#pulled at random from the drafts folder

[silverfoxstole]

Paul visiting his old school in 2018.

[octoberautumnbox]

Off*IZ: Like It Like I Love It

Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, doggy, semi-public, semi-mirror, semi-exhibitionist, office sex, clothed sex, sweat if it counts?, standing doggy, anal, anal creampie, little bit of thigh stuff I think

Word count: 4.2k

Part of Off*IZ Hours

a/n: i worked on so many other drafts on and off this month i really wasnt sure if I'd be able to pull something off this month but we back to our regular programming LMAO :DDDD

“Thank you, everyone. I know we took longer than we should have,” the project head places his glasses on his forehead before rubbing his eyes, “but we pulled through today. Good work.” All around the conference table, you and your coworkers stretch in various ways and groans emanate from random people in the room. As people start to get up and leave, you overhear muttering about plans after work and what each other’s weekends will be like. 

You do your own stretches and check your watch: 7:54 p.m., nearly three hours later than you should have left. A sigh escapes you, finding yourself already tired from dealing with the lowlife drunks on the bus you’ll be riding with in about half an hour. You grasp around in the dark for a bright side to all of this, but nothing’s coming up so far, except...

“Hey, heading out?” Miss Jo taps you on your shoulder a bit roughly: not enough to hurt, but enough to shove you a little. She stands behind you, her fingers delicately wrapped around the edge of her folder, and a smile painting her cute face. Over the course of your tenure in the company, as well as the fact that the Operational Support Department is only two people strong, you and your boss have gotten to know each other very well.

“Maybe you wanna have a drink with me? God knows we both need it,” she giggles. The petite woman abruptly shuts her eyes solemnly and sucks air in through her teeth, then releases it in a drawn-out yawn. She blinks out the sleep in her eyes before attempting to look at you again. 

“Are you sure? You seem a bit tired.” You spin her around to face away from you and place your hands on her shoulders. You push your thumbs firmly and massage the spot in the middle of her back, and tell her, “Breathe, Miss Jo.”

Her head lolls back, showing you a dimly glowing smile and fluffy cheeks underneath a pair of half-lidded eyes. She breathes out slowly through her mouth, her lips parted ever so slightly, and good thing everyone’s already left the conference room at this point, else they’d start asking questions. 

“Maybe I am tired…” she breathes out slowly, only loud enough for you and no one else to hear. As you listen, your hands travel down her slim arms and onto her waist, and as she tilts her head to the side, you plant a kiss right on her neck. “Maybe… maybe I do want to go home,” her moan comes carefully, as if fighting back a mountain of urges. “Maybe I want to, I don’t know, take a shower?” Your hands slide up her sides, cupping her petite boobs through her top. She giggles again, she brings her hands to yours. 

“And no more ‘Miss Jo,’ please. We're done for the day, remember?” She pulls your hands off her, winking, before hurriedly dragging you out of the conference room. Her steps are joyful and frantic towards the parking lot with you still in tow. She never looks back, one clear goal in mind: get you home, take her shower, get fucked out. A perfect Friday night, like God intended. 

She’s so focused that she fails to notice until it’s too late that you yank her into a secluded printing room, lock the door, and forget to turn on the light. She stumbles into your chest, and the dim reflections of nightlife from outside the window are the only things that let you see the fire in her eyes. 

Yuri wraps her arms around your neck, trapping you in a torrid kiss as your tongues dance around each other, swapping spit and breathy moans. Her lips are soft on yours, with hints of strawberry from her lip balm that only make you want her more. 

Hook her leg under your arm, grip her ass through her jeans, grind her crotch against yours. All she can do at this point is hold on to you for dear life as your kiss continues, never giving her the privilege of catching her breath. In spite of all this, her nerve to fight back surfaces: her tongue enters your mouth and licks everywhere she can reach, and she shamelessly lets her spit leak from her luscious lips and onto her chin. 

At this point the heat gets to both of you, not only from each other but also from the general lack of air-conditioning in the room this late into the night. Sweat collects into bigger and bigger drops on her neck, and your determination to steal every single one overtakes you. You kiss and lick over every spot of exposed and vulnerable skin you can find, and it messes with her head somehow even more than forcing kisses on her ever did.

A bright idea enters your head though, and not so gently, you shove and pin her to a nearby wall. A deep thud rings across the room, followed by a slight creak and groan from the wood holding up the wall inside it. The impact forces air out her lungs, but ultimately she regains her breath and stares at you, shellshocked, before releasing her grip on you. 

“Don’t forget, asshole,” she grunts, playing trying to get free, “I'm still your fucking boss.” Yuri almost slams her face into yours, sorely missing the feeling of your lips on hers. Her tongue travels all over inside your mouth, and what can you do but show her the same sort of fervor?

“I'm also still fucking my boss,” you choke out, still struggling against the onslaught of Yuri's tongue. All the while, her needy moans fill the room with every single hump on her crotch. She tries speeding it up, but with how you're holding her ass, you're fully in control. 

And she fucking loves it. 

With one hand keeping you in place, her other hand works on stripping herself of her jeans. Your position gradually gets more awkward, but the moment her pants leave her ass and you feel up her cheeks, now only covered with a pair of thin lace panties, your hunger for your boss's delicious body only grows.

Her pants drop to around her ankles and suddenly they're gone from her world. Yuri's next target is your slacks, and she makes even quicker work of them. It takes just the blink of an eye before they're gone too, and she’s alternating between palming your stiffening cock and massaging your balls through your underwear.

“I didn't know I was this tired,” she remarked, her breath unstable against your mouth. Her head rests against the wall, her arms on your shoulders, and you finally let her catch her breath. “Oh, by the way,” she wheezes between deep inhales, “we’re setting up the laptops for the new hires tomorrow– I need you to come in at 8.” 

“Come in here? Like ‘office’ here? Tomorrow’s Saturday,” you say, mixing into your voice a tone of sternness. You caress her cheek, and she nuzzles into your palm. She knows exactly what’s coming up next, but she waits for you to let her. It has to be you, you both know it, so as your hand meets her shoulder and pushes her down, she falls slowly, gracefully, to her knees.

Eye level with your bulge, she runs her tongue along her lips seductively while looking up at you. Her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear and she pulls down slowly, teasing you when she knows she shouldn’t. Your cock springs up and nearly misses her chin, but she makes a show of catching it with her face. She smiles up at you, your cock resting on her beautiful features, all the while she peppers light kisses along the underside of your shaft. 

“Yeah, 8 a.m. tomorrow. We’re setting up VPNs and loading all the shit onto them.” Her kisses soon turn into licks, as if she’s made it her mission in life to trace every single one of your cock’s veins using her tongue. Her eyes flutter closed as she relishes in the taste and scent of your manhood, hellbent on worshiping it like the slut she knows she is. 

“Fine, but I’m spending the night at yours. Make me come into work on a weekend, feed me breakfast.”

“Fine, but you’re driving tomorrow. Can’t do it if my legs don’t work.”

She retreats back for a bit, lining up your cock with her mouth as she eyes it with a lustful greed. She comes in close again, and her tongue swirls around the tip of your cock as she slowly takes more and more in. Her lips seal around your shaft, sucking it like it’s the feast of her lifetime. 

Take advantage of her position, guide her head to rest against the wall. She almost doesn’t notice, but the moment she does, her eyes meet yours to send a single, unmistakeable, desperate message: “Please.”

You plunge your cock deep into her mouth, using the wall behind her to force her to take as much of your length as she can. She chokes and gags, but ultimately her tongue never leaves the underside of your dick and chooses instead to use the copious amounts of spit to make her blowjob all the more pleasurable for you. Yuri’s cheeks hollow out as she tries sucking your soul out, and only then are you made aware of the lewd slurping sounds she’s making. Her adoration of your cock makes itself known like it always does, and you wonder for a split second how lucky you came to be to have such a nice boss. 

She pushes herself off of you with a loud pop, and you find her hair unkempt and sticking to her forehead in strands, licking her lips like she’s just had the best meal of her life. She flashes a smile at you before getting up, and what comes next feels like the most natural thing for the two of you. She gets up and pulls you by the necktie toward the window, you’ve always known she was this type of girl, and she places both palms on the glass. 

“You know what to do.” Her voice is deep and serious, and you're compelled to obey. Your fingers slip under the waistband of her panties, and you pull down to reveal her plump ass. The wet feeling running down Yuri's legs makes her moan quietly, and as the fabric leaves her body you see her thighs glisten with slick and perspiration, reflecting the clueless city's lights.

Your hands travel up her thighs, and you feel her goosebumps under your touch. Now standing behind her, you take in the situation: your boss is bent over, presenting her bare ass and dripping pussy to you, while her hands are splayed onto the cool, transparent glass of the printing room window. Place your hands on her hips, grip securely and show her how bad you want her. Pull her slowly towards you, and as you do, find her looking back at you with unbridled lust in her gaze.

The tip of your cock meets her sinful entrance, and her gaze remains steady and burning on you. “Come on already,” she taunts seductively. She bites her lip in anticipation and you decide not to make her wait any longer. 

You rub your hard cock on her pussy lips, coating your shaft with her juices, before finally plunging yourself into her. Her lips part for you, and as you push deeper into her wet cavern she lets out a low, guttural moan. Her reflection in the glass shows you her eyes are shut tight and tighter still as she feels you slowly filling up her pussy, and her fingers flex against the glass as she tries to find something, anything, to hold onto. 

“Fuck– God, the first one is always the best, huh?” A casual laugh follows her statement, and she looks back at you again. A tiny smile decorates the corners of her mouth, and the odd lighting around you gives her an aura of mysterious, forbidden beauty. 

“Will you behave for me, Yuri?” You rub and grope her ass as you say it, threatening a spank. It doesn't help though, you know your boss loves being put in her place. The thought you implant into her head causes her pussy to quiver, and in turn causes your cock to twitch against her walls. 

“Oh my go– Yes, daddy,” she surrenders, “I'll be your good baby girl.” She lets her head hang forward, having completely given up control to you, all primed and ready to receive your blessing. Her breaths are deep, slow, ragged, choosing instead to focus solely on the onslaught of pleasure you're about to inflict on her tight, delicious, fertile body.

Thrust into her again, as deep as her cunt lets you, and your tip kisses the entrance of her womb. She lurches slightly forward with a grunt, and you almost swear her pussy is made just for you. The way her walls clench around your cock as it twitches again and again inside her makes you think you’re the key to her lock, a match made in hell.

“Daddy, do I feel good? Do you like my pussy?” Yuri’s moans and pleas for your approval only spur you on. She melts under your touch, your hand returning to her ass and threatening her pleasure again. It’s about time you give her what she wants, and she has been a good girl so far, so why the fuck not?

You raise your palm and she watches, her eyes trailing higher and higher. All at once, you bring your hand down with the force and speed Yuri knows is perfect, what she knows she deserves. Your skin meets hers and a slap rings clear across the room, followed by an immoral moan escaping from her throat. 

“Fuck, daddy! It hurts so good–” she gasps, all the while you maintain a slow pace. Your thrusts in her are rhythmic and steady, but in no way soft or merciful. With every pump of pleasure you deliver into her body from behind, she lurches forward again and again, absolutely no time at all to recover with the cumulative brain fog clouding her thoughts, all the while her tight little pussy clenches and squeezes your cock like it’s the last time she’ll ever have you. 

Keep fucking her deep and rough, keep forcing your will onto her body. She submits wholeheartedly to you, pushing her ass back on you each time you shove your cock into her, trying to steal more mind-numbing goodness from you. As if having lost control of her voice, her moans are continuous if not for her need to breathe every once in a while. On one hand, you know her body well, and it’s telling you that she’s growing impatient – she signed up for a railing after all. On the other hand, so what? It’s your fucktoy to use however you want to.

Yank her hair back, pull her right up against your chest. One hand on her toned tummy, the other wrapped around her slender, sweaty neck. Her own hands stay respectfully splayed on the glass, and she’s damn near defenseless like this: she wouldn’t dare defy you in any way. Whisper right into her ear, teasingly and tauntingly, “Until what time do we stay tomorrow?”

She chokes back a sob, only half-successful, only half-focused. “N-not later than one th-thirty,” she struggles, on the verge of tears, “only eighte-teen unitssss…” She sucks as much air as she can through her teeth, your slow and methodical onslaught on her sex unrelenting. “We… we…” Her brain fog must be so thick right now, having finally lost the ability to form complete thoughts. It’s now you know there’s nothing left of her except the desire for more of her ecstasy, just the way you like her. 

All at once, thrust fast and thrust hard. It’s something she couldn’t have possibly predicted, and her surprise numbs her entire body save for her pussy that convulses violently around your cock. Her velvet walls squeeze and massage your entire length, and her love juices coat your shaft before the rest make its way down her creamy, jiggling thighs. She screams loud as her face is smushed against the glass, her arms pinned against the window pane for as much support as she can get. Each following thrust into her pushes her up and up against the glass even more, until there’s no more space between her and the window, nor between you and her. 

Completely victim to you, her eyes wander up and up until they point to the ceiling. Her mouth hangs open as her breath fogs up the glass, still punctuated with rhythmic grunts each time your tip kisses the entrance of her womb. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she repeats with every thrust, rubbing her face slightly more against the window. If only she could still fathom how easily someone could look up and see her taking your dick, but that's not important now. Her eyes are rolled to the back of her head, her breathing is unsteady, and the flex of her fingers tells you again that she's close. 

Deny her climax just a little more, you're sure she'll understand. Just as you push back into her, eliciting her next crass word, you forcefully pull out of her heat. She tightens impossibly hard again in an effort to keep you inside her, but the sheer amount of her slick fails her. A few seconds pass and she's able to look down, and the sight of your thick and hard cock between her thighs and right up against her pussy does something to her head. It's exactly when her tongue peeks from her mouth and runs all over her lips that you know she's desperate, reduced to nothing more than a simple-minded slut who wants you and you alone. 

“I'm gonna take your ass, baby girl, and you're gonna fucking like it.” Your words are gentle yet daunting against her eardrums, and her pussy lips quiver against your cock again as she jerks her hips forward exactly once and releases the perfect amount of her juices onto your dick. “Yes, daddy…” she replies, holding back her orgasm for a few more moments, knowing that you like it best when she cums while you’re inside her. 

Yuri waits in anticipation as you poke her asshole with your cock. Her eyes draw shut, head leaning solemnly on the glass, as if praying that she survives the rough anal fucking she's about to receive. 

Since when did you get so mean? Making a lady wait like this. And yet, the way she squirms in depraved pleasure under the constant threat of your cock is just so delicious, you really can't help but use her, play with her like this. 

Having had your fill of teasing her, you give her exactly what she wants. You enter her puckered hole slowly, and yet she takes you in like the good girl she always aims to be. The walls of her ass are just as pleasurable as her pussy, and her tightness in her back entrance is just as perfect as her cunt. The slick coating your cock is her only saving grace against having her asshole torn apart, but with the way she clenches around you so well and how she groans in ecstasy, you think maybe she wouldn’t mind either way. 

Your boss half-screams as you invade her repeatedly from behind, starting slow and steady while tears start to form in the corners of her eyes. Her sweaty cheek still on the window, you watch as a line of spit runs from her lip down the pane, just as a drunkard wobbling across the sidewalk in the street down below finally catches you two in the act. It seems he's still figuring out what he's seeing, so you have just a few more moments left in the printing room before the dots connect in his head.

“G–guh,” Yuri grunts as she taps against the glass. It seems she spotted him too, and is trying to warn you of the same. “It doesn't matter, baby, I'll take care of it.” Your reassurance works a bit too well, and her eyes shut again as she breathes out and relaxes. 

Stay true to your promise, make sure she gets a hell of a taste of the night she’s only about to have. Quickly, carelessly, ruthlessly, piston deep into her asshole. Her walls try their hardest to accommodate you, but ultimately lose the fight and are forced apart anyway. 

“Aaahhhh– AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” Yuri’s heavenly voice is corrupted to sing a perverted symphony. She’s reduced again, from your boss to your personal slut to now just some instrument for your unholy pleasure. Each thrust into her ass sends her riding up the window again, smearing her spit and perspiration all over the glass and her slick all over her creamy thighs. You shoot a cursory look back to the drunk on the street, noticing his eyes widening as his fried brain starts its search for words. You’re running out of time. 

Pound her mercilessly, remind her of her place in your own shared little world. All it takes is just a few more thrusts into her hole until she finally lets it all loose. Your moans mix with hers in the secluded space, and her willingness to serve you brings you ever closer to the edge. 

Just as the drunkard figures out how to point up and mumble his most basic words, you explode right into your boss, filling her plump ass up with your thick and hot seed. A shameless scream rips across her throat, “FUCKKKKK!!!” and her ass tightens around your cock like she owes her life to you, hell-bent on repaying her debt in kind tenfold. Streams of her own cum squirt out of her in jets, splattering on the wall and all over her crotch and thighs. She bucks her hips again and again, having lost any semblance of control over her body and mind, each spurt of your baby batter pushing itself into her body simultaneously pushing another of the already very scarce thoughts out of her head. What’s worse is it keeps coming, the realization dawning on you just as her ass overflows and your cum starts running down her legs, that your desire and output were heightened severely by how pent-up the both of you were. 

You pull Yuri down and duck to the floor right as the drunk finally musters enough of his wits together to point and scream. You hear him from the ground, and as far as you can tell he’s there on the street pointing up at an empty window and gathering weird looks from the other passers-by. All the while, you’ve just finished pumping your boss full of cum while she’s still squirming and jerking weakly as her own climax dies down. 

The room once filled with moans and grunts is now silent save for your combined heavy breathing. The heat once again makes itself known to the both of you, best evidenced by her sweat pooling on the ground where her head lay. Pulling out of her, more of your cum flows out of her ass, deepening Yuri’s breathing as she tries wiping more sweat off her brow.

“You good?” Your question is far too innocent for what the two of you just did. All she can do in response is to nod slightly, and maybe offer a drained but satisfied smile. Confirming her condition, you lean over and kiss her on the cheek before lying back down next to her, giving yourself a moment as well to catch your own breath. 

Yuri turns and places her head on your chest, rising and falling with your breathing. She feels your heartbeat and synchronizes her breathing with it, grateful for some semblance of structure back into her life, but at the same time her dependence on you grows yet again, just like she loves it. 

“We can maybe do breakfast muffins tomorrow on the way, no time to cook and all.” You wrap your arm around her and secure her in a cozy embrace. The floor is much cooler than the air in the higher altitudes of the enclosed space you two occupy, and the situation threatens to steal you off to slumber. 

Yuri manages a nod and a mumble and a kiss on your neck. She pushes herself off the floor, yawns, and stretches. “Do you wanna just come in Sunday instead? Stay the weekend with me?” she asks earnestly, crawling to your discarded clothes to retrieve. She hands you yours, and as she does you plant a wet kiss on her lips. 

“As if being here on Sunday is better than Saturday.” 

“Literally nobody's here on Sunday. We can turn up the aircons.” Your boss nuzzles into your neck again, evidently still addicted to your essence. Her afterglow and the low lights only enhance her beauty to near-godlike levels, and it works perfectly to her advantage.

“Fine. But your ass is mine all weekend.”

She giggles, “Fine, as if it isn't already.”

~~~

a/n: for everyone who reads this far look forward to more off*iz from our other very lovely writers!

[salllzy]

Changes chapter 12 sneak peek #1

Blood and bodies littered the floor, Alastor was cleaning his monocle while Sarah pulled flesh and guts from her shoes, there was a look of disgust as she removed a tooth from her high heels. Lucifer wanted to laugh, to let his wonder show. Lucifer knew that they could be terrible and monstrous, he knew that. But it was one thing to know it and another thing to witness it. But that wasn't what got his heart racing and breathing quickening, it was the knowledge that they were doing this for him, for Charlie, for the small family that they had made. No one had ever done anything like this for him, he was the one who did the protecting, that silenced those who badmouthed his family. He had never been on the receiving end of it and it was a strange feeling. One that sent his heart racing and had his breath quickening. No one had ever done this for him and it made him want more, to see what else they were capable of. But he now knew why Stolas had been keeping them away from all the balls and parties that high society liked to throw, there would be no noble families left if they got invited to them all. It was thrilling as it was dangerous but it also told Lucifer that they didn't need any help in the political circles. That he had worried over nothing, however, before the ball he hadn't known what they were capable of. Now he did. He also made a note to make sure that he didn't let them attend any parties or balls without him present, it would be for the best. He would be able to help mitigate any damage and make sure that they didn't get too carried away. “Papa, put that down, you don’t know where it has been.” Lucifer looked over and found that Alastor had set aside a pile of flesh and while he knew that Alastor was a cannibal, he had never seen Alastor consume demon flesh before. It made him wonder how did Alastor chose his victims? Was there a process or did he simply pick someone at random? How did Alastor know what was safe to consume vs what wasn't? Lucifer had many questions and while he would never find the thought of eating demon flesh appealing, he would admit that he was curious about the process of it. He knew that there would be a process, it wasn't something that Alastor would do without thinking about it, Alastor put thought into things. A lot of it. Lucifer had also done some digging, mainly into Alastor’s past relationship and he had found one. The Media Demon, Vox. Lucifer didn't like what he had found and he knew that he would need to do something about Vox and soon, Vox had recently been making inquiries into Alastor’s whereabouts and Lucifer couldn't allow him to do that. He had a couple of options when dealing with the Media Demon, but he knew that he would need help doing so. He didn't know the Media Demons routine, where he worked, who he slept with, how many lovers he had. All he had was a rough draft and a folder as thick as a novel on his relationship with Alastor and it had been toxic. From what he had read the Media Demon had constantly tried to force Alastor into changing his medium, calling him outdated, tacky, among other things. Lucifer thought that it was ludicrous given that Hell’s technology ran on radio waves. 

[autumnslance]

Writing To Yourself

(Mileage may vary, I'm not your mom nor your teacher--unless you're working for a specific state healthcare service, anyway.)

That's how you garden. Tend the plot. Plant a million seeds, reap a thousand blooms. The rest? Compost for the next crop. -@biot08 / @driftward

During a Discord convo, I thought about why so many fandom writers catch “writer’s block”, and some of it goes back to self-care and taking in new media, getting inspiration and knowledge, covered in this post. But much of it?

People think everything they create has to be publishable for others’ consumption. That is Not True. Too often we don't want to write things just for the sake of writing them, falling into the trap of thinking it needs to be perfectly polished and shared, but No It Really Doesn't.

Folks talk about “writing for oneself” but in terms of posting finished pieces of the kinds they want to see. If everything feels like it “has to be” publishable, it can start to put too much pressure on oneself. And then there’s your block, especially if the type to worry about how others Perceive you and your art.

Try simply writing anything and deciding later if it's something you want to share. I have pieces I wrote cuz my brain suddenly said it wanted to, but that writing isn't posted anywhere. Usually it’s random lines; out of context sentences, scenes, or bits of dialogue. Sometimes just incoherent character rambling. Ideas for situations and what ifs. Misspelled, typos, not grammatical, redundant wording, passive voice, bad POV, too many adverbs, not enough active verbs, not enough description, too much description, etc. All in notebooks or doc files. I’ve shared the (now out-dated) deep nests of my WIPs folders and the multiple, unfinished, unpolished pieces within them. Most will never be completed nor seen by the public. 

For instance, I've a random smut fic of a Highlander Warrior of Light and the popular antagonist of Shadowbringers. I'm not usually a villain liker, but one day it hit my brain, so I wrote it. I have notes and outlines for the rest of their story and how it plays out, though I'll probably never write more. I scratched the writing itch, stretched some skills, considered things from a different angle, and now it sits in drafts (I did post a couple decent-ish smut lines to my private Twitter once).

Mostly, it's practice. Even if it's junk and janky.

“But I have (professionally) published X or Y…”

Still gotta exercise the writing muscles! Still gotta scrawl off something utterly unusable now and again for the heck of it!

All those random lines, descriptions, scenes, rambles? Maybe I'll use them someday. I wrote them down to feel the pen in my hand or keys clacking under my fingers, to see the words pop onto the page or screen, to play with word choice, sentence structures, and “how would they say that?” For my own satisfaction, no one else’s.

When I get bored or stuck, or need a screenshot or writing prompt response, I might poke at those lines, pages, rambles, and see if they hit now or spin off to something else. They often don’t. But sometimes they help inform other things I do post to the public later. Even if that’s just a Question of the Day prompt response on Twitter.

(That also counts as writing and creating btw; you’re still coming up with something to share about your characters and I think that’s very creative of you.)

If the mood strikes, write. Even if it's just a vague idea--especially if it's any bits of dialogue or description, if it's something you think that you actually do want to write when off work or out of bed or whatever.

Even if you never post it anywhere public. Even if it never gets out of crummy first draft, unfinished pages form. It might feel like pulling teeth and look rough, especially if it’s been awhile.

But still write it. No one else has to know or see. Not until you want them to.

Maybe parts of it will inform something you do finish later. Maybe two years from now another prompt will hit just right and you’ll dig out that draft and finish it for posting. Maybe you’ll cannibalize aspects of it for an entirely different piece. Maybe you’ll even use it in a few more years to see how far you’ve come as a writer.

In many cases? That's how you actually keep writer's block away. Keeping ideas around to steal from yourself, letting yourself write nonsense, unpublishable bits and pieces, maybe even whole pages, just for the heck of it, if writing is something one enjoys and wants to stick with as a hobby (or professionally). If you don’t enjoy writing for fun? Don’t force it; do little character prompts and blurbs as they feel right, and find the ways to share creativity that work for you.

And seriously, don’t forget to take in new media, experiences, and information. This is How You Lose the Time War got me writing on an original story I shelved last autumn. The stories aren't at all alike! But seeing new words in new ways helped shake something loose in my brain. So try to make some time for that, too.

Write to yourself, not for others’ consumption. Public posting is great for validation and encouragement, for when we feel the urge to share due to pride or just wanting to gush about our faves. But also let yourself remember why you liked creating worlds, making up stuff about your characters, and writing at all to begin with, without the pressure of public posting. Give yourself some grace, and let it all be messy, unhinged, misspelled, ungrammatical, incomplete, and make no narrative sense.

Write to yourself, for yourself. Then let the rest follow.

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

B. Summers They/Them

Send me an ask with a title that intrigues you from my list of wip's and I'll tell you something about it or post a snippet from it.

So, this fic!! This one was WAY in the back of my drafts. I know I've only posted two trans Buffy fics so far, but I have a gazillion more in draft and/or idea form haha, but I often play with the concept of gender + self-discovery/realization fics OR Buffy already has come out as trans and everyone who needs to know already knows fics.

I also have a bunch of Buffy and Giles gender conversation fics (I love that you picked a Buffy and Giles fic completely at random btw!!!) but those fics tend to be post-Chosen Buffy coming out to everyone including Giles, or early seasons when Buffy is most desperate for that dad approval. So in these fics, they already have some sort of established relationship, and Buffy is worried coming out will potentially endanger relationships.

This fic idea was formulated out of an idea to subvert my usual. It's a rewrite of Buffy and Giles' very first conversation(s). Buffy arrives in Sunnydale already knowing EXACTLY who they are and not only are they angry that there is another watcher waiting here for them and all of the reasons they're angry in canon, but they're already pre-angry about all of the gender bullshit Merrick heaped onto them. They have no desire to so much as interact with someone who insists that the slayers are always girls. Buffy is Not A Girl.

Here's the thing about this fic. I think I mentioned to you once that I was playing around with the idea of trans Buffy fics but I was too afraid to post any of my ideas for a while. This fic is dated as last being worked on in August 2022... Unlike some of my other ideas, I didn't leave an outline for myself so I have NO IDEA where I was going with this fic. Was it just the one conversation? A rewrite of the entire first two episodes? Did I want to go further than that and explore future character interactions in this universe (probably with time skips because I don't think this would change all that much)??? Again, NO CLUE.

If this interests you at all, lemme know and maybe someday I'll pull it back out and see if I can salvage it into something worth posting! Otherwise it may die a slow ignored death in my drafts folder because...no idea where I was going with this fic haha

(Also, the entire reason it's called B. Summers is because sometimes I like to keep trans Buffy's name the same and other times I like to play around with the concept that they might change it, and what would they change it to? Despite the huge wealth of names out there, I am weirdly attached to the "B" ones, even though there aren't that many I like. So Buffy is B. in my drafts until I decide whether they'll be Bly or Blaire or Blake or just stay B. I have a name I do like, but I'm not sharing it here since it's the name I've chosen for another WIP haha)

[dystini]

17, 23, 29

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

That drivers' careers are way more intertwined than I thought. The number of times I've grumbled "What do you mean they raced against each other in carts (F3, some regional series, etc) back in the day? I thought they'd never met before Indycar."

And that carting records for the 30+ yo drivers are sketchy as fuck. "Yes, I do need to know where that race took place and how they both finished. It's very important to the plot." *glares at Josef and Conor's history*

23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)?

2000 words. Seriously, that's my chapter goal. Stopping at 1990 words is acceptable. Up to 3000 is okay. Usually it's in the 2100 - 2200 range.

I write in scenes anyway. Usually with different povs. So it's just a matter of ending the scene and having enough scenes to fill the word count. I write sparse so if I'm 100 words short, I can usually go back and add description or embellishment to reach it. Sex scenes usually cause me to go way over word count if it's not the only scene in the chapter.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Okay, so I write a single draft and don't particularly edit so any changes I do make are done right in that draft - no deleted scenes or old drafts to pull from. I also don't keep stories that I'll never post ( not that I've ever finished one and decided not to post it).

So fic idea it is. Except, as I look through my WIP/idea folder, I have every intention of getting to these ideas...someday. I cull it every few months, deleting things I've changed my mind about writing.

I have one file, titled "Hinch's young harem" that is blank, no notes at all. I vaguely remember something about him collecting up some rookies every year somehow but no more than that. Probably won't write this one since I've got no idea what to write.

[soleminisanction]

Geminids?

That's the folder where I keep all my scraps, outlines and ideas for the sequel stories I'd like to write for Blood of the Covenant, an AU that I love and desperately want to get back to. Most of the snippets in there right now are random scraps from various points around the altered timeline and probably won't make it into a final draft in their current form, but there's a few that I really like.

Case in point:

“At least I don’t look like Dr. Midnight!” "Tough talk from the girl dressed like a mall walker." Spoiler squawks indignantly. Tim claps a hand over his mouth, but isn't fast enough to cover his snort of amusement. "Cassie!"  "What? She can dish it out but can't take it?" "My mom's got a tracksuit in that exact pattern. And who told you the utility garter belt was a good idea? It looks like a fanny pack you don't know how to wear properly."

and

"Boys. I think you're both ignoring the obvious solution here."  Cassie got up and took Kon by the shoulders, guiding him to shuffle to one side until he was pressed against the couch's left-side arm rest. Then she coaxed Tim to stand up and then sit again so that he leaned into the right-hand arm rest, leaving the cushion in the center for Cassie to sit in herself. She guided their arms to stretch along the back cushions and take each other's hands. Then she took the other, outer hands, one in each of her own, pulled them around her waist, and held them there with a content sigh.  When he realized what she meant, Kon squeezed his hand back. "You're serious?"  "Completely."

Like I said, I doubt these scenes will show up in exactly this same format, but it is kinda where I want the story to go -- Tim and Cassie acting as partners, a confrontation with Steph that leads them to go looking for Cass Cain, and eventually a happy menage a trois with Kon when he's back from the dead because those three are soulmates (with Bart as their queerplatonic fourth) and I will die on that hill.

[imtooscaredforthis]

Fixation

Chapter Six- Face off

Mentions of: Stalking, Death, Paranoia, Threats, Harassment, etc.

Finishing off your final draft, you shoved the papers into a folder, laying back on your couch. It was late, just before midnight, and you finally got caught up on all your work. All you wanted to do was relax, watch some tv and get some sleep.

So you turned on the television, and the first thing to come up was the news, an all too familiar face appearing on the screen. “Thirty-nine-year-old Debra Minty was found murdered in her home Thursday night, discovered by her very own husband with multiple stab wounds, and a slit in her throat. Police are scrambling to get on the case. Could this be another Ghostface murder? Detectives are saying it’s a possibility.”

Feeling the shock run through you, you shut off the tv. You couldn’t say she didn’t have it coming, but you still felt horrible for what she and her family had to go through. The pain of loss, you had experienced it before, multiple times. But how, and why her?

Maybe he was just doing you a favor. The more sick part of your mind thought, and almost immediately, you pushed it away, scolding yourself for even letting that get into your head.

Then, your phone rang, but you decided not to answer it. You knew that Charlotte was probably sleeping right now, and no one else would be willing to call you at this time, unless it was trouble, so you decided not to answer.

But it just rang again, and again, until you gave in and went to answer it. “What?”

“You know, it’s quite rude to ignore someone’s call.” A low, alluring voice said from the other line. You felt your body tense all over, eyes darting around. Was someone watching you?

“Who is this?” You asked, hiding your anxiety with a tone of accusation.

“Let’s just say, a fan. I have to admit, those shorts are really doing something for you. Cute tank top, too.” You felt your throat dry up at that comment, spinning around and scanning the area. You were no longer alone, but were you alone in the first place? Had he been watching you this whole night, or even times before that?

“Listen here, you sick fuck, I’ll give you five seconds to hang up before I call the cops.” You threatened him, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on the stranger.

“And what’ll you say? ‘Oh, help me, help me, some random guy is calling and complimenting me.’ Even if they do believe you, it’s not like they’d do anything.” He mocked your tone, not even phased by your words.

You rubbed the side of your head, letting out a shaky breath, and feeling your legs begin to tremble. “W-what do you want from me?”

“I just want to play, and maybe come in and carve up that pretty skin of yours.” With that, your suspicions were immediately confirmed, and you knew exactly who it was.

The man who had been stalking you, tormenting you with phone calls, was none other than Ghostface.

“Y-you’re-”

“That’s right, and you are (y/n), my little fanatic.” He spoke as if you were some sort of pet, and it made you feel sick.

How did he know you? Had he stalked you? Followed you? Learned all he could about you just like the others? The thought made your stomach churn even more.

You hung up, running up the stairs to your room, and going into your closet. Inside, you undid the lock to your safe and pulled out a shotgun that had your initials carved on them. You grabbed some ammo, stuffing the shells into the gun and cocking it. You were raised on a ranch, so of course you’d have a gun with you.

When you ran back downstairs, a different phone was ringing this time. Instead of your landline, it was the phone you usually brought around, one that wasn’t always on a hook. You brought the brick-like device to your ear, your shotgun in your free hand.

“Check your kitchen counter.” You looked over on your left, seeing a photo of you rummaging through your closet mere minutes ago. But how could he be that fast?

“The next time you hang up on me, I won’t let you off so easy. Now, why don’t you try and come find me? Before I come in myself. Your front door looks like a nice start.”

Tucking your phone under your ear, you ran out to the door, kicking it open, shotgun in both hands. There was no one there. You let out a huff of frustration. He was playing with you, trying to get in your head. You knew how he did this sort of thing, so why couldn’t you predict him?

It didn’t matter. You just had to show him that you weren’t the type of person to be messed with. So, you aimed your shotgun at the sky, firing it off. “You hear that, motherfucker? Try me and I’ll blow your whole arm off.”

“Oooh, so she has some spunk to her. I like that. It makes this little game of cat and mouse much more fun.” There wasn’t an ounce of fear in his voice. Did he not believe that you could shoot him? That you could kill him?

“Come and get me, you bastard.” You hissed.

“Oh don’t worry, I will.” He retorted, his tone growing sadistic. He ended the call, and you knew this was happening.

So you waited for him, preparing yourself. As the minutes passed slowly, you began to wonder if he was just toying with you. You let down your guard slightly, leaning your back against the door frame, keeping one knee up, and resting the gun on your thigh, sighing softly.

Suddenly, the flash of a camera shined in your eyes, making you jump, and the gun to fire at the tree in your front lawn. Once your eyes adjusted, you saw that Ghostface was nowhere to be seen.

“Behind you.” You heard his voice call, and you spun around, shooting the gun right at him. But it wasn’t him, it was his reflection, and you had just shot a hole into your mirror.

The glass shattered, and you emptied the shotgun, replacing the ammo with two new ones you had in your pocket. You looked all around, scanning the place. It seemed that he was gone.

Your phone rang, and you went over to pick it up, already knowing who it was. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“So eager for me to come in, huh? How sweet. It’s a tempting offer, but, unfortunately, it seems we’re done for now since your little show got some cops to come over. To be continued, Doll.” You felt some bile creep in your throat at the nickname, and heard him hang up.

Your encounter with Ghostface was over, and it seemed that you had some other problems to deal with. Peering through the window, you saw two officers pulling up to your home. One was Jackson, and the other was someone you didn’t recognize.

They stepped out of their car, walking up to the house, the man you were unfamiliar with now studying the baseball-sized hole in your tree. That was going to be fun to explain, as well as your mirror. You quickly went to answer it, as soon as they knocked.

“We got a call about a domestic disturbance, some people down the road were saying they heard gunshots.” The officer told you.

“I was right about to call. Ghostface was here, he was right in my house, and he was the one who had been following me around and stalking me and calling my phone. He tried getting in and attacking me, but I managed to keep him away.” You explained.

The police both traced glances, then deciding to do a brief search around your home. “There’s no signs of forced entry. Why didn’t you call us before?”

“Because I just thought it was a prank or something. But I’ve been stalked, and harassed, I even told Deputy Jackson I was being followed the other night.” You answered.

The cop looked over at Jackson. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, I didn’t see anyone.” Jackson muttered, scratching the back of his head. That made you mad. So he just completely overlooked what you told him and didn’t even think of telling anybody else?

“Ma’am, we heard that you had a little outburst at Mullin’s, during an altercation with the recently deceased Debra Minty. Would you happen to know anything about her death?” The officer proceeded to ask, further pissing you off.

“Oh my god. You’re kidding, right? So you don’t believe me at all, and you just went right on to questioning me?” You began to raise your voice, mentally reminding yourself that these were cops, and if you slapped them, you would go to prison.

“Well, there’s no physical evidence-”

“I’ll show you some evidence. He took a photo of me! And it’s right- where did it go?” You looked around searching for the photo frantically. It was like it had disappeared into thin air, but you knew Ghostface probably just took it with him when he left. He really was meticulous with his work.

“It seems that you’ve undergone immense stress. So why don’t you just relax, and get some rest? We’ll send a detective over to question you about Debra’s death, just as a formality. Have a nice night.” It was obvious that this cop thought you were having a mental breakdown of some sort, and wanted to get the hell out of there.

You watched as he left, leaving you and Deputy Jackson alone. It seemed he could tell that you weren’t pleased with him, especially the way your eyes were practically burning through him. “C’mon, don’t look at me like that. It was out of my control, there was no evidence.”

He put a hand on your shoulder, thumb caressing it softly and sending disgusting vibes through you. “I promise I’ll do my best to protect you. And remember if you need anything, anything at all, just give me a call. I need to go now, but I’ll see you around.”

You faked a smile, attempting to please the officer. “Alright.”

So much for serving and protecting.

You watched as the cops left, and went up to bed. After some restless tossing and turning, you eventually slept, cradling your shotgun.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

msr + world war ii

the way I could technically spin this to fit with the actual canon in-universe AU (6×03 Triangle) but like... I'm actually gonna do a twist on the 50s AU I started trying to write while I was brainfried from a cold this past week lol. this is so random and probably won't make any sense without reading my tags on this post lol

Binary Star

~2k words | WWII AU Pilot | pre-MSR | AO3

Dana Scully nearly lost her younger brother from violent illness when she was eight years old. What she did lose was the proper use of her left leg, but what she gained was an intense need for understanding of the human body. It's only intensified as she grows older, fights her way into medical school right as boys her brother's age are fighting their way through enemy lines in Europe.

Young men in the prime of their lives with the lives they planned to lead stolen from them see a young, pretty woman with a crippled leg using a cane coming to treat their injuries and they have one of two reactions: they either look sidelong at her with scorn, or they start crying. All the doctors are healthy, said one boy, her younger brother's age, and no one can understand each other. That's the moment Dana knows she chose the right profession.

Fox Mulder lost his little sister when he was twelve, and gained an intense need to understand why, and what happened. His father was a government contractor before the War, and got back in with the secret services as soon as the States decided to step in. Fox dodged the draft because of the familial privilege that couldn't save his kid sister, and because the FBI wanted him on the home front. Maybe his father couldn't bear to sacrifice another child to whatever happens behind the scenes in those smoke-filled government offices where they claim war plans are made, when really it's so much more than that.

Dana has seen things that she can't explain. Men with their flesh eaten away, that she can only treat with dangerous doses of painkillers; some who came home with fifty years added to their age after only being gone for a few months; a nurse who exhibited symptoms of radiation exposure despite never leaving the country and another who died painfully of a tumor that Dana has only ever seen in illustrations, eating through her sinus cavity into her brain. That last is the one that piques Dana's medical curiosity; the woman had insisted with a surprising gravity and calmness that she'd been abducted and experimented on. The vividness of her descriptions, of white light and fear she could never fully remember, was such that Dana has to doubt it was all contrived, or a symptom of the cancer. She's heard talk of conspiracies, the government conducting secret experiments in New Mexico or other unlikely places; her sister believes it all, but Dana questions. She wants to know.

Mulder isn't expecting the knock on the door of the basement office; he isn't even supposed to be down here. There are more important things to worry about and work on than the mysterious x-files, what with a war going on all around them. But there's a folder down here with his sister's name on it, because if any case can be considered unexplained, it's Samantha's abduction. His father had ordered an FBI investigation, but Mulder thinks it was all for show. He knows a little too much about what goes on down in Roswell, New Mexico; just enough that he keeps a lookout over his shoulder. No one knows he came down here again, so he pretends he doesn't know he's always putting himself in danger and he quips that there's no one down here, just the FBI's most unwanted.

Dana was told she might find the man she's looking for down here, in an unused office full of files. She wonders if her answers are down here, or if Fox Mulder is holding them in his hands. He pulls off a pair of reading glasses and looks at her with mild surprise. "Agent Mulder," she says, resting both hands primly on the buffed, comfortable handle of her cane, "I was told you might be able to help me."

He listens, absolutely intent, to the little doctor who limps into his office and rattles off a description that lines up with half the abductee stories he's heard. He has permission to take a case in Oregon, teenagers disappearing and coming back wrong or broken. It sounds a little too much like the boys who are sent home from the front lines, and a little too unearthly; they're sending him to make sure whatever facet of their conspiracy it is doesn't get out. So, on impulse, he invites Dana Scully to come along with him. He doesn't have a partner right now, he says — Diana was sent to a Naval base overseas — and he could use her medical expertise. Maybe they can help each other.

"Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?" He asks when he hands her the file, and Dana scoffs. Her patients have told her some terrible, inexplicable tales, but no matter what she doesn't see behind the scenes of this war, she's never given credence to the notion.

"Logically," she replies, "I would have to say no. Given the distances needed to travel from the far distances of space, the energy requirements would exceed any kind of craft's capabilities."

Mulder's eyes brighten and he smirks. "That, Dr. Scully, is conventional wisdom. What do we do when, in the case of these kids or your patient who died, convention and science don't offer us the answers we need?"

"The answers are there, you just have to know where to look." This is the tenet she has built her life on. Her search for knowledge began when she was eight years old, the first time she questioned God and the world she lives in, and has led her here. And when she's on a train the next day, sitting across from Mulder's sleeping form, she wonders if this is the right place to look.

Mulder squints one eye open, watching the little doctor, or maybe little spy, as she watches things he can't see pass by outside the window. She's got bright, curious eyes; he'd seen it in how intensely she argued with him about the existence of life beside their own, in the way she fixed him in her gaze like she was trying to figure him out. He's still doing the same; he's just as curious about her as she seems to be about the world around them.

He rolls onto his side, reaches across the space between them and carefully taps her left knee — the one she favors, pretty heavily by the worn look of the top of her cane. "A doctor with a gimp leg?" He asks, maybe a little bit teasingly just to see the reaction he'll elicit from her, when she looks at him.

Dana is used to the questions about her disability, but she's also used to the disapproval or doubt in her soundness as a physician that tends to come with it. Mulder, sprawled across the seat in front of her, seems purely curious. She blinks down at him, finding it strange because when they're standing, he's so much taller, and folds her hands on top of her knee.

"Polio," she explains. "When I was a girl. One of my brothers nearly died, I came up crippled. That's the reason I went into medicine, actually."

Mulder nods, like he understands. Later, in a dark hotel room, he'll tell her how the loss of his sister sent him running to solve mysteries that others wouldn't care about; they might just be more similar than either of them thinks. Their innate curiosity, longing for knowledge, to understand, draws them together. They both want to understand each other, as well.

Dana isn't an investigator, but Mulder is a mystery she wants to solve. He touches her gently, hesitantly, when she impulsively flies into his arms, he flinches at the flames when the hotel lights on fire and then turns angry. His entire face lights up in a tremendous, all-consuming grin when she starts laughing in disbelief in the cemetery and he catches her when her cane slips and she loses her footing on the wet terrain. He calls her by her last name, not her title or "Miss" like she's used to hearing; it reminds her of how people have always referred to her father.

For a moment, it's like there's no war; she forgets about Bill Jr. deployed with the Navy, forgets about Charlie deserting from boot camp and never calling. She forgets, for a second, that she is not and will never be normal or whole, and that she's caught up in a mystery that might put her in danger.

Scully argues with him, almost constantly. She's the skeptical daughter of a Navy captain who's spent her life fighting for a place in a profession that would have her be only a nurse, secondary to everyone else. She questions everything, won't believe a word of his theories. But she listens. She doesn't disregard him, doesn't tell him he'd be better off codebreaking or spying on the Axis; she wants to learn, wants scientific answers for unscientific questions, and when she's caught in a corner, barely staying upright because it's muddy out and she's staring down into an empty grave, she laughs. She doesn't rail against her own lack of knowledge, doesn't argue the way she's been since the moment they met. She looks up at him, something intense shining in her eyes, and she laughs. Mulder cannot comprehend her.

She loses her cane trying to keep up with him in the woods, trying to either hide from or find the source of the blinding lights hovering over the forest. He's not sure which it is; if she thinks they're in danger, or if she wants to know more. Billy Miles, comatose only hours before, is in the light, with Theresa Nemman in his arms. The wind picks up, the light blinds him, and he's not sure where Scully is or if she's seeing this; he hopes she is.

She shouts his name over the sound of the wind whipping through the branches, and he finds her limping through the undergrowth, shining her light toward the ground. He drops to his knees and digs around in the brush for a minute, counting the seconds. He wonders if his watch will have lost time again. Scully balances herself against his shoulder, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"It was incredible," he breathes, and she nods.

Her mind is playing air raid sirens, instincts shouting at her to get out of there, that the light came from a foreign plane or weaponry; nothing she's ever heard of can hover that way, though, and she knows Mulder is thinking of flying saucers. She can see it in his eyes, feels it mirrored in herself when she sees the sheriff's boy and the medical examiner's daughter, alive and whole. It's absolute wonder.

She came here looking for answers, but found something she cannot explain. No answer, just more questions. She's found a mystery, or maybe two. Maybe a friend. Maybe more.

He knows, as well as he knows the back of his own hand, that there are, in fact, more important things to worry about. Abductions by extraterrestrials, experiments done by the government or secret services, should be secondary to winning the war, but what if the two go hand in hand? What if the same is true of him and Scully; she's small and curious and determined enough to be a soldier herself, fits into the mysteries he's after like she was born to be there.

Neither of them expected to find each other in the midst of the tension wrought by the war. Maybe neither of them knew where to look.

[natasha-romanoff-deserved-better]

Clintasha Advent 2021

Day Ten: Missions

CW for mentions of past childhood abuse

~~~

Clint slams the file folders down onto the table. “No. Absolutely not.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Natasha signs from her spot on their couch, not looking at him. “Clint… It’s just another mission. It’s not that big of a deal.”

It was the wrong thing to say, because Clint’s face turns even more sour. “It’s a fucking Honeypot mission. And in Russia.” He spits the last word, hatred seeping from his voice. “You’re not doing it. There’s no way.” Clint paces. “I don’t even know what the hell is wrong with Fury. Why would he ever think this was okay in the slightest?”

Actually, Clint does know why. It’s a line that bristles him every time Fury repeats the damn phrase. “Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.”

It was a complete lack of human empathy. Using Natasha’s fear of turning down missions to have her do SHIELD’s dirty work, falling back on her old training to never refuse orders.

“Fury said there’s no one else who could—”

“Fuck that.” Clint interrupts. “There’s plenty of agents here who are willing to do Honeypots who weren’t brainwashed and abused into them from childhood. And if not, he can fucking find another way to get the intel.”

Natasha deflates at the mention of her past. She knows he’s right. She has no doubt she would be able to complete the mission, but it was the mental aftermath of it that would be a problem. Clint watches as the fight drains out of her, and softens his tone.

“It’s not okay for him to use you like that, Nat. He’ll understand you saying no.” He comes to sit next to her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. She resists at first, before giving in and accepting his comfort.

“Thank you.” She whispers into his shoulder. He hums in response, and clicks on a random movie to distract them with. He waits until Nat’s breath evens out, indicating she had finally fallen asleep, and slips his phone out of his pocket.

With one hand, he finds Maria Hill’s contact and opens a new message draft. We need to talk, He types out and hits send. He had promised Natasha that SHIELD would be nothing like her old Red Room handlers, and he intended to keep that promise, no matter what it took.

[anna-justice]

come back (be here)

part one of upstead: but make it taylor swift

summary: I guess you're in New York today, I don't wanna need you this way (or: hailey is in new york and jay misses her more than you could ever imagine). read on ao3

…

and this is when the feeling sinks in, I don't wanna miss you like this,

come back...be here, 

come back...be here

I guess you're in New York today, I don't wanna need you this way,

come back...be here,

come back...be here

taxi cabs and busy streets,

that never bring you back to me,

I can't help but wish you took me with you

this is falling in love in the cruelest way,

this is falling for you and you are worlds away,

in New York, be here

~ come back...be here by taylor swift

…

day one

It had been 12 hours since Jay dropped her off at the airport, 12 hours since she gave him a teary smile and jumped out of the cab, 12 hours since he watched her disappear behind the glass doors, and it felt like it had been forever. 

He walked in the district with a new darkness looming over his head, he felt like a storm cloud was following him around. It had only been 12 hours, but he already felt like the life had been sucked out of him. He loved his job, he loved his team, but there was something missing and he couldn’t shake it. He wasn’t sure he would until she was sitting in front of him again. 

As he climbed the stairs to the bullpen - ignoring the knowing look from his desk sergeant - he gave the room a once over. It was like he was taken back in time. The familiar feeling of dread settling in his stomach as he ascended the stairs alone, it had been many years since he felt a similar sense of loneliness. 

Erin was an afterthought now, but in that moment he felt like a child again. The same dumb kid who lied and slept with his “informants,” who always took it too far and leaped before he even thought to look. He hadn’t been that person in a long time, not since Hailey. He still leaped but now he had someone who took the jump with him and she always made sure that he looked first. There was part of him that was scared with her gone, he would have no one to keep him from falling off the deep end. 

“Earth to Halstead.” He heard and then was startled by a hand waving in front of his face. He picked his head up out of his hands and laid back into his chair, feigning a stretch. “You good man? You look like death.” It was Kevin, who had a tiny smirk on his face. 

Jay nodded, chuckling nervously. “Yeah, uh, just didn’t sleep well.” 

Kim stifled a laugh across the room, Vanessa gave him a knowing look  and Adam shook his head, leaning on his desk. “Yeah, okay…” He waltzed across the room to Jay and Kevin, motioning to Hailey’s empty desk, “She have an okay flight?” He asked, knowing that Jay knew.

It caught him off guard, he wasn’t lying about not sleeping well, but he didn’t say that it was because he stayed up all night waiting for Hailey to say that she made it safely to her hotel. He nodded, “Yeah, she landed at like 3:00 this morning, said the room they put her up in was nice.” 

“Good,” Kevin said, nudging Jay’s shoulder. “Glad they are taking care of our girl.” The words made Jay crack a smile, the first one since he had bid Hailey goodbye the night before. 

He glanced at the empty desk again, picking up his phone and snapping a picture of it. He clicked on his partner’s contact info and drafted a text. 

Jay: My pens miss you. 

It was short, and could be taken as sweet, but it was still enough to make his heart beat a little faster as he hit send. The nerves started to set in immediately after he flipped his phone over. Everyone in the room knew that Hailey would reach across their computer screens to steal a pen or pencil whenever she needed, hers were lost as soon as she got them: whether they had fallen from behind her ear or were dropped on the floor. She never had one, but Jay found himself worried that she would think it was a little weird that he had noticed all those things too. 

His phone buzzed against the fake wood not long after, and he turned it over a little faster than he would like to admit. 

Hailey: I miss them too, you buy the good kind. 

A grin across his face as soon as he read it, and he coughed out a subtle laugh. For a second - only a second - he let himself pretend they weren’t talking about pens, but they were. 

Jay: Have a good day :) 

Her response came almost immediately. 

Hailey: You too Jay :)

He leaned back in seat, sighing. It wasn’t the same as watching her from across their desks or clearing a scene together, or even just hearing her voice. But, it was the first day, he needed to pace himself. There would be plenty of time to miss her, and for now, this was enough.

day two

Jay poured himself another cup of coffee, he hadn’t been able to focus all day. He was telling everyone else that he had a headache, but he knew it was from Hailey’s words still ringing in his head. 

“I miss the wind, and you.” 

It was literally all he could think about since their conversation early that morning as they both walked into work - unfortunately - 800 miles apart. He would admit, it was much better than his lonely walk into the district the day before, it was almost like she was with him, but not close enough. 

He took a big sip of his coffee, pinching the bridge of his nose (okay, so maybe he really did have a headache). The bullpen was buzzing, everyone else seemingly unaffected by his partner’s absence. He made his way back towards his desk, dodging Kevin, who scored against Adam in their game of trashketball (their favorite pass times on slow days). 

“You wanna play the winner?” Kevin asked, stepping back for Adam to make a free throw (Kim called a foul). 

Jay shook his head, “Nah man, I’m good.” He stood over her desk, staring down at the stack of files that were left there. She was gone in such a hurry that she didn’t even get the chance to clean it off. He picked up the one on top, pretending to read it. 

“Hey,” He heard from behind him. He flinched, spinning to face the brunette behind him. “You good?” Vanessa asked. 

Jay sighed, “Uh, yeah, just looking at Hailey’s paperwork. It needs to be filed.” He threw the folder back down and leaned against it. “I just hope it’s done.” He joked weakly. 

Vanessa looked down at the pile and smirked at him, laying a hand over the top. “I’m sure it is, it’s not like Hailey to leave unfinished business.” Jay didn’t dare raise his gaze to look at her, he knew there was shock written all over his face. Not that he should be surprised, it wasn’t like Vanessa to beat around the bush. 

Maybe he was reading into things, but he was almost 100% sure they weren’t talking about paperwork. He laughed it off, “Yeah, she always finishes before me and then proof reads mine. She doesn’t trust me to do it right.” 

The brunette shook her head, chuckling with him. She shrugged, “Or maybe it’s just an excuse to spend time with you.” With that she waltzed into the break room, throwing a wink over her shoulder at a stunned Jay. 

He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings (or really even acknowledge them) and the thought of being as open as Vanessa had just been was making him want to vomit. It was so easy for her to throw that at him - that Hailey likes spending time with him - why was it so hard for him to say it? It’s not like he didn’t know, she did too, they were each other’s favorite people. It had just ever been said so directly. 

His feet carried him faster than his brain could catch up and he followed Vanessa, closing the door behind him. “What Jay?” She asked, without even turning around. 

Jay took a breath, he hadn’t really thought about what to say here, but he needed something. It had only been two days, but he was going crazy. He missed her like crazy. “You are being cryptic.” 

“Actually,” Vanessa said, turning to face him. “I’m being the opposite of cryptic.”

Jay shook his head, “Really? I don’t think so. I just feel like I’m reading into what you are saying or that you are implying something-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, before you completely eat your own foot.” She smiled softly, “I’m not implying or saying anything Jay. I’m just saying that it’s okay to miss her and it’s okay to worry about her, she’s your partner. You’ve got to have her back.” She winked at him and headed for the door, “Just, don’t be afraid to tell her that. Tell her what you are feeling.” 

After she left the room, Jay let out a sigh. He muttered under his breath, “And she says she’s not being cryptic.” But, even if Vanessa was talking in riddles, she was right. He pulled out his phone and clicked on her name. 

Jay: Just so you know, I miss you too. A lot. 

The typing bubble appeared on the screen seconds later.

Hailey: Me too. A lot. 

day three

The third day was Tuesday, which was the day that he and Hailey normally had off, just not from each other. They would meet at her place at eight and go to the gym together then grab breakfast, then from there it was a toss up depending on each of their days. However, almost every time they ended up at the shooting range. Today was no different. 

Jay left his apartment 10 minutes later than normal, arriving at their gym alone at 8:15. It was weird walking in alone. Sure, he went to workout plenty without her, but never on a Tuesday, never at that time of day and never at that gym. There was one right around the corner from his apartment, but Hailey was weird about working out in front of people and she felt more comfortable on her own, so he just got another membership. He never really thought anything of it.

Not until now, walking into Hailey’s gym alone felt wrong. But, what felt worse was that it hadn’t even accrued to him to just go to his own. No, Tuesday’s were different, and he liked them. He just wasn’t sure if he liked them without her.

He walked in, ran several miles on the treadmill and had moved to the weight station when a random girl approached him. He continued his reps as he noticed her making her way towards him. “Hey macho,” She said, smiling brightly, “You mind spotting me?” 

Jay looked around him - he was kind of in the middle of something - but he didn’t really mind. So, he shrugged and set his weight down before following her. 

She laid down on the bench and positioned herself under the metal bar, signaling to Jay to help her lift it off. She lowered it slowly, taking a breath before pushing it back up, “So,” She huffed, “Where’s your girlfriend?” 

Jay’s eyebrows laced together, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” He said matter of factly. 

“Then who is that blonde girl you are always here with?” She asked, starting to struggle at pushing the bar back up. 

Jay realized two things. One: this girl had been watching him for a bit and decided to make a move when his “girlfriend” wasn’t around. That’s off putting. And two: she thought Hailey was his girlfriend, and that made him smile. “That’s my partner, I’m a cop. Detective really.” 

He caught the bar with ease as she lost steam, watching her cautiously as she sat up. “Good to know.” She grabbed her water bottle from beside the bench and gave him a smirk, “Thank you.” Jay gave her a short nod before retreating back to his bench, he was ready to be done and get out of there.

About 30 minutes later, Jay walked into the locker room to grab his bag from his locker, when he got there, there was a note taped to the door. 

If that really isn’t your girlfriend, give me a call ;) 

~ Maddie (xxx-xxx-xxxx) 

Jay peeled it off and shook his head before grabbing his grab, tossing it in the trash as he left the room. He made his way to his truck, figuring he had time to shower at home before heading to the shooting range. He and Hailey hadn’t been in a few weeks, and he was due for recertification (honestly, he didn’t even know why they bothered, he got a perfect score everytime). 

About an hour later he was on his way there, and the familiar drive felt strange coming from a different place. If he was being honest, everything felt strange. 

When he pulled in the parking lot, he parked in his normal spot and jumped out. It was almost never busy at 10 on a Tuesday. He looked up and took in the sign out front The Old Chicago Range, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture, sending it to Hailey. 

Jay: Be jealous :)

As he pulled the door open, he met familiar faces. That was their favorite thing about this place. He would admit, maybe a shooting range isn’t exactly the kind of family business you would want to pass down, but it had worked for the owners. The same four men had been working there for the past three years, and long before Hailey and Jay started going there. The place was relatively small, but they were always in great company. It was owned by 2 brothers and their cousins, whose fathers had passed it to them. All of them were ex-military or retired CPD officers, so Jay felt right at home. 

“Jay!” One of the brothers, Robbie, said from behind the counter. He jumped out of his seat and rounded it to shake Jay’s hand. 

Jay took it, squeezing it firmly, the way they were both taught. “Hey Rob, good to see you.” 

The older man headed back towards the computer, “Same as always?” He asked.

He almost said yes, but then he realized Hailey wasn’t getting their guns out of the truck. “No, uh, just me today.” 

Robbie looked up, it seemed a little dramatic, but they had never come without each other before. “Oh, is everything alright?” 

Jay quickly jumped in, “Yeah, Hailey is just on assignment in New York, she’ll be back soon.” As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted saying them. Would she be back soon?

“Well good,” Robbie said. “You wanna go try out the new glock?”

“Hell yeah.” 

Jay followed Robbie through the narrow hallway and to the back where the actual indoor range was, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. 

Hailey: Don’t worry, I am

Hailey: Are you taking your side partner to our place??

Jay chuckled to himself, trying to control his heartbeat. Our place. Their place. He liked the thought of that, a lot.

Jay: No, never

Hailey: Good

Hailey: Don’t have too much fun without me

Jay: Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to send you a picture of my perfect score

Hailey: Yeah ok whatever

They made it to the window and Jay was about to put his phone away when it buzzed again. 

Hailey: Text me when you’re done

Jay: I will

He smiled bigger, ignoring Robbie’s and now his brother Tim’s sideways glances. He picked up the headphones and secured them, taking the gun in his hand and watched the marker slide back to the other end of the room. Jay raised the gun and fired the first shot, picturing what he always did.

When he was in Ranger training and long after, they were taught to kill with no remorse. That was their job: to take out the enemy to save the masses. But, Jay had never been good at taking a life, innocent or not. They had trained them to have no emotional attachment, they were going after combattants, terrorists, truly horrible people in the eyes of all soldiers, but it didn’t matter. Jay had a big heart, even if he didn’t show it, so he came up with his own way to cope. 

Maybe it was unhealthy, but every time he had to shoot his gun overseas, he would imagine that his mom’s life was at risk, that she was the one in danger, not him or anyone else. And that made it easier, in the moment, at least. Somewhere along the way, he stopped imagining his mom and he started imagining Hailey. She was something that he would protect at all costs, no questions asked. 

When he finished, the marker slid forward so he could see, and much to his surprise, he scored a 99. Something that hadn’t happened since before Erin left, he was stunned. Jay didn’t care about the score, but something deep in his chest was making him squirm. Was he really this much of a mess without her? 

When he got back to his truck a little while later, he pulled out his phone, texting his partner. 

Jay: You missed out, the new glock they got in is a beauty

Hailey: I’ll have to try it when I get back

Jay took a deep breath, she’s coming back, she’s coming back, she’s coming back. Even she knows that, why couldn’t he get that through his head.

Jay: For sure

Hailey: So, no score gloating?

Jay: Not today, I got a 99

Hailey: WHAT

Hailey: That’s never happened 

Jay: Yeah, I know

Jay: Something was missing.

day four

Jay poured over the set of photos and stacks of reports for the third or fourth time, he didn’t find anything, but there was no way he wasn’t missing something. He needed another set of eyes, he needed Hailey’s eyes. 

It was just him and Trudy left, not that Trudy ever really went home when Mouch was on shift, everyone else had taken their frustration over the case in stride and gone home, but Jay couldn’t let it go. 

They were stuck on a string of robberies involving department stores, with multiple casualties, some of them kids. They just couldn’t find the connection between the stores. They were scattered all across the district, sold different things and nothing specific was ever stolen. And the crew, they were ruthless, they didn’t care who got hurt, if they were in the way, they were taken out. 

Jay heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, perking up in his seat. It was Trudy with a white takeout box in her hand. “Serge.” Jay said, smiling, “Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite person in the world?” 

“Haha,” Trudy laughed, giving him a faked stink eye. “No you have not, but it’s a good thing Upton’s not here to hear you say that.” She joked. 

She watched Jay’s face fall immediately, “Good thing.” He said with a forced smile. 

Trudy sat the box down on his desk and perched herself on Hailey’s empty one across from him. “You miss her don’t you?” She asked, a small smirk playing on her lips. 

Jay sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Of course I do.” He said, the words tumbling out of his mouth with ease. Trudy’s smirk grew and Jay just shrugged, “She’s my partner.” 

Trudy stood, taking in the man that she had watched grow so much. She couldn’t explain the amount of pride she felt when she thought of the men and women in intelligence. She and Mouch didn’t get the chance to have their own children, so she always saw Hank’s unit as her own little family. She was proud of Jay especially, he had turned into an incredible cop and an even better man. She rested a hand on his shoulder, “Yeah, I know.” She sighed, “Go home soon okay? Get some sleep.” 

“Yes ma’am,” He said, squeezing her hand. As Trudy headed for the stairs, Jay watched her go. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but Trudy became someone that he could really count on. And she was the closest thing he had to a mom, and he really needed his mom right now. “Hey Trudy.” He called and she spun around. 

“Yeah,” She said. 

Jay shook his head a bit, his voice coming out quiet, “She’s coming back right?” 

Trudy was taken aback by Jay’s forwardness, and she wished she had an answer for him, but she didn’t. The feds had a way of holding on to good people, and Hailey was the best. But for all their sakes, especially his, she hoped Hailey would come home, despite the fancy suits, despite the better pay and the sleek and shiny offices, she hoped she would choose Chicago. But she couldn’t really say that to Jay. “She better, she owes me a bottle of Tequila.” 

That got Jay to laugh a bit, looking down at his desk as he smiled, remembering the bet that Hailey lost one day when they were all Tailgating a few months before, she had yet to pay up. “Yeah, she does. Thanks Serge.” 

“Anytime,” Trudy said, “Goodnight Chuckles.” She joked, and then she was gone. 

Jay set the box to the side, no longer feeling like eating. His stomach was in knots. He returned to his previous position, pouring over the files once again. He couldn’t figure out what he was missing. 

He caught sight of his phone on his desk, making a split second decision and calling his partner. She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey,” He said, just enjoying hearing her voice for a moment. He snapped out of it, “How’s working with the feds?” Is it wrong that a small part of him wanted her to say that she hated it.

“Good.” She said quickly. “Different, but good.” Jay heard a door click over the line. “Actually, you have great timing. I was getting off the elevator when you called me.” 

Jay glanced at the clock on his monitor, it read 12:04. “Damn, that’s late.” 

“Yeah, anyway. What’s up?” She asked. Suddenly, Jay felt bad asking her for help, she had just finished her day and she probably needed sleep. “Jay?” 

“Oh, uh, I was just gonna ask for your opinion on a case, but you need sleep. I’ll let you-”

“No.” Hailey said, cutting him off. “I’m wired, I won’t be able to sleep, it’s been a crazy night. What do you need?” 

Great. A crazy night. They were probably doing a big raid or something else with their big budget and fancy tech stuff. And Hailey was probably really good at it. “I just can’t find the connection between the stores in this string of robberies. People are dying, we’re running out of time.” 

“Do you have the digital files?” She asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Alright, send them to me. I’ll call you back.” 

Jay did what he was told and not even five minutes later, she called him back. But this time, it was a facetime notification. Jay cautiously slid it open, immediately taking in Hailey’s appearance. She had her phone propped up facing her as she sat on a bed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with her computer in lap. “Hey.” Jay said, propping his up on his monitor.

“Hey.” She said back, smiling her big, bright, Hailey smile that he didn’t realize he missed so much. It had only been four days, he really needed to pull it together. They stared at each other for a moment, before Hailey visibly tensed. “So, run me through the facts.” 

So he did, he talked her through the case while she looked through photos and reports. Jay was hoping that he would think of something as he explained it all, but he didn’t. 

After a few minutes or silence, Hailey spoke up, “Did you check the security companies?” 

“Yeah, they all use different ones.” He said.

“Ok,” Hailey said, “Wait, check and see if there is some sort of backing. Like a mother company or something.” 

Jay typed for a while before shouting, “Bingo!” He smiled at her through the phone, “Hailey, you got it. They are all financed partially by Graham Consolidated, a big tech company.” 

“Perfect, so what do you think? Personal vendetta against the CEO/Company and they are coming after it’s partners? Maybe it’s Graham’s way of completely taking over the smaller companies?” Hailey said, throwing out ideas.

Jay shrugged, a smile still on his face. “I don’t know, but now I have a place to start. Thank you.” 

“Of course, anytime.” She said. There was a beat. “I really miss you guys, I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s different here.” 

“We - he should have said I - miss you too.” He couldn't help himself, “Different, as in bad?”

Hailey shrugged, trying to find the words, “I don’t know, it’s just more structured. More rules potentially break, but -” She stopped for a second, taking him in and deciding if she really wanted to tell him this. She didn’t want him to look at her any differently. “- maybe that was the point, I guess it need it.” 

She needed it? How could he compete with that? Maybe she was reconsidering her decision, it had only been four days. Jay smiled weakly, “Well, they are lucky to have you.” He said, genuinely.

“Thanks.” She said softly, looking a little disappointed. Had she wanted him to tell her that she better come home? Does she want him to tell her he couldn’t live without her? No way, he couldn’t. A job with the FBI is a big deal, and Hailey was definitely on the path of being offered one. He couldn't get in the way of that. 

Jay took a breath, “I should go. I’ve got lots to do.” He said, forcing a smile. 

“Yeah, ok.” Hailey said, “Goodnight Jay, go home soon.” 

“Goodnight Hailey.” Come home soon. 

day five

“Contrary to popular belief Jay, your body is not bulletproof.” Will said, pressing the bandage flush against his brother's arm. 

Jay rolled his eyes, sighing, “It barely grazed me, there won’t even be a scar…” 

Will huffed, standing straighter and glaring at his brother, he looked at Kim who was standing in the corner of the room. “Hey Kim, when was the last time Jay got shot?”

Kim feigned inquiry, tapping her chin with her finger. “Oh, I don’t know, not even six months ago?” She said, a bit too aggressively. 

“You guys are being dramatic. I’m fine.” Jay insisted. 

“Jay!” Will snapped, “You have gotten shot twice in the past six months. Three times in two years! That’s not normal!” He was obviously frustrated, running his hand through his hair. He didn’t understand what Jay didn’t get, they were all each other had. “You’re not bulletproof, you’re like a damn bullet magnet.” 

Jay held up his hands, “Ok, now you’re being ridiculous -” He was cut off by his phone buzzing on the bed next to him, he picked it up glaring at his brother and temporary partner. The ID ready Hailey Upton. “Which one of you told?” He snapped. Will and Kim both held their hand up in surrender before backing out of the room to give Jay some privacy,  neither of them had spilled the beans. Jay sighed, hitting the green button and answering. “Hey.” 

He was expecting her to scream at him, to be angry, but instead, “Thank God you’re okay.” She sighed out, Jay was taken aback. 

“Yeah Hailey, I’m okay.” 

He heard her soft sniffles over the line. Had she been crying? He felt a pang of guilt in his chest at the thought. “I just got back to the office and I had a text from Adam that just said “Jay got shot” and he wasn’t answering and all I could think about was last time, and -” She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter, I-I was just worried.”

“I’m fine, I promise.” Jay said calmly, sensing her panic even 800 miles away. 

“Okay,” She said, sounding defeated. “What happened?” 

Jay shrugged, immediately regretting it. He would never admit it out loud, but his arm was really sore. “It was a run of the mill shoot out, I just jumped out of the way too slow. It just grazed my arm, there was barely any blood.” That was a lie, there was a lot of blood. He had to change his clothes, they were pretty much ruined. 

He wasn’t sure what he was trying to do by omitting how bad it could have been, maybe he was protecting her, but he couldn’t bear her blaming herself for this. He knew he would. If he was stuck in New York and Hailey got hurt in Chicago without him there to back, he would blame himself too. “Which arm?” She asked quickly. 

“Left.” He sighed out, hoping that maybe she would ignore it.

“Jay!” She shouted, “You aren’t even done with PT for your left shoulder!”

“Hailey.” He said, only slightly mocking her, “The bad guys don’t have a copy of my line of duty injuries report.” 

He heard her stifle a laugh and he smiled to himself. Bingo. He knew she wasn’t really mad at him, she was just worried. He would have reacted the exact same way. “Okay, fair enough. But, seriously, you have to be more careful.” There was a beat, “I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

Jay literally felt his heart stop in his chest. He didn’t know what he would do without her either, and this was the closest he ever wanted to be to finding out. “Hailey, you won’t have to find out. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hailey sighed audibly, “You can’t promise me that.” 

“No, but I can sure as hell try.” He joked.

That earned a laugh from her, causing a small smile to grace his face. “Yeah, you better.” They sat there in silence for a while, finding comfort in only the assurance of the other one's presence. “Don’t scare me like that again.” 

“I won’t Hailes.” Jay couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about this felt different than the last time. He thought back to the day he was released, what his phone had interrupted. It seemed kind of ironic how they were having all of their important conversations that way now. The words were different, but the rest was the same. The pain in her voice, the fear, it made everything all too real. It terrified him, because maybe - just maybe - she needed him just as much as he needed her.

Maybe there was a chance for them after all.

day six

By the next night, Jay was so exhausted that he was sure he would fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. His arm was still sore and he had slept terribly the night before. The shooting, however minor it was, had done a number on him. Nightmares of Hailey being shot plagued his mind all night long.

He had just turned out his light when his phone buzzed on the bedside table, he silently prayed that they hadn’t caught a case. When he flipped it over, he saw it wasn’t from his boss, but from his partner. 

Hailey: Facetime?

Jay was a little embarrassed by how fast he clicked the call button, all his tiredness being thrown out the window, but he would be a fool to waste her forwardness. She picked up on the first ring. “Eager aren’t we?” 

Jay was going something clever back, but he was startled by how beautiful she looked in the shitty hotel lighting. He reached over and switched his lamp on, pretending not to notice the shocked look on Hailey’s face when she realized he was shirtless. However, her gaze didn’t shift away. “See something you like, Upton?” 

Hailey smirked, taking his jab in stride, “What if I say yes?” 

Jay smiled big. Was she flirting with him? “Then I would tell you that I see something I like too.” 

Hailey blushed and Jay’s grin grew three sizes, he wanted to make that happen again, and again, and again. “Good to know.” Her expression softened when she noticed the bandage on his left arm, “How’s your arm?”

Jay shrugged, “Sore, but fine.” She didn’t look convinced. “Hailey, look at me.” She lifted her gaze from her lap, to his eyes on the screen. “I’m okay.” 

She nodded, “Good.” 

“Is everything okay?” He asked, not that he didn’t enjoy it, but he was a little confused on why she had asked him to facetime out of the blue. 

She nodded again, “Yeah actually, everything’s great...I just miss you.” 

“I miss you too Hailes.” He wasn’t exactly sure when he started calling her that, but he liked it a lot. It felt special, like a step forward. “Have you heard anything about coming home?” He knew it was a loaded question, but he was practicing self preservation. If she was changing her mind and staying, he needed time to prepare, no matter how unlikely it was. 

Hailey shrugged, “I don’t know, at least a few more weeks. The girl whose spot I’m in is deep undercover, so we don’t exactly have a timeline.” 

“Okay.”

“I hope it’s soon though, if that counts for anything.” She said quietly. 

“It does,” Jay said, letting out a breath. “A lot actually.” 

“I need to come home, I don’t know how much more of this wheat thin style pizza I can take.” 

Jay laughed out loud, “Oh I get it, you don’t miss me, you just miss deep dish.”

“Finally, it took you long enough.” She said, joking with him. Jay pressed a hand to his chest, feigning being offended. Hailey grinned, rolling over on her side and resting her phone against the pillow next to her. “Shut up, you know I miss you.” 

Jay smiled softly, giving her a small nod of understanding. He did know she missed him, and he missed her like crazy too. He looked into her bright blue eyes, “I wish you took me with you.” He said. 

He could tell he caught her off guard, the shocked expression on her face said it all, and he almost regretted saying it, but not quite. He meant it with his whole heart. “Me too.” She said finally. “OA’s great, but...but he’s not you Jay.” She shook her head, smiling softly to herself. “There’s no one else like you.”

Jay’s heart was pounding in his chest at her words, he was half convinced he was dreaming. “Well that’s good, there’s only enough room for one partner in your life, and I intend on keeping the spot.”

“You better,” She said, staring at him shamelessly. “I don’t want anyone else.” 

“I don’t want anyone else either.” In any way, he thought. 

“Come to New York.” She said quickly, a nervous expression crossing her face for a split second as he watched her realize what she just said. 

Jay cocked an eyebrow, “What?” He breathed out.

“Come to New York.” She said again, this time with more confidence. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, and it felt like the simple question meant so much more. Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you want me there? Are you sure that you want me too?

Hailey nodded, “Yes. Buy the ticket Jay.” She said, “Be here.” 

“Okay.”

day seven

Jay felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest as he walked to baggage claim. 

The last 12 hours had been quite the whirlwind. He had texted Voight immediately after he hung up with Hailey asking for the next day off. Thankfully he had said yes, and Jay booked the next flight that wasn’t full. It left O’Hare at 12:15 the next day. 

He couldn’t believe what he was doing, flying to New York to see Hailey. It had only been a week and he was buying an overpriced plane ticket? He really did have it bad. 

It wasn’t lost on him how familiar the situation was, losing a partner, a friend, someone he loved to the city, to the FBI even. He knew the feeling well, but his walk through the crowded terminal proved to him just how much things had changed. He never bought a ticket to see Erin, not after a week, not after a month, never. The thought never really even crossed his mind. She was gone and that was that, time to move on. But not with Hailey. 

Hailey was different, the thought moving on, the thought of forgetting her ripped through him like a knife. He wasn’t sure he’d survive without her. And even though it had only been seven days, he was ecstatic to see her. He missed watching her blonde ponytail swing as she walked, he missed her telling him his handwriting sucked, he missed never having any pens, he missed her laugh, her voice, her smile (well that he had seen, but it’s not the same). He missed everything about her. 

His flight landed around three, and he was meeting Hailey at her hotel. She had told the front desk to leave him a key to let himself in, and that she would be there as soon as she could. She couldn’t exactly ask for time off when she had only been there a few days.

Jay had decided on the plan that he was going to tell her how he felt, he owed it to himself to put himself out there again, and he couldn’t pretend that she was just his partner anymore. They both knew that they were more than that. However, when he made that decision, he thought he was going to have hours to decide what he was going to say. Not the 30 seconds it was going to take to walk over to the petite blonde woman holding a sign that read Jay Halstead.

He was taken aback, letting his mouth fall open as he stifled a laugh. She had surprised him. He was barely ten feet away when Hailey abandoned her sign and ran to wrap her arms around him. The closest that had been to each other since he had tackled her down in the surveillance van, almost a year before. “Hi Jay.” She said, her voice loud and clear without the static in between them.

“Hi Hailes.” He said, hugging her tightly to him. Definitely something he could get used to. 

Eventually - and much to his dismay - she took a step back, nervously pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “How was your flight?” She asked.

“Good, went by fast.” Not true, it was painfully slow, the anticipation was too much. “Thanks for picking me up.” He said. 

“Of course. What are partners for?” She joked, rocking back and forth on her heels. 

Jay laughed, “I don’t think Kim would ever pick me up from the airport.” 

Hailey shrugged, smirking, “I guess it’s a good thing that she’s only your temporary partner then. I’m obviously the better one.” 

“Yeah, you are.” Jay tried not to show his disappointment on his face, but he was really starting to hate the word partner. It was just a constant reminder that that was all he was, her partner. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, he wasn’t someone to daydream about passionate first kisses in airports or running down a terminal to greet someone, but for some reason he thought that now was their moment. Maybe he was wrong. 

Jay watched at Hailey’s face mirroring his own, realizing he was thinking the same thing she was. Won’t he just say it already. But she knew him better than that, she knew that he was too stuck in his own head to ever say what he was really feeling. He could never find the words to describe it, and that had been what was different all week. The 800 miles between them gave him an edge, something to use to keep her at an arm's length but still let her in. He was the most open he had ever been about his feelings with her this past week, and she wasn’t ready for that to be over. She never wanted it to stop. 

So, she did the only thing she could. “Jay,” She said quietly, taking a step forward. “You have to know that it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you as just my partner.” 

It took him a moment to process what she said, but once he did, he swept down and pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to hers. Her hand cupped his neck as he gently held her up, a hand snaking around her waist. There they were, having a passionate first kiss in the middle of baggage claim, no doubt scandalizing everyone around them, but they didn’t care. All that mattered was each other. 

Hailey pulled away breathless, resting her forehead against his. “I missed you so much.” She said quietly, wiping the stray tear that had fallen off her cheek. She was feeling a little overwhelmed by her emotions. 

Jay smiled, leaning down to kiss her once again. “I missed you too, so much.” He pecked her cheek, making her smile. “I never want to miss you like that again, especially now.” She eyed her suggestively.

Hailey laughed against his chest, “Just a few more weeks.”

“It’s not fair,” He said quietly, running his thumb over her cheek, “That I have to leave tomorrow, after this.” 

“Well,” Hailey said, intertwining their hands, “That's tomorrow's problem.” 

“I like the way you think.” He said.

Hailey reached up, kissing him gently, “Then let’s get out of here.” 

The two of them walked out of JFK hand in hand, hailing a taxi and climbing in together. The action was foreign, and so was the city, it wasn’t what either of them wanted. But being there together, even if it was just for a day, it felt like home. 

…

A/N: Oh My Gosh I have been working on this fic for SO LONG and I am so so so happy to have finally finished it. If you haven’t guessed, my new series will be writing Upstead (and possibly other OC couples) as T'S songs because some of them for SO FREAKING WELL! Come back...be here is a bonus track off of red that I found a few weeks after 8x03 aired, and this fic has been a WIP since then, you don’t understand how excited I am to write these! Thank you SO MUCH for reading! Hope you enjoyed <3

taglist: @anniesardors @joy-meathiel @stephanie708 @carissalizz @snowwhite013 @imjustwritingg @benharmonsupremacy @angelsjedi @onechicago-upsteadrhekker

[dailyadventureprompts]

Drafting an Adventure:5 Lessons on Inspiration and Creativity

Friend of the blog @kwantumphysix was asking about where I get my inspiration from and how they could improve their own creativity, so rather than overload them with all my stray ideas on the subject, I decided to make it into a post. 

If you took a look at my notebooks from even a couple years ago, you’d find pages and pages of absolute tripe. I was squeezing my brain has hard as I could in an attempt to come up with something brilliant, and all I was getting in return was cheap imitations of whatever media I happened to be consuming at the time. I hadn’t yet learned the lessons I’ve had to learn to write on this blog every day, and you can see that in my earliest work: My posts are scattered, rambling, and super infrequent because I was approaching my creative ability all wrong, treating it like a revivor and not a muscle to be trained.  

Just like any other form of art, creativity itself is a skill you can build with practice.  I started at the wrong end of this, expecting whole novels, campaigns, adventures, characters etcetera to be pulled  form my head fully formed by nothing but the engine of my brilliance. Instead you start small: a default fantasy adventure town, a writing prompt, a single image that calls to you ( like I do with my blog). You do your best to add detail and character, to it, and when you feel that creative fire leave you... you drop it and move on to the next prompt. Doing this repeatedly as a creative writing excersize is going to train your brain to write well the same way a workout trains your reflexes. You’re going to be sloppy as hell at first, but we’re not testing you on your first products, we’re working towards making you better at making them, which means our goal is way off in the future. 

Build your back catalog. You’re going to get this advice from a lot of sources: “ Good artists steal” but the actual technique of purloining inspiration is not always that well detailed.  What you’re trying to do is build a reference library of tropes, themes, character quirks, plot developments, setting flourishes, anything you think might be memorable. These snippets of thought become the equivalent of story-legos, able to be arranged into whatever shape you need, reused infinitely in different configurations. Listen to history podcasts, watch bad fantasy tv series, go on a webcomic binge. The more diverse and granular your collection of story lego, the more quickly you’ll be able to find just the right piece to enrich your current project. 

To Make good stuff, you must first understand why stuff is good. We all encounter bad media in our time, but not all of us develop the critical eye necessary to understand WHY it’s bad. I can’t tell you how much youtube video essay critiques have helped my writing, as they opened my eyes to the idea that most flaws with media are purely systematic, and that every bad movie/videogame/book COULD live up to our expectations if only the creators behind them understood. Use this knowledge to self edit, get inspiration from your fix-it-fics and headcanons. If it’d improve the base property, it’s probably good enough to be its own story. 

Get Organized. If you’re going to be creative, you need external storage devices and filing systems. You can’t hold all these ideas in your head at once, because sometimes something random you thought about YEARS ago is going to be the missing ingredient and not finding it is going to drive you up a wall. I always have a journal within arms’ reach of me, I have google docs and pinterest boards and nearly 6000 drafts in my drafts folder. I give my good ideas cool names so I can remember them with just a note ( which is how I got so good at naming all the prompts on my blog). 

Synchronicity. Doing all of this work is going to build up a massive pile of half formed ideas. Far more than you’ll ever actually use. Then, at some point in the future, perhaps years later, just when you’re struggling to add more detail to your current project, it’ll hit you: that thing you thought of years ago, it will almost perfectly fit with the thing you’re working on now. Sure you’ll have to smooth over the edges but it was almost like you were building that all along. Nothing is wasted so long as you can use it to improve something later down the line. This is how most of my campaign ideas come to me: multiple ideas from across previous weeks/months suddenly slotting together like a megazord and taking on a configuration I never originally intended.  

I hope that helps friends, it took me AGES to figure out these lessons, as most of what’s out there for beginning writers is basic as bones. If you have any more questions about these techniques, or want to have me troubleshoot your own writing, please write in!

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Four

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

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

Part 4 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: reference to past sexual assault (very minimal); misogyny/sexism; mention of Infinity War deaths/Endgame deaths; abusive parental relationship; canon violence; heavy drinking; reference to cocaine use

Word Count: 13,900+

~

Tony’s Cabin, 2023, 8:56pm

      “Uh…”

You and Steve stared at the little girl in front of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as she held up one of Tony’s repulsors, the safety on but pointed right at the two of you. Steve instinctively pushed you behind him, the obvious fact being that a blast would most certainly kill you and not the super soldier himself. You were having difficulty holding in your laughter, watching as the girl kept poking at the metal, awaiting its true power. 

“Can I have that, Morgan?” Steve asked, his voice raising ever so slightly to try and seem nicer to the kid. 

“Talk to her with your regular voice, Steve. She’s five, not a toddler.”

“Yeah!”

Now you laughed at Morgan’s declaration of approval, still standing behind Steve with your hands braced on his back. 

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes playfully, “Alright, Morgan. Can I please have that back? It’s not a toy.”

“But daddy left it for me!”

You smiled at her, “Yeah, but he didn’t expect you to use it so early! Wait until you’re like… ten, then you can look through his things!”

“Y/N, ten?” Steve gave you a bewildered grin, eyes bright and laughter restrained. 

“Okay, twelve.”

His shoulders sagged with a heavy laugh. He reached over and took the chance, grabbing Morgan’s wrist softly and ejecting the glove from her small hand. 

“There we go!” you cheered, stepping out from behind Steve and scooping her up in your arms. Morgan started laughing loudly, kicking her legs to try and escape your hold. “Ah, don’t kick me!”

You had offered your time to Pepper whenever she needed it. You didn’t expect that she would call so early asking for a huge favor, her husband’s funeral not even four months ago. But you didn’t hesitate and packed an overnight bag, reassuring her that nothing would explode on your watch. On your way out of the temporary safe house, Steve had caught you just in time. A quick question of your future whereabouts and he was joining you, a tiny twinge of guilt in his chest from not seeing Tony’s daughter in so long. He was one of her godparents after all, just after Happy and Rhodey, beating out the third crowned position from Bruce. 

He had been hurt by that initially, asking why he wasn’t even considered. 

‘Bruce, the first time she comes into your room and stands over your sleeping body to let you know she had a nightmare, you’d scream.’

‘I wouldn’t be angry, just scared!’

‘Okay, after Cap here, you get custody.’

‘Oh, yay. Drafted fourth.’

Steve was happy to go see her on such short notice though, racing back up to his room to gather some overnight supplies as well. But you didn’t think anything of it - it was just a godparent wanting to see his godchild. 

“Ouch, that hurt,” you laughed and placed Morgan down in her bed. “Nighty night time.”

“Daddy said he left things for everyone, not just me.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity, a sudden interest to know what his gift was exciting him. He had already given him the shield back... but then Thanos broke it. Maybe, another shield? No, T’Challa had already offered to send him a new one.

“Ooo, that’s interesting! I wonder if he got me that pretty bracelet I saw in that department store window that one time,” you gushed, pulling the blankets over Morgan. You fluffed out her hair, smiled at her, and told her goodnight. 

“Night night!”

Both you and Steve called out from the doorway of her bedroom, “Night night!”

Several minutes had passed before you brought up the prospect of secret gifts again, knowing Steve was just as interested as you were. 

“Want to go find them?”

Steve immediately stood up, clapping his hands together and giddy with excitement. “I won’t tell if you don’t!”

“Deal.”

You searched everywhere - living room, the garage, kitchen cabinets - even racing into the master bedroom, stealthy and secret, shame rising as you carefully picked up items around the room. “This feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Steve chuckled from outside the door, “Hurry up!”

But you found nothing. There was only one more spot to look - his office. You almost didn’t want to intrude any longer, this being his most sacred space, but the mere chance of Tony giving you a gift from the afterlife made you extremely happy. So you and Steve searched, stacking and restacking random papers and pushing away gadgets and books in the bookshelf. Finally, a small opening in the third shelf alerted you of your mission success. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you cheered, reaching in and pulling boxes and clipped pieces of paper, all different colors and sizes, from the compartment. They were labeled with various names - Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, Clint, Thor, Steve, Nebula, you - and Natasha. 

Steve sucked in his breath, his gasp similar to yours. “He got these before…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, handing Steve his labeled box. It was light blue, a white ribbon delicately wrapped around it, and with a cute little red ribbon with Steve’s name on it. It wasn’t big, but it was more than enough. 

“Open it,” you said. 

Steve shook his head, “Let’s open ours together.”

You agreed to his terms, taking your folder into your hands. It was one of those same art folders you had when you bought some new planners or notebooks. It was black, custom-made it seemed, as it had your name on the front in gold, cursive writing. 

On the count of three, you both opened your presents. 

Steve pulled out two sets of dog tags from the box, the sound of them clinking together reminding him of the times he would hug his fellow soldiers on the battlefield, cheers of victory mixed in with the smell of sweat and dry blood. He read the names on the metal. 

‘Steven G. Rogers

987654320 T42 O

Brooklyn, NY. P.’

‘James B. Barnes. 

32557038 T41 42 O

R. Barnes

Shelbyville, IN. P.’

He had not known they recovered his dog tags, faintly remembering clutching them tightly as he flew the plane into the ice. But SHIELD must have kept them for the museum, and Tony had recovered them. Bucky’s, however, were lost as soon as Bucky fell from that train. They were more rusted than Steve’s, almost as if HYDRA kept them underwater or stored for the majority of Bucky’s sentence. But no matter how Tony had gotten them, he was eternally grateful. 

“Wow,” Steve said, clearing his throat. But you were too caught up in your reading. 

      ‘Target whereabouts discovered mid-May of 2017. Only T. Stark and N. Romanoff approved for mission.

      Transport at 20:00 hours. Target(s) confirmed and exterminated at exactly 0802 Pacific Standard Time.’

You choked on the sob that suddenly broke through, hand instantly reaching up to cup your mouth. Steve put his tags back into the box, shushing you to get you to calm down. “What is it? What’d he get you?”

Four pictures accompanied the short report, each face crossed out with red paint. A tiny laugh escaped and tears of joy started to flow. To say Steve was confused was an understatement. 

“He… he got me justice.”

Steve took the file from you, reading over every word to somehow understand what you meant by justice. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and he looked up at you for more explanation.

You brushed your hair back and rubbed at your cheeks, the smile on your face now straining. Whether it was a sudden change of mind or the closure of your trauma was just that satisfying, you told Steve exactly what Tony and Natasha had done for you. 

“After I joined you guys in New York, Fury sent me on a mission to infiltrate and bring back information about this dude my father was trying to literally destroy. But I had to play both sides  - the good and the bad.”

Steve set the file down, his full attention on you.

“I got the information but for some reason, it wasn’t enough for my father. I had forgotten to get the most vital piece, something he thought I would automatically know,” you scoffed, your smile faltering at the next part of the story. 

“I cost him ten million. And to teach me a lesson, he let these men do whatever they wanted to me. Anything.”

Steve’s breath hitched as he understood what you meant. And it was no longer a mystery why you had been planning to kill him ‘again’ after everyone came back from the snap.

“I returned to the compound in such bad shape. I only told Natasha. She cleaned me up, she took me to med-bay in the middle of the night, she brought me breakfast in bed,” you chuckled at the memory, hand reaching out to hold Steve’s. 

“And Tony’s gift was murdering the men that hurt me.”

Steve let a few tears slip himself, his hand gripping yours tighter. “Y/N, if I would have known-”

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know, though. I thought only Natasha knew. She promised me she would take care of it. I just didn’t think she would actually find them.”

“I think we know that Natasha could find literally anything and anyone,” Steve said. 

You agreed with his statement, a smile returning to your face. 

You jumped from your sitting position and went back to retrieve Natasha’s gift. “Hey, should we?”

Steve eyed the small, black box in your hand. He sighed as he walked over to you, eyes returning to the box. 

“It was meant for her.”

You frowned, “Yeah, and I’ll ask Pepper if we can give these to everyone else.”

You paused and shook the box near your ear. It felt heavy in your hand, and the contents gave a little jingle. 

“But this one was for Nat. I think she’d want us to at least see it.”

Steve chuckled and just nodded, awaiting the reveal. You pulled the ribbon and opened the box, surprised that Tony had given her a piece of jewelry. “Oh.”

Steve took the bracelet from the box, oblivious that the movement would unlock the charms from their heavy chests. In a matter of seconds, charms of similar size but different designs dropped to encircle the silver band. You inspected them in Steve’s hand - a red/white/and blue shield, Mjollnir, a pair of wings, two arc reactors, a singular arrow, a silver arm, a spider, an emerald heart, the letters ‘W’ and ‘V’ intertwined, a black cat, an ant - and your symbol, an intricately carved silver charm no bigger than your thumbnail, of your face. Tony knew no specific object or symbol was tied with your Avengers status, no one had ever given you one, but this was perfect. 

“Wow,” Steve whispered, examining each charm closely with a lazy smile on his face. 

“We were her family. This was an ode to that.”

“What do we do with it?” Steve asked.

You just shrugged, “Frame it? It would feel wrong just taking it for myself.”

Steve agreed. Later that night when Pepper returned home, you showed her what Morgan led you to. She let you keep your gifts and take the others, absolutely loving the idea of framing Natasha’s bracelet in the new compound being built. 

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The bright light from the open windows hadn’t hit you as suddenly as the random throw pillow that connected to your face, startling you with a quick gasp and causing you to choke on your spit. You snapped up, belly down and hair wild, eyes still half-lidded as you searched for the aggravator. And he stood there with a stupid grin on his face, already dressed in his stupid old man clothes, and stupid blond hair perfectly pushed back. 

“What the fuck was that for?” you tried to yell, voice cracking at the end and just the slightest hint of drool threatening to spill from the corner of your mouth. 

“I ordered room service. Plus, we have to leave in an hour.”

You grabbed as many pillows as your one free hand could hold, the other still tucked into the pillowcase below your head. You flung them wildly, none actually hitting the super soldier directly. His chuckle pulled a deep groan from you, and no longer wanting to look like a fool, you stumbled out of bed and pushed passed him roughly. 

“You could have woken me up the same time you got up.”

“But you looked so peaceful.”

His sarcasm was not helping your souring mood. Steve headed over to the monitors to turn them on, already setting up the morning video chat with Bucky and Sam. “Do you always sleep like a mounted spider?”

You flicked him off, “Leave me alone so I can take my morning piss in peace!”

You slammed the door and made your way to the toilet. Now, you were no morning person. But it was simple enough for you to crawl out of bed with only minimal protest when your awakening was a peaceful one. Having a pillow thrown at your head while mid-dream was practically excruciating and no one, not even the grandest morning person in the world, could possibly awake happy from that. And to top it all off, you couldn’t even remember what you were dreaming of. Just another thing to blame Steve for. 

After you had done your morning routine and slipped into a really comfy outfit, the breakfast finally arrived. You muttered a quiet thanks to Steve for ordering your favorites and damn him for knowing you preferred waffles over pancakes and a variety of creamers to choose from, and quickly filled Bucky and Sam in on what the plan for the day was. 

You had been on missions with Steve before, but no matter how many times you regrouped in the mornings, you had never actually seen him wake up. After your rude awakening, you wondered at what point during sunrise he opened his eyes - ‘cause you’ll be standing over him with a pillow of your own. 

“Torres has the air footage scheduled for around five today, then he’ll link you to the camera for the remainder of the mission,” Sam clarified. 

“Is it possible to link earlier?” Steve asked. 

“Not unless you can get the Wi-Fi password of the estate.”

You chuckled, still funneling mouthfuls of waffle into your mouth. “So, we can hack the Pentagon whenever we feel like it, but we can’t hack into my father’s estate without the Wi-Fi password?”

Sam cleared his throat, “You are so lucky this is a secure line.”

“Wait until she finishes her breakfast and her head will be screwed back on straight,” Steve joked, taking a long sip from his tea. 

Almost immediately, your phone dinged with a new message. You angled your phone away from Steve but your smirk was enough to alert him of a side conversation happening under his nose. 

Bucky: Ouch, I wouldn’t mind if you hit him upside the head.

Y/N: he threw a pillow at me to wake me up :(

Bucky: hit him

Y/N: bet

“Stop talking about me over the phone.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve grumbled, the rough sound catching Sam’s attention as well. His eyes flashed back and forth between the two of you - Steve desperately trying to catch a quick glance at your messages, and you leaning away from him with thumbs moving at a rapid pace. 

“Y/N, how you feeling?”

You put your phone down and pretended to not notice how Steve was trying to get a glimpse of your screen. 

“A little queasy, in all honesty.”

A myriad of emotions were present and coiling in your body, each trying to sprout and bloom and gain their five seconds of fame. And for the past several years, it was easy to downplay their true power. Because the power they held wasn’t one of distressing strength, but rather one that tip-toed to the front of your anxiety driven worries. It planted itself there, up front, but ever so silent. For it to finally meet its match, to possibly be freed of such a coil - well, you were more worried about not succeeding in its erasure than its final blooming. 

“We’ve come up with a system to make sure we both don’t go overboard or to tell the other that we’re alright,” Steve said, eyes on the monitor but hands loading bullets into your trusty handguns. 

“Alright, that’s good,” Bucky spoke, finally. He typed away on his keyboard, “Give us a word we all use in case we need back-up immediately.”

“Mm, you should ask Steve. He loves his safe words.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Something Avengers related? Or something no one would ever say?”

“Pick anything you want, just don’t let it be awkward to repeat out loud,” Sam joked. 

Steve pondered for a few seconds before he settled on his chosen word, a hint of a smile forming. “Widow.”

You nodded, “That’s sweet. She’d like us using her alias for a dirty little safe word.”

You huffed suddenly, shoulder colliding with the carpet, the realization that Steve pushed you from your chair causing you to stare at him with your mouth hanging open. “Hey!”

“Steve, every single day I accept your fate from her murderous hands,” Bucky grumbled, Sam’s loud laugh causing the speaker to give a quick halt of static. 

“She’s okay- hey!”

You flew across your chair and onto him, lunging your body as your main weapon in taking him down. You both tumbled to the floor, the sofa chair you collided with scraping along and pushing the coffee table with it. A lamp shattered on the floor right when you wrapped your arm around Steve’s neck and hooked your legs from underneath him and around his waist, his back to your front, both his arms coming up to tug yours out of reflex. 

“Yield, you little shit,” you grunted, the grip of your arm remaining loose on purpose but your legs tight, heels now digging into his slim waist. 

Steve groaned, both from your pointy heels and the sudden impact his body made with the ground. “I’m letting you win.”

“You seriously got a mouth on you.”

You let him go anyway, choosing to save your strength for the mission and not waste it on a petty little fight. Besides, you could always smother him with a pillow in his sleep. 

“You two done?”

Both you and Steve stumbled getting up, faces back in your teammate’s view as you smoothed down your clothing and wiped at your foreheads.

“Now that that’s over,” Sam continued, clearing his throat. “The only task for today is to get a feel of the place, establish a legit backstory providing you some leverage, and to swipe those ID’s.”

“Got it,” you acknowledged, standing again to begin hooking your weapons in discreet locations in your clothing. 

“And we’re not responsible for that broken lamp so it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

     California really wasn’t like any other state. There was a vast difference from Northern and Southern, the difference being the amount of green fields visible. In Southern California, the mountains and desert areas took up most of the landscape, with an industrial complex here, a growing city there, and then nothing for a good ten miles. Since most of the landscape was below sea level, the atmosphere was almost always dry, modest dust storms forming only to quickly pass a freeway and disintegrate once it found the other side. It was more urban, more lively with people. But Northern California, even if it experienced the same weather patterns as the south, was mostly humid during the winter season. The mountains here were covered in lively agriculture, livestock roamed freely in the gated areas near the freeways, and the overall environment provided a rural look. 

 And the differences just stood out to you, your excitement for the livestock starting to annoy Steve as you kept pointing out every cow you drove past. He threatened to stop the car and dare you to tip one. 

“So, how did we meet?”

Steve chuckled, “We’re coworkers, Y/N. Thought that question was obvious.”

You whined, “Steve, we have to put some drama into it! How about we say we met during one of Tony’s parties after Fury assigned you to this?” 

“And what? I asked you to dance?”

You leaned over your seat and poked his arm, teasing him. “Would you have asked me to dance?”

Steve shrugged, “I mean, sure.” 

He glanced at you and then back to the road. “Can’t we just be honest? I like the way we met.”

 You pouted, “The way we met is a matter of national security.”

   “You brought that thing back to an unguarded planet?” Loki seethed, his voice still a whisper as he followed Thor through the hallways of Avengers Tower. A tower he had been prisoner of for a few weeks now, but would soon be released from once Thor decided to return home. Besides, it had been more than a year since his unfortunate attack and after thousands of apologies, brainwashing excuses (which were true!), and quite a few long labor hours equivalent to Midgardian community service, his leash was extended somewhat. 

“How am I the more level-headed one right now?”

Thor grumbled in response, now on his hands and knees as he searched for the tiny animal that had already eaten its way through the plush of the interior walls. “It couldn’t have gotten far. And how was I supposed to know the oxygen levels here would cause it to go crazy?”

“You couldn’t. In fact, I don’t know why it’s here in the first place!”

“Keep screaming, Loki. I bet that would make it come to us quicker!”

Loki was about to come up with another quick quip, but was interrupted by a quiet mumble down the hall. 

“Oh?”

You rocked back and forth on your heels as you stared at the two brothers - one sweeping the floor on all fours and the other ducked down to scream into his brother’s ear. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Now, don’t be alarmed, Agent. But I may have misplaced my dog.”

“Dog?” Loki tilted his head, hands now cupping the side of his head in disbelief. 

Your eyebrows shot up from his reaction, “Not dog?”

“It’s… an animal from Asgard.”

“Okay, what does it look like?” you asked, now more interested than ever. 

Thor cleared his throat and rose to his feet slowly, “Like a dragon.”

You stepped back, almost tripping over your left foot. An involuntary laugh escaped from your lips and you brought a hand up to try and stifle it. “You brought a dragon into the tower?”

“He brought a dragon back to Midgard,” Loki clarified as he walked over to the wall and pressed his ear against it. 

“Oh, yeah. That’s much worse,” you agreed. “Fury’s gonna shove his foot so far up your ass-”

“Yes, yes. I know what awaits me. Now, help us find it!” Thor begged. 

This wasn’t how you expected to spend your first day as an Avenger. After all the training and promoting, the paperwork and oaths, you thought you would have a pretty chill afternoon. Arrive at the conference room, get the name badge and a rundown of your new field suit, and meet the rest of the team. Freshly nineteen and energetic as ever, you accepted this as a test. Find the dragon, make a good impression. 

It only took a few more minutes before you three stumbled on an otherwise empty hallway, staring down the colorful creature as it licked one of its paws. 

Your eyes widened, “It looks like an alebrije.”

“You have these creatures on your planet?” Loki asked, surprise written over his face. 

“Nope, alebrije’s aren’t real. They’re fantasy.”

“Nevermind that, help me catch it!”

Loki began shushing his brother, hands swatting his massive shoulders in the process. You leaned down to the floor and tapped it with your fingernails, hoping the nice gesture would cause the creature to meet you halfway. 

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed. “Can you come here please?”

The creature raised its head, colorful eyes on full display. Similar to rings of fire, but face like a fox, and fur as soft as silk. It titled its head, interested for only a second, before it kicked back and rushed toward the three of you at full speed. 

“Oh, shit-!”

As he was the closest, Loki pushed Thor to the wall and lifted you from the ground. But before he could throw you out of the way too, the creature leaped. Loki shielded you with his body, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up as the creature kicked his back and sent the two of you flying through wall after wall. Loki was taking the force of it all, his chest angled in a way to protect your head. It was about ten walls you two flew through before you landed in what seemed like conference room B… or C… or A. Loki rolled you over and groaned in pain. You landed on your back, bright lights blinding you as you tried to adjust. Then a figure came into view as your blurry vision cleared. 

You blinked rapidly and stared up at your new Captain. You smiled, a bit delirious, and raised your hand up for a handshake. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, new recruit!”

Steve just stared, eyebrows scrunched, an expression resembling a scowl and bewilderment painted on his face. He took your hand in his and shook it. 

“Forgive us, Captain,” Loki spoke, coughing as he turned over. “But you might want to get that shield of yours.”

    “When did we become a couple?” you continued once you agreed on the ‘party meet-and-greet’ as your previous answer. 

Now, this was a question Steve was wondering about since before you mentioned the necessity of such answers. Although he didn’t fantasize about being your significant other, he did wonder what possible event could jumpstart it. If anything, and he would take this to the grave, he assumed a line would be crossed during a particularly tempting mission. Bucky had admitted to him that on one mission, and Steve promised to take this to the grave as well, Bucky had to kiss Wanda to keep their cover. The feelings subsided soon after the mission was over, but Bucky confessed to real feelings developing. So if Steve had to bet, a particularly tempting mission. 

“When we were searching for Bucky?”

You nodded, “That works. We can say the fall of SHIELD basically led to us to realize how weak the system was and how we could easily manipulate it.”

The road veered off to the side, now dirt and unevenly layered. You checked the directions Torres gave you just to make sure. 

“And when is my birthday?”

You didn’t expect Steve to answer so quickly, and to get it right. Perhaps he looked over your file and remembered, because you were certain only your little friend group knew it. It was Bucky, it had to be him, the little shit, he told- 

“Surprised?”

“A little. How do you know it?”

“Nat. Who do you think sends you those chocolates every year?”

You were overjoyed, really. “Wha-? Natasha said she did it.”

Steve smirked, “She covered for me.”

“Why?”

“Because for five years after the snap, you and Nat did nothing for yourselves and did everything for everyone else.” He had been witness to the two of you pulling all-nighters, washing the sheets of your fallen teammates as if they were going to return that weekend, celebrating their birthdays in secret with a small candle and a prayer. Moving from the compound and into his own apartment was hard enough, but seeing his remaining teammates wallow in cursed self-determination was worse. So, he asked Nat about your birthday to send you chocolates and a lovely handwritten note, careful to write in a font different from his natural one, and he would fold tiny paper airplanes and leave them around the compound where only Nat could find them, providing her a sense of playfulness in her busy day. Little joys to make up for such an impact.  

“If it makes you feel better, I sent gifts to Nat and Bruce, too.”

But because Bruce had no forwarding address at the time, Steve settled for quick text messages here and there. 

“And here I was thinking I was special.”

Steve laughed at your statement. He reached into the middle compartment to grab the mics you would be wearing. “By the way, make sure to hide this behind your neck. My mic will blend in as a button.”

You inspected the flat, button-like mic, awed by how intricate their design was. “They connected to Bucky’s?”

Steve clipped his onto his shoulder, the camouflage effect throwing you off. Yup, you loved science. “Yeah, they record everything and immediately send it back already transcribed.”

You unfolded the sun visor and watched how the mic picked up the color of your skin and blended naturally. “Remind me to send T’Challa and Shuri a gift basket.”

“And more.”

The estate was exactly how you remembered it. Modern and simple all at once, a brown exterior to easily blend into the surrounding forest, and massive front gate that only opened with a specific code. You leaned out the window and typed it in. There was no speaker this time, probably evidence of newly installed cameras. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve muttered, pulling into the long driveway and following the brick road. 

It truly was. Even from where you were, you could see into the mansion as the walls were all practically made from glass. The walls in the back were normal, however, as that’s where most of the business was conducted. There were no swing doors, only large and heavy double doors made from cooled lava rock. And even though your father was a very organized man, the house was littered in trinkets of all origins: professionally stuffed exotic animals, roman and oriental statues, porcelain eggs, multiple pianos, and first editions of some of the most popular books in the world. There wasn’t any set theme for this house, but it was screaming ‘money’. 

Steve parked the car away from the others, careful to leave enough room around it to ensure an easy escape if needed.

“Remember what I said - play the part. Leave the smart mouth to me, they know me. It’s what they’ve come to expect.”

Steve clicked his seatbelt and sighed heavily, “I apologize in advance.”

You gave him a small smile, “Nothing to apologize for, Steve. Like I said, this is a mission. Don’t stress about it.”

He shook his head, “Still.”

The sincere look in his eyes sent a tingle down your arms. You cleared your throat, “I feel dirty saying this, but know your place. You may be a Captain but you’re not manning this boat.”

For some reason Steve felt that he truly needed to apologize in advance. For the past several years, it wasn’t entirely real to him. He had not been directly involved. But now that he was here, parked and staring at you - the one person who had a first hand account of the horrors inside - he needed to make sure you understood he would never actually hurt you, or you him. “I trust you.”

You removed your seatbelt and opened the door, “I trust you, too.”

It was windy today, the ruffles from the trees almost disguising the labor coming from the back. You assumed they were still building the reception area. Steve jogged over to your side and hooked your arm in his, his body tenser than yours. Someone opened the heavy doors, immediately swallowing the oxygen for miles with merely their presence. You couldn’t help yourself from a small grimace, lips spreading into a straight line as you forced any other expression besides hatred. 

Seda, standing at barely six foot and a smug look plastered on his aging face that worried even Steve. This was the man that had shot you when he was on the run - the man that would most likely do it again. 

Seda quickly stepped down the stairs, “Y/N, so lovely to see you again!”

You let go of Steve to walk ahead, arms extended to match the idea of a grand entrance. “Really? Because the last time we saw each other, you shot me in the gut.”

Steve swore he saw Seda’s upper lip twitch. “You hold too many grudges. I was just following your father’s orders.”

You rolled your eyes and finally came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. “Obviously.”

“And I’ve finally got the chance to meet Captain America! You’re much larger in person.”

No matter the acting skills one must obtain for this line of work, it was still obvious Seda was speaking through clenched teeth. He scanned Steve up and down, somewhat intimidated.

It was such a sudden shift, one you obviously knew was coming, but the deepness of Steve’s voice still caused unnatural goosebumps to rise. “I get that a lot. Helps in this business, though.”

Seda let out a low chuckle, “I would think so.” He turned and instructed the two men who had followed him out to reopen the heavy doors.  “This way.”

Steve tried not to gawk at the amount of decorations and old-timey artifacts he swore should belong in a museum. So much furniture, so much history that shouldn’t mix but somehow worked. And was that… was that a stuffed polar bear?

“So, how you doing, Seda? Besides the usual,” you asked, hooking your arm back with Steve’s. 

Seda walked with his head held high, only tilting his head downward when giving a silent greeting to those who walked by. You tried to memorize faces or see if there was anyone you recognized. But your father barely kept the same team for more than a few years. They either left voluntarily and luckily, or were simply never heard from again. 

“Excited for the wedding. Jackeline has been running around nonstop on her finishing touches,” Seda responded. 

You huffed out a laugh, “I bet she has. She used to have a scrapbook that outlined six different wedding themes.”

“And I haven’t seen the end of it.”

Only a few more twists and turns and you were finally near the familiar hallway that housed your father’s darkest work. The interior design was purposeful, no windows and no cameras. Steve unhooked your arms, opting for a more formal presentation between the two of you. Seda was difficult to please, but your father was near impossible. Better to not have his hands all over his daughter during their first meeting.  

“Hey, what’s the wi-fi password? I’m expecting a few important emails today,” you asked before Seda opened your father’s office door. Steve had to restrain himself from blessing the ground you walked on. Bless you for remembering. 

“‘Guadalajara’.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sending the password to Torres as quickly as you could. 

It wasn’t the grand entrance you expected, truly, but you didn’t expect to see your father simply chilling behind his desk signing a few papers. He usually paced, was in a random meeting, or on the phone. Here, he was just… strangely normal. 

He looked up, eyes locking with yours for the first time in seven years. “Now, I haven’t seen you since your little weekend trip to Jalisco!”

Yeah, since you had me shot. 

Stepping into the office, the smell of cigars was heavy. Musty and daring, enveloping you like the times it did before. But now you had Steve - sweet Steve whose warmth you could feel behind you. 

You shrugged, “I’m not traveling much outside the country these days. Too much shit going on.”

Your father stood up and let out a dry laugh, “No lie about that. Seda was telling me how loose the borders were when half the world croaked.”

“Emigration was common, yup.”

He smiled at you, walking over and placing his hands on your shoulders. You did your best not to tense your muscles. “I wish I could have been there. You guys made millions those five years.”

You swore you heard Seda scoff near the corner of the room. 

“It’s about time we met! Ernesto Vega,” your father introduced himself, holding out his hand for Steve to take. 

It was instant, the change, and you found yourself pushed softly to the side as Steve stepped forward. “Steve Rogers, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Your father was practically beaming, “Y/N isn’t giving you a hard time with all the business, aye?”

Steve chuckled, “None at all. She steps back when asked.”

Okay, maybe he was a better actor than you took him for. 

“I can’t believe you even have to ask,” your father hummed, glancing back at you with a disapproving look. 

Steve shrugged, “More like ‘ordered.’”

It was scary how easily Steve was making your father laugh. “So, she listens to you? I wonder what that’s like.”

You interrupted, scoffing quietly. “I have literally done everything you’ve asked.”

And without glancing at you this time, your father quipped. “Everything but learn how not to complain.” 

You rolled your eyes and met Seda’s stare. He always enjoyed the torment your father caused you. When he ordered you do something sketchy and you objected, Seda always had a front row seat to the slaps and harsh language spit in your face. He had a way of bringing up the abuse in almost every conversation he held with you - like it gave him some form of sick satisfaction.

“Regardless of my daughter’s inability to listen, I was still surprised when she named you as her partner.”

“The whole hero game was getting boring. I needed excitement.”

Your father agreed, “Don’t we all?” 

Before he continued, he squinted his eyes at Steve and scanned him once more. Almost like he was double checking his initial choice. 

“And you’re fine with breaking the laws of the country you’re the mascot for?”

“America has changed over the last hundred years. Trust me, I should know.”

Steve was answering exactly how you two practiced. You couldn’t help the small tinge of pride that it ignited. 

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re older than me. I mean, look at you.”

“The positives and negatives of being America’s science experiment, sir.”

“But here you are now. Working for me.” Your father stepped back to sit behind his desk again. “I’m very happy.”

“Likewise, sir,” Steve replied as he shuffled closer to you, trying to not seem so suspicious. Last time Steve wanted to crawl out of his own skin was when he was barely being introduced to the new world. Times Square really was a concrete jungle, his and Bucky’s old apartment building had been demolished in the fifties, and inflation… don’t get him started on inflation.  

“I’d like you to meet my two friends.” Your eyes widened. No, you weren’t supposed to meet them today. You hadn’t planned for this. 

“Friends and competition alike.”

You tried to keep your voice steady, “Shouldn’t you warm them up before you invite them in? They’re gonna take one look at Steve and freak.”

Your father motioned for Seda to open the door. “Then prepare your speech quickly.”

Before you or Steve could come up with a game plan, your father called out to the new arrivals. “Amigos! Me gustaría presentarles al hombre detrás de toda mi operación.”

The men summoned were completely different from the last time you saw them. Given you saw Ramirez long before the snap and White even before then, change was destined. Ramirez was skinnier, no more protruding stomach, wrinkles almost nonexistent and eyes lively. He hadn’t disappeared with half the world, but one of his daughters did - so getting her back definitely helped his overall health. White, on the other hand, aged overnight. His hair was now gray, eyelids sullen but eyes wide, and his nose was tilted awkwardly, like a surgery to counteract the powder he sniffed. You couldn’t remember if he was dusted or not.

“Tienes que agradecer a mi hija por esto.”

He did not just give you credit for this. 

“No fucking way?” Ramirez spoke, almost like he was out of breath. 

Curse your father for not preparing these two. You quickly reminded yourself where your gun was hidden in case things got out of hand. 

White stepped forward, circling you and Steve as if you were displayed in a museum. “Do we each get our own Avenger?”

“Maybe in the future. But this one’s mine.”

“I’m an Avenger, too. But okay,” you mumbled, offended by his singular statement. Steve’s lip twitched slightly but the look he threw at you let you know he wanted to smile. 

“¿Cómo lo hiciste?”

“Ya sabes cómo es... La gente simplemente sigue mi ejemplo.”

You decided to speak, anything to get White to stop inspecting you like some ancient artifact. “Steve green lights the routes and passages. He’s been a main player all along.”

White squinted at you, “And how long has this been going on?”

“For almost ten years,” you answered. 

White shook his head in surprise, eyes wider than you thought possible. His accent was more slurred than you remembered. “And you’re telling us now because-?”

Your father cut in, “The world is still in ruins. If we combine our forces like we discussed before that unfortunate disappearing act, we’ll be unstoppable.”

This seemed to catch Ramirez off guard, as if he truly didn’t remember the conversation your father brought up. You shoveled his reaction deep into your memory. Maribel would have to look into it.

Still, Ramirez played along. “And you’ll be loyal to us, too? Not just Ernesto?”

Steve nodded, his posture straightening. “I would.”

Now, the two new arrivals looked at you. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t look at me. I do what he says,” you admitted, nodding your head toward Steve.

They seemed to accept that answer. 

“And he’s here to help us move the shipment this Saturday?” White asked.

“That’s the plan,” your father confirmed.

It was time for Ramirez to circle you both. But he did so more casually and without the intent of kicking you in the shins, it seemed. He went to sit on the couch nearest the door, away from the crowd. You could sense Steve tensing up, so you turned your body slightly to the side so you could see Ramirez through your peripheral.

“How do we know we can trust him? What those stars and stripes have to do with us?”

“You hear that Captain?” your father asked, leaning back in his chair with that twisted smile that always made your stomach drop. “Time to prove your loyalty.”

“Are you seriously going to haze him?” you spoke, a hint of a teasing tone on your words. It was time to liven up the conversation, for both your sake, or else your father was sure to go overboard. His hand… where’s Steve’s hand?

“Does she speak for you?”

Steve stepped forward, “No, she doesn’t.”

“Prove it.”

You should really punch your chest to get your heart beating again. Was he going to make Steve try the product? Record something as blackmail? Kill someone?

“Wha-” you began, but were immediately silenced as an arm wrapped around your neck and held you in place. The coldness of the gun’s muzzle tickled just below your chin, still and steady, but nonetheless terrifying. Your father had held you in this position before - hell, most of his men did when asked. But it wasn’t any of your father’s men threatening you under orders - it was Steve.  

“Obviously, I’m not going to kill her. You need her for this whole operation to work. But a little roughing up never did any bad.”

He removed his other arm but kept the muzzle under your chin, grabbing both your arms skillfully and pinning them behind your back. 

You had never seen your father so pleased. “Why are you dating my daughter?”

Steve chuckled and clicked the safety. No, no. 

You scrambled to open your right palm and squeeze what you could reach. Steve seemed to understand right away, and he loosened his grip and placed his other shaking hand into yours. You squeezed tightly. 

“Now, that’s like asking a man why he breathes air.”

No matter the position he currently had you in, you still praised his acting skills. 

“Perhaps. But I know my daughter. Why you?”

Steve kept a firm grip. “Luck?”

“It seems so. Let her go.”

He released you immediately, clicking the safety back on. Seda was in front of him before Steve could place it back on his person, grabbing the gun and emptying it. Seven rounds tumbled and scattered to the floor. This seemed to please both men, as Steve wasn’t presenting himself with an empty threat. He really could have killed you. 

“I’m assuming Y/N has told you stories about me. About my men.”

The floor beneath you was uneven, it seemed, but once your mind stopped playing tricks on you, you settled. You shot a quick glance to Ramirez, his eyes closed and hands clasped in his lap. He seemed distant.

“Only the ones worth repeating, sir.”

“Oh? And which are those?”

“Orders and the like.”

“So, you don’t know much? Nothing interesting? Nothing that could make me seem like the bad guy?”

The room grew hot, whether it was the natural air or the bubbling anger boiling in your stomach.

“Like I said, sir. I ask her what I want to know and she tells me. Other than that, it’s your call.”

The room fell silent as they debated their other questions. 

“How much do the other Avengers know?”

You were about to respond when Steve spoke instead. “Oblivious. I’m still the stars and stripes for them.”

White scoffed, “Those symbols don’t mean shit in this new world. Ridiculous of them to still assume you’re the same man.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, “Exactly right, sir.”

This seemed to be enough for your father. He stood from his chair, walking over to shake Steve’s hand again. So righteous and personal, almost like he hadn’t just ordered the assassination of an old friend a few days ago. “I like you, Captain. You’ve boosted my business, you’ve handled my daughter, you’ve made me a lot of money.” 

He looked away from Steve to look at you now, laying eyes upon a person he hadn’t bothered to reunite with in person. You had fought so hard not to be in the same room ever again, but now you were. A small little office, holding whatever air you were forced to share, on a mission that could change everything. You hated him, absolutely detested the ground he stood on, blamed him for the fallout, the change, the hurt. 

“Seda, you trust him?”

Seda opened the office door and started ushering the other two men out. “I’m getting there.”

Your father laughed, “Always so cynical.” 

Ramirez stood from his seat behind you, already gunning to make a good impression on your Captain. He shook Steve’s hand, “Until next time.”

“Sir,” Steve returned the handshake. Ramirez only adjusted slightly, and held his hand out to you. You looked down at it, momentarily stunned from any attention, but shook it in the way you were taught. Firm, short, and ready for business. You grinned at him and he returned the same emotion. 

“Two Avengers. Wow,” he mumbled, and tilted his head in a farewell. You watched him go, a silly smile on your face. 

You went to take your leave, cautious of being left alone with your father. But as fate had it, he stopped you from leaving so simply. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” 

You turned on your heel, lips plastered in a straight line. You raised your eyebrows at him, already annoyed from the request he most certainly had, no doubt. “Meet me in a few minutes. Alone.”

You forced yourself to nod, turning quickly and leaving the room. You shuffled down the hallway, Steve hot on your trail and reaching for your hand. 

“Hey, hey. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He tugged you back to him, but you pushed him into the corner room you were originally heading for. You shut the door softly, and allowed Steve to grip your hands in his. 

“Well, you gotta. Link our mics. You’ll hear everything.”

“Safe word?”

You chuckled lowly but retracted the teasing attitude when you saw genuine worry written on Steve’s face. “Widow, Steve.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you back there. I couldn’t think of anything else to do-”

You shushed him, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

“I fuck with you all the time but I would never take it that far.”

Where was this coming from? Steve looked like he was about to start hyperventilating. “I’m good. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine, see?” you placed his hand on your chest, making sure he could feel your heartbeat. “I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m good.”

Steve removed his hand and placed it over his own chest, rubbing slightly. “I’ll be right outside when he talks to you.”

“I know you’ll be. Now, stand guard, whistle low to alert me.”

“This the room? You know the code?”

It was a simple office as well, but resembled more of a library than a workspace. It was dimly lit, cluttered, smelled of the wooden cabinets and the dust collecting on the books, and lacked any windows as well. You nodded to confirm Steve’s question, heading over to the farthest bookshelf and pushed it away from the wall. The loose dust swooped from the wood surface and into the air instantly, and you had to pause to sneeze down your shirt. 

You wiped your nose, “I’m third in command. My father may have some things hidden but I have to know the codes to shit like this.”

Steve leaned his ear on the door gently, “You’re clear.”

You gave him a thumbs up and fiddled with the outside of the safe. It was built into the wall, black in color and definitely made way before you were born. It was quite rusted, the gold numbers on the lock almost faded. 

“Let’s hope he didn’t change it.” You turned the dial - seven, thirty-three, eighteen - and it clicked on the first try. “Bingo.”

“Did you have a backup plan if that didn’t work?”

You snorted quietly, “Smash?”

Steve rolled his eyes and pressed his ear back on the door. 

Everything inside had been recently rearranged. You figured your father used some of these ID’s when entering the country for the wedding and left them stacked on one another for the quick heist on Saturday.  “We’re in luck! Both my father’s and Seda’s ID’s are here, along with-”

You cooed, taking out your phone and opening the camera app. You snapped multiple pictures, with and without flash. “Stacks and stacks of cash.”

You pulled your purse in front of you and pulled out your wallet to make room, shoving it into your back pocket instead. 

“Help me put this in my purse.”

Steve left his post to help you shovel the ID’s discreetly into every pocket your purse provided, shoving things into corners so nothing protruded. 

“Damn, we gotta leave the money,” you pouted. 

Steve chuckled, “What a horrible thing.”

A sudden, boisterous laugh right outside the door caused you to rip your arm away from the safe, thankfully pulling the last of the ID’s with you. You pushed them into your purse, zipping it up. Steve reacted quickly as well, shutting the safe and rotating the dial, pushing the bookcase back into its original position. 

“It’s Ramirez and White,” Steve whispered, looking around the room for any help. “What do we do?”

“Ramirez…” you blinked, eyes wandering around the room as well. Think, think, think. The doorknob jiggled. “Trust me.”

You ripped your purse off and threw it to the nearest couch. You hooked your arms around Steve’s neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Oh my-”

In any other scenario, the whimper that left your throat would have been caused by a surge of ecstasy. But you were frightened of being caught, the whimper a blatant signal to just follow your lead. 

“Slam me into the wall, Captain.”

The door flew open just as Steve did as he was told. 

“And I told him it was ridiculous - oh my…”

You lifted your head from Steve’s neck, wide eyes to accompany your surprised state. “Oh! I thought we locked the door!”

Ramirez covered his eyes bashfully, turning around and staring at the wall. “Don’t mind us, we were just looking for loose smokes.”

Opposite to his intruding partner, White laughed at the scene before him. He dipped low, hands on his knees as he joked. “Didn’t think Captain America had it in him! Been a stiff ever since the ice, huh mate?”

You could feel Steve tense against you, and he froze entirely. You drew your hand up to play with the strands of his hair, putting on your best flirty tone possible. “Oh, trust me. He’s pretty stiff right now.”

Steve seemed to calm under your touch, so he turned his head over his shoulder and gave an embarrassed smile of his own. 

“Excuse us again, Y/N. You two enjoy your time,” Ramirez apologized, pulling at White’s jacket to guide him out of the room. Once you heard the click of the door, you jumped from Steve’s grasp and immediately began patting his back. 

“I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckled, his blush rising from his shoulders to his cheeks. “It’s okay, you saved us.”

You inspected him closely, a little embarrassed with yourself. It was a bold move, but one that needed to be done. You stood in silence for a few more seconds, each of you adjusting to such a sudden change of breathing pattern. 

You shut your eyes and groaned silently, “I need to speak with him.”

“Can I wait outside the door?”

You picked up your purse and swung it around your torso, “No, you need to wait in the car. Or smother Ramirez and White, your call.”

The lines on Steve’s forehead deepened, “Y/N, I can’t leave you alone with him.”

You wanted to argue further because Steve really over exaggerated. You fought a whole army of aliens, robots, and even the infamous Winter Soldier. Sure, you lost the battle with Thanos on the first try, you lost a teammate with Ultron, and gained a collapsed lung from Bucky’s insane roundhouse kick, but you were positive you could take your father. “You’re gonna have to. I’ve been alone with him before.”

Steve placed his hands on his hips and gave you a blank stare. “He shot you last time.”

“Ehh, Seda did.”

“Y/N.”

You laughed softly, “Then wait in the living room.”

“The shield’s in the car. If you need help, I may not have enough time-”

Steve and that goddamn shield. The guy was acting like he wasn’t a super soldier. You were annoyed. Annoyed with a pinch of salt?

“You whip that shield out to save me and I swear to god-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll link our mics.”

He fumbled around on his phone for a few seconds before you heard the softest beep from below your ear. 

     The last time you had entered that room alone, you left with a bullet lodged deep in your abdomen and with the threat of having it done again. Stumbling and crashing into the walls and random trinkets, leaving your blood stains on anything you used to steady yourself. This time would be different - it had to be. Your father wouldn’t shoot you with the Captain America waiting in the other room. Then again, your father always seemed to top himself each time you were forced to interact personally. In an instant, he dropped the good guy act. Or, hyped joy. 

Now, his stare was cold and calculated, posture upright like he was awaiting your arrival. You couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes, a tiny scoff breaking the silence as he returned it. 

“You’re one damn good actor.” 

He chuckled deeply, “We do what we have to do in front of the people who threaten our reign.” 

You kicked the leg of a nearby chair to turn it toward you. Sitting down, you retorted with a chuckle of your own. “You’re not royalty.” 

“We are... you are.”

Third in command. Daughter of the biggest drug lord south of the border? In most cases, you could be considered goddamn royalty. Did you want to be? No, because the title that seemed to fit was ‘a chess piece in the middle of a mad supremacy’. But that was too long.  

“So, what is this? You scared my Captain is gonna knock you off your feet and take your place?” 

His hands slammed the desk. His little basket of pens and pencils toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “I have waited seven, long years for you to bring that man to me. And each time you defied me. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now!” 

You remained seated, a blank stare boring into your father’s. “Uh, probably because he would avenge me. Get it?” 

He wasn’t one for jokes, though. “It would be so easy.” 

Aggravating him further was not the smartest thing to do. And Steve had the same thought as he fumbled with his own thumbs outside, hearing the conversation from afar. He almost wanted to barge in just to put your ass in time out. 

But you had seven years to make up for - a little joke here and there shouldn’t hurt much. 

“You do know I’m an Avenger, right? Trained by Natalia Romanoff herself?” 

You worded your sentence carefully, her alias need not be spoken out loud unless you needed backup. 

“Answer me.”

When his nostrils flared, you knew better than to twist the knife. 

“Steve didn’t sign the accords. He was on the run for two years before you asked me for him. This is public knowledge.”

He pointed his index finger at you, shaking it wildly. “You lie. Why you lie?”

You had to blink multiple times through your shocked state, mouth agape and involuntarily racks of laughter spilling. He couldn’t be serious. You could only repeat the same thing so many times. 

“Like I said all those years ago - He. Was. On. The. Run. No contact. I had no way of contacting him!”

He struggled to grab whatever on his desk to raise toward your face. In this case, he pointed his phone in a threatening manner. “Excuses! Remember the last time you made such a poor excuse?”

The laughing stopped, your mouth immediately shutting. You clenched your jaw to work through your murderous impulses. 

You wondered how your hands would look wrapped around his neck. Red and angry, tightening as each desperate second passes, nails forming crescents as they pressed in his skin. If there was a window, you would definitely kick him out of it. Wave goodbye as he fell dramatically. But the mansion was one story high and you couldn’t magically conjure up a window. God, this would be the absolute best time to have Wanda or Loki here to use some of that dark magic. Either way, you just wanted to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face right now. 

“He. Was on. The run.”

“And I thought you learned your lesson.”

You stood from your seat and leaned on the desk, arms holding you up and face inches away from his. “You gonna send in your men to remind me? With my Captain a few feet away?”

His lips were trembling as much as yours were - face blotchy with silver droplets of sweat and an angry blush now reaching his forehead. For a seventy-five year old man, he still had such a rage in him that didn’t risk a heart attack. Lucky bastard. 

“He best not interfere if it’s what I choose to do.”

Outside, Steve gripped the back door handle to the point it squished in on itself, metal twisting awkwardly and splintering the paint. His free hand was balled into the meanest fist, even his stubby nails wreaking havoc on his pale palm. He was making himself bleed by the restraint. He took slow breaths, eyes closed but ears fully alert. He wouldn’t cry. Not right now. 

“I called you back alone to invite you to breakfast the day after tomorrow.”

Whether it was because he knew you were only a few seconds from lunging yourself across his desk to break his neck or because he was tired from all the energy he had just exerted, your father slumped back into his seat as he spoke. 

“The hotel has free breakfast.”

He shook his head in complete astonishment, “You’re not getting out of this. I have important business to discuss with each of you.”

You continued to stare him down, “Over coffee?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t leave the estate so close to the wedding. Your sister is flying in tomorrow and I have to make sure construction is done by then.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re the best father in the world.”

Being in the same room was suffocating, but you couldn’t help but be fascinated by the man. How unbelievably thoughtless yet calculated he could be. How unbelievably fake yet so damn real in all his hidden meanings.

“Jackeline likes to think so.”

Your sister was sweet, sure, and there was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not fight one another, being the only daughters and all. But you were eight years old when she was born, already tainted by the world in which she was just born into. Forgive your lack of sisterly bond. When you were sixteen, you dipped. Now, at the sprouting ages of twenty-six and eighteen, you two couldn’t be more different. 

Actually, yes you could. If she thought your father was a good man, she was entirely ignorant of the world she lives in. 

“Good for her. Why don’t we discuss the shipment transport during the most important day of her life?”

“Nice try. That’s what the rehearsal dinner is for - rehearsal.” 

You gave your father a sad smile, “You really won’t trust me. After all these years of following your orders.”

“Now, let’s not go bringing up the past.”

You interrupted, “Why not? You’re trusting my Captain and I to help you move that shipment but won’t trust me enough to tell me where it is right now?” 

He was back to standing but he was much calmer. “Right now, I trust your Captain more than you. What kind of man would leave everything moral behind for a bunch of criminals? A bad one.”

“You’ve known him for like, two seconds.”

Your father searched his pockets for loose cigarettes. “He left everything moral behind for me. For you. And you left me behind for everything moral.”

Rolling your eyes, you backed away from his desk and headed for the door. “Sometimes you don’t make any sense. Is that it? Are we done?”

“You accept my invitation?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” 

     The mansion seemed larger than when you entered, the hallways longer, the walls closing in, the trinkets reaching out to stop you by the wrist. The longer you stayed in this hell hole, the more likely you were probably going to unleash the rage attached to your body in the form of your favorite weapons. Bomb the hell out of this place. 

You marched to Steve’s car. He was already waiting, leaning along the passenger door like he was going to open it for you. If he did, you might kill him too. So, you repeatedly snapped your fingers at him and pointed around the car, silently but angrily motioning him to get in. He didn’t need to be told twice. In fact, he thought it might be therapeutic for you to throw the door open and slam it yourself. It was. 

Steve started the car. He didn’t need to ask, there was no reason to since he heard everything. And so did Sam. Bucky. Scott. It was being transcribed as you swerved out of the estate. God, you wanted to throw up. 

“I’ll tell you when to stop.” 

Steve choked on his breath, “Stop?” 

You rolled down the windows to breathe in the crisp cold air, teeth becoming sensitive as it passed into your lungs. “Once we get past the cameras and nearby neighborhoods.” 

“Did you need-“ 

“When I say stop, stop. Fucking damn, Steve! Listen to me for once!”

Steve didn’t know why he was challenging you. Your father had just brought up one of the most traumatic moments of your life, basically called you a hypocrite and a coward - he tried to tear you down. And here you were, holding it all together like the champ he found you to be. But he never handled your outbursts well, even if they were completely justified. 

“Don’t fucking give me orders if you won’t tell me what they’re for!”

“Stop the fucking car!”

He slammed on the breaks, instincts still kicking in during your argument and he reached his arm out to your side to hold you back from the powerful surge. His body lunged forward, however, chest hitting the steering wheel and horn. 

You scrambled out of the car and ran into the woods, feet guiding you through mud and prickly bushes until they reached a more secluded spot. Steve stumbled along after you, nearly tripping over the same rocks you had avoided masterfully. 

Before he could ask what you were doing, you pulled your gun from its hidden holster and clicked the safety. Steve’s eyes bulged out of his head just in time to see the first round sound off mid-air. He crouched down to the floor and shielded his head. You shot away from him, obviously, until all seven rounds were dislodged, aimed in the sky diagonally. 

Once the last bullet exited, you simply packed everything up. Now calm and collected, you turned around and headed back for the car.

Steve’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Seriously?”

You pushed branches away from your head as you walked, “Seriously.”

“Do you know how dangerous that is? Those bullets don’t just disappear into thin air,” Steve scolded, jogging up to speed walk beside you. 

“So fucking what? I’m keeping the rent low in this area, then.”

Steve sighed in defeat, “Talk to me.”

“Sorry, I’m shutting down.”

“Y/N-”

You groaned, tears of frustration not entirely formed, but in their beginning stages. “You already know what’s stressing me out, Steve. Do you need it in writing?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve lowered his voice. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just,” you paused, stopping to face him. You opened and closed your hands mid-air as if that would help you formulate your sentences better. “I don’t know. But when I find out, I’ll let you know.”

This Steve could accept. So he simply nodded, guiding you the rest of the way with his hand gently placed on your lower back. 

     The drive back to the hotel was fairly silent. The radio provided a calming relief from such drama. Steve would glance at you every so often to check on you, but you were always resting your eyes. This was only the first day of the mission - officially. If you were this drained from one encounter, Steve needed to rethink this whole operation. Whether it was healthy to keep you on, or if the threat was just too large. But no matter the alternatives, Steve understood that this week was going to be difficult either way, and you needed to be present. This was your mission after all. He was just your partner. 

Even with a thousand things on your mind, you were still conscious enough to check your surroundings, check-in with the agent posted behind the front desk, and reconnect your mic with the teams. 

Steve pushed open your room door and threw the car keys on one of the nearby tables. “Nap time?”

You ignored his initial question, “I didn’t think seeing them in person again would be so draining.”

Steve watched you carefully, somewhat scared that you would pull out your gun again and shatter a window. “It was pretty cramped.”

You started to disarm yourself, tearing off your sweater and holsters clumsily. “And they acted like we were all on good terms! Around you, at least. I know they’re acting for my sister’s sake and then we can go back to hating each other after, but really?”

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, eyes sorry. “I really don’t know what to say.”

You threw yourself onto your bed, burying your face into the pillows. You continued speaking, albeit muffled. “You don’t have to say anything - just let me rant.”

“You’ll tire yourself out, Y/N. C’mon, we gotta draft up this report-”

You lifted yourself up and started smoothing down your hair, “I need a drink.”

Steve pointed to the computer, “The report.”

“A drink.” 

“Y/N, it’s getting late. The sooner we draft it, the sooner-”

You grumbled out again, already opening the door and shoving your boots on. “Steve, I need a drink. You know what they do to me, what they’ve done to me, what they continue to do every single day. Now, join me or not but I am going downstairs for a drink.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking around the room hesitantly. “Can I at least take the laptop?”

You threw your head back and walked out the door, “Take the goddamn laptop, jesus fucking christ, c’mon.”

     If there’s one thing you were happy about today, it was that you booked a hotel with a mini bar on the second floor. It wasn’t an outright full bar, but it was low lit, clean and the counters were made from fine wood, and there was a variety of flavors to choose from. There were only a few hotel guests spread out and a single bartender. You and Steve took seats at the counter. 

“Whiskey sour,” you called for the bartender, trying and failing to give him the nicest smile you could. 

Steve settled in his bar stool, “Thought you wanted to drink to drink hard.”

You chuckled at him and extended your arms in a stretch, “I’m mad, not depressed.”

He grinned at your movements - as if just sitting in a bar already loosened you up. “In that case, get me a beer.”

     Natasha had called Steve for help after your fourth beer and fifth whiskey. Her coaxing proved to be pointless, each request of a safe passage home seeming to enter one ear and leave the other. And you’ll end up killing her when you were sober enough for sending unwanted reinforcements, but even she didn’t want to fight you. If you wanted to drown in liquid courage, that courage churning itself into raw despair, then she would allow it. 

Steve stared at you for a few moments. Head hanging low, a deep frown etched into your tired expression, index finger tapping your glass as if you were debating whether to down it in one go or to leave it. Steve had never seen you like this, guard destroyed and face practically pale, just begging to be left alone. And it seemed the whole bar felt the same way, as there was no music playing and everyone was wallowing in their own grief. 

“I can spot you from a mile away, you know?”

Your voice immediately pulled Steve from his own mind and he was surprised you could still form coherent sentences given the amount of empty glasses in front of you. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You scoffed, leaning away from him as he sat down in the stool beside you. “Natasha sent you. Don’t tell me otherwise.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good.”

Steve ordered a beer for himself, and although he was driving, one beer wouldn’t impair him anyway. It wouldn’t even cause a dent in his 20/20 vision. 

“Fucking ridiculous, it’s fucking ridiculous!” 

The bar patrons seemed to wince simultaneously and the bartender simply gathered a few of your empty glasses to wash. Steve didn’t hush you, didn’t touch you, didn’t try to reassure you. If you needed to cause a scene, it was time. Your silence for the past week had been frightening, but when Tony returned last night, half dead and without the kid, it seemed to be your breaking point. 

“Wanda destroyed it. She destroyed the fucking stone and all he did was use another to bring it back.”

Steve took a sip of his beer to disguise his quivering lip, but his eyes had no curtain. His waterline swelled with fresh tears, eyes instantly reddening, an undesired sting pinching the corners. 

“Strange must have had a reason. He must’ve, but - how can that reason include the death of trillions?”

“We’re going to find a way-”

“And if we don’t?”

Steve kept his lips on the bottle, incisors biting down only slightly as he took in your rhetorical question. You continued speaking.

“He destroyed the stones.”

“Carol is looking for answers.”

You shook your head and pulled out your wallet, leaving whatever cash you had on the counter before standing up. You stumbled but Steve latched onto your arm and pulled it to hug his waist. 

“Loki?” you mumbled, raising your head to lock eyes with Steve. He didn’t know if you were calling him another name or if you were asking for the God’s whereabouts. “Bucky?”

“Hey, stop, stop.”

“Peter?”

Steve could only nod. What use was it to lie to you? Your new vertical position seemed to magnify the true extent of your intoxication as your eyes finally glazed over and limbs trembled. 

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Gripping his shirt, you apologized each time it would crumble and you would accidentally tug it downward. But Steve didn’t care. You were practically limp in his arms, heavy and without proper use of your legs. 

“You’re a good man, Steve.”

Steve sighed sadly but couldn’t help the small smile that formed as he looked down at you and found you sporting a silly one of your own. 

“A really good man. I’m happy you’re still here.”

Steve paused for a moment, taking in your words and holding back his own tears. If there was a time he wanted to be drunk off his ass, it would be now. He was somewhat jealous of the brief relief alcohol had given you, loose and not fully aware of the drama of the world. “I’m happy, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you slurred, allowing Steve to guide you to his car. You slumped against the passenger door as Steve searched his pocket for his key. “I heard you crying last night.”

Steve halted his search mid-pat, a hard crease forming between his eyebrows as he lifted his head. “I wasn’t-”

“I cry too,” you admitted, a drunken pout on your face. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Perhaps it was a dirty thing for him to do at this moment because you wouldn’t remember a single word of this conversation in the morning, but he figured there was no immediate harm. He found his key, unlocked the car, and helped you inside. Only once he entered the car himself did he take advantage of your blurry mind. 

“I cried for Sam and Bucky. Who do you cry for?”

You clicked the seatbelt on, mind clear enough for safety precautions it seemed. “Poor Wanda.”

Steve nodded and started the car. “Anything else?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time Loki asked me on a date?”

Steve immediately shut off the car and turned to you. “Huh? When?”

You grinned, small giggles bubbling from your chest. “A few months ago. He was so shy, too. I said yes.”

Steve ignored the twinge in his chest, “How was it?”

You leaned your head back and tilted it towards him, your smile faltered slightly. “Never went on it. And now he’s dead.”

The urge to lean over and wrap you in a much needed hug was there, eating away at him since you called him a good man. But he had taken advantage of this situation far too much, so he simply nodded in understanding and started the car again. 

“I’m sorry.”

You barely heard him, but you mumbled a quick response before letting the alcohol fully consume you. “Me too.”

     You thanked the bartender when they slid you your drink. “I hadn’t seen him since before the world went to shit.” You took a quick sip. “Kinda strange.”

Steve nodded, wondering if he should dive deep into the issue at hand. Instead of outright saying his outdated spiel, he eased into it. He gave you a few needed sips of your drink, at least.  “Y/N, can I ask an honest question?”

You hummed, “My toes are already tingling. You could probably ask me what my kinks are and I’d tell you.”

Steve suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, “You never could handle a sip of alcohol.”

Your eyes rounded at his reaction. Perhaps the alcohol affected him in other fun ways that he didn’t know. “Nope, I’m a lightweight.”

Steve contained himself before clearing his throat, “The question…”

“Go ahead.”

He rolled his shoulders and took a sip of his beer. Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice. “If it comes down to it, and god forbid you’re incapacitated, do you want me to kill your father?”

Your mouth opened slightly, the words stuck behind your tongue. You looked down at your drink, as if some special response was swimming in it. You knew your answer, but the way to phrase it was lost. 

“I don’t want his blood on your hands.”

“But if it was the last choice?”

You sighed, “If you pull that trigger, they’ll never stop coming after you.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together, “But if you pull it?”

You shrugged and raised the glass to your lips. “That’s my life, Steve. Let me deal with the consequences.”

“That’s just it - you don’t have to. At least, not alone.”

God, you hated how perfect Steve sounded all the time. Whenever he was annoying you, fighting you, or protecting you, his syllables were stretched in the most glorious way, dipping into every crevice of the person they were delivered to and warming inches of body slowly. You wanted him to have somewhat of an evil side for once in his life, but no matter how many times you thought he would explode, he didn’t.

Two years ago, when he dropped you from his life in an instant, you had assumed you finally caught a glimpse at this evil side. It was the only time you were truly scared of him. 

“You really are a good person.”

Steve swished his beer bottle around, “I wish everyone would stop being surprised by that.”

“I’m not surprised. I guess I just want to hate you, and I can’t.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped like crumbling mountains and you couldn’t stop thinking about how vulnerable he looked. You wanted to pull him closer and rest your head to his chest, hear his heartbeat and apologize for theorizing a possible hatred. 

“Why do you want to hate me?”

“When you wouldn’t sign the accords, part of me saw that as the mascot of America not caring if he invaded and pillaged everything in his path.”

“But I-” Steve interjected, but you stopped him by raising your hand and waving it gently. 

“I know why you didn’t. Hell, I helped you escape.”

“Why did you help if you hated me?”

Being vulnerable with Steve wasn’t anything new. You were each other’s support system for those lonely five years, but it all changed the moment you defeated Thanos. So, for the last two years you didn’t quite get along. But here, now, you could always tell when Steve was being honest and open. 

“Guess I thought that if you were willing to help me with my family, I should help you with yours.”

His therapist desperately tried to rationalize the experiences Steve would tell, instructing him to look past hard exteriors and accept help from others. That his old friends were still friends, and enemies should never be compared to those he loved. And he knew he was easily blinded when something or someone had the slightest mishap, instantly writing it off as harmful. 

He spoke of you often during his one hour sessions - stories of your blatant silliness and crude jokes; how you would poke your finger into his sandwiches when you thought he wasn’t looking; how you almost beat up a kid and his little gang for baiting Peter after his identity was exposed; and how you and Sam had gotten into a bar fight over something so trivial, so unnecessary, that it was almost unbelievable to see you innocently scoot away from the body on the floor in the police video, as if you had nothing to do with it and those few feet of distance automatically cleared you. 

His therapist would just listen. 

“Did I ever thank you?”

You smiled sadly, “You went into hiding soon after. Then we went to battle, lost everyone, went to battle again, and then…”

“And then.”

‘And then’ wasn’t really something you two liked to bring up. It was still a fresh wound, somewhat patched up, but still open. 

You spaced out for a few minutes, both of you enjoying your drinks. You were no longer drinking to get drunk, not that it was your original goal to begin with. You just sat in comfortable silence, reliving the events earlier that day and drafting an internal report. 

“What are you thinking about?”

You pursed your lips and thought, clicking your tongue when it finally dawned on you. “This was the first time I saw Marcus White sober.”

Steve sat up straighter, “Are you sure? He didn’t look it.”

“Yeah, he usually speaks quickly and he fidgets. But he was coherent this afternoon.”

“Should that be a red flag?”

You took out your phone and sent a quick text to Torres for him to monitor White closely for the next few days, just in case. “A big one. My father referred to him more often than he did Ramirez.”

Steve tackled every idea in his head quickly, speaking as a new one popped up. “They could be planning a move against Ramirez. He’s close to overthrowing your father.”

You raised your head from your phone, “And the wedding would be a perfect distraction.”

“He would kill his greatest rival on your sister’s happiest day?”

You let out a low chuckle, “This man has nothing to lose. It won’t matter who he topples along the way.”

Steve opened the laptop, silently congratulating himself for bringing it despite your insults, and began drafting the report. The two of you worked for the next hour, nursing a couple more drinks before you sent the final copy to Bucky. 

~

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

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

New in Town

Warnings: noncon sex.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new job in a new town but find your welcome not so warm.

Note: Another piece for @imanuglywombat​ and @nellblazer​‘s Lumberjack Challenge. I needed me a big, scary Thor so here we go!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was your first day and you already felt in way over your head. Your predecessor had left quite the mess and it would take a while to clean it all up. The filing cabinet had little actual organization to it and the computer, well that was just a bunch of nonsensically titled files dropped in random folders. It would take you the better part of a month just to get things in order.

You suspected however, that even that wouldn’t be fast enough for you prickly new boss. Loki, who preferred Mr. Laufeyson, had been short as he showed you your desk and nonchalantly pointed to the filing cabinet and assured you everything was ready to go. Well, it was not at all. Payroll, scheduling, among other admin to be done. Your only saving grace was that last week’s pay had already been doled out and you only need to figure out that week’s before, oh, great, end of the day.

You shivered as the walls of the portable shook with the frigid gust. It was poor protection from the northern chill and you kept your jacket on and only slightly unzipped as you went about your work. If your gloves weren’t so thick, you’d have kept them on as well.

As you jotted down names and hours and switched between windows, the door opened and you sat up as a tall man entered abruptly. He slammed the door behind him as he glared around the office and tilted his head at you. Thick blonde hair poked out from beneath his wool cap and a golden beard trimmed his jaw. His flannel jacket was worn and stained and he smelled of pine and sweat as he neared your desk. He held a hatchet in his right hand and leaned it against the edge of your desk.

“Where’s Kevin?” He asked brusquely.

“Kevin? Oh, um, I was told he quit. I’m his replacement.” You smiled as best as you could as the large man loomed before you. 

Like most of the workers, he lived in the small town an hour down the road. You’d only just moved there and he was no doubt wary of the stranger staring back at him. Your employment had been hurried; so much so that much of your home was still in boxes stacked in your front room. 

“I can help you.” You offered.

“Where’s my brother?” He growled.

“Your brother?” You wondered.

“Loki,” He huffed. You blinked. They didn’t look like brothers.

“Oh, sorry,” You said. “Well, he’s just in his office but he did ask not to be disturbed.”

The man rolled his eyes and turned the hatchet flat. His nostrils flared.

“Typical.” He muttered. “I suppose it’s your job now. I’m short.”

“Short?” You repeated.

“I was paid for maybe 14 hours. I worked almost 50.” He barked. “And my check didn’t clear until last night. You wanna tell me why?”

“Well, sir,” You clicked a few buttons as you switched to last week. “If you give me my name I can see and I can fix the--”

“Odinson, Thor,” He said sharply. “I’m the yard warden. I’m the reason these saws run.”

“I understand,” You placated as you looked at the screen and squinted as you found his name. 

Sure his enough his hours were entered correctly but his pay had been miscalculated. You corrected the typo and clicked a few more buttons.

“The payment should clear by the end of the day.” You assured him.

“End of day?” He sneered and you pushed yourself away from the desk as he raised the hatchet and brought it crashing down into the wood. “I’ll be back if it doesn’t.”

Your eyes rounded and you gripped the arms of the chair. You looked up at him and he gave a sinister smirk. He turned and stormed out as you gaped at him. As the door clattered behind him you stood and reached for the hatchet. You pulled on it but it was lodged firmly beside your computer.

The door of the back office opened and Loki stepped through. He raised his eyebrows and sighed.

“Mmm, that didn’t happen to be my brother, did it?” He asked.

You nodded and let go of the axe. He neared and looked at the hatchet.

“What was it this time?” He touched the handle and his long fingers wrapped around it. He jerked it and the whole desk moved with it.

“Mistake in the payroll.” You answered. 

“Hmm,” He let go of the hatchet and shrugged. “Well, see it doesn’t happen again.”

You bit back your response. It hadn’t been your mistake. He spun away and head back to his office. 

“Wait? What about this?” You asked as you tugged on the axe again.

“Work around it,” He waved his fingers over his shoulder. “Desk is still in one piece.”

🍯

The next day was more of the same. You were suffocated by the amount of work to do and how your list grew ever longer. You wondered if perhaps whoever previously held the post had been plucked from the lumberyard. 

You sat on the floor next to the filing cabinet, the drawers open as you sorted papers into piles. As the door opened, you kept a pile from fluttering away with your foot and looked up at your visitor. It was the same man as the day before. Thor looked just as perturbed as then, if not more.

“Hello,” You said as you gathered up the piles, stack them perpendicularly to keep them separate as you neared the other side of your desk. “What can I do for you?”

“The schedule.” He said. “I need Saturday off.”

“Saturday?” You nodded and bent to look at your computer, searching through your programs. “I’m certain we can spare a saw--”

“No, we have to run all. You’ll have to find someone to cover me.” He insisted.

“Alright, well, it’s pretty short notice.”

“Look, I know how it works in the yard. We’ll fall behind if we don’t run all the saws.” He crossed his arms. “You get it, honey?”

You frowned and scrolled through the names. You’d be lucky to get anyone to say yes to a Saturday.

“Well,” You stood straight. “Why didn’t you request the time off?”

“Excuse me?” He snarled.

“It’s customary to request time off before a schedule is made,” You said. “So for me to find someone at such short notice, there’s only so much I can do.”

“You’ll find someone.” He huffed.

“With all due respect, I don’t go out there and tell you how to cut wood,” You said. “So, if you must have Saturday off, we might just need to be down a man.”

His nostrils flared and his jaw squared as he stepped closer to your desk. He dropped his arms and reached out to grip the hatchet still buried in the wood. He chuckled and ripped it out, shaking your desk.

“See that you don’t,” He warned as he turned and leaned the hatchet against his shoulder. “You can explain to my brother yourself why we don’t meet our numbers on Saturday then.”

“Oh, he’ll know why,” You affirmed and watched him disappear through the door, a draft skirting in past him.

You sniffed and glanced at the slit left in your desk. Great. Wonderful start.

🍯

Saturday was your first day off. You spent much of the day unpacking and settling into your new place. It was a small town and you still felt like the odd one out. Everyone knew everyone and you suspected, they didn’t want to know anyone else. 

As it got later, the night falling earlier there, you took a walk downtown and ordered some old-fashioned fish and chips from the shop downtown. You waited at a table along the wall as the cook talked and yelled in the kitchen and the couple at the front counter called out orders and rang them through.

You played with your phone, playing a matching game to keep you busy until your ticket came up. The chair across from yours scraped and you looked up at the broad figure on the other side of the table. Thor leaned an elbow on the table and stared up at the menus above the counter.

“Not from around here. I knew it.” He said. “Because I know everyone around here.”

“I’m sure you do,” You said stiffly.

He scoffed and scratched his beard. He leaned back against the wall as he sat sideways in the chair and flicked the corner of his receipt in his other hand.

“You city folk are all the same. You think you know everything.” He grumbled. “You’ve got this air about you. The way you walk around with your nose up.” He grimaced. “A real tight ass, just by looking at you.”

“If that’s what you think.” You shrugged. “I haven’t done anything against you so I don’t see why--”

“My town. My yard.” He slapped his hand down and gripped the edge of the table. “You won’t last. You’ll be on the same truck out of here soon enough.”

Your number was called and you stood. You tucked your phone in your purse and gave a tense smile.

“Have a good night,” You said evenly. “Hope you enjoyed your day off.”

You went to the counter and showed your ticket. You took the greasy paper bag and headed out without looking at the man still at the table brooding. You weren’t entirely sure why you’d riled him so, but you weren’t eager to provoke him further.

🍯

On Monday, you hunkered down with a thermos of coffee and set to sorting out the computer. You had to open every file and rename it, place it in the proper folder and back every bit of it up. It kept you busy, not that this job had let up, and you were content to lose yourself in the tedium.

When your lunchtime came around, you went out to your car to grab the lunch you’d forgotten on your passenger seat. You had been so preoccupied with your mental to do list, you had entirely overlooked it. As you carried your purple lunch tote back to the office building with its rippled tin walls, you passed by several of the workers on their own breaks.

Among them was the one man who’d proven himself troublesome. The rest of them had been understanding and were even relieved to be rid of the man who came before you. They were surprisingly patient even if they were a bit grim. Thor sat with several of his men on the log bench as they drank from steaming metal cups.

“So I get her home and she doesn’t even wait to get in the door before she has her shirt off.” Thor’s deep voice boomed as you neared. “I’m like honey, you know the neighbours like to talk. Well, she shut me up.”

You blinked and peeked over at the men. Thor smirked and winked as he caught your eye. You righted yourself and carried on.

“Had her bent over the kitchen table. She said she doesn’t fuck in bed.” He chortled. “Not high-maintenance like some.”

The men laughed as you climbed the steps of the office and turned back. Thor waved at you and then folded all but one finger. He pointed at you and looked at the men on either side of you.

“Not like that one.” He said. “Looking at her, I guarantee she hasn’t been fucked in at least a year. Maybe more.”

You winced and grabbed the door handle. You were embarrassed but angry. You knew if you said anything, it would only be worse, but you couldn’t just let him talk like that. You spun back and slipped inside, quickly snapping the door shut behind you.

You placed your lunch on your desk and crossed to the other door. You knocked and waited for Loki’s response. It was dull and already agitated. You entered and stood by the open door.

“What is it?” He looked up. “I’ve twenty minutes before I’m on my way out.”

“What-- Where?”

“Personal,” He said pointedly. “Now, why have you bothered me?”

“Look, I’m not trying to cause a fuss but… your brother,” You explained cautiously. “He’s been… extremely rude and his behaviour borders on harassment.”

“My brother?” He uttered. “Oh don’t mind him, that’s just the way he is. Repugnant, really, but you’re better off to ignore him.”

“I’ve done my best to but… are you not going to do anything? Say something to him?” You challenged.

“Why would I do that?” He leaned back in his chair and twirled his pen.

“Because if this continues, I will fire a report with the labour board for harassment.” You said.

“You’ve not been here a week and you’re coming up with these unfounded accusations,” He pointed the pen at you. “These men, they’re not used to a woman in the yard. My brother, especially. They’ll be even less hospitable if they hear this woman is whining to the boss.”

“I’m not--” You stopped yourself as he showed little interest in continuing the dialogue. In fact, he’d already traded the pen for his phone. “Suppose you’re right.”

“I am. Now don’t bother with my brother. He’ll leave you alone.” He waved you away like a bug. “Just do your work. That’s what I pay you for.”

🍯

In the five days you’d been at the lumberyard, Loki had left early twice or disappeared for midday meetings. You found your work was straightforward but he didn’t seem to care unless you made some glaring mistake. He was entirely unfazed as he left once more. You couldn’t blame him for not wanting to deal with his volatile brother and yet, that was his job.

Alone, you continued your overhaul of the filing system and reviewed the schedule for the next week. Your life had never been exciting, none of your jobs had been much different than this. A desk, an office, an endless pile of work. And yet this one felt more desolate. The walls did nothing against the cold winds and you could hear the buzz of saws and hollers of men without. All men. It only occurred to you then that there was not a woman beside yourself on the employee roll. Perhaps that was why you’d been met with hostility.

You checked your watch and shut down the old PC and locked up the filing cabinets. As you did whenever Loki flitted off, you killed the lights and locked the front door of the office behind you. You turned and tramped down the stairs onto the frozen ground. You could see your breath as the days grew colder and colder.

You stopped dead as you headed for the row of vehicles along the edge of the yard, all parked at an angle. You stared dumbly at your small Ford. That wasn’t good. A whole tree trunk laid across the car and its weight had sunken in the roof. What were the odds that a tree had traveled to fall on your car in particular. Well, you had a good idea who had left the rather large gift and you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction.

You turned and strode back to the office but again your fortune was not so kind. Thor strutted towards you with a big grin and his arms brushed against yours as he passed.

“Have a good night, honey,” He said.

“You too.” You returned rigidly and sped up.

You didn’t look back as you dug out the keys and unlocked the office. You slipped inside and closed yourself in as you pulled out your phone. You dialed the cab company as you peeked out between the blinds. Thor was stood by your car guffawing with a red-headed man at his handiwork.

Would Loki do anything about that?

🍯

In the back of the cab, you called the towing company and scheduled an appointment for the next night. Then you tried to phone Loki but he didn’t pick up so you e-mailed him with the picture you’d taken of your car. It was damage of property! Surely he had to do something. 

You checked the time and watched the meter run higher and higher. The commute was long as it was and seeing it in numbers made you even angrier. You wouldn’t have much time to cook or do much of anything.

As the taxi pulled up to your house, you charged the ride to your credit card and climbed out. You shivered as the dark blue sky shrouded your front yard. Voices carried from the next and you looked over the short iron fence. Your neighbour leaned on the rail of his porch as a tall figure stood in his yard. Your flesh went hot as you recognized Thor.

“You live around here, honey?” He asked as you turned away and scurried to your front door.

“Mmhmm,” You hummed as you unlocked your door.

“You’re home late.” He remarked.

You ignored him and swung the door open, quickly closing it behind you. Your neighbour, Earl, had proven an equally unfriendly man. He complained about your bin when you put out your garbage and the little fairy ornament you’d placed in the yard. If there was one thing the people in this stagnant town loathed, it was change.

You dropped your bag and shed your coat and boots. You yawned and stretched as you walked anxiously around your front room. How was it that you ran into Thor everywhere? Work, sure, but why was he suddenly chummy with your neighbour? You hadn’t been there long and it was a small town but it all just seemed too coincidental.

You went to the window and hooked a finger around the curtain to peer out. Thor was closer to the fence now, arms crossed as he nodded up at Earl. He lowered his eyes for a moment and then turned his face slightly. He grinned as he spied you on the other side of the drapes and you quickly backed away.

You weren’t going to run away because of him. You weren’t going to quit and you weren’t going to leave this town. His fragile masculinity could shatter for all you cared.

🍯

The next morning, Loki agreed to drive you to work. The ride was awkward but you were thankful only to contribute half of gas rather than a full fare. You hadn’t slept very well and spent much of the drive staring out the window as classical music droned from the stereo. You hadn’t expected anything different in the overpriced car.

At the office, you brewed a pot inside and poured your second cup of the day. You had to finish the next week’s schedule and finalize the payroll. The noise of the yard kept you working and had almost come to be a comfort to you as you sat staring at tight fonts and endless numbers.

You were interrupted by the door and you didn’t need to look up to know who stomped inside. Thor looked as happy as ever and you peered over anxiously as his heavy boots clunked along the floor.

“My brother?” He asked bluntly. “Has some business to deal with.”

“In his office,” You said.

He smiled and stared at you. He didn’t move at first but finally crossed to the other door. He didn’t knock and you heard Loki’s chagrined greeting as he entered. The door fell closed but did not click into place. You went back to your work and tried to ignore the rising voices that sifted through the thin wall.

“Prove it!” Thor boomed, followed by a bang. The door swung open and he thundered through with a snarl. He marched towards your desk as you sat straight and he planted his hands on the top. “Whiny little bitch.” He said. “You’ll see what happens to those who can’t keep their mouth shut.”

“Thor,” Loki warned from his office door. “Leave her be. Don’t get yourself into any more trouble.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Thor pushed himself away as he barked at his brother. “You sound like father.”

“And you sound ridiculous.” Loki said evenly. “Get back to work. I’m certain you can handle cutting wood. It’s truly not that complicated.”

Thor scowled and spun, sparing you not an ounce of his fury as he did. You watched him go, the door shuddering in its frame as it slammed once more. You let out a shaky breath and glanced over at Loki.

“I assure you, he will not bother you again.” Loki said coolly. “He is… impulsive and needs a little reasoning. Once he’s over his tantrum, it’ll all clear up.”

You nodded as he turned and strode back into his office. You’d been gripping the edge of the desk tightly and it took you a moment to unlock your fingers. You leaned back and clutched your head. You really hoped he was right.

🍯

The next day, you waited at your window, watching for Loki’s sleek black car. Another day after another restless night. You watched the pale morning through the glass and your phone vibed in your pocket. You pulled it out and swiped up as the notification from your boss appeared.

“Emergency in the city. I’ve made alternate arrangements. E-mail me your progress at end of day.”

You frowned and looked up as an engine rumbled outside. You cursed as you recognized the red pick-up and the shadow of the man behind the wheel. Was Loki really that stupid? Certainly he just didn’t care. Or maybe he really thought he could control his brother. You had doubts. Thor didn’t seem the type to be reeled in by any.

Well, you could always rack up even more debt on a cab; there and back. Dammit.

Thor honked and you winced. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. You locked your door as you stepped out into the morning chill and turned to make your way to the idling truck. The doors clicked as you neared and you hesitantly opened the door. 

Thor stared down at you. You didn’t move.

“Well, get in,” He sneered. “Long way to go.”

You climbed up and shut the door. Before you buckled in, he was already in drive. You snapped the belt into place and slid your bag down to your feet.

“Thank you.” You said. He didn’t answer. “Look, I know you don’t like me and I know you don’t have to drive me so I do appreciate it.”

“Anything to get my brother off my back,” He shrugged. 

You were quiet. It was pointless trying to get into this man’s good graces. He had decided to have a grudge against you and you’d only stoked it by tattling on him. You should’ve just shut and smiled, as you always had. It was the essence of professionalism.

You bent your elbow against the door and held your chin as you watched the houses pass outside the window and thin to lumpy fields and forests. You were almost lulled to sleep by the steady mutter of the engine and the motion of the truck.

Then all at once you were tense. A warmth settled on your thigh and squeezed. You sat up and tried to pull away from Thor. He kept his other hand on the steering wheel and grinned at the road. You tried to shove his hand away and he gripped you tighter until you cried out.

“You shouldn’t distract me while I’m driving,” He said. “It’s dangerous.”

“What are you talking about?” You tried to pry his fingers off of you. “What are you--”

Slid his hand further and leaned over, just a little, as he turned his hand flat along your pelvis. He was strong and forced two finger down between your legs.

“Thor!” You gasped as you slapped his arm.

He veered, just a little, but didn’t relent.

“You don’t want me to lose control, do you, honey?” 

He pushed his fingers against the fabric of your pants and rubbed. You could feel the seam through your panties as he moved his hold hand. He was rough and it hurt. All the same, you felt a tingle. You clung to his arm in shock.

“Stop! Stop! You’re--”

“Shhhh,” He kept going as his other hand gripped the wheel tighter. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

He moved his hand faster as you tried to crush it with your thighs. He wedged his hand between your legs and kept on. You trembled as a painful pressure began to build and you sank back against the seat, terrified. 

“That’s it, honey.” He purred as your thighs quivered. “You just need to relax… get that stick out of your ass.”

“Thor--” You gulped. “Please-- st--”

His fingers were right on your clit. The fabric chafed but still the ripples swirled around you. You went rigid and then the sudden and unexpected release swelled and crashed. You let out a pathetic squeak and gripped the door as you spasmed, your legs falling apart as you rode out your orgasm against his large hand.

His palm dropped against your leg and he caressed you before slowly drawing away. Your panties were soaked and you were certain it was seeping through your pants too. You looked at yourself in the rearview mirror and covered your face. 

What just happened?

🍯

You hid in your office. When you finally arrived at the yard, you’d almost sprinted to the building. You closed yourself in and sat behind your desk as if it were a shield. It took you a while to focus, to be able to read clearly, to comprehend anything in front of you. And yet, you could still feel his hand between your legs. Every time you moved, your panties tickled your tender cunt.

At noon, an e-mail chimed in your inbox. Another message from Loki. He wasn’t half as attentive when he was on-site. You opened it and sighed. There was a severe weather warning and the yard would have to shut down for the storm. That meant everyone had to go home before they got stranded.

You zipped up the jacket you hadn’t taken off and went to the door. Go out, go out, go out. The sooner you were home, the better. But getting there…

You stepped outside and the door clattered behind you. You ambled down the stairs and crossed your arms against your chest as the wind swirled the light powdery snow around you. For now, it was little enough, but it would get worse.

You crossed the yard and followed the sound of saws. Arn was loading up a trailer with Cameron and they paused as you neared. You smiled, then frowned.

“Storm’s coming. Boss says we need to shut down.” You called to them.

“Shit,” Cameron looked up and wiped away the flakes that fell on his cheek. “Yeah, it’s coming.”

“We’ll tell the other,” Arn offered. “Thanks, miss.”

“Not at all. We need the saws off and everyone gone within the hour.” You explained loudly.

“What’s this?” Thor, as was his habit, appeared as if out of air. He clapped sawdust from his thick gloves. “Saws off?”

“Your brother. He wants the yard down for the storm.” You turned to him and edged away as he got closer.

Thor shook his head and huffed. He nodded to Arn and Cameron as he shrugged. “Go on. Tell the men. I’ll get the rest sorted.”

The two other men left their pile of chopped timber and strolled away to the saws. You spun away, eager to shut down the office and lock up. Thor’s voice stopped you.

“You’ll need a ride,” He said. “It’s gonna be a big one. Storm, that is.”

“Uh huh,” You grumbled as you turned back and crossed your arms. “I gotta go deal with the admin stuff.”

“I’ll stick around. Loki’s always the last to leave.” He said. “You’ll need to do a walk through. Make sure everything’s down.”

“I know,” You assured him. “It won’t take long.”

“I’ll take you through it.” He offered. “This is my yard, after all.”

“So you keep saying.” You uttered.

“I own half of it.” He countered. “My brother just does the paperwork.”

“Alright,” You continued to edge away. “I’ll just--”

“This is a place for men.” He hissed. “Women… just get in the way.”

You swallowed and said nothing. You turned and walked away as you felt him watching you. As you rounded the corner of the storehouse, he called out behind you. “I’m patient. I’ll be here.”

🍯

Thor’s truck was the only one left as you locked up the office and began your walk through of the saws and checked the doors of the storehouses. You checked that the cranes and lifts were all shut down as well, all the while Thor watched. It was as if he was judging you. You ignored him as best you could and announced that all was in order as you secured the edge of the tarp thrown over the stack of timber at the edge of the yard.

“You’re a quick learner,” Thor mused as you neared. “So you might know.”

“Know what?” You asked as a large flake hit the tip of your nose.

“That it’s too late,” He pointed up. “We won’t make it back in time.”

He kicked his boots in the blanket below. It was building by the second and the sky was almost pure white with the downfall. He was right and you hated that. Your stomach sank.

“You have chains?” You asked.

“Won’t do me much good if I can’t see,” He tilted his head and smirked. “There’s a kit in the office. Not the first time this has happened. You learn to expect it up here.”

“A kit?” You shook your head. 

“Some blankets, some food,” He came closer. “Keep ourselves comfy until this all clears up.”

You stared at him dumbly. You checked your watched and looked up at the sky again.

“No, we can--”

“We can’t,” He said firmly. “What’s wrong?” He neared. “You afraid of the big bad wolf?”

You shouldered past him and kicked through the thickening snow. “No.” You snipped back at him, his heavy boots crushed the snow in your snow. “I suppose you’re right.”

You climbed the stairs to the office and took out the key, fumbling with your thick gloves as Thor came up behind you. He pressed himself to your back as you frantically turned the key and stumbled inside. He chuckled as he followed and closed the door. You tucked the keys away in your purse and took out your phone. No signal.

You left your purse on your desk and sighed. Thor went to the door of Loki’s office and glanced back at you. “Kit’s in here. Easier to keep warm, too. Smaller space.” He waved you along. “He’s got an electric heater hidden under his desk too.”

You said nothing as you followed. You really had no choice. Stuck here with no way out but him, you’d just have to fend him off through the storm.

He held the door for you and shut the door behind you. His hand grazed your back and ass as he drew away and you watched him round Loki’s large desk and go to the corner behind the standing cabinet. He dragged out a large bin hidden there and unclasped the lid.

You watched him, twiddling your fingers as your mind raced. You felt the ache below still and you looked at his large glove hand as he turned to push the desk against the wall. He laid out a thick duvet on the floor and the small travel pillow atop it with a quilt. He untangled the cord of the electric heater and placed it beside the blankets. He flipped it on and stood.

“Well,” He said. “Some soups in there. Some preserved fruits.” He offered. “You hungry, honey?”

You were quiet as he removed his gloves. You went to the other side of the blanket and sat. You took your boots off and left them to melt on the floor. You pushed your feet under the quilt and leaned against the cold wall.

“Don’t call me honey,” You crossed your arms. “And I’m not hungry.”

He nodded and lowered himself next to you. He untied his boots and set them aside with his hat. His shoulder rested just above yours as he sat back. You closed your eyes and let out a long breath.

“He’s got whiskey. Bottom drawer.” Thor said. “It might warm you up… loosen you up at least.”

“No, thank you.” You opened your eyes and slid down onto your back and turned your back to him. The electric heater buzzed in the silence.

“What wrong, honey?” He taunted. “You want more, hmm? This morning wasn’t enough for you?”

“Leave me alone.” You hissed.

He slipped down behind you and before you could sit up, his arm was around your waist. He pushed himself against your back and his hot breath seeped into your scalp. He nuzzled the back of your head. It was even more apparent, laid against him, how large he was. You shivered.

“I can keep you nice and warm, honey,” He bent his arm and tugged at the zipper of your jacket. “Keep you distracted.”

“Stop,” You grabbed his hand as he pulled your zipper past your chest. “Thor!”

“I felt it earlier. The way you quaked.” He snarled. “You need this.”

“No,” You clutched his hand as he forced your zipped further. “Stop. I just… want to sleep. Wake up when this is… over.”

“Feel that,” He pushed his pelvis out so that his crotch was against your ass. “You owe me.”

“I said--” You gasped as he broke your zipper entirely and slid his hand under your jacket. “Thor!”

“Are you fighting me or yourself?” He rasped. “Hmmm?”

He slid his hand up your blouse and cupped your tit. You wiggled against him but were trapped in his embrace. He squeezed and pinched until you cried out. He snarled and brushed his lips against your ear.

“I bet you’re sweet, honey,” His hand crawled down your stomach. “Aren’t you?”

You whined helpless as his hand pushed beneath the elastic waist of your pants. He pulled free of your grasp as he continued lower and slipped down the front of your panties. You gasped as he pressed a finger to your cunt and found your clit. You squeezed your legs together and he pulled his hand back to pinch you.

“What do you want, honey?” He growled. “You want to let me in or you want me to hold you down?”

“Please--”

He withdrew his hand and grabbed your leg. He bent it and drew it back over his.

“You think you’ll win?” He shoved his hand back down your pants gruffly. “Really?”

“Please--”

“That’s it, keep begging, honey,” He pushed two fingers to your clit and twirled. You twitched and he snickered in your ear. “Weak.” He sneered as he pushed his fingers along your folds. “You’re already wet… or is that from earlier?”

You murmured as he dragged his fingertips back and once more focused on your clit. He nibbled your ear as he snarled and rocked his hips into you from behind, grinding against your ass.

“You’ll want to be ready for me.” He gristled. “Nice…” He flicked his fingers and you groaned. “And…” He did it again and you whined. “Ready.”

You bit your lip as you fought against the tide that flowed from his touch. He rubbed you until you were breathless and ready to cum. He stopped suddenly and felt you tremble against him. He pulled his hand back and pushed your leg down. He brought his fingers up to his lips, just beside your head and sucked them noisily.

“Sweet as pie.” He muttered.

He gripped the back of your pants and wrenched them down roughly along with your panties. The cold air raised bumps on your flesh.

You reached out and tried to drag yourself away from him. He swiftly caught you and rolled you back to him.

“You don’t want to do that, honey,” He warned as he squeezed your hip. “Do you really want me to break you?”

You gulped and reached to grasp the small pillow lodged beneath your neck. He reached between your bodies and pulled up his jacket and you heard the subtle whisper of his zipper. He shifted behind you and snaked his arm around you once more. He pushed your pelvis until you arched your back and a deep rumble rose from his chest. 

He poked between your legs, parting them as much as he could as your pants confined your thighs. He leaned into you and his cock prodded along your ass and he angled it lower. He spread your cunt with two fingers and blinding pressed himself against you, guiding his tip between to your entrance.

A chill went through you and your arms shot out. You tried to roll away from him and he pushed inside you all at once. You cried out and he grunted as he forced himself even deeper. You threw your head back as your body curved backwards and yet, there was more of him. You whimpered as he filled you completely. 

“I told you, honey,” He jerked his hips and you yelped. “You gotta be ready for me.”

He thrust, slowly. You murmured and slapped the floor with your palm. You were breathless, senseless as your walls clenched him hungrily. Your arm flew back and your fingers tangled in his thick hair. He drew his fingers back to your clit and teased you once more. The scent of his sweat and evergreen mingled and engulfed you as he grunted with each tilt of his hips.

“I didn’t think you could do it, honey,” He sped up. “I didn’t think you could take it all.” He rutted with dusky breaths in your ear. “Ah… you’re so fucking tight.”

You whimpered. He was so big it hurt and yet it was the type of pain that had you wanting. His fingers drove your hunger and you panted wildly as you closed your eyes and drowned in the delight. His warmth chased away the cold and you forgot where you were, who you were. There was only the twisting coil inside you.

He pounded into you harder and pathetic mewls tumbled from you. You clung to him tighter and his grunts punctuated each thrust. The wet sound of your cunt added to the lurid rhythm and your body quaked as you crept closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me,” He snarled in your ear. “Come on, I can feel it, honey. Cum--”

You cried out and your entire body shook as your nails grazed his scalp. Your orgasm was disorienting and left you dizzy as it turned to wispy murmurs. It only spurred him on. He crashed into you even hard as he brought his fingers to your lips and poked them inside your mouth. You sucked on his fingers and tasted yourself. It was sweet.

He turned you on your stomach and kept his motion as he lifted himself over you. He crushed you beneath him as his pelvis snapped down into you. His hand spread over your head as he held you down and his other arms pinned your shoulder. His grunt grew louder and louder as he hammered into you.

He moved your whole body as his thrusts turned frantic. You clawed at the duvet as your face was buried into the small pillow. You could barely catch your breath and you gave muffled whine as your hips and ass throbbed.

He planted his hands on either side of you and lifted himself as he slammed into you. He roared as you felt his release spill inside of you. He jerked into you harshly and impaled you completely. He stayed like that as he shuddered and eased himself down onto you. You turned your face out as you suffocated beneath his weight.

He inhaled your scent as he dragged his nose along your cheek.

“You should’ve stayed in the city, girl.” He wiggled his pelvis and you winced. “Where you belong.”

[karahalloway]

I've been kinda slow in sending this ask but I wanted to respond to your 'Writer ask - personal writing hacks edition' I wanna know #2, 4, 5, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16. please. Lol, I know that's a lot, but your ask had a lot of questions too, so consider it payback 😁😈🤣

Thanks for the ask @petiteboheme​! And honestly, don’t worry - in comparison to the monster list of OTP asks I’ve gotten previously from @nestledonthaveone​ and @aussiegurl1234​, this was a piece of cake! 😇

2. How do you name your characters?

Off the cuff? 🤣

I kinda just try to find a name that I like and feel suits the character. For example, for Harper’s family, I kind of had an idea of each character’s personality as I started writing them, so I then just went through a mental list of American names, and distributed based on what felt right (for Tyler, I played around with Tyler vs. Taylor, and ended up settling on the former).

For Harper, I mentioned somewhere previously (I think it may have been to you, actually!) that when I started playing TRR, I was setting up my MC and needed to choose the name (as the default canon name didn’t feel right). So, I went with Harper (which kind of indirectly came from the MC’s name in a very old Neverwinter Nights 2 rewrite that I read years ago on FanFiction.net (I was going to post a link, because it’s very good, but sadly, the author has deleted her account... 😔) because (i) I liked the name ever since I read that fic, and (ii) thought it would suit my MC. Then for her surname, I went with Gale because honestly, I just liked how the combination of Harper + Gale sounded (then I think a couple of months later, when I started writing (Un)Common Attraction, I actually looked into whether Gale was a real surname, or not, and turned out it was - French/British origin, if you want to know!)

Finally, for Christian, as I mention in the Author’s Note for UA, I didn’t think that the default canon name of Liam (which is very Anglo-Saxon / Irish) was appropriate for the Prince of Mediterranean country, so I went through a list of European baby names (which, if you are stumped for a name, is probably the fastest and easiest way to trawl through lots of name options very quickly - just find a baby names website!)

4. What do you do with ideas you currently don't have time to write?

I keep them in my head 😅

Probably not the safest place to store them, I admit, but until I actually have time to write them down, I don’t really have anywhere else I can put them (I don’t really do outlines).

5. What do you do with scrapped stories?

I have a very neglected folder on my laptop called ‘Current Projects’ where many-a commenced, but never completed story is still languishing after oh-so many years! 

TRR is taking up all my time and brain capacity at the moment, so... 😅 For TRR specifically I have a document titled ‘Unsure’ where I dump stuff that I’ve written, then cut, in case I ever want to reuse somewhere else in the future.

12. Any suggestions for making editing easier and/or more fun?

So, I have kind of a weird process...

I will write something - usually on my laptop - and then I will upload it onto Wattpad as a draft chapter for whatever fic that I am working on. This allows me to do two things: (1) edit/write on the go (I have the Wattpad app on my phone, so if I get a random brainwave, or a spare minute when I’m feeling creative, I can just pull up the app and tap down the idea); and (2) edit.

For whatever reason, I cannot edit / readback stuff in a Word document - I miss typo’s and ‘see’ what I meant to say, instead of what the text actually says. But, putting the text into a different medium (i.e. Wattpad on my phone) allows me to ‘disassociate’ from the text and read it back as a reader, instead of as a writer. Also, when reviewing/editing, I deliberately read as if I was reading the text for the first time (i.e. not anticipating what comes next, even though I wrote it), so I can get a good feel of how the text flows, how the characters sound, have I included all the important info that helps build the scene?

13. If you research for your stories, how do you go about it?

As you probably know, I am a bit of a geek when it comes to realism and accuracy! That said, I don’t ‘research’ my stories - I am 110% a panster (meaning I don’t plan beyond a very general mental outline for each chapter), so I go where the charachters take me.

But, if something comes up in a chapter that I don’t have personal experience / knowledge of (usually to do with cars, guns, security, locations and different languages), I will hop onto Google and do some research on that specific thing, or I will ask my husband (he is quite the walking-talking encyclopedia for cars, guns, self-defence, tactical shit, and the like).

14. Summarize in 3 sentences or less what is important for you when it comes to opening scenes.

Omg... these next three questions are actually making me think... 🤣 Okay, here we go...

For opening scenes, this is not something that I used to pay a lot of attention to, but the more I write, the more I am trying to start chapters with some kind of zingy, attention-grabbing opening. So, I guess it would be a snappy one-liner of some sort to set the tone, and draw the reader into the story (e.g., I start off Drive with an internal thought of disbelief, I start off Burnt and Extraction with Drake swearing, I start off Crazy with some song lyrics, and the more recent Harper POV chapters of Intentions (Chapter 7, onwards) by jumping into the middle of a conversation).

15. Summarize in 3 sentences or less what is important for you when it comes to climax scenes.

Tension...!!! 😆

If we’re at a climax - whether it be an argument, a chase-scene, a private realisation, or a sex scene - we need to feel like we’ve had a crazy climb up the proverbial mountain to get this stage, so I want the reader’s heart to be pounding, their breath feeling short, and their eyes wide with anticipation.

I have a few tricks on how to achieve this:

1. Emotional investment - a climax is only going to feel climactic to a reader if they feel invested in the story (what’s happened up until now, and what is about to happen). Because, if they don’t care, then you can write whatever you want, and they’ll just be like ‘meh...’ So, laying strong foundations for your charachters and the story in general is important. I personally find this easier to do in first-person POV (because you are literally seeing events unfold through your MC’s eyes, get to glimpse their private thoughts as situations play out).

2. Snappy writing - I’ve been teaching some other people how to do this, but basically, one way to build tension is to use short, snappy sentences and paragraphs. If you’ve written something, that doesn’t feel ‘tense’ enough, you can up the ante simply by cutting a sentence into 2-3 parts by replacing commas with full stops.

But, here are some other tricks that I use all the time:

Short, abrupt sentences/paragraphs (extract from Intentions, Bonus Chapter - Drive - pretty much the entirety of this chapter is an exercise in this method of building tension, but here is quite a solid example:)

"Harper!"

Silence.

Fuck.

She'd hung up on me.

Even though I knew it was probably pointless, I hit the redial button.

After an agonising few seconds, I get nothing but dial tone.

Great...

She'd turned off her phone.

I let out a low growl. This girl was going to be the death of me.

Cutting off conversations mid-flow - this messes with the reader’s expectation because mentally they’re like ‘Hey! What happened! Where’s the rest of it?’ (Extract from Intentions, Chapter 5 - Sparks Fly)

"I followed that bullshit order to the letter," replies Drake with equal dispassion.

"You brought her back! You did the exact opposite of wh—"

"You should never have sent her away in the first place!"

"Guys!" I plead desperately. "Can we please just—?"

"I did what I had to for her!" shouts Christian. "If you'd been thinking with your head instead of your dick, you would've real—"

"At least I was thinking!" retorts Drake. "Instead of reacting like a fuckin' image-conscious moron! You cared more about how—"

"Someone threatened her!"

Italicising important words (Extract from Intentions, Bonus Chapter - Extraction)

"Un-fuckin'-believable..." I grit, turning away from the picturesque view of downtown Manhattan before I hurled my phone off the side of the building with Chris still on the line.

"I didn't want you to add to your plate while you were on the other side of the globe. And the press isn't technically part of your remit, so—"

"That was not your call to make," I hit back irately, double-timing it up and down the terrace in an attempt to work off my aggravation.

This was the second fucking time Chris had made an executive decision concerning Gale without giving me so much as a last minute heads up — the person who he'd assigned to look out for her.

Interrupting thoughts with elipses to continue them after a break (Extract from UA, Bonus Chapter - Burnt)

But I'd lost control. I'd crossed the line.

In more ways than one...

I sling the remainder of the whiskey back.

...and now I was royally fucked.

Interspacing action with thoughts/comments that interrupt the flow of what you’ve been writing about up until now - Drake does this quite naturally when I’m writing him; he is leading you down one thought and then suddenly he interrupts it with a reality check, and you’ve like ‘Oh! That wasn’t the important thing, was it?’ and he’s like ‘Nope!’ 😈

This was an in-person face-to-face. A critical milestone in most relationships — sometimes even a make-or-break one.

Because this was when your girlfriend's parents decided whether or not you were good enough for their daughter.

And even if that wasn't enough tacit pressure to deal with under normal circumstances, I was in the doubly unenviable position of not only doing something like this for the very first time — given that I'd never been in a relationship that had progressed to this stage before — but I was also going to be doing it solo.

Not that that was my biggest worry.

☝️ This last sentence being the interruption of the flow, because you’re like ‘Okay, we’re nervous about meeting Harper’s family’ and then suddenly he’s like ‘Actually...’ and you as the reader are like ‘!!! There’s something more?!’ 😦 and you’re dying to find out!

Not revealing who the speaker is until the last possible moment - keeps the reader guessing (Extract from Intentions, Chapter 9 - Less Than Noble Intentions)

I yank the blade from its holster, raising it into the air as I spin around with a growl.

My assailant's eyes widen in surprise.

But just as I'm about to bring the weapon down into the side of their neck, I feel my wrist connect with something hard and, in the next second, I find myself wrenched around, my hand behind my back and the tip of the blade pressing into my spine.

"Not bad..."

The sound of the familiar voice in my ear knocks the air out of my chest.

"...but aim for the gut next time."

I feel myself pale. It can't be...!

"It's harder to defend and you cause more damage."

The knife falls out of my hand to clatter onto the marble. "Drake!"

And... last, but not least... Swearing! 🤗 Swearing is always great at creating tension - especially when you (as the reader) are not expecting it, because not a huge amount of writers use it, so when you see it, it always hits you in the face! (Extract from Intentions, Chapter 10 - A Frosty Reception)

"I'm not suggesting anything. Because I have no proof." I take a meaningful step towards her as I drop my voice. "But if I find out that you were involved in anything in any way — especially in what happened at Applewood... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be you."

Madeline's spluttering like a beached mackerel. "Are you threatening me?"

"Oh, it's no threat," I assure her. "It's a warning. I'm back at court to clear my name. So, I have no time for, and even less interest in power games or stupid pissing contests. And if you're not helping me get to the bottom of this mess, then stay the fuck out of my way."

Shoving past her, I stomp out of the bathroom, hands shaking.

Self-entitled bitch...

3. Climactic climax - Okay, I know that this sounds strange, but if you’re doing a climax, it actually needs to be climactic. You can’t build up to something and then just have it fizzle out. A good example of a climactic climax is the end of the fight scene in Chapter 11 - Twilight Zone of Intentions because all this emotional tension has been building up inside Harper, and suddenly she snaps and starts fighting back, and then she realises that it was Drake that she was about to knife 😬... and everyone shit their pants! 🤣

Okay, I guess that was more than 3 sentences, but nevermind...😅 Hopefully this helps!

16. Share one piece of advise for how you create tension in your stories.

I kinda covered this above, but generally speaking, readers expect text to have a flow. If you interrupt that expectation, that creates tension/anticipation. How you do it is up to you, but the best way to create tension is to go against the grain of what the reader is expecting to happen next 👍

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#showyourprocess

From planning to posting, share your process for making creative content!

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES — When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours!

Thank you so much for tagging me @lan-xichens​, I’ll try my best to explain how I made this set from start to finish hehe ♡ and also a big thank you to @suibianjie​ @highwarlockkareena​ @nyx4​ @aheartfullofjolllly​ and you as well Kris for putting this all together! Content creators get a lot less recognition than they deserve for all the time they put into their content, so getting everyone to see the (sometimes excessive) process we all go through to put our content in our blog, I hope it creates a positive change!! 💖

1. Planning

The set in question was actually requested by someone so they could celebrate their friend’s birthday! At first I wasn’t entirely sure if I was going to be able to finish it on time (college is very hectic right now) but I was able to finish it three days before the deadline which was may 1st! ^-^

The first thing I did was decide what characters I wanted to use in the set, I first reached out to the person who requested the set if there were certain characters they wanted me to use but they said they didn’t know enough to really give me any directives outside of the quote. I decided, since the quote is applicable to the entirety of the show, that I would try to put in as many characters as possible.

Thus, of course, came the hunting for scenes. Those of you in the net discord surely know I came into the content help channel a few times to ask for certain scenes here and there, and eventually I had to download an additional 10 episodes to the back then 20 or so episodes I had in my CQL episodes folder.

As you can see I have 30 random episodes of CQL downloaded (slowly but surely getting to the point where I have all 50 episodes downloaded) and I think I ended up using scenes out of at least 20 of those episodes.

I planned out beforehand what characters I would use per gif. I knew obviously I would start out with Wangxian, them being the main characters of the show, and then would work my way down the list. The second gif consists of Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue, Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning. They’re all family pairings, two being siblings and one being a married couple. The next gifset consists of the Yi City characters, then the fourth gif consists of the juniors, and the final gif has Jin Guangyao, Mianmian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Xichen in it.

I have to admit though that when I had made the first four gifs I’d forgotten who I would put in the last gif and the when I thought about it the first time around I could only think of Lan Qiren and the very cursed Yaoyang ship 😭 it was only at dinner time that same day that I remembered I hadn’t put Jiang Cheng in my gifset yet and that’s when I thought of the other characters as well.

I had already made my first two gifs when I went to check Hanyi’s blog for layout inspo and eventually I decided I wanted to try a triangle-ish layout, which I doodled below. I eventually ended up changing the layout of the last gif in the final design. It was also the first time I would work with a triangle-ish layout so I was a bit nervous as I was scared it wasn’t going to work out...

2. Creating

I use Avisynth 2.5 and Adobe Photoshop 2021 (the paid version, unfortunately, I need it for school except I didn’t need it this year but I wanted it so I paid for it with my own money ouch) to make my gifsets! I always start out with trimming down all the scenes I’m going to use into three to five second videos and putting them through Avisynth. This time around I did it separately for each gif I made, simply because I needed so many scenes. I would include a screenshot of my “gif vids” and “temp” folders but I’ve already deleted all the videos, which is what I usually do immediately after a set is posted.

I’ll try my best explaining this gif by gif since each one had a different layout!

2.1 Wangxian

I think I had up to five different designs of this gif 😭 it started out with the gif on the left originally being more centered and the quote right smack in the center but somehow it felt a bit too... empty? I changed up the design and pulled the gif over to the right and put the two closeups on the left, the exact opposite of the gif I eventually ended up with. I switched things around one more time and saved the gif as you can see it right now, except I didn’t include the lines yet. It was only as I finished up my fourth gif that I decided this gif needed lines as well so I added them ^-^

2.2 Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue, Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning

I got the inspiration for the font layout on this gif from this Wenzhou post! I hadn’t tried it before and when I did for this gif I was very happy with the way it turned out :D I wanted to portray that life is a pile of good and bad things, as the quote says, in CQL by mirroring these happy scenes side by side with the sad scenes

2.3 Yi CIty

My first time working with the triangle layout!! Putting in the lines and making sure they would line up with the second gif took me the longest of all actually  😭 I think once I got the line on the left in I just copy pasted it and flipped it horizontally so I didn’t have to fiddle around with angling it anymore :’) my original idea was to get a happy Song Lan scene and a sad A-Qing scene, but when I stumbled upon this A-Qing scene in ep38 I just had to put it in there because her smile is so precious 🥺 Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen in the center are also supposed to be mirrored, with Xue Yang embodying the “bad things” and Xiao Xingchen the “good things” ! I also think the Yi City characters fit this part of the quote very well!!

2.4 The Juniors

Ah yes, the junior quartet!! :D I had this planned out from the very beginning, that I would include happy versus sad juniors in the “vice versa” part of the quote, and I think it worked out quite well! My first idea was to put the “vice versa” completely in the special font and have it typed out over the gifs like I did with the “vice” but as I typed out the “versa” I realized it had one letter too much to be able to do that 😭😭 it took me a while to come up with how I would position the “but” and “versa” and after some moving around I decided to just place them the way I did in the final gif! For the font, I duplicated the “vice” and added a stroke to the duplicate, then I changed the fill setting to 0% so I could slightly drag the duplicate away from the original layer to create the effect that’s in the gif — also, finding a scene in which Jin Ling smiles is really difficult.... he barely even smiles in the scene I ended up using :(

2.5 Jin Guangyao, Mianmian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Xichen

The final gif!! I feel like this might come a little across as “I promise I didn’t forget these characters” because they’re a very odd quadruplet to put together, but they were the most important characters left to put in the set! I was thinking of putting Nie Mingjue in here together with Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen, but I did feel he fit more with his brother up in the second gif. Mei @mylastbraincql​ cheered me on making this gif for which I was very grateful :D <3 the layout came to be after I googled “how to evenly split a rectangle in four” because I didn’t want a repeat layout in the set  (*/∇＼*)

2.6 Coloring

For the coloring I pretty much did all of the tweaking on the first gif and then copy pasted all of it onto the second, third, fourth, and fifth gif. This is usually the way I go about my coloring, I will always edit certain gifs if necessary but I don’t think I had to change the coloring much on any of these gifs? Maybe I added in a curve layer here and there, but nothing major! This is really one of my preferred coloring styles, even though I try to step outside of my comfort zones with other sets ^-^

3. Posting

I will always upload sets into my drafts and edit the caption in there as well, clicking on “preview post” a couple times to check everything looks good on my blog as well, before I post a set. However, this time, since there was a deadline and I finished before the deadline, I put this set in the queue so it would automatically post on the 1st of may! Knowing myself, I would’ve forgotten to do so </3

Whew that was... a lot 😭 did it make any sense? Probably not, but it was fun to ramble （ ´∀｀）

I’ll tag

@blinkplnk​ with this set !

@wuxien​ with this set !

@wendashanren​ with this set !

@wanyinxichen​ with this set !

@yibobibo​ with this set !

@mylastbraincql​ with this set !

@sugarbabywenkexing​ with this set !

@yiling-recesses​ with this set !

@jiancheng​ with this set !

Please feel totally free to ignore this if you’ve already been tagged and don’t want to do it again!! <3