#he first drove next to me and then pulled over and completely blocked the sidewalk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was attacked by a cross-site scripting worm deployed by the Internet troll group GNAA on Dec 3, 2012.

#he first drove next to me and then pulled over and completely blocked the sidewalk

springgirlwaiting4fall · 2 years

Note

Hey S. T.!

Have you ever sat in a car with someone and it's just.....awkward? No one says anything, the radio isn't even on and it's just this very tense, uncomfortable silence?

Imagine yourself in the car with any AEW talents and what would you do about it. Who would be driving? What do you do to make it less awkward? Would it help or make things worse?

My whole existence has just been a series of awkward events that somehow formed my last 32 years on this earth. So to answer your question. Yes, I have been in plenty of cars sitting in awkward silence.

It was weird still working for AEW, especially since I have been a wrestling fan all my life. I have already been working as photographer for 6 months and still called Jim Ross and Billy Gunn “sir,” when I bumped into them backstage, even though they would roll their eyes and tell me to call them by their first names. So when the rumors started that William Regal was possibly coming to AEW, and than all of a sudden he really did show up, I had hide in the ladies room and squeal like a fan girl before going back to work. Than I had to go back in the bathroom to jump out my excitement when my boss told me I would be going over to a gym to take photos of the BBC during their training promo. The day of filming I double checked my gear before calling a Uber and getting to the set 30 minutes early. Like I said earlier my life is a series of awkward events, so it only makes sense that as soon as my Uber pulls away I get a text saying, they have to change places last minute.

It wasn’t a huge deal, I could just order a new Uber and arrive on time. While I was trying to re arrange all my bags and grab my phone from my back pocket, I heard a familiar voice call out “need some help?” I slowly turned around and saw the one and only William Regal, parked next to the sidewalk.

“Uh hello Sir,” my heart beating way too fast. “I don’t know if you heard yet, but they moved the training to a different gym.” He starred at me blankly, of course they would tell William Regal the change of plans before me.“I was just calling an Uber and heading over there.”

“Just got in the car Christine and stop calling me sir.” He pushed a button inside the car that opened the trunk for me to put my equipment in.

“Thank Mr. Regal sir.” My face flushed as I sat in the passenger seat.

“Oh for Christ sakes, stop calling me sir,” he muttered before taking off. And that’s how my awkward car ride with the one and only William Regal started.

The very first thing I noticed about Regals car was how cleaned it was. There was no hamburger wrappers, crumbled Receipts, or dust anywhere. He didn’t even keep spare change in his cup holder. The second thing I noticed was that it was dead silent in the car. No radio, no podcast, he didn’t even complain about the guy who just cut him off. Silence made me super uncomfortable, especially in contained spaces where no one could escape. I just had to talk.

“Thank you again for the ride Si-Señor.” He looked at me like I was crazy, but didn’t say anything. We drove down a block and the silence was making me dig my nails into the leather seats. “So do you like it here at AEdubs.” I called myself a stupid bitch in my head for calling AEW that.

“I am enjoying my time here at AEDub.” Somehow Willam Regal saying AEdubs sounded refined. “I heard you are the newest photographer here, that’s why I requested you. Us newbies need to stick together.” He was older than my father and I still felt myself blush at his charm.

The gps on the touch screen said there was only 5 minutes left. I could be quiet for 5 more minutes. “When I die I’m going to have my ashes put into soil and than plant a tree in the soil. What are your plans?” I watched in horror as Regals mouth dropped open, complete shock on his face.

The last 4 minutes and 30 seconds were spent in silence. He pulled into the parking lot. “You’re a strange bird…I quite enjoy it.” William Regal got out of the car, I sat in the car a smile growing on my face. A loud banging interrupted my thoughts. “Get out of the bloody car.”

This was way too fun to write. Thank you!!!

I never liked William Regal when I was a kid/teenagers in WWE. And when he came over to AEW I thought it was cool, but wasn’t thrilled or anything. But than Tumblr showed me my ways and I think…I think I want William Regal to be my Daddy. 😂☠️

#aew #aew fanfiction #william regal #William regal fanfiction #akward car rides

23 notes · View notes

zmalkarnar1 · 3 years

Text

Kuroo x Male Reader: Oblivious

Something I posted a little while back on my deviantart account. Figured I’d throw it here as I write a bit more.

You watched as he stuffed his practice partners spike, sending the ball reeling back towards the gym floor. He landed with a cheer and a predatory smirk which gave his eyes a mischievous glint. On the other side of the net, Lev Haiba released a frustrated groan, as once again the Scheming Captain managed to shut him down. The predatory grin followed the rookie, reminding him that he was years away from being able to best the raven haired middle blocker.

Was this really your Kuroo? Was this really your Tetsuro? Well, he wasn't really yours, but you've known him longer than anyone here...

You were neighbors, born only days apart, and your mother and his father were close friends from their college days. And while he had his grandparents, both of you were being raised by single parents and you often found yourself in the care of his family, or him yours. Born only days apart, the two of you spent almost all of your time together. You can't remember a time you didn't know the raven haired male. But was this really him?

"Come on Kuroo, let's go," you whined, pulling his arm and dragging him out of his house.

Kuroo just shook his head, dragging his feet across the ground as you pulled him.

“Please,” you begged, “I don’t want to go alone.”

You moved behind him and began pushing him towards the sidewalk, doing anything and everything to move to black haired eight year old.

You were shy too. You didn’t like new places, new people, lots of people. A lot of things scared you. But Kuroo. Kuroo was petrified of anything and anyone he didn’t know well. Literally froze up in class, at the park. He was so timid he made you look like the life of the party.

“No…” he said, his voice soft, his tone begging you to leave him be.

“Please Tetsu,” you begged again, going to your knees, “I just want at least one of my friends at the field with me,”

“One of your friends? I’m your only friend,” he responded like a whip, a shy smirk on his face, hinting at what lies beneath his hardened shell. It was gone in a flash, and you only stared, stunned at the sudden crack from your oldest friend. Your only friend, as he so rudely pointed out. You smiled despite that. It was rare even you got to see that smirk, to hear that sharp wit he hid behind his walls.

“Tetsu, please. If you come….I’ll join the youth volleyball you keep asking me to. Please Tetsu,” you pleaded, making your best puppy dog eyes.

“...Promise?”

“Promise!” You yelled out in glee, dragging him to your soccer field. And true to your word, the next day you followed Tetsu, or more he pushed you into the volleyball gym and the two of you joined the youth league. And before you knew he was gone, moved away, out of your life forever. You passed the next years in near isolation. Sure you had a few friends in soccer, some acquaintances at junior high, but no one, no one who knew you so well as Kuroo. That is, until midway through your second year of high school, you and your mother packed up and moved to Nekoma, and there he was.

You smiled at the memory, but something irritated you deep down as you stared at the captain’s smirk, his teammates patting him on the back for his block. You clenched your fist, this sudden frustration seeping into your muscles as you narrow your eyes at the volleyball team.

That smirk, that smile, is mine! I saw it first, and it is mine.

The thought flashed across your mind and vanished in a rush as you struggled to comprehend the emotions running through your body. Having no idea where the thought came from, a blush began to rise in your cheeks, and you shook your head vigorously. You returned to your book, hoping beyond hope that Tetsu hadn’t noticed. You glanced up and saw his smirk, this time aimed at you. You smiled, involuntarily. Something about his smile always drove you to excitement. Then he winked, and your cheeks heated again. He definitely noticed. Of course he did. Great. You just couldn’t wait for the sass he was going to fire your way later.

Damn it! What is going on with me?

You stepped out of the gym into the fresh evening air, slapping your cheeks to focus yourself. You were just watching your friend’s practice. That was it.

Pull it together!

You were pacing back and forth, oblivious to everything but this electricity jolting through you, mixing with a rising frustration that made you just want to scream. You didn’t even notice the gym doors open and close behind you.

“Liked what you saw,”

You jumped, Kuroo’s voice jolting you out of your trance. You didn’t need to see his grin. You could hear the smirk in his voice. Fantastic. Now he was going to make fun of how jumpy you were. Just fantastic.

“You’re choosing a great time to fall apart. In front of the entire team too,” Kuroo smiled predatorily at you. You didn’t notice, but his eyes looked over you. All of you.

“They all saw,” you muttered miserably

“Hard to miss your cheeks turning into tomatoes. So, did you like what you saw?”

You stared dumbly at him, mouth slightly agape, eyes open wide as Kuroo towered above you on the steps to the gym. He looked very much like a jungle cat. A jungle cat that was about to devour his prey once he was done playing with it. Was he flirting with you? No. No. This was the Scheming Captain. He was screwing with you. And you were staring right at him. Great. Just grand. Now he’ll think you’ve gone dumb.

“You aren’t usually this slow, (nickname). Come on, did you like it?”

“Tetsu,” you growled, anger seeping into your voice. You didn’t mind his banter usually. At times it was actually endearing. But sometimes, you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

Then you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it anymore. A voice from deep inside you said, causing you to stumble again, your cheeks reddening once more. You clenched your fists and let out a quick yell. Oblivious to everything, you failed to notice that Kuroo took in every single detail.

“Are you alright?” he asked, true concern replacing the confidence in his voice. He knew he might have pushed too far.

“I’m…I just need to get some rest,” you said, pushing past him to grab your stuff. “I’ll feel better tomorrow. See you later.”

Again, you failed to seem but he watched each step you took as you walked away, a knowing smile lightening his face.

You walked home with Kenma. He must have snuck away from personal practice again. Usually when you didn’t have soccer you waited for him and Tetsu and the three of you went home together. Today, you just needed sleep, that was all. Kenma was engrossed in his game. That was fine. You didn’t want to talk anyways.

I’d just make a mess of it if I spoke anyways.

You were left to your thoughts, and by the time you neared home, you had finally calmed down. At least, until Kenma decided to open the floodgates.

“So, when are you going to tell him?” Kenma blurted out, not looking up from his game.

“What?” you asked, confusion clear on your face.

Kenma stopped and looked up at you as if you were stupid.

“You like Tetsuro.”

It was the way he said it. Blunt, to the point, and matter of factly, that sent you stumbling over your own feet. He said it with a straight face too. And there went the walls again, the emotions breaking through and in a rush you felt the excitement, frustration, and confusion that had taken you almost an hour to wrestle under control.

Thanks Kenma. Thanks a lot.

“He’s my friend, of course I like him,” you say, trying to keep the blush off of your face.

Kenma looked at you with a blank face, like you were a moron trying to claim that the earth was flat.

“I...no, I don’t like him, like him,” you stumble over your words, and Kenma just continues to stare at you, saying nothing.

“Really…” this time you weren’t even sure what you were saying. You just needed to say something to fill the awkward silence. And to make Kenma stop staring at you like that. But all he did was look at you with that deadpan stare, and your breath quickened and you waited for him to just nod his head and drop it.

“Wow.” Kenma muttered, “You’re so oblivious that not only do you completely miss his moves on you, but you don’t even realize how you stare at him with that damn goofy grin on your face,”

“I do not! Wait… his moves on me? No. That’s just Tetsu messing around,”

Kenma smacked his palm against his face, “Wow. You’re an idiot. You’re both so ignorant of each other's feelings. He’s stupid for you, and clearly you’re just plain stupid, so you’re perfect for each other. Tell him and get over this already. I’m sick of how awkward the two of you have been the past month.”

“We haven’t…” Kenma was already walking away and you were left with utter chaos in your mind and burning cheeks. You didn’t like, like Tetsu. Did you?

That night you heard pebbles knocking against your window. You knew it was him, checking to see if you were okay. But you weren’t ready for that. You pretended to be asleep, and eventually he turned in. All you could do was toss and turn, going in and out of a fitful sleep, Kenma’s words echoing through your mind.

The three of you walked to school together in the morning, and an awkward silence rose between you. Well, you would have noticed if you weren’t falling asleep as you walked. Kuroo had asked if you were feeling any better. Too afraid to talk, you knew you’d say something stupid, you just shook your head and stared at the ground, hoping he wouldn’t see your slight blush. Small chance that.

You broke off to your classes when you reached school, but of course, you and Tetsu just had to be in the same class. All you could do was stare at the back of his head. And then, of course, you had to scramble whenever he glanced back towards you. You knew you just made yourself look like an idiot.

At lunch you joined in with the volleyball crowd. Not that you necessarily wanted to. It was a habit more than anything else. You sat at the periphery, back against a tree as they bantered and laughed at each other. You only half listened. You were lost in your own mind, enjoying the cool shade of the tree, staring up at the clouds about. Again, you were oblivious to Tetsu staring at you.

“You’ve really changed, (nickname),” Kuroo said out of the blue.

You stared at him blankly, your eyes blinking. You had to stop doing that; you looked like a deer caught in headlights. Then you laughed. Loudly. And everyone turned to stare at you.

“I’ve changed?” You manage to mutter between breaths, holding your sides, “What about you…”

It was your first day at Nekoma High. You were furious; not only was it the middle of the year, but you had finally made a few friends on your school's soccer team before having to leave everything behind. You couldn’t blame your mother though. She couldn’t pass the opportunity by. It’s just, you’ve never made friends easily. You were always awkward and felt like an outcast. And just when you were finally feeling comfortable at your old school. You thought back on your elementary friend, and how everything felt so natural with him. It didn’t matter. He was long gone.

As you reached the entrance to Nekoma, you were met by a short boy with brown hair. Really short. Shorter than you even.

“Hey, I’m Yaku Morisuke. Are you (l/n, f/n)?”

You nodded.

“I’m in your class, and been asked to show you around. Come on,” he said, a friendly smile on his face.

“Thanks, Yaku-san,” you said, eyes to the ground, voice quiet.

You followed Yaku across the grounds of Nekoma High. Yaku spent the morning guiding you through the school. He talked constantly, but you just nodded numbly, and quietly thanked him after each stop. He even got you signed up in the soccer club once he pried out that you played. You weren’t going to join, but couldn’t find an easy way to say no, and allowed it to happen. By the time the lunch bell rang, you were ready to crawl in a corner by yourself and eat your lunch in peace and quiet, away from the eyes of the other students. Yaku was having none of it.

“You can join us for lunch (l/n). They’re a good bunch, if a little loud. Come on,”

You wanted to hide away alone, but couldn’t find a way to decline without seeming rude. Besides, he had a death grip on your arm, almost dragging you towards the volleyball club.

They were outside of the school, eating beneath a cluster of trees, casually tossing a volleyball back and forth. You took one look at them and stopped dead, stumbling to the ground as Yaku continued to pull you along. You stood back up. It couldn’t be. You had to be seeing things. But as you looked again, there he was, Tetsuro Kuroo.

He turned and saw you, and the volleyball fell to the grass below. You met his eyes, wide with shock, as were your own. Then you saw his smirk, just like when you were little, but full of confidence and charm.

“Tetsuro!” “(nickname)” You both yelled at the same time, your face lighting up with delight.

He covered the ground between you in three swift strides, picking you up and swinging you around in a tight embrace. It had been almost eight years.

“Tetsu...you’re...you’re huge,” you explain as he puts you down, unable to believe how much taller he was.

“And you’re a shrimp,” he says, his smirk growing.

You pushed him away. Or at least, you tried to, but he was so solid. And full of confidence. You stepped back from him and glued your eyes to the ground when you realized the whole team was staring.

“This is (l/n, f/n)” Yaku said, “(l/n), this is the nekoma volleyball team. Although it seems as if you already know our rooster head over here.”

You smile at the nickname of Tetsu and give everyone a quick wave, but say nothing. Noticing your anxiety, Kuroo grabbed your arm and pulled you away.

“I’ll take him off your hands, shorty,” Kuroo called out to Yaku once you two were a safe distance away from the libero.

“(nickname), what are you doing here?” Kuroo asked when you found a secluded spot to eat.

“Well...Mom...Mom got a promotion and we had to move. We just got in the other day,”

“That’s great!” He smiled, “I’m glad you’re here. What, it’s been eight years? I’ll get you signed up for volleyball,”

“I...I don’t play volleyball anymore,” you say, a little afraid that you were disappointing him,

“Huh?” Tetsu looked confused, but it was gone in a moment, replaced by that wicked grin you saw on him before, “Oh, did you finally toughen up and join soccer?”

You nodded, “Yaku signed me up for the soccer club, but...I don’t think I’m going to go,” you said looking down, “It’s too much. But I’m relieved you’re here Tetsu. I thought I’d spend the year alone. Again.”

“Nonsense, you’re joining. You’ll feel better once you do something. Besides, you can’t be this shy for the rest of your high school career.” he said, putting his arm around you.

“Like you’re one to talk,” you mutter, blushing

“”What was that?”

“Nothing. Besides, I don’t have my cleats or shin guards with me.”

“Tomorrow then,” he said, oblivious to, or ignoring your pitiful look, “Anyways, what class are you in?”

You hand him your schedule. You were in the same class. At least you knew somebody.

“Great! I’ll take care of you from here on,” he said, brining you towards your shared class, “I’ll make you feel right at home here, just wait and see,”

You blushed, but it did feel good to have him with you. However, you couldn’t help but marvel; was this really your Tetsu?

And true to his word, Tetsu kept a close eye on you and a guiding hand nearby. Your friendship picked up right where it had been left, and Kuroo always made sure you were okay, even when you didn’t want him to.

Like when you walked home and realized you were neighbors with him and Kenma. The next morning, before you left for school, he asked if you had your soccer gear. When you said no, he barged into your home, just like the old days, and grabbed you gear, ignoring the surprised look on your mother’s face.

“I’ll hold on to these,” he said, smirking, keeping them out of your reach so you couldn’t hide them during the day.

And at day’s end, you couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He dragged you (it seems you were going to have to get used to a lot of that), over to the soccer fields and announced that you were joining. And of course he had to take it a step further, claiming you were the best striker in the entire prefecture. Damn Kuroo. Everyday he ensured you made it to soccer before he wandered off to the volleyball gym. And he was right. You became accustomed to the team, and his volleyball crew, and, of course, got to experience the sharp side of Tetsu's silver tongue. But even then, deep down and hidden, you began to feel something more for Tetsu. Your eyes lit up when you saw him, your lips curled into a smile when he called your name. Small, subtle moments that slowly grew inside you. Little did you know how desperately he was waiting for you.

Your face heated up again as you realized the entire volleyball team was staring at you. You lowered your eyes and looked away, trying to control the red flash that was crawling across your face.

“I’m not the only one whose changed,” you said softly, looking at Kuroo from the corner of your eye.

“Will you come to practice again?” Tetsu asked.

You nodded, “Soccer is in break for now.” You had won the preliminaries and were waiting for the prefecture tournament to decide nationals. The team was taking a short break to recover after the long season, so you had nothing else to do.

“Cool,” Kurro said, and for once you noticed Tetsu’s sidelong glances at you throughout the rest of lunch.

Damn you, Kenma, you thought as you looked away before you began blushing again.

By the time you made it to the gym, the team was already well into practice. Tetsu gave you a big wave. Kenma just shook his head. You settled down in the corner of the gym, your book in your hands. But you found that today you couldn’t concentrate on the words. You’d muddle through the pages of the story, completely forgetting each and every word as your eyes returned to the volleyball team. Or, more accurately, to Tetsuro. You’d try to return to your book, but a paragraph later, your mind and eyes forced their way back to the Scheming Captain. You couldn’t shake what Kenma had said about the raven haired boy.

You put away the book. You weren’t getting anywhere anyways, and instead focused on the practice. Each time your eyes fell on your bed-headed friend you felt a jolt of energy, a shudder of electricity, a breath of life course through you, making your hair stand on its end. And when he’d catch you staring, he’d share his half-smile, half-smirk, as if he knew exactly the game you were playing. Somehow, as your whole body began to warm, you thought as if you were a mouse caught by this cunning black cat.

And then he was back to his practice. To this team. His family. You’d watch with this sadness creeping into you. He was your best friend, but he had so many of his own. He didn’t need you too. As doubt touched your mind, you saw him flash his grin towards Lev, once again blocking his poorly struck spike, and all feelings of doubt and sadness fled from your mind as another feeling rushed through your veins. And no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake it. Each time he flashed his grin to his team, each time he looked at you and smiled, every time his predatory smirk was shared with another, a fire enveloped your blood. Your muscles tightened and your eyes narrowed, and finally you recognized it. Jealousy. You were jealous.

That hunter’s smile, which you were the first to witness, to see through the cracks in his shell, that was your smile. And his team saw it everyday, all the time. They got this piece of your friend you didn’t really get to see. To feel. To experience. This competitive, strong, cunning young man before your eyes wasn’t yours, and you teemed with envy. You didn’t try to hide your blush as you watched Tetsu play. You couldn’t have if you tried. Maybe you did like Kuroo.

You waited for them after practice this time. It was the weekend, and Tetsu, Kenma, and yourself had a long sleepover planned. You had the new Fifa game, Kenma a new JRPG, and Kuroo had a new horror movie he wanted to watch. However, of course Kenman just had to drop out. Great. Now you’d be alone with Tetsu. You promised in your head that the next time you could corner Kenma you were going to strangle him. He was doing this on purpose, the bastard. Which is how you ended up alone with Kuroo as he put the dvd into your T.V. You hated horror. Did he remember how you much you hated blood after all these years?

You were both sitting on your bed as the movie descended into darkness. You screamed and covered your eyes, feeling Kuroo’s hand on your shoulder, and then wrapped around your body to calm you down. You didn’t fight it, or the blush that began to grow on your face. It felt so natural. And it felt right when he pulled you closer, and you hid in his chest as the terror in the movie rose to its climax. And in the midst of the madness, with your trembling in Tetsu’s arms, he finally found the courage to speak to you.

“I love you.”

He didn’t. In the middle of a horror movie which had you trembling. He didn’t. But this was Tetsuro. He was a dork. Of course he did.

You didn’t respond, only looked up into his eyes. There was no predatory smirk this time. No, there was something more. You could see the genuine care, the love, in his eyes, the fear of your refusal, the gentleness that hid beneath the teasing and provocation. You could feel his vulnerability as he pulled you down onto your bed, laying you on your back as he straddled you between his legs. His beautiful eyes searched deep into your (e/c) eyes, and you felt all the confusion flee from your mind. Instead, a fire, a heat, a desire coursed through your veins and your entire body shook with anticipation as he moved his lips towards yours. It was soft. Ever so soft, but as he pulled away, you needed more. More. So much more. You grabbed onto his head, hands coursing through his messy black hair, and pulled him back down into a kiss that sent chills rushing through your body. And all the tension that had filled your mind and muscles broke free with each kiss he placed on your lips, your neck. And with each touch from his hands across your skin you felt all your fear fade away. When he finally pulled back, his teeth gently pulling at your skin, you saw in his eyes, and knew. You definitely liked Tetsuro Kuroo.

“I love you,” you breathed back.

And then you saw it. His relief. His care. His love. And you see the vulnerable, timid boy you once knew. A side of Kuroo no one else was allowed to see, to know, to touch. Only you. They could keep his smirk, his confidence. Because you had something more. Because you knew you had the real Kuroo; the boy who needed your reassurance, who needed your hands, who required the safety of your arms. No one else could see that. Tetsuro Kuroo was all yours.

___________________________________________________________________________

Just an idea that has been pulsing through my mind. I haven't really written anything like this before, so I hope you like it. Sorry if Kuroo is a little OOC. Enjoy.

#kuroo x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu kuroo tetsuro

245 notes · View notes

captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

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

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

Part 5 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

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

Warnings in this Chapter: mentions of male masturbation and boners (lol); strong language; references to suicide, murder, and drug smuggling; abusive parental relationship; mentions of child death in a second flashback; dry humping (smut); 18+ only please!

Word Count: 16,500+

A/N: damn that chapter warning list was a trip to write down lmao

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the parked vehicle, daring either of you to take the first step. No one commented on the glares boring into your soul as you drove through the town or how heavily the three of you got patted down by the authorities right outside the state line. You figured it was completely justified - still a little insulting to a bunch of Avengers who literally saved the world three weeks ago.

With a loud gulp, Bucky was the first to kick open his door and get out of the car. You glanced at Steve from the driver’s seat, biting your lip with a slight quiver as you went over the speech you practiced earlier today. Simple enough, and not too damning.

Steve’s leg bounced rapidly a few more times before he too kicked open his door, leaving you in silence. You pulled the car keys from the ignition and took in a deep breath. Your legs were numb, the anxiety washing over you in uneven cycles. It was now or never.

“Wanda, it’s us…”

Her grief seemed to emit from every crack in the sidewalk, every weak beg escaping the townspeople’s throats, every sound from the inanimate objects her powers had continued to turn from gray to red… to green… back to gray. She was crouched on the property, weeds brushing against her black pants and leaving their mark, mascara smudged with each new wet streak.

Bucky unzipped his jacket, eyes wandering over the deserted plot of land as Wanda tried to control her sobs. She had already caused enough damage, both physical and psychological, the possibility of more government involvement looming over your heads. He carefully walked toward her and wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, all be damned as he held her and began to tear up himself.

“Wanda, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll get through this,” Steve sighed, still keeping a respectable distance from her in case she were to run. But you knew her better - she was all out of fight. One fight after another and yet she still lost her love.

“I did something really bad,” she sobbed, eyes locked on the spot where Vision had just disappeared. Again.

“No, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Steve declared, shocked by the unexpected scoff from Bucky.

“Save it, Steve. She may not have known in the beginning but she does now. She still did it.”

No one dared correct Bucky or argue with that logic because if anyone knew about causing harm with absolutely no intention, it was obviously him. Taking responsibility - that was the best course of action.

Once you heard of a radioactive disturbance in a small town just outside the state, the team almost retired completely. So soon after defeating Thanos, so soon after Tony’s death, so soon after Natasha’s death - the team left it up to the proper authorities this time around.

But the second you watched the broadcast of Wanda’s fantasies, the sitcom her powers were conjuring, her giving birth to her children… all you could do was wait until she opened the barrier.

“I still did it,” Wanda said, her upper body beginning to rock back and forth as her fingertips brightened with red tendrils of magical grief.

You shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had done so much crying these past few years and you were oh, so tired. You couldn’t possibly take another beating.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Bucky spoke, gently turning Wanda’s face and placing both his hands on her cheeks, mindful of the metal appendage he had forgotten to cover with his glove. “You already did it. It can’t be undone. But you can come with us and grieve properly.”

Wanda reached up and placed her hands over his, tears spilling from her eyes faster now.

“Let us help you grieve.”

This wasn’t an unexpected goodbye. Wanda knew that. She had just voluntarily given up her husband and children - anyone would crumble from that sort of devastation. But now she had been given a proper goodbye, a somewhat proper closure, and the chance to accept it. “Okay.”

You and Steve remained frozen in place even after Bucky helped Wanda stand. Almost as quickly as you thought it, your feet had a mind of their own. You stood next to Steve, taking in the weed infested, rectangular plot of land - the remnants of Wanda’s fantasy still fresh and creating a tiny, refreshing tingle in the middle of your chest. You looked over at Steve and smiled sadly when you saw him inspecting the area as well.

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

Steve’s breath hitched as you finished your declaration, looking over at you and nodding slightly.

“If I had the chance, I would have wanted a nice house with some decent air conditioning. Some weird, front yard garden where I could plant random flowers. A dog that dug them up and acted like it didn’t do it.”

You giggled, thumbnail between your incisors to try and disguise the wider grin forming. Steve kept speaking.

“Maybe a kid or two. Never actually checked if I could even have kids after the serum.”

You dropped your hand from your face, your attention completely on him now.

Steve sighed and kicked a rock over to the other side of the property. “I would have wanted a giant, king-sized bed. With ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels. And every once in a while we would accidentally use the other one’s toothbrush, a secret we would take to the grave.”

Steve wasn’t even looking over at you as he said this. It was like a one-sided confession, rhetorical, not needing an immediate response or expression in return. And you couldn’t believe he was just saying this in front of you - you of all people - the same person who rolled their eyes whenever Steve struggled to comprehend a modern topic or argued with him when he was in one of his moods. He had been distant the last few weeks after returning the stones, only ever noticing you when other people were around to carry a conversation.

The tingles in your chest were starting to disappear as the plot of land gave its last few magical rumbles.

“Steve?”

Steve bowed his head, hands in his pockets and breath steady. “Yes, they would have been very happy together.”

You stared at the back of his head as he slowly walked back to the car.

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

The amount of times you reminded yourself to wake up early as you were drifting off to sleep last night was perhaps more than the number of sheep you had ever counted in your life. A quick reminder here and there as your mind got clogged with pointless information, the number eight behind your eyelids all throughout the night.

And you did it. In the early hours of the morning, knowing Steve would wake naturally in about twenty minutes, you tip-toed out of bed to use the bathroom. Acting completely normal in case he did in fact hear you before your grand plan - an easy escape route if he decided to repeat his horrible morning ritual on you. But he was such an old man, getting older, losing that serum’s boost. This Steve, Steve who refused to call any movie made after 1945 ‘old’ because he literally didn’t get the chance to see them premiere - yeah, this Steve, was passed out like he had been hit by a truck.

Bladder empty and teeth brushed, you quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked through. He still lay there on his back, wrapped tightly in his blanket, breathing steadily, and face completely unprotected.

Could you die? Probably. Would this payback be absolutely satisfying? Hell yeah.

You grabbed the biggest of your pillows and fisted the corner tightly, twisting it a couple times for a better grip. You signed the cross quickly before lifting the pillow above your head and bringing it down to Steve’s face.

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up, “WHAT?”

His eyes flew around the room rapidly until they landed on you, angry and challenging.

“Payback!” you yelled, lifting the pillow high again for a second hit. But he reacted quicker, grabbing a pillow himself and swinging it toward you. It slammed you in the torso and practically sent you flying. You landed at the edge of your bed, mouth open in shock and racks of laughter bubbling deep within your chest. You stood quickly and hit him repeatedly, trying your best to also block his counterattack.

He reached for your hip and pulled you in his bed, rolling the two of you over so he was straddling your hips. He brought the pillow down several more times before accepting your plea of surrender.

You threw the pillow back to your bed and pouted, “Not a fair fight!”

Steve scoffed, “You caught me off guard! You had all the advantages!”

You shuffled beneath him and froze, hips stuck in a lifted position as you were too embarrassed to move them back down. “Jesus, Steve! How do you even sleep on your stomach with that thing?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected your face and body, looking down at the two of you before he noticed the way he was pressing into your inner thigh. He scrambled off you, a blush spreading from his cheeks and all the way down his chest. He cupped himself and turned away, quickly shuffling for his suitcase and pulling whatever clothes his flustered hands grabbed. He was also repeatedly apologizing.

“Steve, it’s okay. It just… startled me, is all.”

Steve cleared his throat a couple times before pacing around the room in search of his toiletries.

You just sat back on your elbows, watching him scurry like a chicken with its head cut off. It was rather amusing.

“I’m gonna - gonna, take a shower. Uh, I’m sorry again.”

You smirked at the super soldier, “Steve, I’m not mad. It isn’t like I’m new to that kind of thing.”

Steve blushed harder, “But I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

You shrugged your shoulders and dipped lower into his sheets, grabbing and lifting them higher. You snuggled deeper, “Still.”

Steve could feel the speed at which the world rotated and he shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply until he had all his inhibitions back.

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing - reacting the way he did or you seeing him react the way he did. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in awkward situations, some borderline lewd. There were plenty of missions that involved heavy flirting with the targets, undercover work in depraved settings, missions where nasty magic was involved and concocted a multitude of inappropriate visions. Hell, everyone had already seen each other naked. It was completely normal, a trustworthy environment, and sometimes necessary.

As much as he wanted to give into the feeling and award himself some proper alone time, he refused to act upon it. He would regret it later once the stress pushed down harder than usual, but it just wasn’t appropriate in his right mind to masturbate with you in the other room.

Why did he have to be such a good and honorable man?

He busied himself with washing his hair and scrubbing away any evidence of sleep from his face. Steve liked sleeping on his stomach, face smooshed in the pillows and arms extended to his sides. It allowed for more comfortable movement, more ways to stretch his hips, just overall comfort for his massive shoulders. Less pressure on the lungs, too. And unlike the enthusiastic yet almost mean accusation that he couldn’t possibly enjoy that position because of his… well, his dick, Steve would choose that position over sleeping on his back any day. But that morning, his body had decided to betray him in more ways than one. One, he was open to attack because he was on his back. And two, whatever dream he was having caused his morning wood to seem larger this morning.

He had washed up quickly, more time spent out of the shower where he fixed his hair and combed his beard. He thought about shaving it for the rehearsal dinner or wedding, but it gave him a more rugged look - like he was all tough and no funny business. As ridiculous as it sounded, the beard allowed him to lean into the criminal act easier, build a fake personality that already had your father eating out of his hand.

Opening the bathroom door and having to face the music, Steve was almost certain you would continue to tease him. But you were already munching on the breakfast you had ordered, shoveling hash browns in your mouth as you swiped the mouse through pages and pages of intel. You didn’t even look up as he crossed the room to grab a pair of pants he had forgotten to pick up during his quick escape. That settled his nerves almost instantly and he was dressed and settled next to you soon after.

You worked in silent cooperation for a long while, handing each other files and passing phone calls like you had during every other mission before. Except now it was more comfortable, pleasant, and kind - the soft sounds from the television in the corner, the humming of the desktop, the soft hums of recognition whenever you two showed each other something. You didn’t even bother with what happened in the morning, if it really was anything at all, because you honestly found it normal. You were more focused on the conversation you had last night.

Steve had offered to kill your father if you seriously couldn’t. Just thinking about his offer caused your stomach to turn. Because yes, you wanted him dead. You wanted to snap his neck in ten different places and feed him to scavengers. You wanted to steal his business from under him and tear it apart, bit by bit, and keep him alive long enough to see you do it. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you revealed that you double-crossed him. And as the day inched closer, the overwhelming feeling of shame pushed down on your shoulders and swallowed your mind. Once your father was dead, you and Steve would never find true peace. His men would always follow you, probably take you down at the local coffee shop you and Peter frequented.

The thought of dying in front of Peter caused a lump to form in your throat. No, you wouldn’t do that to your friends. You couldn’t do this to Steve.

But you had to. Because even though your life will never be yours after this mission, you had to save the countless others your father was sure to touch and ruin.

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted the last piece of fruit.”

You looked at Steve then at the small piece of watermelon in the bowl, then back at Steve. He had a pen in between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked, and slightly puffy eyes due to the beer heavy sleep he had last night. You looked away as quickly as you could and stared back at the fruit, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

Ridiculous, you thought. Just looking at Steve had flustered you, squeezing your stomach in pleasurable pulses you hadn’t felt since high school. “No, no. You can have it,” you said, hoping your voice wouldn’t crack.

Ridiculous.

Steve watched you with a funny smile but he took your word and scooped up the last piece for himself.

No, you thought again, this man will not give me freaking butterflies.

It wasn’t like it was odd. Steve had you flustered countless times before, but it was never quite as tingly as it was now. You suddenly wanted to facetime Wanda and rant about these weird feelings; you wanted to curl in on yourself and squeal; you wanted to -

“He’s what?”

You sat on your knees and leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on your folded arms as you watched Steve pace around the common room. He was tugging at his dress shirt repeatedly, desperately trying to attach cufflinks without additional help. Sam sat right beside you, in the same position, snickering each time Steve cursed under his breath.

“He’s nervous,” Bucky smirked, arm holding out Steve’s tie for the past five minutes. Steve had paced beside him various times already, completely oblivious.

Steve groaned and readjusted his collar, snapping his head toward the three of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re sweating buckets, man,” Sam pointed out, one of his hands discreetly opening up his camera and switching to video.

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

Bucky threw his head back and cackled, choosing to grab Steve and steady him to finally put that damn tie around his neck. “Same old, Steve. Can’t accept that a dame would ever possibly like you back.”

“Hey, Steve don’t worry about it,” you started, shooting Steve a sympathetic look. Steve glanced back at you, expression swiftly changing due to your kind tone. “... when I was in high school,-”

Steve released a loud grunt, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Bucky’s hands.

Sam rolled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed, pulling you into him. The two of you shook from your laughs together.

“Guys,” Bucky warned, reaching for Steve in a ‘grabby’ motion. “Give him a break.”

Steve reluctantly stood beside Bucky again, head tilted upward as he tried wrapping the tie back around his neck.

None of you heard the entrance of Thor and his brother, too busy with bullying, laughter, or moderating.

“Did we miss all the fun?”

You shot up from the ground, kicking Sam away as you rushed across the floor and stumbled over the rug. “Thor!”

You rushed into his arms and he gripped you tightly, swinging you around and loud laughter matching yours.

“Now, why wasn’t I greeted in a similar manner?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

You pulled your face from Thor’s shoulder, “Oh, you want this too?”

You jumped back onto the floor and were about to jump into Loki’s arms, but he held his own out, stopping you. “It’s too late. It’s not the same.”

“Piss baby,” you quipped, rushing behind Thor for protection when Loki’s mouth dropped in surprise.

“Can everyone stop what they’re doing real quick and tell Steve his date is going to go well tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s favor, but he just raised his eyebrows, challenging you to disobey the order.

“The Captain has a date? Are they okay?”

Loki and you shared a comical gasp.

Steve gaped, “Now, what in the world does that mean, Thor?”

Thor raised his hands in defense, “I’m just asking if she truly knows what she’s getting herself into! Don’t try and tell me she has no idea who you are.”

Steve was back to groaning nonstop. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “I ask one thing of you guys. One thing.”

You stomped over to Steve and ripped the half-tied tie from his neck and smoothed down his collar. You patted down his shoulders and the front of his shirt, and gripped his shoulders to straighten his back.

“Now,” you smiled up at him. The breath caught in your throat for a second, the blue of his eyes shining under the ceiling lights and the pink of his cheeks spreading slowly. You let out a tiny sigh, heart fluttering faintly from the small grin he was giving you. He looked so innocent, a renaissance subject created from light oils, signs of true aging showing in his forehead. “Whatever date you got planned, she’s gonna love it.”

Steve relished in the feeling of your palms pressed against his chest for a few moments before he nodded at your declaration. He stepped back and smoothed down his shirt. “Wish me luck?”

A chorus of ‘good luck’s sounded as Steve found his keys and shared a goodnight hug with Sam and Bucky. They both jokingly reminded him to use protection.

You watched Steve leave, a newfound bounce in his step as he walked away. Your words had been so simple, so cliche, and yet he had dropped any visible nerves as he walked out the door. You weren’t the best motivational speaker, that was for sure, but the proof of at least an ounce of motivation was there. Maybe your words held a hidden meaning. Maybe.

You thought about him picking up this random woman, wine and dining her, kissing her cheek as he said his goodbyes at the end of the night. It was somewhat adorable to think about, but also weird.

Before you could dive more into the strange feeling, Thor’s voice sounded.

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

It’s like that snapped you from your trance, because next thing you knew you were back to your playful self, sprinting across the room and into Loki’s arms.

You cherished the slight, pleasant churn of your stomach as you watched him happily munch on the fruit.

Okay, it was normal to have a tiny crush on your mission partner. God knows how many times you wanted to jump Thor’s bones whenever you were undercover together. A crush was normal, completely natural and expected.

Except you had never gotten so much sane joy from a simple question of whether you wanted the last piece of fruit.

You blinked a few times and shook off any trace of overthinking devils, grabbing at random files to occupy your mind for a while. After about fifteen more minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke.

“So, we think Ramirez is gonna get straight up murdered?”

Steve snorted, filing through a pile of papers Torres had delivered this morning. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“But it’s just a theory at this point. We can’t just go in guns blazing without enough proof.”

“And if there is proof? Do we protect him? The original mission was to arrest all four men.”

You groaned, “I don’t know. He’s never done me wrong.”

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve squinted at you with a playful smile. “You’d rather just arrest the bad ones, huh?”

“Obviously what Ramirez is doing is illegal and it’s horrific to think of what might be happening behind the scenes on his side, but either he’s serious or he’s been putting on this good guy act for his whole life.”

“Leaning towards the first option?”

Shrugging, you leaned toward your computer screen and scrolled through the massive list of emails. “It’s what my gut tells me, but ehh.”

There was one random email from Maribel, but random only meant coded. Reading it over a couple times, humming to yourself in concentration, you finally cracked the code she was trying to send.

“Maribel says Ramirez acquired some land in Mexico… lots of it.”

Steve looked up from the files, “Any significance?”

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

Steve quickly typed key words that would alert him of any new transactions in the past few months. “Who’s on the title?”

“Just him. And his oldest daughter. My father must know, right?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh as he thought about what this could mean. “Ramirez acquiring more land means more of Ramirez’s product. A three-way partnership would be split unevenly if he utilizes the land.”

“Make sure Bucky alerts us of any business my father might have with realtors authorized to work in that area.”

It functioned like this for another hour, the two of you sharing bits of information every ten minutes or so.

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

You rubbed at your strained eyes, “What does he say?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “That he’s been in the country for much longer than his passport says.”

You stood from your seat and rushed to look at the same screen Steve was reading from. “He traveling under a fake name?”

“Customs says he returned to Germany,” Steve stated, highlighting a paragraph on the screen for you to easily read. “Four weeks ago.”

It was your turn to snort out a laugh, “Oh, he’s so setting up an alibi.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, voice raising an octave. “Look at us! Piecing together the puzzle!”

“We still got a few more pieces to attach before you go getting all cocky.”

You chuckled and decided to take a break. You speed walked over to your bed and plopped down, the mountain of pillows already relieving your tense muscles. “Hey, has my sister’s plane landed yet?”

Steve glanced at you quickly before pulling up Bucky’s morning emails. “Uh, landed about an hour ago.”

“She at the estate?”

He shrugged, “Torres hasn’t sent an update. Just her profile, hold up.”

You waved him off, a nonverbal way of telling him you seriously couldn’t care less. “I haven’t spoken to her since I joined you guys. You don’t gotta give me her origin story.”

“That long?” Steve questioned.

You placed a pillow beneath your head, body horizontal and facing Steve. “We were never that close. I’ve got tons of half-siblings. Most of them were adults when I was born, anyway.”

With just a few words exchanged, Steve realized he had just stepped through your metaphorical door of reminiscing. So he stood to lay in his own bed, the simple action of giving you attention enough to keep you talking, he hoped. “Were you alone a lot? Growing up, I mean.”

You watched as Steve also placed a pillow beneath his head, “There were always kids around. Kids of the maids, cousins, neighbors.”

“A full house, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, a small smile forming as you thought about old friends. “I remember this one time, we all ran into Ramirez when we were trying to get to one of the playrooms. But he grabbed me quickly and told me to not go in there.”

“Was it a threat?”

You grinned at his protective tone, “No, it was a warning. There were some really bad men in the other room. It was me and a few other girls. He told us to run back to my room and lock the door until he came to get us.”

Steve couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Ramirez joined the drug game. Sure, the function and presence of cartels had changed drastically over the last forty years, but it didn’t explain why he remained involved. In the eighties, the drug game was highly televised and spoken about, but the cartel violence was not as strong. Nowadays, and not even you could give a proper explanation, the violence was astronomical and basically advertised as something to expect when visiting certain countries. This was the mob game now, freaking Al Capone or the goddamn Godfather, absolutely meant to frighten whoever dare join or leave. For Ramirez to still be one of the big players even with that many internal changes, to be a good person in the middle of such hell, didn’t make any sense.

“He protected you.”

You clutched the pillow closer to your chest, the memory a good one even if it was weird. “Oh, yeah. Those guys he was warning us about were no angels.”

Steve gave an awkward smile, “I feel like I know more about your childhood than you know mine.”

“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me about little, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

He raised his index finger at you, “Hey, I was more than just my asthma.”

“Oh, excuse me. I totally forgot about your scoliosis.”

The pillow under his head was now flying across the small distance to your face. You shrieked and sent it back.

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

You shielded your face in case he decided to continue the pillow war. “What? I’ve got my health problems, too! I just don’t have the serum to help me out.”

But he didn’t throw it again. He repositioned himself on his back and placed both hands beneath his head, gracing the ceiling with a grin. “I remember this one time, Bucky and I were around eleven-years old, and I had this really bad asthma attack. Bucky just freaked out. I was choking and he was just holding me, screaming for help -”

You blinked, “This is really depressing, what are you-”

“-and! Bucky threw himself into a full-blown panic attack. So we were both choking on air, but I was starting to laugh at him freaking out, which only made him choke harder. We ended up throwing up.”

You were silent at the end of his short story, mouth open in a wide smile. “I don’t know what else to say other than that was one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard.”

Steve rolled over, a literal twinkle in his eye. “See? Don’t interrupt me before I get to the good parts.”

This simple moment catapulted the realization that Steve hasn’t spoken to you this much in two years, to the front of your mind. In these past four days, you had spoken like you had never stopped, like it was never awkward, like you two seriously didn’t need another person in the room to simply converse about what you wanted for breakfast. Yet here you were, more words exchanged in the past four days than you ever thought possible.

After the fallout, you didn’t say one full sentence to him for seven months. Seven months. He hadn’t attempted a conversation with you either, but you actively avoided him like he was infected. Hell, he even moved out of the compound and into his own apartment to get away from you for most of the day. After your forced reconciliation, the awkward apologies, you still didn’t force any open conversation. But it was easier, lighter, and most conversations involved mission information.

Talking this much now was so easy, so simple, like you didn’t need to force the comfort - there was already full comfort, a sense of community with this man.

He was so different from when he insulted you while you were packing, annoyed by the fact that you pried too much. And now you were prying into his childhood and him yours without a lick of annoyance on either side.

“We both had eventful childhoods, didn’t we?”

“What, with both of us in the middle of a war?” Steve asked, a genuine look on his face.

“Guess our wars never really left us, huh?”

There was a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting Torres again today. Steve muttered ‘room service, maybe’ under his breath as you went to open it. You were startled to find Scott standing outside, two massive suitcases in his hand.

“Oh my god, I forgot you were arriving today!”

Scott scoffed, “Am I not as important as your other friends?”

You laughed and helped him inside, “Stop! You’re one of my favorite bugs!”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll leave right now if you two decide to pile on me instead of each other.” Scott placed one of the suitcases near the door but the other at the edge of your bed.

“We’ll be nice,” Steve promised, standing to greet Scott with a hug.

“You better. Catch me up, please?”

The suitcase contained your outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Whoever was in charge of costumes definitely went all out, hoping their work would make the big fight the most fashionable. Steve was given a perfectly tailored suit, navy blue and velvet. It was lined with vibranium, inside pockets covered with it. That would certainly be handy if you were forced to walk through metal detectors - vibranium couldn’t be detected. His suit for the rehearsal dinner was a lot simpler, the custom black and white aesthetic, but still protected with vibranium.

Your clothes were certainly not styled to match Steve’s, giving you a sense of individuality. It was perfect really - it would allow you to leave Steve’s side, if necessary, when the mission called for you to split up. Your rehearsal dinner outfit was two parts: a black, velvet long-sleeved shirt, slight turtleneck, and gold cuffs. It was joined by a long gold skirt, high-waisted, the front shorter than the back and sides more curled than ruffled. You would have to wear tights underneath, but it was beautiful. Vibranium was also stitched in for added protection. Your dress for the actual wedding, however, was a total knockout. Red, spaghetti strap, tight on top but loose once it reached your hips, a long slit on the left side. They were even kind enough to give you a pair of heels to match.

Yeah, Steve was Captain America and his appearance will shock the guests, but your attire will definitely be the second topic in gossip.

Scott was filing through the same papers you and Steve had reviewed earlier, a bowl of potato chips at his side. And it was peaceful - you and Steve even had the chance to nap.

“So, you’re gonna see Jackeline at the rehearsal dinner?”

You wiped the remnants of your nap from your face and groaned as you stretched, “She’ll probably be busy tomorrow when we go for breakfast, so yeah.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes practically attached to the computer screen. “And… she’s the one getting married?”

His tone started to worry Steve, “Yes, Scott. You good?”

Scott piled a handful of potato chips in his mouth, finger clicking the mouse every few seconds. His eyes were now wide, blinks forgotten. “Jackeline Vega. Jackeline.”

Steve ignored him now, “Hey, why isn’t your last name Vega?”

As much as you wanted to share about how and why you changed your last name, Scott’s demeanor interested you more. “Changed it when I became an American citizen - Scott, what’s up?”

He let out a tiny squeak, swallowing his snack quickly. “And she’s your father’s favorite?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

Scott released a huge huff of air, shoulders falling as he raised his voice and turned the monitor to face you. “Think he knows anything about this?”

The photograph was blurry because it was enhanced, but you could still make out the face of a sister you hadn’t seen in years. Older, still with teenage features obviously, and tossed on what looked like a church alter-

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

Scott finished his sentence for him, “Fucking a priest?”

You covered your mouth in shock, “Oh my god, she’s fucking a priest!”

Bent on the literal church altar, skirt bunched around her hips, head thrown back in ecstasy and face in full view. And the damned priest, in between her legs and under the eyes of god.

“That’s why I asked!”

Steve clutched at his chest, head thrown back as he howled, “I think you were wrong about your sister.”

Now your eyes were glued to the screen, “Oh, I was fuck all from correct!”

Scott cleared his throat, “Is the priest… her fiance?”

Steve came down from his laugh attack, “I highly doubt that, Scott.”

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

You grinned at Scott, “For what? Painting her out to look like the most sinful whore? I might just congratulate her.”

Steve stared at you, judging almost. “For fucking a priest?”

“For proving me wrong. She’s not so innocent after all,” you responded, cheeks strained from how wide you were smiling.

“Clearly. This is… actually badass,” Scott admitted, turning the monitor back to him.

You teased, singing your next words. “Don’t let the Lord and Savior hear that.”

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Anyway, that’s gotta be one the worst sins to commit, right?”

Steve’s expression contorted from annoyance to disbelief. “We’ve literally killed people.”

“Pfft, but we’re not fucking priests. Right?”

Scott answered, nodding quicker than he needed to. “Right.”

“You’re literally asking that?”

You pressed your lips into a fine line and tilted your head at Steve. “Steve?”

He glared at you for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not fucking any priests.”

Your response was immediate, “Alright! I gotta hand it to her, though. Who took the photo?”

Scott went back to fishing through the emails. “Some sleazy magazine that never got around to actually printing these out.”

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically.

Steve continued, “You honestly think he would support her doing that?”

You shrugged and scurried back over to your unmade bed. “Not my problem.”

Scott interjected, “Okay, okay. How’s tomorrow gonna work?”

Steve answered first, “Well, we’re driving out around eight.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching over to unplug your phone from the charger. “Scott, you’ll just ride on one of our backs as we walk through the estate.”

“I kind of want to ride Y/N’s back this time.”

You snorted, “Now that doesn’t sound sexual at all.”

He hid his face in his hands, “You know, I heard it once I said it.”

“Course you did.”

Steve jumped back into the conversation, Scott’s embarrassment seeming to grow under the weird tension. “Then you’ll hop off and plant the bugs wherever you feel like they’re needed.”

“Easy peasy!” you cheered.

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

Steve nodded, “That’s what they said.” He looked over at you, scrolling through your phone and already smiling at something you found funny. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “You know they can be out here in under an hour if we seriously need them.”

You glanced over at Steve, his sincerity greatly appreciated. “I know. But all my faith is in Scott here.”

Scott moaned quietly, “Oh… no, let’s not put all the faith in me because I can’t handle that responsibility.”

You propped yourself up onto your elbows, “You saying I can’t trust you?”

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all-!”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the man, a sheen of nervous sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Scott.”

Scott lowered his hands from his chest, “O-oh. She’s messing with me, huh?”

You chuckled and laid back down. “You’re so easy.”

The easygoing atmosphere for the next few hours almost had you believing you were on vacation, away from the bad guys and space aliens for just a moment. Almost like you weren’t in the middle of a drug war, a mob business, the literal daughter of a king. Scott had that effect, his personality such a sweet refresher and such a contrast to every soul in the compound.

Thor and Peter were also sweethearts and fun was always expected when they were around, but Scott had this different vibe. Maybe it was because he was relatively new, or that he had a child, or that he hadn’t suffered the same five years as everyone else did. Like he wasn’t yet tainted.

“You guys mind if I run a job inside a job?”

Your head snapped up at Scott’s crazy question, “You stealing something?”

To run a job inside a job was risky. There was no exact plan to keep both missions balanced, to somehow rank the other more important. You prayed it wasn’t something insane.

Scott chuckled under his breath, already grabbing his jacket and suitcase by the door. “No, I’m not stealing something. Hank needs me to speak to some guy he’s doing negotiations with about a space for a new lab headquarters.”

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

“Nah, the dude is vacationing out here for the time being. The lab will be in San Francisco again.”

You squinted at him, still cautious. “Where you meeting him?”

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

Steve spoke before you did, similar thoughts running through his mind. “You check with Torres? We don’t know who might randomly show up there.”

Scott tried his best to reassure you, “Yeah, he said they’re following every car that leaves the premises and travels more than thirty minutes away. None of Ernesto’s men have been spotted further up north.”

You sighed. You didn’t want another member of your team to venture out in this area, let alone this goddamn state, without your eyes on them. You were protective, the proximity of your outside world with the one you had spent ten years building too suffocating of a reality.

Still, you told Scott goodbye with a steady voice. “Then enjoy your dinner, Scott.”

His voice picked up again, that childish and upbeat feeling wrapping you around his finger. “You guys wanna come with? I’m sure you’re sick of icky hotel food.”

Steve waved him off, “It’s actually not that bad-”

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

You laughed, “That sounds nice, Scott but we can stay here-”

“Three-cheese pastas.”

“Scott, you can try all you want but-”

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

You shared a look at Steve, puckering your lips at the suggestion.

“.... We’ll sit far away from your table, okay?”

Scott opened the hotel door and started sprinting down the hallway. “I knew I could persuade you with that! C’mon!”

California at night was a death trap. Potholes on every stretch of asphalt, construction halted for who knows how long, random opossums lingering in the shadows just waiting to get hit by tires. It was prettier during the day - less of a ‘lead me into this forest, yes, kill me’ vibe.

You chilled in the backseat while Scott drove you guys to the restaurant. You had texted Bucky where you were planning to go, the message activating the group text chain.

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

Y/N: tf Bucky? You bet against me?

“You sure you two are good?”

The restaurant looked quiet considering it was a Wednesday night, but it was still crowded. There was a short line extending out the door and a… bouncer. You sucked in a breath and smacked Scott in the chest once you were out of the car.

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

Scott rubbed his chest, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Restaurant slash bar!”

“We eating with the Italian mob now? I can only handle one mob at a time, Scott.”

You nodded rapidly, pointing at Steve. “I agree with him!”

“Not every place has bad guys!”

You groaned and reluctantly stood at the back of line, pulling Steve’s hat lower on his forehead. It wasn’t like people couldn’t take one long, hard look at him and not know who he was, anyway.

“Can you guys just… enjoy a night out?”

“While on a mission?”

“While living your long lives. God, Y/N, you getting old already?”

Your mouth dropped, “I’m twenty-six and I’m not complaining about a nice dinner, Scott.” You pointed at the bouncer. “I’m worried about the fact that our ID’s are gonna be checked.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “Yeah, that.”

“Next.”

You shot Steve a worried look but handed the bouncer your driver’s license. He just looked at the date of birth and moved you along. “Next.”

Scott handed him his, doing his best to smile proudly while the bouncer scanned him up and down. “Next.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” Scott joked, standing next to you in the far corner of the entrance.

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

The bouncer took one look at Steve’s ID and gasped. Steve looked anywhere but the bouncer’s eyes, his bottom lip suffering the abuse of his incisors.

“Cap-Captain?”

Steve gave a sheepish grin, lowering his cap further. “Uh, yeah.”

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose.

“Would like it a lot more if you could lead us to a table with as much privacy as you can offer.”

You had to hand it to Steve for taking advantage of situations like this.

The bouncer agreed immediately, speaking with the manager and promising discretion. The manager said it was no problem, that it was the least he could do for you guys after you brought his son back to him after those rough five years.

The restaurant offered a somewhat real Italian setting, awarding their guests with as much real scenery and architecture it could. You could only compare it to the Venetian in Vegas as you had never actually been to Italy, but the live band and garlic smell was enough to transport you.

The lights were low, older couples enjoying the food and wine, and there was a small bar near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t really a place for some shady business, but years of experience let you know that wasn’t always the case. It was second nature to eye women reaching into their purses, only to pull out a pack of gum. Second nature to wince at the sound of a loud laugh cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

As promised, you were led to a more private area of the restaurant, closer to the bar than to the band.

“Go run the job, Scott. We’ll just be enjoying our unlimited breadsticks,” you said, letting out a heavy and relaxed sigh as you settled into the private booth.

“That hat isn't really hiding those broad shoulders, Cap,” Scott laughed, slapping Steve on the back.

Steve slid into the same booth, ignoring the completely empty seat across from you. “Thanks, Scott. I’m aware.”

You tried to hide your blush as you squeezed deeper in your seat. Scott noticed though, side eyeing Steve who was none the wiser. “You know, I told him that he should have used those facial changing things SHIELD used to have.”

Steve grabbed the offered utensils and started unwrapping them from their napkins.

“What are we if not superheroes who think a baseball cap and glasses hide our identities?” you teased, shooting Scott a quick wink.

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

You giggled and grabbed the napkin he had unwrapped for you. “I’d argue Thor is more like Superman, but okay.”

“How am I not more like Superman? What-”

“Uh, guys? I see the dude so I’m gonna go. You two enjoy your meal,” Scott interrupted, running off to a booth located toward the middle of the restaurant.

You sat for a few awkward moments before you squinted and looked at Steve, who was sitting to your left and way too close. “Are we annoying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you spoke with your hands, “you and I bicker a lot because we love to annoy each other but you think it gets on other people’s nerves?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with yours. “Do you really care if it does?”

That blush of yours was starting to feel warmer. “No, just wondering if you felt that way.”

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

“Oh,” you smiled, looking down at your lap. “I quite liked it more a few years back but you know.”

He immediately tensed, body leaning away from you as if you were burning him. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “Sorry, that was low.”

He sighed deeply, “No, I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

You took a risk and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. The kind gesture seemed to calm him, and he looked back at you. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

He accepted that, and handed you the menu.

The hotel food was grand, it did its job of filling you up and providing the necessary nutrients, but there was just something about the carbs in pasta and bread. It ignited the food critic inside you, because now you were cursing the hotel chef and dreading having to order breakfast in the morning. No, dinner. You were having breakfast with your father tomorrow.

Scott was busy conducting his own business, bluetooth turned off but still glancing over his shoulder once in a while to check on you guys. Each time he did, he felt butterflies flutter in his breadstick-filled stomach. It was the first time he had seen the two of you so carefree, let alone with each other, and it was the most refreshing thing in the world.

Steve was in the middle of telling another childhood story, his main plate already finished and practically licked clean. But the unlimited breadsticks were coming out by the pound, a new stick in each of your hands every five minutes.

“I swear, she loved Bucky more than me!”

You covered your mouth and chewed, careful to not let anything through because of your giggle fit. “Steve! Your mother did not!”

Steve wiped at his under eye, clutching his chest as he continued explaining. “Bucky was always around and my mom would just linger every second she wasn’t working!”

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

“No, I mean she must have loved him like her own! Bucky was your best friend, your only friend. She probably thought of him like an angel sent from God!” you clarified.

Steve smiled wider at your cheesy explanation. They were happy memories, joyful ones that he would often think about while writing or drawing.

He continued with a soft confession. “I really wish I could see her again.”

You leaned your temple on your palm, “From everything you’ve shared with me, she sounds lovely.”

“She would have loved you.” The blush was back, and so was Steve’s, almost like those words were supposed to be kept in the back of his head. He cleared his throat. “God, she was so destroyed when Bucky first got his orders.”

“Was Bucky scared?”

“Scared? Absolutely fucking terrified. We talked about running away and changing our names so he didn’t have to go.”

The draft was such a horrible practice. The fact that men still had to enlist and hope no ‘necessary’ war was upon them. It was quite reassuring to know most of those men wouldn’t have to see battle today, they were given a choice, and there were agencies that managed people who could, like the Avengers.

“Steve…”

Steve just hummed softly, “Life in the forties, am I right?

Your voice also got quieter. “Why didn’t you run away?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, swallowing the last of his bread. “We tried. Got all the way to the edge of town before Bucky’s dad wrung us both back to kick our asses.”

Almost out of instinct, you gripped his hand again. You rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles, knuckles that hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in so long. There wasn’t much danger in the world nowadays, just small missions here and there. It wasn’t like the team was itching for another alien invasion. But these periods of well needed rest were odd, periods where bruises completely healed up and little pockets of weight were gained. Steve’s knuckles were soft, only having seen the ends of paintbrushes for a long while.

“...Where’s your mother?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you had to repeat the question in your own head a couple times.

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway.

“But is it a story you need to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t want to push too hard. The long pause in your relationship definitely didn’t soften this blow, and it only added to the strings of resistance. If you decided not to tell Steve about this, Steve would have to accept it. If anything, this was one of the toughest questions to ask someone when all you’ve been doing is ignoring them for two years.

“Not really much to get rid of.”

He nodded, only a slight hint of disappointment laced within his words. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Natasha was the only one with any knowledge of your mom. There was never an actual moment in which you freely spoke of her - inserting her likeness, her person, back into some alternate and fucked-up reality - you kept her legacy dead. It was obvious she hadn’t enjoyed this part of her life, no doubt it absolutely killed her to leave you trapped in it, so keeping her dead, even in conversation, was a favor.

But one drunken night and you were showing Natasha the one photo you had of her, stuffed deep in your wallet and crinkled beyond repair. Her black hair to her shoulders, lip liner a darker shade than her lipstick, hands intertwined behind her back as she arched forward in a playful tilt, shooting the camera a smile that was stuck around the word she was saying as the candid was taken. There was no recorded voice but you had a record of her movement, frozen in time.

Steve’s sincerity grasped you by the literal roots of your hair, because next thing you knew you were spilling the first thought you had.

“She was twenty-three. Working as a real estate agent, very beautiful, and she was engaged. To an American.”

Steve chuckled around his champagne glass, “Was that bad?”

You grinned at that, like he was already fully and deeply invested in your story. “Not necessarily. But everyone knew she was taken.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted to buy some houses. Saw her, wanted her, tried persuading her into going on a date. Nothing really worked, she didn’t accept his money or gifts.”

Steve fumbled over his next words. “Did she eventually?”

“No, but her brother did. My father didn’t know it was her brother, so he thought she was accepting them. Got mad when she still refused his advances.”

He was digesting this little by little. Steve had heard horror stories of girls he grew up with, forced to marry at a young age when they were caught in a passionate moment with a man, or when they ended up pregnant. Bucky and his mother had always instructed him to treat women with respect, to never intentionally or accidentally ruin their reputation, to protect and use his voice to stand up for them. And although women weren’t getting frisky with him when he was all but ninety pounds at the ripe age of twenty, that didn’t stop Steve from exchanging a few words and punches with men who had no right. “How did they end up together?”

You shrugged, reaching over for another breadstick. “No one knows. He invited her to a party one day and she didn’t come back for a whole week. Next thing her family knows she’s engaged to my father and no longer with the love of her life.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, her family had no choice but to accept that. Her poor fiance, though.”

“Where is he now?”

Steve had this weird hope that the fiance may still be alive somewhere, waiting for your mother to find him. But that was just the hopeless romantic emerging.

You sighed deeply, “My father told my mother he killed him. My mother believed him.”

“So, he’s still alive? He didn’t hurt him?”

“Apparently he’s still kicking, yeah. But my mom became severely depressed from that lie.”

The restaurant felt colder and the air became thinner. Steve didn’t want his next thought to be true. “She didn’t...?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, she found out he was alive.” Even if you weren’t witness to it, you could still imagine your mother charting the areas she would have to run and swim through to get away. Wasn’t like it was a heartfelt thought, but the mere fact that she had that much determination to risk her life for love, it was somewhat therapeutic to think about. Like it was genuinely satisfying to imagine her defying your father. Still, your face drooped as you gave Steve the sad conclusion. “She didn’t even make it across the border before he had her killed for betraying him.”

His face fell in time with yours, “Fuck.”

“She left me with Maribel’s mother. But my father found me and told me she had an accident. Didn’t find out the truth until I was thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You shoved his shoulder with yours, a light chuckle cutting through the sad moment. “Not like you had a hand in this, Steve. It’s just my life.”

You were used to Steve’s generosity, his ability to make any person feel a part of his family - you had been on the receiving end of his sincerity for the past week now. But as you held his gaze, his body seemingly towering over yours, your chest flushed with such warmness, a tranquil promise of safety. He leaned forward, breath hitting your cheeks, hand still gripping yours.

“Not anymore. We’ll end this, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll end this.”

You took a risk and rested your forehead on his, his continuous promise still causing your stomach to twist pleasurably. “How’d we get so sad all of a sudden?” You pushed away and threw your arms in the air. “We need more breadsticks!”

Steve laughed loudly, the private booth still providing somewhat of a thin curtain to the other diners. “No, we need mints!”

Rolling your eyes, you blew your breath at Steve teasingly. “Weak.”

Steve groaned, “You and Scott are not getting into the car without chewing on a mint.”

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

“I’m gonna fight you if you force the mint on me.”

He was reaching into his jacket and pulling the small case out. He winked at you. “I’ll win.”

He popped open the cap and held it out to you. He didn’t tip it though, as if he was waiting for you to extend your palm. Everything was silent for a minute, eyes challenging one another.

He could easily lean in. He could easily just tilt his head a little to his left and capture your lips with his. Every damn molecule in his body was telling him to do it, every bubble from that champagne somehow giving him some extra courage.

Your breath hitched slightly, and he leaned away. I’m such a coward, he thought.

You reacted swiftly, disguising the awkwardness. “You’re right, give me the mint. You should swallow like three.”

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

But you didn’t ruin the moment. And he just blamed you for it. Like he had already established - he was a coward.

You grabbed the mints he offered and popped them into your mouth. “What moment? I didn’t see any moment.”

Okay, he could just lean in right now and hope the mint freshness in your mouth would mask the garlic in his. Yeah, he could just lean in and do what he’s been thinking of doing for the last day and a half-

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

Steve almost shot from his seat, “Jesus fucking christ, Scott!”

Scott slid into the seat across from you. “You scare easily. Let’s get dessert!”

You were too flustered. Fine, okay. You’ll play along. If the gods want to reward you with this fun Steve, the Steve you were closest to years ago, then so be it. You’ll bite. And if he wants to resort back to his bitchy self, his hermit behavior, then you’ll fight him then.

Scott ordered so much dessert.

So much.

The little moment you had with Steve was still fresh, you could sense he was thinking about it too, but you opted to simply enjoy the night out. You were here with two friends, protection was just a phone call away, and you were safe.

Perhaps Scott had the same effect on Steve that he had on you. Absolutely demolished his ‘Captain’ self and released the guy who simply wanted to enjoy a mini road trip with his friends.

You were barely fifteen minutes into your ride home when Scott lowered the windows and turned the radio up high.

“Woohoo!”

You screamed over the loud roar of the wind, “Scott, it’s fucking freezing!”

Scott yelled back, “We just had three desserts each! Your blood should be running warm!”

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

Steve, surprisingly, agreed with Scott. “Enjoy it!”

Your mouth dropped open and you followed Steve’s movements as he turned the radio higher.

The music blared and you were about to protest again, the air literally nipping at your sensitive cheeks, but the song that started was a non-skip.

You would indulge in this childishness once.

Once.

You reached around the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in place. “Ah, California radio giving us the classics!”

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher.

You swayed in your seat and sang along with Scott. “Bidi bidi bom bom!”

Scott pointed at you and recited the lyrics, “Bidi, bidi!��

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

Even with his eyes on the road, Scott was nailing some good dance moves in his seat. You both sang each lyric with your heart and soul, laughs escaping during the guitar breaks.

Steve just enjoyed the show. He didn’t know the song, the melody a foreign one for him, but it must have been popular for both you and Scott to know it. He watched you sway in your seat, hands dancing and voice matching the volume of the radio. Just the other night, you had mentioned how you never sang anymore.

But here you were, singing through the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen.

He missed the sound of it. He missed hearing you sing in your room, no doubt you were dancing too since he usually heard your feet shuffling against your carpet. He missed the innocence you would casually portray, an invitation for anyone to befriend you. He missed teasing you lightly, and he regretted the roughness of his voice years later. He missed just walking into the common area and finding you there, cooking for yourself and anyone who wanted a plate - that plate usually for him. He missed you.

You were right here, voice hitting those octaves Steve didn’t think he would ever hear again. You were right here, and he missed you.

Scott was staying in a separate room. The dessert and alcohol had run right through him, and he bid you goodnight after he threatened to plop down in your bed if you invited him in.

The sound of Scott’s retreating footsteps seemed to suck all the air from the vents at once, whispering its song lovingly in your ear. It was both refreshing and terrifying to be left alone because now here you were, standing outside your hotel door with the super soldier you had gone to Hell and back with.

You inwardly cringed, the tightness in your chest sending your childish ass back to sophomore year of college. A first date, the lost promise of another - a proper teenage reaction to a crush. But this man in front of you wouldn’t let you delete his number from your phone; he wouldn’t avoid eye contact in the dining hall; he wouldn’t sit at the back of the lecture hall just to keep a necessary distance.

Granted, Elijah - poor, frightened Elijah - had seen you literally kidnap someone off the street under your father’s orders. This being before you went straight and moral, before you had met Fury, before SHIELD training. You were to blame for that sprouting relationship going south pretty quickly. So you avoided him, too - praying Ernesto or Seda could never track him.

But Steve, beautiful Steve who reloaded your guns when you couldn’t, who jumped in front of stray bullets for you and those he loved, Steve who very quietly asked you for various salsa recipes when he was in the mood to cook. Here he was, eyes also watching Scott walk away, no doubt experiencing the same tight coil within his chest. He hadn’t run, he had worked and fought with and against you, and he wasn’t running away.

No, Steve Rogers never ran.

The low beep from the hotel lock snapped you from your thoughts. You sensed his hesitance because when your history was truly reviewed with the most unbiased of minds, there was absolutely no reason to overthink. Hell, when you ran through the halls of Thor’s Asgardian palace with Rocket tailing you, the first joke out your mouth was how Steve would probably instruct you to respect a place like that and speed walk. Your first thought when starting the pilot episode of a new show is to wait for Bucky… and Steve, who would pop the kernels over the stove and add real salt and butter.

His first thought as he helped load people onto the planes in Sokovia was that your whiny ass better be on one of them. Or when Steve regrouped in the support circle, his first thought before he continued the discussion was that he really hoped you would walk through those doors and join - until one day you did.

Whether the two of you recognized the severity of your unspoken feelings, they were there. Silent and at a gradual increase. Never rushed, not entirely obvious because of the temporary roadblocks of unnecessary separation.

Steve was here in front of you, like he always was, and he was wearing the smallest nervous smile you had ever seen.

And you were here in front of him, like you always were, and he could not entirely read the mixed emotions on your delicate face.

You shuffled alongside your bed, stopping to shrug out of the heavy jacket you had on. “We should turn in early so we can be well-rested, in case we gotta fight tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in agreement but remained silent, hovering near the coffee table and monitors. Your back was facing him and he just watched you fumble with your boots and belt. It was like your back was on fire, bursting with fueled flames as you could literally feel his gaze boring into you. The overwhelming urge to simply snap and ask him what the hell he was looking at was strong, so in character, but you refrained. It was too intimate, too quiet, but before you could even ask him if he wanted the shower first, the warmth of his chest was near, inches away and calling.

Your breath hitched, shoulders rising slightly and exactly what Steve needed to witness. It was awkward for him to just stand behind you with no actual intention of touching you first - no, he needed a proper signal. So Steve waited those few precious seconds more until you turned, sun-kissed by the California sun and hair no longer in tight curls, before he glanced down at your glossy lips. You followed his eyesight, all knowing in his intentions, and you glanced at his lips as well.

A gesture of approval.

Steve pulled you in, both hands settling on your cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of your mouth. He watched them dance and how your mouth parted slightly in response. He looked back up, studying the small crease forming in between your eyebrows and the pinch of water filling the inside corners of your eyes.

His thumbs felt like a gentle sigh, a promise of a sweet caress in both the daytime and dead of night. Although all his focus was on you, his own features reacted to the moment. His lips were also parted, sweet breath with the scent of those classic tiramisu’s he had devoured, touching the tip of your nose and equally trembling lips.

So goddamn intimate that you found yourself internally cursing those sitcoms Wanda had forced you to binge watch. Because the two love interests, albeit they had several months or years of growing tension, rushed into their first kiss for the sake of limited airtime. They didn’t prepare you for practically a ten-year build-up, a relationship that was both heavily work and friend related, the slowness of such a moment fans would most certainly be jumping out of their seats for. No, nothing could have prepared you for the warmth of Steve Rogers.

Your Captain.

You registered the soft feeling of his lips as they pressed against yours, overlapped only slightly. Eyes now fully closed in surprise and pleasure, you leaned into it more, hands placed on Steve’s rising chest. The squeeze of his hands cupping your cheeks caused your lips to pucker more, but you were relaxed in his desperate touch. He tilted his head a little to the left, your lips sliding against each other’s and noses bumping. Steve frowned in concentration, pouring whatever emotions he had felt throughout the last few years into this one kiss, and he knew he couldn’t possibly fully portray them. And almost as quickly as you thought about how sweet and innocent of a kiss this was, Steve’s tongue slowly peaked out from behind his teeth and greeted your bottom lip.

His tongue traced over your bottom lip warmly, welcomed by yours as you followed his lead. God, you would always follow his lead.

You tried to move in closer, but your elbows were already bent fully against him and his hips were only a few inches from your greedy ones. One tiny step forward and you would be completely flushed against him - but you chose to respect the distance Steve created.

You let out a quiet whine, body shuddering as Steve applied more pressure. It was as if Steve had never heard such a sound - completely unexpected and causing him to pause momentarily. He leaned away a little, lips still barely kissing yours. He opened his eyes, gaze wandering from your flushed cheeks still squeezed between his palms and to your fluttering eyelids. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he debated leaning forward again, to be selfish for once and to pass forth the trophy for ‘waiting too long’. But as you opened your eyes, no trace of regret or hate swimming inside your irises, Steve froze.

You were his friend. His friend who teased him about the paint streaks across his forehead, who followed his lead no matter how ridiculous the order.

He didn’t want you to inspect him further as well, so he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. It was only then that he felt you settle back down from your tippy-toes.

You gulped loudly, throat dry and lips instantly craving him again. “Steve…”

Steve let go of your face and dragged his hands lightly down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head slightly, his breath now kissing your cheek. Although your cheeks were red, the absence of Steve’s palms made them cold.

He took a small step back, hands straining to stay on your skin as he reluctantly pulled them away. The absence of any warmth finally woke you from that intense daze and you frowned at Steve as he pulled away altogether. The instinct to reach out was there, and you cursed yourself for being so clingy.

“Steve?” you called again, voice hoarse but light enough to pinch at Steve’s fast beating heart.

He looked up and locked eyes with your confused ones. Oh, you’re gonna hate him for this.

He gave you a small and kind smile, one you had seen plenty of times when he was actually enjoying your company. He backed up to the door, gaze never leaving yours even as he reached for the handle and key card.

And he wanted to bring his hands back to your face to rub away that wrinkle between your furrowing eyebrows. But he simply opened the door and left you standing near the edge of your bed, flushed with a deep sense of longing and growing confusion.

Steve already knew the amount of heat he would receive from the moment gossip of the kiss spread. Whether he was first to tell or you were. Bucky’s going to kick his ass, for sure, no doubt about it. No matter his bond with Bucky, it could never excuse leaving you alone to unravel this situation. You had this hold over Bucky, a soft mutual understanding of mental torture, so this inevitable ass kicking would be justified. Plus, after years of being rejected over and over, mostly in the forties, Bucky might just kick his ass for simply being a dumbass.

But Steve felt calm, an added relaxation due to the whiskey cooling in his hand. If there was anything Steve was an expert in, it was overthinking. You two had that in common - were you overthinking while absentmindedly watching TV? Overthinking while rubbing shampoo into your scalp? Overthinking while angrily stomping your way down to the hotel bar to hand his ass back over to him?

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see you burst through the doors.

“Anyone wanna start?”

Steve glanced around the circle of familiar and new faces. The group varied each week. Some people would try, share their anecdotes about lost loved ones, only to never show up for another session. Others often attended and never spoke, but they kept returning. Steve didn’t judge their choices - he couldn’t. No matter how many mornings he wanted to crawl back under the sheets and binge eat packaged foods, he never could. He had been at this job for two years. There was both pain and satisfaction in what he did. Sam would be doing this if he were here.

And he had to do this for Sam.

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

Steve looked over at the man who spoke first, a long-time member of this particular support group, and grimaced at his confession. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty, no wrinkles or gray hair, and he was ending a two-year marriage.

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

The man, Michael, shrugged sadly, “We still love each other, man. But seeing your newborn disintegrate in your arms does something to your soul that’s just… we both knew we needed to move on. Even if it was from each other.”

Steve squeezed the small, red stress ball in his hand and tried to offer more condolences and a kind smile, but it came out rather painful. He opted to stay silent in case Michael wanted to continue. Instead, another member decided to comment.

It went like this for almost an hour with Steve adding in his empathetic words of wisdom whenever he saw appropriate. It was good for everyone to share so openly, to carry the conversation with minimal involvement from Steve. Steve had shared snippets of his story with the group awhile back, careful to not mention the gruesome specifics. He had let out as much as he was able, not as much as he would have liked, but his main job was to facilitate. Besides, Steve went to confession every month to talk to someone - anyone - even if he wasn’t necessarily Catholic. But that’s just the thing - no one knew who they were anymore.

The sound of a scraping chair leg caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the entrance in search of the disruption. You paused in your movements, face scrunched in embarrassment. Opening one eye, you mouthed a quick apology and rushed to carry the chair to the circle.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Subway was a bitch,” you muttered, your embarrassed smile growing wider.

For over a year, Steve had subtly urged you to attend one of these meetings. He was witness to your nightmares, your destructive solo missions that even Friday had no records of, and your sudden breakdown last week. You were casually jogging around the outdoor track when you suddenly stopped and fell to your knees, broken sobs seeming to shake the trees around you. You were crouched for a good minute before Steve had seen you wipe your eyes and continue your jog. As if nothing happened.

To see you here, whether to share or to listen, prompted the proud and erratic beating of Steve’s heart.

“It’s completely fine. Time’s almost up but we still got time for you.”

You sent Steve a funny smile, amused by his professional tone. “Uh, yeah! A friend convinced me to come. He was pretty persuasive.”

Steve blushed, head tilting downward.

You introduced yourself and let the group know you were also an Avenger. No one seemed shocked and you were suddenly grateful for this mixture of people.

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling.

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” you started, thumbs dancing in your lap. “And I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Steve sat up straight, eyebrows scrunching as he listened intently.

You sighed, wetting your lips briefly. “The day before the snap, I was supposed to die.”

You wanted to avoid Steve’s gaze until the right moment. You continued, “I went on a mission to Mexico. Alone, which was completely against protocol but hey, we broke a lot more rules than that.”

Steve cleared his throat which earned a chorus of chuckles from the group.

“And I was technically on house arrest but I found out a way to temporarily disable that ankle monitor,” you added, grinning from the laughs you were receiving.

“Anyway, all my potential backup was nonexistent. I had friends on the run,” you paused, glancing at Steve with a somber expression. “And other friends literally fighting another battle on their home planet somewhere in space. So, I went alone.”

“While I was bleeding out from a bullet my own father ordered, Tony was already up in space. Loki was already dead.”

You hoped no one commented on Loki’s role in your life. He wasn’t exactly a nice figure to suddenly name drop in New York, but he was important in your grief.

It was slightly unnerving to be on display here, but you weren’t exactly planning on returning. You just needed to rant.

“I stitched myself up the best I could in that quinjet - which I almost crashed,” you muttered, smirking at Steve. “Sorry, Cap.”

“This is the first time I've heard you flew. You’re not even authorized to fly,” Steve declared, face scrunched in confusion and astonishment.

“That’s not important,” you teased. “But the stitches were messy work. Horrible criss-crosses.”

Steve was in a tiny state of shock. He had known what happened to you, but to hear you talk so casually about the day before the world went to shit - it just made it more real.

You had mentioned before that you never dreamed about the snap, but about everything leading up to it.

“I woke up, betrayed yet again by my own blood, and Steve was suddenly there after two years. We were gonna fight an outside threat.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed lightly, “I was still healing but I was on the battlefield. Stayed close to Nat most of the time.”

The group was heavily invested in your retelling. “I couldn’t fight him, obviously. But I did see him. I saw how he ripped that stone from my friend’s head.”

A few winces sounded around the circle.

“I guess I feel immense guilt. Like, I could have done something more even though realistically, I couldn’t. Kinda feels like I sat back and watched my friend’s die.”

No one spoke, but it was obvious everyone had survivor’s guilt.

“And now, I’m living with the pain of having all three of my best friends stripped from me while also celebrating the fact that the snap took my father.”

Shrugging, you gave your last sad smile to the group. “I feel guilty for what happened while also being grateful it took someone who deserved it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Steve spoke. “You’re here today to tell your story. No one has to agree or disagree with you. It’s your story. Tell it like it is.”

You chuckled, “I could easily bother Steve with this at the compound.” You smiled at the teenager clutching what looked like a stuffed animal in his lap. “But I had nothing else to do tonight. My only friends are gone.”

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

This time it was Michael that spoke, his eyes bouncing from you to Steve. You turned to Steve for some kind of answer. Was it a yes? Were you more like coworkers than true friends?

Steve’s eyes softened and his kind smile was back.

You answered, “I guess. I did come here for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept his light-hearted tone, “I’m really glad you did.”

Steve backtracked, clearing his throat as he addressed the circle. “I’m really glad all of you did. Same time next week.”

You busied yourself with stacking the chairs and dusting off your pants. Once most of the group had left, Steve gathered his things and walked over to you. “You take the subway?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you stacked the final chair high. “I did. You drive?”

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not staying at your place tonight?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen Nat in a week. I should pay her a visit.”

He curled his jacket around your shoulders as you exited the building. You held it tightly, relishing in the comfort. The walk back to the car was quiet but not awkward. After such a heavy night, silence was most definitely needed. And just the comfort of being around someone you trusted added to the relaxation aspect of it all.

Steve kicked a loose piece of gravel to the street. You watched him for a few seconds before you spoke, voice light and a puff of cold air escaping your lips.

“Steve?”

He turned to you and waited for you to continue speaking.

“You know Sam would be so proud of you doing this, right?”

Steve watched the cold air leave his own lungs as well. He felt the weight of that statement pressing down on his shoulders as he looked up at the dark sky. “I know.”

Steve knew he was utterly fucked, so fucked that any line that had been established was stepped over and kicked a thousand yards back. His mind was made up, he would not run, he would not succumb to some former mindset 2016 Steve would have fallen victim to. He was a new person, a completely different person than he was out of the ice and after the snap. He deserved to cross the line, he deserved whatever happiness was afforded to him - he deserved comfort in the arms of another after years of denying himself.

He downed the rest of his drink with a loud gulp, mind made up, and headed back to your room.

It was best to just pretend it never happened… no? But did you want to pretend it never did? So many moments over the years where this could have happened, where either of you could have literally just said ‘fuck it’. As overthinking was a specialty, quite a useless skill, you thought about the countless fights you had.

Red in the face, hands clenched until nails imprinted little crescents, absolutely seething at the mouth. Some of the things you would yell were vile, none at all honest but with the intent to cause pain for only a moment, and mumbled apologies later. You were literally enemies for these past two, long years. Enemies who had to be seated and scolded, tricked into accepting defeat and living as teammates once more.

Perhaps one of those arguments could have been remedied by simply leaning in like you had tonight, by throwing each other against the wall, by pulling the roots of your hair as he tugged-

Nope.

No matter how much tension you were now realizing you had for this man, tension that could literally be fucked out, wasn’t it too late to act on it? You couldn’t pinpoint the chance you maybe had and missed.

Steve walked through the door in the middle of your rapid brainstorming. He just grinned sweetly and slipped into the bathroom.

As simple as that.

Now you couldn’t discern between the feelings of wanting to fight him or fuck him. Not being able to differentiate between them ignited a sour mood, and once he stepped out from the shower, you basically pushed him to the side to lock yourself in.

Even the warm water hitting your body couldn’t alleviate the pressure of overthinking. You disregarded your hair tonight and instead just washed your body. As quick as you could jump back out and go to bed, the better.

Sucking in a deep breath, you opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. Your eyes landed on Steve’s torso, shirtless and the only thing not covered by the white blanket. He hadn’t shaved his beard either, the length evident when he kissed you earlier. It felt wrong and right at the same time, a battle that you seriously did not want to deal with. To get involved with your mission partner was dangerous - not because Steve himself was dangerous, but because it was a giant distraction. A distraction that you couldn’t afford.

But as he put down his book and lay it in his lap, looking up to look at you through hooded eyes, sleepy but alert, the ‘danger’ was nothing but enticing.

You cleared your throat and padded down your pajama shorts absentmindedly, slinging your hair over one shoulder and focusing on plugging your charger into your phone. It was so silent besides your pitter-patter, and god, did Steve find that sound so relaxing, until you climbed into bed. Once your shuffling was done, the slight buzzing of Steve’s desk lamp drowned out all your other senses. And the longer it was heard, the more it sounded like a ticking clock.

Steve shut the lamp off, the only light now illuminating your figure from outside. He studied your breathing, watching how every so often you would bring your hand up to scratch your cheek or move a stray hair. You looked so gentle, so inviting, so small.

You were turned away from him and facing the wall, eyes shut as you listened to his movements. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay up all night talking, to lean on his shoulder and simply feel his warmth, to feel that beard against your cheek one more time. As quickly as those thoughts flashed through your mind did you scold yourself, that this was inappropriate and wrong and so dangerous.

You felt a dip in your bed, heavy and unsure, a lift of your blankets, and it happened so quickly that you could have sworn you dreamt it. Steve wrapped his arm around you, his broad chest pressed tightly against your back and his lips attacked the skin just below your earlobe. Your breath hitched, eyes shot open, and your hands reached up to grip his wrist. Steve stilled.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, lips hovering over your blushing skin and breath practically blistering. You could feel him now, hard and pulsing against your ass and ready to move. You felt dizzy, overcome with such a rush of desire that you couldn’t help but stiffen in his tight grasp.

“Don’t,” you choked out, feeling his body become rigid and his breath begin to quicken.

“I’m sorry I-” he began to move away from you, voice no longer a whisper and tainted with panic.

“No,” you pulled back, tilting your head up to lock eyes with him. You brought your arm up to grasp the back of his head, and you tugged it back to your neck. “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was utterly fucked. “Fuck,” he groaned, continuing the attack on your neck. But he gained momentum now, arm squeezing you against him tighter, and voice cracking as he moaned your name.

“Steve, please do something.”

Your hands found their way back to his arm, gripping it tightly as he fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. He played with it, teasing in his actions, almost as punishment for the years you tormented him with your attitude. His lips pressed harder now, finding each patch of available skin on your neck and flushed cheek, and Steve has never felt so aroused in his life. He wasn’t even inside you, but the quick gasps he heard from you did plenty in aiding the rush of blood from his head to his stiffening cock.

“Tell me what you want. Please, tell me and I’ll give it to you,” he moaned, the slightest experimental role of the hips causing you to whimper.

“Touch me,” you practically sobbed, rolling your hips back against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt all of him.

And just like that, he gave you what you asked for. He gripped your hip and shoved you closer to him, hot and ready and pressed firmly against you. He rolled his hips into you, little whimpers of his own touching your sensitive ear. He quickened his pace and he found it hard to think straight when the scrunch of pleasure all over your face, making you look so willing, was all he was focused on. He focused on the way you bit your lip, a bite and then a gasp, and then you were back to biting as if you were trying to restrain any higher moan. And even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, he could see the sun-kissed color of your skin and the bruising he was causing. He kept his mouth on you as he rocked himself against you, indulging in a few more selfish seconds of pleasure before becoming his generous self.

He dipped his hand into your shorts and found the sweet nub that so desperately needed attention. His brain almost short circuited, the feeling of his fingers finally sliding into your wet lips making his throat dry. He drew little but skilled circles, each twirl of his index and middle finger in unison with the grind of his hips. Your mouth fell open by such pleasure, and you braced yourself by placing your left palm on the mattress and pressed down, nails scratching the cotton fabric and alerting Steve of your excitement. You pushed back against him, timed and in perfect harmony.

You knew the room wasn’t on fire, but even if it was you didn’t think to check.

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. Keep talking to me,” Steve begged, each rotation of his hips gaining pressure. His eagerness prompted you to reach back up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to your tilted one and smashing his lips against yours. Steve gasped at the pleasant sting, somewhat surprised with himself that he liked that form of roughness. But who was he to judge his kinks when the tip of your nose was turning redder, the blush in your cheeks mixed with barely visible silver droplets of sweat, and a purple outline was beginning to form on your plump upper lip?

The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, but still beneficial in getting Steve to rut against you even harder.

He could so easily pull your shorts down and enter you, and if he was anything like he felt, then you knew it would sting. But you craved that sting and stretch, the thought of him inside you causing another gush of desire to leak from you. Steve dipped his finger deeper into you only to accumulate your juices and spread them higher. He went back to rubbing expertly, actions gaining speed to match your whimpers.

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned louder, and you swore you felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You pressed back harder, his hand rubbing and pressing down on your stomach simultaneously. Your head felt cloudy, the pleasure coursing through your veins and to the very tips of your toes. “Oh, my fuck.”

Steve paused his fingers to trail his hand back up your stomach and to your breasts, pulling your tank top down to spill them. The sounds leaving your throat set him on fire, desire pulsing everywhere - his head, his heart, his aching cock that was pressed so closely against you that he could feel you vibrating. He pinched your nipple and rolled it, closing his eyes in response to your dirty purrs. “Let me make you come, doll.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” you quipped, ass tilting at an angle that caused Steve to choke. He growled from the attitude he couldn’t believe you still fucking had during a moment like this and kissed you roughly, both your broken moans molding into one. His hand returned to your shorts.

“Do that again,” he begged, hitching his leg up to rest on yours. The angle allowed him to drive his hips even harder. You maneuvered to provide the same tilt, grinning at the pleasurable cries that left your Captain’s mouth.

“I think I’m gonna make you come first,” you chuckled and took his bottom lip between your teeth. You pulled lightly, concentration still in the circle of your hips. He looked back down at you, determination and undeniable lust in his eyes. He thrust his aching cock against you, sliding himself over your ass. He did it hard but slow, the pressure applied giving the head of his cock such a sweet squeeze as he bumped it against the curve of your lumbar spine.

The heavy duvet was abandoned now, cold air from the hotel air conditioner failing in cooling you down at all. You both had a thin sheet of sweat on your clothed bodies, goosebumps standing proudly, and lips all plump and red from your harsh kissing.

Steve held you so close, so tight, and his fingers were drawing such rushed and tiny circles that you swore his wrist had to be cramping up. But the sound of both your whimpers started to mesh together, alerting you of such a sweet climax up ahead.

“Steve, fuck, fuck, ohh,” you mewled, voice now high pitched and yes, it turned Steve on incredibly but it also fueled you. Your pornographic moans ignited an even deeper desire within you, just the true fact that Steve was touching you, Steve was getting you to make these sounds, Steve is actually hearing these sounds, Steve is making the same exact sounds.

“I-, please, come for me,” Steve pleaded, cock twitching with each thrust as he neared his end. “Make me come.”

His begging, his equally high voice, his skilled fingers rubbing rapidly and the slight pain from that, his breath burning your neck, were all too powerful, their combinations causing the fire in your core to explode and make you see white in a flash, black dots later clouding your vision. Your nails dug into his moving arm, crescents branded into him. You clenched around nothing, walls fluttering and thighs shaking as they pressed around his hand and fingers.

The inappropriate squelching sound of your juices spreading as your thighs clenched around his cramping fingers, the slide so sensual and dirty, had Steve rutting against you one, two, three more times before he came in hard but long spurts. His mouth hung open, breath still fanning your neck, and his eyes were so tightly shut that the force was enough to strain them.

“Oh, fuuuck, yes, yes!” Steve groaned, his body taking longer than usual to recover. His orgasm was powerful, more powerful than when he got himself off in the shower or in the comfort of his bed at night, and he knew it was because you clouded his senses. Of course, there was an added benefit to getting off with someone else, aiding that person in the same endeavor, but because it was you, it made the climax even more forceful, more intense. The whole situation was both unexpected and calculated, gentle and rough, and Steve’s heart was beating so fast by the thought of what just occurred that he found himself wanting to spill into you all night long, and to apologize for overstepping an unspoken boundary.

You could feel the wetness of both your own release and Steve’s, head still cloudy from such a sharp orgasm. You hummed in satisfaction, reaching your arm over once again to lift his head up by his hair. He hissed at the pull now, his body all fucked out and satisfied. “You good?”

Steve gave you a lazy smile, chest heaving in unison with yours. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m good.”

Steve scanned your face for any regret just in case your words held other meaning, but all he could see was your satisfied expression, cheeks still flushed pink, hair tangled, and pupils dilated. He hesitated for a second before he leaned down and connected your lips, molding his with yours slowly and chastely. You both sighed at the feeling, highs now lowering and the coldness from the air conditioner causing a different set of goosebumps to appear. Steve pulled away, giving you one last peck as if testing the waters, and rested his forehead against yours. You both relished your post-orgasm bliss for a few silent minutes before cleaning up.

You shared playful shoves as you cleaned up. It was almost innocent, a huge contrast to the sinful activities you two had just committed, but there was a genuine feeling of understanding in the room. Your heart clenched at the simple sight of Steve washing his hands, eyes meeting his in the mirror, a soft look in his that startled you.

You gave him a smile so as to not alert him of your reaction, and exited the bathroom to climb back into bed. You drew the heavy duvet back over your body and cuddled in it deeply, chin hidden underneath and back facing Steve’s bed. It was a few more minutes before Steve came back into the room, shutting the light off, and looking at your resting form. He wanted to climb back in with you and hold you innocently, to have the feeling of your warm back against his broad chest, gentle exhales tickling the arm that would wrap around you. But he just looked back and forth from your bed and his, and he decided to not push the boundary further. He hesitated with this decision, but climbed into his own bed, the feeling of his cold sheets making him immediately regret it. He shuffled silently, his body facing yours.

You wanted to lay beside him too. But whether you were making a smart decision or an absurd, cowardly one, one thing was certain: you could no longer ignore the stacking of such emotions you had for this man.

It almost angered you, how much you denied yourself of even a simple crush for literally ten years, and it made you mad at Steve, too. Because if he hadn’t pushed you away, then maybe you could have accepted this sooner.

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

79 notes · View notes

soaringeag1e · 3 years

Text

Escape {33}

Detective!Dean x Victim!Reader AU

Warnings: Language? Slight Angst??? Lots of Fluff!

Words: 2,440

Escape MasterList - My MasterList - Patreon

It felt weird for Dean not to be in the drivers seat. He’s always the one who drove, wherever the destination should be; but Sam insisted that he’d drive that morning. So, Dean’s new spot for the drive to and from breakfast was in the back, next to you.

For both trips, your hands were interlocked, and that’s how they stayed until you both had to get out. With palms touching and fingers draped over each others knuckles, Dean felt an amazing sense of comfort, and the way your finger tips lightly brushed against his rough knuckles made him smile. He doesn’t even know if you were doing it on purpose or if it was subconscious, but he enjoyed it either way.

It was when the four of you were only a few blocks away from the house that you had leaned over and asked him if he would be up for a walk, and of course he couldn’t turn it down. How could he?

As the four of you piled out of the newer model SUV, Dean let his brother and wife know that you both were taking off for a little while. In return, they just smiled, and Dean could assume that they were having a field day with watching the two of you get closer. But he tried not to focus on it too much.

“I know we just had breakfast, but there’s this little hut up here that has amazing iced coffee. You mind if we stop there and sit for a bit?”

“Not at all.” he couldn’t help the way his smile grew when he saw your excitement. The littlest things seemed to make you so happy, and he was trying to remind himself to follow in your footsteps. He knew he had to enjoy life a little more; especially after hiding away for so many years. He almost forgot what it’s like to get excited over just a simple cup of coffee, or even how to enjoy a day off. It was on his to do list over these next few weeks.

As the two of you made your way down the sidewalk in a comfortable silence, Dean could feel something continually bumping into his wrist. He was confused at first, but as he looked down at your locked hands, he saw a bracelet around your wrist that he must of missed earlier.

Considering it was the opposite hand he was holding in the car, that was one thing, but all through breakfast it went unseen.

“That’s pretty.” Hearing the sudden compliment, you look up at him, seeing him nod towards your hands.

“Oh.” you smile when you see that he was talking about your bracelet. “Yeah. My grandma gave it to me when I was thirteen. Her mom gave it to her on her wedding day, but before she passed, she said she wanted me to have it.” Dean’s pace slowed a bit so he could get a better look at it. You matched his footing as he held your wrist in place, looking over the small diamonds that shined across the thin, fragile chain.

“I don’t wear it all the time because I’m afraid of losing it, or even breaking it, but...I don’t know; I felt like wearing it today.” you saw him smiling as he let his thumb run over the diamonds, but as he was met with the clasp, that smile faltered slightly. He pulled the little pearl in between his large fingers, studying it for a minute, but he seemed so lost in thought as he stared down at it. Even his pace faltered.

“Dean?” Not even his name had pulled him from his trance. He just continued to look down at the small gem.

“Dean?” It wasn’t until the second attempt that he snapped out of it, and by that time the two of you had stopped walking completely. The concern on your face when he finally looked up made him mutter a quiet apology, and after taking another glance at the pearl, he dropped it, letting it fall back against your wrist.

“You okay?” you ask when you both get back to walking and he nods at first.

“Yeah. I’m good, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” you giggle softly as you take his hand again, this time leaning your body into his side.

The coffee place you were talking about was no more than five minutes more up the road, and as you both slowly approached the place, Dean stopped you and pulled out his wallet.

“Go ahead and get me whatever you get.” he says as he hands you his credit card. “And grab us something sweet, like a cinnamon roll or something.”

“Okay.” you chuckle as you palm his card. But when you look up at him questionably, he gives you a pretty convincing smile and pulls out his phone.

“I just have to make a call real quick.” he waved his phone a few times, and even though he could see your curiosity, you just smile and start to back away.

“Okay.” Dean continues to watch you step back until you get in line and then he turns away, but makes sure that he can still see you off to his left.

Going into his contacts, he clicks on one of the first names there, then pulls the device up to his ear when he sees the call connect. As it rings a few times, Dean looks over at you, seeing that you’ve moved a few places up in line, getting closer to the counter and he only hopes that the recipient of the call picks up soon.

The keys made a interesting melody as he typed away. The report in front of him was coming along just as he hoped. Quick and without any problems. There was so much going on this week and though he wished he could just focus on one case in particular, Styles knew he couldn’t ignore the rest of them.

He was just finishing up on the file when he saw his phone light up beside him, the vibrating sound coming a few seconds later. He moved his fingers a little faster, making sure his spelling was fine before completing the report and then reaching for his phone. But, as his eyes caught the name of the caller, his stomach twisted and he couldn’t help but glance around the precinct before bringing it up to his ear.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Eddie.” Swallowing down the nerves of possibly getting caught talking to the one person he was told not to, Styles kept his eyes peeled for any movement from the head of the department. “I need to ask you a favor.”

“Dean...” his friend sighed as he spun in his chair, letting his body lean over the desk as he tried to hide his head in front of his computer. “..you know I can’t...”

“No! I know. It’s not like that. It’s...” Now the sigh came from the other end of the line. “When they found Cassie’s body, the coroner told me there was nothing on her; that all of her possessions were missing.”

“Yeah, well...that’s because whoever did it put her things in that box.” Styles cut in, trying to get this call over with as soon as possible. Not that he didn’t like talking to Dean. If anything, he missed him like crazy. It didn’t feel the same being at work without him, especially for this long. But he was determined to stay on this case, and if Bobby were to catch him on the phone with Dean, whether or not they were talking about the case, Bobby would most likely snatch him off of it as well. There was to be nothing leaked to the detective, those were his orders, and he didn’t want to see what would happen if he did.

“Yeah, I know. But, there’s something that’s still missing.” Hearing that, Styles perked up slightly, his eyes wandering across the place again before focusing on the desk in front of him.

“Missing? What are you talking about?”

“Cassie, she had this ring that her grandmother gave her. She never took it off. But...I just realized that I didn’t see it in that box.” Reaching for a pen from the pen holder on his desk, he then pulled his little notepad closer. “I mean, it could have fallen off in the ally or something...it could be long gone, but...I was wondering if you could check for me?”

“Of course. What does it look like, you remember?”

“Yeah, it uh...it was a gold band; thin. It had a pearl as the main focal point and then two little diamonds on each side of it.”

“Okay.” Styles let out a soft breath as he quickly wrote down the description. “Is that it?”

“Yeah. That’s it.” He could hear the slight defeat in Dean’s voice, and he couldn’t blame him, honestly. He really wasn’t sure how his boss and best friend was even keeping himself together so well.

“Alright. I’ll uh...I’ll go check it out, and if it’s not there I promise to at least keep an eye out for it.” Styles knew he didn’t have to explain his reasoning with that. Dean knew just as much as him that the majority of killers take a souvenir from their victims, mostly to remember the rush they had and to just plain relive the act whenever they wanted. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe it was just gone. Or, maybe it was still floating around and it was going to be the one little piece of evidence to help Styles catch the asshole that had ruined Dean’s life all those years ago.

“Thanks, man.”

“Of course.”

“Everything okay?” Dean had just hung up when you came up behind him. Two large iced coffees in your hands and a bag dangling from your pinky.

“Yeah. Everything’s great.” Again, he could see you didn’t believe him. “I had to call Styles about something.” Your eyebrow raised.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to...”

“No! No, it wasn’t about that. It was about something else.” You were concerned. He could see it, but he knew he had to shake it off. For both of your sakes. So, pulling on a smile, he looked down at the treats in your hand again.

“So! What do we got?” You eyed him for a minute, but his charming smile made it hard to not to smile too.

“Well...I hope you like it. I know you don’t really like “sweet” coffee, but I’m telling you, this stuff is amazing.” you inform him as you hand one of the coffee’s over.

“Great!” The two of you step over to one of the little wooden tables. It had matching wood benches to sit on along with a umbrella floating high to give some shade. Setting your drink down, you look across the table as Dean takes a sip of his drink, trying to gauge by his facial expression if he likes it or not.

“If you don’t like it, I can get you something else.” He seems to keep the sip in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, taking in every flavor along his taste buds before you slowly see him bob his head.

“That’s not bad.” he finally says, sounding pretty convincing.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m actually shocked. You had me at sweet, but...it’s not bad.”

“Good.” you smile triumphally before pulling a turnover out of the little paper bag. “I figured since pie is your favorite dessert, I’d get something similar.” Seeing the hint of a red ooze on the side, Dean sticks his finger in it.

“Cherry?” he asks before sticking his finger in his mouth and sucking the flavor off. “Cherry.” he confirms before you take the time to answer.

“Is that okay?” you can’t help but laugh to yourself.

“It’s perfect.” he breaks off the corner, making sure there’s some cherry filling on it before bringing it to his mouth. You just stared on, unable to wipe the smile from your face as you saw how happy he was.

“So...I actually wanted to run something by you.” His jaw slows in the breaking down process as he looks at you, but as he could sense it was nothing too horrible, he went back to enjoying the flaky pastry.

“Okay.” Rubbing his hands together, he brushed off the sugar granules and then took a sip of his coffee. “What’s up?”

“Well, I was just thinking about it last night, how you have a few weeks off.” Dean nods when you look over at him, encouraging you to continue since he can sense your nervousness.

“Now, this is just a thought, okay? There’s no pressure and commitment needed here.”

“Y/N?” he stops you, pulling you out of your nervous ramble by taking your hand in his. “What is it?” You chew on the inside of your cheek for a moment before finally getting the nerve to just spit it out.

“What do you think about getting out of here?” His eyes run across the little plaza, landing on the little coffee place before looking back at you.

“We just sat down.”

“No!” you laugh, your eyes falling shut as you realize you should have been a little more clear. “Not here. Kansas.” He almost looks kind of intrigued at the thought.

“You have anywhere in mind?” You start to shake your head.

“Anywhere.” At his silence, you take in a sharp inhale and sit forward a little more, bringing your other hand up on the table and adding it to the duo already clasped together.

“We could drive to California, or up to Seattle. Down to Texas and have some amazing BBQ.” He chuckles at that, his smile growing even more when he hears you join in.

“Or Colorado? Go up to the mountains, enjoy some snow, maybe? They get snow around this time of year. We could have dinners by the fireplace.” You’re so entranced with this particular idea that it has him thinking even harder on it. What if the two of you did get away? Again, there was nothing holding him here. He was free from work for a minimum of three weeks; he had nothing else to do.

“Again...it’s just a thought. We don’t have to do that.” you speak softly as you pull your hands away and break off a piece of the Turnover yourself, popping little pieces into your mouth at a time.

Just a thought. But now you had him thinking about it, and he honestly was liking the sound of it.

Time away? Together? YES PLEASE! Thanks for reading, babes!

Forever Babes:

@dnnwnchstr22 @ricanqueen20 @onethirstyunicorn @in-deans-arms @sandlee44 @hobby27 @catching-up-with-kayla @chances-and-miracles @superfanficnatural @thatmotleygirl @sleep-i-ness @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @amandamdiehl @coldmuffinbanditshoe @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @deangirl93 @that-one-gay-girl @borikenlove @foreverlonelyforhim @fairlyspnfanfic

Dean/Jensen Babes:

@deans-baby-momma @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @michellethetvaddict @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @jensengirl83 @idksupernatural @akshi8278 @iamabeautifulperson18 @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @brilovesdeanwinchester @sexyvixen7 @onceuponathreetwoone @cpag7 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden

Escape Lovers:

@teambuckyovereverything @busy-bee-angel-misska @vicmc624 @xxsovereignsarayaxx @cookiechipdough @deansgirl215 @linki-locks11 @negans-lucille-tblr @squirrelnotsam @halesandy @samsgirl93 @flamencodiva @londoncallingbutiwontpickup @percywinchester27 @maralisa124 @thecreatiivecorner @briagallen @fanngirl19 @supernatural-love14 @thefemalestorywriter @deanwinchesterinthedarktower @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @supernatural3002 @shesnotmaria @couldabeenamermaid @my-proof-is-you

137 notes · View notes

infinitesundrop · 3 years

Text

Read Chapter 2: Perks of Being a Civilian on AO3 | FFN

Banner Credit to the Amazing @the-dream-team

Fic Summary: They say time heals. It’s been nine months since Lily lost her mother and sister, but she still feels their absence every day. The only thing getting her through these difficult times has been the masked hero, Spider-Man. With the attacks on the city getting worse each day, and with the growing animosity towards London’s only hope, Lily has no choice but to act. After all, we all have powers of one kind or another, in our own way. (Spider-Man AU)

Chapter Summary: No one ever said doing the right thing was easy.

Rating: T

Fic Warnings: Grief/Mourning/Survivor’s Guilt, Violence, Referenced Character Death (minor character) | Chapter Exclusive Warnings: Street Harassment, Mass Panic, Gun Violence (lasers), Destruction of Property (building collapse),Violence (hand-to-hand combat), Mentions of Explosives, Premature Acceptance of Death, Car Accident, Self Endangerment

Read from the Beginning on AO3 | FFN

When she finally tore her eyes off the skyline, she found that Spider-Man was staring over at her again. She ducked her head to hide her blush behind the curtain of her hair. “What?” she mumbled.

“Nothing,” he replied, shrugging slowly. “It’s only...what’s your name?”

Her name. Spider-Man wanted to know her name? “Lily,” she said, turning back to face the hero directly and sitting cross-legged with her back resting against the stone railing. Lily tilted her head up to see him, a shy sort of smile on her lips. “My name is Lily Evans.”

“Lily Evans,” Spider-Man repeated, and she had to admit she quite liked how it sounded coming from him. Lily heard him suck in a breath. “You know, Lily, what you did today...it wasn’t smart.”

Clutching her house keys in her hand, the metal bits poking out from in between her fingers, Lily kept her head down as she made her way into the dimly lit London streets. As young as five years old, Lily had been taught never to walk the streets alone, especially at night. Now, with all the attacks on the city, Lily couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing.

If something happened, her father would have no idea where she was. To be completely truthful with herself, Lily wasn’t exactly sure where she was headed either.

The road and sidewalks glistened with the fresh coating of rain from the afternoon, but in the night, the air felt biting and cold. A scuffle behind Lily made her jump, but it was merely her neighbor taking out the trash.

Granted, it wasn’t like Snape was the most savory figure either. They had been something close to friends as kids, having grown up next door to each other. When they hit secondary school, something had changed him. Whether it was his mother’s death or something else, he had gotten into some really shady stuff. One day, she remembered him walking into chemistry and laughing about all the various dark uses the chemicals had if mixed a certain way.

Ever since then, Lily had made a point to stay very far away from the man.

Feeling his sullen eyes on her, she swallowed back the lump in her throat and nodded in his direction, wanting to make it perfectly clear that she saw him.

Of course, he seemed to take that as an invitation to come talk to her. Lily was really not in the mood. Seeing him almost sent her straight back into the house, but there were more important things she needed to do tonight than sit at home because of Snape.

The sooner she returned home and saved her father from the worry he was undoubtedly experiencing, the better.

Picking up her pace would surely send him away, right?

Wrong. The greasy man had quickly caught up to her, reaching out his hand to grab her elbow. As his fingers brushed against Lily’s jacket, she ripped her arm forward and swung around, fist balled in the air. “Don’t ever do that.”

Whatever Snape was expecting, that was not it. He stood there, his mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish out of water. As Lily turned to run off, he cried out, “W-wait, Lily! You looked...lost!”

“Not lost,” she hissed, clutching her keys tighter, backing up away from him, but not daring to turn her back yet. “Don’t touch me. Don’t follow me.”

“It’s just,” he continued as if Lily hadn’t already made it extremely clear she wanted to be left alone, “It’s dangerous at night. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Narrowing her eyes, Lily pulled up her polaroid, snapping a photo. The flash lit up the whole block. It was only the two of them out right now. “Okay, well, you lay another finger on me, this will be your wanted photo. Leave me alone.”

Snape said something, but Lily didn’t catch it as she darted in the opposite direction. She didn’t think about where she was going; she just needed to get away.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come out here tonight.

Lily sucked in a shuddery breath as she reached a crosswalk a far enough distance away. Puffs of condensation filled the air as she took a moment to breathe while the cars drove through the intersection.

As much as she wanted to help Spider-Man, she had to admit her plan was a long shot. She wasn’t even sure if the hero would trust her enough to talk with all that was going on.

Lily pushed those thoughts from her mind, turning to the present.

She was already several blocks away from home, and even if she wanted to turn around, the idea of running into Snape again turned her blood cold. No. She had to see this through.

Taking stock of her surroundings, Lily realized she was no longer in the more residential districts. Passing a few shops that had closed up for the night, Lily wondered if maybe she was being reckless. She had no idea where she was going. While this part of town was familiar, Spider-Man had been spotted all over London.

Who was to say that she would actually find him? London was a massive city, and it was just as likely that Lily would end up somewhere unknown and in danger without anyone by her side, let alone a masked hero.

Where was she going?

She was torn from her thoughts by a loud bang, and Lily whipped around, nearly slipping off the thin piece of sidewalk she was on in between the two sides of the street, to see a gaggle of 30-somethings stumble out of the pub door that had been flung open. Starting to stagger down the street, the group roared with laughter. She placed her hand over her heart to soothe its hammering.

It took a moment for Lily’s breathing to calm down before she turned to continue walking. Her nerves were already frayed from that encounter with Snape.

Feeling herself become more grounded within her body, Lily reminded herself that she was on a mission. No backing down. Where would Spider-Man be?

She had to think about this logically. Spider-Man usually showed up around heavily crowded areas. The Bridge, Gringotts, the attack last month by the zoo... they were all bustling areas. That made sense, he wanted to protect the most people possible. Perhaps it would be a quiet night, and Spider-Man would only have to watch over the city. If they were lucky, he could stick to the skies without having to fight a second time today.

She’d heard people talk about that in classes. Some claimed that there were sightings of him on the rooftops even when the city was calm. She’d even heard some of them insisting that Spider-Man lived on the rooftops of London.

Glancing over to make sure the intersection was clear, she hurried the rest of the way across. Halfway through the crosswalk, she was hit with the realization that she was already taking her usual route to school without a second thought. Why hadn’t it occurred to her to go this way before?

Lily supposed when she first left the house, she was too worked up about the whole Spider-Man thing to do much thinking at all. For the first time since April, she'd fought with her father. And how had she handled it? She stormed out on him.

He barely let her go out for a drink at the pub with some friends after dark anymore, let alone go off wandering by herself. Not since her mother and sister...

Still, it wasn’t like she was going to any unknown parts of the city. Lily was only headed to school.

It was nighttime, though. While students did stay late to work on classwork, there wasn't usually much danger there. The worst thing that happened was students getting too drunk at the pub or arguing in the dorms.

Perhaps going to school wasn’t the best idea, but staying at least on the walking part of her commute provided her with the familiarity she needed to keep her from turning back and heading home. Once underground, she’d decide her final destination.

A familiar bright blue and red light signaled her tube station, and Lily continued on her daily commute. She descended to the Underground, scanned her Oyster card, walked down to the platform, and stood with her camera held close to her chest to await her train.

Time passed slowly and all too fast at the same time. What she was about to do was senseless, and once she boarded, it would be much harder to turn back. Lily recognized this but was still worthwhile to her.

Boarding the first car that arrived, she took a seat across from a sleeping man with facial hair. It was only Lily and the dosing passenger in their section. Normally, with so few people on the train, she’d take a seat somewhere farther away, but it was oddly comforting to be near someone else right now.

She felt bad for him. He looked exhausted, like he had come straight off a long shift. Based on his uniform, he was a subway operator. Squinting, she thought she could make out the name ‘Stan’ on his nametag.

Above the entrance, the little timer ticked down until the doors closed. What stop was he waiting for? Lily held onto the upper railing in case the train started moving, stepping forward towards the tired subway worker. She shifted her hands to brace against the seat beside Stan and leaned down to shake the worker gently. “What’s your stop?” she asked.

Stan barely responded, peeking one eye open lazily and muttering, “Piccadilly Circus”.

Of course. One of the most populated places this late would be the middle of the West End. It was always lined with tourists and locals alike.

She nodded her head, looking up at the map to see where she wanted to get off on the line. “That’s where I’m going too,” she decided aloud. “I’ll wake you when we’re there, yeah?”

Stan let out a little ‘hmmph’ in response, shifting his body so his face was squished against the subway seats with his back turned to Lily. The pleasant robotic voice announced the doors were closing, and Lily made it back to her seat right in time. The train lurched forward again mere moments later.

Studying the map above the man’s head, Lily saw she only had two stops until her own. Soon enough, the announcements declared that they had arrived, the doors gliding open. Lily stood, stepping closer to Stan and giving his shoulder another gentle shake.

In return, he grumbled something she couldn’t quite make out then turned in his chair again. It looked like there was no rousing him. Although she wanted to help, the overhead voice called for doors closing. She didn’t want to miss her stop, so she ran off the train quickly. The doors slid shut behind her with an audible click.

Once out of the car, Lily was immediately struck by how empty and quiet the place was. Usually, on a Friday night in London, people crammed onto the platforms, fighting for a place on the next train. Tonight, it was eerily quiet. The only person she saw was a janitor humming to himself as he swept.

She climbed the first set of stairs quickly. If anything, the theatres should be getting out soon, and the Circus would be filled with people going home via the Tube.

When Lily had left home, she had been sure she’d heard the weatherman call for clear skies the rest of the night. As usual, he must have been wrong, because the thunder from above the station was almost deafening the closer to the ground floor she got.

Lily climbed another set of stairs, the roar almost deafening at this point. Reaching the top of another flight of stairs, she thought she saw shadows growing larger and larger on the tiled wall towards the exit. Lily had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing correctly. The pit of her stomach dropped with the realization that she was right.

And it wasn’t thunder.

She had been hearing a stampede of footsteps, and they were coming her way.

Turning a corner into a long hallway, all Lily saw was a horde of people flooding in, barreling towards her as if they didn’t even see her coming. The crowd ran straight into her.

Lily gasped as people shoved her aside, trampling on her feet and knocking her against the tile. Her camera crunched loudly with the impact. She braced herself for the rest of the onslaught, making herself as small as possible against the wall.

Screams of terror echoed along the tunnels. Well, at least she’d been right about where to find Spider-Man.

Hopefully, she was.

Filled with purpose again, Lily pushed against the crowd, trying to wedge her way through. She had to find Spider-Man. She had to. This was what she’d come out here for, after all. Camera or not, she had to warn him about the police and the press.

A pair of hands wrapped around one of her wrists in a vice-like grip.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the woman demanded as Lily tried to shake her off. The woman yanked back in return, Lily’s feet sliding along the floor towards her. “Lily!”

Hearing her name, Lily’s head snapped up. A familiar face stood in front of her, trying to tug her back towards the Tube. “Hestia, no, I can’t!”

“What’re you on about?” Hestia’s dark eyebrows furrowed together for a split second before she shook her head. It was as if she already decided that trying to sort out whatever Lily wanted to stick around for was not important. “Lily,” she pleaded desperately. “You have to come with me! Now! You can’t go up there!”

Lily had never seen her friend this way, so frantic and terrified. Hestia Jones was not the sort of person to scare easily‒or at all‒in the time Lily had known her. Whatever waited up there must have been dangerous.

If she turned back now, it would save her father and her friends the heartache and the fear of not knowing if she was all right. Looking into Hestia’s eyes, she almost did turn back.

But she couldn’t. Not with everything at stake. If they took down Spider-Man, who would be here to save all these people? Even if it meant sacrificing her own life, Lily would do everything in her power to help Spider-Man protect the city.

It was the right thing to do.

Everything happened so fast. One moment she was resisting Hestia’s pull, the next the two of them were running along with the chaos. Hestia had loosened her grip on Lily’s wrist, so Lily took the opportunity to slide her hand into Hestia’s instead, giving her friend’s hand a tight squeeze.

The gesture seemed to have alleviated Hestia’s worries as her friend breathed out in relief. It made what Lily had to do next so much worse.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, quickly dropping her hand and disappearing into the crowd.

When Lily turned back, her friend was being pulled along by the undertow of the crowd, her arm outstretched for Lily to grasp like a life preserver. Hestia looked distraught, and Lily was certain if she were any closer she’d see tears on her face.

This had better work.

James webbed from building to building, quickly weaving his way towards the scream. It wasn’t long before he found its inspiration: two masked terrorizers perched on the base of the statue in the middle of Piccadilly Circus.

He felt a sense of familiarity as he stared at the two. It was a man and a woman, but they looked so similar. They were both childlike in stature, but their shoulders sloped inwards, making them appear hunched over. Their faces were partially covered by masks, but the features that showed through were familiar.

He’d seen them before. He just didn’t remember where exactly.

The man had a lopsided sort of leer, and through the holes on the skull mask he was wearing, James spotted beady little eyes. The woman had less distinctive features, but like her counterpart, her skin was pallid, and she bore the same wicked expression as her counterpart.

A building on the other side of the road exploded James he landed atop the flashing billboards in the junction. The rubble scattered across the road, joining the rest of the debris the two had created. Screams echoed through the streets, people in the traffic circle abandoning the cars and buses in favor of an escape through the Tube as the two culprits cackled, taking great pleasure in the mayhem they were causing.

The woman’s wheezy giggle was what made James realize who they were, the noise bringing him back to all the times he’d heard it previously. They called themselves the Carrows: a brother and sister team. They didn’t look dangerous at first glance.

They had been there, though. At the Millenium Bridge collapse. They had been the ones who took down the rest of the bridge with the same weapons they were using now.

Both brother and sister were equipped with some kind of laser, allowing them to bring any structure to the ground with a simple push of a button. The sister, Alecto, shot a theatre close to the Circus, the building wobbling more and more until it crumbled to the ground.

It appeared as if they were searching for something as they decimated each structure, but what, James wasn’t exactly sure. The buildings all around the junction had evacuated; he’d watched them flee via the Tube with the rest of the civilians from the traffic circle, so he didn’t have to worry about saving people from the collapsing buildings.

All James knew was that he needed to stop the Carrows before they moved on, before they found a building full of people to destroy somewhere else.

But, how?

He did wonder if they had any real power without their laser guns. The easiest way to test it would be to simply grab one. It seemed too easy, but sometimes, the easiest strategy was the one overlooked.

So, he did it.

Turning his wrist, James aimed his web-shooter at one of the Carrow’s laser guns. Silky webbing shot out, traveling at lightning speed from James and attaching to the side of one of the guns. He grinned widely under the mask, grabbing hold of the web with his other hand.

He reached to grab the webbing with his other hand and pull, but a sharp tug from the other end of the web made him stumble on the precarious ledge. Another tug sent him flying to the ground.

James grimaced, shooting his webbing towards the building he had been standing on only moments ago. Suddenly, the building began to crumble around him, chunks of concrete and shards of glass raining onto him as he webbed onto a double-decker bus abandoned in the road.

So sometimes the easiest option didn’t work out.

“Good to see you two again,” he said conversationally as he jumped off the top of the bus. Their guns pointed straight at him. “Haven’t seen you two out much lately. I was afraid maybe you got busted.”

That earned him a green beam shot right at him. He probably deserved that after such a terrible joke, honestly. Still, James ducked, sliding out of the way with ease.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” he asked. He needed to find another way to take their guns from them, but at least the Circus was empty. It gave him time. Usually, he’d have to finish things as quickly as possible so that no one died. The lack of innocent civilians to worry about afforded James more time to be thorough. Tonight, the Carrows would be caught.

Still, it was two against one, and he had to keep moving to dodge the onslaught of laser beams coming his way. Usually, his best course of action was to web onto a building, but that wouldn’t be such a good idea when they had the ability to destroy whatever structure he was webbed onto.

As he passed by the Tube station, another beam shot right past him, hitting one of the walls. Too busy trying to come up with a plan, James didn’t even notice the civilian who ran out of the station’s entrance as it crumbled. Instead, he just looked at the Carrows, a smug smirk on his face as he said, “You guys really can’t hit anything that’s not stationary, can you?”

They had their guns pointed right at him, and James knew it was the perfect time to web onto the guns. They were too distracted by the idea of taking him down, both wearing wide grins under their masks.

This was it. This was his chance. All he needed to do was web both the guns and get out of the way without any of the lasers hitting him.

“Say goodbye!” Alecto cackled, but before she could shoot, a small chunk of concrete landed by James’ feet.

“No!” James heard someone cry, another piece of concrete hurled into the middle of the Circus. “Don’t hurt him!”

James glanced around to see who was senseless enough to be out here at a time like this. Why hadn’t they run screaming like everyone else?

And then, he saw her.

Lily.

As his heart leapt into his throat, body freezing mid-fight, his only thought was: Not her. Anyone but her.

He stood, frozen, as Lily ran closer, the obviously broken camera around her neck swinging wildly with her movement. Luckily, it seemed as if she’d also distracted the Carrows with the disruption.

At least, James had thought so until he realized that one of the laser guns was pointed at him and the other at Lily.

“Now!” He heard Alecto cry, and the lasers came shooting towards them.

Knowing he didn’t have much time, James webbed onto Lily and tugged to bring her to his side. He heard her frightened gasp but didn’t have time to reassure her. All he could do was hold onto her and dive out of the way as the building that had been behind them crumbled down.

James grimaced as the two of them roughly slid to the ground. He scrambled up, yanking Lily up with him. In any normal circumstance, James would never manhandle anyone, let alone Lily, the way he was right now. But this wasn’t a normal circumstance.

He needed to find her a way out of here. It wasn’t as if he could leave the Carrows and take Lily to safety. As much as he'd like to, there were other things he had to worry about.

Namely, the fact that the Carrows were shooting at them again.

Without thinking, he tugged Lily across the circle with him, ducking between two piles of rubble. They didn’t get very far before having to dodge the laser beams shooting at them. There was no way they’d be able to cross the junction without stopping to duck for cover every few paces, but their options were slim at the moment.

When he heard the sounds of the guns stop for the moment, he pulled her along, running again to find cover under another pile of debris. While it was safe for the moment, they had to get moving again soon. If they stuck around, the two masked villains would find them again.

He refused to let them be caught and cornered, not with Lily beside him.

She couldn’t be here. Keeping her by his side put a target on her back. As risky as it was to send her out there with all these toppling buildings, James wasn’t sure he had a choice. Yet, looking at the devastation around them, he knew he had to think of something to give her a fighting chance.

Anything.

Despite the fact that he knew he shouldn’t leave the Carrows alone in the Circus - after all, what if another unsuspecting citizen happened upon the scene in his absence? - Lily’s safety was taking precedence at the moment.

“How’d you get here?” he asked suddenly as they dodged the lasers. If it was safe, he’d send her back the way she came.

“I was in the Tube,” she said, panting as she tried to catch her breath while they ran through the junction. Well, that was unfortunate since the station’s entrance had been decimated into a pile of rubble. He’d have to think of some other way to get her out of here. For starters, they needed to get away from the Carrows.

“T-there was a stampede,” James heard her say, and it seemed like she was just rambling to keep from panicking. He only hoped she wasn’t too focused on her words to prevent herself from stumbling. “Everyone was running towards the train, but I-you needed help. You’re fighting for the city on your own. It looked like you were in danger, and I-” She was talking so quickly James wasn’t sure she’d have any air left in her lungs, and he’d never seen those green eyes as wide as they were in that moment. “I had to do something!”

James froze, staring at her momentarily. Had she really gone towards the danger when everyone else fled? It was dangerous to dwell on her blatant lack of respect for her own life right now. “I need to get you out of here somehow,” he muttered more to himself than to her as he looked around the junction.

She had to get out of here. The Carrows were going to destroy every building in range, and Lily couldn’t be there when they did. The Tube couldn’t be her escape route. There had to be another way out.

That was when he noticed dim light coming from behind them, casting their shadows on the pavement in front of them. There was a car - an abandoned but still running car - behind them.

A blast from a few feet away reminded him that the Carrows were still shooting at them, and Lily was looking rather worn from being dragged around Piccadilly Circus. Having her drive off in the car would be the easiest getaway, but with all the lasers shooting off at random, James thought better of it. If the Carrows hit that car with Lily in it, she’d be done for.

He needed to find a way to make it safer for her.

“Stay,” James commanded, leaving her behind a tall pile of crumbled concrete. She was huddled underneath the rubble, peeking out from behind as if keeping watch, but he saw her mutely nod her head. At the very least, he was certain that she wasn’t going to move from that spot, so he swung up onto a building, trailing along his webbing.

“Aww, no more puns? What? Not as confrontational when your little girlfriend’s around?” Alecto cooed.

Gritting his teeth, James tried to work faster, jumping around from building to ground to building and back, sticking his web to every surface he reached. Each time he landed, he glanced towards the wreckage where Lily was hiding. Thankfully, the two didn’t seem too interested in her. At least, not when they realized what James was up to.

“A spider web,” Amycus said, looking at his sister with a raised eyebrow. “How quaint.”

James heard Alecto’s wheezy giggle again before she cried, “Let’s see how well these webs work to protect your beloved from our lasers.”

Seeing their distraction as his opportunity to get Lily to safety, James dropped back down to the ground, racing back to Lily. They didn’t have much time.

He grabbed her hand tightly, tugging her backwards to the awaiting car, her escape. “Get in. Drive away. Just...just stay in the car until you’re safe, okay?” He had to know she was going to be okay, that she’d be safe one way or another. Sure, this wasn’t how he wanted this to go, but this was the best option he had.

He watched as she got into the driver’s seat, her hands shaking as she clutched the wheel. “But what about you? You can’t get hurt. We need you. London needs you.” The panic in her voice made James almost want to stay with her. He could climb into the car with her or, better yet, take her back home by webbing building to building. It would be so easy to leave with her and not deal with any of this right now.

But as she said, London needed him.

He just nodded his head to her. “I know. I’ll be all right. All in a day’s work of being Spider-Man, yeah?” He knew she was trying to hide it, but he saw the corners of her lips twitch up at that. “You need to go.”

When she gave him a shaky nod in return, James gave himself one final moment to look at her before turning on his heel and webbing back into the fight.

“Miss me?” he called as he swung back.

Upon seeing Amycus wound tightly in his barricade, much like a bug trapped in a real spider’s web, James broke out into a stupid grin. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

Alecto’s eyes narrowed and she lined up her laser not at James, who was still behind the indestructible webbing, but at a building holding it up. It wobbled precariously, like the others had done earlier, and then crashed to the ground, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. With it, fell a section of webbing. While it wasn’t enough to tear down the whole web, it was enough to surpass his barrier he’d set up.

“Are you mad?!” Amycus cried from inside his web cocoon. “You’re going to crush-” Without concern for the rest of his sentence, or apparently the well-being of her brother, Alecto shot at the other building. As the building toppled, tearing the remainder of the web down with it, James knew it was time to move.

He wanted this over with. The Carrows might’ve gotten away on the bridge, but he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

One down. Amycus’s laser gun was laying on the ground, but it looked damaged. There was a flashing red light on the side, and a blue and green glow peeked through the cracks along the barrel of the gun. James didn’t want to risk picking it up only for it to backfire on him. Besides, James only played offense in football. He'd stick to the defensive; he preferred his webs anyway.

One more to go.

Alecto Carrow seemed to be more competent than her counterpart given that she hadn’t gotten trapped in the web, and her actions were always a bit more calculated. Despite her intelligence, without her brother, the fight was now one-on-one, and James had the upper hand.

He landed in front of Alecto as she scurried back to her safety atop the base of the statue. It was a good vantage point for her since she’d be shooting down at him. He still wasn’t quite sure how to take down Alecto, but if the web had taught him anything, they were easily distracted.

Lily was tucked away in that cab and on her way to somewhere safe. Amycus was a bit preoccupied at the moment. A lazy smirk slid across his features, looking at the Carrow while stretching his arms behind his back languidly as if he were bored.

“What did you call my web again?” he asked somewhat tauntingly. Until he figured out how to take her down physically, this was his best course of action. “Quaint, was it? Seems like a good place for your brother to hang out. Bit of a sticky situation, really. Care to join him?”

Alecto swiftly pointed her laser at James, firing without a moment’s hesitation. As he’d assumed, Alecto thought he wasn’t paying close enough attention.

Except he was.

James shot back, his webbing threading around the barrel of a gun. He grabbed onto the silky web with his other hand, tearing the gun out of Alecto’s hands. He heard her rabid shriek as she hurled herself at him, landing on his back with a violent thud.

James tried to throw her off, but she clung to him desperately, kicking and screaming for her weapon. Right when he thought he’d lost her, she started digging her long, sharp nails into his shoulders as she clawed for her gun back.

He knew he had to get her off—the pain made sure of that much—but he needed to figure out what to do with this gun too. It wasn’t as if throwing it far enough away would actually help, even it was far enough to keep out of the Carrows’ clutches. Not if it gave anyone the power to decimate the entire city. The webbing blocked anything firing from it for now, but he knew the web weakened as its chemical composition deteriorated from the elements. Far faster than James liked to admit, it became no more than glorified silly string.

He needed to act fast.

With a fierce elbow to her gut, Alecto’s grip on James’s back weakened slightly. As he began to deliver the final blow, the circle was illuminated in a green-blue light, and a feverish laugh filled the streets. James’s blood turned cold.

Amycus had escaped. In his hands was the damaged laser gun, sparking and shooting in random directions.

Alecto hopped off James’s back and ran towards her brother. Apparently, she had bigger fish to fry than fighting for her gun. With that weapon in both of their hands, ready to explode at any moment, they would be nearly unstoppable.

Not on his watch. James whipped a web around Alecto’s ankle, gripping the web and yanking her into the air. With his other hand, he webbed her to a nearby billboard. There. Even if she did get free...good luck coming down from there.

With Alecto taken care of, Amycus grew even more violent. He began firing his gun in every direction. Sometimes it went off and other times, nothing happened. The sparking was getting worse with every misfire.

Luckily, it was compromised enough that none of the shots directed at James actually hit him. The shaking of the gun from the sparks made Amycus’s aim haphazard at best. Simply blocking the lasers from coming too close was working for now.

That gun was going to be a problem. James wasn’t sure he was even equipped to deal with the aftermath if it did explode.

Amycus’s aim was getting worse, barely able to hold onto the weapon anymore. Maybe this was James’s chance. The second Amycus let go of that weapon, he could get close enough to finally put an end to all this.

Just as James thought this all would be over, Amycus had climbed back onto the statue, attempting to maneuver the gun to point in James’ direction, using the statue as a base to keep his grip on the device as it jerked about. His target line was so much better with the statue stabilizing the gun.

The Carrow was done playing bulldozer on the city. His target was set on Spider-Man.

James knew this wouldn’t be good. His options were: get shot, grab the gun and have it blow up, or, possibly, both. None of it sounded very promising. Sure, he’d been in scary situations in the past, but he’d never dealt with an unstable weapon with this kind of power in the hands of someone like Amycus.

There was a real possibility that he’d die here. That fact hit him so hard that it was almost as if one of those buildings had crushed him.

He could die right now.

There were so many things he hadn’t done, things he hadn’t said.

He had regrets, sure. He wished he’d stayed as close to Remus Lupin as they had been before he became Spider-Man, but he’d decided months ago to keep Remus out of this for his own protection.

Now, he regretted not telling Sirius how much he appreciated all his help with this Spider-Man stuff, even if he hadn’t wanted Sirius to know at first either. James wished he’d told him how he was the best friend he could’ve ever asked for, the brother he’d always wanted.

More than that, he wished he hadn’t fought with Lily at the Prophet. She didn’t know he’d seen her again tonight. Unless she found out he was Spider-Man, her last memory of him would be of their fight. He wished he’d told her how he felt.

James swallowed thickly as his mind wandered to Aunt Minnie. More than anything, he wished he could give her a proper goodbye. He knew how devastated she’d been when James’ mum had died without saying goodbye. Minnie would be crushed again, and she’d be downright furious with him for being Spider-Man.

But he couldn’t think about any of that right now. Not when Amycus Carrow was prepared to end this at any moment, his finger on the trigger.

Like Lily had said, London needed him. He needed to be there to save the people of the city. He needed to save London because that was where Remus Lupin lived. Where Sirius lived. Lily. Aunt Minnie.

He had to save them. Even if saving them meant losing himself.

Resigning himself to the fact that things were probably about to get very, very messy, he raised his hand, shaking slightly as he moved, to shoot at the gun before Amycus shot at him.

Amycus’s eyes lit up with a devilish delight in what he was about to do.

A screech from the distance caused both parties to pause for a moment. When James looked to where the noise was coming from, two bright lights from some sort of car blinded him. As he blinked away the lights, he’d seen enough to know what had happened.

The taxi careened past him, slamming into the statue in the middle of the junction. The heavy bronze figure swayed for a moment before toppling to the ground with a deafening clash, its motion bringing Amycus down with it.

The gun soared through the air, alight like a meteor. He hoped this worked.

James used both web-shooters to catch the gun, twirling it with one web, and wrapping it like a bandage with the other. Fully covered now, James webbed it to hang from a pile of rubble well lit by the street lamps, somewhere the authorities would easily find it.

He heard their sirens now, coming from a distance. Figured that as soon as things finished up, the cops arrived.

Amycus was out. The statue must have knocked him unconscious. He might’ve checked to see if the Carrow was still breathing if it weren’t for his unexpected hero. As James approached the black taxi, his heart pounded in his chest.

Lily. It had to be Lily. No one else disregarded their own safety enough to do something so stupidly brave except her.

The car was crushed in at the front, the wheels bent at a strange angle and steam billowing out of the grill. He couldn’t see her through the windows since the whole cab was filled with the deployed airbags.

Please be okay.

When he looked inside, ripping off the door of the crushed cab, Lily was heaving, and tears were rolling down her cheeks. She had a bruise purpling along the side of her cheek but otherwise appeared okay. As he opened his mouth to ask if she was, Lily cut him off.

“I-I stayed in the car,” she gasped, looking at him, her green eyes wide.

James swallowed his initial response as she stumbled out of the destroyed taxi, and he reached out, grabbing her hands to steady her. “Be careful,” he murmured, worried her injuries might be worse than what was visibly apparent. He’d gotten too used to the luxury that was self-healing. Lily, on the other hand…

She looked relatively okay though. She wasn’t too pale - well, not any paler than she normally was - and she appeared to know what was going on at the very least. Still… “I think you should let me take you to the hospital.”

“Take me home,” she said, rubbing at the bruise on her cheek. It was swollen a bit, and she had this look of exhaustion on her face that made James’s stomach flip. Maybe she was more hurt than he thought.

James shook his head slowly. If something happened to her, it’d be his fault. “Err...No. I think you need to go, really,” he insisted. “You need to get checked out at the hospital.”

Lily scowled at the suggestion this time, and it was a welcome sight. That was the Lily he knew, the one that crashed cars into famous landmarks. “Look, Spider-Man. If you won’t take me home, I’ve already committed grand theft once today. I can do it again and get home by myself, but I’m bruised and tired and I really don’t care to deal with the traffic this fight has no doubt caused. So, I’ll ask you again. Take me home.”

“That wasn’t a question - more of an order, really. You sure you didn’t hit your head too hard?” She was fine; that, he was sure of now. She was talking normally, didn’t seem too confused about where she was or what she was doing, and though her walk hadn’t been all that steady when getting out of the car, he knew she’d been shaken up. She seemed stable now.

Besides, she’d told him off, so that was an encouraging sign.

James watched with a bemused smirk as Lily narrowed her eyes and then swished around, apparently giving up on travel by web. Her walk was definitely more steady again, which, James supposed, was good. Still, he couldn’t let her drive home. Not when she’d already been through so much that night. Not with that big bruise forming on her cheek. Not with her complete disrespect for her own safety.

Lily had already spotted another taxi and was marching towards it purposefully. James, not wanting her to go off by herself and get in more trouble tonight, ran to catch up with her, leaning on her cab of choice when they got close enough. “So, tell me,” he said conversationally, “do you commit grand theft often? Should I be worried about you?”

That broke through her wall she was building up. He wished he could say the way her eyes lit up, her nose wrinkling slightly at his words, didn’t make him feel anything, but he’d felt this way since he first met her. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that’d change anytime soon.

“Oh, be very worried,” she teased, leaning against the taxi as well. “Planning to be an accessory to my crimes, Spider-Man?”

“Sorry,” he sighed, crossing his arms as he smirked underneath his mask. He knew they needed to get out of there soon since the sirens from earlier sounded far too close for comfort, but he was having too much fun teasing Lily. “No can do. That sort of thing is bad for my image.”

“Ah, yes. Your image, which as we all know is already so good.” Lily let out a soft little laugh, more of a breath than anything, and looked down at the ground. Her smile faded rather quickly, and he knew she was thinking about the paper. As she pushed off the car and examined the wreckage they’d left behind—piles of rubble in and around the streets, the statue toppled, a destroyed cab—her eyebrows knitted together in worry.

It probably wasn’t the best thing to mention his image to her. She’d want to go and fix it, and he’d seen how reckless she could be. Reckless enough to save his life.

And she didn’t even know she knew him. He was glad that in all the chaos, he’d remembered to lower his voice a bit so it wasn’t as easily recognizable for Lily.. If she had known, James knew she’d want to help more. He could only save her from herself so many times.

Thinking back on the events of the day and watching her with that worried look on her face, he wanted to reach out and tell her it’d be okay. They were just buildings. Sure, his reputation might suffer, but he didn’t care about that. No one had died today, and that was the biggest relief, especially with Lily being involved. He didn’t even want to think about something happening to her on his watch. Of all people, hadn’t she suffered enough from his failures as Spider-Man?

He’d wanted to tell her he was sorry for all that had happened tonight. He wanted to apologize for what had happened at work too, despite the mask. He wanted to plead for her to put herself first for once, to stop being so reckless, but the authorities were rounding the corner now, red and blue lights flashing against the facades of the remaining buildings.

James took a deep breath instead. They had to get out of here. “Let’s go,” he said suddenly, offering her a hand.

Lily looked down at it as if it were a foreign concept to her. “What?”

“I’ll take you home,” he said, trying not to sound too impatient, but he needed to dodge the cops. She knew that. He took her moment of hesitation to shoot a web at an intact building, getting ready to leave whenever she was ready. “You’re far too reckless to get home safely by yourself.”

“Right.” She looked nervously over her shoulder before taking his hand. “What if I slow you down, though?”

As she said this, the tires of the police cars and ambulances squealed as they screeched to a stop. Behind them, a few dozen media vans, including Daily Prophet 24/7 coverage. Their time for questions was over.

Reporters scrambled out of their vehicles. They had to leave, now, while James still had a clear view of his escape route. He wrapped his arms around Lily, tucking her in close to his side. “Hold onto me,” he murmured, kicking off the ground and swinging onto the top of the building his web was on.

As they flew through the air, the flashes of reporters’ cameras filled his vision. Looked like the Prophet got their picture after all.

The city was absolutely breathtaking at nighttime. From within the dark, the soft glow of the streetlamps and the lights inside the different apartments was a warm and welcome sight. At a distance, they almost looked like fireflies.

High above the ground, the people and the cars all looked so small. It was as if all the problems of the world were the same size. Up there, it felt like you were untouchable, undefeatable.

Of course, Lily didn’t know this because her face was smushed against Spider-Man’s chest as they fled the scene. She felt the wind whipping around them, stray pieces of hair tickling her cheeks, but she was not going to look around. Her arms wrapped around his torso tightly, and her fingers clung around the fabric of his suit as if it was the only thing able to save her if she fell.

Most certainly not the webs the superhero was soaring through the sky with.

From above her, she thought she heard Spider-Man chuckle. Lily furrowed her brows but figured she must be hearing things. What was so funny at a time like this?

Then she felt his laugh, his chest shaking with every little chortle. Terrified to look down, Lily moved her head up the slightest bit to peek at the man above her.

Problem was, it was really hard to read his facial expression with the mask situation. From the way his head was angled, it looked like he was laughing at her, watching her. “What’s so funny?” she asked, burrowing her face back into his side.

“Oh, nothing,” he murmured back to her, the two of them dipping down as he webbed onto another building. “I just think it’s funny that you were so...so reckless and brave earlier with everything you did, but you’re frightened of heights. You can run into a stampede. You can crash a car into a statue-a national landmark, mind you. But heights, that’s what does you in.” There was a beat as he thought this over before Lily heard his laugh again. “Honestly, this is probably the safest thing you’ve done tonight.”

But it didn’t feel like the safest thing, not to Lily. She felt like she was moving through the city at a very fast pace, very high off the ground while being held up by a couple of little strings. That felt like a very unsafe thing to do. She was sure her father would agree, but he wouldn’t have approved of anything she’d done tonight.

Besides, he’d done this tons of times. At this point, it must’ve been as natural as breathing for him. “I’d bet you were scared the first time you did this,” she replied somewhat bitterly.

“Sure,” Spider-Man said in return. “I couldn’t close my eyes though. Something tells me that wouldn’t have worked out for me too well.”

A smile tugged at Lily’s lips, but she didn’t dare look up. “Perks of being a civilian, yeah?”

“I suppose,” he sighed, and Lily felt him hold her a little closer. She tried to ignore the blush creeping up her neck when, suddenly, he jerked to a stop. She opened her eyes to see what had happened only to find they were hanging on the side of Big Ben. Lily gasped, tightening her grip on his suit for dear life.

“Spider-Man,” she cried, her eyes trailing down the clock tower to the streets below of their own volition. The buses and cars directly below them looked so minuscule. She felt like she was going to be sick, her skin turning clammy and her stomach churning at the sight. Her heart was beating so hard against her chest she was positive Spider-Man felt it.

“Relax,” he insisted, shifting to place her feet on a close-by ledge. “Li-Let’s breathe, okay?” He tugged her closer, shuffling so she was closer against the tower and more securely on the ledge. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Lily did as he said, breathing in, but it came in as a shudder. Spider-Man nodded encouragingly and she thought she heard him say something like, “good, keep going,” but she wasn’t really paying attention to his words. He was holding onto her with one arm wrapped around her in something of a hug, and Lily was very aware of his hand on her back. His other hand was gripping onto his suspended web, only his toes touching the ledge she stood upon.

She tightened her hold on him, not able to think clearly when she was terrified that now he would fall. It didn’t seem to phase him in the slightest, his head tilted upwards into the open air, looking at something high above them.

Her breath must have evened out with her distraction because Spider-Man looked to her suddenly and nodded his head in approval. “Good. See, you’re alright.” Lily only nodded slowly. “Hey, I don’t want you to be scared, but I think you’d think the city is really pretty right now. Can I take you up a little higher-”

“Are you joking?” Lily snapped, looking at Spider-Man with disdain. “I’m terrified, and you want to go up higher?”

He seemed amused by her outburst. “Are you done?” Lily opened her mouth to speak again, but he cut her off. “As I was saying, can I take you up a little higher where there’s a railing and a real floor? You can calm down before I take you home. Does that sound okay?”

That didn’t sound too bad, Lily had to admit. When she nodded her agreement, Spider-Man scooped her up and began scaling the side of the building. From over his shoulder, she saw tourists pointing them out amongst themselves from the London Eye.

As far up as they were when he first took her to the tower, Lily didn’t realize how much farther up there was to go until she was carried up to the top. The white light from the clock cast their shadows on the city below.

Soon, they reached a railing, and Spider-Man pulled them over it. Finally on solid ground, Lily let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Better now?” he asked, and she nodded quickly. She’d never been so happy to have her feet on the floor, even if the floor was much higher up than she preferred. As she glanced out over the city, she had to admit that it was rather pretty. The river Thames looked like glass from so far up, its surface calm and dark other than reflections from the surrounding lights and the moon in the distance. Across from them, the London Eye ticked along at a slow, leisurely pace.

“Yeah,” she breathed, unable to take her eyes off the city. It seemed so strange that the city felt so calm and quiet in one place, and yet, in another, it was filled with destruction.

When she finally tore her eyes off the skyline, she found that Spider-Man was staring over at her again. She ducked her head to hide her blush behind the curtain of her hair. “What?” she mumbled.

“Nothing,” he replied, shrugging slowly. “It’s only...what’s your name?”

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Did Spider-Man call her dumb? Even though she had just sat down, she scrambled back to her feet so she was on his level, looking into his eyes-well, eye markings. “What I did today was I saved your life.”

“And you could’ve lost yours,” he shot back, crossing his arms against his chest.

“So could you!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out. “You know what you do for a living right? You’re at least a little self-aware? Spider-Man, your job is putting your life at risk. I don’t think you’re in a place to lecture me about safety.”

She crossed her arms too, looking him over. He was tall, but his voice sounded young. While it was hard to tell if he was younger or older than her, he seemed like he was at least around her age range. What was a university-age kid doing sacrificing his life for the city? Lily’d had enough lectures this evening for the both of them. If he wanted to lecture her, fine. Two could play that game.

Spider-Man began shaking his head. “You don’t get it. I didn’t choose this. This was put on me, and like you said, London needs me. But you...you need to stay safe. Surely you have people that worry about you. If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for them.”

Guilt washed over her like a tidal wave. Her father would be so furious when she got home. Surely by now, the news had aired. She knew the reporters had gotten a photo of her. She didn’t know if her face was visible, but with her luck, everyone would know she had met Spider-Man by tomorrow morning.

But Spider-Man was wrong. No matter what her father said, Spider-Man saved people. And no matter how angry her dad was, Lily knew she did the right thing. She set out to help Spider-Man and she did.

He was alive because of her. He’d go home to the people who cared about him tonight because of her.

For all she knew, the whole city was alive because of her. What would have happened if the two masked villains had gotten away? What if that sparking laser gun had exploded like it looked like it was going to?

Because Lily risked her life, so many more were safe. She refused to apologize for that, no matter what anyone else said. Even if that person was Spider-Man.

Besides, she was fine.

He did raise a good point, though. Her father was probably worried sick waiting for her to come home.

Lily felt Spider-Man’s gaze through his mask, and she was vaguely reminded of an ant under a microscope. He must have been waiting for her to respond, but she was so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed.

What did she even say to that? Did Spider-Man not want to be Spider-Man? If she could, Lily would trade places with him, take the weight off his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Lily murmured, taking advantage of the fact that Spider-Man probably thought she was talking about risking her life. She wasn’t, but at least her words placated him. She wasn’t sorry for what she did.

She was sorry that he had to carry this burden for the city, sorry he had to be responsible for keeping people who didn’t appreciate him safe.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled in return, and Lily watched as he paced for a moment before he stared back at her. “Look, it’s not… I’m grateful that you saved my life and all.”

“Then-” Lily started, but Spider-Man cut her off, looking down at her in a way that she practically felt the intensity through the air.

“But I don’t want you to go risking yours for something like that again.”

Lily nodded slowly in return, even if she didn’t mean it. Something like that. They weren’t talking about saving a couple of buildings or a famous landmark. She’d saved his life. It was worth the risk. If she had to do it again, she would. But Spider-Man needn’t know that.

“Anyway,” she heard him sigh as he stepped closer to the ledge again. “I’d better get you home. Where might that be, Lily?”

She knew she needed to get home before her father went out and started looking for her himself. She’d be surprised if he hadn’t already. Lily murmured her address, joining him at the edge and grabbing his outstretched hand.

This time, she didn’t close her eyes. Whether she had grown used to the sensation or if she’d grown numb, Lily wasn’t sure. Granted, she was keeping her eyes on what was in front of her, deliberately ignoring the ground below them.

Instead, she watched as Spider-Man webbed from building to building. Every time a bit of web was released, he pressed this mechanism built into his suit. As she first noticed it, she had to blink a few times to be sure of what she was seeing.

All this time, Lily had thought Spider-Man had special supernatural abilities, and the webs were only one of them. Although she didn’t understand how Spider-Man would be able to shoot webs from his skin, she’d just assumed he was some type of mutant.

But those web-shooters were man-made. He must have engineered them somehow. Or maybe he’d commissioned someone to or something. Either way, they looked complicated.

Spider-Man must have been really intelligent to figure something like that out, but engineered web-shooters meant he was really just a regular guy.

She did wonder who was truly behind the mask. Not because of any desire to expose his identity to the world, and certainly not to turn him over to the cops. No, Lily was simply fascinated by the mystery.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that this man had sort of saved her life tonight too.

She had so many questions for him, but she was afraid that if she asked, he wouldn’t tell her. Or worse, he’d get upset and think she was trying to discover who he was. So instead, Lily kept quiet the entire way home, watching Spider-Man use his web-shooters.

How did they work? What substance inside that tiny mechanism created those near-indestructible webs? They were strong enough to resist lasers. They pulled both his and her body weight through the sky. Forget their weight, that day at the bridge, Lily watched on the telly as Spider-Man stopped a bus from falling into the river.

And it all started with those little web-shooters.

Far too interested in the web-shooters, she hadn’t realized that Spider-Man had gotten her back home until her feet were placed firmly on the ground. She glanced around, realizing that most of the lights in the building were dark now as people had gone to sleep for the night. Her own home was still lit brightly, and she was sure her father was waiting for her.

Lily turned around to thank Spider-Man for bringing her home, but by the time she did so, he’d already disappeared into the darkness.

She sucked in a deep breath, reaching out for the front door’s handle and turning it until she heard the click. “Dad?” she called, stepping inside. “I’m home…”

#jily #jily*#lily evans #james potter #lily potter #prongs #fnjp #our writing

43 notes · View notes

likeawildthing · 3 years

Text

Happy birthday, Lily. Note as to why I’m publishing this and what it means to me under the cut. This is an unpublished portion of Summer of ‘81.

xxxxxx

Two days after she finishes Potter’s snitch, July crashes down on Lily with a screech, a bang, and her own blood-curdling scream.

She’s stopped at the corner, impatiently waiting for her signal. Just as she’s about to bloody risk it and make a dash across, light be damned, Potter and Black pull up, looking smug and smarmy while straddling the motorbike.

Potter winks at her. Ought to be difficult, looking suave while riding pillion, but he manages well enough.

Black revs the engine, in a bid for her attention. When he’s got it, he nods at the road.

Lily immediately shakes her head. She’s fast on her skates, better than anyone she knows, but against a motorbike? Against that motorbike? She’s not completely bloody barking.

But then Sirius teases the throttle again, teasing her, and Potter flaps his arms like a chicken.

Pricks.

She isn’t a chicken. She knows this.

She has nothing to prove to them.

Really.

But when Potter clucks, she flips him her own bird and crouches, calves tensing as if an invisible starting block were behind her.

Both boys lean forward in unison on the bike.

She cheats, tearing down the sidewalk before the light releases them. She laughs at their shouts of fury, skates faster, hair whipping ‘round her face.

Then the motorbike roars, a beast released, and with a squelch of tires on pavement they outstrip her in three seconds. Black pops a wheelie as they ride past; Potter nearly loses his seat, but doesn’t.

Even after they’ve turned the next corner, she doesn’t slow down.

The bike echoes deafeningly against the buildings as the boys loop around the block. As they pass her again, Potter waves jovially. She gives him the finger, but she’s grinning. She would gloat, too, were she in their trainers.

They’re waiting for her at the end of the block. Her legs are shaking, threatening to buckle, but she refuses to give them the satisfaction of doubling over and bracing her hands on her knees, no matter how sharp the stitch in the side pulls.

“Fancy a ride?” Potter asks.

Before she can answer, Black chimes in with, “Wouldn’t normally give filthy cheats a ride, but you’re a bloody mess, Evans.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

She eyes them. “Where would I sit?”

“We’ll make room,” Potter says, grinning like an idiot.

“Your laps?”

“Handlebars.”

“Right. How could I have missed something so obvious?”

The sad thing is, she’s sorely tempted. But she’s got two potions to brew tonight, so—

“No, thanks,” she says, throwing them a two fingered salute.

“Evans,” Potter replies. “You’re skipping a chance to ride on the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Sirius elbows his best mate in the gut. “Bike’s not bad, either.”

She hopes they write her flush off as exertion rather than embarrassment. When James punches him back, Lily laughs.

She shouldn’t do it.

But the engine revs again—a blood siren call—and Potter’s smirk sharpens, pulls one of her own. The familiar thrum in her veins, adrenaline mixed with recklessness and something else she can’t place.

Old Lily would jump.

“Dammit,” she says, dropping to her arse and tugging at her laces, “give me a ‘mo.”

It takes an embarrassingly long time to pull her skates off, then her socks, which she shoves awkwardly into her skates. When she looks up, Potter’s driving, and Black is standing on the sidewalk. This shouldn’t surprise her—they probably planned this. Still, hesitates for a fraction of a second. Only that, and then she straddles the bike before she changes her mind.

She’s fucking barefoot on a fucking motorbike with James-fucking-Potter.

Old Lily needs a healthy dose of common fucking sense.

She’s glad the still lingering smell of rubber on asphalt masks her stinky feet.

For her safety, Lily tucks her thighs against James Potter’s hips in a pitiful attempt to keep her toes from the scorching exhaust pipes. For her pleasure, she wraps her arms around his waist.

“You know what you’re doing, Potter?” she breathes in his ear.

He shudders. She doesn’t have to see his face to know he’s grinning widely.

“Not a chance in hell, Evans.”

With that vote of confidence, he revs the engine and shoots forward like an arrow down the street.

In hindsight, she’s amazed they lasted three and a half blocks. To Potter’s first credit, it’s not his driving but the cat that does them in.

Technically, it’s her seeing the cat, forgetting about the tattoo she’d just inked onto his bicep, and squeezing to warn him, the blinding pain of which causes him to lose control.

He’s apologetic as fuck. Embarrassed. Terrified, rightly so, that his mate’s going to kill him.

“I think we’re even again, Potter.”

“You grabbed my bicep.”

“You crashed the motorbike.”

“Creative stop with the aid of a few dustbins, Evans.”

“He’s going to kill you,” she says, inspecting the shattered mirror.

“Fuck,” he says, seeing her properly for the first time. “All right?”

She assesses. She’s not hurt. Well, not badly. She felt the pull of a Sticking Charm, so she kept her seat, and a Cushioning Charm prevented real injury. A scraped knee, a burnt ankle from the muffler.

Not bad.

Not great, either.

She can’t fix either of her injuries here, with him. She refuses to get back on the bike, and he won’t leave her there, barefoot, with shards of mirror on the sidewalk after James pulled the motorbike onto the sidewalk.

They settle on piggyback, with more glorious thigh squeezing, though less pleasurable than before, while cheerfully contemplate which method of murder Sirius will employ when he finds out about the bike.

The murderer-to-be meets up with them a block sooner than expected, her skates in hand and a dangerous look on his face.

She whispers “hot oil and feathers, I think” in Potter’s ear. He shudders, and she can’t tell if it’s from adrenaline or the deadly calm in Black’s voice as he says, “Prongs.”

“Padfoot.”

“Black,” she says.

Black ignores her, his eyes fixed on James. “Where is she, Prongs?”

Lily hops off, best not to be in firing range for this. James lets her go automatically, his eyes fixed on Sirius. If she weren’t here, Lily has the distinct impression James would already be tackled, hexed, or perhaps a mixture of the two.

“Prongs—where in the fuck is she.”

“I’m fine, Black,” Lily says, “thank you for asking.”

“Evans, you’re clearly fine or you would’ve killed my best mate here. And thank you for not, because I’ll have the pleasure of doing it unless my motorbike is in the pristine condition I left it in ten minutes ago.”

“Go easy on him, Black. He was trying to impress a girl.”

She picks up her skates by the laces.

“You going to be alright, Lily?” Potter asks.

“Nothing I can’t fix at home,” she says, stepping on the ball of her foot to keep from showing him the heel.

“Ta, boys. Thanks for the…er….thanks. I think.”

“’Night, Evans.”

“Good luck, Potter.”

She giggles, fucking giggles, as James goes in a flat run. Even limping, which she hadn’t noticed before, he’s faster than Black. Lily waits until they’re around the corner, then starts for home, skates in hand. Yes, it will take her hours to brew some salves for her burn, but perhaps old Lily wasn’t completely daft after all.

______________________________________

Today I naysayed the idea of taking a walk, and then I remembered that old Lindsey--healthy Lindsey--never let something like the weather stop her from a good hike. Even if I can’t hike because health, I can go immerse myself in nature because I know it fulfills me. So I put on jeans and a sweater and my rain coat, drove the 20 mins to my favorite park, walked the half mile to my favorite bench and listened to the rain for forty minutes. Half froze to death, but it was great. Now I’m sat drinking tea and trying to warm up when I remembered this unpublished bit of “Summer of ‘81.” I have loads of unpublished fic and I think, if I do share them in the future, it will be in instances like this. This little piece of Lily—traumatized, disconnected, at a low point—that I wrote three years ago reminded me of myself today. We can make choices that honor our past selves even if we can’t go back and be that person. And that’s how we move forward, one oddball choice at a time. And as I published this, I realized it was her fictional birthday. So! Here you go.

#jily #tw potter #lily evans #lily potter

52 notes · View notes

optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 4 years

Text

Spiked

Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, Slight Explicit Content, Stalking, Kidnapping Summary: You’re one of Linda Drysdale’s friends from work. You’re one of her assistants and she invited you over for dinner with the family. What the problem is that you are seeing her son and he can be a complete asshole and psycho.

Author’s Note: I’m still unsure about explicit content. Feel like I’m not good compared to others.

~~~

You stormed out of the building, holding your phone to your ear. You rummaged through your bag as you marched towards your car. “Mrs. Drysdale, I don’t think I can make it. The paperwork we were given a few days ago needs to be done by tomorrow-”

“Forget the paperwork. I insist you to give yourself a break and come over for dinner,” Your boss, Linda says. You sighed heavily as you reached your car. “Okay. I guess I can go.”

“Perfect. I’ll let my son know,” She said. You cringed. Your eyes closed as she hung up. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. That asshole you also work for. You barely knew the spoiled prick.

But at first look, he was a complete asshole to you. He always asked you to get him a coffee or his bag of those damn cookies he loves so much. You always replied that you weren’t his intern.

Even if he did fire you, he didn’t have the right. His mother did. But soon she’ll have to retire and then he’ll have his way with you.

You got home around 3 and Linda said you could come around 4. So you gotten a shower done and threw on some clothing.

After that you drove to the Thrombey residence.

That house was big. Surprised that most of them don’t even live there. You reached the house and parked just in the front. You looked over and saw the blue car. You shook your head, “Shit.”

You opened your door and heard the dogs bark.

They come running over and they began to jump. “No. Down!” You called to them, you walked forward to see Ransom on the porch.

Eating those damn cookies again with a smug look on his face. He watched you walk up. “You look great,” He said.

“Eat shit, Hugh,” You said, he glared at the back of your head as you walked in. He chuckles to himself and followed behind. “Mother, Y/N called me Hugh, you know she’s not supposed to.”

You turned to him and scoffed, “What? Am I supposed to call you Daddy?”

The cookie he had in hand stops near his mouth as he smirks, “I’d like that.”

“Ransom, leave the woman alone,” Linda calls, she walks over and smiles. “Hello, darling,” Linda hugs you and pulls away, “Would you like some wine?”

You grin softly, “I’ll have one in a bit, thank you.” Linda holds her hand out, “Well, come into the living room, the family was just chatting.” You glanced at Ransom who smirks at you before walking in first.

You sat next to the boy you remember being. Jacob? He was on his phone throughout the whole chat. He would glance at you at times, you even caught a glimpse of his chat. Saying you were some whore for his cousin, Ransom.

You didn’t mind the little gremlin.

“So, Y/N,” Linda began, you look up to her, “Do you have any plans?” You looked around, chuckling softly. “I’m sorry. What plans?”

Linda grins, “Plans. Like anyone special. Kids?” You chuckled at the thought and shook your head. “I’m not sure. I guess I haven’t really gone out,” You replied. Linda and the family nod.

“Well, you’re lucky to get paid a lot. I’m sure Ransom could pay a bit more,” She turns to her son as he looks over. You were confused. “I’m sorry?” Linda turns to you and smiles. “Well, Ransom is taking over the business now. I think he was ready. Maybe soon, you’ll take it.”

Ransom laughs. “Not by chance,” He mutters. You didn’t want that. Ransom could make you suffer more than Linda did. You tried to smile but it made you look like a fool. “Is there wine in the kitchen?” You asked. Linda nods, “Yes, I can go grab you a glass if you’d-”

You stood up, “No, it’s okay. I can grab it myself. Thank you.” You walked out of the living room and headed into the kitchen with a loud huff. Your hands plant themselves on the counter as you catch your breath. Hugh? As your boss?

No fucking way.

“Tired?” Ransom’s voice rang in your ears like warning sirens. He comes into view, standing on the other side of the counter. He puts the glass he had in his hand on the counter and turns to the whiskey on the shelf.

Your eyes glared at him as he did that. He was shoving it in your face without even mentioning it. He turns back to you and halts for a brief moment. “What’s with the face? You can at least give your friend a smile-”

“I’m not your friend.”

He hisses, “Ugh, that’s gonna hurt,” His hands plant on the counter like yours, “I thought we had a connection.” You grit your teeth. “When did we ever have a connection?” You asked.

He turns around and blocked your view with his broad shoulders as he poured in the whiskey. “Look, I want to have a good impression from you. Since you’ll be my assistant. I think we’ll work together just fine,” He says.

“Nothing with you is never fine,” He turns around with two glasses of whiskey. “I’m sure we can change that... soon,” You watched him put the glass of whiskey in front of you. He gestures to it, “Wine isn’t gonna help. I think whiskey on its own could help you. Chicks dig the wine. Don’t like that.”

You look up to Ransom and took the glass in hand. He watched you closely as you downed it in one go. He smiles as he pulled his up to his lips. Your eyes never faltered from his.

He sighs and points with his finger, “Want another?”

You woke up the next morning. Your head pounding as you groaned in pain. Arms lifting you up, you realized you were in a bed. You jerked up and yelped in pain when your head pounds again.

You were lucky to be in your clothes still. No soreness or anything. This wasn’t your house. Of course it wasn’t. You stood from the bed and trotted out into the hall.

You walk down the stairs and found Ransom in the living room. His back turned to you. “Hugh?” You asked.

“Look who’s up. Thought you were dead,” He says. You looked around, “What the hell? Why am I here?” You asked.

Ransom turns, “Well, Linda thought I could take you to my place till you woke up. Your car is still at the house. I think I’d keep you here till that hangover goes away.”

You snatched your jacket on the chair and threw it on. He turns around, “Where are you going?” He asked. You reached for your shoes he took off from you and stormed for the door. “Where the hell is your door!” You ask. You felt his hand grab you and stopped you.

“You’re not going anywhere with that hangover.”

You stopped and looked at him with wide eyes. You panted, “ You spiked my drink.” Ransom sighs and you drew your eyes down. You tugged yourself away, “Let go of me, Hugh!”

“Don’t call me that!” He snaps. You grabbed his other arm to kick him but he pulls you into a room and shoves you against the wall causing you to groan. “Let me go!” You growled.

His hand goes to your neck, lifting your chin up and you yelped when his knee goes between your legs. Your thighs clenched on his. “Ransom, please,” You whispered, his panting was rough on your skin. “Please, what?” He asks. You lifted your hips to somehow escape but that made it worse when your lower half rubs against his jeans causing you to let out a strained moan.

He smirks. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?” He asked. You grit your teeth, “Yes.” He takes that for acceptance as he leans closer to your neck. His lips graze your skin. “I’m desperate to get you off me!” You were strong enough to use your knee that was aimed at his crotch as he groans in pain.

He went to reach for you but you ran out. “Y/N! Get back here!” You stepped down the stairs and down the street. You ran as fast as you could. After an hour, you were lucky to find your house.

After that.

You ignored the family.

A few days had passed and you continued to work. You couldn’t ignore Linda cause she’s your boss. For a little longer. You weren’t happy to have Ransom work as your boss.

You might as well just quit. The money was important though. You finished your work and headed back home. You walked. Since you didn’t bother to grab your car at the house. Yes, you left it there.

Who knew Ransom was gonna be there and bother you again. He spiked your drink to take you to his house. Who knew what he’d do if you were out longer. You were reaching the bar and grill just up the sidewalk and spotted a familiar car.

It was yours.

You saw someone leaning on it as well. The hair was familiar. Than tan coat as well. You would’ve groaned loudly but he already turned to face you across the street. You crossed the road and stormed up to him.

He was smiling through his shades. “Are you following me?” You asked, Ransom shrugs. “Why would I be following you?” He asked.

You looked at your car, “How did you get my keys?” Ransom held them up over her face. “Took them from your purse when you were knocked out on my bed. Thought I’d get your car but you scattered off before I could.”

“You kidnapped me.”

“You’re getting a little too dramatic, pumpkin. I was-”

“Don’t call me pumpkin! You spiked my drink! If you wanted to ask me out, do it properly,” You said. Ransom laughs but to you it sounded fake. He held his stomach, “Seriously? If I were to ask you out, we’d already be fucking right now.”

You grit your teeth, “I’m gonna quit that job and you’ll just have to find your own assistant.” You reached for the keys but he pulls them away. “Just admit it, sweetheart. You want me.”

“All I want is my damn keys!” You reached for them again but he tugs them away again. “You take the keys, you’re gonna have to drive me home cause I don’t have a ride.”

“Screw you! You should’ve returned my car three days ago! I suggest you get the same medicine!” He lets you take the keys and you jumped into your drivers seat.

Ransom bends down to look at you in the window. “You’re really gonna treat your boss like that? I’m sure we can write that on as one of your disciplinary warnings.”

You closed your eyes and leaned on the wheel. Ransom smirked as you hit the wheel before reaching over to the door. He heard you pop the lock and he comes around to the other side.

He hops in with a sigh. His cologne hitting your nose like a truck. He looks over to you like a child going to disneyland. “Where we going first?” He asked. You turned around to back the car up, “Taking your ass home.”

Ransom grins and turns away.

You reached his house and you two never spoken on your way there. You stopped by his driveway and unlocked your car. Ransom turns with a smug smile, “This was nice,” He says.

You never looked at him. “Mhm.” He laughs lightly, “Just know that I own you now.”

“You don’t own shit, Hugh. Now get out of my car,” You snapped, finally looking at him. You watched as his hand reaches for the door and the doors in your car lock.

“What are you doing?” You asked. He didn’t have his seat belt on when he first got in and he leaned over to you. His lips crashed onto yours and you went to shove him till his hands grip your arms. His hand unbuckles yours and it slides away from your torso.

“Ransom, stop-”

“Don’t fight it,” He growls on your lips. He pulled you onto his lap and you gave in. His hands gripped your hips and held you on his lap. The kiss never broke as his tugs your suit jacket off and reaches for the buttons in front.

The dress skirt you wore was already riding up as he got grips on your smooth thighs. The sound of his buckle being pulled out. You moaned when he drops you onto him.

After that, he was unavoidable.

~~~

Not a good writer for explicit content but there you go! It’s 12: 25 over here and now I bothered myself with this fanfic.

@jtargaryen18 @chrisevans-imagines @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @patzammit @navispalace @bucksgoat @axen-gers @ifuseekamyevans @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @princess-evans-addict @stop-obsessing-over-those-actors

Want a tag? Just ask!

#chris evans x reader #chris evans #knives out #ransom drysdale x reader #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #cevans #2019 #avengers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

308 notes · View notes

marshyswagswag · 3 years

Text

Intrusive Chapter 1:

I’ve decided to start a new series where I turn the screenplay I’m writing into a piece of more traditional writing because I think a lot of people on here would enjoy it!

It’s based around FBI agents, slow burn, kinda angsty and I try to add a touch of comedy just to level out the sadness :)

Here we go...hope you enjoy!! :)

Word count: 2.2K

Characters: Callie Keys, Jacob Stevens and Ian Fender (all my original characters)

Whatever shell remains of Jacob Stevens sits slumped in the passenger seat of Callie's car. He doesn’t bother to look her way as she talks at him; ranting about her day and the new case she’d been assigned to work on.

After leaving the FBI last spring, he could care less for any sort of conversation around the subject, yet he would never tell that to Callie. He lets her drone on about whatever case she’s working on or maybe even one that one of her colleagues was working.

Stevens squints his eyes, making the streetlights dance in the dark. He’d done this since he was a child; he had many tricks like this up his sleeve. They came from years of dissociating from his surroundings and ignoring whatever was being said to him.

“The director assigned me to the case. My success rate was high last year.” Callie drones, fully aware that Stevens won’t acknowledge her.

Stevens picks at his fingernails, smelling the bleach and hand sanitizer residue from his lab coat. His feet ached from standing all day and his eyes could barely stay open.

It’s sad to say but this was his routine. Escaping from work half-alive, Callie acting as his chauffeur, choking down what he could into his exhausted body then collapsing in his bed for upwards of ten hours.

Today was one of the long days at the lab. It was a fight to keep his eyes open in the darkroom as he tested for traces of blood and developed film found at a crime scene.

It would be better if he lived alone, he thought as Callie turned down the final street in their journey home.

Stevens doesn't see it, but soon after the gentle sway of the car, there’s a crash.

Both of their bodies are jolted forward, the crash not severe enough for the airbags to deploy. Callie throws one arm in front of Stevens’ chest as a suburban mom might do, not being of much help.

“Are you okay?” Stevens shouts anxiously.

“I’m fine, you?”

“What did we crash into?” Stevens asks as if the haziness was from the crash.

“I don’t know.” Callie says, “Grab my bag.”

Stevens unbuckles his seatbelt before reaching into the back seat of the sedan. He struggles to find Callies black duffle bag in the dark car, but eventually is able to grasp it, feeling the hard polyester on his stiff hands.

Once given the bag, Callie calmly rifles through it to locate her gun and flashlight. She barely mutters an apology when her flashlight shines right in Stevens’ face.

Stevens gets out his phone flashlight, which is dim compared to Callie’s, but is still fully functional.

They both get out of the car, silently, years and years of working together preparing them for this moment.

With their backs to either side of the car, the two begin to survey the dark area, uncovering their surroundings. Directly in front of their car is another; no sign of functional head or tail lights, bumper to bumper.

Callie’s flashlight illuminates a short, red-haired man assessing the damage done to his car. She recognizes him immediately.

Stevens turns on Callie’s brights and begins to walk down the street; seeing what must be at least five cars piled up, bumper to bumper.

“Ian?” Callie calls, the man meeting her in between their two cars.

“How fucking ironic, right?” He calls back, unable to take his eyes off Stevens who is still assessing the situation.

“Why are your tail lights out?”

“They weren’t when I left. I must not have seen them go out.” Ian says casually, obviously unaffected by this.

“It looks to be a five-car pile up.” Stevens reveals, standing next to Callie and actively ignoring Ian.

“Dr. Jacob Stevens, this is Special Agent Ian Fender.” Callie says, with a smile almost hidden behind the stress.

“Ironic, right?” Ian asks.

Stevens nods, giving him a faux smile to hide his disinterest.

Immediately after the introduction, Stevens heads back into his own world, treating the scene like an investigation.

He walks through the pile of cars; all bumper to bumper, seemingly attached in some way. Callie’s car is the only one with headlights and the drivers at the front of the crash have already left.

The car at the front of the crash is pulled up to the stoplight. The passenger was probably waiting at a red light when the second car came and drove right into it.

Stevens could see insurance information written on a sticky note on the windshield of the first car. Maybe the driver wasn’t in the car at the time of the crash, but that seemed unlikely.

The second car had no insurance information to be found.

It’s plausible that this is all a big coincidence, but the lump in his throat suggests otherwise.

The second car's tail lights are either off or not functional, but before Stevens can check them, he’s interrupted.

“Doctor, huh?” A voice calls from behind him.

Stevens turns around to find Ian approaching him from behind.

All Stevens can manage to choke out is a hesitant “Yeah.”

“Left your job at the FBI to work forensics?” Ian asks genuinely.

“It seems you know me, but I don’t know you.” Stevens remarks, continuing his investigation. Still, Ian follows him.

“I’m Callie’s partner on the Wanaka case,” Ian adds, “I used to work forensics too.”

Stevens stops at this addition, relaxing a bit. “Forensic scientist to profiler.” Stevens asserts on behalf of Ian.

“Tech analyst, actually.”

Stevens gets a bitter taste in his mouth, the kind you get with an old memory you’d rather forget.

Stevens pauses again; almost like he’s going to say something, but he stays quiet.

He looks at his phone; 10:30, it’s no use staying here.

“Nice meeting you, Ian.” Stevens mumbles, making his way back to Callie’s car.

“You as well.” Ian replies in a bad Australian accent.

“We’re lucky to be close to home.” Callie says, taking her phone away from her ear, “All of the tow trucks are out of service after 10.”

Stevens nods, collecting his belongings from the back seat. Callie does the same.

Stevens’ eyes are wide open now though his stride is still fatigued. His clothes are beginning to feel irritable and the weight of his messenger bag makes his shoulders droop.

“Fender!” Callie calls as her and Stevens make their way towards their apartment.

“What’s up?” He answers.

Stevens takes the lead with his flashlight; Callie knowing it’d be idiotic to sport her gun on the street in the middle of the night.

“How far is your place?” She calls again even though Ian isn’t too far.

Ian calculates, looking around at the street signs, “About six miles. Any luck getting a tow?”

“They’re closed after 10.” Callie says with remorse in her voice; “You can crash with us, our apartments only a block up.”

Ian laughs at ‘crash’ before hesitantly agreeing; “Let me grab my bag.”

Stevens and Callie stand next to Ian’s car, waiting while he rifles through the mess inside.

Out of courtesy, Stevens shines his flashlight in Ian’s direction, revealing a long blood stain running down the left leg of Ian’s grey slacks.

Stevens jumps back, his eyes widening. Callie takes notice of this too, walking to Ian and whispering something in his ear. Stevens pretends to be on his phone and not listening to their hushed conversation.

He can’t make it out, but Ian sighs angrily at whatever Callie whispered to him. He takes a moment before rifling through his car once again. He moves slower and more shakily.

“I think there’s a clinic a couple blocks up—I don’t think any of us can drive you—“ Stevens stutters once Callie and Ian join him on the sidewalk.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ian interrupts, “I cut my leg on some brush today; it’s an old stain.”

Stevens nods, reading Ian’s fast paced movements as embarrassment.

The three walk in the moonlight towards Callie and Stevens’ apartment.

Ian spent the walk explaining how he crashed; he was pulling up to the stoplight when he bumped into a car in front of him that had no tail lights. It was completely dark even though it was only 9:30 and the driver in front of him had already left.

Stevens and Callie’s apartment is small, sporting only two bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen. The interior design had been mostly up to Callie, though Stevens initially called the shots.

The apartment looked typical for two 25 year olds. There’s a couch, coffee table, and TV but not much furniture beyond that. There’s a bookcase that’s only filled about half way and instead of a dining room or kitchen table there are three barstools set up in the kitchen.

The fridge fit the same stereotype. Milk, cream cheese, maybe some fruit, but nothing else perishable. On the contrary, the freezer was stocked full with frozen meals.

“Jacob, can you get Ian some clothes to change into?”

Stevens nods, guiding Ian into his bedroom.

Stevens’ room told the story of someone who hadn’t lived there long, though that was mostly untrue. He had a mattress with no bed frame, a cardboard box as a nightstand and a lamp, but little else.

His closet was perfectly arranged and neat, his bed made messily with a calendar next to it.

Stevens gestures to Ian, suggesting he can pick out whatever he wants from the closet.

Rather than hover over him, Stevens takes a sweatshirt and sweatpants for himself and changes in the bathroom.

Callie is standing in the kitchen on her phone, eating peanut butter from a bowl when he comes out.

“Ian; do you want to go over some case notes?” Callie asks.

Stevens sits down at a barstool, trying to finish his bowl of cereal as fast as possible.

“Won’t be able to sleep, anyway.” He answers, walking out of Stevens’ room. Stevens’ zip-up hoodie and flannel pants barely fit him; Stevens standing almost five inches taller than Ian.

Stevens allows Ian to take his spot at the breakfast bar, putting his dish in the dishwasher.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes, Jake.” Ian says with a mouth full of peanut butter.

Stevens pauses at “Jake”. Nevertheless, he pulls himself together and callis back; “No problem” with the last of his energy.

“‘Night, Jacob.” Callie calls. He gives her a wave.

Before he reaches his bedroom he hears Ian ask Callie for something to which she replies “Under the sink.”

Lying restlessly in his bed, he half expects to hear Callie and Ian making out, but instead the night is filled with conversation; both serious and lighthearted.

From the moment Stevens is conscious the next morning, he can feel his heavy body stiffening. His eyes are almost glued shut and his face is wet with tears.

He decides to ignore the pain, walking out of his room on autopilot.

Stevens looks at the couch; Ian’s make-shift bed already cleaned up. His blanket is folded, pillow on top.

Already full of energy, Ian greets him in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee. “You look like you need it,” he jokes.

“Thanks, Ian.” Stevens says, noting the empty cup of coffee in the seat next to him, probably Callie’s, “How long did you guys stay up?”

“We crashed around 1am. It’s a tough case.”

“I’ve heard.” Stevens drones, upset he has to endure a conversation about the work he left.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to go down there today to check out the security cameras, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be going anywhere.”

“Mm.” Stevens mumbles, barely able to process Ian’s words until his second cup of coffee which he makes sure to thank him for.

Callie emerges from her room, fully dressed and ready for the day, yelling at Stevens to get dressed.

Stevens goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He stares at his face in the mirror: dry and swollen. His eyes droop lower than usual, the bags under them starting to gain definition.

Stevens bites his lip, frosting his toothbrush and nearly choking on the overpowering toothpaste.

He leans against the wall as he brushes his teeth; taking notice of the box of tampons next to the toilet and the Advil on the counter.

After he’s brushed his teeth, Stevens pops an Advil into his mouth, swallowing it along with water in his cupped hand.

The three of them walk back to the pileup, this time in broad daylight.

Callie and Ian try to tell Stevens some story about some case they worked on a few months ago, but all Stevens can do is watch Ian fiddle with his outfit; borrowed from Stevens.

The pants nearly fall right off of him, barely held up by his belt. Good thing he didn’t need shoes. Ian’s wearing glasses today; similar to the wire ones Stevens wears on a daily basis. He must wear contacts, Stevens thinks.

They all stop when they get to the scene; Stevens the last to look up.

The pileup looks artificial. Lime green spikes impaled into the tail lights of each car. Well, each car except Callie and Stevens’.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Ian looks to Callie. He knows they’re nothing thinking the same thing.

This was a set-up.

#original character #writer #writing #lgbtq characters #lgbtq fics #lgbtq story #fbi fic #fbi #i'm so excited #slow burn #angsty #these tags are cringe #writing feedback #writing fanfic #thank you for reading

8 notes · View notes

brokenkingdom-forgottenempire · 3 years

Text

Safe With Me (McReigns)

One night Roman got jumped by a group of strangers.

Long ass fic ...

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

It was past midnight. Roman just got off his night shift as a barista. The café closed quite late that night, and they still had to do some extra cleaning inside the shop. The café would be closed for three days for the holidays so they did not mind spending extra time cleaning the floor and other utensils..

Roman sent a text to his boyfriend earlier to inform him. Drew tended to get worried whenever Roman arrived home late with no message. The café was owned by his friend, Seth, and Roman was more than happy to work there. Those two were best friends since high schools. Unlike Roman, Seth was married to Jon. Now, the three of them were more like family than friends. The café was busier earlier, people coming in and out to get their drinks, desserts and pastries. Seth handling the cashier, Roman and Becky were busy with the drinks, Sasha and Bianca baking and preparing the cakes and breads, Baron would served them.

They all made a great team, and Seth would always tell his friends by the end of the day that this café would be nothing without them. Business had been great so they would have extra tips every night. Tonight was no different. The moment the gate was pulled down and locked, six of them were ready to go home, Roman observed as Sasha’s wife, Bayley, waited outside the shop, Becky’s girlfriend, Charlotte, was leaning against her car that she parked across the street, chatting with Bianca’s husband, Montez. Baron lived a block away from the café so he would walk home alone. The taller man was always so quiet around new people but he would rant to Roman and Becky about his boyfriend, Tyler once in a while.

Roman smiled and bid Baron good night as the quiet man walked away and waved back at him. Jon was helping Seth loading some of the things he needed to bring back home at the backseat of their car. “Are you sure you don’t want to send you home, Ro? I mean, we’re heading to the same direction, we can just drop you off in front of the block?” Seth asked. He quietly hoped Roman would agree, but the Samoan just shook his head.

“I’ll be fine, Seth. Go home and rest, I’ll text you or Jon once I reach home,” Roman chuckled as Seth pouted but the younger man gave in. Seth knew it was useless to argue with his best friend, especially after midnight and Roman probably wanted to take a walk alone to clear his mind after a long day at the café.

Seth and Jon hugged the bigger man before leaving, “Don’t talk to strangers, Roman. Call us if you need anything. I have my baseball bat with me in the trunk so they better don’t mess with my favourite man,” Jon hugged him tighter and Roman just gladly hugged back just as tight as he whispered ‘thank you’ to the other man. The couple then drove off, and Roman walked home alone. He had his phone in hand. The wind was colder tonight it sent shiver down Roman’s spine. The Samoan tugged his jacket closer to his body to shield himself from the winter night breeze.

After walking about 10 minutes, Roman was a block away from his and Drew’s shared house. He checked his phone to see if Drew sent him anything. It was almost 12:30am. Before, Roman could make a turn to his place, a voice stopped him.

“Hey, sexy. Need us to accompany you tonight?” A male voice. Roman turned to look over his shoulder and saw a group of five men standing not far away from him. Judging from the bottles they were holding, Roman guessed none of them were actually sober. The Samoan did not say anything in reply and continued to walk away. He had his hair up in a bun as usual but sure they had mistaken him as a woman...with a built physique. Roman was taller and way muscular than them. ‘Drunk ass can’t tell gender apart,’ Roman thought to himself.

Roman tried to ignore the group but suddenly a hand grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him back. He yelped in surprise, and before he could defend himself felt a fist made a contact with his jaw. He could taste the metallic taste of blood on his tongue now. ‘Oh God,’.

The Samoan struggled and clawed at the man’s arm who still had his hand in his locks. Roman was never a pro fighter but he could still fight back. He drew his fist back before punching the man above him right at the middle, causing him to double over and loosen the grip on Roman’s hair. Of course, it was far from over. Before Roman could run away two of the men from the group grabbed him. Punches and kicks landed on his body. Roman fell on the ground, him arms shielding his head from getting a kick on the face. His knees tucked close to his chest to reduce the impact of the hit.

“Strip him,” another male’s voice ordered. Roman froze in his position. What.

Roman did not manage to protect himself before two men held him down, a pair of hands unbuckled in belt, and another pair forcefully tugged his jeans down.

“No! Let me go!” Roman trashed around, trying to break free but the two drunk men had a strong grip on his wrists, a knee pressed him down hard by the chest, and hands wrapped around his neck, restricting his air. Roman coughed out blood but he still struggled. He was getting raped. Oh God, he was going to die. Drew would be so devastated. Oh God, Drew.. “D-don’t touch me!” Roman’s wheezed out when he felt cold, sticky hands grabbed his naked thighs. The hands on his neck tightened and he felt dizzy. Drew. He needed to go back home to Drew. Black spots began to appear, his eyesight blurred out by tears. He was choking. No air. Roman’s eyes rolled back into his head.

Then he heard a ‘thud’. Something fell? Then another one. Then another. The hands on his neck were gone and air rushed back into his lungs. Roman breathed in greedily but he ended up coughing from the pain on his chest. His body was too weak to sit up. What happened? Roman tiredly opened his eyes only to see Drew standing next to him, swinging a hockey stick at another attacker’s head. Roman whimpered as he watched the stranger fell down on the ground not moving.

“Roman! Jesus, baby, you’re bleeding! Don’t move, I’ll call an ambulance,” Drew’s voice was filled with fear. Roman looked up at his boyfriend, the Scottish man fished out his phone from his pocket, ready to dial. The Samoan reached up and grabbed Drew’s arm, tugging at it for attention. “What is it, babe? Can you see me? Can you breathe? Say something, love. Oh God, I should’ve waited for you outside-” Drew was rambling. He never rambled. Drew only did that when he was in a panic state. Roman persistently tugged the other man’s arm and Drew had to bend down closer.

Drew did not get to ask before Roman pulled him down for a kiss. Drew held to hold himself back, he did not want to hurt his boyfriend further when he tasted blood on his own tongue. Drew was the first to pull back. Roman, with blood trickling down the corner of his mouth, smiled tiredly at him. “You came.” was all Roman could say after a while.

“Of course I came, you idiot!” Drew huffed out. His boyfriend was out of it. They probably hit him in the head, and now Roman was completely out of it. “Enough talking, you’re bleeding! We need to go to the hospital now. I’ll carry you,” Drew was ready to lift his 260 pounds boyfriend but Roman shook his head.

“No. Don’t want hospital. I want you. I’m cold. My jeans-”

“I pulled your jeans up earlier when you almost passed out. You’re cold because you’re lying on wet sidewalks. We’re going to the hospital,” Drew scooped him up easily but the sudden movement caused Roman to whimper in pain, his leg hurt. Did they break his leg too? His chest hurt. Despite all the pain he was feeling on his body, Roman would rather stay inside their bedroom, warm and safe, than to spend the night on hospital bed.

“Baby, please, I don’t wanna go,” Roman slurred out his words. He was too tired. He hated the hospital. He just wanted to cuddle up with Drew, warm in their bed. He almost got raped He almost died out here. He just wanted Drew.

The Scottish man sighed heavily before leaning in to kiss Roman on his forehead. “Ro, we need to get your head check. They hit you, your head is bleeding, they strangled you too, “Drew’s eyes unconsciously darted down to Roman’s neck. Red trace of the attacker’s fingers and some bruises were starting to get more visible on the Samoan’s bronze skin. The sight made Drew want to just crack the asshole’s skull with his hockey stick. “I just need to know that you’re okay, Please, let’s just go-” A loud police siren cut Drew’s pleading off. Roman shut his eyes tight when he heard it. It was too loud for him. The Samoan just curled further in Drew’s hold as if it would help to reduce his headache. When did Drew call them?

“Are you two alright?” Sheamus’s voice. Their neighbour. Drew’s officemate too. “I called the cops when I saw Drew started swinging. The medic should be here soon too. Are you okay, Roman?” The Irish man asked. Roman nodded weakly and gave his best (bloody) smile.

“I’m alright-”

“No, you’re NOT alright. Shut up,” Drew cut Roman off before he turned to look at their neighbour. “God, thank you so much, Shea. I didn’t know what would ‘ve happened if I didn’t come out to look for him. They almost-”

“But they didn’t. Roman is safe now, the cops are here. You saved him,” Sheamus gently patted the Scottish man’s shoulder, comforting his worried friend. Drew’s eyes were teary as he held Roman tighter in his hold. Using all the strength he had left in him, Roman wrapped his arms around his Scottish boyfriend, burying his head in Drew’s chest. He could hear Drew’s heart thumping against his ribcage, unsteady and fast. Roman just nosed Drew’s clothed chest, inhaling his boyfriend’s fresh-out-shower body gel helped to calm him down. He was safe. He was with Drew. Drew was here holding him.

The ambulance arrived minutes after the cops did. Sheamus and a couple of officers had to restrain Drew from attacking the assholes who hurt Roman. The Scottish yelled something about they were lucky he did not crack their skulls open for touching his boyfriend. All five of the attackers were handcuffed and jammed at the back of the police van.

Drew had reluctantly left Roman to the healthcare workers. They were patching the Samoan up, checking for any broken bones or internal damages. Fortunately, they found none. Roman had sprained his knee when he fell earlier. There was an open wound near his hairline. Black and blue patches began to appear around Roman’s neck but it was nothing serious. The wound did not need stitching. No concussion. The medic did advise him to go to the hospital for further checkups but Roman turned it down. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, he was fine.

The Samoan was thankful when they told him the blood that he spat out earlier was from the cut inside his mouth when one of the assholes punched him in the face. There was still a throb of pain around his chest area whenever he inhaled too deep, he would end up coughing, but of the health worker ensured him his ribcage was alright. Roman lifted his head up when he saw an officer approaching him. He calmly answered the questions regarding the incident and if they did anything else to him. Roman just shook his head and turned to look at where his boyfriend was standing with Sheamus, also being interrogated by another police officer.

Roman told everything from when he left the café, walked down the streets and met the group. How they attacked him, what he felt when he was losing consciousness. Roman did not realize when Drew got to him but he surprisingly did not flinch away when the Scottish man reached out and intertwined his fingers with Roman’s, holding him tight when Roman paused his story. The police officer was patience enough to let Roman had small breaks in between too.

Once the Samoan had done telling his side of the story, the officer told the couple that they would handle everything else from now. The medic just told Roman to rest more and to report if there were any rising concerns especially his head and chest. The couple thanked the workers and before they could go, a familiar voice broke the peaceful silence of the night time.

“Where are those sonofabitch?! I’m going to f*cking murder them!” Jon yelled put, baseball bat in hand, ready to swing it at anyone at all. Some of the officers from earlier rushed to surround him. “Don’t touch me! Where’s Roman?!” Jon charged front to stand face-to-face against one of the officers who told his men to hold fire.

“Jon! Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Please excuse my husband, he’s just worried-” Seth tried to pull Jon away from the cops. Some of them had guns in their hands, waiting for orders. Seth apologized over and over again before turning to calm his husband down. “Babe, please. Don’t do this. I don’t want anything to happen to you too,” Seth’s hand moved to stroke Jon’s face. The man with the baseball bat huffed and tucked his weapon away, arms crossing over his chest.

“Seth! Jon!” The two men turned their heads when they heard Roman’s voice. Seth did not seem to bother when the officers tried to stop him as he ran to hug his best friend.

“Jesus, Ro! What happened?! Drew called Jon earlier and told us you were attacked? Oh God, look at you! I should’ve forced you inside the car-”

“Seth, I’m fine. Breathe. Calm down. I didn’t mean to scare both of you. I’m okay now. Drew beat them up with the hockey stick.” Roman did not push Seth away and just tightened his hug when he felt Seth crying on his shoulder. The Samoan shushed the younger man, his head throbbed in pain but he ensured Seth that he was alright.

“Next time, we’re not taking a ‘no’ from you, Ro. We’re driving you home or we’ll drag you home.” Jon’s voice made Roman turn his head. He did not realize Jon was standing so close to him at the side. Roman reached out and pulled Jon into a group hug. His strong arms wrapped around the couple as he tried to calm his still racing heart caused by the incident.

“I’m sorry.” Was all Roman could say.

Seth slapped his chest lightly at Roman’s apology. “Don’t apologize, you big goof! I’m just so glad you’re okay!” Seth’s eyes were still glassy, tears still leaked at the corners. Roman nodded in reply before pecking both of their foreheads. It had become his habit now. Even Drew knew about it. Speaking of Drew, the Scot just silently approached the trio, Sheamus was still with him, telling Drew how to make their area safer for all of them.

Once the police officers and medics left, Drew and Roman invited them into their home for some drinks, and Roman just could not stop apologizing to his two best friends and their neighbour, Sheamus for causing all the trouble. Sheamus shook his head and patted Roman’s back, telling the Samoan that anyone would do the same if they saw their neighbour being attacked like that. Seth was still clinging onto Roman’s arm, and Jon had to convince Seth that they would visit Drew and Roman again tomorrow, and Roman needed to rest. That did it for Seth as the younger man slowly loosened his grip on Roman’s arm.

Seth went to hug Roman and Drew once last time before they left. Jon did the same and thanked Drew for telling them because they both knew Roman would keep it to himself for the rest of his life with the excuse that he did not want to worry the couple. Sheamus bid everyone good night (or morning) and went back inside.

Roman watched as Jon’s car drove away before he let Drew guide him back into their home. Drew’s arm wrapped protectively around his boyfriend’s waist. Once they were safely inside their bedroom, Drew wasted no time as he dragged Roman to lay down on top of him on their king sized bed. Roman did not protest and just wrapped his arms around Drew, holding onto him like an anchor. God, he almost got raped and died in the attack.

“I love you,” Drew whispered.

“I love you too, baby. Thank you. I love you so much,” Roman moved up a little to kiss Drew full on the lips, deep and long. All the fear from earlier vanished, knowing that he was safe in here, with his favourite man.

“I’m walking you home next time. Or Seth and Jon can drive you home. If I ever find out that you walk home alone again, I’m tying you to this bed. Screw your job at the café. Do you hear me?” Drew’s warm breath washed over Roman’s face. The older man just nodded silently.

“Make love to me?” Roman asked suggestively before he moved to straddle Drew. The Scot just stared at his boyfriend as the Samoan spat on his hand to stretch his own hole. “Make me forget about them?” Drew did not need to be told twice. He stroked his dick as he watched Roman stretched himself open. Two fingers in, Roman began writhing in pleasure, causing him to moan shamelessly. The Samoan moved his hips up and down, riding his own fingers as he fixed his eyes at Drew’s blue ones, lust was evident in both of them. Roman did not want to remember the cold hands gliding up his bare thighs as his jeans were yanked down. He wanted to forget the smell of smoke and liquor as they held him down on the hard concrete ground. He wanted to forget fingers that wrapped around his neck, suffocating him to almost unconsciousness.

Drew grabbed a small bottle of lube he kept on the nightstand next to their bed, and squirted some directly on his dick, making sure he would not hurt Roman. Drew gripped at the base of his dick as Roman moved to hover his hole right above the head, aligning them before the older man slowly eased down the fat length.

“That’s it, baby. Take it all,” Drew’s deep voice was almost too much for Roman. The Samoan continued to slide down his boyfriend dick, whimpering as he felt the meat went deeper within him. Drew knew Roman did not like to take it slow, he would usually tell Drew to just shove it in, but he would let Roman lead tonight. He was not sure if Roman was in the right headspace for some rough sex either.

“Ahh fuck, babe!” Roman cried out as he had finally seated on Drew’s dick, balls deep. The Samoan began grinding his hips, hole muscles massaging Drew’s hot meat. Drew’s head fell back as he groaned in pleasure. He really wanted to slam his dick hard inside of Roman but the band aid on the older man’s temple was set like a reminder for Drew to go gentle unless it was Roman who wanted it.

“You feel alright, Ro?” The Scot asked, gently pulling Roman down to give him a kiss. Roman smiled and nodded his head as returned the kiss. “Promise you’ll tell if you feel lightheaded.” Drew planted a kiss on Roman’s forehead.

“I promise. Please fuck me hard, Daddy. I need it. Please.” The older man slowly lifted his hips and brought it down again on the thick length, grunting loudly as he felt the head went deeper and deeper every time he moved.

“Get on your back, baby. We need to put less pressure on your knee.” Drew ordered, and Roman moved without arguing. He needed this. He needed Drew. The younger man grabbed both of Roman’s legs and spread them apart as he settled in between. Drew did not waste anymore time as he slid in almost smoothly, causing Roman to arch his back. Drew leaned in, capturing Roman’s lips with his, swallowing muffled moans as he began bucking his hips.

Drew pulled his cock almost all the way out before he slammed it back into the Roman’s twitching hole. Their bedroom was filled with the sound of skin slapping skin. Roman’s long, ink black hair splayed on the white pillows. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the bedsheet tightly, almost ripping the fabric off.

“Fuck, Drew! You’re so- ah - deep! So fucking deep. So good.” the man below panted, eyes rolling back when Drew hit his spot.

“Fuck yes, baby. I want you to feel me. And only me.” Drew’s mouth trailed down on Roman’s back thigh, kissing the exposed skin and biting it. “I want your body to remember how my dick feels like. No one else can touch you. Only me. I’ll break them in half if they dare to even think about touching you. You’re mine, baby boy.” He moved to plant more kisses on Roman chest and down to his navel. The older man gasped when Drew teasingly bit the skin around his belly button.

“Yes, Daddy, yes! Harder please!,” Roman’s voice cracked, feeling his prostate being assaulted over and over again by Drew’s hot rod. “Please, I��m about to come. Harder, baby.” His hands reached up to hold onto Drew’s biceps when Drew sped up and ram into his boyfriend harder. Roman’s breath hitched at the pleasure. His mouth fell open in a silent scream.

“Come for me, Roman,” Drew’s voice was enough to bring Roman to the edge. He came without touching his dick. Ropes of cum spurted out every time Drew slammed in, and it landed on Roman’s stomach and chest. That was one intense orgasm for Roman, his body was sensitive all over. However, Drew had not come yet. He gently hooked Roman’s legs on his shoulders, big hands spreading the fat cheeks more before he began thrusting in again. “Ooh fuuucckkkk. Slow, babe, please. You’re getting too deep.” Roman’s whispered plead was it for Drew. The Scots continued to fuck harder and deeper, milking more pleads and cries of mercy from his older boyfriend.

After several thrusts, Drew came inside Roman, painting the walls inside white. Roman whimpered as he tried to milk Drew’s spent cock more with his oversensitive ass muscles.

Before pulling out, Drew leaned in to kiss Roman once again, stopping few times to tell Roman ‘you’re safe here, baby’, and ‘I love you’. Roman just hid his face at the crook of Drew’s neck, he breathed in the Scottish man’s scent and he knew no one was going to hurt him. Drew was there with him. Drew would protect him.

Drew dragged Roman to their bathroom, helping the older man to take a quick shower. Once they were done, Drew pulled Roman back down into their bed, tucking the older man’s head under his chin. Roman’s arms came to wrap around Drew’s waist while Drew’s big arms pulled Roman closer to his chest. They fell asleep like that... in each other’s arms.

#mcreigns #took me almost a month bc the idea ran away from home #bottom Roman #as always #hurt Roman too #a little #protective Drew #forgive me if this seems like a rush...maybe it is a rush you'll never know

24 notes · View notes

cheemers-writing-archive · 3 years

Text

Crusader of Life 3: Chapter 1

“Don Giovanna, there’s a message for you.”

“Who’s delivering it?”

“Andrea, sir.”

Giorno furrowed his eyebrows. Mista was on a mission with Andrea, and the two of them were told only to come back once they completed that mission. Mista wouldn’t have let anyone come back until the job was done.

“Let him in,” he said. “I need to have a word with him.”

After some time, Giorno’s bodyguards finally delivered Andrea to the main room.

“Why is it that you came back without Mista?” Giorno demanded. “If he hasn’t returned, it means the mission isn’t complete.”

“Forgive me, Don,” Andrea bowed. “Our target saw us coming, and… well, this is what I’ve come to tell you, but… Mista… Mista was killed.”

“What?” Giorno shouted. He shot up from his chair. “No, there’s no way anyone can kill him! He’s our best gunman!”

“I don’t know how it happened, Don,” Andrea shuddered. “It was like an invisible force killed him. I’m sorry, but I ran in fear. I’m not equipped to deal with the supernatural.”

As Giorno tried to hide the tears in his eyes, he calmly sat back down. “You’re forgiven,” he murmured. “You can go now.”

As Andrea bowed and left, Giorno slammed his fist on the arm of his chair. “Send this message to the strongest Stand users in our organization:” he ordered the bodyguards, “find the man who killed my last living friend.”

***

It was a very busy day at Naples’s biggest airport. Not much busier than normal, of course, except for a girl pushing her way through the crowd. The girl would normally stop and apologize, but there was no time for that right now. She couldn’t slow down, not even for a second. Not with the threat at stake. The girl’s bright red hair flew as far as it could from its owner, given it only reached down to her chin. Her blue eyes darted around, looking for somewhere to hide. That’s when she saw an open door following into an empty room. She ran towards the door, and slammed it behind her. Breathing heavily, she hovered her head over the toilet and gagged.

A knock on the door startled the girl. “Emily?” a man asked. “Did you make it?”

Just as Emily was about to answer, her stomach turned inside out as she threw up in the toilet.

Outside the bathroom, two boys stood waiting. The taller one shared a resemblance to Emily, with his fair skin and red hair, but with purple eyes instead; the shorter one was strikingly different, with short, jet black hair that was pulled away from his similarly-colored, almond-shaped eyes, but he still shared a similar shade of skin.

As Emily walked out of the bathroom, she muttered, “I hate plane rides.”

“At least you didn’t barf on someone this time,” the shorter boy snickered.

“Daichi!” the older one scolded.

“Sorry,” Daichi said as he dipped his head and cracked a smile.

When the three finally pushed their way through the crowd, Emily breathed in fresh air, basking in the clear, Italian sun.

Then, her stomach growled.

“Dad, can we stop somewhere to eat?” Emily asked.

“Not yet,” the older man said. “We need to get our stuff to the apartment first.”

Emily grumbled. “Fine.”

“Lucky for us, we have a person ready to drive us there,” the man said. “We just need to find him… ah! There he is.”

The man pointed to someone holding a sign reading Noriaki Kakyoin.

As the family approached the sign holder, Kakyoin gave a friendly wave.

“I take it you’re Kakyoin?” the man asked.

Kakyoin nodded. “These are my kids, Emily and Daichi.” He put an arm around each of their shoulders.

“Well, I can see the resemblance in the girl, but what happened with the boy?” The driver started walking to his car, and the family followed.

“Adopted.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” The driver started up his car as he got in. “What are you here for?”

“Celebrating this girl’s eighteenth birthday,” Kakyoin pointed his thumb back at Emily. Who gave an embarrassed smile.

“Oh, well, happy birthday!” the driver said.

The rest of the drive was silent, with quiet music through the radio and the occasional clearing of the throat.

“Well, this is your stop,” the driver said. “Have fun in Italy!”

“Ari- er, thank you,” Kakyoin replied as the car drove off, then sighed. “Ah, home sweet home. At least, for a couple of weeks.”

“Okay, now that I know where we’re staying, can I please go find some lunch?” Emily begged.

“Only if you take Daichi with you,” Kakyoin chuckled. “I don’t want you running around a big city all by yourself, you know.”

“Yes, sir.” Emily grabbed Daichi’s hand and pulled him along.

“Hey, don’t pull me so suddenly!” Daichi exclaimed. “I almost fell.”

“That’s what you get for bringing up the time I threw up on someone, Daini,” Emily retorted.

“You know I don’t like that nickname,” Daichi mumbled.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Emily teased. “It’s only fitting for you to be called second instead of first, since you’re the second born.”

Daichi grumbled a bit, but stayed quiet after that. While they were walking, a boy slid up right beside Emily.

“Hey, what’s up?” the boy asked. He had dark skin, black hair, green eyes, and a grin that annoyed Emily to no end. “You’re really hot, wanna go on a date?”

Emily said nothing as she continued walking past.

“Don’t know me, huh?” the boy tried again. “Thought you might not. You look like a foreigner. My name is Lucio Bianchi.”

Still no response.

“And you are…?”

“Look, are you just gonna try to pick me up all day long?” Emily scoffed, finally turning her head to look at Lucio. “I’m not gonna be in Italy forever, so I’m not looking for a relationship. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna get some food. Come on, Daichi.”

“Playing hard to get, huh?” Lucio ran up and blocked Emily’s path. “I like girls like you.”

Suddenly, Lucio felt a strange energy emerging from the girl. Before he knew it, he was floating up in the air, being held by some strange force. Then, without warning, he flew back into a wall.

“If you really must know my name, it’s Emily,” she told him, not even turning back to look. “Emily Kakyoin. Now, get lost.”

While Emily continued walking, she suddenly had a chill down her spine. A cold and menacing aura was creeping up behind her, and a low laugh came from Lucio.

“It was a mistake to use your Stand abilities on me,” Lucio said. “You should have kept them to yourself, so I didn’t know to interrogate you.”

When Emily turned around, Lucio had a companion next to him, a light blue colored, human-like creature with no mouth, eyes that looked like speakers, and hands with something resembling small suction cups on the fingertips.

“Daichi, run,” Emily ordered. “Get back home, and tell Dad what’s going on when you’re safe.”

“But-” Daichi started.

“Just go! Run!” Emily interrupted. “This fight is between me and this jerk here.”

After some hesitation, Daichi slowly backed away before turning around and sprinting.

“Good,” Lucio said. “Now that the kid’s out of the way, I won’t feel bad about involving any bystanders. Seven Nation Army, take this girl down!” The second he finished his sentence, his Stand put its hands on the ground, and sent something akin to a shockwave through it. The sidewalk around Lucio was cracking and forming into spikes, and the effect of the shockwave was getting dangerously close to Emily. If she lost balance, which was surely inevitable, she would fall over and be impaled by the distorted concrete.

“Walking on Sunshine!” Emily shouted. Her Stand manifested itself, with its golden, human-shaped body, bug-like eyes, and long hair that formed into its head. Emily jumped when the shockwave reached her, and instead of falling back to the ground, she stayed in the air.

“Don’t think you’re safe up there,” Lucio grinned. Seven Nation Army moved its hands up to face Emily and shot another shockwave straight at her. She flew out of the way, but she wasn’t completely out of Seven Nation’s attack radius. She was pushed straight into a wall, and it knocked the air out of her. She lost control of Sunshine, and fell on a smooth part of the ground, to her relief. However, before she was able to get up, a foot slammed down on her chest.

“Now, then,” Lucio said with a glare in his eyes, “this won’t hurt at all. I’ll just make you pass out. And maybe, if you’re not the Stand user we’re looking for, we can get some lunch sometime.”

“Don’t get cocky, now,” Emily taunted. Lucio felt the energy around him again, but this time, he was thrown straight up. Emily followed him, with a huge chunk of the damaged concrete trailing behind her. When Lucio started falling back to earth, she hurled the chunk at him. It hit Lucio on with full force, making him cough up a little bit of blood. Seven Nation Army was ready, though, and sent another shockwave through the concrete chunk, shattering it into a million tiny pieces. Then, when death by being crushed wasn’t a problem, Seven Nation used its shockwaves to slow Lucio’s descent. Once both him and Emily landed on the ground again, the girl picked up two more chunks of concrete with Sunshine and threw them at Lucio.

Why isn’t Emily just controlling the concrete the whole way before it reaches me? Lucio thought to himself as Seven Nation crumbled the cement in the middle of its path. Better yet, why isn’t she just picking me up?

That’s when it hit him. Walking on Sunshine’s range doesn’t go that far! So long as I stay out of that range, I can win the fight. But the new question is how far Sunshine can reach.

On the other side of the damaged sidewalk, Emily saw the ah-ha moment in Lucio’s eyes. I need to stay on my guard, she said to herself. He’s figured something out.

Lucio sent another shockwave through the ground, this time intentionally making it easier for Emily to pick it up. She flew above the wreckage just like before.

“What do you think will happen if you keep trying the same thing over and over?” she shouted. She picked up another piece of pavement, about five feet away from her, and threw it at Lucio, who shattered it before it hit him, just like before.

“Same thing you think will happen, since you’re also trying the same thing over and over,” Lucio shouted back. He watched Emily pick up more concrete, this one about three feet away. While Emily was still in the air, Lucio used Seven Nation Army’s shockwaves to force the girl further into the air.

In the air, Emily just barely avoided Lucio’s attack as the waves came closer to her feet. If she lost control at this height, she would be as good as dead. When the waves finally stopped, she looked down at Lucio. He was bent down to the ground, breathing heavily. So, too much usage of his Stand will wear him out quicker, she thought to herself. Well, since he can’t defend himself, I should try to take him out now.

Back on the ground, Lucio was watching Emily closely as he regained some of his strength. She dived back down to earth, but stopped to pick up another loose chunk of cement as soon as she could. Once again, she was about five feet away.

Now, Lucio was sure. Walking on Sunshine’s range had to be five feet. So, I can get close enough to knock her out, and she still can’t hurt me. With his new information and his regained strength, he rushed in to fight Emily head on. However, when he got close enough, she let go of the pavement and grinned.

“I knew you would let your guard down,” she said. Lucio found himself suddenly floating yet again.

“What?” Lucio exclaimed. “But, I was keeping careful track of how close I was to you when you used your-”

“I know full well what you were doing,” Emily interrupted. “I could tell you were watching to see how far my ability could reach. That’s why I intentionally shortchanged it, so you would get close enough for me to bash your head into the wall!”

Lucio chuckled. “Alright, you win in that area,” he said, “but you forgot to notice that I wasn’t just testing your range, I was also testing other limits of your Stand. And now, I know exactly what to do to get away from you.” Seven Nation Army used its shockwaves again, and Lucio moved a little bit while still being held by Sunshine. Emily clenched her teeth together, and Sunshine pulled Lucio in more, to balance it out. Lucio noticed, pushing harder on the shockwaves to get himself out of Sunshine’s range, and Emily did the same to keep him in. Each Stand was using more and more force by the second, pushing themselves to the limit in hopes of the other breaking first, while the two users had sweat pouring down their faces, fixed with an expression of agony, feeling the effects of using so much power at once.

Then, Emily’s pained frown turned to a smirk. “You also didn’t know about my other ability, did you?” In an instant, she switched from Sunshine’s iron grip on Lucio to an anti-gravity bubble surrounding her. Like a stretched rubber band that was just let go of, Lucio flung backward, hitting a building so hard that the bricks he hit had cracks in them. He sputtered out some blood from his mouth as he fell to the ground.

From the vague, blurry shapes that Lucio could make out, he saw something human-shaped with red around the head. Although he wanted to say something as his last words, he couldn’t make anything out other than shallow breaths and small grunts. At least dying in the hands of a cute girl isn’t the worst way to go, he thought to himself.

However, instead of being held in midair like he was expecting, Lucio was picked up by Emily herself, the first time she used her actual hands on him. Lucio’s vision was starting to go dark, but he heard Emily’s words before he was completely out:

“I don’t want to kill you, you know. I was simply defending myself. Once you heal up, don’t bother me again.”

As Lucio closed his eyes, Emily frantically checked his heartbeat. She sighed in relief when she heard a steady thumping in his heart. Right after, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She floated it up to her face to find that the battle shattered her screen, and that Daichi was calling. Still holding Lucio, she poked the call button with her nose and brought her phone up to her ear.

“Emily, I can’t find Dad anywhere.” Daichi was breathing heavily through the phone.

“What do you mean, you can’t find him anywhere?” Emily asked.

“He’s not picking up any calls,” Daichi said with a wavering voice. “He’s not home, either. Emily, I’m scared. What if Dad’s dead?”

“Hey, Daichi, don’t worry,” Emily reassured him. “Dad’s probably fine. He wouldn’t just disappear and die like that. I’ll try contacting him after I deal with that guy who attacked me.”

“You’re still fighting?”

“No, I just need to get him somewhere where he can be taken care of. Daichi, listen, everything will be okay, I promise. I’ll meet you back at home, hopefully with Dad, alright?”

Emily could hear Daichi’s breathing get more steady. “Alright.”

“Love you, Daini,” Emily said. The minute she was done calling Daichi, she got another call, this time from the police. Confused and concerned, she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Emily,” Kakyoin’s voice called.

“Dad?”

“Everything’s fine, I promise,” Kakyoin quickly told her. “It’s just… I’m in jail.”

#crusader of life #golden wind #jjba

4 notes · View notes

pigtownchronicles · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1.8 - Pigtown’s Shadow

Both Marlon and Jimmy had been reluctant when Kyle had suggested going out to a club that night. It wasn’t that they were bothered by the idea of going out, or drinking underage, it was that in their opinion, gay clubs were passé. Who went out to a club anymore? It seemed like such an anachronism. If you wanted to meet a guy, you got on tinder. If you wanted to get a drink or party, there were way more exciting places to do it than with a bunch of gay guys. But with enough badgering they relented, climbed into Jimmy’s car, and headed downtown to Depot.

But now, Jimmy and Marlon were converts. The sheer energy and vitality in the room was unlike anything they’d felt before, and by far, the strangest and most thrilling part was that in Depot they were normal. Growing up in the wealthy suburbs, going to wealthy schools, they were all part of the same upper class as the rest of their peers, and for the most part, the homophobia they’d faced was minimal in the liberal culture. But while they weren’t hated, they weren’t normal, either. They’d never really thought about all the ways they were constantly pressured to conform and tone themselves down, so that the people around them--the straight people--didn’t have reasons to be afraid of them. To hate them.

But here, they weren’t just normal, if anything, they were boring. The makeup, the bodies, the sex, all of it. The energy was infectious, and by the time last call came around, the two of them were amazed to discover that hours had passed and felt like no time at all. That, and Kyle was nowhere to be found. They checked their phone and found his message saying he’d gone home already, and they chuckled at that. The guy who had been so eager to come out had left early, and here they were, still having fun.

In an effort to be responsible, Jimmy hadn’t had a drink since that first one, but Marlon had gone back to the bar for a few more as the night progressed. He wasn’t falling over wasted, but he was more than a bit drunk, enough that as they walked down the sidewalk towards where they’d parked the car, he was leaning on Jimmy for some support. It was cute, Jimmy thought. Looking around, the streets were emptier than he’d ever seen, and it was a little unnerving. As they got closer to the car, he also had the distinct sensation that something was watching them.

He paused, and Marlon almost fell over. “What’s up?”

Jimmy looked behind them, but there was no one there that he could see--but oddly enough, from the corner they’d come around, to a couple of yards away, all of the street lights had gone out. And not just the streetlights--every light on the street. About twenty yards away, everything just went completely black, which shouldn’t even be possible. There was still light around, after all--but it was like something was just absorbing all of it. As he stared into it, trying to look and see what might be in there, another street light flickered and went out, leaving just two between them and the void.

“Come on Jimmy, what’s up?”

“Doesn’t that seem strange to you?” he said, pointing into the darkness. “Those were all lit up a second ago.”

“Everything around here is falling apart man, it’s not that strange,” Marlon said. He tried to stand up on his own, but ended up stumbling over and leaning against the side of the building.

“Hello there, boys, how’s the night?” The voice came from the doorway not far from where Marlon was leaning. The space was dark, the same kind of shadowdark as the street they’d come from. A man in full black leather stepped out onto the sidewalk, the only bit of skin visible was the lower part of his face, and even that was obscured by a thick black beard. The band of his muir cap was pulled low, so his eyes were impossible to see. “You aren’t going home yet, are you? You know the night’s just getting started around here.”

“Actually, we are heading home, thanks,” Jimmy said, pulled Marlon over to him, and they kept walking down the street. As they passed under each street light ahead of them, it would flicker, and then go out as they crossed to the next. He looked behind them, but the man had slipped back into the darkness and was impossible to see. They were almost to the car, which was on the next block, and at least the guy seemed to be alone. But then, the light ahead of them flickered and went out leaving an empty hole in front of them. Jimmy pulled up short, but Marlon, whose head had been watching the sidewalk for cracks, stumbled on into the dark, and just...disappeared.

Jimmy just waited, expecting him to come back out, but there was nothing. Not even the sound of his footsteps, or of him breathing. He stepped closer to the edge of the light, when he heard something behind him. Boots on pavement. The stranger stepped out of the shadow again, right on the edge of the light. “Where’s your friend, boy? Wasn’t he just here?”

“Dude, get the fuck away from me, alright?”

“He just stumbled into the darkness, didn’t he? He can’t be that far away. Go on, just take a little step--you aren’t afraid of the dark, are you?”

The man stepped closer, looming over him, the dark behind him, the man before him. He edged his foot back, but he couldn’t...feel the sidewalk there, in the dark. He felt like he was being pushed to the edge of a pit.

“Jimmy?”

It was Marlon’s voice, but it seemed so far away. “Jimmy, where are you?” he replied.

“Right here Jimmy, I’m at the car. Come on, Jimmy, let’s go home, you have the keys.”

Another moment, and maybe he would have stepped back, and found out what was in the dark. But instead, a bright beam of light cut through the dark behind the man, and he winced, visibly, as though the light had hurt him.

“Fuck, is it another one of Shadow’s puppets? I thought we’d gotten them all!” someone shouted.

“He has someone cornered!”

The man in the leather, glowered. “A pity,” he said, straightened his coat, stepped past Jimmy into the dark, and like a switch, all of the lights came back on up and down the street. He blinked, and saw a couple of men running towards him with flashlights, and coming closer, he saw they were police officers. “Fuck, it’s just a kid,” one of them said.

Jimmy looked around for Marlon, but he wasn’t on the sidewalk. Looking further up, to the car, he wasn’t there either, that he could see. “M-Marlon?” he called out. “Marlon!”

“Hey, hey!” one of the officers grabbed him by the arm, and shone the light in his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing out here this time of night, kid?”

“I...My boyfriend and I, we were just going home!”

“What the fuck are you doing out here? God fucking damn it!”

“Give him a break Williams,” the other officer said, and pulled the other off him. Something seemed off about the two of them, somehow--they weren’t quite...right. They didn’t quite seem to have the build he would have expected from the police officers out in the suburbs. Their beards were longer and unkempt, their uniforms dirty and wrinkled. “Did you say your boyfriend?” the officer asked.

“Yeah, he...he stepped into the dark, and...and now I don’t know where he is.”

“Into the dark?” the officer said, “What do you mean ‘into’?”

“It was the shadows, I don’t know. The guy wanted me to go in too, but then you showed up.”

“I didn’t think any of his puppets could do that,” the other officer said, looking around.

“What’s your name, kid?” the nicer officer asked.

“Jimmy.”

“Alright Jimmy, I need you to listen to me,” he said, and locked eyes with him. A sense of calm washed over him, and the only thing that was keeping him standing was the officer’s firm hand on his shoulder. “Is that your car over there, kid?”

Jimmy nodded.

“You’re going to walk straight there, Jimmy. You’re going to get in, and drive home. What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

“M-Marlon.”

“You let us take care of Marlon. You don’t need to worry about him. You don’t need to think about him for a while, or wonder where he is. The most important thing for you to do now, is to go home, and don’t come back here, for Christ’s sake kid. Stay the fuck out of Pigtown if you know what’s best for you.”

Jimmy nodded, the officer looked away, and gave him a little push towards his car. Jimmy did as the officer said, went right to his car--half expecting that Marlon might be inside waiting for him, but he wasn’t. He drove himself home, and found himself staring at every shadow he passed, but they were all empty ,and normal. Not like that strange, deep darkness. Still, he kept a lamp on next to his bed all night long, not that he slept much. He might not have been afraid of the dark before--but he was now.

***

Want more Pigtown Chronicles? Support me over on my Patreon, and you can get early access to new chapters, along with loads of other content!

#leather #pigtown

11 notes · View notes

chasing-classics · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Slaughterhouse (2/3) Miguel x Reader x Angel

Warnings: violence, mentions of abuse and non-consensual sex

Pairing(s): Angel Reyes x Reader, Miguel Galindo x Reader

A/N: I don’t plan on this becoming a series, more like a three-part mini story. I received a few messages asking if there would be a second part to ‘Welcome to the Slaughterhouse’ and instantly the idea of where I wanted the story to go and how it would end started formulating in my head. There will be one more installment of this mini-series and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Your past with Miguel is explained in further detail along with how you reunited with Angel. Later, the dinner table becomes the lion’s den as certain truths are brought to light.

PART 1 , PART 3

Can you turn the page into something new The fantasies of burdened beasts But kings and queens won't even dream of peace

You had known fear throughout your entire life. The fear of whether it would be a ‘’good day’’ in the sense that your mother would be passed out on the couch from how much liquor was in her system or if it would be a ‘’bad day’’ and she’d throw the glass at your head while screaming incoherently. Most of the time it was the latter. You had known fear for Angel when was mourning the loss of his mother and Ezekiel was locked up and that fear increased little by little for every beer he drank to cope with his own pain. The fear that he’d end up like your mother, or worse; that you’d lose him to the in an accident due to drinking. When he joined the club, fear lingered at the possibilities of him getting hurt or getting locked up like his brother. Fear was present when you two slowly began drifting away from each other, life taking the both of you down different paths. And fear was most definitely present throughout your entire marriage to Miguel.

When you and Miguel had first started dating, he kept his family business very much hidden from you, only talking about his father and mother and the brother he never had a chance to meet. It wasn’t until after you walked down the aisle and he put that extravagant block of a diamond ring on your finger that he revealed the dark truths about the cartel. It was absolutely a power play, and Miguel craved power. He knew you had no family, no one to really turn to when things would go bad in the marriage. And, like how it was when your mother was alive, most of the days were bad.

You loved Miguel in the beginning. You craved stability and here was this beautiful, charming man ready to provide that and more. You fell for him, going into the relationship with all of these hopes and dreams for the future. Once upon a time he truly loved you too. You were beautiful and pure and so intelligent. You were damaged in similar ways he was given your family history, and he craved you all the more for it. But somewhere along the line that love transformed and manifested into something ugly; possession. He craved control. Control over his money, over the cartel, the MC, and control over you. After the first time he put his hands on you, he had burst into tears and cradled you like you were the most fragile thing in the universe. He swore it he would never do it again, and he seemed so sincere and you loved him so much you believed him. You didn’t want to end up like your parents, you wanted a happy home with a loving husbands and a couple of kids running around. So, you stayed.

The second time it happened you dashed to your room and began packing your bags. You remember your body shaking in absolute anger. You loved Miguel, but you would never tolerate him laying hands on you. ‘It’s over Miguel,’ you seethed, throwing your wedding ring across the bedroom floor. You remembered stumbling onto the tiled floor, clutching your cheek and in pure shock that he had actually punched you. He bent down to your level, scoffing at your words and completely filled with this rage you did not believe possible for a human being to possess. ‘Where are you going to go? You have nowhere, nothing, no one waiting for you outside this house. I own you, querida, and if you want to challenge that notion I’ll put a bullet in your skull to get the point across,’ you vividly recall him telling you as he held your jaw in his iron grip. At that point it was no longer empty threats or hurtful words being thrown at you; that was a promise. That was the first night he forced himself on you and you were never more grateful that Nestor took pity on you and drove you to get a plan b pill and renew your birth control the next morning. When you emerged from the clinic you were filled with the sudden instinct to turn to your left. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was pure coincidence, but as you waited for Nestor to pull the car around you froze when your e/c eyes locked with familiar brown ones.

The sound of Angel saying your name after years of no contact instantly filled you with millions of memories that had been suppressed and buried under the nightmare you lived in with Miguel. Nostalgia fluttered through your entire being like a swarm of butterflies. You could still remember how it felt embracing him on the sidewalk, the smell of cigarettes and his cologne comforting you. Coco and Gilly having the decency to give you both the privacy you clearly needed. Angel took one look at you and knew life had not been kind. Under your pearl necklace, huge wedding ring and designer dress Angel knew you weren’t ok. He knew you were living in constant fear based off the dark circle under your eyes and the fact that you were wearing a coat over your dress despite the blazing Santo Padre sun in the middle of summer. He knew someone was doing horrible things to you, he just didn’t know it was Miguel-fucking-Galindo who now had the Mayans under his control as well.

From that day forward, every chance you got you took it to meet with Angel in secret. At first it had been purely innocent, just two former lovers meeting up and catching up. Life had not been kind to you, but you were relieved that Angel’s had somewhat approved. You learned that EZ was going to be released soon, you were slowly introduced to Gilly and Coco when Angel knew he could trust them. You had learned that he had a fling with Adelita, the woman who was hellbent on bringing Miguel down. The look of jealousy on your face validated what Angel had secretly been hoping for since the moment you two reunited; you still loved him. Neither of you expected to wind up in bed, Angel holding you to his chest as his release flowed out of you. Neither of you expected to fall back into love after fate had brought you back together. Neither of you knew this was going to be the night you’d die.

Everything happened so fast. One minute you were sitting at the dinner table, gaping in and out like a fish out of water at the double realization that not only did your husband know you were seeing Angel, but the two were related by blood. Nestor handed Miguel a manila folder, to which Miguel threw in yours’ and Angel’s direction. You briefly glanced at the spilled documents, noticing the highlighted portions. A 99% match that the Reyes brothers and Miguel were half-siblings. Photos of you and Angel in intimate embraces. You felt Angel freeze next to you and saw out of the corner of your eye that EZ gripping his steak knife. Bishop opened his mouth to speak, and suddenly the rabid wolf awoken in your husband. Miguel leapt over the table, pressing your face against the dinner table, gun pressed against your temple.

Angel snarled and stood instantly, Nestor appearing behind him and holding his gun to the back of Angel’s head. You heard the Mayans shouting profanities and Bishop trying to diffuse the situation.

‘’Let’s just calm the fuck down-,’’ Bish tried, sweat forming on his forehead due to the tension in the room.

‘’Calm down? This disgusting slut, MY WIFE, has been spreading her legs for this lowlife vermin scum,’’ you flinched as the cool barrel of the gun dug into your skin, crying out when Miguel yanked you up by your neck, holding you against his chest as you claws at his hand in a futile attempt to gain some air.

Your eyes fell upon Angel, tears blurring your vision as his jaw was clenched, struggling to control his temper as he glared daggers at your husband. He was shaking in rage and you never thought you’d see Angel so angry.

‘’I wonder, mi amor, have you fucked every man here? Hm? Are you wet at the thought of them running a train on you?’’ Miguel hissed in your ear, the hand that was wrapped around your neck violently cupped your sex through your dress, a sob escaping your lips.

‘’Hey, hey there’s no need for this. We can talk. Just put the gun down,’’ Bishop struggled with his words, trying to maintain some sort of control so that yours’ and Angel’s brains didn’t end up spread along the table. EZ’s breathing was labored, the knife still in his hand as he mentally weighed his options. Coco’s hawkish eyes were looking at Nestor’s gun.

‘’Talk? Oh no, we’re past talking,’’ Miguel laughed humorlessly, cocking the pistol.

The gun pressed against your head was removed as Miguel stretched his arm out to aim at Angel.

‘’I’m going to make you watch me kill him and when I’m done dealing with you, you’ll be begging me for death,’’ Miguel whispered. He then turned his attention to Angel.

‘’Any words, little brother?’’

‘’I love you,’’ Angel declared. You nodded your head as your heart was pounding through your chest. ‘’I love you too.’’

BOOM!

You screamed as blood splattered across your face, the thud of the body crashing into the table, taking the silverware and tablecloth along with it. You jumped at the noise it had made. You shakily turned around, standing on wobbly legs as you stared at the body of your husband. Instantly, you knew the lifeless look in his eyes would never be erased from your memory for as long as you lived. You turned your attention behind you, panting from the excruciating fear.

‘’Took you long enough,’’ you sighed, running a trembling hand down your face.

‘’My apologies, we needed to wait for the right moment,’’ the figure sighed, emerging from one of the columns in your dining room, her footsteps echoing throughout the grand dining room.

Adelita’s eyes surveyed the scene as a couple of members of Los Olvidados entered the room, guns in hand and ready for anything.

You then both turned to Nestor, who withdrew his gun, eyes not leaving Miguel’s lifeless body as he struggled to process his emotions. He nodded his head, finally turning to you.

‘’We’re even.’’

You nodded your head in agreement.

‘’What the FUCK just happened?!’’ you sighed as EZ’s shouts echoed throughout the otherwise silent mansion.

And someday he might lose his crown In time these chains that hold me down would set me free

#angel reyes #mayans mc #miguel galindo x reader #angel reyes x reader #violence #mayans fic #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes #mayans #miguel galindo

139 notes · View notes

multiplefandomfics · 3 years

Text

Change for the better

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC!Amelia

Warnings: cheating, angst, smut, swearing, sub/dom undertones, sir kink, size kink, unprotected sex

Words: 2169

Moving to London hadn’t been easy. Leaving friends, family and everything that had been familiar behind to start fresh. But it had been necessary.

Let’s start a few weeks earlier, shall we?

“Darling? I’m home. I made it earlier than I thought. The surgery fell flat. Patient died before I could cut him open. Such a shame. Would have been a really cool surgery.” Amelia called through the two story townhouse.

“Jake? Where are you?” she followed the music to the bedroom door and pushed it open. She stepped inside and heard giggling and laughter from the en suite bathroom. In that moment she knew exactly what was going on. Still she wanted to confirm it so she opened the halfway open bathroom door fully and there they were. Her fiance Jake and Amelia’s favorite scrub nurse Olive in the bathtub together.

“Are you fucking serious? I work 15 hours everyday to finance your lazy ass and that’s how you thank me? Screwing my OR nurse? You are unbelievable, asshole!! I’m done with this- with us! I’m leaving.” she yelled furiously. She grabbed most of her clothes and other things, threw them in suitcases and duffel bags and crammed them into her car.

“Baby wait!” Jake had stumbled out of the house behind her. “I’m sorry this was a one time thing. I love you. We are getting married in 6 weeks. Surly you don’t want to blow that off.” he tried to convince her.

“You think I still want to marry you after you fucked that little whore in my house? And that’s what it is by the way. MY house. I want you out by the end of the week you can leave the keys on the kitchen table. I never want to see you again. Goodbye Jake.” and with those words she had gotten into her car and left him standing there in his bathrobe.

She was seeing red and did not have a goal to reach. She did not want to see her parents because her mother was an arrogant bitch who only thought about what the neighbors would think about her breaking off the engagement. Her mother would probably make her marry the cheating bastard anyways.

So she kept on driving. 16 hours and a ferry boat ride later and she arrived totally exhausted in London. She always wanted to see the town again and now was the time.

She had found a hotel where she could park her car in a garage and went to check in.

“Good morning. I’d like to check in please.” Amelia asked, friendly.

“Good morning. Of course. Do you have a reservation?” the desk clerk smiled broadly.

“No, unfortunately not. I came here spontaneously. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all Miss. I just need your ID or Passport and Credit Card to check you in.” she kept on smiling so sickly sweet.

“Alright, sure. Here you go.” she handed her cards over.

20 minutes later she had her car parked inside the garage, her stuff in her room and was face planting the bed. She fell asleep almost instantly.

When she woke up the sun was almost setting but she felt rested and decided to find a bar or pub to drink and maybe get laid.

She took a shower did her hair and make up and put on the hottest dress she could find before asking the desk clerk in the lobby for the closest and coolest bar around.

Turned out that that pub was exactly 200 metres away from the hotel and was already relatively crowded at 9pm.

Amelia found a stool at the bar top and got the attention of the bartender.

“Hi what can I get you?” she asked.

“What can you recommend for a woman who has been cheated on by her fiance in her own house with her favorite co worker?” she sighed.

“Wow that sounds like a story I’d like to hear completely. You know what? I’m gonna mix you something and you spill your guts. You will feel much better afterwards, I promise you.” she had already grabbed a tall glass and was pouring various kinds of alcohol inside.

The night progressed like that. Melissa, that was the bartender's name, handed her drink after drink but slipped a few shots of water in between once in a while. Which Amelia was too drunk to notice. They talked for hours.

At around midnight someone sat down next to Amelia and ordered whiskey. Amelia had already sobered up a little and recognized the voice instantly.

Her head snapped to the left and indeed there he sat- Superman- The Witcher himself: Henry Cavill.

“Holy crap, you’re Henry Cavill!” she exclaimed breathlessly.

“Yes I am. Nice to meet you.” he smiled warmly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I am Amelia and yes you can.” she turned her body now fully toward him.

“You seem upset. Care to tell me?” he suddenly asked after chugging his drink.

“I have told this story already today. Melissa would you be so kind as to tell Mr. Cavill my shitty last 24 hours?” she almost begged the bartender.

“Of course my dear.” Melissa winked.

“Well, long story short:her fiance was an ass and cheated on her with a coworker in her own house. She left instantly and drove 16 hours straight through and came to London.” Then she walked over to another customer on the other side of the bar.

“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that. It’s a riddle to me how someone can cheat on a woman as beautiful and obviously intelligent as you. Such a shame. But maybe luck for me?” he winked and seemed very sure of himself.

“I didn’t pick you out to be such a flirt. But I like it.” Amelia had nothing to lose. For the first time in ages she felt free and if that ended in her getting to sleep with the really hot actor which is Henry Cavill she would definitely go for it.

They talked about this and that and by the time last call came around she knew so much more about Henry than magazines and the internet could have ever told her.

“I’m sorry to break this up guys but you will have to leave now. It’s 6am and we are about to close.” Melissa came around the bar.

“Alright Mel, see you tomorrow maybe.” Henry said and tipped her generously.

Henry and Amelia walked through the streets. “You want some coffee? Sober up a bit more? Keep talking? I really enjoy talking with you.” he finished.

“Yes sure. You know a place not too far which is open?” Amelia smiled at him.

“Of course. It is 6am in London. I know the perfect Deli for breakfast and coffee. Let’s go.” he grabbed her hand and pulled her over the street and towards a brightly lit Deli.

They both got inside, ordered coffee and sandwiches and sat down in the almost completely empty Diner.

“These are really good.” Amelia pointed to her sub.

“I know, that’s why I like coming here after a night out.” he agreed.

Then Amelia’s phone rang. She took it out of her jacket pocket and groaned.

“It’s him isn’t it?” he asked and she nodded annoyed. “Here, give me that phone. I’ll talk to him. He will leave you alone after this.” he smiled and she again had nothing to lose.

“Hello. Amelia’s phone. She cannot come to the phone right now. She is very busy right now. Who I am. That is none of your business anymore. As far as I know, you cheated on her and she left you. So now she is free and can do whatever with whoever she wants. Goodbye douchebag and never call this number again. Oh yes, I am supposed to remind you that you have a week to move out.” with that he hung up and Amelia couldn’t stop herself from laughing so loudly other customers were starting to look.

“Thank you Henry. That was epic. But I think I’m still going to block him on all channels so he keeps away from me. And I wanted to marry that son of a bitch. How unbelievably stupid of me.” she buried her head in her hands. Suddenly her mood had changed dramatically.

“Hey.” he laid his hand on her cheek and forced her to look at him.

“Hey.” he repeated himself. “It is not your fault that he is a cheating bastard. You were working hard to support his ass and he did not appreciate that.”

“But maybe I should have taken more time with him. Maybe then he would not have cheated…”

“Stop it! It is not your fault. It is exclusively his. Stop thinking about it. You dodged a bullet, beautiful.”

“You are right. I should be grateful that he is gone.” she looked into his beautiful eyes and kissed him. She just jumped into cold water.

“My hotel isn’t far. Wanna go?” she whispered against his lips. He nodded energetically.

The walk there was quick. Only a few 100 metres stumbling, kissing over the sidewalk.

“Which floor?” out of breath after the elevator doors had closed.

“8th.”she mumbled.

He grabbed the key card out of her hand and unlocked the door.

She stumbled inside before him and he caught her before she could fall, carrying her to the bed.

“Strip for me darling.” he demanded.

“Yes, sir!” she saluted at him

“I like the sound of that.” he smirked naughtily.

She stripped obediently and waited for him to remove his clothes as well. But he didn’t budge.

“Get on your knees!” he commanded. There was a quiet understanding between them. The question whether she was okay with this or not was only asked by his eyes and she obediently dropped to her knees. So he continued with opening his pants and pulling out his dick. “Now open up sweetheart and don’t you dare touch yourself.” his voice was stern but he had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Amelia opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue. He grabbed her hair into a ponytail and slowly pushed his length into her mouth and down her throat. She had to work hard to suppress her gag reflex. “Shit, babe. Fuck you’re a natural.” he groaned. It was music to her ears. She took him deep and stroked what couldn’t fit in her mouth with her hands. Bobbing her head up and down. Sometimes her throat constricted around his girth when she had to swallow which made him let out the most amazing noises.

Suddenly he pulled her off of her. “Stop! I don’t want it to end too soon.”

He pulled her up and kissed her deeply. “You are amazing. Now on the bed with you. On your back. Legs spread wide. I need some space.” he winked and again she obeyed.

She was so excited. Her juices were flowing freely down her thighs and ass cheeks.

He kneeled between her legs and swiped his dick head through her folds. Catching on her clit ever so often. “Oh shit Henry. Please don’t tease me.” he smirked. “Beg for it then. Tell me what you want.”

“Please, sir I need you so bad. I’m so wet for you, only for you. I need to feel you.” Before she could say anymore he lost his last bit of composure and pushed inside her.

“Damn! Holy- Fuck. So deep.” she moaned. His thrusts were hard and slow giving her the right amount of pain and pleasure. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head when she neared her end. She clawed her nails into his shoulders and was only able to moan a mixture of his name and curses. “Cum for me darling!” he whispered into her ear kissing down her neck and that was all it took for her to let go. Then he lost it too.

When he had caught his breath he rolled off of her. “That was great!” she panted.

“Yes, it was. We definitely need to do this again. Did I hurt you?” he suddenly asked concerned.

“Only in the best way possible. That was really hot.”

That is essentially the story of how Amelia moved to London. She wanted to be close to her new future. She never heard from Jake again and after Henry had talked to him on the phone he had moved out really quickly. So Amelia could sell her house and get a position at a hospital in Britain's capital city. Even her mother shut up about the broken up engagement after Amelia had told her who her new boyfriend was.

In the end, Amelia finding out about her stupid idiot of an ex-fiance cheating on her, was the best thing that could have happened to her.

#cheating #angst #smut #HenryCavill #OFC

6 notes · View notes

fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

402. You seem upset.

This was prompted by the random @aurea-b! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Shhip: Reed900

Gavin had been partnered up with an android. He had been outraged and tried his best to ward him off. Fowler knew, the precinct knew and anyone having the misfortune to be in listening distance when they were outside together knew. He was still pissed about it now, three weeks later, but he had adapted. He could ignore the thing most of the time. This was what bugged him the most lately: The android didn’t even have a personality. How should he insult someone, how should he get under someone’s skin and disgust them away, when they were giving him nothing to work with?

He remembered asking Fowler whether the android was even deviant. Every order he had given the thing was followed to the word. It was creepy to the point Gavin feared to be involved in illegal activities. It was forbidden for non-deviant androids to work at the police. But Fowler had just dismissed him, asking him to do his jobs for once if he was bored. Of course, that answer hadn’t satisfied Gavin at all, so he decided to do what he could do best: investigate.

He started observing the android more closely, during their everyday life together. So far, he had learned that the bot had a cat as his screensaver, that he liked watching birds when waiting and that he liked chill songs. In four weeks, he had found out only that. He was willing to give up, by then. Maybe this Nines was just the most boring, most characterless being on this earth. Maybe he could use that against him, he contemplated while reading the briefing on their way to the crime-scene. Drug overdose by a formerly completely clean businessman. In Gavin’s opinion a simple murder and they only had to find a motive and the murderer. But tin-can here had to remind him not to be biased and count every possibility in. Suicide or an accident. Yeah, of phcking course, he would count that in, it wasn’t his first day on the job. One could still have a hunch. Gavin got his revenge by changing stations from Nines’ favourite music to his.

They walked inside the drug den the man’s body had been found in by the local residents of the place. Most of them had left as the police arrived and the few witnesses Gavin left to the other officers. He was here for the dead man. He and Nines spent several hours investigating the drug den, talk with the forensics and the android analysed the drugs used as well as the victim’s blood. Only then he announced: ‘I’m finished here. Should I wait at the car?’ ‘Yeah, sure’, Gavin murmured, still deep in thoughts. ‘I will need more time here. I’ll join you in a bit.

As he finally did leave the building, the smile on his face faltered. His initial triumphant anticipation upon being right with his murder theory vanished, as he saw the android engaged in conversation with another android and even laughing. Nines had never laughed, not once and until now Gavin had thought him incapable of that altogether. As Nines saw him walking towards them, he seemed to bid farewell to it and waited by the car stoic as ever. Confused, Gavin looked the android up and down, before shaking his head in frustration and entering the car. Nines joined him soon and they drove off. It was silent for a long time until the android breached it: ‘You seem upset. Shouldn’t you be happy your hypothesis proved itself to be true?’ ‘My what? Oh, the case, yeah… Hey, when would you tell me you are capable of emoting more than my phcking calculator?’ He glared at the android next to him, before focussing back on the road. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘I mean, of course I am upset! You treat me with that cold stoic charade, but some random robo-chick gets the full program? Like, you are actually a phcking person?’ ‘I am, Detective. I was just advised that a robotic and professional attitude towards you would help our working relationship and so far, I would say it has worked.’ ‘Who the hell told you that bullshit?’ ‘Connor.’ Gavin sighed and pulled his car over to the sidewalk. ‘Yeah, okay, so first off: Phck this dude, he’s wrong and doesn’t know the first thing about me. Secondly: Holy shit, toaster, you don’t have to play a role to get along with me! Be yourself and if that doesn’t work, we change partners or something. I might be an asshole, but that goes a step to far, even for me.’ The android looked at him curiously, while Gavin made a show of avoiding his eyes, pretending to look in the rear mirror to get back into traffic. ‘I… will try to be more open then.’

The toaster didn’t change much. He changed drastically. From one day to the next Nines became his worst enemy that had decided killing him would be a mercy. His habitually orders for a coffee, a donut, a paperclip, a certain information: All of them were blocked off with a ‘Fuck you’, a ‘Do it yourself’, the mentioned item being thrown at him full force or a combination of these. Gavin’s car radio wasn’t just tuned to the channels, it was permanently hacked to only play music Gavin would fall asleep to. It stayed like that for the duration of their workday and god forbid the human left early. The car was tuned to chillout for these eight hours, regardless of whether Nines was in the car or not. Nines was constantly talking back to him, they were cursing each other and quipping and neither minced matters in any way.

Needless to say, Gavin loved it.

He had to thank that android lady for letting him see changed Nines. Their productivity has gone through the roof and when he thought about it in a moment of weakness, the android was the first partner, Gavin actually liked having around.

Especially after they found their murderer, chased him on foot and managed to herd him in a dead end on top of a parking garage. Gavin had gone over to the man, who had already confessed drugging their dead businessman for cash. He had intended to handcuff the idiot but had been pushed against the railing with enough force to let him fall over. He had thought that to be the end of him, but Nines had been there to grab his arm. He did so with far too much force in his fear of seeing his partner fall, what had ultimately ended in a partially broken forearm. They had then chased the criminal again, this time really catching him and arresting him. After a visit to the hospital Gavin had his arm in a sling and was ready to interrogate this motherphcker. But Nines held him back: ‘Don’t worry, Detective. I can handle this. Please stay in the obs, okay?’ Gavin had nodded hesitantly and took the other door, leaning against the wall in the observation room farthest away from Connor and Hank sitting in the front.

They watched how Nines sat down neatly, arranging the papers he didn’t need in a perfect ninety-degree angle to the edge of the table. He looked every bit the machine he had played in the beginning. Gavin was curious how the android planned on leading this interrogation and the room went dead silent as Nines began to speak.

‘Mr. Blake, I say this well knowing it will be in the protocol of this interrogation, but… Fuck you. You are directly responsible for hurting my partner and you would better cooperate.’ Wow okay, this? Not what Gavin had expected. The criminal just leaned back. ‘You can’t do anything to me, that would be considered police brutality.’ ‘Oh, physically, of course not. It’s prohibited and not my style, no. But I could dig a little and maybe interview Gerry for a bit. Or Elias? You know who I’m talking about, right? Maybe even both, maybe they will tell me more about your schemes a few years ago. That could add a few years to your already hefty sentence.’ He paused to let the man think about it. ‘Or we could compromise. I don’t send you to the brig for eternity like your organic ass deserved after hurting what’s dear to me and you tell me everything – everything - about the murder. Where is the drug from, how did you drug him, where comes the money from? Who else is involved? I want answers and names. And if I like them, I consider not telling my partners about your other less successful endeavours...’ Gavin grinned back in the observation room as he saw the criminal squirm a little, sweating profoundly until he caved in and decided to spill.

Oh yeah. Nines with personality was badass.

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #Nines hacking radios is a powermove and would be a reason for me to push him off a cliff #no one phcks with my music #unless I allowed it #chaotic overly protective boyfriend subroutine activated #Gavin.exe has stopped working #also wanted to say aurea-b I still love the random selection XD

68 notes · View notes

kousin-itt · 3 years

Text

I Got Your Back - Part 3

WARNING: Violence and blood in this chapter, along with light implied sexual humor.

Part 3

Block pulled up a holographic screen to display the information as he relayed it to Cavendish and Dakota. “The Triton’s Amulet was a priceless jeweled necklace created by a master jeweler and given to the daughter of a family who was feuding with the jeweler’s family. The feud between the families was full-on bloodshed. I’m talking Montague vs. Capulet level, at each other’s throats at all times. The Triton’s Amulet was a peace offering, a symbol of the friendship between the jeweler and the daughter. It was passed down through the generations until it was donated to a museum, where it was stolen by this man: Tyler Cobalt. Cobalt sells the Triton’s Amulet to a black-market dealer, who later dismantles the necklace and sells the parts for profit. That, gentlemen, is what you are going to prevent.”

“So, we are to prevent the theft of the amulet?” Cavendish guessed.

“Oddly enough, no.” Block said. “See, the Triton’s Amulet being stolen prompts the museum to create better security measures, which later prevents worse thefts from happening. You two are going to tail Cobalt until he steals the amulet, and then you’re going to take the amulet from him before he can sell it.”

“Thieving the thief. I like it.” Dakota chuckled.

“Stay sharp, Chuckles.” Block snapped. “You two won’t have a big window of opportunity. Cobalt steals the amulet late at night and then hops on a plane early the next morning to take the amulet to the black market. Based on our research, Cobalt actually gets killed by the buyer once he gets to the black market; but, ideally, you two dunderheads will retrieve the amulet and Cobalt will be apprehended by the police of his era. Be quick, be careful, and be sneaky.”

Dakota caught the backpack Block tossed to him. Cavendish accepted the paperwork with all their mission information. “We will not let you down, sir.”

“Well, you haven’t so far.” Block shrugged. “But I’m not getting my hopes up. Now get out of here!”

A short while later, the Second-Class Time Travelers were in their time vehicle and speeding off into the time stream.

Dakota fiddled with his seat to get comfortable. “When are we getting our own vehicle? I’m tired of this stupid van.”

“It’s a standard time vehicle for in-training and rookie agents.” Cavendish reasoned. “I’m sure we’ll get a new one once we complete this mission. Besides, it’s not that bad. It’s actually one of the newer models, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah, but the seats could use new stuffing.” Dakota complained.

“If you don’t like it, why don’t you go lay on that mattress you insisted on putting in the back?” Cavendish jerked a thumb behind him. Indeed, the backseats were folded down and there was a twin-size mattress taking up half of the empty space behind them.

“That’s my napping mattress when our missions take too long.” Dakota protested. “If I lay on it now, I’ll fall asleep.”

“I never took you for the type to care.” Cavendish sighed.

“Eh, go boil your head.” Dakota snickered.

“You’re ridiculous.” Cavendish muttered under his breath.

Thankfully, they arrived in the right time and place soon enough. The darkness of the night setting contrasted greatly with the bright colors of the time stream they just exited. Dakota took out the mission file and punched a location into the GPS. Cavendish followed the directions to the museum while Dakota rummaged around in the backpack Block gave them.

“Typical supplies. Rather boring weapons.” Dakota took out two hand pistols, designed appropriately for their current era. Generally, time travelers only used weapons that matched whatever time period they were in, just in case that weapon were to get lost or taken by someone else in that era. Plus, fewer people would ask questions.

“I hope we do not need to use them.” Cavendish was a decent shot, but he despised guns. They had no elegance, no beauty in them. Not to mention it was far too easy for someone to be killed by one.

Dakota hummed in thought. He looked and sounded more focused than Cavendish had seen before. Dakota didn’t like that Block gave them guns. Not because he hated guns, per se, but because he worried about having to use them. Time travelers weren’t supposed to cause deaths in the past unless absolutely necessary.

Cavendish parked the van around the corner from the museum. He and Dakota exited the vehicle and walked up the stairs to the front door of the magnificent building. Dakota pretended to check the hours while covertly investigating the dark interior.

“According to the files, this building’s alarm system only goes off if someone tries to break and enter.” Cavendish said as they walked down the steps.

“But Cobalt gets away and the theft isn’t even discovered until morning.” Dakota remembered that from the file. “How does he get in without tripping the alarm?” He looked ahead and froze, cursing in Italian. Cavendish followed his gaze and saw their target. Cobalt walked towards them, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a cigarette pinched between his lips. He looked inconspicuous, like a barman walking home from a late-night shift.

“Act casual.” Cavendish whispered.

“Does that mean we kiss?” Dakota teased.

Cavendish bit his lip to keep from exploding in indignation and frustration. How can he be joking around at a time like this?! Cavendish wondered. Dakota sniggered again, and the pair kept walking. Cobalt passed them without a second glance.

Smart. Dakota mused. Act like you don’t exist, like you belong where you are now, and most people glance over you. He pulled Cavendish into the next alley they passed, and they watched Cobalt continue down the sidewalk. Once he started climbing the stairs to the museum, Cavendish and Dakota tiptoed closer and hid behind one of the statues out front. They watched in amazement as Cobalt pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door to the museum, and strutted inside like he owned the place.

“Clever.” Cavendish tapped his lip in thought as they returned to their van. “Either he stole the key from one of the employees or he found a way to copy it himself.”

“Now we know how he avoided detection until morning.” Dakota said. They sat in their van, moving it only just enough to see the front doors of the museum. “What do you say we jump him when he gets back? Take the amulet, arrest him, and get back home for lunch?”

“Not likely.” Cavendish said. “Did you not see the bulge in his jacket?”

“Was I supposed to see it? What if it’s inappropriate?” Dakota shrugged.

Cavendish face-palmed. Curse his partner’s crude humor. “I’m saying he very clearly had a gun in his pocket. Best if we wait until he comes out. Then, we will follow him home and steal back the Triton’s Amulet while he sleeps. Less chance of us getting shot.”

Dakota checked the time. “Depending on when he gets back and how long it takes to drive there, that only gives us a few hours before his flight in the morning.”

“We can manage.” Cavendish assured.

The confidence in his partner’s voice put Dakota’s mind at ease. They waited, watching the doors until they spotted Cobalt leaving. Cobalt returned to his own car and drove off, with Cavendish and Dakota safely following him. Cobalt left the brightly lit streets and arrived at a dinghy strip of townhouses. Cavendish parked the van in a dark alleyway. Dakota slung their backpack of gear over his shoulder. Cavendish glanced to his satchel in the backseat, and he decided it would be best if he only had his firearm with him. He and Dakota trailed Cobalt’s car to find which building he lived in. Cavendish and Dakota ducked behind some bushes and watched Cobalt park and enter a house. The lights inside came on, and then flipped off fifteen minutes later.

“He’ll probably sleep for a while before his flight.” Dakota guessed. “Let’s get that amulet.”

“Wait a moment. Give him time to really fall asleep.” Cavendish whispered. “If he locked it in a safe, we need time to hack into it.”

“You can crack a safe?” Dakota looked impressed.

“You don’t know everything about me.” Cavendish shrugged with a rather proud smile.

“I hardly know anything about you.” Dakota said. “We really ought to fix that. What’s your favorite food?”

“You really want to do this now?” Cavendish hissed. “What if someone hears us?”

“It’s just past midnight and all the other houses are dark. Relax.” Dakota scoffed.

“I will relax when the mission is complete.” Cavendish declared.

“And then we can talk more? Get to know each other better?” Dakota suggested.

Cavendish opened his mouth to retort, but conflicting words tangled his tongue. Part of him wanted to scoff and assure Dakota that such a thing wasn’t necessary. Another part of him pleaded to say yes. So Cavendish cleared his throat and returned his attention to the house. Despite his mild fear of the dark, he was happy the shadows could mask his discomfort. Why did he find the idea of hanging out with Dakota enjoyable? What was so appealing about the thought that he and this brutish young man could be friends?

Once they agreed it was safe, Cavendish and Dakota snuck up to Cobalt’s house. Dakota picked the lock to the front door, and they crept into the dark house. Dakota handed Cavendish one of the pistols from his backpack. Cavendish gestured for Dakota to go up the stairs, and Dakota nodded to confirm. The pair split off to search the two-level house.

Even in the near-blackness, Cavendish could register the layout of the connected kitchen and living room area. The first word that came to mind was “pathetic.” From the outdated appliances in the kitchen to the weathered easy chair and cheap TV in the living room, Cavendish deduced that Cobalt was a broke loner, which explained why he would steal for profit. If it were different circumstances, Cavendish would entertain the idea of counseling Cobalt instead of leading him to the police. However, Cobalt’s file outlined a history of drug abuse and distribution to high schoolers, so Cavendish felt little pity for the man destined to be arrested that night.

Must focus. Cavendish reminded himself. The sooner Dakota and I find that amulet, the sooner we get out of here.

As Dakota ventured upstairs, Morgan’s lessons echoed in his head. Never step in the middle of the stairs, where creaks are more likely to happen. Keep low to the ground to delay enemy detection. Be aware of everything around you. Listen; do not hear but listen. Dakota felt a tingle go up his spine. He hated silence. He hated the apprehension that came with sneaking around. Any moment now, he might get caught. He wished Cavendish were at his back.

Upstairs, there were three doors, two of which were closed. Snoring came from one door. By reaching into the open door, Dakota could feel a countertop and porcelain sink for a bathroom. Dakota moved deliberately, closer and closer to the closed doors. Since they neighbored each other, Dakota couldn’t tell where the snores came from. After a quick eeny-meeny-miny-moe, Dakota twisted the knob of one door and pushed it open, ever so slowly.

He nearly cursed in Italian again.

Dakota chose the door to the office space, but Cobalt evidently decided to sleep in his rickety office chair before his early flight. Dakota almost shut the door when a glitter caught his eye.

Figures. Dakota silently groaned. The Triton’s Amulet lay on the desk next to Cobalt. Dakota’s mind raced. What would Morgan do? What should he do? What might Cobalt do if Dakota’s plan failed? Dakota had a thought to awaken Cobalt and arrest him, but Block did make it explicitly clear that Cobalt’s fate should rest in the hands of the authorities in this time period. Dakota didn’t much care for the rules. Still, he had no idea if Cobalt had a weapon on him. Better to grab the amulet and get out.

Quietly, Dakota slipped the backpack off his shoulders and set it aside, just in case he had to make a run for it. With his gun trained on Cobalt’s sleeping form, Dakota took the slowest, most silent steps he could manage. He forced his breathing under control to stay quiet. His eyes flickered fast, focusing on Cobalt for a split second and then spending the next half-second staring at the desk so he would not bump into it. Cavendish was still downstairs.

It only took a minute that felt like an hour to reach the desk. Still, Dakota kept his gun pointed at Cobalt. His fingertips gripped the edges of the trident-shaped, jeweled pendent. Dakota lifted the amulet from the desk and slipped it and the chain into his jacket pocket. Dakota moved back to the door, his nerves settling.

He reached the door, and a light cast his shadow against the wall.

Dakota spun around, safety flicked off on his gun, but the brightness of Cobalt’s flashlight blinded him. Cobalt pushed the gun aside and body-slammed Dakota into the wall. He smashed the door against Dakota’s hand and forced him to drop the gun. Dakota shoved Cobalt back and punched him. The flashlight hit Dakota’s face, and he tasted blood. He aimed low and tackled Cobalt like a linebacker, sending them to the ground where they grappled for control. The erratic movement of the light disoriented them. Cobalt may have been similar in build, but he was fueled by desperation, and a desperate man was hard to fight until you found just the right moment to subdue him.

In the poorly lit space, Dakota didn’t see the office chair and tripped over it while trying to escape. The chair landed on top of him, and then so did Cobalt. The flashlight’s beam hit Dakota’s eyes again. The top of the chair’s backrest pressed against his throat, and Cobalt pushed his entire body weight on the chair to keep Dakota pinned.

“Thought you could swipe my prize, huh?” Cobalt sounded as crazy as he looked. “I got someone willing to pay a fortune for that thing, and you are going to pay big time for screwing with me.”

With the chair pressing against his legs, Dakota didn’t have the proper leverage to push or kick it off him. He struggled with all his might, clawing at the poor-quality leather upholstery. He couldn’t get a breath in. His thoughts ran a mile a minute. Where was his gun? Where was Cavendish? What would happen to him if Cobalt realized there was a second intruder in the house?

Dakota fought to stay alive. The room was getting darker. Was the flashlight going out?

“No!”

Cavendish may be lanky in figure, but his full body weight and force of the blow was strong enough to knock Cobalt off Dakota and send both men tumbling across the floor. Dakota coughed harshly, pushing the chair off him. He could just make out Cavendish and Cobalt exchanging punches. Cobalt kept one hand on Cavendish’s gun to keep it away from him. He punched the time traveler in the eye, breaking his glasses. Driven by adrenaline, Cavendish punched back harder. Cobalt managed to get one good hit into Cavendish’s stomach that knocked the wind from him.

Then, Cavendish felt something hard jab him in his ribs. Just before he realized what it was, a gunshot went off, and burning pain coursed through his torso. In shock, Cavendish hit the ground while holding his side. Cobalt had his gun, aimed right at him. Cavendish flinched, preparing himself for another shot that would hopefully kill him immediately.

“Hey!”

Cobalt turned his attention and gun to Dakota. Five shots left Dakota’s gun in quick succession: one hit Cobalt in the forehead, two hit his chest, one hit the wall, and one grazed Cobalt’s shoulder. Cobalt was dead before he hit the floor. Dakota didn’t need to check for a pulse to know that, but he still kicked the gun from the criminal’s hand before he ran to his partner’s side.

#milo murphy's law #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #fanfic

9 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

superbeings-blog

SuperBeings

moeguinotes

moegui's note

lumiens

p-s-smith-author

Patrick S. Smith

studiojr-blog

Sem título