#when I heard that my body went into shock. like that’s a real area code and it’s southwest wisconsins area code

[stealingyourbones]

Vlad has a 608 area code… oh my god. This man absolutely lives in Dane County.

[valwentinefics]

Altruism Ch. 3 - Zemo x F!reader x Bucky

A/n: So this chapter isn’t the best but I thought I’d give you Bucky fans something. I am benevolent. I can’t wait till I don’t have to type out what the characters say word for word in the show, its torture.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence

Translations: Liebling (Darling)

Series Masterlist

Madripoor - 2024

Y/n’s mind ran at a thousand miles an hour as the group walked down the hall, her hand still intertwined with Zemo’s. She longed to go to Bucky, to ask if he was okay and help him through whatever thoughts were bound to be swirling through his head right now, but she knew she couldn’t, it would jeopardize the whole mission. She was grateful to at least have Zemo to cling onto, despite her feelings about the man. His cool, confident demeanor was comforting to her during this time and his warm hand wasn’t that unpleasant to hold.

“You should know Baron, people don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Stated a short white haired woman who lounged on a snakeskin patterned couch. Her presence was intimidating, Y/n felt uncomfortable being around her.

“Not a demand, an offer.” Zemo stated, sitting down in a chair and pulling Y/n into his lap which startled her. “Keep with the act Liebling.” He mumbled into Y/n’s ear. She wasn’t sure what he had called her, she had to remember to ask him what it meant later.

“A lot has changed since you were last here.” Selby glanced over to Bucky who was doing his best stoic stare. “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” He paused, looking smug. “I’m sure you already know what I’m here for.”

Selby seemed to be stalling, pointing to Sam. “You’re taller than I’ve heard, Smiling tiger.” Sam replied with a nod as always. Y/n considered herself lucky, unlike Bucky and Sam, attention was never on her, she just had to sit there and look pretty. However, that thought jinxed her.

“And who’s the girl? Never thought you were the meek and pretty type Baron.” She commented on Y/n’s frightened demeanor.

Zemo’s arm wrapped tighter around Y/n’s waist “I just call her my little bunny. But Selby, to what we were discussing.” Zemo said, putting the conversation back on track.

“Right then, what’s the offer?” She asked, looking around the room, her eyes lingering on Bucky.

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him.” Zemo gestured to Bucky. “Along with the code words to control him of course.”

A mischievous grin spread on her face, sending a chill down Y/n’s spine. “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. The serum is here in Madripoor, Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you’d want to thank, or condemn. He was working on it for the power broker but things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Asked Zemo. Somehow his confident and cool demeanor never faltered. Y/n had to admit, in a way the man was quite attractive with the way he managed to navigate the criminal underworld without batting an eye.

“Oh” she said with mock sadness “The breadcrumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost ya’ Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” She got up and began to approach Y/n and Zemo. The tense moment was interrupted by the ringing of Sam’s phone. “Answer it.” 

Sam tapped on his phone, a woman's voice coming out of it, the words she spoke making Y/n’s blood run cold. “Hey Sam-” Quickly Sam hung up, but not before the damage had been done.

“Sam? Who’s Sam? Kill them!” Selby commanded, that same instant a bullet came flying through the window and into her chest, a choked noise coming from her as she collapsed to the floor. 

Y/n sprung up as Sam and Bucky fought the guards, swiftly disarming them with precision. Bucky looked through the scope of the gun he had taken, looking around with the precise caution of a hawk. Y/n moved closer to him, not wanting to be near Zemo any longer. It wasn’t that she didn’t like being around him, it was the opposite. She found his touch comforting, and she knew she had to stay away for that reason.

“They’re gonna pin this on us!” Sam worried, standing by the door and gripping his gun. 

Zemo only sighed. “We have a real problem now, so leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Y/n was confused. Leave their weapons?  How would they defend themselves? Nonetheless Sam and Bucky did as they were told.

The sound of cellphones chiming rang out all around them as they quickly walked down the street. Y/n’s nerves were acting up, her whole body feeling as if it was in fight or flight mode. She was scared of what would happen next, never before had she been the target in a battle. They had just crossed under a bridge when a few lights went out without warning. Y/n looked at her comrades with a panicked look, moments before gunshots rang throughout the area. 

Zemo grabbed Y/n’s hand, pulling her away from the others. She stumbled after him as fast as she could, lucky she was somewhat adept at running in heels. Her breath was heavy as she resisted the urge to look back, her body aching to run after wherever Bucky and Sam went. Roughly Y/n was pushed against a wall in an alley, Zemo’s warm body flesh against her own. His breath was hot against her neck as they hid in the shadows until a set of headlights passed by. She barely had time to catch her breath before she was pulled away again. Zemo pulled a gun out of his coat as Sam and Bucky grew closer, shooting a man who was approaching them. Y/n watched in shock as he slumped to the ground. Two more men approached from the shadows, Y/n ran over to Bucky and tucked herself behind him, squeezing her eyes shut in fear before the sound of two more gunshots rang out. Hesitantly she opened her eyes, seeing the two men now dead.

“You seem to have a guardian angel.” Said Zemo, alarm showing on his face.

“Well this is too perfect!” A feminine voice stated, Y/n’s eyes widening as she realized it was Sharon Carter.

-

Sharon Carter was kind of awful now, but Y/n couldn’t complain as the woman agreed to help them out after she had the situation explained to her. Now Y/n and Bucky were alone in her apartment above her art gallery as a party raged downstairs. Zemo and Sam had been happy for the chance to let loose after everything that had happened and opted to join the party while Sharon looked for information. Y/n was glad to be out of that godforsaken dress and instead in an outfit of her choosing, no longer feeling like she was flashing someone every time she moved.

Y/n sat down next to Bucky on the green couch, leaning into him slightly. He didn’t seem to mind it, his arm resting around her body comfortably. Unlike Sam and Zemo, Bucky didn’t want to indulge himself in a fun night after the events that had happened earlier, and so as a good friend Y/n decided to stay with him to make sure he was okay.

“Bucky, how are you feeling?” Y/n broke the silence between the two, angling her body to face him.

“Fine… I’m fine.” He smiled at her, although Y/n could see through his façade.

“You don’t need to lie. What you had to do must have brought up a lot of feelings. You don't need to explain them to me, I just want to check up on you.” She looked at the man who’s steely blue eyes were filled with a deep sorrow she couldn’t even imagine feeling. Part of her wanted to hold him close, to let him know he’s loved and cared for, but she didn’t want to overstep right now.

Bucky exhaled, looking away. “I think Steve was wrong about me. Maybe I am just a monster.” His voice cracked as he explained, holding back tears. Bucky’s fear of being nothing but a coldblooded killer was a frequent discussion between the two during late night talks where they poured their hearts out to each other in Y/n’s apartment. So although this thought came as no surprise to Y/n, it still hurt her to see her friend and slight crush feel that way. “It was so easy to fall back into being the Winter Soldier… maybe it's because even after all this time that's who I still am. A killer.” He looked at his gloved metal hand with a sorrowful glare.

Y/n placed a comforting hand on his thigh, moving his gaze from his hand to Y/n, his eyes searching her face for comfort. “Bucky, that’s not who you are. You call yourself a monster but you’re the most caring and kind man I know.”

“I saw how you looked at me Y/n, you were terrified. You were clinging onto Zemo as if you were scared I lost control.” He looked away from her and down at the floor. “You’re the person I care for most now that Steve’s gone, and you were scared of me. I never wanted you to have to see me like that.”

Guilt bit at Y/n, blaming herself for her friend's state. “Yes I was scared. I was scared you would lose control, that you would revert back to the Winter Soldier. My fear was for you, not of you.” She explained. “Bucky, I could never truly be scared of you. Those late nights where we would watch movies or listen to music and just talk about our lives mean so much to me. I know you’re good in your heart, remember when I healed the wounds the Wakandans couldn’t fully fix before you went under again? If I thought you were a monster I wouldn’t have done that, I wouldn’t have wanted to handle your pain for you. But I knew you weren’t a monster, nothing you did was your fault. I know it, Sam knows it, hell even Zemo knows it! And Bucky, I’ll be here for you until you realize it too.” She held his hand between hers, her eyes studying the side of his face.

“Y/n.. I need to tell you something. I-” Bucky began hesitantly, only to pause when Sharon entered the room looking proud.

“Guys we’ve got to go, I found some information about the serum.” She said. The pair stood up, following her to find Zemo and Sam.

The question of what Bucky was going to say hung in Y/n’s mind as she navigated through the crowd of people, her hand reaching for Bucky’s to ensure she wouldn’t get lost. His hand firmly wrapped around hers, giving it a small squeeze as to let her know he would always be there for her. Through the security and safety she felt just by holding his hand, Y/n realized she didn’t need to find out what he was going to say right away. The two would have all the time in the world to tell each other things, because she knew Bucky would never let go, and she never wanted him to.

-

@yaskna​ @noavengers​ @lostghostgirl94​ @whatawildone​ @lady-latte​ @chipster-21​ @viviace​ @writeroutoftime​ @spookycereal-s​ @nadder37 @ajeff855​ @safiakillspop​ @thiccmemechicc​ @sgold If I missed you, added you on accident, or you would like to be added/removed let me know!

[echo-three-one]

A Forgotten Memory

An Alex x OC fic

This is Chapter 6 (is everyone still counting)

Link to the beginning here

Prev (V - Alex)

Next (VII - Alex)

Reviews and comments appreciated as I would like to grow as a writer

Content Warning ⚠️ below chapter title as to avoid spoilers (if anybody cares about being spoiled)

VI - Samantha

CONTENT WARNING : Kidnapping, Mind Control and Being bound and gagged.

Her back leaned against the cold stone wall sending a jolt of shivers across her body. She wriggled around, trying to move but despite not being bound ang gagged, she couldn't talk.

She found herself in an empty room, an interrogation table with a swinging lightbulb at the center ominously matching its swing with the thunping of her heart. No one was pushing it but instead of swinging slowly like it should be, it went faster and faster along with her heart.

She blinked. Maxine sat across the chair behind the interrogation table. Eyes and mouth covered, her expression almost lifeless. She tried to call out her name but no voice came out. She blinked again. Two shady men with heavy thumping boots marched toward her. Their steps matching along with the heartbeat and the swing of the lightbulb.

She closed her eyes permanently praying this will all be over soon. Afraid that when she opened her eyes another set of horrors would appear.

"You're safe here." a faint male voice echoed against the room, lighting up the whole area. She peeked slowly as the room was now well lit, she saw the abductors run away from the light, bringing Maxine with them. She tried to scream out her name one last time but she was slowly being guided by what seemed to be polica authorities back to safety.

"We'll get her back soon. Don't worry." She remembered Alex telling her that before she slept. She couldn't trust a normal person to say that to her so she starts to doubt the credibility of this man.

~

Samantha took a deep breath as she slowly came back to her senses. It smelled quite odd which made her whiff again. It's way too far from Maxine's shampoo or cologne, it almost smelled...

Manly.

That's when she remembered. Her eyes quickly opened to the view of a bare chest followed by a very well carved set of abs and her thighs just below it. Her heart raced once again as she slowly tilted her head up to look at the man whom she was leaning to.

It was Alex. He looked peacefully asleep, his arms bent behind his bed showing off the colored tattoes covering his biceps. A soft snore escapes his mouth as her head starts to feel the rising and falling of his chest.

She can't believe the circumstances she found herself in, shaking her head in disagreement, slowly moving away from him in an attempt to not wake him up. 'Really Samantha. You didn't even let him wear anything?!' she said to herself in shame as she slowly steps out of his apartment. Mentally apologizing for stealing his shirt and sweatpants.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She has to find Maxine. She quietly closed his door and descended to the streets of her city, making her way back to her apartment. Her thoughts were clouded with circumstances surrounding her dream, Maxine, the abductors, the voice that lit the whole room. She convinced herself it wasn't Alex, it could probably be someone else... someone she's been trying to forget but she can't. But then again, those words would fit Alex at all. Maybe because he was beside her whole night. Maybe she heard him from way outside her dream.

Her cheeks suddenly turned red as she once again remembered how she clung on to Alex. If she did that for the whole evening, then she possibly couldn't see him ever again. It was too embarrassing for her to cross paths with him again. She knew full well that what they had going on was not gonna be what she wants to happen. She could feel him having no actual interest in her, he was just being friendly because she believes he's trying to pry information from her. She's convinced that Alex is somehow involved in Maxine's loss.

Shaking her head and clearing her mind from all thoughts regarding that man she won't name anymore, she slowly ascended the wooden steps of her apartment, hoping for Maxine's safety.

She swung the door open, peeking at their room seeing Maxine plopped on the sofa.

"Maxine!" she shrieked in excitement as she grabbed her and hugged her tight.

"Hey Sam, why the tight hug?" She asked, patting her back and escaping from her warm embrace. Tears fell from Samantha's eyes as Maxine pushes her and tried to ask her about her weird behavior.

"What's wrong with you? I just went out last night. Oh and by the way I met a pecuiliar guy at the bar last night. He says he knows you.

Samantha's head pinged and she looked at her with raised eyebrows. Could it be...

"Does he go by Alex? You know, brown hair, blue eyes and a whole lotta tattoos on his arms?" Maxine's eyes widened at the accuracy of Samantha's description.

"So you met? Since when? I was still about to set you up today!" She got up, looking shocked.

"That was last Friday night! You went missing just last night!" Samantha corrected.

"I swear I'm right. That's what my mind could recall." Maxine trailed off to the kitchen as they make breakfast.

Samantha wanted to go back to Alex. She had a feeling he would know what to do. But because of last nights embarrassing act of stupidity, she'd best be letting this mishap slide.

~

Samantha noted that at certain times of day, Maxine would just stare out the window, and everytime she calls her out, Maxine wouldn't respond. As if she couldn't hear her even at close proximity. At this point, she began to extremely worry and texted Alex about her friend's situation not minding meeting him again. She thought that she shouldn't let personal things interfere at this kind of danger.

But she was all too late. She didn't expect that she was dazed for a reason. She wished she never left Alex's apartment. She wished she kept on hugging him for just a little more while.

Her eyes were open but she couldn't see a thing, her mouth was open but she couldn't say a word. She was bound and gagged, but this time it's for real. She didn't show any sign of struggle as the foreign people pushed her, babbling using their language it almost felt they were bickering.

And then she found herself in a laboratory of some sort, wincing as the harsh lamp light flashed across her. An old man donning a lab coat covered the light.

"We finally got you, Samantha Coleman. Smile at the camera so I can send this to your father dearest." The old man spoke, each word irritated her. A tear fell from her eyes as she remembered how her father tried to promise her that his work wouldn't interfere her. She knew it isn't his fault entirely but somehow fate tangled her up to thid point. She isn't gonna survive this.

"I want something that you have. You may not know it, but I know you saw it." He cackled injecting her with some sort of anaesthetic. She knows this because as soon as 30 seconds she already felt sleepy and her mind began to black out.

***

Samantha found herself by the pier, just beside Charlie, her boyfriend's families' yacht. They're out for their annual family summer outing and she can't join as she has to look after her mother who's at the hospital.

"Babe, I'll send you pictures once I get a signal. I promise. I'll also pray for your mom while we're there..." Connor smiled at her, the strong seaside gust blew his collar, as she held her sun hat tight.

"Thanks honey, you take care there, okay?" Samantha's words started to echo in the background as the horizon quickly shifted from day to night.

Maxine sat beside her as uncontrollable tears flowed out of her eyes. It has been a full day since she last heard from Connor and word was his whole family hasn't returned yet.

"Do we need these?" a muffled voice was echoing from the sky. Samantha just sat there, unbothered by the strange noises in the sky, her tears start to fall on her real body.

"It's still a failed project. It's supposed to look for memories but this is the one she's recalling."

"So how do we know if she'll show us her memories of the code?!" a loud slam translated as thunder in her dream.

"I don't know Boss Nero, maybe we could influence her to think of the code."

"Listen, Princess. Think of your childhood memories. Think of what you saw when you accidentally looked on your Daddy's drawer."

Samantha winced as her memory swirled back to her childhood. She heard excited laughter from the sky as she found herself in her room, as a kid. The radio from her dream immediately interrupted her as news flash about a missing yacht, cruise ship and cargo ships that sailed on that fateful day when Connor had his family vacation. Hundreds of people were either dead or missing and the main cause that was officially declared was a storm and big waves. Many speculate about possible pirate invasions but their wreckage wasn't found.

She found herself back at the pier. The sky started yelling curse words angrily toward her. Then another loud sound manifested as thunder.

"Boss Nero, we're being compromised! Multiple armed forces are out for us.

"Gah! Of course they're catching up to us! Quick evacuate and do not engage whenever possible. Let's save our numbers for later."

"What about her?"

"She's still induced. She's just going to be a pain to carry. Leave her be. If they successfully retrieve her they won't be after us." Nero commanded as they left the scene.

Samantha on the other hand, was trapped in her own personal memory realm, flashing about the moments where she felt utter sadness when she found out that her boyfriend was gone forever.

[straightouttaneptune]

Partner

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warning: FLOOF, everyone except Tasha and Y/N is stupid, swearing, guns, fighting, that’s it bb!

Summary: Natasha is assigned a mission with an Agent she doesn’t know. So, she ends up dragging a civilian who she assumes is her partner into a highly-violent mission.

A/N: AHHHHH EVERYONE ITS MY FIRST FIC IN MONTHS IM BACK THANK YOU ALL FOR THE LOVE AND THE PATIENCE!!

—————————————————————

Y/N Y/L/N. You were just another citizen of the planet earth, not an inhuman, not an assassin, not a super, not a mutant and certainly not an Avenger. You grew up in an everyday household, went to school, had decent grades, led a good career, and overall life. 

So... how did you get here right now? To know this, we have to rewind time, to around a month ago.

-11:00 am, SHIELD office 09

"Agent Romanoff, sorry to do this to you." Nick Fury looked over at Natasha apologetically, while she herself remained stoic. "But you know that the rest of your teammates can be... unpredictable." To this, she let out a small chuckle.

"It's not a big deal, I know they can be dramatic." She slid the file on the table, opening it to examine the details of the mission. "Wait, this is a doubles mission?" The surprise was evident in her voice, as she assumed that this would be a one-woman job.

"She's a beginner agent. Don't worry, she's just there for support." Fury stated casually as if he didn't leave out one of the most relevant information. 

"Right, okay, can I meet her?"

"No. She's out at the moment."

"How do you expect me to work with someone I've never met?" Natasha inquired, confused beyond words.

"There's a description! And everything!" Fury defended himself, pointing at the file she held in her hands. At that moment, Natasha could see why he was the leader of the Avengers. Sighing in defeat, she retreated back to the training area.

Y/H/C hair, Y/E/C eyes, around her age, pretty, it probably wouldn't be hard to find this partner. And just like that, her mind wandered away from the mission, to her training regime for the day.

-5:00 pm, Y/N's apartment

"C'mon, Y/N! It'll be so fun, I'm telling you!" Your old uni friend pleaded over the phone, while you balanced the pros and cons of going out tonight.

"Mm, I don't know... I mean, I was going to have a Star Wars marathon." You pouted, glancing at your TV wantingly. Oh, what you'd give to cuddle up with a tub of ice cream tonight.

"Y/N, come on. You can't just couch potato every day." You ran out of excuses to give, reluctantly agreeing to her offer.

"God, I haven't been to a club in forever." You rummaged through your closet, only finding office clothes and comfy hoodies. In the very back, though, you knew that there was a little skimpy dress you used to wear back when you were in university. "... Fuck it. It's just one night."

You closed the door to your apartment with your heart hammering in your chest. You hadn't dressed like this in what felt like forever, you almost forgot how good you looked. Whatever happens, you had your trusty taser gun hidden in your thigh-high boots.

Feeling like an utter and complete boss b*tch, you entered the booming club with your friends in tow. "Y/N! I knew you still had it in ya." You rolled your eyes at one of your friends' comments, but your heart secretly swelled at her words. 

The start of the night was amusing, but as time flew by, your buddies were swooped away by unknown guys and girls, leaving you to drink all alone by the bar. Of course, it wasn't like you didn’t have dance requests and numbers asked, but none of them really interested you.

Natasha had arrived at the club a little later than you did, clad in a spy-dress and spy-shoes with various weapons hidden underneath, inside, wherever there was space. The infamous Strucker was reported to be here in this club tonight, but first, she needed to find her associate.

It wasn't hard to find you, as she assumed that an Agent would be somewhere that was easy to see, unlike the dance floor. So the bar. And luckily, by the bar, there was only one woman who fit the description given to her. You. 

To her surprise, you were way more distracting than she had expected. Your short dress hugged your curves just right, your effortless movements were eye-catching and elegant. And your smile, god. The way you smiled at the bartender made her wish she was him. 

But at that moment, she was an Agent of SHIELD, and she had a job to do.

You were just about to order another glass of your drink when a hand was laid on your shoulder. You looked back to see if it was another flirter, but was taken aback by the gorgeous woman standing there. She had her calloused hand on your shoulder, yet her eyes were not on you, scanning the crowd. 

"Uhm, can I help-" 

"How did you get here?" Natasha recited her code-word, to double-check if it really was her assigned partner.

"With my friends...?" You wondered if you were drunker than you thought, and hallucinating this beautiful woman in front of you, asking weird questions.

But the problem was, "With my friends" was the actual code-word. 

"Good. Agent Natasha Romanoff. I assume you already know about the mission. I've got intel that Strucker's up in the VIP lounge." She gently tugged at your arm and pulled you off of your stool, handing you an earpiece. 

"Oh, um..." You tried to ask this 'Agent Natasha Romanoff' what was happening, but she continued to talk about things you couldn't even start to comprehend.

"Come on, put it on. We might need it." She stared you down, in a quite intimidating manner, that you had no choice but to follow. You really didn't know what was happening, whether this was role-playing or something else, you had no idea. 

You really didn't have much else to do anyway, maybe it wouldn't be that bad to just go with it. You were a little tipsy, but not so much that you could be dreaming about this whole conversation. Maybe it was this woman's way of hitting on you? They say weird things happen in clubs, right? (They don't)

"We have to get through the 4 security details on the outside, plus the 10 estimated to be inside." You watched with your eyes glued to her smooth movements, as she checked her various hidden weapons. You were so entranced that with a little help from alcohol, you managed to completely ignore the fact that this didn't look normal. At all.

"It's fine, I know you just started. Just be on alert, alright?" Although Natasha felt her partner's whole attitude was a little off, she shook it off, reminding herself that she had just started out. "Say, what should I call you?" She asked, starting to walk towards the stairs leading to Strucker's location.

"Oh, uhm- Y/N's fine." You stuttered, suddenly pulled away from a trance-like state you were in. "Right, and where are we go-" 

Suddenly, as the two of you got to the top of the stairs, Natasha shushed you and slammed you on the wall before you made a turn around the corner. Your cheeks burned up at her roughness, and her close proximity to you.

"Okay, I've got visual. 4 men, not an issue. Stay here." She whispered, and before you could even respond, she was out of your sight.

"What the fuck?!" After a few moments, you peeked over at where Natasha had gone, just to be met with a sight of 4 bodies on the floor. You debated whether to just run away while she was distracted, but she had already gotten to you, pulling you by your arm.

"I know this is your first field mission, Agent. But I need support." You had no reason to comply, except for the shiny black gun she held in her hands. Your breath hitched at the weapon, your mouth unable to form words. Telling yourself that this will be over soon, you could only follow. At the very least, she didn’t look like she was going to shoot you.

From there, you experienced something you never thought you would, ever, in your life. As soon as Natasha kicked open the door to the lounge, bullets were flying, kicks and punches were being thrown everywhere, knives flying across the air, and whole lotta things that had you cursing in confusion and fear every 10 seconds. 

Natasha, in the corner of her eyes, saw the panic that flashed across your eyes. She shoved you to the farthest corner of the room, shielding the knives and guns that pointed your way. She usually would’ve been annoyed at an Agent’s lack of experience, but seeing you so small almost hurt her physical heart.

You were curled up by the wall, watching this intricate dance of deadliness. But even though the chaos, the woman, who called herself Agent Natasha Romanoff was like a magnet for your eyes. Her movements, her punches, kicks, even the way she held her gun was so rhythmical and controlled, that you almost forgot you were in the middle of a gun-fight.

That's when it hit you. 

She was a real Agent who mistook you for her partner. 

So when Natasha was going one-on-one and overpowered by who seemed to be the leader of the gang, you only had 2 choices in front of you. Either you run while all the other men are knocked out and the leader is distracted, or you toughen up and help Natasha.

It was perfect. The mafia-looking guy had his back to you, completely unaware that you were even in the room. All rational thoughts went out the window as you heard Natasha choke in his grip. You almost don't remember what you did after that. All you know is that you slid your stun-gun out of your boot, and shot him right on his shoulder. 

You stood still in your spot after that, watching as she cleaned up.

"Thanks for the last-minute save." Natasha's voice sounded like you were hearing her from underwater, your senses dulled from the shock. You fell to the floor, suddenly losing control of your legs. 

"Hey, what's the matter?" She dropped the knocked out and hand-cuffed body of the man on the ground, and ran over to you.

"Agent... I'm not who you think I am." You looked up at her with glossy eyes, not even knowing why you were about to cry.

-a whole lot of explaining later-

"You're a civilian." She fell down next to you, clearly horrified by this new revelation. "I don't even know how to apologize. I'm sorry." She cradled her head in her hands, cursing herself for being so irresponsible.

"Uhm, Agent Romanoff? It's okay, I think." You wiped away your stray tears, cry-laughing at yourself and this whole ridiculous situation. Natasha looked over at you with sympathy filled in her eyes, laying a hand over yours that rested on the carpet.

"Oh god, this is crazy." Natasha couldn't do anything but laugh. The two of you kept on talking and laughing about how today turned out as you dragged the handcuffed body out of the VIP exit, and into her police-car like vehicle. 

You had to let her take you back to her office, to check you for injuries and explain the situation to her boss. You must’ve received at least 50 apologies from the both of them, but you assured them that you were okay.

And... it turns out, not a lot of people can react like you did in a first fight. On top of this, the Avengers were actually looking for a support agent, who stays back at the compound and become that “girl in the chair”. 

And guess how all of that coincidence on top of a coincidence turned out.

That simple night out led you inside a gigantic tower that everyone in New York knew about, where the notorious Avengers lived, the Stark Tower. 

“Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N.” 

-a month later-

You felt emotionally fulfilled, looking out at the sight of the living room. When it was just you, it was always quiet, considering you used to lived on your own. But in a short span of a month, you quickly got used to the noisy mornings, the laughters and banters filling the room.

“Hi, принцесса.” You felt a pair of arms slide under your arms, and a small kiss planted on your bare shoulder. You giggled as Natasha twirled you around, sitting you down on the counter as she kissed you.

“Mm, good morning babe.” You whispered back. And in her strong arms, you felt what the people call love, in this fiery assassin. Natasha couldn’t ask for a better partner to share her deepest secrets with, to follow to the ends of the earth, and protect with all she had.

“Tonyyy, Y/N and Tasha are making out on your coffee beansss.” Clint yelled from his place on the couch, an evil smile on his face as Tony ran into the kitchen.

“Not my Tanzania Peaberry Coffee beans!” 

All is good. (?)

(The real Agent got shit-faced and was fired lol)

[ispyaespa]

RETRIEVED: Pretty Little Problem

TW: Spy actions, False identities, Model behaviors, Girl x Girl competition, Competition, Kidnapping, Missing persons, Decoy, Language, Insults about appearance

DATE: 21.07.24

LOCATION: [Redacted]

AGENT: Ningning

“Hang on, when do I need to enter that code you wrote down for me?”

Ningning closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she collected her thoughts. She liked Karina-unni and thought she was so cool for handling stressful missions under pressure, but technology wasn’t always her strong suit, especially when it came to coding and programing. She opened her eyes and turned to face the young woman who was driving her to the event. 

“There should be a room where you can do things like print off tickets, research local places, etc.,” Ningning told the older girl. “You’ve got Winter in your ear to help make sure you’re alone when you start entering the code. All you have to do is go to the main page for the competition, right click on the page, and select View Source Code. It will show this screen of weird commands in a boring font and you enter that code I wrote down for you after [BODY]. Got it?”

Karina winced behind the wheel as she neared the hotel and convention center where the modeling competition was being held. A week and a half ago, the 5th winner of a modeling contest went missing and the company claimed that she had a mental breakdown and stormed out of the company building. Naturally, their agency didn’t believe it and sent the aespa team to investigate. Karina was supposed to be the decoy, except her Mandarin was rusty, which meant Ningning had to sub in for her. 

“Do you need me to come with you for the registration?” Karina asked as she pulled up to the loading area for the convention center. 

Ningning shook her head and turned her head as an event staff member opened her door for her. She thanked him and exited the car, leaving Karina to find parking and the computer room in the hotel. 

“Welcome dear, do you have your ID and paperwork?” a woman at the check-in asked. 

Ningning nodded and she produced her paperwork and the fake ID with her persona for this mission: Liana Zhou. She felt someone brush up against her and turned to see a taller girl tossing her paperwork at another person seated behind the check-in table. 

“Meilin Cao, you should know me from my IG,” the taller girl announced with a haughty look. She glanced at Ningning and snorted as she turned away. “I swear the people they allow in here...”

Rude, Ningning thought as she accepted her contestant number and ID back. She listened to the woman’s instructions on where to go next and she politely thanked the woman at check-in. 

                                                           *****

“You’re barely tall enough for print ads,” one girl remarked to someone else after Ningning joined the waiting room filled with contestants. 

The other girl bristled at the comment and threw something back about the speaker’s zit that was on her cheekbone. Another contestant noticed Meilin enter the waiting room and she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Great, now the IG bitch is here,” the contestant muttered under her breath. “Well there goes my chance at the modeling contract.”

I never want to become a model for real, Ningning thought as she tried to tune out the other competitors. 

She heard the loudspeaker crackle, then a male voice asked for contestants 45-80 to come to the stage. Ningning looked at her number and realized that meant she was part of group being called. She straightened up and lined up behind some of the other competitors, following them in a straight line to the stage. 

                                                          *****

“How the f- does she do it?” Karina hissed under her breath as she tried to type the code word for word into the source code. Her eyes darted back and forth from the scrap of paper to make sure everything was correct, then she hit Save, before exiting the source code. The page refreshed and Karina peered at the contents of the page, which revealed a different name than the modeling agency promoting this contest.

“Winter, you seeing this?”

“Yeah I remember them from a past mission,” the quartermaster replied from her controls. “They ought to call themselves HYDRA at this point.”

“I’m guessing that’s a comic book reference?” Karina sighed. “Sorry, my mom wouldn’t let me read them or watch the movies.”

“Yeah they’re the bad guys and they exist throughout history,” Winter summarized. “Where’s Ningning right now?”

Karina checked her watch and realized that the younger agent would probably be on stage at this moment. She cleared her browsing history and left the Computer room quickly, in search of the convention center.

                                                          *****

“Without further ado, let’s get that envelope,” the announcer prompted. He waited for the judges to pass him the envelope with the result and he carefully opened it. The card slid out of the envelope with ease and he beamed as he stepped forward and read off the winner’s name: Meilin.

Ningning applauded with the other girls and bit back a wince as she watched the conceited IG influencer step forward to be acknowledged as the winner. Well, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go – Winter and Giselle had researched the past winners and tried to help Ningning prepare so she could be picked and taken like the other girls. Her outfit had concealed trackers in them and her shoes had the tools for self-defense and picking locks. This meant they were going to have to improvise. 

Before the other competitors could exit the stage, a loud beeping sound emitted from overhead, before the sprinklers went off. The room filled with screams and shrieks as the others tried to run off stage to avoid getting wet, and the judges tried to get everyone to calm down. Ningning pretended to be upset by the sudden incident, using her arms to cover her head, but she spotted the announcer dragging Meilin away through a side door.

While everyone else was distracted, the agent made her way to the same side door and tried to find where the announcer had taken Meilin. She heard Karina in her comms and she softly whispered that she was in pursuit. 

“Try to cut them off,” she urged the older girl as she heard Meilin complaining loudly about being manhandled. She slowly walked in the direction where she heard the voice and adjusted her tennis bracelet, which was really an electrocution whip that could shock a perpetrator out for an hour and a half.

“We need the announcer alive Ningning,” Winter reminded the agent in her communication. “Giselle is very interested in getting him to talk.” 

Ningning promised she would do what she could as she neared the area where the announcer and Meilin had stopped. She concealed herself behind the bin for towels and heard the IG influencer yelling at the announcer to explain himself. Then she heard a loud slap and the announcer barked at the victim to shut up. 

“Ningning, I’m on the other side of the door, about 2.5 feet from where you and the victim are,” Karina confirmed. “You gotta flush him out so I can get him.”

Think girl, think! Ningning thought as she tried to come up with a good excuse for revealing herself. Then it came to her – why not copy some of her jealous competitors and get close enough to the announcer to knock him out?

Silently she managed to get behind a wall and she slowly straightened up and angrily emerged from her place. She walked toward the announcer and Meilin, yelling that this contest was a joke in rapidfire Mandarin.

“I was led to believe this is for a prestigious modeling agency that was looking for rookies! She shouldn’t have won – she has a social media presence on Instagram!” Ningning shouted as she neared the pair. She pointed a finger at the announcer and screamed that he better tell the judges to recount their votes because they got the wrong winner. 

“She’s a cheat! She’s an influencer and that is an automatic disqualification from the contest! Technically she’s a freelance model already!” Ningning added. 

“Maybe you weren’t picked because you’re not model material,” Meilin shot back, despite nursing her bruised cheek. 

Ningning stiffened and got up in Meilin’s face as she demanded that she wanted the taller girl to repeat her sentence again. The announcer had been silent and stunned up to this point. Remembering he was only here for Meilin, he resumed his professionalism and tried to separate the two women civilly. 

Ningning shoved him hard in the direction of the door where Karina stood on the other side. “This is between us, not you! Make yourself useful and get the judges STAT.” 

The announcer tried to approach Ningning again and this time she smacked him with the back of her wrist, the tennis bracelet engaging and shocking his cheek. The former convulsed for a moment, then slumped against the door, unconscious. 

“Should I pull the door towards me?” Karina asked via her communicator.

[inkribbon796]

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Summary: Bing takes a step forward to helping Green with his jealousy problem.

“This is such a bad idea,” Chase said as he hunkered in an apartment building, Bing’s voice was in Chase’s earpiece. The two had kindly requested using a fifth floor apartment while the inhabitants were out, from the couple who rented the apartment.

“Hey dude, we’ve got this,” Bing promised as Chase finished setting up a sniper rifle, Oliver had helped design it. It was different than the sharpshooter was used to. Lacking any of the colors or the clearly non lethal look of his usual arsenal.

The rifle would fire a round that would complete a circuit instead of trying to harm a target. It was a bit uncomfortable for Chase to use something that even looked like a real gun, but after examining the rifle and the rounds he was using he agreed to help.

“So what yah plan on doing ta him?” Chase asked, checking the equipment over.” And checking that nothing with a camera attached to it could see him.

“Oh, you know, dude, just a lengthy 420-page PowerPoint about why I love him and how Oliver isn’t going to take my attention away from him,” Bing said. “That and a protocol program that will divert him from being within ten miles of Oliver.”

Chase froze, “Yah know, I don’t think I thank yah enough fer being on our side instead’a just joinin’ Google ta kill us all.”

“Nah, thank yourselves fer not being complete assholes,” Bing told him.

“Did you plan for there to be exactly 420 slides?” Chase chuckled.

“Well I was getting close, man, so I kept going until I just hit the number,” Bing defended.

“Hey sounds reasonable to me,” Chase agreed. “Okay, I’m going dark, tell me when.”

“Sure thing, man,” Bing promised.

Chase just knelt next to the window, watching, waiting for Green and his signal.

As Chase was waiting, his whole body went on edge as he heard a high pitched, staticky drowning sound began to seep into the room.

“Well isn’t that a sight.”

The hairs on Chase’s neck stood on end and his anger boiled as he recognized Dark’s voice. He turned to see Dark sitting on an arm chair close by as if he owned the place.

“Dark,” Chase pulled out one of his modified NERF guns and pointed it at the demon. It was full of some liquidized concoction that the Septics used on Anti to stun him so they could either put distance between them or to get a shot on him.

“Easy,” Dark smiled, as cool as if he was supposed to be there. “Don’t mind me. I’m not here to interfere. I’m here to watch a master at his craft. Whatever lover’s quarrel is going on down there, I couldn’t care less about them.”

“As if I should trust yah,” Chase spat, Dark just smiled at him. It made the marksman realize that his attention was divided and he would eventually have to choose where to put his attention: Green or Dark?

Bing was in a small park that was almost attached to the apartment. There was a wire circle almost set into the ground and painted to hide it.

The orange android was waiting to ambush Green. He was hiding Oliver’s central drive physically on his body but Oliver was completely safe, nestled next to Bing’s drive where he could protect them both.

Thankfully Green didn’t take long to take the bait.

“Bing,” Green stared at Bing, his head turning to look around the area. “Where’s Oliver?”

“Sah, dude. Ollie’s powered down for a bit,” Bing told him. “Yah had an update recently, yah look like you need one.”

“Hand over Oliver, so I can say hello,” Green threatened.

“How’s ‘bout no,” Bing told him as Green stepped into the trap. “Now!”

Nothing.

“Chase,” Bing called out quietly and rushed forward to try and keep Green in the circle.

“Move!” Chase’s voice ordered in Bing’s ear. Bing shot out some nanites at Green before jumping out of the circle and instantly a shot slipped past him and completed the circuit.

Green violently surged with electricity with the after effects of the shock and Bing moved in. He shot some of Oliver’s nanites at Green’s glowing logo and the code he sent was an “emergency shutdown procedure” that Bing had been engineered with. Usually he liked to disguise it as some type of tool.

Green let out and scream and his form almost seemed to fall apart, almost melting as his nanites folded up into his drive, deactivating completely.

Bing was on the drive in an instant, protectively covering the green drive with his nanites. He was already starting to boot up Oliver and the other android pulled his annoyed away from Bing as Chase walked out of the apartment building with the case that he’d bought the rifle in.

“The hell happened, man?” Bing snapped, his nanites swirling around Green’s drive.

“Dark showed up,” Chase admitted.

“You okay, bud?” Bing’s anger immediately evaporated.

“What did he want?” Oliver asked

“He wanted ta watch,” Chase quoted a bit. “Sick fook, might as well ‘a been jerkin’ off while he said it.”

“Did he want anything else?” Oliver asked. “Should I start a scan of the area?”

“Nah he’s gone,” Chase dismissed. “How’s angry lover boy lookin’? He gotten his PowerPoint yet?”

“Yup, I’m just gonna make sure he knows not to mess wit’ Oliver,” Bing admitted, smiling at the yellow android. “Then I’ll let Google have him back. Cover me fer a bit.”

“Gotcha,” Chase set down the rifle case and exchanged the rounds in his gun for ones designed to work on Google instead of Anti.

Oliver folded up his nanites and went back to Bing hiding him. The more docile android didn’t want to be around Google so soon. Especially when he was angry.

Google would be on his way shortly, and Green was mostly unharmed. He would have a couple new documents of information in his drive, but apart from frying some of his nanites the only lasting damage was to his pride.

After being unable to see or yell at Oliver, Google would leave with Green in hand.

[valiantlytransparentwhispers]

Just an idea I've been playing with.

Area 52

It all started with a wolf's howl that pierced the night and one man with a camera. One who just so happened to enjoy exploring the desert area around his home during the night and especially during a full moon.

He'd heard the howl and, thinking perhaps one of the wolves had escaped from the zoo two hours away, decided to investigate. What he found, however, was far worse.

When he saw it, and at that only from a distance, he managed to catch it on camera. It looked like a very large dog, but moved faster and jumped farther than any dog should be able to. The footage wasn't very good of course, but it was enough to warrant an investigation from Fact or Faked after it was submitted.

When they investigated, they discovered the thing to be real–especially when it came near their camp, barking and growling to scare them off.

Shortly after, the government swept in, claimed it was all a top secret experiment, swore them all to secrecy, and the footage was never aired.

This brings us to a small abandoned gas station in the middle of a Colorado desert. Or so it appears, anyway, for if you were to wander inside, during the middle of the night on a full moon and stand silently near the back, close to the refrigerators, you'd hear the faint sounds of someone playing a guitar. And if you were to follow the sound, it would lead you to the very last door in the far corner of the building. Were you to open the door and press your ear to the back panel, the sounds would suddenly become much clearer and the door, for that's what the panel secretly is, would open–if you had the security clearance of course. Once through the door, you'd follow the staircase down, down, down until you reached another door and another security checkpoint. Once through that door, you'd find the whole of Area 52.

The sounds of guitar playing would now be joined by the sounds of someone singing and if you were to follow the sound, you'd find a man, a janitor to be more specific, sitting outside one of the cells, playing his guitar and singing to the thing inside.

Moving closer to the cell, you'd see a fairly large wolf lying on the floor, her tail thumping occasionally as she listens.

Aaron, for that was his name, reaches the end of his song and stops. When the wolf doesn't move, he carefully begins to pack his guitar away again.

She opens her eyes again at that moment and gets to her feet, barking loudly at him.

"Ah, come on, Tala," he says. "It's 2 in the morning and I'm tired."

She barks again.

He sighs. "Can I at least go get some coffee?"

She huffs, laying down on the floor again and resting her head on her paws.

"Thank you," he says before setting his guitar down and heading off, returning a few minutes later with a cup of coffee. He takes a sip as he sits down again and picks up his guitar.

"What do you want to hear next?" he asks as he sets the cup on the floor next to his chair. "'I Hold On,' Dierks Bentley?"

Tala growls softly.

"Alright how about 'Lovin' You is Fun,' Brett Eldridge?"

She growls again.

"Okay." He falls silent for a moment, thinking. "'I Don't Dance,' Lee Brice?"

Tala huffs and Aaron nods.

"'I Don't Dance' it is." He strums a few chords. "I can't do this one so well, so don't get mad at me if I screw up."

She only huffs again, making him smile as he starts playing.

"I'll never settle down

That's what I always thought

Yeah, I was that kind of man

Just ask anyone

I don't dance

But here I am

Spinning you round and round in circles

It ain't my style

But I don't care

I'd do anything with you anywhere

Yeah you've got me in the palm of your hand, girl

'Cause I don't dance."

As Aaron sings, he remembers when he'd first seen Tala. She'd been in a cage covered in a sheet, her howls echoing through the base.

He'd found out later that they'd tried tranquilizing her, but that hadn't worked and what had ensued was a heart pounding chase until she'd eventually been cornered and caged.

The sheet had been pulled away and he'd caught his breath.

Her fur was mostly white with gray tips and her eyes were as blue as ice. As a wolf, she was twice as big as an ordinary one and twice as strong.

Moments later the full moon had set and she'd changed, becoming human. If she'd stunned him as a wolf, she shocked him senseless as a human. She was slight with a soft face framed by shoulder length pale blond hair. Her eyes were just as blue as they had been when she was a wolf and filled with fear. He hadn't known her then, but he'd felt sorry for her all the same.

Sylvia, the lead scientist, had tried to take a blood sample, but been held off by the slight girl who was much stronger than she looked. It had taken three men just to hold her still and at that barely long enough for her to get the sample. Aaron still wasn't sure if it was because she was a werewolf or because she'd been scared.

If Syl hadn't still needed a sample of her as a wolf, they might have let her go then. But as it was, they wouldn't be able to do so until she shifted again during the next full moon. But it had come around and she hadn't let anyone get near her and no amount of men had been able to hold her still.

They'd tried different methods in the months following, but nothing had worked. So there she remained, trapped in her cell.

As each full moon came and went, she howled and barked all through the night, driving General Sebastian crazy until Aaron had come through one night singing one of his songs.

She'd immediately fallen silent and the General had instantly appointed him the task of keeping her quiet.

"I thought you hated country music," Aaron had said.

"I'll take your blasted singing over that animal's racket any day," he'd replied, so here Aaron sat during each full moon.

He finishes the song and seconds later, Tala takes human form again. The moon had finally set.

He studies her as she gets to her feet and moves over to her cot.

"You could let them you know."

"What?" Tala asks as she sits down.

"Let them have the sample."

She shakes her head. "They'd put a tracker in me and follow me around the rest of my life. I couldn't take that."

He puts his guitar back in the case. "They won't let you go until they get it," he says.

She doesn't respond right away. "I know," she says softly.

"Won't you at least think about it?" he asks. "Having them follow you around all the time has to be better than being cooped up in here forever."

Tala sighs and nods. "I'll think about it," she promises.

During the next full moon as Aaron cuts through the lab on his way to Tala's cell with his guitar, he's stopped by Professor Sylvia.

"That won't be necessary tonight, Aaron," she says.

"What?" he asks. "Why?"

"She's agreed to give us the sample," comes the reply.

Aaron stands unmoving for a moment, unsure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

"Can I watch?" he asks finally.

"Sure. As long as you stay out of the way."

He nods, setting his guitar against the wall before following the Professor to Tala's cell. The full moon is already up and the wolf inside watches everyone calmly.

Aaron studies her. She didn't look resigned or even defeated. She looked.....determined.

All at once the realization slams into Aaron. She was going to try and escape.

"Uh..General," he says, approaching him.

Tala's gaze swings to him and she growls low in her throat. Aaron looks over at her, faced with the decision of revealing her plan or keeping silent.

"Yes?" General Sebastian asks.

"Uh......good luck, sir," Aaron says.

The General rolls his eyes.  "We don't need luck," he says.

"Of course, sir. Sorry, sir."

"How many times have I told you, 'Never–'"

"'Apologize. It's a sign of weakness," Aaron says. "Yes, sir."

"And don't you forget it," Sebastian says, turning to watch as Sylvia puts in the code to Tala's cell.

Aaron watches Tala as her muscles tense, ready to move.

Sylvia leaves the door open slightly as she turns to take the syringe held out to her by one of her assistants. In that moment, Tala pounces.

She springs forward, shoving the door open and knocking Sylvia over.

A few of the guards try to move in toward her, but she's ready for them, moving quickly away and racing for the door.

The door that only opened via handprint scanner.

She tries forcing it open, but she only bounces off again, her right front leg buckling as she hits the floor making Aaron wince. That had hurt.

The guards rush toward her but she gets to her feet again, growling a warning.

They pause until one manages to gather his courage and move toward her again. She lunges forward, her jaws snapping shut on his arm.

He screams in pain as the bone in his arm shatters. Tala releases him and he retreats, holding his injured arm close to his body.

The rest of the guards are a little more hesitant to advance now.

General Sebastian sighs. "We don't have time for this! Just shoot it!"

They obey, drawing their weapons and taking aim.

"No! Stop!" Aaron yells, placing himself between the guns and Tala. "Just let me talk to her. Please."

Sebastian sighs once more. "Make it quick."

Aaron turns to look at Tala. "It doesn't have to be like this if you'd just–"

She growls, shaking her head.

"They won't let you go until you do," he says. “It's impossible to get out of here on your own."

She looks at him. Then help me, her eyes seem to say.

Aaron hesitates. He knew his handprint would open the door for her.

He nods. "Okay," he says before pressing his hand to the scanner.

The light turns green and she rushes through the open door and he follows, jamming the door shut behind him to delay the others.

She races ahead of him up the stairs, taking them in giant leaps of almost 10 at a time. He follows much more slowly, finding her waiting for him at the top as the door finally opens far below them.

Aaron opens the second door for her, breathing hard, and she slips past him into the abandoned station full of empty shelves, heading for the front door and the broken windows. All that remained between her and freedom.

"Tala," he says, and she pauses, looking back at him. "Good luck."

She bobs her head once in a nod before bounding out of sight. He leans against the door frame, catching his breath until General Sebastian and the guards reach him.

"Where is she?!" Sebastian demands.

"Gone," Aaron says.

The General punches a nearby wall, cursing. "You're fired!"

They head silently back downstairs and Aaron stands for a moment longer in the stillness.

A moment later a wolf's howl echoes across the moonlit desert and he smiles before following the others, shutting the door behind him again.

A Few Years Later

Aaron drives up the narrow moonlit mountain road, nursing a hot cup of coffee in an effort to keep sleep at bay. The horizon was already growing lighter and in a few minutes the full moon would be completely set.

He always thought about Tala on these nights, wondering where she was and if she was doing okay.

He suddenly gasps and slams on the brakes of his pickup as he rounds a bend and sees a massive wolf standing in the middle of the road. The animal hardly looks up at him, staring at something on the ground in front of it and it takes Aaron a moment to take in the coiled up snake barely 4 feet away from it.

He climbs out of his truck, hearing the rattle of the snake's tail.

The wolf still doesn't move. Aaron sighs, reaching under his seat for the pistol he kept there. You never could be too safe living in Colorado.

He shakes his head, forcing himself awake as he uses two hands to aim. He pulls the trigger and the shot echoes through the forest.

The wolf collapses in relief as the bullet tears through the snake's head, killing it instantly.

Aaron rushes over, afraid he'd missed and hit the wolf instead. He stops as the moon sets and the wolf before him shifts, becoming human. He takes in her pale blond hair and the ice blue eyes.

"Tala?" he says.

She looks up at him for the first time. "Aaron?"

[dalekofchaos]

The Fireflies’ vaccine wouldn’t have worked or why Joel did the right thing

In the last part of The Last of Us, Joel kills all the fireflies and saves Ellie but by doing so he may have doomed humanity by ending the possibility of a cure being made, making the ending bittersweet and morally ambiguous. The thing is, Joel didn't really do anything wrong, and saving Ellie was the right choice, here are my reasons:

The doctors would remove Ellie's brain to try to create a vaccine, but that's not how vaccines works, a vaccine is a tamed version of a pathogen that "teaches" your body to defend against it, to do a vaccine you need to use the pathogen in small quantities or a modified version of it, Ellie is immune to it, you don't create vaccines from the immune system, that's called a serum, and it works differently, a serum is used when someone comes in contact with a disease and it contains a series of antibodies that fight the infection, but it doesn't make anyone immune. So what they were trying to do was pointless;

Even if the doctors know what they were doing, it was a wild shot a with no guarantee that it would work;

Even if a vaccine was successfully made they wouldn't save the world, the world was destroyed 20 years ago, society collapsed and was rebuilt again on a new way, and everyone already new how to deal with it, also the greatest threat were not even the cordyceps fungus anymore, it was the infected (that the vaccine couldn't do nothing about) and the crooked humans that walked the earth. Besides that, the fireflies had no way to distribute the vaccine worldwide, not even in a national level.

If you listen to the tapes in the Colorado segment, it pretty much confirms that Ellie is not unique and they wouldn’t be able to make a vaccine anyway. The doctor has practically lost his mind and Ellie is just his white whale. Ellie was not the first subject and she most likely wouldn’t have been the last. 

The doctor pretty much went against the common ethical code of all medical practitioners just for a CHANCE at a vaccine/cure.  

And wouldn't it take a lot of time to study her? A day to do all the tests is outright impossible. Just look at the corona vaccine. With all the tech the world has the biotechnologists are going to take more than a year to make a vac.

Vaccines for Fungal infections are nearly impossible and are a logistical nightmare.Even in today’s world,they can only be treated with antibiotics and anti-fungal medicine. They didn’t even bother with thoroughly researching Ellie’s blood and trying to extract the fungal specimen without killing her. The tests were blood samples and samples from the area where she was bit and then only cutting her brain open as THE LAST POSSIBLE USE for her, then when their step 1 was "lol just kill this incredibly rare specimen" I was shocked.

BTW, PS4 version actually removed a piece of paper that's available in all the other forms of the game. What is this piece of paper? Just the one that describes how they've tried this process dozens of times before and how they've NEVER gotten any useful info.

The Fireflies are terrorists. The Fireflies are terrorists, and not even competent ones. Here we go. We first hear of the Fireflies in credits, where they are taking credit for attacking the Federal Disaster Response Agency. Not a good start.The next time we start to see hints of them is through graffiti in the quarantine zone. What does this graffiti say? Fireflies will take it all back. That sounds great! Burn it all down. ...oh. That’s, uh, a little less great. Fucking die, pig. Um… Uh, that’s uh, not a great look here guys.And that goes on and on. The graffiti does not exactly inspire. All it does is get angry.Next time we see them, it’s when they literally bomb a checkpoint and supply truck, then begin firing wildly all over the place. This is straight terrorism. They don’t care if there is collateral damage, in fact, Joel gets injured in this scene.Then we meet Marlene, the so-called Queen Firefly. Injured and on the run, the military is slowly wiping them out. This leads to a line of dialogue that is absolutely hilarious. Marlene starts to preach about “We’ve been quiet. Been planning on leaving the city, but they need a scapegoat. They’ve been trying to rile us up. We’re trying to defend ourselves”Those are big words from someone who just bombed a checkpoint.This clearly shows us that Marlene cannot be trusted as a narrator. She has an agenda and is lying to Joel and possibly herself. And that despite how effective guerrilla tactics usually are, her group is still managing to get absolutely devastated. They are failing so badly that they have to recruit smugglers just to try to get Ellie out of the city.So begins the trek showing dead Fireflies at every turn. Downtown subway station? Dead Fireflies. The Capitol building? Dead Fireflies. Pittsburgh? Oh, let’s talk about Pittsburgh.Pittsburgh is a monument to Firefly failure. Pittsburgh was originally another Quarantine zone held together by FEDRA. So what happened here? Well, times got hard, and the Fireflies instigated a civil war or insurrection. This fighting lasted for months, with Fireflies lynching soldiers that they caught alone, burning soldiers alive after dousing them in gasoline, and FEDRA retaliating by executing Fireflies. FEDRA finally gave up and retreated from Pittsburgh, putting the Fireflies in control- and then it all fell apart. The people of Pittsburgh discover that the Fireflies had planned to move right into the space FEDRA had previously occupied. And so, after this was discovered, the Fireflies were driven out just like FEDRA had been. Only much faster, and with less fight. And now Pittsburgh is nothing but anarchy. People gunned down in the streets for nothing. Rooms full of bodies, clothes and shoes. Almost looks like after images of Dachau. Bravo, Fireflies. Excellent revolution.Next up, we meet Tommy, Joel’s brother, and disenfranchised Firefly. He worked for them for years, going all the way to Colorado for them. Somewhere along the way, he lost faith in them and left their cause. He doesn’t specify exactly why, but it seems he might have lost faith in their methods.Then we come to the University. This is where we really discover how incompetent the Fireflies actually are. One of the first notes you see at University is about a guy who is angry he got yelled at for falling asleep on guard duty. Real professionals. This same note indicates that while they’re still getting some supplies, it’s not enough for what’s needed, with gasoline being particularly short. The next note comes from a recording, telling us that they’re losing more guards, with the doctor clearly concerned about how much equipment and data will be lost if they have to move. The doctor even calls the Fireflies incompetent in this note. And then we have this genius.. That’s right. Bitten by his own lab monkey. Because he just had to set it free, rather than putting it down humanely. Brilliant work sir. Brilliant. He kills himself before turning though, but not before informing us that they hadn’t accomplished anything for over five years. And even that small breakthrough was ultimately a failure. And now the entire lab is compromised, and abandoned.And then there’s a long break from Fireflies until Salt Lake. Ellie, having just gone underwater, isn’t breathing. Joel attempts to perform CPR on her when our hero Firefly shows up, and knocks Joel unconscious. Ah, violence. The first solution. Willing to forgive it, since it strongly mirrors the scene with Sarah, only the Firefly is in the soldier’s shoes this time. But still. Military was gentler.And now for the hospital. The final failure of the Fireflies. This is where so many people are convinced that Joel screws the world by preventing a vaccine. But somehow, I just don’t think so. This is one last desperate bid by the Fireflies for control. How do they intend to do this? Comprehensive bloodwork? No. Vigorous testing with laboratory animals, like, oh, maybe monkeys? No, someone let all their monkeys go. Crack open her head and hope for the best? Hell yeah! Does the fact that they’ve lost their biologist concern them? Nah, it’ll be fine! Does the fact that this is the only time they’ve seen immunity to this degree even give them pause? Pfft, crack her open! Does the fact that there has never been a successful vaccine against fungus give them pause? PASS THAT SCALPEL! No need to think this over, let’s blow our whole load on this once in a lifetime lucky strike as fast as possible. No, I’ve never heard the story about the goose who laid the golden eggs, tell it to me after I finish butchering surgery. Even if we make this vaccine, how will we deploy it? You're thinking too hard, hand me the saw!This is just bad science. Done by bad scientists. Cheered on by fools. Fools who wanted to murder Joel after he made that long trip.And for people who insist on government and democracy, it’s funny how they didn’t risk telling Ellie their “plan” and just sedated her and rushed her to the table.

Even by SOME MIRACLE they managed to make a vaccine, the world ain't gonna automatically return to what it was. It's a dog eat dog world and that is the new normal. Infected, cannibals, more psychos like David and raiders are still there and it ain't going away soon or maybe ever. On top of that, mass production and distribution of a vaccine is an absolute logistical nightmare in a post apocalyptic world- they simply don't have enough resources for that. And who's to say The Fireflies wouldn't use it to as a bargaining tool to put everyone, willing or not, under their new rule? And even given all that, they debated killing Joel after he delivered Ellie. He did the job and the payment he received was getting knocked out and being marched outside of the safe zone AT GUNPOINT WITHOUT HIS WEAPONS AND SUPPLIES! The Fireflies broke their deal and fucked Joel over. Joel had ever right to kill them and save Ellie.

So I believe what Joel did in the end was the right thing, the fireflies was an extremist group that was willing to do anything not to save the world, but to prove their point, even kill an innocent girl under a delusional precept. 

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Tea Rose

Prompt: Empty whiskey bottle(s)

Group: H

-

Exit Strategy

“I hear you beat up Moe French with that cane of yours.”

District Attorney Albert Spencer was staring at him with what he no doubt thought was intimidation, his nostrils flaring. Mr Gold was unimpressed. He remembered when Spencer had been a king, commanding armies and fighting pointless wars. He hadn’t been impressed by him then, either. Not that Spencer remembered his old life, of course.

“And now you have to decide whether to proceed with charges against me,” said Gold, easing his grip on the handle of his cane. “An unenviable task.”

“Sheriff Swan said you might have killed him if she hadn’t stopped you.”

“That sounds like speculation on her part,” he said. “A dangerous path for a law enforcement official to tread.”

Thrashing Moe French over a death he didn’t remember had been pointless, if satisfying, and Gold regretted allowing the Sheriff to see the full force of his anger. He had been nursing guilt and heartbreak for years before the curse, and it had hit him with the force of a train when he had heard Emma Swan speak her name, his true identity roaring to life in his head, old agony piercing his heart. It had taken everything he had to walk calmly out of the inn and return home, where he had finished off a bottle of whisky and curled up weeping. 

The empty bottle had mocked him the next day, with his pounding head and aching limbs, his body drained of tears and sick with grief. Since that night he had been walking a fine line, laying his plans, pushing his heartache down deep. The loss of the cup, the one memento he had of Belle, had sent him over the edge. A few broken bones were the least that Moe French deserved. He only wished it had made him feel better. 

“Beating up the town’s florist on Valentine’s Day.” Spencer sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “Not exactly in the spirit of the holiday, Gold.”

“Well, I suppose I could have shot him with an arrow,” remarked Gold. “Kept the Cupid theme going.”

“This isn’t a joke!” snapped Spencer. “You kidnapped the man, drove him out to the middle of nowhere and almost beat him to death!”

“‘Almost’.” Gold rolled his eyes, shaking his hair back. “He stole from me. I was simply reclaiming my property.”

“Property which the Sheriff informs me was safely at the station while you went on the damn rampage!” Spencer was scowling at him. “I realise you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I thought you had enough sense not to do your own dirty work.”

“I’m flattered that you think of me at all,” said Gold. “As to doing dirty deeds, I suppose you’d know all about that. On the campaign finance front, for example. It would be a pity if someone were to inform the Storybrooke Mirror of all those pesky little conflicts of interest.”

Spencer slammed his palm down on the desk with a crack.

“Don’t threaten me!” he barked. “I’ll remind you that you’re charged with a serious assault!”

“I’ll remind you that it’s election year,” drawled Gold. “So let’s not pretend that you’re going to follow either procedure or your conscience on this one. Just tell me how much it’s going to cost me.”

Half an hour later, he was leaving the office of Storybrooke General Hospital’s CEO, cane clicking on the tiles. A substantial donation to the hospital had been named as the price for dropping the case against him. Along with a donation of similar size to Spencer’s reelection campaign. Regina would be furious about him evading justice, but that was a bonus as far as he was concerned.

He turned out of the corridor into a waiting area, and almost walked into Regina, who took a hasty step back. Her mouth opened angrily, but then she seemed to realise who he was, and there was a flash of something in her eyes. Panic? Interesting.

“Mr Gold,” she said. “What brings you to the hospital?”

“Philanthropy,” he said, with a thin smile. “You?”

That look of panic was there again, and her head jerked, as though she wanted to glance over her shoulder. She seemed to catch herself.

“I just thought I’d look in on poor Mr French,” she said, pouting. “Quite the number you did on him. Those broken bones won’t heal easily.”

“Good,” he said. “That’ll serve as a useful reminder then, won’t it?”

“So much aggression over a tea cup,” she said. “Was it worth it?”

Gold smiled.

“You’re lecturing me on overreactions?” he said. “Don’t you have a vendetta to pursue, Madam Mayor? Don’t let me keep you.”

She rolled her eyes, and he stepped back on one foot to let her pass. Her heels clicked as she marched off down the corridor, and Gold glanced to the side, through the waiting area she had just emerged from. There was a door with a keypad mounted on it at the end, the sign on it stating that it was the psychiatric ward, and Gold’s eyes narrowed. Was that the reason for Regina’s look of fear? What was behind the door that she was afraid he might see?

He waited, pacing slowly back and forth, one eye on the locked door. After five minutes or so a severe-looking nurse marched in with a large ring of keys hanging from one thumb. She went to a locked cupboard and opened it up, taking out bottles of medication and dropping pills into a small plastic cup before locking the cupboard again. He watched as she tapped out a code on the keypad of the door and disappeared through it.

She was gone perhaps ten minutes, and his curiosity was growing. Why would Regina be interested in the psychiatric ward? He couldn’t think of anyone from their land who might be in there. A noise from behind the door made him look away, and he pretended to be searching for change for the nearby vending machine as the nurse marched past him, clipboard in hand.

Gold walked quickly to the door, tapping out the code that he had memorised and pushing it open. A set of stairs led downwards, and he took them, hearing the door close behind him. The light was dim, daylight from outside limited to a line of windows high on the walls. Each door had a hatch in it, and Gold opened the first and peered in. Empty. He moved to the next, the hatch squeaking as he opened it, and his legs buckled as a wave of shock and pain surged over him, dragging at him, clawing at his skin.

The woman in the cell stared at him from her position on the cot, knees up and arms wrapped around them, a vague and somewhat hopeless expression on her face. She looked vastly different from the last time he had seen her, when her blue eyes had flashed at him in her anger, tears brimming over as she walked out of his life forever. But she was real, and she was alive, and he could feel his heart breaking all over again.

“Belle!” he whispered.

She eyed him, and the total lack of recognition in her face made him want to cry.

“Excuse me?”

Gold clenched his jaw, turning slowly on his heel. The severe nurse was staring at him, keys clutched in one hand and a chart tucked under her arm.

“This patient is to be released into my care,” he said calmly. “Open this door.” “I’ve had no paperwork,” she said, frowning. “Without the proper authority, I’m not releasing—”

He moved so quickly she barely had time to squeak in surprise as Gold grabbed her and shoved her against the wall.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” he rasped. “I am taking this patient out of here. Now.”

“I’ll call the Mayor!” she spluttered, and Gold grinned.

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” he said softly. “You tell Madam Mayor that I know what she did. And that I now have a score to settle.”

He snatched the keys from her grip, turning back to the cell. The nurse fled, but he ignored her. Let her go to Regina. He unlocked the door, opening it up, and Belle looked up at him with that dazed, unfocused expression.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Sweetheart, I’m taking you out of here, understand? Can you walk?”

“Who are you?” she asked, and he felt his lip tremble at the sound of the voice that had haunted his dreams.

“My name’s Mr Gold,” he said. “And I’m here to take you home.”

Confusion made her brow crease, her lips pursing as she shifted towards the edge of the cot, almost close enough for him to touch.

“Do I know you?” she asked softly, and he shook his head, feeling tears sting his eyes.

“No,” he whispered. “But you will.”

[calpalirwin]

No Shame

Summary: You steal Ashton’s prop from No Shame to create your own art.

A/N: Idea courtesy of @carebearofriddles​. Sorry this took me so fucking long!

Content: Typical goofy shenanigans

Word Count: 2.4k

And away, and away we go!

__

The music was blasting as you moved through your routine. You twirled- straight into a solid chest- and screamed, not having heard your boyfriend come home. “Hey, baby,” he grinned, breathless and excited. 

“Hi,” you mumbled, happy he was home. “How was the studio?”

“It was great, baby,” he mumbled, brushing a flyaway strand of hair out of your face before kissing you needily. 

“Mmm, that good, huh?” you smiled up at him after you broke the kiss. 

“Fuckin amazing! We talked about the new music video. I’m gonna play a plastic surgeon!”

“Aw, Ash, that’s amazing!” you smiled, your mind racing a mile a minute for a different reason now. Hot doctor Ashton? Fuck yes. 

“Yeah!” He was still grinning and his gorgeous eyes were a kaleidoscope of greens and golds and browns. “But what’s this routine you were doing, baby?” he asked, shifting the focus on you and your art. 

“Oh, just something new,” you answered. “Experimenting with different things.”

“Oh yeah?” and now his eyes were shining for a different reason. 

“Mhm,” you smirked. “Something like this?” and you twirled away from him to demonstrate with more exaggeration than you needed as you easily lift one leg high in the air and then flipped your entire body through a spin. You landed on the foot you had lifted and did the same move again before landing in a split before him, grinning upwards. 

He reached down to help you up to your feet and you jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. “Damn, I love it when you show off your flexibility,” he practically growled into your neck as his hands squeezed at your ass.

“Oh do you now?” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. 

“Fuck woman, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, his mouth hot as it traveled along the column of your throat. 

You laughed the whole time he carried you upstairs to the bedroom. 

Neither of you slept as you spent the night tangled up in each other, both talking about your crafts and engaging in a craft of your own. 

~~~

A Friday evening found you sulking on the couch. Ashton was shooting the music video, leaving before the sun was even up. You had been right behind him, headed to your dance studio. But even after perfecting the routine, something still felt off. You were known for having dance routines that not only went off the beaten path. You were known for creating routines that not only pushed your limits physically, but pushed the audience’s limits psychologically. In short, you had an affinity for dark and twisted. It was what set you apart from what you considered to be the “traditionalists” in the world of dance. And while this routine was definitely taxing on your body, it was still missing that “umph” to put it over the top.

So after a grueling few hours, you were sulking on the couch, racking your brain over what it was you were missing. You checked your phone every now and then to see if Ashton had messaged you, before you went back to the mind-numbingness of the television, your brain in overdrive. You wanted to relax and let the tv show transport you elsewhere. But you also wanted to make a breakthrough with your routine. The battle over which would take priority in your head both made you agitated and desperate for Ashton. He knew how to make your brain silent in a way you couldn’t on your own. That was why you two worked so well as a couple. Each of you brought out a quiet stillness in the other- a quiet stillness that was desperately needed and commonly overlooked in the public world you both inhabited.

You heard the door but didn’t both to look up, knowing he’d sense your mood and just quietly snuggle up next to you. So when he slid into view with a grand “Tada!” while wearing a headpiece with far too many mirrors on it, your flight or fight response kicked in. And you fought. A shriek left your lips while your fist flew, connecting with whatever it could reach, which happened to be his upper thigh, dangerously close to the inside.

“Fucker!” you continued to shriek, adrenaline sending you to your feet as you continued to land punches on his body.

“Ow, okay! Sorry!” he giggled, wrapping you tight so you couldn’t beat up on him anymore, not that your blows were doing any real damage as you were a delicate strong and he was actually strong strong. When he was convinced you’ve calmed down enough to stop hitting him, he let you go to take the contraption off his head. He shook his head, “Ah, thing was giving me a headache.”

“And me a heart attack,” you laughed, the initial shock wearing off and giving way to laughter.

“Sorry,” he giggled again. “Misread the room. What’s up? What happened?” he asked, his demeanor completely shifting from goofy to concerned as he sat you both down on the couch.

“White noise,” you mumbled the code phrase, leaning your head against his shoulder. His arm wrapped immediately around you, his thumb rubbing small circles in your lower back. The code phrase had come about in your earlier days of dating when you had flown into his place screaming that the world was too loud and you just needed white noise to drown it out. And he had held you silently to him until he evoked that quiet stillness in you for the first time. It had become as commonplace in your conversations with each other as “I love you.”

His thumb continued to rub in circles on your lower back as you sat there in silence, your eyes trained to the mirrored headpiece from hell. Instead of the quiet stillness taking over, an idea formed in your head. Then, like a light flicking on in a pitch black room, you had it. You shot up to your feet, excitement making you bounce on your toes. “How long do you have this?” you asked, picking up the prop and cradling it gently.

“Well, it’s Friday. And I don’t have to be back until Monday at 7. So… however long that is,” he told you simply, his brain racing to catch up to yours. “Wait… why do you need to kn- babe. No. You can't take it.”

But it was too late. It was already in your hand and you were bounding out the door calling out “Don’t wait up!”

“Use the studio downstairs!” he calls out after you, not wanting you out so late.

“I need the stage!” you shout back, pulling the front door closed.

~~~

It’s a little past three in the morning when you stumble back into the house, body spent and in search of Ashton.

You find him still awake in the downstairs studio- a basement he had converted into a musical space for himself with a dancing area for you- pounding away on his drums. “Hey you,” he smiled, bringing a thunderous finish to whatever he had been playing before setting aside the drumsticks and pushing his sweaty black locks out of his face. “How was the studio?”

It was a dumb question. You had been sending him videos of what you had been working on all night. It was part of why he was still up himself, his phone buzzing incessantly with your updates. The other part was he never slept all that great without you.

You slid to the floor, stretching out your aching muscles. “It was amazing!” you started before rambling through your thoughts as you stretched. “Like I was stuck right? Something just wasn’t clicking. I needed something to put it over the top and I couldn’t figure it out. And then you! You gorgeous, BRILLIANT MAN! You had my answer! I love you!” And with the last sentence you were back up on your feet and trapezing your way over to cover him in grateful kisses.

“Glad I could help, babe,” he giggled against your neck. “Anything I can do now that you’re back?”

You practically moaned at the way his hands were rubbing at your back, not noticing how sore and spent your body actually was. “This,” you mumbled into his chest, clinging to him. “Keep rubbing my back, please.”

“C’mon then,” he coaxed. “Let’s go to bed and I’ll rub your back.”

“Not allowed to fall asleep on me until you rub my back,” you warned, as you both yawned, the exhaustion of a long day setting in.

“I won’t,” he promised.

Your back wasn’t the only thing that got rubbed upstairs in bed, neither of you falling asleep until the dawn broke out across the bedroom floor.

~~~

“So No Shame. Ashton. What the hell, man?” the interviewer asked.

Ashton laughed. While everyone was gushing over the music video, the conversation always circled back to the mirrored headpiece he wore.

The interviewer was still talking, “I mean like… your eyes. You all have pretty eyes, fans have pointed that out for years. And we get a real good look of yours in the video. But damn, personal space, mate.”

“Yeah, I felt like a fuckin’ space alien. I could only wear it for short bursts of time,” Ashton laughed, rubbing at his temples in memory of the day of the shoot.

“Yeah, I bet the headaches that thing must have caused were killer.”

“Oh, it was worth it though. Probably the coolest prop we’ve ever used.”

“Oh, got a question!” the interviewer said, looking at his computer screen. “Frontmanash wants to know where the prop is now?”

Ashton chuckled as his cheeks flushed. “Funny story actually. So I came home and scared my girlfriend with it. After she calmed down, she took it and ran, and I haven’t seen it since. Which means she probably broke it and was afraid I’d get mad. So I had to explain to the prop guys when I went back to the shoot that I lost it. Surprisingly they weren’t that mad about it, saying that they had enough footage and I mean, I guess they made it work.”

“Well, we actually got your prop director on the line,” the interviewer informed him. “You’re on!”

“Yeah, uh, Ashton, your girlfriend called me in the middle of the night, and I sold her the prop for a fiver so I could go back to sleep. It’s hers now, mate.”

Ashton laughed loudly. “I was wondering why you guys weren’t mad at me! I was like ‘geez that thing cost them like 50 quid to make, they’re gonna be pissed!’ And you sold it to her for a fiver?!”

“It was 1 am, I was exhausted. That thing was already haunting my dreams. I tried to give it to her for free, but she insisted.”

Ashton leaned back in his seat and continued to laugh, “Oh, that’s great!” while the interviewer stifled their own laughter.

~~~

“Spot your turns!” you laughed as Luke and Mike tumbled to the ground. “C’mon, I’m doing this in a mirrored head prop, and I can do it!”

“You do this for a living!” Mike grumbled as he righted himself.

“Ash and Cal figured it out,” you pointed out.

“They’re the rhythm section!”

“Yeah, we got moves!” Calum grinned as him and Ashton danced like dorks on the other side of the studio floor.

“Why are we doing this again?” Luke asked, raking back his blonde curls.

“Because I asked nicely,” you grinned.

“Because Ash said he’d kick our ass if we said no,” Luke grinned back.

You whirled, keeping perfect balance despite the headpiece throwing off your center of gravity. “Aw! You threatened them for me? How sweet!”

“Easy there, love,” Ashton chuckled, lifting the contraption up and off your head. “You’re gonna fall on your ass like these two.”

“Will not,” you countered, your hands reaching up to stop him and slam it back into place. “Alright! From the top!”

~~~

“I love the way you’re screamin’ my name,” the song finished, and you let loose a wild scream. The yell echoed out across the auditorium, reverberating off the walls before the applause drowned it out.

You bowed with the men before hurrying offstage. “Uh, Y/N?” Andy asked, having ran from his seat to meet you all.

“Yeah?” you asked, the water bottle you were about to drink from pausing at your lips.

“Don’t be mad, but I livestreamed your performance, and fans want that to be the music video instead of what we made.”

Water began to spill down your chin before Ashton’s hand steadied the water bottle as you stood there in shock. “What?” you finally croaked out.

“Oh, shit, this is good. Like really good,” Calum said, having pulled up the video on his phone.

You all crowded around him, reading the comments rolling in under the video. “So?” Andy prompted. “We can do it like how we did with Youngblood, where there were two music videos. What do you guys think?”

“I think I’m still in shock,” you got out. You had made this dance routine for your showcase. While you knew videos of your performance would surface, the audience would be limited to those in the dancing community. For it to be used as an alternate music video for your boyfriend’s band? You weren’t sure if you were ready for that type of public scrutiny.

“Look,” Andy started to apologize. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy or anything. But people love it. More than just the people out there in that room.”

You looked at Ashton in uncertainty. You were less afraid of what this meant for you- you were proud of your craft and more than happy to share it- and more concerned with what he thought of this. The band had worked hard to create their music video and you didn’t want to diminish that hard work, especially when your own routine derived heavily from what they had already done.

Ashton grabbed your hand and squeezed it reassuringly, understanding what you weren’t saying. “I think it sounds great. Guys?”

“People sure seem to love it,” Mike commented.

“I love it,” Luke agreed.

“I already said it’s awesome,” Calum said.

The five men turned to you, expectant and hopeful. “Looks like you boys have a new music video,” you grinned.

__

Tag List

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[miaa4tez]

Season 3, Episode 1 or so help me god... Also available on AO3.

Finally // beautiful stranger 

He sort of thought she’d maybe... say something, after everything. He’d walked home that night a bundle of uncertainty and self-doubt, but for the first time, he actually felt a bit hopeful. He and Maeve couldn’t seem to stop missing one another, and he was damn near determined that this time, it’d be different. 

 

But then the weekend came and went, and he hadn’t heard from her once, and he found himself growing more self-conscious by the second. Had he been too late? Did he miss his chance for real this time? Was she really... over him? 

 

He nearly races to school come Monday morning, a ball of nerves and pent up energy. He tries being happy for Eric as he recounts endless details about his weekend with Adam, really he does, but all he could think is whether Maeve had truly heard his confession of love and felt... nothing. That might just be the thing to do him in for good. 

 

It takes him a few laps through the school but he finally finds her in the library, a book perched on her lap and her thumbnail between her teeth. He nearly loses his nerve, can’t help but stare at her like this for a moment - unguarded, serene - but then he reminds himself that he’s done being an asshole, damnit, and pushes forward. 

 

“Um, Maeve?” Fucking loser. Man up. 

 

He sees her jaw clench, her teeth biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes shut briefly before she flips a page. He hates that he elicits that response from her now. “Studying, dickhead.” 

 

He watches her swallow and her eyes seem to be going over the same line over and over. 

 

He clenches his hands at his side. “Can we talk?” He unclenches his fists, stretches them in the silence. “Please.” 

 

She’s so good at masking her emotions, but he catches a slight hitch as she clears her throat, shuts her book with a definitive thud and stands abruptly. She meets his eyes, cool and steady, and he feels himself shrink under the weight of her gaze. “I’ve got to get to class.” 

 

She pushes past him then, out the door, and for a moment he considers letting her go. Surely she deserves better than him, better than the hurt he’s caused her. But then he spies her jacket left dangling over the couch and his body is moving without his consent.

 

“Look I know I said some stupid things but I really think we ought to talk it out so I could tell you how sorry I am,” he pleads, her jacket draped across his arm as he strides behind her. 

 

She speeds up, forcing him to trail after her. “Not much to talk about then, is there? You’re sorry, so that’s it. We’re good then.” She bites the corner of her thumb, refusing to turn and face him as she weaves through the halls. 

 

“Well I just thought...” He stops short. What did he think, really? “I hadn’t heard from you this weekend,” he mutters instead. 

 

She stops in front of her locker, flicks her eyes to his briefly, searching. He lamely extends her jacket to her and she snags it from him a touch too harsh. “Yeah well. I’ve been busy. Not everything is about you, you know.” 

 

He buries his hands deep in his jacket pockets. He’s a little ashamed it’s taken him this long to congratulate her. “Yeah, no, of course. Sorry. Congratulations, by the way. I saw you on TV.”

 

The corner of her mouth turns up in the barest hint of a smile, but she ignores his attempt to meet her eyes and reaches for her Maths book. “Right. Well it wasn’t just me.” 

 

“You should be proud of yourself, Maeve. They couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

If he’s thawing her at all, she won’t let on. She bites her bottom lip anxiously and slams her locker in a hurry, but he presses on, hands extending then retracting back to his pockets. 

 

“And I just thought we could clear the air, you know. Be friends again?... I’d really like to be your friend again, Maeve. At least.” He shakes his head. This isn’t going well. “I’ve let you down and I know that. And I understand if you didn’t lis-“ 

 

“Otis.” She interrupts him, exhaling his name almost as if she’s got no energy left. He sucks in a breath and looks at her. Sees the hurt swimming in her eyes. “Forget it, okay? We’ve tried being friends but all we do is hurt one another.” She wraps her arms tight around herself, her eyes boring holes into her shoes. “I’ve got enough people in my life to hurt me. I don’t need another.” 

 

She meets his eyes then and he couldn’t save this if he tried. He opens his mouth anyway - foolishly - but whatever he intended to say is drowned out by the class bell. 

 

Her eyes flicker to his once more - pleading him to fight back? Maybe, but she’s pushed past him and out of sight before he can find the words.

 

...

 

She’s basically a ghost for the rest of the week, slipping through the halls in silence and keeping her eyes to the ground. She‘s forgotten how easy it was to go unnoticed in this school, and she both loves and hates how easily she slips back into it. Fleetingly she thinks that she hasn’t seen Otis once, even from the corner of her eye, and it’s not like she cares or anything - she hardly noticed, really, fuck off - but the clinic has been almost nonexistent and she’s got rent due Monday and this spat between them is really fucking with her source of income.

By Friday she’s said maybe ten words total to another human being (three of which being “Piss off, Isaac” when the wanker insisted on perching himself at her doorstep after she refused to answer his calls), but she found herself somewhat comforted by still having people around her. The fact is she hates the idea of going home to an empty trailer almost as much as she doesn’t want to be at school, so she sucks it up and makes plans to ask Aimee if they can walk home together. Thinks maybe she can spend the night there if she asks, too. God, she hates asking for things. 

 

It’s not just Otis she’s avoiding. It’s everything. Her mom, her shitty fucking luck, the reality that of all the Quizheads, she’s least likely to get a full ride scholarship to Uni even though that’s the only way she can realistically afford to go. She knows she‘s destined for more than a shit job at the mall and a double wide with no heat, but she’s certain she was born in the wrong dimension, because in this one life is determined to fuck her over. 

 

Her mind is a tangle of self-doubt but she’s trying her fucking damnedest to silence it all as she waits for Aimee by the school’s entrance, perched against a tree and attempting to focus on Silas Marner - she finds it far superior and the more relatable of George Eliot’s works, no wonder it took her so long to finish Middlemarch - but she’s been standing here for over an hour and Aimee is nowhere to be found. In fact, the front lawn is basically empty aside from a couple stoners and some horny couple grinding on a bench in the corner. She checks her phone, shoots a text to Aimee, waits five minutes for the three dots to pop up and when the message comes through, she feels her heart fall to her feet.

Steve wants to try hugging. Raincheck?

The sun is setting as she walks home alone, a crisp in the air that wasn’t there last week, and she’s trying to match her steps to her heartbeats but it’s proving harder than she’d like. Who says her breathing’s more ragged than usual? Sod off. 

She wishes she hadn’t lent Erin her headphones - she’ll never see those again either - because she could really use something right now to drown out her racing thoughts. She focuses instead on the faded crescent moon rising in the sky, and by the time she walks onto the lot the sky is dark and the only thing she wants is to curl into a ball in her bed and not leave until Monday morning.

She sees the bag from far away, hanging from the door handle of her trailer. She looks left and right on impulse, wonders if it was Isaac before she feels certain it wasn’t. If her steps quicken, she’ll never admit to it.

She snags the bag quickly and slams the door behind her, fingers itching to find out what’s inside. Her hand wraps around a binder and she pulls it out slowly, suddenly nervous. A note flutters out with it and falls to her feet, and her jaw clenches as she recognizes the familiar scrawl.

 

You deserve better than all of us.

She stares at the message a moment more because she collapses into a seat at the table, binder spread out before her. She opens the first page and her throat tickles with the emotion of it all.

It’s a collection of paperwork, brochures and articles and informational pamphlets. Schools she mentioned, universities she’s named in passing conversations when she thought they were just killing time before his next session. He compiled them all by the areas of study she might be most interested, and she smirks despite herself that each school is color coded. He’d always busted her for organizing the clinic schedule like that. He’s even taken the time to highlight new places she hasn’t considered, places that offer creative writing programs and financial scholarships for independents.

She feels the smile on her lips but it’s like her brain catches up, stunned for a moment by the gesture, and she’s suddenly furious.

 

Who does he think he is? He doesn’t know what she needs, what she wants, what’s best for her. All he’s done since he came into her life was cause her pain, and now he’s trying to be some fucking savior for her? She snags a sweater strewn over the couch and is out the door before she even knows where she’s going. All she knows is that he doesn’t get to make some grand gesture and have her forgive him. It’s bullshit. She’s going to storm over there and tell him exactly where he can shove his fucking charity. He’s -

-standing in the middle of the bridge. Waiting for her.

Her breath catches in her throat and she absently notes that he looks terrified. There are so many things she wants to spit at him but for some reason she can’t find words just yet. He shocks her by speaking first.

“I didn’t want you to have to come all the way to me again,” he shrugs, the corner of his lip curling up just slightly.

She crosses her arms quickly, petulant as a child as she scoffs at him. But despite herself, she feels lighter standing before him. Damn it all to hell. “How’d you know I’d even come to you?” She’s trying for offhanded but knows she doesn’t manage it.

He scratches his ear and looks to his shoes. “I didn’t?” He has the decency to sound sheepish. “I figured I’d give it an hour or so and see if you called maybe.”

“Oh, only an hour then?” She deadpans. She gets way too much satisfaction from his rosy cheeks.

He cocks his head just so, offering her a half smile. “Maybe two,” he relents.

She feels her mouth pulling into a grin but she bites the inside of her cheek before it erupts. Instead she nods once and wrings her hands together by her chest. The silence sits between them and it’s colder out here than it was an hour ago.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him breath, and he must realize how quiet he said it because he clears his throat and meets her eyes. “I’m really sorry.” Louder this time, more conviction.

She can see the sincerity in his eyes and he always did know how to get to her. She nods this time, her mouth twisting in a wry smirk. “Yeah you should be,” she jokes, but it doesn’t feel much like a joke once it’s out of her mouth, and she feels the frustration seep back in. “You know, you can’t go around trying to manipulate me by doing something nice. Doesn’t work like that. You’re not charming, you know.”

Otis blinks. “Is that what you were coming to tell me?”

“What?”

“You were headed to my house, weren’t you? Was that what you were going to say?”

Her eyes widen, indignant, and the anger mounts. “Yes,” she demands. “You can’t just hurt me and expect it to all be okay just like that. It’s not. I trusted you, Otis, and you let me down. Everyone else is shit but I never thought you’d...” her voice catches and a small sob fills her chest but she won’t let it out. Refuses. Instead she stops, catching her breath and turning her head to the side as angry tears threaten to pour over. She digs a nail into her palm to stop them. She won’t let him do this to her again.

He takes a tentative step forward and reaches out for her slightly, and she finds great satisfaction when he retracts his hand, until she follows his gaze and realizes he must notice that she’s wearing his sweater. Shit.

It seems to embolden him though and he looks to her again. “I know, and Maeve, I know I hurt you and I was a dickhead -“

“Massive dickhead,” she elaborates.

“But I don’t think it’s all my fault.” He finishes.

She’s certain she heard him wrong.

“Excuse me?” She gapes, incredulous.

“We’ve been tiptoeing around each other for months,” Otis argues, arms up for emphasis. “All year, really. And then Jackson -

“Are you seriously turning this around on me?” She can’t believe him.

“No but -

“‘Cause it sounds like you are -“

“I’m not!” He insists. “It’s just that...you’re you! And I’m ME and, and we were friends. Such good friends, Maeve, and then you... And it just made me so angry that you didn’t tell me you liked me until things with Ola.... it’s just... I had no idea someone like you could have possibly liked someone like me.”

 

Her nostrils flare with her anger and she’s trying not to strangle him right this instant. She’s not sure if it’s because he doubted her or that he’s so fucking sure he’s right (and so what if he is a little?) “Right well it’s probably for the best you didn’t know. I’m the most selfish person you know, after all.”

 

He sighs loudly. “Maeve, of course I didn’t mean that.“

“It sounded like you did,” she quips.

“I was so drunk. I ate a whole roast chicken that night! And I was confused and I was trying to hurt you like I was hurting when of course you didn’t deserve it.” 

He’s got her there.

She sniffles and crosses her arms, choosing to count the railings on the bridge rather than meet his eyes.

 

He sighs and reaches toward her, palms open. “I know I can’t take back what I did. And I know things are still broken between us. But... I like you, Maeve. I really, really like you.”

She looks up then, against her own will honestly, but he’s got his eyes closed. Either because he can’t look at her either or he’s mustering up the courage, she can’t be sure.

He rubs a hand over his face and chuckles ironically. “Hell I think I even love you. You’re brave and you’re resilient and you’re honest and you’re good. Life should have taken you out dozens of times already but you never let it. You’re too good for every fucking one of us and we just keep letting you down over and over. But I want to be there for you. I want to be the one you turn to. I don’t want you to feel alone or scared or hurt. And I hate that I’ve already done all those things but if you let me, if you give me a chance, I promise I won’t hurt you again. And I know, I know so many people have said that to you before, but I’m going to prove it. You don’t have to believe me, but let me prove it to you. Please. I -“

She’s not sure at what point in his speech her arms drop to her sides, when her brow smooths and her gaze softens and her lip drops just slightly. She feels the heat pool in her chest, warm and bubbling and even a little uncomfortable, blooming its way up her neck to her cheeks and face. And in her haze she really can’t remember when she steps forward and brings her mouth to his, soft but hard all at once, but she knows when she does that she’s never quite had a kiss like this in her life.

That is, because he doesn’t quite kiss her back.

Her lips are tingling but his body is like a statue before her, and she’s sure he’s unconscious but she can feel his heart thrumming beneath her hands atop his chest, and has she killed him? She pulls back slightly, exhaling a harsh breath, not daring to meet his eyes but seemingly incapable of putting more than an inch of distance between them. The barrier’s been broken now and she finds she’s never been warmer in her whole life. She’s about to say something, anything really, when his hands come up to cup her cheeks, coaxing her to look him in the eyes. Nerves grasp her now - it was so impulsive, she didn’t give it a second of thought before - but she has no time for them. She hears him swallow just as he pinches her chin and brings her mouth to his once more, and this is what their first kiss should have been. His lips are tender on hers and she wants to be closer to him all at once, so she wraps her arms around his waist and opens her mouth, feeling his breath on her tongue before his follows along. She was sure he’d be timid but it’s like his body is reacting all on its own, and she can’t help herself. Her lips curl into a smile against his mouth, and she nearly melts into a puddle when his thumb comes to the corner of her lip, the pad of his finger tracing the outline of her smile.

When they properly pull back for a breath, she can feel his eyes on her, blue crystals boring into her soul, and for the life of her she has no idea why she meets his gaze. She wants to look away but somehow she can’t, and he’s smiling at her and by God if she’s not absolutely fucking in love with this dickhead.

“You kissed me.” He tucks her hair behind her ear as he says it and she hates him even more. Her life will never be just hers again.

She licks her lips. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll bite your dick off. Okay mouth breather?” There isn’t the slightest trace of malice in her voice. It’s barely above a whisper.

Otis nods once, brow creased in mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m still angry at you,” she murmurs, eyes fixated on his bottom lip as she grips the ends of his shirt tighter.

He swallows hard and nods. “I know. I’m still angry with me too.”

She wants to keep the banter going but she’s got no fight in her, just butterflies wrecking havoc on her stomach and fire in her cheeks. She can’t stop staring at his lips - it’s like he’s cast a spell on her or something - and then she remembers she can do it again if she wants. This is going to be a real problem, she can tell. She’s on her tiptoes when he seems to remember the same thing, and he’s wearing the goofiest smile when he brings her face to his and leans down to kiss her again.

(It might take him a few hours to calm her down after he tells her about the missing voicemail - she could fucking murder Isaac - but he quickly finds exactly how to shut her up. If they don’t sleep that night, it’s entirely his fault.)

...

Note: this was shit but I wrote it in the notes on my phone because please let them be together next season PLEASE. It’s my first tumbler post too so sorry the format is weird as shit.

[fyeahcamcountry]

Cam: The Otherside - track by track

(Apple Music)

'...“I was a total idealist,” Cam tells Apple Music. The Nashville country singer, who’s also one of the city’s most sought-after songwriters, says the five years she spent writing her sophomore album were some of the hardest of her life. “I had this Disney idea of how the world worked, and at some point that just...broke.” Tracing a string of major life changes—breaking up with her old label, inking a new contract, marrying her husband, and welcoming her first child—The Otherside reflects a dramatic shift in thinking, or her journey through disillusionment into clear-eyed realism. That evolution unlocked a new side to her sound. “My songs have always pulled from my psychology background, but I had this filter on and didn’t even know it,” she says. “Once I took that off, I could be so much more honest. I could see the world, and myself, for exactly what they were.” Read on as Cam tells us the inside story behind each song.

[[MORE]]

Redwood Tree

“I grew up in the Bay Area with a redwood tree in my backyard, and I did a lot of thinking up there. I wasn’t raised in a specific religion, but the most magical, awe-inspiring experience I can think of is being in the redwoods, feeling so small. It’s like a cathedral in that it reminds you of your place in everything. Fallen redwoods have rings that represent the thousands of years that they lived, and you’re like, ‘Oh, we’re just flies buzzing around.’ We wake up one day shocked to realize our parents are suddenly old. Like, when did my dad's beard get so white? I had watched the movie Arrival around the time we wrote this song, and I loved the idea of time not being linear. The soundtrack has these voices that go ‘Da, da, da, da,’ and we nod to that in the production. I hope time isn't linear. I hope I get more time with my parents.”

The Otherside

“Tim, or Avicii, came to Nashville a few years ago to write for one of his albums, and we were in the studio with Hillary Lindsey and Tyler Johnson. He started playing this piano melody over and over and over again, and I don't smoke cigarettes but when Hillary took a cigarette break, I was like, ‘I'm going, too.’ It was just so intense. He was really stuck on this thing. While we're out on the back porch, she and I came up with an idea for the chorus, and he loved it. But he fiddled with it for hours. He was thinking about cadence, about how we speak, about code-mapping it onto a melody, and about the actual phonetics. Tim never wound up releasing that song, so I was like, ‘Ooh, maybe that means I can.’ Even though it’s such a heavy thing not having him around for the final edits, I did feel this great responsibility to work my ass off to get it right. Because I knew that’s what he would have done.”

Classic

“On the other side of the spectrum, this is one of those songs that just magically fell into place. I went up to New York for a few sessions with Jack Antonoff at Electric Lady Studios, and it was so fun. Creatives tend to beat themselves up a lot, but Jack and I sat there jangling around on this 12-string guitar and writing a song that had this nostalgic Simon & Garfunkel ‘Cecilia’ vibe. It’s about how there are people in your life that outlast everything else—technology, fashion trends, swings in politics, whatever. Nothing's a constant in life, but a few people are. It was inspired by this moment when my husband and I were in Argentina and he found a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes. He doesn't smoke anymore, but he goes, ‘I’ve got to smoke these because they don't make ‘em like this anymore.’ And then he looks at me and goes, ‘That's a country lyric.’”

Forgetting You

“I was writing with Lori McKenna, Tyler Johnson, and Mitch Rowland, and we’re all pals from working on various projects together. Still, I always get nervous when I go write with Lori, even though she's so humble and chill, because I’m like, ‘Don't embarrass yourself in front of the poet of our generation!’ Which is to say, I knew I needed to bring in something cool. I had this line, ‘I'm getting older/But you never change.’ The song is about holding on to the concept of someone from the past, and measuring everyone up to them even though it’s no longer real. That's why you keep moving forward but they never seem to age.”

Like a Movie

“Before we were married and had a kid, I’d come home from tour and my husband and I would have this tiny bit of quality time together. And the truth is, we’d usually get high and go to Walmart. One day, we were unloading all our groceries and I was like, ‘How did you know it was me? How did you know not to settle for someone earlier or wait for someone else?’ And he just smiled and said, ‘Because when I met you, it was like a movie.’ Now, I can remember when we met. I was a mess. It did not look like a movie. But it was so, so sweet. I wrote with the love junkies—Lori McKenna, Liz Rose, and Hillary Lindsey—and the strings are David Campbell, who’s actually Beck’s dad. Jeff Bhasker wanted a ’50s movie soundtrack vibe with strings that swelled like an orchestra, and David immediately got it. Apple Music did a teaser video for the album, and if you watch it, there should be video footage from that string session.”

Changes

“I usually write all my own music, but this is the first of a couple songs on this album that I didn’t. I guess I feel like it's cheating. I'm supposed to be digging all this personal stuff up and figuring myself out, so taking someone else’s song feels like a shortcut. But I trust Harry [Styles]’s writing. I feel like he tries so hard to be himself in his music, and he doesn't take it lightly. That pursuit resonates with me. The demo had Lori McKenna singing with Harry on background vocals and his whistle, which is still in the track. It was amazing to hear a song that someone else wrote that clicked so much with me personally. It’s about feeling like you’ve outgrown where you're from, and you don't really want to admit that. It’s kind of an uncomfortable thing to say, but I love when things are uncomfortable. That means it’s important.”

Till There's Nothing Left

“This song has steamy sexual energy... Like, ‘I'm giving you my whole heart but also my body and a quickie in the back seat.’ While we were recording my vocals, I was trying to sit back and make it cool and sexy, and I realized I was blushing. I was blushing because society tells us that sexuality is a private thing. If you want to be respected as a woman, if you want to be considered intelligent, you can’t be sexual. But then I was reminded of my grandmother who was raised Baptist on a farm in Saskatchewan. She's the one who gave me the sex talk, unbeknownst to my mother. She said, ‘Sex is like a milkshake. Once you have it, you're always going to want it.’ She was comfortable with her sexuality without it being the main thing about her. So I thought, ‘If a woman born in the 1930s on a farm in Canada can own it, I can own it.”

What Goodbye Means

“A friend of mine was going through a divorce. It was pretty ugly, but he was being so kind. I asked him, ‘How are you being so nice right now? I don't get it.’ And he said, ‘Because she might change her mind.’ I still get goosebumps thinking about it. We've all been there, not quite ready to accept the reality of something, and that's okay. You've got to take it at the rate you can take it. This song has such a classic melody. It’s warm. For some reason it feels like a summer evening in New Mexico to me.”

Diane

“This song is a response to Dolly Parton’s ‘Jolene,’ and man, it really seems to resonate with people. Crowds sing it back to me in this emotional, over-the-top, theatrical way. I suppose most people have had infidelity affect their life one way or another, but it’s hard to watch people you care about go through it. There's so much shame around it that you don't get to talk about what you need or how to heal. And you almost never get to hear the other party’s side. So ‘Diane’ is my moment to role-play, I guess. I'm the other woman and I slept with your husband and I didn't know he was married, but you’ve got to know the truth. Parton's lyrics to the other woman include the word ‘please,’ and that just killed me. She's so humble and human, asking someone to please not take the love of her life away. Immediately, I was like, ‘That's the narrative. That's what is so often left unsaid.’”

Happier for You

“This is the other song that I didn't write, and it’s from Sam Smith and Tyler [Johnson]. Sam and I have a great relationship because I helped write the song ‘Palace’ for their album and then they brought me out on tour. We have a lot of trust. When Lindsay [Marias, Cam’s manager] and I first heard this demo and Sam came in singing, our jaws dropped. The emotion was so raw and honest and real. I love the juxtaposition of saying something very loud and publicly—to the point where it almost feels proud—but actually it’s something that makes you want to curl up in a ball.”

Girl Like Me

“This is the author's note at the end of the book. Natalie Hemby had come over and started playing a verse on the piano, and I was like, ‘Oh god, that is so sad.’ And she's like, ‘It's your story. This is your comeback story.’ It’s funny how sometimes you can’t recognize your own self. Writing this song was uncomfortable but in the best way, trying to pull lyrics out in the chorus (‘They’re going to give up on you/You're going to give up on them’). You can’t just become jaded. You have to push through. It’s a gift to be able to see life for what it is, and to see yourself for who you are. I think anyone who has been through that phase of disillusionment will think, ‘Oh, yeah, tough. But this side is better.’”

[lilypad-make]

BNHA Manga Chapter 255 Theories

In the beginning , we can see that they detected “ unusual brainwaves “ . This means that even though his past memories were heavily suppressed , the words which meant so much to him brought so much emotion that he was able to snap out of the restrains in his mind , only for a moment . His will and determination to not be overtaken by the other quirk again helped him in gaining control of his mind . I’m just visualizing the real shirakumo to be chained up inside his mind or in a prison like structure and he is able to see everything that kurogiri is doing  . If we are going to keep this example in mind , it can also be compared to how the past holders of one for all are inside of Midoriya and are able to see what he is doing . Though both the quirks are drastically different , this was a small comparison I had in my mind. 

Further on , we can see that Aizawa and Present Mic are calling his real name and reminding him of his past . We can see how the balance keeps on shifting  . The line  “ I am Kurogiri  , the one who protects Shigaraki Tomura “ is a line that has been forced onto him . He was forced to think like that and thus they had exploited his nature and behavior into protecting Shigaraki . They forced him to believe that who he was before was nothing and this was his sole purpose . He had no one else , he couldn’t be himself , live for himself , other than the intended purpose . 

Even when he attacked UA , his alumina , I’m willing to bet that All for One must have done something to reinforce that his purpose was to protect Shigaraki and nothing else . He wasn’t allowed to fell remorse or pain for his actions , but  I ‘m certain in the back of his mind he felt horrible for his actions since it was unlike him . These words and the confusion Kurogiri had allowed Oboro to overtake half of the quirks effects with much difficulty . He tried saying Shota’s name . 

With both of his friend’s encouraging him , he knew he couldn’t hold this form any longer , but before he went under the effects of the quirk again , he said the word hospital . 

This clue he gave is very vital in terms of what it means . There are multiple directions on how this clue could lead further in the story , 

We know that Ujiko holds multiple private clinics and adoption centers . As the police starts researching by going through Shirakumo Oboro’s records and where he was admitted . They would eventually find Dr Ujiko’s interference . The police would then start searching on where all his previous influences were . He might be using different names all the time , but his appearance remains the same . 

They had researched and they know ( mostly from hawks ) about who and what the doctor was through the other league members and he would have passed on the message through his secret codes . Hawks has gained the trust of the league members in particular , as they know more about the doctor . 

Also , while researching they would find that the information about Tsubasa’s parents are unknown  and that he worked in a clinic in the same area where Midoriya and Bakugou lived . 

Since the case concerns about Aizawa’s and Present Mic’s old friend , they would help the police with further investigations or All Might would be there and recognize that it was the same place where Midoriya and Bakugou live . Through this , they realize that it is possible for them both to know the child and ask them more information regarding him .  

This would mostly lead to a mental breakdown for them as they were really close to him and the fact that a person they used to know did all these horrible things would be heartbreaking . Also , maybe when Izuku visited the doctor and he was declared quirkless , during that time he might have heard about some information . He would have been too shocked at that point to actual think more about it , but this information could be vital to the case . 

More detailed information about why all this is necessary is in my chapter 240 theories . 

The line said by All for One is very interesting . I feel like there is something he is cluing through this . 

“ You people still fail to understand . It’s like making wine . Trampling the grapes to extract their juices . I merely wanted to keep enjoying these delightful flavors . “ 

There are many ways with which he could be referring to . One , it could mean that he chooses his pawns in such a way that they are somehow connected to the heroes emotionally . So , he refers to this as “ trampling the grapes “ as in trampling the emotions of the heroes for his own delight . In my chapter 239 theory , I have explained in detail about how he manipulates emotions . I have also explained about how Nana’s husband’s death was not a mere coincidence but a plotted plan in my chapter 235 theory . 

Another way , it could mean is that in the process of making a nomu , each person is chosen like how grapes are plucked for the vine and they are tactically killed or modified accordingly . “ Trampling of grapes “ could also refer to how different quirks and bodies are being merged , like how many grapes are squashed to make wine and that disgusting sickly delight All for One gets is like drinking wine to him . 

Another thing I wanted to talk about was even though Aizawa was using his quirk , how shirakumo was able to come out of the quirks effect or how he still has the mist form . Mutant-Class Quirks are immune to erasure and since Kurogiri’s quirk was a forced mutation . Aizawa was only be able to erase some parts of the quirk than others . 

[damian-dreamz8442]

Missing in Action Part II

Hola, back with the second half of the fic. Should I link Part I here?

Psych, I already did. 

BTW this is NOT canon compliant and I do not even try to be accurate at all, just in character. 

Basic re-cap (spoilers) Damian is missing, kidnapped by a pack of goons in clown makeup, right out from under Dick’s nose. Afterwards he got a call from the Joker saying he has Damian, and gave Dick a bit of a clue as to where. 

Meanwhile, the Joker is very angry over the fact that he doesn’t actually have Damian, and the little punk is, in fact, nowhere to be found. 

Dick called the batmobile to his location, putting it on autopilot as he was in no condition to drive. His pounding head was only a minor distraction compared to the all-encompassing worry over Damian. He needed back-up if he was going to find Damian. 

Stephanie was, unsurprisingly, the first to answer. “Batman?” She questioned, no doubt noticing Dick initiated a group call with her, Cass, Tim and Jason. 

“I hope this is quick, Batman,” Tim added, keys clacking audibly in the background, “I’m in the middle of a case with the titans and-”

“Damian is missing.” Dick blurted, abandoning code names. 

“What?” Jason barked. Dick could hear Cass narrow her eyes. 

“He was kidnapped on patrol,” Dick explained, “a pack of goons took him, wearing clown makeup.” 

“Oh my god.” Stephanie breathed, at the same time as Tim’s “the Joker? He’s back?” 

“We don’t know that.” Jason reasoned, voice tight. “There are copy cats of the Joker all over Gotham.” 

“I got a call.” Dick cut his brother off, trying to focus his eyes on the road despite not being in control of the car. “A payphone, somehow he knew I would still be in the area. He gave me a clue.” A really messed up, useless clue. Dick hated even remembering the words as they came along with that familiar nasal voice. He’d written down the message, scrawled hastily on a sticky note in his belt, but somehow he’d dropped it in his panic. 

“He said he took Robin to ‘the place little robins go to... die’.” Dick ignored his voice crack, hoping the others would as well. 

Tim’s typing stopped, “like actual birds or-”

“The warehouse.” Jason growled, eliciting a curse from Dick. “You don’t think...” Jason’s only response was a grunt. 

Jason’s constant death jokes insured that at least they all knew which warehouse he was referring to. It did nothing to instill confidence in Dick. 

“How long do we have?” Tim asked as Dick went about changing the coordinates in his GPS. 

“It’s the Joker,” Jason grumbled, emotion lost from his voice in a transparent way of blocking out old memories, “we’ll be lucky if Damian’s even recognizable when we get there.” 

The line went silent, the implications heavy on the group of siblings. Dick wished for the thousandth time that Bruce was there. He could’ve stopped all this, surely. Dick didn’t have time to think about the irony; losing his first robin the same way the first Batman lost his robin. Dick wouldn’t let his brain go there. He couldn’t. 

Damian finally made it back to the street Dick was supposed to be on. Between limping and sticking to the shadows as much as possible in red and green, it had taken him nearly another hour. Quite the pathetic display, Damian told himself. No doubt if his father had been alive, he would’ve been disappointed. 

Despite it being two hours, Damian was at a loss when he found the alleyway deserted. There was a creepy box, mostly broken, and a stuffed clown face that laid decimated not far away, but no Batman. Damian did not like the idea of limping all the way back to the manor. His ankle pulsed with constant pain, it was getting harder to breathe around his ribs, and the cuts littered all of his limbs had yet to stop bleeding. It was tempting to just sit against the wall and wait for someone to come along and put him out of his misery. 

Instead, Damian limped over to a phone booth across the street. The receiver was unhooked, emitting the most sound, second only to Drake speaking. Damian hung it up with a grimace. He was surprised it worked at all, considering no one used phone booths anymore. Unless they were desperate. Which Damian was. 

He was about to try to remember the number for Wayne manor, when Damian noticed something yellow discarded haphazardly outside the phone booth. It wouldn’t have been of much interest to him, except the handwriting was unmistakable. 

Dick had used the phone booth and carelessly left behind a note. No doubt he was over reacting to Damian being missing, but at least it ensured he was alive. The note made little sense. 

‘Where little robins go to die’, who would even come up with that? Damian made a face at the sickening notion. 

Sluggishly, Damian’s brain aligned the clues. Dick thought he was missing, already on a scale of six of worry. He and Tim categorized a scale of worry for their family. Dick was almost always a five, Damian had never seen Jason rise above a two. 

Someone had called him on the phone booth, obviously. It was unlikely Dick’s communicator was broken in the skirmish and even if it was he wouldn’t think to use a phone booth. For what purpose? He could just call the batmobile. 

So some sicko had called the phone booth and given Dick the message. A clue perhaps? Damian read it again, allowed his mushy, bruised brain to comprehend the words. Wished he was as good a detective as Drake. Bashed the intrusive thought with a mental crowbar. 

Crowbar! Damian would’ve smacked his head if it didn’t already hurt so much. Finally Jason’s fatalistic sense of humor came in handy; his cause of death ingrained in the back of Damian’s mind. A rather dark turn of thought, but Damian was more results oriented. 

The Joker had beaten Jason with a crowbar, then killed him, in a warehouse on the other side of Gotham. It never did get rebuilt, but the Joker had erroneously threatened to do the same thing to Damian. Despite it being a lie, Dick would believe it. He didn’t know Damian escaped. 

Great, just great. How unbelievably fantastic. What an amazing turn of events, now Damian would get the absolute privilege of walking all the way across Gotham, trying to catch up with Dick who was probably a hair shy of a ten. If Damian was wrong well... that would really suck. 

Damian was really starting to understand why Joker was the most disliked criminal in the batfamily. (There was a vote. Ironically, they all like Harley Quinn the most.) 

With no other options, Damian began limping in the vague direction of the infamous warehouse. A street later, he passed a marooned motorcycle. After that, his night got much better. 

Dick ran across the grounds of the warehouse district to find the rest of his siblings not far from the remains of the blown up warehouse. Cass had a hand on Jason’s shoulder, while he quietly muttered about not letting Damian die the same way he had. It was cruelty on another level, this scheme of the Joker’s. Dick just wanted his robin back. 

Tim and Steph were formulating a strategy. Well, Tim was, having pulled up an overhead view of the warehouse rubble. Steph kept suggesting they go in fighting, get Damian, and set Joker on fire. Tim pointed out eight reasons that would not work. 

Dick stood next to Jason, taking a deep breath. “I don’t think we have time to wait, or make a plan.” He shot an apologetic look at Tim, “we just need to go in, canvas it, find Damian-”

“That’s what Joker wants!” Tim insisted, gesturing lamely to the building. “He probably has some game set up, or the entrance rigged, and we’ll all get blown up!” Jason bristled at the prospect of being blown up again, noticeable only to Cass. She squeezed his shoulder. 

Suddenly, a sharp disc cut through the group, lodging in the tree behind them. They all looked at it in shock, Joker’s logo laughing at them. It blinked to life, emitting a hollow cackle. 

“You’re too late!” Came a raspy voice. It hissed, a pathetic amount of laughing gas bubbling out of its edges. The frisbee was not meant to do damage, the real threat...

Dick spun around just as ruins of the warehouse let out a sickening crackle and exploded. Again. 

“No!” Dick screamed, lurching forward. Cass jumped in front of him to hold him back, eyes trained on the building. Jason couldn’t tear his eyes from the flames, memories and horror clutching him. 

“No, no, no, that can’t be it!” Tim insisted, burying his hands in his hair. “It’s... it’s the Joker! Where are the mind games? The... the...” 

Stephanie crashed to her knees, gaping at the scene. “What just-what just happened?” 

“Damian...” Dick’s voice cracked painfully, throat raw. He could feel the heat, there were debris floating down. Cass hugged him tightly. 

Jason spun around and punched a tree, it was unclear if the following crack came from the wood or his knuckles. He let out a furious growl, which morphed into an anguished roar. “I’m. Going. To. Kill. That son of a b-- !” 

Damian nearly stopped his stolen motorcycle as he saw the warehouse rubble go up in flames. What the... who would go through the trouble of blowing up that heap of cement? He could only hope Dick wasn’t in there, it would be just like him to do something stupid without Damian. 

Finally making it over the grassy hill - one of the few greenspaces in this area of Gotham - Damian ditched the bike. He was about to hobble forward when he heard a haunted wail from none other than Jason Todd. Damian broke into a run, despite his bodies protests. 

Had Dick gone into that building? Was one of them hurt? Damian could see his whole family gathered not far from the explosion. He could barely breathe, thanks to his ribs, and tripped on his ankle. He was panting by the time he got close enough to call out to them. 

Are you ok?” He straightened to talk to Jason, the only one looking at him, “what happened? Sorry I’m late, but someone ditched me in central Gotham and-” 

His whole family spun to look at him. Jason looked close to tears. Dick was crying. Stephanie was on the ground. Maybe she was hurt? Before Damian could ask, Dick was running full speed at him. 

“Robin!” His voice was thick with relief as he swept Damian into a hug. Normally such contact was unwarranted but not uncomfortable. This time, could Damian just say, ow. 

“Batman, release me!” Damian managed through gritted teeth, his ribs screaming at the pressure. There were definitely a few broken. 

“Robin, I can’t believe... you were... and then we!” 

“Batman! My ribs!” Dick let go immediately at the pained sound of Damian’s voice, supporting the boy as he doubled over painfully. He looked up to find his whole family gathered around him in concern. 

There were hands all over him, noting his injuries, bracing his ankle, rubbing his back. Someone - Todd, probably - even took advantage of the situation to mess up his hair. It was too much to keep track of, making him dizzy. 

“What happened?” He asked, batting the hand away from his hair. 

“We thought you... you were in there.” Stephanie finally explained, pointing at the burning cement foundation. 

“Joker, he... I saw you?” Dick was still unable to formulate a proper sentence. 

Damian scoffed, which cost him dearly as pain seared through him. It took him another second to get enough breath back in his lungs to explain. “I got away from those buffoons in like... five minutes.” Two hours, but who was counting. 

“Your ankle. Ribs. Head.” Cass countered. Ah, her hands were bracing his ankle. 

“Well, I didn’t get away entirely unscathed.” 

“We were really worried about you.” Tim’s voice was choked with emotion. He was rubbing Damian’s back. Damian couldn’t help but look at him in shock.” 

“So you all rushed here... to try and save me?” 

“Obviously!” Jason scoffed loudly. “Always.” He finished, locking eyes with Damian. 

Damian cleared his throat - another act that rendered him speechless in pain for a few seconds. “Thank you for coming. As you can see, I’m fine.” The siblings shared an incredulous look. 

“Is that Damian for ‘my body frigging hurts and I want to go home’?” Steph asked, leaning down to Damian’s level. He glared at her. “No, I’m-” he was about to say ‘not even that hurt’ but then Cass let go of his ankle to stand and Damian nearly fainted. To his utter mortification, a pained whimper left him. 

“Oh, lil’D, c’mere.” Dick cooed sympathetically, slowly gathering him up. This time he was mindful of Damian’s ribs. Damian would not admit that a huge wave of relief washed over him as soon as he was being carried, weight off his ankle and head cradled on Dick’s shoulder. 

“Put me down. I can... I can walk.” Damian’s protest held no heat, it was basically a whine. Dick leaned his cheek on Damian’s head softly. That was all it took for Damian’s body to finally give into the darkness. 

When Damian came to, he was in the batcave on a bed next to Dick. Dick was holding his hand, half asleep, pristine bandages wrapped around his head. Despite the calm scene next to him, the batcave was anything but. 

Tim and Cass were playing a video game on the huge monitor - correction, Tim was losing against Cass in a video game on the huge monitor - while Jason and Steph cheered them on. Alfred was cleaning up medical supplies when he noticed Damian’s attempt at awareness. 

“Master Damian,” Alfred greeted with a soft smile. Dick jerked awake, already grinning. “Dami! You’re awake!” The game was paused as four more people came rushing to his bedside. 

Damian hated being on pain meds. The sight of his family being so worries about him was enough to make him want to hug them. Humiliating. 

“How are you feeling?” Tim asked. Before Damian could bite back with a harsh ‘fine’, his emotions betrayed him. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, surprising no one more than himself. “Thank you for always coming for me.” Damian bit back the rest of his words, and the tears. He refused to be as pathetic and young as they expected of him. 

Dick saw right through him, he always did. He reached over and hugged Damian - something that was quickly becoming a normal action, not that Damian could bring himself to mind. “We love you.” 

[kazosa]

A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement - Part 7

Summary: All you wanted was to use your skills in automotive engineering and design to open your own custom car shop. When the rug gets yanked out from under you, one of your regular customers offers you a job that you just can’t resist. Will it stay a mutually beneficial arrangement, or will something unexpected bloom?

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Appearances by: OC Mom, Donna Hanscum, Ryan and Christina Dalton (OC), special surprise guest, Harry

Chapter Synopsis: Reader and Dean go to her mom’s house for Christmas, discussion of plans for the future, New Year’s Eve party at Ryan’s house.

Word count: 10753 (with lyrics)

Song: Swayin’ to the Music by Johnny Rivers

Warnings: Bad language. Alcohol consumption. Smut. Shenanigans.

Masterlist

Tagging: @coffee-obsessed-writer  @closetspngirl  @sorenmarie87  @adoptdontshoppets  @parinarain  @his-paradox  @babykalika2001  @docharleythegeekqueen  @22sarah08  @flamencodiva  @deans-baby-momma  @collette04  @maralisa124  @mml232  @sympathyforluci  @superthingsilike  @lookwhatyoumademequeue  @jxnnxbrxwn  @winchest09  @sandlee44  @screechingartisancashbailiff  @31shadesofbrown  @theconfusedcat  @perpetualabsurdity  @spnhollis  @xhannahbananax03

     “Nakatomi,” he said.

     From the corner of his eye, he could see her nod and go right for her suitcase. Unlike most chicks he’d known, (Y|N) packed light and was ready to leave almost as soon as he. He’d helped her out of her dress and it almost killed him to stop at that, but he didn’t want to make (Y|N) stay one moment longer. She zipped the garment bag and he grabbed it off the closet door.

     On the main floor, he remembered to grab his hoodie off the hook by the back door before they went outside to his precious Baby. She was covered in snow, but he got her cleared off quickly with (Y|N)’s help.

     “I’m driving,” she said.

     “Think so, huh?” It was hard to argue with her when she had her hands in his pockets. “You keep that up, we might have to go back inside.”

     She smirked, “You’ve barely slept in the last three days. You’ve been drinking tonight. I would be amazed if you still had the energy.”

     He pulled her close, “Baby, you would be amazed.”

     She found the keys in his front pants pocket. A small groan couldn’t be held back when her hand brushed against his growing arousal as she pulled the keys from his pocket. Standing on her toes, she grabbed a handful of his coat and kissed him. He swore he would never get tired of that. 

     Her eyes opened slowly, a small smile touching her face, “You’re still a perv.”

     “It’s your fault,” he said.

     She let go of his coat and told him, “Get in.”

     He managed to navigate her out of town and onto the highway that led north. After that, he didn’t remember anything until the car door slammed shut. (Y|N) was outside at a gas station where she’d stopped to fill up. Lights were on inside and he saw her dash into the building out of the cold.

     When (Y|N) returned, he’d woken up enough to make his own run inside. She moved the car and was waiting for him in the passenger seat when he got back. She was still awake but exhausted.

     “Wake me up ten miles out,” she said.

     “Okay,” his voice was low.

     She slouched down in the seat, her head resting in the corner of the door and the seat, her arms crossed over her stomach. He, again, was so grateful. She’d been put through so much, at his request, and she still wanted him, still…loved him. That was probably the most shocking revelation to come out of the week with her. He’d always thought that the normal family life was something that just wasn’t in the cards for him. Now, he loved a mechanic who loved him back, wearing his grandmother’s ring. Best week ever.

     Ten miles outside of town, Dean woke you up just as you’d asked. Your head hurt from resting on the Impala door so long. Rubbing your face, you tried to get your circulation going again and to wake up a little. By the time you reached the city limits, you were mostly awake, and feeling your face, enough to direct Dean to your mom’s house.

     If he was impressed, or otherwise, you couldn’t tell. The house was way too large for one person. Your parents moved into your grandma’s house, after she passed, and restored the home to its former glory. You were already an adult at that point and had no real room you’d claimed as your own, but your mom always insisted you take the largest room on the second floor.

     The lights on the house were off, but you could see that Louie, her maintenance man, had been busy. Both floors had exterior decorations. You could only imagine what your mother had done to the interior. 

     Dean pulled the Impala into the driveway and you hopped out to punch in the code to open the garage door.

     “How many cars does your mom have?” Dean asked looking up at the building.

     The garage was actually a large steel building your grandpa had built years ago. At one point, you’d seen it hold an Airstream trailer and no less than 5 cars, not including their personal vehicles.

     “Two,” you answered. “One is a project I picked up from my dad. The other one is mine.”

     Your mom had moved her sports car out of the way in favor of the 4 wheel-drive SUV which left just enough room for Baby to fit inside. The light from the garage door opener didn’t show the actual expanse of the interior. What couldn’t be seen in the darkness, was the area that had been turned into a shop where your dad had worked on cars.

     When Dean was fully inside the garage, you got back out and closed the garage door. The noise of the door was amplified in the metal building, echoing badly. Dean got your bags out of the trunk but left the garment bags. You locked the exterior pass through door behind you as you went into the house through the side door.

     Your mom was expecting you, but she wasn’t up yet. She’d left on a few nightlights so you and Dean could find your way to ‘your room’ upstairs. Your mom’s room was on the main floor and opposite from the entrance, so there was little chance of waking her with your exhausted stumble through the house. 

     “Nice house. Very… North Pole,” Dean observed.

     “I know, you “don’t do Christmas,” but we do, a lot.” You were in your room stripping away your layers to get in bed; Dean was doing the same. “Can you tough it out?”

     Dean was moving slowly, watching you take off your sweatshirt to show your favorite band t-shirt underneath.

     “I think I’m starting to change my mind about Christmas,” he said, ogling you.

     You threw your socks on the floor and unbuttoned your pants. Dean was still watching you.

     “Yeah?”

     “Mhm,” he said staring. “I’m feeling all kinds of things.”

     You slipped off your pants, putting on a little show for him, rolling your hips and bending seductively to put your folded pants on the floor. You’d put on special Christmas underpants.

     He read the saying on them and asked, “Were you wearing those at the gala?”

     You smiled, “I wasn’t wearing any at the gala.”

     You reached up under your shirt and undid your bra, slipping the straps down your arms and out of the straps, eventually pulling it from under your shirt. Dean watched you the whole time, a look of awe on his face. You moved from your side of the bed to where he stood at his, not breaking eye contact.

     “You okay?” you asked, helping him take off his shirt. You pushed the flannel off his shoulders and pulled his t-shirt out of his jeans, moving to his belt.

     “I’m more than okay,” he answered, pulling off his shirt, letting it drop behind him. “I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

     You pulled his belt out. Taking a moment to appreciate what he said, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. No one had ever made you feel so important, so loved. You knew how lucky you were, too.

     Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing him. His strong arms crushed you to his body as he kissed you back.

     “Do you really want to do this in your mom’s house?” he was breathless.

     “I want to make love to my future husband on Christmas,” you answered kissing him again.

     “I like the sound of that. Now about the mistletoe…” his hand traveled down to your ass, squeezing your soft flesh.

     A couple hours later, the sun was up and you could hear knocking. At first, you couldn’t tell if you were dreaming. The knocking continued and the door remained shut. Cracking an eye open, it took you a second to remember where you were.

    “(Y|N)? Are you in there? (Y|N)?” more knocking. It was your mom. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Harry knows you’re here, I’m letting him in.”

     The door cracked open and you heard the skittering of his nails on the hardwood floor just before your sixty pound dog launched himself onto the bed, showering you with kisses and sniffs. When Harry noticed Dean, he stopped and barked loudly, scaring Dean awake.

     “Jesus! What the…?”

     A low rumble began in Harry’s chest. His ears laid flat and the hackles on his back rose.

     “Harry. Be nice,” you pet him. “Dean, this is Harry.”

     You waited but Dean still laid there silent.

     “You have to say ‘hi’ to him and let him smell you,” you told him the key to Harry’s good graces.

     Dean did what you said and after Harry and he got acquainted, Harry plopped down between you.

     “Hell of a way to wake up,” Dean noted. “What time is it? What’s going on?” he looked around the room.

     “It’s about 8:30 and we need to get down to breakfast,” you told him leaning in. “Merry Christmas.”

     “Merry Christmas,” he kissed you.

     After taking the quickest shower you’d had in a long time, you, Dean, and Harry, went down to breakfast.

     As you’d noticed on the way to your room, your mom had the house fully decorated for the holiday. Lighted garland and holly were everywhere. It actually looked quite pretty and cozy. When you got to the top of the stairs, the smell of breakfast met you and your stomach growled in answer. Harry took off ahead of you but Dean stopped at the landing. For a moment, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

     “What if she doesn’t like me?” he worried out loud.

     Oh my god, you are the cutest man ever, you thought.

     “You don’t have a thing to worry about. If she doesn’t, then too bad for her because you’re great,” you assured him. “I’m the one who loves you.”

     You pulled him down to hug you.

     “If you can survive your family, you can handle my mom,” you said into his neck.

     “Yeah, but my family are a bunch of dicks…” he let you go.

     “It’s just me ‘n mom. It won’t be too overwhelming. There’s more cousins and stuff, but not today,” you reassured him. “And, most of ‘em are nice. The ones that aren’t don’t come over anyway.”

     “How many of you are there?” he had a nervous look on his face.

     “Let’s go eat,” you said, heading down the stairs.

     “(Y|N)? How ma–,” he stopped, realizing the futility and followed you down the stairs. His need for food was more pressing than the amount of her extended family.

     Your mom was in the kitchen at the stove making pancakes, bacon, and hashbrowns. Coffee was brewed but your mom also had a Keurig.

     “Merry Christmas, Mom,” you said sleepily.

     “There you are! Merry Christmas!” she stopped what she was doing to hug you. “Did you get enough sleep?”

     “No, not really. We drove all night,” you said. “Mom, this is Dean, and he’s…my fiance.” It was so much harder to tell your mom, especially since you were kind of close. Telling Dean’s family had been more fun. Now, it was real, and so much different. “Dean, this is my mom, (M|N).”

     “Special friend, indeed,” she said in a knowing tone before extending her hand to Dean. When he took her hand, she welcomed him, “Nice to meet you, Dean. Well, this is quite the surprise!”

     “Uh, yes ma’am, nice to meet you, too,” he sputtered.

     “I hope you’re hungry,” your mom said to Dean. “Been a while since I cooked this much and I might have overdone it.” She indicated the mountains of pancakes, bacon, and hash browns.

     “It feels like forever since dinner last night,” you said. “I’m sure we can put a dent in this for you, Mom.”

     “I’m always ready to eat,” Dean agreed.

     You were sure your mother would have something to say, but she, at least, had the decency to save it for later when Dean wasn’t around. Dean, true to his word, dove into the plates of food and ate a large portion of the food your mom made all on his own. You had your fair share of food and were quite full when you and Dean cleaned up breakfast.

     During breakfast, your mother had asked Dean a million questions and he laid on the charm, which your mother ate up. She asked all of the expected questions. Instead of the b.s. You told Dean’s family, your mom got the truth. Her eyes flashed to you a few times and you knew she would corner you later. Dean yawned a few times and you told him to go grab a nap. If your mom was going to lay into you, you wanted to get it over with.

     “You gonna be okay?” Dean was no dummy. He’d seen (M|N) giving you the side-eye while they were talking.

     “Yeah,” you stood at the foot of the stairs with him. “It’s okay. It has only been a week…she worries.”

     He gave you a quick hug and kiss before leaving you to go lie down. Your mother had been waiting for her opportunity and walked into the living room with a cup of coffee. She sat in her recliner, quietly sipping her hot beverage until she heard the bedroom door shut.

     “Dean seems nice,” she said.

     “He is nice,” you agreed. The dance had begun.

     “Quite a change from Jack,” she sipped her coffee.

     “Jack is nice, too,” you defended. “Dean is a good man, mom.”

     “ONE week, (Y|N). You’re going to marry this guy after one week?!”

     “I knew Jack a couple years before we got together and look what happened there. Time has nothing to do with it. I never thought I would know who “the one” was, but I knew with Dean. He’s it, mom. I don’t want anyone else.”

     “You’re sure he’s not a rebound?”

     “Mom, Jack was years ago, and Dean is certainly not the rebound guy.”

     Your mother stared into her coffee for a while thinking things over. You gently rocked in the matching recliner, your dad’s recliner, while you waited for her to come to a decision about what to say next. 

     “If you’re sure…”

     “I am,” you said firmly.

     “Okay,” she relented. “You’re an adult…I’ll try to like him.”

     “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t already like him. He’s charming, smart, and hot as all hell.”

     Your mom gave you a slight tip of her head, smiling as she drank her coffee.

     “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

     You rocked in your chair as her words sank in. She wasn’t upset about Dean. She had also liked Jack, until she didn’t…

     “Wait…what? You think Jack is hot, too? And Dean? I’m… what?!”

     “You always had cute boyfriends…”

     Feigning horror, you got up from your chair, “Oh…my god… I can’t even look at you now.

     You could hear your mother laughing all the way to your bedroom door. Harry’s nails were clicking on the floor as he followed. As quietly as you could, you let yourself and Harry into the room, closing the door behind you. Harry immediately went to sniff out the new guy a low rumble in his chest.

     Taking a spot on the floor, you sat with your legs crossed under you to talk to Harry.

     “Listen up, handsome,” you pet him. “I like Dean. He’s a good boy, just like you. Smart and loyal and won’t break my heart like your dad did,” you paused. “Try to like him, okay? He’s not a dog person, so don’t ruin his car. If you do, no more walkies or rides in my car.”

     Harry watched you as you talked, head tipping at ‘good boy’ and ‘walkies.’ He probably didn’t understand most of what you said, but you hoped he picked up on the high points. At least he quit growling. Getting up off the floor, he followed you to your side of the bed and laid on the floor while you got in next to Dean.

     “Did you just compare me to your dog?” his voice was muffled from the bedding and lying on his stomach.

     You laid on your side and rubbed his back, “No, of course not.”

     “Then why are you petting me?” he didn’t open his eyes.

     “Because… you’re such a good boy,” you were shaking, holding the laughter in.

     Dean grabbed you and pulled you to him, startling you with his speed and strength.

     “You’re a funny lady,” he cracked his eyes open.

     “I was only teasing. Besides, you don’t do that leg kick thing when I rub your belly,” you smiled.

     “You don’t know that,” he smirked, “I’m full of surprises.”

     “You’re full of something…”

     “How’d it go?” he asked.

     “She thinks I’m crazy, but willing to give you a shot,” you told him. “She agreed that you’re hot.”

     He chuckled, “Told ya, parents love me.”

     You weren’t going to remind him of his worry just a few hours before. His green eyes looked back at you lovingly, twinkling with mischief.

     “Marry me,” you whispered.

     “Nah. Now that I’m in with your mom…”

     He let out an ‘oof’ when you backhanded his belly, laughing at the same time. That smile of his would be your undoing.

     “Let’s get our ducks lined up quickly, okay?” you asked.

     “I know a guy. He’d do it tomorrow, but we’d have to go back to Kansas,” he said. His arm was draped over you, his fingers playing in your hair.

     “Oh god,” you laughed, “I think we need to let that whole mess settle a while. Not sure we could get back in the state.”

     “OK, then I vote we sleep and we’ll figure it out later,” his eyes were drooping. His long lashes weighing them down.

     Feeling sleep coming for you, you counted the freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks until you dozed off with him.

     You spent all of Christmas and the next day with your mom. Dean seemed to be getting along with her just fine. Harry decided the new guy wasn’t too bad and began to warm up to Dean, especially since Dean would throw his ball for him.

     A few of your many relatives stopped by and a mini party got under way. You suspected your mom called a few to set it up. For the most part, they didn’t give Dean too hard of a time. They must have been in the Christmas spirit. However, that Christmas spirit, did not extend to you. Every embarrassing story from your childhood got brought up for Dean to enjoy at your expense. There wasn’t anything you couldn’t bear for him to know, though. By the time they all left, you’d had enough of family to last you for months.

     The next day, the 27th, you, Harry, and Dean said your goodbyes to your mom. You needed to get going because with Harry, it would take all day to get back home. Harry was all for going for a ride. He did his business and eagerly got in Dean’s car, on top of a thick quilt. Dean insisted on it to protect his Baby and your baby, he’d reasoned. You wouldn’t tell him just yet that you did the same thing in your car.

     Goodbyes all said, you and Dean got in the Impala and started for home. The only problem was, you didn’t know what ‘home’ was anymore. Was it your place? Dean’s? Would you trade off? There was a lot to discuss, including what to do about your future careers.

     “Dean?” you wanted for him to respond. He glanced in your direction and muttered a “hmm?”

     “Are we doing the right thing?” you asked.

     “Going home? Hell yes. I’m so done,” he answered, waving his hand.

     You squirmed in your seat while Dean drove, perfectly relaxed. His wrist was draped over the wheel. He looked so handsome in his peacoat and his perfectly styled messy hair. He hadn’t shaved since you left Bemidji and it only enhanced his features.

     “What? Do I got somethin’ on my face?” he noticed you staring and wiped at his new beard.

     “I was noticing your beard is lighter than your hair color.”

      “Oh, yeah,” he rubbed the beard absently, “I’ll shave it when we get back.”

     “You don’t have to,” you said. “I like it a lot.”

     Dean grinned at you, “Well, if the lady likes it, it stays.”

     “About home…” you hesitated. “How is that going to work?”

     Dean shrugged as he drove, “I guess I kind of assumed you’d be with me.”

     “And drive all the way across town to Chuck’s everyday?” you hedged.

     “Chuck’s? Does that mean you decided to keep working for him?” Dean was a little disappointed, but he could deal with it.

     You could hear the tone in his voice, but you had your reasons and explained, “Yeah, I hired almost everyone there. They’re a good group. I don’t feel good about leaving them unless I can get someone I trust to replace me.”

     He nodded, “What are you going to say to Chuck?”

     Dean wanted you with him, and you wanted to be with him at his place, too, but this had to be part of getting your ducks in a row.

     “It’s time that jerk got his own ultimatum,” you began. “I’ll give him six months and I pick a replacement. If I find someone sooner, I’m out. If he doesn’t accept my terms, I’m out.”

     “And then I get a new roomie?” he was hopeful.

     You laughed, “Yeah, not quite how I’d put it, though. You do realize Harry comes with, right?”

     Dean looked in the rearview mirror at the mention of Harry. The dog seemed to know he was being talked about and returned Dean’s gaze. It hadn’t escaped Dean’s notice that Harry was slobbering all over the windows in the backseat. He didn’t love Harry yet, but he did love (Y|N) and if that meant dog snot and slobber on his windows, he would learn to love Harry, too. Besides, as far as dogs went, Harry was cool. (Y|N) was right about him. He was just a big, playful dog who slept a lot.

     “Of course,” he said. “There’s plenty of room for him and a patch of grass out front.”

     You smiled at him but were silently hoping Chuck would accept your terms. Things were moving so fast and it was scaring you a little. You wanted everything with Dean, you just felt like you were being shot out of a cannon trying to get there.

     “What’s going on in there? Full-disclosure, remember?” he reminded.

     “Can we… slow down a little?” your voice barely audible over the powerful car engine.

     Dean slowed the car and you thought he didn’t understand what you meant. He pulled the car over to stop on the long, lonesome highway.

     “Sweetheart, I’m good,” he said, looking at you. “I’ll take us anyway I can get us, as long as there is an ‘us’. Not gonna lie, I want the dream, but not if it scares you away, okay?”

     He waited for you to answer. After you nodded, he put the car back in gear and continued on.

     “Now, tell me all about what you want in your garage,” he asked. 

     There was so much that went into starting your own business. You’d scouted locations, gotten estimates on renovations vs. building new, equipment, etc. You had a vision of what you wanted, but you didn’t know how, or where, it would become a reality. Your mom’s garage was actually a good base for what you’d wanted, but if you took Bobby’s offer, you’d have a proper garage at your disposal and could maybe add on. Then again, you and Dean worked so well together, working with him in your own place would be great, too.

     You were about two hours into your drive and Dean wanted to stop for gas and a stretch. Harry did his thing when you walked around with him a little. You were soon back on the road, this time, you were behind the wheel. It was easy to see why Dean loved his car so much. She was powerful and responsive. Dean continued the conversation like you hadn’t even stopped.

     “So, looks like you have two options,” he said. “Which one feels most … right?”

     You shrugged. It had been something you struggled with for years. You’d only stayed with Chuck for so long because you couldn’t figure out what was best. The options you had tried were half-hearted or fell through. Your last try had failed miserably and it only told you that you were going down the wrong path.

     “Starting my own place was what I thought I wanted. I tried five times and was either shot down or the deals fell through. And, I must admit, when you told me about Bobby’s offer… I wanted to jump on it.”

     Dean was quiet for a few moments as he considered his options and how you would fit into his plan. He was leaning into the corner of his seat, partially supported by the door, his arm across the top of the seat back, his left leg resting on the seat. If a person could sit ‘cool’, it was Dean.

     “Alright, my turn,” he announced. “So, here’s what I’m thinking. My dad is going to give me the business, right?” He saw you nod. “No way is that happening without a catch. I just got the feeling that somehow this is going to bite me in the ass.”

     It seemed like a reasonable idea to believe. John had certainly proven he could be conniving.

     “What do you think he’ll do?” you wondered.

     “I don’t know,” his fingers flared out from resting on his temple. “It was almost too easy at the gala. His precious business of thirty years and he just agrees like that?” he snapped his fingers. “I don’t buy it. Something is fishy.”

     “Or he could just be ready to retire, like Bobby?”

     Dean gave you a look like maybe you’d suddenly gone insane.

     “Well, it’s possible,” you defended, knowing it was bullshit.

     “Nah, I’ll find it…” he meant whatever it was his dad was hiding.

     “How do you plan on running it? I didn’t know it was so huge. There were so many people…” you noted. “I know you did it before, but damn, it has to have grown since then.”

     “Benny. I figured he could keep running the brewery. He’s already doing it. …I would oversee both sides…” he trailed off.

     “And the dealerships? You gonna make Bobby stay?” Your heart was in your throat. You knew what you wanted him to say. You thought you knew what he would say, but you had only really just gotten to know him over the last week.

     “I think Bobby only needs to stay long enough to get you trained,” he grinned. “What do you say, sweetheart, you up for it?”

     You were overwhelmed. Dean had a lot of confidence in you to offer something so monumental. He’d been coming to the garage for a year and had seen you working, but he couldn’t really know what you all did. He’d run the family business, though, and knew what all went into it… You weren’t sure you were up for it, but you were more than willing to try.

     Dean knew he was doing the right thing. (Y|N) loved cars and everything about them. She knew more about cars than he did, and Bobby liked her for at least part of the job. He’d suggested just the service department, but (Y|N) ran all of Chuck’s garage which was not a small job and he knew she was capable of handling the dealerships. Hell, even if she had trouble, Bobby wouldn’t be far and Dean would always help, too.

     “Look sweetheart, not to be a dick, but it’s a now or never situation here. Strike while the iron is hot. Shit or get off the po–”

     “I’m in,” you answered. “Let’s do this and show him just how bad he messed up not doing everything in his power to keep you around. I want to build cars Chuck never could imagine and make him beg me to come back. Let’s fuck up their worlds.”

     “Now we’re talkin’,” he grinned.

     More time passed on the drive back to Bemidji. It was Dean’s turn to drive again. They’d just stopped to let Harry run around for a while and he was back in the backseat, more comfortable with some energy released. Dean pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the highway. You’d been going for a little while when he needed to ask you something.

     “Are you going to be okay relocating?” you thought he looked worried. “You’ve got something going up here.”

     “So have you,” you countered. “You run the floor at your job. You create new blends. You have friends up here.”

     “Maybe we could expand at some point,” he mused. “But I think we need to make sure we’re good down there first… I could always keep my place up here so we could visit.”

     “I’m good with that,” you agreed.

     A few moments passed, the enormity of what was happening to your lives settled on both of you.

     He let out a sigh, “A week ago, I would never have dreamed this is where we would be now.”

     You looked over at him. His eyes were on the road still and he continued on like he was telling you a story. Like if he looked at you, he might not be able to say what he needed to say.

     “Just getting enough of a sack to ask you out… to do this… I’ve been living my life alone for so long, I’d just gotten used to it. I didn’t think I’d have someone to share my life with.”

     You honestly hadn’t either. Jack was the closest you’d gotten and that was years ago already. You weren’t unhappy on your own, your life was fulfilling. It wasn’t until you began imagining a life with Dean that you wanted to share it with someone. Dean seemed like a perfect fit for you. He didn’t want you to stop working; he wanted to work with you and encouraged you to keep doing it the way you wanted.

     You slid across the seat to sit next to Dean as he drove. Seeing you move, he put his arm on the back of the seat so you could get close and lean into him. Settling into his side, you pulled his arm down over you. Just the feeling of him being close gave you a sense of security you’d never had before. You were, finally, exactly where you were supposed to be.

     When you got back to Bemidji, you went to Dean’s place. It was closer than your place and with as much as you loved his car, you couldn’t stand to be in the Impala a moment longer. You also knew you didn’t have a speck of food at your place, but Dean had all of those take out menus at his. Harry was good to go. Jack had bought a new bag of food for Harry’s stay with your mom, and she’d sent the bag with you and Dean.

     Once you’d decided what to order, you got in the shower while Dean placed the order. He joined you a few moments later, giving you a taste of what was to come later. Hes soapy hands ran over your body working the knots out of your back. His hands began to travel to other places.

     “Dean,” you gasped and fought to gain composure, “we have food on the way.” The water rushed over your body, rinsing the soap from you.

     “We’re picking this up later,” his voice deep and lusty. “Only ‘cause I’m starving.”

    As soon as you cleaned up from dinner, you and Dean barely left his bed for the next two days. You couldn’t get enough of each other. There were times you could barely move after. Thank god and Scotty for delivery foods, otherwise you might not have made it.

     On the 30th, you finally left his loft and went to your place for clean clothes and Harry’s toys. Your apartment was over the office and parts storage room at Chuck’s garage. It was a small apartment, but it was open concept and didn’t feel as small as it was. Harry must have liked Dean because he kept bringing his toys to show him. Dean still wasn’t 100% on Harry, but he was trying.

     “I like your place,” he said, sinking down in your couch, “it’s cozy and this couch is my new best friend.”

     “Thanks. I think I’ll miss it when I do move out… eventually,” you said.

     Hearing your hesitation, “We can do it gradually. Bring clothes and bathroom stuff so you can have some at my place. Things for Harry. My apartment is nice, but it’s not a home. I want you to feel like it’s your place, too.”

     “You’re a good man, Dean Winchester,” you said to him.

     When your phone started ringing, you looked at the display. “Hey, Donna,” you said as you plopped on the couch next to Dean.

     “How long have you been back in town? Why haven’t you called me? Is that Impala Guy’s car at your place? What happened?” she blurted out, seemingly in one breath.

     “I’m doing fine, thanks for asking. How was your holiday?” you didn’t hide the sarcasm.

     Donna audibly sighed, “Whatever, woman. Give me the details! Is he at your place or did you steal his car? Was he a dick? Did you tell him I do Crossfit? Cuz the D-Train will hunt his ass down if necessary.”

     “Whoa! Let me talk, lady!” you stopped her. “We got back a couple days ago. We needed time to decompress before we ventured out again.”

     “We? What’s this ‘we’ business? He is there with you!”

     “Yes, and he’s sitting right next to me and can hear you, Donna!” you warned.

     “Okay,” she spoke softer. “What else? Tell me everything. Did you test him out?”

     “Donna!” you tried to be shocked, but you knew Donna too well to expect less.

     Dean looked at you, an adorable smirk on his face and popped his eyebrows.

     “Dean, could you take Harry for a walk or something?” you asked.

     “What, why?” he asked, “It’s cold out there.”

     “Babe, I need you to go so I can talk about you behind your back. Shoo,” you urged.

     “What’s wrong with my front?” he really didn’t want to go outside.

     “Not a damned thing,” you assured, “but go.” You kissed him and he grudgingly got off your comfortable couch to get Harry.

     “You gonna tell me what you said later?”

     “Nope.”

     He put on his coat and boots, rattled Harry’s leash, and the two of them took off.

     “I’m back,” you said to Donna.

     “Babe? You called him Babe.”

     By the time Dean got back, you’d told Donna what happened while you were on your trip with him. She ooh’d and ah’d at all the right spots. Donna did, however, have concerns.

     “You’re a nutbar, you know that? Do I need to put you in a padded room? How well can you possibly know this guy? And you’re going to marry this…this… stranger?! What’s his social security number?!” she was fired up.

     If hurt your feelings that your friend was upset with what you thought was happy news. You tried to cut her some slack with her being a retired cop, but it was hard. She also hadn’t liked Jack, not just because of what he’d done to you, but also because he had a criminal record.

     “You’re not running a background check on my fiance, Donna,” your tone warning her not to push. “Are you going to Ryan and Christina’s tomorrow night?”

     You could hear Donna sigh heavily before answering, “If I don’t, Ryan will probably have a fit.”

     You laughed, “Yeah, me, too.”

     “She has a lot of rage for someone so tiny,” Donna mused.

     “It’s her biggest party of the year. She literally spends all year planning it,” you said.

     “Okay, see you tomorrow. Hey, you tell him I do Crossfit!”

     “Bye, Donna!”

     Dean heard most of the last part of their conversation.

     “Your friend sounds exhausting,” he commented. He’d only met Donna the one time at her donut shop.

     “She just worries about me and what she thinks is questionable judgement. She was horrified I was with Jack,” (Y|N) explained, “him being a criminal and all.”

     Had he missed her telling him that? She’d assured him he had nothing to worry about, but now he realized that hadn’t just meant Jack interfering. Hell, even he had spent a little time in jail…

     “Criminal?” he wondered just what was on his rap sheet.

     She sighed, “I don’t know everything on it. Drunk driving, weed, burglary, battery… Never me. I’m not excusing his club. It’s just the shit they got into. Booze fights. They stole stuff and I don’t know what else. Jack kept me out of it and I liked it like that.”

     “And that’s why he got you Harry,” he concluded.

     She nodded, “Only the guys in the club knew who I was and Jack wanted to keep me safe. That part of my life has been over for years, Dean.”

     She didn’t seem worried about it, so he supposed he could do the same. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect her, too.

     “Alright… what about this party and do I have to dress up,” he asked. Jack still was on his mind, but would simmer on the back burner for now.

     (Y|N) mentioned before that Ryan was having a party for New Year’s Eve. Once ‘party’ had been mentioned, he zoned out only catching bits and pieces. She gave him a look where he knew he’d been caught, but he was interested now, right?!

     This time, he listened intently and asked questions so he knew what he was getting into. Apparently, Ryan and her wife had this party every year. She didn’t spend all year preparing, but she did take time to test recipes for meals and snacks, and looked for the perfect decorations. She took time to create the ultimate music playlist to lead up to the big moment.

     “Ryan does put a lot of work in. I don’t have coattails.” This year’s theme was Gatsby. “I do have that tux.”

     “I’ll let you in on a little secret, it’s not really about the boys looking good,” her hand was on his leg now. “It’s a fabulous excuse for the ladies to look like a million dollars and wear tiaras.”

     He was on the middle cushion and wondered what (Y|N) would look like wearing nothing but jewelry draped over her body. Somehow, she swung her leg over his lap and straddled him, grinding against the hardness she felt there. He ran his hands up over her thighs, up her body, cupping her breasts with a gentle squeeze before wrapping one arm around her and pulling her down to his mouth with the other.

     Her mouth opened for him, eager for this to go further. After the two days they spent in his apartment, she still wanted more and he wanted to give her everything she wanted or needed. And he was beyond grateful that it was him she wanted.

     She broke the kiss first, going to the stereo and put some music on, loud. He watched her as she moved her body to the music and began removing her clothes. She looked good and wondered how she learned to move like that. She was making him harder than any stripper ever had.

     Her layers were gone, revealing the sexy lingerie he hadn’t known she’d been wearing.

     “Whoa,” he whispered.

     “Pants have to go, lover boy,” she said.

     Not one to be told twice, he was eager to be free of his jeans. She straddled him on the couch again. He could feel her heat hovering over him, his face between her breasts. The thin, lacy material left nothing to the imagination. Her nipples were hard, straining against the lace. His mouth went to her nipple, sucking and nipping at her through the material. (Y|N) raked her nails through his hair and he moaned as she did so. Her hips rolled, her sex sliding over the length of his dick. It was all he could do to keep from taking over. Finally, she sat on him, her folds wet with arousal, slid over him as she ground her hot, wet pussy on his cock. 

     Her mouth covered his, kissing him deeply as she worked over him, so agonizingly slow. He was going to explode if she ever let him inside her. His hand were gripping her legs so hard, he worried about hurting her. If he was, she never let on…

     It was the sweet kind of pain that only enhanced the sex. Your juices were flowing, making Dean wet as you slid your sex over his hard shaft, increasing your arousal, but not giving him what he wanted to take from you. You needed to cum and be in control of him as you did so.

     He seemed to know what you were doing and was forcing himself to be completely compliant to you. His compliance only turned you on more. Raising your pelvis you reached between you. His sex twitching in your hand as you grasped him, lining him up with your entrance.

     You didn’t even let him fully inside you, instead you teased his head. Slowly up and down. You took off your bra and let Dean suck at your nipple. You started to move down his shaft, arching your back so his cock would hit just the right spot for your already engorged clit to push forward with each movement.

     “Jesus, I’m going to explode,” he gasped.

     “Don’t you dare cum before me,” you warned as you moved faster, taking more of his length into you.

     Dean growled, her hands all over him as she agonizingly took what she needed. He was all for it. He’d never been so hard before. Her hips had mercifully started moving faster. She was so tight and so wet and so perfect, he loved every second of her sweet torture.

     Finally, she found a rhythm to bring her to orgasm. Her walls tightened around him even more, then fluttered wildly as she came, screaming his name. Taking that as his cue, he came hard as she rode out her orgasm on him. He bit her collarbone as she pulled him deeply into her, his hips bucking with her as their orgasms calmed.

     “Holy shit,” you were both breathless as you tried to stand.

     “I don’t think I’ve cum that hard before. Not in a long time, anyway,” he said.

     “Me either,” you breathed heavily.

     “Not that I mind, but a little warning next time?”

     “Fair enough,” you agreed.

     Fortunately, Ryan had told you what the theme for the New Year’s Eve party was ages ago and you had enough time to get the most amazing “Gatsby” dress made. It was a beautiful color that complemented your skin tone and fit like a glove. What made it special was the sheer fabric from the knee down. The tiara you’d selected was costume jewelry, but it was quite well done and gave the appearance of real diamonds.

     Dean did not have coat tails, but he was all for looking for a walking stick, spats, and a top hat. You tried to get him to go for gloves, but he shut you down hard. 

     “Not a chance, sweetheart. That’s where I draw the line. I’m not some schmuck that wears gloves.”

     You’d tried a couple places for spats, but they were also a no-go. Dean was ready for the party with a top hat and walking stick. He looked great, but he kept humming “Puttin’ on the Ritz.” The humming was tolerable, it was the blurting out the catch phrase like Igor from Young Frankenstein that really grated. He snickered every time.

     “You’re so funny,” you mumbled.

     “I’m hilarious,” he grinned broadly at you. When you didn’t smile back and rolled your eyes at him, he continued. “Oh, c’mon, that was funny.”

     “Sure, it was funny… the first few times…” you trailed off, “but you’re no Mel Brooks.”

     Dean was taken aback. “You’re no Mel Brooks,” he sputtered.

     “Oh, sweet baby boy, you are adorable,” you said, patting his cheek.

     Still a little miffed, he said a quiet, “Thank you” as he pulled into the drive to Ryan and Christina’s house.

     The house looked beautiful, as expected. Their home was an enormous farm house that Ryan and Christina completely renovated after they got married. They’d made it an open floor plan with white walls and wood floors. The decor changed often for sparks of color or new interior design.

     “You didn’t tell me you have fancy friends,” Dean stopped at the valet stand.

     “I don’t have fancy friends. I have Ryan and Christina,” you said, getting out.

     Dean hesitated a moment and let the valet take his car before joining you.

     “They however, have fancy friends, so be cool and don’t hurt anyone with that,” you indicated the walking stick Dean was using in an over-exaggerated way.

     “I’m always cool,” he gave you a charming grin. He would probably charm the hell out of everyone. He was good at that. Your mom even text you her approval and not just because she found him attractive. He made her laugh and he played into her narcissistic tendencies. But, she did mention that he said nothing but the most glowing remarks about you, which she loved (because she raised you that way).

     Inside, Ry had outdone herself. Everything sparkled or shone in the light. She’d dimmed the house lights to look like candle light and the effect was stunning. The music, you assumed, from the 20s was playing over the stereo. Other guests had already arrived and were chatting with Ry and Christina.

     You and Dean were taking off you coats when Ry spotted you and came over. She wore a fitted, and beaded flapper dress that must have been heavy as hell. Her head band matched her dress and was worn in the style of the day. Even her shoes were a spot-on match to the era. The beads that hung from the hem of her dress jostled as she moved and you almost wished yours had similar beading.

     Seeing your look of awe as she came over, she paused to do a little jig, turning her ankles out like a flapper would do. She gave Dean a quick glance before she pulled you down for a hug.

     “You look amazing, you leggy bitch,” she said, admiring your dress.

     “Everyone is taller than you, Ryan,” you returned.

     “And who is your ‘plus one’?” she asked, as if she didn’t know exactly who Impala Guy was.

     “Ryan, this is my fiance, Dean Winchester,” you formally introduced them. “Dean, this is Ryan Dalton.”

     “Ryan Dalton? Like the sci-fi writer?” he asked, extending his hand.

     “Oh honey, there’s no ‘like’ about it. That’s exactly who I am,” she took his hand.

     Watching the realization dawn on the faces of fans was one of Ryan’s favorite things to witness.

     “I always thought you were a dude,” he commented.

     Ryan laughed, “Guys usually do. Women were writing science fiction long before men.”

     “No disrespect intended,” he said. “I love your books. Like the part when they were looking for Ace and the world changed around them? So cool,” he gushed.

     “Looks like you have another fanboy, Ry,” you chimed in. “Are Steve and Tab coming this year?”

     “They were here first, actually. I’ve already had the talk with him,” she rolled her eyes. “You, too?” she glanced at the walking stick Dean had.

     “Yeah. Fingers crossed,” you sighed and crossed your fingers.

     You and Dean talked with Ry a few moments longer before more guests arrived and she had to excuse herself. You showed Dean around a little and stopped to talk to a few people you’d met from one of Ry’s other parties.

     “Who are Steve and Tab?” Dean asked. “Fancy writer friends?”

     “Yeah, you could say that,” you answered. “Ryan gives Steve technical advice when he needs it.”

     “Technical advice?”

     “Ryan was a forensic lab technician in her former life. When the books started being more profitable, she stopped doing that work,” you explained how Ryan and Steve knew each other.

     You showed Dean the restroom and were the food and drinks were located. You’d already had dinner for the night and your dress was feeling the strain of the holiday. Dean, however, felt no such strain and tried a sample size of each of the appetizers, snacks, and treats Ryan had amassed for the party.

     “Are you going to eat all of that?” you asked, amused. You still couldn’t figure out where he put it all. He had the metabolism of a damned hummingbird.

     “Yup,” he said through a mouthful of…something. “This stuff is awesome.”

     You put your hand on his chest and reached up to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to go talk to some friends. Will you be okay on your own?”

     “Oh yeah, I’m good,” he kept chewing. “Nice touch getting my beer in here.”

     “She must like it, otherwise it wouldn’t be here,” you told him and meant it. “Ryan has great taste.”

     “Obviously,” he agreed, taking a gulp of his beer. “That wife of hers…” he whistled.

     You backhanded his chest.

     “Hey!”

     Dean backpedaled quickly, “I was just agreeing she has good taste. Her best friend is hot as hell. Clearly, she has the best taste.”

     “And don’t you forget it,” you warned.

     He smiled at you and leaned down to kiss you, the taste of crab rolls still on his lips.

     “No, ma’am,” he grinned. “I know what’s good for me.”

     Hate to see her go, love to watch her walk away, he thought. He’d finished the appetizers on his plate and decided to take a stroll through the main floor, walking stick in hand. He’d not been too enthusiastic about getting prettified for the party, though he did have to admit, the top hat and walking stick made him feel like a high-class hero. He found a room that wasn’t quite so full of people. Someone was in the center of a group. Dean got a little closer, but couldn’t see who it was. Instead, he turned to see what books Ryan and Christina had on their shelves. She had some cool statues and some flower holder thingies. They were so sparkly…

     “Hey! Neat walking stick, I have one just like it,’ a man was standing next to him. He wore outdated glasses and had a slightly disheveled appearance despite the formal occasion.

     “You’re… you’re…”

     “Steve. How are ya?”

     Dean,” he held up his walking stick.

     “Say, that’s really neat. You know, it reminds me of one I had for a scene I wrote,” Steve commented.

     “That’s so cool. You know, I want to keep swinging it around…”

     “…like a sword,” Steve said knowingly.

     Dean stood back slightly. Steve followed suit, a mischievous look on his face.

     “En gard,” Dean raised his walking stick.

     Steve turned out to be more aggressive than he had expected. The older gentleman put up a good fight and knocked Dean’s “sword” into the bookcase, unarming him and sending a vase toppling to the wood floor. The sound of shattering crystal brought the quick stops of three somewhat angry women.

     “Oh shit,” Steve mumbled. “Be cool.”

     Three faces stared them down. Christina quickly assessed what happened and did her best to hide her smirk. She turned away and went to get the dustpan and broom. Dean wasn’t worried about Ryan, he was more concerned about the look he was getting from (Y|N).

     “Steve. You promised,” Ryan scolded her friend.

     Steve only just dared to look at Ryan, “Sorry, Ry. I’ll buy you a new one. But, hey, I beat the kid.” Steve shrugged, holding up his walking stick as though there were a bright side to the situation.

     Dean took the broom from Christina to help clean up the mess he had helped create. 

     “Don’t worry about it too much, handsome,” Christina held the long handle of the dustpan. “It’s not a party until something unexpected happens,” she winked at him.

     “I swear I told him to be careful,” you looked at Ry and neither one of you could hold the giggles anymore. You turned away from the scene of the crime.

     “Oh my god, the looks on their faces,” tears were building in Ryan’s eyes, still stifling her laughter.

     “The shock! The ‘O’ face when they got busted,” you gasped, keeping yourself from a full laughter breakdown.

     You stayed turned away from them so they wouldn’t see your amusement. Everyone had gone back to dancing, drinking, and eating. When Dean finished cleaning up, he met up with you again and stuck to your side.

     Donna had arrived after the ‘sword’ incident and seemed to be in a good mood. She looked amazing in her Gatsby garb. She also had a few questions.

     “So, ah… Dean, is it?” Donna began. “If that is, indeed, your real name…” 

     Dean’s eyes got a little wider and gave Donna a look of his own in return.

     “Tell me… what are your intentions with my girl, here?” she tipped her head in your direction.

     “At this party?” he asked. Donna gave him a ‘really?’ look. “Oh, you mean in general…” he looked to you for help, but you just looked back at him. Donna wanted to hear it from Dean, and you were a little curious, yourself. “Um…well.. I’m going to get the business, get it on track, she’s gonna finish up with Chuck, we’ll get married, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she knows how much I love her. I promise,” he looked at you. “I would never do anything to hurt her.”

     “I suppose you’ll be taking her to cussin’ Kansas?”

     Dean nodded, he hadn’t heard it called that before.

     “Yeah, eventually. That’s where the main business is. (Y|N) will be running the dealerships and her custom work.”

     Donna still eyed him carefully. A sheen of sweat was about to form on Dean’s forehead.

     “Ever been in trouble with the law? Go to Juvie? Got a record? Speeding tickets? OWI?”

     “Nothing I’m willing to discuss without a warrant, Officer Hanscum,” Dean retorted.

     “Oh, got something to hide, huh?” Donna scrutinized his face, not missing a thing.

     “I thought you retired,” Dean quipped. The two both seemed to be enjoying the verbal sparring match.

     “Once a cop, always a cop,” she gave him a ‘friendly’ jab to the shoulder.

     “Well, now I’m curious. What skeletons are in your closet, Donna?” he sipped at his beer.

     “I’m the one asking the questions,” she said. “(Y|N) likes the bad boys… Better not have any trouble from ya. You may be bigger, but I do Crossfit.”

     “Oh my god, Donna,” you couldn’t believe the conversation you were witnessing.

     “Do you? What gym? That looks cool,” Dean didn’t take the bait. “Is there a gym in town?”

     Since you had nothing more to contribute, you excused yourself as you knew they would fall into a rabbit hole of conversation. You got enough of a work out hauling parts around all day. And, working in a garage was all of the sweating you wanted to do in a day. Ever since Donna started Crossfit, it was all she talked about. When they named a circuit after her (the D-Train), you wanted to go down to the gym and wring their necks.

     Thinking that it was time to get a drink, the liquor kind, you went to where the bar was set up and got yourself a tall one. By the time Dean found you again, you’d talked to several guests and had a plate of Ry’s delicious apps. You hadn’t sat down all night and your feet were very angry with you. You and Christina were having a good laugh at Deans and Steve’s expense.

     “No, really,” Christina assured you, “It’s not a big deal. Steve will replace it and probably get us something to go with it. I told Ryan he would break something.”

     As far as you knew, this was the first time Steve and Tab had come for the NYE party. You weren’t able to always go to the summer celebrations that he and his wife usually attended. 

     “Does it happen often?” you wondered.

     Christina rolled her eyes, “Almost every time!”

     “Hello, ladies,” Dean sounded so smooth.

     “Hello, sir,” Christina openly admired your future husband. “You always look this sexy?”

     “Don’t objectify me,” he tried to sound upset, but his eyes were twinkling. He liked attention from the voluptuous redhead. “…and…yes, I do.”

     Christina looked at you, grinning.

     “It’s true, he does. It’s annoying,” you agreed.

     Dean’s gaze had fallen on you and if Christina was still there, you didn’t notice. If there were ever any question who it was Dean had eyes for, it was answered in that moment. Your breath caught in your chest as he moved closer. You couldn’t move and  you didn’t want to. It was only a step or two, but it felt like more, the seconds passing like minutes. His arm slipped under yours to pull you close. His lips pressing to yours. His lips parted, his tongue grazing your lip. Parting yours, you deepened the kiss with him.

     “How ‘bout we go home?” his voice husky in your ear.

     “We have to stay until midnight,” you said.

     He nodded and as though reading your mind, “I don’t want anyone but you, sweetheart.”

     You hadn’t realized how late it was when the people behind the bar started pouring champagne. Ryan called out for everyone to grab a glass and Christina went to the other areas to spread the word.

     Champagne glasses in hand, you stood with Dean, your arm around his waist, his around your shoulders. Ryan turned on the TV and the sound played on the whole house audio system. Dean, you knew, was rolling his eyes at the sight of Seacrest and just wanted to go home. But, you also knew he was staying for you and to make a good impression with your friends. You had no problem exploiting that.

     As the countdown began, Dean didn’t wait for the final drop and leaned down to kiss you. His tongue soft but firm against yours, taking control. He always surprised you with how he could take your breath away.

     “Happy New Year, beautiful,” he said for your ears only.

     The ball had dropped and if the guests weren’t cheering or using their noisemakers, they were kissing their significant others like you and Dean had.

     “Happy New Year,” you said back. The two of you gulped the nearly forgotten champagne so you could find your hosts and say your goodbyes. They were still in their NYE kiss, very much like you and Dean had been.

     “Whoa,” he stopped, ogling them. “That’s hot.”

     “Easy, perv-o,” you said.

     “What? Your friends are hot. Tell me that’s not hot,” he scoffed.

     You could not but glance at your friends, “They’re my family, so… yeah, sorry, it’s like watching my sister kiss…” you struggled for a comparison. “…just ‘no’.”

     You looked around and spotted another couple, “There’s Drew and Castin. Yeah, now that’s hot.”

     Dean looked to follow your line of sight, “Oh really? What else gets your motor runnin? So not your best friend and her wife, but … other chicks?” He needed to know all the juicy details.

     “Would you stop?” you were starting to feel warm.

     “That’s not a ‘no’,” he fist pumped. “Yes?”

     “Yes, okay? Shut up, they’re coming over.”

     He sighed, “It’s like Christmas again.”

     “Hey, are you guys ready to head out? The party’s just getting going,” Ryan tried to get you to stay.

     “Yeah, i think we’re gonna go,” you tried to sound apologetic. People were, in fact, dancing and if you’d been closer, you might have heard all of the bead work jostling to the music.

     Dean was holding your hand to keep you from trying to stay. You’d been cheated out of a dance at the gala and it was happening again. For as much as you wanted to stay, your feet told you it was time. Boots were your usual footwear of choice and a necessity for your job.

     “It was very nice to meet you, both,” Dean said in his most charming tone. “Sorry…again… about the glass thing.”

     “Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten. Steve, however, knew the house rules,” Ryan assured. “Just, please, if you come to the 4th of July party, do not set off any fireworks with him.”

     Dean suspected there was a story there. Under different circumstances, he would have asked about the need for the house rules, but (Y|N) was ready to go and he’d had enough of parties. 

     “You got a deal,” he chuckled.

     Before the party, you’d brought a few things to Dean’s place, a bag for you and a bag for Harry. So when you went to his place after the party, you things were already there and you felt slightly more at home there. Dean took a drowsy Harry outside for a quick trip and was back by the time you found a good radio station.

     It was nice to be in a quiet place with Dean. Your feet had gotten a short rest on the rade back but they still felt like they were on fire. You sat on the couch cushion edge to take off your shoes. Dean had taken off his jacket and tie, tossing them on the back of the couch as a light snow began to fall outside. The soft music filled the space and you could feel the exhaustion coming for you.

     It’s late at night and we’re all alone

     Just the music on the radio

     No one’s comin’, no one’s gonna telephone

     Just me and you and the lights down low.

     Dean stood in front of you, offering his hands to help pull you up from the couch. Taking his hands, you reluctantly left him pull your feet and you noticed he’d taken off his shoes and socks, too.

     “I believe I owe you a dance,” he said, taking you to the open space between the sleeping area and livingroom. There was no rug on the cement floor there and you moaned with pleasure at the cold feel of the floor on your sore feet.

     And we just flow together when the lights are low

     Shadows dancing across the wall

     Music’s playin’ so soft and slow

     Rest of the world so far away and small

     He pulled you into his arms, practically supporting you, swaying with you to the music.

     “Steve said something to me about you,” he began. Looking up at him in question, he continued, “He said real love is when you don’t go looking for it; it finds you and if you can be silent and still want to be with your someone, hold onto her.”

     As we dance together in the dark

     So much love in this heart of mine

     You whisper to me, hold you tight

     You’re the one I thought I’d never find

     “You’re stuck with me now, ‘cause I’m never letting go,” his breath was warm on your ear.

     “I love you so, so much,” you tightened your hold on him.

     When we’re slow dancin’, swayin’ to the music

      Slow dancin’, just me and my girl

     Slow dancin, swayin’ to the music

     No one else in the whole wide world

     Just you and me, girl.

[floatingpetals]

One Last Call || Maybe Not

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Angst, language, eventual fluff

Word Count: 2400+

Summary: A mission had gone horribly wrong. She knew things were grim, and she had something she desperately needed to get off her chest. All she needed was one last call.

A/N: HA YA’LL THOUGHT I WAS GONNA LEAVE IT LIKE THAT?! HAAAAAA!! APRIL FOOLLSS!!! But seriously, I couldn’t leave that story off the way it did. It just hurt too much. I’m not gonna give much more away, so I hope you enjoyy!! 

Gifs not mine, credit to the creator!

Natasha was there the second the phone slipped from Steve’s fingers. She knew how important Y/N was in his life, how quickly he had grown to care for the woman. It was heartbreaking to watch; he was just forced to listen to her dying breath and there was nothing he could do about it.

Tony let out a heavy sigh, biting back his own set of tears. His gaze swept around the rest of the team, seeing similar reactions on the rest of the team. They fought back their own tears, the air was thick and somber. With heavy steps, he walked over to the discarded phone on the floor and picked it up. He paused when he heard shouting from the other end. The line must not have dropped. Raising the phone to his ear, he winced after a loud shout and snapped back.

“Hey-What’s going on?”

The officer on the other end let out a string of words in Ukrainian before letting out a sigh of relief.

“Добре. Ти все ще там.”

“Yup. Gotta speak English.” Tony said flatly. He figured they’d need to discuss where to pick up Y/N’s body, no doubt they’d have to take her to a corner before they could get her back to them. To bring her home one last time. The words the officer spoke next made Tony’s heart burst with hope.

“She’s still breathing.”

Sinking back into his seat, Tony let out the breath he was holding. Voice shaking he asked the man to repeat himself.

“The woman. We were able to get her breathing.” The officer said. He could hear the sirens pulling away in the distance, the officer closing his car door. “She’s in critical condition, but she is alive. For now.”

“Oh-That’s-“ Tony was at a loss for words, fresh tears now streaming down his face. Only this time they weren’t for sorrow. “What hospital are you taking her to?”

“A local hospital. They need to do surgery. There’s still a bullet in her side-.”

“Yes. Get her in and get it out. Do not let her code on us again.” Tony said firmly, spinning around in his seat to go at the controls. He kicked the jet into overdrive, pushing it to its limits.

Behind him, the rest of the team listened in shock. Steve’s sobs had stopped, his eyes wide as Tony explained that they were a few hours away. He glanced at Bucky, whose eyes were just as bloodshot as his. Was this a joke, or was Y/N still alive?

“I’ll send you the coordinates to our landing site. We’ll need transportation to the hospital. You can? Great.” Tony flipped off his tears and switched into the leading role. Y/N meant a lot to him as well, but someone needed to step in until Steve could recollect his emotions. Tony understood, he was the same and is the same when it comes to Pepper. “What’s your number? I’ll text you from my phone when we’re close and you can keep us updated.”

Natasha passed Steve a tissue, a happy smile spreading on her face. This was good. Y/N was still alive. Barely, but she was alive.

“Talk to you later.” Tony hung up the phone and spun around to address everyone. “We have great news and bad news. Good news, Y/N might have coded before they arrived but by some miracle, they were able to bring her back. Bad news; she’s hanging by a thread, needs surgery and we’re still five hours out.  Petro, the cop who answered her phone, says she’s got a bullet they need to get out and is suffering from significant blood loss and definitely has internal damage. She’s probably going to just get out of surgery by the time we get there if the damage is as extensive as they thought.”

“But she’s alive?” Natasha asked, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Tony smiled, although grimly, and nodded.

“She’s a fighter apparently.”

Steve stared down at his hands on his lap and gave a watery chuckle.

“That’s my girl.”

~~~~

True to Tony’s word, six hours later the jet landed in a field just outside of the village Y/N was sent to. Right where he said he would be, was Office Petro and four squad cars. He shook hands with Tony and directed them to pile in the cars. Steve joined Tony with Petro, eager to learn about Y/N’s status.

“She just got of surgery,” The bigger man said in his heavy accent. His voice was rough but gentle. He understood their concern for the woman he thought too was dead. She would have been another unfortunate statistic to the death of drug crimes around the area. “If you don’t mind me asking, why was she in the area we found her. You say she is an agent?”

“Yes,” Steve replied. “She was supposed to be tailing some of the drug dealers around this area. They’re small, but the demands for the drugs they supply is quickly growing. It’s a mix of molly and Adderall that a lot of younger teens seem to prefer.”  

“Ah, yes. They have quickly become a problem around here. But how would they know they were being watched by anyone, let alone a single woman?”

That caused Steve and Tony to pause. Petro was right. How else would they have known about Y/N? The gang wasn’t known for its use of guns and violence as of yet. They both shared a look, fury starting to build in their chests. Someone tipped them off.

“Anyways. The last thing they told me was she’s in ICU. She coded once on the table, but they were able to bring back once more.” Petro sounded impressed. “I don’t know what you give her to eat, but she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.”

Tony grimaced a part of him proud of Y/N but worried she wasn’t going to make it through the night.

“She’s a stubborn one, that’s for sure.” He clapped a hand on Petro’s shoulder. Petro pulled up to the front entrance of the hospital, throwing the car in park. Steve was out of the car before it stopped, desperate to see Y/N, to make sure she was still breathing.  

The nurse at the front desk had seen a lot of things in her days. Bullet wounds, people with limbs handing on by a thread, even people with screwdrivers embedded in their thighs. Looking up to see The Captain America, Ironman and party rush up to the desk looking like they were ready to tear the walls down was a different level of terror she experienced that day.

“There’s a woman, Y/N Y/L/N. She was brought in a few hours ago for a bullet wound and just came out of surgery.” Steve demanded, leaning over the desk. The nurses’ mouth fell open, her wide eyes darting frantically between the Avengers that loomed over her desk. She shook her head, unable to understand English. Petro tutted and pushed the overbearing Captain aside.

“She doesn’t speak English.” He explained and then turned to the woman. He explained quickly, asking for the room number Y/N was in. Relief washed over the woman, nodding quickly and leaned over the desk to point down the hall as she spoke. Petro turned to the Avengers. “She’s on the third floor, room 308. I’ll come so you don’t scare the other nurses.”

Steve bit back a snarl but nodded. He needed to get to Y/N, not get thrown out for terrorizing the natives. He followed a step behind Petro anxiously. The ride up was excruciating, and the walk to her room was terrifying. Petro stopped him at the door, waving to a sink.

“They want you to wash before you go in and only one at a time.”

“You go ahead.” Tony patted Steve on the shoulder. Steve stay rooted to the spot, staring blankly at the door in front of him. “Go on Cap. The team and I have things we have to take care of. Go see your girl.”

As he walked over to the sink, the reality of what happened and what he was about to step in to hit him. His stomach felt like someone filled it with lead, and his legs struggled to hold up his weight. He was terrified. He already thought he lost her once, just seconds after admitting how much she meant to him. She was nowhere near out of the clear. The second he’d open that door, it meant this was all real. It wasn’t some twisted nightmare he was forced to live through.

Nothing in his line of work could have ever compared to slowly opening the door and seeing Y/N hooked up to all machines. The door shut softly behind him, the click releasing the silent tears he held back. She looked so frail, her skin a sickly shade lighter than her usual tone. His heat shattered in his chest. He moved to stand beside her, afraid if he took her hand in his he’d hurt her further.

Letting out a heavy breath, Steve pulled the chair closer to her beside and delicately reached out to take her hand in his. Her skin was clammy and cold, but he could feel her faint heartbeat. It was enough to soothe his fears for now, even though he knew she still had a long recovery ahead of her. Pressing a kiss against the balk of her hand, he settled in beside her for the long wait for her to wake.

~~~~

The door popped open, startling Steve awake. He blinked, blearily looking for the newcomer. Bucky walked in with a fast food bag in one hand, and a giant drink in the other.

“Hey.” He greeted, passing the food over to his friend and sat in one of the large armchairs. Steve mumbled thanks and turned his eyes back to Y/N. They had taken her out of ICU three days ago, her body healed enough that she didn’t need to be on constant care. She, however, had yet to wake up. The doctors assured the team it wasn’t a bad thing, she went through extensive trauma and her body would wake on its own. Now in a new room, Tony made sure she got the best treatment he could get her. After two weeks sitting on the painful plastic chairs, Steve was grateful for the soft chairs in the nicer room.

“How’s she doin’?” Bucky asked, his eyes growing sad looking over her prone body.

“Same as yesterday,” Steve replied solemnly. Bucky grunted and reached in his pocket, pulling out a phone. He passed it over to Steve.

“Tony fixed it for you. Also wanted to let you know we found the assholes who did this. Natasha made sure the rest that went into hiding wouldn’t ever come back.” Bucky said with a hint of pride. Steve felt the corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. “Doesn’t mean they’ll stay there long. Natasha and Wanda both took this to a whole other level.”

“Good,” Steve stated, digging the food out from the bag. Bucky smirked.

“Tony threw a fit when he couldn’t get us the suite in the only hotel here in town. So, they set us up in the honeymoon suite.” Bucky muffled a groan and rolled his head to look at Steve. “It’s been an interesting few weeks. You ever gonna come up to the room?”

Steve shook his head, chewing on a bite from the burger. The room had a shower, and he had Natasha bring him a change of clothes and deodorant. The only time he left was when he went to get coffee or food from the cafeteria. The nurses and doctors stopped trying to push him out after visiting hours, instead opting to just ask him to stay in the room with Y/N. Not that he ever had plans on leaving her side for too long.

“Come on man.” Bucky started up. “You can’t stay here the whole time. You need to sleep. In a bed. And not curled up on a half stuff ottoman in a hospital.”

“I hear what you're saying, but no Buck. I can’t leave her.” Steve said firmly. “I wasn’t there for her when she needed me, but I’m going to be here for her when she wakes up.”

Bucky fell quiet, observing Steve for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Alright. But when she wakes up and bitches you out for not taking care of yourself, give me a heads up. I want to get a seat and popcorn for that show.”

“You’re hilarious,” Steve stated dryly. Bucky flashed him a toothy grin and swung a leg over the arm of his chair.

“That’s why you keep me around.”

“Punk.”

“Dick.”

“Hey now. That's rude.”

The two froze, their eyes going wide at the scratchy feminine voice that entered the fray. Their heads snapped towards the bed, both their eyes growing wide in shock. Steve moved first, vaulting off the chair to rush to Y/N’s side. He grabbed her hand while Bucky shot off outside to grab a nurse, giving the two a moment before the doctors would come rushing in.

“Shit, sweetheart.” Steve croaked, the tears starting all over again. “I’m so glad to see you’re awake! How are you feeling? What hurts?”

“Slow down, Stevie.” Y/N giggled, wincing at the flash of pain that shot up her side. “Clearly, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Jesus, you gave me a heart attack. I thought I lost you.” Steve stated his voice cracking. “I heard you die. I just-.”

“Hey.” Y/N interrupted. She reached her free hand up, and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb along his lips. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I didn’t though. I’m here. That’s all that matters.”

Steve couldn’t say a word, his voice caught up in his throat. Instead, he did what he’d wanted to since the day he realized he started to fall for her. He closed the distance between them and pressed a searing kiss against her lips. Y/N melted under his touch, tugging him closer. They didn’t pull back until the door swung open, the doctors filtering in.

Stepping back, Steve’s eyes never left Y/N as the doctors went through the motions. A smile spread on his face, his eyes shining with fresh unshed tears. He wasn’t going to mess this up. He was tired of being careful. He had a second chance, and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

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