being drawn to him, not just for the way whatever stories he was telling periodically sent up peals of laughter into the night sky, but for the way his face lit up when he talked.

He caught you in the kitchen when you were grabbing water. 

“I don’t know you,” he said bluntly. You were taken aback. “I mean-” Matthew shook his head. “I’m Matthew,” he said, holding out the hand that wasn’t holding yet another Bud Light. 

“I know,” you said before you could stop yourself. 

Matthew laughed. “You a fan?” 

“Would you stop talking to me if I told you I were an Oilers fan?” You mostly just wanted to see what he would say. 

Matthew wrapped an arm around your shoulders and dragged you back outside. “Nope.”

There's a mark above your eye, you got it in July Fightin' for your sister's reputation

It was well after dark, and you’d had more than a few drinks. Which probably amounted to whatever courage it took to reach out and poke Matthew in the forehead where he was sitting next to you at a bonfire someone had built. 

“Ow,” Matthew said, rubbing his forehead. You hadn’t even poked him hard enough to leave a mark, but there was something there, a cut just above his eyebrow that had barely healed all the way.

“How’d you get that?” you asked.

On your other side, Noah snorted. Matthew flipped him off. “I’ll have you know that I was defending my little sister’s honor.” Noah laughed outright now. “Okay, she and Luke Hughes were arguing about something dumb down at the Lake this summer, and I stepped in.”

“And?” you prompted, because you could tell the story didn’t end there. 

“And I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking and fell off the end of the dock and hit my head.” Matthew somehow managed to look sheepish while grinning as the group sitting around the fire burst out laughing. He rubbed at his forehead again wryly. “My mom says it’s gonna scar,” he added. 

“Maybe leave out the falling off a dock part next time you tell the story,” you told him. 

Matthew grinned at you and winked. You settled back into your lawn chair and took a sip of your drink, watching as Matthew launched into another tale of something that happened at the lake over the summer, thinking that you could get used to this.

Matthew kissed you for the first time later that night, alone in the hallway as the party was winding down, still tasting a little of beer, and, yeah, you could definitely get used to this. 

And valentines are lame So you bring me flowers just for no occasion

The first time Matt brought you flowers for no reason, you were suspicious. It wasn’t your birthday, or anniversary, or Valentine’s Day– and he hadn’t missed any of those things, either. But there they were, waiting on the table in your apartment when you got home from work. You knew they were from Matthew because the card had one of his dumb cheesy jokes on it, but you still didn’t know why they were from Matthew. You snapped a picture and sent it to him, simply asking, “what did you do?”

Matt called you instead of responding. 

“What did you do?” you asked again.

“What makes you think I did something?” Matthew asked. You could hear him pouting. 

“Why else would you give me flowers?” You were still a little anxious about it, and Matthew wasn’t exactly helping. “How did you even get them in my apartment, anyway?” The Flames were on a road trip, had flown out to Chicago that morning.

“Used your spare key and dropped ‘em off before I went to the airport this morning,” he said. He sounded a little proud of himself.

“Matthew,” you sighed. “I gave you my spare key for emergencies,” you chided.

“And I needed to give you flowers!”

“Matt!”

“Okay, I just-” Matthew cut himself off. “My dad used to send my mom flowers from longer road trips, and I always thought that would be something I would do one day.” Matt trailed off, and he sounded hesitant for the first time all conversation.

You reached out and ran your fingers over the petals on one of the roses in the bouquet. They were pretty, and it was cute that Matthew had wanted to give you flowers, had thought of it while getting ready for a road trip in the middle of a busy season. 

“You couldn’t have at least put them in a vase?” you asked, grinning, though Matthew couldn’t see you.

Matt huffed out a laugh, surprised. “I was running late!”

“Yeah, well, now these poor flowers are half-dead,” you told him, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear so you could root through your cabinets for a vase to rescue the flowers that were indeed wilting a little.

“Then I’ll just have to send you more,” he said.

“Oh my God, Matthew.”

The flowers kept coming throughout that first season together, with no real rhyme or reason: before some road trips, whether they were over a week or just two days, or when he came home from a road trip, showing up at your door and producing a bouquet with a flourish and a crooked grin. It always meant that Matthew had been thinking of you, no matter where he was.

You smile, nеver shout You stand out in a crowd

As Matthew got older, he had developed a habit of adopting rookies. It was entertaining to watch: Matthew, not really much older than a rookie himself, but with an A on his chest nonetheless, going full big brother-mode on all the kids fresh into the league.

Which is why you were woken up in the middle of the night by a phone call from one of said rookies. You listened to Matthew stumble out of bed and root around for a hoodie in the dark, grumbling under his breath about “idiot kids.”

“What happened?” you asked, still half-asleep.

“Fucking ow,” he said, tripping over one of his shoes. “Fucking Zary got in a fight at a bar or something, I don’t know. He asked me to come pick him up.” Matthew had managed to get matching shoes on his feet, and was now looking for his keys. “I’ll be back with him later if I don’t kill him.”

Matthew did not kill Zary, just drove him home and directed him to the guest bedroom to sleep it off, because he did love his rookies, though he would never admit it to anyone. 

The next morning, Connor was waiting nervously in the kitchen when you both woke up.

“Coffee, kid?” Matt asked.

“I didn’t start the fight!” Connor blurted.

Matthew snorted. “I didn’t ask, but good for you, kid.” He started fiddling with his coffee maker. 

“You’re not gonna, like, yell at me?”

“Do you want me to?”

You laughed softly. “Be nice, Matthew.”

“I’m always nice!” Matthew protested. “And, no, I’m not gonna yell, but you are bag skating after practice for a week,” he told Zary, pointing a fork at him. The piece of fruit he’d had speared on it fell off and hit the floor. “Ah, fuck.”

You're fragile and you're strong A beautiful and perfect combination

For the most part, Matthew didn’t let much bother him. He was good at leaving the game on the ice, not taking anything too personally. He did, however, take his game very seriously. He was always trying to be better, for himself for the team, and he prided himself on becoming a leader in the locker room over the years. He took bad losses to heart, and he was the first to blame himself for any mistakes he made. 

The Flames were having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, well, couple of weeks. Okay, maybe you were exaggerating just a little, but it certainly wasn’t pretty. They were losing more than they were winning– they lost every game on a four game road trip, the games they were winning were sloppy, and they were losing ground in the standings. To make matters worse, in the latest game, Matthew had missed an easy goal on an empty net. Yeah, definitely not pretty. 

You made it home before him and waited. 

Matthew slammed the front door when he came in, but there wasn’t a lot of force behind it, like he was too exhausted even for frustration. You had been idly watching an Oilers game because it was on, but you turned the TV off when Matt came into the living room. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket, his tie wasn’t tied properly anymore, and his dress shirt was rumpled. 

“Oh, babe,” you said. Matthew made a face at you. “Do you want to change or just-”

“Cuddle?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Come over here.”

Matt wasted no time in coming over and flopping gracelessly onto the couch with his head on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, and he pressed into your hand.

Matthew sighed, long and loud, ending in “Fuck.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you tried, but you both knew you were lying. 

Matthew opened one eye to glare at you. “I hate this so much,” he said. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He sat up and pushed his hands through his already messy hair. “I don’t understand what’s wrong, we’re supposed to be a better team than this.”

You really weren’t sure how to comfort Matthew, but you hated seeing him like this. You reached out and took one of his hands, pulling him in for a hug. He slumped against you like his strings had been cut.

“I’m supposed to be better than this,” he whispered, and there it was. Matthew could grin his way through a game, letting chirps and insults roll off his shoulders, but when it came down to it, he would always be worried about being good enough, always wanting to impress everyone. To make people proud.

“Oh, babe,” you said again, but this time your heart broke a little for him. Matthew sighed again. “This is not your fault, you know that. You are good, and you’re a good team. You’ll get through this just fine.”

Matthew huffed like he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue with you. You sat quietly in the dark living room for a while, long enough you thought Matthew had fallen asleep. 

“Hey,” you said quietly. Matthew stirred and stretched. “You have a couple days off next weekend. Do you wanna drive out to Banff and do something?”

Matthew perked up immediately. “Can we go dog sledding?”

I like how you are with me In our future history

It was the end of the season, and you were at another backyard party at the Giordano’s. You were idly watching Matthew chase some of his teammates’ kids around. Well, actually, Matt was being chased by some and chasing some others. You weren’t sure how anyone knew who was doing the chasing. The other girls were chatting around you, but you were only half-listening as you watched Matthew scoop up a giggling Tillie Backlund and spin her around.

You couldn’t help but think about how Matthew would be with kids of your own one day. 

“I’m too young for baby fever,” you muttered into your sangria. 

Annica laughed next to you, following your gaze. “He’ll be a good dad one day,” she commented.

“You are not helping!” The other girls were laughing, now, too. 

“Have you two ever really talked about the future?” Meredith asked.

You scoffed. You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. “Not really,” you admitted. 

Your eyes didn’t leave Matthew as he flopped into the grass and let the kids swarm him. And yet. Matthew hadn’t stopped talking about how much he couldn’t wait for you to come down to St. Louis this summer, to really meet his family, to spend time down at the lake with everyone. How much his family was going to love you. 

You’d always dreamed of your future, of a picture-perfect wedding and a few kids and a dog. Growing up, the man of your dreams had always been just that, a dream, but lately when you thought about the future, Matthew was always there. That certainly felt like something important. 

After a few more minutes, Matthew extricated himself from the small mob of kids and made his way over to you, pulling the empty chair next to you close and kissing your temple as he dropped into it. 

“What’re you guys gossiping about?” Matt asked, plucking your glass from your hand and taking a drink. He made a face, but didn’t give it back to you.

“You’re great with all those kids,” Lauren said pointedly. Matthew beamed. 

Your group dissipated a little not long after that, and Matthew tugged you out of your own chair and into his lap. He poked you in the side a couple times.

“You’re awfully quiet.” You made a noncommittal noise. “What’re you thinking about, babe?” he asked.

You nosed at his jawline, pressed a kiss there. “You ever think about having kids?” you murmured.

Matt’s arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer into him. “Yeah, of course.” He was smiling softly at you. “Oh.” 

You giggled a little. “Just one day,” you added.

Matthew kissed you, just a quick peck. “Yeah, one day,” he said.

One day didn’t feel so far away if you knew it would be Matthew by your side. Maybe you’d be used to his antics by then.

And maybe someday down the road I'll sit back and say to myself, "Yeah, I thought so"

[terresdebrume]

01: Migraine

A new ficlet verse is born!

What's a snippet verse, you might ask? TL;DR: It's a low-effort, medium commitment way for me to write fic, where I prioritize actually sharing bits of stories over pretty much anything else, including revisions, finishing the thing, and posting to AO3.

What to expect in this 'verse? Vecna is dead, Billy and Eddie aren't. Steve followed Robin to New York when she went to study at NYU, found a job in a queer bar, and later found Billy Hargrove in said bar. FT. Billy & Steve friendship, Robin & Steve friendship, probably some Steddie + other appearances by the rest of the group.

What to expect in this snippet in particular: M rating for use of the F slur, all by Steve to recount homophobic things or actions he's seen. Non graphic recounting of a homophobic assault. One brief but plainly stated reference to the fact that being queer in a hospital in 1988 is not safe. Medical environment + non graphic discussion of migraines and the one Steve experienced recently. Steve and Billy friendship, though not front and center.

Important: There will be no graphic or intense homophobia or homophobic violence shown "onscreen" in this verse. While I don't personally want to write stories set in that time period that ignore homophobia entirely, I'm also not interested in making myself suffer, so if characters face any homophobia onscreen it will be limited to words, and most likely not very harsh. I will of course warn appropriately when that's the case.

________

Steve sits on the flimsy paper sheet in silence, keeping his hands at his side and his eyes on the clock on the wall. He's trying to follow the thin red hands as it marks the seconds, but his vision is blurry. His eyes can't keep up with it. Outside the room, he hears the occasional footsteps noise, some bits and pieces of conversation.

It's too quiet and too noisy at the same time, and he can't help but think of El. Of the things Dustin and the other kids told him about her past. He's not sure how she managed not to go nuts after so long in that kind of environment: Steve's been waiting for less than five minutes (he's pretty sure, it's hard to see the clock sometimes) and he already hates it.

Eventually, to Steve's relief, the door opens with a burst of noise and a portly graying man in a rumpled blouse comes in. His hair is just short enough to show the hint of curls, and when he looks at Steve there are huge bags under his eyes, but he gives a polite smile anyway.

"Mr. Harrington, right?"

Steve wants to correct him, but it feels too childish for the circumstances, so he just nods.

"I'm Dr. O'Toole. I see here you've come to us about a headache?"

There's a pause, and Steve spends several seconds trying to figure out if the man is being sept—no, wrong word. Skeptical? Skeptical sounds right. He can't pinpoint it though, so eventually he just says:

"Billy said it lasted for two days."

"Billy being the young man who was trying to flirt his way into the consultation room when I got your file?" The doctor asks, and Steve snorts.

"Probably, yeah. We were hanging out at my place when it started."

Steve remembers trying to read the cookbook Robin got him for Christmas, vision going weird at the edges, then the pain hit. Billy talked to him at first, he thinks? Then after that, mostly just a haze of pain until something calmed down and he found himself in bed, covered in sweat and in desperate need of water. He asked why Billy looked like shit, he's pretty sure, and got a quick rundown of what happened…and then promptly forgot it, which then prompted Billy to insist on taking him to the hospital.

"I don't really—can't he come in?" Steve asks after he finishes explaining that to Dr. O'Toole. "I really don't—"

"Don't worry," the doctor says, "the nurses already took down his account."

He points to the folder he came in with, and Steve swallows. It probably makes sense, but it means Billy really has no chance of coming in, and at this moment that is a terrifying prospect. Steve nods anyway.

"Now, Mr. Harrington, was this the first time you experienced that kind of event?"

Steve blinks.

"You mean headaches?" Dr. O'Tole nods. "I mean, not really, but it's never like that. Usually I just get some Tylenol and call it a day."

He watches the write something down on his notepad, and something scared and ashamed rears its head inside of him, making him add:

"I mean, I could probably do without it, it's just…it makes it easier to keep going. And it's not—they don't happen that often either. Maybe once every couple of months. I guess."

"Mmh. Have you noticed an increase in frequency recently?"

Steve has to think hard about it before he can nod. Not only because he's still a little fuzzy but also because…

"Can you think of anything unusual that happened before the increase? Any kind of injury or sickness you might have experienced?"

…That. Steve knows he's not the sharpest tool in any shed, but even he realizes he has to be careful when it comes to talking about his job.

"Yeah," he says, trying not to show that he's being careful. "I uh. I work security at a bar."

It's a tiny space in Greenwich Village, just enough room for a two-person-wide platform, a row of bottles, and about fifty persons all told, staff and drag artists included.

"We had a few angry drunks last month."

And the month before that, and the month before that. Since Steve started moving there, there's barely been a week without some kind of assholes yelling slurs and playing bash-a-fag or whatever it is they call it these days.

"Does that happen often?"

"Kind of. Usually I just scare them away."

It's the steadiness, Steve found. Once you've fought Demogorgons and Vecna, people yelling and shaking a fist at you really doesn't have the same power.

"But not that group?"

"No. Those were more…motivated."

They didn't come with bats or anything like that, thank fuck, but where most of those people accuse Steve of siding with the freaks, this time they actually called him a fag and a pervert. It hit him in a way he wasn't prepared for, cutting deep into a tender part of himself he didn't know existed.

He wasn't ready when they started swinging.

"One of them bashed my head against the wall."

The pain, Steve could have handled—between the Russians and the demobats and even fucking Billy, he's kind of learned to push through it. But the disorientation, the suffocating feeling of trying to find a way to tell someone their assumptions about you are wrong and finding nothing…he remembers thinking he was going to die then and there, feeling like maybe he deserved it.

"Billy's the one who got me out of it, actually."

Came running out of the club in full Marilyn get-up, screaming bloody murder and spreading peach scented perfume all through the alley. Steve has blurry memories of drunken shouting, and a shoe flying, and eyelashes sticking to his shirt under the jacket as Pete--one of the queens who’d finished his show--took him to the nearest hospital.

“Lucky you,” Dr. O’Toole says without looking up from where he’s still writing. “Was that the first time you were in a fight?”

“No.”

“And was it the first time you were hit in the head?”

Images flash in Steve’s mind. His head, hitting the ground as the demobats throw him down. Jonathan’s fist, again and again, concrete at the back. The plate. The Russians. The drunk guys, manic with it.

“No.”

“Mr. Harrington, how many times did it happen?”

“That last one makes five,” Steve admits.

“And did these hits by chance tend to land on the left side of your face?”

Steve rubs the spot before he can think better of it, a familiar phantom itch spreading under his skin. He turns back to the doctor.

“How did you know?”

“Well first of all, most people are right handed.”

Making the left side a better target. Makes sense.

“And also because your friend mentioned that was where the pain seemed to hit the hardest.”

There’s a pause, as Steve ruminates on the doctor’s words. It’s not…they shouldn’t be so hard to parse. They shouldn’t. But Steve is well aware that he was never a very smart guy in the first place, and he’s been even slower than usual in the first place, so it takes him a while to say:

“So…the headaches are linked to that?”

“Yes. However, the symptoms you and your friend reported speak more specifically to a migraine.

“So like. A big headache.”

Dr. O’Toole smiles in a way that reminds Steve of Will, just a little bit. He would like to say it reminds him of Dustin, but Dustin is more the type to frown or roll his eyes when Steve says something stupid. Thank God the kid’s got other qualities.

“In a way, yes. But they tend to be strong headaches who bring friends like confusion, slowed thinking, blurry vision…or sometimes less expected things like food cravings or diarrhea, for example.”

“Oh,” Steve says.

He thought he’d gotten the runs from that new street vendor near NYU. What a stupid fucking symptom for a head thing. At least the blurred vision and the not thinking straight kind of make sense. Same with his light sensitivity and the bit after where he didn’t quite know where he was for a solid half hour. Could do without any of these, though.

“So…what does that mean for me?” He asks once the doctor is done explaining how migraines work. “Is it like…can we make them stop?”

“There are ways to reduce the frequency and severity,” Dr. O’Toole says. “Whether or not they’ll go away entirely is a different question.”

“Oh,” Steve says again.

He’d love to say something more useful or intelligent, but he’s apparently not back to full speed yet.

“It’s a lot,” the doctor says with a comforting expression. He rummages around his desk for a bit before handing Steve a pamphlet in muted colors. “Here’s some basic information to get you started. I’m going to write you a prescription for painkillers, to be used if you have another one in the future, and a referral for a CT scan.”

“A what?”

“A test we do to see the extent of the damage to your brain. That will give us a better idea of what we’re working with, and what to expect in the future. Our contact numbers are at the bottom of the page, please call if you have any additional questions.”

Steve nods, feelings a little like his body is moving without his impulse, and then stands up to shake the doctor’s hand. He goes back out into the corridor in a daze, and finds Billy sprawled across three and a half seats in the waiting room, popping a pink bubblegum as he reads through a faded copy of Times Magazine.

He straightens up when he notices Steve though, getting to his feet and coming up to Steve’s side in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t hug him, of course. It wouldn’t be safe, especially not so close to the Village, but Steve sort of wishes he could.

“Hey. How did it go?”

“It was a lot,” Steve manages, trailing off when he realizes his voice is about to break on the last few words. “I’d like to go home.”

Billy looks him up and down with a frown, then gently takes the brochure, prescription and referral from his hands.

“Sure,” he says. “Sit down for a minute. I’ll take care of this, and then I’ll take you home.”

[whump-cravings]

Bird in a Ditch

saw a prompt about someone being dumped on the side of the road and an idea started to form. I’ve also wanted to try a BBU type thing, so here it iiiiiis

Content Warnings: BBU, pet whump, winged whump, nonhuman whump, fantastic racism referenced, extreme disassociation, past torture implied, tbh this piece is pretty mild

Lemon shook xir head to try and clear fatigue, keeping xir eyes on the road as xe leaned forward to manually roll the window down. Cool air blasted xim in the face and behind xir neck, sending refreshing shivers down xir spine.

Something glowed gold on the road and xe jerked the wheel, sliding into the other lane. "Feathers?" xe said, throwing xir gaze to catch another glimpse of the obstacle, already pulling over.

A downed barn owl? xe wondered, flicking the hazards on. Getting xir phone out, xe searched the cabin for a blanket or something to wrap the little dude in. If it wasn't dead, anyways. I better hurry. Another car could come by at any time.

"Probably already dead but just in case—" Lemon muttered to xirself, trying to forestall disappointment before it began. Xe surfaced with a canvas tarp and hustled out into the night, boots hitting asphalt. Xe was a little ways away from the bird...

As the phone's flashlight caught feathers again, Lemon frowned. That looked a lot bigger than an owl. Maybe an eagle, or—

Maybe a whole goddamn person? Xe stopped at the side of the ditch, looking down in shock at the humanoid body connected to the wings. Xe'd never seen any birdfolk up close. They were rare in this part of the world, where everybody was pretty damn racist.

That was neither here or there. Lemon shook xir head, dropping the canvas and propping the phone and its light up before carefully finding the top of the person’s outstretched wing and trying to gently-gently-gently fold it towards their body.

How did I mistake them for an owl? These are huge! Xe felt soft clicking underneath hands through the feathers and bone. Now up close, the feathers didn't seem to shine with the golden luster Lemon had seen before, but were instead dull and dirty.

"Sorry, sorry," Lemon murmured, though the person hadn't stirred. Concern buzzed in the back of xir head as xe stepped around to the face-down body.

Lemon crouched, slipping a hand down the side of neck and searched for a pulse. Still warm—there. Xe let out a sigh of relief at the rhythm beneath xir fingers. "Didn't want to have to report a dead body tonight," xe chuckled.

Xe moved xir hand to the bird person's shoulder, gently shaking. No reaction. "Of course, you wouldn't be lying in a ditch if you could wake up," Lemon muttered, straightening. Xir gaze traveled down, and xe picked up the phone to get a better look.

The bird person was wearing only boxers, so there was a lot to see. Mostly, they were dirty. And the wings looked terrible. Whole patches of feathers were missing, and the ones that remained—Lemon suspected those weren't supposed to look so bedraggled. Xe shook xir head, sympathy turning in xir gut. Poor thing. Had they been mugged and then dumped, or maybe crash landed here?

The situation presented a problem. It’s one thing to bring home an animal, xe thought to xirself. This is a whole person. If they were awake, Lemon would have given them a ride to wherever they needed to go and the little cash xe had on xirself.

Xir mother's voice rattled in the back of xir head. It wasn’t as dangerous for Lemon to pick up people off the side of the road as for xir sister, but their mother always had some new story about somebody being shot and having their car stolen when they mentioned picking somebody up.

Xe waffled. I could wait until they wake up... Assuming they didn’t die of exposure, and assuming xe didn’t want any sleep tonight. Xe glanced around at the dark road, then back down at the stranger. If they were unconscious like this and didn’t smell of alcohol, they probably weren’t that dangerous. And somebody who felt less neutral about birdfolk might come along to finish them off.

Lemon sighed, already knowing xe couldn’t leave them here and trying to figure out how to get them over and into to the truck. Maybe xe could carry them there, but the wings would probably drag. Xe tried imagining walking backwards while carrying them from the front. Could xe lift them high enough? Probably not.

"Tch." That wouldn't do. After a moment's consideration, xe looked back at the canvas.

It took some pulling and maneuvering, but soon Lemon was pulling the bird person across the road on top of the canvas. Xir sweatshirt was tucked underneath their head, keeping them safe from rocks.

"Expected you to be a lot heavier, honestly," Lemon said. Maybe the weight was normal for adult birdfolk.

It would have been way more comfortable for them, Lemon was sure, to be in the cabin, but xe wasn’t sure xe could manage that without damaging their wings further. So, xe carefully lifted them by the front and laid them face down in the truck bed. It was not graceful and xe was a little relieved they weren’t awake for it. Xe tucked the sweatshirt back under the person's head.

"Home is just a few minutes away," xe promised as xe tried folding up their wings, worried about the wind catching them or about hypothermia setting in. Xe unfurled the canvas with a shake, then draped it over the bird person's body and wings to block the wind, securing the cloth at the corners with bungee cords.

Looks like I'm trying to hide a dead body, Lemon thought when xe put the tailgate up. "Hang in there, buddy."

Lemon would have liked to speed home, but the bed's occupant had xem driving far more carefully than normal, particularly around corners. When xe got to the apartment, xe pulled into xir spot in reverse. It was a much shorter distance to carry somebody from the truck bed to the door, so Lemon did—xe wasn’t entirely sure xe could get them through the door otherwise. It was already a hassle to get them past one door, the next, and then settle them on the floor of the small bathroom against the wall.

Xe closed and locked the front door, then flicked lights on. As xe stepped back into the bathroom, careful to avoid any errant limbs, xe started.

The bird person's eyes were open.

"Hey, you're awake," Lemon exclaimed.

But the person didn't seem to hear Lemon--they hardly seemed aware of their surroundings at all, staring straight forward. Shit, had they been awake the entire time and Lemon just hadn’t noticed? How awkward that would be! And...

Xir realized their face was covered in scars. Unable to help xirself, xir eyes were drawn down. Mottled bruising covered their ribs, long-healed scars past that and the dirt. Same with their legs. What had happened to them? Was this just the result of being birdfolk here?

Xe took a steadying breath, crouching down. "Hey, can you hear me? Can you look at me?"

Finally, the tiniest response. Topaz eyes slid fractionally towards Lemon's center of mass, but nothing else. Their expression and muscles remained listless.

"Good, that's—no no no, come on, don't do that," Lemon cajoled in gentle frustration as the bird person closed their eyes. What am I supposed to do with this? Xe scrubbed xir tired face with one hand. What were the symptoms of a concussion?

"Let me get you something to drink," xe said. "And maybe eat?"

No response. The only sign they were still alive was the gentle rise and fall of their chest.

Lemon wearily got back to xir feet, ambling into the kitchen for a glass of water and some—did bird people eat normal food? They looked plenty human. But what if they were allergic to stuff? Xe grabbed a small variety of snacks—string cheese and pepperoni from the fridge and a little baggy of trail mix. Bundling the food into a paper towel in one hand and holding the glass of water in the other, xe returned to the bathroom.

"Here we go," Lemon said as xe returned, kneeling at arm's length to set down the array of food. Xe set the cup of water closer still. "Little bit of food, little bit of water."

Their eyes were open again, looking down at Lemon's offerings. Maybe. It was hard to tell for sure, since they seemed unfocused. They made no movement to accept.

"Does your head hurt?" Lemon tried. "If you have a concussion, we should..." Xe trailed off. I don't have money for an emergency doctor visit. "Have you lie down, probably."

It's like talking to a rock. "I'll give you some space."

Getting back to xir feet, Lemon went back into the kitchen and washed xir hands. Xe probably should have done that earlier, but if they haven’t died of dirt already, they probably won't from a little on their pepperoni.

"Might as well prep a meal," xe mumbled, since xe couldn’t sleep until xir guest was settled. Xe took a moment to draw up some videos online about birdfolk and birds in general, then got to work with the food.

About twenty minutes later, everything was assembled in the pressure cooker. Lemon hadn't heard anything from the direction of the bathroom. Anxious, xe checked on xir guest.

I'm going to have someone die on my floor of starvation and atrophy, Lemon thought. The bird person was in the same exact position xe’d left them. Their tourmaline-brown gaze still rested on the food and water.

Lemon chided xirself. They could be a paraplegic for all xe knew. Maybe their eyes were all they were able to move. It would explain their weight.

This thought in mind, xe crouched a little closer to them. "Hey," xe said. "Can you blink twice if you understand me?"

Their eyes slowly rolled back up to Lemon's chest. Noticeably, they didn't blink.

Lemon laced xir fingers together and pulled them apart, repeating the motion a few times while they thought. Could be he was a paraplegic foreigner? Hells.

Reaching out slowly, Lemon tapped their hand, before picking it up and turning it over. Xe froze.

On their wrist was a black barcode.

After staring for far too long, Lemon let out a shaky, "O-oh."

I'm going to have someone's slave die on my floor. Xir anger towards the Box Boy industry stirred—a regular feeling. The legalized trafficking wasn’t something xe could do much about, other small donations here and there to liberation and activist groups.

Who had dumped this poor bird on the side of the road? Where was the owner? Lemon's eyes went to their patchy wings.

"Can't be sure they didn't do this to you," xe said softly, jaw clenching at the idea of it. They could have very well escaped and ended up in that ditch on their own, just to get away from the abuse written on their body. It matched up with the stories Lemon had heard and read about how owners fucked their slaves over.

Fuck, and it wasn't even like this man was nondescript. Birdfolk were rare enough, a Pet bird was sure to be noticed in a crowd. Stealing a Pet was grand larceny, and Lemon didn’t want to think about how much an exotic specimen might go for.

Calm down. So far all you've done is provide aid. That's not theft.

But Lemon's hands shook as xe held onto the bird person's, because xe knew xe couldn't—

That's a problem for Future Lemon, xe decided, taking calming breaths. There were groups xe could contact, but not tonight. Tonight, this poor bird needed a safe and calm place to recuperate. Lemon could provide that.

[tttinytrash]

 Another of Shy’s lovely prompts! This time we have big Swap Papyrus as our merskele, and a highly unfortunate reader. Not much other preamble on this one, so let’s jump into it!

How had everything gone so wrong so fast?

The storm had come seemingly out of nowhere, and your tiny boat was being buffeted around like it was nothing. The icy sting of the wind-whipped rain juxtaposed terribly with the aching fire beneath your skin as you overworked muscles desperately tried to wrangle the lines to get you the heck out of this mess. 

You lost your footing on the soaked deck and tumbled harshly, catching yourself on the rope around the perimeter of your boat just barely. You clung for dear life as a huge swell dangerously tilted your entire hull, threatening capsizing you and your only hope of getting out alive. It was in this moment you saw a faint orange glow beneath the waves, but you had absolutely no time to consider what it could be as you scrambled back to your position to try and regain control of the boat before you hit the rocky outcropping nearby.

You got your ropes again and fought like mad, but it quickly became futile as an enormous wave struck you along the starboard side and tossed you off the boat, into the rocks. Thankfully, you missed the worst of them but felt a sharp pain in your left leg. You fought back the pain and came back to air to see your boat had been mercilessly dashed into the rocks shortly after you, and had begun to sink. 

You desperately paddled, kept aloft by your life jacket, but your safety gear was no match for whatever had apparently wrapped around your good leg and dragged you towards Davy Jones. You fumbled where you felt the pulling, realizing a rope from the boat was tangled around your leg. Thankfully your knife was still folded on your belt and you used it to saw off the rope. Without its pull you were rushing towards the surface again, but it seemed so far off you weren’t sure you’d make it from this depth. Is this how you left this world?

As your body was pulled upwards by your own paddling and the buoyancy of your vest, blackness creeped on the edge of your vision. ...and orange?

-----

Papyrus had felt the distress from a strong soul from deep below the waves. From his vantage point and because of his size the stormy currents were a novelty, but clearly for whoever had been caught above it was life or death. 

...maybe he’d just go check on them, push their boat out of the worst of it and back towards shore. Yeah, that’s all. No biggie. 

He came near the surface and saw it was lone human on a small boat. Jeez, how had they even lasted this long on their own? He was impressed, but looking for an opening in which he could help without being spotted. Humans spelled trouble for his kind, and despite the 0 EXP he saw in his Check he couldn’t not be wary. The last thing his bro or the rest of the school needed was hunters.

Unfortunately his caution meant the storm beat him to the punch, and smashed the ship. Oh Delta, was the human dead?

No! He could still feel the bright flare of determination somewhere... below him?

They were being dragged down by the wreckage, and as he darted towards them to free their leg he saw them do it themself. Oh gosh, they had a knife. The weapon made him hesitate again, which meant he felt their determination start to peter out. Their grip went slack as the knife fell away, consciousness slipping due to lack of air.

Curse him and his soft Soul!

He sped over, cupped his hands around them, and propelled them both towards air as fast as his fins could go. Delta let him not be too late...

The hoarse hacking when he made it to air was more of a relief than he’d expected, but after mostly clearing their lungs the fatigue won out and they collapsed into his hands They seemed barely aware and were just making drunken sounds, but their eyes did intermittently open.

During his observation, the waves of the storm actually managed to surprise him and dunk his skull underwater, but he managed to keep the human in the air thankfully. 

There was nothing else for it, he had to take them in and get them both out of this mess.

He took a brief moment to spit out seawater so the human would have air, then slipped them into his mouth without much ado. Tossing his skull back brought them to the opening of his throat, and they weakly threw their arms out as if to steady themself. The sluggish movement hopefully meant they weren’t fully aware still, as he didn’t have any time for reassurances (he narrowly avoided being dunked again and the storm was getting even worse) and didn’t need a fighting human inside. One strong swallow brought them swiftly toward his core, at which point he left the surface. 

One hand was absently brought to rest on his middle, where he felt the human slide in and go mostly still. He still felt the bright power of their soul, so they were alive, but they may have finally succumbed to exhaustion and passed out. That was fine by him, that left him time to figure out what the heck his next move would be.

-----

Wakefulness was slow to come back to you, and you spent a blissful moment in hazy awareness. 

Sadly for you, memory snapped back into place in the next moment which made you to jolt upright. The rapid movement was more than your abused body wanted to handle, and it very clearly told you as much. Well apparently you had to take a breather, so you took stock of your condition. Your headache throbbed in time with your pulse, your muscles ached from overuse, and your throat and eyes hurt from saltwater, but you were alive. You looked to your legs, which were the areas that hurt worst. The left was a rainbow of bruises and may or not be able to be stood on, but you were both surprised and relived the underlying bone wasn’t utterly shattered from your unfriendly meeting with the rocks. Meanwhile the right had an ugly forming bruise and plenty of abrasion from the rope that had wrapped around you and dragged you down.

Oh, right. Now you recalled being dragged downwards after the destruction of your boat. So... what happened to you? You remembered rushing back towards the surface, but not reaching it.

Where were you?

You looked around and saw you were in a spacious cavern. The sand along the edge was widest where you sat, oddly bundled atop what was likely someone’s sail at one point. Maybe even yours. The center of the cavern, and indeed the majority of the “floor” so to speak was water. So this must have been an air pocket. How far underwater were you? How long would this air last? Then again, the cavern was huge for a single human so food and water would be the first priorities. But it was still concerning to have limited air supply. 

Any planning ended when movement from the water caught your attention. A giant freaking skull of all things rose from the depths, followed by the rest of a skeletal torso adorned with an orange tail. Oh, god, the orange glow had been this thing?! What did it want?!

You were frozen in place, much to your chagrin and the monster before you focused its gaze on you. Oddly, it smiled when it spoke “oh good, you made it.”

“W-where am I? Who are you? What do you want from me?!”

He actually managed to quirk an eyebrow at you without having eyebrows. “in a cave, papyrus, and nothing.”

“...What?” Everything just felt too fast right now, but your panic did start to fade the longer the monster before you did a grand total of nothing towards you.

He laughed a little, surprising you enough to shake off a good chunk of panic and actually process that he’d been answering your questions.

“S-sorry. I’m a little scrambled right now.”

“got that part, yeah.” he teased.

You couldn’t help the laugh in response before replying “It was, Papyrus, right? I’m Y/N.”

“good to meetcha, kiddo. so, how much do you remember after your boat crashed?

“Not much. I was underwater last I recall, how did I get here?”

“didn’t miss a ton then. i fished you out, but with the storm it was best to bunker down for awhile. it’s still pretty nasty up there. i can take you back to shore when the storm lets up. for now, how’re your legs?”

“Not the best, but I’ll live.”

“lemme heal you up then.” he said, bringing his hand up towards you and approaching.

“Woah! Wait!” You scrambled to move away, only managing to tangle yourself in the sail and bring a wave of white hot pain to your left leg.

“right, big scary monster. got it.” He backed off, hands up in surrender. 

You felt bad about it now, but couldn’t help that his sheer size made him intimidating. Even if he’d apparently been the reason you weren’t dead...

“let’s try from a distance then, show that i can help?” He formed a bone from nothing, glowing bright green and as big as your hand. Surprisingly, he shot the bone towards you, where it struck the bruising on the better leg and appeared to melt into the skin on contact.

You flinched, expecting pain from the impact, but found it just felt warm and tingly instead. Upon inspection, the soreness was diminished and the bruising was nearly gone. You looked up to Papyrus, mouth agape in wonder.

“heh, maaaagic~” he wiggled his fingers, clearly amused by your reaction. “can i help now?”

You hesitantly nodded, presenting your pretty busted leg. You two were stuck here for now, may as well give him a little leeway. 

You didn’t scramble away at his approach this time, but couldn’t help but tense up anyways. He gingerly brought his hands forward, laying the very tips of his long, thin fingers atop the damaged limb far more gently than it seemed should be possible for such large hands. Even the feather light touch made you flinch momentarily before his phalanges started to glow the same green as the launched bone had been. Warmth seeped into your leg, and it felt like a warm blanket on a cold rainy day. The energy being transferred somehow carried a sense of benevolence, which made you feel safe.

“we’re lucky it’s your tibia that got the worst of it. bones are my specialty, for obvious reasons.” He said, smiling a little at the final comment.

You chuckled at his observation, “I can see why. And, uh, thank you for everything, I don’t think I actually said that yet.”

“eh, don’t mention it.”

For how odd this whole encounter was, it wasn’t so bad at all.

-----

Well, as comfortable as the human had gotten with him (not feeling the fear radiating off them after awhile was such a gratifying feeling) he still wasn’t looking forward to getting them out of here. He kinda knew this was gonna be rough, but with the storm outside finally quelled he needed to get this little human back home. 

He had left the cave to assess the storm, but his thoughts were completely focused on how to make the next steps easier. So distracted, he almost swam past the entrance to the cave entirely. Luckily he snapped out of it and was able to redirect to enter the cave. The human perked up as soon as his skull crested the water, and he didn’t fight the smile in reply.

“ready to go back topside, squishy?” he asked.

“The storm is gone?” The human asked hopefully.

“yep, won’t be any trouble.”

“Ok so how do we do this? Are you just going to cup me in your hands, or...?”

“ah, about that. we’re pretty deep down, i don’t think you’d make it back to air just holding your breath.”

“Oh, well how did i get here then?”

“same way you’ll gave to get back, i just played submarine. i’ll just take you in, and you get to relax while i take us back towards the nearest port.”

“...I don’t follow.” 

They were confused and hesitant, but not outright scared yet. That was good. The hope was that being casual and forward about it would play off the trust he’d already built, “it’s totally safe, but the short version is i’d swallow you and let you out later.”

There was the inevitable flare of fear, but it wasn’t as strong as it could have been. “Safely? You’re sure?”

“yep. you’ve already done it, but i’m not surprised you don’t remember given your state when i found you.”

They were silent, but a plethora of emotions swirled around them. He could easily feel their distress without even trying.

Better try reassurance and appealing to logic, then. “kiddo, if i’d wanted to hurt you, wouldn’t i have already done it?” he kept his voice soft, non-accusatory, and gave them space to think. 

His words seemed to have cut through their clouded emotions and they nodded after a moment. “Yeah... you would have. Ok. If that’s how I get home, let’s do it. Can you just... make it quick? To uh... get me inside, that is.”

“you want me to just do it for ya?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah, get it over with. I don’t want to think about that part too much if I’m being honest.”

“alright, can’t say i blame you.” He gently scooped the human into his hands, and his Soul sunk a little at how much they’d curled in on themself. “you can close your eyes if you want, i’ll tell you when it’s done.”

They took his advice, and he saw them cycle a steadying breath. Well, they’d said make it quick so...

He pinched the back of their shirt, hung them over his open mouth, and lowered them in. He was able to release them and the slight drop brought their legs into his throat. The extra space meant their head was fully behind his teeth, so he closed his mouth around their warm body. He felt their hands flutter blindly around the area as if they were fighting the urge to stop their descent. He decided to keep going, even if it felt a little wrong when they were so clearly anxious, to comply with their request for speed.

One swallow brought their hips down, and he felt his throat dip into the small of their back. Another gulp and he felt their ribcage stretch the ectoflesh around them, and a third brought their form fully inside his. He brought his hand up to trace their downward journey, until he lost them past his clavicles. He felt them spill into his belly a few seconds later, limbs flailing outwards as they startled in the suddenly more open space.

He didn’t think they really needed him to tell them, but went ahead and said it anyways “ok kiddo, that’s the whole trip. i’ll give you a sec to get your bearings before we head off.” While they settled, he leaned his spine along the sandy embankment in the cave and bought his hands to fold over his belly in concern for his worried passenger.

They did start to move around, movements shaky and uncertain. He didn’t comment, letting them figure things out as they pleased. Their tactile approach did feel pretty nice, actually, but he didn’t outwardly react for fear of discouraging them. Whatever observations their pawing at the walls and floor were helping them make was lessening the fear exponentially.

After a while he hesitantly asked “you doing ok in there?”

Their tiny voice sounded a little odd coming from so very close, “Y-yeah. I’m good. ...I’m good...”

“good. told you it was safe. how do you feel?”

“Confused? Overwhelmed? ...I’ve got a dumb question though.”

He laughed, which seemed to have knocked them over since he felt an impact inside. “whoops, sorry kiddo. but if you’ve got questions you can ask.”

“...What does this feel like for you?”

That surprised him, and he fumbled for something to say beyond “good.” They took up space, which was helpful considering it’d been awhile since his last meal. Definitely wouldn’t bring that up though, for fear of scaring them. 

“Papyrus?”

Shoot, had he been silent for that long? “sorry, surprised me there. uh, i guess this feels protective? kinda feels good, like a hug?”

“But you can feel me in here?”

“of course. you’re right here,” he lightly pressed in where he could feel their weight, and heard the squeak of surprise in response.

The squeak devolved into laughter, and they hesitantly pushed back at his invading hand. 

He chuckled and relented on the pressure, “alright, that one wasn’t even dumb. any more questions?”

“I guess that was the big one. Think I’m set to go.”

“cool, hold tight then.” He pushed off the sand, ducked out of the cave, and headed towards human civilization.

The human slid around due to the drastic shifts in gravity, but resettled relatively quickly.

After a bit, Papyrus offered “i can let you see where we’re going if you like.”

“You can do that?” they sounded excited at the prospect.

He turned his magic from opaque to transparent in reply, earning a happy gasp from the human as they quickly readjusted to take the best advantage of the view. He went quiet again, happy to let them enjoy the views of the ocean most human weren’t afforded. 

This really wasn’t how he’d planned for his day to go, but he couldn’t really say this experience left him disappointed. 

With any luck, maybe he’d get to see this little sailor out on the sea again.

[queenbirbs]

on this winter night with you | Ethan Ramsey x MC

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Sloane McTavish)

Summary: Ethan attempts to decorate his apartment for Christmas and worries himself into the ground about it, as per usual. 

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: alcohol mention 

Notes: Takes place during book two. Title from Gordon Lightfoot’s “Song for a Winter’s Night.” 

------

“This looks stupid,” he mutters to himself for what might be the fortieth time. 

Still, Ethan can’t resist reaching out and shifting the small pile of presents again. As if another inch to the right will suddenly make them fit in amongst the other decor on his mantle. They should be in their traditional place under the tree, but Jenner nearly consumed an entire bow when he turned his back. And with how much time he wasted watching wrapping tutorials on his phone -- twenty-seven minutes, according to the video length and the amount of times he replayed it -- he doesn’t have the energy to deal with that again. 

Especially when he’s spent so much of the afternoon fighting with the lights. When he pulled them from the dark tomb of his guest bedroom closet, they were wrapped neatly around a divider -- thanks to his dad, who gifted them to him years ago. Somehow, in the short trek to the living room, Ethan managed to tangle them into an incomprehensible mess. 

And there went another sixteen minutes. 

He has studies published in several dozen medical journals; he wrote his own textbook before the age of 27; he’s been the keynote speaker at the North American Diagnostics Conference for two of the past five years. But Ethan doesn’t even want to know how long he struggled with wrapping the lights around the tree, before he realized he could just pull the damn thing away from the corner. After wrestling it back into said corner, he plugged in the cord. Only to find that the lights were set on some bizarre, rapid blinking pattern that he couldn’t seem to switch off. 

There must be a joke out there about a doctor reading a wikiHow article on how to set up a Christmas tree. He sure isn’t laughing, though. Because for all his troubles, his apartment looks like the set of a low-budget holiday special. 

“This looks stupid.”

From the floor, behind the makeshift barricade around the tree, Jenner grunts in agreement. Ethan bites back the sigh that begs to form, figuring that he’s met his quota already. It’s irrational to be nervous about something so trivial -- it’s all tinsel and plastic pine needles, after all. But that’s not counting for what’s at the bottom of the box on the coffee table. Which is why he wants this to be perfect. Which is why he should stop worrying over the decor and see to dinner. 

He’s only gotten to slicing the tomatoes when Jenner races to the front door. 

“--the state with the worst drivers, I swear,” Sloane says to no one in particular as she opens the door. “I read an article about it in The Atlantic.” 

Bundled up in her coat and his scarf, she shakes the snow from her hair. Fat drops of ice plod onto the rug. She bypasses the coat rack and drapes hers across a barstool, then dumps her bag and scarf onto the island, muttering all the while about Massachusetts drivers. Her heels clatter to the floor as she kicks them off and moans in relief. It should be silly that, despite the panic he feels at her early arrival and the slight annoyance at the mess she’s made of the foyer, he’s still hit with that familiar pang of affection for this woman. He likes being on this side of the fence when it comes to their relationship. The side where it’s just the two of them, with no workplace rules or curious onlookers to spy on them. The sex is fantastic, don’t get him wrong, but there’s something thrilling about the domesticity. He certainly wasn’t ever able to say that about his other relationships. 

Now, if he could emit any sort of verbal greeting from where he’s frozen in place at the counter.

“You’re early,” he declares, wincing at the lack of subtlety. 

“Patient transfer went without a hitch. Must’ve been one of those Christmas miracles I hear so much about. So Naveen said I could head out.” 

Sloane pops open the fridge and pulls out a bottle of wine. Passing behind him, she gives his hip a quick squeeze before locating the corkscrew. She glances up through the curtain of her hair at him and grins, reading his nervous energy as easily as a book. He’s never been good at hiding much from her which, looking back, was probably for the best. “I texted you.”

“I… you did?” 

Popping the cork, she shoots him another look as she pours them each a glass. He takes his and tries not to seem too eager to have a sip. Reflections on the bottle pull her attention from him and to the odd light show playing in the living room. Ethan watches as she rounds the couch and lets out an amused chuckle.  

“What’s with the textbooks?” 

“Jenner kept trying to eat the ornaments. And the tree skirt. And the tree.”

“Most people get those weird, little fences.”

“I’ll get a ‘weird, little fence’ next year.”

“Don’t. I like it. It’s very…” she tips her head to the side, as if she’s assessing an art piece and not the Great Wall of Oxford University Press, “...you.”

“Thanks. I think.” Coming to stand beside her, he gestures to a plastic storage bin on the coffee table. “I didn’t have a chance to hang the ornaments yet.”

“Good. We can do it together.” Bumping her nose against his arm, she drops a kiss to the fabric there, and then another on his jaw. “After dinner, though, because I’m starving.” 

Leaning down, he hauls her close with his arm around her waist and captures her lips with his own. After a long, long moment, he pulls away and lets them both catch their breath. 

“Me too,” he says, grinning when she rolls her eyes at his antics. 

“Yeah, I got that. C’mon, you take care of the main course and I’ll handle dessert.” 

------

“Isn’t this supposed to accompany dessert?” he questions as he reads the label. 

“Hush. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re both adults with high-stress jobs working on a veritable sinking ship that we’re choosing to go down with.” Sloane ticks off the reasons with her fingers, though she only gets as far as those two before he passes the bottle of Marchese dell’Elsa to her. “And it’s Christmas Eve.”

“You already said that.” 

“Enough backtalk.” She uses her stern voice, but the effect is diminished by the sleeves of his sweater sliding back down over her hands. “It’s time for the best part.” 

Reaching into the plastic bin, she pulls an ornament free from the tissue paper. It’s a green, silk ball, shot through with a gold stitching that’s coming loose. Ethan thinks it’s old enough to be his paternal grandmother’s. A woman he has few memories of, but the ones he has -- orange parquet floors, low, throaty laughs, and the spicy scent of menthol cream -- are fond. Sloane moves over to the tree and settles it near the top.

Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album and the hiss of the gas fireplace accompany them as they make slow work of emptying out the bin. Glittery snowflakes and chipping snowmen hang amongst the cheesy doctor phrases his dad insists on gifting him.  

“Aww look at you,” Sloane drags out the word as he lifts out one of the last ornaments. Crafted from popsicle sticks glued together, the makeshift frame holds a glossy picture of Ethan clutching a first place trophy for the fourth grade science fair. “What was your project?” 

“A lemon volcano.” 

“That’s so cute. Mine was on the different decomposition rates of plastic in fresh versus saltwater.”

“Nobody likes a braggart,” he mumbles, prompting a laugh from her as she snatches the ornament from his hand and hangs it dead center on the tree. 

She turns back to rifle through the bin for any small baubles they may have missed, only for her to lift out a gold key tied with a ribbon. Confusion draws her brows together as she inspects it. Though he despises hyperbole, he can’t deny the near-feeling of his heart in his throat. He gulps down what’s left in his glass and sucks in a breath. Sloane moves to place it on the tree when he reaches out to stop her. 

“No, wait -- it’s… it’s for you,” he manages to stutter out.   

She shifts to face him.

“What?”

“This year has been challenging. Probably the hardest and most grueling in a long time.” Ethan rubs his palm along his jaw, unable to suppress the smile that comes with his next words. “But you -- you made it all worth it. I can’t help but be thankful that I’m here with you, at the end of this awful year. And I know that we don’t know what’s going to happen with the hospital, or where we might be next year, but I don’t really care about any of that right now.” 

And hadn’t that been a revelation, that the career he’d spent a decade dedicating his life to cultivating had fallen to the wayside when it came to his future with Sloane. Because that’s what he wants, at the end of the day, at the end of this mess. “Having you here with me -- I’ve gotten used to it. And I’d like for you to continue being here with me. If you want to, that is.”  

Her green eyes are wide as they flicker from his face to the key and back again. The lights shimmer against the auburn waves that have come loose from her bun. She clears her throat and gives her head a little shake, as if waking herself from a daydream.  

“I -- what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I lied about needing to donate my clothes. I mean, I am still doing that, but the reason wasn’t just for a yuletide cleaning. I was making space. For you to move in with me.” 

He steps forward and settles his hands on her waist, kissing her once on the forehead. The smirk appears on his face, unbidden. “I thought I was being pretty obvious, what with leaving the top drawers empty and moving my suits to the guest closet.”

“I thought you were going to embrace the leather jacket look you picked up in Brazil and expand your wardrobe beyond grandpa sweaters and khakis,” she serves right back.

Ethan rolls his eyes at the dig. 

“Big talk for the thief currently wearing one of these so-called ‘grandpa sweaters.’” 

Sloane snuggles close, right into the space where she fits so well against his chest. Her fingers trace over the key. 

“My answer is yes, by the way.”

The confirmation warms him, right down to the center of his chest. Or maybe a little to the left. Cupping her face, he slides his lips along hers, sighing with content when she deepens the kiss.  

“I’m glad to hear it.”

------

Author’s notes and what-have-yous:

Another fic that’s mostly dialogue? Absolutely unheard of from me. Another fic that should’ve been posted in a timely manner? Yet here we are, day after Christmas. Oh well. 

Was the hospital talk vague enough for it to be obvious that I… haven’t exactly finished book 2? I got to chapter 14 and then work hit me like a category five hurricane for two and a half months, so I haven’t gotten a chance to actually play the last few chapters. I’ll get around to them eventually. 

Also: the Atlantic article is fake, though MA did receive the worst driver award back in 2014. As of 2020, Massachusetts was rated as the best for drivers (using data from 2017 through 2019).

Happy holidays and warm wishes to everyone still chugging through this wild, wild year. 

[the-gay-prometheus]

Either 15 from Fluff; “You saved me.” Or 48 from Angst; “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me.”

Hehe. You gave me an angst prompt. This was a mistake.

So I decided to do something completely different with this. I had the sudden inspiration to write something not for my main AU... but instead for that ridiculous Red Dead Redemption/Frankenstein crossover AU that I'm now affectionately dubbing Undead Redemption because I have absolutely zero creative talent.

No I'm not planning on actually seriously pursuing this AU. But uh... this prompt made me think of it so I decided to write for it! This... this is a doozy of a piece. Be warned... it’s.... intense. It’s also pretty long so... sorry about that. (needless to say - I chose the angst one)

TW: Blood, character death, murder, hysteria? panic? something like that

~~~

The town of Strawberry was charming - well worth the travel, Henry thought. Remote, but certainly not too much so, as the larger town of Blackwater was only a half-day’s ride away. Surrounded by pine forests and brisk with a mountain’s breeze, it was a quiet town of bare-log houses and little in the way of amenities. A rushing stream cut through the town’s center, turning a large wheel which likely produced what little electricity could be found there.

Henry smiled as he rode down the dirt road, his red roan mare plodding along patiently until he pulled her to a halt at the hitching post in front of the house that was to be his lodging for the week. “Ata girl,” he cooed softly, ruffling her mane with his hand before dismounting. She shook her head with a snort, and rested one hind hoof on its edge as she settled in to stand for however long it would be until she was to be ridden again. Henry reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a sugar cube, holding it out to her with a flat palm, and she gladly snatched it up. Chuckling at her eagerness at the scent of a treat, Henry pat her on the neck and pulled her reins over her head, tying them securely to the hitching post. Though he was giddy at the thought of adventuring through Mount Shann over the next few days, today was to be a day of rest before the excursion, so he took his time unloading what little he had brought with him into the house before retiring to a sturdy wooden chair on the porch to watch the townsfolk go about their day. Part of him was itching to retreat further up the rocky hill behind where he was staying and sit in the woods to write as the sun set, but he was aching after a day of riding and he was far more inclined to stay and rest.

The evening was quiet yet cheerful, until out of the corner of his eye, Henry caught sight of what appeared to be a massive shadow approaching the town from the northern road - one that sent townsfolk scattering and shouting as they all shut themselves into whatever dwellings they could, some choosing instead to hop onto their horses and gallop off. Now thoroughly curious, Henry stood and squinted to get a better look. That shadow turned out to be a massive draft horse, the tallest he had ever seen, with what looked to be an even taller person sitting atop its back. As the stranger rode past the sheriff’s office, Henry could see the sheriff open the door, then quickly shut it again the moment the stranger turned his head to look at him. The odd figure continued on, then halted his giant steed in the middle of the road and dismounted, resting their hand on the horse’s neck and slowly sliding it away as they began striding down the road. As the stranger approached, Henry could hear the jingling of spurs and a sudden chill went down his spine. At about the midway point from the road to the porch where Henry stood, the stranger stopped. His hair was long and black and billowing like the tails of his heavy dark leather duster in the wind, and his face covered by the rim of a black cattleman’s hat that was tipped downward to hide his eyes. “Clerval!” The voice that echoed through the streets was clear and cold as the rushing stream it rose above, yet pitched somewhere between roaring thunder and the creaking of old pines. Henry felt his hair stand on end at the sound of his own name, but he kept his composure and slowly descended the steps, standing a distance from the stranger on the road.

“Is there something you need from me, s-” Henry felt his breath catch in his throat as the stranger slowly raised his head and pulled a dark bandana that covered his mouth and nose down with one gloved hand. Even from a distance, beneath the shadow of his hat’s brim, the stranger’s eyes seemed to glow a dull yellow, sickly and pale yet burning bright enough to be visible from afar.

“The eyes! Those horrible eyes!”

“Victor! Victor, compose yourself! What eyes?” Henry held Victor tightly as the scrawny scientist writhed in feverish agony and pointed toward the wall.

“Surely you can see them! There! The fires of hell burn within them!” Henry looked up and surveyed the empty room with worried eyes.

“Victor… love there’s nothing here,” he reassured him. Victor broke from his grasp and tried to stand, only to stumble backward again.

“Yellow! That dreaded yellow glow- he’s returned for me! He’s- he…” He suddenly went silent, eyes still bugged and wild as he collapsed onto the ground. Henry desperately wanted answers, but… whatever had happened, whatever Victor had seen to haunt him in such a way, it was still far too traumatic of a memory to be discussed. With a heavy sigh, Henry gently picked Victor up off of the floor and carried his limp body to bed, where he laid him down and kissed his sweat-covered forehead tenderly.

“Just rest, Victor. No one is here to hurt you. It’s just me. Everything will be ok.” He took Victor’s clammy hand and held it tightly. “So long as I am here with you, I’ll make sure of that.”

“Who- What are you?” Henry managed to ask as the memory passed through his mind. The stranger’s gleaming eyes seemed to widen, then narrow again. His left hand, which was bare unlike his right, pushed aside the leather of his duster and revealed a pistol holstered on his hip. The fingers that hovered over the pistol’s handle were long and bony with a mixture of pale and discolored skin. Henry felt his heart jump at the sight, and he instinctively raised his hands. “Sir I mean you no harm,” he reassured him. “Just… tell me who you are and how you know me.” The stranger hesitated, and Henry saw in him a sudden moment of weakness.

“I-” The stranger’s voice broke as he began to speak, and he faltered. “I am no one. I am nothing.” Henry’s racing pulse began to slow, and he cautiously stepped forward.

“Everyone is someone, everyone is something.” The stranger’s hand fell back and he dropped his head.

“Not me, Henry. Never me.” Henry felt a sudden sense of sympathy toward him. Surely this was the man Victor was so afraid of, and yet… he seemed so sad, so alone, much more like a lost child than a fearsome demon.

“Maybe not now, but if you let me help you, maybe we can find where you belong,” Henry called to him softly, slightly lowering his hands as he approached. The stranger took a step back. “May I ask your name?”

“I have no name,” was the stranger’s hushed reply. He raised his gloved hand and removed his hat, revealing his face. A scar with obvious stitching ran diagonally down it, and though his raven hair primarily covered over it, another ran along his forehead, and two more ran from his ears to about midway down his jaw line. Henry felt himself taken by the shock of the sight, but he showed no fear as he continued to approach. “Your Victor never gave me one.” Now finally putting the pieces together, Henry’s hazel eyes widened.

“So he finally did it,” he murmured. “He managed to create life from death-”

“And then leave it to die,” the creature interrupted. Henry could see tears streaming down his papery-skinned cheeks.

“I can see you’ve been through so much,” Henry pointed out sympathetically, lowering his hands further. “You can talk to me. I won’t hurt you.” The creature’s chest heaved and his eyes clenched shut as he turned his face away.

“No, no I certainly think you won’t.” In one swift motion, the creature pulled the pistol from its holster and held it cocked, pointed in Henry’s direction. Henry jumped, raising his hands up again as his heart began to race. Though his gun was pointed, the creature seemed hesitant. His hand shook and his face was still turned away. For a moment, he lowered his gun and he wiped the tears from his eyes with his gloved hand.

“You don’t want to do this,” Henry muttered, suddenly filled with a strange mixture of fear and empathy. “You don’t have to do this.”

“That’s just it, Henry,” the creature whispered. His eyes lifted to the red painted sky of dusk. “I have no choice. There are consequences for his actions. A price must be paid as reparation for what he’s cost me.” There was a sudden shift in his expression that made Henry feel his blood run ice cold. “And that price is you.”

He barely felt the bullet when it hit. All there was, was the deafening sound of the shot and the screams that rose from the buildings that followed, the flying open of doors and windows to see what had happened, the terrified whinnies of horses, and a sudden gush of something onto his hands which instinctively flew to his chest. As he fell, he saw the creature become unsteady, nearly falling himself as the smoking pistol fell from his hand, before tensing and letting out an unearthly cry that seemed to echo through the still dusk air. He could see the creature’s stallion turn from the calm shadow he was into a panicked wreck of a beast, pawing and pacing and rearing onto his hind hooves. The creature himself turned and ran, jumping back into the saddle. As he turned his horse around, he looked over his shoulder to Henry one last time with a sorrowful look in his yellow eyes before placing his hat back onto his head and spurring his steed into a swift gallop until he disappeared over the hill beyond.

Hooves pounded on the dirt road that led to the western side of the town, kicking up dust as horse and rider flew down the path. Victor’s eyes kept a steely gaze on the town entrance ahead, his heart racing. As he had been walking down the road, there had been a sudden exodus from the town, with folks high-tailing it out as fast as they could, and he knew something was very wrong. Though his silver gray Kladruber mare was pushing just about as hard as she could, the sound of a gunshot spooked Victor into kicking his heels into her sides hard. She leaped from the pain of it with a panicked neigh, her ears pinning back as she kicked her legs out and pushed into a faster gallop than she had ever managed in her life. Tearing past the arch of the town entrance, Victor tore at the left rein, and his mare nearly tripped over herself as she made as sharp a turn as she could and tore over the bridge that led to the other road. The moment they crossed, Victor watched as one figure stumbled back and another far taller, ran and disappeared over the hill on his mount. Yanking back on both reins, Victor forced his mare into a skidding stop, leaping off her back before she had even fully stopped and racing to Henry just as he fell. He caught him in his arms, but struggled to hold up his weight and fell backward himself. Frantically, he tore the bandana from around his own neck and pressed it hard against the wound that spilled with blood. “Stay with me Henry,” he muttered, though he felt he was going to be sick. “Stay with me, come on, stay with me.” Henry coughed and sputtered, but looked up at him with a strained smile.

“Victor- it’s- it’s ok,” he wheezed. Victor pulled the bandana back slightly to inspect the wound.

“I’ll need to get that bullet out-” He paused, wildly searching around. “Is there a doctor in this town?!” he exclaimed, searching for any sign of a practice that might have the tools he would need. Henry suddenly gripped his arm.

“Victor, no,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t- don’t…” His voice trailed off and his breath grew more ragged. Tears began streaming down Victor’s face and his vision started to blur, his heart pounding hard in his chest as panic coursed through him.

“Somebody! Anybody! Help!” he cried out. A few terrified but curious townsfolk began opening their doors to see what was happening. Henry suddenly twitched and sucked in a deep breath, his eyes growing wide. Victor gripped him tighter, pressing harder at the wound. “No- no no no- Henry!” In his arms, the body he held convulsed, and after an exhale and another sudden sharp inhale, it went limp, and once bright hazel eyes stared coldly up at him, sightless. “Henry,” Victor croaked his name, his hand falling from the wound and taking the lifeless hand of the one he held. “Henry please…” he whimpered, choking back a sob. “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me,” he begged. The warmth from the body he held was already beginning to seep away, and the skin began to grow cold. He was gone. Truly, completely gone. There were no longer any thoughts in Victor’s mind. Everything was as blank and empty as the soulless stare from the lifeless eyes that seemed to pierce through his soul. In a blind state of panic, Victor dropped the body and stared down at his hands. He stood, shaking violently as he stared down. Blood dripped from his fingers, but he could barely see it as his vision was so hazy and unclear. He gripped at his face hysterically, smearing blood over his hair and skin. The sudden feeling of it and the realization of what it was sent him into utter turmoil, and he let out an inhuman shriek, stumbling around in blind panic and screaming until he tripped over the corpse’s outstretched arm and fell into the dirt below. As he writhed, a mess of blood and tears, he felt himself go numb, and with one final cry, his eyes rested back on Henry’s lifeless stare and he drew in a ragged breath. Panic turned to searing rage, and he grit his teeth. Around him, a few townsfolk had gathered to check on his condition, but their voices were drowned out by the pounding of his own heart, and his sight faded away to white as his consciousness slipped away.

[classysmashy]

Easy Living, This Ain’t

#1/??? of Nuclear Winter

ZoNa Holiday 2020 Entry Prompt 1 (Snow Angel / All Wrapped Up)

@zonamievents

One Piece in Fallout Universe (kinda~)

AN: I’ve been playing Fallout 4 a lot and couldn’t help but think about what it would be like for One Piece in the universe, so please enjoy this snippet. Also, I haven’t done any creative writing in nearly three years and I ask for forgiveness if its rough. This piece isn’t heavily on about them being together just yet, though I plan to write more for the prompts and expand this better. Worked on this for about five to six hours straight to try and get it done in time, but it’s late. I’m still gonna squeeze my entry in though, hopefully! :)

Rate T for Blood, Violence, Suggestive moments

Word Count: 5,788

*****

I never regret The years that I’m giving They’re easy to give  When you’re in love  I’m happy to do whatever I do for you

There’s something about being within inches of death that suddenly makes blood rush faster and for all the words that hadn’t formed to break through the flood gates. Maybe it had just been the adrenaline talking, a need to achieve certain feelings before dying off and becoming one with the scattered waste of the world. 

But, Nami would have only been lying to herself to try and pass that off as the reason as to why her lips shook out a hasty “I’m in love with you” towards Zoro’s direction before the last swing from the Deathclaw rattled the right side of her skull, sending her in the air through a concrete pillar and hot blood dripping into her eyes preventing her from seeing Zoro’s reaction to the words.

Because there was truth in the statement, though she was unsure of when during the six years of traveling with Luffy that the feelings had started. Had it been so early as to their first meeting? Seeing him face off Arlong along side their friends? Or maybe the time apart had built an unknown longing for two years that was finally becoming clear to her in the past few months?

Thoughts race like blood when you think you’re going to die. Nami had seen that in the time Bellemere died, how she had pushed to voice courage towards little Nojiko and Nami. This time was different than Bellemere, she had died being a protector to the end, and Nami would die because of her own rookie mistake.

As her eyes slipped closed from the world, it seemed Zoro had finally gotten serious and she could just barely make out his voice over her busted eardrums, but she did. 

“Don’t die on me.”

*****

Living for you Is easy living  It’s easy to live  When you’re in love  And I’m so in love  There’s nothing in life but you 

Nearly twenty hours earlier, Nami had very different plans for the day. 

There was plenty of work to go around at the Strawhats main settlement; crops to be harvested, buildings to be constructed, purified water to be gathered, defenses to be fixed... And that was only here! 

She had awoken just before four am had hit, the sun still hidden deep in the clouds, and Nami had decided that the weather would be alright for the day and that the impeding snowstorm would hold off for another day or two. The first thing on her agenda had been to check on the mikan trees and see if they were well.

Franky had created plenty of special greenhouses throughout their compound for Nami to keep her mikan trees safe, along with Robin’s flowers and Usopp’s pop greens to grow safely. She didn’t necessarily mind the thought of the mikan trees being among the other garden beds around the settlement, but she did worry about if people would only go to them for food rather treating the trees with upmost respect that Bellemere would approve of, let alone take care of them properly.

After three pulls on the door handle, Nami’s bedroom door finally gave way for her to exit it —Franky said that was the downside of working with rusty wasteland materials, maybe she could hire someone to look for newer, untouched supplies to get an upgrade. Though, by the head of swaying green before her, it wasn’t even her strength or the willingness of the door to give up, but rather Zoro who had forced the wood into action.

“Yo,” casual as ever, Zoro leaned on the wall opposite of Nami as she slammed the door back into place, not in anger, but the damn thing was too much trouble! 

“I didn’t know you were back yet,” Nami rested her hands in her hair, combing it into a tangled ponytail, she could only manage to place her eyes at his nose, looking too closely into Zoro’s eyes lately brought on a heat she couldn’t control. If she kept her hands busy, they wouldn’t give away the noticeable shake and she could hold back the need to run away. “The way Brook talked, it seemed as if the raid would take longer.”

Zoro gave a curious peer towards her, tilting his head down as if that was the way to suddenly unearth what was different in the moment, “Well, it was supposed to, but Brook really wanted to add those instruments to his collection and threw any caution out the window.” A sly smirk stretched his lips and if Nami knew any better, she would say that was the truth, but a half-truth at that.

“And you also got lost, heading dead-center into their manpower?” Nami gathered her own smirk as his slipped to a scowl, the fire snapping to life in him and gearing up for their usually banter.

“Shut up! I wasn’t lost, the hallways kept changing their direction, I can make my way around fine without anyone else!” Zoro chewed out at her with more venom than necessary for her small comment. 

Nami’s left eyebrow lifted, as she crossed her arms across her chest and cocked her hip out towards him, “Besides being here to tell me your prevarication, you came to see me for something, right? Your room is on the floor below this one. AND, whatever it is, is going to cost you, surely you don’t mind me raising your debt, hm?” She gave a cheshire grin that didn’t match with the sweetness her tone was tinted with, giving way to her true feelings as her brown eyes glinted gold.

The threat of a higher debt seemed to sour Zoro’s mood even more, “Don’t even think about it.” The reverb of his voice in his throat caused a twinge at the base of her spine and the gathering heat pulled Nami’s eyes to look into his finally, a pair of steel that seemed set on unraveling her. “You can take up your charges with Chopper, since he’s the one that wants the two of us to head out and gather something for him.” 

His hand rested beside her head and the small height gap between the two was noticeable now, though she was unsure of the moment he had made his way so close to her own body, trapping Nami against her bedroom door.

That heat that wouldn’t go away was flooding her, she could barely keep her breathe together and she definitely wanted to run as she dug her nails into her palms to gain the last of her control to keep from sprinting. 

The air hung tense for a moment, like Zoro had been sizing her up for some reason, his only good eye tracking the nervous jitter Nami’s body gave off. While his observation’s of her was making things worse, she found that by standing her ground she could regather herself and ducked beneath his arm, leading the way towards the greenhouse garden where her mikan trees resided.

He followed beside her, watching the way she smoothed her hands along her jeans with a hawk’s stare. Yes, she very much wanted to run away right now.

Yet, she couldn’t run. There was few people that Nami would deny if they asked her of something and that few included Chopper. “So, what is it exactly? It must be something quite important if Chopper wanted to hound on you right after getting back and pretty far if he’s wanting me to guide you there.” 

“I’ve been back for two days, maybe you would have noticed if you didn’t avoid any area that we could overlap in,” Zoro had noticed more about her lately than she was hoping he would, and the pinched ire he held back somewhat showed he wasn’t pleased. 

“I’m not avoiding anything!” Nami frowned as she balled up her fists at her side with a huff, “I’m a busy woman around here. It can’t be helped that when I get pulled into ten million directions that I don’t end up in the ones that you were lost in!” 

Distracted by the jab at his sense of directions, Zoro seemed to drop the subject of her actions with the need to yell some more about how the world was just switching itself around as he walked, not that he could possibly be lost.

By the time the two had stopped bickering over it, Nami was punching in a button and the refurbished garage door was squeaking up to reveal her mikan trees in their full beauty. She inhaled a deep whiff of the scent that hit, and her mind seemed to relax completely as she took it in. There was no arguing, or someone needing her, or a world probably crushed beyond repair that was needing fixing. No worries, no overwhelming heat or tingles in her spine, just the moment of a far away home she couldn’t return to, a mother that was beautiful and gone, a sister that was picking at her.

It was nice to get lost for a second. But the sound of a sharp inhale beside her knocked her slightly out of it, turning towards the one who had made the noise to see Zoro... nervous? His hand clutched at his swords and his eyes were caught on her lips, her neck, her blissed out eyes. Nami could tell he was holding back, what that was she had no clue about, but her trance was completely broken, even as the heat reared its head again.

Zoro seemed to be stuck in the moment with her, the world around them having dropped far away. “Don’t avoid me,” his voice broke through the silence, his calloused hand coming to clutch her cheek and stray his thumb across her lips.

So close, too close.

His thumb dipped between her lips and she hummed a noise of commitment to him as her tongue slithered to give a drowsy lick to the digit. Nami’s mind raced yet was empty all at the same time, the intensity of Zoro’s gaze burned into her, and there seemed to be only one way this encounter could possibly end.

And it probably would have, with the way Zoro leaned closer, his other hand popping the button of her jeans.

Alas, there was still a world around them though that kept moving even when they were lost in daze.

The tiny pitter patter along the concrete gave away the incoming target and Zoro had half a mind to veer back the words he wanted to use as the reindeer grew closer. 

“Another time,” Zoro had whispered to Nami, fixing the button and creating a healthy, normal distance between the two as if what happened didn’t occur at all.

Nami had to admit that she was in a bit of stupor as Chopper finally gave way under the closest lights of the hall to them, a jolly smile breaking out across his face as to seem he’d been searching for a bit for the two.

“Oiii!” Chopper shouted in delight, fastening his pace towards the two and inhaling the nice scent of the mikan’s. Chopper was too cute to allow something so indecent to happen in the presence of, “I checked for Zoro in his room and then tried to find you at yours Nami, but both of you were gone. I figured Zoro was lost somewhere, so I came to check here. What good luck I have!”

Though Zoro protested at the prospect of him being lost, the two still gave warm smiles to Chopper, Nami offering a soft scratch to the top of his head, partly to ease her shivering, but also as a small congratulations to the animal doctor.

“So, why were you looking for us, Chopper? Could it be about this thing you wanted us to go out and find for you that Zoro mentioned to me?” She peered down at him and his expression grew serious, it seemed today really wouldn’t be focused on getting work done around the place after all.

“Yeah, I wanted to catch you before you left. As I told Zoro, I’ve been doing a lot of different experiments and part of those experiments is using the blood from feral ghouls and I’m starting to run low on stock. Law told me about this group of scientists that had taken shelter in a factory on the other side of the state who were also doing some experimentation, but got killed by a pack of Deathclaws that have been living in there since. He’s sure that they made up nearly a hundred packs of feral ghoul blood.” Chopper had shrunk back down to his small size while talking and Nami had a frown on her face that deepened more and more as he told her the scoop of what he believed just the two of them could take on. 

“He’s also wanting us to bring back the claws of the Deathclaws there, if possible,” Zoro interjected, his arms crossed over his chest now and leaning against the edge of the open door. 

“Chopper, that’s nearly insane! Sure, Zoro could take on such a feat, but it would be a death sentence for me!” she was frazzled at the thought of getting stuck in a pack of Deathclaws who could easily tear her to shreds in an instance if they so pleased. 

“That’s why Zoro should go with you! I believe that you could sneak in and steal the blood packs before the Deathclaws know you’re there, but if anything were to happen, Zoro could fight them off to protect you,” Chopper’s idea was rock solid and there was the chance she could do it, she had done it before a few years back, but that was sneaking around only one of them, not a bunch that most likely contained their children.

“Well, I guess it could possibly work out-” the gears seemed to finally scratch together in her head and she whipped down at Chopper with her hands on her hips and teeth sharpening with her words, “WAIT! Don’t tell me that you were planning for ME to go ALONE if Zoro or someone else wasn't available to go as well?!”

Chopper cried and jumped to hide behind Zoro’s legs, though he hid the wrong way to have part of him sticking out. “Like I said, I believe in you being able to easily sneak around without alerting them, but Zoro was the one who said that somebody should go with you, so I asked him and then he tried to say he could find it on his own, but there’s no way. He would definitely get lost and end up on the other side of the globe! Don’t you understand my predicament, Nami?” 

He was giving her those big, watery eyes and her heart started to crack for him. Of course Chopper couldn’t leave as one of the main doctors around and on top that everyone was either gone or too busy with dealing with all the settlements they helped out to gather supplies for Chopper’s side project. That really did leave Nami, Zoro, and Brook, and he probably made the plan while the two guys were gone, leaving the task as something Nami would have to carry out.

A hefty sigh left her chest and that heat and tingles caused by Zoro seemed to completely disappear as her mind already began to gather ideas of the best and fastest routes to take across the state.

Nami straightened her back and closed her eyes to contain the last of her angry, “Alright, I guess it can’t be helped then, huh, Chopper?” She gave a small, tight smile to the tiny reindeer and made a mental note to try and trick Sanji to check in with Chopper in the future so he would be sent out on his suicide missions rather than her.

Chopper’s ecstatic shout echoed along the hallway, pulling the bag off his back to shove plenty of Stimpaks in Nami’s palms and then Zoro’s. “I made up a lot just in case you guys get in tight situations. These things can heal in a punch, but don’t forget that the best for the body is proper rest, diet, and caution.” The last part was directed at Zoro, by the way she had seen Chopper give a sharp doctors gaze at the man who was putting away the healing items with a bored look.

“Yeah, yeah, no worries. Don’t worry Chopper, we’ll be back by tomorrow night and without using any of these,” Zoro smirked proudly at the reindeer whose eyes were the ones to be glinting this time, the shining stars nearly bursting out to show his high thoughts of Zoro.

With a whimper, Nami rang her hand across her face. Just what had she gotten herself into?

...

And did he say Zoro was the one to volunteer to go with her?

*****

For you Maybe I’m a fool but it’s fun People say you rule me with one Wave of your hand Darling, it’s grand  They just don’t understand

It was nearly eighteen hours since they left the compound, her mikan trees all nicely taken care of, and an awkward air of silence created between the two. Well, it wasn’t necessarily awkward, but more of an overwhelming tension that was making her feel awkward as it dragged on more with nothing happening between the two of them. 

At this point, Nami’s lips were worn away in all the wrong ways. She had been biting on them out of nervousness and she had also slide down a hill and smashed her face into a rock. If there was one thing to pick out from that accident just than Zoro’s laughing being the only time she had seen him show emotion since leaving, it would be the prospect of bad luck could be looming after the first incident.

The factory that Chopper had told them of seemed to be an old food packing plant, she gazed up the rusted back garage doors and to the very few windows the looming structure seemed to have. Zoro beside her did the same, since getting within half a mile of the place, his hand had been firmly planted and unmoving atop of the hilts of his swords.

The closest window to the ground that Zoro could possibly boost her to was near the left side and she waved her hand for him to follow over to it. He positioned himself to be right under it and readied his arms to toss her up enough that she would get through the window.

“If something goes wrong, yell,” there was a joking smile on his face, as if the thought of the signal being her scream rather than the obvious racked of Deathclaws going crazy would be what it would take for him to know she was in danger.

Nami rolled her eyes and shifted the weight of her bag to even out on her back, giving a few rolling huffs of air to prepare herself, “Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this over with,” she grumbled and pushed her body into his waiting grip. 

Zoro’s right hand taking hold of her thigh and his left hand pushing into the belt of her jeans, sliding his thumb beneath the fabric for just a moment pop her panties on her hip, tossing her upwards as she gasped. The idiot was confusing her with each of his whims today.

Her hands gripped onto the creaking window frame and let herself drop through, positioning her body in the air to fall safely. As Nami’s feet had hit the ground, she kept a still stance and held her breathe, taking in the surroundings around her, finding that she was nicely alone in the space she landed in.

Feeling that the coast was clear at the moment, she kept a crouched stance, taking steps over the destroyed conveyor belts that was missing teeth mark shaped bits that were strewn across the room. If Chopper wanted Deathclaw claws, that could wait until another day after she found out how many were here and they could properly plan a strike, rather than race in and sustain more injuries than necessary.

As she shifted through the plant, trying to figure out where the lower stairs would be —Deathclaws liked being below the ground after all and that would be the most likely place that they would be and where these past scientists hid the blood from any prying hands— her mind drifted to Zoro.

Today had been confusing and all because of Zoro. She wasn’t used to his outward reactions towards her, let alone the thought of a mutual lust between the two. What exactly had changed so quickly during the past week for him to put himself out there and ready to jump Nami?

After working through four different room, picking up some canned food that could be put to use back home, the stairs finally appeared before her. And just beside them was a slim wall holder that contained a worn map, a big score for stumbling around in an abandoned place like this. 

“Bingo,” she whispered to herself, fingering through the pages as quietly as the paper crinkles would allow, finding that there seemed to be two higher levels, the main floor she was on, and three basement floors beneath her.

That meant there was three floors she would have to crawl through in the hopes of finding these feral ghoul blood packs for Chopper and three floors of potential Deathclaws with however many that she didn’t know about. Nami’s skin broke out in bumps, worried sweat sliding down her chin, down her neck, and hitting the bare skin of her breasts. She was starting to regret the bra and tank top, but anything more and the sound would have given her away.

She pushed down the stairs, heading to the first basement floor to check through it. 

Zoro had been so confident to undo her pants and take her right in the hallway where any of their friends could easily walk through and find them. The idea of such an occurrence brought the tingles back to her spine, Nami’s mind swirling around with just what he might do if he had seen that sweat, how his lips would fiercely attack the space of her breasts.

Half of this floor seemed to be clear so far, she dimly noted, nicking some metal scraps that were resting in a shipment of boxes. They were probably waiting to be unloaded and used to fix something in the plant before the nukes dropped.

The next set of stairs wouldn’t be too far and Nami knew that she should probably keep her senses in check, but Zoro just had to reignite that heat once again before she came in here. 

It should have been gross, licking on his thumb like a kitten, but it was hot and the little bit of salty sweat residue tasted nice on her tongue. She wanted more of that, more of Zoro, but it was risky to think of anything past a nice romp in the bed. Though she didn’t take him as the type to hit and that be it, yet the thought of him having those same confusing feelings that laid past friendship or family or lust was odd.

Love.

The hints of feeling in love had been creeping through Nami’s mind for over seven months now and on top of that, Zoro caught on to the fact that she had been trying to distance herself from him to keep out any of those kinds of feelings taking a hold of her and rendering her a victim.

There was nothing wrong with being in love. She was so happy for Usopp and Kaya every time she saw the two of them in that special bubble of theirs. 

But, the thoughts of how much harsher it would be to lose that person after taking that step into a different boundary, the pain of losing the only one who got to see you so intimately, that would be much worse than just losing close friends and family. She didn’t want to go through another death like Bellemere’s ever again.

So caught up in her head, Nami hadn’t even realized she found herself on the second basement floor until the smell hit her nose and she dived behind a desk decked with a busted up computer terminal.

Her breathe got stuck in her throat, a tiny whimper slipping out of her hands she covered over mouth. 

She had been right about the Deathclaw children.

There had to be a dozen adult Deathclaws alone and over half a dozen of the children on this floor. In the past, the Strawhat crew had met a few friendly Deathclaws, but that was a different case than now. The way they growled, slinking around the room and sniffing, there was no doubt in her mind of the hunger that was in these Deathclaws. But, there was another stench of a smell she had recognized as well.

Peaking beneath the sliver of the desk, across the room there was stacks on stacks of labeled feral ghoul blood packs, just as Chopper had heard from Law, but it seemed that a few had gotten busted open and the smell of irradiated blood was mixing with the Deathclaw’s and creating something foul that made her stomach twist in sickening flops.

No matter where she seemed to look, there would be no way that Nami could reach the blood by sneaking around Deathclaw’s there was just no space to hide behind to reach the blood packs and any direction she went and the time spent grabbing them would only lead to her being noticed and most definitely killed.

Maybe if she could get back out and to Zoro, she could lead him into here to clear the place for her to gather the blood packs, or at least distract them long enough. But, there was no telling if there was more in the last basement floor and how many compared to the amount that was around her now.

With each second passing of her being on the floor like this, it was becoming apparent to Nami the predicament she was in. 

Especially so when a throaty growl was too close to her ear and she could feel drool drooping along her leg.

Screwed, so screwed.

She had half a mind to actually turn and look to the predator, it’s mouth hanging open before her and the fangs glistening with saliva from the swinging lights above.

Her lungs burned from the scream she let out, the Deathclaw’s arm swinging down to crush the desk, Nami narrowly escaping the bloody death with a quick roll of her body. Hopefully the idiot Zoro had heard her, though she was uncertain if it would reach so far above compared to where she was in the basement.

All of the Deathclaw’s on the floor now had a nice eyeful of her spread out along the floor, like a snack before dinner for them, and below she could hear the rumble of more feet and claws racing to tear into her and make her bits.

The Clima Baton she had grown so used was being worked on by Usopp and so he had given her an overly upgraded laser pistol, but there was no way a laser pistol could get her out of this mess. Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, they were the types to be able to get themselves out of this situation without worries, but Nami wasn’t them.

That was why the moment she raised the pistol, a Deathclaw rushed from behind and sent her flying into a wall. The wall of blood packs she needed to get. No doubt was her left leg broken and the pumping blood was driving the Deathclaws insane with thirst. There was a slight distraction though, as Zoro finally burst forth, bringing out all three of his swords and slicing right through the first one to attack her.

Nami knew that she should probably get somewhere safer, but the reason they were here for Chopper came first. Zoro could take care of the Deathclaws and she could get the blood.

She whipped around her bag, throwing the flap open, and pushing the blood packs in by the arm full. There was a Deathclaw rearing itself up for an attack at her, but she almost had them all in her possession and Zoro would take care of it, right?

But, it’s claws still came racing for her, tearing away the tattered tank top in the first swipe and cutting open her stomach with the second. 

“Nami!” She could make out Zoro calling out to her, but she couldn’t see him beyond the rush of the lower floor Deathclaws surrounding him, the space of the whole floor seemed to be taken up by the creatures. 

Hope was growing dark for her.

And that was how Nami had gotten into this moment.

She sent her secured bag to Zoro through the Deathclaws, and prepared herself for this to be it. It was one of those moments that her brain just wasn’t thinking properly and death seemed inevitable now.

Even though she was scared of loving someone, scared of dying, scared of ruining that person she loved, Nami broke out into one more smile.

“I’m in love with you.” Zoro’s face peaked through the wall of Deathclaws and her words reached him, she hoped, as the arm of the nearest one swung into her, giving her a final look of its stretching skin tinged pink, the bent horns of a devil, and the foot long claws that hurt like a bitch. 

The concrete pillar it launched her into could have been nice, save for the fact of her head not being wrapped around it.

Zoro’s voice echoed out to her as her eyes slid shut.

“Don’t die on me.”

*****

Living for you Is easy living  It’s easy to live When you’re in love And I’m so in love There’s nothing in life but you

It was with a harsh thumping in her head, that Nami had awoken to a delicious warmth enveloping all over her. Such a nice warmth that she couldn’t resist nuzzling herself deeper into it, the feeling of her ear brushing over prickled skin like a scar.

A scar...

“Oi, you finally came to,” Zoro’s voice was low, even, though she didn’t miss the way his chest shook with a relieved sigh he seemed to have been holding in. 

“Mmm, everything hurts,” Nami whined and cracked her eyes open, noticing first that Zoro was missing the top clothes he had on earlier then realizing that she was now wearing his jacket along with fabric wrapped around her head, waist, and leg. “Isn’t this a bit much?” she mumbled, shifting her body to get a better view of his face.

“What’s a bit much is you forgetting that Chopper gave you stimpaks to use and then proceeding to throw your bag at me,” he glared down at her and she sighed, that was right, she did have medical supplies that would have helped her, but she instead made the decision to be an idiot.

“Sorry... I was.. too caught up in my head,” Nami had tilted her gaze away from his as it was piercing her too much and she needed a relief and when she looked around them, the bodies of all the Deathclaws that had been crawling among the basement was dead now and their hands and feet were missing the claws. “At least you got the other part of why we were here, huh? Chopper will be happy.”

“He won’t be happy to see you in this state knowing he was the one to send you out here,” Zoro’s hand cautiously came to rest on the top of her head, stroking her orange locks at a steady pace. “Love, huh?”

She could hear the way his lips curled around the words and a blush crawled over her cheeks at the thought of her hasty confession. Nami raised her fist, slamming into the side of his head with a screeching “shut up” accompanying it.

But, the hit did nothing to rid Zoro of the teasing smile. “I guess trying to take pages out of Brook’s philosophy was all wrong,” he whispered thoughtfully, laying his lips to hers for a brief moment of fireworks, but he pulled away too quickly for her to enjoy it.

“Eh? Brook?” She let her head fall into a tilt as Zoro gathered her up into his arms in a bridal style, lifting her up and throwing both of their bags into her lap. Nami guessed that now she was awake and he knew she was going to live, he was fine with getting out of this place.

“Yeah, he was saying that when you try to go after a woman, you have to be over the top and come on strong,” a smirk strung across his face and a chuckle echoed around, “and then you will definitely get into their panties.” 

Her eyes nearly rolled out her head, “Oh my god, seriously?! That’s why you were suddenly coming onto me? Cause you wanted to get me out of my panties? I didn’t realize that you and Sanji actually were so similar,” she poked at his buttons to tease him. Of course she should have known he was going by what someone else said.

“Oi! Don’t compare me to the shitty cook!” His foot rose to slam through the rest of the garage door that hadn’t been cut up and as the shanty metal clattered on the ground, piles of snow could be seen rising along the hills before them as more fell down from the sky.

Her smile drooped a bit, “I’ve been out for a whole day?” 

Zoro sighed behind her, pulling her in closer to keep the cold away from her body, “Yeah, but it doesn’t seem you’re too bad off.”

“I guess we have plenty to talk about later on...” Nami’s voice drifted off as she wrapped his jacket tighter. There was something nice in this moment, a relief to know that her time hadn’t come, that Zoro was trying to work towards something with her, and being all wrapped in Zoro’s clothes and body.

Yes, it was wonderful, the warmth coming back, and that she wasn’t alone in those tingles that tickled her spine.

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

My Everything

A/N: So my last fic did pretty good and now I’m writing another one because I was looking through prompts so Merry Christmas. This is quite possibly the longest fic I’ve ever written, which is kinda sad but not really. 

Summery: When what was supposed to be an easy mission goes horribly wrong

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word count: 2.6k+ 

Warnings: Violence, mentions of injury/blood, swearing, some angst but only a little

The mission wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was simple. Come in, take down the guards, download some information, and get out. It was so easy, in fact, that Tony let you and Peter go alone, and he wasn’t exactly a fan of letting his youngest Avengers go anywhere alone. 

You two were great partners but you were still teenagers. Even if you were 17, Spiderman was pretty famous and the great teen assassin Y/N was a well known name.

You remember the first time you went on a mission together. You had both been Avengers for a while but you hadn’t gone on a mission together. He tried to stick close to your side the entire time but you were not having it. 

“What the hell are you doing!?” you asked when he ran up to you in the crowd of people. “You can’t be seen with me! Do you have any idea how much of a target that’s going to paint on your head?!”

“I already have a target painted on my head, I’m Spiderman,” he replied with annoyance. “You honestly think you’re the only one that people want dead!? We have a better chance at doing this whilst we’re together and you know it.” 

“You’re only a target when you have the suit on, Peter. Either put it on or scram. I can’t risk you being in danger without the suit while we’re out here.” 

You were very protective over each other. It took a while for both parties to realize that maybe it was more than just being protective because you were friends. Maybe it was because you were in love. You were too scared of losing each other completely. It didn’t take too long after that for you to make a move on him, eventually leading to the beginning of your relationship. 

That was also part of the reason that Tony was reluctant to let you go on missions alone. You were good kids and he knew you were responsible enough to make sure you didn’t get distracted by each other in the wrong way, but there was always a chance of it jeopardizing the mission. If one got hurt, the other might be more concerned with the wellbeing of their partner than completing the mission. 

That told you how easy it had to be. There was no way someone could get that hurt. 

“Okay, I’m gonna swing in and start taking out everyone that comes at me. You run through, go into the main room, and get the stuff on the hard drive. I’ll stay in front of the door so no one can get in. Once you’re done, signal me and we’ll run back to the jet. Got it?” Peter said as you squatted on the roof of a building across from the information center. 

“Got it,” you replied. “Everyone good on the coms?” You got the confirmation and stood up. 

“We got this, babe,” Peter said as he stood up, kissing you on the cheek before pulling his mask on. He pulled you into his side and shot a web over to the other building, placing you lightly on the ground next to the door when you landed. You pulled out your gun as he tested the doorknob. The door opened slightly and you both frowned. That was unexpected. He held a hand up, signaling you to stay still while he scanned the room. 

“I’m not sensing anyone in there,” he said in a confused tone. “Let me make sure though.” He creeped inside and you stayed by the door. Nothing but complete silence. He signaled you to come in behind him and you held up your gun, ready to take on any attacker that came your way. 

You made it halfway across the room by the time people started pouring out of a door near the back of the room and attacking you. 

“Go!” Peter said as he punched a guy in the gut. “I can hold ‘em off.” 

You raced off without a second thought, managing to make it across the room without being attacked. Something felt off about the room the second you stepped in it but you ignored it, pushing it off as nerves. You quickly hacked into a computer, stuck the USB stick into it, and started downloading information. 

You were too busy fulfilling the task that you didn’t catch the man pointing a gun at the back of your head; the noise from outside masking any sound coming from the room you were in. It was so loud out there that you barely heard the gunshot before you felt the bullet in your back. You collapsed in pain, now noticing the man with the gun. 

You struggled to get up, trying to remember what Nat had told you before the mission. Something about having enough strength to fight ‘em off if you strike in the weak spots. 

You stumbled as you stood up, noticing how the man was struggling with his somehow jammed gun. You lunged forward and grabbed his arm, using all you had left in you to throw him to the side. He managed to unjam the gun and shot you again; this time in the side. 

“Almost done in there?” Peter asked though the com. You could hear the grunts of the men he was fighting off through it. He didn’t have time to deal with you. 

“Few more minutes,” you said through gritted teeth as you kicked your attacker in the stomach. You tried to grab the gun out of his hands as he flew back but missed. He swung at you, hitting you in the jaw and making you stumble back. You caught a glance at the computer. Two minutes left to download. 

You lunged forward again, grabbing a hold of the gun and kicking the guy again and again until he fell to the ground. You slammed his head to the ground and knocked him unconscious. 

“Y/N, these guys keep coming. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep them off.” 

“I need thirty seconds.” The file finally finished downloading and you pulled the USB out. “Let’s get out of here.” You sprinted towards the door as fast as you could, eyes widening when you saw how many guards there were. Peter caught sight of you and broke free of the guards, catching up to you. 

The shots were raining on you. Peter’s suit was bulletproof for long enough for the two of you to get out, but your jacket and padding beneath did little to stop the bullets from hitting you. You started to feel a little faint and slowed down, causing Peter to look over with worry. He picked you up without a word and carried you out the meeting spot. He had no idea what was wrong. 

“What’s going on with you?” he asked softly as he placed you on the ground and squatted next to you. “Did you get hurt?” The grimace on your face was enough to send him into protective overdrive. 

 “I got shot.” 

“Y/N, oh my gosh. Where? Why didn’t you tell me?” He unzipped your jacket and lifted your shirt to reveal the bloody mess of your upper body. 

“Holy shit, there is so much blood,” he breathed.

“Please, I sneezed on my period and there was more blood than this.” He could hear you fading. 

“Nat, how far away are you?” Peter asked into the com, feeling more anxious than ever before.  

“About ten minutes. Why? Is something wrong?” 

“Y/N got shot.”

“How bad?” 

“It’s really bad. We need help bad.” 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you guys still in danger?”

“No.” 

“Tell her to hold on. I’ll be there soon.” 

“Nat, seriously. I don’t know how long she can hold on.” 

“Do your best Pete. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

His concern was replaced with anger for a moment. Anger at Nat for not already having to jet there. Angry that you jeopardized your life for that stupid hard drive.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!? Why would you hide an injury as bad as this!?” he seethed.

“It would have just slowed us down, I couldn’t risk your life like that!” You tried to sit up but Peter pushed you back down. 

“We could have found another way! You could’ve died. Hell, you could still die!” 

“There was no other way, Peter.”

“Are you kidding me, Y/N?” His demeanor softened again as he saw you fading. “Seriously, babe. I can’t deal with something happening to you.” He pulled your head into his lap, trying not to put you in more pain. He lifted a hand to brush your hair back and noticed the blood that came off onto his hand. So much blood. “You just gotta hold on.” 

“Pete, I don’t know how long I can.” Your eyes were fluttering and Peter could feel his heart rate rising by the second. 

“No, no, no. Karen, run a diagnostic.” 

“She’ll bleed out if you don’t stop it soon. Should I call an ambulance?” Karen said as the jet landed. 

“No, the jet’s here. Thank’s Karen.” Peter picked you up and started running towards the jet. Somewhere in that time, you passed out. 

“There is an incoming call from Mr. Stark. Do you want to answer it?” His suit asked as he stepped inside the jet. 

 “Sure.” He laid you down and let Bruce take over. “I thought it was just Nat.” 

“Thought I’d tag along,” Bruce muttered as he started running tests on you. “We need to get her back fast Nat. I don’t know how long we have.” 

Natasha just nodded as she got ready for take off. Peter sat down, head in his hands as he waited for the call to connect. He wanted to cry but he needed to be strong. 

“Hey, kiddo. Your heart rate’s up. You guys okay?” Tony asked.

“No,” was all Peter could choke out. 

“What happened?”

“We got the stuff but Y/N got shot and . . . and we don’t know if . . . if . . .” He couldn’t finish. The thought of losing you was unbearable. 

“Y/N’s going to be fine, okay? We’re not gonna lose her. Hang in there, Pete.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” The call ended and Peter threw his mask to the side. If he couldn’t protect you on a simple mission, how could he protect you when it got worse? 

The ride back to the compound felt like forever. He tried to block everything out but he couldn’t block out Bruce’s mumbled worries and your moans of pain when you woke up. He tried to go after you when they got to the compound but Nat held him back. 

“You need to get cleaned up. Give yourself some time away and think about something else. She’s going to be okay. Don’t dwell on it.” 

He tried. He tried so hard but he couldn’t think about anything else. He should’ve been able to feel that something was wrong when you got shot. He should’ve told you to get out. That your life was more important than that stupid information. He really could have lost you. 

He wallowed in his room for a while. People tried to come in to talk to him but he refused, ignoring their pleads to let them in. He even ignored the call from May. He didn’t respond to anyone until Bruce came to tell him that he could see you. 

“It was a close call,” Bruce said as they got close to your room. “I don’t know how long she’ll be out but it’ll be a while.” 

“Thanks.” Peter’s voice was soft as he opened the door. 

“Oh, and I think Tony wants to talk to you guys so he might be coming down here in a bit.” 

“Okay, thanks.” 

Bruce walked away and Peter entered the room. You were on your phone and he breathed a sigh of relief. You were actually okay. 

“Sup, bro?” You asked with a grin when you saw him. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like I could take down the entirety of Hydra by myself. How ‘bout you?” 

“Like I almost lost my girlfriend.” That comment wiped the stupid grin off your face. Humor was your way of coping with pain but seeing Peter like that made you realize that it might not be the best way to handle the situation.”You scared me so bad, Y/N.” 

“I’m sorry, Pete. I didn’t want to let Mr. Stark down and I figured I could fight through it. He’s always been apprehensive about sending us out together since we’re a thing. I wanted to prove that wrong. It was just two shots before we ran out. I’m fine now.” 

“I feel the same way but your life is so much more important than any mission. Please, promise me you’ll tell me the next time you get hurt. I can’t go through that again.” 

“I promise.”  

Peter took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing it before scooting closer to your bed. 

“As stupid as you can be sometimes, I love you.” 

“Love you too, Spidey Boy.” 

Peter brushed a strand of hair that had fallen on your face and leaned down to kiss you. It was slow and passionate and everything you needed.  

You talked for a few more minutes before Tony came in. 

“Alright, you two. Tell me what happened.” 

So you explained the whole mission to him. Everything from the guy who shot you to all the guys Peter fought off. 

“It wasn’t your fault, but I’m going to work on making your gear more bulletproof for next time. One of those bullets got a little too close to your heart. You got lucky, Kid.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” 

“Alright, don’t do anything too crazy,” he said as he stood up. “I believe you’ve been put on bed rest for the next week at least.” Your huff of annoyance was not missed but it was ignored. “I’m giving you both a break for a bit. No more missions alone. At least, not for a while. We can’t afford to lose either of you.” With that, he left the room. 

“At least you don’t have to worry about training for the next week,” Peter commented. They had been pretty brutal lately. 

“It’s gonna be worse when I get back though.” 

“Yeah but you have a week to prepare yourself. Probably longer.” 

“If I pretend to be in pain long enough, they might give me more time.” You both laughed at that. 

~ 

It was two weeks before you got back to training. The second you were released from the medical wing, Peter was all over you. He constantly checked up on you and barely let you do anything yourself. He took every chance he got to cuddle you and tell you how much he loved you. Laying in bed together at night was his favorite time to talk with you. 

“I have the best and most badass girlfriend in the world,” he said, his arms wrapped around you, your head on his chest. 

“I am pretty badass,” you agreed. 

“You’re my everything.” 

You didn’t respond, almost asleep in the comfort of his arms. Peter couldn’t help but smile. He could admire your beauty for years and never get tired of it. 

“You will always be my everything.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let sleep take over him, knowing that you were safe in his arms. 

[adenei]

Terror 19. “Somebody help me, please!” combined with Bliss 14. “I’m really happy that you’re here with me.” for Ron and Hermione, please 😊

Here you go, anon! Thanks for the prompt :)

************************************************ Hermione was lying awake in the hospital wing. All Madam Pomfrey had told her was that she’d been unconscious when she arrived because of a curse that the Death Eaters had hit her with in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione was going to be okay, though her body was still incredibly sore and achy. Madam Pomfrey had left extra doses of pain relieving potion and dreamless sleep on the nightstand next to her, but Hermione refused to take more potion than was necessary because she was sick of being drowsy and falling in and out of sleep.

It was the middle of the night, but Hermione reached over to re-read the note Ginny had left for her when she visited earlier. Sirius was dead. Luna, Neville and Ginny had sustained minor injuries, so they didn’t need an extended stay in the hospital wing. Ron was recovering from his encounter with the brains in the bed next to her. Ginny had said that she suspected Harry to not be around because of his own grief and guilt, but she’d try to get him to visit tomorrow. Hermione had a hard time believing  it all.

She shook her head and looked over at Ron’s sleeping body. They hadn’t yet been awake at the same time to be able to talk. Hermione had pretended to be sleeping when she heard Madam Pomfrey talking to Professor Dumbledore on the effects the brains could potentially have on him. “His arms will scar, though I’ve administered enough ointment to lessen the severity of the scarring,” Madam Pomfrey had said. 

She’d also discussed the brains themselves at length with Professor Dumbledore. Neither knew who the brains had belonged to or why they were in the jars, but Madam Pomfrey feared that some of the thoughts and memories could have been transferred to Ron’s own mind given how tightly the tentacles were wrapped around his arms. Professor Dumbledore had mentioned something about transferring to a new, more sustainable host. Hermione shuddered at the thought. She hoped it was all speculation.

All of a sudden Ron became restless, squirming in his sleep. His movements were becoming more erratic and he began thrashing around before whimpering, “Somebody help me, please!”

Despite the protestations of her body, Hermione managed to get up and move to his bedside. “Ron, Ron! Wake up! Please, it’s okay, it’s just a dream. Wake up, please wake up!” She took his hand in one of her own while the other gently shook his shoulder.

Ron jolted once more before ceasing all movement as his eyes fluttered open. As he gained consciousness, he looked around and noticed her next to him.

 “Her-Hermione? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in your hospital bed?”

“You were having a nightmare and thrashing in your sleep.” She looked away shyly as she said, “You called for someone to help you…”

“Oh,” he said. He sat up and moved over, patting the bed. “D’you want to sit? I mean, I’m sure you’d probably rather go back to your own bed. Nevermind.”

Hermione was surprised by his invitation, “No, it’s- actually, I wouldn’t mind...if you still want-?”

“Er, yeah! ‘Course,” he said quickly as Hermione sat down beside him. “I’m surprised you’re awake. You’ve been asleep every time I’ve woken up.”

“I could say the same for you,” she said with a smile. “What was your nightmare about? If you don’t mind me asking..”

“Erm, it was weird. I wasn’t me, but this little girl instead. She was trapped and in danger in this small, dark room. There was a tiny window that didn’t open, but she kept going to it, scratching and begging for someone to help her.”

“You said something like that in your sleep. ‘Somebody, help me please.’” Hermione was silent for a moment. “How much do you know about the brains?”

“Not much,” Ron answered honestly. “Madam Pomfrey said I’d have scarring” as he motioned to his arms, “and I could have weird dreams like that. She may have said more, but I had only just woke up, and I noticed you were still knocked out next to me, and I was more concerned about if you were going to wake up. Hermione, you looked-” he shook his head. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m pretty sore, but I’ll survive. I’m fine now, and you will be, too. The same can’t be said for…” Hermione couldn’t bring herself to say his name.

“Sirius, yeah,” Ron finished. 

“I’m worried about Harry. Ginny said he’s been on his own a lot.”

“He probably needs the space. Don’t push him, Hermione. He’ll come ‘round when he’s ready.”

“You’re probably right,” she sighed as she made herself more comfortable, leaning into his shoulder. 

“I’m really happy you’re here with me,” he said to her. 

“Me too, but not because we both managed to get injured, of course.” Hermione said as she smiled softly.

“Yeah, well, the hazards of having The Boy Who Lived as your best mate, I suppose,” Ron said.

“Too true,” she agreed. They both sat in silence for a while before Hermione decided she should tell him what she heard earlier. “Ron, I overheard Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore talking about the possibility that the brains could transfer some of their thoughts into- well, into you… they must have thought I was still sleeping,” she said nervously. 

“Maybe that’s what these dreams are about. It seemed so real, and it didn’t look good, Hermione. That little girl, I think she was taken and forced to stay there. I’m kind of afraid to sleep now...I don’t want to know what happens..”

“There must be a way to extract the thoughts! What about the pensieve? I wonder if you could take them out of your brain that way?” Hermione suggested.

“Those are for memories, not dreams. I don’t know if it would work,” Ron said.

“Well, we’ll figure something out. I’ll help you!” They heard a noise come from the other side of Madam Pomfrey’s office. 

“I better get back to my own bed,” Hermione said as she sat up and smiled at him. “Just try and think happy thoughts and hopefully your own will overpower whatever else is floating around in your brain. We’ll talk to Madam Pomfrey in the morning about it.” 

She made her way over to her bed and got comfortable as Ron watched her go. He was already missing the warmth of her body next to his. “Thanks, Hermione. I’m glad we were finally awake at the same time.”

She chucked. “Well, hopefully now we’ll both fall asleep and be more awake tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Ron.”

“G’night.” Ron said. He then did exactly as Hermione had suggested, though he’d never admit it to her. He focused on thinking of ‘happy thoughts’, which just happened to center around her. To his astonishment, he woke up the next morning nightmare free.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Extraordinary

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve is just trying to get through his day to day life in the wake of The Battle of New York, working at SHIELD and trying to ignore his own personal demons. Then he meets Y/N, a librarian who sees more than just the mantle of Captain America. 

Content Warning: some negative inner dialogue

Word Count: 3.1k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! This was written for the oh-so-talented @lancsnerd ‘s 1k Challenge. I picked the quote “You’re not special. You’re extraordinary.” for Steve. I really had a blast with this prompt and I hope you all enjoy the fic! XOXO - Ash

Extraordinary

“A hero? Like you?” Tony spits out incredulously,  “You're a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!”

Tony’s words echo in Steve’s head as he wakes with a start. Heart pounding, chest heaving, he tries to get his bearings. A dream. Just a dream. The words though, those still sting. Even a year later Steve can’t shake the feeling that Tony was right. Shit. He’s never getting back to sleep now. 

Steve drags himself out of bed, ignoring the alarm clock’s judgmental blue glow of 4:15am. At least he made it past 3am this time. Sleep problems are common in people with PTSD, his therapist had told him. She offered him medication to help but Steve declined, not sure how well it would work with his super soldier metabolism anyways. He dresses quickly, wanting to get a run in before breakfast. Steve has plenty of time, SHIELD doesn’t require him to show up until 9am, but he’s normally there before eight. He likes feeling useful, and having a steady job at SHIELD has been centering for him.

Steve runs a full marathon before the sun even comes up. He returns home just over an hour later, sweaty and finally starting to feel his muscles burn a little. It’s nice being able to lose himself for a little while in the steady rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement. He stares at his coffee maker for a moment before deciding it isn’t worth the hassle. It’s strange, having the luxury of getting coffee out just because he feels like it. The 1940s still feel like they were a few years ago and Steve’s depression era values run deep. He will admit though, there’s something to be said for takeout. Steve powers through two protein bars as he gets ready for a shower, needing something in his system before he crashes. It’s obnoxious some days how much his enhanced body requires, but he manages. It’s just one of the many unexpected side effects of Erskine’s serum.

Surviving Project Rebirth had been a blessing and a curse. Steve had finally gotten everything he wanted; a chance to fight for what was right, to do something meaningful with his life. But it came with a high price: his freedom. Steve’s life hasn’t been his own since the moment he stepped out of the vita-ray pod. He wasted so much time being the military’s dancing monkey and then once they realized he could fight, it was one battle after another. Even in this new century, he was thrust into a battle for mankind shortly after thawing out. Working for SHIELD for the past year has felt like a vacation after WWII and the Battle of New York. 

Steve clears the steam from the bathroom mirror after his shower, needing to do a quick shave. He stares at his reflection long after his face is back to its standard smoothness. Tony was right, his inner demons whisper. Fraud. Nothing. Worthless. Steve knows he’s supposed to reframe his thoughts and move past his negative inner dialogue, but in the moment he just can’t summon the will to care. Running a comb through his hair, he heads into the bedroom to dress for the day. He may not feel up to it at the moment but given a little time and some coffee, he’ll be okay by the time he gets into the office. 

The sounds of the city in downtown DC remind Steve of the Brooklyn of his youth and he’s comforted by the familiar hustle and bustle. He almost doesn’t see the oncoming trash truck when you step off the sidewalk to cross the street. A step behind you, Steve catches the large green truck out of the corner of his eye. The truck barely stops at the light and makes an illegal right turn on red, barreling straight for you. Steve, in a burst of speed, slams into you, scooping you up in his arms and rolling into the other lane out of the way of danger. As his broad shoulders collide with the pavement he holds you as tightly as he can, letting his body take the brunt of the impact. People on the sidewalk scream watching the scene unfold, but it’s all background noise to Steve who is only focused on the squeak of surprise you make as you roll. 

You come to a stop with Steve below you and he’s frantic to make sure you’re okay. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he asks urgently.

You blink a few times, gaining your bearings. One minute you’re crossing the street to work, the next you’re using America’s most famous super soldier as a human mattress. Not how you expected your day to go, to say the least. “I’m okay. I think.”

Steve frowns, still concerned. “You could be in shock. Here, let’s get you up.” 

You start to get up on your own but the second you’re off him Steve jumps up and reaches out. You accept his hand, pulling yourself up from the dirty DC street and trying in vain to straighten out your clothes. Steve collects your messenger bag and has it ready to hand over as soon as you’re done fussing with your silk blouse that is definitely going to need a trip to the dry cleaners after this. “Thanks.” you give him a small smile as you take your bag. 

Steve feels his breath catch in the wake of your smile. You’re petite compared to him, your smart bun is a little mussed from the rolling and your cheeks are flushed. He tries to ignore his interest in your soft feminine curves but Steve would have to be blind not to notice you. Almost a hundred years old and he still doesn’t know how to act around a pretty girl. Idiot. Useless, his demons hiss. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he blurts out before his brain can catch up, “If you’re in shock then I can at least keep an eye on you for a bit.” 

First he saves your life, now he’s offering you coffee. Captain America indeed. “You don’t have to, really. I was going to just stop in at La Columbe on my way to work.” 

“I was headed there too! Come on, I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re not gonna pass out the second the shock wears off.” Steve gives you his very best earnest expression, “Please? I’m Steve, by the way.” he adds as an afterthought.

“Hi Steve.” you try not to laugh. Like you hadn’t recognized the literal symbol of America. “I’m Y/N.” 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. So, coffee?” 

“Sure, why not?” you agree. Steve’s face lights up like the sun and you’re blinded by it. Part of you wonders if the truck actually hit you and you’re dead, or maybe in a coma dreaming. Only the slight ache in your shoulder gives you confidence that this surreal experience is your real life.

You follow Steve down the block to your favorite coffee shop, making small talk along the way by explaining you work at the library two blocks over. You’ve run the children's programs and adult literacy group there for the past four years. Steve seems genuinely interested in your work which is both surprising and sweet. 

There’s no line at the coffee shop so you take a minute to pick your drink while Steve orders his usual Americano and a bag full of breakfast sandwiches. He looks bashfully over at you once he’s done, insisting you add your coffee to his tab. You settle on a smoked butterscotch latte, it’s been a while since you had one. You stop there every morning before work but never order the same drink twice in a row.

You try to get Steve to talk about himself while you wait for your drinks but he’s adorably vague. “Steve,” you stop him with a gentle hand on his forearm, “I know who you are. It’s okay.” 

Steve barks out a laugh, “Sorry. I forget sometimes. Okay then, I’m heading into the office to consult on a mission from last week. They have me review mission reports to make notes on how we can improve things in the future.” 

“That’s actually really cool.” you tell him. You would have said more but your orders are up and Steve hands you your paper to go cup. “Well, thanks for the drink, Steve. And the whole saving me thing.” you joke.

“Any time ma’am.” he quips, full of cheesy Captain America charm. You’re surprised and delighted to find he has a little bit of sass to him. “Really though,” he adds in a normal tone, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I am, thanks to you.” 

There’s an awkward moment before you part. You don’t want to come across as a crazy fangirl but you also want to talk to him again sometime. Then again, you’re a librarian who’s closest friends are books and he’s Captain freaking America. You squash down the impulse and part ways with a smile. At least you’ll have an interesting story to tell Ellen at work. 

A few days go by and Steve keeps hoping to see you again at the coffee shop. It’s completely ridiculous but he wants to check on you and make sure you’re okay. It also doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful. Steve spends two days debating with himself if it would be creepy or kind to pop by the library to check on you. By Friday morning he’s talked himself into it as he wraps up his run. He throws on a smart looking button up shirt and makes sure his hair is slicked back nicely in a way Natasha insists is stylish. Fool. Impostor. Idiot. His head demons whisper as he checks himself in the mirror one last time. He forces himself to ignore them and heads out in the warm summer air. 

Steve realizes as he stands on the steps of the library that he doesn’t know your schedule. Or your last name. He steels himself for impending failure and heads inside. He can at least try. 

Your voice carries through the quiet library and it calms him immediately. “- and he hopped so high that his ears brushed the branches above. That’s good hopping thought little nutbrown hare…” 

Steve follows the sound of your voice across the library where he finds you sitting cross legged on a brightly patterned carpet in front of a small herd of preschoolers. Your tone and expressions keep the kids engaged as you read them a story and Steve is spellbound. He hangs back quietly leaning on a bookcase, watching you lead the group and waiting for you to finish. It doesn’t take long before the group disbands and you’re on your own to clean up after receiving a few enthusiastic hugs from the kids. 

“Hey, Y/N.” Steve says walking over to you. 

You look up, not having noticed him before. “Steve!” you try to stifle how excited you are by his presence. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Thought I’d drop by to see how you’re doing.” 

“I’m fine, really. I promise. Your life saving skills are excellent.” 

“Glad I haven’t lost my touch being behind a desk.” 

“Definitely not.” you assure him, “So, anything I can help you with while you’re here?” 

Steve realizes he hadn’t thought much past seeing you again. “Could I take you out for a cup of coffee?” 

“I’m working right now.” Steve’s heart drops in his chest, “But I’ll be free for lunch around one.”

Lunch. Not just coffee, but an actual meal. Hope renews in Steve. “I can do that. I could pick you up here?” 

“Sure. There’s a few places around here, so we have options.” 

“Okay great,” Steve tries to reign in his enthusiasm, “I’ll see you then.” Steve gives you a blinding smile before you part ways and it makes you wonder if the fluttering feeling in your chest might be reciprocated after all. 

Steve arrives back at the library at one o’clock sharp, not really caring if it messes up his schedule at Shield. He never takes a real lunch, often just grabbing a tray of something in the cafeteria and dragging it back up to his office to eat while he works. It’s nice getting out in the warm sunshine in the middle of the day. Steve spots you coming out at the same time he’s heading up the stairs and he gives you a small wave. “Ready to go?” he calls as he meets you on the stairs. 

“Absolutely.” you grin, “What are you in the mood for?” 

“I eat just about anything.” 

“Me too. Um, there’s a really good taco truck around the corner. We could eat in the park?” 

“Sounds great.” Steve agrees easily. It’s not a conventional type of first date and that makes it almost more exciting to him. 

You show Steve the way to your favorite food truck where you have to suppress your surprise when he practically buys out the truck. He apologizes profusely, making sure the guys know if they need to wait on other people first he’s fine waiting. 

“Steve,” you finally attempt to get his attention, “You know it’s okay to order yourself a meal, right? You don’t have to keep apologizing, these guys are used to the lunch rush.” 

Steve’s cheeks redden and he rubs a hand on the back of his neck, a visible nervous tick. “I know.” he says, but his words don’t sound convincing even to himself. 

A few others do show up while you wait but as expected, the guys are used to the rush and have no trouble keeping up. After only a few minutes they’re calling Steve’s name and he hurries over to collect your bags. A pair of girls are eyeing him as he accepts the food, whispering in the least subtle way possible. They can’t be more than twenty and they’re frantically typing on their phones as they whisper. 

“Are you, Captain America?” the braver of the two asks him.

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve replies. His tone is friendly yet guarded and you watch him with curiosity. 

The girls giggle, and the other speaks up, “I did a whole history project on you and the Howlies a few years ago. You’re a real inspiration.” 

“Um… thank you.” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously again. “You ladies have a nice day.” He’s moving away before they can even say goodbye, making a beeline for you.

Finding a picnic table over by the shade trees Steve lays out the food, your taco platter looking pitiful next to his spread. Steve’s shoulders start to loosen a little as you start chatting about your day. You see him cringe when the girls from earlier walk past, but they don’t stop or say anything, only giving him quick little waves as they pass by. 

“That has to be a little overwhelming.” you comment mildly.

“Hmm?” Steve hums, mouth full of taco.

“Being recognized all the time.” you clarify. “It has to be a little overwhelming.” 

Steve nods, “Yeah, I’m still getting used to it. I just don’t get it. I’m really nothing special.” 

You laugh lightly, “Steve, you’re Captain America. You’re not special, you’re extraordinary.” 

“I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who never learned to stand down in a fight.” he shrugs. 

“And grew up to save the world. Twice.” 

“Nah, I had a lot of help with that.”

“You really suck at letting people compliment you, you know that?” you tease.

Steve sighs, shaking his head, “I just don’t get it. I don’t want to be Cap all the time. Sometimes I just want to be Steve Rogers.” 

“Well there’s your problem then.” Steve looks at you expectantly to continue. “Because Steve Rogers is pretty damn extraordinary too.” 

Steve stares at you for a stunned moment. He doesn’t even know how to respond to adequately express how much your words mean to him. No one has wanted Steve just for himself since Peggy and that had been a lifetime ago. For once the demons in his head are silent. Steve takes a long, steadying breath before speaking. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Now, tell me, what does Steve Rogers do for fun?”

Steve laughs at the topic change. “Have you heard of the show Parks and Recreation?”

“That is literally the best show.” you give your words a Chris Traeger inflection and watch as a wide smile breaks out on Steve’s face.

“Nice. Well, I’m watching that right now. I’m about halfway through the list of important things to watch and this show’s actually pretty good.” 

“You have a list? What else is on it?” you wonder who made it for him and if any other of your favorite shows are on it.

“How much time do you have?” Steve jokes.

“For you, I have all the time in the world.” 

But you didn’t have all the time in the world. You didn’t need to get back to the library for the next group until 3:30 and you had thought that would be more than enough time. Instead the minutes flew by as you talked with Steve and by the time you finish, you’re racing back to the library to make it there on time. Talking with Steve was as easy as breathing and you were disappointed when you realized you were out of time. You had kept the conversation on generic ‘getting to know you’ topics, keeping away from anything Avengers related since he seemed uncomfortable talking about his public persona. While a tiny part of your brain had swooned over Captain America at first, you’re currently swooning over Steve Rogers himself. He’s kind, surprisingly funny, and as you suspected, genuinely a good man. 

“Y/N, wait!” Steve calls out, causing you to stop in the doorway to the library. You had already said your goodbyes but Steve’s mouth had gotten ahead of his brain yet again. 

You look to him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a long breath, bracing himself against his own nerves.“Can we do this again sometime?”

“Yeah, Steve. We can.”

[mymoodwriting]

The Choice Is Yours

F!Reader x Vampire!Yuta

Genre: Vampire Dystopia

Warning: Blood, Trauma, Fire, Guilt

Words: 2K

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Epilogue

Prompt: Good behavior goes a long way when a new world order is established within hours and humans wind up at the bottom of the food chain. As luck would have it you were claimed by a vampire named Yuta, so you’re saved in a sense. Many would say you’re in a rather unique situation, and despite its perks it wasn’t really something you asked for.

    Everything ached, and it felt like maybe you shouldn’t be alive, but you were. You felt the hard ground beneath you, and you heard hushed voices around you. When you managed to open your eyes you saw that you were in some kind of tent. You tried to move but it caused you to scream in agony, and you felt like you’d pass out again.

“Woah, take it easy.”

“What… where am I? Who are you?”

“You’re safe, my name’s Jinwoo.”

“You… I remember… why did you attack the limo?”

“Why were you in it?”

“Me… my question first…”

“Isn’t it obvious? We have to fight back, show those bloodsuckers we’re not afraid.”

“So… you know how to kill them?”

“Burning them hasn’t failed us.”

“Yeah.” You groaned. “That makes sense…”

“Oh, here.” Jinwoo held a straw to your lips. “Drink this, it will help.”

“What is it?”

“Just drink.”

    You were about to but then the familiar scent of blood hit you. It made you gag, but that ultimately hurt you more.

“Vampire blood only heals minor wounds.”

“Yeah…” He seemed surprised you knew that. “But if you drink some periodically it can heal you completely. Sorry again, we didn’t know there was a human in the limo.”

“Obviously.” You took a sip. “How did you know I was human? I was in the wreck.”

“You’re not as pale, and you were also bleeding a lot more than the others.”

“Lucky me.”

“So, gonna tell me why you were in that limo?”

“I’m… I was the vampire’s feeder.”

“You? A feeder? No offense but I’ve seen feeders and they’re-”

“A mess? Yeah I know. He didn’t turn me into a mindless junkie, just drank from me until I was basically dead and then let me recover, only to do it all again.”

“That sounds awful.”

“I agree…” You managed the strength to sit up, with Jinwoo’s help. “So, are you guys the resistance?”

“In this area I suppose.”

“I didn’t know you guys were real.”

“Didn’t have faith in your people?”

“The possibility was low, but existence nonetheless. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“You don’t have to worry so much anymore. I’ll get you something to eat and then we can get moving.”

“Moving? Where are we going?”

“A sanctuary.”

    He gave you a smile before exiting the tent. You slowly moved your limbs, trying to regain control without being in too much pain. It seemed that you were healing, slowly but surely, which means they’ve probably been feeding you vampire blood since the accident. You thought back but the accident was probably hours ago, and you had no idea if Yuta and the others were really dead. Regardless, you weren’t sure how to feel, and you couldn’t just sit there.

    Despite some of the pain you managed to get on your hands and knees. You took a moment to gain your strength and got on your feet. It felt kinda weird but you managed to step out of the tent. You were in a small clearing, a few other tents around, as well as a big fire place in the center. There were quite a few people around, but no one paid you attention, more focused on packing up. You weren’t up for long before Jinwoo grabbed you and had you sit down.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet just yet.”

“But you said we’re moving, I have to be able to walk.”

“I can carry you.”

“I don’t want to be a burden like that.”

“And you think you won’t slow us down?”

    Another voice broke up your conversation with Jinwoo, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Being carried or trying to walk on your own, either way you’d drag everyone down.

“Sorry…”

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Nice one, Minhyuk.”

“I just meant… even with your injuries we’d move faster if Jinwoo just carried you.”

“I’d complain about why you saved me if I’m this much trouble, but my injuries are because of your actions, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”

“Sorry…”

“Me too.”

“Alright then!” Jinwoo changed the conversation. “Great first impressions, and while we’re here, I never got your name.”

“It’s y/n.”

“Very nice, now Min here does have a point. We’ll move faster if I carry you, but as long as you drink your healing juice you should be able to walk on your own in no time.”

“Healing juice?”

“Do you want me to call it blood?”

“No…”

“Exactly, now here, you need to eat. And stay put, please.”

“I will.”

“Good.” 

    The boys went to help the rest pack up and get moving. It was kinda peaceful, as if you had gone on a camping trip. You walked around a bit, trying to get back to normal, but you certainly wouldn’t be able to keep up with the group. It was kind of embarrassing, but you doubt they’d let you argue with them anyway. Once everyone was ready to move Jinwoo offered you a piggyback ride, and you could only say yes.

    He was a lot stronger than you expected, or maybe you were lighter because of your injuries, either way, he didn’t seem to be bothered. You kept quiet, not knowing what to say or talk about but it seemed Jinwoo didn’t like the silence. He asked about your life before all this, although reminiscing about the past hurt. He could tell the subject matter wasn’t the best but you were quick to change the subject.

“Did you really… kill them?”

“Well, the crash happened kinda in the middle of nowhere. Everyone inside was unconscious, and we lit that limo up. I guess you didn’t hear but there was an explosion. We don’t hang around to see the bodies, but fire like that, and with no help coming to them, the chances are very low.”

“Yeah… yeah you’re probably right.”

“Y/n…”

“Hm?”

“Are you crying?”

“What?” You quickly wiped away the tears. “No, no I’m not.”

“Did you care about the vampire?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Shouldn’t you be disgusted with me right now?”

“Well… let me guess, you were dressed in white?”

“Yeah…”

“That already puts you above those in grey. He took care of you, didn’t he? Way better than anyone else?”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“You said you were his personal feeder, I’ve seen how feeders really are, and they’re basically pampered. You can call what you’re feeling love, I might call it stockholm. Either way, you don’t even know what you feel.”

“I… I suppose you’re right… how do you know so much about feeders?”

“One of the first places we attacked was this small little club. Burned a few vamps and saved some humans but… they were pretty gone. The place was very nice, and the feeders seemed well cared for.”

“It makes sense when you think about it. Feeders would be seen as pets more than anything, so of course they’d get the best care.”

“Is that what you were? A pet?”

“Basically… he called me that from time to time too. It put me in a couple of bad situations too…”

“Sorry to hear, but I promise you’ll be safe once we get to the sanctuary.”

“Where is that exactly?”

“You see those two mountains ahead of us?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s a hidden valley between them, kinda dangerous, so the bloodsuckers don’t think we’d bother, but we do. Beyond that we’ve built our safe place, and we’re doing just fine.”

“That’s good to hear, that we’re fighting, but why did you attack the limo? Why not the house up the road?”

“We don’t want to hurt our kind. If we had known you were in the limo, we wouldn’t have attacked.”

“But the house doesn’t have any humans.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah… it’s just full of vamps, and some halfbreeds basically act as servants, no humans at all.”

“Huh… I guess we have our next target.”

    It suddenly dawned on you what you had just said. Your mind immediately jumped to those you had played games with, they were practically innocent children, and you just painted a target on their back. Then again, they weren’t human, they were living in luxury on the backs of humans, maybe they deserved to see that your kind isn’t weak and won’t just submit.

♥♥♥♥♥

    Around what you assume was lunch time, the group came to a stop. You were glad to finally get off Jinwoo’s back, wanting him to rest. You tried to walk on your own, actually able to do it, but not at a fast pace. Regardless, you were happy that you could walk and wouldn’t be a literal burden on Jinwoo’s shoulders. Also grateful for the jacket given your shirt was torn up and would leave you way more exposed.

“How many humans have you saved?”

“Not enough.”

“Okay…”

“Sorry, I just feel like we could do more, better, we just don’t have the numbers.”

“I could help, I think…”

“You don’t have to. There’s nothing wrong with you staying in the sanctuary.”

“But I can help, I’ve learned a lot… being a pet…”

“Like what?”

“Well… halfbreeds… their fangs hurt humans, but not vampires. So wouldn’t… the fangs of a halfbreed be something we could weaponize?”

“Huh, that’s pretty fucked up.”

“I… I just…”

“That house you mentioned before, said it was full of halfbreeds, might not be a bad place to start.”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

    As the sun began to set, the group found a spot to set up camp for the night. Jinwoo said the trip back would take at least five days, three to get to the mountains, and another two to get through them. That’s how you learned they had been dragging you on this homemade sled thing for about a day after the crash. You must have been in really bad shape, meaning the vampire blood is the only reason you’re alive.

“So, why not have one big campfire? Why a bunch of small ones.”

“Safety.” Minhyuk said. “One big fire could attract unwanted attention, by having smaller ones the smoke is more spread out and less likely to be seen.”

“You guys have it all planned out, you need to be cautious, even all the way out here.”

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Definitely.”

    After eating and doing your best to help clean up you retired to a tent. You were laying down, trying to get comfortable, when others came in and started settling in. You didn’t want to sound rude and ask what they were doing, although Jinwoo came in and saw your face knowing what was troubling you.

“We only have so many tents, and we can’t keep the fires going through the night, so we pile into them and sleep close for warmth.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You guys really know how to survive.”

    You curled up, not sure how you slept before. Everyone seemed to knock out pretty fast, although you tossed about for a bit. You didn’t realize but you were slowly inching towards Jinwoo. He only realized when he turned over and found your face inches from his. You were shaking lightly, and he slowly reached over to gently wake you.

“Y/n…”

“Hm.”

“Y/n… wake up…”

“Hm…” You slowly opened your eyes and saw how close to Jinwoo you were. “Oh shit… sorry… I didn’t realize…”

“Are you cold?”

“A… a bit…”

“Come on then.” He held his arm up and let you snuggle against him. “Better?”

“Yeah… I shared a bed with the vampire… he was pretty cold to the touch… I guess I never got used to it.”

“Nor will you. Get some sleep, we move at sunrise.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, I got you.”

[blissfulalchemist]

and general + love for chance/faith THANK YOUUUUU

Thank you for inquiring about these two Ash!

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Faith was the first one to make the move of kissing Chance which then led to these two having a physical relationship that quickly developed into more emotional given both their shared history and the time they had spent together during the events of the Holy War. It was a waiting game for those two as Chance was unsure of starting the relationship and Faith got tired of waiting and just went for it.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

They never really had much of a first date, I mean kind of hard to during a time where you’re supposed to be hating the person. I digress though and while there are many things that they both say count as their first date but the one they both agree on is after Chance rejects joining the cult the second time and the two of them have mostly made up from their fight over Faith keeping their shared past from him. Chance invites her over to give a very old gift, a fishing rod that was to be a “Welcome to your new home” gift for Faith had Chance’s father not passed, and he teaches her how to fish. (I do plan on rewriting/reworking the original piece for that one soon to fit better in canon because I love it so much) It was just this very sweet moment that just felt almost normal to the two of them, like they had stumbled across one another like the Christmas Hallmark movies.

What was their first kiss like?

Their first kiss was under the Bridge of Tears after Chance tried to stop a small gun fight at the outreach center. Faith had come by looking for the members to bring them to be laid to rest and asked him to help board up the center as at the time it was really the only thing she had, that was hers and hers alone, left of Mary who was “dead”. Chance was debating if he should just go for the kiss and Faith took advantage and just pushed him against the rock face kissing him. He pushed her away to process a quick moment before kissing her again and proceeding to have sex under the bridge. You can read it in full here if you’d like

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

They were each other’s first friends if you want to go that far back, but they weren’t really either’s first for anything. Both had done a lot of things prior that make it hard to really answer. I guess Faith was Chance’s first love but he never got to act on it given that by the time he came back to Hope County as a teen she was gone. 

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

There is a 5′ height difference between the two with Chance being 5′10″ and Faith being 5′5″. Their age difference is only a year with Chance being 25 cir. 2018 and Faith being 24 cir. 2018.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Okay during the events after the arrest well its less than stellar. Chance is hated by the Seed brothers, with John being the most vocal about it (Sorry he just really wanted someone more capable to take Joseph down). Chance doesn’t have family in the typical sense during this time but they wouldn’t be very happy about the Seeds and would have been their rivals. The rest of Hope County becomes Chance’s family and we all know their opinion on the Seeds.

Okay given their shared childhood I will say that Faith/Rachel was well loved by Chance’s father and grandfather to the point that Ray was working on getting custody rights of Rachel to be in effect once he returned from his last and final research project. This is despite the friendship that Ray and Rachel’s father had as Ray was not down and never was down with the eventual treatment of his daughter and maintained the friendship solely to keep an eye on Rachel best he cold manage with his life at the time.  

Who takes the lead in social situations?

This is pretty even as both are sociable. Chance is someone that likes to be part of the life of the party if not the life of the party. Faith has her way of charming people and can navigate her way around social situations and structures. So really context helps but both are willing to take the lead in social situations.

Who gets jealous easier?

I might have to give this one to Chance by the slightest margin because Chance is quicker to anger and a little more impulsive than Faith. It’s not a blinding rage but he will for sure start yelling at the person trying to hit on Faith or depending on close its seeming might throw a warning punch (RIP to Wes’ face in that one prompt long time ago)

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

Faith, she’s much more inclined. Chance is weird in the sense that he’s very loud and out there and can joke about sex and things like that but he’s also very conservative about it given some of that silent generation values run a bit deep. If the two were to have been part of the cult she’d be whispering things in his ear during the sermons on occasion relishing in the blush it would give him. 

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

Okay to the actual words that Chance says are “I think I love you” giving this right to him. Granted he was drunk at the time and doesn’t remember saying it but he in the technical sense said it first. If you were to ask him though he would say that it was Faith with him confirming the reciprocation right after her so it was basically a tie. 

What are their primary love languages?

The one they both share and becomes one more for Chance is touch. Being able to feel Faith know she’s there means she’s not going to be gone the next moment. Even after the Hebane is freed he still fears permanent effects of the Bliss. The other one is acts of service, these two it is important for them both to feel seen and cared for and the best way to do that is through those little acts like Faith leaving water and pain pills next to him when she finds him on a bender. Or Chance giving her his coat and shoes to protect her from the cold. Just these little things that one wouldn’t really think of all the time just mean a lot to these two. 

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

Chance 100%. His dad was prone to cheesy jokes and puns and well that got passed on to Chance so yeah Faith is constantly hiding her face in embarrassment. The most hated is “Do you have 11 Protons? Because you are Sodium fine.” even I admit that is just....sigh my boy ladies and gentleman. 

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

A lot. They don’t get to a point of like banging in front of people but they need to know the other is still there so there is near constant hand holding, the kissing happens a lot, and well sometimes there are makeout sessions that start and well then yeah privacy is needed after that.

Who initiates kisses?

Pretty 50/50 on this but I give this one to Faith more so, as surprisingly Chance is more shy around Faith. He’s a mess I’m sorry.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

Chance is the big spoon most often while Faith is the little spoon. 

What are their favorite things to do together?

Spending time outdoors, watching movies and shows together, and studying on their own terms once everything is all said and done. They both do enjoy the occasional party but they both have to be careful with who they party with.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

This honestly boils down what it is that the other needs comforting from. Both are very good at doing it but there are times where one can seem better at it than the other.

Who’s more protective?

By small margin this goes to Chance. Even after her “death” Chance tries to get access to her body to hold a proper burial. He is just very outward with his protectiveness and it becomes more intense after she’s switched sides having faked her death. Faith does what she can to protect Chance while still in the cult and after but there’s only so much she can do and hates being the damsel a lot of times but she is fierce and lord help anyone that actually managed to kill Chance.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Both would prefer the physical affection more than anything. The Bliss and their past has had an effect on them both to the point that they fear the other being gone in an instant. 

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

So two songs that fit with them the first being “Evil Angel” by Breaking Benjamin and the other being “American Money” by Borns. These two as a pair works wonders as it shows both sides of their relationship pre switch for Faith. You have the darker aspects of the Bliss and the more dependency/hold it has on Chance. While the other is more to the lighter side of it all, the love that was never acted on all those years ago, this magical quality that just makes it feel unreal. Just overall these two songs work well as a pair and fit them and their relationship very well.  

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Chance doesn’t like nicknames, at all, but Faith gets exception because well its Faith and its been his nickname since he was a kid practically. She calls him White Knight and Sailor Scout, the former being a part of the games they used to play in the woods and the latter as they got older as a way to tease him for his love for the anime. Chance calls her Princess which she doesn’t particularly like but its one of those names that he’s called her since she was a child so there’s no going back.

Who remembers the little things?

Faith. Chance also inherited the head in the clouds/gets too focused on things to really remember things from Ray. It’s endearing as Chance is better at managing it than his father.

[shreddedparchment]

Heavy is the Hand You’re Dealt

Part 1

08/24/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader, Steve x Reader     Word Count: 10,081

Prompt: Imposter - Bearson            Masterpost

What you see could be fire burning bright into the sky/What you see could be strength that leads to victory /And I, all I am is an imposter…who’s trying to forget.

Warnings: Eventual smut, language, angst, pining, violence, blood, the Snap

A/N: This piece is for @youngmoneymilla ‘s 5K Writing Challenge. I TRIED to make this a one shot. I really did. But I failed. It’ll be two parts. The prompt will influence the second part more than the first but small bits of it can be seen in this first part. I am exhausted! lol this piece really took it out of me. xoxo

There will be NO tags for this story as it is only two parts. Thank you.

Beginnings are important. They are your base. From the beginning you are shaped and molded by your future. So, this is your beginning. This is where you start. This is how you got where you are. Steve was your beginning.

~~~~~

You know those sweet, dizzying, bitter butterflies that you get when you look at that one special person? Or that weightless sensation you get when that one person takes your breath away? Or the hope and promise of tomorrow when you stay up for hours, daydreaming about how nice it would be if they told you they like you back?

Steve Rogers makes you feel like that.

Steve Rogers makes you feel many things.

Hopelessly smitten being the most prevalent.

It happens during one short workout session. You’re punching a bag, struggling to keep your fist from sliding off the side.

The old boxing gym smells of mold and sweat, an ancient building with smokestack gray walls, dingy mats that used to be white, a creaking old boxing ring, and over worn wood both splintered in places and smooth as silk. The overhead lights cast sporadic spotlights, yellow shine against the faded brown floors.

Pictures of boxing champs from the days before color photographs are set on display around the room, brightening the atmosphere with immortalized victories and the smiles of strong young men who have now withered and weakened.

You’ve chosen this place, this aged spot, because it’s cheap and it’s what you can afford but you’ve warmed to its charms.

The old man who owns it gave you a fair deal and a locker to boot. You come and go often but always after dark, when your days at the academy are over.

Today is no different and you race for the door as the storm clouds overhead swirl and weigh heavy on the city. The breeze twists around your bare arms, kissing it warm with car exhaust and then thunder rumbles and the sky flashes and is then split open with a crackling boom.

The incessant honking of the cars in the city do little to drown out the coming storm. As the rain stutters into a pour, you reach the unassuming doorway. You hear the click as it locks and you gasp, desperate to get in.

“Mr. Davis!” You plead, knowing that he might not hear you.

As the hiss of the rain grows louder, the door is unlocked and pushed open. You sigh with relief, stepping back a bit and search slightly above your eye line for Mr. Davis’s withered face. Instead you find one broad shoulder, a baby blue button up underneath a brown leather bomber.

You follow the smooth curve of hard and toned muscle to a thick muscular neck.

Do models come to this gym? It’s the only explanation that you can come up with at the utter beauty that you find yourself looking at.

He’s tall, soft storm blue eyes, perfect, classical features, topped with a soft yet carefully styled head of corn husk yellow hair.

“Sorry, ma’am, the gym’s closed.” He tells you, smooth even voice deep and curious.

Ma’am?!

“I-I know.” You stutter stupidly, completely taken aback by this extremely gorgeous guy. “I…Mr. Davis lets me come in after the gym closes. I just…I forgot my key.”

The blonde considers you for a moment then looks out at the rain. His eyes zero in on your right shoulder before throwing the door open suddenly.

“Hurry.”

You scramble inside, grateful for the warmer air of the gym.

“Don’t you hate how you get cold if you get wet when it rains? Even if it’s burning hot outside?” You turn to look at the tall blonde and he gives you a polite smile.

“Yes.” He answers simply. “Excuse me.”

“Of course.” You reply, rubbing your arms for friction. “Don’t mind me.”

He nods at you and leaves you in your slightly damp state.

“Right…” You say to yourself as you head towards the much smaller female locker room. “Don’t mind me.”

You throw your punch, twisting your arm like you’re supposed to, aiming to hit with your fist. Focused. Dedicated. Completely sucking.

“You’re too loose.” The blonde says from behind you.

You only just manage not to gasp as you’re startled into turning around. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He says, “Hold your arms up, I’ll show you.”

You watch him approach then turn to face the punching bag, raising your fists carefully and desperately trying to keep from thinking about how good this stranger looks in his off-white t-shirt and soft gray jersey sweats.

“Your stance is off too.” He says then stands behind you, hesitating. “May I?”

The nervous look in his eyes makes your heart flutter. Where is this guy from?

He exudes gentility and respect. Mostly respect. The fact that he’s asking to move closer to you, to even check if it’s okay, who does that now-a-days?

“Of course.” You smile at him. “Yes. Please.”

His shy half smile makes your heartbeat stutter and you turn away from him so that he can’t see the crush you have on him already so firmly set in your eyes.

The heat of his body envelops you as he stands with his chest to your back. It’s only a moment of contact as he reaches out to wrap your fists in each of his hands, adjusting the angle of your arms before he stands up straight again and then taps the insides of your feet, moving them until your stance is more open and centered.

“You feel that?” He asks, voice seductive but you’re sure that’s just you. God, he sounds like ice cream tastes.

“Er…yeah.” You mutter.

“Keep your arms hard. And follow through with your punch. Move your whole shoulder with it. Punching is not something you do with only your arms. You use your whole body to push that power through. It also helps keep it straight when you follow through with your shoulder.” He looks down at you, his breath tickling your left earlobe, and your neck, cheeks, chest, arms, legs, thighs especially, your pussy too…they all just flame up.

You’re suddenly very aware of how long exactly it’s been since you’ve had sex and damn it if this is not just the most awful form of torture because the perfect blonde man steps back, releasing you.

If you weren’t so embarrassed by the pool of lust in your panties, you would have probably melted to the floor the moment he released you.

Lucky you, there’s a reason you’re even in the academy and you seem to keep your wits about you and manage to hold the stance he’s put you in.

“Like this?” You check.

“Yeah. Go ahead, give it a punch.” He says, indicating the bag.

Every bit of yearning you’re suddenly swamped with you channel into your hit and with a resounding SMACK, the bag swings away from you as you hit it dead center.

You laugh, forgetting your flustered state, clapping your wrapped hands as you jump twice.

“Oh my God!” You gasp, laughing some more.

A small chuckle behind you makes you turn. He’s laughing. The beautiful stranger is chuckling with you.

“Thank you, so much!” You gush, eyes pouring gratitude.

“No problem, Miss.” He makes to leave you, headed back to his own corner but you take a step towards him.

“Y/N.” You tell him, reaching over to massage the top of your left forearm with your right hand. “My name is Y/N. You make me feel ancient calling me ma’am and miss.”

The blonde smiles wider, looking down at his feet before meeting you with that devastatingly gorgeous half smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” And he moves towards you, taped hand held out towards you.

You take it, eager to touch him and greet him properly.

“I’m Steve.” He tells you, shaking your much smaller hand gently but you already know it’s not because he thinks you’re weak but because he’s just polite that way. “Steve Rogers.”

“It’s nice to meet-” You blink, your own hand gripping his even tighter as the name registers. “Did you just say Steve Rogers?”

Steve blinks nervously, licking his lips and suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“As in Captain America, Steve Rogers?” You clarify, eyes wide, heart pounding.

“Um…” He looks around nervously for a second before meeting your eyes again and trying to pull his hand from your grip, but you tighten it more. “Yes.”

“I…” Your surprised expression gives way for genuine excitement. “It’s…It’s so great to meet you! I don’t—I don’t wanna sound like some fangirl or anything but we’re actually studying you in the academy right now. I’m so honored to meet you.”

You laugh once but Steve still seems slightly tense, you keep shaking his hand, laughing a bit more until you gasp.

“Holy shit! Captain America just taught me how to throw a punch!” And you really double over in a fit of laughter.

The odds of this happening, the likelihood that you would have ever met Captain America at this point in your life much less interacted with him, is so slim that you can’t believe your absolute luck.

Mid-laugh you get a look at Steve and find him a bit more relaxed, lips curved into a smile.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp, “I’m so sorry. I just, I’m so—thank you for being so nice. They tell you never to meet your heroes, but you’ve been great so far.”

Laughter subsiding, you finally release Steve’s hand, massaging your own as you cherish the memory of him holding it.

“I’m glad I haven’t disappointed.” Steve says, blushing but you’re pretty sure it’s just from having you gushing over him about being Captain America.

“Definitely not.” You chuckle again and shake your head. “Wow. Captain America.”

How had you not recognized him from those old photos you’d seen? He looks exactly the same now that you consider his face, just in color instead of black and white.

“What academy are you training at?” Steve asks, curious but you can see that he’s itching to ask something else.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. I’m…I’m trying to become a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. We’ll see how that goes. As you can see, I can’t even punch without help.” You chuckle at yourself and your lack of athletic ability.

Steve smiles at your laugh then his expression falls, and you know it’s coming, the real question he’d wanted to ask.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to tell the other cadets about me?” Steve wonders, an anxious hitch in his words that expose the oddly sensitive and fearful inner turmoil he’s feeling.

“No way.” You assure him, taking a step closer. “I’m keeping you all to myself.”

You chuckle again, the ludicrous idea of you actually possessing Steve Rogers in any way is unbearably hilarious. Look at him!

Steve’s expression softens, his worry fading as his smile returns. “Good. Thank you.”

“In exchange,” You begin, smiling at him innocently, the face of a deceptive angel. “Do you think maybe you could help me some more? I-I honestly really suck at all this fighting stuff and I’m not expecting to be a field agent at the end of the day. They’ll probably stick me in some office or comms room, but I still need to be able to pass my trials.”

Steve narrows his eyes at you, considering you.

“Please?” You beg, bobbing on your feet and then he smiles.

“Sure, kid.” He huffs a small laugh as you smile wide, your excitement making you almost dance before you turn to hug the punching bag because as much as you want to wrap your arms around Steve’s wide chest, he’s Captain America. You don’t want to embarrass yourself. “I’ll help you. On one condition.”

“Anything.” You chuckle, turning to look at him again, absolutely beaming.

“Let’s keep this little arrangement between us, okay? From everyone.” He asks.

Keeping Captain America as your trainer a secret? How hard can it be?

Hard. Things get very, very hard with Steve. The least of it being because you’re hopelessly in love with him.

It happened that night. That first night when he taught you to punch and after that you spiraled faster and harder. Falling more and more in love with him every single day. Now, you’re a mess of putty and affection and all you want is to love him but…he’s Steve Rogers. He’s Captain America.

He’s freedom and justice and truth and honor and kindness and loyalty and he proves it when he fights for New York. He proves it when he fights for the world.

You fall in love with him when he catches you to keep you from falling and when he gets annoyed with you because you struggle to hit your target.

You fall in love with him when he sits beside you and wraps a loose arm around your shoulders, comforting you because this is so hard and you’re so tired and you want to give up but he doesn’t let you.

You fall in love with him when he tells you old jokes that you’ve never heard before so that you’ll forget your worries and smile. He chuckles with you.

You fall in love with him when he brings you a stainless-steel water bottle with the Avengers A on it that matches the one he’s been using.

You fall in love with him when you hurt your ankle and he fusses, forcing you to sit despite your protests because your tests are only a few weeks out and you can’t take breaks because then you won’t pass!

You fall in love with him when he takes your shoe off to wrap up your ankle but then frowns when he sees the six Band-Aids you’ve placed over all your busted blisters, and the small bit of blood on your sock makes him hiss.

You fall in love with him because he takes you out to dinner even if it’s in a small hole in the wall restaurant where no one you know will see you.

You fall in love with him because he brings you a cupcake on your birthday with a single candle and waits as you struggle not to cry for you to blow it out.

You fall in love with him because Steve Rogers makes himself irresistible.

Because of Steve, you pass your trials.

You fall in love with him because he’s waiting in the alley outside of the academy, nearly bouncing with nervous energy as he waits with bated breath for you to tell him that you’ve passed. He picks you up. Hugging you tight. Twirling you once before putting you back on your feet.

You fall in love with him because he takes you to that restaurant again and he makes you feel like your success is his success and you hope that maybe while you’ve been falling for him, Steve has also been falling for you.

It’s a slim chance. Impossible really. But you hope.

You’re assigned to S.T.R.I.K.E. reporting to Agent Sitwell directly. You’re excited because it means that you’re with Steve. You’re going to work with him…but you didn’t think it through and it isn’t until you’re on mission number who the fuck knows, that you begin to see the hazards of working so close with the man you love but who doesn’t feel the same.

Sitwell has you watch Steve. “You’re his backup.” He says but it doesn’t sound like what he wants you to do is backup. It sounds wrong.

He has you reporting on everything Steve does on his missions but because it’s Steve and there’s nothing out of the ordinary to report. After two missions you get moved to comms and just as you’d assumed, you’re kept out of the fight but kept close for grunt work.

You get to know the team and they know you as the girl behind the monitor. Steve doesn’t look at you when you’re all in the debrief room or when you share the same elevator or even on the jet. Rumlow does. He greets you when you walk into the debrief room. He holds the elevator door for you—maybe he even beats Steve to it and that’s why Steve never does it? He smiles at you when you board the jet and you return his attentions without any agenda.

Your eyes are always on Steve anyway.

You’re almost sure that Natasha of all people will sense it. That she’ll just know that you and Steve aren’t simply coworkers and that there’s a friendship between you…but you’re on the jet as it flies over the Indian Ocean and nothing seems amiss.

Natasha is listening to Rumlow’s debrief without paying you any mind.

The Lemurian Star is hijacked and S.T.R.I.K.E. has been dispatched to take it back.

Sitwell is on it. You find this strange. So does Steve.

As they ready for their descent, you patch through to all of their earpieces, trackers set in place in case of accident. While you work, Natasha and Steve chat casually.

“Secure channel seven.” Steve says.

Speaking to you but…

“Seven secure.” Natasha affirms, before you can give him his assurance. “You do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead so, no, not really.” Steve jokes.

You smile, keep your head down so that no one will see. He’s told you that one before.

The pilot speaks, “Coming up on the drop zone, Cap.”

“You know, if you ask Kristen out-” Nat begins and your hands freeze over your keyboard, smile wiped clean off of your face as your body goes dangerously numb. “-from Statistics, she’d probably say yes.”

“That’s why I don’t ask.” Steve says more loudly as the ramp at the back of the jet begins to drop.

Does he mean that? He doesn’t know how you feel. He has no reason to lie. Maybe he really doesn’t want to be with anyone? He is always working.

“Too shy or too scared?” Nat asks, also at a higher volume.

“Too busy.” Steve says, matter of fact, then dives from the jet.

The mission goes through without too much trouble and you focus because you need to, but your mind has taken notice of the possibility that Steve might very well start dating and you don’t like it one bit.

After the mission, Rumlow asks you out. You say yes.

A few days later, at training, you tell Steve. Curious as to his own reaction when the tables are reversed. Not that he knows that hearing Nat had bothered you.

“Who?” He asks, breathing heavily as he lands another punch.

“Brock.” You repeat, licking your lips as you search for the smallest sign that this matters. That you matter. “Rumlow?”

“Oh.” Steve nods. “He’s…he’s dedicated.”

“Yeah.” You frown. “He is.”

Well, that didn’t give you much.

“Have you two gone out yet?” He asks, reaching up to scratch his forehead, avoiding your gaze in favor of cracking his neck and stretching his arms.

“Mm-hmm. Night before last. He took me out to dinner and then we went back to his place.” You explain, trying to remember the night with anything but regret. But you’d needed to get some, and Brock had offered. He hadn’t been so bad.

He’s nice for the most part. His politeness only a little forced. Nothing to Steve…but he asked you out.

Unfortunately, fucking Brock Rumlow isn’t exactly the highlight of your dating career and he’d been an impatient lover. It hadn’t been good; despite his size and the way his hands seem to know what to do, he’d finished before you and you hadn’t had your turn. You didn’t get it either.

Your itch still hasn’t been scratched. Damn it.

“You went back to his place?” Steve asks, stopping his neck cracking to look at you properly.

You nod, chewing on your lip, fiercely trying not to look at Steve in his thermal wear. It hugs his muscles, skintight. Delicious. “He asked me out again but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know. I’m not feeling it.” You admit, pushing the itch away successfully.

“Then don’t go out with him. I mean…if you’re not feeling it, why should you?” Steve offers, quickly averting his gaze to the bag he’d been pummeling only to hit it harder.

Things change out of the blue. Director Fury is attacked. Steve is chased out of S.H.I.E.L.D. and you’re so confused and torn, and you know that Steve is a good man so how can anything S.H.I.E.L.D. says be true?

Steve and Nat disappear and you’re an anxious mess. No one looks twice at you because you’re no one. Steve had never spoken to you in front of the team other than to give you orders so they have no reason to suspect you. You’re the girl behind the monitor. Nothing more.

You hate to admit to yourself that they’re right to ignore you. Steve hasn’t contacted you since his escape and you’re beginning to realize that maybe this friendship had all just been in your head.

Maybe all you’ve been this entire time is a workout buddy?

With a more flexible schedule, you’re finally able to go to the gym during the day. That’s where you are when your phone suddenly rings. The musk of your place…yours and Steve’s…is comforting.

You sit on a wooden bench, the phone buzzing in your hand as an unknown number flashes up at you.

Something tells you to answer it, like the call of destiny, and you slide your thumb along the bottom, wiping at the sweat on your forehead with your forearm.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“S-?!” You drop your voice down to a harsh whisper, hesitating before you spring to your feet, bag grabbed as you worm your way into the deepest, most secluded room of the gym leaving the din of the daytime regulars behind. You find a storage cupboard full of sweat wreaking mats and cleaning supplies, shut the door, and lock it.

“Is this line secure?” He asks, deep voice shaking as if he’s in pain.

“Steve, what-?”

“I need your help.” He interrupts, and he explains what’s happened. Hydra in S.H.I.E.L.D. Nat’s unconscious. They’re after him. This you already knew.

“What can I do?” You ask, desperate to help. Worried to the brim.

“I need an address.” He says. “In Washington. Man named Sam Wilson.”

“Sam Wilson?” You delve into your bag and pull out your tablet, swiping your thumb along the reader before you’re on your own VPN searching for what Steve needs. “I found it!”

You give him the address and feel a wave of relief to have assisted him in this small way.

“Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.” He sounds exhausted.

“Don’t be stupid, Steve.” You hesitate. “And…please, be careful. If something were to happen to you I…”

“I’ll be alright. It might be best if you stayed off the grid. Keep out of sight.” He suggests, sounding genuine, as if he might really truly care.

Still, you can’t help but scoff. “What for? I’m the last person they’re going to suspect. You’ve been very thorough in ignoring me at work.”

The seconds of silence that follow feel heavy. Scary.

“Y/N…” His voice full of trepidation, of remorse.

It had all come out of nowhere. This too had surprised you. One day you’d been working quietly at your workstation when Nat and Steve had stopped by to drop off their reports with you.

They’re always perfect and you rarely if ever need to correct anything on them, but they do it because it’s protocol.

~~~~~

Nat asks Steve about the nurse in his building and Steve’s cheeks flush. His eyes meet yours and you turn away quickly before he can see the agony ripping through you, fingers fumbling on your keyboard as you key in their report numbers.

Turns out the nurse is not a nurse. Agent 13. Sharon Carter. Skilled combatant. Full-fledged spy.

How can you, Agent 34, compare?

Steve had even asked her out for coffee…

“I don’t need that right now.” Steve had quickly said to Nat, eyes scanning the area. Fury had just been attacked and he’s on edge. “Thank you, Agent thirty-four.”

Nat scoffs. “Seriously?”

“What?” Steve asks, exasperated and irritable.

“She has a name.” Nat says, gesturing at you as they wait for their confirmation page.

“I know her name.” Steve assures her, sounding more defensive than normal.

“Hey…” Nat says slowly, turning to give you a long hard look. “Why don’t you ask her out? She’s already seen you in a bad mood. No fear that she’s going to run because of that.”

Steve looks at you, stealing quick sidelong glances at you as you shift in your seat, heart pounding, papers printing.

It gets so awkward that the air around you three begins to change. It’s like someone’s filled the room with fog as thick as Jell-O and you can’t move, much less breathe.

“Very funny.” Steve suddenly says, leaning against the higher platform of your desk with his elbow, “She’s not my type.”

Can you die from figurative pain? The knife Steve just sunk into your gut he twists as he turns to you and those storm blue eyes shimmer in the too white fluorescent light.

“No offense.” He offers.

“No offense?!” Nat asks, slapping his arm.

You plaster on a pained smile, wishing you could hide this better, but you shake your head at him, pretending as if you don’t see him almost every day at the gym. Pretending that he hadn’t bought you a cupcake on your birthday or fussed when he saw how you’d been walking around with open wounds on your feet.

Steve continues to stare at you, face stoic, eyes shifting nervously from your hands as you wait for the stupid papers to print back up to your own poorly guarded expression.

“Here.” You snatch the papers as they slide out of the printer and place them by his hand. “I’ll file these for you.”

“Thanks.” Nat tells you; her phone goes off. She pulls it out of her pocket and reaches over to grab Steve’s elbow. “Fury’s in surgery. We gotta go.”

She turns and leaves with Steve hesitating for a moment as you avoid looking at him, eyes glued to your computer screen, then he’s gone.

~~~~~

That was the last time you saw him.

“Do you like Sharon?” It’s a stupid thing to ask in such a dire situation. He’s busy. He’s running for his life and you’re worried about who he’s shacking up with? “Never mind. Forget I asked that. This isn’t the time. Steve, they’re watching all of the safe houses and all of the old facilities, so make sure you get to this Sam’s place and you lay low for a while.”

“I wish you’d get outta there.” Steve frets.

“Trust me. You’re gonna want a man on the inside.”

“Keep your phone with you. Just in case.” In case he wants to get a hold of you? “Stay safe, Y/N.”

“You too.”

The next time you see Steve he’s on the mend and you’re out of a job.

This is the first time you tell Steve goodbye.

He leaves you to go search for a friend…no, he doesn’t leave you. He’d have to be with you in order to leave you. And before he goes you never get the chance to ask him about Sharon.

Thanks to your resume and Steve’s relentless training, you’re hired by the C.I.A. and surprise, surprise, you’re given desk duty.

You find a sense of normalcy here at the C.I.A. Monitoring foreign affiliates and keeping your ear to the ground, it’s a nine to five gig and it gives you the life you thought you’d always wanted.

Only one thing is missing.

Another dull afternoon. Another report. Another bunch of nothing that threatens to drive you insane.

You slump back into your chair, stretching your arms overhead when your cell phone begins to buzz, skidding across your desk in short trembling intervals. It’s laying faceup and the Unknown Number that flashes across it reminds you of the call in the gym.

You don’t know why you think it might be him. He hasn’t called you in years, and yet here is your heart, beating wildly against your ribcage.

With a hard swallow, you answer your cell and know instantly that it isn’t him. When the voice that speaks is female, your heart fully falls into the pit of your stomach.

For a while you’d thought you were getting over Steve. But here you are, in agony all over again.

“Y/N?” The voice is hushed, urgent, but sweet.

“Sharon?” You hear this voice weekly. As part of the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, she’s often your liaison with the European branch.

“Hey, do you remember that one time we went drinking in Wyoming and you got so drunk that you slept with the bartender?” Sharon laughs, a perfect fake.

“Oh, yeah.” You lie, getting up and making your way to the door. “And you got locked out of our room because I had the key, so you had to sneak in and found the bartender asleep in the tub?”

“Yeah. That was so much fun. We should do that again some time.”

“Yeah.” You agree, moving for the nearest utility closet and turn into it at the very last second. Quickly you reach into your black pants pocket and pull out a small silver cube. It shines with a soft blue light and you know that you shouldn’t have kept any Hydra tech but this one was just so useful!

You place the square on the floor and press the top down. It clicks and then beeps as the radio wave scrambler powers on.

“Okay. We’re good.” You tell her. “What’s going on?”

You and Sharon have never shared drinks much less traveled together. Not that there was anything wrong with her. In fact, Sharon was downright admirable.

Not only was she the sweetest, nicest, most intelligent person in the organization but she’s also one hell of a shot. Weapons training hadn’t been your best subject in the academy, but you’d done well enough to pass.

“I’m with Steve.” She states and just like that you hate her again.

What is it about Sharon? What? Why Sharon? Why not you?

You hate the way it makes you feel. The yearning. The desperate feeling of loneliness as all of those soft moments with Steve in the gym replay in your mind’s eye as clearly as if they had happened yesterday and not two years ago.

He’d smiled at you so often, touched your shoulders and hips—of course he’d been positioning you but even when the two of you had been joking and laughing, he’d reached out and grabbed your arm or your shoulder.

“H-How is he?” You wish you were there. You wish you could see him too. You miss him so much.

“Not great. He’s looking for Bucky Barnes.” She explains and your mind is flooded with news coverage of the bombing in Vienna.

“He’s going after him to save him.” You realize.

Steve had never talked about Bucky or his past all that much. Most of what you know, you learned through reading. You don’t need him to tell you about Bucky to know that he’s important.

“Yes. There’s a file that we’ve kept under wraps. Known sightings. Location possibilities. Hideouts. And all of the new tips coming in. I need you to get me that file, Y/N.” Sharon’s voice drops lower. “I can’t talk long. You’ll find it on the seventh floor. Watch your back. Call me when you have it.”

The line goes dead and you’re not surprised that Sharon somehow knows that you’ll do whatever you can to get that file, to get those tips.

It’s easier than you thought. You go in under the pretense of helping them field calls. They welcome the help.

It’s a lot of noise. A lot of crazies and paranoid people calling with ridiculous or impossible tips. Although getting the information you need is easy, it takes about an hour.

When you have it, you pass it along to Sharon.

“Sharon? Is Steve okay?” You wish you could be there, see the expression on his face.

If there’s one thing you know, it’s how to know if Steve is really alright or not.

You’ve seen him struggle through his rage. Struggle to pull himself out of the past and into the present. You know what he looks like when it’s all too much and the smile that can come afterwards. You’ve helped him find that smile before.

“He will be.” She tells you. “Thanks, Y/N. This means a lot to me.”

To her? Why does it sound like she likes him? How can you still be this into him after so long?!

“Sure, but Sharon-” The line goes dead again. “Fuck!”

You look at it, your hand curled around the sleek phone eyes prickling at the corners and your chest hollower than you’ve felt it in a long time. Heartbreak feels like knives scraping along the bones of your chest leaving shards and caustic bone dust.

You’ve inhaled it and the pain is so precise that it takes your breath away, making you gasp and gape like a fish out of water.

For Steve, everything goes to shit.

You monitor everything and wait with bated breath as he fights his friends. The Avengers fight each other, torn apart by the accords first and Bucky second.

From this side of things, it looks so bad. Very bad. But you know that if Steve is doing this, if he’s planting himself in front of Bucky despite all the laws he’s breaking, there must be a reason. Steve doesn’t do anything without a reason.

The last you hear he’s run off from Germany. After he and the Avengers destroy an airport, he and Bucky escape, assisted by Nat. Tony pursues. Then there’s excited whispers as a new truth is passed around.

Helmut Zemo. It’s a name that echoes around you off the lips of other agents.

Bucky Barnes, framed. Avengers arrested anyway. Wrongly imprisoned, most think. But the accords were violated, others say. The world is split.

They’re heroes. But they’re scary.

You bury your face in your hands, lean your elbows against your desk, wanting nothing more than to know that Steve’s okay.

Your phone buzzes. Absentmindedly, you reach for it and answer, too worried to care who’s calling.

“Y/N?”

You shoot to your feet, heart in your throat, skin erupting into goosebumps.

“S-” Shit! “Hold on.”

You make a beeline for that utility closet, making no attempt to be sneaky about hiding in there this time.

Placing down your scrambler, you wait for the lights to indicate that it’s on before you speak again.

“Steve?” You ask breathless.

“Hey.” And his voice rises and falls, a sound of relief at the sound of your voice? No. But you are certainly happy to hear him.

“Hey, yourself, jerk. You’re a fugitive.” You tell him.

He huffs a laugh and you can almost see that beautiful half smile.

“Couldn’t have dreamt this mess up in our gym days, huh?” He sounds like he’s smiling.

You shut your eyes, fighting the tears that burn, the ache in your chest strong and demanding.

“Where are you?” You gasp.

“…Wakanda.”

You wait, thinking, your mind racing because he’s not just calling. He’s never just calling.

“What do you need?” You lean back against the door, pushing as much of the pining you’re feeling away so that you can focus on what Steve will no doubt need.

“It’s dangerous.” He warns.

“Steve…”

“I need you to break onto the Avengers Compound.”

“Hey!” You freeze, halfway to the jet, adrenaline racing.

So close. You’re so close! It’s right there. Maybe you can make a run for it? You suck as a spy!

“Don’t even try it.” The familiar voice warns. “Hey, I know you.”

Slowly you turn, face slightly shamed. Natasha looks as beautiful as she did two years ago. Her hair is different. A little more free-flowing.

“Agent 34…Y/N, right? What are you doing here? You don’t have clearance for this facility.” The corner of her lip curves up in a snarky smile. She’s all seduction and fun but there’s a weight on her shoulders that darkens her eyes.

“I…” You hesitate, but you can trust Natasha. You know that.

“You’re here for him, aren’t you?” Her smile falls, brow drawn together in a searching look of concern.

“Yes.”

She looks behind her, contemplating her options it looks like. With a part of her lips and a deep sigh of decision she moves for the jet.

“They won’t miss it.” She says, teasing smirk back in place. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”

The jet is fast. You miss travelling in them. This one’s better than the ones you’d been on in your S.T.R.I.K.E. days. It’s sleeker and quieter.

“So, you and Rogers…” Nat begins, swiveling in the pilot’s chair to face you where you sit a few feet from her. “There’s more there, right?”

You swallow hard, the painful feeling of rejection flooding back only it’s a ghost and it doesn’t hurt as much as it did once.

“She’s not my type.” Steve’s voice echoes in your head. He’d said it so long ago, but it lingers, saved away because it had broken your heart to hear it.

“Not what you’re thinking.” You tell her, sitting up too straight from nerves. “Steve trained me. We met at his gym. My gym, when I was training at the academy. We…we were workout buddies, I guess.”

You sound unsure and Nat quirks a brow at you, hearing the uncertainty. “It sounds like more.”

Sitting in silence for a moment, you ponder what it sounds like and she’s right, it had been more. For you.

“It was. For me. Not for Steve.” You smile at her, melancholic and exhausted.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell him?” She wonders, brow furrowed again.

“I-” Everything until that day in the jet when Nat had told him to ask out the girl from Statistics had made you think that you and Steve might be more.

It had all felt like it was moving in that direction. Until it wasn’t. And you weren’t his type.

“I didn’t think I had to. And then I wasn’t his type so…” You shrug, finding her jade green eyes piercing. She can see right through you.

When you pick up Steve, he hugs you. No hesitation. He pulls you in for a brief squeeze and your heart stammers and stutters before it finds its rhythm once again.

“It’s so good to see you.” He smiles, the very faint bloom of an old bruise is on his right cheekbone. You touch it and he lets you.

“This was worse.” You state.

“Yeah.”

“Where are we going?” Nat asks, turning away from the two of you to look at the nav.

Steve moves around you as you shut the back ramp.

“Here.” He tells her, an input of coordinates placed into the nav. “We’ll stop off in London and send Y/N home.”

“What?” You demand, shocked by your dismissal.

“You can’t come.” Steve tells you.

“Like hell I can’t. I’m already here. I stole the jet!” You argue, moving towards them.

“Technically I stole it. You’re just along for the ride.” Nat argues, turning to give you a smile.

“I’m not going to turn you into a criminal too.” He tells you, reaching out to grab your right shoulder.

“Steve…”

“I’m gonna need an inside woman anyway.” Nat cuts in. “If you’re willing to help us out?”

The argument to stay beside Steve now that you’re once again in his intoxicating presence begins to dull in comparison to your need to help. If you can offer them any kind of assistance, isn’t it your duty to do it?

“What do you need me to do?” You wonder, seduced by the promise of a mission.

You’ve sat behind a desk for too many years. You’ll need to train hard again, and it’ll suck without your gym buddy, but you can do it. For Steve. For Nat.

Nat smiles, Steve relaxes.

They drop you off on an abandoned carpark. The structure is crumbling and chipped, dusted cement flying up into the air as the jet lands. It’s close enough to the heart of the city that you can easily find a cab but secluded enough that their presence doesn’t raise an alarm.

Both Nat and Steve walk you down the ramp, stopping when their feet hit pavement.

The night is almost over and the in an hour the sun will begin to rise.

Steve’s second goodbye looms over you and it saps you of all previous determination to help them from a distance.

“So, I just go back to the Compound in three days and they’ll have me on file?” You keep your eyes on Nat because the pain of looking at Steve is too great.

“Yep. Just go to the front desk and tell them it’s your first day and they’ll get you upstairs. I’m not sure what Tony will have you doing but they’re going to need to fill our vacancies. I’m sure he’ll find use for you.” She nods.

“Okay.” You lick your lips, hesitating, biting into the soft flesh of your lower lip to give you the courage to look at Steve again and after only a few hours of sitting beside him, you have to tell him goodbye once more.

When you look at him, he’s got his eyes on the ground.

“Why did you have to wait until you were on the run to call me?” You ask him, hating him just a little bit but not enough to matter.

Your tone brings his eyes up and his storm blues search for reproach.

“I’ll be inside.” Nat tells him, then heads back up.

“I’m sorry, I know that I should have-” He begins, looking genuinely apologetic.

“You never answered my question.” You cut in, moving so that only a foot of space stands between the two of you.

“What question?”

“Do you like Sharon?” It almost kills you to repeat the question. All the oxygen in the world seems to have vanished as you see the confusion mar Steve’s handsome face.

Even after two years, you’re afraid of his answer.

“What? I-”

And because you know that if you don’t take the chance to tell him now, to make him see, you’ll never get this chance again. Whatever it is he has with Sharon, whether it’s real or fleeting or if it’s something that’s been going on for a long time—you should feel bad about doing it but you don’t because he was yours first you just hadn’t had the guts to tell him so—you push all your guilt away, fist the collar of his black jacket and pull him down until your lips meet his.

You feel him pull back for a split second, the unexpectedness of your kiss surprises him but then his lips pucker back, but only just. It’s as if he’s still uncertain as to whether it should be happening. Large tentative hands slide along your hips, strong fingers pressing into the womanly soft barely maintained muscle.

The kiss ends quickly. It’s burning and has your heart pounding but it’s meek. He’s not sure if he should be kissing you and still, he pulls back to look into your face.

“Why-?”

“Because you said I wasn’t your type. And you had asked Sharon out for coffee so I…I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to lose your friendship and I ended up losing it anyway.” You lament. “Things are different now. You’re on the run and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, so I just wanted to—I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you. I’ve been dreaming about it since the day I met you.”

You have nothing else to lose. Why not go all in?

“I love you, Steve.” You let that stand, wallowing in his stunned silence as the jet behind him whirs to life.

“Steve, we gotta go.” Nat calls back, sounding sorry.

“It’s okay if you don’t love me. I just…I needed you to know. Maybe now that you know, I can move on?” You shrug and offer a small smile.

Steve frowns, hesitating once again before he leans down to kiss you again, lips open, the softest caress of his tongue before he’s pulling your bottom lip as he ends the kiss. Too quick. Too fast.

There’s no time.

“I wish you’d said something ages ago.” He tells you.

“You should have said something when I told you about Rumlow.” You counter.

He makes a face, looking of your heard as he licks his lips. He leans back down to meet your gaze. “Did you really sleep with that guy?”

“Yes.” You admit. “He came before I did and then fell asleep.”

Steve growls, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

“Did you and Sharon-?” You begin.

“I kissed her.” Steve admits.

It hurts and you tear your eyes down to his chest. You have nothing to say however, you slept with Rumlow.

“There was nothing there, kid.” Steve assures you, trying to get you to look at him again. “I mean there was something but…it wasn’t this.”

You still can’t look at him.

“It wasn’t us.” He clarifies.

Chest warming, your heart begins to flutter, stomach all a-tumble as you meet those bright storm blue eyes of his.

“We’re both stupid.” You tell him.

“Steve…” Nat repeats, a little firmer.

“I have to go.” He says forlornly. “I don’t know if I’ll-”

“No, Steve. Just…stay safe. Keep moving. Don’t stop. No matter what happens, you cannot let them catch you. We’ll figure things out.” You know that it’s very possible that this, tonight, is all you’ll ever have.

He could be on the run for the rest of his life or he might fall in love with Nat? Or someone else on his journey to outrun the law. He could very well change his name and settle down somewhere with some French woman in some cottage in the countryside and have kids and never think about you again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, reaching up to trace the shape of your cheekbone.

“Me too.” You sigh, rubbing slow circles along the hard planes of his chest. “Go.”

He leans down one last time and this time you’re both on the same page.

He kisses you with feeling, lips parting, tongue confidently tasting you as you kiss him back, hands worming their way into his sunshine hair.

It’s another quick kiss. Too fast. Over too quickly. He presses his forehead to your own, lingering there for a moment too short.

“Please be safe.” You beg him.

He pulls away, hurrying up the ramp before turning to wave at you as the jet lifts off and disappears into the expanse of velvet black. That is Steve’s second goodbye.

When you come to, the world is different.

You can feel it in the air. Too quiet. The world has gone too quiet.

The compound is almost completely silent. You can hear screaming outside but you’re not sure why.

As you stumble for the door, you’ve been sleeping in Steve’s room because Tony had told you that this is your home now and that Captain No Shame doesn’t deserve a room so you should take it, you stop by the mirror and look at the bright red pinprick on the side of your neck.

You hiss, sucking in air as you stare at the injection site.

“Fucking, Nat.”

~~~~~

“Hey, there stranger.” She greets you with ease, all ethereal beauty with pale blonde tresses and the same if not sharper glass edges. Her on-the-run lifestyle has only enhanced Nat’s naturally assertive demeanor, but she looks relaxed in your doorway.

“Nat!” You’re up in an instant, gliding towards her with your arms wide open. She smiles fondly and greets you with a hug.

“Hey, Y/N.” She greets lovingly. “How’ve you been?”

“Me?” You chuckle. “How are you? Where’s-?”

“He’s coming. Running late.” She nods as you pull back and then gestures at your desk. “What are you working on?”

“Oh.” You turn back to your desk and hurry to pull the charts open, spreading them out on the sleek wooden desk.

You bite your lip, trying to focus on what you’d just been so invested in, but knowing that Steve is coming…after years of waiting of wanting and loving from a distance with only a handful of phone calls to keep you going…

“I…I’m getting these weird readings. Or Bruce’s equipment was. Tony and I have been mapping the spikes in energy and we’re not exactly sure what they mean but they’re getting close.” You explain, and as you do you find yourself able to focus.

“Tony, he’s-?”

“Gone.” You sigh. “He and Pepper went jogging with Happy in the morning but…then that thing…”

“He didn’t send any distress calls?” Nat wonders.

“No. Pepper said that he was…was on that ship.” Your voice gets tight, worry and grief because what if he never comes back?

“Tony’s a fighter.” Nat’s hand finds its way onto the back of your right shoulder. “He’ll be back in no time.”

You smile at her words, staring at your charts. “Yeah.”

Because you can’t help it, your mind drifts back to Steve.

“Nat, when you said he was on his way-?” You gasp, Nat’s other hand shooting up to your neck as a piercing pinch stings your neck.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. We both know you and you’ll never stay behind willingly.” She explains, her brow drawn close as she frowns at her own actions.

“N-Nat…” You whisper, trying to grab her wrist but you’re already so weak.

You lean into her.

“S-Steve…” You mutter.

“He wants you safe.” Nat explains, just as your vision blacks out.

~~~~~

It takes you too long to make your way down to the first floor of the Compound. People are still rushing about, panicked looks on their faces. Some of them are crying or huddled in corners of the large lobby.

One girl is simply standing, staring out at the front lawn.

There are too few people. That you know.

Where is everyone?

“Hey.” You call to the girl standing by the window. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“They disappeared. They…they just fell…like dust. Like paper…they’re gone.”

“What do you mean they’re gone?” You demand, staring around at the panic before you move around her to plant yourself in front of her. “Hey, what do you mean?”

She looks at you, almost as if she’s seeing you for the first time. Her eyes spill over with tears as she begins to smile then she suddenly realizes something. “I…I need to call my mom.”

She hurries off, and you move outside, staring across the lawn at strange patches of dark ash. There’s so many of them.

As you turn to look back inside, you see the same strange patches around the floor inside the lobby. At the receptionist’s desk, there’s a smattering of the same ash on part of the floor but then the rest is over the desk.

Fear turns your ice into lead. You fist your pockets for your phone, breathing faster and faster until you’re sobbing as you realize that the patches of ash were people. All you can think about is Steve. Nat. Vision. Rhodey.

When you finally manage to pull it out, you dial Steve’s number and wait as the phone rings and rings and rings.

Night comes. People leave the compound. It’s you and your panic and you don’t know how to fly the jet so you can’t take one to Wakanda because you know now that’s where they went.

You fall to pieces on the lawn. Like the ash that surrounds you, you very nearly crumble into nothing as you wait and wait and know that the longer you wait and hear nothing that it’s more and more likely that Steve is gone. Steve has vanished like the rest of these poor souls.

You’re curled up on the ground, clinging to the sanity in you that remains, when the hum of the jet overhead pulls you up.

You jump to your feet, searching the black for the lights, the tiny twinkles of hazards in the night.

When you spot it, your body freezes and you follow its descent with wary eyes. You’re too scared to hope. Too fragile to think that he’s in there only to find out that he’s not.

The ramp slowly descends and he moves towards you, bearded and sweaty and his old uniform is in near tatters and discolored but there’s pink on his cheeks despite the white of his lips and his hair is grimy but long and he looks so perfect that your legs give out on you.

You fall to the ground with relief and you’re sobbing harder than before as Steve runs towards you.

“You’re still here.” He gasps, his voice strained as if he were trying not to fall to pieces like you have.

You know why. The team, what’s left—Nat, Rhodey, Bruce, Thor?, a raccoon?—need him. They need Captain America right now, more than they need Steve Rogers. But as he looks down at you, when you meet his gaze full of relief and gratitude, you know that it’s Steve looking down at you.

“I thought you were gone.” You cry, gasping as you reach up to cling to him.

He wraps you up, hold you tight, and kisses your head as he helps you to your feet.

The next few days pass in a blur of discovery. So many people are gone. The count is endless.

Fury is gone. Maria, who you’d only met a handful of times during your time at S.H.I.E.L.D. is also gone. Pepper comes to stay on the compound, missing Tony so much it breaks her heart every time she looks at his armor.

You try to comfort her as best as you can but you know that until she knows for certain where he is, if he made it, or if he’s gone…nothing will help.

Bruce, Nat, and Steve find a beeper. They don’t know what it does, but Fury had it and it’s sending a signal, so they keep a close eye on it.

The next day it shuts off. Then she shows up. Carol. She brings back Tony and you’re crying again. You’re a mess. Pepper is ecstatic even thought Tony looks like he’s dying.

Carol is strange, but kind mostly. Powerful. You can feel it radiating off her.

Together with Carol they find the guy responsible for the Snap. Thanos.

You want to go with them. You get dressed in your uniform, lightweight deep plum Kevlar, a vest to match. Guns already holstered at your hips.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, moving to you.

“I’m coming with you.” You stand up.

“No.” He says gently, “Kid…I…”

He takes hold of your biceps and slowly pushes you back down to sit on the end of his bed. He kneels in front of you, settling between your knees. His hands trace the constricted sinew of your arms, squeezing a few times in his need to feel you.

“I need you to stay.” His eyes are imploringly cruel.

“I’m not leaving your side again, Steve.” You argue, the devastation from before beginning to take hold.

“And I can’t take you out there knowing that something might go wrong. You’re too important, Y/N.” He reaches up, cupping the sides of your face as his thumb traces the soft plush of your lips. “I need to know that you’re here, waiting for me. If I have that then I know that I can concentrate on getting back here. To you. To us.”

“Steve…” You beg, knowing that he can’t stay.

It’s not even a question you’re tempted to ask. He must go. You want to go with him.

“When I come back, we’ll really do this. Us. I’m ready for you, kid. Finally.” He smiles, trying to ease the tension but your face is a grimace of heartache. How many times will Steve Rogers tell you goodbye?

“I can’t lose you.” You whisper, desperate to keep from crying.

“You won’t.” He promises. “We’ll get the stones from him, we’ll get everyone back. I’ll come home and you and I…we’ll move out. We’ll get a little apartment and—”

For some reason he hesitates, swallowing hard while bringing his hands down to the soft flesh of your thighs. He squeezes them, sliding his thumbs closer and closer to your core.

“I wanna make love to you and make you mine.” He whispers shyly.

Suddenly nervous but oh, so excited, you slide closer to him.

“Do it now.” You plead, hoping that maybe it’ll keep him here. Keep him home. “Fuck me, Steve. Love me. I want you.”

You’re not playing fair and you don’t care. He also seems to know that you’re highly aware of how cruel this is of you because he huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he slides those large hands back along your hips to rest on your bum.

“I should have known when you coerced me into training you that you’d try and do it again at some point.”

“I had to try.” You shrug.

“Why did it have to take so long for us to get here?” He asks, not really asking you, just wondering.

“Because you’re an idiot.” You remind him. “And I didn’t think you’d want me.”

“I want you.” He assures you, sending your heart into a barrage of flutters, stomach wheeling. “Trust me. But I have to go.”

You lean forward, burying your face against his shoulder.

“And I need you to stay.” He finishes, and you’ll do it. For him. Because he’s so much more broken than he’s let anyone see. Even you.

“Fine.” You pull back. “But hurry back to me, Steve. Because I’ve been waiting almost ten years to have you inside me.”

His cheeks flame but his eyes darken. He leans into you, catching your lips in a searing kiss.

You reach for his waist, fingers knocking into the tools on his belt. One falls, clinks and clatters on the floor.

Pulling back, both of you look down at the small round metallic item.

“What’s that?”

“My compass.” He tells you, reaching down to grab it.

“Can I see it?” You ask him, curious because of the clear shade of age bronzing the metal.

Steve quickly slides it into his pocket. “When I come back, I’ll show it to you.”

“It looks old.”

“It is.” He states simply but rises, pulling you to your feet with him.

“Keep an eye on Tony.” He tells you when you’ve reached the front lawn, the rest of the team already aboard the Benatar.

“Of course.” You nod, giving him a smile instead of the tears you really want to shed.

He leans in towards you one last time, nose to nose, eyes shut. “I love you.”

Just like that, you want to chain him to a chair and keep him here where he can repeat those three words over and over until you die of old age.

“I love you.” You gasp. “So much.”

He pulls away, gives you that signature half smile of his, and for the third time, Steve tells you goodbye.

~~~~~

They come home empty handed. Defeated. Broken. Thor disappears shortly after they come home. Tony and Pepper leave. Bruce does too.

Nat, Carol, Nebula, Rhodey, and Rocket start having meetings, discussing the problems the world is facing. They’ve accepted the truth…no one is coming back.

They’re gone.

Forever.

Steve walks into your shared room. He stops in the doorway, stares at you as you wait for it to hit him. For him to give way and finally shed the weight on his shoulders.

He meets your eyes.

“Steve?”

He smiles, holds his hand out for you, and nods towards the hallway.

“Come on, baby. I need some air.”

Buy Me a Coffee!

Forever Tag List - CLOSED! @jessieray98 @crist1216 @rainbowkisses31 @xxloki81xx @the-wayward-robot @quokkatrash @tiffanynguyen03 @basementcafe @kind-sober-fullydressed @moli1497 @badassbaker @awkwardfangirl2014 @shield-agent78 @supernaturaldean67 @sea040561 @jewelofwinter @this-side-of-midnight5 @sebbystanlover-vk @just4muggles @death-unbecomes-you @lilulo-12 @whosmarisaaarw @hiddles-rose @pandazlazykid @alagalaska @theonelittleone @xlittlestarling @moonlessnight14 @natura1phenomenon @pineapplebooboo @spaghettirogers @dsakita @sincerelytlh @booklover2929 @lovefreylove @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @vulpecula-minor @fallinginlovewithqueue @babytrollgirl @wildefire @fairislesheets @mother-of-fire-snakes @xrosegoldwolfx @queenoftheunderdark @mrsdeanwinchester19 @thefridgeismybestie @mcuwillbethedeathofme @peaceinourtime82 @baebeepeach @teller258316 @juustpeachy420 @libbymouse

Steve Taglist @patzammit @darkdragonpheonix @lostinthoughts23