#you really think roger would do that? just go onto the witness stand and tell lies?

[widowshill]

V that is the man's favorite hobby

[itsthestutterforme]

The Next Step Part Two

Summary: A few kids were able to hear Hanseok's screams in the abandoned house Vincenzo left him in. They called the ambulance in time to take him to the hospital. Months later, Hanseok tracks Y/N down at a party with Han and tries to kill her. Han had something else in mind.

Notes: mention of Jang Hanseok, mentions of Vincenzo plots, SMUT warning, 18+, minors DNI, GIF is not mine

--

Despite it being months since Vincenzo's call saying that Hanseok was dead, Han still kept his eye on you. Once he saw you actively looking for apartments, he squashed it and said that you could keep each other company. Something fluttered in you when he said that he was willing to do anything to keep you safe.

For once, you enjoyed someone staking claim over you. With Han, he respects your individuality and free will. He doesn't restrain you from doing anything but when he thinks you're doing something dangerous, he'll keep you company.

Sean thinks that Han will ask you out or something but you said that wasn't going to happen he only saw you as a friend and he was still in love with Giselle. Sean asked Han the same thing and he was said similar things. So Sean decided to leave you two alone and let you two figure it out ourselves.

"Put something cute on, we're going to a party." Han says, poking his head in to see you doing yoga. "Who are you trying to be flexible for?" He asks. "For me, Han. Yoga calms me." You say, lifting one leg and tucking it on your pelvic bone in the tree pose. Han steps into the room and pushes you into the cushion in front of you.

"Han!" You scold. "Come on, Sean is waiting for us." He says, turning his back to leave but you jump on his back instead. You grab the chips from his hand and jump off his back to make a run for it but he already grabs you. The back of your knees hit the bed, sending you both hurdling onto the bed.

Your hair fans around your head as you stare up at him. A smile tugs on his lips and he asks, "Is that where you wanted this to go?" You were completely baffled by the fact that his hips were hovering over yours and his chocolate brown eyes drifting between your lips and your eyes.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" "Something like that." He leans in so close you could practically taste him. Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart bangs against your chest but your find yourself pulling him closer until your lips collide with his. A softly sigh into the kiss and he plants a hand on either side of you.

You were just getting used to him lips against yours when his phone starts to ring. He pulls away with a grumble and answers his phone with a sharp what. You smile up at him and you could hear Sean asking where you guys were through the phone but Han leans down to give you a few more kisses in response.

"We'll be there. Don't get your boxers in a twist," Han says against your lips. He ends the call and kisses you once more before getting up from the bed. "Get dressed."

"Roger that," you say, sliding to the edge of the bed. "You want your chips back?" "I'm actually in the mood for dessert, but I'll gladly wait until later tonight." He says, giving you a once over.

Feeling a bigger sense of pride, you walk up to him and press the bag of chips into his chest. "I'm going to take a shower, care to join?" You ask. "If I do that, we're definitely not making it to the party.

**

Han and Y/N finally pick up Sean thirty minutes later and he immediately felt a change in the vibe between you two. And he definitely noticed the stolen glances and smiles you would send each other. But he didn't say anything until he was alone with Han.

"So what happened between you two?" Sean asks before taking a swig of beer. "What are you talking about?" Han asks, trying to keep it cool by having his back leaning against the railing and not staring at her like he wanted to do. But at least Sean has eyes on her.

Han has body guards trained on her at all times but he still worries for her. It's like he can finally breath when he sees her. "Alright, well what if I tell you she was talking with a pretty good looking guy right now?" "She's her own person. I don't control anything she does." Han answers, popping a chip into his mouth.

"Oh, look at that, he's snaking an arm around her waist." Sean teases and Han wiped his head around so fast, Sean felt whiplash by just witnessing it. Han looked to see you softly swaying her hips to the music as you sipped on your Sake. No man in sight. Once Han realized that he rolled his eyes at Sean but couldn't hide the sigh of relief that left his lips.

"So what changed between you two?" Sean repeats. "We kissed. And it felt so addicting like smoking my first cigarette. I just want to keep kissing her until I can't breathe. And it scares me man." Han says, crunching on more chips.

Sean's eyebrow furrows when he realizes that you were gone and your normal guards are nowhere in sight. "Han, she's gone." Sean says. "Cut the shit. It's not funny."

"No, I'm serious. Look." Han looks at you were a few minutes ago to see . Little did they know that Hanseok tracked you down and followed them into the club.

He bought off Han's guards so you became easy access. Then he just pulled you into a room and shoved you in. Crawling away from him on the floor, you frantically searched for anything you could use as a weapon. Then your eyes fall on a mirror.

"You almost killed me, you know. Vincenzo nearly did it, but he was so caught up on making me suffer as you requested, that it gave me the chance to be saved." Hanseok explains, pulling off his hoodie to show his scarred body.

"Oh God," you whimper. "I'm going to enjoy this," He says, pulling a knife from his belt. You stand up in a wide stance and put your hands up so you could deflect his blows. Your hands were shaking, your worst nightmare has come to life but you can't forget what Vincenzo taught you after he left Korea.

He came to Japan to visit you and see how you were doing. In return for assisting with Hanseok's execution, he taught you how to defend yourself from any deadly weapon. "What? You really think you're going to fight me?"

"The days where I cower from you are over, Hanseok. You want to kill me? Go ahead and try." You snark, shifting your weight from one foot to the next as you waited for him to strike. "Where the hell could she be? She was just here!" Han snaps, looking around the crowd frantically.

You scrambled out of the room with blood sprayed across your neck from when she stabbed Hanseok in the chest with a piece of glass. He should be dead but knowing that he has a vendetta, he's not going to die so easily. You spot Han in the crowd and ran towards him.

"What the hell happened?" "H-hanseok, he's still alive. He tried to kill me." You whimpered, tears building in your eyes. "Where is he?" Han asked. You could see his eyes darken with anger but chose not to question it. You took his hand and followed him into the room where Hanseok held his chest heaving.

Han took out his phone to call DK who answered on the first ring. "Bring your gun. We have some business to take care of." Han says coldly. "Take her back to my place and don't leave her side until I get there." Han says to Sean, talking as if you weren't standing right there.

"No, I'm staying with you." You start, grabbing a hold of his arm. "I don't want you to see me like this," Han says, pulling his arm away hesitantly. "Come on, Y/N." Sean says and Han reassured, "I'll be fine." You nodded before following Sean to the car.

**

Hours passed and you were on the verge of taking Han's car and going back to the club when Han slowly walks through the door. Sean and you looked at him with wide eyes when you notice blood splattered across his clothes and face. He was practically drenched in it.

"You can take my car back home, Sean. I won't be leaving for a while." Han says softly and Sean nods his head, choosing not the say a word. He leaves the apartment and you spring to your feet. You try to cup his face to get a good look at him but he moves away.

"Han," "Let me get cleaned up first," he walks passed you and turns on the shower. You wait on the couch for him to finish his shower, chewing on the inside of your cheeks nervously. He finally walks back in with black sweatpants and a white tank top.

"I'm headed to bed. It's been a long day." He says. "Don't do that. Talk to me. Please." You say, standing in his way. "What happened?" You add.

"Do you really want to know?" "I want to know if you're okay." "Well I don't want to talk about it. Good night." He dismissed before walking upstairs to his room.

You respected his decision and decided to stay in the living room with a clear view of the door. Just in case Hanseok crawls out of his grave and finds his way back to you again. Truthfully, you didn't feel the need to sleep. But after you became hyper-vigilant of the door, your eyes closed on their own.

You woke to a soft hand touching your cheeks. Gasping away, you grab Han's hand. "Hey, relax, it's just me." He says and you loosen your grip on him. Sitting up, you tuck your knees into your chest. "What are you doing awake?" You ask.

"I couldn't sleep." He says, followed by a long silence. "Thank you, for doing that for me. I don't know how to repay you." You say. "You don't have to repay me." "Of course I do. What you did is traumatic. It'll effect you in ways I can't fix." "As long as you're by my side, Y/N. I can get through anything."

"Han," you start, but he turned your chin so you are facing him. "I love you," he says, making your heart flutter. You lean forward and pressed your lips to him. Piling yourself in his lap, you pull away to say, "I love you too."

He stands from the couch and carries you into the bedroom, occasionally pecking you on the way. He lays down on the bed and you straddled his lap. You unbuttoned your shirt and let it fall off your shoulders. Your hands found his chest but he sits up and rolls so you are laying on your back.

He glances down at your bare chest before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. Your head falls onto his soft pillow as he continued to work on your sensitive nub. He pulls away with a satisfying pop before blowing cool air and pressing a soft kiss to your nipple.

He does the same to the other breast and your back arches off of the bed, gasping when your clothes buckle rubs against his crotch. He kisses down the line of your stomach before pulling off your fleece shorts, leaving more kisses in it's wake. He settles himself in between your legs and props your legs on his shoulder.

"Oh God," you whine when he laps your folds painfully slow and kitten licks your clit before lapping your fold again. Your hand rakes through his fine hair and he links one of his hands with yours, resting it on your stomach. You rolled your hips at the same time his kitten licked you clit and your legs spasm as you release yourself into his mouth.

"You taste amazing, ojo." He says. He uses his thumb to part your folds before going to work on your clit much faster now. "Han! Oh God, oh God, oh God," you chant as your grip on his hair tightens and you lift your hips off the bed. He push you back down gently and unlinks his hand with yours so his body could shadow over yours.

His free hand rubs circles on your clit and you moan into his mouth. "Han, please." "Shh, chisana hana." You moan at his pet name for you. Little flower. I think it fits. He captures your lips in a slow kiss that you were so caught up in, you didn't even notice that he pulled off his pants and started to pump himself.

He gently parts your legs and slides the tip along your folds to gather your juices. He slides himself in and your toes curl as his dick brushes up against a sensitive spot in your pussy. He waits for you to adjust and you signal him to move by nodding softly. His thrust are slow but deep and he buries his face into your neck.

You rest your hands on his lower back and he continued to rub your clit as he thrusted into you. A whine leaves your lips as you come apart under him but he continues to thrust into you. He lifted one leg over his shoulder and kept the other one hooked around his waist.

Digging your nails into his back, he moans and arches his back, digging himself deeper into you. "Of fuck," he moans into your neck and thrusting into you faster until you came undone once again. You were seeing stars as he cums after three hard thrusts.

He pulls out of you and lays down next to you, nuzzling himself into you neck and leaves soft kisses. The entire time, it felt like you were floating on a cloud. His touches felt light as a feather but burned into your skin the more he touched you.

It was nothing like sex with Hanseok. Han puts your needs before his own and he actually takes care of you in ways you didn't even know were possible. "Can I tell you something?" "Sure," you lay on your side, resting your hand on the side of your face.

"I think I fell for you and it scares the hell out of me." He confesses and you reach over to trace the side of his face. He waits for you to say something and a soft smile plays on your lips. "I think I fell for you as soon as we met. But we don't have to rush anything. We have nothing but time." You say softly.

"Come here," he says,.opening his arms and you wrap your arms around his neck, hiking your leg over his waist.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Stupid Decision

 MAIN MASTERLIST

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2,950ish

Summary: Steve makes a stupid decision regarding your relationship. (Angst/Fluff)

Notes: This is my entry for @sylvie-writes​ writing challenge. I didn’t bold the prompts but I used 23, 30, 32, 36, 44, and 52.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The five words no one ever longed to hear when they were in love. Especially when you were in love with none other than, Captain America. You knew something had been off before he left for the mission a week ago. And now, he had gotten back and went straight to your room. You tried to welcome him back with open arms, only for him to say.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart broke instantly. “Wh-what? Why?” Your voice was small, which made Steve almost wince.

“I just… I can’t.” He turned to leave but you quickly stopped him.

“No! You don’t get to just say you can’t do this anymore and walk away. I am owed an explanation.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I just can’t any more. It’s not you, it’s—“

“Bullshit! Just tell me.”

“I have another mission, Y/N. I just came to tell you it was over. I have to go.” 

He opened the door, walked out and quickly closed it. You were so shocked that you couldn’t move to chase after him. It wasn’t worth it anyway if he was done. There was no point in fighting it. You began crying into your hands, slowly lowering yourself onto your knees. Unbeknownst to you, Steve was still outside the door. He was leaning against it, head up and hand still on the door knob. He was looking at the ceiling, wishing for his tears to disappear as he listened to your cries.

The mission had been rough, as many were. But this time they had clear information on you. Your patterns, your likes and dislikes, everything down to your elementary school grades. They threatened him with your life and he could not risk it. It was killing him the whole way home that he had purposefully put together another mission to get back out there as soon as possible. But right now, Steve couldn’t get himself to move. You were inside your room, heart broken, and all he wanted to do was fix it. But he couldn’t. Not until the threat was completely gone.

~~~

Tony, Natasha, and Clint were all in the kitchen, fixing themselves breakfast, when Tony suddenly stopped what he was doing.

“What is it, Stark?” Natasha wondered.

“Shit’s about to hit the fan,” Tony answered, squinting his eyes and looking around. “I can feel it.”

Clint laughed. “You can feel it?” Clint repeated. “Since when?”

“Since ever. Trust me on this one. Something’s off about today.”

You slunk into the room. Sleep had eluded you, so you already were struggling to look decent. But it was also clear that you had been crying.

“Y/N?” Natasha questioned. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Steve broke up with me,” you answered quietly.

“What?!” Clint and Natasha exclaimed.

“See!” Tony shouted. “I told you shit was about to hit the fan!”

“Tony,” Natasha scolded, coming to your side. “Why would he do that?”

You pursed your lips, trying to keep your emotions in check. “He just… he just said that he couldn’t do it anymore. Then he left. Said he had another mission to go on.”

“Another mission?” Tony repeated. “There was no plan for another mission.”

“Well then I don’t know where he is then, Tony!” You yelled, letting it all out. “That’s what he told me, after… after…” You started hyperventilating, unable to fully take in air.

“Y/N, I need you to breathe,” Natasha coaxed, running a hand up and down your back. 

You shook your head, struggling. Nat guided you to a chair and knelt down in front of you. Tears slipped down your cheeks and you failed to take in any full breaths.

“Focus on me, Y/N,” Natasha guided. “Focus on my voice.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony called out to the AI, “I need a location on Rogers.”

“Captain Rogers is currently flying in a quinjet with Sargent Barnes and Mr. Wilson,” FRIDAY responded.

“I need details on their mission sent to me, now.” 

“I don’t…” you choked out. “I don’t… un-under-stand-d… is he… see-ing… someone… else…?”

“Impossible,” Clint replied, shaking his head. “Cap’s head over heals in love with you.”

“Th-then wh-yyy…?”

“I’ve given you all the details I have to Captain Rogers plans, Boss,” FRIDAY stated.

“I’m going to figure this out, kid. I’m going to bring them home and give ‘em hell,” Tony said. “I promise.” He press a kiss to her head before hurrying away.

“Nat…” you cried. “It hurts…”

“I know,” she rubbed her thumb over your knee. “I know… let’s get you back into bed. You need some rest.”

~~~

After Clint and Nat tucked you in, you slept for hours while they tried to figure out what Steve was thinking.

“They’ve somehow cut FRIDAY out of the quinjet,” Tony said, him and the others in his lab. “And they didn’t put in any flights plans before FRIDAY got disconnected.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Clint said, looking over everything. “Steve came to me a few weeks ago, asking when I knew Laura was the one. I asked him if he thought Y/N was the one and he said yes. He couldn’t have changed his mind that fast… right?”

“I think I’ve found something,” Natasha said, sitting in front of a computer. “This is the footage from Steve’s suit cam from the last mission.” She pulled screenshots up. “There’s information all about Y/N here. Like, everything. Her whole life story, her day-to-day routines. Everything.”

“He thinks he’s protecting her,” Tony whispered, looking over everything. “He thinks this is his fault and that he has to be the one to fix it.”

“Stupid, idiot men,” Natasha muttered. “Always feeling the need to protect us by doing stupid shit. We need to get him back here before she turns around and does something stupid herself.”

~~~

It was now the middle of the night and you couldn’t sleep. You were craving sugar, hard core, and you knew exactly where to find it. Sneaking out to the kitchen, you found where the cans of frosting were kept. You grabbed a spoon before carefully opening the can and sat up on top of the counter. You closed your eyes and moaned as that first spoonful ran across your tongue. 

“Did I just witness you eat frosting straight from the can?”

You jumped at the sound of Clint’s voice, almost slipping off the counter.

“Shit, Clint! You scared me.”

“Sorry about that.” He waltzed into the kitchen and stood across from you, leaning against the counter. “But seriously, are you eating frosting straight from a can?”

“It’s not a crime, Clint, it’s just my coping mechanism. Deal with it.” You put another spoonful in your mouth. 

“How are you holding up?”

“How do you think? As you’ve pointed out twice now, I’m eating frosting from a can.”

“He’s an idiot.” 

You nodded in agreement, taking another spoonful. “Yeah…” you sighed. “Clint, I don’t know if I can be here when he comes back.”

“What? You can’t seriously be thinking about leaving?”

“I am seriously thinking about it. I’m not even a part of the team nor do I work here at the compound. I moved in to be with Steve and now he doesn’t want to be with me, so I really don’t see a reason to stay. Technically, the room I’m in is his anyway.”

“Y/N, really think about this. Are you sure?”

You took a minute to really think about it. “I’m sure.”

~~~

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on here, punk?” Bucky asked. 

He and Sam had been dragged into the quinjet almost immediately after Steve had gotten home. They knew that something was wrong, but Steve wasn’t talking.

Steve sighed. “I guess it’s time that I told you,” he said. “I broke up with Y/N?”

“You what?!” His friends both shouted.

“Why? It doesn’t make any sense!” Sam continued. “Bucky, wasn’t it just a few weeks ago when Steve told us he was going to marry the girl. And now you’ve gone and broke up with her?! Do you have brain damage?!” Steve simply clenched his jaw, unable to look at them.

“Why did you do it, Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Cause they know everything,” Steve replied, quietly.

“Who knows everything?”

“HYDRA… On the last mission, I found a room dedicated to her. They’re planning on using her against me.”

“They can’t do that,” Sam said, shaking his head. “She’s perfectly safe at the compound.”

“Except she’s not. When I say they know everything, Sam, I mean they know everything. Her habits, her likes and dislikes, every moment we’ve spent together… In order to keep her safe, I needed to break up with her.”

“Was that’s HYDRA’s call or your call?” Bucky asked. Steve didn’t answer. “You idiot.”

“I had to do what was needed. We’re on our way to another base. I can’t be with her until they’re gone.”

“Did you ever think about the effect this would have on her?”

“I did. But I had to do it. She’s safe under Tony’s care right now while I fix this.”

“You didn’t even think this through, did you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N’s not an Avenger. So she had no reason to be living at the compound besides you. It’s only a matter of time before she moves out. And we all know she’s not safe out there.”

“I’m sure the Team can keep her there.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “Do they even know what’s going on?”

“They don’t. But if I know Natasha, she’ll do anything to keep me and her together.” 

“She’s going to kill you for doing this to Y/N.”

Steve winced, imagining what Nat will do to him when she sees him again. “Well, we’re not going back until this mission is complete.”

~~~

Clint watched you through the vents throughout the night. He wanted to see if you were really serious. And you were, you packed up all your belongs before dawn. You had also found a new apartment already. Almost every box was in the moving truck by the time Clint woke up from his spot in the vent. Upon seeing the room with only Steve’s things in it, he rushed to the lab, where Nat and Tony were still trying to get a hold of Steve, Bucky, and Sam.

“Guys! Guys! Guys!” Clint ran in. “We have a problem!”

“What is it, Legolas?” Tony asked. “I’ve almost hacked into the quinjet here.”

“Y/N’s leaving! She’s packed up and almost out of here!”

“What?!” Natasha and Tony shouted.

“We have to stop her! We need to get Steve back here!”

“I’m trying, Barton,” Tony said. “You and Red find a way to slow her down. I think I’ve got a location on them. I’m going to take a suit and go after them.”

~~~

You were walking to your car to go and meet the moving truck at your new place, when suddenly there was a red head in front of you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked, hands on her hips.

“To my new apartment,” you answered. 

“Why? This is your home.”

“No, this is Steve’s home.”

“And now yours.”

“Nat… I really don’t want to do this right now. I just want to get to my new apartment and sleep.”

“You can sleep here.”

“I’m sorry, Nat.” You tried to move around her, only for her to get back in your way. “Seriously, move.”

“Try me.” She narrowed her eyes at you.

“You know I can’t compete with you. Just, Nat… I can’t be here when he gets back… he doesn’t want to be with me anymore. And that’s… well it sucks and, honestly, I may never recover. But I have a better shot at doing so someplace else.”

“Y/N…” Natasha reached for your hand, but you stepped back.

“No.” You shook your head. “If you touch me, I will break. And I don’t want to break in front of people. I have to be strong.”

“Rogers is an idiot.”

You gave her a small, but fake, smile. “I never said he wasn’t. Please, Nat, let me go.”

“Fine,” Natasha sighed. “I’m coming with you to help you unpack.”

~~~

Tony landed on the quinjet, that was still in the air. He was furious at the Captain he knew was below him. Not bothering to open the ramp, he used a laser to cut a hole in the top of the quinjet and jumped through it.

“What the hell, Stark?!” Sam exclaimed. The three men were armed.

“What the hell is right,” Tony said, making his helmet disappear. He pointed at Steve. “I can’t even believe you.”

“Tony, you don’t understand,” Steve said.

“Oh, I think I do. You think you’re protecting her but Y/N is back in New York, heart broken and moving out of the compound.”

“Moving out? She can’t move out, it’s not safe. Why are you letting her do that?”

“I’m not letting her do shit, Rogers. She’s her own person who was basically told that she wasn’t worth it.”

“I never said that. I could never—“

“Doesn’t matter. You gave her no other reason, so she’s immediately feel to that.”

“It’s too dangerous—“

“Our lives our too dangerous, Steve! You don’t see it, but she doesn’t sleep when you’re gone. Always worried sick that you might never return! You think you’re protecting her by doing this, well you’re wrong! You’ve now pushed her out of the safest place she could be!”

“I may regret saying this, but I’m with Stark on this one,” Bucky said. “You’ve been a complete and utter idiot, Steve. Yes, protect her. Go out and destroy all of HYDRA, we’ll help. But break her heart in the process,” Bucky shook his head, “ridiculous. If you told her what was going on, she would have understood. The team could have created a plan to keep her safer, but instead you did the most stupid, cliche thing in the book.”

Steve fell back into the pilot’s seat, running a hand down his face. “I really am an idiot,” he whispered.

“Damn right you are,” Sam agreed. “So what do you say to destroying this HYDRA base we’re heading to and then going back and fixing things with your girl?”

~~~ 

Both Natasha and Clint helped you unpack, though they didn’t make it easy. They kept trying to put things back in the moving van to take back to the compound, but you wouldn’t have it. After having dinner together, you forced them to leave you alone. It was now the early hours of the morning and you were sitting out on the fire escape just outside your new bedroom window. You were lost in thought, staring at the sky.

“You are probably the only person in the world who can look this beautiful at 3 in the morning.”

Steve’s rough, yet timid voice caused you to jump in surprise. You didn’t say anything though, simply stared down at him. He wasn’t too far below you, still in his suit and roughed up from the mission.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see,” he began slowly, continuing up the fire escape. “But I had to see you.”

“Why?” You sounded weaker than you wanted to. “You said you couldn’t do it anymore…”

“And I was so incredibly stupid.” He sat on the same level as you, far enough away to give you your space while still being close. “I… the mission got into my head. They… they knew everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” he nodded. “They were planning to come after you and use you against me. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t get past it to see another way then ending it with you.”

“Steve,” you moved slightly closer. “You could have just talked to me about it.”

“I know… I wasn’t thinking… And for that I’m so sorry.” He met your eyes. His blues were glistening with tears. “Is there any way to fix this mess I’ve gotten myself into?”

You sighed, turning back to look at the sky. “I.. I… I’m scared… Scared of getting hurt again… But I’m more scared of not being able to love you.”

“Me too… Y/N, I made the stupidest decision I have ever made, by telling you I couldn’t do it anymore. It was me not thinking straight, acting on impulse. I should have talked to you about it all, gotten your opinion… I just love you so much, the thought of losing you was—“

“Too much to bare.” Steve nodded in agreement. “I know, cause I feel that way every time you leave for a mission. There’s always a good chance that you don’t come back, that doesn’t mean that I would ever break up with you.”

“You’re stronger than me… you always have been.”

You rested your hand on his closest to you. “We’re both strong in our own ways, that’s why we work so well together.” You moved closer to him, so your arms were brushing against each other. “I love you, Steve. You just need to promise to talk to me, or this isn’t going to work.”

He cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb against it. “I don’t deserve you… I love you, so much. I promise to talk more before I make a decision.”

You held up your pinky. “Pinky promise?”

Steve laughed as he brought up his pinky to wrap around yours. “Pinky promise.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XIX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, violence, attempted assault, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader finds herself at an impasse.

Note: Things are heating up and we're starting to go full force over here <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Days passed in idle anticipation. You kept Elina locked up with you and she grew more restless by the hour. When Lord Zemo came at night, she was happier but your sense of dread and impatience only grew. When the retinue arrived, you only wanted them to leave, but knowing who was roaming just floors below, you were anxious to strike first.

The baron was ever the voice of sense. Zemo was no beacon of morality, you knew that, but his honesty made him respectable. You considered how blatant he was in his intentions as compared to those other noblemen who painted their bad deeds as gifts. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely trustworthy but he didn’t trying to make you think otherwise.

You did your best to keep your daughter occupied with her many toys and quiet songs hummed out of tune. You bounced her on your hip as best you could with your cane in your other hand and crawled around with her like a dog. She was only calm when she slept as she longed for the sunlight that taunted her through the window.

You began to wonder how long the men would stay; how long you would be expected to stay hidden. Zemo mentioned vengeance and you dreamt of it every night. It was the only thing that kept you from quaking in fear and panic.

Tess brought your dinner and you placed it on the low table and sat on the floor with Elina and ate. You gave her tiny morsels to chew on or toss back at you. She was an energetic kid, stubborn and strong, and seemed to find fun in even the most dull tasks. You hoped she would grow up to be happier than you. Surely, she’d be more bold and more blessed.

As you chewed on some chicken, you heard that familiar knock on the door. Tess always gave a tiny tap and called through the wood but Zemo always gave that rhythmic beating. It was the latter, he was early that day. It made you worry as you left Elina to squeeze a piece of sweet potato and stood with your can dug into the wood.

You crossed to the door and turned the latch slowly. You opened the door and leaned heavily on the wooden stick, “well, you are earl--” your voice hung in the air as you stared at the familiar face, though it wasn’t Zemo.

You pushed the door but the man caught it and kept it two inches from the frame as he came closer. Peter’s hand trembled as he clung to the wood and gaped at you. He shook his head and blinked dumbly. The two years had given his face character and his shoulders a little more width.

“You’re alive?” he breathed.

“You can’t-- you have to go,” you pushed the door with a grunt, “please, go.”

“I thought… I thought you were dead,” he croaked, “I thought I--”

“Go away. Please!” you begged, “I can’t talk to you.”

“Or you won’t talk to me?” he challenged as he shoved his foot between the door and the frame, “how--”

“How did you find me?” you gasped.

He lowered his eyes and guiltily and clamped his lips shut. He sniffed and looked at you again, “I thought Zemo was hiding something from us. I followed him last night and listened… I couldn’t hear anything, I only saw him come here and knock.”

“No one else can know,” you said, “you can’t-- please go and don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t but-- I want to talk to you,” he insisted.

“You can’t. It’s too dangerous,” you argued, “you must go. If Zemo discovers you--”

“I don’t care if he does. Don’t you understand, I--I-- I thought I killed you.”

You were silent as you stared into his face. You saw the pain in his eyes, the shock laced with relief. But it was all tinted with the guilt he’d carried since that day. The false guilt you’d given him.

“I’m sorry, Peter, it was the only way out--”

“My aunt cried everyday for you and she never let me forget what you said to me. I never could forget,” he hissed.

“I know, but you have to--” Elina made a noise as she came over and clung to your leg, smearing food down your skirt. Peter looked at her and his lips parted in surprise, “no one can know about her.”

He nodded and gulped. He looked up and down the corridor. “I wouldn’t tell but I can’t go until we talk, I…” his voice cracked, “I need to tell you I was wrong. I lied.”

“El,” you bent to wipe her face and lifted her, “please, stay here,” you bid Peter as you turned and hobbled across the room.

You placed her in her cot, thought she only began to fuss, but you shoved a stuffed caribou into her hands and left her to poke its eyes. You went back to the door and found Peter staring at your cane.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “that’s my fault,” he nodded to the cane, “and that,” he looked to the scar down your face, “I saw it. I tried to follow you that day but I wasn’t fast enough and you were--”

“No, it wasn’t you. I said it was because I could. I couldn’t tell the man who made me do this so I told you instead. That was unfair and unkind,” you blinked away tears, “and I hurt more than just myself.”

He mulled your words and picked at his sleeve. He dressed finer than the last you’d met, “I didn’t mean what I said to Barnes. You were sweet to me and my aunt told me what you were, he told me you were worse, but I didn’t truly care. I only knew he was hurting you and I was making that worse so I thought if I stayed away, he’d stop.”

“No one can stop him. No one. Those men, they cannot be stopped. They are evil in the flesh, they are borne to greed and cruelty. They only see what they can get, not what they can give because they won’t ever be denied--”

You heard a clamor, the pounding of footsteps from the stairway, and the frantic breathing of whoever was approaching. You opened the door further and pulled Peter inside. You shut the door and leaned against it with him as you listened and watched through the crack.

“Away, away,” you heard Melinda’s airy pleas as she swept past your door, “please, sir, away!”

“I just want to play a little game,” the deep voice made your blood curdle then the realisation of what he was doing made it boil even hotter. You gripped your cane as Peter frowned at you, “come here, pet, I don’t bite.”

Melinda squeaked as Lord Rogers’ footsteps slowed and you heard the struggle that followed. The muffled collision of her body against the wall, the small girl’s broken breath as it was knocked from her, and his lewd growl as he pounced.

You pushed Peter away from you and tore open the door. They were closer than you thought. Just against the wall opposite your room. Lord Rogers’ body shielded the girl’s body almost entirely. You raised your cane without a second thought and brought it down on his shoulders.

As he exclaimed and staggered, you hit him again, the time in the back of the head. You swooped your cane down and banged his knees so that he fell onto the stone. You hit him again in the side as he wheezed and you stood over him.

“Bastard! Bastard!” you hit him as the young maid and the other lord watched in shock, “how dare you? You beast!”

Peter grabbed your arm and stopped you as Rogers rolled onto his back and coughed. He groaned as he reached to his head and you were pulled away from him. You struggled with Peter as you wanted badly to hit him again.

“Melinda,” you said as you struggled, “go fetch the baron. Now!”

She skittered off like a mouse, careful to tiptoe around Rogers as he sat up and gripped his right shoulder where you’d hit him. He chuckled as he looked up at you. He grinned beneath the trickle of blood on his lips.

“Oh, well, what a treat this is,” he mocked, “the whore lives.”

“You’re vile,” you snarled, “I should bash you like the snake you are.”

“Parker,” he spoke to the man at your side, “hold her for me.” He grunted as he pushed himself up and stumbled a little on his feet, “let us remind her of who she is… oh, Barnes might come out of his rooms for this.”

He reached to his belt but Peter let you go. You looked over at him and he crossed his arms and shrugged. You gripped your cane tight and swung it again. The strike caught Lord Rogers across his chin and the next in the tender flesh of his side. You jabbed his chest so he was again on his back but he could barely get his arms up to keep away the storm of blows.

When he was limp and prone before you, you slowly lowered the cane. You quivered as you stared down at what you’d done. His breaths came in rattles. You leaned on your right leg as your left shook and you lifted the carefully carved stick.

You pulled the silver topper until it dislodged and revealed the long silver blade. Peter caught your wrist as you raised the dagger.

“Don’t, it’ll change you. It’ll make you as bad as him,” he whispered.

You looked at him and your hand shook. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks and you heard Elina murmuring, louder and louder as she wondered where you were. You sheathed the knife and plunked your cane down on the stone.

Footsteps drew you back to the end of the corridor as Zemo appeared from the stairwell. His face dropped as he saw you standing over Rogers. He took a breath but did not look angry.

“Well, I did hope to delay this a little longer,” he said as he approached, “but that Rogers was ever the petulant pest.”

“I’m sorry, he--”

“Oh, I can guess at it,” he nodded to Melinda as she followed meekly behind him, “I’d have done it myself if I had the displeasure of witnessing his lechery.” He came up to Peter and stopped, “but I will do what I must.”

“He won’t hurt us,” you said, “Peter… isn’t like them.”

“But he is loyal to his kingdom,” he pointed at Peter’s chest harshly.

“I am a viscount. Not a duke or earl even. I serve men like that on the floor because I have to, not because I want to,” Peter countered, “I have no lealty to the men who leave women like this.” He looked at you and bowed his head, “but I will admit I am not innocent of it.”

Zemo looked at you and stilled your hand as it was still shaking. "Do you vouch for him, lady?"

"He is a good man. If anything, I have drawn him unjustly into this mess," you said, "I knew you wanted to wait longer--"

"No use in apologies," Zemo grasped your shoulder and squeezed, "this stalemate would not have lasted forever. I am not entirely unprepared."

Elina began to bawl and Zemo brushed past you. He returned with her in his arms, rocking her until she quieted. He cradled her cheek with a mournful gaze and his lips curved for just a moment.

"Be quick, we must leave before the moon. We will move the lord out of the corridor and be away before they can discover him," he said, "by the morning, the castle should be empty but for our foreign visitors and it will take them some time to return to their home with news of such catastrophe."

"Is he dead?" you asked as you looked at Rogers' boots.

"An ox like him? Not yet, just annoyingly on the precipice," Zemo replied, "if we're fortunate, he'll have some lingering detriment but we cannot kill him. That would be an unforgivable mistake."

You heard a grumble and a croaky chuckle. Zemo turned and you looked down on the dazed duke.

"That is a beautiful girl," Lord Rogers rasped, "looks like her father."

Zemo's pupils turned to pinpoints and he handed you Elina. He bent and knocked Rogers across the cheek so that his head bounced off the stone. The baron shook out his hand as he stood straight and his nostrils flared.

"Lord Parker, was it?" He looked to Peter, "help me move him. We haven't time to spare."

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Lover of Mine #5.5 | Angel Reyes.

Series Masterlist | join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

title: For Better, or For Worse.

rating: 💙 💔

As long as you're feeling the same, I'll follow you into the flames

sum: angel fears once it's out, his secret will be the final push you need to leave. instead of confessing, he sticks out the couple's retreat to give himself a few more days with you. he makes himself a promise: he'll tell you once you two return to santo padre. but a ghost from his past pushes angel's agenda forward a few days.

words: the standard for this series....long af (that's why I break it into sections so you know where to come back to when you take a break...but seriously, please take breaks on these long ass chapters)

Ez Reyes is a smart man. There is no denying it. However, Ez never thought he would struggle to tie a tie.

He is currently outside of his father’s truck. Kneeling before his nephew, Ez concentrates as he works through the instructions he Youtube’d earlier. A usually chatty Jeyson has been silent. He slept the entire hour's drive to school. When his Uncle woke him, Jeyson shot Ez a glare that reminded him of you.

Jeyson was fine the entire weekend that you were gone, but the moment he woke up this Monday to find you had not returned his entire mood changed. He has fought Ez tooth and nail the entire morning.

Ez glances up from the tie to Jeyson. “Hey, you sure you wanna go to school today?”

“I have to go to school” Jeyson mumbles.

“Yeah, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to take a break.” Ez offers Jeyson a smile. “If you’re not having a good day, it’s okay to stay home.”

“I don’t want to stay home with you.”

“That’s okay,” Ez chuckles. “What about Izzy?”

“I don’t want to stay home with her either.” Jeyson releases a huff before glancing down at his now fixed tie. He bends down to pick up his backpack. Slipping it onto his shoulder, Jeyson steps around his Uncle. “I want my mom to come home.”

Tommy’s gaze remains on the sleeve of his blue Stockton uniform. His fingers tug at the loose string resting against his wrist. He ignores the smirk on his older brother’s face. The passing of time has muddled the bruises on Tommy’s skin. The mixture of black and yellow stood out on the parts of him he's allowed to remain visible. No matter how he sits, the pain in his ribs is inescapable. Sleep has fallen to the way-side, the inability to get comfortable meaning he only gets it once he’s passed out from exhaustion.

“You didn’t tell me she was hot. Now I know why you were sticking up for her the other day--”

“I didn’t notice. I’m more worried about her getting me out of here.”

“Uh-huh.” Leo’s eyes roll as he watches his brother’s eyes pass over the crowded visiting center. “I’m just saying—”

“What’d you find?” Tommy’s fingers massage his temple, the irritation in his voice amplified by his brother’s antics. Lack of sleep and around-the-clock oversight and antics from Rogers has cut his fuse short. “If you didn’t find anything, you could've saved yourself a trip up here—and I could be asleep.”

“She’s not married—unless she has a habit of leaving her rings at home.”

“What? On the table?”

Leo shakes his head. “No. A jewelry box in the bedroom.”

“What about the kid?” “He has to be about eight, or nine? Name’s Jeyson. You were right, he’s definitely Angel’s. Wish I could show you the picture. He couldn’t deny that kid if he tried.”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods impatiently, motioning for him to continue. “What else?”

“Kid goes to some boujee ass prep school up north. Gilman something? Embroidered blazers, ties, the whole nine. His mom’s paying a pretty penny too, apparently, it's the best in the state. He’s into the typical shit kids are into. Star Wars, Spider-Man. Plays the piano, apparently, he’s actually really fucking good. Awards and all. His mom’s got him pretty busy. A lot of after-school activities. Looks like she and Angel rotate transportation...She must not be around right now tho.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Apart from the fact you’re still not transported to a new unit?” Leo scoffs. “The kid was with someone else when I was scouting. A girl and a kid with a prospect patch.”

“Mayans?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe his little brother...last I heard he was hemmed up here. Haven’t seen him around tho.”

“Maybe he got out?”

Tommy dismisses Leo’s suggestion. “Most cop killers don’t walk free. What else?”

“He’s not doing a good job of keeping his nephew safe. I talked to the kid.”

Tommy’s eyes open. “You did what?”

“He walked right off with me.” Leo quietly explains. He mistakes his brother’s silence as a cue to move forward with his story. “His uncle was so into his date he didn’t even notice the kid walk off with me--”

The sight of Tommy’s hand running down his face tapers the rest of Leo’s statement.

His voice comes out low, through his clenched teeth. “I didn’t tell you to touch the kid.”

“I didn’t touch the kid,” Leo’s eyes rolled. “I got him a funnel cake—” “I don’t give a fuck—” the slamming of Tommy’s fist against the table brings the room to a brief silence. The eyes that he has attracted linger on Tommy as his glare nearly burns a hole through his brother. Rogers shrugs off the wall nearby. He takes a step of warning in Tommy’s direction. “—what you did, Leo—it was stupid.”

“How else was I supposed to get him to talk to me?”

Tommy’s response comes out slowly. Each passing word increases his irritation.

“You didn’t need him to talk to you because I didn’t ask you to talk to him. Buying him a funnel cake, or whatever the fuck your grand plan was allowed the kid to see your face. He can open up his mouth and ID you—”

“ID me,” Leo snorts, dismissing Tommy’s claim. “Relax, Tommy. He’s not a state witness, he’s a kid—“

“Yeah, and according to you and his 'boujee ass prep school,' he’s a smart ass fucking kid, Leo.” Tommy lets out a long sigh. “The last thing I need is the kid opening his mouth to his mom about some random guy approaching him.”

“Don’t worry, I played it cool. Told him I was a friend of his dad. Maybe, if you had told me exactly why I went there I wouldn’t—”

It was something Tommy had explained to his brother during their last visit. The less you know, the better.

“I already told you,” Tommy rubs at his temple, the sudden throbbing causing his jaw to clench. “I needed to double-check something.”

“And that’s what I did.” Leo sighs. “What I want to know is, why the fuck you called me all the way down here to check pictures in some house.”

Tommy studies his brother for a moment. He shifts forward, his elbows settling against the table.

“You wanna know why I didn’t tell you? You don’t think, Leo. I ask you to do one thing—one fucking thing—and you almost fuck it up. If I wanted you to think I wouldn’t have told you exactly what to do.” Leo’s jaw tightens as his brother continues. “You trying to think leads to you doing dumb shit like kidnapping her fucking son—”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” Leo mumbles.

Tommy’s fingers massage his clenched fist. “You’re lucky I can’t reach across this fucking table right now.”

Leo’s gaze drops from his brothers. The look that lies in Tommy’s eyes is one he’s seen before—at least not directed at him. It’s the look that accompanied the acts that earned Tommy his nickname. Leo’s gaze nervously shifts towards Rogers who is still watching Tommy from his post.

“What do you want with her? Thinking she’s gonna give you a shot? Criminal is her type, and she’s definitely yours.”

“It’s not her I need. It’s Angel.” Tommy starts, his jaw tightening as his gaze remains on Leo. “And if you want Angel, you need her.”

“If she’s as good as you say, what do you need Angel for? You’ve been talking about her like she might actually get you off.”

Leo steals a brave glance at his brother. He watches as Tommy looks up from his tattooed knuckles.

“No matter how hard you pray, people like me and you don't come out on the right side of the law. No matter how fucking good she is, she can't get me out of this. This shit is stacked too high against me." Tommy’s gaze shifts to the clock overhead. “Did you find the necklace?”

Leo nods as Tommy stands.

“Good, go ahead and do what I asked.” Tommy pauses, his voice lowering as his gaze meets his brothers. “Nothing else, Leonardo. The time I'm looking at right now, I’ll fucking kill you right here if you pull some shit like that again.”

At some point Monday night, Angel abandoned his spot on the sofa to crawl into bed with you. His intention may have been to take one side of the bed, but to no surprise, he has failed.

You came to this revelation at two o’clock in the morning when you tried to roll over but found it to be impossible. You have been stuck on your back ever since. You attempted to fall back asleep but have not been able to.

Cheek pressed against your chest, arm wrapped around your waist, Angel hasn’t moved. He doesn’t move when your alarm goes off at 7:30 or when the knock comes on the door at 8:00.

The sleep Angel lost, the past two days over Tommy seems to have piled onto him. He only wakes when your fingers brush through his hair, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cheek.

“You have to get up and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Angel mumbles. The sunlight peeking through the curtains prompts him to burrow his face against your neck. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you smile softly. “But, I’m hungry, and I can’t get our food with you laying on top of me.”

Your words are met with a huff before Angel rolls over. Resting on his back, he watches the fan spin as you get out of bed.

His first instinct is to check his phone. He pushes himself up, his body protesting with the sudden movement, once he realizes his cellphone is not where he left it.

“Where’s my phone?”

His palms pressed against his eyes as he pushes away the enticing thought of laying back down for a few more hours of sleep.

“It kept going off,” you look up from the plate in your hand. “Ezekiel kept texting you.”

“What did he want?”

Angel watches you shrug. “I don’t know. I put it in the drawer. I tried to wake you up, but you were literally dead.”

Angel releases a sigh of relief before reaching over to open the bedside drawer. Facedown, his phone has several notifications. He ignores the rest, focusing on those from his younger brother.

2:30 a.m. 📲 : You still up?

2:35 a.m. 📲 : Talked to Bishop. Found out what the shipment was

3:00 a.m. 📲 : Pretty sure I found something else

3:02 a.m. 📲 : Don’t know if this is the guy. If it is we might have a problem

3:03 a.m. 📲: Found this in the paper

3:04 a.m. 📲 : Check it out and call me back.

The last incoming message was a photo, the front page of the Daily Imperial Gazette. Angel scans the article as you climb back into bed. A few phrases stick as he reads, “Man charged in Santo Padre murder…” “Thomas Flores, 30, has been charged…” “...obtained representation from Lorente & Rothman…” “...Friday, Flores was denied bond…”

“I have to tell you something.”

Angel instinctively hits the power button on his phone. Glancing up, he realizes you haven’t even bothered to look up at him. Your focus is on the half-eaten croissant in your hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you explain as you take another bite of your croissant. “The case Samuel gave me—the one Aiden is helping me with—it’s for this guy. His name’s Tommy Flores. He has some pretty...intense charges, so you’re probably going to hear people talking about it soon. We had court Friday, and the judge...he’s pretty tough. He denied any form of a bond, he didn’t even bother trying to set a ridiculously high one.”

You glance up to find Angel’s eyes on you. His unreadable expression causes your brow to furrow. You mistake the look in his eyes as uncertainty.

“I honestly don’t think it’s anything you have to worry about.” Offering him a smile, you lightly roll your eyes. “But I’m going to have to start working late when we get back, so I need to know that what happened Friday won’t happen again.”

You wait for Angel’s response, but it doesn’t come.

“If I take over morning drop-offs, can I count on you to pick Jeyson up after school?” You continue. “Or, do I have to ask Isabela to do it...Angel?”

Angel blinks as your fingers snap.

“Are you listening to me?” The irritation he finds as his focus shifts to you causes him to nod.

Angel nods a second time as he takes in the look of skepticism on your face.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“So, you’re good with picking Jeyson up from school?” You clarify. “Every day of the week?”

Angel unlocks his phone, nodding for the third time. “Yeah. I’ll pick him up.”

“And if you can’t,” you reach forward. You catch Angel's chin forcing him to look at you. “You call and let me know the moment you find out?”

Nodding, Angel drops his eyes the second your gaze meets his. “I gotta call Ez.”

Despite his admission, your hand doesn’t drop preventing him from getting up. For a moment, Angel thinks you’ll let it go. For once, you will ignore the feeling you get each time you notice a change in him. It is something no one else in his life can seem to do. It is something you’ve been able to do your entire life. It is something Angel wishes you couldn’t do.

“What’s wrong?”

Angel shakes his head as you release him. He keeps his eyes trained on the plate in your lap avoiding your gaze as your touch brushes through his hair. It's a habit. Angel knows the moment he meets your gaze he’ll tell you whatever is on his mind. It’s impossible not to do when he knows you can read him best that way. He picks up what’s left of your croissant and takes a bite.

You sit your plate aside before closing the distance between the two of you. Angel’s eyes lift to meet yours as you settle on his lap. The warmth of your palms finds his cheeks as you take his face in your hands.

“I’ve known you nearly my entire life, Angel. I know you don’t believe it, but I can tell when you’re lying to me. Just like I can tell when you’re upset and anxious. And when you’re going to annoy me.” The soft smile on your lips brings a weak one to his. “There’s no point in trying to act like I don’t. What’s wrong?”

“You were right about Friday night. I wasn’t with Samuel. I wasn’t even in Santo Padre.” Angel lets out a deep breath. His voice low as your fingers toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Ez and I were in Mexico. I left when you were in court. I knew we weren’t going to make it back in time, but I didn’t want to have to tell you because I knew you’d be pissed.”

“What happened to your hand?”

He watches you lift it. Your finger traces the bandage.

“Cut it on a shovel.”

Your gaze lifts to find his focus on the path your finger traces.

“...okay.”

Angel shook his head. “It’s not okay—I fucked up. Forreal this time—“

"What? On Friday?” You let out a deep breath. “Angel, I know I freaked out. Missing the recital—yeah, it was fucked up—but it is not the worse thing you’ve done.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that.” Your eyes watch him release a tired laugh, his gaze down. "You defend me, even when you shouldn’t.”

It is true. Defending Angel has been second nature your entire life. Often you do it in response to others. But also in response to him. When you were teenagers, you learned a valuable lesson about him. Angel is his worst critic. He’ll talk himself down harsher than anyone, even those who hate him.

“It’s because I love you.” Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him into a hug. “Just because we fight and say stupid things to each other doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, Angel. If I haven’t been able to stop doing that our entire time together, I don’t know why you think a fight in a therapy session is going to be the final straw. Me not talking to you is just the easiest way for me not to say something I’ll regret later.”

Angel’s grip tightens around you as your lips press against his skin.

“At this point, there isn’t anything you can do or say that’s going to make me stop loving you.” The reassurance in your voice lifts his gaze to yours. “Okay?”

Your lips press against his in a soft kiss. You leave a second against his forehead before getting up.

“I have to take a shower,” you announce as Angel’s arm wraps around your waist guiding your body back towards his. Your fingers drift into his hair as his head rests against you. “There’s more food you should eat before we go out.”

The two of you stay that way for nearly a minute. Angel releases you as the sound of your ringing phone fills the air.

Silence from Angel Reyes is a bad sign. Such a rarity, it wrings your stomach into knots. It has been hours since you woke to find him sleeping against you. Angel has said just as little as he did in the morning. When you stepped out of the shower, you found him fully dressed and brushing his teeth.

You glance over your shoulder to find he’s standing where you last left him. Arms crossed over his chest Angel rests against the wall as far from the line as possible. With his sunglasses on, you can’t tell where he’s looking. The corner of his lips turns up into a small smile as you come to a stop before him.

“Who knew smoothies took forever to make,” he sighs as your arms wrap around his waist.

Resting your cheek against Angel's chest, you tighten your grip. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heart as his lips press against your hair.

“I want you to come somewhere with me tonight.”

“No,” Angel chuckles. You tip your head back, pouting as his gaze drops to yours.

He shakes his head as your weight shifts to your toes.

“Please,” you ask, your lips pressing a kiss against his.

“Last time I did that, you ripped me to shreds,” he laughs. “I haven’t even had time to recover from that.”

“It’ll be fun,” you promise. The second kiss you leave morphs Angel's smile into a grin. You leave a third, this one against his cheek. “I promise.”

Angel releases a long breath as you take a step back, a grin on your face.

“It better be,” he shakes his head as you quickly press a final kiss against his lips before turning to retrieve your order.

As you reach the corner, your cell phone vibrates in your back pocket. You don’t bother checking who it is. Aiden has called you three times. You had sent him a text message in response to his first three calls. Telling him to ask Isabela for help on whatever he needed.

The moment the call goes to voicemail, the vibration picks back up.

You force yourself to take a breath as Angel leads you outside.

“Hi, Aiden--”

“I know this week is supposed to be for you and Angel,” Aiden's voice comes out in a rushed whisper. “But, I need your help.”

“Where are you?” You ask as you take a sip of your smoothie. “And, why are you whispering?”

“I’m at the courthouse,” Aiden sighs. “I’ve been here all morning, and they’re giving me the run-around.”

“About what?”

“The Warden called the office this morning. You weren’t there, so I answered your desk phone. He didn’t give me many details, just that Flores was detained last night. They couldn't get him to say anything—to no surprise—but one of the guards said he was involved in an altercation with another inmate. Apparently, Tommy messed him up pretty bad—like...transported to the local hospital bad.”

Angel glances over at you as you slip out of his grip. You take a seat at the table he stops alongside.

In the short time, you’ve worked with Aiden, you’ve learned one thing. The moment he thinks there is something to panic about, Aiden will panic. So, if you sound stressed it kicks off his panicking.

Resting your face in your hand, you speak quietly. “So, he wasn't transferred on Friday as I'd requested? If he was he couldn't have gotten in a fight.”

“I know. Apparently this isn't the first one he's been in. The Warden said he looks like he’s been roughed up in the past few days. I’ve been here since first thing this morning—”

“Let me guess.” You rest back against your seat. “They told you there’s nothing they can do, with the prison being at full capacity they don’t have a cell for him?”

A brief silence falls over the receiver. Aiden’s brow furrows.

“Yeah—how'd you know?”

“That’s because it’s bullshit,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Judge Miller was hoping you’d leave and not press the issue.”

“Shit,” Aiden mumbles. “Shit, should I call Samuel—”

“God no. Aiden, I’ll tell you what to do, and say, just relax.”

“I lied to you.”

Angel glances down at you as your lips press against his knuckles. “About what?”

“About wanting to wait to get married.”

Your admission leaves Angel quiet. He opens his mouth to speak, but it closes as you place a second kiss against his skin.

You tilt your head back to find his eyes focused on the water.

“I was talking to Izzy the other day—not about getting married—but about you and...I mean...we’re trying to have another kid.” You backtrack as his gaze drifts to you. “That’s not the only reason, but I don’t want to spend another seven years playing house with you, Angel. I have tried so hard to find reasons why we should just leave each other in the past, but it’s impossible. I can’t help thinking that we’ve wasted so much time trying to fight it we should just get married.”

If he is excited by your words, Angel doesn’t show it. If he’s anxious by your words Angel doesn’t show it. The only response he gives is the furrowing of his brow as his pace slows before coming to a complete stop.

“I thought you’d be...a little happier,” you admit. The butterflies in your stomach seem to double in size as Angel's gaze focuses on your interlaced fingers.

“Right now?” Angel gently squeezes your hand, the smile slowly spreading across his lips causing you to shake your head. “A fancy place like this I’m pretty sure we could find someone to do it tonight.”

“Preferably with your son there,” you giggle as his lips press against your forehead.

“Just so you know,” Angel mumbles as he leaves a kiss against your lips. “You can’t take it back.”

“It’d be pointless,” you admit, your eyes focused on the incoming tide. “Regardless of what I say, you’re impossible to escape.”

“Like you said, it must be fate,” he teases as you step back towards the security of the shore.

“I didn’t say fate. I said I was tired of trying to outrun you.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “Okay.”

Pushing against his chest, you cause him to stumble backward making it impossible for him to avoid the incoming tide.

“Fuck—”

Angel’s scream is drowned out by the sound of your laughter. He tries to escape the chilled water but realizes it’s pointless as a second wave rolls through.

“Is it cold?” You ask the grin on your face prompting him to take a step in your direction. “Because it looked like it was cold.” The look on his face causes your laughter to return.

“You’re about to find out how cold it is.” The promise in his voice causes you to take a step back.

You catch sight of Angel’s smile before you take off running.

Between the giggles that leave you breathless and the sand between your feet, you don’t get very far before Angel’s arms wrap around you.

“I’m sorry, okay. Let me go, please?” Angel’s grip loosens as you turn to face him. “I really am sorry.”

A gasp escapes your lips as your feet leave the ground. Blood rushes to your head as Angel tosses you over your shoulder. It only takes a second for you to realize he’s turned and is carrying you back towards the water.

“Angel Ignacio Reyes put me down now!”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby girl,” Angel chuckles as he carries you into the water.

It doesn’t matter that you’re both fully clothed Angel carries you out until the water is waist-deep. He comes to a stop. Shifting you in his arms, he grins as your arms instantly wrap around his neck.

“You think this is far enough?” He asks as you take in your surroundings.

“I hate you,” you giggle as you meet his playful gaze.

“I could go further out,” he takes a step forward.

“Just do it.”

Judging by the mischievous grin on his lips, you expect him to drop you in. For whatever reason, Angel spares you a dunking. Instead, he carefully lowers you to your feet.

The chill of the water causes your grip to tighten around him. He waits until you’re standing to let go of you.

You can’t suppress the smile that finds your lips as he kisses you.

“You’re lucky you buttered me up beforehand,” he chuckles as you step around him.

He follows you back to shore watching as you glance down the beach, back towards the lights of the hotel. Your pace slows as you start in the direction of the hotel.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Despite the nod of reassurance, you force yourself to take another breath. You shake your head slightly, a tiny smile finding your lips. It takes a third breath for the feeling to pass. “I just—got lightheaded for a second.”

“Uh-huh. Funny how you get ‘lightheaded’ the second I take my shirt off. I don’t know why you still try and play this game at this point.”

Your eyes open in time to allow you the moment you need to react. Catching the shirt tossed your way, you watch Angel unzip his jeans.

"Angel put your shirt back on–I’m serious.” The warning in your voice stretches the smile on Angel’s lips. Your eyes leave him, long enough to drift back to the glow of the hotel’s lanterns still visible. The laughter and music cause you to step in his direction. “You are not getting naked on the beach! Are you trying to get us kicked out of here—”

“I wasn’t planning on going in naked,” Angel laughs. It is an admission of truth, but the sight of your panicked gaze causes a mischievous grin to take over his features. “But, I’m down to if you are—“

“No—"

“You know what?” Angel nods as he tugs his foot out of his jeans. “Your plan is better.”

“Angel—“

There’s no point throwing in a protest. Angel has fully stripped down to his briefs.

You step forward as he moves to push them down.

“I am serious, Angel. Do not do it.”

He rolls his neck before letting out a loud, and exaggerated, “fine.”

“But the only way that’s coming back on,” he nods towards the shirt in your hands before taking a step back. “You gotta join me.”

“I’m not doing this.”

Angel shoots you a look of skepticism as he takes another step towards the water.

“You’re already wet,” he chuckles. “Might as well get in.”

You remain where you are as Angel turns and makes his way into the water.

He waits until he’s waist-deep to start swimming out. He disappears out of sight as you drop his shirt to the ground. Stepping out of your flip-flops, you roll your eyes as you watch him resurface under the moonlight.

“Hurry up!” Even with the distance between the two of you, you can see Angel’s grin in your mind perfectly.

Despite your initial protest, you stay in the water for nearly an hour. Angel stands alongside you. His right-hand rests against your spine, his left interlaced with yours as your float. He watches you, his eyes admiring the moonlight against your skin as you focus on the stars above.

“I can’t remember the last time I looked at these,” you admit.

He smiles as your eyes drift shut. “Mom used to freak every time she caught us sneaking onto the roof to look at them.”

“That’s because you fell off one time. Nearly gave her a heart attack.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

You bite back a smile as Angel’s lips lightly brush against yours. They drift to the bridge of your nose as you release a soft giggle.

“Speaking of mom’s, yours came by last week.” Angel watches as the smile on your face slowly fades. “You were at work. I was taking Jeyson to school. She said she’s been calling you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you admit. “She’s blocked.”

“I was thinking...since we’re heading back a day early, we should stop by your mom’s on the way back–”

“No.”

Angel releases a deep breath. He wasn’t naive to think you would jump at the idea. But, since seeing her, Angel couldn’t get the thought out of his mind.

“I know ya’ll don’t get along, but my mom’s not here to see Jeyson grow up. I think he should be able to know the grandparents he has left.”

“I get that, but I’m not doing it.”

Your eyes remain closed as you concentrate on the waves gently pushing against your skin.

Angel doesn’t say anything else on the subject. He knows your response will stay the same. It has for the past nine years. He also doesn’t say anything else because he knows he’s the reason you won’t budge.

The hatred your mother has for Angel may be misplaced, but she is too stubborn to admit it. She has always blamed Angel for many of your actions, starting when you were kids. Anytime you didn’t go through with what she had planned for you, Angel was to blame. You missed curfew in high school Angel was to blame. You skipped school on your birthday Angel was to blame. You didn’t attend the college she spent her entire life preparing you for Angel was to blame. You got pregnant out of wedlock Angel was to blame.

It had all came to a head at your baby shower. Angel wasn’t there, but it was the first time he’d ever seen his mother truly angry. Sure, Marisol had gotten mad at Angel countless times. But seeing how mad Marisol was as she recounted the fight she had witnessed between you and your mother, Angel was shocked.

He never asked what words were exchanged, and he didn’t have to. All he knew was that from that moment forward, everyone avoided the subject of your mother.

“I get what you’re saying, Angel,” you sigh. “But, if my mom truly wanted to get to know Jeyson she would apologize. I can’t bring our son around someone that has said the things she’s said about you. If she can say them about you, she can say them about him because Jeyson is your son.”

“Shit, I really look as bad as I feel?”

The smile on Tommy’s face grows as you look up. The heat covering your skin seems to rise as you start to speak.

“No—” You wince. “I’m sorry for staring—it’s rude.”

“It’s all good,” Tommy chuckles as he watches your eyes leave his.

He watches as you bite your lip. Whatever is on your mind, you don’t share it. Instead, your eyes linger on the bruise beneath his right eye. You’ve seen enough damage on Angel to know how bad it must have looked a few days prior.

“Hey, relax.” Tommy shifts forward in his seat, the sound of his shackles dragging across the table causing your attention to refocus. He meets your gaze. “The Doc cleared me—gave me my two Advil and sent me back to my cell. I think it’s safe to say I’m not gonna die.”

Despite the smile on his face, your head still shakes.

“Yeah, but I still feel bad that it happened. I was supposed to double-check the clearance of your paperwork.”

“Trust me, it’s not your fault,” Tommy chuckles. He watches your eyes drop to his freshly bruised knuckles. “It’s mine. The funny thing about this place is, you always run into people from your past. My mom used to said I never knew when to stop talking. I might have said the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

You watch as Tommy’s eyes briefly drift over your shoulder to where Rogers sits in the corner. His smile returns as his gaze drifts back to you.

“So, I take it you had fun.” He notes your raised brow before backtracking. “The Warden said he called your office and your boyfriend answered, said you were out of town.”

Your eyes roll. “Hey, go easy on my boyfriend. He’s the one who went to the courthouse. From what I hear, he slammed Judge Miller hard because your paperwork has been approved.”

You take in Tommy’s skepticism. You slide the signed form across the table, allowing him a better view.

“Signed by the Warden as well,” you point out. “Thanks to Aiden as soon as we’re done here, you’re being moved out of the unit.”

“No shit?” Tommy chuckles. He nods in approval as he scans the form. “I’ll be sure to thank Aiden when I see him. Guess you were right. He’s got some balls after all...Look, I know I’m not the easiest client….so um….Thanks for pushing for this. Making sure everything was straight. Most people would’ve just left me where I was.”

“Yeah, well I can’t have you die before I get fully paid.”

The laugh Tommy releases brings a smile to your lips. He settles back against his chair as you pick up your pen.

"I need you to understand that this new assignment may not be your favorite," you explain. "You're being moved to a new unit, but I can't get you moved again. That means, you can't do anything else, Tommy. Do you understand me?"

Tommy nods. He looks up as your hand finds his.

"This," your lift his hand forcing him to take in his swollen knuckles. "The shit you pulled. You're lucky they didn't throw you in AdSeg. That's 23 hours in your cell. No phone calls, no visits. Nothing. The only reason they didn't throw you in there is because they messed up, and didn't want Aiden to draw a motion against the judge. I don't care what you have to do, but you better learn to walk away from a fight. Now."

"I know." Tommy sighs as you let him go.

“Then do it. My job is already hard enough as it is. I can't have you trying to kill someone while you're already here for murder. Plus, the judge is pissed because of the paperwork Aiden had to file. That's not good for either of us. So, that means I need your help.”

His brow raises, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. “I thought I was supposed to be the one asking for help.”

“True, but help is a two-way street.”

Tommy hesitates for a moment. His eyes drop to his knuckles as he lets off a light shrug.

“What do you need?”

“For you to tell me why you were meeting with Alexander Maddox the night you were arrested.”

Tommy’s smile fades quicker than it came. His jaw tightens as he shakes his head.

You sit forward resting your elbows on the table.

“Tommy, if it’s about the MC.” Tommy’s eyes lift for a brief second. Long enough for you to catch a glimpse of the shock in his eyes. You lower your voice. “I know you’re with the Horsemen—”

Tommy shakes his head. “Look—I get you got a job to do, but—there’s just shit with the MC I can’t talk about—”

“I know how this stuff works—”

“Got a lot of personal experience with an MC?” Tommy asks.

His question causes you to release a deep breath.

“If you don’t want to tell me anything, fine. But when it comes down to it, Tommy. People will cut you off to save themselves.” The irritation in your voice lifts his gaze. “That shipment you were carrying, was not a dime bag. Your brothers will let you go down for this. Hard. They will let you rot in here for the rest of your fucking life if it means avoiding a R.I.C.O. case.”

Tommy’s brow furrows. “What’s a R.I.C.O.?”

His question throws you off. The pure confusion on his face causes you to backtrack.

“You seriously don’t know what that is?”

“I mean—I’ve heard of it...how do you know what it is?”

“It’s what you pay me for,” you remind him.

“Then I guess I’m paying you to explain it to me.”

The moment you step outside of the elevator, you come face to face with a wide-eyed Isabela.

“Is your phone dead?” She asks the irritation in her voice causing your brow to arch.

“Off—I had a client meeting with Tommy. I thought I told you—”

Isabela ignores your response, her eyes focused in the direction of your office. “Yeah, whatever. I’ve been calling you for the last freaking hour—”

“Sorry—ow.” You wince as Isabela catches your arm. She pulls you to a stop. “What?”

She releases her grip, but she sidesteps. Blocking your path, Isabela places both hands on your shoulders. She ignores the look of confusion on your face, her gaze studying yours.

“How are you?”

Her question causes you to hesitate. “...Fine...why?”

Isabela takes another moment to study your eyes as if she doesn’t fully believe you before nodding.

“Just so you know,” she sighs as she takes a step back. “I did not let her in. Aiden did. He didn’t know any better—bless his heart—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your mother.” Isabela winces at the look on your face. “She’s in your office. Promise me you won’t make a scene.”

“It’s never me you have to worry about,” you mumble.

When you enter your office, you find your mother is not where Aiden asked her to sit and wait for you.

She is standing behind your desk studying a photo that she holds in her hands.

“Put it back.”

She jumps at the sound of your voice, her body turning so that she faces you.

“Put it back, please.”

Her eyes return to the photo of Angel seated on his bike. A grinning Jeyson is seated in front of him, clinging to the handlebars.

“He looks so much like his father.”

You cross the room. Taking the photo, you place it back in its original resting place before dropping your purse onto your desk.

“What do you want?” You ask as you watch step around your desk.

“Is that a way to greet your mother?”

“According to the last time we spoke, I don’t have one.” You recollect as you take a seat. “It’s been...nearly nine years, so my memory might be a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you told me.” Your brow furrows as she moves to take the seat across from you. “There’s no need for you to sit. This conversation won’t last long. I have a meeting in a few minutes. What do you want?”

Your mother’s jaw tightens as she remains standing. Her eyes roll as she speaks. “I take it he didn’t pass along my message.”

“He did pass along your message, actually,” you admit. “Believe it or not, Angel said I should call you and listen to what you had to say. I just chose to do what I’ve done for the past nine years—ignore it. If you’re not going to answer my question, mom, then you can leave.”

“Your father and I want to see our grandson—”

“No.”

She expects more, but your attention has already moved on to the papers you’ve dropped onto your desk.

“See, I told you the conversation wouldn’t last long.”

“Y/N,” your mother objects. “It’s been nearly nine years.”

Your fingers interlaced as you force yourself to take a deep breath. You surprise even yourself as your voice comes out quiet and calm.

“I told you before. I do not want you near my son, and I meant it. I don’t care what excuse you’ve come here to give today. I’m not changing my mind. Your only hope is to speak with his father, and hope he’s more forgiving than I am.”

Aiden stops in the doorway, his eyes widening as he reads the room. He takes a step back but pauses as you give him a warm smile.

“Hi, Aiden! Please tell me you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

“No,” Aiden clears his throat. His eyes briefly pass to your mother whose gaze remains on you. “I haven’t.”

“Good. Can you order two of whatever you’re having? I’ll pay. We have to go ahead and look over this case.”

Aiden nods as you add, “great. Can you also escort my mother downstairs? She’s ready to leave.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your retreat.”

Aiden’s apology breaks your concentration.

Seated on the floor of your office, Aiden has his back pressed against your desk. His usually polished appearance is disheveled. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His tie and jacket are discarded on the back of your chair.

His apology is one he has been working himself up to share for the last three hours. Each time he thought of sharing it, he’s backed out. At this point, he’s run out of pointless conversation and has reached the bottom of your takeout container that he took over.

“What are you talking about?”

Aiden’s eyes remain on the chopsticks in his hand.

“Isabela told me not to call you about Tommy,” he clears his throat. He steals a glance in your direction. “She said it should wait until you got back—but as usual—I panicked and called you. Now you’re back early--”

“Aiden, you didn’t ruin my retreat,” you sigh. Your palms rub against your tired eyes. “It was rocky was to begin with.”

The admission silences the office. Aiden nods before opening his mouth.

“So,” you smile as you lightly bump his shoulder with yours. “Please, don’t worry about it. Angel was probably happy you called so he could leave.”

Your gaze returns to the slow-paced printer. Upon learning you were coming home early, Aiden had sent you a text message.

📲: I have some stuff to show you about Tommy.

And by “some stuff” Aiden meant a board. He had stolen one of Samuel’s whiteboards from the conference room. The entire surface is covered in your notes and information from Tommy’s files.

“I can’t believe you did all this while I was gone,” you stare at the board. “Your girlfriend might think you’re spending too much time on me.”

Aiden’s smile is sheepish. “If I had one, I wouldn’t have had time to do this.”

“Well, remind me to find you one because this is amazing.” The tease causes Aiden’s smile to grow. “I’m serious, Aiden. I can’t believe you thought you couldn’t be any help.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” he shrugs, his gaze focused on the paper in his hand. “They’re all your notes, I just organized them.”

His eyes widen, a grin finding his lips as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Call it whatever you want,” you smile. “But I still get to say thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he rubs the back of his neck before glancing over at you. “We’re a team….speaking of...I found this.”

The picture he lifts is not new. It is one you’ve seen before. Your brow furrows as you take in the pregnant woman on display.

“I already know who that is,” you admit. “It’s the girlfriend of—”

“Alexander Maddox.” Aiden nods. “Right. I kept going back to your notes. You had one question. Why was Tommy meeting with Maddox in the first place?”

Your head shakes the confusion on your face prompting the rolling of Aiden’s eyes.

“How is this the answer?”

“You were asking the wrong question.” A mischievous grin slides onto his face as Aiden realizes you’re still not following his train of thought. “I can’t believe I figured something out before you—”

“Oh my goodness, Aiden—”

“When he was arrested, Tommy was carrying a shipment--”

“Yeah, something he shouldn’t have been doing by himself.”

Aiden’s brow arches. “You got a history of drug trafficking I don’t know about?”

“You’d be surprised what you pick up on this job.”

Aiden shakes his head as you motion for him to continue.

“While I was working, I kept thinking back to our conversation at the courthouse,” Aiden continues. “You said Tommy’s smart—"

“He uses people to get what he wants.”

“Exactly,” Aiden grins. He lifts the picture in his hand. “Why would Maddox meet up with someone from a rival club, in the middle of the night, with his pregnant girlfriend in tow if he was threatened by them?”

Aiden doesn’t bother answering the question. Instead, he waits for you to make the connection. The smile on his face remains as your eyes widen.

“Because he was there to make a deal.”

“Exactly!” Despite the smile on your face, Aiden’s face dampens. “...but that’s as far as I got. I don’t really know what made Tommy kill him—”

“Of course you do, Aiden.” Despite your reassurance and the confidence in your voice, Aiden’s expression hasn’t changed. “Your brain just needs a second to catch up. Maddox didn’t keep up his end of the deal. He probably tried to screw Tommy over. Not realizing that Tommy would kill him, girlfriend in tow.”

"Well, now we know why Tommy's been tight-lipped about that night. Probably doesn't want it to get out that he was skimming from the club's business."

The hug you give him brings the same response as before.

“I should help you out more often.” Aiden chuckles as you give him a squeeze.

“Careful,” you tease. “Angel’s not too fond of sharing.”

“Speaking of Angel…” Aiden’s gaze meets yours. “I know you asked me not to say anything to him about Samuel—”

“It’s okay.”

Aiden nods, but he continues. His rambling brings a soft smile to your lips.

“Yeah, but I just...I didn’t want you to think I was okay with what Samuel did.” His words come out quietly as he shakes his head. “The way he talked to you...it wasn’t right. You work harder than anyone here—including him—and for Samuel to do that was fucked up. I didn’t say anything in the meeting, and I should have. So, I just...I told Angel when he asked about it.”

“He would have found out eventually,” you laugh softly. “Besides, now Angel likes you.”

“For real?” The smile on Aiden’s face stretches into a grin as you nod.

A silence falls over the office as Aiden’s head rests against the desk. His brow furrows as your eyes fall to your hands. There is a final question on his mind. One he’s tried to find a way to raise since he started flipping through your notes on Saturday morning.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question lifts your gaze.

Aiden reaches into the pocket of his shirt. Your eyes widen as you take in the white card he produces. It is a card you spent the entire morning trying to find. The scheduled appointment one you have yet to share with Angel.

“It was in the notebook you turned over for me and Samuel to review,” Aiden explains as he passes the card over. “Don’t worry. I saw it before he did...I figured he was the last person you wanted to know.”

Your eyes focus on the date. A week and a half away. The initial scheduling may have been premature, but you couldn’t shake the feeling Angel was right.

“Uh...no—I mean, it’s too early to tell.” You turn the card over before looking up. “I should know by this date, so can you not tell anyone about this? I haven’t even told Izzy...or Angel for that matter. I don’t want to say anything until I’m a hundred percent sure.”

Aiden nods, a soft smile on his lips. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” You allow your head to rest back against the desk. “I don’t want to get Angel’s hopes up too early.”

It was the only thought you’ve had from the moment you woke up alongside Angel that moment. But as you glance back at the card in your hand, you know the truth has nothing to do with Angel. It’s not his hopes that you’re afraid of letting down.

You place the card aside, pulling your knees to your chest. Your gaze drifts to the board before you. The two of you sit in silence, eyes focused on your work. Silently willing your brains to come up with one more revelation before packing it up for the night.

"Alright," Aiden huffs. "I think we've gotten as far as we can get tonight."

HIs brow furrows, a chuckle filling the air as he fingers brush against your arm.

"Didn't take you for a tattoo person."

You glance over at him, following his gaze to the ink on your arm.

"Yeah, well, you've never been dragged to a tattoo parlor with Angel," you laugh. "Now, I try to avoid them at all cost."

"It's pretty cool," he grins, his eyes lingering on the design. "He has one too? Matching?"

"Yep," your eyes roll lightly. "Please don't tease me about teenage decisions."

"I won't," he chuckles. Aiden sits forward, lightly patting your leg before moving to collect the trash.

“Aiden?”

“Huh?” He glances up from the takeout containers in his hands.

“How long was he in Chino?”

“Tommy...uh, hold on.” Balancing the containers in his left, Aiden quickly rifles through the stacks of papers spread across the floor before him. “Says here...he was in Chino for....30 months.”

“Any way we can figure out where he was housed?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden admits as his eyes scan the wrap sheet. “His charges were nothing compared to now. Petty crime, so he wasn’t housed at maximum. Why?”

Once his question is met with silence, Aiden glances over his shoulder at you.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in his eyes slowly morphs to fear as he takes in your expression. “Did I miss something?”

“No, I did.”

“What do you mean?”

Before he can pose the question, you’re already pushing yourself to your feet.

“Go home, okay? It’s getting late—don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

Although you’ve managed to mask your expression, the trembling of your hands causes Aiden’s brow to furrow.

“You sure?” He objects. He quickly stands, stopping you from grabbing your keys from your desk. “I can send an email about his placement in Chino—”

“No.” Your response comes out more panicked than you want. You quickly backtrack. The reassuring smile you give Aiden not holding the weight it’s meant to. “I’ll do it in the morning. I have to go see Angel.”

“Okay.” Aiden nods. He passes over the sheet watching as you excuse yourself.

Jeyson Reyes sits at the table in the center of the clubhouse, his math homework abandoned. His attention is devoted to the bowl of skittles in front of him. He has spent that past minute carefully picking out his least favorite skittles—the yellow.

“Word on the street is you got a birthday coming up,” Angel accepts another yellow skittle before popping it in his mouth. Jeyson’s eyes widen as he briefly pauses the task at hand. Angel’s brow furrows as his eyes study his son’s face. “How old are you turning again? Five—”

“Nine!”

“Nine? Nah--that can’t be right.” Angel shakes his head as he takes in Jeyson’s broad grin. “I don’t believe you—”

“Uh-huh,” Jeyson nods, dropping another skittle into his father’s palm. “I turn nine in seventeen days.”

“Shit—”

“That’s another dollar in the swear jar,” Jeyson reminds him as he passes Angel another skittle.

“I know,” Angel chuckles. He rests back against his seat, his eyes lingering on your son as he quietly admits. “I can’t believe you’re that old.”

Jeyson’s nose scrunches. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, you are,” Angel laughs, his hand brushing against Jeyson’s hair. “You’re almost an adult.”

“I’m still a kid,” Jeyson giggles as his eyes lift to meet his father’s. “You’re old—”

“Hey—I am not old,” Angel retorts, the feigned look of offense causing your son’s giggles to increase.

Jeyson reaches over pointing towards the beard Angel’s hand passes over. “You have gray hair—lots of it.”

His father’s gaze narrows as Jeyson’s grin stretches as far as his cheeks will allow. As if to soften the blow, Jeyson drops two more skittles into Angel’s palm before eating one of his own.

Angel’s smile remains as he watches Jeyson redirect his attention back to the bowl of skittles on the table.

“Have you thought about what you want for your birthday?"

Jeyson shrugs. “Not really.”

“Not really?” Angel’s brow raises. “You’re counting down to your birthday, but you don’t know what you want?”

Jeyson lets off a second shrug, his concentration on the skittles causing Angel’s brow to furrow.

“You know we’re gonna end up getting whatever it is you want,” Angel smiles as he ruffles Jeyson’s hair. “You’ve been doing everything you’re supposed to in school.”

Despite Angel’s words, Jeyson’s gaze remains down. He chews on the inside of his cheek. The action causes his father to slide the bowl of skittles aside.

“What’s up? You don't think you can get what you want?”

Nearly a minute passes before Jeyson answers Angel’s question. His voice comes out quietly.

“I want you to stay at home.”

Angel’s brow furrows. The response is not what he’s anticipating. “I am staying at home.”

“My home, not yours.” Jeyson clarifies. “Where mom and I live.”

“That is where I’m staying.”

“You didn’t Friday. Is it because you don’t like living with us?” He asks quietly

Angel’s eyes drift shut, the tightening of his throat causing him to shake his head.

“Your mom and I—” Angel’s voice trails off as Jeyson looks up from the table to meet his gaze.

It is a conversation neither of them has breached before. One Jeyson has found himself thinking about more and more. One Angel knew he would eventually have with his son, but he hadn’t anticipated it to be now. He had also hoped you would be around to help him.

“You having two homes has nothing to do with me not wanting to live with you—or your mom. You don’t remember it, you were too little, but your mom and I...we used to fight a lot.” Angel continues. “I wasn’t nice to her, and I made her cry a lot. So I had to leave. I didn’t want to leave you or her, but I also didn’t want to hurt you or your mom. It took me a while to learn how not to do that. Friday...I couldn’t come home because I didn’t want to fight with your mom.”

“You still made her cry.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Leaning over, Angel brushes his hand against Jeyson’s hair. His touch forces Jeyson’s eyes to meet his. “You know how you and your friends get mad at each other? Sometimes we get mad at the people we love because we don’t see things the same way. But your mom being mad at me has nothing to do with you. Okay? Just because your mom and I might fight, it doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

The soft smile Angel offers him prompts Jeyson to give him one in return.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m staying with you and your mom or at my house. I love you. That’s not ever gonna change. Never has, never will. Got it?”

Jeyson nods, his smile growing as Angel places a kiss against his skin.

As Jeyson's attention returns to the bowl of skittles, Angel reaches into his kutte. He pulls out the white envelope that he found in the mailbox upon your return home.

He studies the unfamiliar handwriting. Printed in block letters are his name and your address. His gaze passes over the generic American Flag stamp and date pressed into the right corner. The lack of a return address causes him to flip the envelope over.

Angel waits until he comes to a stop outside of the clubhouse to give the envelope a second glance. Tearing the side, he reaches inside pulling out a single index card. The handwriting matches that printed on the envelope.

An anniversary gift for the Old Lady.

Angel tips the envelope. His stomach tightens as the chill of a silver chain hits his palm. The buzzing of his phone in his kutte pocket goes ignored. He doesn’t need to unravel the chain to know who the necklace belongs to. He has looked at the necklace nearly every day since he was eighteen.

The continued vibration of his phone forces an irritated “fuck” from Angel’s lip before he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“What?”

“This is a prepaid call from Thomas Flores, an inmate at the state correctional facility. All phone calls are subject to recording and monitoring. To decline the call, please press nine. To accept the call and all charges that will be incurred, please press one.”

Angel doesn’t remember committing the act of acceptance. A moment later, Tommy’s voice echoes through his receiver. For a man locked inside the walls of Stockton, his voice is calm and lighthearted.

“Damn, it’s been a minute since I’ve heard your voice, Reyes. Can you believe I missed it?”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Angel growls, his grip tightening around his phone. “How’d you get this number?”

“Come on, Reyes--give me some credit. I got it the same way I got your address,” Tommy chuckles. “I had to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary. It just passed, right? What is it six—no—seven years? Hopefully, the two of you are doing better these days—”

“Why are you calling?”

“That’s the funny thing,” Tommy sighs, the smile on his face stretches into a grin. “See, I was in my cell a few weeks back, thinking to myself—got a lot of time for that nowadays—and naturally, that led to me thinking of you. And how I missed my old cellmate. Then I remembered...you owe me a favor.”

“A favor? I don’t owe you shit--”

“That’s not how this shit works. I think the person who’s owed a debt gets to decide when it’s paid in full.” Tommy pauses, the silence from Angel’s end allowing him to continue. “Funny thing, I wouldn’t have even thought to call on you for this, but you made a simple mistake all those years ago, Angel. You talked too much...If you don’t want someone to use your Achilles, you don’t share it.” Angel’s brow furrows as Tommy’s words slowly begin to sink in. “Now, you know I’m not a religious man, but I bet you can imagine how good I felt when I realized that God, himself, dropped Y/N into my lap. What are the odds that she and I got brought together? Huh? It’d be a shame to let this God-given opportunity go to waste, don’t you think?”

“What the fuck do you want, Tommy?”

“A lot of things,” Tommy admits. “A turn with your pretty wife for starters. The way you put it, she’d do just about anything for you--”

“She’s not doing anything for you--”

“That’s okay,” Tommy chuckles. “You’ve always had my back when it came down to the wire.”

Angel’s head shakes. “No—Fuck this—I’m hanging up. I told you that night. One and done—”

“I take it you got my gift,” Tommy ignores Angel’s declaration. “And...judging by the unnecessary hostility I’m sensing in your voice, you took a trip down South recently.”

“I want what you took—”

“And you can get it back—scout’s honor.” The sincerity in Tommy’s voice would fool a stranger, but not Angel. “After you help me out one last time. For old times sake.”

“I’m not helping you do shit.”

“Damn,” Tommy sighs. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“And you’re gonna leave her alone. Come up with an excuse, I don’t care. You’re finding a new attorney—”

“No can do, Reyes. See, I don’t benefit by losing her.” Tommy explains. “Unless you wanna consider my proposal. Last time I’m offering. I think you’ll find my way is the easiest—for everybody involved.”

A silence falls over the line. The trembling of his hands tightening Angel’s grip on his cellphone.

“Alright, well, my time is almost up,” Tommy yawns. His eyes pass to the clock overhead. “Plus, I know it was a lot to dump on you, so I'll give you the night to mull it over. Tell your lady I said thanks for visiting me today.”

Angel’s continued silence brings a grin to Tommy’s face. His chuckle fills this receiver.

“You haven’t told her yet….Tell me, what do you think she’s gonna say when your secret gets out? Do you think she’s gonna stick around this time? If that shit gets out, you’ll be facing more than some 18-month stint in Chino, Reyes. You’ll be facing some real-time. Ask your baby brother how that shit sits with you. All it’ll take is some rumors about the location of a missing state’s witness to start swirling...evidence anonymously getting dropped into the hands of the right people...then you and I just might be sharing a cell again.”

“Trust me, you don’t want that shit to happen.”

“Maybe...maybe not...only time will tell.” Tommy sighs. The calmness of his voice is the opposite of the feeling causing Angel to force out an unsteady breath. “Do me a favor, check with your old lady on how to get on my visitation list. I think you owe me a visit, make the shit quick, Reyes. Maybe she can get them to expedite the paperwork. You got a job to do, and your clock is ticking, homie.”

There is no need for additional words to be exchanged. Tommy hangs up, leaving Angel standing at the end of the driveway. No matter how hard Angel tried to resist—or tried to appear that he was—Tommy knew the hook was set the moment the call began.

When you pull into the clubhouse lot, you find Angel standing at the base of the clubhouse steps.

His eyes meet yours as you park, but he makes no move to meet you. The question is out before you can step around the front of your car.

“Do you know Tommy Flores?”

Angel’s eyes may be on you, but his mind is somewhere else.

“What?”

“Thomas Flores. He was serving time in Chino. Longer than you—thirty months—but you were there the exact same time. Did you hear about him while you were there?” Your question is met with silence. Angel blinks. His brow furrows as he watches you cross the lot. “I know it’s a random question, but Angel it’s really important. Okay?”

It’s common for people to cross paths. Chino is not a prison. It’s smaller than Stockton. Inmates flood in and out like clockwork. That's what your mind can produce in the time it takes you to come to a stop before him.

But it’s the look in Angel’s eyes that tightens your stomach.

It’s a look you’ve only seen once in your life.

Nearly two years ago. A night you hadn't revisited in quite some time.

When Angel had shown up unannounced at your house. This was nothing new.

Only this time, the pounding on your front door had woken you, Jeyson, and nearly half the neighborhood.

Your initial assumption was that he was drunk—it wouldn’t have been the first time Angel had shown up after a few beers and a shitty hookup only to find his way back to you. Begging you to let him stay the night, swearing to plead his drunken case, only to pass out against you the moment you were seated on the sofa.

Only this time—the moment you’d gotten the door open you were crushed by his weight. Angel's grip had been tight. The pressure caused you to wince as his face burrowed against your skin.

For once, you couldn't detect alcohol--just sweat and dirt. His grip had tightened as you tried to move back and take a better look at him.

You didn't get much out of him that night. The most you could get him to do was shower. Which was for the best because, by the time you'd helped him dry off, Angel's adrenaline crashed. He’d passed out in your bed a minute later.

In the morning, he didn’t produce much of an explanation.

"Sorry if I scared you last night," he'd mumbled as he headed to the door. "I know you asked me not to show up—unannounced like that but—I just wanted to see you."

“Yeah,” Angel nods. “I knew him.”

You wait for elaboration, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Angel takes a step back. He finds a seat on the steps, his left hand reaching up to rub his eyes.

“Yeah, I knew him? What the hell does that mean? You knew of him, or you kn—”

“No, I knew—I know him.” Angel releases a sigh, his fist crumpling the envelope he holds. “He was my cellmate.”

“No, he wasn't.” The response is automatic. The laugh you release echoes across the parking lot. The meaning behind Angel’s silence doesn’t fully register. Your brain is still reeling, trying to find a rational explanation to deny his statement and what it means. You shake your head. “No, he wasn’t. That is not fucking possible—“

“Cellblock D. That’s where they house all gang-affiliated inmates. They don’t give a shit if you’re an MC or not. It’s all the same.” Angel quietly explains, his eyes watching the realization begin to sink into your features. “They put you together with guys from other places, knowing you might not have a brother to watch your back if you need protection. Tommy’s cellmate had recently been discharged. So, after intake, I took the open space—“

“Angel, stop. I can’t have you telling me this,” you cut him off. The sight of your widened eyes not deferring Angel’s train of thought. “Do you know what this means for my case? Why couldn’t you just lie to me—”

“Because what I need to tell you is worse.”

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[odetolove95]

In a pulse of light, Steve found himself standing in an alley in London. One he knew all too well since he had a penchant for picking fights in alleys. His time travel suit dematerialized and he was left in his usual uniform, which seemed a little too much for the timeline he came back to. The real mission was to return the Infinity Stones and get back to 2019, but he figured his Bucky wouldn’t mind if he took a little detour. He wouldn’t be here long anyway.

The back door of the Whip and Fiddle pub to his right was proof that he landed in the right timeline—somewhere in the 40s. He remembered that the Howling Commandos were in there. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea going in there dressed like this.

Not to mention the absolute bizarreness if he met his past self.

But there was no turning back now. He opened the door slightly and peeked inside. The pub was more crowded than he expected. He felt completely out of place. And his new-found confidence fizzled out sooner than it came. Across the hall, he spotted his past self and a young Bucky seated near the bar, busy in drink and conversation.

Steve smiled at the sight of that bright-eyed, innocent Bucky who was willing to fight by his side till the end. This was the Bucky who didn’t know what was about to happen to him. And that was the Cap next to him who failed to protect him.

A pang of pain gripped Steve’s heart. But he brushed those thoughts aside and focused on what he came for. The future, seventy years from here, eventually turned out good, so he drew some reassurance from that.

He wondered if it was simply easier to just barge in there and talk to Barnes himself, but he didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. He had little time too.

Closing the door, he paced back and forth restlessly outside, trying to form a plan. A whole minute passed in that. The thought of his past self struck him. He didn’t stop to think how Bucky would be able to slip out without being noticed. Not to mention the fact that he would be subjected to two Steves.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Abort mission?

No. He came this far and wasn’t about to give up easily. He smoothed his hair, straightened his uniform, as though trying to impress a date. Steeling himself, he walked to the door and opened it.

And came face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

Both froze, staring at each other for a moment. Bucky scanned him from head to toe, shooting a glance at the bar then back at him. “How...?”

Catching his arm, Steve pulled him into the alley and shut the door.

“How did you get out here so fast?” Bucky’s eyes darted to his uniform and his brows rose. “Am I missing something here? Did you change your hair?”

He couldn’t tell if it was his alcohol-addled brain playing tricks on him or Captain America’s uniform suddenly got an upgrade.

Steve couldn’t lie to him. He had to provide an explanation. Besides, he remembered Bucky’s fascination with the future. He remembered the sparkle in his eyes and his awe-struck face during their so-called date at the Stark Expo. At least, that was how Rogers saw it.

“Yeah, well... I’m not really Steve,” he stuttered. “I mean, I am, but not your Steve.” 

Your Steve. 

Sweet Jesus. 

“I’m from the future,” he added.

An awkward silence followed. So much so that he could imagine crickets chirping nearby.

Bucky gave him a blank stare. “Did you smoke something? Or did I drink too much?”

“No, it’s true. I—” Rogers was about to point to his to the time GPS when he realized it was better not to. “You know what, never mind. I came here because I wanted to tell you something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

Bucky’s mind still struggled to grasp what was going on. Because a few minutes ago, he was sitting next to his best friend, who was in his military uniform, and who then headed to the loo shortly after.

“O-kay?” he said.

This is it. Steve couldn’t afford to mess this up. His stomach fluttered and his heart thudded in his chest. With a deep breath, he mustered every ounce of courage he had. He’d said these words before, in another time, and yet, it still managed to make him nervous.

“For as long as I remember,” he said. “You were all I had. You were there when I picked fights and when I got hurt.” He swallowed. “When my parents died. You were always there. When I had nothing, I had you.”

Bucky's heart melted. But he wouldn’t show it, so he merely smiled. “It’s no big deal, Stevie.”

“It is for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I wish I had told you sooner.”

The smile on Bucky’s face reduced when Steve came close. Too close. That golden hair swept back in a smooth quiff really did it for him. He sucked in a breath. His gaze involuntarily darted to his pink lips. Something about this Rogers was different. His fresh sky-blue eyes had the same glimmer and warmth that Barnes knew well, but something had changed in them. He couldn’t place a finger on what. Either way, they always seemed to stare right into his soul. Put him in a spell he couldn’t get out of.

He cleared his throat. “T-tell me what?”

He didn’t know his bright eyes cast the same magic on Steve.

“I love you, Buck. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

Those words had been weighing heavily on his chest for so long. Now that he finally got it out, he felt exposed. 

Bucky’s brows eased, “What?”

“You heard me. You used to--I mean--you were jealous whenever you saw a woman too close to me and I never understood why, because I never felt anything for them. Not the way I do for you. It’s always been you.”

Bucky didn’t respond. His brain stopped functioning a long time ago, and he wasn’t sure if his heart was still beating. He simply stood there, gawking like an idiot. His best friend was in love with him. All this time, he thought his feelings were unrequited.

He didn’t realize how long he remained frozen like that until Steve’s voice snapped him out of the trance.

“Will you say something, please?”

“Huh?” he blurted.

Steve huffed. “Oh, for God’s sake—”

Holding Bucky’s face, he closed the gap between them. Bucky gasped as Cap’s lips crushed his with fervor, tasting his whiskey-tinged lips, and setting his soul on fire. He pushed back instinctively, tugging at Steve’s lips with his teeth. Grabbing the straps on his uniform, he pulled him closer. Their surroundings were a blur, like nothing mattered except them. Every other sound—people and vehicles, all drowned in the background.

Steve would’ve stood there, kissing him for hours, if only he had the time. Slowly and unwillingly, he pulled away.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open as he exhaled a short breath. He might’ve forgotten to breathe the entire time. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. He took one look at the alley, checking to see if anyone was looking. “So sorry about this but um, I have to go now.”

“What? Where?”

“It’s complicated. But don’t worry, you’ll get there.” In about seventy years, give or take. “I have to go. Maybe you need to ask that jackass what he feels? The other jackass who’s technically me...”

“O-okay.”

Happiness filled Steve’s heart, like the warmth of the sun on a cold day. “See you around, jerk.”

In the end, this detour was well worth it. He tapped his band and the time travel suit materialized before Bucky’s widening eyes. The latter stared, slack-jawed, at the magical transformation. And in a pulse of light, Rogers disappeared.

Barnes stood there for a moment, staring at the space where the man stood a millisecond earlier, trying to comprehend if all that was real. He cautiously reached a hand out, thinking he’d feel something, anything, but his hand simply waved in the air.

The guy literally just vanished.

“What the fuck...” Bucky breathed. What just happened?

He could still feel Steve’s lips on his. Like a damp, invisible imprint left behind. Dazed, he went back into the pub.

His Steve stood near the bar, raising his arms outwards. “Where did you go off to?”

I met your future self. Or at least, I think I did. “Just went out for some fresh air.” Bucky shrugged, trying to be as casual as he could.

“Well, come on, we’re gonna be late for the briefing. The team’s waiting outside.”

Bucky needed to convince himself that whatever happened in the alley was not some bizarre manifestation of his mind. “Wait. I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Do you... you know...” Come on, Barnes. Get it together.

“Do I what?”

He bobbed on his feet. “... L-love me?”

Steve stared at him for a moment, mouth parting slowly. Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. The last thing he wanted was to ruin their friendship. It was the one precious thing he had.

But he had to know.

A smile crept onto Steve’s face. He blushed as he scratched his head. “I guess. Yeah.”

The relief Bucky felt was palpable. He shook his head, laughing a little under his breath. His heart did the Jitterbug in his chest. A part of him wanted to smack the blond idiot at the back of his head for not telling the truth sooner.

“Stupid punk,” he said.

“Yeah, I guess I deserve that,” Rogers replied. “How did you find out anyway?”

“Well, you keep giving me these googly eyes all the time! I didn’t know if you really... felt that.”

“Of course I do. You are my whole life.”

Bucky scoffed and looked away, hiding the surging happiness inside. The volcanic eruption in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” said Steve. “I should’ve told you. I was waiting for the right time.”

“Yeah? When exactly is that? Your retirement party?”

Steve tilted his head, looking at his friend with those big, blue puppy eyes and a smile that said ‘please don’t be mad’. Bucky absolutely hated it because he could never resist that face.

“Fine, never mind it,” he said. “You wanna... have dinner or something?”

“I know the perfect place. We could go tonight. Eight o’clock.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of them left the pub, walking so close beside each other that their fingers brushed. Good thing the rest of the Howling Commandos were too drunk out of their wits to notice the love in the air.

-- The Words That Should’ve Been Said. (Read full on AO3)

[nev3rfound]

just in time : s.r

returning the stones isn’t steve’s only mission whilst he’s gone; he has one final mission of his own - to find his long lost lover, you, before it’s too late (2.5k)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

masterlist / permanent taglist

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Panting heavily, you bend down, resting your hands on your thighs as you feel a burn course through them whilst Bucky laughs at you.

"Did you seriously run here?" Bucky asks, Steve now facing you too, surprised to see you.

Holding a finger up, you take one final deep breath before composing yourself. "Of course," You breathe out. "I didn't wanna miss the start of it, had to get here on time." You smile, practically beam to Steve who shyly smiles back.

"I mean you're fifteen minutes late, doll." Bucky comments, ignoring Steve's weak punch to his arm. "Sorry."

"You haven't missed a thing, Y/n." Steve assures you as he steps forward, holding his arm out as his jacket swarms his upper body.

Despite the mud coating the hem of your skirt that hides various bruises and a sheen of sweat lining your forehead, Steve still adores you completely, no matter how often you're late for things.

"I'd be honoured." You giggle, looping your arm with Steve's as the three of you make your way into the dance hall. 

Standing on the podium, Steve can feel his grip tightening on the case as Bruce, Sam and Bucky watch him closely.

"Ready Cap?" Bruce calls out as Steve's suit changes to white and red, contrasting the previous dark tones. "Alright, we'll meet you back here." He adds, and Steve nods.

It's the moment he's anticipated for too long, ever since he woke up from the ice.

Bucky knew from the moment Steve said goodbye to him. Steve was going to be gone longer than a few seconds, he'd be gone an entire lifetime.

"You bet." Steve responds as the helmet forms over his head as his heart hammers against his chest at the thought of returning to a time he never dreamed of reliving.

Looking to his oldest friend, a small smile forms across Steve's face as Bucky remains stoic, internally proud that his friend will finally live the life he deserves.

"Going quantum in three, two, one." Bruce states, clicking at the last few buttons before the beams surrounding Steve illuminate and he disappears.

"I'm coming, I promise!" You yell from your window as Steve nervously shuffles on the pavement below, trying his best to hide the flowers he purchased (stole, with Bucky's aid) at the store earlier that morning.

Running down your stairs, you wave to your Dad before exiting the house. "Hey," Steve smiles as you slowly descend down the steps as you exhale deeply, he knows he's about to have another one of your infamous stories.

"My Ma didn't change the clock after it went and died, so here I was thinking I had all the time in the world," You shake your head in disbelief as you stand in front of Steve, oblivious to the flowers being brought forward from behind his back. "and then I woke up to my Dad screaming that you were outside!" A laugh escapes your lips as you finally notice the yellow flowers in Steve's grip, concealing the nervous look across his face.

"Do you like them?" Steve hesitantly questions, feeling your fingers brush across his as you take the flowers from his hands.

Bringing them to your face, you sniff them happily. "Steve," You can't help but step closer and kiss his cheek, watching a blush cross where your lips had just been. "I love them, thank you."

"I, well," Steve stumbles over his words, always losing any sense whenever you're around him. This would be the point where Bucky would interfere or as he likes to put it, 'help out.' "A girl like you deserves pretty flowers." He manages to say, watching as your eyes soften.

"I'll be right back, don't go anywhere, okay?" You tell him with a quick wink before running back up the front steps to your house, the door remaining ajar.

From where Steve stands, he can hear you conversing with your parents.

"He got you flowers, huh, honey?" Your Dad asks, a level of disconcert in his tone.

"He did, and I love them." You snap back. "It doesn't matter, Dad, don't give me that look."

"Your Father means well, dear. Why did you have to fall for him instead of Barnes?" Your Mother chimes into the conversation and Steve's head falls lower into himself, his previous excitement diminishing.

He knows they're right, you would be much better off with Bucky than a guy like himself, someone who’ll never amount to much before dying at a young age. Hell, he can’t even fight for his country, what right does he have being with you?

“Because I love him, okay?” You almost yell at the pair of them, hating the way they talk about Steve, one of your friends whom you grew up alongside, who you’ve slowly but surely fell in love with. “And I don’t care that he’s not like Bucky, Bucky for a fact is an arrogant womaniser, not that either of you have noticed. Just let me enjoy this, please! You owe me that much at this point.” You huff as you place the flowers in a glass that you filled with water. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back by seven.”

Without another word being uttered, you walk out of your house to see Steve slightly stunned at the bottom of your steps.

“You heard all that, didn’t you?” You ask, pausing on the bottom step.

Nodding in response, you lift your hands to your eyes and collapse down onto your step.

“Hey,” Steve mutters, reaching out to take your hands in his cold ones, no matter how warm it can get in Brooklyn, he always remains cold, not that you mind in the slightest as his smile simply warms your heart.

Now revealing your glossy eyes to Steve, you watch carefully as his blue eyes move closer towards you.

“If it helps at all, Y/n,” Steve whispers as he rests one hand on your cheek. “I love you too.” 

“And returning in five, four,” Bruce announces as he flicks several switches, the beams illuminating once more.

Yet, Bucky steps away much to Sam’s surprise.

“-three, two one.”

Sam watches closely as the lights flicker, but nothing happens. The podium remains empty, and Bucky chuckles beneath his breath.

“It’s not working,” Bruce exclaims as he stares at the monitor.

“Why not? Bring him back.” Sam states, frustration rising in his tone as he glances over to Bucky who faces the lake, hands buried in his pockets. “What do you know, Barnes?”

“That he’s not coming back.” Bucky speaks up, keeping his eyes locked on the ripples of the lake, the echo of laughter playing in his mind of the good ol’ days.

“I don’t understand,” Sam starts, but Bucky turns to face him with a solemn smile.

“You will.”

Sitting in the bar with Steve, Bucky laughs as they discuss his sudden rise to stardom. “But you were smaller,” Bucky chuckles in disbelief as his once frail friend sits broadly beside him. “don’t get me wrong, you look good, pal.”

Steve sighs to himself before taking a sip as dames walk past, whispering about the infamous Captain America. “I hope she doesn’t hate me.” Steve mutters, his eyes locked on the half-empty glass in his grasp. “I don’t know what to say, or, or,”

Before Steve can finish his sentence, the doors to the bar burst open and silence falls. All of the soldiers' attention turns to the dame in the entranceway, her lips lined red as she slowly walks in.

The sound of heels clicking against the floor increases until Steve hears his name being muttered delicately.

"Steve?" Turning around, Steve looks you in the eyes as tears fall down your cheeks. “Is that really you?” You quietly ask, lifting your hand up and rest it on his chest, slowly raising it to his cheek.

Smiling softly, Steve lifts his hand up, resting it on top of yours. For the first time ever, it’s warm, and you breathe out a laugh. “It’s me, Y/n.” Steve tells you confidently.

“Bonnie said I missed your grand entrance, why is it I can never keep track of time?” You laugh lightly and witness Steve smile shyly. “Steve? Is something wrong?”

Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Steve notices you step closer. “You, you’ll still have me?” The question escapes his lips as his eyes dart across your expression, watching as your brows furrow and your previous smile disappears.

“You thought I’d leave you, just because you, you’ve changed?” The hurt in your voice is evident as Bucky seethes beside you both, quickly motioning to everyone else to carry on with their conversations so yours is drowned out from their ears.

“No, I,” Steve pauses before rising to his feet, now towering over you. “follow me.” He takes your hand in his, enveloping it firmly as he guides you outside for some needed privacy.

Now outside, you can hear faint conversations from inside the bar, the talks of Captain America and all he has done for the country. Yet in front of you stands Steve Rogers, your Steve.

“Listen, Steve, I don’t care what you look like, if you’re now suddenly six feet tall and have more muscle than my Uncle Jerry,” You explain, not missing the faint laugh from Steve. “you’re still Steve Rogers from Brooklyn, the man I fell in love with, okay?”

“So, this doesn’t bother you?” His nerves remain forefront as he glances down at himself before seeing you quirk a brow.

“Not in the slightest,” You reassure him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “if anything, there’s more of you to love, Captain.” You giggle and Steve can’t ignore the butterflies in his stomach before kissing you softly, missing the way your lips melt into his.

“Wait, guys?” Bruce suddenly announces as the energy field on the podium vibrates, and Steve reappears empty-handed.

“There’s no way,” Bucky mutters to himself, remaining still whilst Sam rushes forward, laughing happily.

“I knew you’d come back, you son of a bitch.” Sam jokes as Steve steps down from the podium, removing the white suit and reveals himself dressed in a black suit. “So, how was it?”

Steve remains quiet, his eyes fixating on the ground as his thoughts remain tied to the past.

“Let’s give him some space, Sam.” Bucky interrupts, looking over to Bruce who nods in response.

“Come on.” Bruce mutters, walking alongside Sam as they head back to the cabin, leaving Bucky alone to talk to his oldest friend who he anticipated being a lot older.

Stepping forward, Bucky tries not to stare at Steve whose cheeks remain red, marked with previous tears.

“What happened, Steve?” Bucky asks. “I thought, I thought you’d be with her, I-”

“She moved on, Buck.” Steve cuts Bucky off coldly. “Y/n carried on living without me, without us around she had no choice but to carry on.”

Bucky doesn’t miss the gentle sniff escaping Steve as he averts his gaze, turning his head to the left remaining out of sight as fresh tears fall.

“Was she happy?” Bucky can see Steve’s shoulders tense at the question, almost feel the heartache Steve is feeling as he shifts on his feet, now fully facing Bucky.

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, patting Bucky on the shoulder. “she really was.”

“I’m so sorry, Steve.” Bucky states sadly.

“Me too, pal.” Steve comments, but Bucky can tell there’s something he’s not admitting, his eyes say more than his words could. “Me too.”

Walking alongside one another, the old friends walk back toward the cabin, knowing now they can only carry on, there’s no going back.

Steve was running, he’d been running for far too long in a world he didn’t understand. All he craved was a return to his own time, a world he felt comfortable and understood in. A world where you lived and breathed.

His feet guide him directly to the cobbled street he walked numerous times, either by your side holding hands or bantering with Bucky. Nothing had changed, it remained just as he remembered. There weren’t any alien threats, no destruction, the war was over.

Slowly, Steve walks up the steps to your house. He forms a fist as he knocks, having discarded the case the stones were once in mere hours before and returned Thor’s hammer to its rightful place in Asgard.

He can feel his breathing hitch in his throat as silence falls upon him before knocking on the door. Looking over his shoulder, Steve decides it’s best to step down in case you open your window like old times.

Yet, a few minutes pass by and there’s no response. Steve knocks once more, then twice and thrice more times.

“They aren’t there, sweetie!” Someone calls out, and Steve glances over his shoulder to see a neighbour perching from their door, a child on her hip.

“Do you know when they’ll be back?” Steve asks, noticing the woman's smile drop immediately like his heart.

“They don’t live there anymore I’m ‘fraid.” The woman states, but Steve isn’t listening as he crosses the road, now standing in front of her door. “The couple couldn’t bear to stay there, up’t and left about two months ago now.” She explains, but Steve cannot fathom it.

Your family adored that house, though it was small, it was perfect for you and your parents. The three of you sung and danced from room to room, Steve and Bucky often in tow.

“How come they moved away?” Steve forces the question from his thoughts to his mouth, afraid to hear the answer.

The child on the woman's hip begins to cry loudly, and she quickly hushes it. “I’ll be one moment,” She mutters, moving away from the door and returns a few minutes later, arms folded across her chest. “They erm, they lost their daughter, precious thing she was.”

Steve falters backwards, he watches as the woman's lips continue to move, but silence consumes him.

“-she kept coughing up blood after all those nights sat in the cold waiting for her soldier to come home. Apparently, she had some underlying condition, incurable. Tragic really.” The woman sighs sadly, now glancing up to see Steve silently distraught. “I’m sorry, hon, did you know her?” She asks, but Steve steps away and turns around, forcing his feet as he runs down the street, ignoring her shouts.

He had no idea where he was going, but all he could feel were tears streaming down his cheeks, the cool breeze burning against them as he forcefully wiped them away. 

For once, Steve was the one who was too late, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“You sure you’re okay, pal?” Bucky reiterates his previous question, seeing Steve longingly watch as Morgan plays with Pepper, giggling away.

“Yeah,” Steve mutters. “I’ll be fine, Buck.” He lies, knowing if he were to tell the truth, he’d simply fall apart.

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[dragon-kazansky]

Til death do us part | Helmut Zemo

Bodyguard AU! 🕶

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 10

The very day the rest of the guards that Steve had contacted arrived. He gathered them for a meeting to brief them on the job. He was worried about the group that had taken you out of action for a while.

You had begun to suspect that Zemo knew exactly who they were and what they wanted, but he hadn't informed you about them at all. Since it wasn't deemed important enough for you to know, you didn't ask.

You had been excused from Zemo's side, reluctantly for him, to join Steve and Bucky outside.

The boys were stood with their hands behind the back watching the new lot get used to the grounds. It was important they knew their way around.

You came up beside Steve.

"Morning."

"Morning, Y/N," he smiles.

"How is it being Zemo's personal bodyguard?" Bucky asks.

You chuckle. "So far so good. No issues to report."

"And in the romance department?" Bucky asks, grinning like a fool.

"Non existent, Buck. Don't be silly," you scold him.

Steve is smiling.

"Not you too, Rogers."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but I think Bucky is right. I honestly believe the Baron may have feelings for you."

"Why would he? He hated me when we met."

"You saved his life," Bucky reminds you, "that is plenty enough to change a point of view on someone."

You sigh.

"I suppose."

You knew it was probably true just from the way he had been treating you. You felt less like a bodyguard and more like a guest. Even you could tell he was reaching for any excuse to keep you near him.

You would just go back to being the professional you were and decline politely, having excuses of your own to do other things.

He was your boss.

"Nothing is going to happen, so no point in bringing it up any more," you tell them.

"You sound so sure of that," Bucky says.

"Because I am."

Neither one of them mentions it further. The new group finish their tour of the outside grounds, and it's here you decide to go back inside, leaving Steve and Bucky to show them the rest.

Bucky watches you go, feeling bad about teasing you, but also not because he knows it's true.

You pass Natasha on tour way back inside.

"Can I join you?" She asks.

"I don't see why not," you chuckle.

The pair of you walk in perfect sync as you head upstairs. The house is quiet as you walk your usual route.

"Are you not scared they'll come back?" She asks, looking at you from the corner of her eye. Natasha had been worried sick after you were rushed off to hospital. There hadn't been much word about your status until they all got back to the hotel. She was scared it was going to end badly.

Then they heard you were stable and she let out the biggest sigh of relief. It painted them that they couldn't all come and visit you, but Steve assured them you were on the mend.

You sigh softly.

"Honestly, yes."

Natasha didn't miss the way you reached u pro your shoulder for just a moment. Obviously it bothered you everytime that day was mentioned.

"But in here to do a job and I'll do it again if i have to. My life for his."

"It's a reckless job, isn't it?"

You smile softly. "Yes, it is, but it is also the most rewarding. We are duty bound to protect someone and I did just that."

She smiles.

"And I'm sure you'll be rewarded handsomely for it too."

You narrow you eyes at her, lips tugging into a frown.

"What do you mean by that?"

She laughs a little. "The Baron fancies you, perhaps your reward is, well, him."

"You too? Natasha, no! I just told Steve and Bucky off for this. Even if he does like me, I won't peruse it. I'm here to do a job, Natasha. He trusts me with his life."

"Maybe he just wants to keep you close to him."

"You're being ridiculous," you sigh.

The pair of you reach Zemo's office. You stop outside and turn to your dear friend.

"Trust me, nothing is going to happen here."

She looks sceptical, but Natasha doesn't say anything and just nods once. She gestures to the door and leaves silently.

You hold your head up high and knock on the door.

"Come in."

You open the door and enter. The door closes gently behind you, and then you make your way over to the Baron to stand behind him.

You ignore the way he watches you do so. You can feel his eyes on you as you pass him.

Helmut hides his smile as he looks back down at his work. He was glad you were here. He had missed your presence in the room. You had this calming affect for him and he noticed it greatly when you were gone.

He hadn't got very far with his work. For every time you leave him, his mind lingers on you. He wonders what you'll do, where you'll go, if you think of him as he does you.

Whenever he thought about that last part, his heart was skip a beat.

Zemo's thoughts came to a halt when another knock sounded at his door. He gave them permission to enter.

A maid enters. One you've seen around the estate. She is carrying a tray with a tea set on it. The maid approaches the desk and places the tray down. Helmut thanks her quietly and she then excuses herself.

Helmut pours himself a cup.

You admire the little tea set. It's all matching. All made from china. White with flowers painted onto them in an intricate design. Simple, yet classy.

Too busy admiring the teacups, you only just realise he is pouring another cup.

"Sit."

You glance at him quickly. He was obviously talking to you as you were the only other person in the room. Not wanting to argue with him, you take a seat opposite him, all while keeping your wits about you just in case.

Helmut places the other teacup in front of you. You stare at it.

"For you," he chuckles softly.

"Um, thank you, sir."

You accept it. You sip the hot contents of the cup and hum softly. It was very nice. You hide your smile behind your cup, hoping he wasn't looking at you right now.

Problem is, he is always looking at you when you're within his eyeline.

"How did you get into this line of work?" He asks, desperate to get you to open up to him. He wanted to know about you, hear you say more than a few words to him.

"Steve Rogers is a dear friend of mine. He was looking for recruits back when the agency was just starting. I told him I was interested, but I had no training. He assured me that was alright and introduced me to Natasha. She became my mentor. Everything I know, I learned from Nat. Within the first month of my employment, I received my first assignment. I've been a bodyguard ever since."

He smiled. This was progress. You were opening up to him and he was happy.

"Then I should thank Mr. Rogers and Miss. Romanoff," he says, smiling softly.

"Thank them?"

"If not for them, I wouldn't have such a hard working and efficient bodyguard."

"With all due respect, sir, you didn't think that way when we met."

His smile fades. Of course you wouldn't forget about that. First impressions are important and he had ruined it by thinking lesser of you.

You must really hate him for that.

Perhaps he didn't stand a chance with you after all.

"Yes, well, opinions can change," he said, lowering his cup onto it's saucer on the desk.

"Your opinion changed because I took a dee bullets for you. Your opinion changed because I did my job and saved your life."

Normally you would never talk back to your employer, but you wanted him to know how he made you feel.

"I apologise."

"Apologies are unnecessary when I'm doing my duty," you tell him.

"Do you ever not think of your duty?"

"No. When I'm working, all there is to think about is the job."

Helmut looks at you with a longing gaze, not that you see it as such.

"Are you happy?" He asks. The question startles you.

"Happy?"

"Happy doing your duty? Happy putting your life before others. Do you not think your life as important compares to those you serve and protect?"

You stare at him blankly.

"My purpose is to put my life before others. I do what I do because I'm good at it. It is my job to put myself before others in dangerous situations. I wouldn't want to do anything else. I'm here to keep you safe, sir."

Silence falls between you.

All you think about your job and for some reason he hates that fact. Right here in front of him, you aren't your own person, you're someone who lay down their life for whoever employs them.

Once upon a time he had happily felt the same, laying down his life for his country, but things changed. He changed.

"Anything you want, just say the word and I'll get it for you. I want you to be happy in my home."

Our home. He wanted to say our home, but that felt far too personal, even of you were living here now.

You put your cup down and stand up.

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I have to make my rounds."

You leave before he can say anything.

Helmut stares at your half empty teacup. He sighs. The most you had ever said to him, and he had only managed to upset you further. Judging by the way you left, he may have offended you.

His heart was going crazy.

"Why must romance be so difficult?" He sighed, sitting back in his chair.

He just wanted to know you. What a fool he was.

Sitting there in silence, he made a silent promise to make it up to you. He had a mission of his own now.

Helmut Zemo had accepted that he liked you, and now he just had to win you over. He would start tomorrow, when the day was fresh and today could be forgotten.

He was going to show you who he was underneath the title of Baron.

Helmut Zemo was going to win over your heart.

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[harryspet]

good girl. bad habits. [1] peter parker

[Warnings] alpha!peter parker x omega!reader, omegaverse, boarding school au, dystopian au, soultmate au, spanking, teacher/student, physical abuse, misogyny, plot now/porn later 

A/N: warnings should be explanation enough! this is probably going to have two parts :)

POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD

In which you’re forced to attend a school for Omegas and you meet an Alpha that’s destined to shake up your world. 

word count: 4.2k

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Wanda grabbed your hand, examining your nails with wide eyes, “Where did you get nail polish?” She whisper-shouted, trying not to draw attention to the two of you in the large auditorium. There were rows of girls surrounding you, all of them lacking any sort of individuality because of the stupid dress code. 

“I traded for it,” Wanda raised an eyebrow and you sighed, “I’m doing her homework for Mr. Rogers for the next week. Worth it, right? Red looks good on me.”

Wanda gave you a disapproving look but you were quite used to it, “Trading?” Wanda scoffed, “You make it sound like we’re in prison.”

You only frowned, folding your hands in front of you, “That’s the only word I would use to describe it.”

Before Wanda could argue, the deafening sound of a microphone blasted through the auditorium, signalling that the assembly was about to begin. Mistress Romanoff stepped onto the platform, wearing her usual striking red hair and a black pencil skirt that hugged her curves. All the male teachers lusted for the Beta woman but you only felt jealousy. You wished your uniform skirt hugged your curves rather than dropping to your knees. 

She carried the mic with her, clipboard in hand that held the contents of the meeting. It was the crack of dawn and you were running on little sleep but that wasn’t anything special for you. If you wanted anytime to yourself, you had to utilize the time after midnight which meant you often forgoed sleep. 

“Good morning, ladies,” She addressed you all, her face lacking a smile or compassion, “You’ve already completed two months of the semester. A majority of you are passing your classes with flying colors. I hope you finish the semester just as strong as you started it ….”

That two months felt like a year to you. You’d spent the summer in a detention center and you were apparently “lucky” to be sitting here instead of there. In reality, you preferred the girls at the detention center over this school because they at least had spines. The girls here were mindless followers just hoping to please whatever men they had in their lives. 

“As you all know, at the Stark School, our most popular event is the Halloween Ball. You know, a select few girls are chosen to attend based on merit as a reward for a job well done. This year, I have spectacular news concerning the event that I think all of you ladies will be glad to hear,” There were impatient, excited whispers that roamed over the crowd. You witnessed Wanda whispering something into the ear of the girl beside her. You only yawned, waiting for the assembly to be over, “This year, a select few males from the Asgard School for Alphas will be in attendance-”

Mistress Romanoff was interrupted by an overwhelming reaction from the crowd which consisted of loud squealing and gasps, “Ladies, please calm down. I know you’re all excited but don’t be too rash. There are still several weeks until the Ball. I would advise you all to be on your best behavior and to get your grades up if you want to be considered.”

You wanted to vomit in your mouth. The male teachers were worse enough. Being around young, Alpha males sounded like a complete nightmare. Wanda was freaking out beside you but you had tuned her out. With your current grades and disciplinary record, you’d end up at that Ball when hell freezes over. 

+

You should’ve known that the Halloween Ball would consume everyone’s conversation for the rest of the day. It seemed you were the only one in the entire world that didn’t care. Except for Wanda, you didn’t really have any friends here and today was only adding to that isolation you always felt. 

“Let’s go off script today and talk about our goals and aspirations. I often get a lot of questions from you all about advice on the plans for your future. This isn’t exactly Omega history but I figured we could use history in order to help guide us …”

As you sat in class, your eyes weren’t on the board in front of the class but out the window. The school consisted of long corridors, tall ceilings and tall windows. The ancient building sat in the middle of a forest in an area that you did not know. After the judge decided where you’d spend your senior year, they drugged you and brought you here. 

You were only half listening to Mr. Rogers as he gave today’s lecture. The paint on your nails was far more interesting. Besides that, you hated how people only raised their hands to agree with him. Looking across the room at Wanda, you could see how in love she was with him. 

“Throughout history, we see Omegas taking on a softer and more gentle role in our society, especially in females. Omega females are natural nurturers as well as natural followers. Can someone tell me why this is unlikely to change?”

You rolled your eyes as someone raised their hand, “It’s because it’s in our nature. It’s how the Goddess created us.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Rogers agreed with a smile, “There are leaders in our world and then there are followers. Both positions are equally as important. You can’t have one without the other,” You’d heard this type of lecture a million times and most of the girls at your school gobble it up, “There are a lot of options for omega females. After you meet your mates, the possibilities essentially become endless. There are many nurturing and low stress jobs. I know many Omegas who are secretaries, florists, and even preschool teachers. Most become homemakers and motherhood is the absolute most important job an Omega can have.”

You couldn’t hold in your scoff but, as soon as it left your lips, everyone’s head turned towards you, “What?” You asked no one in particular but to show that you didn’t want to be stared at. 

“Miss Y/L/N, is there something you would like to add to the discussion?” Mr. Rogers asked and, although he was beginning to make your heart race, you only crossed your arms. 

“No, thank you,” You spoke simply. 

“I apologize if I’m boring you but this is a pretty important topic. Why don’t you tell the class your aspirations for the future,” You expected for him to move on but the Alpha seemed to focus in on you. You hated the feeling that crawled under your skin when you looked into his eyes. It was a force, a wall between the two of you to remind you that you were not equal. 

“I’d like to be mate free, far away from this school, and on a beach somewhere rolling in cash,” Everyone in the room seemed to freeze, eyes widened, and the tension grew thick, “Consider it a five year plan.”

“And you expect to make money how?” Mr. Rogers began to pace in front of his desk, an annoyance in his glare towards you.

“I don’t know but hopefully I’ll make more than a teacher,” You grinned. 

Steve stiffened and you saw Wanda look over her shoulder to you. “Stop it,” She mouthed to you. 

“I’ll just move somewhere else. Somewhere they don’t treat Omegas like second class citizens.”

The class erupted in gasps and, for a moment, you felt quite powerful, “Stand up, right now,” Mr. Rogers snarled. You did as he said, knowing you wouldn’t be able to disobey a command. 

You reached down to grab your backpack, “I know, I know … to the Head Mistress’s office,” You rolled your eyes. 

“No, leave your things,” That made you pause and you looked up to see a smirk on his face, “Come up to the front of the class, Miss Y/L/N.”

You let your bag drop to your side with a thud. Everyone around you was still whispering and staring. You felt that power drifting away as you made your way down the aisle and towards the front of the classroom. Skirt too high on your thighs, nail polish on your hands, and an attitude on your face that you were struggling to maintain. 

You stopped a few feet in front of your teacher before he said, “Hands on the desk,” He ordered you. You huffed out a sigh, every bone in your body telling you to obey. You walked past him, putting your hands down on his desk which left you slightly bent over with your backside exposed to the room of forty girls. “This, young ladies, is important for all of you to see. There will always be some who resist their true nature and who cause disruption.”

You heard the sound of him removing his belt from the waistband of his pants and your body cringed. 

You’d heard that things like this happened often here. You heard the head mistress had a secret closet of tools she used on disobedient omegas. You’d never heard of a Professor disciplining a student in front of an entire class. 

You wanted to scream and shout but decided that remaining stoic would save you the most embarrassment. Even as he lifted your skirt, you didn’t say a word, only shut your eyes tightly, “Whatever career path you choose, your mate will have to approve. This is not because you are second class citizens but because your mate will know what’s best for you. Ranks are ingrained within us and, no matter how much we fight it, we still end up in positions like you. If we only stayed in our lanes, others wouldn’t have to enforce their rank.”

The first slap of the belt burned badly. You couldn’t help but cry out as your knees buckled together and you tightly gripped the wood of the desk. 

He kept going, forcing the class to count along as he completely bruised your bottom. He stopped at fifteen but, by that time, tears were already streaming and you were silently weeping.

+

The next few weeks passed in a blur with your usual routine of going through your classes like a zombie and listening to Wanda’s ramblings. Like a lot of girls, Wanda already had an Alpha with his eyes set on her. Bucky Barnes, an older man and well respected Alpha had already staked his claim. Wanda’s current mission was to have as much fun and attention that she could before being forced to settle down. 

You started to notice how Wanda’s usual group of friends was dwindling as she continued to sit with you. Although she often disagreed with your mentality, she still stayed which was more than anyone had ever done for you. 

“Are you really going to run? Escape?” She asked in a whisper as she discussed the forbidden topic. 

“Why would I stay? No Alpha will want me. Not even a Beta would,” You only shrugged, stirring your spoon around your bowl of soup.

“That’s not true,” Wanda insisted, “You just …. you just have to adjust a little more. I think you could be happy eventually if you just played the part for a little while. An Alpha could offer you security.”

You shook your head, “I don’t like the cost. I think I’d rather scrub toilets for the rest of my life.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at your words, “I don’t think you would, Y/N. There’s got to be a part of you, deep down, that wants the stability.”

You didn’t answer the question and you didn’t allow the thought to stay on your mind, “Don’t worry about me, just enjoy your dance. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find another Alpha and you can watch them fight over you.”

Wanda smiled, a dreamy look in her eyes, “That does sound wonderful, doesn’t it?” Not long into your conversation, you felt a tapping on your shoulder and a woman telling you that you’re needed in the head mistress’s office, “What did you do now?”

“Nothing,” You said immediately, grabbing your things, “You can have my pudding cup. I’ll see you after last period.” Wanda only nodded, a look of worry on her face as you were escorted away. 

The woman, who you assumed was some type of secretary, advised you to fix your appearance. The Stark School was like an old castle with vast hallways and tall ceilings of stained glass. Mr. Rogers told the class one time that it had been used as a fort in a war hundreds of years ago. People thought it was an interesting fact but the antiqueness of everything left you feeling creeped out most of the time. 

You arrived at her office after climbing the winding stairs of the tallest tower. Mrs. Potts was waiting by the window when you entered. You kept your hands folded, hiding the nail polish on your fingers as you waited for her to address you. She stared out of the window, out to wear P.E. classes were being held, and your eyes wandered to the large wardrobe in the corner. 

You gulped as you realized that was probably where she kept her weapons of discipline, “How are your studies going, dear?” You turned your head to find her staring intently at you, “Come, sit down.”

You moved forward, obeying the Alpha Females commands, and taking a seat in front of her desk, “Well, I’m not failing anything,” You spoke tersely. 

“I heard,” She nodded, taking a seat behind her desk. She straightened the jacket of her black suit as she folded her hands over the desk, “That’s a big improvement, Y/N. That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, “To talk about my improvement?” You put the word “improvement” in quotes.

“Exactly, when you first arrived you started with at least one infraction a day. Now you’re down to one a week. I can tell you’re learning and that you’re adjusting well.”

“Are you letting me out of here earlier then?” You asked, your head cocked to the side. 

Pepper only chuckled, “Here’s what I’m offering you - a chance to go to the Halloween Ball.”

“Why would I want that?” You asked.

“When the school year is over, you won’t have many options. If you get back on suppressants, you’ll be caught and end up back in the Council’s bad graces. It’s my job to help you and I don’t want to see that happen,” You could tell that she was being sincere but there was still the ulterior motive of simply getting you out of her hair, “You’ll go to the ball, maybe you’ll meet someone willing to take you in and give you something better than what you can give yourself.”

You frowned, “I’m assuming you’re not giving me a choice.”

Pepper sighed, “You have over fifty infractions, Y/N. Any other student would have been kicked out by now. Just take this chance.”

+

It was quite amusing to you watching the group of boys and girls meet each other. They both seemed to be an inexperienced group of teenagers awkwardly trying to figure things out. The girls stood on one side and the boys stood on the other for the first ten minutes of the dance before a brave boy walked over to ask a girl to dance. Now, the dance was in full swing and you were sitting by the snack table, easing your anxiety with cookies. 

Wanda loaned you a long white dress and allowed you to cut it into something off-shouldered with a slit down the side to expose your thigh. You watched Wanda who was dancing happily in a champagne pink, ruffled dress. 

The Alphas that passed you only stared, probably wondering why you weren’t bashfully batting your eyelids at them. Another thing that added to your anxiety was the energy they gave off. You could handle class with Mr. Rogers but being in the ballroom was putting you on edge. 

You sat through a few more loud pop songs before finally standing up and heading for the exit. As you made it to the door, you heard an out of breath Wanda calling for you. You turned to see her pulling a boy along with her, a look of lust in his eyes as he gazed at her. He wasn’t what made your breath hitch in your throat, it was who was behind him. 

“Y/N, this is Brad,” She gestured to the boy whose hand was interlaced with hers, “And this is his friend Peter.”

Peter. 

Something made you do a double take. You didn’t recognize him but you felt your world shift at the sight of him. You felt your heart rate increase as she felt something foreign … attraction. A kind face that didn’t match those brown eyes that screamed danger. In those few seconds where your eyes lingered on his, you questioned every feeling you’d ever had. 

“I’m going … on a walk,” You told Wanda, not addressing them. 

“Take us with you to get some fresh air,” She winked at you, knowing what you were hinting at. 

Your shoulders slumped but you nodded, “You’re lucky there’s enough in my stash.”

You turned around and pushed open the gymnasium door and led the three of them into the hallway. The four of you did your best to avoid any chaperones, dipping into a custodian's closet when you heard the tapping of heels coming your way. Like you had planned it, you switched on the light and ran your eyes over the many shelves. 

“How did you even get it?” Wanda whispered. 

They did bed checks often and a lot of the administrators were fond of combing through your dorm room thoroughly. 

“I’m cool with the janitor,” You answered simply, shrugging. As you found the empty container for disinfecting wipes, you reached in to find what you were looking for. You felt the young Alphas eyes burning into you as you presented it to the group. 

A flask. 

+

You tilted the silver container back, swallowing quickly in an attempt to not taste the vile liquid. Not meeting his eyes, you held the flask out to the side for him to take. The four of you were making your way to the lake. Wanda and Brad, stuck in their own world, had wandered ahead which left the two of you to awkwardly walk beside each other down the dirt path. 

When he didn’t take it, you glanced at him, “I don’t think that’s going to get me drunk,” He said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck and the first few buttons of his white shirt were undone. You couldn’t help that your eyes lingered on the skin of his chest and he seemed to notice. He flashed you a curious look but you turned your head again. 

“Suit yourself,” You took another sip, scowling as you pulled it from your lips. 

The four of you arrived at the lake and it seemed Brad and Wanda couldn’t keep their hands off of each other any longer. After taking a big swig out of the flask, she told you that she and Brad were going to go “check out” the storage cabin where the school kept lake gear. She giggled as he pulled her away, leaving the two of you along on a picnic bench, staring out onto the eerie, dark water. 

“What’s your last name?” He asked and a part of you was frustrated that he was trying to make small talk with you. 

“You wouldn’t know my family,” You said simply. 

“Try me,” He challenged you like the cocky Alpha you assumed he was. 

“They’re dead, it’s not like it matters.”

“How?” He continued, “How did they die?”

You gave him an incredulous look, “Do you always ask girls about traumatic topics when you first meet them?”

“You don’t seem like most girls I’ve met.”

“And I guess that’s an excuse?” You scoffed but his expression didn’t change. He seriously wanted to know, “They were rogues and they died like everyone else who defies the Council. Happy?”

“I’m sorry,” Was his curt response. 

An Alpha apologizing? You never thought you’d see the day. 

“What’s your last name?”

“Parker,” Your eyes widened as the name left his lips. 

“You’re … you’re Tony Stark’s nephew?” He only nodded, “And you’re saying sorry when your uncle is on the council. When he’s the reason they’re dead. That’s rich.”

“I’m not my uncle,” He stated more firmly than you expected. It took you back for a moment and the two of you stared intensely for a long moment. 

“I don’t care,” His eyebrows tightened and his lips pressed into a rectangle at your reaction, “Even if you don’t want to end up like him, you probably will. It’s a part of your nature,” You spoke, mocking the words you heard all day long in class. 

“It’s not a part of my nature to kill those who disagree with me,” Your eyebrows furrowed at his words. 

“How else will you assert your dominance, oh wise Alpha?”

He breathed deeply, sensing how you were toying with him, “A good alpha doesn’t need to kill or rely only on their strength. Alphas who lack the respect of their followers do.”

It deeply confused you that someone like him could think this way. You were quiet for a moment as you thought it over, “Are you saying Tony Stark lacks the respect of his people?”

“They only fear him,” Peter’s eyes seemed to darken even in the moonlight shining down on the two of you.

Pete watched as it clicked within your mind, “And you don’t want to be feared?” As he leaned in closer, you surprised yourself by not pulling away. You felt that same magnetism pulling you towards him, promising you pleasure, but frightening you at the same time. 

His fingers brushed against yours and a shiver went down your spine, causing your lips to part and your eyes to widen, “Control feels much better when it’s instinct. When it’s wanted and desired. That’s real control,” His voice was warm, and surprisingly calm. It made you forget for a moment and drop the walls. Your eyes roamed over his every feature, ever line of his jaw, and ever curl of his hair. 

His eyes wandered down to your lips and you suddenly snapped out of the spell. You stood up from the bench with a start, realizing how deeply you were just staring at him, “I don’t believe in those bullshit rankings,” You stated firmly and he stood up with you, trying to close the distance between the two of you, “They’re all fucking lies.”

You were about to turn away when he grabbed your upper arm. You gritted your teeth as he pulled you into him, “Believe this then. I want you, Y/N.”

“Let go of me,” Your voice was lower than you expected as you stared into those eyes. Why was your voice so weak? “You don't even know me.”

“It’s instinct,” He said, holding your firmly although his grip was tight, “And I can tell that you feel it too. Deep down, you’re searching for someone to take care of you. You want reassurance like they all do.” You tried to look away from him but you just couldn’t. “Someone hurt you badly, didn’t they?” You shook your head, tears starting to sting your eyes. “A girl like you needs someone gentle. Someone to ease you into submission rather than force it.”

You felt like you were melting into him and as his head dipped down to place his lips on yours, that voice in the back of your head was screaming to kiss him back. Your wrist pinned together between you, Peter stole your first kiss and it was a wonderfully terrifying feeling. 

You felt warmth in your core and you tightened your legs together as he began to kiss along your jaw and then your neck, surely leaving marks on your skin, “Peter …”

“Tell me to stop,” He said against your skin. 

The words were on your tongue but it was like your body had switched to autopilot. It wanted his touch and that’s all your body wanted to focus on. When he finally did pull his lips from your skin, your body was still craving that foreign touch. 

Before his hands could roam over the rest of your body, a bright light blinded the two of you and footsteps approached. Peter let go of your skin but you still felt his touch, as Mr. Rogers appeared. You only crossed your arms, looking down at your feet as the two of you were caught. 

“What are you doing out here, son?” Of course, Steve didn’t address you. 

“We wanted to look at the Full Moon,” Peter lied, “My apologies, sir.”

“Where’s Maximoff?”

“We haven’t seen her,” Peter shrugged casually. 

“I’d stay away from this one if I were you. There’s plenty of good girls worthy of your time,” Steve gestured to you but him disliking you was the least of your worries at the moment, “You can head back to the dance, Mr. Parker. I’ll be escorting this one back to the dorms.”

Peter stepped forward, walking past Steve, but he looked back to mouth something to you. 

Clear as day, you could read his lips say, “You’re mine.”

No matter the cost, you decided then that you’d run. Run from this place and from the feeling Peter gave you that made you so weak in the knees. 

+

part two

[tommyspeakycap]

New Beginnings

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2976

Summary - After the battle in Manhattan, a man who hates the idea of a doctor definitely needs one. A friend of Pepper Potts' lends a hand and consequently changes Steve's long-lived disposition for getting medical help.

a/n - set after the battle of New York in the avengers

Since Steve had woken up, or rather been woken up after he was found in the ice after 70 years, he had not once visited the doctor other than those at S.H.I.E.L.D when they had forced him to. For one, he didn’t ever get sick now and reason two would be that he just hates the concept. He spent a great deal of his time in doctors offices and speaking to specialists diagnosing him with all forms of new medical conditions from when he was in a child to before he was given the serum. It wasn’t somewhere he wanted to go now and those days weren’t exactly the ones he liked to remember even if he was the absolute picture of health now.

That didn’t so much apply however when he, Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce and Clint were finally able to stop after fighting for hours against unrelenting waves of aliens trying to take New York. They were all battered and bruised to some degree, some arguably more than others.

Steve looks around with a pounding heart. It never gets easier to think about the losses that are likely to mount up after a battle, the buildings that fell and the people who stood unable in the face of the large aliens with huge powerful guns. It only adds to the hurt that stems from seeing the city he loves reduced half to rubble with skyscrapers crumbled to the ground, flaming, flipped cars scattering the road and entire streets all but destroyed.

Before he does anything else, Steve wants to go down to the subway that he insisted the police put people in to ensure they all get out safely before he heads to meet up with the rest of the team back at Stark tower. There are more ambulances lining what’s left of the roads than he can even begin to count and he’s extremely glad they hadn’t destroyed any hospitals because they were going to need every bed that they had. He helped some people up out of the Subway with the officers and some people thanked him, some people gawked at him and some seemed too much in shock to even notice he was there. Steve stood just watching for longer than he would care to admit.

He supposes he would say he’s just taking everything in. It feels as though the world is quite the same as to when he lived in it at first. People still come together when they need to and there are still bad people who want to stand above the rest.

As his feet carry him back over crunching rubble in the direction of Stark tower to meet up with the rest, Steve can’t help but think about how he wishes his best friend could be with him for this battle. There wasn’t anyone Steve preferred to have on his side and he did tremendously miss his friend.

“No no no!” Steve hears yelling above the rest of the commotion,a noise which immediately diverts his train of thought. He turns his head to see if he can catch a glimpse of what was going on to see if there was anything he could do to help. “He has to go first, he’s got an ICH with a blown pupil. He won’t make it halfway to the hospital if he has to wait another twenty minutes!” Steve rounds the corner at a slow jog. He’s met with a woman with her hair tied back tightly out of her face, which was smeared with dirt and dust and it looked as though she had been climbing amongst the rubble to help recover the last of the people from that building. “Look ma’am, we have a kid in there.” The EMT tries to explain, but you just give him an incredulous look, “With a closed tib-fib fracture, he’ll live! This guy is bleeding into his brain, do you have one of those-” You lean closer to him, squinting your eyes and sweeping dust off of his badge, “Jack. Do you have a brain, Jack?” The EMT in front of you opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. “Yes ma’am.” He stutters. “Good,” you snip, “Then get the kid in a wheelchair for the next ambulance and bluelight this guy to the nearest hospital, now!”

The EMT scrambles to do as told and you push your hair back again with a heavy sigh as you walk away the second they get him in the stretcher and into the ambulance. Steve smiles slightly to himself. There’s nothing quite like a powerful woman in his eyes and no force like an angry one. He’d hate to be on that woman’s bad side and he knows now that he was wrong to think his help would be needed there. The super soldier simply walks away again with his shield held tightly in his hand. He bids a wordless respect to the woman who rolls up her sleeves again and cups her hands over her mouth, shouting out for anyone who might need help from her clearly medically experienced hands.

“Dear God, look at you lot!” Pepper exclaims as they walk in, immediately rushing to hug Tony tightly. “You all need to get checked over medically. Like now.” She says firmly, but each one shakes their heads. “The hospitals will be busy enough,” Bruce says, “I just saw a woman fighting for an ambulance. We’ll heal.” Steve agrees, folding his painful arms. “They’re right.” Tony nods. Pepper shakes her head, “I knew you’d say that, which is why Fury and I had a medical floor set up. There’s nurses there to patch you guys up and a doctor there if anybody needs one. All of you, go. Now.” Most want to protest, but opt not to at her stern words and instead follow the nurse who had come to greet them.

All but Steve.

“I’ll be fine.” He states, shaking his head and turning away. “Excuse me,” Pepper calls out to him, “Please, Steve. You really need to get seen.” She insists, but he keeps walking.

“(y/n), oh my god!” Pepper sighs heavily in relief, rushing towards you the second you walk out the revolving door that only had one glass panel left in it. “Thank God you're safe. This is one of them I was going to ask you to take a look at.” Once she releases you from the tight hug, she points after Steve who was still limping away towards the stairs. “Can’t get him to go to the med floor though.” She mutters to you beneath her breath. You shoot her a smile that says she needn't worry.

“Oi!” You call out, barely eliciting a turn of the head from the man in the blue suit. “Hey you!” You try again, you merely get him to stop walking. “Me?” He says, but still didn’t turn to look at you. He was trying to place where he had heard your voice, but his head was hurting too much to put a lot of thought into it. “Yeah, you. You better get America’s ass right back over here and march it right down to that med floor.”

Your tone makes him turn around immediately, his eyebrows slightly furrowed for a moment before he realised it hurt to do that too. He fought back a smile over those pink lips. “I thought I knew your voice.”

His response prompts your eyebrows to shoot up as you eyed him and then Pepper in confusion. “Have we met?” You ask, tilting your head slightly to the side. Steve shakes his head, “Oh no, sorry. I just saw you a while ago yelling at a paramedic over an ambulance about an ICH, whatever that means.” The blonde shrugs, offering you a slight smile. You chuckle at his words and shake your head. “Well then I’m sure you’ll do as I tell you. Save me doing anymore yelling today?”

Steve doesn’t have much more fight left in him for today and he would be lying if he said his body wasn’t aching. He could probably do with some pain killers and the cut on his arm would likely hurt a lot less, as well as be quicker to heal if he were to get it stitched up. He doesn’t say anything, but he does sigh and decides to follow you through the lobby and down a flight of stairs to the newly designated medical floor.

“Nice of you to join us, Cap!” Tony jests out, “And (y/n)!” He cheers. You only flip him off in response with a roll of your eyes as you lead the tall man behind you into one of the private rooms filled with medical supplies.

“Sit on the bed there.” You instruct, walking over to wash your hands, arms and face before you do anything else.

“I don’t think I need-”

“On the bed, Captain.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

You nod your head and turn to smile at him softly. Your smile is beautiful. It actually alleviates a little of his pain just to see it, and he truly is surprised by the softness and gentility of it in comparison to the attitude he had thus far witnessed from you in the short time he’s known you.

He groans and the medical bed creaks a little when he climbs on as you pull the latex gloves over your hands. He watches you very tentatively, attempting to eye the things that you gather from various boxes around the room and place onto the wheeled table. “Sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

Your softer voice makes him smile slightly again. “It’s alright,” Steve brushed off with a shrug, shifting himself so he could strip his suit off like you had told him to do just before you entered the room. He kind of awkwardly places the material of the suit over his boxers and the tops of his thighs. He doesn’t exactly want to sit basically naked in front of a woman he didn’t even really know. He still had a lot of his 1940’s mannerisms written into his behaviour. You turn back around to face him and don’t seem to take much notice of his huge, bare torso on the medical bed in front of you. Instead, your eyes scan his body for where to start on his injuries.

It seems as though you opt for cleaning his face first, which makes him feel slightly embarrassed to just sit and let you do it. You use a cloth and hot water for the dried blood, followed by an alcohol cloth that stings a surprising amount. You only place a steri strip over the gash on his forehead and then turn to the open cut on his shoulder. He knows that it’ll heal in less than 24 hours and he won’t have so much as a mark in its place. But it’ll heal a hell of a lot quicker if it’s closed and clean, so he allows you to begin working on it.

He hisses when you do, and you stop for a moment.

“Intracranial hemorrhage.” You say seemingly out of the blue. “What?” Steve asks, the pain in his arm dissipating. “Intracranial hemorrhage. ICH. What the guy you saw me fighting for the ambulance had. He got stuck under some rubble and it caused his brain to bleed. That increases the pressure in his head until you drill a hole to release it. Sometimes you have to take out a whole section of the skull and leave the head open until the swelling goes down around the brain. It’s super interesting.” Steve is entranced by your jabbering on, his eyes literally glued onto you as you work. Hands tentatively maneuvering a needle through his skin as gently as you can to pull the two separate sides back together.

You flick your eyes up to him to see the grin and his blue eyes shining in anticipation for your next words. “He was pretty bad considering the circumstances. A blown pupil- dilated pupil- is usually a huge warning sign that he needs treatment like, right away. He wasn’t responding to much physical stimuli, but you'd be amazed by the recovery that a lot of people with that type of injury can make within literally just a few days of the surgery. The brain is pretty cool.” You continue on. Steve doesn’t want you to ever stop talking. Your voice has apparently turned off all of the pain receptors in his body as he watches the focus pull your brows together ever so slightly and part your lips as you tie the knot at the end of his arm stitches, carefully wiping over it and placing a white gauze dressing over the wound. “Those should dissolve in your skin even if you are a super-healer or whatever.” You turn your attention next to a cut just above his kneecap.

“Sorry for the rambling, wild day. I’ll stitch that one up too then you should be good to get back to your superhero post-battle business.” Your tease makes him chuckle slightly as he watches you roll the wheeled table and your stool round to the other side of him to wipe down his knee before you start to stitch it. Steve had a tough day too, and he hadn’t yet learned how he would cope with those in modern day, but he had a hunch that listening to you might be the key. However, it comes across to him like your way was talking about things that weren’t as scary as the fact that aliens descended from the sky and destroyed half of New York City. “What about a closed TibFib then?” Steve asks softly with kindness swimming around in those sky blue eyes. “Tell me about that?”

After a further half hour finishing his stitching, cleaning him up properly and getting him some fresh clothes, you found yourself surprisingly sad to be leaving the company of the kind, attractive, super soldier you had newly become acquainted with. He seemed pretty solemn about it too, but you couldn’t tell if he was just exhausted from his day's worth of fighting. You had gotten to know each other through the short time you got to spend with him, and he was glad he had at first refused any form of medical treatment for if he hadn’t he probably wouldn’t have had you as his caregiver.

“Thank you for...all this.” He gestures to himself, referring to the stitches, his newly clean skin and clothes. “And for talking to me. It really means a lot.” Steve admits, his voice a little shy with the lightest dusting of pink flushing his cheeks. You smile without thought for the first time that day. “It’s a pleasure. Thank you for listening to me, and for not calling me a bossy bitch.” You breathe a chuckle of laughter as you turn your back to him to empty all the rubbish into the bin. So you don’t see the anger that passes through his eyes at the thought of someone ever calling you that, or the tilt of his head in irritation. You were so strong and a true powerhouse of a woman in his eyes. Clearly incredibly smart. He was pretty much smitten with you already.

“That would be incredibly rude.” Steve states firmly, “I just think you’re a very smart and a very beautiful woman. And you are incredible. Saved a lot of people today down in the rubble.”

You turn back around to see him, standing now much closer to you. “Says you, Mr Alien-slayer.” You grin back up at him. He isn’t the kind to go in for a kiss on the first date, never mind the first time ever meeting a woman, so he takes a gentle step back much to your disappointment. “I believe you called me America’s ass, earlier today.”  He corrects lightly and you turn your eyes to the ground as your face flushes red with a giggle of embarrassment as he laughs with you. “Sorry about that, Steve.”

That was actually the first time you had said his name and God he loved how it sounded leaving your pretty lips. “It’s okay. Kinda liked it, suits me don’t you think?” He turns side on and twists his back to look down at his ass dramatically and you throw your head back laughing. It’s such music to his ears and he’s yet to hear another sound since he woke that brings such a great amount of joy and warmth straight to his heart.

“Well,” you hum softly as you pull out a piece of paper and scrawl some writing down on it with a pen from your scrubs breast pocket, “If America’s ass ever finds himself in need of a stitch up or a chat, anything really, then this is where to find me.” You tuck the little bit of ripped paper into his large hand and gently peck his cheek before opening the door and walking off through the medical floor. He looked down at that little bit of paper, reading over some numbers and your name.

“(y/n),” he says softly to himself, subconsciously smiling at the way your name feels so beautiful on his lips. “What you got there, Cap?” Natasha asks as she leans herself on the doorframe of the room he stands frozen in. Steve looks up at her in surprise, “Uh, nothing much.” He diffuses, shrugging his shoulders as he takes one more glance down at the paper. “You sure?” She presses. “Yeah.” He assures. She turns to walk away just as realisation hits him. “Oh wait,” he calls after her, a shy smile on his lips.

“You know anywhere I could get a phone?”

[wondernimbus]

excuses pt. 2 — fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x female!reader

a/n: basically “excuses” but from fred’s point of view! literally no one asked for this but i just felt like writing it so bon appetit 

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

There were three things that Fred Weasley had been expecting when he woke up this morning: a flunked Potions quiz, Oliver Wood's wrath (given that Fred skipped Quidditch practice the day before), and a forbidden trip to Hogsmeade with George at midnight.

What Fred had not been expecting is for a certain someone to rush up to him in the middle of the hallway right after Potions class (and he was right—he did flunk that quiz), grip onto his shoulders, and press a kiss to his cheek.

Now, Fred is not easily surprised. He's always the one to do the surprising, usually in the form of masterfully executed pranks and ridiculously witty remarks. But the word "surprised" seems like a poor fit for what he feels right now, because he is—for lack of better word—stunned. Gobsmacked. Flabbergasted. Is he in a fever dream?

The kiss lasts a mere half-second; before Fred can even begin to wrap his head around what the bloody hell just happened, [Y/N] is already pulling away from him and rambling on about being dared and blackmailed and perverts and definitely not liking him. (That last part kind of hurt, but that's hardly what's on Fred's mind right now.)

Fred blinks and wonders if the warmth spreading across his cheeks shows.

[Y/N] has stopped talking and is staring up at him, a blush of her own coating her face—and it's so ridiculously obvious how flustered she's gotten that Fred can't help but start laughing both out of fondness and to ease the bewilderment he feels as he tries to wrap his head around the past few seconds' events.

Which is that [Y/N]—a friend of his and George's for quite some time now who has an immaculate sense of humor, is secretly a pranking genius, and also happens to be one of the prettiest girls Fred has seen around Hogwarts—has just kissed him on the cheek, and is claiming to have been blackmailed into doing it.

"I'm sorry, [Y/N/N]," Fred begins, eyebrows raised. "But that's a very poor excuse." Which, in Fred's head, translates to: I hope that's an excuse because if it isn't, then I'm going to have to live with the fact that a pretty girl had to be blackmailed into kissing me.

She gapes at him for a moment, and then sputters out an indignant "no", after which she proceeds to open and close her mouth like a fish blown out of water as though grasping for words that won't come to her. The grin on Fred's face grows; at least he knows he's not the only one flustered around here, and, to be perfectly honest, he's dealing with it a lot better.

Funny. He's the one who got kissed on the cheek—shouldn't he be more worked up?

The fondness in his chest only swells when [Y/N] huffs and purses her lips, eyes skittering away from his as she mutters something inaudible under her breath.

It's not like Fred likes her. Sure, he talks a lot louder and acts rowdier around her just to grab her attention. And okay, he claims he needs help with a prank just to have an excuse to talk to her. Maybe he always remembers to bring her food from the kitchens just to see the bright grin on her face when he hands her a strawberry cupcake. And sure, he got jealous that one time he saw Roger Davies blatantly trying to flirt with her—

Okay, sure. Maybe Fred does like [Y/N].

And maybe his feelings are a tad bit hurt when [Y/N] tells him, cheeks still flushed a bright red, "No, listen to me, Fred, I was literally blackmailed. Now excuse me while I cleanse my lips ferociously."

Fred already has a witty remark resting on the tip of his tongue to mask his hurt feelings. But before it even gets past his lips, [Y/N] is already dashing off. Before he knows it, she has already turned the corner and disappeared.

And all the while, Fred stands there outside of the Potions classroom, staring after her.

"Well, wasn't that an interesting thing to witness." George makes his presence known for the first time since [Y/N] came up to him. He claps Fred on the shoulder, and Fred doesn't even have to look at him to know that he's grinning. "Don't faint on me now, Freddy. We've still got Charms class to go to."

Being kissed by a pretty girl, it turns out, does wonders for one's ego, because Fred feels ridiculously full of himself for the rest of the day.

He has two classes with [Y/N]: Care of Magical Creatures and Divination class, both of which are set at the end of the day just before dinner. And for some weird, totally unknown reason, Fred is on the edge of his seat.

He hasn't seen her around since she'd kissed him a few hours ago, so he practically dashes to his Care of Magical Creatures class with George lagging behind him in anticipation to see her.

Except, when he arrives at the grounds, she is nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe she's late?" suggests George, and then, with a mischievous grin on his face, he nudges Fred and says, "D'you think she's still busy cleansing your germs off her lips?"

"Sod off," Fred grumbles, his previous excitement now quickly waning.

George snorts. The other sixth years are milling around the grass in wait for Hagrid, completely oblivious to the dejected Fred Weasley surveying the class in search for a certain someone. "Only joking," says George, his tone impish. "She's probably just off somewhere regretting her life choices—"

Fred tries to smack his twin upside the head, but years of growing up next to one another and thus knowing each other's every move seem to have paid off for George, because he manages to dodge Fred almost effortlessly.

"Blimey, can't take a joke, can you?" he grins, the look on his face making it clear that he finds teasing Fred greatly enjoyable. And then, in a more serious tone, "Don't get your panties in a bunch just yet. She'll show up for Transfiguration."

Except she doesn't, and Fred starts to wonder if he'd done something terribly wrong. Perhaps he'd reacted the wrong way; maybe he shouldn't have acted so full of himself when she'd kissed him. Did he? Or should he have kissed her back? No, definitely not—that would've been weird. Would it? Had she really been blackmailed? To what extent? Should he be somewhere tracking down her blackmailer and avenging her?

As a result, Fred is absolutely out of it during Transfiguration class.

The moment he stepped foot through McGonagall's classroom and realized that [Y/N] wasn't there, he'd fallen quiet and hadn't uttered a word. He has failed to acknowledge George's constant nudges and has been staring at absolutely nothing for the entire duration of the class.

He stays like this even after the period ends, as well as on their way to the Great Hall for dinner. When Ron trips over literal air in the hallway and Fred miraculously doesn't make some sort of funny remark, George stops in his tracks. Looking genuinely concerned, he grabs his twins by the shoulders and asks, completely serious, "What did you nickname your dangly-bits when you were eight?"

Fred's eyes grow wide; it's the first genuine, non-lifeless reaction he has shown since an hour ago. "What the—"

"I'm only asking you once," says George, deadpan. "If you answer this wrong, I'm going to have to assume you're not Fred and you've been replaced by some sort of imposter, because the real Fred would have made Ron cry over tripping—"

"Have you gone mad—"

"What did you name your dangly-bits?"

Still in disbelief, Fred sputters out, "Champ."

George blinks, then drops his hands back to his sides. He wrinkles his nose. "I suppose you are still yourself. What's gotten into you, mate? Last time I can recall you acting like this was.." he pauses, brows pulling together at the middle in thought, "Actually, never."

"I'm growing up, Georgey," Fred nods earnestly, and his tone is joking but the slump of his shoulders says otherwise. Tapping his temple with a finger as though to stress his point, Fred keeps walking, George keeping pace next to him. "I'm starting to look at the world in a different light. Can't joke around forever, you see."

George full-on snorts. "Rubbish. If I hadn't known any better, I would've thought you were still thinking about [Y/N]."

Fred doesn't reply. There's a ten-second silence, the first few of which George laughs a little as though the idea is ridiculous, but then his eyes land on Fred's sullen expression.

"Oh," says George, once more stopping in his tracks. Fred ignores him and keeps walking—if they keep stopping every few steps, they're never going to get to the Great Hall (where Fred is maybe, maybe hoping to see [Y/N]).

Already a few feet away, Fred hears George shout after him, "You like her, don't you?"

Does Fred like an unimaginably pretty girl with the loveliest laugh he has ever heard and cheeks that flush the brightest shade of pink whenever she gets flustered? Does he like a girl with a smile that could light up the entire castle? Does he like the girl he could talk to for hours and hours and never get tired of?

Without as much as turning around to look at his twin, Fred, whilst walking, says loudly, "So what?"

Fred is now much too far away from his twin, but he thinks he might have heard George yell something along the lines of "I should've bloody known!"

—

Fred doesn't see her at dinner. Upon returning to the Gryffindor tower, he finds that the common room is also completely [Y/N]-free. He does spot Ginny, who he immediately approaches.

"Hello, sister," says Fred smoothly, detaching her from her group of friends to pull her into a corner. Not bothering to beat around the bush, he asks, "By any chance, have you seen [Y/N] around anywhere?"

Ginny stares at her older brother, wearing an impish smile that Fred knows all too well. There's a familiar hint of mischief glinting in her eyes that Fred has seen far too many times in the mirror. "I suppose you want to repay her for what she gave you earlier?" says Ginny, lips curling up into a grin.

Fred raises his eyebrows. "And what might that be?"

"A kiss," sings Ginny, giggling. "Are you about to confess to her? Are you planning to drag her out to the balcony and kiss her under the light of a thousand st—"

Fred is already turning on his heel and walking away before Ginny can even finish her sentence.

—

When Fred Weasley woke up that morning all those hours ago, the last thing he'd been expecting was to end the day thinking of the feeling of [Y/N]'s lips on his cheek and what it would feel like if the tables were turned and he kissed her.

Fred has long since realized that no amount of tossing and turning will allow him to fall asleep. So now he lays awake in his four-poster bed, listening to the sound of rain pattering against the window but not really registering it; his brain is much too busy mulling over things of far greater importance.

Well, thing: [Y/N].

Without really knowing whether or not his twin is awake or not, Fred tests the waters and says aloud, "George?"

"I say ask her out," George's voice replies without missing a beat, like he'd been waiting for Fred to ask all this time. "Tomorrow at breakfast. She fancies you, Freddy. That blackmail excuse was codswallop."

Fred swallows, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of ceiling. "What if it wasn't?"

"I bet twenty galleons it was absolute rubbish. She needed an excuse to kiss you."

"You don't have twenty galleons."

"Okay, I bet my nine galleons it was rubbish. Happy?"

Nine galleons. That and Fred's feelings—is he willing to risk that and ask her out, like George is suggesting?

"I don't want to jump to conclusions," groans Fred, rolling over and stuffing his face into his pillow. "Have you seen her, Georgey? She's.."

"She's a bit of a looker, yes."

At this, Fred scowls.

"Are you scowling at me? I can feel it."

A pillow is thrown from Fred's bed, but it is much too dark and Fred's aim is very much off; the pillow lands somewhere at the foot of George's bed, nowhere close to its intended target. "Ha, you missed," George chirps. "Just like you'll miss [Y/N] when some other bloke gets to her before you do because you're too much of a wimp to ask her o—"

Another pillow, this time hitting George full-on in the face. "Ow!"

Despite the heavy feeling of worry resting on his chest, Fred is unable to help himself from smiling smugly in triumph. "Slipped, sorry."

George throws the pillow back but misses; it lands somewhere on the floor, not even near Fred's bed. "Whatever," Fred hears him grumble. And then, tone brightening once more, "You will ask her out tomorrow, won't you?"

At this, Fred falls silent.

"Come on, Freddy. Mum didn't raise you to be a wimp."

"Easier said than done," sighs Fred, voice muffled due to how he has stuffed his face into the one pillow left on his bed. "Will you be a good twin and cheer me up when she rejects me?"

"No promises." And despite it being dark, Fred knows fully well that George is grinning. "But I can promise to be the best man at your wedding. Free of charge."

A wedding. Ha. He can’t even look at her without feeling all flustered. “We’ll see how it goes,” says Fred, exhaling heavily.

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 17

March 1067, Norman Conquest of England 

Masterlist

A/N: Drama!!

gif from demivampirew

For the first time in a long time, Thomasin felt safe.

Henry made her promise never to remove the pendant he gave her. It seemed terribly important to him, though Thomasin didn’t know why. Still, she agreed without question.

Henry never did shout at her. He didn’t like being angry, especially with someone he loved. Instead, he sat his wife down like a child and looked very deeply into her grey eyes while simply telling her she would never disobey him again, nor would she disagree with him in public. She was welcome to shout and scream and call him all sorts of names when they were alone together, but their situation was precarious. They had to present a united front so no one – just Lawrence, really – would think to pit them against each other.

Lawrence, though, seemed the same as ever. Maybe even scarier. He always had that awful grin on his face. He never got red; that’s what really worried both Henry and Tom. He was too calm, too self-assured. He planned out what he would do to them; now they were stuck in fear until he decided to act. It had only been a week since the wedding, and there was no telling how long Lawrence would wait. But he wasn’t a patient man.

Henry didn’t let Thomasin see his fear over Lawrence’s retribution. Since the wedding, she’d become all soft and willing. He thought she showed something akin to vulnerability. When they were alone, she would sit on his lap or press herself right against his side. They needed to be touching when they went to sleep, either with Henry spooning against her back or Thomasin lounging across his chest. She demanded his attention and affection. Henry obliged her, even going beyond. He’d kiss her in public when he thought no one was looking. She didn’t even mind.

He met her vulnerability with steady confidence. He’d sworn to look after her more times than he could count, and now that she was finally allowing it, he didn’t want to show any weakness. That was what husbands did for their wives – they remained strong and sure.

Henry asked a baron sailing back to Normandy to deliver the message to his family that he was wed; he was quite sure his mother would cry upon hearing the news.

“Should we send someone to tell your family?” he asked that night as he and Tom lay in the dark together. He was pressed tightly against Thomasin’s back. She used one of his arms as a pillow, and his free hand roamed over her body.

“I haven’t got a family,” Thomasin replied.

Henry nuzzled her rosy gold hair. “Yes, you do.” He kissed the back of her neck and sighed into her hair. “And you’ll never be rid of me.”

**

When the king finally summoned Henry, it wasn’t to chastise him. If he did mean to shout at Henry, it was low on his list of things to do. Henry found himself in something of a war council among other barons and knights of high praise.

“It is time to execute the Saxons,” William announced. “I’ve kept them alive for too long. It will embolden other rebels to attack if they believe I won’t kill them.”

“The rebels are all but gone,” a middle-aged baron said. “Even that young baron from the north has disappeared.” He looked at Henry from the corner of his eye; everyone knew he was referring to Hammond.

“Permanent imprisonment is not much better than death,” another put in. 

“All the same,” said the king. “The surviving Saxon prisoners will be put to death by hanging this afternoon. I expect you all to bear witness.”

“What about our wives?” a knight asked. Henry was grateful someone other than him asked the question. “Should they attend?”

William shook his head. “Tis no sight for a woman’s eyes.” He took a deep breath before declaring, “It is warm enough now to travel. We will hunt down the other rebels. If we cannot capture or kill them, we will at least run them out of England and keep them in exile for the rest of their lives.”

The men started shuffling out, murmuring to each other about the Saxon threat. Henry lagged behind the crowd, too lost in his thoughts to keep a fast pace. He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice when Lawrence sidled up beside him.

Lawrence made a sound like a sigh. “I do hope poor Tom won’t be too broken up over Cerdic’s execution.”

Henry felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. How did he find out about Thomasin’s relationship with Cerdic? How much did he know about it? What execution? Was that why the barons and knights were gathering?

But the true source of his fury was the fact that Lawrence had referred to his wife as Tom.

Lawrence looked at Henry from the corner of his eye. “Are you broken up, dear Henry?”

He turned his gaze to the other man, a savage look in his eyes. “You will never speak my wife’s name again. Do you understand me?”

Lawrence bowed his head in mock apology before moving along.

Henry paused in a nook in the corridor and ran his hand over his face. Damn.

Coming to England was like stepping in dog shit that one could never quite wipe away. Meeting Thomasin was like stepping in dog shit. One bad thing followed another like a cloying stink with that poor girl.

No, Henry realized. Thomasin meeting him when the troubles started.

***

Thomasin was grateful that Henry had been able to spend both his days and his nights with her. She knew it could not last forever, but she was sad all the same when he was called away, no doubt to discuss matters of war.

Now she would have to spend her days embroidering with other ladies or pursuing some other womanly hobby. She was never terribly good at that, though. At one point, her governess simply gave up trying to make Thomasin a proper lady. Her father let her have free reign of the estate so long as someone was always nearby and she returned to the keep by dark.

She imagined having a similar arrangement with Henry, but they first needed an estate of their own. Everyone assumed the king would give them the estate Thomasin grew up in, but she secretly hoped he would not. It would be haunted, at least for her, and she was sure she would never feel comfortable there. It wasn’t her home anymore. Just another conquered fortress.

The couple spoke a little of returning to Normandy so Tom could meet Henry’s family and there were some vague mentions of estates near his brothers that might be suitable for their needs, but they hadn’t had a real conversation about it.  What they wanted didn’t matter; William would likely keep Henry in England to fight his endless war against Thomasin’s way of life. Maybe they would be dismissed in a few years when things were calmer.

She would have to figure out how to spend her days. Her only true friend at court was Elaine, but the healer was often busy during the day. Thomasin accompanied her on a meeting with an elderly baroness with a horrifying rash; she would never do so again. 

She was returning from a brisk walk when she nearly crashed into her husband and his friends on their way out.

“Henry!” Thomasin bounced forward and grabbed onto his hand. She waited for him to kiss her while Charlie and Roger were pretending not to look. She knew something was wrong when he didn’t. “Are you well?”

Henry’s expression was as hard as it had been the day Thomasin tried to escape from him. She resisted the urge to step back. “Thomasin, go back to our rooms. Wait for me there.”

His clear agitation alarmed her; she spoke as calmly as she could. “Is something amiss?”

“Do as I say. I’ll be along soon.” He turned to Kal. “You go with her.”

Something must be truly wrong if Henry was willing to part with his shadow, even for an hour or two. Thomasin’s eyes flickered to Charlie for some hint of what was happening, but his expression was as stony as ever. Roger hadn’t stopped when Thomasin intercepted them so she could not look to him for clues.

She glanced at Henry one more time. He didn’t look all right. She wanted an explanation here and now, but she remembered her promise not to disobey him in public. Staying and demanding something from him would certainly count as disobedience. “Of course,” Thomasin said, forcing a mild tone of voice. She gave a shallow curtsey. 

She was chattering to Kal as they walked up a tight staircase when she heard a ruckus outside. There were no windows in the stairwell, only thin slats from which archers inside the castle could shoot at enemy soldiers in case of an attack, but they would do. 

Thomasin rocked up on her tiptoes to peer through one of them. There was a large cluster of men spread out across the field. They stood in clumps of three or four, talking among themselves as a handful of servants erected some makeshift structure she couldn’t quite make out. Perhaps if she had something to stand on, she would be able to see more clearly . . .

Kal made a grumbling sound. 

“I don’t mean to ignore you, Kal,” Thomasin said. “I just want to see what’s going on.” 

She never thought it unusual for one to speak to one’s pets, and Henry regularly held complex conversations with the bear, so she wasn’t embarrassed to talk to him in public as other women might be.

Thomasin pushed up a little further and caught a glimpse of fresh scaffolding, then of a handful of shackled men making their way over to it. The Saxon prisoners were finally being executed, then. Thomasin couldn’t blame Henry for not telling her. He was only trying to protect her.

She was about to turn away when she glimpsed a familiar silhouette and an even more familiar red beard. She squinted into the fading light as the hangman put a rope around the Saxon’s thick neck. 

She hated that neck. She once joked to Justina that she’d like to strangle him, but his neck was as sturdy as a thick branch on a tree. She’d only tire herself out trying to kill him.

Cerdic.

Thomasin was so shocked and upset that she pushed away from the window too hard and fell backwards; Kal softened her fall somewhat.

For a moment she couldn’t move or even draw in a lungful of air. Kal was breathing in right in her face, but she didn’t care. She felt removed from somehow, as if she weren’t truly in her body.

Cerdic was a ridiculous oaf, but she’d known him all her life. She’d cared for him not as a lover or brother or even a friend, but in the way a woman was expected to care for her husband-to-be. And he was all that was left of her life before.

It was easier when she thought he was dead, that he’d died in the fray along with most of the other Saxon men. She’d grieved him in her own strange way and put his memory behind her, but now everything swelled up again and tightened her throat. 

This was the last straw. She was strong but she wasn't made of ice. There was only so much someone could endure before they broke.

And Thomasin truly did break.

She ran to her rooms barely holding back tears. Her throat was sore with the effort of holding in sobs and her hands were shaking so hard that she almost couldn’t open the latch on the door to the antechamber. 

She barely made it through the antechamber and into the bedroom before she fell apart. She slammed the bedroom door before Kal could follow and fell forward on her hands and knees into the rushes scattered on the floor; she couldn’t hold herself together a moment longer, not even long enough to reach the bed. She began to weep so hard that she could barely breathe. She made choked, ugly sobbing sounds she couldn’t control that shook her shoulders as snot and tears ran down her face.

Kal whined and scratched at the door, desperate to comfort his mother.

Thomasin kicked the door hard enough to shake the hinges. “Go away!” she shrieked. Her throat was already raw.

She was too tired to move anymore, even to get into bed. She fell to her side and curled in on herself, shivering like a dog left outside in a storm, still whimpering and gasping for breath. 

***

Henry stood with Charlie and Roger as they waited for the executions to begin.

“You look unwell,” Henry remarked to his brother-by-law.

Roger heaved a sigh. “It’s always said when something beautiful dies.” 

“What, the men?” Charlie asked.

Roger turned to face his friends. “Their lives. Their spirits.” Their physical forms, too, of course. 

“That’s the nature of conquest,” Charlie said. “The old ways must end for the new ones to begin. If people cannot accept change . . .” He shrugged.

“I do not like the end part. You must feel some grief on behalf of Thomasin, Henry,” Roger said. “I cannot imagine. . .” he trailed off.

“I didn’t tell her,” Henry said. 

“She’ll find out,” Charlie said neutrally. He still didn’t like Thomasin by any stretch of the imagination, but he was coming to accept her. “Assuming she hasn’t already.”

Henry knew that, knew it would be better to tell her himself. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I know,” he said. 

***

Cerdic had no last words – or if he did, Henry didn’t hear them. 

The men were strung up all at once, the nooses looped around their necks and the wooden bench kicked out from under them. A crueler king might have removed their heads one by one to heighten their fear, but William just wanted the business done with. He’d likely cut their heads off afterwards to mount on spikes near the city gates, though.

Henry left the first moment he could. Thomasin was probably fuming quietly in their room, probably repeatedly stabbing herself in the finger as she furiously embroidered something or other.  He hoped so. 

Charlie was right: Thomasin had probably found out about the executions somehow. He prayed that she didn’t know Cerdic was among the dead. He wasn’t sure what reaction to expect.

He tried to enter the antechamber quietly, but the room was deathly silent; every small sound he made seemed to echo. The first thing he saw was Kal stretched out in front of the door that led to the bedroom, his chin resting on top of his paws. He looked downright pensive.

“Kal.”

The dog leapt to attention as Henry knelt to scratch his ear.

“Good boy,” Henry murmured.

Kal whined, trying to communicate that something was wrong with Thomasin. He’d been guarding her as best as he could, but she wouldn’t let him into the bedroom.

Henry scratched Kal one more time before steeling himself. He opened the bedroom door. His wife lay on her side on the floor, still sniffling and hiccupping from weeping.

“Tom?” he knelt on the ground beside her. 

She moved her head the slightest bit to look up at him with bloodshot eyes. “You knew that Cerdic was here. That he was alive.” She was too exhausted to inject an accusatory tone into her raspy voice.

Henry took a deep breath. A lock of her rosy golden hair had gotten free of its braid; he gently tucked it behind her ear. “Yes.”

Her chin quivered as her eyes filled with tears. She shut them and turned away. “It was easier when . . .”

“I know.”

Her chin still moved. “I wish William had never come to England,” she said, voice high and tight. “I wish I’d never laid eyes on a Norman.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Tom, you can’t blame every Norm –”

“Yes I can!” She shouted, jumping to her feet. Henry stood, too. On the other side of the door, Kal whimpered. “It’s your fault! You came here and you took what wasn't yours and you killed the men and raped the women. My country is dead!” Her voice cracked. “I have nothing left! You took everything from me!”

Henry’s voice was low but strong. “You have me.”

“I don’t want you!” she shouted. Her words cut Henry like the blade of a knife. “You or your bastard king and your merciless countrymen! I wish I’d never met you! I – I –” 

I want to go home. 

“Enough, Tom,” said Henry. “You’ll give yourself a fit.” Thomasin reached for the back of her neck; Henry caught her hands in his and stopped her before she even touched the necklace’s clasp. “Don’t,” he said softly. 

Thomasin shoved away from him so hard she nearly fell backwards. Henry, who had the build of a stone wall, hardly budged. That made her so furious that she slapped him – tried to, anyway. Henry caught her wrist in his hand and used it to tug her close. 

“Let go!” she shouted. “Henry, let me go!”

But he held her to his chest and would not unlock his grip. She kept shoving and hitting him until he finally released her – only to capture her again.

Somehow, she was suddenly lying back on the bed, her wrists firmly locked in Henry’s grasp as he pinned them above her head. He hovered over her on his knees, locking her legs between his strong thighs to make sure she didn’t try to kick him in her anger.

“Thomasin, enough!” he shouted.

Exhausted, she finally gave up the fight. She sank limp against the bed and started to weep. 

She’d never cried in front of him before, Henry thought. He wasn’t even sure if she cried when she was wounded on the road. There were tears in her eyes on their wedding night and the day she tried to escape from him in the forest, but he didn’t think they ever spilled over.

He couldn’t stand to watch but he couldn’t look away. Thomasin needed him now. She was in mourning – for her father, her former betrothed, her relationships with her siblings, her country. She was mourning her own life, too, and what it might have been if William had never come.

“I hate you,” Thomasin whimpered through her tears.

“No, you don’t.” Her husband’s voice was tired but kind as he released her wrists and climbed off of her.

Her eyes were already shut; her outburst at Henry and fit of emotion after seeing Cerdic hanged drained her of all energy and she was on the very edge of sleep. “I hate you, Henry,” she insisted weakly. 

Henry knew she wasn’t sincere, that she was just speaking out of anger, but the words still stung him all the same.

It wouldn’t hurt him at all if she’d just say out loud that she loved him. He only needed to hear it once. None of her accusations or insults would bother him if he knew beyond a doubt that she loved him even half as much as he loved her. With those words, he’d be invincible.

But she didn’t say it. Maybe she never would. She loved him, Henry was sure of it, but she was too proud to admit it.

Tom’s tears had slowed and turned from sobs to sniffles to deep, loud breathing.

Henry stayed beside her in bed, both of them still fully dressed, and soon drifted off. She turned to him in her sleep, unconsciously taking her rightful place in his arms and against his chest. Henry didn’t wake; his body knew instinctively to put his arms around her.

[jennsmischievousmind]

Chaos Therapy

Session #4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You were assigned to a field mission, with particulars co-agents, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. One mission turned into multiples. After each missions you are debriefed by a therapist, Dr Noach just as Sam and Bucky. Thing is, they don’t know that you are much more than an agent.

Warnings: pining, bit of angst, Buck/Sam bickering, violence (fights against enemies), mild swearing (still real bad at warnings)

Published: 2021-02-21 Completed: 2021-03-30

“Lettonia?” You fastened your weightlifting gloves looking back at Bucky.

“We have a lead on Zemo.” his face fell a little

“Hey” you searched for his eyes “kick his ass for me,”

His smile returned a hearthy chuckle leaving his lips, hesitantly his hand reached your forearm brshing down to your fingertips, he took a step forward and pressed a kiss to your temple, your eyes closed on their own and you squeezed his hand in yours, he let his forehead rest against yours.

"See you in a few days," he whispered, you nodded and he took a step backward,

"Don't kill each other," 

"noted,"

You watch him go, his broad back passing the gym door. Your stomach immediatly churning, "Buck!" you ran out the gym, he was waiting at the elevator, "Bucky!" he panicked seeing you ran to him.

"Doll,"  your fingers interlaced with his dog tags, you stopped the motion your face inches from him, his eyes fall on your lips. A tug on his dog tags and your lips collided, his arms circled your back, a hand splayed on your waist the other   slowly going up your spine to your nape as your free one caressed his face, feeling the pricks of his beard under your delicate fingers.

“Bucky, I .. “ the ding of the elevator distracted both of you for a second “I’ll have to tell you something,”

“you’re okay ?” the worry in his eyes had you tongue-tied, your hands tightened on his shirt. “Yea, yea just .. be careful out there,” the smile you gave him unknitted his brows, his hands brushed your arms.  You couldn’t bare to tell him, not now, he will know the truth soon enough anyway. He hesitantly leaned in pecking your lips before getting on the elevator. 

“What’s going on ?” Sam squinted his falcon eyes at Bucky who did everything to avoid his scrutinous look.  “Oh, oooh you and Y/n finally!!” Sam let out a proud laugh, clasping Bucky’s shoulder.

  “Y/N what do you make of their duo?”

“It works somehow. I know it seems unbelievable especially when you see them from the outside. The thing is, they both lose Captain Rogers, the person that believe in them both and now they can only count on each other and believe in each other that’s why it works. Sam believe in Bucky being able to heal and get redemption, while Bucky believe in Sam being worthy of the Shield. The constant bickering is their way of showing their affection. They have a strong teamwork.” you conclude.

Noach nods, all the while analyzing your features.

“Thank you, they’re another mission coming up_”

“Yes ma’am. But I’m not allowed to join them for this mission,”

“I know, I’ve talked with the Director, that’s a shame, it’s a big one,” you both stand up and she walks you to the door “Y/N” she stops “I’m planning on ending the therapy when they come back from this mission.”

“What is it?” she says seeing your face fell.

“You know exactly,” you passes your badge on the elevator sensor. 

“It was necessary,”

“They won’t like it,”

“They? Or he?” you gave her a grave look, “You want me to say that I shouldn’t have engage anything with Bucky,”

“No, I don’t blame you, you’re both human attraction is normal. Though now a long discussion with him awaits you.” Your head tilt back knowing too well she was right.

Sam and Bucky were back from Lettonia, you had some undone work back in the cave you didn’t have the time to greet them yet.

“Now, in order to round off our work here, I needed a closer look at your teamwork and general relationship,”

“You bugged us, Doc?” Sam scoffed, you facepalm behind the one-way mirror.

“Not exactly. I need you to know it was necessary to prove that your duo was fit for combat,” she turned to the mirror behind her nodding. Your cue, clenching your hand on the door handle, the voices inside increased as you pushed it.

“Agent Y/F/N mission was to evaluate your compatibility and capacity to work as a team, outside those therapy sessions. Agent Y/L/N beside her I.T work is a trained therapist,” 

“That’s some fucked up therapy,”

“Mr, Wilson,_” you blocked their discussion as you were focused on Bucky’s reaction. His clenched fits on his thighs, his locked jaw and his gaze fixated on the wall before him. You jumped slightly as he stood up and left the room. Noach and Sam looked at you stopping their discussion. “I’ll be right back,” quickly walking out, you breathe in deeply. Bucky’s back facing you, the tension in his stance visible.

“Bucky,..” he glanced on the side

“I’ve been lie too for a longtime Y/n, ..” taking a step forward carefully you observed his side profile “I guess you can hurt me in the end,”  his voice melted with anger and sorrow stopped you, the lump in your throat getting bigger, the prickling in your eyes accentuating.

Biting your lower lip, you tried to find your voice back. Like approaching a wild wolf, you were on edge yet cautious, reaching his shoulder you softly pulled on it “Please look at me,” he turned around but his eyes never reached yours, his hands on his hips you took them gently, interlacing your fingers with his. Against what you thought he didn’t reject you. His eyes still cast away, you rested your forehead on his chest, closing your eyes, you felt his hands twitched in yours, his chest heaving a little faster.

“You have to understand,…” your murmured feeling your throat tightened.

“you could have told me!” he spoke quietly yet the tightness in his voice showed his anger.

“Really though,” an anxious smirk reached your mouth for a millisecond “it was my mission Buck. I .. I didn’t plan on falling for you, it changed a lot of things.” He stayed silent at your confession; panic took over, his silence giving you the chills. Clearing your throat after an odd silent long second, you let go of his hands, taking a step back, and took your most serious professional voice “Please come back in the room, Dr Noach has some more questions.”

Noach arched an eyebrow seeing you enter the room alone, you sat next to her, facing Sam. Like Noach predicted Sam was “easier” to get by, he was still reluctant obviously but not closed to discussion. Bucky never came back in the room, before leaving Noach gave you gentle smile squeezing your upper arm.

“You won’t have to see much of me now, don’t worry,” you said to Sam who slowed down to a stop next to the elevator.

“Well, we’re not through it yet, the director of intelligence asked to see the three of us,”  you stepped into the elevator with him.

 “As you know the image of super-heroes is not at his best. After the few events with the flag smashers and the chaos in Lettonia” he looked at the boys gravely “the governments are not willing to brush this away as nothing happened. Moreover, rumor has it flag smashers are still quite upset about the docks operation. I suggest you lay low for a few days, weeks maybe. I can’t have you fighting flag smashers around the country, and cause much more mishaps,”

Sam clapped is hand all of sudden, turning to you and the silent Bucky next to you “Mi casa es su casa,”

You look at them wondering, Bucky avoiding your eyes. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” you left the room after the director dismissed you.

Starting your way to the elevator you paused hearing your name, “Sam’s house is safe, and you will be safer with us,” Bucky’s concerned warmed your heart.

“Hurts me to say it but tincan’s right,”

Although you knew they were 100% right, spending 24/7 with them, moreover around Bucky, it would have been great if it wasn’t for the fact that he totally despised you at the moment.

Passing by your place you grabbed a backpack and shove a bunch of random clothes in it. Sam and Bucky were waiting in the car. Seating down on your bed, the exhaustion caught up with you, your mind going blank, staring into the void.

Bucky look in the rear-view mirror “She’s taking too long,” Sam hummed. “Maybe we should check on her,”

“Maybe,” Sam looked at Bucky, pushing up his sunglasses onto his nose, reclining his seat and crossing his arms. Bucky rolled his eyes opening the door with a bit too much force that it cried out.

A knock on your door made you jump, blue eyes met yours, he was standing there at your bedroom door. He looked around taking everything in, if you were both in another mindset it would be thrilling.

“We have to go, the longer we stay here_ “ 

“I know, sorry,” grabbing your pack you slide down your bed, opening on your drawer near the door you grabbed the gun in it, slipping in your pants. Bucky eyed you, hands in his pocket. 

He didn’t budge as you passed by him. His aura embracing you, overwhelming your senses. Daring a glance behind at him, his eyes were lost on you, his lips moved as he was about to say something but as soon as he refocused his jaw clenched a second. “Let’s go,” he walked to the door, you squint your eyes unwilling to see him past you so coldly. A warmth enveloping the hand holding your bag brought you back, his flesh hand brushed yours as he grabbed your pack, then left without looking back.

“So, we’re just going to follow orders?”

“It cannot hurt,” Sam glanced in the rear-view mirror “we all need some time off...” The ride was so awkward Sam was trying to loosen up the mood every so often, you tried to keep up with him but at one point you were too exhausted and fell asleep.

Bucky kept glancing at your sleeping form curled in the backseat. “When we get there you two will talk!” I’m not spending a week or more with a depressed cyborg and a torned beautiful woman!” Bucky frowned at Sam, “I haven’t dealt with that kind of problem, in a while.” he sighed the all sentence.

“Well, get with it!” Sam’s voice woke you up, “Good timing, we’re here!” The light blue and white big house appeared before you. “Sam that’s a really nice place!”

“Thanks, in the family for generations!” he was rightfully proud of the building.

“Rooms are upstairs,” he turned around letting his duffle bag hit the ground, the both of you standing awkwardly 2 feet apart.

“I don’t want to hear anything…” his look paused on you then Bucky his look insisting. You rolled your eyes at the insinuation. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” You drag yourself up the wooden stairs.

“Dinner at 9, Everyone pitch in to cook, house rule,”

“Believe me Wilson, you don’t want me near fire and sharp knives.” You yelled from the landing, missing Bucky hiding a smile as he joined Sam in the living room.

“Here,’ Sam walked down the pier, handing a bottle of beer to Buck who was watching the sunset.

“You know she had to keep it from us,” Sam calmly said, his VA side resurging.

“I know,”

“And that she wouldn’t feel so bad if she didn’t care about you,” Seeing Bucky staying silent his brows knitted, Sam stood up “Man, you got to talk to her, she reached out it’s on you now,”

“You realized it’s not that easy,”

“It is, you walk up to her, show or tell her what’s on that cyborg brain of yours, and that’s it, avoiding her it’s not the right way to do it.”

After a good shower you sat by the window overlooking the pier, the boys were on the dock enjoying a beer. “It’s gonna be fine,” you pep talked yourself eyes trained on Bucky’s silhouette.

Session #5

MASTERLIST  

Published: 2021-02-21 Completed: 2021-03-30

[nothingbutimagines]

Hideaway (Peter Parker)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader x Platonic!Avengers

Warning: a bit of fluff, sassy Steve Rogers and Reader

Summary: Snowed in and with a free day without any work to do, Peter and Y/n decide to create a fort in the common room, leading to many antics and many complaints from the other avengers they share the living space with.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: On the fifth day of ficmas my writer gave to me another Peter Parker fluffy fic. Once again, as always, happy holidays and keep an eye out for the many fics to come. I love you all and you always inspire me to write some of my best work. 

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

You groaned, flopping down onto the couch between Peter and Steve, allowing your arms to hit them both in the chest as you sprawled out across them. 

Both ignored you, Peter playing on his phone while Steve read a book quietly. 

You groaned once more, flailing your arms a bit again to gain their attention, hoping one, if not both, would pay attention to you. 

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, shutting his book as he looked at you, a brow raised.

“I’m bored.” You whined, only to receive an eye roll from Steve as Peter chuckled in your ear. 

“Then go do something. I think there’s some puzzles in the tv stand.”

“I hate to break it to you, Stevie, but only you old men like puzzles.”

“What have I told you about calling me and other people nicknames they don’t like?”

“It’s condescending and rude.” You rolled your eyes as you spoke. “But I think your suggestion was condescending and rude, so it’s only fair.”

“Yeah,” Peter added, looking up from his phone, “You gotta cancel it out, like PEMDAS.”

Steve rolled his eyes, opening his book once more. “Maybe you both could go outside, get some fresh air.”

“I think it’s only 20 degrees outside, Mr. Rogers.” Peter replied politely. 

“Well, if you two can’t find something to do, I’m sure we can probably put together a whole list of chores for you to do.” 

You scrambled to get up off the couch, landing on your feet and holding out your hand to Peter. 

“Come along, Peter. We have a puzzle to do.” 

“Bug, I don’t want to do a puzzle. Can’t we do something else?” He asked, taking your hand while he stood up and followed you out of the living room. 

“Like what? Clean the compound?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at him as you walked down the hallway. “Besides, it doesn’t even need that much cleaning.” 

“You can’t even see the floor in your room!” 

“I said the compound didn’t need cleaning, not my personal space. Also, it’s not that bad. It’s an organized mess.” 

“Do you even remember what color your carpet is?”

“I think it’s red?” 

“Is that a question or a statement?” Peter asked before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re wrong. It’s grey like everyone else’s.”

“I bet your room isn’t as clean as you think.” You argued. 

“Actually, I think it is.” 

Peter pulled your arm, causing you to stop before passing his bedroom. He opened the door and walked in, dragging you along with him. 

You looked around the room, noticing that the room was spotless, except for a single jacket sitting on a chair. 

“I guess I stand corrected.” 

“You guess?” Peter rolled his eyes as he took a seat down on his bed. “Hey, I have an idea, we should make a pillow and blanket fort.”

“That would be so cool! Let’s use your sheets though because I honestly don’t know where I last saw mine.”

“And you say you live in an ‘organized mess.’“

“Oh, shut up and just help me collect some pillows and blankets.” You shushed him, starting to take pillows and blankets off of the bed. “I say we should make our fort in the living room. I want to bother Steve.” 

“You always want to bother him. Why can’t we just do it in here?”

“Because we need the couch cushions and I wanna watch tv in the fort.” 

“You only want to piss off Mr. Rogers, you mean.”

“I guess that too.” You shrugged, laying out a blanket on the ground and putting the rest of the blankets and the pillows on it. 

“Hey,” Peter smiled, making his way towards you, “come here.”

You turned around, allowing him to approach you as he rested his hands on your hips and kiss you softly. You hummed quietly, melting into him before pulling away and taking in a deep breath, your hands resting on his chest. 

“Let’s go. We’ve got a fort to build.” 

You turned around taking two corners of the blanket into your hand and dragged it into the hallway, your back turned to the door as you faced Peter. You turned into the hall, pulling the blanket as you made sure the pillows didn’t fall. 

“Oh, watch it, kid.” Tony stated as you bumped into him. “What are you doing?”

You turned around, putting your hands behind you as you gripped the blanket tightly. “Getting supplies together for a pillow fort.” 

“And where are you building said fort?”

“Living room.” 

“You guys need any help?”

“No, I think we got it, right, Peter?” You looked at Peter, nodding at him as he nodded back, gathering up the other side of the blanket into his own hands. 

“Right, Bug.” 

“I guess I’ll leave you two to it, then. Have fun.” 

“We always do.” You nodded, dragging the blanket along with Peter down the hall quickly, squeezing past Tony. 

“I really thought we were about to be in trouble there.” Peter spoke up as you entered the living room. 

“Why would we be? The only time I’ve ever been in trouble with Tony was when I accidentally started that small fire in the lab.” 

“Uh, I think it was more than just a small fire. It took up one corner of the lab.” 

“At least I put it out. You just stood there and watched.” 

“Well, I’m sorry if I was panicking! I’ve never witnessed a fire in person!” Peter groaned, dropping his end of the blanket as you entered the living room. 

You dropped your end as well, brushing your hands together before motioning for Peter to come over towards you.

“Come help me move this table.” You instructed. 

You bent over, taking the side of the coffee table you were on as Peter took the other side, helping you drag the coffee table out of the way. You then pushed the couch Steve wasn’t sitting on back.

“Okay, I think we’re ready to put the fort together.” You looked at Peter, who nodded. 

“Why don’t we use the red blanket to go from the couch to the tv?” Peter asked, pulling the blanket out from the pile, “Since it’s the biggest one.” 

“Perfect. And then we can use the grey one to go from that couch to the other one and then in between we can make that the entrance.” 

“I like that idea, let’s do it.” 

You helped Peter first take the cushions off of the couch, tossing them onto the floor before helping him drape the red blanket over the couch and tv before moving onto the other couch, carefully draping the grey blanket over the red one and then over the couch, trapping Steve under the blanket. 

“Y/n...” 

“Steve...” 

“You could have asked me to move.”

“I didn’t feel like it.” You shrugged. “But if you don’t want to be part of the fort building, just say it.”

“I’m going to go make some coffee.” Steve pulled the blanket off of him and got off the couch, putting the blanket back down onto the couch before leaving the room. 

“What’s with you and Mr. Rogers anyway?” Peter asked as he crawled into the fort, starting to organize the cushions. 

“Steve just annoys me sometimes. He’s always all work and no play and it’s boring.”

“You know, if you found something in common, you might actually get along.” 

“Steve likes puzzles and hard candy. He’s like my grandpa and I have nothing in common with him besides blood.” 

You shrugged, picking up the last of the blankets and starting to create the rest of the walls and entrance before grabbing a notepad off of the tv stand and writing a sign for the entrance and tacking it up. 

“I thought you liked seeing your grandpa.” Peter said, poking his head out fo the fort to look at you as you put the last blanket up. 

“I do, but he’s my grandpa. Steve’s just... Steve. Why can’t you just let me tease him?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. Can you hand me the rest of the pillows?” 

“Yeah.” You nodded, handing him the last of the pillows. “Here.” 

You climbed in as you grabbed the rest of the pillows, looking around the fort. 

Peter had arranged the cushions into small couches and mattresses and used some blankets for the little bed covers. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place.” You giggled, closing the entrance blanket behind you. 

“Thank you. I was going for a very contemporary look for the living space as well as an American color scheme.” Peter explained, as if he was a true interior designer. “Blue and red look very good together, almost complementary in a way. It also helps bring a contrast with the white rug, which I think was a very bold choice when you have children living in the home.”

You laughed, giving him a nudge. “I am honestly surprised we’ve never spilled anything in here.”

“I don’t know why. Mr. Stark has a very strict no food policy for anyone under 35.” 

“I cannot wait to turn 35 then.” You smiled. 

You leaned forward, giving him a quick kiss before he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in his embrace and pulling you down to the floor with him. You squealed as he rolled you both over before covering your face in kisses and laughing along with you. 

“Am I allowed into your fortress?” 

You looked up to see Thor peering at you two from the entrance way, a bright smile on his face. 

“Only if you can answer this one question,” You smiled, “Would you do it for the vine?”

“I believe so, yes.” Thor nodded proudly. 

“Perfect. Come on in, Thunderboy.” 

Thor crawled in, laughing as he looked at Peter. “I love it when she calls me that.”

Peter laughed and leaned back into the side of the couch as you both watched Thor pull a package of Pop Tarts from his pocket. 

“Care for a treat?” He asked, breaking off small pieces and holding them out to you. “I won’t tell Metal Man you ate in here.” 

“Well, don’t mind if I do.” You beamed, taking the pieces from Thor and popping them into your mouth. 

“Hey,” Steve bent over, mug in hand as he peered into the fort entrance at you, “I thought the sign said ‘no one over 35 allowed.’ Thor’s like 1,000 years old.”

“Actually, I am 1,500 year old, Steven.” Thor interjected.

“Yeah, Steven, Thor’s 1,500 years old.” You replied, gazing up at Steve. ”Thor’s allowed in because when asked if he would do it for the vine, he said yes.” 

Thor chuckled, looking at Steve. “I’m not even exactly sure what ‘the vine’ is, but my answer had those two very pleased.”

“I see.” 

“Hey, Peter, doesn’t this fort have a no loser allowed rule?” You asked, turning to the boy beside you.

“It sure has a open door policy for bratty little girls, though.” Steve argued. 

“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome. Goodbye, Steve.” You leaned forward, closing the entrance to the fort. 

“Yes, Goodbye, Steven!” Thor added happily as you giggled, falling back into the larger man.

[lahyene]

Reward.

Pairing: mobster!steve, bucky, & thor x maid!reader

Summary: As Steve Rogers’ live-in maid, you have a certain set of responsibilities and duties you owe to the mafioso. Tonight, you get to serve his loyal men as well.

Themes: smut, foursome, oral sex, masturbation, degradation, choking

Word count: 2070

You come downstairs to the “man cave” of the large mansion, your innocent little smile on your lips as you waltz into the room. “You called, sir?” You bat your eyelashes in the direction of your employer, the one and only Steve Rogers, sitting in the grand armchair a few feet away as his friends are seated comfortably on the imported Italian leather couches around him. 

You’ve been the mobster’s live-in maid for about a year now, but you only really started working for him three months ago. Meaning, your responsibilities became a bit more extensive than cleaning and taking care of the giant house. You used to feel shy and embarrassed wearing the lingerie he bought for you so flagrantly around the house, but now? You love the attention. He’s made you feel confident and appreciated, and you have no issue being his little pet- especially with the rewards you get in return. 

“I sure did. C’mere.” He commands gruffly as he crooks his pointer finger to gesture for your presence, his lips curled into a wicked smirk. You giggle quietly, shooting flirtatious looks to his men as you walk straight to your master, straddling his lap with complete ease and comfort. “How can I help you?” you practically purr, running your fingers over the rich material of his suit covering his broad chest.

“Damn,” his right-hand, Bucky, lets out from beside you before Steve can answer, taking a swig of his beer. “Is there anything you don’t look good in, sweetheart?” 

“Doubtful.” The blond on your other side speaks in a deep, hollow voice. You’ve never even known his real name, but everyone in the gang simply refers to him as “Thor” thanks to his bulging muscle. “Every time we’ve seen her, especially in those skimpy little numbers, she looks absolutely ravishing.”

You barely smirk, tilting your head as you glance over at him. “Why, thank you, Thor. I’d argue I look- and feel- even better naked, though.”

“But the feeling is just for me, isn’t it, my little pet?” Steve cuts in rather authoritatively, one massive palm sliding down to roughly cup and squeeze your ass as if claiming what’s his. You can’t help but whimper in excitement and desperation, already wanting more. You hate that he has this effect on you. He’s always in charge, and he knows it.

“C’mon, Steve. It doesn’t have to be.” Bucky speaks up, looking somewhat devious and hopeful at the same time. “I’d say we deserve a treat, we pulled in some real big bucks today.” He makes eye contact with you, his teeth barely pulling on his lower lip. “We always watch you guys fuck, can’t you let us touch for once, too?”

Had it been anyone else who asked, even Thor, Steve would have most likely beat their faces in. You’ve witnessed it yourself, when a lowly drug mule had the audacity to simply flirt with you in Steve’s presence. But this is Bucky, Steve’s ride-or-die. The two have been friends since they were children. You have to admit, you’re curious as to what the mafioso’s reaction will be.

“You want me to share, hm?” Steve looks to Bucky with a lifted brow, then to Thor, who immediately nods his head rather vigorously. “Yes, I think I could be on board with that,” the lengthy-haired blonde agrees with an eager smirk. 

You and Steve lock eyes, and you can’t help but be temporarily mesmerized with those orbs of aqua staring back at you. You’re under his complete control, and you’re more than happy to go through with whatever he decides- though, the more you think about it, the prospect of a foursome with these attractive men is genuinely exciting. 

“Alright.” Steve finally speaks, his gaze still on you. “I suppose you boys deserve a reward for your hard work.” They exchange wide-eyed glances, about to celebrate, but Steve continues abruptly. “But-- neither of you are allowed to fuck her, though. That pretty little pussy is for Master’s dick only, isn’t it, Princess?” He looks to you with a smirk and you barely giggle, nodding your head.

“Yes, sir.” You agree, slowly turning around so that you’re facing Bucky and Thor while still on Steve’s lap. “I’d be happy to do whatever else I can to make Master’s friends happy.”

The two are practically drooling now, staring at you with all sorts of ideas in their brains as Steve’s hands take hold of your hips, rubbing and squeezing them sensually. “How about you start with stripping for us, pretty girl?” Thor suggests with a low tone, though you know this isn’t really a suggestion. Now that they have the okay from Steve, they’re in charge of you, too. You’re expected to listen and follow their every command, as long as it falls under what Steve has permitted.

“Of course, sir.” You smirk, slowly standing up and moving your hips as you walk to the center of the room. All eyes are on you as you slide the straps of the lacy babydoll off your shoulders; you tease a little, only revealing the top half of your breasts until you finally let the material slide down further, your hand moving over your breast to squeeze as you let out a tiny hum of satisfaction. As the lingerie slides down lower, you seat yourself atop the coffee table, pushing the article of clothing down your legs until it’s off entirely. Arching your back, you spread your legs slightly so everyone can get a view of your entrance, already wet. 

“Damn, kitten.” Bucky whistles lowly, eyes focused on your gleaming folds, his expression full of hunger and lust. Steve sits back proudly, tongue lazily running over his lips as he nonchalantly begins to unbuckle his belt. “Well? You better go taste her while you have the chance.” He looks to his right-hand with an arched brow, and the man immediately stands up in excitement, striding over to you and getting down between your legs. “I want to hear you beg for it, baby,” he breathes out huskily, hand already sliding up your thigh, squeezing teasingly. You can’t help but whine in anticipation, spreading your legs further.

“Please, eat me out, sir.” Your voice is needy and desperate, big eyes staring at him hopefully. “I want you to tongue fuck me so bad.” 

The mobster groans, already more than turned on simply from hearing you. He leans in and swipes his tongue across your slick, fingers digging into your thighs as he keeps them apart. You whimper in pleasure, placing your hands back behind you on the table as you start to slightly roll your hips, practically grinding against his tongue. “Oh...!”

Meanwhile, Thor stands, walking over to your side already removing his belt and lowering his pants. His huge erection almost immediately catches your eye, your head turning as you stare at his length in shock. He smirks widely from seeing your reaction, pumping himself as he steps closer. “Think you can handle it, sweetheart?”

“She can.” Steve speaks up, and you look to him in surprise, eyes immediately dropping to his hand rubbing his thick length up and down. You can’t help but be more aroused as you look back up at Thor, nodding your head. “I can,” you agree in an airy breath, still enjoying Bucky’s tongue plunging into your soaked pussy, your body trembling slightly. “Let me prove it to you, sir.”

It’s overwhelming at first- Thor’s large cock stuffed in your mouth, Bucky’s tongue teasing your wet folds. Your hand finds his shoulder length brown hair, gripping it hard as your muffled moans travel up Thor’s shaft, the vibration making him groan happily in return. All the while, Steve is watching through heavy grunts and low pants, jacking off as he stares at his talented little pet. Just watching him turns you on even more- you love knowing how much you get to him, how crazy you drive him.

“Fuck,” Thor hisses, his length hitting the back of your throat roughly, making you cough slightly. “You’re such an obedient little girl, aren’t you? Steve is a lucky guy...” 

“Mm... mm, tell me about it,” Bucky mutters, his lips pursed around your clit. “She even tastes fucking delicious.”

“Mmmnn!!” you can only whimper, feeling a jolt of ecstasy travel through your body as Bucky’s teeth graze your sensitive bundle of nerves. You release without warning, your body practically shaking, though you’re still focused on sucking Thor’s cock. Bucky smirks as he laps everything up, pulling back breathlessly as he watches you swirl your tongue along the mobster’s length. Thor groans louder, his fingers curling into your hair as he forces your head back and forth on his cock. “Just... like that... fuck, I’m close...!”

He pulls out and releases all over your face, making you gasp in delight as you feel the streaks of white fall upon your skin and dribbling over your lips and chin. “Mm!” You run your tongue over your lips to lap as much of it up as you can, your chest moving up and down along with your heavy breaths. 

“Fuck. Get over here,” Steve suddenly demands, his teeth grit as he pumps himself harder. “Sit down right on Master’s big dick, my little pet.”

You happily oblige, breathlessly rising to your feet as you make your way over to his lap, turning so your back is to him and slowly positioning yourself, sinking down onto his thick cock. “Mmm...” you moan, tilting your head back as you start riding him, moving your hips in sensual circles. Steve groans as he grips your hips tightly, leaning in and sucking bruises on your neck, moving his own hips upwards to bring himself deeper inside you.

“I think you’ve proven you can multitask,” Bucky suddenly speaks with a devious smirk, standing up and taking his own shaft out, pumping as he steps closer to you. “Open up, sweetheart. I want to help paint that pretty little face of yours, too.” 

You whimper as he slides himself into your mouth, your head turned to face him as you bounce on Steve’s dick, your hands placed on his thighs to keep your balance. Thor kneels down to grope your breasts, fingers pinching your sensitive nipples before he leans in and begins to suck roughly, teasing with his teeth every now and then. As Steve maneuvers your body with one hand, he wraps his other around you to start rubbing your clit, growling into the crook of your neck from pleasure. “Such a good girl for your master, hm?” he mutters, rubbing even harder. “Fuck, are you going to cum all over my dick like the little slut you are?”

“Mm... mm, mmhm!” is all you can muster, with Bucky’s cock thrusting deeper into your mouth. He’s not as thick as Thor, but he’s certainly long and still impressive nonetheless. Steve moves his other hand to wrap tightly around your neck, smirking breathlessly as he bucks his hips up even rougher than before. “You look so sexy when you’re coming undone, baby doll...”

You finally come, your moans lewd and sultry, head tilted back as you keep your lips parted to let out breathless gasps. Steve releases as well, deep inside you just as he likes- you love feeling him fill you up, or simply the feeling of him inside you. You stay where you are, continuing to suck Bucky’s length hard until his groans and grunts become shorter and more desperate; he soon pulls out and does just as promised before, his cum covering your skin and blending in with the streaks already there before. He smirks widely, staring down at you in awe. “Fuckin’ beautiful...”

You finally get up, only to sink down onto the floor by Steve’s armchair, sitting on your knees and panting as you look up at your master with round, innocent eyes. “Did I do well?”

“Very well.” Steve praises with a smirk, reaching down to slowly stroke your hair, running his tongue over his lips as he admires your messy face. “In fact, I think Master should reward you for doing so well.” 

He suddenly stands up, scooping you up into his arms. “Get out of here,” he commands to Bucky and Thor, his tone rough but his blue eyes glinting mischievously. “I think I need to give my little pet a bath.”

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Tuesday, 08:21

Song: Maggie Rogers - Dog Years

Sander is still rubbing at his eyes as he wanders into the kitchen, yawning loudly as he half-blindly makes his way towards the table. Before he can even get there, however, his mother is blocking his path and shoving a cake in his face and his dad is joining her to chorus, “Happy Birthday!”

“Uhm,” Sander blinks at them.

It’s strange to see that his mother is clearly wide awake, and that his father hasn’t left for work yet. Though he is already dressed in his police uniform, as one should always be when apparently preparing to have cake for breakfast. “Thanks. Don’t we usually do this in the evening, though?”

“Blow out your candles,” his mom orders. “Remember to make a wish!”

Twenty candles. The woman has twenty candles in a circular cake. (He’s sure, he counts them.) There’s already wax threatening to drip onto the icing, where the hastily piped ‘Happy Birthday Sander’ has holes pierced in it, the cake too small and the candles too numerous to avoid all of the writing.

Sander quickly blows out the candles.

“What did you wish for?” Léa asks, innocent and eager.

His dad, Ciel, makes a noise of protest and holds a hand up towards Sander. “If he tells you, it won’t come true.”

Sander points at him in agreement, and Léa huffs. It’s odd, that it’s odd to see his parents standing in front of him so early, interacting so casually, doing it all together. It’s not that they’re a distant couple, far from it. Sander’s father is just a busy man who sleeps and wakes early, and his mother is a not-quite-as-busy woman who has the luxury of being her own boss and rivals Sander’s own temperamental sleep schedule. They do not have breakfast as a family because they do not cross paths in the morning. They have dinner all together once or twice a week, if they get lucky. But there is certainly a bigger chance of their evenings coinciding.

So what is happening here?

“We’ll keep this for another time, I made actual breakfast,” his mother adds, gesturing at the table—with the cake still in her hands. Sander takes it from her quickly and sets it aside on the counter.

“Are we not having dinner, then?” he asks carefully.

They both give him bland looks. He curses both their heights—surely he should have earned an extra few inches from them. “We know you won’t be free for dinner,” Léa says.

Sander opens his mouth. Closes it again. Smiles sheepishly. “Oh.”

She huffs as she squeezes his shoulder. “But at least I can still be the first to wish my son happy birthday.” At his increasingly sheepish expression, she corrects, “In person. My god.”

It’s part of the reason he’s so sleepy still. He’d stayed up on a video call with Robbe until (well after) midnight, and the boy had wished him ‘happy birthday’ countless times, peppering kisses at the camera and apologising every time he’d started to nod off. It was possibly the cutest thing Sander has ever had the honour of witnessing. His lips twitch in a smile as he thinks about it again now.

He’d gotten a slew of other messages, all almost simultaneously at midnight. Gilles and Emilie and Thomas had all messaged almost at once into their small group chat, with varying styles and lengths and emoji usage. Adi and Lucas had both kept it sweet and simple. Milan had sent him a short video singing all of ‘Happy Birthday’ and blowing him a kiss. Jens had sent him one a few minutes late simply saying ‘happy bday. no I didn’t forget’, which Sander had blinked and then laughed at. He’d responded to them a while too late, after Robbe had eventually decided they both needed to sleep.

“Why couldn’t we just ask Robbe to join us for dinner?” Ciel asks. Not for the first time, Sander thinks that, for a policeman, his father is at times worryingly oblivious.

Léa clearly agrees, as she simply rolls her eyes in response. “I’m sure they’ll have their own private plans, of course he’ll want to spend his birthday with his boyfriend.”

“Uhm,” Sander says, again. “I still have class first though, so…”

“We should eat,” Ciel agrees, but glances at his wife. “Gifts now too, or in the evening?”

She considers it for a moment, then nods decisively. “We will do it before you two have to go. I’m not sure it’s too exciting, but you can make more use of it this way, maybe.” She offers Sander an apologetic smile.

He waves her off and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t be silly.”

She returns his gestures and then pulls him to the table, pressing him down into a chair and piling food in front of him. It doesn’t matter that he’s not quite hungry enough for it, not this soon after waking, and his stomach protests a little with each bite. He enjoys it. He sits and eats with a parent at either side of him and he doesn’t get the feeling of too much. He doesn’t think undeserved. He’s not worrying about another year gone and him still the same. He’s not hit by a wave of inexplicable loneliness, or fretting over his current painful mistake, or mourning another year of life gone in which he has failed to grow up.

It’s all there, lurking in the constant shadows, but it’s not there, at the same time. Instead it’s his parents’ light bickering, and the memory of Robbe’s ‘goodnight kiss’, and all those messages on his phone.

And it’s relief.

Another year. Twelve months. 52 weeks. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes.

All that time, and nothing has really changed.

No intrinsic part of his life has altered, nothing’s gone. He’s still managing school (mostly), he still has the same friends, his parents are still fairly understanding, his unrelenting mental illness still hasn’t killed him, and he still has the man of his dreams across infinite universes (as said man claims).

He’s still here. Breathing, living. Thriving, his mind exalts.

“That’s a genuine little smile,” his father notes, returning it with one of his own. “It’s nice to see.”

Warmth spreads through Sander, cushioning his heart but also sneaking into his cheeks as he shakes his head and takes another overstuffed mouthful of food. Ciel’s smile just widens in understanding, and Sander feels a twinge for how often he turns the man away. It’s moments like these where he thinks it’s wrong to do so, that he should give him more of a chance on occasion, that maybe he really would be more helpful than Sander lets himself hope for.

But it doesn’t matter, today. Nothing like that needs to matter when they’re all happy to make it about his birthday.

They give him his gifts after breakfast, quickly. New clothes that he likes enough to go change into before he leaves, wearing the tee with subtle Bowie graphics with pride. There’s the usual restocking of art supplies as well, more expensive than he ever buys himself and which he gives his mother another kiss for. Then they pass him a card, which has sappy words in his mother’s handwriting and money tucked inside.

“Thank you,” he says, for the third or fourth time, squeezing them both in a quick hug as Ciel checks his watch and Léa smacks him on the arm for it. “Everything is perfect, really. And we can have some cake in the afternoon? I’ll come back for a while before I meet up with Robbe.”

His mother narrows her eyes and places a hand on her heart playfully. “So kind of you to include me in your busy day, the woman who brought you into this world.”

Ciel smiles at her, in a way that suggests he’s heard this particular speech before. “Yes, really a day to celebrate you, if we’re doing it right.”

“Of course,” Sander agrees, nodding sagely. “What was it? Seventeen hours of labour?”

“Followed by twenty years of tender and loving care,” she adds, and Sander laughs.

He wraps his arm around her shoulder and kisses the top of her head before leaning away to pick up his bag. “Truly the best,” he tells her.

“Save me some cake,” Ciel requests, also collecting his things by the door.

“But you weren’t involved in any of that credit,” Sander notes. “Hard to know if you should get to join in the best part of the celebration.”

“I cooked those croques this morning, and I’ll drive you to college.”

It’s a cheap bribe, considering Sander could drive himself if he so wished, but he still beams and pats his father’s shoulder, following him out. “A slice will be left in the fridge.”

~^~

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