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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

Text

Inevitable (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)

Chapter Word count: 6.9k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: Couldn’t stop thinking about how Yang Jungwon’s role model is Jungkook and they have similar features (especially as kids) and the sweetest smiles! Hence, the little angel we have here. I hope you enjoy this first chapter! Also, you can message me if you want to be part of the taglist!

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You stare at the grocery list, eyes squinting to try to read the words you’d half-mindedly written down this morning.

Your boss convinced you to take Friday off when it slipped that Jungwon has been having separation anxiety lately, as he hasn’t spent time with his mother this whole winter break.

You’d been doing overtime - on weekdays and weekends - and your boss, a mother herself, knows that overworking would take its toll on you and your son, especially as a single parent. It’s why you’re here now, grocery shopping with the little one, something he enjoys doing with you, too.

Still, it’s just one day and it’s not really enough to compensate for all the other days you work your ass off at the company, but the pay is good and the people are kind; those have been enough for you to stay the past two years.

A smile forms on your face once you decipher the crooked words on the piece of paper you’re holding up. You can make out the word ‘banana’ right before ‘milk,’ ‘choc’ somewhere near ‘ice cream,’ and ‘bron’ just next to ‘cereal.’ Brown cereal? Did he mean cocoa pops?

Jungwon has improved his writing and vocabulary and you pat yourself on the back for the times you’d forced yourself awake during your Sunday rest time just so you could guide him on his workbook. You congratulate yourself for thinking of showing him flash cards while he scrubs himself in the makeshift tub during bath time. And you thank the heavens for your best friend Taehyung’s bright idea of setting up a blackboard on the wall on Jungwon’s side of the bed so he can doodle until he falls asleep.

“Am I not the best uncle, muffin?” Taehyung had asked the little one then, who always knew what to answer.

“You and uncle Joonie are the best,” Jungwon had said.

Your kid is a ball of fluff, you’d almost think it’s genetic because you definitely are not one, but the other half of him is.

You brush away that thought before your chest begins to tighten. You choose to think that Tae and your older brother Namjoon, whom Jungwon spends the most time with apart from you, are true softies and he’d definitely gotten it from them.

You’re still smiling, insides warming enough to brave through the January cold until you realize that you’re no longer hearing your son’s buzzing sound that he does when he plays with his airplane. For all his softness, he does give you a heart attack every once in a while because of his tendency to scurry somewhere that piques his interest. It was probably the aisle that had those chocolates he wanted so you pick up your basket and rush to the one right next to where you are.

Your heart drops to the floor at the sight of your son standing in front of a man who’s crouching down, tinkering with the toy. It probably disassembled again and this does not earn you a pat on the back this time for forgetting to buy Jungwon a new one that’s more age-appropriate, and for not paying enough attention.

You’re partly shocked and partly curious - he’s a shy kid, tends to run back to you at the sight of an unfamiliar person, wide eyes usually on full display when someone tries to get his attention.

But not right now. He’s still wide-eyed but he’s sporting a shy smile, one he tries to suppress by biting his lower lip. Wonder where he got that from. Such mannerisms aren’t genetic too, right?

The mystery man hands him the toy airplane, which Jungown clutches to his chest. He bows at the man and whispers a ‘thank you.’ If that man wanted to do something bad, he would’ve taken Jungwon already but he hasn’t. You’re glad that at least a kind man has found your son.

“Jungwon, sweetie. Come here, please,” you call out, moving a bit to try to get the man’s attention to express your thanks but he’s sporting a hoodie that’s engulfing his face. Maybe you should’ve been more scared.

The stranger shakily stands up and turns as Jungown runs to you with his eyes not leaving his little toy.

Your eyes, on the other hand, can’t leave the figure standing just a few feet away from you, like a bad dream but that isn’t exactly a nightmare.

He’s here. He’s home. And he looks just as gorgeous as you remember - expressive onyx eyes, pretty thin lips, defined jawline, muscular build...

His own eyes move from you to the kid next to you, trying to come up with explanations, mind reeling at what this could mean. You sounded so tender, so loving, so… motherly.

“Jung—”

“Your—”

You both say at the same time. His eyes are fixated on Jungwon, probably trying to figure out who the child is to you.

“I’m babysitting,” you panic.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow and just as he’s about to open his mouth to say something, Jungwon decides to not be shy in front of a supposed stranger.

“Mama, that man fixed my plane!” He excitedly says, and you hate to crush his little moment of joy.

Jungkook’s eyes are now saucer-like, not at all minding that you were caught in a lie but that you, the woman who’d broken his heart all those years ago, have a child. A child whose eyes uncannily and painfully resemble his.

You and Jungkook both seem to be in a daze, your own thoughts swirling in your heads at the situation that neither expected would happen.

You stopped watching his baseball games about two years ago and had avoided whatever news about him would come up. Except recently when you’d heard about him possibly signing with a South Korean baseball team. Looks like did because he’s here, and he hasn’t been in years.

You’d heard from your brother that Jungkook had been doing well with the LA Dodgers and you hadn’t expected that he’d up and leave what had been his home the past four or so years to, well, come home. You’re glad he is but you also aren’t prepared for this.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had tried his best to forget about you soon after you walked out on him that December evening, almost succeeding multiple times until he gave up altogether. He came home last week, earlier than what he’d told the media, since he knew they’d be hampering him about his homecoming, given his recent signing with the Doosan Bears, one of Seoul’s professional baseball teams.

He’d spent the past few days in Busan to visit his mother and arrived from his 4-hour drive just an hour ago. He’d hoped to reach out or run into you but didn’t expect it to actually happen today. He definitely didn’t expect you’d have a son, too.

“Mama, did you get my banana milk?” Jungwon asks, breaking the bubble of confusion and shock between you and Jungkook, both unbelieving at the reality of you finally being in the same space, breathing the same air after so long.

“Yeah, I—” you start, placing the basket down and picking up your son, suddenly feeling nauseous.

Your mind is a puddle of thoughts and you just know that incoherent words will escape your mouth if you don’t leave right now so you make a run for it, or at least try. You walk briskly, clutching Jungwon tightly with his arms wrapped around your neck, so you don’t see him smiling at the man following both of you.

Jungkook calls out your name, prompting Jungwon to state that the man who’d fixed his plane knows his mother.

There are more people with their pushcarts near the exit, making it hard for your quick escape. Jungkook is catching up and upon realizing you won’t turn back to acknowledge him, he talks to Jungwon instead.

“How old are you, buddy?” Jungkook asks, legs clearly made for this. He’s panting though, you can hear it in his voice.

You can’t make a scene so you just try to walk faster.

You feel Jungwon release an arm and you know he’s putting out the ‘four’ sign, something he likes to do.

“When is your birthday?” Jungkook asks shortly after.

Oh god, you think. Jungwon loves this question. “July 6!” He exclaims.

The footsteps become faint and you’re brave enough to turn back as you near the exit doors. Jungkook stands there, dots connecting, mouth agape at what this means.

You leave the supermarket and run to your car, hurriedly placing Jungwon on the car seat and driving away, willing the tears not to fall.

“Who was that, Mama?” He innocently asks.

You admit that you’d thought about the day you’d see Jungkook and let him know about the little one too many times, but this isn’t how you planned it to happen - in public, when you’re incredibly tired, and when you haven’t thought about what you’d say.

This isn’t how you planned on telling Jungwon, too, so you tell a half-truth, like what you’d done a few times before.

“He’s a friend, sweetcheeks. He’s just a friend.”

The tears eventually fall about 5 hours later.

You got home from the grocery - without your groceries, watched cartoons with Jungwon, had food delivered, then prepared him for bed.

You’re now sat on your couch, wine glass in hand, as you try to make sense of the overwhelming emotions of seeing the man that was once your world. Technically, Jungkook still is, considering that your son is half of him.

But it’s different now. Too much has changed since you broke up with him, since he left 5 years ago to chase his dreams of playing for the Major League Baseball in the US, the dream he’d shared with his father, the dream he’d spent his whole life chasing.

Baseball had always been Jungkook’s world; a given, you always thought, since his own father was a baseball star himself, whose dream of playing for the MLB materialized during a trip to Boston as a teenager, the blinding lights and massiveness of Fenway Park and the roars of the crowd cheering for the Red Sox so alluring that he’d made it a point to watch a live game at least once a year.

His own career as a professional player for the South Korean league had been commendable, leading his teams to championships and even playing for the 1996 Olympics. That had been the second best experience of his life, the first being Jungkook’s birth two years prior. Marrying his wife was a close third, and it was something the pair always laughed about. You know this because Jungkook raved about his parents a lot, used to talk about them like he just lived next door to his mother - whom he called everyday, like his father was still alive.

His father didn’t have the luxury of getting scouted by American teams because baseball wasn’t as big then, but his dream of playing for the MLB never faded. Just like what his own father had done, he’d taken Jungkook to a live game every year since Jungkook was six, and tried to watch in every baseball park of every major league team.

They’d only make it to seven though. By that time, the cancer had been debilitating and he had to give up that annual date with his only child. Watching the Lotte Giants in their hometown of Busan had been enough for 13-year old Jungkook, who’d likewise been fascinated by the game, so was waking up in the wee hours of the morning to still catch MLB games on TV.

Jungkook was 14 when his old man passed.

He rarely talked about his father’s death. He also rarely talked about his father outside of baseball. He was a father-coach, Jungkook used to say, not the scary, stage father type who pressured him but the incredibly supportive, only slightly critical one. He’d made Jungkook fall in love with baseball, made him have a reason to wake up everyday, made him have something work hard for, fight for.

After he passed, baseball became something Jungkook hung onto, something he used to remind him of the man that made him who he is today. It became the most sacred part of himself, not for the popularity it gained him nor the praises he received, but because it showed the best parts of him, which were also the best parts of his father - his self-confidence, his tenacity, his grit, and his resolve, his passion for his craft.

Baseball taught Jungkook the value of hard work, of commitment, of focus, while at the same time reminding him of his physical capabilities and limitations.

It’s why he took his Sports Science course seriously, knowing that until his last breath, he would live for the sport. He’d play until he’s physically able, and do everything else when he can’t.

Jungkook had always been a good leader - another trait he got from his father, served as the pillar of strength of every team he’d been a part of because of his vulnerability that allowed others to trust him, to believe him.

His self-confidence may border on arrogance, his forcefulness and intensity may be perceived as aggression, but behind his intimidating aura on the field - partly personality, partly physical prowess - is a tender human being who gets excited over sweets, gushes over Ironman merchandise, likes making blanket forts, squeals over baby animals, enjoys bear hugs, and who just loves to love.

Those were what made you fall for him in the first place. They were what made your naturally cold exterior dissolve until your heart had become bare for him, until your insecurities had become insignificant, until you’d exuded almost the same joy that he had.

Seeing him today just brought the memories back, as if nothing has changed with what you felt for him, as if the pain you felt when you told him it was over, when you walked out and he let you, was just a breath away.

You didn’t realize just how much you missed him until you saw him again, until his proximity reminded you how his laugh used to sound, how his wide eyes and sweet smile looked like, how his sensual touches used to feel.

The tears fall again. That pain, that love - it’s like they never went away.

“Uncle Tete!” Jungwon squeals as your best friend picks up your son from the floor, swinging him around in a circle, soft laughter reverberating through the walls of your cozy apartment. It only takes a few rounds before Taehyung puts him down and complains that his arms already hurt.

“What happened to working on arm exercises?” You chuckle.

“Don’t remind me, you know I hate lifting weights. Plus, like that would make much of a difference,” he exclaims, slim arms out, being swallowed by his sweater. “I’m not an athlete, you know?”

You flinch at the comment and so does he.

“Sorry, too soon?”

“Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes and settling in the kitchen, a bit farther away from Jungwon, whose eyes are now fixated on the TV.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have known Jungkook was back if he hadn’t decided to revive our group chat yesterday after 2 years to ask everyone if they’ve seen you recently because you apparently have a kid and he believes he’s the father.”

“Pretty straightforward, huh?”

“He didn’t wanna waste time. Didn’t even care that your brother is in the same group,” Taehyung shrugs.

“Probably knows Namjoon won’t check.”

“True. But still, how bold of your ex.”

“What did the guys say?” You ask, curious if they ever caught on. Your twice a year appearance since college graduation seemed to be enough for them.

“Yoongi cursed. Jin spammed with theories because he’s convinced you haven’t had a boyfriend in years. Hoseok sent a video message of his reaction, which was really just him freaking out. Jimin acted surprised.”

“And you?”

“I left the group chat.”

You smack his arm, earning you a scowl. “Real smooth, Kim Taehyung.”

“Well, what was I gonna say? ‘Yeah, Jungkook. Your ex-girlfriend was actually pregnant when she broke up with you and you’re totally the father?’”

“You could’ve feigned ignorance, you know, or like denied it until I figured out what to say.”

“___,” he deadpans. “One look at Jungwon and it screams Jungkook. His name isn’t actually subtle, okay? Look at your kid, he even dresses up and eats like the father he’s never met!”

You motion for him to tone it down but Jungwon is busy watching the Avengers cartoons in his Ironman pajamas while sipping his banana milk.

“I’m not projecting!” You say, defending yourself because you know that’s what Taehyung is gonna say.

“It’s not my fault that my kid chose Ironman as his favorite Avenger no matter how many times I pushed Captain America to his face, okay? He didn’t even mind the shield I bought,” you pout.

“And he won’t drink plain milk. If it’s not banana, it’s chocolate. And he loves sweets, loves to hug people, has the cutest laugh…” You sigh, still racking your brain on what parts of your son he got from you.

“Maybe the universe is the one projecting, you know? Like it just had to find a way for Jungwon to be connected to Jungkook, if not physically then by other ways.”

“Your theory is sweet but I doubt it, Tae.”

“My theory is backed by evidence. And a father’s instinct because that shit’s real. Jungkook was still around during those first two months, the bond probably developed then.”

“Jungwon was the size of a raspberry. It’s highly unlikely.”

“Can you just stop deflecting? The father of your son is here. What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know! Get my shit together and figure out what to say? You know I’m not ready for this,” you exclaim.

“Funny that you knew exactly what to say when you broke up with him but now you don’t,” Taehyung cocks an eyebrow.

“Are you my best friend or are you out to get me?”

“I’m just saying. You made that decision all on your own. Didn’t even confide in me,” he pouts. “I could’ve thrown some other options that didn’t require you breaking his heart and yours too, and going through all this by yourself.”

“Except I didn’t go through all this by myself,” you pat his head. “I had you and Namjoon. You were all I needed. Still do.”

“We can never take the place of Jungwon’s father, you know that right?”

“I know, I just… He’s not just my kid’s father, Tae. He’s my ex-boyfriend too. The man I loved.”

“You mean love. The man you still think about, and miss terribly.”

You squint at him as if in question. It’s been years since you and Taehyung had shared an apartment where he’d seen you cry almost everyday. It was something he wasn’t used to because you don’t cry, especially in front of others, not when you found out you were pregnant, not when you walked into Jungkook’s apartment only to walk out of his life. Not when Jungkook skipped graduation and left early for the US.

Everything changed after Jungwon’s birth. It’s like all the tears you never cried decided it was time. And you had years’ worth of it.

“Your kid’s a lot more perceptive than you think. He tells me sometimes that he sees you cry when you’re in bed or when you’re watching TV with him, and why else would you be crying if it wasn’t for that man?”

Of course he does. Jungwon, again just like his father, is thoughtful and pays you a lot of attention. Seriously, what about you did this kid inherit?

“The dam breaks every once in a while, I can’t help it.”

“Now you can,” Taehyung says as he gives you a hug. “You should talk to him. And soon. You know he deserves it.”

Jungkook stares at the ceiling, unwilling to move from the comforts of his bed. Head throbbing from the bottles of SoJu he downed with his older cousin, Jin, last night, the events of the day before are mighty clear in his mind.

He’d really seen you, the woman who once laid residence in his mind and his heart that he could not get rid of no matter how hard he tried, because you’d broken every possible thing you could when you decided to break up all those years ago.

He remembers that night so clearly, how he’d been excited to finally spend time with you so he could ask you to go with him to the US. You chose to break his heart instead, deciding by yourself that it wouldn’t work out. The only reason he agreed was because he’d been too hurt to even think of another way, but whether he agreed or not, he knew you would’ve walked out of his life regardless.

But there you were yesterday, dressed in your favorite-colored down jacket, hair longer than he remembers, little kid in tow calling you Mama.

Mama.

He’d just gotten back in Seoul after a visit to his mother. He’d made sure to be sneaky, as he wanted some peace and quiet before all the interviews and events he’ll need to attend because of this “homecoming” that everybody seemed to be making a big deal out of.

He was doing well with the LA Dodgers, even had meetings and possible offers with the Boston Red Sox, the team his father obsessed over. Jungkook was well on his way for bigger things in the largest baseball league in the world.

He decided to sign with the Doosan Bears instead, not even his hometown baseball team. He’ll chalk it up to missing home, maybe breaking ground so he can play in the Olympics, too, just like his father.

He was gonna seek you out, that was definitely part of the plan. He still considers the breakup as partly one-sided and he wanted to know how you were doing. He also knew he was bound to run into you because there was no escaping your circle of friends, who apparently seemed clueless as well.

Except for Taehyung, obviously, because he’s your best friend and he definitely would’ve known. But you’re here in Seoul, how did you dodge the rest of them? And Namjoon had really been able to keep everything a secret?

There were so many questions. Jin took it upon himself to be his confidante last night because surprisingly, Jimin, his best friend, had been mum about it. Jungkook and Jin spent the rest of last night scouring through social media for any trace of you and that kid but there had been none.

Jungkook is desperate, not just because he wants to see you but the child… looked like him.

The grocery was a few neighborhoods away from his, but it was next to the bank he was in so he decided to just do his shopping then. He’d been going through the sweets aisle, ready to fill the pantry of his new apartment with his favorite snacks, then he heard a thump and a soft quivering voice.

He turned to see a little boy looking sad over his toy airplane whose one wing had been clipped off. An adult didn’t seem to be around and he definitely trusts himself more than any other stranger so he’d approached the kid and asked if he needed help.

Curious doe-eyes met his questioning gaze, until the little kid took the airplane and its broken wing in his arms and cradled them.

“It’s hurt,” the kid had said, and he felt his heart burst at the cuteness and softness of this child. Jungkook took the toy and easily fixed it, the sliding slot probably too hard for his little hands to maneuver. He was about to ask for the kid’s name when he heard a familiar voice call out, the kid looking up and scurrying away from him.

And then there was you.

Everything felt hazy until the kid called you his Mama. You’d picked him up and started walking away before Jungkook could even greet you. He’d seen your abandoned grocery basket, which he could easily pass up as his own because of the same things he’d buy for himself.

The wheels were turning in his head and it wasn’t until the kid, apparently named Jungwon, stated his age that Jungkook pieced everything together. Or at least the possibility.

Could Jungwon be his child?

At the thought of this, Jungkook froze, watched your figure disappear from his sight, the eyes of the child boring into him as you walked away again. The kid let out a small smile and Jungkook had seen enough pictures of himself as a little kid in the news the past few weeks to be reminded of how he looked like, and he looked like that. It was unmistakable.

The scene plays in his head again and Jungkook feels the throbbing of his chest match the throbbing of his head, the need to confirm his suspicions and know the whole truth seeping through his veins. He tries to calm himself down, which is difficult, but he knows he needs a level-head if the truth is what he wants from you.

It’s just past lunchtime and he calls Jimin for help. As he enters the passenger seat, Jimin asks his friend for the destination.

“Take me to Taehyung’s place.”

Jungkook is running on adrenaline. With a sober mind now and a still-aching chest, he’s willing his body to relax but he’s unable, focused only on finding the truth.

There’s concern and an air of acceptance in Taehyung’s face when he opens the door to Jungkook, the idea of him showing up here having something that Taehyung has considered. Jungkook has at least half a mind to reach out to someone else before going to you.

Taehyung welcomes him in, knowing better not to argue or match the other man’s emotions. Jungkook doesn’t ask questions though and instead heads for the refrigerator, bites his lips at the sight of the same brand of banana milk he’d seen in your grocery basket.

He walks around the apartment, not missing the small basket of toys by the window. He opens a room that’s actually Taehyung’s art room and sees a paint set for kids, a framed photo of him with Jungwon placed on a shelf and next to it is a painting, the words “Jeon Jungwon” written at the bottom. It’s all the confirmation that he needs.

“Find what you’re looking for?” Taehyung asks, arms on his waist now, a bit of annoyance seeping through at the disrespect being shown to him. He gets that Jungkook is upset, but Taehyung knows him, knows he’s probably coming up with his own conclusions in his mind.

Before Jungkook could say anything, they hear the front door open, Namjoon’s deep voice calling out.

“Tae, did you get to drop off the groceries at ___’s? Jungwon’s been asking for his milk since yesterday and—” Namjoon stops as he stands by the door, eyes wide at Jungkook standing there, no doubt trying to keep himself together.

“Are you Jungwon’s father now?” He directs the question to Taehyung, the bitterness in Jungkook’s voice not lost on all the men present, including Jimin who’d been having his own battle in his mind because pretty soon, the anger will be directed at him, too.

Jungkook is the kid’s father, he’s sure of it now, yet the thought of another man taking that role causes an ache in his chest.

“Jungwon sleeps here? Does art with you? Does he call you—”

“He calls Tae ‘uncle,’ Jungkook. The same thing he calls me,” Jimin says, essentially coming out.

“You knew? This whole time?” Jungkook yells, fists clenched as the anger builds.

“Just a few years ago but—”

“And you said nothing to me?”

“It was just 2 years ago.”

“And you’ve visited me twice a year since then and you never thought to tell me that I have a son…” Jungkook flinches at the word, unbelieving that it’s something he’d even say.

“Look, just calm down, okay?” Jimin tries, but he knows it won’t do much.

“Calm down? I’m fucking livid. I have a…” Jungkook stops himself, willing the tears not to fall. All this time, you had a child that you’d kept from him, without a care of how he would feel.

“Jungkook, just take a breath, yeah?” Namjoon says this time, walking towards the younger man and pulls him in for a hug. “It’s a lot, I know. But just breathe for a bit.”

Jungkook pulls away, a mix of anger and sadness in his eyes. “How could she keep this from me?”

“Only she can answer that,” Namjoon sighs.

“I need to see her,” Jungkook states after a long pause.

“I can ask when she’s free—” Taehyung offers, ready to get his phone.

“I need to see her now.”

Jungkook finds himself in Jimin’s car, with Taehyung in the backseat talking to you over the phone, saying that he’ll take Jungwon for the rest of the afternoon and that they’re on their way.

Jungkook listens to Taehyung talk to you with so much care, the way he always had all those years ago. Nothing has changed, really.

Back in college, people tried to keep their distance from you, afraid of your resting bitch face and usually cold demeanor. Jungkook had heard about you from Jin, a good friend of your brother’s, and couldn’t quite reconcile the incredibly friendly and gentle Taehyung as your best friend.

It was one of the things that intrigued Jungkook, and he’d find out later on, after pulling all the stops with his flirting and finally getting you to agree on a coffee date, that you really did have a bitch face and you were cold if you wanted to be.

But you were so unapologetically you that it was refreshing. It wasn’t a defense mechanism or anything, it was just really who you were, but that wasn’t everything about you - you were also caring, protective, generous, extremely hardworking, and very confident.

Jungkook had fallen in love faster than he could throw a baseball, and he knows he can throw past 90/mph.

You complemented each other so beautifully that fights were easily resolved, if any, dates were always exciting, and moments together were never boring, even if it was just you quietly working on a paper and him noisily studying his games.

Taehyung was relentless in befriending you and you caved in pretty easily. “Look at the smile,” you’d said once. “Who can resist that?” You always had a soft spot for your best friend and Jungkook never minded; he’d trusted your relationship and you when you said that he never had to worry about Taehyung.

Except now. Because Taehyung seems to be a father figure to his son, being what Jungwon had needed all these years, while Jungkook had been clueless about it.

The night you broke up with him, you left him a weeping mess and begging behind closed doors to please don’t go. He felt he’d lost a big part of him, felt the soul-crushing feeling of losing someone again.

The loss of you was something he couldn’t prepare for and he’d spent years trying to put the pieces again, all on his own, in a foreign country, while chasing his dream. It had been hard but after some time, he rationalized in his mind that maybe you were right, maybe it would’ve been very hard for the both of you given the distance, the time difference, the busy schedules. It wouldn’t have been fair; he’d accepted that.

But keeping his child from him like this? This is too much. This is ruthless. You made a decision again. All by yourself. And he’s angry.

Everyone is thankful that Jungwon is asleep, although it’s a chance for Jungkook to see the little one in slumber, looking like the most adorable boy in the world.

Jimin and Taehyung agree to leave first, Jungkook not wanting them to wait, although he’s unsure how long this conversation with you is going to last.

You’ve been pacing back and forth since Taehyung called, informing you of the impromptu visit and Jungkook being unrelenting in his decision to speak with you today. You would’ve wanted to wait, although you know that Tae is right - Jungkook needs to know as soon as possible; he deserves that much.

In your more than 2 years together, you barely saw Jungkook angry - that was more of your thing because he enjoyed annoying the hell out of you every time and you always gave him shit for it.

But you two barely fought - you understood his busy schedule and were never really the jealous type, despite the presence of his “fans” (except maybe around Sora who’d named herself as the president of Jungkook’s fan club like that shit still flies), while Jungkook always knew how to make it up to you. He rarely complained, too if you ditched him to work on your projects.

But this Jungkook is different - his nostrils are flaring, brows are furrowed, jaws are clenched you’re afraid he’d break his teeth.

You’re different, too. You’re nervous, more reserved, not with your usual crossed arms but with fingers fidgeting at the loss of control.

You lead him in the living room and motion for him to sit down but he dismisses you.

“Hi, Jung—”

“I need to hear it from you,” he breathes out. “I know, god, I fucking know but I need to hear it from you.”

You take a deep breath and you say the words you’ve practiced in your head. “Jungwon is our son.”

You see him close his eyes, bite his lips, and tilt his head. It’s how you know he’s trying to control his emotions.

The silence is deafening but you give him time to process.

“How? I mean, you were on birth control and you said you never missed…” He stammers.

“Pills are not 100%, Jungkook. It just happened,” you explain, racking your brain for days right after you took the test over how it might’ve happened. At one point you stopped; it was no use.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It’s the big question, the one he’s been losing his mind over. It doesn’t matter that it happened; he just doesn’t know how you could make that big of a decision all on your own when it concerned him, the other half of the child.

“You were on your way to the big leagues. I couldn’t take that away from you.”

“But you thought it was alright to take away years with my son?” He seethes. “Fuck, ___. That wasn’t your decision to make.”

It wasn’t, not fully at least, you knew it. But he wouldn’t make that decision, so you had to.

“I made it anyway,” you respond, tone more stern now.

With all the pain and struggles it brought, it’s the one thing you stand by; it’s a decision you never regretted. Watching Jungkook play in the ballparks his dad never got to take him to, seeing him blow a kiss to the sky before and after every game, and catching him mouth the words ‘I love you, dad’ after his interviews have always been enough to trump everything else.

Jungkook had been living his and his father’s dream. It had always felt worth it.

“Why? I would’ve stayed,” Jungkook yells.

“Exactly. You would’ve,” you yell back. “I was sure that the moment you knew, you would’ve passed up a dream you worked your whole life for. I couldn’t let you do that. I couldn’t let you make that decision.”

“So you made it for me, by giving me none at all?” He scoffs. “Real brave, ___. And real fucked up, too.”

“It was the only way for you to go!” You exclaim. “If you had known, you wouldn’t have left, you would’ve settled, stayed behind… You would’ve given everything up.”

“Because that’s our child, ___!”

“And we didn’t plan on having him!” You shout, tears prickling on the corners of your eyes now.

“You’ve known baseball your whole life, Jungkook. Everything you’ve ever done was so you could play in the MLB and you did. You made it happen because you had the best opportunity and you took it, worked hard, got to where you wanted to be,” you rationalize.

He’s panting as he processes your words, mind going again to that night when you walked out on him, making sense of the reasons why, those you verbalized and those you didn’t.

“I know you, Jungkook,” you sigh, your voice taking him back to the present. “You’d take responsibility because that’s the kind of man you are. You would’ve insisted on taking care of us, on letting go of everything else for us, for your son. And I couldn’t let you give up on your dream, the one thing left of your father…”

“Don’t you fucking dare bring up my father,” he snaps at you, eyes so cold and you feel so small.

“You wouldn’t have forgiven yourself if you let that dream go for us.”

“Then you don’t really know me, ___. Because the hell would I give us up just like that. The hell would I give up time away from my son.”

He pulls his hair out of frustration, then lets go, tears now streaming down his face.

“I was 14 when I lost my dad, ___.”

“I know, and I’m sorry—”

“No, you don’t know. And you aren’t sorry,” he retorts, his back facing you as he tries to get himself together. “I had to watch him wither away, had to stay by his bedside and watch him take his final breath because my mother couldn’t. I was 14 and I had to be strong for my parents. And I cried, every single night, for months,” he heaves.

He turns to face you, wants you to know how much you’ve hurt him.

“I almost quit school because I wouldn’t get out of my bed, wouldn’t talk to anyone. I told you I suffered, that I lost my way,” he continues, weeping.

But you didn’t know this, didn’t know he suffered like this, that he lost his way like this.

“But the dream kept you going, didn’t it?” You try. “It gave you purpose; you had something to live for, Jungkook,” you continue, reminding him of what the dream meant to him.

He’d been young but he had so many memories with his father about baseball; it had been the core of their relationship, the thread that kept them connected years after his death.

“In return for what?” He barks. “Fuck, I would’ve given anything to have my father again. And that includes that dream, ___.”

You stare at him, his body now crouching down on the couch, unable to fully lift himself up. You’d never seen him like this. He was never afraid to cry but this is different.

Your own tears are relentless, as if telling you that this is all because of you and you deserve this pain. You had broken this man, and you’d done so without regret.

He looks up at you, wipes his tear-drenched face, illuminating the pain, the longing, the anger.

“You took four years of my life away from my son. You robbed me of that chance. You didn’t even give me a choice. How fucking selfish are you? You had no right, ___,” he huffs.

“I just… I know you, Jungkook. You would’ve stayed and then what?” You say, trying to stand your ground, but even you don’t believe your words, at least not anymore.

“You’ll regret it down the road? Resent us because you had to stay? How would we feel? How would Jungwon feel, knowing that his father gave up his dream for him?”

“Really? You’re absolutely sure that’s what would happen? As if I’m not resenting you now?” Jungkook scoffs.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have someone be taken from you, to not have enough time with them. But yeah, you need to have the last say always, right?” He says coldly, allowing the silence to let you take in his bitter words.

“You can’t ever feel like you don’t have control so you make all the decisions by yourself. Hurting those in your wake before they hurt you. But it’s all good right because you stand by it? As long as it’s enough to rid you of the guilt even if it hurts everyone else?”

This is how he hurts you - peeling away your layers and throwing them back at you, until there’s nothing left but all the parts you didn’t want anyone to see. But Jungkook had seen them, accepted them, loved you despite them.

But he’s standing in front of you. And there’s no love in his eyes. You don’t think you deserve it anymore.

You give him this, the last say. And he takes it. And he leaves.

Like countless times before, you fall to the floor and cry. You cry until your sounds are loud enough, until you can no longer hear your own heart breaking.

Taglist: @fluffyjoons @jwlmnbt @koremis @mrcleanheichou @kooafraid @purplepommy @btstannies @jeonwiixard @songshin @joondala @hobiade @di0rgguk @fan-ati--c @yn-the-reader @spicybangtanwings @njkbangtan @jeoncookie-bts @miniaturecloud @revehosh @preciouschimine @sherlynxx @dimreads

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #parents au #exes au #baseball player jk #inevitable #series

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comfortbucky · 3 years

Note

Hey! If requests are still open I was wondering if I could request a fluffy fic where reader is having a bad day and Bucky notices and cheers them up? 💗💗

HELL YEAH!!!

REQUESTS!!! ARE!!! OPEN!!!

𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗲𝘁 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚

pairing: bodyguard!bucky x fem!reader

warnings: anxiety, anxiety attack

tags: grumpy!bucky, bodyguard!bucky, fluffy bucky!!!

A/N: okay i have never written bodyguard!bucky before but i just thought it would be such a sweet concept to see him being soft🥺

sorry if the ending is kind of bad😭 i didn’t know how to quite wrap it all up, but i hope u enjoy!!!!!!!! <3 i had so much fun writing about bodyguard!bucky!!!!!

word count: 2.9k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

Y/N groaned as her phone alarm went off and hit snooze for the fifth time. She reached her hand out, head facing away and resting on her pillow, fumbling for her phone to turn off the incessant sound. Before she could shut it off, the noise stopped. Y/N turned her head slightly to see a large, dark figure in the corner of her eye. She turned her head fully to see her bodyguard with a frown on his face as he shut her alarm off.

“Your alarm, it’s annoying,” Bucky grumbled. “You should get up anyways, busy schedule today.” He walked out of the room before she could respond. Super soldier hearing was no joke if he was able to hear her alarm from his bedroom down the hall. Y/N sighed as her face planted into the pillow.

She was not looking forward to the events planned out for the day. During the day, there was a slew of interviews she had, back to back, and at night, a gala she was being forced to attend by her father.

Being the daughter of a wealthy tech tycoon had its perks for sure, but Y/N did not consider all of the press she did as a part of them. She never liked being in the spotlight but was forced to be, a birthright she had. Growing up with her dad, she’d developed a fascination for tinkering with computers, game consoles, and everything in-between. She spent a lot, practically all of her free time, with her dad when her mom had passed away. Her dad ended up throwing himself into his life’s work and she worked with him closely in the beginning, but slowly started to drift apart from him as she started to make a name for herself.

Earlier that week, her dad had sent her a text, informing her that a big announcement would be made at the gala. Big parties and large crowds weren’t really her thing, but it seemed like she didn’t have the option to avoid this one.

She got ready for the day, walking down to her kitchen to see her bodyguard, Bucky, sitting at the table, reading a book. As soon as he heard her come down the steps, he stood up and put his book away.

“C’mon, we’re already running late,” he mumbled, making his way to the door. Y/N rolled her eyes in response, grabbing a granola bar as she briskly followed behind him.

When her dad became a big name in the world of tech, the last thing Y/N thought she needed was a bodyguard, but her dad felt otherwise. It took one, very close call, of her almost getting mugged for her dad to immediately assign a personal bodyguard for her. She insisted that it was unnecessary, seeing that she was a fully grown adult, but her dad refused, as he was the one paying for Bucky’s salary.

Bucky had always been rather closed off since the beginning, and not much had changed since he was first assigned to her a little over a year ago. He kept their relationship very professional, only speaking when necessary and leaving the room whenever he wasn’t needed. She had tried to get him to open up more, learn about his past, but he always shut her questions down by either ignoring her or changing the topic to discussing something work-related. He was an enigma to her, which only left her wanting to solve the mystery that was James Bucky Barnes but couldn’t seem to crack the code.

Her first two interviews went smoothly, exactly what she was used to. A couple of questions about her current projects at work, some about her dad sprinkled in, and what she had planned for the future. It was a format she was used to and had come to appreciate, not exactly enjoying being the center of attention. During her last interview, however, she was caught off guard by one of the last questions she was asked.

“I know this might be an awkward question to ask, but I just have to! The people want to know: do you think your dad’s ever going to return to the dating pool?”

Y/N choked on her saliva. She knew her dad was an attractive man, seeing posts on social media of people fawning over him. Although she found it to be very weird and uncomfortable, she just brushed it all aside, not wanting to think about it as it only led to her thinking about the loss of her mom, a sore spot for her.

Y/N cleared her throat and forced out a chuckle. “I think that’s a question only he can answer, I don’t always know what’s going on in that crazy head of his.”

The interviewer laughed and proceeded to transition into the next segment. Y/N quickly thanked the interviewer and left, Bucky swiftly following behind. He had a feeling that something was off, as Y/N would typically stay behind to chat with the interviewer, crew members, even the service staff, whenever she finished an interview. It was always something he admired about her, how down to earth she remained, despite all of the privileges she had. She went out of her way to thank everyone on set, no matter how small their role might seem. He always told the drivers to pull the car up a little later than originally planned, just so she would have the extra time to talk.

Y/N pushed the doors open, only to find an empty street. She turned around and gave Bucky a curious look.

“Sorry, the driver just texted me,” he said, as he sent a text to the driver, telling him to come now. “He’s running late.”

Y/N nodded and leaned against the wall, looking down to fiddle with her hands. Bucky leaned against the opposite wall, facing her, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You okay?”

Y/N looked up at Bucky to find a gentle look in his eyes, slightly taken aback at the sight. She always found herself drawn to his piercing blue eyes, but they usually had a colder glint to them. This was a look she’d never seen before.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied, averting her gaze down as she felt her cheeks flush at the sight of Bucky’s soft gaze.

The car arrived, cutting off Bucky’s train of thought as he was thinking of what to say to her. For a moment he debated on continuing the conversation in the car but figured she already had a long night ahead of her and didn’t want to push any further.

After a quick pit stop back to Y/N’s place, allowing her to change into an evening gown, the car headed to the venue of the gala. Bucky got out of the car before her, walking around to the other side to open her door. Before she stepped out, Y/N took a deep breath in and exhaled, plastering a fake smile on her face as a surge of flashing lights from cameras greeted her. Bucky watched, seeing her seamlessly transform from Y/N, the girl who needed to set a million alarms before actually waking up, to Y/N, tech extraordinaire, one of the most powerful people in the tech world.

Once they were inside the venue, Bucky stuck to his usual routine. Scope out the exits, look for any potential threats, and make sure Y/N was in his eyesight. Bucky kept close by but also kept his distance. He wanted to make sure that he gave her enough space whenever they were out, knowing that having him around was her dad’s idea and that she wasn’t too fond of having security detail in the first place. So he did everything he could to make himself blend in with the crowd, allowing her to roam freely, only following her when she moved out of his line of vision.

Y/N walked around, not knowing a single soul but making polite small talk with the rest of the guests. She became accustomed to knowing how to act at these types of events over the span of her adult life. Food, drinks, more food, home. Crowds made her uneasy, but she always felt calmer when she saw Bucky in her peripheral vision. Y/N would never admit it out loud, but over the last year, he had become a constant source of relief at these public events. Just knowing that he was there if she felt uncomfortable, unsafe, or wanted to leave early made her public outings much more bearable.

“Hey, sweetie! I’m so glad you made it.” Y/N turned around at the sound of her dad’s voice and smiled, moving in to hug him.

“Yeah well, you said you had a big announcement, so I figured I’d stop by,” she joked, eliciting a chuckle from her dad as they pulled away from each other.

“I’m about to make it now,” he started, placing his hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “And I was wondering if you could join me on stage for it? I know that’s not your thing, but it would mean so much to me, Y/N.”

While she absolutely hated the idea of having to stand in front of thousands of people, she reluctantly nodded. Y/N and her dad had slowly grown apart the past several years, only talking a couple times a month to catch up. With both of their busy schedules, they always seemed to miss each other. Despite their growing apart, she would do anything for her dad, especially if it meant so much to him.

Bucky slowly followed behind, as Y/N and her dad walked up to the stage. Y/N glanced behind her to give a slight smile to Bucky, to which he nodded back. He stood backstage, watching them from behind the curtains.

“Hi everyone, thanks so much for coming out tonight,” Y/N’s dad spoke into the mic. She was standing beside him, hands clasped in front of her, trying to look calm and not totally anxious.

“Since the success of my brand, people have said that I am a man who has everything. And I definitely have a lot to be thankful for, my company, my friends, and most importantly, my daughter.” Her dad extended a hand out to point to Y/N and the crowd cheered. Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. Despite his brooding attitude, he had come to grow fond of Y/N, being able to see her for who she truly was. She was smart, witty, and had a heart of gold.

“The only thing I’ve been missing,” her dad looks down at the ground for a second, before looking back out at the crowd. “Is someone to share it all with.” Y/N’s smile faltered and felt her stomach drop. She couldn’t fully register the words coming out of her dad’s mouth.

“After Sarah, my wife had passed, I didn’t think I would be able to love again. Until I met Alyssa.” Y/N was frozen in place upon hearing her dad’s confession. She’d never heard of anyone named Alyssa during any of their catch-up calls and now he was saying he loved her? Y/N quickly turned as a woman walked out on stage. The woman walked over to her dad and he wrapped one of his arms around her waist before speaking.

“Now I feel complete, now I have everything.” He pulled Y/N to him and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, smiling for the cameras ahead. There were a lot of strategies Y/N had devised over the years to deal with potential unexpected and uncomfortable situations in a composed manner to avoid having a PR nightmare.

She didn’t have one for this.

Tearing herself from her dad’s hold, she ran off stage, heading towards the exit that led to the outside. Y/N took in the fresh air, trying to stop her hyperventilating. It wasn’t working. Her chest felt tight as she began gasping for air, struggling to take in oxygen.

She was having a panic attack. It was nothing she hadn’t experienced before, but it had been so long since she’d had one. The last time she remembered, was at her mom’s funeral.

Her mom. Her dad. Alyssa.

Her thoughts were pushed aside as her vision blurred, her eyes swelling up with tears. Y/N felt like she had no control over her body and shut her eyes, allowing the panic to consume her.

Then, a firm, but gentle, warm feeling in her hands.

Y/N blinked her eyes open to reveal Bucky, standing in front of her. She looked down and saw that it was his hands in hers, holding them tight.

“Can you breathe for me, honey?”

His voice came out in a soft whisper, accompanied by the warmest and welcoming smile. She shook her head, unable to control her quick and rapid breaths. Bucky squeezed her hands a little tighter, rubbing his thumb in small circles on the back of her hand.

“Yes you can, just breathe with me, okay?”

He started to breathe in and out slowly and eventually, she was able to follow his lead, deciding to focus on his eyes. There was that look from before the ride to the gala, the gentle look in his eyes. She’d always felt that his blue eyes reminded her of stormy seas, but now, now they made her think of the calmness of the ocean in the early morning, waves crashing softly on the shores.

As she regained her composure, she realized she’d been staring into Bucky’s eyes for, probably, far too long. Bucky felt her tight grip on his hands loosen and reluctantly let go of her hands. He immediately missed the softness of her hands and how small they were in comparison to his much larger, calloused, hands.

“T- Thank you,” she stuttered out, her gaze locked on the ground, as she placed her hands to her sides.

“It’s no problem. I get them too,” he replied. She looked up at him as he clarified. “Panic attacks. PTSD from serving overseas.”

Y/N face drops, her stomach churning at the thought that Bucky had ever experienced panic like she had. She returned her gaze to the ground as a silence washed over them.

“He didn’t tell me about her,” she spoke in a quiet voice. “Never brought her up once. But I guess she must be pretty special for him to do all of this.”

Bucky stood a couple steps in front of her, seeing teardrops fall from her face. She lifted her head up to wipe away her tears, her hands shaking from anxiety. Y/N placed her hands on her face and started to sob.

She was slightly hurt by the idea of her dad loving any other woman than her mom but knew that he’d have to move on eventually. What hurt her the most was the fact that he didn’t tell her, not until they were on stage, standing before a crowd of people. It was too much for her to handle and she reached her breaking point.

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sight. He cautiously stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Something his PTSD had taught him was how pressure from a hug could help relax the nervous system and calm him down. He held her firmly in his arms until he felt her breathing slow. She looked up at him, remaining in his embrace, her eyes glassy from crying, nose red and sniffly. Bucky felt his heart skip a beat and immediately pushed the thought away.

“You wanna leave, honey?”

She nodded in response, staying in his arms for just a second longer before pulling away. Y/N longed for his warm touch, feeling like a child who had their security blanket taken away. It didn’t help that it was also cold outside, sending a chill down her spine.

Bucky noticed and shrugged his suit jacket off to wrap around her shoulders. She beamed a smile at him and he smiled back.

The pair walked around the outside of the venue to find the car when they ran into a mob of paparazzi, shouting questions at Y/N about her sudden exit. Like a reflex, she grabbed hold of Bucky’s hand and he gave her a comforting squeeze as he cleared a path towards the car.

Bucky and Y/N were sat next to each other in the car, which was not the typical seating arrangement they usually had, usually sitting on opposite ends of the car. But Y/N hadn’t let go of his hand, not quite ready to separate herself from his warmth. Bucky had absolutely no problem with that, mindlessly rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand. She felt safe. She always felt safe with Bucky around.

Y/N felt her eyelids become heavy, struggling to keep them open. She was exhausted from her long day, and her panic attack had taken most of her energy away.

Bucky felt a weight on his shoulder and turned his head slightly to see Y/N’s head resting there. He felt a warmth rush to his cheeks and smiled, resting his head on top of hers.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed. “You always make me feel so safe.”

Bucky felt a surge of tenderness rush through him. That was all he ever wanted to do. He wanted to keep her safe. He kissed her forehead, causing her to snuggle closer to him.

“Of course, honey. I’m here, always.”

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molinaskies · 3 years

Text

Sonic's Next Emotional Arc: Skepticism and Doubt

IDW SPOILERS – Read up to the latest issue (41, at time of writing) or at least issue 40 before reading this.

I keep seeing arguments about how “Sonic and company don’t even seem impacted by the severe stakes of the Metal Virus and the pain they experienced.”

In the nicest way possible, that’s absolute cap. Here’s why:

When I first read Belle’s introduction in the Chao Races arc, I thought Sonic’s standoffish nature towards her (especially how he held his reservations through the following two issues) was out of character for him, but now, I think it makes complete sense (and is genius on the part of Evan Stanley).

Why?

Sonic was waiting for her to turn on him, just like how Mr. Tinker did.

I’ve spoken at length about Sonic’s emotional intelligence, so I would bet real-world money on the fact that Belle’s denial of her creator and her overall appearance clued Sonic in immediately – when he asked about who built her, he was referring to Tinker from the start.

Sonic’s friendly by nature, which is why he’s so chummy with her after Tails makes a case for her. The same idea goes for while they’re in battle, where Sonic’s attention and priorities are heavily shifted. Otherwise, however, notice how he’s crasser with her in his dialogue.

Note the distinct lack of apology from Sonic (by design; an explanation is not an apology and he knows it) and the elliptic pause.

Here, Sonic gives in rather begrudgingly, but his tone changes from actively defensive to teasing (a level down in Sonic’s defence mechanism – “a step above Eggman," I’ll call it), where he’s not comfortable really chatting with her but will riff off her, instead.

Once in the company of his friends, Sonic is more willing to keep her around, especially with someone else. Once again, when Sonic isn’t playing tour guide, his demeanor resets and… he’s confused; lost in thought until Amy requests his attention.

Here, note the realization within Sonic that Belle is here to stay, as well as his apology (with a distinct lack of an explanation – this is especially important).

Sonic finally accepts that Belle will be good for his friends and for their cause, but he doesn’t tell her (or anyone) his thoughts because 1) he senses that Belle 100% is in denial and isn’t ready to face certain facts (something Sonic, himself, is familiar with), and 2) he recognizes that he has no right to instill within Belle the same doubt he’s been living with since issue 1 (at an absolute minimum, too, given the history of this damn hedgehog).

Eggman, during the climax of the Metal Virus arc, has an amazing one-liner that sets up Sonic’s current emotional arc, in which Sonic won’t be so trusting of new faces and new situations. In the moment, Sonic tries to brush it off, but such little details – the retraction of his ears and his sweat – give his genuine discomfort away, because Eggman is right.

Sonic’s biggest desire of Eggman is for him to be a better person – something Sonic knows that Eggman is very seriously capable of, both through the existence of Mr. Tinker upon complete amnesia and by the historically significant grace periods that Eggman goes through to aid the greater good (Sonic Adventure 1 and 2, Sonic ’06, and Lost World, to name a few examples).

Side note: reread issue 23. Sonic is genuinely at his most desperate, and it's raw and painful and good. Easily a standout issue in the Metal Virus arc.

Sonic’s choice to spare Mr. Tinker is one he’s done nothing but defend whenever it’s been brought into the discussion, but in private, Sonic doubts his decision and feels immense guilt and responsibility for the losses his friends have seen and experienced to the Metal Virus.

Remember, too, that this comes nearly right after an approximate seven-month war that Sonic’s overzealousness (and subsequent defeat and capture) effectively started. We also see post-Metal Virus that Sonic seems significantly more protective of his friends compared to the start of the comic. He’s hyper-aware of his place in the world and in their lives, and he wants nothing more than to protect them – his somewhat-awkward, non-verbal communication of how much he adores them (Tails and Amy, especially).

Also, a very sweet detail here on the left: Sonic pushes Amy’s and Tails’ heads down to protect them from being waterboarded, and immediately, Amy goes to do the same for Sonic. Those two are so pure in their connection - whatever that means to you - and Amy is best girl (and y’all can @ me lol).

In a way, Sonic’s actions as of late have been the direct cause of a lot of very serious problems, and Sonic isn’t so ready to make another grave mistake. Belle was (and is) a living, walking, talking, and sentient reminder of what could be Sonic’s biggest regret and point of eternal conflict – the point of reflection in which he realized the absolute pain he put his loved ones through.

However, despite all of this, Sonic isn’t ready to give up hope. He’s changing his tactics up a bit, which shows his growing emotional maturity, but he still wants to believe that everyone can be good, that every problem can be solved, and that every person can be redeemed – including himself.

I want to share another excerpt from Japanese Sonic X. At the end of episode 38, after Sonic and Shadow save the planet from the falling ARK with seconds to spare before the point of no return and irreparable damage, this exchange between the president’s aid and the president’s driver (Sam Speed) occurs:

Sonic’s unparalleled optimism has been a core characteristic of his for a long time, and I really like how well the IDW comics have adhered to this fact while enabling Sonic to open up and be a teenager as it’s because of Sonic’s age and development that he experiences such waves of both optimism and doubt.

Sonic has never lived in a floating timeline. He’s grown and regressed and matured through every experience he’s had. He’s a thoughtful, dynamic, intelligent character who doesn’t take anything for granted. At least, not anymore.

(and people say nice things about him – LOL).

#long post #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #sonic idw spoilers #sonic idw #emotional characterization #character analysis #mr tinker #eggman #dr eggman #dynamic characters #belle the tinkerer #miles prower #tails #Amy rose #ivo robotnik #peep the blog i do this kind of thing all the time :)

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biqherosix · 3 years

Note

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ keith with an s/o who is a literal ray of sunshine

rise with the moon, rise with the sun - headcanons

fluff, angst

(voltron legendary defender — romantic! keith kogane x reader)

while you rise with the moon, keith has always risen with the sun. your bright, shining personality catches his fire, temperamental heart which leads to a surprising dynamic

cw / none

a/n — i thought this was gonna be strictly fluff, but it ain’t a true keith akira kogane piece by yours truly if there ain’t angst in it woohoo !! anyway enjoy ily tell me what you think bc i appreciate the feedback :) have fun !!

contrary to popular belief, keith would actually get along super well with a sunshine s/o

i mean come on guys he hangs around with people who practically have sunshine pumping through their veins (example a: all of team voltron with an emphasis on hunk and coran)

so you shouldn't be surprised when he's very much used to the rambunctiousness and chaos surrounding the bright personalities

but like everyone on the team makes fun of keith anyway bc of the difference in dynamic and even just dating you bc they either thought he'd turn up alone or date someone that mirrored his personality (lance's idea lmao)

they're just jelly as you balance him out, and keith definitely gets the love he mf deserves when he's with you

and i mean it when i say that keith was so touch starved before he dated you

but as your relationship goes on you'll just be holding onto him in any shape or form and making sure to tell him you love him as you give him a sweet kiss

in front of the paladins he doesn't reciprocate your affection, with you leaning your head on his shoulder and holding his hand during meetings or just nuzzling into him while lounging around

but like in private, you can actually get him to cuddle with you and you lay your head on his chest as you play with his fingers and babble until you're lulled to sleep (and when keith wakes up he smiles because he sees you with a ghost of a smile as you subconsciously tighten your grip on his waist and he thinks about how he doesn't deserve you in the slightest)

sometimes he even pretends to not like it when you take a few of lance's face masks and self care products

but then he hears your laugh while he brushes a sticky purple goo on your cheeks (mainly bc he sticks his tongue out and furrows his eyebrows in concentration and you think it's just such a cute look) so he begrudgingly does one too even though you know he's particularly fond of the red face mask

don't tell anyone but you even got him to put on one of those thick fluffy headbands to keep his hair out of the way

okay but sometimes you get in a rush outside paladin work (you spend a lot of time tinkering with pidge, just keeping them company and making sure they actually get the breaks they deserve) so you give him a quick kiss on the cheek and a bright smile before pidge drags you away

you also like to leave little notes of positive affirmations in his room and when he goes off to train you stick them onto his bayard so he actually sees them, and he doesn't write back but is sure to give you a chaste kiss on the forehead and hug you a little tighter when he sees you after

but damn the shift in attitude surrounding his leave was like instantaneous once the doors closed like who were you gonna cling onto now? like heck yeah you're so supportive about him doing what he feels is right, but you're gonna miss him obviously

though before he left for the blades and got stuck in that stupid time abyss for two years he spent all of the night before just writing out little notes and affirmations of his own and placed them in this little jar that he stole from lance bc he already made his decision

keith was like this close to making some morale boosting videos but then he remembers the disaster that coran set him up with during paladin diaries so that was a no go

he leaves the jar of notes in your room, as well as his jacket bc it's the least he can offer when he leaves (you cry when you walk in after he leaves and you see it in your room and read the note in the pocket)

though they didn't see your breakdown and you're definitely still trying to keep up the positivity, the team definitely feels bad because they notice your eyes don't shine as bright, or when you turn around to act out the little quirks you do around keith and keith only but then you remember he isn't there

allura is convinced she saw coran's heart break when you turned around to whisper with a smile that there's the planet you'd be landing on but you're met with coran instead and your smile falters coran had to leave the room so he could cry for you

they try making you feel better by doing little activities in their downtime to keep your mind off it

and even gorgeous man coran helps out bc he cares and is concerned !! just dad things you feel me, he has you accompany him to get some local planet flowers and you place them around the castle as he sings the altean alphabet and just assures you everyone is here for you

but they don't know keith isn't doing well either

he'd be lying if he said he wasn't used to your constant affection and he craves it by now

one of the only good things in the time abyss besides meeting kosmo though, was befriending romelle

bc honestly dating you helped keith get used to being around romelle everyday for two years and she kinda reminded him of you (he spilled everything about your relationship when romelle caught him holding out his hand and retracting it bc he was so used to you grabbing it, then he just has this low-key burst of anger and kicks the dirt or something)

romelle ever the curious would ask more questions and he just couldn't help but talk about you

let's just say krolia was a wreck after keith fell asleep that night bc he's so far from one of the people who took care of him while she was gone and it hurts for him to be in pain (well guess what it hurts coran too okay)

y'all remember reuniting so vividly like yay cheers !! but also lotor is about to kill us !!

but omg okay so the castle is malfunctioning right and pidge forces you to get supplies and tools as if coran isn't right there but you do it anyway but bc you love pidge with your whole heart so you do it

your timing is actually so off though bc keith the mf contacts them in the control room and gets back to the paladins with romelle and krolia and kosmo miraculously as the castle starts up again without you in the room

you notice everything around you brighten, but just in case you've got the supplies in hand bc with pidge you can never be too careful

keith is already skimming the room for you and he's sad but coran is too busy giving him a lecture and pidge sees romelle and assumes some stuff

they really forgot they were in a war for a fat second for y'all that's true love

"you're alive?? y/n was so worried about you! now why is there an altean with you >:( did you replace them 😡 so help me king groggery the infirm 🔪🔪🔪 you have no idea how sad they've been? morale has been low since you left! 😤"

"get ready to hold me back guys !!!" - pidge, a 5'2 icon ready to throw fists against keith who went through a second puberty

you come back to a huge crowd and you don't really notice bc you're too busy balancing your supplies like "hey pidge where do you want this?" everyone is shook bc they forgot you weren't there bc pidge was honestly ready to go at it

and it's like this dramatic moment where they all move away from each other gradually and you see him

you fr widen your eyes, gape, and drop the supplies (pidge can fix them it's okay the love of your life is in front of you and god he looks hot)

also yk how sokka sees suki and does that thing where he's like "🥰 !!!!" that's how you are when you see him

"keith?!" and he just looks back at you with the softest smile (and he sees you wearing his jacket and you look like an angel bc no one else can pull of the look of his jacket other than him) and you can't help it you're already crying and you just run up and jump and tackle him in a hug

and it's like a full hug as in you tightly wrap your legs around his waist and steady yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck crying into his shoulder because he's really with you !!!

his balance falters because the impact was a little heavy but he softens up quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and letting his chin bury into your shoulder bc he's missed this, he's missed you

he doesn't let any tears fall, because keith being soft in public? he can't take it but he hasn't seen you in two years so dammit he's getting that hug

but lance and coran are sniffling like??? the audacity for you to be this cute and happy omg sunshine and blink-182 are back in business :) then there's hunk who's sobbing and holding onto pidge who are wiping away their own tears

keith helps you get your feet back on the ground and places a kiss on your forehead and adjusts his your jacket before diverting your attention to the three unfamiliar figures in the room and lance scoots over to whisper in your ear explaining everything

"guys i was gone for a tick and you meet another altean and keith's mom without me?! and you got a dog!!!" - you, shaking keith's arm and eyes bright as ever before kneeling down to pet kosmo bc kosmo supremacy

okay anyway remember when i said he was prepared for the peppiness upon meeting romelle? what he wasn't prepared for was having you and romelle not only being best friends as well, but becoming attached to his hip with some optimistic shit (pidge, lance, and hunk do reenactments of keith, you, and romelle in that order it's the funniest thing ever but also mel swoons over your relationship too it's so embarrassing for keith but you just find it entertaining)

as well as stealing his dog (he just looks away with this smile whenever you sneak in some kosmo cuddles bc you don't want him to know but it's just so blatantly obvious)

but back to you and romelle, keith is pretty sure if you weren't dating him you'd be dating romelle; honestly though he's just glad his sunshines get along

also omg krolia also didn't expect you to be the way you were but she knew she liked you after she came back to earth and saw you blatantly punch james griffin in the nose with the sweetest smile for insulting the paladins

granted you screamed about it right after bc it hurt and your knuckles are bruised but krolia pulled you aside and cleaned your knuckles thanking you for taking care of keith

to which you respond he didn't need taking care of, just someone to lean on and you're glad to be that person even if y'all have opposing personalities

so even though you rise with the moon and he rises with the sun, you know what they say: opposites attract and your relationship with keith is the epitome of just that

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randomrosewrites · 3 years

Note

Hey! happy to see youre accepting requests, can I have some fluff/spice with Albedo? Maybe since theres a snowstorm in dragonspine reader is really cold and wants... some cuddles

Thank you! please take care ♡

a/n: Albedo is like...one of my top faves thank u so much

Caught in the snow

Pairing: Albedo X GN reader Summary: After being caught in a freak blizzard, Albedo makes sure you're properly warm when you head back to his camp... unfortunately, you have to explain there's another way you want him to warm you up. Words: 1.3K Tags: Fluff, cuddling, making out to stay warm is totally scientific.

A chilly gust of wind whips at your face, threatening to tear your hat from your head. You grit your teeth, firmly planting your feet in the snow until the wave passes. In front of you, Albedo turns around, a crease forming between his brow. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “J-just a bit cold.”

He shifts his bag on his shoulder and re-wraps your scarf around your neck, exhaling puffs of white clouds. “The camp’s only a little bit further.”

Taking your hand in his, the two of you resume your walk, boots crunching the snow. You don’t know how Albedo survives the cold, dressed in his thin layers and short sleeves, but he never so much as shivers, even when the temperature on Dragonspine drops below zero.

For as much as you love him, Albedo’s occupation makes you frustrated at times. Him being one of the greatest alchemists in Teyvat - possibly the greatest that ever existed - made his services expremly sought after. There always seemed to be foreigners coming to Mondstat, in desperate search of the alchemist to assist them with their toughest problems.

Albedo is very good at his job. You’ve seen him solve all kinds of puzzles from encrypted ciphers and biochemical quandaries to making a thousand-year-old seed sprout petals. He’s talented enough to work for whoever and wherever he wants, capable of making more mora than the entire knight’s salary.

Yet instead, he chooses to stay in Mondstat as a captain, working on the icy terrain of Dragonspine. Albedo’s never been afraid to pursue what interests him - something you love him for.

Unfortunately, it means that there’s barely any time for the two of you to have proper dates. If he’s not needed back in the city, he’s almost always on the snowy slopes, researching this or that. Dates are usually lunches shared together while he reads over papers, or brisk walks around the city walls so he can stretch his legs after a long day inside. Occasionally, when you schedules line up, you’ll visit his camp on the mountains to assist him - like today.

What you weren’t expecting was for a freak blizzard to rain down on you while you were out gathering materials.

Your toes have gone numb by the time you see the outline of his camp. The two of you scurry into the warm mouth of the cave, sighing in relief from the wind. You shake the snow from your coat and hat, stamping your boots to rid them of slush.

Albedo lets go of your hand to move to his lab table. “Go warm up by the fire, I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

You’re all too happy to take a seat by the fire, feeding it another log before bringing your hands by the flames to warm them. The familiar sounds of Albedo tinkering fill the air as you thaw out. He takes out the starsilver ore from his bag, examining the shards closely. He’s got that passionate look in his eye, one that means whatever’s in front of him has his full attention. He murmurs to himself, walking to a shelf to grab a pestle and mortar.

While he does that, you grab a blanket from a nearby crate and wrap it around yourself. Cocooned in clothing, you resume by the fire and watch as Albedo works, walking back and forth, adjusting this or that from various other projects as he goes along. His ability to multi-task is astounding.

When the water in one of the flasks boils over, Albedo takes it and pours it into a cup, handing it over to you.

“You’re not going to drink?” you ask, cradling the mug in your hands.

He shakes his head. “I’m alright, thank you.”

You hide your frown as Albedo goes back to work. Your only - if you could even call it that - complaint about him is that his fixation on his work sometimes takes up more of his attention than you’d prefer.

You finish your drink over the course of half an hour. Despite the many layers you have on, you’re still shivering. You shift in your seat, tuck your feet up, curl the blanket tighter, but no matter what you do, you’re never comfortable enough to get warm. Albedo is still at work, dropping chunks of starsilver into bubbling beakers of green liquid. You don’t want to bother him, but you also can’t help but want his attention, especially when you’re freezing and the thought of his hands against your cheeks makes you heat from the inside out.

After another half-hour of suffering, you’ve had enough. “Albedo,” you venture.

He’s silent, so you call his name again.

“Yes?” he says, half-distracted by what’s in front of him.

“I’m cold.”

“I can make you a warming bottle if you want, there’s also some heating pads in the crate that you can put in your shoes-”

“I don’t want those, Albedo, I want you.”

His head snaps up from his table. He blinks, eyes wide like an owl. “Pardon?”

You stretch your arms out, motioning for him to join you by the fire.

He seems to understand, a hint of red dusting his cheeks. “Ah. Alright.”

You hold back a laugh. He’s so cute when he’s flustered. “Is that ok?”

“Yes...I...it’s fine. Give me a moment, will you?” He lays down a set of tongs and turns the flame on the burner down, brushing silver dust from his coat. You scooch over so he has room to sit beside you. The second he’s within your grasp, you latch onto him, wrapping the blankets around both of you.

Albedo’s arms hold you close to him. He isn’t warm per se, but his presence alone is enough for your body to stop it’s shivering. You sigh in bliss, pressing a thankful kiss to his cheek.

“Do you feel warm now?” Albedo asks, his fingers idly tracing over your coat.

You give a thoughtful hum, lacing your fingers with his until your palms are touching. “I don’t know, maybe I need a bit more warmth.”

Albedo frowns. “If you’re that cold, that could be a symptom of hypothermia-”

“No, no, Albedo,” you rush to stop him. “I don’t have hypothermia.”

“But you said that you’ve been shivering for the past-”

“I mean I want you to kiss me.”

A range of emotions flash across his face, his lips parted slightly.

“Oh,” is all that comes from his mouth, strained and embarrassed he swallows. “I can do that.”

With the delicacy of an artist, cups your cheeks with his gloved hands. His eyes shift from your lips up to your eyes and then back to your lips. There’s a bit of hesitation in his movements, but it’s only from shyness. And as the space between you two shortens, your eyes flutter close.

He tastes like sweet vanilla, lips soft without any imperfections. His lips part and meet yours again and again, like the gentle flutter of a butterfly’s wings. You drink him up, almost feeling dizzy as your hands roam over wherever they can touch.

You push back against him, insistent, so much so that Albedo gasps. He nearly falls back but regains himself, then molds his mouth to yours once. It’s hot and a bit messy. Your hard, forceful movements counteracting Albedo's gentler, graceful ones.

Your heart is pounding and you’re winded by the time you part, leaning your forehead against Albedo’s and staring into his bright, blue eyes.

“I’m warm now,” you whisper. Albedo lets out a breathy laugh. “As am I.”

His mouth is on yours again not long after. As the storm rages outside the camp, the two of you keep each other warm all throughout the night.

#i also kinda kin albedo so this was #really interesting to write #genshin impact #albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fiction #genshin impact scenarios #albedo x reader #genshin impact albedo x reader #albedo x gender neutral reader #albedo x you #albedo x y/n #my writing

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writemekpop · 3 years

Text

Late Night Lovers | Nakamoto Yuta

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta x Reader

Summary: You sneak into Yuta’s hotel room for a late night fuck, only to find that his roommate Taeyong is in the next bed. Turns out, Taeyong may not be as asleep as he pretends to be...

Genre: FWB!Yuta, Smut

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning: Sexual Content

Gif: @yuthereal

The best thing about being an interpreter at SM Entertainment is their annual retreat. You’re loving the ocean view, but you’ve been enjoying a… different view a lot more.

Yuta is running on the beach, sweat dripping down his exposed abs, dyed hair flowing wildly in the wind. Ever since you fell into bed together after that one NCT concert, sleeping with Yuta had become a regular thing.

But… it’s been a while since you’ve fucked anyone, and your body is near to bursting with pent up desire. Especially after Yuta “accidentally” spilled water on his T shirt, and had to strip right in front of you.

It’s 2AM, and you’re tiptoeing down the dimly lit hotel corridor towards Yuta’s hotel room. You briefly regret dressing in nothing but a lilac silk slip - but the look on Yuta's face when he sees you will be worth the shivering.

You slip into his room, which is dark except for the electric glow of moonlight that trickles in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Your eyes widen. In the room is not one, but two double beds. Yuta is sprawled out on his, a thin sheet concealing his body from view.

But in the bed next to him, you spot a shock of pink hair. You curse.

Taeyong.

But now you’re in the mood, nothing can stop you from doing what you want. Or... who you want.

You pace towards Yuta’s bed. You slide your hand under the sheet and run your fingers over the planes of muscle. Yuta, always the light sleeper, stirs at your touch.

When he opens his eyes, his plump lips curl into a smirk.

“Missed me already?” he whispers. Yuta holds the sheet up, inviting you inside.

You slip under the sheet with him and rest your head on his hard chest. You run your hands down his abs, tinkering with his diamond navel piercing.

Yuta squeezes your silk-clothed ass. He presses a kiss to your lips, and chuckles. “Someone’s eager tonight.”

You roll your eyes.

Yuta gazes over at Taeyong, who is still fast asleep. “How are we gonna do this? I don’t think we’ll be able to stay quiet. We shoul-”

You cut Yuta off by palming him through his boxers.

He groans softly, throwing his head back on the pillow. You kiss his neck, feeling his pulse throb under your lips as you sneak your hand into his boxers.

You savour his breathy moans, and the way his eyelids flutter with pleasure at your touch.

Yuta’s moans get louder, and you squeeze him harder. Suddenly, he pulls your hand away and looks intently into your eyes.

“Get on top of me,” he whispers.

Electricity crackles through your core as you move to straddle his waist. Yuta tugs at your night dress. “Take this off.”

“But…” you glance nervously over at Taeyong, who’s sleeping head rests on the pillow, facing towards you.

Yuta wriggles his hips underneath you, and you realise you can’t bear not having him inside you any longer. “Ahh, fuck it,” you say, pulling your dress over your head and tossing it away.

Yuta’s dark eyes rake over your naked body. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, pushing himself into you.

“You ready?” he murmurs. You nod, and Yuta starts moving his hips, holding your body in place on top of him. You stay as quiet as possible, but it’s getting harder with each passing second.

Yuta’s eyes are glued to your bouncing breasts, which glisten with sweat in the moonlight.

In the heat of the moment, Yuta slaps your thighs. The hideously loud sound of skin on skin reverberates through the room. You freeze. There’s no way anyone could stay asleep through that.

Taeyong shifts and mumbles something incoherent. Fear washes through you. You stay painfully still, waiting for Taeyong’s breaths to steady.

Too soon, Yuta grows impatient. He tries to thrust up into you, but you give him a warning glare.

After a few seconds, you decide that Taeyong probably didn’t wake up, so you start grinding your hips against Yuta’s, getting back into that jaw-droppingly good rhythm.

Yuta knows how to fuck you just right. Soon the pleasure becomes almost too much, and you’re not sure you can keep quiet for any longer.

“Hurry up,” you half-whisper, half-moan. Yuta’s thrusts speed up.

As the pace soars, your moans get louder and louder. His name falls from your lips again and again. The white sheet has slipped onto the floor, leaving you and Yuta both completely naked.

At the last moment, Yuta flips you over so that he’s lying on top of you. You curl your legs around his waist as he pounds into you, both of you desperately chasing your release.

As you lie there, you glance towards Taeyong’s bed.

You’re met with two glassy black eyes peeking out from under the sheets. Taeyong is awake!

The realisation hits you, and you open your mouth to scream.

But before you can, Taeyong raises a finger to his lips. For some inexplicable reason, you obey him, and stay quiet.

Suddenly, your every sense is heightened. You arch your back off the bed and put on a show, fully aware of your new audience. The feeling of Taeyong’s eyes searing into your quivering body sets you alight.

Yuta’s curses slip into Japanese, so you know he’s close. You moan breathily, and glance over to see Taeyong putting one hand down his pants.

Yuta’s thrusts get harder and wilder, and Taeyong begins to jerk himself off, his frantic hand moving in time with Yuta’s hips.

The view of Taeyong and the feeling of Yuta is too much to handle, and your climax hits you all at once.

Yuta collapses on top of you, muffling his moans by sucking at your neck. He lies there till your heart rates slow.

Yuta rolls off beside you, still panting. He turns to look at Taeyong, who’s eyes are closed, perfectly feigning sleep.

Yuta turns back to you. “I can’t believe we didn’t wake him up.”

“I know right!” you respond, brushing your hands through Yuta’s mess of hair.

Yuta shuffles towards you. “Wanna go again?” he suggests, flashing you a naughty wink.

You sneak a glance at Taeyong, and grin. If you didn’t know what to look for, you would have missed it - the faintest smirk that curls his lips.

You look back at Yuta and respond…

“Hell yeah.”

1K notes · View notes

simplyclockwork · 3 years

Note

I love what you did with Sherlock stuck in the window frame. Sherlock trying to be arch and aloof still but a bit defeated and John caring and meeting Sherlock’s needs. I’d love to have a fic that is John shaving Sherlock (out of some sort of medical necessity) but it leads to intimacy or the promise of intimacy in the future. I know John shaving Sherlock has been done before, but I’m sure your take on it would add hugely to the greater good!

Hey anon! Thanks so much for your patience. I've finally filled this prompt. You can read it below the page break or on Ao3 here!

Please feel free to send future prompts anytime as long as you don't mind waiting a while for the fill.

Thank you :)

---

“Stop fidgeting,” John snapped as Sherlock wriggled for the umpteenth time under his ministrations.

Sherlock stopped with a huff. “I need to check on my experiment,” he protested, though he remained perfectly still. “You’re taking too long, John. You shave like a man who has never handled a blade before.”

“I may have handled a gun far more than a blade, but that doesn’t mean I won’t accidentally lop off your ear if you don’t sit bloody well still!” John gripped Sherlock’s shoulder and pressed him more firmly into the kitchen chair. “Lord above, are there snakes in your pants?”

“Hurry up, John!” Sherlock snarled, squirming once more.

John, trying valiantly to keep Sherlock from slitting his own throat on the razor pressed against the vulnerable expanse of his skin, jerked the blade back. “Christ, Sherlock, stop moving! The sooner you shut up and sit still, the sooner this will be over with.” He shot a baleful glare at the cluttered surface of their kitchen table. “What kind of experiment are you doing with one working hand — non-dominant, might I add — anyway?”

“One surely beyond your simple mind,” Sherlock replied peevishly, making John roll his eyes.

“You and your miserable mood can both sod off,” John grumbled, biting back harsher words and making a concerted effort to soften his reprimand.

Sherlock had been absolutely horrid ever since he’d broken nearly every bone in his dominant hand in a brawl with a murder suspect. The man had slammed his foot down on Sherlock’s hand when Sherlock slipped on the rain-wet street during their tussle. Recovery had been a slow and painful process as the splinted hand turned alarming shades of black and blue while the bones and tendons healed. John couldn’t honestly blame Sherlock for his mood, but that didn’t make him easier to deal with. He struggled with even the most basic tasks, leaving John to support him in mundane functions. It had begun to wear on them both — Sherlock far more than John as he took repeated blows to his independence — bringing out Sherlock’s nastier side.

Which brought them to that morning, to John’s day off from the surgery. He'd been woken just shy of six am by a petulant Sherlock, who had insisted that his stubble had grown far too coarse to abide any longer. He’d stood — loomed, more like — over John as John blinked the sleep from his eyes and watched Sherlock scratch agitatedly at his stubbly jaw, chin and cheeks. Now, here they were, with John making a valiant effort to shave Sherlock’s face while Sherlock squirmed with the force of five hundred angry snakes.

“Do I really have to do this with a straight razor?” John asked for the fifth time, already knowing Sherlock’s answer before it was bit out through bared teeth.

“Disposable razors are a farce,” Sherlock said, muscles flexing under his damp skin as his jaw clenched. “I require a closer shave, which is only possible with a straight razor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” John sighed, just as he had the four times before. “I know. Well, if you want me to do this, then you need to bloody well sit fucking still so I don’t cut your throat. Not even you would enjoy that murder.”

Sherlock muttered something that John missed.

“What?”

“I said, it would be manslaughter, not murder,” Sherlock snapped. “It’s only murder when it is premeditated.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, struggling not to lose the tenuous hold he still retained on his temper. “Who says it wouldn’t be premeditated?” John prayed for patience and opened his eyes again. “Stop clenching your teeth,” he ordered, smoothing his fingertips over Sherlock’s tense jaw. Sherlock sucked in a sharp breath and tensed more, making John sigh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just shave my face, John,” Sherlock muttered, some of the aggression mysteriously gone from his voice as he closed his eyes.

John shrugged and smoothed more shaving cream where his first application had dried. Sliding his fingers into Sherlock’s curls, John gently tilted his head back over the table and bent to set the razor against Sherlock’s skin. As he did, the sharp edge brushing Sherlock’s neck, Sherlock swallowed, making his throat bob beneath the blade. John paused warily, eyes fixed on the subtle motion. It seemed deeply vulnerable to him, inspiring an unexpected surge of protectiveness that caught him off guard.

He was still reeling with it when Sherlock cracked open one eye and squinted at him. “Something wrong?”

Did John imagine it, or did Sherlock’s voice sound strained? He studied the familiar face, searching for clues. But Sherlock had closed both eyes again, his expression perfectly blank.

“I haven’t got all day, John,” he reminded him sharply, though his voice lacked its earlier bite.

“Right,” John said, clearing his throat. He shook his head, banishing the strange feelings. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your incredibly important tinkering.”

“Experiment, John,” Sherlock corrected him, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite his admonishment.

“Mhm.” John refocused, his feelings of confusion somewhat settled by the familiar cant of their banter. He hesitated over Sherlock’s throat and decided to start somewhere else. Setting the blade at the top of Sherlock’s cheek, John carefully drew the razor’s edge through the shaving cream. It was much fancier than his own brand, which came in a can and looked more like whipping cream than shaving material. Predictably, Sherlock’s came from a bar, complete with a rounded brush to spread the lather. It smelled like pine and explained some of what John had come to think of as Sherlock’s natural scent.

Reigning in his wandering thoughts, his brow furrowed, John wiped the blade clean and set it back to Sherlock’s skin. He cleared a strip next to the first, pausing only when his left hand gave a slight twitch. John cursed his intermittent tremour silently, retracing the same area to erase the few spots he’d missed. A stubborn fleck of dried lather remained in his path, and John reached out to smooth it away with his thumb. Sherlock’s cheek twitched at the touch. John paused, thumb resting on Sherlock’s skin, when he saw that Sherlock’s eyes were open. Half-open, to be exact, with dark silver peeking out beneath his long, lowered lashes.

Something about that gaze froze John in place, the moment stretching out until he broke free with a quiet, awkward cough. Ducking his head to clean the blade again, John bought himself time, fussing with the flannel until he looked up again and saw that Sherlock’s eyes were closed once more. A relieved sigh escaped him before he could bite it back, and John was glad to see Sherlock didn’t react or comment on the sound.

He returned to his task with far more care, gritting his teeth at even the idea of his hand twitching. The rest of the foam disappeared gradually beneath John’s determined hand, revealing more and more of Sherlock’s damp, freshly-shaven face. Sherlock sat mostly still throughout, finally settled, his expression oddly peaceful. If not for the occasional shifting of his legs — crossing and uncrossing at the thigh whenever John paused to wipe the blade clean — he might have been a statue.

“Aright,” John finally said once Sherlock’s face was clear. “Just your throat left. Make sure not to move.”

“I’m not a toddler,” Sherlock grumbled, frowning at John’s incredulous laugh. He didn’t bother to reply, and John hoped that meant he would do as bid.

Taking a deep, calming breath, John braced a hand on the chair back, trying to find the right angle. It was awkward, and he reconsidered. After a moment of hesitation, he shook off his anxiety and cupped Sherlock’s jaw at the hinge. Sherlock’s eyes flew open at the contact, clearly startled, his lips parting around a small gasp. To John’s immense relief, he held still otherwise.

John chose to ignore the odd reaction, gently tilting Sherlock’s head back and to the side as he maneuvered the blade up the side of Sherlock’s throat. John did so with great care, tongue caught between his teeth, scared of slipping. All the while, he could feel Sherlock’s gaze on him, a burning point of scrutiny that John struggled not to squirm beneath. Instead, he wiped the blade and tilted Sherlock’s head again, repeating the movement.

Sherlock was silent as the grave throughout. The only sounds in the kitchen were his loud breathing and the slick, rasping scrape of the blade as it scored stubble from skin. The moment held a strange intimacy, like the two of them existed in a bubble, removed from the world with only each other for contact.

John was starting to think he might be going mad before he slid his hand to the nape of Sherlock’s neck and cupped the base of his skull to tilt his head back. As he did so, Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut, and his throat jumped with an audible swallow. Startled, John’s grip tightened momentarily in the damp curls caught beneath his fingers, and Sherlock jolted with a quiet groan. The reaction was so visceral that John froze, staring down at Sherlock’s upturned face. His eyes were tightly shut, face screwed up in a grimace that looked strangely close to horrified.

“Sherlock?” John asked quietly, confused. Sherlock didn’t answer, just remained stiff and still. Under his hand, John thought he could feel a slight, constant tremour rippling through Sherlock. Brow furrowed, he studied Sherlock’s tightly wound body, gaze pausing on Sherlock’s legs, crossed together in a vice grip at the thigh. Was Sherlock…? No, that couldn’t be it. Surely John was misreading the situation. “Are you alright?” he prompted, and Sherlock sucked in a loud, shaky breath.

“I’m excellent, John,” he said in a strained voice, still with his eyes closed. “Are you nearly finished?”

“Just about,” John replied, trying and failing to shake off his growing suspicion. Clearly, Sherlock didn’t want to draw attention to whatever was happening to him. John could respect that. He’d had massages before. Some touches felt unexpectedly nice, and things happened with one’s body that one couldn’t always control. It was perfectly natural — though John had never thought of Sherlock as someone who felt ‘natural’ urges.

“Relax,” he said, waiting for Sherlock to stop clenching his jaw and facial muscles. It took a moment before everything slowly eased. However, Sherlock’s lower body remained steel-tense, and John could still feel those minute tremours beneath his hand. But Sherlock didn’t speak, keeping his eyes shut, so John didn’t comment on it.

Instead, he returned to the task at hand. Gently tugging at Sherlock’s curls to tilt his head back, John exposed the underside of Sherlock’s throat and jaw as he angled the blade at the edge of the lather. With the heel of his hand pressed against Sherlock’s skin to steady his grip, John felt the subtle twitch of muscle underneath as Sherlock swallowed again, his breath catching. Rather than let that strange, slight stutter catch him off guard again, John swiped the blade up, taking the last of the lather with it in one smooth, rasping stroke.

Then, following some instinct John couldn’t name, he set aside the blade and laid his hand over the freshly-shaved skin. Sherlock gasped at the contact, blood rushing into his face and darkening his pale cheeks. The touch was light, John’s fingers barely brushing the blade-reddened skin, but Sherlock’s response was like a man run through with an electric current, his body jolting from head to toe.

John held perfectly still, waiting to see what Sherlock might do, expecting him to pull away and rush off back to his experiment. But he did neither, sitting perfectly still — save for the tiny shivers twitching through his body — under John’s touch.

Emboldened by that silent faith, John swept his fingertips down the strip of skin he’d just shaved, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of his caress. Sherlock’s shiver increased, the colour infusing his face darkening to a deeper, tantalizing flush. John watched, enchanted, as Sherlock’s eyebrows drew together, then upward and back down as a myriad of complex expressions flitted across his face. He turned his hand, cupping the side of Sherlock’s neck, tracing the rough line of Sherlock’s bobbing throat with the pad of his thumb, just to see what would happen.

Sherlock’s lips parted around a sigh that sounded both startled and strained, the tension in his face first intensifying, then easing slowly, as John repeated the motion. He stroked Sherlock’s throat in slow, smooth passes, his work-roughened skin catching briefly on the damp terrain. Under his fingertips, pressed below Sherlock’s jaw, John felt the soft vibration of Sherlock’s whimper, voiced from deep within his throat.

“Never realized you were so sensitive,” John murmured, awed and hardly noticing the blurred lines of their friendship passing them both by. Sherlock seemed even less cognizant of the change, head tilted back as he pressed into John’s touch, offering and baring his throat in a shocking display of trust.

It was that which nearly undid John entirely. But what erased the last of his hesitation was Sherlock’s eyelids fluttering open to reveal his darkened gaze. His pupils were blown wide, almost erasing the silvery shade of his irises.

“John,” he croaked in a voice as jagged as broken glass. His head was tilted back far enough that it nearly rested on the table behind him, the science equipment scattered over the surface seemingly forgotten for the moment.

The sound of his name, spoken with such desperation, cleared the last of John’s confusion. He let go of the last remnants of his denial, of his enforced blindness of how Sherlock was reacting to him. Because he was reacting to John, that much was clear, and there was no mistaking the meaning of that reaction.

Without speaking or wasting time on words, John cupped Sherlock’s face in his hands and bent down to brush their lips together. It was a bare ghost of contact, a tentative drifting of mouths, but Sherlock’s response was definite. He groaned and surged upward, his uninjured hand tangling in John’s hair and pulling him closer. Their noses bumped clumsily, Sherlock’s teeth scraping John’s bottom lip before their mouths slotted together in a fierce kiss. It was sloppy, turning even more so when Sherlock’s lips parted, and his tongue darted out.

John responded in kind, tasting Sherlock’s eager gasp as their tongues met. Sherlock panted against his mouth, the sound desperate and rushing in John’s ears. They kissed until their need for air grew too great, some uncounted seconds that broke as John turned his face to suck in a loud inhale, his lungs burning. Sherlock gasped in sympathy against his cheek before turning John’s face back to his to reclaim his mouth in another kiss. There was the sharp drag of teeth again, the sleek, hot press of tongue and lips, and Sherlock’s hand sliding out of John’s hair, down his nape to his broad shoulders. His splinted hand hovered, ineffective, just in front of John’s chest.

“Sherlock,” John murmured, forcing himself to think through the fog of arousal quickly obscuring his thoughts. “Sherlock, wait.”

They broke apart at once, Sherlock jerking his head back. His eyes were wide, pupils huge, his face twisting into an expression of watchful uncertainty. John — who realized he had, at some point, settled onto Sherlock’s spread thighs — blinked at that expression. Something very close to fear flickered in Sherlock’s blackened gaze, prompting a soft tsk from John.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, reaching out to smooth a tangled curl back from Sherlock’s forehead. “Everything is fine.”

Some of the tension in Sherlock’s rigid body — though not all — eased. “Is it?” he asked, his typically cultured voice turned rough. Less smooth velvet, more gravel. John thought he could get used to that change.

“Absolutely,” John murmured, offering a crooked smile. “Absolutely fine. But maybe we should, ah, slow down?”

Sherlock blinked up at him, hands settled on John’s waist, his forehead creased with a puzzled frown. “Why?”

John tilted his head and chuckled. “Well… I mean, we’ve only just had our first kiss. Are you sure you want to rush into things?”

A quiet scoff escaped Sherlock’s full lips. “We’ve lived together for several years, John. You’ve seen me naked a multitude of times—”

“Helping you shower and go to the loo when you’re injured isn’t really the same as an intimate relationship,” John interrupted, amused.

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. “Semantics. Unimportant.” He sobered, his eyes darkening as his pupils widened again. “The facts are simple: I’ve wanted you for a very long time, John Watson. Now that you’ve realized it, I see no need to place restrictions on our feelings.” His eyes narrowed, eyebrows dropping into another frown. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

“Not what I said,” John said with an indulgent smile. Trust Sherlock to approach something like feelings with utter rationality, even as the apparent sign of his arousal pressed against the backs of John’s thighs. “I just never knew until now that you felt this way. It’s… well, it’s a bit of a surprise.”

Another scoff from Sherlock. “It’s not my fault that you’re a rather oblivious person, John. Now,” he said, voice clipped and to the point, “are you going to kiss me again? Or must we continue to talk all this out when I’d much rather show you how I feel?”

John stared at him, taken aback by the bluntness, before he tilted his head back and let out a loud, shocked laugh. “Oh, you’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

A gleam entered Sherlock’s pale eyes, lighting his face with mischievous promise. “I most certainly do plan for there to be handfuls of something, John. Rest assured.” He squeezed John’s backside with his un-splinted hand in a demonstration, prompting a startled but pleased wiggle from John.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” John said with a grin, then bent his head to meet Sherlock’s upturned mouth.

#sherlock #prompt #prompt fill #johnlock #first kiss #shaving #kind of adult rating for erections #simplyclockwork

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shoyouth · 4 years

Note

Hello again! So i have this idea, could i request a hc when mc is being particularly clingy with them? Like, ask to cuddle a lot or backhugs on the living room or when they go about their day, etc? She just feels very needy that day 😂 thank you! And i love your writings so much, it made me smile a lot :)

Hello, my friend! This is such a cute request tbh, ty for sending it in! And aww thank you so much, that makes me so happy to hear 😁💞

napoleon ; he loves it. If you’re not normally clingy, the first time you give him a hug he watches you amusedly, inquiring as to why. But in the morning especially, when you aren’t pulling away from his embrace so adamantly, when you aren’t scolding him to get up but instead linger and return his kiss sweetly—he’s reminded why he loves sleeping in so much, and why he loves you. He could definitely get used to this.

arthur ; will tease you. Instantly. He has that little grin on his face and he catches your hand before you can snatch your hug and leave, and he pulls you right back in to his hold. Though he really is all bark and no bite; the second he has his hands on you, his touch is feather-light, his warm arms circled around your waist delicately. He actually basks in your open affection-days, and he becomes so so soft and he hums in your ear and sways back and forth. He needs it just as much as you. On certain days he may be more playful and return your affection twicefold; one kiss to his cheek leads to him pressing his lips to both of yours.

mozart ; you’ll be hard pressed to get him away from the piano, peeking your head through the door or lingering around behind him. He may feign exasperation at your ‘insistent silent cues’ that you want affection, but he readily turns around on the bench to let you sit with him, his lips pressed against your temple. Once you’ve had your fill, he’s softened up as well, and he’s nonchalant as he says he would not mind if you just stayed and wrapped your arms around his shoulder while he played “if you’d like.”

leonardo ; when you throw him pouts across the library, he can’t help the chuckle that rises in his throat. He’ll close his book and make his way over to you, nuzzling his nose against yours softly as he jokes that you can hardly be away from him. Again, leonardo sleep often just like napoleon, so he really doesn’t mind when you want to cuddle. He’ll sleep with you anywhere but if you have qualms about napping on the hallway floor, he’ll make the effort to clear his bed (only his bed, the rest of the room is still a godforsaken mess) for the both of you to cuddle comfortably, faces towards each other and playing with each others’ fingers.

vincent ; all you have to do is give the word and his paint brush is set down and his arms are open. You either cramp yourselves up super close on his couch or you go to his favorite spot on the hill and lay in the grass. Vincent gives super warm, comforting hugs (theo can vouch for him), and he smiles so sweetly as he holds you against him. He fixes your hair and asks about your day absently, and you may hold hands as you talk or—on more mellow days—you interlock your pinkies as you watch the clouds.

theo ; he’ll be in the parlor reading poetry or talking to arthur when you come in and sit so close beside him you’re practically on his lap. He pauses to protect himself from the stutter lodged in his throat, and his eyes cast to you. At your innocent smile, he simply sighs; he knows what you want. He places his hands on either side of your waist and hoists you into his lap, his arms caging you against his chest. If arthur makes any comment he grumbles and glares, but it’s just to protect his dignity when a pink flush crosses his cheeks (all the while you just smile). Affection in front of the others always flusters him a bit, but he always plays it off and acts suave—he secretly loves it.

issac ; if you ever were to surprise him with a back hug out of the blue, oh boy. He will sputter and choke, whirling around with big eyes. He may huff defensively that you shouldn’t surprise him like that, but the feverish flush of his cheeks shows you that he’s not mad at all. Though it may take some time, he grows to love your surprise affection on your clingy days, especially when he gets too stressed or focused about teaching or tinkering. Also a major sucker for the intimacy of close embraces like dazai and arthur, where he caresses your cheek and kisses your forehead—it relaxes and reassures him a lot.

dazai ; this sly dog can instantly read when you’re clingy, but he won’t do anything until you tell him. Everytime you’re glued to his side or brush against his arm, send him needy looks—he just smiles and asks if you’ve eaten or read the book he recommended. When you finally cave and tell him, for an odd moment he will remain quiet and not do anything, maybe have you just follow him. But once you’re sat down somewhere more comfortable, he’ll turn to you and gently take you in his arms, similar to arthur, and just hold you. His fingers will card through your hair, and it’s only when you silently beg for affection that you are able to draw out this soft kind of intimacy from him.

jean ; like issac, he isn’t much of a fan of the surprises. I don’t think he’d ever come to love it though because he’s afraid of how he’d react—would he feel threatened and pull his sword on you? What if he hadn’t drank enough that day, would he turn on you? For this man’s guilt-ridden heart, please initiate affection slowly. He’d love the soft handholding while you walked and talked, or the hand on his guiding arm. As he grows more comfortable, you could initiate gentle but firm hugs or sitting in his lap, and like arthur, he would end up needing it more; he will melt in your hands with his face pressed against your shoulder, your fingers running through his hair. It helps him forget and feel loved in time.

comte ; quirks a brow at first, a soft smile crossing his lips at your inquiry. He’ll cup your chin in his hand and kiss you gently, assuring you that he is all yours and he is only there to fulfill your every desire (“Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast begins playing in the distance). He’d gladly let you latch yourself to his arm while he traveled the mansion, but he throws his tasks out the window quickly to instead sit in the gardens with you, admiring the landscape with his arm securely around your waist. At times like this, he feels very happy in a mellow sense; your affection helps him forget that he’s immortal, and that he can share moments so intimate like this with you.

sebastian ; quite honestly you’re both cooking in the kitchen when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his empty one on the counter. He pauses in reading the recipe to look to you for an explanation, but you’re nonchantly getting the ingredients together. Sebastian is observant, and so I think he would quickly understand that this is your silent confession of being needy, so he’ll just smile and press a kiss to your cheek before continuing with his work. He will try his best to leave your hands connected while you work, or return to your hold as quickly as possible if the task requires both hands.

shakespeare ; your shows of needing affection may have to be more subdued if you ever want a desirable reaction. If you come on too strong or lively, he will only use poetic words to answer your actions, his eyes flashing as he’s on guard, for you couldn’t be that happy to see him, could you? But if you’re more mellow, perhaps kissing the inside of his wrist or ghosting your touch along his neck, he may shiver and crumble. Such intimacy! Mayhaps you do hold such love for him in your heart of hearts, and he’ll gloss his lips down your forearm to kiss your inner elbow to show his own desire.

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Come Back

Summary: It was a standard routine mission gone wrong in all the worst ways possible, or so the world, and most of the Avengers, was led to believe.

A/N: When my 5sos writing addiction crosses paths with my superhero addiction. Beta-read by @jessalyn-jpeg thank you!!!!

Word Count: 10.8k

And away, and away we go!

“Hostage situation,” Ashton said, slapping the folder down in the middle of the table.

Y/N’s fingers grazed the manila folder emblazoned with a giant “MISSION” stamp in the middle of it. Fuckin’ subtle, she thought with an eye roll.

“Am I boring you already?” Ashton all but snapped at the woman, his arms crossing over his chest.

She raised her gaze to meet his, holding it steadily. Aside from Calum and Michael, Y/N and Ashton were the closest in age, with Y/N having the advantage over the man, a fact she knew he despised even though she graciously allowed him to take the lead at every opportunity. Leading had never been her cup of tea, but it was definitely Ashton’s, the arrogant little bastard. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, flashing him a smile. “Captain,” Y/N added as an afterthought.

Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose, shifting his stare over to Calum, seeing if he’d help tame the woman’s snark, so that Ashton could get on with the team meeting, preferably without a headache. Calum just gave his sister a small shove, which she gladly took as a way to knock into Michael on her other side, the blonde’s arm going to rest along the back of his girlfriend’s chair.

When Ashton cleared his throat, Y/N rolled her eyes again. “Oh, just get on with it, you prat. Hostage situation. And ready? 3, 2, 1, action!”

“Yes,” Ashton said, his tone taking on the edge that was aptly referred to Ashton’s leader voice. “We, that is SHIELD, infiltrated a Hydra base about a month back in an attempt to get a spy on the inside. Problem is, that SHIELD agent was working with Hydra, and led our men straight into a trap.”

“And women,” Y/N added.

“Yes, and our women agents as well, thank you, audience participation.”

“So our task is to do what exactly? Search and rescue?” Luke asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Great…” the blue eyes rolled.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly glamorous, but it’s well within our authorization to carry out ourselves.” Ashton puffed out his chest a little, like he was proud to be trusted with such a high class mission.

“Blow up New York a few times saving the world and everyone’s a critic…” Y/N joked half-heartedly. “Face it, Ash, we’re an over glorified search and rescue team. Just tell us when we’re headed out.”

“Jet leaves in a half hour. Folder contains more details regarding our individual parts and a map of the compound.”

Luke’s face lit up at the potential that individual assignments might have a little bit more glory to them, eagerly snatching the folder and passing out the packets inside to each team member before tearing into his. “Aw! C’mon!” he groaned, tossing the papers back on the table. “We never get anything cool anymore…”

Y/N kept her quip about how Luke should speak for himself to herself, as she glanced at her own personal assignment. Fuckin’ hell…

“You alright, babe?” Michael asked, his fingers rubbing at her neck as he started to pull his arm back across her chair.

She crumpled her assignment in her fist. “Hmm? I’m fine,” she grinned, kissing his nose.

Michael blew out his air in a huff, “Yeah, I know the mission’s kinda bullshit action wise. But when we get back we can play with these new arrows I’ve been working on. These ones have tracking technology, so even if I was to miss, I wouldn’t.”

“Aw, but you never miss a shot.”

Michael smirked, “I know. But now you guys can use them too. Doesn’t hurt to pick up an extra skill.”

“Sounds like a date,” she said, this time pressing a kiss to his lips, savoring the moment. In a couple of months to a year, she added in her head, because what Michael didn’t know, and what she couldn’t tell him, was that these were going to be their last moments with each other for a while.

~~~

Exactly a half hour after Ashton had dismissed his team, the group of five sat strapped in the jet, the engines rumbling as it took off, headed for the Hydra base. “Everyone has their assignment?” Ashton asked, eyes darting across everyone.

“Yes, Dad,” they all mock-saluted.

The hazel eyes rolled, and his jaw ticked in annoyance. “If someone else wants to be leader, be my guest.”

“So then I could be the prat everyone hates?” Luke scoffed. “No, thanks.”

“Aw, Luke. We’d hate you regardless if you're the leader or not,” Michael joked, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

“Hehehe,” Luke laughed in a high-pitched, mocking manner.

“Nobody has a problem with you being leader, Ash. You know this,” Y/N said. “Plus we all know that you’re just the one relaying orders from the higher ups. You’re just better at it than the rest of us. I mouth off too much, and these three are babies. Face it, you’re the perfect soldier.”

Ashton’s expression softened a bit at her words, the closest thing to a compliment she’s ever given him. “Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot.”

“Oh, save it. It doesn’t make you less annoying.”

“Babies? Who are you calling babies?” Michael asked, poking a finger in his girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Yeah!” Calum huffed. “No babies here!”

Y/N laughed, reaching out to pinch Calum’s cheek. “You will always be a baby to me, baby brother.” Then she turned her attention to Michael, “And you? You’re just my babe,” she grinned, kissing his nose.

“And me?” Luke asked, perking up his seat.

“A literal infant,” she grinned wider while everyone else nodded, including Ashton.

The rest of the jet ride was spent doing last minute training (Ashton), reviewing personal assignments (Y/N), tinkering with new technology (Calum and Michael), or sleeping (Luke) until Ashton called everyone back for a quick meeting.

“We’re approaching our drop off point.”

“Drop off point or…?” Luke whistled before slamming his hand down on the table. “Jumping point?”

Ashton held up 2 fingers, and Luke grinned, pumping his fist in small victory. “We can’t risk the jet getting anywhere near their radar, so we’re landing roughly here,” Ashton continued, pointing at the map. “Hydra base is here,” he moved his finger to where there was a giant red circle. “And safe to assume it’s heavily guarded on the outside.”

Y/N studied the distance between where Ashton said the landing spot was versus where the base was. “So we’re landing about a mile out, and we’re just gonna knock on the front door, hoping they let us in?”

Ashton snorted. “God no. Well, kinda. Luke’s breaking in to shut down their security protocols. From there, Cal should be able to hack and override their system. Mike keeps our path clear from the outside. Making our job,” he waved a finger between Y/N and himself, and Y/N gulped wondering how much he knew about everyone’s personal assignments, “easier for helping Luke get the hostages out.”

She breathed in relief. Good. Ashton was under the usual impression of personal assignments from previous missions, and not the other, slightly more complicated bit to the otherwise usual mission. Luke, with his ability to shrink and grow with the push of a button, courtesy of Calum and Michael’s technology, was the thief. The one with the power to get small enough to squeeze in anywhere unnoticed. Which set him up perfectly to gain security access for Calum, who could then override any system remotely, alongside piloting his drone for extra security coverage/fighting power. Michael usually hung back with Calum to keep Calum company, while being both an extra set of eyes, and an extra fighter with his hundred percent success rate as an archer. Which left super soldier Ashton, and non-super soldier, but highly trained martial artist Y/N to provide the bulk of fending off enemies. A ragtag team of not exactly super, but definitely better than your average SHIELD agent, SHIELD had dubbed the Avengers. “Sounds like we should get ready to jump then.”

While jumping was Luke’s favorite part of the mission, the rest of the team paled a little standing in the doorway of the jet, air rushing all around. But when Ashton yelled “Go!” they all jumped, Luke first with a whoop of “Showtime!” Y/N sucked in a breath, following Luke out and grabbing Michael’s hand to pull him after her, the ground hurtling upwards at her.

“Pull!” Ashton’s voice directed in everyone’s ears, and five parachutes deployed in unison, Y/N jerking wildly with the pullback.

“Whoa, easy there,” Michael’s voice was both in her earpiece and shouting above the wind, his hand squeezing hers. “You’re good, babe.”

“Ugh, I fuckin’ hate that part,” she groaned, her stomach churning.

“And I hate this part,” Calum groaned along with his sister, before all anyone heard was his feet hitting the ground and his string of curses as his body rolled with his landing.

“You gotta learn to land better,” Y/N and Ashton both scolded, as Y/N’s own feet touched down, and she ran a little with the momentum so she didn’t roll like her brother.

“You gotta learn to land better,” Calum mimicked as he picked himself up off the ground, shooting Luke a glare, “What are you so fuckin’ happy about?”

“That shit is the fuckin’ best!” Luke whooped in a whisper. “Fuck yeah! I’m pumped!”

“Good,” Ashton chuckled. “How do you feel about more flying?”

“Aw sick! Is Michael gonna shoot me?!”

“Not the way I’d like to,” Michael grinned sarcastically, reaching behind him for his bow and arrow. “Shrink down, giant man.”

While Luke shrunk down to the size of a tic-tac, Ashton started instructing Michael on where to shoot, but Michael brushed him off. “Yeah, yeah. Close enough to get him inside, but not anywhere that’ll draw attention. Cal, you got eyes yet?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna be able to get the drone in there until Luke gets in so I can hack the system.”

“That’s fine, I got it,” Luke said in the ear piece. “Cal, I’m on your right shoe. Lift up?”

Calum bent down to pluck up Luke, placing him carefully on Michael’s nocked arrow. “Just tell me where I’m aiming, Cal,” Michael said, breathing steadily as he pulled back his bow.

“Quarter inch to the right,” Calum directed. “If you aim low, Luke can run in from the ground, or if you aim high, there’s a branch that he can access the second floor from. Shooter’s choice.”

“Security’s on the second floor,” Luke and Michael both said, and with that, Michael inhaled, and on the exhale, sent Luke and the arrow flying towards Hydra, undetectable.

“And now we wait,” Ashton commented, stretching his arms up over his head. “Y/N, we-”

“Won’t have much time between Cal hacking the system and Hydra finding out. And Cal and Mike can only provide so much coverage while staying out of sight. So we’re on a time clock of maybe 5 minutes if we’re lucky. I know, Ash. I go left, you go right?”

He nodded. “Get ready to run.”

Y/N glanced at Calum. “How much time before Luke gets into the system for you?”

“Thirty seconds. Make it quick.”

She turned to Michael, tears brimming up in her eyes. “Aw, babe. It’ll be fine,” he chuckled lightly, kissing her.

“I know,” she answered in a shaky breath, resting her forehead against his, committing everything to memory from the sharpness of his green eyes, to the pink tint of his lips. To his calloused fingertips as they cupped her face, and the scratch of his beard under her own hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he chuckled again. “Now go kick some ass.”

“Luke’s in. 15 seconds,” Calum told Y/N and Ashton, so Y/N kissed Michael as deeply and fiercely as she could, clinging to every bit of those last 15 seconds. “2… I’m in. System’s down.” But Y/N wasn't ready to let go yet.

“Y/N!” Ashton growled harshly, dragging her by the back of her shirt and then shoving her forward. “Fuckin’ move!”

She swallowed her storm of feelings, shutting that part of herself off, and switched fully into Mission Mode, ignoring Calum's chuckle of “Damn, what kind of good luck kiss was that?” and Michael’s shy but proud, “I dunno, but I ain’t complaining.”

With the security breach came the storm of chaos that allowed Y/N and Ashton to enter the compound without raising any serious flags. With Ashton headed to the right flank, Y/N went left, and the first chance she had, she took it.

The Hydra soldier looked to be about her size, their attention not zeroing in on her until Y/N already grabbed them in a chokehold. “Sorry about this,” she whispered as she snapped their neck in a swift motion, then dragged them into a nearby supply closet. “Ash, Y/N, I located the hostages. Where are you?” Luke asked in the earpiece.

“Coming up on your right, Luke,” Ashton confirmed.

“Got in a small tangle, be there soon,” Y/N grunted as she started switching clothes with the body.

“God damn it, Hood…”

“Which one?” both her and Calum asked with an amused glint, their favorite little bit to annoy their captain.

“You know which one,” Ashton hissed. “Cal, time estimate. Mike, coverage report. Y/N, get a move on, seriously!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Y/N muttered before taking out her earpiece and stomping on it, leaving it with the dead Hydra soldier along with her tracker just outside the doorway of the supply closet. “Just not the way you think,” she then muttered quietly to herself before hurrying after the other Hydra soldiers, running for the back of the compound. “What the hell is going on?” she snapped at one of them, putting as much authority in her voice as she could.

“It’s the Avengers. Initiating protocol 78. Get in a vehicle and get out. 2 minutes until denotation.”

Denotation?! Son of a bitch… Ashton and Luke were still getting the hostages out. She had to warn them, but… SON OF A BITCH!

Y/N shook off the panic and kept moving, trusting that Ashton and Luke knew what they were doing, and that Calum and Michael could keep them safe and aware of the limited time before the whole base went up in a fiery explosion. Her priority wasn’t on the rescue mission anymore. It never had been. Hers was to carry out the original mission that had resulted in this mission in the first place. Get into Hydra. Learn what they had planned. Destroy them from the inside. But damn, it would be a lot easier if she didn’t have to hide it from the guys. Her guys. Her baby brother. Her boyfriend. I’m safe, she screamed in her head. I’m safe! Look after each other, please!

While she got herself onto a vehicle headed out, she caught a glimpse of Ashton and Luke herding people out through a side gate and into the neighboring woods.

“Hood, where the fuck are you?” Ashton hissed

“Which one?” only Calum responded, then, “Shit… Y/N?!”

“Cal, where is she?!” Ashton and Michael demanded at the same time.

“I- I don’t understand. Her tracker is still by the left side of the compound where she went in.” Calum started fiddling around with the drone, trying to find his sister with it. “Y/N? Y/N, do you copy?”

“Luke, take the hostages back to Cal and Mike,” Ashton instructed, his voice tight, but controlled under pressure. “Cal, where did you say she was last?”

“To your left. 50 yards. She should be right there, Ash, I don’t understand!” His voice was high with panic.

“I don’t see her,” Ashton reported, and there was a loud bang as he smashed his fist against something. “I don’t fuckin’ see her!”

“Maybe she’s on her way back!” Michael said hopefully. “Maybe she was helping clear the way for you and Luke. You know she can’t turn down a fight.”

“Heh,” Ashton chuckled. “Yeah maybe. I mean, these trackers and earpieces only stay on so well when you’re kicking some serious ass, ya know?”

“Exactly,” Michael chuckled in relief. “It’s Y/N we’re talking about.”

“Well let’s hope that’s the case, and that Ash is the fuckin’ Flash because guys… this compound’s gonna blow,” Calum spoke up, his voice still holding a small wobble.

“How much time?” Ashton asked, already running for an exit.

“40 seconds give or take.”

“Alright, I’m ou- whoa, shit.”

“What?!” three voices demanded.

“It’s Y/N’s tracker and earpiece. Just lying here in the fuckin’ hallway… and guys… there’s a body…” Ashton gave a small grunt as he flipped the body over with his boot. “Oh, thank God!” he laughed. “It’s not her! Probably just a scuffle where some of her gear fell.”

“Okay, well 1.) thanks for the heart attack and 2.) if it’s not her, then get the fuck out!” Calum yelled.

“Okay, but if it’s not her body then she’s fuckin’ missing, so where is she?!” Michael asked.

“She’s not with me,” Luke told them. “I haven’t seen her this whole time.”

“I don’t have eyes on her either,” Ashton chimed in, running as fast and far as he could before the compound blew.

“Cal, anything?!” Michael asked, now growing frantic as he scanned around, hoping to find his girlfriend lounging against some tree behind him. Safe. Laughing at her boys for ever thinking she was in harm’s way.

“No…” Calum choked, tears starting to spill down his cheeks. “C’mon, c’mon…” he prayed. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

“C’mon, Y/N, where the hell are you?”

In the distance, Y/N heard the boom of the explosion, the vehicle shaking with the sound. She hoped her boys were safe and okay. And they were safe. But they were far from okay. Because what she couldn’t hear was Calum’s broken sob and Michael’s heartbreaking scream of her name.

~~~

The jet ride back to headquarters was heavy with tension. To keep his mind occupied, Ashton set to work getting statements from the hostages. Calum and Michael sat in their seats, every muscle tightened, faces blank and frozen, tear tracks running down their cheeks. Luke was the only one who looked remotely comfortable, lounging against the wall of the jet, legs stretched out, his index finger tapping an unrelenting rhythm against his jaw as he hummed to himself.

“Would you knock it off?!” Calum tried to yell at Luke, but his throat was rubbed raw, so it came out as a hoarse whisper.

“What? I’m thinking!” Luke defended.

“Thinking isn’t supposed to be loud.”

“What are you thinking, Luke?” Ashton asked, his own voice clear, but weary as he ran a hand over his face and then through his hair.

“Y/N’s not an idiot,” he started.

“Yeah, no fuckin’ shit,” Calum spat.

Ashton held up a hand. “Let him talk, Cal. Go on, Luke.”

Luke straightened up, drawing his legs up, and resting his arms across his knees. “She’s not an idiot,” he repeated, studying his fingernails to keep his mind on track. “She always knew what she was doing. So she would have known that the mission felt off.”

“What do you mean, the mission felt off?” Ashton asked.

“Oh, c’mon, Ash. You couldn’t feel it, too? We got in and out without running into anyone trying to stop us. They didn’t care that we were getting out the hostages. They were evacuating. They had whatever they needed and were going to blow the place up whether we were there or not.”

“Okay. And what does that have to do with Y/N?” Ashton continued to prompt.

“I’m saying she knew. So she went in search of any plans she could get her hands on. Anything that might have gotten left behind in the scramble to evacuate sooner than they had originally planned.”

“So you’re suggesting that instead of helping us like she was supposed to, Y/N went off to try and get us more information?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Hmm…” Ashton thought, mulling over Luke’s theory. “That does sound exactly like the type of shit Y/N would pull…”

“BULLSHIT!” Michael screamed suddenly, jumping to his feet. “THAT’S FUCKIN’ BULLSHIT!”

“How is it bullshit?!” Luke yelled back, rising to stand toe-to-toe with Michael.

“BECAUSE IF IT WAS TRUE THEN WHERE IS SHE, LUKE?! HUH?! DO YOU SEE HER IN HERE?! CUZ I DON’T!”

“Obviously she’s not with us,” Luke scoffed. “But she got out, that I’m sure of. She’s somewhere.”

“Oh…” Michael nodded, his sudden drop in tone frightening. “So, what you’re saying is that WE left her behind! Our teammate! His sister! My girlfriend! And we just LEFT her?!”

“It’s better than the alternative of believing that she’s DEAD!”

“Oh, cuz that’s SO MUCH BETTER! What your theory suggests, Luke, is that WE either failed our teammate by leaving her behind, or she’s dead. Regardless of which of those options is the truth, WE FAILED HER! Whatever happened to her is OUR FAULT!” His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he raised them, whether to hit Luke or the wall behind him, no one was sure. Then, a sob was wracking through Michael’s body, his fists dropping back to his sides as his body crumpled. “Oh, God,” he cried quietly, curling up on the ground, his body shaking with the force of his cries. “Y/N, I’m so sorry… It’s all our fault… Fuck, I’m so sorry…”

~~~

Five months later found Y/N in a place within Hydra where she had enough access to send word out to SHIELD about Hydra’s plans: the creation of the an undefeatable army made up of highly skilled super soldiers injected with a recently perfected and modified serum that made Ashton’s super soldier skills look like child’s play.

The same five months found 4/5ths of the former team, smarter than they were before, but at the cost of diminished spirits as Ashton laid the all too familiar manila folder in the middle of the table, with its pitch-black “MISSION” stamp in the center.

Michael’s fingers went out to graze the stamp, his eyes meeting Calum’s as they shared a weak smile, both of them missing the way Y/N used to call the folder stupid for stating so clearly what it was.

“We’ve received intel about Hydra's latest plans. It’s not good,” Ashton said, pausing for a sarcastic comment about how if Hydra was involved then of course it wasn’t good that never came. “They’ve not only modified the super soldier serum, they’ve also perfected it. A hundred percent success rate. Hostages don’t stay hostages for very long.” Again, he paused, waiting for a witty quip, but was only given nods of understanding. He let out a small sigh. “With the intel, we also got information of where their supply of the serum is, and where they’re making it. As far as our source knows, it’s just the one lab. Our mission is slightly different than what we’re used to as it’s a three-parter. The first part is pretty standard. Get in and release the hostages they have before they can be turned. The second part is also getting more information about the lab and the serum. We have to make sure that this is the only lab before we can go about initiating Part Three, which is destroying any and all labs we learn about. But today, our focus is on Part One and Two. Part Three will be carried out at a later date once SHIELD has time to go over everything and assess the situation.”

“After I get in to override security for Cal, I can start looking around for lab plans,” Luke decided. “If you can handle the hostages, Ash.”

Ashton nodded. “Yeah, I can handle that. Mike, I might need you closer to the action though, rather than staying back with Cal, and providing your backup there. If you’re up for it, that is.”

“I can get closer, it’s fine,” Michael replied numbly.

“Perfect. And how are those new trackers you and Cal have been working on?”

“Ready. And injectable. Once injected, Cal has access to turning them on or off, so we’ll never have to think about trackers again. Like potentially losing one…”

“And some of them can be fitted onto your arrows, yes? So maybe we can stick a lab worker or two with them?” Ashton followed up, ignoring the bitter edge in Michael’s tone.

“Yes.”

“Alright. We leave in a half hour.”

~~~

Y/N was patrolling around the upper deck of the Hydra base when both an alarm sounded and her earpiece crackled to life. “Security breach. Fuckin’ Avengers…”

“Secure the hostages and the lab,” came a different order.

“On it,” Y/N answered with several other voices, but she stayed rooted in her spot, knowing her old team’s moves by heart. Luke was somewhere in the compound, no doubt hiding in his shrunken version. Michael would have taken a closer position now for Ashton’s sake to help keep the path clear for Ashton to escort the hostages to safety. And Calum would be flying the drone, being everywhere the rest of the team couldn’t be, informing them of every move.

The familiar buzz of a drone a few seconds later came as no surprise, and she turned to the sound, grinning.

“Y/N?!” the drone’s speaker yelled in shock.

“Hi, baby brother,” she said, waggling her fingers in a wave. Then, her lips turned down in a mock-pout. “Sorry about this,” she told him, grabbing the wings of the drone.

“Yeah, me too,” Calum’s voice said, as he pushed a button that shot out an arrow as Y/N brought the drone down over her knee, cracking the device in half. She let out a slow hiss as the arrow passed straight through her shoulder, and then embedded itself in the wall behind her.

“Tell Mike to up your archery practice,” she told the broken drone as she dropped the two pieces, then took off.

“Y/N?!” Ashton, Luke, and Michael were yelling in Calum’s ear. “You found her?! I told you she was alive! Where is she, Cal?!”

“Bitch broke my drone!” was all Calum could come up with as a reply.

“Calum!” Ashton’s voice was sharp, Michael’s desperate.

“Give me a second, she broke my drone!” Calum grumbled, his relief about his sister being okay mixing with the rage only siblings could have for one another when one of them broke something of the other’s. “Okay, okay. Yes! Fuck yes! Whoohoo! Mikey-boy the tracker arrows work!”

“Of course they work,” Michael scoffed proudly.

“Well, I sort of shot through her, so I wasn’t sure if the tracker got in her, or the wall.”

“You shot my girlfriend?!”

“She BROKE MY DRONE!”

“You can build a new one,” Ashton told him with a sigh.

“You shot my girlfriend!” Michael continued to screech.

“I had to get the tracker on her!” Calum protested.

“Well, fuckin’ track her then, and get her out of there!”

“Cal, send me and Luke her location,” Ashton ordered. “Whoever’s closest tries to get her. But Luke, we gotta head out before they surround us. This isn’t like last time. They’re standing their ground.”

“She was on the upper deck on your side, Ash. She’s headed your way now, Luke. Towards the lab,” Calum reported, his eyes on Y/N’s tracker.

“Fuck, I gotta get out of here with these guys. Luke, get Y/N,” Ashton said, guiding a small group of hostages to safety.

“I’m in the lab, I got h- Oh, fuck me!” Luke’s words of hope died down as he glanced out the window of the lab. “I gotta shrink back down if I’m gonna get out of here. They’re fuckin’ swarming the lab. Ash, that’s good news for you because it means your path is clear.” He grabbed as many folders as he could gather in his arms, before hitting a button to shrink back down, just as Hydra soldiers muscled their way into the lab, looking around for anything out of place. “ ‘Scuse me. Pardon me. Just gonna squeeze past…” Luke talked aloud as he sprinted across the tops of boots headed for the exit. “You know, maybe I should get some of those trackers next time. Got plenty of feet to stab them into right now.”

“Duly noted,” Michael said, loosing a volley of arrows, sinking as many trackers into Hydra agents as he could. “Did you get Y/N?”

“No…” Luke replied in disappointment. “Ash?”

“No, I had to get out with whoever I could. Luke, you out?”

“Headed back now. I snagged some plans, if that’s any consolation.”

“That’s awesome, Luke. Thanks,” Ashton said, but there was a lingering note of dejection that they couldn’t get Y/N too. “She’s alive, and Cal got a tracker in her, which is more than we could have hoped for anyway.”

“I know. But still. Sorry, Mike.”

Michael shook his head, straightening his bow and quiver on his back before following after Ashton and Luke back to Calum. “It’s fine. Ash is right. We’ll work with what we got.”

“We’ll get her back. Don’t worry,” Ashton said, his words mostly directed at Calum and Michael, but also as a vow on his and Luke’s part. They’d get their girl back if it was the last thing the team ever did.

~~~

Y/N sat with her mouth set in a tight line as the nurse patched up her wound. “You super soldiers are all the same. The blank expressions. Immune to normal pain,” the nurse commented as they worked.

“Not a super soldier,” Y/N replied numbly, feeling the thread pull her skin back together. “Just a regular psycho.”

“Mmm,” the nurse chuckled. “And this was ‘just some light training,’ yes?” They gestured at the wound.

“Sibling rivalry gone too far, actually,” Y/N corrected.

“Mmm, well in my experience, few things come between siblings. You will be fine.”

“I hope so,” she muttered under her breath, but Y/N wasn’t so sure. How did she justify leaving her brother, her boyfriend, and the rest of her team in the dark about a mission they were all part of? How did she explain that she had to let them think that she had succumbed to the worst of fates? That she had to let them deal with the heartache of thinking she was dead, only to find out she was working for the enemy? SHIELD assignment or not, that wasn’t the kind of news she could just waltz back home with and offer up a simple “Hey, sorry I’ve been gone.” Y/N and Calum had suffered a lot between petty sibling issues, like when he first learned she was sleeping with his best friend, to much bigger issues regarding missions as part of the Avengers team. But this? Playing double agent while having to leave him completely in the dark? There was no coming back from this. And Michael… Oh, the betrayal he must be feeling. And mix that with the guilt and blind rage? If he was functioning at all, she bet that it was an ugly sight. A shell of the man she loved. Any ounce of humanity turned off to not drown under the pain.

Still, a part of her hoped that Michael or, perhaps even Calum, would turn against orders to try and stage a useless rescue of her, now that they knew part of the truth. And while she knew it would be a meeting that ended poorly on all sides, she could at the very least slip them a note. So back in the safety of her room, she quickly penned a note, then tucked it into her uniform.

~~~

Similar to last time, the ride back to headquarters was tense. Ashton kept busy by collecting statements from the hostages they managed to rescue. Then, he joined Luke in pouring over the statements and the documents Luke got his hands on in the lab.

Calum kept his eyes glued to the device that held the locations of all the trackers, watching the way Y/N’s blinked steadily.

Michael sat off on his own in sullen silence, his mind racing, hands clenching and unclenching into fists in a repetitive manner. He wanted to order the jet to turn around. To go back and get Y/N if he had to carry her over his shoulder himself. He was angry at his team, and himself for leaving her behind for a second time. Angry that he couldn’t stop failing her at every turn. But in the anger was a twinge of hope and relief. She was alive. Which meant that they could get her back. Luke had been right along. She knew what she was doing. But he still selfishly wanted her safe next to him. He wanted her laugh ringing out as she annoyed Ashton. He wanted to be able to smell her shampoo mixing with her sweat when she rested her head against his shoulder, complaining about how she couldn’t wait to get back and take a long hot shower. He wanted to be able to cover her cheeks in a blush as he whispered dirty words in her ear about the things he’d do when he joined her in said shower.

“Could you stop?” Calum asked, snapping Michael out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Michael hummed.

“The banging. Wanna stop?” It was less of a question and more of a command.

Michael looked down at his fists, noting the redness form along the outer edge of his palms and pinky fingers. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, placing his hands in his lap, not even aware he’d been banging his hands against the floor.

“I want her back too, Mike. Just as much as you do.”

Enough to break protocol and go rogue? Michael wanted to ask, but all he ended up saying was “I know.”

When they got back to headquarters, Ashton and Luke continued their work of looking over every word on every scrap of paper. Calum wordlessly joined them, his attention still held captive by the location tracker with it’s slow, steady blinks. No one thought it to be out of the ordinary, when Michael opted to head straight to the armory. Just hand waving and mumbles of “Yeah, could you?”s.

So Michael lugged the bag of gear into the armory, setting to the task of putting things out, and taking stock. But instead of putting his own gear away as well, he prepped it, having no intention of sitting around waiting for orders to be handed down. Not now when he knew where Y/N was. Fuck the rules and regulations. He was done with letting her down, letting her wonder why her team still hadn’t come for her. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m coming. I promise,” he mumbled under his breath as he left the armory, dropping his bag in the doorway of his room, then going to find the rest of the team. “Hey, Cal?”

“Yeah?” the man asked, not lifting his head.

“You got a spare one of those?”

“One of these?” Calum questioned, holding up the device.

“Yeah. I, uh… Just wanna be able to see her, you know?” he half-lied, making his voice crack for extra sympathy points.

“Yeah, course,” Calum nodded, pushing his way to his feet. He walked a few feet to a docking station that held various other forms of tech. “Here,” Calum said, grabbing one and logging into it. He tapped a few buttons until the familiar map pulled up. “This is just hers, and this,” he swiped across the screen to pull up a menu. “You can click to see the location of any tracker. We’re 1-4,” he twirled a finger to signal he meant himself, Ashton, Luke, and Michael. “And Y/N is 5. And the others are various trackers we got in Hydra agents today, or just not in use yet.”

“Thanks, Cal,” Michael took the device in his hands, then titled his head slightly towards Ashton and Luke. “I think I’m just gonna shower, then call it a day.”

“We’ll holler if we find anything interesting. Feel better, Mike,” Ashton told him.

“Night,” Luke mumbled, even though it was barely noon.

“Night,” Michael repeated, heading back towards the rooms, swallowing the rise of guilt of lying to his team. But they’d understand that this was something he had to do. Or so he hoped.

In his own room, he turned on music, then pulled a knife from his bag. Taking a few quick rapid breaths, he cut into the skin of his arm, prying his tracker loose. Hissing through his teeth, he dropped the tracker on his bed before bandaging up his arm. “Fuck,” he shuddered. “Argh! Okay. Here we go.”

~~~

Not being able to risk taking out the jet, it took Michael until well after the sun went down before he came within sight of the Hydra base with its giant searchlights, both lighting up the place, and casting it in menacing shadows.

Michael ditched the motorcycle well before he needed to as a safety precaution, before creeping the rest of the way on foot. His breath came out in huffed little clouds as he headed straight for where Y/N was. If the tracker was as accurate as Michael wanted to believe, she was right where she was when she’d had her skirmish with Calum earlier. Upper level deck, left side.

It was only as Michael got closer, that he started to realize he had no plan for getting in. “Time for a distraction,” he whispered to himself, digging through his bag for a grenade. “Showtime, bitches.” He pulled the pin and sent the grenade flying. He crouched low, covering his ears, and waited.

There was a loud bang, and then a startled scrambling from inside the gate, as a couple guards rushed out to check what had happened. Michael snuck up behind one, covering their mouth with his hand and dragging them backwards. The guard kicked uselessly at the ground, thrashing about as they tried to get free from Michael’s hold until they finally went limp. Quickly, Michael took their earpiece, before swapping clothes with the unconscious guard he left slumped up against a tree.

“What was that?” a voice was barking in the earpiece.

“We don’t know sir. We don’t see anything,” a handful of voices answered.

“Well if you find anything, put a stop to it!” the voice barked again.

“Did you find anything?” a voice called out in the dark, a flashlight swinging in Michael’s direction.

“No,” he called back quickly, heart pounding in his ears as the flashlight stopped advancing. “All clear.”

“Stupid fuckin’ pranks…” the other voice grumbled, the flashlight retreating. “Headed back in,” the guard spoke into the earpiece. “All clear.”

“Copy that,” a different voice replied.

“Well?” the first voice demanded, the small beam of flashlight turning back to Michael. “Are you coming?!”

“Right! Yes!” Michael said, willing his feet to move, and controlling his breathing to not give away his excitement as he crossed into the Hydra base. He still had the problem of needing to get to Y/N and get them out without raising any alarms. Which started with first getting away from the group of three guards he walked in with without anyone stopping him. So, not thinking too much about it, Michael slowed his walk before stopping altogether. And when his guard counterparts paid no mind, he slipped his way between buildings, hiding in the shadows as he checked the tracker.

He walked purposefully towards the stairs that would lead him to the upper deck, hardening his gaze and sweeping it across the grounds, like he was just another guard doing nightly patrol duty. “I don’t know what Luke’s always bitching about. This shit’s easy and I’m full-sized,” Michael remarked under his breath as he climbed the stairs and rounded a corner.

At the end of the walkway stood a single guard, their hair obscured by the black cap on their head. But even then, it didn’t matter. He’d know her anywhere, in any disguise. It was the way she held herself, her chin slightly tilted towards the sky, her shoulders squared but relaxed, her right foot always slightly shifted more forward than her left foot. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but the words died on his tongue. Was he just supposed to say “Hi” like he hadn’t left her for dead for five months?

It turned out, he didn’t need to say anything, as he took a step in her direction, his boots echoing off the metal floor. She whirled around, her dark eyes zeroing in on him. At the very least he expected a grateful smile as her head tilted slightly to the side, and she blinked slowly, trying to determine if her mind was playing tricks on her. But instead, she just fixed him with a cold steely look that sent the wrong kind of shiver down his spine. He cursed himself as he faltered in his next step. He had never once entertained the idea that she could have been brainwashed in all this time. “Y/N,” he said slowly, holding up his hands. “C’mon. It’s me. Let me get you out of here.”

“You need to leave,” she spat.

“Not without you.”

“Michael, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Don’t make me do this…” she whispered, bowing her head ever so slightly.

“Do what? I’m here to take you home, babe. C’mon!”

She crouched, tilting her head so her eyes met his. “Final warning.”

Michael shifted a protective stance of his own, raising his fists. “So this is really how you wanna have this reunion, huh?”

“It’s the only way.”

Michael dodged as her fist came swinging at his jaw. “Fine. Have it your way, then,” he growled, throwing his own punch that landed on her body. When she huffed in annoyance and slight pain, an apology was ready to fly off his lips.

She used his pause to tackle him, the walkway rattling with the force of his body hitting the ground. “C’mon, I know you hit harder than that,” she taunted, connecting a rapid succession of blows against his upper torso.

He twisted underneath her, bringing up his arms to block her hits. “Just come with me!” he begged, as he threw his arms forward, sending her skiddering backwards off of him.

“I can’t!” she yelled, charging at him again.

He did his best to block her attacks, but some hits still found a place to land, small grunts leaving his mouth at each connection.

“Fight back!” she yelled again, aiming for his jaw.

“No!” He snatched her wrist, as her knuckles started to brush into the side of his face. “I’m not gonna fight you, Y/N! This is ridiculous! I’m not trying to hurt you! I’m trying to save you!” he tried to reason as he spun her body so her back was flush against his chest, holding her tightly to him. “Baby, it’s me,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s me. It’s Mike. C’mon, baby. Come back with me. Come back to me. Please.”

A growl ripped out her throat as she brought one of her feet down on one his with as much strength as she had. And when Michael doubled over in pain, hearing the crunch of bone, her other leg kicked backwards, nailing him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards.

“Y/N?” a voice sounded in both of their earpieces. “What’s going on?”

Y/N’s chest heaved as she stared down at Michael, who stared back up at her, struggling to find his breath. “Nothing,” she told the voice, before turning her back on Michael.

“Y/N,” Michael croaked out uselessly, coughing. His mouth tasted of blood and every part of his body felt like it was on fire.

He had no recollection of how he got off the compound and back to his motorcycle. Just like he had no recollection of driving all night back to Avengers headquarters.

He was, however, somewhat aware of his teammates' gasps of surprise when he dragged himself into the foyer of the building, as his body slumped against the cool tile, and he finally blacked out.

~~~

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Ashton thundered, his hand coming down hard on the table.

Michael stared blankly past Ashton, not bothering to give a response. Ashton didn’t care about the answer anyway, and it didn’t change anything. And now he understood what Y/N was doing, and she was trusting him to keep what he knew to himself.

Upon his arrival, Michael had slept for close to two days before finally waking in the infirmary, his body still badly battered, but his pain at a manageable level. He had trudged his way down to his room, rummaging through his things when the note fluttered down. With shaking fingers, he opened it, reading the hastily scrawled words, “It’s the mission. I’m safe. I love you,” in Y/N’s handwriting. He barely had enough time to shove the note in his pocket before Ashton was knocking on his open door, looking more pissed off than Michael had ever seen. Wordlessly, Ashton had jerked his thumb in the direction of the conference room, and wordlessly, Michael had shuffled after him, ready to accept whatever fate awaited him.

“Well?!” Ashton’s voice cracked like a whip as Michael did nothing but blink at him.

“What was I thinking?” Michael asked, his voice soft. “Oh, nothing really.”

“Yeah, no fuckin’ shit, Mike!”

“Oh, lay off!” Calum snapped, coming to Michael’s defense. “Mike did exactly what we all wanted to do, but were too scared to do. He tried to get her back. If you wanna fault him for that, Ash, then you’re a bigger jackass than we all thought.”

Ashton sighed, sinking into his chair. “I’m not faulting him, Cal. But what he did was reckless. It could have jeopardized all the work we’ve been doing. I get that it’s Y/N, but we still have a job to do. No one person is bigger than the mission, even if she is your sister. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Calum said with a sad shake of his head. “Fuck. You.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, Ash,” Michael said, his voice still soft. “Can I go?”

Ashton rubbed at his face in agitation, letting out a small scream. “Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Yeah. Go. Whatever. I don’t care.”

“So you’re just giving up?!” Calum asked, his angry and broken expression sweeping across his team. “Just like that? We’re done?”

“Until we get our new orders, yes,” Ashton told him.

“That’s BULLSHIT!” Calum exploded. “You!” He turned, jabbing a finger at Michael. “You’re just gonna walk away?! You go rogue to rescue her on your own, without me, and now you’re throwing in the towel too?!”

“You heard Ashton,” Michael shrugged.

“Oh, you’re so full of shit! All of you! Fuck SHIELD and fuck you lot! It’s Y/N! She needs us! She trusted us! How many times are we going to keep failing her?!” Tears fell hot and fast down Calum’s face. “Please!” he begged, his voice cracking. “We have to do something besides sit on our asses! Mike, please! You can’t give up on her! C’mon! I thought you were on my side! Mike! It’s Y/N… please…”

“No, it’s not,” Michael said bitterly. “It’s not, Y/N. This,” he gestured about his beat up body, “is not her.”

“Fuck you!” Calum cried into his hands, and let out a muffled scream of heartbreak and rage. “I fuckin’ hate you!” He raised his gaze to shoot Michael his best death glare. “I hate you, do you hear me?! I fuckin’ hate you! You’re giving up, you fuckin’ coward! You’re supposed to love her, you fuckin’ bastard!”

Michael tried to bite his tongue as Calum continued to hurl abuse his way, but the last few words of the attack cut deep, and he couldn’t keep his composure any longer. “I gave up?! Me?! I’m the only one who wanted to go back for her five months ago!” Michael went off. “I’m the only one who went back for her a few days ago! Not Ash! Not Luke! Not you, her fuckin’ brother! ME! I went back! So fuckin’ listen, and listen good when I tell you that everything that makes her Y/N is gone! It’s useless, okay?! She’s Hydra’s now. The quicker you learn that, the better.”

“I FUCKIN’ HATE YOU!”

“ONLY BECAUSE YOU HATE YOURSELF MORE AND YOU KNOW IT! We all have to live with what we did. You have to live that you didn’t have the guts to go save her yourself. I’m not gonna carry that guilt for you, Cal. I’m not carrying any of your guilt, or Ash’s, or Luke’s. Because bottom line is I fuckin’ manned up when she needed us, while you three sat on your asses. So go ahead and hate me. Say I jeopardized the mission, or that I failed her. I don’t give a fuck. Because at least I fuckin’ tried, which is better than the three of you can say.”

Michael could hear Calum’s scream echoing off the walls as he hobbled back to his bedroom. He could also hear, or rather feel, the slam of Calum’s own bedroom door a few moments later.

Michael eased his way on his bed, the sheets freshly changed after he had left his blood splattered tracker on it. He knew a new one had been injected in him at some point over his state of unconsciousness, and he briefly wondered if it was the same one he’d ripped out. No sense in wasting technology when it wasn’t broken, after all. Laying back into the pillows, Michael dug out the note, and the device that still had Y/N’s location, seeking comfort in her looped handwriting, and the steady blinking of the device.

~~~

It took another week before orders came down, and Ashton summoned them all into the conference room. Michael’s fingers brushed against the empty chair between him and Calum as he took his seat. It took more willpower than he cared to admit not to slug Calum when the other man growled lightly under his breath. He doesn’t know any better, Michael had to remind himself. If he did, he wouldn’t be acting this way.

Ashton set the manila folder in the center, and when no one moved, he dove right in. “Between the files Luke was able to get, all the statements we have, the information we’ve gained from the trackers, and the intel SHIELD has from their agent inside Hydra, we have all the information needed to bring this to an end, once and for all. This is an all hands on deck situation. SHIELD is officially running the whole operation. They’re taking care of the hacking and gaining control of Hydra’s operating system. They already have a unit assigned to deal specifically with destroying the lab. Our job is pretty simple. We’re just soldiers.”

“Actual action?” Luke asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Actual action,” Ashton said, smiling a bit. “Something I‘m sure we’ve all been itching to do for quite some time.”

Luke pumped his fist, “Fuck yeah!”

“And Y/N?” Calum asked.

Ashton sighed. “Based on personal experience, we can assume she’ll be fighting for Hydra. So yes, it’s a good chance she’ll be around. Ideally one of us comes across her before the rest of SHIELD so we can subdue her, and get her out safely. But she’s not our priority, and yes, before you start, I tried to convince SHIELD into letting us specifically deal only with finding Y/N and getting her back. But all I got in response was bureaucratic bullshit about how we were being employed to do a job, and how we aren’t exactly in a position to ask for any favors.”

“So play good little soldier, but if we see our chance, take it?” Michael guessed.

“Yes, exactly. And Mike-”

“I’m not fighting, I know,” Michael cut him off. “Do I at least get to come and hang out wherever we set up base camp? Help with security, and the like?”

“Yes, of course. You’re not being punished, Mike. You’re not fighting because you don’t have medical clearance. But you’re still coming along. All hands on deck.”

Michael nodded. “Cool. That’s… Cool. Thank you.” He was fully expecting to be benched, and expected to stay behind. A lesson from SHIELD about how even the Avengers had to follow their orders. But getting sidelined only because he was still injured? Well, that… Fuck, he could handle that no problem.

“Be cooler if we can finally get my sister back…” Calum muttered.

“We’re gonna try, Cal,” Ashton said.

“You said that last time, and look what happened.”

“So… half hour til take off, yeah?” Luke asked.

“Not quite,” Ashton chuckled. “We leave tonight to meet up with SHIELD at the base camp they’re setting up just outside of Hydra’s radar. Then we go in just before dawn. I’ll give a 30 minutes heads up before we head out though.”

~~~

After the worst night of sleep he ever remembered getting, Michael got up just as the sun was beginning to brighten the sky from a dark purple blotch sprinkled with stars to holding soft shades of pink around the edges.

He stumbled his way to the cafeteria tent, finding the rest of his team at a table, each clinging to their coffee cup like a lifeline. “How’d you sleep?” Ashton asked, as Michael took a seat.

“Like absolute shit,” Michael answered honestly. “You’d think for how high tech SHIELD is, the bastards would have found a way to make camping missions less miserable.”

“Gotta cut expenses somewhere,” Ashton chuckled darkly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Fuckin’ bastards…”

“Fuckin’ bastards,” the other three repeated in agreement as a group of higher ups appeared in the entrance of the tent.

“First wave rolls out in 10 minutes,” the one in the middle barked. “Report to your positions, and standby.”

Everyone in the tent gave half-awake salutes, and the group of higher ups continued on their way. Then slowly, between stifled yawns, people started getting up from tables, dumping their half eaten breakfasts, and half drunk coffees, before going to their places.

Luke drummed his hands on the tabletop, a grin breaking across his otherwise tired face. “It’s showtime, boys!” he whooped before pushing himself to his feet. “Let’s fuckin’ go!” He rested a hand on Michael’s shoulder, dropping his voice into a low whisper, “We got ourselves a girl to bring home.”

In spite of everything, Michael couldn’t help but laugh at Luke’s infectious enthusiasm. “Stay safe, guys,” Michael told them as his three friends joined the rest of the crowd dashing off to their assignments.

Only after the last man had cleared out, did Michael finally get up himself. He made himself a tray of breakfast, before going off in search of one of the security tents. “Anything I can help with?” Michael offered the first person who looked in his direction. “Michael Clifford. Avenger.”

The SHIELD agent looked Michael over, with the boot on his foot, face still sporting a small bruise, and scoffed. “Here,” he said, shoving a clipboard in Michael’s hand that wasn’t clutching his tray of food. “This is a list of everyone involved in the operation. Those of us staying to do security are already accounted for. But the rest have been given strict instructions to check back in when they return. Whenever that is. You can be in charge of checking them in by the triage tent.”

“Gee, thanks,” Michael muttered, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “Triage is…?”

The agent pointed to a tent with a giant hospital cross decorating the top.

“Cool. Thanks.” Michael forced a tight-lipped smile before making his way over to a long table set up just inside the coverage of the hospital tent.

“Back already?” another SHIELD agent asked, pulling a clipboard close to them. “Name?”

“Oh, no, I’m helping you guys with check-in.”

“Oh. Have a seat, then.”

“Hey, is Y/N Hood on this list by any chance?” Michael asked as he took a seat.

“Nobody by the name of Hood has been checked in yet.”

“No, yeah, I know. I meant… is she on the list at all? Like are we expecting her to be one of the people checking in.”

“You’d have to check the list. I dunno, sir.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Of course. Thanks anyway.”

“No problem.”

~~~

The sky had transitioned into a soft blue, the sun peeking out from behind the trees, suggesting that at best it’d only been an hour, maybe two since Michael took up residence at the triage tent. But it felt like a lot longer, and if something didn’t happen soon, he was going to lose it.

From his spot, he could hear the engagement of combat and gunfire, so he knew the mission was well underway. But, God, waiting for everyone to get back was so fuckin’ boring! And it wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being the one hanging back, because he was. But this wasn’t hanging back to provide back up. This was just waiting. Painfully boring waiting. His breakfast lay next to him, discarded and half picked over.

He was about three seconds from excusing himself to the bathroom just so he’d have a reason to get up and walk around, when a laugh rang out. A laugh he’d know anywhere. “Y/N?!” he shouted, scrambling from his chair.

The laugh paused, turning into a soft gasp. “Mike?!”

“Y/N!” Michael shouted again, rushing as fast as he could in the direction of her voice. “Y/N!” he called out for the third time, happily as he saw her pushing her way through a small group of SHIELD agents returning to camp.

“Mike!” she shrieked, before running full speed towards him.

He got his arms open just in time for her to crash into him. “Ow, ow, ow,” he winced as he hugged her tight.

“Oh, my God!” she said, holding him out at arm’s lengths. “Are you okay? What happened to you? Where’s the rest of the team?” the questions fell rapidly from her lips. “Oh, Mike!”

“I’m okay. Somebody beat me up pretty good, but I’m fine. The guys are off helping SHIELD play soldier. Oh, God, you’re back! And you’re you!”

“Did you get my note?” she asked, nuzzling her face into his neck.

“Yeah, I got your note.”

“So you forgive me?” Her brown eyes were wide and soft, and maybe even a little fearful as she peered up at him.

“Of course, I forgive you. You didn’t have to go so hard as to break my foot, but of course I forgive you, baby. Fuck, I’m just glad you’re finally here. For good. Safe.”

They could have stood there forever in their locked embrace. And they would have if someone wasn’t clearing their throat to get the couple’s attention. “Ma’am, we gotta check you in.”

“It’s fine,” Michael waved them off. “I got her checked in. It’s fine.”

The agent shrugged, and walked off.

“C’mon, let’s sit. We can catch up while we wait for the rest of the guys,” she directed softly.

~~~

“So Luke was the only one who believed I knew what I was doing?” she chuckled as Michael relayed the past five months of utter shit to her. “Remind me to thank him when he gets in.”

“Yeah, I probably owe him a proper apology for that still. Should probably apologize to Ash and Cal, too. A lot of things got said in anger that shouldn’t have.”

“At least you didn’t tell your best friend that you hated him,” Y/N pointed out, trying to calm Michael out of his remorse.

“Yeah, but still. We all sat around twiddling our thumbs until this last mission. I mean, we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t know where you were, or if you were okay. And when Cal told us you were okay like Luke had guessed, I dunno… I snapped. I thought I could rectify my mistakes by coming to get you myself. I never once thought that you were with Hydra on purpose. I hadn’t even thought you could have been potentially brainwashed by them. I just… I dunno. Went blind with rage and every other emotion I’d been swallowing since that first mission.”

She nodded understandingly. Then, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“How did you find me? When you came back on your own.”

Michael pulled the tracking device from his pocket, which he kept permanently in his pocket along with her note. “After the first mission, we upgraded our trackers. Well, we just used the technology we came up with for my tracker arrows, and injected them into ourselves. So that way it’s a little harder to dump,” he explained with a slight tease in his voice that made her giggle. “And we loaded some arrows with them too, obviously. I nicked a few Hydra agents with them. And Cal got you with the drone.”

“But when Cal shot me, the arrow went clean through me. He was too close. Entry and exit wound.”

“The trackers are set to eject at the first point of contact. Pretty nifty, huh?”

She hummed in proud approval. “Pretty fuckin’ nifty indeed. Fuck… I’ve missed you, Mike.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her hair, breathing her in. “So fuckin’ much.”

“And I’m telling you,” a familiar voice growled, “that I have the bloody tracking device right here! She’s not at the Hydra base! She’s right… in… tada!” Calum said, sweeping the tent open.

Ashton and Luke’s eyes went wide, their mouths working to sputter nonsense. Y/N got to her feet, offering them all a shy wave. “Hey, boys.”

The magic words broke the spell, a giant grin painting each man’s face, before they were all rushing towards her in a gleeful cry of “Y/N!”

“Y/N, what the actual fuck?!” Ashton tried to scold but he was laughing too hard. “Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

“Sorry, Ash. SHIELD orders,” she giggled, hugging the man tightly. “Missed ya too.”

“So it was you! You were the spy on the inside! Fuckin’ brilliant!” Luke marveled. “Go in to rescue the hostages after our first spy betrays us, and replace them with a trusted Avenger. Wow… That’s fuckin’ genius!”

“So I take that as I’m forgiven for worrying you guys, causing you guys to fight amongst yourselves, and having to break Cal’s drone and Mike’s foot?” Y/N asked with a hopeful smile.

“Absolutely,” everyone but Calum told her.

“Cal?” she asked, turning to the man. “Baby brother? Forgive me?”

Calum narrowed his eyes, but there was no hardness to the expression, suggesting he wasn’t actually angry. “You owe me a new drone, first.”

“Deal!” she said, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. “Fuck, I’ve missed you guys!”

“Glad to have you back with us,” Ashton smiled. “Guys, let’s go check in, so we can all go the fuck home, yeah?”

“Yes, Captain!” they all saluted with a laugh, heading towards triage to check in, and check out.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get home and shower,” Y/N complained, her right arm thrown over Calum, and her left one thrown over Michael as she trudged happily between her boys once again.

“A good, long, hot shower sounds perfect,” Michael whispered against her ear. “And I think I can come up with a couple of other good, long, and hot activities for us after that shower,” he added, nipping at her playfully.

“Mmmm,” she giggled, leaning into him. “Think you got the strength for all that?”

“For you? Always. And we have a lot of making up to do. Might take days.”

She shivered against him, causing the other three to groan. “At least wait until after we get home before jumping all over each other, yeah?” Ashton asked.

“No promises,” they answered honestly.

Ashton groaned again. “C’mon, let’s give them a minute,” he said with an eye roll as he guided Calum and Luke forward to the line to check in.

Michael wasted no time in their friends’ quick departures to hook his fingers under Y/N’s chin, guiding her to meet him in a fierce kiss, fingers knotting in each other’s hair, breath rushing out of their lungs. “Promise me you’ll always come back to me,” he whispered when they had to break apart to gasp for air, resting his forehead gently against hers.

“I don’t think I can keep that promise, because I’m never leaving you again.”

“Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

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#come back #michael clifford #michael clifford fic #michael clifford x reader #5sos AU #avengers AU #5sos #calpal irwin

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soggy-platee · 3 years

Text

Doubt

Rating: M

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Summary: You get hurt doing something stupid, Din has to confront his feelings for you.

Crossposted on ao3 here!

This was bad. Like, bad bad. You had gotten into fights before, of course, been roughed up more times than you could count. But previously, you had always been able to make it back to the Crest and hide the evidence before Mando got back. This time, however, you weren’t even sure if you would make it back to the Crest alone, much less heal yourself.

Tatooine, of all places, was where you were currently limping through, Mos Eisley to be more exact. Mando had stopped for repairs and you had made the usual excuse to get yourself out of mechanic-assistant duty, yelling something about supplies over your shoulder before hustling to the nearest cantina. Mando and you had been on countless missions over the years, sometimes staying and working together for months at a time. This current run was one of the longer ones, being on your third month-long job with the Mandalorian. Honestly, you had no idea why the hell he kept working with you. You were his total and utter opposite. All talkative and friendly, and a total ass most of the time. Your skills didn’t exactly make up for your personality either, you were a half-decent hunter at best. You liked to think it was because you always filled the silence of the old ass ship he insisted on using.

You had a feeling that if he found out the stupid shit you were always getting into, it might be your last time with him. It was some fucking dumb wager you made, betting on a brawl you knew nothing about. Somehow you won, and that seemed to piss a lot of people off. You had managed to fight most of them off, everyone underestimated you at first because of your small stature. But that element of surprise only lasts so long, and there were just too many of them this time. A slash to your thigh with a rusty knife took you to one knee before a first connected with your temple, sending you sprawling on the dusty floor. After that, it had been a flurry of hits and kicks before the owner chased them off. You had lain there for a while, trying to regain some sense of up and down through your obvious concussion. When you finally lifted yourself to your knees, the only thing that was clear in your mind was the idea of Mando seeing you like this, realizing how reckless and useless you really were. That’s why you were so desperate to get back and cover the evidence. As much as you hated to admit it, you liked working with him, loved it really. It had nothing to do with the little crush you had been harboring on the metal man, you often told yourself.

The port coming into view shook you from your thoughts. No sign of the Mandalorian yet. You tried to hurry, but the deep cut on your thigh stung in protest. You tried to walk as smoothly as possible, the last thing you needed was some other low-life on this dump planet to try to rob you in your weakened state. The high walls of the building loomed over you, casting you in shadow as you moved through the entrance. You moved as silently as you could, listening for the slightest movement to indicate the presence of your partner. The place was silent besides the small tinkering of the pit droids in some corner. You grimaced to yourself, at least this was working out for you .

You limped up the ramp into the dark hold. Making your way to your bunk, you fumbled around in the darkness for your own little stash of medical supplies. You only ever took from your personal stuff; the last thing you needed was being caught because Mando noticed his shit was missing. He had enough of his own wounds to worry about. You precariously gathered all your things into one hand, the other holding your upright. A bacta shot slipped, clinking loudly on the floor as a wave of dizziness came over you. Your hand immediately shot to the wound on your thigh.

Fuck , that was way more blood than you thought. You dipped down to grab the shot, the same dizziness doubling with the movement. Finally, after a few seconds of fumbling, your bloody hand found the cold tube. At the same time your fingers closed around the object, the cockpit door slide open with a metallic hiss. Your head shot up to the sound only to find the large outline of Mando hovering over you in the doorway. He was silent as were you, caught in a contest in the near-darkness of the hold. You swallowed hard. He was usually quiet, but this time, you could feel the anger radiating off him in waves.

Finally, he moved, hitting the first rung and the second before leaping down with a resounding thud . The moment he landed you shot up as fast as your injured state could allow. You both rose straight in tandem. He was directly in front of you, making your height difference more than noticeable. It made you feel even worse, even more, insignificant compared to the warrior in front of you. It was still too dark to make out his features, or lack thereof, but you could hear the creak of his leather gloves as his gloves clenched and unclenched.

Holy shit, he was pissed.

Your mind was racing, maybe you could still get out of this. Apologize like crazy, get out of his sight before he could realize just how bad you had fucked up, how hurt you were. You just hoped to God that he wasn’t using any special settings in his helmet to see you in the dark.

Finally, the damn broke.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

Your brain went into overdrive, getting ready every half-assed excuse you could. Before you could get a word out, he trampled over you nearly shouting, “You were gone for an hour , and now the whole fucking town is talking about the brawl that you were at the center of? Over a fucking bet ? How reckless can you -”

Your anger grew as he grew louder, words getting harsher. Who the hell did he think he was? Yeah, yeah you fucked up, but he wasn’t your fucking dad. W hy did he get a say in what you did anyway?

“Sorry, we can’t all be as fucking upstanding as you, okay? I was blowing off a little steam, Jesus , it’s not that big of a deal…”

You could hear his surprised grunt under your tirade, actually physically moving away an inch at your verble assault. He recovered quickly though, leaning back toward you, leaving only inches between you as he growled, “ Not a big deal ? You know what kind of people are on this fucking planet, how much trouble you could get into?”

You paused, confused. Wait, was he mad at you because you got into trouble or because you could get into more?

Your pause made him continue, lecturing you firmly about how reckless and stupid your actions were. You just took it, hoping he would give up soon and leave you alone. He would have to quit soon if there was any hope of still hiding your injuries from him, you were growing fainter by the second, all previous anger seeping out along with your strength. The blood from your leg had to be pooling onto the floor by now.

There was a break in his speech, so you interjected in a feeble attempt to end the conversation. “ I’m sorry... I get it. I was wrong.” you practically whispered.

“You’re sorry ? I don’t-”

Suddenly, the ship was filled with an overwhelming light. You lifted a hand to shield your eyes, shoulders hunching as the light hit your face. Mando spun in comparison, stance low as he searched for an assault. After a moment, you both realized that the floodlights of the hanger had come on, compensating for the now-low light of sunset outside. In the same second, you realized what Mando would turn to see. You tried to hide, pulling your injured thigh as far back as you could without falling over. But it was no fucking use, bruises smattered your face and arm, dried blood leaving a trail from your brow-

He turned, freezing once his visor met your pained expression. He stood still for a moment and you started with your excuse, “Listen, it’s not as bad as it looks. I can do it myself if you just-”

He was on you a second, grabbing you by the shoulders and pushing you back to sit on the lip of your bunk. You were shocked as you were sat down, he hardly ever touched you, let alone with the firmness and caring that he was using now. His hands moved to cup your face, turning it back and forth, taking in the damage. You braced for a lashing.

Instead, his voice was deadly low when he asked, “Who did this?”

You jerked in his grip, “What?”

He gripped your face tighter, thumb brushing over your cheek before repeating, “ Who did this ? Just give me a name and they’re fucking dead.”

Your dumbfounded expression was reflected in his visor. Wasn’t he just mad at you?

“I’m- I’m sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I didn’t know you were...hurt.”

Whoops, you didn’t mean to say that out loud.

His hands probed their way from your temples down your body, noting every bruise and mark. Finally, he reached the cut on your leg, hissing through his modulator as he felt the sticky fabric around the opening.

He sighed your name as he took in the extent of the damage, “God this is- Why didn’t you tell me ?”

You shifted nervously on your bunk, you couldn’t tell him the truth. It was lame, it was weird . It would freak him out, how much you wanted to stay with him.

I’m so desperate to stay with you I’d rather bleed out than tell you I fucked up.

Yeah, that would go over well.

So you simply acted aloof, hoping to God that he would buy it. As he continued to inspect you leg, you plastered a fake grin on your face and spoke down to him, “Come on Mando, you don’t think that I can handle some cuts myself?

His helmet shot up to your face so fast your expression faltered, giving way to wide eyes and parted lips. He seemed pleased with himself at breaking your facade, grunting in approval as he returned his attention downward.

The both of you were silent as he dug his hand through the medical supplies you had retrieved initially. He started at the cut, snipping away the fabric with careful precision. You had a death grip on his shoulder while he cleaned and cauterized the ugly thing. He kept checking with you, breaking every few minutes with “Are you okay?” , “You’re doing great” , and “Almost done, just hang on.”

What the hell did you do to deserve this, all his devastating kindness?

When he moved to the cuts on your head, you were totally unable to keep your face neutral. Your eyes were saucers, desperately trying to burn this image into your memory. His soft gloves brushing your hair away, helmet titled in concentration. As he cleaned the various areas, one hand soon came to rest on your hip lightly, helping him maintain his crouched position. You couldn’t help the soft smile that overtook your features. You doubted he even knew what he was doing, doubt he knew just what the hand was doing to you.

The pain was getting to you now. Through the bliss of Mando’s hands on you and the numbness of the blood loss, each breath shot stabbing pains through your body. You tried your best to be quiet, accept his treatment without any fuss, but as he reached on a particularly bad cut just above your brow, a whimper of pain slipped from your pursed lips. He pulled back instantly, visor pointing to your eyes. You gave him a tight smile in return, grunting, “I’m good. Keep going.”

He sighed, weighing your words, then slowly returned to his task. God, it felt like molten lava on you, every brush of the cloth made you impossibly tense. No doubt Mando felt you tighten under his grip as he spoke, “What can I do?”

You didn’t even think before you responded through clenched teeth, “ Just talk ...please.”

To his credit, he didn’t laugh at your request. Didn’t even hesitate in fact. He just started talking, to your amazement.

“You know, I was fucking pissed when I was in town and heard you had gotten into that fight... God , I was fucking angry with you…”

You winced at his words, even though you knew the sentiment was well deserved.

“But then I was scared. You could’ve...I was scared you were hurt. I started toward the cantina to find you before, before-I just kept picturing you hurt and it scared the shit out of me.”

You didn’t know what to say, silence falling over the hull once more as you fell short. He had to be kidding, just something to keep you occupied.

You knew that was wrong, as his hand had fallen from your face long ago. It wasn’t a distraction, it was a confession. You should be overjoyed, it was absolutely everything you ever wanted to hear from him. So why weren’t you?

Your brain couldn’t process why, so your mouth took charge, words tumbling from your mouth in a desperate attempt to understand.

“But I didn’t-that was all my fault . I was stupid, reckless , you said it yourself. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you worrying about me over that shit. I fucked up, I fucked up big and -”

He cut you off with a squeeze of your hip, skating his helmet back and forth to your confusion.

“I was just scared and I took it out on you...I’m sorry for that. I don’t like that you think that way. I don’t want- ” he took a breath, collecting himself by ducking his helmet down before returning to face you.

“What I am trying to say is that I don’t care what you did, I just want you safe.”

Tears pooled in the corner of your eyes, all the stress of the say leaving you all at once as you sagged forward, head dropping. You were overwhelmed, but happy. So fucking happy. Everything had just fallen into place and you just couldn’t hold it in.

Mando, unfortunately, took your actions to be ones of injury, as he quickly moved one hand to your jaw, fingers wrapping around your chin tightly forcing you to face him. A tear fell off your nose onto his glove, making a pleasant plopping noise.

He spoke hurriedly, “Hey-hey look at me. What is it? Something hurt?”

You grinned in his grip and grabbed him by his ammo sling. Pulling him close, you leaned forward and rested your forehead against the cool metal of his helmet as he let out a grunt of surprise.

You were both silent for a moment, breathing in tandem before his hand left your chin and came to rest in your hair.

“Not hurt, then?” he guesses. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“No, not hurt.” you choke out around your tears.

Another beat of silence, then, “Wanna tell me why you’re crying?”

You let out a quick laugh at his tone, it was interesting to hear the Mandalorian so hesitant.

You sighed, then said, “I was so worried when I got back here. I thought that, if you saw what I got myself into, you- well, that you wouldn’t... want me anymore.”

His hand gripped tighter in your hair, pressing his helmet more firmly into you. “ Nothing could make that happen. You hear me? Nothing .”

You brought your hand to his still on your hip, gripping it softly. “ I hear you .”

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #pedro pascal #din djarin

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