#train sucks. give up!!! wave the white flag | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

They’re Sayin’ (You’re Gonna Be My Man)

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 2217

Summary: Sam calls Bucky too soon after he's left Louisiana, looking for advice he doesn’t really need and getting a conversation he didn’t really expect.

Sam’s supposed to wait until news of the Flag-Smashers’ movements comes down the line to get in touch with Bucky. He doesn’t. It’s sooner. It’s almost right away.

He’s sure Bucky’s gotta be out of the state, but he doesn’t know whether he’s made it back to this alleged apartment in Brooklyn (on some level, Sam’s aware that he keeps making jokes about the conspiracy of the apartment’s existence because it’s his way of daring Bucky to invite him over sometime). When he calls Bucky up, he knows he might catch him on a plane, in a cab, with a buzz of voices around him as he scowls at strangers in an airport or stomps down a sidewalk. But, other than Bucky’s voice on the other end, Sam just hears quiet, so he figures the guy made it home.

“You never told me if you had any tips,” Sam accuses straight off.

Shifting his feet, he tamps down more of the grass he’s been practicing on, squinting when sweat rolls into his eye. He just finished a brisk mile with the shield on his arm, getting used to the weight and the bulk of it, and he’s ready to start throwing again.

“Tips for what?” Bucky asks. “Fixing the boat? General life stuff? I know we had a good talk, but I think I take advice better than I give it.”

“Which is not saying much,” Sam points out with a laugh. “You suck at taking advice.”

“Until recently.”

“Until recently,” Sam allows. He takes a deep breath and leans over to the side, stretching from his run and tapping his hand on the Vibranium disc currently propped against his leg. “Nah, man, for the shield. How to throw it, how to catch it, how to pull off some of Steve’s fuckin’ boomerang tricks.”

“I thought you were gettin’ the hang of it,” Bucky says in his ear.

“I am. I just realized that, when I had you here, you did a lot of standing around and catching the shield on that cyborg arm of yours. Not a lot of active advice-giving.”

“You really want me telling you how to do your job?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, nobody said that. I am simply aware of the fact that you’re one of very few people alive who’ve handled this thing, and maybe the only one who did it with any actual competence.”

“The level of flattery is astounding,” Bucky says dryly.

“You want more, you gotta help me out,” Sam jokes back.

“Well, show me what you’re doin’.”

Sam glances around himself. Flat lawn. Waning daylight. Tall trees wrapped in the pads he’s been ricocheting the shield off of. No place good to prop his phone.

“I gotta get somebody to film me,” he realizes. “Lemme call you back.”

“Everybody’s gonna be filming you with the shield pretty soon. Only question is whether you’re doing something impressive in news footage or looking like a jackass in some kind of Avengers’ Greatest Fuckups reel.”

“Shut the hell up. I thought we were gettin’ along now.”

“Just trying to be motivational. Am I not doing it right?”

“I think you better look up the word ‘motivational’ in the dictionary while you wait for my call,” Sam suggests.

He disconnects and hangs his head, shaking it even as he smiles.

His legs are screaming for a thorough, post-workout stretch and maybe some ice on his shins—they’ve been taking the brunt every time he digs his feet into the ground and braces to snatch the returning shield from the air—but what’s another quarter mile? Sam runs to Sarah’s, arms pumping, stride a little different now that he has to accommodate the shape of the shield.

When he gets there, the boys are playing soccer on the lawn and he calls through the screen window to the kitchen to get his sister’s ok to borrow them as his training assistants. They get even more excited by the bestowing of this title and its implied responsibility than by the sight of the shield. That’s pretty incredible. Sarah caves to a temporary borrowing (supper’s almost ready) and they’re off.

On the way back, Sam lets AJ carry the shield. Seems like a nice break for himself until Cass requests a piggyback.

“Alright,” Sam agrees with a sigh, crouching in front of his nephew. “Hop on.”

Captain America’s benevolence is limitless. At least, it is this evening. When his back’s killing him tomorrow from absorbing the shock of a hundred shield throws, he will not be so easily persuaded into giving piggybacks.

In the clearing, Sam pulls his phone from the zipped pocket of his shorts and videocalls Bucky, who picks up on the first ring. His face is too close to the camera, but it’s good to see those blue eyes and the crinkles that are either there because he’s smiling in greeting or he’s confused about how a videocall works. In a few seconds, Bucky figures out for himself that he needs to hold the phone farther away. It makes Sam miss him. Also makes him a little worried because he can see the blank, white wall of Bucky’s apartment around his head. No paint, no art. Sam can’t even hear a TV or anything in the background.

“You’re not busy,” he observes.

“Not really, no,” Bucky admits.

“You coulda stayed here longer.”

“Nah, you needed time with everything, not me constantly looking over your shoulder. Shield’s yours now, Sam. I’m gonna be at your side, but you and the shield… I got no say in what that relationship is. I understand that now and I’m trying to respect it.”

“So when you’re actually doing the right thing, let you back off?”

“That’s right,” Bucky agrees.

“I’ll try to remember in case it ever happens again.”

Before Bucky can defend himself against Sam’s teasing jab, Sam passes the phone to AJ, camera turned so Bucky will still be focused on him when he starts throwing the shield again.

“Got you propped up on my human tripod,” he informs Bucky, reaching above the phone to playfully shove the side of AJ’s head. “So watch your mouth.”

“Can I say hi?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Sam warns.

And, of course, Bucky eggs the kids into a long ooooh, like they’ve caught him breaking his own rule. Which they have. But Bucky was being a smartass and the opportunity to let him know is not something Sam likes to pass up.

He’s stretching now—maybe for himself, maybe for the camera pointed his way—gripping his ankles in turn and holding his heels to his ass until he feels the pull in his thighs. Bucky’s not wrong about having this time to himself. Just him and this legendary object that’s feeling more right on his arm every time he slips it through the straps. Still, he misses what they had going the last two days. Not him and the shield, but him and Bucky. Having him here like that… It was different from every other experience Sam’s had with him. Bucky was still, in turns, a grouch and a showoff and a staring machine and a shithead (flirting with Sarah, come ON), but he was also more convincingly a person than Sam’s had the pleasure of seeing him before. At ease and multi-faceted by nature instead of the necessity of adapting in the face of a threat.

Bucky smiled.

They didn’t always bicker.

He looked damn good in the morning when they leaned against the kitchen counter, not talking, sipping their coffee.

Sam wants those minutes back so bad. Living with Bucky here was incomparable to living with him overseas. Lotta reasons for that, including not having to share the space with Baron Zemo. Mostly because this is home and Sam liked pretending, while Sarah did some well-deserved sleeping in and the boys got the hems of their pajama pants wet in the dew in the backyard, that it was real. That this breath between their fights (no longer with each other) could last and that this is where they’d hold it. It could be their kitchen, their mugs, their tousled sheets Bucky’d climbed out of, looking all rumpled and lovely and shit.

But Bucky doesn’t know what Sam pretends and Sam sure as hell isn’t going to tell him. He’s just going to keep faithful to their usual dynamic, trying for less glaring. Not a word to unsettle things, as much as he’s curious how they might handle things being unsettled. As much as his mind plays back the blinding glint off the water as they rolled up their sleeves and went to work together in a way more meaningful, more personal, than they ever have before. Plays it back all the time.

No. Quiet. Sam needs to figure himself out first and knows Bucky’s working on doing the same. Maybe sometime—but probably never—they can see how those selves overlap. All they need to make fly right now is being Captain America and… what’d that moron call himself? The White Wolf? Son of a biscuit…

“Let me see him!” Cass says excitedly, recapturing Sam’s focus.

It’s his brother he’s talking to and Sam watches fondly as AJ turns the phone to show Bucky a grinning Cass, being careful to keep it steady. Pretty damn sweet. Cass even waves while Sam stands there, watching and doing shoulder rolls.

“Hi, Uncle Bucky!”

Sam feels like he just whipped the shield out and caught the return in his stomach. He strides over to the boys and AJ passes the phone back without being asked. He’s stifling giggles despite or because he senses that his little brother shouldn’t have said that.

“One minute,” Sam tells Bucky, hardly glancing at him because he just can’t. He tilts the camera towards the ground and raises expectant eyebrows at his grinning nephews. “Did somebody tell you to call him that?”

In unison, the boys go, “No, Uncle Sam,” which is suspiciously adorable. But they aren’t liars.

“Did you hear somebody call him that?”

AJ and Cass glance at each other and that’s enough for Sam. They won’t answer, so he knows it’s Sarah who’s made this joke, put this idea in the kids’ heads. They won’t give her up though, because they’re Wilsons and they’re loyal to their mother.

Sam turns the camera back on himself, unprepared for the upward tick at the corner of Bucky’s lips that make them even harder to look away from than usual.

“My sister must’ve—”

“I know,” Bucky interrupts.

“You know?”

“Yeah. Sarah called me that to my face.”

“She did what?”

Sarah having her joke is one thing, but saying it to Bucky takes things a little far, in Sam’s opinion. Bucky could think Sarah’s serious. He could think she’s saying that because Sam’s said something to her. Something about coffee and bedsheets and the sweet ache he felt in his chest when he saw Bucky’s smile in the golden light of dawn.

“Last night, before she put the boys to bed. You were in the shower, I think.” Bucky reaches up absentmindedly to run a hand over the top of his head; the flex of his bicep in the long-sleeved shirt he’s wearing and waiting for the end of this recollection are both torture for Sam. “They wanted to hang out with me, but Sarah said, ‘Uncle Bucky’s gotta get some sleep. You’ll see him tomorrow.’ Something like that.”

Now, when Sam’s truly learning the meaning of flabbergasted, Bucky’s mouth cracks into a wide, self-satisfied smile.

“You made that up,” Sam guesses helplessly.

“Nope.”

Sam knows that, with his nephews’ inability to lie and Sarah’s lifelong history of messing with him as evidence, but it would’ve been a convenient escape from the reality of his sister (and possibly the boys too) addressing Bucky as if he and Sam are together.

“Tell me you told my sister to drop the ‘Uncle.’”

Another thing Sam knows: that Bucky didn’t do that. Bucky seems happy to prove his fears correct; he shrugs.

“Sounded kinda nice,” Bucky defends. That makes Sam soften. He knows Bucky doesn’t have any living family, that he’s been struggling to allow himself to make friends. Maybe he just likes being told he belongs to them and that Sarah’s joke makes it effortless for him. Then, Bucky adds, “Pass me back to my nephews.”

Sam points a warning finger at him.

“Watch it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The crease between Bucky’s eyebrows deepens as Sam watches the pain in the ass pretend to be stern with him. “Just throw the damn shield. I thought you asked for my help.”

“I did.”

Releasing a cautious sigh, Sam hands the phone to AJ once more. The boy’s got his silliness under control and he accepts the job solemnly.

Sam’s two steps away, hefting the shield onto his arm, when he hears Bucky shout, “And my hand in marriage!”

The boys’ laughter has them rolling on the cool grass, the phone clutched in AJ’s grip, and by the time Sam wrestles it away from his nephew, the camera’s swung all over the place. Showing Bucky the sky, the dirt, some quality footage up AJ’s nose, and probably—almost definitely—the way his words made Sam smile.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes #sambucky

30 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 25

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4.2k

; Warnings: Drunken behaviour

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This is a fun chapter and I hope you all enjoy it too :D please let me know what you thought in the comments and reblog it so others can read it too!

; Flower Masterpost

“Aren’t you bothered that he’s over there and not with you?” Jungkook asks, pointing over to the bar where Hoseok is currently standing and having what appears to be a very serious conversation with Namjoon, Eden and Jimin. Though given how tipsy he had been half an hour ago, you weren’t sure whether it was ‘meaning of life’ serious or ‘were all the children on Barney on drugs’ serious.

Smiling, you shake your head and take a sip of your Coke that you’ve been nursing for an hour now. “I’m his girlfriend, not his keeper. Besides, it’s his birthday. He can spend it wherever and with whoever he wants.”

“Very nice of you.” The younger man mumbles and you note the way he keeps shyly looking over at Soyeon, currently sitting opposite you in the booth you’d all situated yourselves in upon arriving. There were too many of you all now with Hoseok’s friends combined with you, Chungha and Soyeon, so they were also sprawled onto a table next to you.

“I’m just saying, but you’d both make a great couple.” The words whisper light against Jungkook’s ear and he shivers slightly as your breath tickles the small hairs of his neck. But he doesn’t say anything in response, instead just setting his jaw before looking back at his bottle of beer.

You’re not sure why you suddenly got bold enough to tell him that, but you were always braver when it came to helping your friends. On your own, you hated talking on the phone but if they needed you to talk on the phone for them then god dammit you’d do it.

Still though, you decide not to push it any further. You’ve said your peace and indicated to him that not only do you think they’d work well together, but also that you would most definitely approve if they decided to actually try out a relationship. The thought of it was quite exciting and you wondered if this was how Chungha and Soyeon had felt when you’d started dating Hoseok.

Leaning back, you casually listened in to the conversation that Chungha, her girlfriend Dahyun, Soyeon, Yoongi and Amelia were all having while Jungkook occasionally added his input. He was a naturally quieter guy, like you, which meant you both ended up simply observing for a lot of the time. Though you were even quieter than him as you weren’t drinking unlike everyone else.

From the glazed look in Chungha’s eyes, she was well on her way to being inebriated and you wondered whether it was the glass of white wine in her hand that was doing it or the two double Southern Comfort and lemonade’s that she’d practically inhaled earlier. Dahyun didn’t look much better and you chuckled as she struggled to get out a word, tripping over her own tongue as she slurred.

Amelia was also sober, due to her normal baby duties outside of this event, and you were pleased that she’d finally been able to come out for something. She’d told you earlier that the baby was being looked after by her sister for the evening, meaning this was the first time that Namjoon and her had been able to socialise like this with their friends in months.

You were pleased that she’d come for Hoseok’s birthday and as you looked over all his friends that were dotted around the room in his favourite bar, you felt a warm happiness swell in your chest at the knowledge they’d all come out for him. You couldn’t imagine being this cosy with this many people like he was but you’d long ago recognised that you were both different people with different needs.

So while you’d inevitably grow bored and tired of being around so many people in...okay well you were already there really, you knew that Hoseok would happily keep going until the early hours of the morning. And he’d made his intentions of getting absolutely fucked earlier in the day to you after he’d opened his presents.

Your vinyl player had gone down very well thankfully and he’d been ecstatic about it, desperate to begin playing some of the many records he’d already been gifted from his family and friends. Along with that, he’d begun drinking at noon with a bottle of special ale that he’d been given by Seokjin and had declared that for the first time in almost a year, he was going to get absolutely wrecked tonight.

The idea of that was horrible to you, someone who hated drinking, but you knew he didn’t let loose like this anymore. So you were more than happy to watch him drink himself into blissful happiness, surrounded by his beloved friends before driving him home later when he was probably too drunk to walk straight.

You were just very thankful that he didn’t do this often as you weren’t sure you could handle it.

“You should go to England, it’s great with a lot of history and beautiful landscapes outside of London. Plus, you can travel to Europe really easily as it’s so damn cheap. I mean, they can take a train to Paris! What the fuck?” Yoongi says, his voice a tone higher than it’s normal deep and rumbling level.

Laughing quietly, you watch as Chungha nods in an overexaggerated manner before pointing at Yoongi to make a point. Only she’s completely off and is instead pointing out towards the bar. Smiling, you gently take her hand and move it to the correct position and snicker when she doesn’t even realise you’ve done it.

“Right?! I mean...I mean a train! To another country! Like...woaaah. It’s crazy. Can you imagine? Do they have planes over there? Or is it all trains and stuff?” Dahyun gasps at Chungha’s slurred questions and you bite your lip in amusement, rolling your eyes at your best friend’s drunken ramblings.

“Chungha, you know they have planes. You flew from Greece to Italy, remember?” There’s a really blank expression on her face for a moment before realisation hits and she ooh’s loudly, excitedly waving her hands in front of her face.

“Oh my god! Yes! I did! Oh, Greece was so pretty. So...so blue. Pretty.” Jungkook is the one to snort this time and you look at him, raising your brows in question but he just shakes his head, a small smile dancing on his lips.

Finally, you decide to get involved with the conversations, leaning forward so that they can hear you better. “I’ve never even been out of the country before. Hoseok’s been to England though, some metal festival or something.”

“Yeah! That’s the trip I went on. We went to Download Festival and travelled around the UK after that. Went to Wales and Scotland too to get the full experience but we couldn’t get to Northern Ireland in time. Sucks, I wanted to see those big stone thingies in the sea. Man, Hoseok got seriously fucked at Download though. Like, he got into a drinking competition with these guys from the UK in the tent next to us and they absolutely destroyed him. He was vomiting everywhere all night.” Your brows rise at that, looking over at your boyfriend where he’s stood at the bar.

Well, he hadn’t told you that. Made himself sound far more cooler than what Yoongi had just told you.

“I thought he could hold his drink?” You ask, though you’re wondering about that as you watch him down another glass of beer. He’d never got so drunk that he’d vomited around you yet, but given his history you wouldn’t put it past him.

"He can, to a degree. But he was mixing all kinds of alcohol that day and it just...was bad. They thought it was hilarious. Hoseok did not enjoy the next day as he still went to the stages and watched the bands. Idiot almost got a migraine." Despite his words, there’s an incredibly fond look on Yoongi’s face and you note that he’s probably not quite as drunk as you’d initially thought.

Soyeon snorts with laughter and you look at her with a frown before noting the way she nods with her head towards your side with an amused smile. Glancing over, you realise that Jungkook has left and your boyfriend has taken his place.

There's a glassy look to his eyes that tells you he's a bit drunker than before and you wonder what Jimin had been giving him at the bar. The mischief maker, who you'd been well warned about by both your boyfriend and his friends, had sworn to make sure Hoseok had a great night. Which evidently meant he had to get the birthday boy absolutely shitfaced.

Hoseok feels overwhelmingly warm as he leans a little too heavily against you, his face having gone incredibly red from the alcohol he’d spent the day consuming. But as soon as you look at him, he gives you what you presume is meant to be a charming smile but instead makes it just look like he has wind.

And then he blinks really hard, causing you to tilt your head at him in confusion. He does it again before blowing you a rather sluggish kiss and you realise what he’s doing with a snort, holding your hand against your mouth.

“Baby, you’re not winking at me. You’re just blinking very hard.” The smooth skin of his forehead wrinkles immediately as he obviously thinks about what you’ve just said before he tries again, getting the same result. And then he purposefully holds one eye open with his fingers, causing you to laugh even harder as you take his hand to stop him from potentially hurting himself.

“Oh my god, please stop." Reaching out, you playfully cover his face with your hand and giggle when he simply flops his head into your palm, eyes closing with a ridiculously loud sigh. It was just after 1am and you were a little surprised he seemed to be flagging already.

Then again, you remembered that he'd been drinking in some form since noon now. The fact he could barely hold his head up right now was possibly the least surprising thing you'd heard all night.

“Are you okay?” Leaning closer to him, you make sure that he can hear you over the raucous talk and laughter of the other bar patrons and the music that’s blaring over the speakers. For a few seconds he doesn’t respond and you wonder whether he heard you, but then you see his face wrinkle and realise he was just taking that long to comprehend what you’d say to him.

“I’m not a baby.” He whines, bottom lip jutting out almost comically and you have to steel yourself to stop from laughing at him. Because he was certainly acting like one right now. But it also endeared you to him and you simply pushed at his lip till it was back in place. Each blink looks particularly slow and lethargic, telling you that he’s probably reached his limit.

“I didn’t say that but okay. Do you want to go home?” This time, you speak clearly into his ear as close as you can get. Almost immediately he makes a noise of protest, his shoulder coming up as he cringes from your voice being so close. ASMR always made him shrink away and you felt a little bad.

But he doesn’t start protesting wildly like some drunk people might, proclaiming himself to be perfectly fine and ready to troop on through the night while downing beer after beer. Instead, he stares blankly at the bottle in his hand for a minute or so, oblivious to the chatter of which 90s boy band was better before nodding slowly.

“‘M tired.” He sighs out and you watch closely as he lifts the bottle to his lips, about to take a sip before sighing and placing it back down on the table with an overly loud thunk. It makes some of them jump around the booth, their eyes widening in drunken surprise and you give them all a smile of apology.

“Here, enjoy this,” You say to Yoongi, hanging him the beer that Hoseok has rejected. There’s no point in letting it go to waste when there’s someone more than willing to have it. “Birthday boy is done for the night it would seem.”

That makes everyone pause, all of their gazes moving to your boyfriend. Hoseok doesn’t notice them, though you’re not sure he notices anything really given how it looks like he’s about to fall asleep right there. Chungha pouts dramatically and holds her arms out, wanting a hug from you which you give her with a laugh.

Looking over at the others, who are slightly more sober, you give them a stern face. “Please make sure she doesn’t drink too much and gets home okay.”

“She’ll be fine.” Soyeon says and you realise she’s the closest thing to sober on the table outside of Amelia. It even looks like she has a big glass of water to keep her going too and you give her a relieved smile before gently persuading Hoseok to leave the booth. He wavers dangerously on his feet, once standing, trying to get his balance before staggering off with his weight leaning heavily on you.

“God, you’re much heavier when drunk.” You mutter, shifting yourself to cope better with the dead weight of his arm on you. There’s a brief pause by the bar to say goodbye to everyone else, and you’re not surprised when no one protests you leaving when they see how far gone Hoseok is now, before you successfully manage to navigate out of the busy bar and onto the street.

Your car was in the nearby parking lot and what had been a two minute walk ended up being ten minutes with Hoseok walking at a snail’s pace. Though that was because he’d almost fallen over about three times. He was surprisingly quiet though, which you found odd as he was pretty loud and boisterous when tipsy.

Not a single word leaves his mouth until he’s slouched in the passenger seat of your car with his seatbelt finally secured, looking very much like the drunk person he was with his limbs placed wherever they’d happened to land. His head rolls back on his shoulders until it thumps against the window, letting him look at you as you fasten your own seat belt and turn the key in the ignition.

“‘Luff you.” He mumbles, the words slurred but still audible to you over the quiet noise of the car engine. Glancing over at him, you can’t help but smile as your heart squeezes at the sight of him. His eyes are beyond glassy now, so unfocused and yet it’s almost like he’s looking at you with his own heart. Hoseok is not only a quiet drunk, but a sappy drunk too apparently.

The speakers kick to life as it connects to Spotify on your phone and you cringe slightly as Metallica starts playing. You’d let him pick the playlist for the night and now you were going to have to suffer for the rest of the journey home as you’d already started driving.

Hoseok is so quiet on the trip back that you keep panicking, looking over to make sure he’s okay only to be met with his blank, impassive stare. Though you think it’s probably only blank because thinking is likely too hard at the moment. It makes you want to giggle at the thought but you don’t, biting your lip to stop yourself.

“You’re pretty,” Glancing at him quickly, you note the way his hand is wavering as he attempts to touch your cheek, only his aim is wildly off and you make a noise of protest as he instead bops you on the nose. It doesn’t deter him though and for the sake of driving safely, you take his hand and press it to your cheek instead. “So pretty. Love you.”

“Okay Hobi, I get it. Thank you. Now, please stop poking my face while I’m driving, okay? You can touch my face all you want when we get home.” You ask him, giving him a persuasive look before taking his hand and squeezing it before placing it back on his lap. For a moment, you think he’s going to argue but he quietens down again, slouching and you’re not sure you’ve ever loved him more than in this moment weirdly.

The rest of the journey is much easier and you pack up outside your apartment building with ease, Hoseok’s car next to your own. Getting him to your apartment is a bit of an issue given he doesn’t appear to have really sobered up any since leaving the bar and you have to cajole him into getting back up when he slides down the wall of the elevator, giggling to himself as he sits. It’s only with the promise of cuddles and Kasumi that he finally gets back up and staggers down the hall to your door.

“God, I really hope I don’t have to do this too much.” You mutter as you get him inside, watching as he toes off his shoes while leaning heavily against the wall. As much as you love him, you hate dealing with drunk people because there’s just no reasoning with them sometimes. Thankfully, at least Hoseok appears to be an amenable drunk.

“Hello my baby! My little angel, oh hello chicken. My little Kasumi-pud, my beautiful girl. I’ve missed you! Aren’t you the cutest kitty?” Hoseok has become immediately distracted by the sight of Kasumi as she walks over to greet you both, the soft chirp causing Hoseok to explode into even more drunk nicknames that get increasingly ridiculous.

And then you curse as he gets a little over eager in his attempts to pet her, bending over instead of crouching and soon toppling onto the floor due to his lack of balance. Kasumi starts, her eyes wide and every inch of her primed to run before moving back over to Hoseok, sniffing his nose and mouth curiously as he simply giggles and strokes her in a surprisingly gentle motion.

“Hoseok! Come on, get up. I don’t want you to hurt yourself now.” You grumble, helping him to stand despite his protests at wanting to stroke his ‘ickle chicken’. Why he was calling her that, you had no idea.

You’re soon shown that Hoseok is even more of a handful once home as you turn around to take your own shoes off and hang up your coat because as soon as you’re back, you realise he’s gone. Eyes widening, you wonder where the fuck he went before you hear the shower turning on in the open bathroom door.

Rushing inside, you see Hoseok has half undressed himself and is standing in the shower, eyes closed as the water beats down on him. Only he’s still wearing his shirt and is only naked on the lower half, causing you to sigh and roll your eyes.

“Hobi, come on. I don’t want you to get hurt or...drown or something.” Grasping his arm, you try to encourage him out of the shower without causing him any harm but he yanks his arm away in protest, a sound that he must assume is a word leaving his mouth before he goes to grab his shampoo.

“Fuck sake.” You mutter, realising he is not going to let you take him out of the shower. Fine, if he won’t leave then you’ll at least make sure he doesn’t drown himself. It takes a bit of encouragement to get him to take his soaked shirt off but you appease him by instead taking over the hard work of washing his hair and body for him. Why he’s so insistent on this you don’t know, until he mutters when you wash his arm.

“Icky. I’m icky. Stupid Sambuca.” It’s then that you realise his arm is ever so slightly sticky beneath the water. Someone evidently spilled Sambuca over his arm instead of actually drinking it, and your nose wrinkles at the thought of him going to bed stinking of aniseed, alcohol and being sticky.

Drunk Hoseok apparently makes the occasional good decision.

Once out, you manage to help him get a towel wrapped around his waist before he decides he wants to impale himself on his toothbrush. Brows rising as you watch him, you wonder if this is just general drunk Hoseok behaviour. He was a generally neat person normally but you don’t particularly remember anyone getting this drunk and demanding to be clean before bed.

Still though, you don’t want him to hurt himself so you carefully brush his teeth for him. And try not to notice the fact he’s giving you that sappy look once more. It’s not quite as cute when his mouth is full of toothpaste foam. Or maybe it’s even cuter given he’s evidently incapable of controlling his facial expressions.

After coaxing him to spit out what was in his mouth, and not swallow it like he’d almost seemed like he was going to, you finally get him to the bedroom where you make him sit on the bed. He does so pliantly, his lips pressed together in a content smile that makes his dimples show and causes him to look far younger and sweeter than the extensive tattoos on show do.

Brushing his hair for him, you press a kiss to his forehead before pointing at him with narrow eyes. “Stay here. Do not move. I’m going to get you a glass of water that I want you to drink and then we’ll dry you off and get you dressed, okay?”

His response is a nod, looking very much like a child with how eager it is and you snort in amusement before leaving to the kitchen. You’re probably gone a minute, if that, before heading back into the bathroom with a glass full of fresh water and pausing in the doorway at what you’re seeing.

Hoseok has not sat still like you’d told him. Instead, he’s stood up and is now completely naked. Only he apparently appears fascinated by the fact he has a penis and is too busy giggling to notice your arrival.

Clearing your throat, you watch as he looks up with wide eyes. If you’d thought it was because he’d been caught doing...whatever he was doing, then you were wrong because instead he just gives you the brightest smile. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when he proceeds to point down to his groin with excitement.

“Look! A helicopter!” And then he gyrates his hips until his dick swings in a circular motion, causing you to sigh so deeply that you’re not entirely sure if you haven’t just felt your soul leave your body. Taking a moment to yourself, you stare at the floor before looking up with a smile.

“That’s great Hoseok. Now please drink this while I get you dressed.” He pouts at your lack of reaction but you figure it’s probably the best route right now. Otherwise he might be encouraged by your laughter to do something even more silly. The last thing you need is for him to wake up having injured himself doing something stupid in your bedroom.

He takes the glass from you and begins to drink, the sound overly loud and exaggerated but you don’t question it as you make him lean against the wall, allowing you to get him into some boxers without him falling over and hurting himself. A shirt gets childish whines, apparently he’s too hot, but you finally get it on him and get him to sit back on the bed.

“I’m going to get you another glass. Please...just sit there, okay?” There’s no response this time and you wonder what he’s got upto this time when you head back to the bedroom, only to find silence greet you.

Silence, because Hoseok has evidently decided it was time to sleep. He’d curled himself up under the covers, despite his insistence of being warm, on your side of the bed and appeared to be completely gone. Smiling fondly at him, you place the glass on the bedside table next to him before finding his phone from the jeans he’d thrown off in the bathroom and plugging it in to charge next to yours.

Thank god he’d taken these off before showering.

Going through your own nightly routine, you crawl into bed next to him on his side and sigh as his scent overwhelms you. Hoseok doesn’t move at all and you wonder how strong his hangover is going to be in the morning. Or if he’ll even remember anything that’s happened.

You’re definitely telling him about his dickcopter though. Chuckling to yourself finally at the memory, you shift forward till you can kiss his clothed shoulder fondly and get yourself into a more comfortable position.

His tattoos were never going to look intimidating ever again now.

410 notes · View notes

threeminutesoflife · 5 years

Text

Cry Me a River?

Cutthroat Writing Challenge Pairings: Bucky x Reader word count: 1.5k warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, hormones, I don't really do angst- so humor it is.lol Summary: Reader’s annoyed w/ her boyfriend’s teasing abt being overly sensitive- asks Loki to play a trick on Bucky.

a/n: @sherrybaby14 drabble challenge game- fun idea, Scream Queen- but damn- these prompts.lol you’re evil and fun, all rolled into one.

prompts: Netflix and Chill with Bucky-- Sabotage one: Bucky has to break down sobbing at some point, full on hysterics. Sabotage two: Can't use the word "and" at all. Anywhere.

Bucky Barnes was an asshole.

You had it. Bucky Barnes was toast; charbroiled to a crisp. You'd crack him apart like a panini sandwich, making sure you'd get that satisfying crunching sound. You needed to hear him whimper as his insides strung themselves out like melted cheese. Yes, that’s just how you wanted him.

“Loki, I have a proposition for you.” “As much as I am enthralled at the vision of your legs wrapping around my scepter, I do not believe the ill-mannered Barnes would approve.” “Does that mean you're out?” “Hardly. Clarify the proposition.” “Here's the thing, I need help with getting back at him.” “Propose away, darling.” “...Aren't you first going to ask me why, Loki? I mean, I'm only doing it because he's always calling my oversensitive-” “Don't make this conversation grow tiresome.”

Bucky was hot, horribly so. Uncomfortably, so. Standing in front of the fan set on high, air conditioner as low as possible, boxers only covering his rump- he found no relief.

His back hurt, his feet hurt. His stomach ached but he kept craving food. Salty food, sweet food, deep fried food. The pound of chocolate from earlier helped curb some of his cravings- momentarily. Pressing his forehead to the fan's guard, he couldn't help but wonder what the hell was wrong with him?

“Hey!”

Bucky jolted away from the fan at the sound of your voice, quickly pulling on a pair of gym shorts, “Yeah- hey. Hi baby, what's going on?”

You quickly took in Bucky's uncomfortable, sweaty appearance, “Whatcha doin'?”

“Nothing. You still want to train? Or we could skip today, maybe watch a movie? Maybe skip the movie- I feel like we don't get to really talk much anymore. It'd be nice to have some time to reconnect. How about a walk, grab an ice cream, play a card game?”

Eyeing him, you smiled. Yep, Loki's hormonal trick seemed to working nicely.

“Nah, we talk enough,” you said casually. “Let's just stick to the training schedule.”

Bucky immediately scoffed, “What's that mean? Are you implying I talk too much?”

“Whoa,” your eyebrows furrowed. “No? I'm not saying that at all. I just meant-”

“What. What did you mean?”

Okay, maybe Loki gave too much Asgard hormones, you thought.

“Oh! That's really great, you're just going to stand there being silent now? Because I try, I try so hard. I try, so much. But it just feels like you're only taking, never giving.”

“You asking for head, Bucky?”

Your attempt to lighten the mood was not well-received.

“No y/n, I am not! Newsflash, I can control my urges. I'm not an animal. God, why does everything have to be about sex with you?”

Now you were thoroughly confused on what to say next and definitely losing ground quickly, “Okay, Okay. Just calm down, Bucky-”

“Are you seriously telling me to calm down, right now? That is so rude!”

You gulped, “I'm sorry?”

“Why- Why are you saying that like it's a question?! You're either sorry- or you're not. So are you? Are you sorry? Do you even know what you're sorry for, hmm?”

“Okay- okay. Can we please start over again, Bucky? I'm honestly, confused on what's happening.”

“God, that is just like you. Never listening. We are so far from okay!”

Bucky stormed past you, slamming the door behind him as he left you in the bedroom. You stood there in the aftermath of a confusing, chaotic argument. Jesus, it's freezing in here.

Wailing.

That was the only word for it. It was like Bucky was getting paid to mourn. Bucky cried, Bucky cried a lot. Throughout the whole week. Not surprisingly, Loki with his scepter were nowhere to be found.

Bucky's waterfall of tears started when you both sat down to watch the next movie on your list. That was a mistake. That was a terrible Disney mistake. Bucky saw Steve as the fox, Tod; him as the hound, Copper. They grew up together, elements forced them apart. It was a night filled of sorrow- accompanied by hair petting, his.

But today was filled with inconsolable sobbing, snot trails with red, crusted eyes.

“What is that?” Wanda came into the living room, “It sounds like animals being slaughtered.”

“My fault. All my fault,” you confessed. If you had a white flag, you would have waved it several days ago. “Mind zap me, Wanda. I can't even believe I brought this upon us.”

“Why is he crying this time?”

“I explained to him what boy bands were.”

“So?

“Told him Lance Bass was given an opportunity to go to the moon.”

Louder wailing bounced off the walls.

“You better fix this before Steve comes back from that mission,” Wanda hissed.

Sighing at the shit-filled mess of your own doing, you asked, “You think Thor will help even out Bucky's hormones? God of Fertility and all?”

Wanda shook her head, “Ugh, I want nothing to do with this but it's worth a try.”

“Up,” Bucky said.

Your back against the wall, your ass in Bucky's hands. You wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles locked together as you circled your arms around his shoulders.

“Can't fucking believe you did that to me,” he grunted out, teasing his tip against your slit.

“You deserved it. Now, fuck me without tears.”

He had slowly begun caressing his tip along your wetness, parting your folds- but then stopped abruptly at your words. Bucky stood there with your ass cheeks in each of his hands, refusing to entering you any further.

Rocking your hips forward, trying to slide yourself down his length, “What are you doing? Why aren't you moving?”

“How bad do you want it?”

“Bucky, if you don't fucking fuck me right the fuck now-”

“You'll what? I literally have you in the palm of my hands,” he said by squeezing your ass.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you vised your thighs together around his waist. Shooting your hand forward, you grabbed his nipple to twist.

“Christ- Fuck- Stop!” Bucky let your bottom go as you scrambled closer to his torso so you wouldn't fall. “Damn, that hurts,” he whined as he wildly rubbed his chest.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Tits still sensitive?” you mocked.

Bucky only grumbled as he continued to rub the nipple back into its original place.

Biting your lip to quiet your moan, you took advantage of his distraction by sliding yourself down on him.

Bucky groaned at your tightness as he brought his hands back to cradle your ass. “What am I, just a piece of meat to you?”

“Bucky, I love your voice but shut-”

Bucky cut you off with a thrust, causing you to tilt you head back with a moan, “Need to teach you a lesson, baby girl.”

You clenched your walls around him, “I apologized, I'm sorry.”

Bucky kneaded your ass, fingers sliding over your rim as he bent his legs for move leverage. “Lean back.”

Your shoulder blades pressured against the bedroom wall and your smooth, strong thighs wrapped around his waist. Your hands on his shoulders helped lift and lower yourself along Bucky's cock, your own pace took over his.

“How sensitive are your, baby?” Bucky's hand covered your breast, slowly rolling your nipple between his fingers. “So responsive. Feel you tightenin' on me.”

“Too much,” you panted, “talk.”

You raised yourself up to cover your mouth over his.

Biting your lip, Bucky squeezed your breast. “Chase the high, baby girl. Tighten those legs around me.”

Bucky cupped your face, kissing you again. His fingers trailed your jawline before he tapped them against your mouth, “Suck.”

Wet fingers passed over you chin, he moved his large hand down between your thighs. Damp fingers over your nub, he applied more pressure at your response.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered against your neck, “tell me you like it.”

“Love it, Bucky- so much,” you murmured breathlessly. Your core tightening, your release close.

“Know you do.” Bucky thrust hard up into you causing you to gasp. “Such a good, pretty girl. All fucking wet for me.”

You moaned at the feeling of him- hard inside you. You dug your fingers into his shoulders as you chanted his name.

“Close, baby?” Bucky's breath hot against your neck. “Is my good girl, going to cum on my cock?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, “so close.”

“Good.” Bucky removed his hand from your clit, and brought it up to unlatch your arms around his shoulders.

He unlocked your legs around his hip and slid his cock out. You watched it bob up against his stomach as he stepped away from you.

You stood there confused, aching for a release that was seconds away. Two more thrusts, you would have shattered.

Bucky palmed himself as he took in your confusion. Smirking at your reaction, he stroked himself faster. Your eyes wide, the bewildered angry expression had him make another stroke, another twist on his shaft. He pumped his cock at your naked rage.

Stepping up to you, he found his release as he painted your stomach with cum. Lightly circling his sensitive tip along your soft skin, he said, “Hell hath no fury...but revenge is a dish best served cold.”

Bucky Barnes was an asshole.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #drabble challenge #bucky drabble #tumblr game

534 notes · View notes

malfoysqueen54 · 4 years

Text

White Flag Part 4

Dean and her grew up together, trained together. Also, absolutely can’t be in the same room without a fight ensuing. When she has to come back and help out the boys and their friends. If she stays too long will all her secrets come out. She swore he would never know, circumstances and their friends and family, they might have other ideas.

Pairing : Dean X Reader

Warnings: Angst!, oh and ANGST! . Anger issues. Dean angry and yelling. (That needs a warning). Smut. Sexual situations, cussing, blood, gore, the usual Supernatural warning. This could be a triggering chapter!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!! 18+ ONLY!!!

Also @winchest09 and @jensengirl83 Thanx for the help and the fixing of all the words...lol Love you both!!!

2014

She was looking for him. After Sam’s desperate call to her, Dean was dead. Yet, he had left a note. He was somehow alive. They didn’t know what was happening. She took what Sam said and ran with it. It was taking every favor, resource, I.O.U she had. She spotted him twice but by the time she got there he was gone. It was infuriating. Finally after weeks, she tracked him down to Montana. Figures he would stay in the midwest, it was the Winchester comfort zone.

Her anger rolled off her in waves, pinpointing him at a motel in Butte. Y/n didn’t bother with keys or lock picks and let her pure rage kick the door in. The two occupants of the room woke up. The brunette sat straight up holding the sheet to her, as Dean lazily raised up onto his elbow.

Y/n let out a snort, coming over to grip the bed warmer by her hair, not caring as she screamed. Dragging her out the door, she threw her clothes after her before she slammed the door shut. She leaned against it for a moment trying to calm herself but she couldn’t, whirling around as Dean was pulling on a t-shirt, his jeans already on, his back to her. “This is what you do? I mean you're alive and you just take off on Sam and everyone?”

Dean sighed, not bothering to turn around. “Yup, didn’t want to be found. Wanted to do me.”

“Do you? Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been doing you your whole fucking life!” She huffed, running her hands through her hair. “ Sam called me. ME?!” she gestured towards herself, even though his back was still her. “He asked me to help hunt you down. The person you hate most in the world. What the hell Dean?!”

He finally turned towards her and smirked. “ Well you are right, I fucking loathe you.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “I am aware, asshole.”

“I left him a note for a reason. I am done.” He shrugged.

Y/n huffed tossing her arms up. “Oh well that explains everything. It will make us all go away.”

“I wish it would.” He grabbed a beer and tossed her one, which she caught. She was livid and needed it. This fucking man was just unbelivable.

“You are a selfish prick. I swear to god! Sam will not give up, you know this.” She didn’t understand his mindset, why would he think this was ok?

“Y/n he did once, he will again,” he said, simply taking a pull of his beer.

She shook her head in disbelief. “You are just cosmically fucked up. No! Sam won’t. He knows you’re alive, dickhead. Your Sammy, your baby brother. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Ah, Hell, good answer.” He turned, pointing that smirk in place.

A growl crawled up her throat before she threw the beer at him which he dodged. “Fuck I hate you! You are so selfish sometimes.” Her hands flew around as she screamed at him.

Dean didn’t flinch, taking a swig of his beer, watching her pant in rage and narrowed his eyes in a very almost sinister manner.

“I’m selfish,” he laughed. “Thats funny,” she couldn’t look away from him. Something was different, very different with him. She barely noticed him slowly approaching her. “Especially from you.” The hand holding his beer poked into her collarbone. “You wish you hated me. I know you do, but you don’t.”

Y/n knocked his hand away but he gripped her wrist. His reflexes were quicker as he jerked her against him. “Let me go you pig,” she warned, narrowing her eyes.

“I don’t think I will,” he said, bringing his free hand up to grip her chin. “I know you have wanted me for years. You were just such a cunt, I couldn’t deal with you, I hate you.” His finger caressed her skin as she kept that defiant gaze on him. She was good, she didn't even flinch. “Now though, it makes me want to fuck the bitch out of you.” Biting his lip, his eyes grew cold. That she flinched at. This wasn’t Dean. This was so off.

She tried stepping away and to get out of his hold. It was no good, he jerked her right back and slammed his mouth to hers switching his grip to her ass, pulling her flush against him. Y/n immediately pulled away and slapped him. Dean just smiled, slipping a hand into her hair and jerking her lips back to his. She pushed and clawed but he tasted so good, and damn if it didn’t make her lightheaded. He ravaged her mouth into submission, her lips opening to him and he dove in pushing her roughly back against the dresser.

When he stopped for air, he looked her in the eye, his mouth still touching hers. “It won’t matter much soon. I’ll fuck the brat right out of you and you’ll only be begging and screaming for more. Cause I will give it to you, you are gorgeous.” He bit her lip, lifting her none too gently on top of the dresser knocking over beer bottles that were littering the room.

She did not want to respond, but she shivered lightly, his words causing a flood in her core. He groaned into her mouth, like he could smell her and it vibrated through her. She felt his lips move to her neck biting and sucking, marking her and she took a panting breath. “D-Dean.” She tried to push at him but he ignored her, slipping his hand into the front of her jeans, his fingers reaching the flood he caused.

“Shhhh,” he lulled into her ear as he stroked her, a whimper escaping her as she gripped his shoulders, digging her nails in lightly. “Let go, enjoy and take what you want.” His tongue traced her ear as Y/n growled, bucking her hips towards his hand with a moan. “That’s my girl.” He smiled into her ear.

No more could she deny that she wanted this. The minute he touched her, she became a desperate wanton pliable tool for his pleasure. After decades, she couldn’t exercise self control to stop it. She had wanted him for so long, not just physically, but as pathetic as it was, she would take it. She couldn’t hate herself more than she already did. He made it clear it was physical. She could and would suffer the after effects from this one time with him. Jesus Christ, she felt like a teen movie trope. She gasped a moan as he slid two of those rough elegant fingers into her, all thoughts ceased, her mind going to mush.

He retracted them just as quickly as he slid them out, followed by her whimper, his fingers now working on her jeans, opening them and practically ripping them off. Her jacket and shirt were quickly shed by herself, when she met his gaze again. He was kneeling between her legs his shirt once again gone, licking a slow line up her inner thigh, watching him sink his teeth into her skin.

Gasping, she tossed her head back to the wall. “ I always knew you were the rough dirty kind.” Dean's voice carried to her through the haze of desire, nuzzling her nether lips making her nails dig into the dresser. She wanted him, he was so close.

“Please.”

Was all she was able the shudder out, feeling his lips quirk before he dove in like a crazed, starved man. If eating out a woman was an art form, he would be Picasso, blue period. Fingers gripped his hair urging him to all her right spots.

“Words, babygirl.” Dean demanded.

A heavy moan left her with the nickname. “Right there!”

Dean's nose nudged her just so as his tongue dove deep for the treasure he sought. Edging her entrance, teasing, keeping Y/n at the brink before delving deep and hard without warning.

“Fuck, I- I need to cum.” She heard her voice beg, her legs shaking, starting to close but suddenly Dean's large hands were on her knees forcing them wide apart making her convulse with no way to control the waves of pleasure.

“Fuck, yes.” The whimper sounded too pathetic, needy, right on the edge. He didn’t let up this time now, he forced two orgasms out of her before she fought him off her center, with aftershocks rocking her, she slid off the dresser as he stood. Narrowed flaming eyes watched him as she pushed him back across the room onto the bed. Enveloped by a erotic need that had never happened before, she hit her knees as he sat. Her nimble fingers quickly undoing his jeans and pushing them and his boxers past his waist and off. An almost anime twinkle glazed over her eyes, seeing a beautiful erection before her. Mouth watering, Y/n stroked him in reverence before her tongue went to work on him. Tracing and learning every vein. Memorizing it for nights she took care of herself. A forceful tug of her hair and growl, she knew he wanted it all, which she obliged.

Hitting the back of her throat, she swallowed him all down, making her moan just as Dean did. His head tossed back, lips parted in bliss, she suckled the whole of him before beginning a steady bob of her head. She knew what she was doing. Y/n was no novice.

Dean's hands caged her head like a claw from a claw machine as he fucked into her mouth, taking what he needed. Y/n let her tongue run along the pulsing vein on the underside as her teeth grazed just enough to stimulate. She heard Deans gasp and felt the force as he slid down her throat.

Relaxing her throat, she took him all, till he stalled and came. He tasted like salty cotton candy. It was glorious.

She batted her eyes once he finally started to plop from her lips. “You done now?” She asked, quirking a brow at him.

A guffawed chuckle from Dean as his thumb rubbed her bottom lip. “Not even close.” Even as he said the words he was stroking that beautiful cock into attention. It was saluting again in moments, it had definitely served time.

Dean's jaw visibly clenched as he pulled her up by her hair and shoved her across to the bed. “Still with that bitchy mouth. You are a challenge. I am very competitive though.” His words barely met her brain as he crawled up her body biting at her neck wrapping her legs around his waist. No warning, no passing go, he slid in with the precision of a porn star all the way to the hilt. Y/n let out a scream of ecstasy clinging to his shoulders digging her nails in for the ride.

“Fuck Dean, yes!”

Dean nuzzled up to her ear. “ I always pegged you as one who liked it rough, hard, and dirty as hell. That- right there. That is the attraction to you.” Then he started a brutal pace, she knew there would be scratches and bruises for days. It only turned her on more. Hooking her heels into his ass dragging him deeper.

“More, harder!” She gasped already on the edge of another orgasm.

Dean obliged sitting back on his knees changing the angle to hit that wet spongy spot she needed. The first stroke sent Y/n curling into herself, moaning. He must have gps for a woman's g spot. It was only 4 strokes later she came with her nails dragging down his forearms. Panting still Dean rolled them over so she sat atop him. “My turn. Ride me.”

It was a demand, still quivering Y/n gripped the headboard and began to ride him circling her hips raising slamming back down. The full rodeo cowgirl. She couldn’t get enough. Over stimulated, sensitive. His cock was like candy. She couldn’t stop riding him once he asked. She would take everything he gave and give back just as much. The fucker would know he met his match.

“Come on girl! Take it!” Dean groaned fingers digging bruises into her hips adjusting her speed or helping her move. “Fuck Y/n, I feel it, so close aren’t you. This what you need?” He asked as his thumbs gently brushed her pulsing clit. Sending her orgasm over the edge tossing her head back with a cry of bliss.

“Fuck woman!.” He pushed her off and she was so pliable at that point blissed out of her mind. She thought they were done, nope. Dean still hadn’t cum and he turned her over to her stomach, jerking her hips up. She felt him gently stroke her swollen abused core. “I know you got at least one more.”

She didn’t whimper, she pushed herself up on her hands and got ready. She would take everything the bastard had.

Dean slid a little slower into her this time but still started a brutal pace. She moaned lewd lascivious sounds as his hands ran up her skin rolling her back, pressing against him. Wanting every stroke and every inch he had to give. She would make him remember this. Determined to blow his mind. Make him remember her everytime he looked at another woman. At this angle, he hit her directly into that spot once again. Letting her head fall forward as she pressed harder and harder back into him. Till her head jerked up by the grip he had in her hair. She could tell he was close especially how he started to get a little sloppy and groaned. Fucking into her like a man possessed. Little did she know he was.

“Cum again,” he demanded.

Panting slightly Y/n responded, “need more.”

She felt his hand wrap around her throat squeezing gently and she melted against him, now standing on her knees. “You do like rough. That's what you need. Cum with me, you can do it. DO IT!” He snapped as his hips did.

She had never cum on command but that one sent her into subspace practically. Falling over feeling him fill her to the brim with his seed, Jesus H Christ it could have made her cum again if she wasn't numb.

They stayed like that, a panting, sweaty heap of tangled naked limps for nearly 20 minutes. Their ragged breaths the only sound as their heart rates return to normal.

She didn’t really come back to earth till she felt his arms wrap around her from behind. “You know. The payback here isn’t that I just fucked you six ways to hell on a Sunday. It’s- well- you fucked a demon.”

Y/n scoffed, her brow furrowing as she turned to look at him, falling off the side of the bed in shock as she saw black eyes. Dean had black eyes. He WAS a demon!

“Holy shit! WHAT THE FUCK!?” Grabbing a shirt and throwing on the rest of her clothes frantically, as Dean dressed so casually.

“It’s the mark. It won’t let me die, not really. It freed me,” Dean explained as he buttoned up his pants. Y/n was looking for a weapon. Picking up a beer bottle and breaking it on the end of the table. Complete disbelief, Sam would lose his mind. She just fucked Dean and he was a demon. It sent her spinning. How could she, should have known this was too odd, not in his character. She berated herself.

“What ya going to do Y/n/n?!” He glanced at the bottle. “You won’t hurt me, we both know it.” He smirked.

She lunged at him. Yeah- that pissed him off and he was stronger now. Gripping her arm twisting her wrist so she dropped the bottle, his free hand gripped her throat and tossed her across the room over the dresser.

With a groan as she got up. “Nope, you will finally get this through your pathetic ass head. I LOATHE you. You are nothing but a nobody with a warm hole to use for a little bit. Always there when you aren’t wanted!” He yelled, punching her then throwing her into the night stand. Y/n tried to react and punch him, but damn his reflexes were like lighting. “No,” he growled, squeezing her fist crushing her hand she felt the bones snap then he punched her again bashing her head into the wall. “You are pathetic, you are a waste of time and talent.”

Y/n coughed seeing triple but still shakily stood up or attempted too and leaped at him to try and take him down with her body weight. He caught her around the waist though. Wrapping his arm around her,he flung her across the room over the bed into the opposite direction. Shattering the window as her body hit, a cry of pain leaving her as her rib and spine connected with the glass and fell to the floor. She could barely move, through the blood of the cut over her eye she saw him approaching. She tried the only thing her cloudy brain could think of and started saying the Latin for an exorcism.

"Really Y/n," he laughed at her, pulling her head up by her hair roughly. " I'm not possessed. I am who I should have always been and I love it."

That was the last thing she remembered, she passed out after that.

She had awoken a week later in the hospital.

@thorne93 @pegasusdragontiger @st-eve-barnes @suz-123@magellan-88 @my-proof-is-you @carryonmywaywardwriters@forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @winchest09 @emoryhemsworth@ formulafun @delightfullykrispypeach @janicho88 @anathewierdo @flamencodiva @katehuntington @waywardbeanie @talesmaniac89 @deanwanddamons @atc74 @smol-and-grumpy @whatareyousearchingfordean @superfanficnatural @jules-1999 @flamencodiva

#dean winchester angst #dean x reader #dean winchesterxreader #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #white flag

23 notes · View notes

greekowl87 · 4 years

Text

Fic: False Flags - Ghost Ship 7/?

This fic still lives, albeit, just at a slower pace. For those that need to catch up…The First Fic: (False Flags Redux) | Ghost Ship: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) or if AO3 is your thing, you’ve got your choices. Sorry for any grammar or issues of that nature. No beta, I suck at editing my own work on computers (especially when it’s longer) and Grammarly only does so much. I still hope you enjoy it. Thanks for taking the time to stop by.

Tagging: @today-in-fic, @improlificinsarcasm, @baronessblixen, and @suitablyaggrieved

A/N: I haven’t given up on this fic but life keeps me busy and inspiration has been little. Thanks for any support with this fic. Sorry; no beta and trying to self edit longer works it not the easiest for me.

Buckley sat by the window of the hotel room carelessly spinning an unloaded Colt 1911 on the small table the motel staff had placed in the double room. Across the room, Alex Krychek groaned in annoyance and turned up the volume on the television with his one good arm. Buckley snorted and continued to spin the pistol. “Will you stop that!” Krychek shouted angrily. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

“Am I?” He laughed. “Good, Alexi.”

“Alex. Stop calling me that! I don’t know what the old man sees in you. Enlisting your help a second time? You screwed up and got caught last time. What makes you think you can do better?”

“And I got shot by Mulder too but the tip came from an anonymous informant. Not my screw-ups, you dick. Besides, shouldn’t you be doing something useful? Like getting us dinner or something?”

Krycek shuddered. “And I lost a goddamn arm thanks to Mulder and I’m not complaining. God, don’t you ever shut up? I’m not your servant so stop bothering me. I’m not supposed to let you out of myself or else god forbid you to go rogue.”

“Why worry?”

“I’ve seen your work,” Krycek huffed. He thought about the file folder and the gruesome pictures he had seen. It reminded him of Jack the Ripper, especially when Mulder and Scully had caught him during his last crime spree. “You’re fucking insane.”

“I used to be a gangster from the 1920s.” He replied. His voice took on a Chicago accent briefly. ‘That’s where I learned all that.”

“You really are insane. Bipolar. Order a pizza or something if you’re so damn hungry. The phone book is right there.”

Buckley chuckled and continued to stare on the window, spinning the pistol.

****************

Mulder and Scully slept through the night but that didn’t do anything to calm each other’s nerves. The ocean pounding the sandbars only matched Scully’s racing heart. Mulder sipped his coffee and leaned against the counter. “Scully, you’re pacing,” he quipped from the couch.

“I feel like a prisoner here,” she answered. She looked around at the ocean-inspired theme and shook her head. “It feels irreverent like Arcadia did.” She crossed her arms and looked at Mulder. “Don’t you feel the same? We can’t leave.”

“I don’t remember anyone saying that. Skinner didn’t say that. We’re free to come and go as we please. It isn’t like Skinner has placed us in protective custody and he’s standing in the corner watching our every move. We have our weapons. We’re trained federal agents. We’re okay.”

She shook her head in frustration. “I have the worst feeling growing in the back of my mind. He’s closer than they think he is.” She scratched the back of her neck and Mulder got from the couch to catch her hand. “What?”

“It’s not the chip,” he answered quickly. “This isn’t like Ruskin Dam. This isn’t the Syndicate coming after us. This is just old fashioned…” He sighed, unable to find the word. His fingers caressed the back of her neck gently. “It’s just our past coming back to haunt us. Quite literally. In the physical form of a sociopath.”

“You should have killed the bastard when you had the chance,” she replied. Scully relaxed into his touch and closed her eyes. “Might have saved us this headache.”

“You are the better shot between the two of us. Sorry. Couldn’t kill Model, couldn’t kill Buckley even at close range. But you, my kick-ass G-woman can shot a Sig Sauer P-226 with the precision of a surgeon and still take out and heal with the same ability. Maybe I should just give you my own weapon.”

Scully smiled ruefully and leaned into the shoulder she had shot years before. Mulder laughed and held her close. She took a deep breath and looked up to him and said, “I imagined our time down here filled with doing the tourist traps, relaxing with you on the beach, and just having fun.”

“We still can. The Bodie Lighthouse isn’t that far. Neither is Roanoke Island. Let’s go there. Check out the history. Maybe we can solve the case of the missing colony.”

“They’re national parks.”

“And we’re federal agents. We’ll be fine.” He gave her a weak smile. “Let’s do the lighthouse today. We can spend tomorrow on Manteo and have some dinner or something.”

“Mulder…”

“It’s better than seeing you pace back and forth. It’ll be fun.”

“Fine,” she conceded. “Anything is better than just being stressed.”

“I know you hate flying but are you afraid of heights?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Have you ever been up in a lighthouse?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Really? Coming from the woman who loves the seas.” Mulder grinned. “You’re going to love it.”

*********************

The FBI partners gathered their weapons and badges to hide them discreetly among their clothes. They grabbed Scully’s purse, locked their beach house, and went down to Mulder’s car. He hated seeing Scully like this and knew that this trip would be just the thing. They made the drive down NC-12 to Cape Hatteras National Park chatting silently with one another. When they arrived at the fork for Cape Hatteras National Park, he took the right back down the highway. After a short distance, he turned left down a small paved road where Bodie Island Lighthouse was. Mulder pulled their car in the small gravel parking lot and smiled at Scully. “Well?”

She leaned forward to look out of the windshield. The black and white striped lighthouse stood off in the distance with the white lightkeeper’s house nearby. “It’s quaint,” she smiled. “Very tucked away. I’d imagine you might be used to up in New England.”

“I’ve seen a few.

“It has a history as well.”

“I bet it does.”

They climbed out of the car and Mulder was surprised when Scully openly took his hand and led him towards the Lightkeeper’s House, which served as the gift shop and the National Park Service’s Office. As if she had been there before, she knew right where everything was. Mulder became interested in some of the lighthouse knick-knacks as she purchased two tickets to climb the lighthouse. “Got those tickets to the stairway to heaven, Scully?”

“Hahaha,” she smiled. Much to this delight, she took his arm as they ventured back outside to a bench near the lighthouse to wait for the next tour. She guided him to sit with her on the bench overlooking the lighthouse. “I should really purchase a camera for this trip.”

“We can always buy a postcard.”

“I’m talking about us.” She rolled her eyes in amusement. “Why do you have to be difficult?”

“Because I love it when you say, ‘You’re crazy, Mulder.’ Besides, who needs a camera when you have a photographic memory?” He tapped his temple. “All our recent memory making…”

She laughed and it lifted Mulder’s spirit. Despite having a reincarnated ex-husband murderer who happened to be a serial killer in this life hunting down them while they were on their first vacation as a couple, he was so happy to hear her laughter. She smiled and rested her head against the bicep. She closed her eyes sleepily. “What do you say to us taking a nap in the hammock we have on the deck when we get home?”

“Despite the threat of…”

“Ssshhh. But yes.”

“As long as we pick up dinner along the way. Are you in the mood for seafood?”

“What about some Carolina BBQ?”

“I like you in a vacation mood. Why can’t you be more open to greasy foods when we’re in the field?”

“Vacation. There’s a difference,” she laughed.

Mulder watched a park ranger walk past them, calling, “All those for tickets for the 12:00 lighthouse tour line up behind me.”

“That’s us,” Scully whispered.

“Do you have to be first at everything?”

“I have to remind you who is the boss in this relationship. Tell me, Walking History Textbook, what is special about this lighthouse?”

“I remember,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head, “trying to blow it up with the retreating troops but I got orders to report to Norfolk instead.”

She chuckled. “Fucking past lives but then again, I have those to thank for my better sex life.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Shut up.” Her eyes opened and she tugged on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“This salt air is doing wonders for your spirit,” he remarked.

“Maybe it’s the company more.”

Mulder smiled and kissed her forehead lovingly. She walked together to the front of the lighthouse where others were lining up in front of a park ranger. The woman park ranger smiled and waved people closer. “Gather around everyone! First, a few rules before we go up. The stairs in this lighthouse aren’t like the ones at Cape Hatteras. Only one person at a time can be on them, going up or going down in either direction. You can have multiple people on the landings,” the park ranger explained. “Now that we have that out of the way, can anyone tell me about the lighthouse?”

The tour group was met with silence as the park ranger started to talk about a mini-history lesson about Congress approving the lighthouse and it’s history from the Civil War to the present. As the park ranger concluded her mini-speech, she stepped back and motioned for everyone to begin their journey upwards. Mulder and Scully were in the middle of the group and took a moment to take in the moment around them: other tourists, the lovely March weather, and Scully in sunglasses smiling and laughing with her arm wrapped through his. It was so nice to see you here relaxed and happy.

“Are you happy?” Mulder whispered to her.

“Yes,” she answered.

That was all he needed at that moment. He really should have bought a disposable camera to capture this moment. As they climbed the lighthouse in a single file line, he was entranced by the magic of the moment. They paused periodically on each landing, overlooking various aspects of the horizon. The salt marshes and sounds of the Ocean on the other end. The Atlantic on the other side. Scully laughing. Eventually, they reached the top, the wind whipped Scully’s hair.

She gripped the railings of Bodie Lighthouse and leaned over to look at the people below. Mulder’s hand rested lightly on her back and he whispered, “What a view huh?”

“Hey, mister!”

A young kid’s voice caught both of them off guard and as they turned they saw a young boy with a brand new Polaroid camera. He smiled, speaking loudly over the wind. “I’ll take two pictures of you for five bucks.”

“Try three,” Mulder haggled, getting into the spirit.

“Two dollars includes on the spot printing. Memories last forever.”

“You sound like a Hallmark commercial.”

“Mom lets me watch a lot of tv.” The young kid considered his possible client. “What do you say? Five dollars for three pictures?”

“I have to consult with my boss. What do you say, Scully? Three for five?”

She nodded and smiled. The kid smiled and raised his camera. He took a series of three shots. One of them both overlooking the railing out to the Atlantic sea, the second of them together smiling for the camera, and an unscripted kiss that briefly turned passionate, all of which was captured on the kid’s camera. Scully broke away, her cheeks flushed as she smiled. Mulder dug through his jean’s pockets until he produced a crumpled five-dollar bill. He exchanged it as Scully still took the still-developing photos.

Scully waved the photos in the sea air in a vain attempt to get them to develop quicker. She briefly flashed back to when she found that picture of them in the library archives in Newport News months ago from 1863. But there was something else that bloomed up inside of her; pride, love, tenderness, and devotion. Finally, something to memorialize and immortalize this moment now. She eyed the top image of them kissing with affection. Mulder was saying something before he returned to her.

“How did they turn out?”

“The kid has an eye for photography?” She answered.

They both gripped the photos to keep them from flying away in the sea breeze. “The Gunmen can make copies of these,” he whispered into her ear. “We can put one down into the basement and make Skinner jealous.”

“Or we can keep the copies for ourselves,” she answered. She rested her head against his chest; the breeze was in one ear with echoes of eternity from the Atlantic and his heartbeat was steady with promises of the future. “We need to buy a camera.”

“I can agree with that.” They watched the pictures develop on top of the lighthouse as they stood close to each other and as another momentarily in the winds of their entwined existence became immortalized once again on film. Scully felt relaxed and, for once, at peace. “Let me put those pictures in my purse,” she whispered softly.

Mulder gladly obliged and she carefully tucked away their pictures. They stood together, admiring the 360 panorama view that Bodie Lighthouse gave. After a while, they descended the staircase back down to the ground. Scully took his hand in public, unafraid who was watching and dragged Mulder to the gift shop. As he enjoyed the moment of this rare display of public affection, Mulder had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that disappeared when Scully’s lips met his.

********************

Buckley sat in the farthest car from the lighthouse, looking through his binoculars. Krycek sat next to him and asked, “Is it them?”

“Yep,” the other man replied. “Just like I told you.”

********************

Mulder looked at the Polaroids that had been taken at the lighthouse that day. He could only imagine the film on the disposable camera and how wonderful the shots were going to be. He and Scully were laughing, posing together as a couple framed by the lighthouse and the Atlantic Ocean. The little kids who had charged them five dollars for the pictures were ruthless but he finally had some proof of their happiness in this life. He contemplated calling upon the Gunmen to use their technological magic to digitize the photos but that would be for another day. He had been relatively low profile with his relationship with Scully over the past three months and he did not want to push it unless she was okay with it.

“Hey, Scully,” he called, “when do you think we should tell your mom?”

“About what, Mulder?”

“Us,” he replied.

From the kitchen island, Scully was curled up on the couch with a blanket watching ‘Dharma and Greg’ and not really paying attention to him. She rested her arm on the back of the couch and twisted to look at him. “What aspect of us?”

“Well,” Mulder began, setting the photos down, “the change in our relationship for starters.”

“Or the IVF?”

“I wasn’t going to go there.”

“But you were thinking about it.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted. He set the pictures aside and joined her on the couch. “I’ve just been thinking lately.”

“Well, I feel like there’s been a lot of that going around,” she said. Mulder unfurled her legs and rested her feet in his lap. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’m not really thinking.”

“Or maybe you’re just too busy thinking. Are you thinking about the IVF?”

“I would want to try again if you are willing too.”

“I still want to think about it,” she replied.

He lightly massaged her feet and she hummed in approval. “I can’t believe how sore my feet are from climbing all those stairs.”

“It’s not like you aren’t used to all work. You’re the FBI equivalent of Wonder Women running in high heels.”

“I appreciate the compliant, Mulder, but if you remember, I decided to wear flip-flops that have no support.”

“Well, where else could you get weather nice enough to wear flip flops in March?”

She giggled as he got a particular ticklish area. “Only in Nags Head.” She nodded to the show that was on. “So, I caught this the first time when I was in San Diego. Have you ever heard of it?”

“What is it?”

“The show’s called ‘Dharma and Greg.’”

“I believe I have,” he said. “Some flower child marries a lawyer and chaos ensues when they decide to marry on the first date. So which one am I? Dharma or Greg?”

“Dharma,” she answered. “But opposites attract and make us better for it. Wouldn’t you agree, Mulder?”

He chuckled. “I might be inclined to. Do you want to keep it on this or find some nature documentary?”

“I like that and this version of Domestic Scully.”

“Did you lock the doors downstairs?”

“Yes,” he answered, “and I triple checked all the locks and windows. The only window that will be open is the one to our bedroom on the third floor.”

“And our weapons?”

“In the bedroom on the nightstands.”

She relaxed and nodded in approval. She withdrew her feet and switched her sitting position. She lounged against Mulder, wrapping his arms securely around her, and they enjoyed the rest of the comedy sitcom. He smiled into her arm and pressed a kiss, solidifying this moment in his memory. Even though there was a psycho that might be trying to kill them, he was the happiest he had been in a long time.

***********************

Mulder and. Scully had retired after television for a few more hours of watching prime time sitcoms. Scully disappeared into their bedroom and he did a quick lap around the beach house to check all their locks. By the time he got back up to their third-floor bedroom, he could hear the water running in the master bathroom.

“Mulder,” Scully called through the partially closed door. “Did you get everything you needed done?”

He could hear the partially slurred speech. “Is that wine I smell?” He dare not open the door. While this vacation had stress from fear of a psycho, it was bringing out sides of Scully he had only dreamed of and seen in one other lifetime. “Scully?”

“Hmm.” She giggled. “Maybe. Come join me, Mulder.”

“Where did you get the wine?”

He was already taking off his shirt and Scully’s laughter was causing his blood to boil in anticipation. “I snuck it in our last shopping trip,” she replied. She was giggling again. “Mulder, come on. There are still bubbles.”

Bubbles. “Aw, Scully.”

He pushed the door open slightly and saw her hair clipped back and a coffee mug in her hand. Most of her were covered by the bubbles from the jacuzzi so all that he saw was the one bare leg perched near the faucet. “Scully…” he crooned.

“What? Go grab yourself a coffee mug and bring the bottle with you!” She was smiling. Even though they decided to take their relationship to a new level, this still seemed so uncharacteristic of her. “Come on, Mulder. We’re on vacation.”

“I know we are,” he answered. He chose his next words carefully. “Weren’t you the one earlier who was concerned about our safety?”

“I’m not letting them get to me. Us. I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

“About telling your mom?”

“No. I want to try again when we get back to D.C.”

Mulder smiled and his concerns momentarily forgotten. “I’ll be right back.”

He went to the fridge, grabbed the open bottle, and a coffee mug from the fridge. She was smiling coyly at him. He topped off her coffee mug and shucked his jeans. In one fluid movement, he slid behind her and coiled his arms around her. “It’s a good thing you’re so small,” he teased. He kissed his favorite spot behind her ear. “Or else this w Scully lounged back into him. “I’ve been dreaming,” she whispered to him softly. She sipped the wine-filled coffee mug. “Don’t worry, it’s not any new past lives or anything.”

“I’m glad?”

She heard the question in his voice. “I am just thinking about this life and the last. Us. What could have been.”

Scully was always amazed how well they just worked together, either spiritually, or as she had discovered lately, physically as well. She sipped her wine. “Now or then,” he asked.

“Then. I still have a hard time believing it was real, Mulder.”

Together, they entwined their hands and caressed her flattened abdomen. He nuzzled her neck and closed his eyes. They both could remember those memories for the early 1860s, the joy of their unborn child, laying together, and dreaming about the future. “It was,” he replied. “And I don’t know how this whole past life thing works but we’ve been given a second chance.”

“By remembering?”

She turned her head in question and Mulder found her lips. “We’ll have that again.”

“Your faith is grounding.”

“Did you enjoy the lighthouse today?” He asked, changing the subject. “I was thinking why not tour all of them? We can drive back down to Cape Hatteras and climb the lighthouse there. Or drive an hour or so up to Corolla and climb the Currituck Lighthouse. And there are the ferries...Ocracoke, Knotts Island…”

“One day at a time, Mulder,” she laughed. “Today was Bodie Lighthouse. Tomorrow is Manteo. Tonight is this.”

“So,” he paused, setting aside both of the wine mugs. “Do you want to try to experiment and push the bounds of this fancy bathtub?”

“I bet you’re more effective than those water jets,” she challenged.

Mulder smiled and kissed her deeply. “I’ll get you to relax on this vacation.”

Scully just deepened the kiss and pulled him closer.

************************

Further up the barrier islands in Duck, North Carolina, Franklin Buckley, and Alex Krycek were at a small pizzeria nestled in a small outcrop of shops. Over shared slices and bad beer, they talked. “I still don’t get it,” Krycek started. “Why is this so fucking important to you? Mulder is no one.”

“Your boss is interested in them,” Buckley shrugged. “As a result, I am too.”

“I read your file you know.”

“Hell, I was in the papers.”

“And this somehow makes you the best choice?” Krycek sneered. “I still don’t understand that smoking bastard’s logic. I know you were in the papers. There is a fucking manhunt on for you.”

“And yet they can’t touch me.” Buckley waved the soggy pizza in the air. “We’re having pizza.”

“Why did the old man pick you?”

“Alexi…”

“Alex.”

“Alex.” Buckley grinned. “Have you ever wanted revenge so badly that you would do anything? Take back what is rightfully yours?”

Krychek grew quiet. “I have.”

“Then this is no different. It’s all a matter of waiting. I made the smoker an offer he couldn’t refuse. Are you going to finish that pizza?”

“No.” Krycek was distracted. He pushed the plate towards Buckley with his right arm. “Go ahead.”

“Must suck having one arm but I’ll tell you, this pizza is better than anything they served in the joint.”

“What’s your plan?”

“You’ll see. In the meantime, it is all the matter of waiting and seeing.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Wait and see.”

****************

Back in Nags Head, Scully stood on the deck with her arms around her. She watched the waves hit the shore as high tide came ashore. Mulder had run out earlier to pick up some dinner for them but, while he was gone, Skinner had called her cell phone with an update on the situation. While Buckley still had yet to be confirmed spotted, there had been an anonymous tip that Krycek was in league with Buckley. While the SACs of the branch offices were not as quick, Skinner was the one to make the connection. He hung up without giving Scully any orders to immediately return or what to do next. He promised to call her the next day if there had been any developments.

But this newest update from Skinner had left her uneasy. Their boss had danced around the possibility of recalling his two agents back from their vacation but had not stated anything directly. She watched the waves, memorized, and let her thoughts drift. This vacation of theirs was already turning south with each new update about Buckley. She was beginning to feel paranoid, like a haunting ghost on the edge of her vision. She sighed and looked up at the sky. The sun was setting behind her. Although she couldn’t see the sun at this point, it was already painting the sky in a brilliant canvas of colors and hues of reds, pinks, purples, and oranges. She tried to let herself get lost in the beauty of the moment but her anxiety grew worse.

She watched the last of the sun fade into darkness and went back into the beach house. Scully glanced at the green digital clock on the microwave and frowned when she read 7:13. Mulder should have been back by now. She tapped her knuckles lightly against each other to ward against the growing anxiety. She heard the main door unlock and his musical voice call, “Scully, I’m back! You’ll never guess what I picked up!”

She tried to refrain from clutching her pounding heart but failed. “Took you long enough!”

“I’m sorry, but you know how I get sometimes. Something catches my eyes and poof.”

She could hear him climbing the stairs, trying to juggle plastics takeout bags. He appeared, dropped the armload of food and a nondescript black plastic bag on the counter. He sneaked up behind her, kissed her, and whispered, “Miss me that much?”

She nodded, twisting her head to meet his kiss. “Always.”

He hummed and flexed around her. “You’re tense.”

“I spoke to Skinner earlier.” She tried to relax as she spoke. He hummed. “And I...let’s just discuss it tomorrow okay? We’ll lock the doors, keep our weapons nearby, and play it safe. Is that okay?”

“Whatever you say,” he whispered. “So, for dinner, I got us a surprise.”

“Dare I ask?”

He broke away but not before stealing another kiss. “We’re on the coast. You know the seafood is fresh. I literally just got it so you know it is good.”

“Get to point. Why were you late?”

“Well,” he shrugged, “I went up the strip a couple of miles and found this really cute place.”

“You just used the word cute.” She frowned teasingly, his lighter mood getting the best of her. “Did you find us china patterns?”

“That is a future date at the Alexandria farm market. I got us the best seafood.” He began to unpack the bags. “For starters, Agent Scully baked oysters.”

“An aphrodisiac, Mulder?”

He held up a finger to silence her. “Next, a course of shared soup, that is she-crab soup.” She laughed and hid her face. “Next, honestly I couldn’t decide between landlubbers and the sea, so a buffalo chicken wrap I think will heat up well tomorrow and a lovely scallop dinner…”

“I love scallops.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I got us a combo. Scallops and local shrimp with a salad and a baked potato. But, to answer your burning question, the reason why I took so long…” From his back pocket. She could hear the crinkling of a paper gift bag and he held out the mysterious wrapped package in the palm of his hand. “I saw this and immediately thought of you.”

“Mulder.”

With the food momentarily forgotten, she pulled off the paper and revealed a small velvet box. “You see, I can’t see you in another necklace than a cross or bracelets or rings but earrings...for sure.” She popped open the box and drew in a sharp breath. “Do you like them?”

“Mulder, these are beautiful.” She examined two fine little stud earrings with a sand dollars designed in the silver overlay. “Silver?”

“No, white gold.” He shrugged. “It was in this little kitschy shop run by a local artist who makes jewelry. I just thought.”

“I love them.” She awarded him with a kiss. “Thank you. In fact, I’ll put them on now just to show you.”

“You don’t have to. Besides, I know you well enough you will murder me first if I don’t feed you.”

“I am not that bad.” She closed the box and replied, “Thank you.”

“For what? Dinner or the earrings?”

“Everything.”

He pulled the plates and bowls down from the cabinet. Scully busied herself with fetching silverware and napkins, inwardly defeating the idea to tell Mulder about Skinner’s call until after dinner. He glanced out the window to the deck. “What about eating outside tonight?”

“Let’s eat at the breakfast island and then go outside. It was getting chilly while I was out there a while ago.”

He nodded and went to the radio in the living room. Mulder fiddled with the dial and settled on a classic rock station playing the Eagles. She set out dinner and he joined her. They silently sat next together over dinner. “So,” he asked, unsure of the silence, “what do you want to do tomorrow?”

She paused on the shrimp she was working on. “Skinner called while you were out,” she began. “Giving us an update. We got two SACs and field offices chasing this, along with Skinner, but no one has yet to confirm seeing Buckley aside from the fact they’ve flooded the airwaves with his picture. But there was an anonymous source that Krycek is involved.”

Mulder was quiet, cutting half of the baked potato. “Well, we both know the Smoker is involved. Morely’s were found on the site of his breakout.”

“I know,” she whispered. “He said he’ll update us again tomorrow and Skinner hasn’t ordered us back to Washington. Yet.”

“I sense a but coming, Scully.”

“But since we came down here, I can’t help but feel off or like we’re being watched or followed during all this.” She picked up her fork and dipped a scallop into the melted butter. “When we were at the lighthouse the other day…”

“You felt like we were being watched?”

She nodded, averting her gaze. “I know it doesn’t sound like me.”

“I trust your instincts, Scully.” He looked down at his own food. “And I got the same feeling too.”

“Our money would be gone.”

“But we would be safer.”

“As is our vacation.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I am not spending the rest of the two weeks we took off months in advance in an FBI safe house.”

“What would happen if we were closer for them to keep an eye on us? Skinner is in Norfolk right with the two SACs. Virginia Beach isn’t that far. I remember when we were there a few months ago hearing about Sandbridge. It was advertised to be like the Outer Banks without leaving Virginia. We could take the hit on the money and have the FBI pay for it.”

“Or get them to refund it and then pay for it. We’ve earned it at least.”

“I can’t agree more.” He sighed. “How do you want to play this, Scully.?”

“I want our vacation.”

“But?”

“I just can’t shake the feeling something is going to happen.”

Mulder rubbed his chin, forgetting he had melted butter all over his hands. She frowned and took a napkin, gently wiping it away. “Thanks. But back to your feelings,” he said. “I agree and have the same feeling.” He watched her reaction as she kept her face neutral like a poker player. “But I think we should consider our safety first.”

She nodded.

“What are you thinking,” he asked softly.

“That we can never catch a break. Let’s go outside after dinner and sit for a bit in the hammock. We can pack tomorrow after we call Skinner.” She sighed. “You know, I really was looking forward to having a real vacation with you.”

He nodded. “We can still have it,” he said.

“Can we? As I said, it feels like we can never catch a break.”

With the mood suddenly sourer, they both finished their meals and discarded the dishes. Scully hand-washed all the dishes they had been using, including the few sitting in the dishwasher. Mulder gathered a sweatshirt for her, two glasses, and the small bottle of aged rum he had purchased from them. She eyed the small liquor bottle. “I’m sorry, Mulder to be the downer of the party.”

He shook his head and walked over to her. He trapped her between the counter and his arms. She sighed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and rested her head against his chest. He smiled at her open display of affection. “You’re never the downer at a party.”

“I never told you about my first and last high school party.”

“Well, how about we part-tay outside to that hammock for one night and you can tell me. I’ll bring the booze.”

Scully chuckled. “What would my father say?”

“Hang and quarter him on the yardarm?”

“Aye,” she teased. She kissed him. “Help, I’ve been charmed by a pirate from New England who thought I was a mermaid.”

“That is terrible,” he whispered. They both smiled. “But more of an angel than a mermaid.”

“Let’s go outside. High tide was just coming in when I was out there earlier.”

Scully pulled on the sweatshirt he had brought her and the two glasses and the liquor bottle. Mulder followed behind her, turning out most of the lights as he did. She sat on the hammock like a big lounge chair and made room for him. She rocked it gently as Mulder eased himself next to her. “Let me do the swinging,” he told her. “My legs are longer.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

Scully poured them both a drink and held up his. She chinked the glasses together. “To our vacation being ruined.”

“Well, if it weren’t for the x-files, we wouldn’t be here and I don’t regret a second of it with you.”

“Fox Mulder the sentimental,” she whispered lovingly. Mulder wrapped his arm tightly around her and she chuckled. “I love you.”

He smiled and whispered, “Not a single second.” His long legs began to rock them. “We’re going to be okay.”

She nodded absently. She rested against his arm and listened to the ocean. “We’ll go back to Virginia tomorrow.”

“I’ll tell Skinner to make plans to keep us in Virginia Beach.”

“And get us a beach house. I’m not staying in a motel.”

“Won’t argue with that.”

She sighed. “Fucking Buckley.”

“Fucking Buckley,” he agreed.

“So, it’s settled?”

“Yes. I’ll make the call. Right now, let’s just enjoy the beach.”

He nodded and rocked the hammock with his long legs as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment with Mulder.

#false flags redux #xfiles #xf fic #txf fic #txf #msr #msr fic #case fic #fox mulder #scully #mulder and scully on vacation

13 notes · View notes

siribear · 4 years

Text

down on almost solid ground, whisper stretches her arms up and yawns. deacon’s sleeveless shirt hardly fits on her, but it saves her from walking around the freeway in her bra. and at least maccready can look at her without his face turning beet red. or, tato red. she brings her arms down with a sigh.

no gunners remain on the freeway. even when maccready destroys the last turret, no one tries to ambush them. deacon carefully peers over the edge of the freeway and declares the second lift clear of gunners. whisper checks her pip-boy, the glow near blinding in the dark.

one in the morning. she yawns again.

the freeway isn’t exactly the safest place to bed down, but it’ll be hours before any reinforcements arrive, if any. and, frankly, it’s too far of a walk up to sunshine tidings co-op. they drag their packs, full of ammo, medical supplies, and combat armor (’how did i get roped into carrying these, too?’ maccready grouses, before she shoves more caps at him) to one of the wooden shacks the gunners lined with beds.

whisper cooks over a makeshift grill, unwrapping leftovers preserved from the night before. it’s strange. one, after they brought codsworth into the family, he was more than happy to cook; it saved whatever energy she had left from late nights and early mornings when they took home shaun. two, the cooking utensils are... lacking. awkwardly, she flips the leftovers with a scavenged knife.

‘know what you’re doing over there, partner?’

she waves her hand. ‘hush. this is a very delicate process.’

deacon hums and leans back in one of the chairs he’s drug over. maccready’s sat opposite him, cleaning her weapons. their trade, she told him, for dinner. only because she didn’t have any more gunner-stolen caps to give him, and he wouldn’t accept charity.

deacon, however, had been left to clean his own. only fair.

whisper sprinkles decades old seasoning on a hunk of meat maccready had passed over. she had eyed it, and him, and only put it on the grill when maccready had insisted (with a huff and a roll of his eyes) that it was radstag and not from the gunners.

‘and,’ she draws the word out, ‘done.’ she punctuates it with one more dash of seasoning. because it’s been hundreds of years, and why not?

maccready takes the first bite. ‘better than what i could do.’ he eats, barely chewing, washing it down with nuka cola.

deacon only gives her a shrug and a grin, like he doesn’t want to admit she did a pretty good job. and she’s the one surprised she did a pretty good job. maybe she hasn’t lost her touch. with dinner a resounding success, deacon wipes down their dishes and stows them away to be washed later.

whisper takes a sip from her flat nuka cola. ‘i don’t mean to pry, maccready. or infer that you aren’t doing your job, but...’ she lets it hang, long enough that she gets an annoyed, yeah? from him. ‘have you found anything out about kellogg?’

he downs the rest of his nuka cola and sighs. ‘yeah. hancock suggested i go talk to that detective in diamond city - ’

‘nick?’

‘uh huh. he seemed kind of skeptical at first, but when i mentioned you, he turned over all he knew.’

she smiles, softly. ‘that’s - kind of sweet.’

‘he had this big... folder, i guess, for the guy. places he’s been seen in the past few years, people that were murdered that kellogg might have killed. sh-stuff like that.

‘so that’s what i was doing, checking out those places. nothing there except maybe a dead synth or two. those creepy looking ones.’

whisper leans forward, looks up at him from her spot on the ground where she sits, cross-legged. ‘anything else?’

‘maybe. look, this sounds stupid, but i was following a trail of these old cigars and beer - ’

‘maccready the bloodhound,’ deacon mutters, just loud enough for them to hear.

‘ - and it’s actually been leading this way. i saw a few as we were heading toward the interchange.’

‘where do you think the end is, then?’

‘fort hagen.’ it’s deacon that speaks, louder, this time. she turns to him. ‘PAM, an assaultron back at hq, she’s been,’ he sighs, ‘predicting institute activity in the area.’

‘predicting.’

‘predicting,’ deacon echoes with a shrug. ‘sounds about as plausible as maccready sniffing out a trail of cigars and beer bottles, but here we are. literally, here we are. fort hagen’s - ’

‘right up the road,’ whisper says, voice airy with disbelief. the odds - she all but jumps to her feet. ‘we have to check it out. if he’s there now, because what if he moves, we might lose him - ’ her words come out fast enough to leave her breathless. she sways on her feet.

‘i don’t think that’s such a - ’ maccready starts, but deacon cuts him off, again.

‘all right.’ deacon begins to rise from his chair. ‘let’s go-ow. ow, ow, ow.’ he clutches his side, groaning in pain. whisper snaps to attention, going to him, fingers grazing where his hands hover over his ribs.

‘are you okay? what happened?’

‘i’m fine!’ he squeaks. ‘just pulled a muscle. or broke a rib. one of those.’ she pokes him. ‘ow.’

whisper sighs and kneels, using her pipboy light to examine his side, unknowingly missing a look that passes between deacon and maccready. in the light, there is a bruise, at least. when she brushes her knuckles against it, deacon sucks in his breath through his teeth.

‘i’m ready to take on a trained killer if you are, partner.’

‘tomorrow morning,’ she says. ‘well, after we rest.’ she looks over to maccready. ‘are you...?’

‘i owe you. i’m coming with you.’ he pulls his cap further down over his eyes. ‘besides, this is the most caps i’ve made in months. can’t let anything happen to my best employer.’

she grins. ‘i appreciate it.’ she tugs deacon’s shirt back down, probably a little too roughly. not that he doesn’t deserve it - she knows what he’s doing. still, eager as she is, she knows she can’t take on kellogg by herself. ‘wake me up for watch, will you?’

deacon grins down at her. ‘ab-so-lutely.’

she wakes in the late morning, deacon sleeping in the bed next to her. when she wanders outside the shack, it’s to maccready finishing up his watch. whisper rubs at her eyes, half annoyed, half grateful.

‘his idea.’ maccready points over her shoulder at deacon.

‘and how’s the rib, partner?’ she asks, leaning against the door frame.

he stretches, lifting his arms straight up, then tilting side to side. ‘all healed. the wonders of modern medicine.’

they eat breakfast in near-silence. it’s not nearly as heavy as dinner was, just enough to satisfy their hunger and the butterflies in their stomachs. they’re going after a mercenary that leaves no survivors. except one.

‘i’ve been wondering,’ maccready speaks, mouth full of food. ‘what is it with you two?’ he uses his spoon to point at her. ‘you’ve got a ring, but he doesn’t. and that’s a lot of caps going to waste just to look fancy.’

deacon turns to her with a shrug. whisper twists the wedding ring on her finger. ‘have you ever been married, maccready?’

it startles him into silence. and perhaps that’s shame coloring his cheeks, but she keeps her face carefully neutral. harmlessly curious.

‘once,’ he says, eventually.

she doesn’t answer his question.

deacon and maccready force her into their scavenged combat armor. when she fights, they compromise on just a chest piece. it’s the only one they have, but they help her buckle into it, regardless.

whisper leads the way up to fort hagen, following the broken road. outside, the fort is littered with debris and branches from the surrounding dead bushes. vines climb the concrete walls, covering faded banners in the colors of the american flag. a metal statue head mounted over the front door stares them down, eyes dead and cold. above all else, the area surrounding the fort is suspiciously empty; devoid of life or even signs of it. no animals, no raiders, no ferals. kept safe and secure. maccready stashes their extra pieces of armor in a nearby bush for safe keeping.

deacon points out a set of turrets on the rooftop, so they keep their heads down and duck near the stairs until they’re completely out of sight. the front doors are barricaded, not only with sandbags stacked waist high but heavy pieces of plywood braced from the inside.

they follow around the west side of the building and down into the basement of a small parking garage. whisper tries the door, twisting the knob and pushing slowly, waiting for the sound of any kind of trap -

nothing.

the door leads straight into an ascending set of stairs. whisper leads, deacon behind her, with maccready on the other side of the stairs. they step around even more debris, loose rock and concrete and scattered tin cans. at the first landing, the room opens up into a hallway and a larger room, along with more stairs to their right. but in front of her is a wall mounted terminal connected to a dormant protectron.

‘cover me. i want this thing to go in first.’

deacon braces himself against the nearest doorway while maccready stays at the top of the stairs. the sound of the keys clacking as she accesses the terminal sounds impossibly loud in the silence. she waits, but nothing comes rushing out at them, so she continues. a few more keystrokes and she’s got the protectron running, the monotone robotic voice chiming, protectron on duty.

whisper backs up, allowing it to take the stage.

not five steps into the next room, the protectron is swarmed by synths. the same plastic-looking, yellow dead-eyed stare from the switchboard. however, the protectron holds its own, frying two synths and literally disarming a third before it breaks apart under a hail of blue laser fire. sweeping through the rest is easy enough with the amount of cover they manage to find, from large chunks of fallen pieces of ceiling to turned over desks.

further inside, they move around the bodies of synths they leave behind and the scraps from the looted fort. in the centuries its stood, all that’s left are the repeating red, white, and blue banners and faded trifolded american flags. the fort, crumbling more from the inside than the out, has become a maze. instead of going easily from room to room, they have to follow a path through the fort using holes in the walls.

they manage to spot a turret hidden in the corner of an office before it can spot them, blowing it and their position, alerting three more synths. the synths themselves go down easily; despite being all metal and plastic, they aren’t sturdy. what makes them dangerous is their killer accuracy. she’s thankful for that combat armor deacon and maccready forced her into when laser fire skims her chest, only singing the front of the armor instead.

following that, she draws the fire of two ceiling mounted laser turrets so the others can destroy them. she uses a terminal on the wall to open a security gate that they loot for a handful of pulse grenades. it’s an elevator that takes them deeper into the fort, announcing their arrival to a maintenance tunnel with a loud ding.

she exhales heavily. just that much closer. even through the nerves, she still catches the laser tripwire hidden behind a supply cart in the middle of the tunnel. a patrolling synth doesn’t see them before maccready can snipe it, and deacon destroys the turret revealed when the synth falls through a set of double doors. a second synth calls out before having its head blown off by deliverer.

the next room is simply lined with shelves and empty metal containers. an abandoned desk sits in the middle, but there’s little for them there. down a short set of stairs, they’re faced with a hallway and electronically bolted security door. there’s no terminal for her to access, no switch on the wall, no lock for them to pick. it’s the only way for them to go, but it’s a dead end.

she puts a hand against the cold, metal door. ‘now what?’

a cold, familiar voice speaks to them through the pa system, ‘allow me.’

#oc: alice ward #series: we will all go together when we go #siri drabbles

2 notes · View notes

smol-and-grumpy · 5 years

Text

Dear Dean (Chapter 15)

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

WC: 4.6k

Summary: After taking Saint Lo, by sheer dumb luck, Lieutenant Dean Winchester from the 29th Infantry Division, Baker Company, received a truckload of replacements for his platoon that was falling apart. Little did he know, that one recruit would change his life forever.

Chapter Warnings: Whole lotta angst, description of PoW’s in WWII, loss of hope

SERIES MASTERLIST

October 13th, 1944

They marched toward Aachen in the middle of the night. The drumming of firearms could be heard, and it was astonishing how quickly an army can collapse. Baker went from being part of a well-armed, highly mechanized force to being lost in the open field.

Dean found himself with Harvelle and private Barnes running up against a hill that provided at least a little cover. The shells rained on them, and there was simply nothing they could have done other than run. Dean heard a crack and a sharp pain tore through his shin and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground in the damp autumn leaves.

“Fuck.”

“Sir, you ok?” Harvelle was beside him, his hand fisted in Dean’s webbing and he pulled Dean up.

“Shit, yeah. I just… ah!” Dean tried to balance his weight on both his legs but one of them would give out. “I think I broke my shin bone.”

“Shit, sir.” Barnes was on the other side of Dean, and then he ran away, returning with a branch. “Here,” Barnes worked swiftly, taking out the first aid kit from his webbing and secured the branch around Dean’s leg to support it. “Until we get to an aid station, sir.”

“Thank you, private.” Dean bit through his pain and surprisingly, it worked. He could keep going, although painfully and slow, but he could keep walking.

They lost track of their platoon and their whole company, hell, their whole infantry. Apart from a map and a compass, Dean had nothing on him. His rifle was long abandoned since he ran out of ammunition, and so were Harvelle and Barnes.

“Let’s rest here for the night.” Harvelle suggested when they came to an evergreen tree with low hanging branches. “It should keep us hidden for the night. We’ll go find the others in the morning.”

Dean had never been more thankful to have Harvelle around, because he couldn’t think straight anymore. There were so many thoughts in his head, and they kept screaming at him. He had trouble sorting them.

“You ok, Lieutenant?” Barnes asked, fishing out his canteen from his webbing and handing it to Dean.

“You look out for yourself, alright, Barnes. I’m good. Thanks.”

They huddled together for the night, with Dean in the middle. He didn’t know how he deserved to have such great friends who took care of him even though he wasn’t always the best friend to them. He knew that he’d been an asshole at times.

“If we ever get out I’m getting myself some damn pie.” Dean chuckled to himself, trying to humor the men and they laughed with him.

“I want to see Lisa.” Harvelle said.

“So you two, huh?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I’d like to think that.” Harvelle mumbled and Dean was sure that if there would be light, he would see Harvelle blushing.

Barnes said that he’d like to see his high school sweetheart again. She sent him a Dear John letter when he was still in Basic.

“What’s the name of your girl, Lieutenant?” Barnes asked, and the question caught Dean off guard.

Dean nibbled on his bottom lip, deciding if he should tell them or not. He figured that getting out alive wasn’t guaranteed, and if they did their bond would be beyond anything superficial. He knew that he trusted them to keep it to themselves.

“Jamie.” He answered.

“Jamie?” Harvelle raised an eyebrow in question.

“Yeah, Jamie.” Dean repeated again.

“As in Jamie Blum?” Barnes asked.

“Yeah.”

“What? You queer Lieutenant?” Barnes was confused, and Harvelle laughed at that.

“No, I’m not.” Dean couldn’t hide his grin.

“No shit sir, I knew that Jamie wasn’t what he said he was, but I didn’t want to say anything because he did a freaking good job.”

“She did a good job, yes.” Dean said, his voice low. “I wanna go home to her.”

“Well shit sir, we gonna haul your ass back, that’s for sure. At least one of us should have a happy ending. You fought for it, you damn well deserve it.”

“Barnes,” Dean chuckled. “Stop crawling up my ass.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

October 14th, 1944

Dean couldn’t sleep. So he volunteered to keep watch while the other two were asleep beside him. It was dawn when he heard the snap of fallen branches being stepped on.

Shit.

He could sense that the Germans were closing in on them.

There was only one way out. Dean hated to admit it, but it was better than being shot at. He woke up Harvelle and Barnes to talk them through his plan. He would go out alone to give them a chance to get away. It was the only route they could take, but they wouldn’t hear it. They wouldn’t abandon him. “No shit sir, we’re in this together. We’re not leaving you behind.”

Harvelle took off his white undershirt and secured the shirt to a branch that they found.

There were four German soldiers with rifles. “Halt! Hände nach oben wo wir sie sehen können!”

Dean didn’t need to have a German degree to know that it meant that they should show their hands.

Dean had a broken leg, and Harvelle was waving a white flag. They all had their hands in the air while the German pointed their rifles at them, and all Dean could think was please don’t shoot, please don’t fucking shoot.

The Germans marched them to a barn and although it hurt like hell, Dean sucked it up. He couldn’t show that he was vulnerable. He knew that if they thought that Dean wasn’t well enough to be moved, he would be shot - point blank - and left behind.

They were holed up in a small room until a German officer arrived. He pointed for Dean to come with him. That’s it. That’s how I’m going to die. That was Dean’s only thought, and it was on repeat in his echoing mind.

The officer asked him questions. His English was broken and Dean’s German was non-existence. When the officer knew that he couldn’t understand a word Dean said anyway, he let Dean go, probably deciding that Dean needed to be interrogated by someone else. Nonetheless they thought that Dean would maybe be valuable to them since he was an officer and had intel. They were determined to keep him alive. He returned to Harvelle and Barnes with a loaf of bread and some kind of stinking German sausage.

***

October 16th, 1944

They rounded Dean up with the rest of the POW they captured in the last couple of days and Dean was glad that he didn’t see any familiar faces. Just someone he thought was from Gabriel’s unit, but he couldn’t be sure because the soldier had a bandage that covered his face.

Dean’s leg was giving him troubles. It was swollen, it hurt less though, so there was that. Dean needed to keep biting on his lips and keep going.

They started marching. Hundreds of them and even though Harvelle and Barnes tried to help Dean, he wouldn’t let them. There was no need to show them that he was weak and plus, he didn’t want to pull Harvelle and Barnes down with him.

***

October 18th, 1944

Finally after more than a day, they reached a railroad. The train was a line of boxcars, maybe even the same one they used to transport people to the concentration camps. They pushed the prisoners inside and locked it up. Dean was thirsty, but there were people around him that were dying so he guessed that being thirsty was the least of his problems at that moment.

They spent days in that carriage, without food or water, and two steel helmets became a latrine for over 80 men. It was terrible.

The train halted every so often on the way, and there were prisoners getting on and off but never Dean or his friends.

Finally they arrived at Stalag IV-B. It was near an eastern town called Mühlberg. They lined him, and the others in front of barracks. He waited until it was his turn to enter the building.

There were about five desks lined up and they were occupied with 5 men who were sitting there, waiting to interrogate the prisoners. Dean could see that they wore British officers uniform and they spoke in an English accent. It didn’t make much sense that the British were at German camps, but again, Dean hadn’t eaten or drank anything in days, he was delirious, and it could have well been German officers who spoke perfect English. He didn’t know anymore.

Dean could hear the questions being asked to the men in front of him, and they were revealing too much. In training, Dean was told that the only information he should supply was his name, rank, and serial number. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was Dean’s turn now.

“What’s your name?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“What’s your rank?”

“Lieutenant.”

“What’s your serial number?”

Dean had trouble remembering for a moment before it came to him and he rattled it to the interrogator.

The questions didn’t stop, though. What’s your outfit? Where were you captured? Where are you from? Parent’s name? Religion?

Dean answered them with “Sorry, sir.”

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Probably a couple of days, sir.”

“Lieutenant, I will ask these questions one more time. If you don’t answer, you won’t eat for another two weeks!”

Not answering them would be suicide, because two weeks could turn into a month, a month could turn into two; until Dean would be withering away. So he answered, because he made a promise. He wanted to go home.

After the questioning they let him walk, out and he was assigned to a barrack. They took him to the infirmary, too. It turned out that his bones began to grow back together, although funnily. They didn’t have surgeon’s there that could correct it, and so Dean was given pain killers to endure it until it got better.

However, Barnes wasn’t that lucky. They rounded them up one time and selected out the Jewish prisoners to be transferred. Dean didn’t know where they have taken Barnes, but he hoped that it wouldn’t be a freaking concentration camp.

***

October 23rd, 1944

Dean could move around freely in the camp, at least as good as his leg allowed. He was a commissioned officer so, according to the Geneva Convention on Prisoners of War, he was not required to work. He would see Harvelle who was a NCO working outside sometimes, but the NCO’s only had supervisory roles. It was just his luck to not have to see his friend suffer. Apart from Barnes, that is. Dean hoped that he was ok.

Every now and then, Dean would take a walk out. He still had a limp, but it got better every day. He knew that the duty of a POW was to escape when possible, even if there was no real hope of getting home. The reason for this was because every escaped prisoner took the efforts of thousands of enemy soldiers to search for them, soldiers who would otherwise be able to fight at the front. Even getting away for a few hours was a help in tying up the enemy.

Dean would have maybe tried it if his legs wouldn’t have been fucked up or if he had nothing to look forward to at home. But he made a promise. He was going to fucking get back to Bambi, even if it meant that he would probably lose a leg. A leg was still better than his life.

The only thing that kept Dean alive were the letters he wrote to Jamie. Her address had been stripped off of him, as well as her note. The only thing he had was the photographs he kept in his helmet. The letters couldn’t be sent out to her because he wasn’t allowed to write a lot. They were strict, only allowing them to write letters that were two sides of notepaper. The only thing that kept Dean going was the letters he wrote that he intended to give to her whenever he got out. He just hoped that he’d live to see the day.

Dear Bambi,

I wasn’t so lucky. Harvelle, Barnes, and me were separated from the whole company. Some Krauts found us, and brought us back to camp. I broke my shin bone. Don’t worry, it started to grow back, apparently. I’m just limping. I hope you won’t be appalled by that. Yeah, you’re right, I’m talking bullshit. Of course you wouldn’t.

Fuck, Jamie, they asked me so many things, and I told them everything I knew. I try to keep myself alive and you know why? Because I made you a promise, and I want to go back. Back home to you.

Barnes was rounded up and collected for transport. He’s Jewish, did you know that? I didn’t. Which is another thing that angers me. What does it matter if someone is Jewish or not? We fight the same war, we breathe the same air, hell, we’re all humans. Well, now I really can’t send out this letter, because it would probably get me killed. Not that I could because they took all my belongings, including your address and shit, Jamie, all I have is your photograph. I’m so fucking thankful for that.

You told me in your last letter that you wrote to Sam. I’m sorry that I couldn’t answer your letter. There simply was no time to pen a letter out before I got captured. Jamie, Sammy.. Sam, he.. shit. I even have trouble writing it. He got killed. Stood too close to an explosive. I was devastated. I had no reason to live anymore until I remembered that there’s still something worth living for. It’s you, Bambi.

Sam would have wanted that. Sam would kick my ass if I gave you up. Sammy would haunt me in my dreams if I let the opportunity of something good slip out of my grip. Hold on, alright, I’m coming home. Soon-ish. Hopefully.

Shit, you’re probably worried about why I didn’t write you back. Why your letters won’t be sent back or answered. I don’t even know if the Red Cross has gotten the information that I’m here. So far no care packages have been distributed. Hell, I don’t even know if Cas knows that I’m here.

Harvelle is doing good. He’s been working a little, but I’m off work for good. The war is over, Bambi. At least for us.

I’ll be moved to another camp soon, though. They are making arrangements and word is that it’s even better than this one. Maybe I’ll get to sleep somewhere warm? It’s freaking cold during the night and while I’m used to being out in the cold, I feel like I’ve never been this cold before. Maybe I’ll even get someone to look at my fucked up leg. Who knows. But yeah, somewhere warm would be nice. There are prisoners dying of pneumonia here and that’s the last thing I want to be. Dead, I mean. I’ve come this far.

Harvelle and Barnes told me that I deserve to go back and be happy with you, you know. Yeah, you’d probably punch me, but I told them about you. Harvelle knew it already. He said that it was weird that you never had to shave and that your legs weren’t hairy. He said he didn’t really know that you were a girl, but he thought that you maybe a very feminine guy. Guess he was a little disappointed that I’m not queer. I think he has a crush on me. But also I’m a fucking dreamboat, so can’t blame him for trying.

I wish I could send this out. Let you know that I’m fine. That you shouldn’t worry. I’m also curious to know about your big news and god, I wish I could see you in that dress.

I’ll see you soon, alright? Sit tight, sweetheart.

Yours,

Dean

December 24th, 1944

Dear Jamie,

We’ve marched over 200 miles through mud and snow. I’m still limping. So there’s that. But I survived. I saw men collapsing in front of me. They were shot at, and transported to a place where they put the dead bodies onto a pile. It was terrible.

I’ve been in Oflag XIII-B for a couple of days now. I was transferred through other camps on the way though. They have trouble rearranging the prisoners because they caught so many. I hope we’re still winning. Are we winning?

It’s even colder here than the first camp I’ve been. I don’t think it’s over 20°F at night. I’m freezing my ass off, Bambi. Wish you could be here to keep me warm. No, wait, if I gotta wish for something, I’d wish for me to be there with you, where it’s warm. In your arms. Or you in mine. I’m not particularly picky at the moment. You can bury your face right into the crook of my neck like you always did. I’d love that.

I lost sight of Harvelle. Shit, I hope he’s ok. We went through the first two camps together, and then we got separated.

I think the Red Cross had forgotten about us. I haven’t received a single letter or care package from them since I’ve been imprisoned, but there are a couple of officers from Serbia and they share. They’re good people, you know. We talk a lot, at least we try to but the language barrier is a bitch. Nonetheless they seem to understand what I was saying and vice versa. We’re all humans, we communicate with hands and feet and we laugh and cry together. It’s good, Jamie. Not as good as being home. Way worse than being with you, but I’m getting there. I’m working to get there.

I keep your picture with me all the time. I don’t dare to leave it laying around. Who knows? Maybe they’d take it away from me, or one of the Serbian officers needs to jack off to the picture, and I can’t let that happen. If someone is going to jack off to the photograph, I think it’s my fucking right that that someone should be me, don’t you think? Who knows, I maybe did a couple of times. Don’t shame me, alright. I’m lonely and there’s nothing but men and a couple of nurses that look like they could end me if I say the wrong thing so yeah. You and me, we both know that I’m not queer. And besides, even if I was, I wouldn’t stray. I have you to look forward to.

No, but seriously, I keep it with me all the time because it’s the last thing I have that feels like home.

I bet your hair’s longer now, and I can picture you sitting in your warm home, in your sundress (I know it’s cold, but I can dream, right?) and smiling. I hope you smile, Bambi. I hope you’re not sad that I stopped sending letters to you. Maybe you did hear from the others, maybe Tran - if he’s still alive, that I’m MIA? I hope the news reached you so at least you’d have closure. I’m not MIA. I’m very well still here, I know where I am, but I don’t know if everyone knows. I hope that Tran can send you a letter, saying what happened. He doesn’t know about Sam though, so that’s going to be a surprise for you.

I’m sorry that I can’t be there for you, writing you letters that would reach you. I’m sad that you can’t be here for me, too. You can’t even imagine what I would give to hear from you.

I’m not allowed to send letters to my old company. In fact, I’m not allowed to send letters to the regiment at all. It should go via Red Cross, but I guess the Red Cross is not really giving a shit about me right now. Maybe they do, but they’re busy because god, I saw how many of us there were. Marching through snow and cold and there were new faces every day.

I guess being POW is still better than dying. At least for me. So that’s also good. But what do I know? I’m a commissioned officer, I don’t have to do anything else than exist. There are others who go through hard labor every day. I feel for them. I wish I could help but I’m just one in a million, and I have a fucked up leg.

The reason for this letter was only to wish you a Merry Christmas, but I guess I went slightly off the rails.

So, Merry Christmas, sweetheart.

I hope you are having a good one and you are warm.

Shit, I miss you so fucking much.

Yours,

Dean

February 14th, 1945

Dear Jamie,

The situation has not changed. I’ve scribbled out notes to you, but there was just nothing happening around here. I guess that it must be boring for you to hear about my daily life which consists of doing next to nothing.

I walk around a lot, though. Trying to keep me going and keep my strength. I can now run a little too, and I do regular exercise. Still limping, but hey, I get used to it. I try to keep myself in shape for when I go back to you. So that you’d still know me when you see me and not, like, being only skin and bones.

We don’t have enough food around though, so I lost a lot of weight. Thanks to the Serbian officers, we still have enough to keep us going. They share their Red Cross packages on a daily basis. I always get the raisins though. I used to hate raisins but now it’s just like, whatever I can fit in my belly, I do. Guess being starved does things to you.

Your picture is slowly fading, but I still keep it in my pocket. I just have to limit the amount of time I take it out because that way, it’ll stay longer. I still jack off to it, though, so there’s that. Benjamin, a Serbian officer walked in on me doing it and asked if he could borrow the picture. It nearly ended in a fist fight, but we’re best friends now. And no, I didn’t let him borrow the picture, don’t worry. Told him to stay well in his lane.

I had a dream about you, Bambi. We were back at Brest. I don’t know what I said or did, but you were so fucking mad at me. You practically spit your words in my face. I told you not to walk away, but you still did. I spent the day making it up to you. I kept trying until you were talking to me again. It started as a nightmare and god, I don’t wanna relive it again. If I should ever do something that angers you, please don’t just walk away. Alright? I hate that. I.. fuck, and I was so scared that you’d leave. Jamie, you’re the only thing that keeps me going. That keeps me the fuck alive. I don’t wanna lose that. If I lose you, I have nothing left. I might as well go on hunger strike and wither away or maybe find a rifle and blow my head with it. I don’t know.. I’m sorry I’m being all pessimistic, but..shit..Bambi I’ve been here for so long and there’s no sign of getting out. I’m so fucking scared that I won’t get to see your face again, and that’s all I want. Seeing you. Seeing you smile at me.

I don’t even know if you’re romantic. I guess we all have a little romance in us, but the reason for this letter was to wish you Happy Valentine’s Day. I wish I could show you how much you mean to me.

Hold on, alright? Because I am.

I love you so fucking much, and I’m afraid that I’ll smother you with it. Sorry.

Yours,

Dean

March 27th, 1945

There were shouts of Americans and Germans, and the shells and mortars were raining over his head. Dean found a place to hide, because there was no way he was going into combat with a fucked up leg and especially without a freaking weapon on him.

He heard Germans running to defend the gates, and there were Americans shouting for them to give up.

They’ve come. They have come to free them.

It was a disaster, though. The mission was a failure and when everything was over. Dean walked out of his barracks to the bodies of several hundred American soldiers. Some buildings were destroyed, but none of the prisoners could escape.

March 31st, 1945

Dear Jamie,

I don’t even know when your birthday is. So if it’s today, Happy Birthday sweetheart.

Other than that, I’ve been transferred to another camp. Oflag XIII-B had been destroyed in an attempt to liberate the prisoners. There were destroyed Tanks and corpses everywhere, Jamie.

I had hope that they would succeed, that I could walk out of there alive. Well, I mean, I am still alive, but I’m also still a prisoner. They evacuated us and marched us another 100 miles to another camp. I’m now at Stalag-VII-A, and maybe one of the reasons the Red Cross don’t know about me is because I’ve been moved so many freaking times.

Jamie, I wanted to tell you that I have given up a little hope. Don’t get me wrong, I still wanna get out of here. I still have your picture in my pocket - now I’m even more careful about it because this camp is much bigger, and I would not want to lose your picture - but I think it was unfair of me to make you wait for me. Thank god you didn’t get the letters that I begged you to wait for me. I mean, I hope that you would, but I get it. I wouldn’t be mad if you didn’t. It has been what? 5 months? You deserve happiness, Bambi, and if I could make you happy, believe me, I would. There’s no question about it. I’m here, still breathing and talking shit, but I’m not with you. It’s not my place to tell you to wait. I hope you can find happiness Jamie. I hope you can find a good man who would be there for you, take care of you, and give you everything you want and need. I wish I could be that man, but I’m not.

One day, if I get out of here, I will come see you anyway. I will find your address and I will turn up at your door. I will give you all the letters and notes that I’ve been scribbling down since my capture. I just want to give it to you, nothing more. I’ll be out of your hair if you don’t want me to stay, but if you do, I’d be happy to.

I just want you to know that I have never forgotten you. You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up in my sorry excuse for a bed. You’re the last thing on my mind before I count sheep and try to fall asleep and dream of you.

I hope you find peace, Bambi and most of all, I hope that you’re happy.

I’m not telling you to hold on. I love you, is all.

Yours,

Dean

CHAPTER 16

#dear dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #dean x oc #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #spn fic #spn au fic #nathalie writes

50 notes · View notes

endoftheroad1983 · 5 years

Text

Same Old Song and Dance

Same Old Song and dance

steve rogers x reader

The day started off with a text message from Mercedes Jones, A long time friend and a member of the old dancing team, New Directions. It had been a very long time since she had been this mysterious.

Meet me at the Café on Third at ten! Important news!

Your heart leap at the words. Was someone in the group pregnant or getting married? The news excited you. You threw your blanket off you and quickly prepared for the day. Soon you found yourself barefooted walking down the hall to the kitchen.

There sat Steve, Sam And Nattie consuming their breakfast.

“Woah! What are you doing up so early?” Sam joke as soon as you greeted the group.

“Ha ha ha, I'm getting Late For A Very Important Date!” You quoted your favorite white rabbit as you pour yourself a cup off coffee. You were quick to throw on your shoes while drinking the hot substance.

“Later guys!” You call over your shoulder a minute later as you had down the rest of your coffee.

“But what about breakfast?” Steve's voice froze you in your spot. When did Steve care about you having breakfast?

“I'm grabbing lunch with a friend!” Your brain snapped you back to this reality. And without another thought you rush out the door.

You took a car from Tony's collection and made your way to the café. You ended up parking in a garage a few blocks away. It would be easier to walk the rest of the way rather then fight for a parking spot in this New York traffic. Within minutes you found yours and Mercedes's favorite one in the city.

You could see her dark velvet wrap around in the window with ease. You were quick to enter the café and bee line your way to her table. To your surprise to she that Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury joining her at the table.

“Hey everyone!” You greet with a warming smile. It had been quite a few years seeing your old teachers.

“I'm glad you could make it. It has been hard tracking you guys down after all these years.” Mr. Schuester admitted once you settle in. This perk your curiosity. Why would they be hunting you down? But before you could ask another body drop down beside you.

“Hey what's up everybody?” Puck had join the table. You were not really taken surprise by the way he acted. It was like he just saw you guys yesterday in the cafeteria. “Where's everyone else?” Puck ask before anyone could get a word in.

“We are having a hard time getting a hold of them. But since we got a hold of you guys maybe you could helps out.” Ms. Pillsbury delicate voice answer Puck.

“Ok, I still have some contacts so I give them a shot. But what is going on?”

Both teachers broke into wide smiles as if we would have never ask the question. They look at each other before Mr. Schuester answer.

“How you would guys like a reunion performance of New Directions, this Fourth of July?”

Excitement burst into your chest. That was almost three weeks away! And you guys hadn't even seen each other in years. Mercedes was on the same page as you. As she had grab your hands in excitement.

“Now, I know it short timing but I believe we can get the team together and pull this off. We have been in tighter situations then this. I also think this will be a greet chance to get everyone together. ” Mr. Schuester began going over the small details. “What's the special occasion?” Puck broke his silence since they began talking. You took a moment to sip on a glass of water. Your throat had chosen to dry up right then.

“Well, Tony Stark is holding a dinner and show for the one and only Captain America. He's reach out to me and was wondering if we were willing to get together to perform for them!” The words tumbled out of Ms. Pillsbury's mouth. She was trembling with happiness.

Even though her words were filled with nothing but pure happy energies didn't stop you choking on your water at the name of two of your bosses. What did Tony do?

“Hey there, your suppose to swallow!” Puckerman joke as he slap your back. You let the wave of choking ride out a little more as you began to form sentence in your head.

You left Lima, Ohio right after school and join S.H.E.I.L.D about a year later. Then when Cap woke from his sleep and Fury assemble the Avengers, you were push to tag along. Not that you minded, Hanging and working with them had made a special place in your heart for them.

But you didn't tell them everything. They knew little to no facts about your high school days. And it was the same with your high school friends. They had no clue that you work for the same people they were gushing over. You didn't want them to be a target for H.Y.D.R.A.

“Oh dear, Y/n are you alright?” Ms. Pillsbury voice broke your train of thought.

“Yea, I guess my water try to attack me.” You push it off with a joke. They laugh it off as they went back to planning the event. It was going to be this first week that was going to rough. Collecting everyone and bringing them here to begin with.

Your heart was slamming against your chest as you couldn't and wouldn't bail on the team but what about the Avengers? You'll be singing and dancing in front of them in pretty revealing outfits. For sure if Quinn, Santana, and Brittany have any say.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur. And all to soon you were parting with them again. First it was Will and Emma, they both were quick to drop the Mr. and Ms. Titles. It was weird calling them by their first name but you respected their wishes.

The next one to bounce was Mercedes she was already on her phone calling up, Rachel, Santana, and Kurt. Who had a place around here. You had yet to see it seeing how your work schedule kept you guys at odds. She gave you have the list to call people. It was up to you and her, since Puck claimed he didn't have any contacts with anyone. She bounces off after she check for the tenth time that you had the list in a safe spot.

Now it was you and Puck who were standing outside.

“What' up with you? You've been pale since the announcement.” Puck was always one to put out your stress to you.

“Nothing, I just can't wait for for everyone to get back together!” You tried lying it off.

“Yea ok, Well it's my turn to jet. You okay here or do you need me to wait?”

“No, I've got a company car waiting on me.” “Ohh Company car? Now look who's all fancy!” Puck razzed you as he pulled you into a big hug.

“Yes Fancy.” You laughed with him.

“Ok, well see you soon and be careful out here.” He place a quick kiss on your forehead and then disappeared into the crowed.

It was rare when Puckerman was this sentimental but you could sense his excitement for seeing your old friends again. You stood a moment before it began sinking in again. You were going to be performing in front of the team. Heat rushed into your cheeks but you didn't care. The sea of people walking back and forth played no mind to you. So you did the same.

It took you another few moments to remember the company car was park a few blocks down. So you push your sunglasses up your face and began to wonder back to the lot. You stomach grumble in protest. In all the news, your stomach threaten to bring up anything that you would tried eating but now, it seem like it was ready for food. You slow your pace and look around to see that what food shops were around.

You found a pizza vendor quickly letting your feet gravitate on their own towards the food. After a few minutes of waiting and collecting your belly was happily destroying the first bite you had taken. With that you were back continuing on to your original destination. You reached the parking lot as you began to eat the crust of an extra large slice of pepperoni.

A rustling noise rose behind you as you step into the dark parking lot. You would have to walk up two more levels before reaching the car. Again movement was hear behind you but you played dumb hoping who or what ever it was would make the first move. And yet nothing but movement behind you was being made by the time you reach the car.

Now you were red flagging the situation. This car had been sitting alone for the longest time. You quickly turn around and made your way out of the parking garage as fast as you could without looking suspension. Once you were back out in the open you went straight back to the café. The back of your neck hair were standing on edge. You found a spot back in the room where your back was to the wall and you had a good eye on the place. You order your F/Coffee/ and waited patiently for the waitress you to bring your order. Once she did you where now convince that you were safe.

You pulled out your cell phone and hit speed dial to Tony's phone. It rang forever before he picked up. But you didn't give him time to say hello.

“T? It's me Lily. I need you to come pick me up and the car I borrowed as quick as you can. It's seems that that car broke down and I need a lift.” You spoke casual over the phone as if it was just a room-mate.

A brief silence took over the end as you waited for Tony to answer.

“Your being followed, Y/N? Where are you?” You suck in a quick breathe. What was Steve doing answering Tony's cell phone?

“I will be at the bus stop on Main. St. I love you, see you soon sweetie!” You continue on as Steve was suppose to be the one to answer. What was Stark up to now!?! You mind was so occupy with Stark that you almost didn't catch the hitch in Steve's voice when you call him Sweetie. You giggle to yourself as you also told Captain America you loved him. You did love him and that would probably be the only time you say that to him.

You smirk to yourself. Not one time did you think you could ever make a man like Steve Rogers blush at your words. It's probably because he's not use to our day and age of talk. Your brain argue back. Thanks, You retailed back, you can't even let me daydream about it?

Within the hour Steve drove up. You quickly jumped in so that he could take off again. You look around you to see if you could make out your follower.

“What about the car?” You asked before you settle down in the seat.

“Belt.” Steve retort with a bit of Authority in his voice.

“Belt?” You were so confused at his answer.

“Seatbelt, you should put it on.” Steve motion the belt with his hands.

You roll your eyes as you quickly click the belt in place.

“Tony has a team on it. Did you get a look at your follower?” His blue eyes stay steadily on the road ahead of them. You shook your head.

“But I felt someone watching me to the car. That scream somebody planted a bomb to me!” You half laugh at your joke and cringe. You weren't kidding you thought someone tap the car for sure.

Steve drove back to the tower in silences. You cover your face as you ran pass everyone to the elevators. Steve had to hurry to catch up to you.

“I'm sorry, I forgot you never come in the front way. That was a dumb move on my part.”

“It's fine Steve. Nobody saw us.” You put on your best smile to calm him down.

Steve's blue eyes darken at your words. But he remain still. The rest of the elevator ride was enjoy by the small talk between you two. You were inform by Tony's AI that he request a meeting with you. Steve follow as well. You could read in his eyes that he didn't want to leave your side.

This was the most you guys had chatted with each other in awhile and you were in heaven. You were a bit sad when you guys came up to Tony's lab. You greeted Bruce who was stash away in the corner working on God Knows what as you place yourself in front of Tony's table. He was hunch over working hard on his own devices.

“Ok the car and video came back clean.”

“Did they?” You were shock by the news, “There was someone following me, I know this for sure.

“We're not saying your lying Y/N it just means we should be keeping our eyes open.” Steve respond. He was sitting at a chair away from the two of you.

His cheeks rose into a pink color that he spoke out. Tony, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind at all.

“Well will put Y/N on lock down till we can figure this out.” Tony's words made your blood freeze. You couldn't be house arrested now! You had your friends and a performance to prepare for. You hadn't dance in a big group or under any stage lights in such a long time that your body was craving it like a new drug.

“I can't be house arrested. I have a life I have to do.” You quickly scolded yourself for not thinking up a better excuse.

Your words brought Tony out of the trance he was in. His eyebrow shot up at you.

“Then I will assign you a body guard.” Now your face was changing to red. How would you explain to your friends why you have a body guard? You couldn't.

“I don't need a babysitter as well. I can handle myself.” You snapped a bit.

“Why are you suddenly fighting me on this? Weren't you the one that call for help?”

You couldn't read Tony's face at the moment. This man had a wicked poker face.

“Yes because that's what you instructed for us to do! I follow order like everyone else.” Your arms were now cross over you heaving chest. You ears burn with anger as you tried to see what he was up too. Did he know about the New Directions?

You went over several options in your head. He wouldn't let you get by without some kind of teasing. And he's been known to not always show his cards. Was this a trap to get me to spill? Or was this a set up for something else?

“Alright, If that's how you feel. Just stick around here for the rest of the night OK? Just so I can make sure everything is in the clear.”

The anger melt away for you quickly as you bounce over and hugged the man. He didn't stop the hug be he didn't return it either which means he was okay with it. You quickly said good-night to them as you bounce out of the room. You had taken a few steps out when you forgot that you wanted to ask Tony a question about the car.

As you stepped up you could hear Steve talking. And he was not please.

“What the hell was that?” He threw the question at Tony like a speed ball.

“She's a big girl Steve. We hired her because we knew she can handle her own.” Tony's voice was a contrast to Steve's.

“What if someone was following her?” Steve argue back.

“I'm sorry old man did you not have your hearing aids on? I'm going to make sure it is really nothing. Maybe she heard a rat scampering around?” Tony tried to justify with him.

“I still don't trust her...” Her feet was backing you away from the door cutting off Steve's speech.

Steve didn't trust you? You control the deep gasp that was dying to be let out. You didn't make a peep until you made it to your room. You gave in quickly to your exhausting not wanting to think any more tonight. Tomorrow was already going to be a rough day as is.

By 11am the next morning you had already tried reaching out to Artie, Tina, Brittany. Only Brittany was the one to answer. She was happy to get the band back together. Only people left to try now was Sam and Blaine. And that was exactly what you were doing when there was a knock on your office door.

You press your cell phone up against your ear with your shoulder as you open the door. Steve was standing on the other side. The phone continue to ring in your ear.

“Sorry Steve this isn't a good time...” You tried saying more when Blaine answer with a smile in his voice.

“Y/N? What do I owe for this pleasant call?” Just hearing Blaine's voice again brought a smile out on your own face. You nodded toward Steve as he back away from the door so you could shut it.

“Well, Handsome do I got some news for you...” And with that the door shut cutting Steve off completely. You didn't get to see the crush look on his face as you call Blaine handsome. Steve stalk off from the tower for the rest of the day. But you didn't seem to notice as you continue your Tower work along with getting a hold of everyone on your list.

This play out almost to nine in the evening. You being hole up in your office working your ass off. It was your stomach that made you give up for the night and call Mercedes with an update. Everyone but Sam had gotten back to you. She was on the same page as you with Quinn.

“It's like that girl's gone of the radar!” She tease but the Military talk was hitting to close to home. You bid your friend a good- night and shut your laptop down.

You finally left your cramped little office and made your way to the kitchen. You stumble in on a hush conversation between Nat and Steve.

“Oh sorry to interrupt, I'll be out of your hair in a minute.” You hid your embarrassed face in the fridge. His words still rang sourly in your head. But before you could grab anything. A loud scraping of the chair on the floor made you jerk up right. Your eyes widen with fear from the loud noise. You watch in time to see Steve storming off.

Your own anger boil up in you.

“I said I was sorry, wasn't like I was spying on you guys.” You turn to Nat with a huff, Nat sat there with her mouth wide open. Not sure what to do or say at that moment, “I mean this is the community kitchen.” You finish up by grabbing Y/F/S and bee line it all the way to your room. You had cross the living room to get the hall and Surprise, surprise Steve was sitting next to Bucky and Sam.

Sam was the first to greet you but you were quick to nod at him and move across the room avoiding all eye contact with everyone. Especially Steve's, funny how you were always thinking of him but now you wanted him out of your head.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Did you hear me?” Sam's voice made you stop at the hallway entrance. His question?

“I'm sorry what was it that you ask again?” You turn to ask but that was a mistake because you didn't come into eye contact with Sam but with Steve. A horrible look wash over his guilty face once you two made eye contact.

All the hair on your arms began to stand up. What did you do to deserve this?

“I ask if you want to stay and watch a movie with us?” Before you could decline politely Steve snort a mean laugh.

“No thank you, I know some of you wouldn't trust my pick in movies.”

Steve's face dropped at the comment that you made toward him. But instead of laughing up your win, you spun around and literally ran to your room. You hope that not even F.R.I.D.A.Y caught the silent tears down your face.

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

And for that's how it was for the next two weeks. You would sneak off to rehearse and hang out with your friends only to come home to play “Who will leave the room first?” The only other player was Steve, Mother Fooker, Rogers! The others had notice but thankfully didn't say anything about it. Seeing how you rarely ever went on missions with him. You kept your eye on Tony, but he didn't let on that he knew of your little secret. You were still convince that he had something to do with it. But played it by ear.

Now you were back in the café sitting at a table for twenty. In due time you and Mercedes had great luck finding everyone and now the gang was whole.

“Alright listen up everybody! We got the songs and dance numbers down to perfection! Now we need to dazzle it up with our outfits that Santana and I have put together.” Rachel stood up and began passing out boxes while Puck, Artie, and you tease the girls about not having a say in this. You open your box to find something did not expect to find. You held out the red, blue, and white sparkly Forty style dress. It was cut real low in the neck line, Thanks to Santana, Your face began to heat up.

You couldn't put this on and dance in front of Steve. Not now that you were fighting! But not ever. Even the skirt was way to short for you.

“Are you sure you want us to wear something like this For Captain America? I mean isn't it too over played.” You tired arguing but was laugh off by the others. So you retreated and kept your misery to yourself.

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

At 10 o'clock in the morning of the dinner and show, you woke up to pounding on your door. You threw yourself off of the bed and ran to the door.

“My Gods what is it?” You practically yelp as you open the door.

“Morning Cupcake, this is for you.” Tony shoved a red, blue, and white card into your hands. It was an invitation to Steve's birthday party.

“What's this?” You asked with sleep still in you groggy eyes.

“6 o'clock on the dot, don't be late.”

Your mind froze at his words, no you had to met up with the others by 5:30. Was this scrunch time? Where you going to out yourself right now? You followed Tony to the kitchen not caring what you look like or who was around. Tony pour himself a glass of juice as he watch you with amusement.

“I can't make that time. Tony there is something I have to tell you. And that is I have been sneaking out to...”

“I knew it! She is up to something!” Steve's voice cause you spin around to see him with Sam and Nat on the couch. Sam's mouth is wide open and Nat is covering her mouth in shock.

“Yes, I've been up to something. But it's none of your damn business.” Your words only cause Steve's anger to flare up more.

“Your working for H.Y.D.R.A? Aren’t you?” Steve's voice was cold and harsh.

It was your turn to be hit in the stomach by words.

“So not only do you not trust me, you think I'm a traitor as well?” Tears stung your eyes but they dare not drop. Your burning anger demanded them not to.

“I can prove it!” He pressed on with venom.

“Steve!” Your friends warn him to stop.

You barked out a laugh knowing damn well this was all bullshit. You followed him down the hall to your room and kick the door wide open.

“Why did you do that? I was going to let you in!” You snapped at him before Tony could have a chance.

“Stop right there! Y/N, Steve what is really going on?” Tony was still swimming in confusion.

“Y/N has been sneaking around behind our backs.” Steve answered him.

'How would you know? Have you've been following me?” Realisation broke the camel’s back for you, “You were the one following me that day?”

“No, I wasn't that day. But yes. I have been trying to following you around but you knew I was on to you. What do you have tuck into your closet?” Steve pointed to a small closet that you were hiding all your performance gear in.

Steve march over to the closet.

“What is it?” Steve demanded again.

“A red, white and blue dress for the Dinner and Show tonight.” Your eyes burn with tears and you can see that Steve thinks this is a sign for lying but you were to heartbroken to care.

“Open that door Steve and you will forever change us!” You warned as he was already a step ahead of your words. You spun around not wanting to look at your friends.

After a few minutes of shuffling around and finding the box. Steve open it. Every one in the room fell silence for a few minutes, no one was quite sure what to say.

“It really is a red, white, and blue dress Steve.” Sam wasn't sure what he was suppose to feel about this discovery.

“I know this dress. It's exactly like the ones the Ohio kids show me a few days back. Are you one of the...” But by now you starting walking off.

“Y/N! Wait, I want to apolo...” But you cut him off by slamming your fist into his jaw. Steve seem unfaze by your action. But you on the other hand, began howling in pain. It was a burst of fiery pain that quickly cause all your fingers to go freezing numb.

“Mother Fooker! I think I broke my hand!” You finally manage to call out once you rein in the pain.

Steve was by your side holding your hand up. You wiggled out of his grasp as you head for the Med Bay. You couldn't believe you broke your hand the day of your performance.

“Don't touch me Rogers, We have nothing else to say to each other.” And with that you storm away from the one room you thought you were safe in.

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

“You joking right? You broke your hand on Captain America's jaw on his birthday!” Tina's eye held the tiny hint that she didn't believe you. You lower your head a little more, It was Steve's Birthday wasn't it? In all the chaos you had forgotten why you guys where all here.

“It's true. I've been working in the Avenger's Tower a year after we graduated.” You were wrapping up your hand in a white wrap then slid an 3d printed white cast on top, You look down at your hand and sighed. At least the Cast Tony made you was white and match the dress he got back from Steve.

A knock on the door interrupt the conversation as Will and Emma open the door to the new guest. In strolls Tony dress to the nines.

“Greetings everyone! I made it my own task to come down hear and greet one by one. It is an honor for you to be performing for us.” Tony kept up the charades as he approach you. Which kept the guessing game up with others.

“And what happen to you, Missy?” He eyed your hand.

“Save it T, I already told them how.” Tony stop and look around watching everyone curious expression. Tony strolls back to the door and shuts it as if he didn't want anybody to hear.

“Well did you have to punch him in the jaw?” Tony sigh given in to the truth. 15 voice explode with a new wave of happy excitement. To Artie's No ways, to Mike telling them that you never lie, was already taking your energy away. Once everyone was settle down again there was another knock on the door. Everyone dropped quiet. You knew from the knocking who it was.

“Stark?” Your growl your warning.

“I don't know who it is?” Pretending not to know.

You quickly sat down on the ground between the wall and Artie, using his wheel chair to hide yourself.

“Don't worry Y/N, Artie and I got your back.” Sam move to be slightly in front of you. Just like you thought Steve walk in.

He was sporting a beautiful black tux with a blue tie that matched his eyes. You tried looking away but how could you? You still harbour a crush on him. He greet Tony with one of his professional smiles before greet the others.

To any one else in that room, besides you and Tony, You knew Steve was searching for you as he look around the room.

“I just want personally thank you performing for my birthday. I can't wait to see what you guys have plan for all of us tonight.” He was about to talk some more to find you but Tony was already a step ahead.

“Let's leave these kids to warm up shall we?” Steve look crushed but quickly agree with Tony. He wish your team luck and disappear out the door.

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

You were nervous knowing all your friends and family were in the audience. But once you got on stage and was back under the bright lights. You forgot all about them and did want you did best. You dance and sing without missing a beat. And it was over before you knew it. The lights grew dim on stage. Now was the time to see how pack the house was tonight.

“Let's hear it for the New Directions!” Tony's voice blared from somewhere.

As back in the day, everyone was still holding their position until the curtain drew back. Everyone rush back to the break room. Each riding a different high of excitement then the other.

“We should do this more often.” Rachel beam as she emerge from a dressing room. The girls were changing into dinner clothes on one side of room as the boys did the same on the opposite side.

“I don't think Captain America would like that attention every year.”

“We could pick a different places and raise money for charities?” Mercedes suggest which got approved by everyone but you.

“Y/N, are you okay? You haven't move from the window.” Will approached you. You gave him your best smile.

“Yes, that just wore me out, And my hand is starting to throb. But I’ll be fine.” You reassure them. You show them you were fine by disappearing into a dressing room. You listen as the others began heading to the party.

“Y/N, do you want us to wait on you?” Brittany asked through the door.

You emerge in a fair, simple black fitting dress.

“Ooh No, I'll be out in a moment.” “Alright but if your not out in fifteen minutes then I will come get you, myself.” Santana threaten as you watch them leave. You turn back to the dressing room for your purse. You slip your phone out to see a message from Fury. It was a mission.

You slip into ballroom Tony had set up from the party.

“You were wonderful up there. Shame you had to hide it from us.” A low voice startle you. You turn to find Clint standing in the shadow of a ignoramus fern.

“Well, You got me thinking. If you have to hide your wife and children then my friends could be in that same danger zone.” Clint drape a arm over your shoulder.

“It is a trickle web we spin.”

I don't thinks that's how that quote goes.” You muse over his quote.

“Y/N! There you are. Here come with us.” Rachel found you a few minutes after Clint went to find Laura.

“Am I going to regret this?” Feeling like this was another set up like in school.

“Sure you are.” Blaine and Kurt pull you in a group hug as they lead you to a table that was mostly performers.

“Hey you found her! I told you she likes to hide in dark corners.” Nat tease from the table.

“Hey Lady.” You hugged her before sitting down.

“Hows the hand?” She asked as she sip from her glass.

“Better now that I took some meds.” You took a glass of champagne. This is how your evening slowly was turning out. Hanging with your oldest friends while listen to music. It was easy to get back into conversation with Nat. She didn't bring up any of your past nor did she question any of your friends.

“Dance with me?” It was more of a demanded then a request from Blaine. You pretended to think about for a minute.

“Oh why not? But I want a real drink first.” Blaine lead you over to the bar where he excuse himself for a moment to talk to Kurt while you got your drink.

“Wow Y/N you were fantastic out there. You shouldn't keep your dancing a secret.” Scott slip up next to you to order his own drink.

“Thanks Scott.”

“How long have you been dancing?” He asked while the bartender sat your drink in front of you.

“Almost my whole life.” You answer as you took a swig.

“That's awesome, right Cap?” Scott spoke up after sipping on his drink. Your eyes flutter up to Scott catching his trouble look right away.

What was Scott up too? You turn your head to see Steve. Sitting at the end of the bar. How did you not notice him before? Oh right the meds you took.

“Steve.” You greeted him politely but with your eyes held a different emotion. That Bartender was quick with your two shots.

“You really were something else tonight, Y/N.” You down the shots quickly before answering.

“Thank you.” Again soft and straight to the point.

“Ready to dance, Sugar?” Blaine caught up with you just then. You spun around to greet him.

“Yes in deed, Handsome.” You giggle as you felt the shots right away. A grunt from behind you made you automatic turn to see what it was. A stormy look had cross Steve's face.

“Steve.” You bid him good-bye before turning to Blaine.

“Are you sure you want to dance with me? You had a hard time keeping up with me tonight?” You joke challenge Blaine to his delight.

“Your going to regret saying that.” Blaine retort playfully as he dragged you to the dance floor.

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

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The annoying sound of your alarm went off. Why the hell did you still have it set on that annoying sound? You grumpy complain in your head. You slowly open your eyes to see that you were still in a tent over in Africa. Your hand shot from your sleeping bag and shut the irritating thing up. This was the mission Fury had assign to you after the party that night. You were pack and gone by two that morning.

Your eyes widen with excitement when you realise what day it was. It had been three months in this heat and your job was finally done. You had spent two days walking to an Avengers safe house and less then a few hour you were going to be taking a 24 hour bath. As you were packing up your camping gear Fury had text you with the happy news that the recon mission was success not only to you guys but to T'Challa his people as well. This was going to make your bath even more sweeter.

You skip breakfast and lunch just to get to the cabin faster. OH the old wooden shelter was a beautiful thing to see. You were quick to run your thumb print into the hidden code pad. The doors open and the cold air was amazing. And you wish you could of enjoy that moment but the smell of Y/F/S hit you in the face. You didn't pack any of those incense with you. So how were they here?

You dropped your bag and drew your gun. You step in pulling the door shut behind you. You venture into the living room/ kitchen. There was a boiling pot of the stove and the sound of the saxophone was quietly playing in the background.

“For the love of....” You couldn't believe this! You were suppose to have this place to yourself for a week. A mini vacation as you call it. What was he doing here!?

“Whoa, at ease solider.” Steve half joke as he put his hands in the air.

“What are you doing here? Did you follow me here to make sure I wasn't talking to the enemy?” Pain shadow his face but you were in no mood. Three months by yourself in the heat had kept your anger very close with you.

“I only got here yesterday.” Steve kept his hands where they were as you lower your gun. Even if you shot him he would find a way to heal and come back. You turn for your gear.

“Why? And don't say we need to talk or any of that bullshit! I wasn't kidding that day!”

“Fury sent me to check on your wounds.” He move back to the stove and turn it off. Your eyes dropped to your hand. It was almost completely heal. So what was he talking about?

“My hand is heal so you can leave now. Thanks for the check up!” You move toward the bathroom but was stopped by a hand on your arm.

“Not your hand.” You pulled out of his grip. Steve willing let go of you. And you weren't going to lie when your heart strings pull when the look of hurt wash in his blue eyes.

“Fury said you had an accident when hiking out to the base.” Steve step a tiny bit closer to you, “Y/N?” The softness in his voice had cause you to get suck into this blue eyes. You watch in awe as Steve's eyes were drinking you in like badly needed water. He reach down without permission and pull up your shirt. He hiss at the bruise that had form on the side of your ribs.

“It's fine now.”

His eyes darted up to yours. The both of you instantly pulled into a staring contest. Not one of you daring to speak or move away. Beads of sweat ran down your neck and back. Causing you body to shiver from that action. The weight of Steve's stare made you what to give up right then. Thankfully your stubbornness and train had kick in.

“Y/N.” His voice was a sweetness that you had never heard before. That stones began to drop one by one as Steve was destroying your wall. He took another daring steps. And then another.

Warm, plump, lips found their way onto yours and the anger that you felt was now dancing in the background. His kisses ignite a fiery passion in your veins as you craved more. Your hands curled around his green shirt as you pulled your body closer to his. Steve happily followed the tug as he wrapped his arms around you. The kisses became deeper and you saw nothing but his eyes and sparkles.

He move his arms tighter causing you to hiss from your wounds. Instantly, Steve was away from you breaking all contact. You grumbled a bit at his action.

“Shit, I'm sorry.”

“It's fine, I'm fine really.” You reach out and place your hand on his arms. Steve seem to relax under your touch. He look down to see that you were biting at your lower lip. A happy daze feeling illuminated your face. He couldn't help but to smile back. A large bead of sweat roll down your neck then your back. Steve lean in for another kiss but you stop him short by just pecking his cheek.

“I really need that bath, Rogers.” You whisper in his ears as you made your way to the bathroom.

A couple hours later you emerge from the bathroom. An explosion of spaghetti and meatballs filled your lungs. The tiny wooden table was set up. The pot of food was cover and sitting on the counter. You look around to find the room empty.

“Steve?” You call out. Silence rang out as you move toward one of the bedrooms. You called his name again. Still no reply. Did he just up and leave? You sat down on the edge of the bed as a million question ran through your mind. Was the kiss a mistake and he bolted? Was the one question that kept fighting to stay on top. You heart pounded in your chest as not only a few hours ago you went from hating Rogers, to a very heated make-out session, to you being along and heartbroken again.

You sat there for God knows how long hoping to hear the door open and for him to call out to you but he never did. It was only when the sun started setting that you lay down where you were at and let sleep take over you. And it did for awhile but then scatter dreams mix with reality was settling in now. Your body began to toss and turn in the bed bring your body heat up. And when you were hot there was no way you could sleep. You blew out a frustrated sigh as you open your eyes to the darkness. Nothing but a wall night-light from the hallway was the only light sources. You lazily lay there in the dark wonder if you could coach yourself back to sleep when a black shadow barely moved from the corner of your eye.

You force your panic feeling to stay inside as you remain in the same position. You close your eyes half way and listen. Only the jungle birds were talking. It was another five minutes before your eyes saw another small movement. There was someone else in the room. You slid your hand slowly under your pillow and reach for your gun that you had strapped to the head boards.

Then you sat up in bed.

“Hello?” You spoke out in your best weak voice. Did Steve come back? You doubt that thought as Steve wouldn't hid in the dark. The think stillness in the air was more choking then the jungles humidity. Just like earlier no one responded.

“I'm too damn tired for you to be a ghost haunting me.” You spoke again this time as you went for the lamp. White light pour into the room making your eyes adjust to it. You could hear movement behind you as you hid your gun under the sheets keeping one finger near the trigger.

You spun around in bed to the found the movement in your room.

“Holy shit!” You froze at who or what was standing in the room. Four giant turtles was at the foot of your bed. Where you sic with some kind of Jungle Fever?

“Nah, we ain't ghost. Sweetheart.” The one in a red bandanna spoke first causing your eyes to find his gold ones.

“No, you guys are not, but.... how.... why?” You tried wrapping your head around this but couldn't before your old S.H.E.I.L.D training came back to you.

“Who are you and how did you know about this bunker?” You fought your hand not to bring out the gun just yet.

“I'm sorry Miss but you are Agent Y/F/N Y/L/N from the Avengers tower right?” The one in the blue held a softer tone then the one in red.

“Yes, I am.”

This causes all of them to break into smiles. At least someone is happy about this situation. You raise an eyebrow for the one in blue to continue.

“We were sent here by our Master to take you back with us.” The one in the orange bounce out.

More panic throb in your chest and you wish more then anything that Steve would come bursting in.

“And if I don't want to?” You question them after finding your voice.

“I'm afraid you don't have a choice. Sweetheart.” The one in red growled.

“Raphael!” The one in blue snapped. The one name Raphael didn't seem to mind being yelled at.

“This isn't a debate, Leo, She's coming with us!” He snipped back.

“I don't think so!” You jump out of bed and pointed the gun towards them. This made all of them but Raphael raise their three finger hands up in defense.

“Good Job Raph.” The one in blue Leo, growled back.

“I think we all got this out of proposition. How about we give the lady a moment to collect yourself and things while we wait in the other room.” it was the tall one in purple that was talking now. Your eyes went over to see to see that he was blushing? Turtles can blush? You look around the room to see what he was talking about when you realise that you were only in shirt and underwear. You must have kick off your pants while you slept.

Without missing a beat you snatch the sheet off the bed and cover yourself.

“That would be fantastic!” Feeling your own cheeks redden with embarrassment.

“The gun.” Raphael growl at you. You shook your head no. There was no way you were going to give that up in a fight.

“She can keep it.” Leo said as he pushed the orange one back out of the room. “Raphael.” He look back to make sure he was leaving as well. Tension burn in Raphael's eyes as he passed you to the door. Once the door was click shut was then you let yourself breath. What the hell are those things? What were they doing here? How did they known you but you not them?

Well there was only one way to answer any of these questions. You quickly threw on a pair of jeans and slipped into some shoes. You open the door and listen. Nothing but silence from the other room, Okay, now you were thinking you had made it up but once rounding the corner you found all four of them sitting around the Kitchen/living room.

“There is no point in having that.” Raphael pointed to the gun that was still in your hand.

You froze at his words, they were really here.

“Sorry Miss, he just means that we are bullet proof.” The purple one spoke.

“Good to know.” You lean up against the kitchen sink not know how to start the conversation.

“So what brings up by?” You ask when you all grew back to a very awkward silence.

“It's about Steve Rogers.” Leo announcement made your mouth drop open.

“What about him?”

“Your in danger. And we need to get somewhere safe. I'm afraid to tell you that the Avengers have been hijacked.” Leo stood up with a folder in his hand, “Please come with us before he comes back.”

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #captain america x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #glee #glee x reader #i don't write fanfic i write minisodes

51 notes · View notes

iambuckyrogers · 6 years

Text

3 Nights ... (Chapter 2/7)

Summary: After your friend bails on your trip to Australia a week before you were due to fly out, your best friend Steve swoops in and saves the day. Unbeknown to you, he’s harbouring the biggest crush on you, but will it get in the way of your holiday?

Word Count: 2446

Chapter Warnings: a few swear words, angstttt

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Authors Note: heads up, y/f/d means your favourite drink :) my pool terminology probably needs work but I’ve just used the names we use at home, pretty self-explanatory that way ;) if you want to be tagged in future parts send me an ask/dm and I’ll add you! Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!!! <3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“Earth to Steve?” You waved your hand in front of his face pulling him from his daze.

“Sorry, what did you say?” He asked, having dissociated the moment he found out there was only one bed.

“I said I’m going to have a shower and get ready to go out, is that ok?”

“Yeah, of course, go ahead,” Steve sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes, flicking on the TV to an afternoon game show.

“I shouldn’t be long,” you shut the door to the bathroom leaving Steve alone with his thoughts.

“Shit,” he muttered, scrubbing and hand across his face and flopping back into the plush pillows. He knew that this trip was going to be hard, seeing you almost every minute of every day was going to test him, but sleeping in the same bed?! That wasn’t something he had anticipated nor planned for. He heard the water start running, muffled singing filtering through the door. He smiled to himself as he listened to you belt out the lyrics to your favourite song, imagining what it would be like for this moment to last forever. What it would be like to come home and find you singing around the house, the two of you juggling kids and work, waking up with you by his side.

“Damn it, Steven,” he scolded, “be realistic.” Trying his best to block out his thoughts he began getting ready for the night, you were probably just going to go into town and have a look around so he opted for black jeans and a button up shirt over a white singlet. The door to the bathroom swung open and revealed you standing in the doorway looking ethereal. You wore a dusty pink crop top and ripped denim skirt, your hair was tied up in a loose bun, stray strands curling around your face. Steve realised he was gawking and quickly snapped his mouth shut.

“My god Y/N, you look great,” the words spilt out of his mouth before he had time to stop them. You simply shook your head.

“I haven’t even done my make up yet,” you brushed his complement off, heading for your suitcase to retrieve your makeup bag and disappearing back into the bathroom.

“But you don’t need it,” Steve whispered as the door closed. He sat back on the bed and amused himself with the evening news, enthralled with the way the presenters spoke and the odd things that they deemed news worthy. You emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, dressed to the nines making Steve feel very inadequate.

“Wow, I feel ridiculously underdressed,” he commented, looking down at himself.

“Don’t be silly Steve, you look great,” you reassured him, straightening his collar and patting him on the chest, “handsome as always.” An expression Steve had never seen before flashed across your face before you quickly turned away and busied yourself with your handbag.

“Phone, cash, card, id,” you muttered to yourself as you checked the contents of your bag, “ok I’m good to go.”

*****

You walked into town, a much more pleasant trip when you’re not lugging 20 odd kilos behind you. The main street was bustling, filled with tourists and locals making the most of the balmy summer night. You stayed close to Steve as you wandered down the road, looking for a place to stop for a drink.

“Ooh what about there?” You tugged on this sleeve and pointed to a dingy looking wood and tin building that resembled a train station from the old western movies he and Bucky used to watch. People hovered around the front, lit cigarettes decorating their fingers as country music pierced the air, it certainly wasn’t Steve’s cup of tea.

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugged, this was your holiday after all.

You clapped your hands and bounced on the spot, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the droning music. He could see the eyes drawn to you the moment you stepped into the pub but you didn’t seem to notice, too busy ducking and weaving through the masses of people you made a beeline for the bar, never once letting go of Steve’s hand. You flagged down a bar tender and ordered you both a drink.

“Could I please have a y/f/d and a whisky neat,” you handed over the money as the drinks were made

“You remember my drink?” Steve noted as you clinked your glasses together, amazed that you remembered such an insignificant detail about him.

“Of course I do Steve, that’s what you do when you li- when you’re friends,” you explain sheepishly, disappearing back into the crowd. Steve quickly followed after you, excusing himself as he pushed and bumped past people. He found you out the front of the pub, sat at a picnic style table in the back corner of the alfresco area. Warm yellow light illuminated the space, glowing from dusty lamps hanging from the ceiling and basking you in a beautiful glow. He sat across from you and looked around the room, a live band played at the front, their tinny country music filling the small space, in the opposite corner to where you sat was a pool table surrounded by burly guys with beers. It was quaint and, maybe it was the whisky talking, it was starting to grow on him. Speaking of whiskey, he downed the last mouthful in one go, the alcohol burning his throat in the most pleasurable of ways.

“I’m going to get another drink, do you want one too?” He offered, getting up and fishing his wallet out of his jeans.

“Sure, if you’re buying,” you winked at him, pulling the straw from your drink into your mouth with your tongue and draining the rest of the liquid. Steve suddenly felt uncomfortably hot and excused himself, stumbling back to the bar.

With 2 new drinks in hand, he felt far more composed and ready to join you back at the table. As he approached he realised that you were not alone, in the few short minutes that he was gone a group of guys had taken up residence at your table. You were surrounded by 5 of them, laughing at something that they had said

“Here you go,” he sat the drink on the table in front of you, “who are your friends?” he asked taking a mouthful of his drink.

“Oh guys could you squish over?” you gestured for the men in Steve’s spot to move along. Steve squeezed onto the end of the bench, sandwiched against one of the strangers.

“Hey mate, I’m Joel,” the man next to him introduced himself and held out his hand.

“Steve,” he said, shaking the man’s hand with more force than probably necessary.

“I like your accent, what part of the US are you from?” Joel asks, it was an innocent question but for some reason, it had Steve seeing red.

“Brooklyn. Listen guys, we just came here for a quick dri-,” Steve stopped talking, if looks could kill he’d be dead, you were shooting him daggers from across the table.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s just a party pooper,” you ground out eliciting a laugh from the other men.

“Lighten up mate,” Joel nudged Steve’s shoulder, sloshing his beer over the side of his glass and all over Steve.

“Fucking hell,” Steve swore, he lost it and launched himself from the table and marched to the toilet, hands clenching to fists by his side. He paced in front of the mirror, mussing his hair with his hands. He knew he wasn’t your boyfriend. He understood that. He had no control over who you talked to but those guys really got under his skin. Especially Joel. He stopped pacing and braced his arms on the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together, Rogers,” he snarled. After splashing some water on his face he went back to the table, as he got closer he could hear your conversation with the boys.

“No! He’s like a brother to me, I- no. Just no,” you laughed, touching Joel on the arm. Steve sucked in a breath through his mouth and let it go slowly. Not yours, he reminded himself.

“Stevie you ok?” you asked, concern evident in your eyes.

“Yeah Y/N/N just worried about these jeans,” he lied, “they’re Bucky’s and I don’t want to make him mad.”

“That’s understandable,” you smiled, “so now that Steve’s back can we play pool?”

“Of course babe,” Joel winked, “so long as you’re on my team.” He reached across the table and took your hand in his.

“Well, that means you’re on my team then mate,” one of the other guys said, clapping Steve on the back.

They racked up the table and Joel insisted that he broke, sinking the number 10 ball in the same shot. Steve scoffed as Joel proceeded to miss the next ball completely. He leant back against the wall next to you and pulled you into his side.

“Gotta give them a chance to have a hit,” he said into your hair as he held you close. Steve was too distracted by Joel’s hands on you that he sunk one of your balls.

“Thanks, Steve,” you laughed and stalked around the table to find the best spot to take your shot from. Leaning over the far side of the table you lined up the balls, your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth as you concentrated on the shot. Steve had to avert his eyes, growing increasingly distracted by the way you were chewing on your lip. He heard the clink of 2 balls connecting and turned back around to see Joel stood behind you, arms trapping you in his frame as you both leaned over the table.

“See just like that,” he said, separating himself from you so you could change your position around the table. This continued for a couple more shots as you sunk more balls. Steve was getting impatient, both from not getting a turn and also seeing Joel’s body pressed up against yours was driving him mad. Finally, as if someone was listening to his prayers you didn’t sink a ball.

“Gotta give them a chance, right?” you giggled, looking up at Joel who wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“Too right,” he snickered looking at Steve. He whispered something into your ear and quickly left.

“Oh, no is he heading off? It’s getting late anyway maybe we should go too?” Steve looked at you but you just shook your head.

“He’s going to get another beer,” you explained moving next to him, “are you ok? Really?” you lowered your voice and looked at him expectantly.

“No, like I said before, I’m fine,” he said shortly, “I just-I don’t know if he’s right for you. Not really your type if you know what I mean?” You laughed sarcastically.

“As if you know my type, Steven,” you spat his name like it was venom, “I’m working through some stuff at the moment and you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, you know?” Steve shook his head and opened his mouth to ask what you meant but he stopped by the return of Joel.

“It’s your turn,” you smiled up at Joel who slapped your ass as he made his way to the table.

“This one’s for you,” he blew a kiss to you before he sunk the last of your coloured balls. Steve let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. Joel missed sinking the black ball but he was still rewarded with a kiss on the cheek from you. Steve was fuming, with none of his team’s balls in easy reach, he lined up the white ball with the side of the table and channelled all of his rage into his shot, sending the ball ricocheting off the sides and completely missing all the balls on the table. Luckily for you, the ball came to rest in the ideal position to sink the black ball.

“Awh, thanks Stevie,” you mocked patting him on the shoulder. Lining up the 2 balls you took the easy shot to sink the black one and ended the game. Joel swept you up in his arms and spun you around.

“Dream team!” He cheered putting you back on your feet, “what do you say to another game?” Steve gave a little shake of his head as you looked to him hopefully.

“Not tonight, sorry Joel,” you apologised.

“Ok, well what about we head over to the Northern for a couple more drinks?” He suggested. Steve could think of nothing he wanted more than to go home but he didn’t want to disappoint you. He opened his mouth to accept Joel’s invitation but you beat him to it.

“I’m so sorry but we only got in this morning and I’m completely spent,” you explained, “but we’ll see each other around, Byron’s a small place.” You got out your phone “How about you give me your number?” You exchanged numbers with Joel and he kissed you on the cheek. Steve didn’t hang around, taking off down the street leaving you to chase after him.

“Mind telling me what the fuck is going on?” you panted when you finally caught up with him.

“Nothin’, just tired,” he mumbled kicking a rock along the floor as he walked.

“Fine, don’t tell me just don’t be such a dick about it.”

*****

The rest of the walk was in total silence, neither of you daring to speak. Wordlessly, Steve unlocked the door and let you in, shutting the door once he was inside. You grabbed you pyjamas and retreated into the bathroom. Steve sat on the edge of the bed and hung his head in his hands. He’d been a real jerk tonight, and he knew that, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was in a hell of a lot deeper than he realised. He changed into his pyjamas, shut the curtains, turned off the light and switched on the bedside lamp before slipping into his side of the bed. With his hands behind his head he stared at the ceiling he found himself thinking about something you said earlier when you emerged from the bathroom looking just as stunning as when you were all dolled up. You got into bed next to him and rolled on your side to look at him.

“Goodnight Steve,” you whispered.

“Good night Y/N,” he replied, rolling over to turn off the lamp before falling into a fitful sleep.

NEXT CHAPTER

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x Reader #steve rogers marvel #marvel #marvel fic #marvel x reader #imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #3 nights #steven grant rogers #steven grant rogers au #steven grant rogers x reader #marvel au

34 notes · View notes

thehelleniclunarwitch · 6 years

Text

Halloween Fest Day 31

Prompt: No prompt today!

Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Reader

Here it is! One of the most highly requested sequel to My Bloody Valentine!

ALSO, THANK YOU FOR CELEBRATING HALLOWEEN WITH ME THIS OCTOBER! Y’ALL ARE THE GREATEST!

“Jerome?” You said softly.

The room was dark. You blinked several times trying to force your eyes to adjust to the darkness. Your head ached. Using your hands you felt your way to the edge of the bed and carefully slid off. Keeping your arms stretched out in front of you found the wall and then immediately leaned against it to use it as a guide.

“Jerome?” You called out a little louder.

There was still no response. Finally, your hand came into contact with a doorknob. You wrapped your hand around it and then yanked hard on the door. You let out a small a sob as the door didn’t budge. You pulled and pulled trying to force the door open.

Panic began to settle in your chest as the darkened room began to grow darker. You were quick to start banging on the door and screaming for Jerome. The door suddenly opens almost knocking you over. You let out a hiss as the light flicked on.

“Doll?” Jerome’s voice filled your ears.

You were quick on your feet and then lunged yourself into his arms. He caught you with a groan and then stumbled backward.

“You’re alright, doll,” Jerome cooed as he ran a hand through your hair.

You clung to Jerome a little too tightly. He bent down so he could grab you from behind your knees and swept you up into his arms.

“You’ve been out for more than two days. You must be starving,” Jerome said.

“Two days?” You squeaked out.

“Sorry about that doll, I hit your head a little too hard,” Jerome apologized.

“It’s okay,” You mumbled.

“Let’s get you well fed and then I think a hot bath is in order,” Jerome said.

You were obedient. You didn’t fight Jerome off. You let him carry you through the house you’ve never seen before. He carried you right into a dining room. There were people already sitting around the table.

“Everyone, this is my doll. Doll, well, this is everyone,” Jerome introduced.

“Hello,” You said softly as Jerome set you down on your feet.

“Hello,” They all said in unison.

“Everyone go around the table and introduce yourselves,” Jerome said pulling your chair out.

You took your seat.

“Jervis Tetch,” The man with the top hat said.

“Jonathan Crane,” The twitchy man next to you whispered.

“Victor Zsasz, number one assassin,” The bald-headed man grinned.

“Victor Fries,” The white-haired man said before dropping his gaze back down.

“This is your new family,” Jerome told you.

You just replied with a curt nod. Jerome snapped his fingers and several men appeared armed with trays of food. They placed the food on the table and then disappeared back through the door they entered through. Everyone around you began to fill their plates with food.

“Doll, are you not hungry?” Jerome asked pulling you out of your thoughts.

You didn’t want to anger him.

“I was just waiting,” You replied softly.

Jerome watched you with his bright blue eyes as you slowly picked out some food and covered your plate. When Jerome was content with your plate he sat, dove in, and began eating his own food. You slowly picked at the food trying to eat as much as you could so Jerome wouldn’t get mad.

Zsasz kept up the conversation with stories of his life. You forced yourself to laugh when you felt it was necessary, smiled when you needed to, and shared as little as information to make it seem as if you were trying. You didn’t want Jerome to turn his anger on you.

As the men reappeared to clear dinner and bring dessert, you looked over at Jerome. He was in the middle of a conversation with Jervis. Slowly, you pulled the knife from the table and stuck it under your leg. Jonathan quickly turned to look at you.

“You work at the Gotham Library, right?” Jonathan asked.

You nodded.

“I used to attend your book club on Saturday’s,” Jonathan said in a whisper.

You faintly remembered him being there.

“You suggested, The Girl on the Train, right?” You asked.

Jonathan nodded. Everyone at their dessert quietly. After you had finished what you could muster up to eat, Jerome stood and held his hand out towards you. You slipped your hand into his and let him pull you up from the table you were quick and careful to grab the knife and push it up the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

Jerome excused the two of you and then he leads you out of the dining room and through the rest of the house giving you a quick tour. The two of you headed upstairs.

“Our master bedroom and is up here,” Jerome told you.

Jerome shoves the door open and then yanks you in. The room is grand and beautiful. You couldn’t deny that.

“Come let’s get you in a hot bath,” Jerome said.

You sit on the toilet as Jerome tinkers around the bathroom starting your bath, pulling out a towel, and everything else he figured you would need.

“Let’s get you undressed,” Jerome said.

Your eyes widened.

“Can I please do this on my own?” You pleaded with him.

Jerome gave you a look over but then nodded.

“I know it’s been a lot, but I have a favor to ask,” Jerome said.

“Anything,” You blurted out.

“Let me wash your hair. I’ve missed running my fingers through your pretty hair,” Jerome said.

“Um, sure, I’ll call for you when I’m ready,” You replied.

Jerome grinned, stole a kiss, and then left you be. Once the door clicked shut you closed your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had to do whatever was possible to get out of here. And you knew of the perfect plan.

You took several long minutes to set up your plan for action. You knew Jerome would be waiting for you call him to wash your hair. You grabbed the knife and held it tightly in your hand as you stepped behind the door. It was time for you to escape.

“Jerome! I’m ready!” You called out.

“Coming doll!” Jerome yelled back.

You sucked in a deep breath as you waited. The door creaked open and Jerome stepped in.

“Doll?” He said in confusion.

You screamed as you rushed forward and drove the knife into Jerome’s back. He gasped and stumbled forward dropping to his knees. You refused to look at him as you whipped the door open and ran out of the bathroom and out of the room.

You took the stairs two a time. Jerome’s loud voice sent chills down your spine.

“Y/n!” He shouted.

Jonathan came around the corner but you dashed around him and sprinted towards the front door. When you stepped outside it was still storming out, but you didn’t care. You ran, diving off the front porch and disappeared into the woods in front of the house. You weaved in and out of the trees trying to keep yourself covered.

You could still hear Jerome screaming for you from the house. But you pushed forward. You weren’t going to be another one of his victims. Your legs hurt and your lungs burned but you kept pushing forward. You broke through the tree line and you ended up on the side of a busy road. You began waving your arms trying to flag a car down.

To your relief, the car that pulled off the road turned it’s sirens on.

“Y/n Y/l/n?” The officer asked as he stepped out of the car.

“Yes, it’s me,” You cried as you ran up the embankment.

The officer radioed in that he found you.

“Please we need to go before he catches up,” You pleaded with him.

The officer ushered you to his car and opened the passenger door. You slid in escaping from the wind. You wrapped your arms around you and tried to bring back some of the warmth. The office got in behind the wheel and pulled away.

“Thank you,” You whispered.

“You’re going to be alright, girl,” He replied.

You slumped in your seat and closed your eyes letting out a long sigh. The drive was short when you were jolted awake. When you opened your eyes your heart sunk.

“No, what are we doing here?” You demanded.

“Boss man was worried about you,” He said before slipping out of the car, locking the doors and then heading over to where Jerome was standing.

Jerome looked over at the car and the two of you locked eyes. You gulped as Jerome walked over to the car with the officer on his heels. You heard the click of the lock and then Jerome was opening your door. Tears were already sliding down your cheek as Jerome pulled you from the car.

“Doll, you had me worried,” He said pulling you in close.

“Jerome,” You breathed out.

“You panicked. I understand. I didn’t make it clear enough that you have nothing to worry about,” Jerome said as he leads you back to the house.

“I-I stabbed you,” You admitted.

“You did, it hurt like a bitch, but you were only scared,” Jerome said.

You were still scared that he was going to punish you.

“Jerome,” You began.

“Hush, we need to finish your bath and then get you to bed,” Jerome said as he took you back upstairs.

Jerome was being too kind. Too gentle. You were scared of what was to come.

Back upstairs in the bathroom, Jerome helped strip you out of your wet clothes and then he picked you up and then practically dumped you into the scalding hot water.

“I’m just going to have to prove to you how much I love you. You’re mine. You’ll never ever be able to leave me again,” Jerome whispered as he poured too much shampoo in his hands.

You leaned into his touch knowing you had a lot to make up for. But you weren’t surrendering. You weren’t ever going to give up. You were going to escape him. You’d be rid of Jerome one day.

Even if that meant killing him.

To be continued?

#Jerome Valeska x Reader #Jerome Valeska #halloween fest #day 31 #sequel #my bloody valentine

73 notes · View notes

blznbaby · 6 years

Text

Love is a Battlefield

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC (Marcella)

Rating: PG; combat training scenes; suggestive language

Summary: Marcella wants to combat train with Liam, but he's not so sure if it's a good idea. Will the Queen be able to keep up with the King? Or will she show him exactly what she's made of?

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixleberry Studios.

Note: A few things: So, the training session that Liam and MC had left me wanting more. And with the multiple attacks ,I felt like MC should be training frequently to defend herself (cuz lord knows the royal guard sucks). Then when the boutique fight happened MC was a total badass and in MY mind she'd been training all along. Then, I watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith the other night and this idea was born. (Excuse the title; my last 2 fics have been 80's song titles for some reason LOL).

Tags: @museofbooks @callmetippytumbles @cocomaxley @hopefulmoonobject

Liam couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you certain this is what you want? Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“What, afraid to get your ass kicked…by a woman?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you calling me a coward?”

She smirked. “I don’t know, Your Majesty, am I?”

“Marcella, I couldn’t possibly...” he replied feeling awkward. She put her hands on her hips, tilting her head dubiously. “I mean, I have a lifetime of training and...” She folded her arms, pursing her lips in annoyance. “That is to say…I don’t want you to get…hurt.”

He realized how foolish he sounded as soon as the words left his mouth. Since the attacks on their lives Marcella made it a point to combat train as frequently as their schedule allowed, practicing and sparring at least once a week with the royal guards, Mara, and even sometimes Olivia. She had proven herself to be quite capable in everything she did, always rising to the occasion, and fighting was no exception.

She snorted, “Oh my god, Liam. I’m not made out of porcelain, you know. Besides, who better for me to practice with? You can sharpen your moves, it'll be great exercise, and it sure beats couples' therapy.”

Liam looked at her incredulously. It was clear she wasn’t backing down; he could see the determination in her eyes.

Liam frowned slightly considering her words. “Very well, then. But, I will not go easy o--”

Before he could finish his sentence Marcella had launched her attack. Her first blow came in low and Liam moved on instinct alone, half-turning to defend his groin while deflecting her foot away from his abdomen. He dodged the high punch to his face, but was caught off guard when she hooked her foot around his ankle and yanked him off his feet. Liam hit the floor, his skin slapping the mat, winded from the attack. He laid there, a deer in headlights. What just happened?!

“First rule of fighting. Expect the unexpected!” she smugly remarked offering him a hand up.

He looked up at her with a look of amusement before grabbing her wrist, “Really? I thought the first rule of fighting is to never underestimate your opponent?” In an instant, Liam pressed his foot into her stomach and tossed Marcella over his head. She rolled to her feet like a ninja as Liam got up.

“Not bad. Your landings need work, though.” She quipped.

“I fear I must make you regret that.”

“Bring it on.”

Marcella bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, raising her arms in a defensive stance. Across from her Liam mirrored her stance.

“Ready?” she asked, giving him a small smile.

Liam returned the smile. “Whenever you are.”

They swiftly nodded at each other in acknowledgement. The two locked eyes, circling each other, waiting for the other to strike first.

“What are you waiting for? An invitation? Are you going to attack or not?” she called out to him.

“Ladies’ first,” he replied back, smirking.

In blinding speed, Marcella propelled herself forward hurling a combination of strikes, each move rolling naturally into the next. Snapping into defense mode, Liam’s body jerked from one direction to another, barely evading the assault to his physique. She was coming in all directions, leaving him very little room to counter-attack. Until Liam saw his opening, sending his fist sailing toward her torso. In a blur, Marcella grabbed his arm pulling him toward her. Before he knew it, she thrust into his hips, ducked, and used his momentum to flip him over her shoulder and onto the mat. ‘Damn.’

“Again? She asked, the quirk of her lips a restrained smirk.

It didn’t take him long to get used to her fighting rhythm. She was an impulsive fighter; unpredictable, which was good when facing life or death where you either strike fast or die, strategy be damned. She wasn’t as strong as he, but she was fast; inhumanly fast, and agile. He admired her grace, her boldness, and her ferocity. She was like a tiger, picking her target and pouncing in a blink of an eye, aiming for vitals and pressure points to take down her opponent quickly. Liam was impressed. His wife was a formidable opponent and he found it extremely sexy.

They lunged at each other, executing a simultaneous tornado of movements. Each punch was dodged and each kick was blocked. Liam went on the offensive, sticking jabs and kicks at the holes he had noticed in her defenses. She laughed in amusement at his new found boldness, trying to use new tactics, appreciating the new challenge. Her heart pounded in her chest, blood thundering through her, she felt the pulse in her neck. Her body glistened with sweat, heat flushing her skin. Adrenaline surging, pushing her even harder.

“Again!” she commanded, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her arm and looking at him expectantly; poised, ready to strike, possessing what seemed like an endless supply of energy. For a moment. he wondered if his wife was into some strange type of S&M that he wasn’t aware of, getting her rocks off by kicking the crap out of him. Punch, kick, block, kick, spin, duck, throw, roll, leap, kick, punch, matching each other move for move, rhythmically, in a dangerous dance. Liam was usually serious with training, patrol, and combat, but with Marcella he made exceptions to loosen up.

“I said, again!” she barked, her eyes glowering.

“You’re cute when you’re on a power trip.”

“Yeah? And you’re a very insubordinate pupil,” she scolded.

Liam grinned, “And yet, you married me anyway.”

“A moment of weakness,” she teased.

Charging at Liam with a battle cry, Marcella swung her fist around, trying to strike him; but he brought up his arm and blocked the attack. Liam then ducked into a leg sweep trying to trip her off her feet. Marcella jumped, swinging into a roundhouse kick aimed at Liam’s chest when he jumped away from the attack, grinning at his queen.

“Looks like I’m too fast for you, my love.” He said, lowering his arms.

‘Just the opening I needed’ Marcella spun around, using what was left of her energy to swing another attack at Liam. This time it connected, knocking Liam on his back once more. Liam groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head.

“Now who’s the slow one?” she crossed her arms and gave Liam a wide grin. The look of discomfort on his face was quickly replaced with one of amusement.

“It looks as though you still are.”

Marcella’s eyes widened as Liam used his leg to sweep her legs out from under her. She went down with a yelp, falling on top of Liam their faces only inches apart, breathing hard, soaked with sweat, their hearts pounding, but not from the sparring alone. He could feel her hot breath against his lips with each exhalation. Liam’s mind spun at her beauty, her strength, her bravery, her complete and utter belief that they would prevail in the face of overwhelming odds. She inspired him…

“Sorry,” she breathed sincerely, propping herself up on her elbows.

“I’m not.” Liam answered, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I love being this close to you.”

Marcella giggled, lowering her arms around Liam’s head. “You know,” she whispered, leaning closer to Liam. “I think I would prefer being just a tad bit closer.”

“I won’t fight you on that.” He grinned. “Consider this match of yours a victory.”

“Oh? Are you surrendering, King Liam?” a big smile appearing on her face.

“I am waving the white flag and I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to admit defeat. Although…..” Liam paused. “I will not be so forgiving next time.”

Marcella giggled, “You’re on. Just name the time and place.”

“The spa room in 15 minutes.” His eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“Why wait?” Marcella asked flirtatiously, locking her lips with his, Liam deepening the kiss.

“Ahem…..” They whipped their heads around to see Olivia leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed with an amused look on her face.

“Far be it from me to give you crap about this,” she said, “after all you two rule an entire country and can do whatever the hell you want-- but could you at least free up the training room and continue this disgusting display of affection someplace else?”

There was a long baffled pause as they tried to regain their composure before running out the training room, hand in hand, laughing in a helpless fit of giggles.

12 notes · View notes

greekowl87 · 5 years

Text

False Flags - Ghost Ship 6/?

A/N: I know this isn’t my most popular work but it is one close to my heart that I continue to work on even when real life and chaos reign supreme. I thank you for anyone who still takes a moment to read it and/or supports this endeavor. Finally got chapter six done. Chapter seven is underway and being formulated.

For those that need to catch up...The First Fic: (False Flags Redux) | Ghost Ship: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) or if AO3 is your thing, you’ve got your choices. Sorry for any grammar or issues of that nature. No beta, I suck at editing on the computer, and Grammarly only does so much. I still hope you enjoy it. Tagging: @today-in-fic, @improlificinsarcasm, @baronessblixen, and @suitablyaggrieved

“Am I? Good, Alexi.”

“Stop calling me that! I don’t know what the old man sees in you. Enlisting your help a second time? You screwed up and got caught last time.”

“And I got shot by Mulder too but the tip came from an anonymous informant. Besides, shouldn’t you be doing something useful. Like getting us dinner or something.”

Krychek shuddered. “And I lost a goddamn arm thanks to Mulder and I’m not complaining. God, don’t you ever shut up? I’m not your servant so stop bothering me. I’m not supposed to let you out of myself or else god forbid you to go rogue.”

“Why worry?”

“I used to be a gangster from the 1920s.” He replied. His voice took on a Chicago accent briefly.

‘That’s where I learned all that.”

“You really are insane. Bipolar. Order a pizza or something if you’re so damn hungry. The phone book is right there.”

Buckley chuckled and continued to stare on the window, spinning the pistol.

****************

They slept through the night but that didn’t do anything to calm one agent’s nerves. The ocean pounded the sandbars only matched Scully’s racing heart. Mulder sipped his coffee and leaned against the counter. “Scully, you’re pacing,” Mulder quipped from the couch.

“You should have killed the bastard when you had the chance,” she replied. Scully relaxed into his touch and closed her eyes. “Might have saved us this headache.”

“We still can. The Bodie Lighthouse isn’t that far. Neither is Roanoke Island. Let’s go there. Check out the history. Maybe we can solve the case of the missing colony.”

“They’re national parks.”

“And we’re federal agents. We’ll be fine.” He gave her a weak smile. “Let’s do the lighthouse today. We can spend tomorrow on Manteo and have some dinner or something.”

“Mulder…”

“It’s better than seeing you pace back and forth. It’ll be fun.”

“Fine,” she conceded. “Anything is better than just being stressed.”

“I know you hate flying but are you afraid of heights?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Have you ever been up in a lighthouse?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Really? Coming from the woman who loves the seas.” Mulder grinned. “You’re going to love it.”

*********************

“I’ve seen a few.

“It has a history as well.”

“I bet it does.”

“We can buy a postcard.”

“I’m talking about us.” She rolled her eyes in amusement. “Why do you have to be difficult?”

“Because I love it when you say, ‘You’re crazy, Mulder.’ Besides, who needs a camera when you have a photographic memory?” He tapped his temple. “All our recent memory making…”

She laughed and it lifted Mulder’s spirit. Despite having a reincarnated her ex-husband murderer who happened to be a serial killer in this life hunting down them while they were on their first vacation as a couple, he was so happy to hear her laughter. She smiled and rested her head against the bicep. She closed her eyes sleepily. “What do you say to about taking a nap in the hammock we have on the deck when we get home?”

“Despite the threat of…”

“Ssshhh. But yes.”

“As long as we pick up dinner along the way. Are you in the mood for seafood?”

“What about some Carolina BBQ?”

“I like you in a vacation mood. Why can’t you be more open to greasy foods when we’re in the field?”

“Vacation. There’s a difference,” she laughed.

Mulder watched a park ranger walk past them, calling, “All those for tickets for the 12:00 lighthouse tour line up behind me.”

“That’s us,” Scully whispered.

“Do you have to be first at everything?”

“I have to remind you who is the boss in this relationship. Tell me, Walking History Textbook, what is special about this lighthouse?”

“I remember,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head, “trying to blow it up with the retreating troops but I got orders to report to Norfolk instead.”

She chuckled. “Fucking past lives but then again, I have those to thank for my better sex life.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Shut up.” Her eyes opened and she tugged on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“This salt air is doing wonders for your spirit,” he remarked.

“Maybe it’s the company more.”

Mulder smiled and kissed her forehead lovingly. She walked together to the front of the lighthouse where others were lining up in front of a park ranger. The woman park ranger smiled and waved people closer. “Gather around everyone. First, a few rules before we go up. The stairs in this lighthouse aren’t like the ones at Cape Hatteras. Only one person at a time can be on them, going up or going down in either direction. You can have multiple people on the landings,” the park ranger explained. “Now that we have that out of the way, can anyone tell me about the lighthouse?”

The tour group was met with silence as the park ranger started to talk about a mini-history lesson about Congress approving the lighthouse and its history from the Civil War to the present. As the park ranger concluded her mini-speech, she stepped back and motioned for everyone to begin their journey upwards. Mulder and Scully were in the middle of the group and took a moment to take in the moment all around them. Other tourists, the lovely March weather, and Scully in sunglasses smiling and laughing with her arm wrapped through his. It was so nice to see you here relaxed and happy.

“Are you happy?” Mulder whispered to her.

“Yes,” she answered.

She gripped the railings of Bodie Lighthouse and leaned over to look at the people below. Mulder’s hand rested lightly on her back and he whispered, “What a view huh?”

“Hey, mister!”

A young kid’s voice caught both of them off guard and as they turned they saw a young boy with a brand new Polaroid camera. He smiled, speaking loudly over the wind. “I’ll take three pictures of you for five bucks.”

“Try three,” Mulder haggled, getting into the spirit.

“Two dollars includes on the spot printing. Memories last forever.”

“You sound like a Hallmark commercial.”

“Mom lets me watch a lot of tv. What do you say? Five dollars for three pictures?”

“What do you say, Scully?”

She nodded and smiled. The kid smiled and raised his camera. He took a series of three shots. One of them both overlooking the railing out to the Atlantic sea, second of them together smiling for the camera, and an unscripted kiss that briefly turned passionate, all of which was captured on the kid’s camera. Scully broke away, her cheeks flushed as she smiled. Mulder dug through his jean’s pockets until he produced a crumpled five-dollar bill. He exchanged it as Scully still took the still-developing photos.

Scully waved the photos in the sea air in a vain attempt to get them to develop quicker. She briefly flashed back to when she found that picture of them in the library archives in Newport News months ago from 1863. But there was something else that bloomed up inside of her; pride love, tenderness, devotion. Finally, something to memorialize and immortalize this moment now. She eyed the top image of them kissing with affection. Mulder was saying something before he returned to her.

“How did they turn out?”

“The kid has an eye for photography?” She answered.

“Or we can keep the copies for ourselves,” she answered. She rested her head against his chest; the sea breeze was in one ear with echoes of eternity from the Atlantic and his heartbeat was steady with promises of the future. “We need to buy a camera.”

********************

Buckley sat in the farthest car from the lighthouse, looking through his binoculars. Krychek sat next to him and asked, “Is it them?”

“Yep,” the other man replied. “Just like I told you.”

********************

Mulder looked at the Polaroids that had been taken at the lighthouse that day. He could only imagine the film on the disposable camera and how wonderful the shots were going to be. He and Scully laughing, posing together as a couple framed by the lighthouse and the Atlantic Ocean. The little kids who had charged them five dollars for the pictures were ruthless but he finally had some proof of their happiness in this life. He contemplated calling upon the Gunmen to use their technological magic to digitize the photos but that would be for another day. He had been relatively low profile with his relationship with Scully over the past three months and he did not want to push it unless she was okay with it.

“Hey, Scully,” he called, “when do you think we should tell your mom?”

“About what, Mulder?”

“Us,” he replied.

“Well,” Mulder began, setting the photos down, “the change in our relationship for starters.”

“Or the IVF?”

“I wasn’t going to go there.”

“But you were thinking about it.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted. He set the pictures aside and joined her on the couch. “I’ve just been thinking lately.”

“Well, I feel like there’s been a lot of that going around,” she said. Mulder unfurled her legs and rested her feet in his lap. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’m not really thinking.”

“Or maybe you’re just too busy thinking. Are you thinking about the IVF?”

“I would want to try again if you are willing too.”

“I still want to think about it,” she replied.

He lightly massaged her feet and she hummed in approval. “I can’t believe how sore my feet are from climbing all those stairs.”

“It’s not like you aren’t used to all work. You’re the FBI equivalent of Wonder Women running in high heels.”

“I appreciate the compliant, Mulder, but if you remember, I decided to wear flip-flops that have no support.”

“Well, where else could you get weather nice enough to wear flip flops in March?”

“What is it?”

“The show’s called ‘Dharma and Greg.’”

“I believe I have,” he said. “Some flower child marries a lawyer and chaos ensues when they decide to marry on the first date. So which one am I? Dharma or Greg?”

“Dharma,” she answered. “But opposites attract and make us better for it. Wouldn’t you agree, Mulder?”

He chuckled. “I might be inclined to. Do you want to keep it on this or find some nature documentary?”

“I like that and this version of Domestic Scully.”

“Did you lock the doors downstairs?”

“Yes,” he answered, “and I triple checked all the locks and windows. The only window that will be open is the one to our bedroom on the third floor.”

“And our weapons?”

“In the bedroom on the nightstands.”

***********************

“Mulder,” Scully called through the partially closed door. “Did you get everything you needed to do done?”

“Hmm.” She giggled. “Maybe. Come join me, Mulder.”

“Where did you get the wine?”

Bubbles. “Aw, Scully.”

“I know we are,” he answered. He chose his next words carefully. “Weren’t you the one earlier who was concerned about our safety?”

“I’m not letting them get to me. Us. I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

“About telling your mom?”

“No. I want to try again when we get back to D.C.”

Mulder smiled and his concerns momentarily forgotten. “I’ll be right back.”

Scully lounged back into him. “I’ve been dreaming,” she whispered to him softly. She sipped the wine-filled coffee mug. “Don’t worry, it’s not any new past lives or anything.”

“I’m glad?”

She heard the question in his voice. “I am just thinking about this life and the last. Us. What could have been.”

Scully was always amazed how well they just worked together, either spiritually, or as she had discovered lately, physically as well. She sipped her wine. “Now or then,” he asked.

“Then. I still have a hard time believing it was real, Mulder.”

“By remembering?”

She turned her head in question and Mulder found her lips. “We’ll have that again.”

“Your faith is grounding.”

“Did you enjoy the lighthouse today?” He asked, changing the subject. “I was thinking why not tour all them? We can drive back down to Cape Hatteras and climb the lighthouse there. Or drive an hour or so up to Corolla and climb the Currituck Lighthouse. And there are the ferries...Ocracoke, Knotts Island…”

“One day at a time, Mulder,” she laughed. “Today was Bodie Lighthouse. Tomorrow is Manteo. Tonight is this.”

“So,” he paused, setting aside both of the wine mugs. “Do you want to try to experiment and push the bounds of this fancy bathtub?”

“I bet you’re more effective than those water jets,” she challenged.

Mulder smiled and kissed her deeply. “I’ll get you to relax on this vacation.”

Scully just deepened the kiss and pulled him closer.

************************

Further up the barrier islands in Duck, North Carolina, Franklin Buckley, and Alex Krycek were at a small pizzeria. Over shared slices and bad beer, they talked. “I still don’t get it,” Krycek started. “Why is this so fucking important to you? Mulder is no one.”

“Your boss is interested in them.”

“And this somehow makes you the best choice?”

“Alexi…”

“Alex.”

“Alex.” Buckley grinned. “Have you ever wanted revenge so badly that you would do anything? Take back what is rightfully yours?”

Krychek grew quiet. “I have.”

“Then this is no different. It’s all a matter of waiting. Are you going to finish that pizza?”

“No.” Krycek was distracted. “Go ahead.”

“Must suck having one arm but I’ll tell you, this pizza is better than anything than they served in the joint.”

“What’s your plan?”

“You’ll see. In the meantime, it is all the matter of waiting and seeing.”

#false flags ghost ship #xfiles #xf fic #txf fic #msr #msr fic #false flags redux #mulder #scully #fanfic

12 notes · View notes

parkerrogersgirl · 7 years

Text

Happy Accident Part XII

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,560

Warnings: LANGUAGE!; heavy making out; TINY bit of feels

Summary: After he saves you from being injured at the gym, THE Steve Rogers asks you out. Little by little, you start falling in love with every part of him, his quirks, his old-fashionedness, and his charm. But are you ready to let your guard down and let him in?

A/N: hey, guys, sorry this is later than usual. It’s been a rough week, but I decided to finish this just because I wanted to have this part over with. This part is unedited, all mistakes are my own.

Catch up here!

Masterlist

You wake up slowly, hearing a voice nearby. You gradually start to wake up enough to understand what the voice is saying. You open your eyes to look right at Steve, who looks like he’s fuming mad.

“Steve, come on. Get your ass out of bed. We have training today. Don’t make me come in there.”

“Doll, I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell Buck I’m ditching today.” He gets up, going to the door to open it slightly. You recognize Bucky from the pictures Steve has shown you, and from that one time he greeted you on FaceTime. He’s holding two Starbucks cups, and he looks pissed. “Tony sent me because you weren’t picking up your phone. Dude, you always pick up your phone. What the he-” He notices you on the bed, grinning at you. “Hey, (Y/N)! Should’ve known you were here. You’re probably the only reason Steve would ever miss a day to train.”

You wave up at him awkwardly, “hey, James.”

Steve looks at him, “Buck, I forgot. We got back late last night and I just forgot to call Tony. Sorry you had to come over here for nothin’. I’ll deal with Tony. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna get back in bed with my girl.” He turns, winking at you before taking the coffee from Bucky. “And thanks for the coffee.”

Bucky smirks at you, “don’t hurt him, kid. You’re dating an Avenger. If you hurt him, you have to deal with a couple of assassins, a green monster, and a guy with a fancy suit. No pressure though.” He claps Steve on the back before leaving. Steve walks over to you, putting the coffee on the bedside table and climbing back into bed with you. He hugs you to him, kissing your lips softly.

“I really am sorry, doll. I just forgot to tell them.”

You nod, looking up at him, “do you think I’ll hurt you?”

“Of course not. Buck’s just a dick sometimes. I know you’d never do anything like that. I’m sorry if he made you feel bad.”

“He didn’t necessarily make me feel bad, it’s just how he described all of you. It’s like he doesn’t see any of the team as real people.”

He sighs, kissing your forehead, “that’s one of the reasons I love you. You’re so perceptive. Bucky’s one of the newest members, and he and Tony have…………… issues. That’s the only way I can think of to describe it. He has major trust issues, so he’s skeptical of most people until they really show him that they’re worth getting to know.”

You scoot yourself closer to Steve, cuddling into him, “I promise I’ll never hurt you.”

He intertwines his legs with yours, “shit, doll. Your feet are freezing.”

“Maybe we should go downstairs in front of the fire? That way we can be warm before we go outside and you give me the official Steve Rogers Tour of Brooklyn?”

He nods, “I like that idea.” He pulls down the blanket, and you shiver. He goes over to your bag, tossing you your sweats and leggings. “I’m not sure which ones you want.”

You sit up, putting on your leggings, then pulling your sweats on over them. “Both. Both is good.” He laughs and says, “El Dorado– great movie,” then picks you up, carrying downstairs. He sets you down on the couch, then goes over to light the fire. You pull the blanket over yourself, waiting for him to come back. He stands, kneeling in front of you and brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m gonna go get us breakfast, okay?”

You sit up, “I’ll make coffee while you make food. That way we can be back in front of the fire quicker.”

“Sounds perfect,” he kisses your forehead and takes your hand as you both stand up, walking into the kitchen. You go over to the coffee maker and he takes food for breakfast out of the kitchen. “How do you like your coffee, honey?” You look over at him.

“However you like yours. How do you like omelets?” He puts bread in the toaster before he pours eggs in a bowl and starts scrambling them.

“I like everything except onions and mushrooms.” You pour water and coffee grounds in the machine and let it do its thing, walking over to hug Steve from behind. You kiss his shoulder and he starts on your omelet.

“Baby, you’re distracting me,” he tells you as your egg cooks, and he adds spinach, cheese, and pepper to yours. He adds more stuff to his in the pan on the other burner, then turns in your arms as he waits for them to cook. He kisses you deeply, reaching around you to grab your ass. He squeezes it, and you smirk into the kiss.

“I thought you didn’t want to be distracted?” You kiss him back, feeling him get harder through his pants.

He moans into the kiss, “I can’t help it. You’re too damn gorgeous. You’re like a magnet.”

You giggle, and he turns around and puts the omelets on plates. The toast pops up, and he puts two pieces on each plate and kisses your forehead. You go over to the coffee maker, dividing it into two mugs. You decide on a mug with an American flag, and you pour Steve’s into a mug with a dog on it.

“What do you want in your coffee?” You turn to him, putting a hand on your hip.

“Just a little bit of sugar, sugar,” he winks at you. “What do you want on your toast?”

“Mmmmm peanut butter, please.” You put some sugar in his coffee, then put a little bit of creamer and sugar in yours. “Can we eat on the couch, or do you wanna sit at the table?”

“I’m fine with the couch,” he says as he dons your toast with peanut butter. “Gives me a chance to have you close to me.” You bring the coffee over to the coffee table in front of the couch, sitting down while you wait for Steve. He brings over your plates and sits next to you, setting yours on your lap. He turns on the TV, handing you the remote.

You start flipping through channels while he starts eating, grinning as you land on Full House. You take a bite of your omelet, moaning and looking over at Steve, “from now on, you’re in charge of breakfast.”

“I’m fine with that. But what the hell are we watching?” He says through a mouthful of toast.

“It’s Full House! It’s a classic, sweetheart.” You keep eating, and he pulls you closer so you’re almost on his lap.

“I don’t like it when you’re that far away.”

You look at him skeptically as you take a sip of your coffee, “I was only a few inches away.” “What can I say? I love you and I want to get as much of you as I can.” He nuzzles you gently.

“I love you too, Steve.” You kiss him softly and go back to eating, “and I love your food. I think I love you more though.”

He laughs and finishes eating, putting his plate on the table before chugging his coffee. You finish your meal and put your plate on top of his, then look over at him. He quickly pushes you down on the couch so you’re on your back, moving on top of you.

“Wanna make out like horny teenagers?”

Instead of answering, you pull him down, kissing him passionately. He groans into the kiss, his hands moving up and down your sides. You intertwine your legs with his, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. You start grinding against him slowly, feeling him grow harder against you. He bites your bottom lip, moving down to suck on your neck, nibbling lightly.

He pulls away, looking up at you, “that’s one thing I definitely never did as a teenager.”

“Well I’m glad you did it with me,” You giggle, kissing the tip of his nose.

“God, I love that noise,” he nuzzles into your neck, his stubble tickling you.

You start laughing harder, “Steve, that tickles.”

“What, this?” He keeps rubbing his stubbly chin against your neck, sliding his hands to your stomach, using his fingers to tickle you.

“Babe, stooooop,” you say, laughing too hard.

He tickles you harder, looking into your eyes.

“STEVE OKAY KNOCK IT OFF,” you yell at him.

He sits up, holding his hands up in surrender, “Okay, I’m stopping. Are you not ticklish?”

You bite your lip, looking up at him, “I love you, but you don’t know your own strength. You started off okay, but then you started tickling too hard and it hurt.”

“I’m so sorry, doll,” he pulls you so you’re sitting up. You look into his stormy blue eyes, noticing there’s a bit of grey in them since he’s upset. “It’s okay. Just be careful with me. I’m not a super soldier or an assassin or anything.”

He kisses your forehead, hugging you close to him, “would you like to get dressed for the Official Steve Rogers Tour of Brooklyn™?”

“Absolutely,” you kiss his forehead and try to stand up, but he beats you to it and carries you up to his room.

Tag list (Let me know if you’d like to be added!):

@sis-tafics @my-emotional-self @thankyouforanonymity @gatorgal94 @supernaturaldean67 @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @victoriawilson23 @rissbennett @summer-winchester @thevampywitch @princess76179 @srgntjbarnes @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @jcc04220 @lostess-souless @samanddeanmyguardianhunters @ilovethefandomwho @superflashallen @dancer2001 @a-tale-of-two-comics @petersmoonlight @yleryoseeph @magellan-88

#Steve Rogers #Steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers Fanfic #Steve Rogers Fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #Captain Steve rogers #captain America fluff #captain america imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #Steve Rogers imagine #marvel fanfic

25 notes · View notes

earpdearp · 7 years

Text

just the worst™

Wherein Waverly loses her cool when Shorty’s is sold and makes an irrationally rational decision for once. Nicole is mostly confused/caught in the cross-fire.

Borrows conversations from mid-1x09 as a canon-adjacent catalyst to bridge my series “just friends” and “not just friends” together.

Dedicated to user @korderoo for giving me the idea. The straw that broke the camel’s back, as it were.

Also on AO3. Approximately 5,518 words.

Other WayHaught “just friends” fics in this series: just another tuesday | just coffee | just blowing off steam | just the beginning

He showed up at Shorty’s wearing an ill-fitting gray suit with a red tie, a sheaf of paperwork in one hand and briefcase in the other. Normally, Waverly Earp would pay a guy like that little mind. But this gentleman didn’t come into Shorty’s for a drink: he came asking after Gus MacCready.

That set off warning bells for Waverly.

This wasn’t the first time Waverly had seen him. In fact, he’d returned several times in the past few weeks. A nagging worry had started to fester at the back of Waverly’s mind.

The next red flag was how attentive Gus had been to what he had to say. Hours a day were spent sifting through documentation, only to return with more papers a few days later. They typically pored over his paperwork on the upper level table, usually just out of earshot at the bar.

What Waverly did manage to overhear, especially today, set her heart racing. And not in a good way.

“…is this what we agreed on?” Aunt Gus asked, eyes narrowing at the young man.

“To the letter,” he said with a lopsided grin.

Topping off the beer she’d been pouring for Pete, Waverly shot the customer a hurried smile. “There you go,” she muttered and started to turn away to resume her eavesdropping.

“I heard about you and Champ, by the way,” Pete said shyly, sweeping off the brim of his tan flat cap and running fingers over a short crop of hair.

Uh huh, she thought disinterestedly. Waverly affixed a kind smile to her cheeks but avoided eye contact with Pete. She strained to hear what Gus and That Guy were saying, but she could only make out flipping pages and a clicking pen.

“He never treated you right, Waverly,” Pete said. She waved off the comment, mostly because it wasn’t entirely true. But the thought agitated her more than she already was.

Champ wasn’t a bad boyfriend. Or a bad guy. He’s just… not what I’m looking for. Or what I need.

Pete continued, a smile turning the edges of his scruffy cheeks. “I was thinking, you know, any man in Purgatory would be lucky to have you…”

Inwardly groaning, Waverly stopped herself short of scoffing, “But would I be lucky to have them?”

Rolling his thumbs around that mug of beer, Pete’s eyes didn’t quite meeting Waverly’s. “And I was also thinking that—“

Oh God. No no no no no no no.

Eyes widening, Waverly leapt in to cut off his train of thought. “—that you should find a gal like me, only taller, right? So she can actually get up in that custom-lifted, tricked-out pickup of yours?” She nodded at him significantly, praying Pete would get the hint.

Thankfully, Pete took the out rather than the impending bruise to his ego. His grin was a little pained, but he agreed, “Uh, yea. Yea, exactly.” Pausing for a beat, Pete then asked, “…is Wynonna… still around?”

Waverly made an exhale-sound in disgust and shot him a withering glare. She shooed him away from the counter with her bar towel, where he joined his brother at the pool table. There was a lull before the boys started chuckling among themselves and threw looks behind them at Waverly. She glared daggers back and made a swiping motion across her throat while smugly mouthing, “Ha ha you’re cut off.” That shut them up with an expletive before they racked a new game of pool.

Ugh. Men are all the same.

Sighing, Waverly scrubbed at a pair of clean mugs from the dishwasher below the bar. She went back to staring despondently at Gus near the front of the saloon. The older woman was still flipping through a stack of papers, hand at her chin, eyes probing every line of print. A pen rolled on her knuckles, poised and ready.

Just as that pen clicked one final time, Waverly straightened and announced, “I’m gonna take my break now!”

Her aunt only nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes focused on the documents in front of her.

That little brush-off grated on Waverly. She resisted the urge to huff as she gathered up her blue coat and brown purse to head for the door. A chill Purgatory wind stung Waverly’s cheeks as she stepped outside.

But Waverly just couldn’t stay and watch. She knew what was coming. The thing Waverly had been low-key dreading for weeks had arrived, complete with that rumpled gray suit and red tie.

Today was the day: Gus was selling Shorty’s.

“What the frick is going on today?” Waverly asked no one in particular as she stalked down the street, clutching her elbows to brace against the cold.

This whole day had felt off since she’d rolled out of bed this morning.

Even though there had been a lull in BBD cases lately, Wynonna was a scarce sight at the Homestead. So was Doc. Dolls was… Dolls.

And Nicole…

Waverly scowled as she checked her phone. No new SnapChats or text messages. Same as yesterday.

Things were weird with Nicole since Waverly had sent that text after watching the sunrise. It was like they forgot how to be friends.

It was all Waverly’s fault, too. She’d messed things up… crossed the line.

[“It was worth the trip”]

[“So are you”] …stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

Plus, the last time they’d bumped into each other outside the station had been a disaster. First they’d actually physically bumped into each other (via hard shoulder-check), then it was a race to see who could apologize first, then a lot of shy ground-kicking and “So…”

Pulling the brim down on her Stetson slightly, Nicole had asked, “So… how’s Wynonna?”

“She’s… Wynonna,” Waverly had replied simply. “So—uh—how’s… Calamity Jane?”

“She’s good.”

“Good.”

(Un)fortunately, Lonnie had knocked on the window to summon Nicole inside, so the women managed to part ways with just awkward smiles. And since then, Waverly had started about a dozen texts but deleted every single one. Which dragged out the weirdness further.

Ugh.

What am I gonna do? How do I fix this? How do I make things go back to normal again?

…what the heck would Normal even be?

As she rounded the street corner, Waverly halted dead in her tracks. Because at the next block over, Waverly spotted a familiar, uniformed profile complete with a white Stetson.

Oh you’ve got to be frickin’ kidding me.

Bathed in the flashing lights of her police cruiser, Officer Nicole Haught was indeed standing at the corner. She had her metal clipboard in hand and appeared to be giving a ticket to two college-age blonde girls.

As Waverly approached, she tried to blend in with some storefront awnings. The diner was just up the street and if Waverly could just get some food in her belly, maybe she could come up with a plan to—

“Hey! Wave!”

Frick.

Just on the other side of the street now, Nicole gave a broad smile and a gloved wave. Her motorists had briefly returned to their car to dig out purses and insurance information.

Sighing in resignation as she crossed the street, Waverly managed to step in a freezing puddle. She swore under her breath as the icy water seeped through a sock, soaking her toes. The low-key frustration at the base of her skull started to throb.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Nicole grimaced in empathy when she heard the splash. “Oh shoot, you okay? Sorry, I just wanted to say hey. I—I haven’t seen you in awhile, so…” She trailed off, her dimpled smile soft and sweet.

“Yea, it’s fine,” Waverly said, a little more sharply than she intended. When Nicole shrank back, Waverly gave a tight smile. “Sorry. Today just—today just sucks.” She stamped on her damp foot a little, feeling her sock bunch between her toes uncomfortably.

Ugh.

Tilting her head in sympathy, Nicole started, “I’m sorry to hear that. I tried texting you, but I wasn’t sure if—“

“Yea, me too,” Waverly rushed in with a bashful smile. “I keep just—and then just don’t know what to—“

A sing-sing voice interrupted the woman. “Yoohoo! Officer… Hoht?”

Both women turned at the same time to see the pair of blondes bounding back from their SUV, red passports in hand. They were practicing rolling Nicole’s unfamiliar last name in a foreign tongue. “Europeiska Unionen Sverige” was stamped in gold lettering on those red booklets.

Swedish?

“It’s Haught, ma’am,” Nicole corrected politely. She opened her hand to accept the pair of passports.

“Haaaaw-tuh,” one enunciated slowly. The other giggled, long eyelashes batting over heavily eye-shadowed blue eyes.

Nicole muttered under her breath just loud enough for Waverly to hear, “…Close enough.” She shot Waverly a wink as she continued writing on her metal clipboard.

Left Blonde twirled her scarf around her finger. “Will this be taking long time, Officer Hawwwt? We were wanting to see the Mount Rushmore today.”

Waverly chimed in with a wincing smile. “You’re off by a few hundred miles and a couple states.” She pointed to the southeast. “You want I-90. You’re on I-80.”

An argument started in Swedish, both women angrily slapping at each other’s elbows and shoulders for a few seconds. They also pulled phones from pockets to consult their maps. Waverly and Nicole just exchanged confused (but bemused) glances.

The Right Blonde then shushed the Left and gave a shy smile to Nicole. “You give us directions, maybe? Put us on right road?”

“Uh, sure…” Nicole replied, baffled but cordial. “After we discuss that illegal left turn y’all made. And you were going 22 miles above the posted speed limit.” She waved the ticket pad at them before returning Right Blonde’s passport.

“Is just mistake. Not happen again,” Left Blonde promised.

Right Blonde jumped in, her hand brushing down the elbow of Nicole’s coat (which Nicole pulled away from). “You doing things later, Officer Hawwwt? You ever see the Mount Rushmore? Want to be joining us?” Her tone was low, enticing, flirty. Left Blonde nodded in emphatic agreement.

Ughhh. They… are the worst.

Feeling like she was in the way, Waverly started to take a few cautious steps back. Her cold foot made a squishing sound, which turned Nicole’s head. The woman gave Waverly a panicked frown, but for just a second Waverly thought she saw a fond uptilt to Nicole’s lips. Which sent a surge of something through Waverly’s chest, briefly overriding that throbbing frustration.

Right at that moment, the radio on Nicole’s shoulder sounded off with a crackle of static. [“Haught, do you copy?”] A male voice.

The Velcro made a soft ripping sound as Nicole pulled the radio to her mouth and clicked the call button. “This is Haught finishing an 11-95 on Cooper. Go ahead.” She slapped the radio back on her shoulder and continued writing on her ticket pad.

The male dispatcher continued. [“Haught, return to the station when you finish that 11-95.”]

Scowling, Nicole leaned into her radio. “Copy that. …is something wrong?”

[“Nedley wants your ass on desk duty.”] The dispatcher sounded apologetic. [“Something about how you’re the only one who gets shit done around here.”] There was brief, muffled outrage/agreement on the other end of the radio.

“Again?!“ Nicole grumbled under her breath before clicking the button one last time. “10-4, on my way. Haught out.”

The two Swedish women groaned, first at being denied an “escort” and second at the ticket Nicole handed back along with the remaining passport. They attempted to salvage their disappointment by taking selfies with “a real police” and asking for Nicole’s number, which the woman declined (after shooting another panicked look at Waverly).

This whole exchange was… annoying to Waverly. And not just because she seemed invisible. Backing away slowly the way she came, Waverly smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, I’m keeping you from doing your job. I should—I’ll just go.” She resisted the urge to add an unnecessarily snarky “Have fun” under her breath.

Nicole’s frown was apologetic. “Waverly…” She looked like she wanted to say more.

But Waverly had already turned and ran back across the street. Giving up on the diner, Waverly stomped back to Shorty’s (though she took the long way back, weaving through alleys). At least the walk might give her a chance to maybe clear her head. Minus the fact her boots squished every other step.

She didn’t quite know why she was so irritated, but Waverly’s blood was downright boiling as she strode through “downtown” Purgatory. Running into Nicole used to be such a lovely surprise. But that…

…That was such a stupid thing to be mad about. And what was there even to be mad about? Nothing even happened.

Ugh.

Maybe because Nicole was working and Waverly felt like she was in the way? But Nicole had called her over. If she was such a bother, why would Nicole go out of her way to talk to her?

She was missing something and that angered Waverly even more. It felt obvious but just out of reach. She wanted to talk to someone about it.

But Wynonna wasn’t around and… the only other person she wanted to talk to was… Nicole.

Ugh… How do I fix this? How do I make things go back to normal again?

…what would normal even be for us?

…Us…

Gus was shaking hands with the Gray Suit when Waverly returned to Shorty’s. File folders slapped closed, keys were waved about, and polite laughter drifted through the saloon.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. MacCready,” the man said before leaving. His eyes gave a worried sweep of the bar but when he didn’t find what he was looking for, he smiled in relief. Briefcase snapping shut, Gray Suit held the case to his chest protectively as he ventured out those heavy double doors.

Waverly stalked over to Gus. “So you just did it? You just went ahead and sold it,” she said accusingly.

Her Aunt’s gaze was hard. “Decisions had to be made.” Gus flipped back through her paperwork, blue pen bouncing between index and middle fingers. “I know you don’t believe me, but you were not born to be a Goddamn small-town waitress.”

That softened Waverly some. “Yea, I believe you...” Resentment and worry still burned in the back of her mind. She latched on to her outrage. “But I have, like, three shirts that say Shorty’s.”

It didn’t come out quite as biting as Waverly had hoped.

Gus smirked back. “Honey, it’s in the agreement: Shorty’s will never get torn down. You can work here in as many shirts as you want for as long as you want.” Her dark eyes flicked over Waverly in a quick once over, a mixture of warmth and disapproval.

Waverly tried to interject. “That’s not the point!”

“Things change, kid. I never thought I’d be the one makin’ this decision, but I made it all the same.” Gus tapped the heavy file folder on the edge of the counter to evenly align the batch of papers. “It’s past time I moved on from this town. Enjoy my retirement.” Her slanted smile was sad with apology. “I got an offer on the farm, too. From a nice family from Shelby.”

Sputtering, Waverly slammed her palms on the counter. “What?! You’re—you’re leaving?! And you didn’t—why didn’t—I didn’t know!” She could feel her pulse quicken, blood pounding in her ears.

“Cuz I didn’t want you to fret, Waverly. My sister’s got a spare room since her boy went away to college. It’s time I reconnect with my old life. Just like you’re doing with Wynonna,” she said with a significant nod. “Not all change is bad, honey. It just is. And it’s up to you to make the most of it.”

Waverly flopped her head down on the counter, long hair covering her face. The wood counter was cool on her forehead as she groaned into the surface. “I can’t believe this. This is the frickin’ worst.” She looked up through her curtain of brown strands. “I’m gonna miss you so much,” Waverly said, her voice small as her breath puffed against those hairs.

Her Aunt smiled and reached over. A soft, wrinkled hand parted the hair over Waverly’s forehead so her face was visible again. Gus stroked her hair for another second before laying the file folder back on the bar (the air tickling Waverly’s cheek in its wake).

“You too, kid. But when you decide you’re ready to unstick those wings of yours…” Gus trailed off as she reached into her back pocket. Unfolding a small crisp paper, she offered it to Waverly. “…Don’t cash it for a week or so.”

Lifting her head, Waverly took the thin paper and examined it before she asked, “What’s this?”

It was a check. And there were… a lot of zeroes at the end of that check.

What. The. Frick.

Leaning over the end of the bar, Gus patted Waverly’s elbow with a smile. “It’s freedom, honey!” She gave the check a joyful flick and shook her head in amusement. “You’ve been doing what others want you to do for so long. Now you can do whatever it is you want.”

It should have been touching. Wonderful. Liberating.

But instead Waverly felt… empty. Lost. Alone.

She held in her hands the answer to so many questions… except she couldn’t remember what the question was that this was an answer to. She felt a heat in her eyes.

“…which is what?” Waverly retorted despondently.

A soft, sage smile. “Live your life,” Gus said. “Remember: some of the best things in life are the surprises it throws at us. About what we want.” She paused to give Waverly a lingering look before winking. “Who we want.”

That caught in Waverly’s throat. She could only stare back, confused.

“You’ve always been an honest kid.” Patting her elbow again, Gus leaned in drop a kiss on Waverly’s cheek. “Don’t stop now.”

Gus scooped up her file of papers and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Waverly alone at the bar holding a small fortune in her hands (and more questions than answers).

The Purgatory Reservoir stretched out before Waverly, the water’s gentle ripples reflecting a cloudy afternoon sky. With a line of snowy Jeep tracks leading to her hidden alcove, Waverly’s Spot was just as quiet as always. Sipping on her second (third?) espresso, Waverly licked her lips against the cinnamon flavoring and stared out at the horizon.

She’d gone home to change out of her Shorty’s getup, and not just for a dry pair of socks. Even in her favorite white wool sweater with a coffee in hand, Waverly still felt cold. There was nervous energy in her chest that sent little shivers through her shoulders and collarbone.

What the frick is going on today??

Everything felt so… empty. This place, Waverly’s safe place against everything crazy with Purgatory… it didn’t seem so magical. The Reservoir was just a dingy, fake lake chiseled out of rock.

The last time she’d been here, she’d brought Nicole. It had been… something. Something bigger. Now it was back to being small and lonely.

Waverly folded and unfolded that check. The same line of zeroes was still there. A small fortune wrapped up in a such a small piece of paper.

It was funny: when Wynonna had first showed up, she offered to hock Peacemaker so the Earp sisters could go abroad and leave Purgatory behind for good. Now, Waverly had the money to do that twice over.

But things were different from then in so many ways. Wynonna had embraced being the Heir. Breaking the Earp Curse didn’t seem like so lofty a pipedream, but an actual possibility. And Waverly… she was helping. All those years poured into research and history and language was finally getting put to use.

The nervous energy in Waverly’s chest dredged up an old hurt for a moment and she let it roll through her.

Wynonna. Sweet, older sister. The protective one. The strong one. …And the screw-up who’d left Waverly behind.

Waverly, who stayed. Waverly, who dedicated her life to breaking the Earp Curse. Waverly… who couldn’t break the Goddamn curse.

And Wynonna, who just waltzed back into town on raw, God-given talent and the only one who knew where Peacemaker had been hidden. It had hurt to be left out, to be the only one who took things seriously, to yet again be Not Enough as an Earp.

That stupid Revenant hadn’t been wrong: Waverly was envious—jealous—of Wynonna. And while she was proud that her sister was finally taking it all seriously finally, a small part of Waverly was still resentful. It was a slow burn of forgiveness that was rooted in long-time little sister spite. But even Waverly could admit her big sister had grown into the role and—through trial by fire and then some—was equal to the task.

So, they couldn’t just up and leave Purgatory. Not after they’d worked so hard and come together as a team. As a family.

“It’s freedom, honey!” Gus has said.

Why didn’t it feel like freedom?

Waverly could go for a Master’s degree at a decent university. Or go to Japan or the ocean or at the very least just leave Purgatory for the first time in her life. Anything she ever wanted, she could go do. Right now, if she wanted.

But… why didn’t any of those things sound good?

Slouching back into her seat with an annoyed sigh, Waverly took a deep sip of her coffee. She played with the ends of her scarf, her gaze drifting back to the passenger seat.

Nicole.

The image of the woman watching the sunrise with such awe and wonder was burned into Waverly’s memory. Her red hair tousled from sleep, bundled in Waverly’s blanket, hands politely folded around the coffee that Waverly had carefully made for her at four in the morning.

For some reason, Nicole tended to linger in Waverly’s head. For minutes, hours, days after they spent time together. They’d talked for less than a minute on the street earlier, yet Waverly still remembered the earrings she’d been wearing (round gold studs) and the smell of vanilla.

That warm flutter around Waverly’s shoulders calmed for a moment, until the voice of those two Swedish girls returned in her mind. Then a scowl darkened Waverly’s face, the agitation quickening her blood.

She resented those women’s confidence and brashness. They didn’t care what anyone thought. Just aimlessly wandered around the Northwest in an SUV without a care in the world. No plan, no nothing. They just went out and did whatever they wanted. Including…

“You doing things later, Officer Hawwwt? Want to be joining us?”

They just—they just asked. They didn’t need to go to JD’s and plan out what they were gonna say. They didn’t need days of psyching themselves up to plan a stupid sunrise (probably). But there it was: envy. Envy for a whole wide world of people doing things Waverly couldn’t/wouldn’t/didn’t/hadn’t.

Waverly’s thumb wandered to her own phone, her message history with Nicole depressingly quiet.

It was a shitty thing to be resentful about, she realized. Because she was basically mad at herself for not taking action. She’d always just let things happen to her. Let Champ Hardy ask her out. Let Wynonna take charge of the Curse. Let herself be a Goddamn small-town waitress instead of—what?

“You’ve been doing what others want you to do for so long. Now you can do whatever it is you want.”

“…which is what?”

“Live your life.”

Okay, Waverly thought with a long, slow breath. She tried to center herself like she did in yoga. Focused on breathing, let the outside world fade away, just her and the next breath.

What do I want? If I could want anything? Right here and now?

A bunch of thoughts trickled in. Glimpses of things she’d seen on YouTube or read about, secret passages of her diary… Swimming in the ocean or the wind on her face with the world below.

Pretty scary. But… lacking somehow now.

Maybe because… she could do those whenever she wanted? There was no urgency, no risk attached anymore. A good plan would take care of any of those little bucket-list things (now that she had the money).

Okay. What else?

“Remember: some of the best things in life are the surprises it throws at us. About what we want. Who we want.”

Her fingers felt around in her purse and found a small piece of paper. Not the check Aunt Gus had given her. This paper was thicker, smaller, lined with creases where it had been folded and unfolded over and over again. The pad of her index finger traced the embossing and Waverly didn’t even need to open her eyes it to know what it said.

“Officer Nicole Haught, Purgatory Sheriff’s Department.”

Inhaling a shuddering breath, Waverly let it out slowly. That jangling feeling in her chest started again, pushing her to stop hiding and put into words this tightly coiled anxiety she’d been holding on to for so long.

That tight feeling had come so close to being free, weeks ago. On that afternoon when Waverly had run into Nicole on the street.

“I kind of just discovered it,” Waverly had said, out loud, finally. The courage to put to words had been on the tip of her tongue, a short lifetime of restrained almosts laid bare. Except it had gone horribly wrong, dismissed by a distracted Nicole. The woman had apologized later, but not before Waverly had boxed that thought back up again and put it back on the shelf. To be dealt with later.

With another shaky inhale, Waverly pulled that thought close again, hugged it to her. And when she exhaled, she finally—finally—let it go.

Waverly liked Nicole. A lot. A lot, a lot.

Not as friends.

“Friends” don’t wonder what the other one is doing all hours of the day (and night).

“Friends” don’t get goosebumps when the other touches them.

“Friends” don’t wish the other would look at her the way Nicole did, like she saw inside her (and what’s more: liked what she saw).

She wanted Nicole. Wanted her, wanted her.

She wanted to know the things that made Nicole laugh—that sweet, deep, melodic laugh.

She wanted to know what Nicole was thinking when she chewed her cheek or licked her lips that certain way.

She wanted to know what Nicole felt like. Smelled like. Tasted like.

Eyes shooting open, Waverly let out another long breath. That feeling in her chest… it loosened. Like she was lighter. Relieved, even.

Okay.

She needed talk to Nicole. Make a plan. Tell her—tell her Waverly liked her. And maybe… they could start over?

…But what if she said no?

Nicole had already gotten hurt—almost died—before. If she stuck around, Nicole could get hurt again, maybe worse. The Earp Curse was kind of a big secret to keep/problem to deal with. Maybe… maybe it’s better if Waverly didn’t say anything?

“You’ve always been an honest kid.”

She knew she was looking for an excuse to bail. She scowled at herself, at how scared she was. How close she was to chickening out already.

Oh God what if Nicole said no?

…Oh God what if Nicole said yes?

That was the real question she was afraid of. If it was a No, she could just put that thought back on its shelf. Easy. Simple. Safe. Waverly knew what that life was like (since she was basically living it right now, so no surprises there).

But a Yes… that was Big. All those exciting Firsts wrapped in all those potential mistakes. All Waverly’s Earp baggage laid bare along with all of Nicole’s. And all that terrifying Unknown made less scary knowing there was someone to share it all with.

Shifting her Jeep into reverse, Waverly made a two-point turn before heading back up the trail back to Purgatory. She downed the rest of her coffee in one big swallow, drumming her fingers on her steering wheel.

Okay. What’s the plan?

Okay. First go to the station and find Nicole. Obviously.

What if she’s not there? Do I text her? Meet her somewhere?

Waverly had to chew her cheek a moment before remembering: Nicole is on desk duty. She should be at the station.

Okay. What about anyone else?

She glanced the clock on her dashboard: 4:15 PM.

Okay. Nedley should be at Shorty’s and if Nicole is on desk, that puts Lonnie out on patrol. And no Dolls or Wynonna at BBD to bug me.

Okay. Nicole should be alone at the station. Then what?

“Live your life.”

Striding up those steps, Waverly headed straight for the Sheriff’s Department on pure instinct. Her heart was hammering in her throat. And her plan was total shit.

Waverly still hadn’t thought of something good to say other than just blurting out “I like you, Nicole” in the middle of the station. She was breathing through her nose, dangling earrings tickling Waverly’s cheeks from her fast gait. She was nervous and agitated from all that damn espresso, too. It was hard to keep a thought still in her head.

When she reached a familiar hallway, Waverly hung back just outside the station. She saw the back of an older woman at the police desk. Dolores, Judge Cryderman’s secretary, was doing some admin work. Waverly waited for the woman to leave before approaching.

Eyes skimming the station, Waverly felt an equal mixture of relief and anxiety to see the place was empty. Just like she’d hoped/dreaded.

Nicole Haught sat at the desk, pen scratching over a form. Her brow was knit in focus.

“Hey, Nedley out for dinner?” Waverly asked in a rush, barely able to make eye contact.

Head jerking up, Nicole’s eyes crinkled when she saw Waverly. The woman tilted her head with a deadpan reply. “You mean ‘happy hour at Shorty’s?’”

Waverly mumbled a “yea” as she looked over at Nedley’s blessedly empty office.

Perfect.

Nicole gave a small nod as she sat back in her chair, dropping the pen on her form. “Same time every day, kinda like clockwork. Do you need h—?”

That nod was all Waverly needed. She pushed through the wooden divider, past Nicole and into the Sheriff’s office. Setting her purse down on the desk, Waverly gave the office a fraction of a second once-over before heading for the window blinds that looked out into the bullpen.

“Hey! Wave!”

Nicole’s confused shout behind Waverly made her move faster. She tugged on the cords in rapid succession, the wooden slats angling closed on one, then another, then the third window. Standing in the doorway was a very confused Nicole, who again offered a soft “Hey?”

Nudging the taller woman aside, Waverly offered a gruff “excuse me” as she edged the door closed with a gentle slam. She looked out the office door one last time, but there was no one around.

Oh God.

When Waverly turned, Nicole snapped, “What is your problem?? I don’t understand why you—!“

That almost—almost—stopped Waverly. But she had already pushed forward, letting instinct and her pounding heartbeat lead. She was too close to stop now. She had to know.

Waverly had done the only thing that came to mind: she lunged forward and just kissed Nicole. She was just so tall. And when Waverly felt some resistance, she almost let go (but she had too much momentum propelling her forward).

But then… Nicole’s hands clamped down over hers. And not to push Waverly’s hands away, either. They held tight to Waverly’s wrists, one near Nicole’s neck and the other on her waist. Nicole held on, but the balance had already been upset and they were falling backward.

Luckily, Nicole somehow had the ability to maneuver them around the corner to the couch. And there… it continued for a moment. Held fast. Just like Waverly had hoped and feared and everything in between as they kissed.

Oh God, she was so soft and sweet yet firm and strong and—oh! Nicole tasted every bit as good as she smelled. Her head tilted in just the right ways, pushing and pulling against Waverly’s tongue with a gasp. When Waverly felt Nicole pull back from underneath her(!), she finally broke contact. Her heart still fluttered in her chest, but from happiness this time.

“It’s freedom, honey!”

While the last thing Waverly had seen before she shut her eyes tight was irritation on Nicole’s face, now that woman beamed back at Waverly with impossible joy. The light from the outside window shone almost like a halo on Nicole’s head.

All Waverly saw now were dimples and glowing skin and warm brown eyes and Nicole was just beautiful and Waverly’s voice caught in her throat.

Laughing lightly, Nicole’s question was laced with breathless amusement:

“What happened to ‘friends?’”

#wynonna earp #waverly earp #nicole haught #wayhaught #fanfic #wynonna earp fanfic #fluff #gap filler #dorks in love #canon adjacent #1x09 #just friends #gus maccready #shorty's #mutual pining #first kiss #not just friends anymore

20 notes · View notes