#three days infirmary fic
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“Oh, gods.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Oh, gods.”
Nico scowls, wrenching just eyes away from Will’s poorly-covered grin and shaking shoulders.
It’s not that bad. It isn’t.
Sure, the complete lack of lighting except Greek fire torches makes the cabin look like a little piece of the Underworld, right here on the surface. But that’s comforting. Honestly. Nico knows the Underworld. It’s — familiar.
And, yeah. It would, probably, be pertinent to have some furniture, or something. At least somewhere for him to store his clothes, because he has more than one set of those now, and maybe a shelf, or something. And, admittedly, the obsidian altar could take up a little less space than it currently does.
But it’s not that bad.
“Are those. Coffin shaped beds.”
The tone of Will’s voice is unlike he’s ever heard it. He turns back to face him, slowly, and finds him biting his fist, hard, every muscle of his body tense as live wire.
“I was twelve godsdamn years old,” Nico snaps. “Forgive me if interior design wasn’t my passion.”
Solace loses it.
In his defense, not that Nico is too worried about defending him, he does appear to try very hard to not lose it. When the first giggle slips out of his lips, he clamps his jaw shut tighter. When his whole body begins to shake with the force of repressing his laughter, he curls inward, as if making himself smaller might reduce the chance of a lapse in control.
But then he glances back inside and looks, really looks, at the dreary, stone walls, the lone skeletons standing guard, and the plush, teakwood black coffin bunk beds, and he collapses to the floor.
“I’m going to open a chasm beneath you,” Nico threatens. “You are going to fall and crack your spine into a million pieces on the bank of the Styx, rotting there with every other forgotten hope.”
“You are a Black Parade lyric personified,” Will wheezes.
Nico doesn’t know what that means, so he kicks him. Unfortunately, he only laughs harder.
“I mean it, Solace. It’s a long way down to the Underworld. You will spend the entire fall petrified with the knowledge that nothing can save you.”
For added effect, Nico makes the floor under the medic’s body shake, makes the tip of a skeleton hand peek out from the earth.
Ironically, this stops Will’s laughter, but not for the reason Nico was aiming for.
“Hey!” A bright blue flipflop-clad foot darts out and collides With Nico’s ankle, sending him sprawling. “I said no spooky magic for the next two months! Put that skeleton away!”
“Fuck off, Solace! It’s barely half a bone! You are so annoying!”
“That’s my specialty.” Will pushes himself upright. He waits until Nico sits up, too, so he can catch his eye before his face splits into a dazzling grin. Actual sparkles seem to flicker beside his face. “And you are ever so easy to annoy.”
Nico stares, unimpressed.
“Anyways.” Will coughs. “You can’t stay here, Neeks —”
“Don’t call me that.”
“— it’s straight-up too depressing.” He peers inside. “It’s also cold, and, like…borderline unliveable? So. As your doctor, I can’t allow it.”
“You’re a medic,” Nico says, raising an eyebrow, “first of all, not a doctor. Second of all, you can’t tell me what to do. Third of all — where am I supposed to sleep? The woods?”
“Hm. Good question.”
Will gets to his feet, brushing the dirt off his shorts and offering Nico a hand. After a second of hesitation, he takes it, allowing Will to haul him up.
“C’mon!”
Nico snatches his hand away, face burning. (Gods. Why does Will have to be so…touchy-feely? And why does it always do weird things to Nico’s stomach?) But it hardly takes a look over Will’s shoulder before Nico’s feet are following after him, without his permission.
“Where are we going?”
“Well, my dad’s kind of a hoe,” Will says matter-of-factly. Nico chokes. Will’s grin widens. “And our cabin was built with that in mind. I know we’ve got an extra bunk or two for ya. Hurry up!”
This…cannot be allowed. Nico doesn’t have a ton of Camp Half-Blood experience, or anything, but as far as he knows, Hermes is the only cabin that can really do that. He doesn’t want to incur the wrath of Apollo, or whatever, by staying in his cabin uninvited.
Well. Will’s inviting him, technically. And there’s a confidence to his offer, like maybe this isn’t the first time he’s done it.
“What if I don’t want to live in your stupid sunshine-y cabin,” Nico grumbles, trying to cover up his nerves. “Holding hands and singing about how much I love being alive isn’t really my cup of tea.”
Will snorts. “Oh, di Angelo,” he says dramatically, shaking his head, “you are in for a world of discovery. Welcome to the Cabin Apollo. Take your shoes off at the door and remember that Kayla bites.”
———
Living in the Apollo cabin is strange.
Four days in, and Nico is only just starting to get used to it. He’s not entirely unused to sharing space with people — he’s had two sisters — but the Apollo kids argue like they enjoy doing it. One minute, Will and Kayla will be screaming at each other at the top of their lungs about touching each other’s shit, then they’re teaming up to pull Gracie off Yan’s face for the exact same argument, only now they offer sage advice on respecting boundaries and compromising. It’s bizarre.
(Austin is pretty chill, actually. Nico has noticed him starting quite a few fights — it was he, in fact, who moved Will’s shit and then gracefully framed Kayla — but he has a very powerful eyebrow raise and a very powerful image as Unproblematic. He has quickly become Nico’s favourite.)
He’s only just barely beginning to understand how they work together, and the struggle comes in because everything is so chaotic. When Nico spent time with Hazel in New Rome, she was in the barracks. He never really had to worry about squabbling over counter space in the bathroom with her, because she had her own little toiletry caddie like everyone else, and bathrooms were public. With Bianca — well. There’s no one alive who knows this about her, but she was bossy. She was sweet and wonderful and self-sacrificing and brave and kind and the centre of Nico’s life, but by the gods, did she take her authority as a big sister seriously. She ordered Nico around all the time. He never had to worry much about when he would have the chance to use the bathroom they shared at the Lotus, or who got the T.V. remote, or who go to sit on the bus instead of standing, because he was not the one deciding. He could stick his tongue out and whine all he wanted, but she was boss. He knew that.
The Apollo kids are not like that.
As well as Nico can figure, it’s kind of a free-for-all. You want first shower? Either wake up the earliest — a strategy only Will every manages to employ with any success — or manage to jab an elbow in someone’s rib and sprint. You want whoever’s humming to shut the hell up so you can sleep? Make sure your threats are quick and believable, or just straight up start throwing shit until they finally stop. You want the coveted middle of the bench spot at breakfast? Well, tough shit on that one, actually. Nico has yet to make that one happen for himself.
He won’t admit it, but he has kind of learned to enjoy it. It’s annoying, and the Apollo siblings do indeed sing at all hours of the day (although the content usually skews more towards diss tracks and delighted insults, if not straight-up curses), and it is so godsdamn bright in there, seriously, is it a gimmick or what, but there’s something to be said about the fact that he’s so surrounded by people and chaos that he hasn’t even had the chance to feel lonely. Not even at night, panting to himself after a nasty nightmare, because all it takes is a particularly loud snore from Will one bunk down to remember where he is. To remember that he’s safe — by demigod standards, at least.
But, still.
He kind of misses his privacy.
“Will,” he whispers urgently, on his fifteenth day of rooming with the Apollo weirdos.
The medic hums noncommittally, attention very focused on the test tube in front of him. Nico has been fighting the urge to try and launch a piece of dust inside it for forty minutes, just to make him explode.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Sounds good, Nico.”
Nico narrows his eyes. “You’re ignoring me.”
“Uh-huh. Agreed.”
“I can say anything I want right now.”
“Sure. Maybe double check with Austin.”
“…I’m going to put a colony of ants in your pillowcase.”
“Good idea.”
“Then I’m going to douse your hair products in gasoline and set them aflame.”
“Baller.”
“After that I’m gonna read your super secret diary to the entirety of camp at singalong tonight.”
“You betcha.”
“And then I’m going to shadow travel to Russia.”
Will blinks, frowning. “Hey, no shadow-travelling. What’s this I hear about shadow-travelling?”
Nico rolls his eyes. “Nothing, stupid. You were just ignoring me.”
Will smiles guiltily. “Aw, I’m sorry, Neeks. Got focused on this. I’m finished in twenty, then I’m all yours?”
“…Don’t call me Neeks,” Nico grumbles, furious with himself for how quick he’s relented under wide blue puppy-dog eyes.
“Sorry, Neeks.”
Huffing at Will’s quiet laughter, Nico slides off the nurse’s station counter and wanders around the empty infirmary. Things have luckily finally cooled down in here, nearly three weeks after the end of the Giant War. Some of the exhaustion has faded from Will’s features now that he’s had time to sleep properly.
Not that Nico has noticed, or anything.
“Okay,” Will says a few minutes later, holding his hands up protectively in front of his geeky little setup. “I just gotta do this last step, so long as I calculated it right, it should be fine…” He squeezes a drop of something into the liquid bubbling over the burner, freezing immediately. One, two, three seconds pass and nothing happens, so Will relaxes, sighing in relief and turning to face Nico fully. “Okay, we’re good. What was it you wanted to —”
The text tube contents explode in his face, dousing him in slimey green goo.
Nico bursts out laughing.
“Great,” Will says darkly, swiping the stuff from his eyes. “The one day I don’t wear goggles. Great.”
Nico gasps, sides aching. “Oh my gods —”
“Feel free to help, di Angelo.”
“— you look like a cartoon! Your face!”
It takes Will twelve cloths and seven whole minutes to clean himself and the nurse’s station off of the goo. Nico cackles at him the whole time, and tastefully does not mention the many globs of goo that remain caked in his hair.
“Whenever you’re done.”
Will is very, very bad at being stern when he doesn’t really mean it. And he doesn’t really mean it now, because every time he tries to glare at Nico, his mouth twitches.
“I’m good,” Nico finally wheezes, forcing his face back to normal. “I’m good, I’m good.”
He very pointedly does not look at Will’s hair.
“Dick,” Will huffs, fondness bleeding into his tone. “What did you want?”
He must notice the change in tone at his asking, because he clears the bench fully, hoisting himself on top of it and patting the spot next to him. Nico hesitates for half a second, then crawls up, sitting criss cross applesauce, knees touching.
“I need to move back to my cabin,” he manages, finally.
Will’s face betrays no judgement or emotion. “Oh?”
“Yes.” He picks at a loose thread in his jeans. “I need — space.”
The thread loosens, allowing Nico to tug on it. A hole begins to unravel along the seam as he pulls and pulls and pulls. He stops himself before it gets too wide, tearing the thread off and winding it around his fingers.
“I can tell everyone to tone it down,” Will offers softly, eyebrows creased. “We’ll be more quiet, we’ll —”
Nico places a hand on his knee, cutting off his sentence. “It’s not about that, I promise. You guys have been great.”
A wounded look still pulls at Will’s strong features, as much as he visibly tries to pull his face back to something more supportive. “It’s not?”
“No, no. It’s just —” He frowns, trying to articulate the tangled mess of his thoughts. “I have my own cabin.”
“So?”
“And I can’t stay in yours forever.”
“I mean, you could.”
“Chiron’s been giving me looks, Will.”
“So what! I’ll — write you a doctor’s note, or something!”
Nico snorts. “A doctor’s note letting me sleep in your cabin?”
Will nods fervently, although he seems to acknowledge the ridiculousness of his suggestion, if the grin on his face is any indication. “Yes! For medical reasons, you know.” He mimes writing. “‘Patient’s cabin is dank and sad. To avoid bouts of misery, patient must sleep in the presence of the coolest and best and prettiest and most uplifting people in camp.’”
“Hm. Not sure Chiron’s gonna buy that last part. Not sure I buy that last part, actually.”
“Hey.”
Nico dodges Will’s shove, chuckling.
“Seriously, though, Will. This was never a long term solution, right?”
“I know. You’re cabin just — sucks so bad, man. No offense.”
“I take great offense to that, actually. My cabin is art.”
“Sure, Eddie Cullen.”
“I don’t know who that is, so that’s a horrible insult.”
“Travesty, honestly.”
Outside the open infirmary windows, Nico can hear distant, triumphant screaming, laughter, and the clang of metal. Today’s a good day. The weather’s balmier than usual, for late August, and some of the gloom that’s hung over everyone’s head for the bast few weeks seems to have lifted.
“You can’t go back to your cabin like it is,” Will says into the silence, startling Nico, “but —” he grins when Nico begins to protest, holding up his hand. “We can definitely change it up.”
He slides off the bench, botching his landing and almost sprawling on the floor. He holds a dramatic hand out to Nico when he rights himself. Nico ignores it, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet by himself.
“C’mon,” Will says, grabbing his hand anyway. Sparks shoot up Nico’s arm. “We need to go ask Chiron for the van keys and approximately five hundred dollars.”
———
Three hours is too fucking long to be in a vehicle. Especially when Will is driving, because all he does is play nonstop country music and let everybody cut in front of him.
“I’m driving us back,” Nico informs him as they (finally) get out of the stupid van, snatching the keys from his hands.
Will shrugs. “Sure.”
Nico had expected more of a fight, honestly. But he supposes neither of them are legally allowed to drive, age-wise, and besides, Nico technically has seventy years of driving experience on Will.
(…The Lotus had a racetrack.
Nico was very, very good at it.)
“What is this place, anyway?”
“This place,” Will says grandly, throwing an arm over his shoulders, “is essentially the mortal version of the Labyrinth, minus, you know, the soul-sucking terror.”
“Okay. All that’s telling me is that you have horrible ideas and we should leave immediately.”
Will rolls his eyes. “It’s a furniture store.”
“Well, then —” he punches Will’s shoulder, huffing when he only laughs. “Say that, then!”
“But then what would I do with all the drama in my heart?”
“Choke on it, hopefully!”
Ikea is weird.
Since Will did not tell him what the plan was, he didn’t draw up any plans. Luckily, Will has the dimensions of his cabin — although where he got them, Nico does not ask — so they spend an hour or so in the cafe drawing out a plan.
“You need more than two beds, Neeks.”
“Uh, no I don’t. Unless my father has something very important to announce to me, I need a bed for me, and a bed for Hazel.”
“What if I want to sleep over?”
“You can sleep on the porch.”
Mostly, they wander around the sets. Nico isn’t really sure what he wants his cabin to look like — he has to remind himself that yes, actually, he cares about the space he’ll be spending at least the next three years of his life in. It’s a startling reality, to have control over his own space. He must’ve had some say in his childhood bedroom, but he has no memory of it. He spent the most time in his and Bianca’s room at the Lotus, but that was already furnished when they got there, and besides, it only felt like they were there for less than a year. It always felt like a hotel room, never his room. Westminster was no different. His room in his father’s palace had already been designed, too. In fact he’d based his cabin on it.
What does Nico want his bedroom to look like, without someone else deciding for him?
“I’m not getting a fucking Lightning McQueen bed, Solace.”
“But it would be so sick! And look — it’s got little cubbies!”
“I’m going to ditch you, and shadow travel back to camp,” Nico threatens. “And I have the van keys, so you’ll be stuck here for real.”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Will looks at him sternly, hands on hips. “No shadow travelling for you, Death Breath. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fade into nothing on my watch.”
“I’m joking,” Nico says, exasperated, but cannot deny the warmth that fills him up at Will’s concern.
In the end, he decides on a pretty normal bed. It’s bigger than Will’s bunk (“Or anyone else’s bed,” Will grumbles, “you lucky asshole.”), but not ridiculously designed. He picks a similar size for Hazel, only the frame is white, not black, and the bedspread that comes with it is a soft, coral pink that he knows she will like.
“Wanna see if they’ve got a Mythomagic bedspread for yours?” Will teases.
That would be the coolest thing ever in the entire world, Nico thinks, and is so embarrassed that he shoves Will, shrieking, into a giant basket of pillows for making him think it.
“Obviously I don’t want that.”
“You are such a turd! I’ll get you, di Angelo!”
He does not. Nico is way too sneaky for him, and after the fifth time Nico manages to give him the slip, he gives up, sulking in a display for a bedroom of a nine year old girl.
“Fitting,” Nico teases, gesturing to the princess wallpaper. “You drama queen.”
“Buzz off.”
Next, they look for furniture. It’s pretty easy — Nico doesn’t need much, and he’s not too concern with cut or style or anything. He quickly picks out two dressers, one to match Hazel’s bed frame, and one to match his, and then a couple bookshelves.
Four hours into their trip, Nico is exhausted. They have a three hour drive ahead of them, they’ve been out all day, and he wants to go home.
But Will stops him before they go get all the boxes for their furniture.
“This is still pretty bare bones,” he says quietly, then grins at his own accidental pun. Nico shoots him a venomous look, warning him against making it more obvious, and for once he actually listens. “You know, we’re still under budget. We’ve got around $200 left — we can get a motel, stay the night, then we don’t have to drive back right away. And tomorrow, maybe we can check out some other stores, look for smaller decorations and stuff. And if we don’t have to drive back tonight, we’ve maybe got another hour in here, if you wanted to get a couple more pieces.”
Nico opens his mouth to refuse — that’s way too much effort to spend on one person’s cabin, c’mon — then pauses, thinking about it.
Chiron hadn’t even thought about it before handing them the money. Will had barely gotten the words out before he’d started counting out the bills.
“I want you to make a home here,” the centaur had said, touching his hand. There was a pain in his kind eyes, stopping any protests. “I made a mistake, Nico, the first time you came here. In another life, you felt welcome enough to stay the whole time. Take what you need.”
What does he need? What does home look like, to him?
“There was a beanbag chair, in our room at the Lotus,” he says, pushing the words past the lump in his throat. “Me and Bianca used to fight over it.” His voice shakes. A tear gathers at the corner of his eye, and he blinks it back. “It wasn’t real fighting. When I called mercy she’d — scoop me up and throw me on it and squish in after me, and we’d sit together and play video games. Or read. She liked to read.”
Will squeezes his trembling hands. “We can get a beanbag chair.”
“And I — don’t like the blackout curtains. The dark makes me think of — the pit.”
“Okay. They sell lotsa lamps here, too. Might be nicer than the Greek fire.”
Nico nods. There’s — more, far more ideas, now, flooding his brain; Hazel crowding over him on a rug-covered floor, shrieking as he teases her about Frank; a desk tucked in the corner where Will sits, mouthing along to his textbooks as Nico sharpens his sword; Jason running his fingers along rows of books on a big, cluttered shelf; Reyna with her fist curled around her mouth, studying a chess board across from him, hair shining under the natural light from the window.
He can have that. He can have that.
Thankfully, all their stuff fits in the back of the van. Despite his insistence earlier, Nico hands Will the keys, and he drives around until he finds a shitty motel with a vacancy sign flashing out front. He pulls into the farthest corner of the parking lot, killing the engine, then waits.
“You okay?”
Nico shrugs. “I’m…not sure.”
“That’s okay,” Will assures, pressing a fleeting touch to his shoulder. Nico grabs his wrist before he moves away, tugging down his hand and linking their fingers together.
For once, it doesn’t make him feel all sparky. The warmth of Will’s hands is grounding, and so is the gentle squeeze, the smile he feels pointed in his direction.
“C’mon. Let’s check in and sleep, huh?”
Nico’s exhaustion compounds in the walk from the car to the lobby, so by the time Will is speaking quietly to the host, he’s half asleep, leaning on Will’s shoulder. He vaguely feels it when Will shifts his weight, sliding a hand around his waist to hold him better. He blinks and they’re standing in front of a door.
“Almost there, Death Boy,” he murmurs. “Hold on a sec.”
It takes him six separate tries to make the keycard work. He gets huffy when Nico snickers tiredly at him.
“Finally, yeesh.”
He guides Nico in, dropping the backpack he brought somewhere near the door. As soon as the bed is within Nico’s sights, he makes a beeline, barely remembering to shuck his shoes and jacket.
“Please do not sleep in your jeans.”
“Mmmfuck off,” Nico groans, already sliding under the covers. He’ll regret it in the morning, but whatever.
“Goober.” Callused hands brush through his hair, resting lightly on his forehead. “Goodnight, Nico.”
Nico’s out before he can even think to respond.
———
He wakes up, in the middle of the night, scream caught in his throat and heart pounding in his ears. The air smells like smoke and fear. The rushing of the Phlegethon is so loud it’s overpowering.
A loud snore knocks him back to reality.
Crawling desperately towards the source of the sound, he hangs over the bed, eyes adjusting rapidly to the dark to see a curled lump on the floor, head resting on his own hands. A quick glance behind him confirms the other half of the bed has been left untouched.
“Stupid,” he mumbles, tiny smile chasing away the last of his fear.
He tugs the blankets off the mattress, pulls off the two pillows, and joins his dumbass, selfless friend on the floor.
———
“Question,” Will asks, swallowing the last of their disgustingly delicious greasefest of a breakfast. “Were you alive when Walmart was invented?”
“I was alive before your great grandmother was.”
“No, I mean — were you out and kickin’. Have you strolled the endless aisles of corporate soullessness, basking in the wonder of American overconsumerism?”
“…You’re such a weird, particular person.”
Will looks delighted. “You’re a Walmart newbie!”
He pulls into the dead, cracked parking lot way too happily for this hour in the morning. Nico would even say he takes the nearest exit to get to the store gleefully. He is embarrassed for him.
Walmart is…underwhelming.
As stupid as it is, Will had hyped it up so much that Nico was almost a little excited. It just looked like any other basic superstore. Will, for whatever reason, seemed delighted by that fact.
“I do not like this store,” he explained when Nico asked, expression not matching his words, “it just means so very much to me that you are joining me in the misery of having experienced it.”
They spend more time than they mean to just dicking around. At one point they nearly get thrown out by management, because Will finds a pair of NERF guns that some child dug out of its packaging and no words need to be spoken. They gear up and scamper off, hunting each other through fluorescent-lights hell.
“Please just get your shit and leave,” says the very tired looking manager, and they have the good gall to at least appear embarrassed as they mumble, “Yes, ma’am.”
It doesn’t take long when they have their head on straight. They get some fairy lights, a couple cool posters, dorky little trinkets that Nico probably doesn’t need, per se, but what was he supposed to do, leave the little plastic crow skeleton behind?
Unlikely.
With his own money, Will buys several cans of paint and a CD. He explains neither of these purchases. The look on his face gets steadily more infuriating as they make their way through the line, and Nico really, truly considers leaving him behind.
The purchase of the CD becomes very obvious very quickly. Even though Nico is driving, and therefore Nico should get music control, Will pouts and pleads until Nico gives in and lets him play his stupid country album. He justifies his decision in his own brain by noticing the radiance of Will’s smile as he belts out the words, badly, at the top of his lungs. He then spends the rest of the drive back to camp convincing himself not to be embarrassed for having said thoughts.
They get back to camp about lunch time, and Will destroys any attempt for a subtle reentry by whistling the second they cross the property line.
“Austin! Kayla!” he hollers, making Nico jump. “Come help us unload!”
“We coulda done it ourselves,” Nico grumbles.
Will pats his head condescendingly. “It has been twenty-four long, long hours since I’ve bosses my siblings around, Neeks. I need this.”
It does go by quite a bit quicker with Austin and Kayla’s help. Lou Ellen, Cecil, Yan, and Gracie come to help, too, but Gracie’s too little to carry much more than a small desk lamp. Instead, they lay down the biggest box — Nico’s bed frame — and let her climb on top of it, carrying her like she’s a queen atop a throne back to Nico’s cabin. She has the time of her life, giggling to herself like a madwoman.
By the time everything’s unloaded, a couple hours have passed, and the Hades cabin looks like a clusterfuck.
“Maybe you stay in Apollo a couple more nights,” Will suggests.
“Might have to,” Nico agrees. Will looks inordinately pleased with himself.
All in all, it takes about two days to disassemble the old furniture, get rid of it, and start putting together the new stuff. Will helps for most of it, but he has a few shifts in the infirmary, so Nico ends up trying to do a fair bit on his own.
“May the wrath of Zeus come down upon this fucking piece of shit, no good, poorly designed garbage-looking idiotic mother fuc —”
“Maybe time for a break from furniture assembling?” suggests a voice, accompanied by a quick knock in the open door. Will leans on the doorframe, grinning, box propped up on his hip.
“Will, thank the gods,” Nico sighs, relieved. He angrily shakes a tool in his direction. “Allen wrenches are fucking useless. I’m three seconds away from throwing this through the window.”
“Definitely time for a switch, then.”
Will’s smile is wide and crinkles his eyes. He’s got dimples, too, Nico is now noticing, and then very rapidly un-noticing then because gods above that is a dangerous path.
“Did you and Rachel get into another prank war?” he asks, praying the flush on his cheeks goes away.
Will glances down at his paint-spattered clothes. “Nah, this is just my painting outfit. Why ruin more than one set of clothes, you know?” He sets down the box in the middle of the room, then heads for the half-built furniture sprawled all throughout the cabin, tugging it all towards the middle. Nico inches towards the box, curious, and finds it full of dozens of paint cans and brushes, including the ones he got at Walmart.
“I didn’t know you painted.”
He flashes another grin in Nico’s direction. This one has a little mischief to it, a little teasing. His stomach swoops.
“Gotta have at least one artistic talent or my dad would disown me. Help me tape down this tarp, will you?”
It takes them twenty minutes to prep the room, protecting the floor and the furniture. Once everything is ready, Will jogs over to the CD player he gave Nico a few days ago, flicking through the stack of CDs and choosing one at random. Soft opera music begins to float around the cabin.
“Okay,” he begins, clapping his hands, “first we need a base coat. Get the white paint and the rollers.”
It takes them the rest of the day, painting until dinner, then waiting past sunset for it to dry. Nico follows Will back to his cabin that night — he wouldn’t let him sleep around the paint fumes — and the two of them return the next morning, re-donning their paint-spattered clothes. Will braids his hair, this time, tucking the little pigtails behind a kerchief. It makes Nico smile every time he looks at him.
As much as he’s in painting clothes, Nico doesn’t really do much of the painting. He stays in the centre of the room, half assembling furniture, half watching Will bring his walls to life with more colours than he’s ever seen in one place.
Will doesn’t ask what Nico wants him to paint in his murals. Instead, Nico watches as the streets of Venice begin to unfold on one of the walls, bright and blue and exactly as he remembers, even though he knows for a fact Will has never been. The shining fruit of his stepmother’s garden is next, with a notable absence of the pomegranate tree, and then the hills of New Rome, the sunflower field in rural New York Nico used to visit, the Chinese mountainscape from the first big shadow travelling jump he ever made. Even the poplar forests of the Underworld, looking much kinder and livelier in Will’s rendition than in real life, with Mrs. O’Leary and Cerberus chasing each other through the flickering leaves. Beautiful, colourful, breathtaking scenes; Nico’s favourite places, Nico’s many homes.
“I get a lot of dreams,” Will admits, dragging a smear of rich purple near the ceiling. “You’re in a lot of them. These are the places you’re smiling, the most.”
“They’re beautiful, Will.” Nico’s throat is drier than any desert he’s ever been to. “Gods, they’re more beautiful here than they are in real life.”
“Liar,” Will teases, although his smile is shy.
Nico has never seen him smile like that. He’s seen a lot more of Will in these past few days, actually; his softness, his kindness, his love.
He has only knows Will for a little over a month, he thinks. But Will loves him. That much is obvious.
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
His eyes are still trained on his work. He is on his tiptoes on a step stool, one leg extended precariously, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. The curve of his brush is careful, meticulous. Only the best for his friends, for Nico. That’s Will.
“Hey,” Nico says again, more urgently. He steps forward, wrapping his fingers around his wrist.
“Just a sec, Neeks, as soon as I’m done we can —”
Nico pulls until he loses his balance, falling into Nico’s arms. He stares into wide, blue blue eyes, for one second, two, then presses their lips together. Will’s squeak of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, hands sliding up his arms to cup his face, tilting his head to the side.
“Oh,” he sighs, eyelashes ticking Nico’s cheeks as they flutter close. “Oh.”
He melts into Nico’s hold. There’s a thunk and a crinkle as his paintbrush falls from his loose fingers, splattering onto the tarp, and paint-wet hands tangle into his hair. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.
“You love me,” he murmurs in between breaths, lips brushing Will’s with every word.
“Yes,” Will breathes. He kisses Nico again, and again. “A lot.”
“Good.” He’s not sure if it’s the paint fumes making him lightheaded, or the odd, slightly uncomfortable position, or the intoxicating, delirious feel of Will’s warm skin. He’s not sure if he cares. “Good.”
It’s not quite an I-love-you-too. The words won’t form on his tongue, so instead he tightens his hold, sending them that way, and presses closer, closer, closer.
Will smiles into the kiss.
He understands just fine.
#i could write an essay about how i think they’re dynamic would be immediately post three days in the infirmary#also i fit SO MANY of my personal headcanons in here hell yeah#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#will solace#solangelo#nico/will#will/nico#gently falling in love#love#i’m tagging it bc. will loves so clearly in this one it kills me a little#fic#my writing#longpost
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more!! again!! for the nico after blood of olympus fic!! actually I thought of this while writing the last one but I just finished it.
His elbows buckle and he lets himself fall into Will, snorting at his theatrical groan under the weight. They lay there for a second until Will shoves him gently, and Nico lets him manoeuvre them into a more comfortable position.
"Hi," he whispers, moving a curl away from his cheek. The greenish tint of the loft window casts a weird shadow over Will's face.
"Hey yourself," Will murmurs back, winking.
Nico rolls his eyes. "You look like Apollo when you do that. Please stop." Will squawks in protest.
"I do not! Also, since when do you remember what Apollo looks like? Actually, no, don't answer that, you can't bring up my dad while we're in bed, Nico, why would you do this to me?"
Now it's Nico's turn to sputter and whack Will in the chest - getting another dramatic oof and a laugh in return - before turning around to face Hazel's bed. He's not sure when he'll ever be able to sleep facing the wall. Will can't do it either.
As Will's arms curl around his waist and draw him back against him, just like they did back in the infirmary that one day, he thinks maybe he'd be okay trying that with him sometime. One day, in a house with gates, no longer wary of monsters.
Will noses the back of his neck, causing him to twitch. "What is it?"
Will's answering smile presses through the rough cotton of his t-shirt. "Nothing, sunshine."
Nico frowns under the covers. "Hey, what do you think of houses with gates?" He whispers.
"Gates? Well, it'd be safer, I guess, but we'd lose the neighbours coming over -"
"As if you want to see random people at the door anyway. What if they're monsters?"
"Oh, come on, darlin', I'm from Austin. Of course I gotta keep space for the neighbours to come knocking."
"…Fences? Actually, hey, why'd you assume I was talking about us? Obviously - Obviously I was talking about random. Random houses. For architecture reasons."
Will muffles his laugh into the back of his neck, again. "Oh, my bad. And I'm only here because you ripped a stitch on the lava wall yesterday."
Nico feels his ears warm.
"Shut up."
"I didn't say anything."
"..Still."
Will reels him in closer until his back hits his chest and he can press a soft peck to Nico's still-red ears. "I think a fence is a great idea, by the way. We could ask Hazel for help with some ward stones too, like you have in the cabin. Gotta make sure we've got at least one window and standing space in every direction, though, or at least in the east, because you know my dad would sulk if he didn't get to scream me awake in the morning."
Nico's blush gets worse.
"Now who's talking about your dad in bed?" He gives up on pretending. Will sees him through every time, anyway. "Also, shrines, obviously, and we need a spot to stargaze."
"Yeah, shrines, obviously. Maybe just yours, mine, and Lady Hestia's though, or else everyone else is gonna get pissy."
Nico barks out a laugh like it's shocked out of him. "Pissy? Don't let them hear you say that."
Will holds him tighter and settles against the pillows. "Sure thing, sunshine. Now can we sleep?"
"Yeah, yeah."
It's not long after that that Will's breath evens out behind him, his muscles untensing. Nico knows he's got a few minutes yet, so he thinks.
Today was…. good.
Today was nice. Normal, even. Just a day of camp schedules, working in the infirmary, an admittedly short campfire, and this. No monsters, and no mistakes. No deaths, but..
Unbidden, the moments in the infirmary come to mind. He thinks of helping Will scrub in for his one surgery of the day, a kid that had gotten parts of an arrow stuck in their leg a week ago and hadn't noticed til yesterday. He thinks of yesterday during capture-the-flag, stepping in and desperately trying to copy what he'd watched Will do, because Lydia was hanging crooked from a tree and there was no one else around but him-
He thinks of Patroclus tying the straps of Achilles' armour, watching his lover sleep peacefully. He thinks of what Connor had told him about at the campfire weeks ago, of Silena Beauregard taking on a drakon when Clarisse declared the Ares Cabin wouldn't be fighting.
He thinks he might understand.
Lydia wasn't the same (thank the gods), but if there was something to be done that only Will could do right, yet couldn't, and the only way Nico could take up his mantle would be to die trying - then, yeah. He'd do whatever it would take for these kids. To do what Will would do. He's gone to Tartarus already, hasn't he? At worst, he'd try his best and greet his father early if he failed to survive. Nico could even give Charon a tip on the way in for the hell of it, why not?
If there is a luxury that comes from being a child of Hades, after all, it is that dying is not the thing that scares him.
There's a brazier still lit outside the window. Its glow falls in slits across their bed.
Will grumbles, pushing his feet forward until their ankles are wound together. The sheets shift.
Nico smiles into the dark, into the chirping of crickets and the soft glow of the fireflies out the window, and falls asleep.
more for this fic:
scene 0 - prologue-ish
scene 1 - the library of social awkwardness or here (or in my heart, 'kidney function is not a right, it's a privilege' lol)
general writing directory
also lmk if you want more lore. I am so down to talk about this fic + the worldbuilding ideas I have for it in the notes it is unreal
#writing process#nico di angelo trying to make friends#when the characters start doing their own thing and you're just along for the ride#would y'all help me choose a fic title if I asked?#will solace#toying with a chb fic about nico and grief and what three days in the infirmary actually looks like#plus my healthy nico agenda and a healthy dose of solangelo obv#nico di angelo#riordanverse#pjo fic#worldbuilding my beloved#they're teenagers your honour#I loved writing this scene TT#maybe a timeskip idk#solangelo#solangelo fic#pjo#hmmmmMMMMMMM you tell me which cabin lydia is from#she's like less than 14#lydia morrin is a young sweet spunky child that thinks she's a genius (like we all did) with a companion lack-of-confidence a mile wide#gotta say i am LOVING this new writing technique i am trying out with just writing scenes as I go#and creating this story trail I can actually trace and work with bc i have smth on the page now#like just from this I already have three more scenes I could write and I love it#thw you're writing and the sentences sounds a bit off grammatically but every other option you can see is so much worse
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hello! i dont usually make original posts on this blog, but lately i remembered all the thoughts i have about the Three Days In The Infirmary trope in the solangelo community. i wrote this essay, so check it out if you please <3
In my time reading solangelo fics, I have noticed that the most popular trope for this pairing is Three Days In The Infirmary. Everytime I scroll through the recently updated fics for solangelo on AO3, I am bound to encounter at least 1 fic w/ this trope. And I’m not too surprised by that! Solangelo writers don't have a lot to work with, so we take what we can get. Will makes the Three Days statement at the end of BOO, and literally in the next RR book– which takes place six months later– he and Nico are dating! Speculation as to what happened during those three days is to be expected, even more so among fanfic writers.
I have read many Three Days fics in my time in the solangelo corner of AO3, both before and after I began writing for the pair myself. This week, I spent some time scrolling through the recently updated solangelo fics and found two Three Days fics. I opened both of them. This leads me to the main point of this Tumblr essay, my friends: Three Days In The Infirmary fics have the potential to be really amazing stories on found family and recovery! However, they also have the potential to have harmful/lazy depictions of trauma and just awful characterization. For the purposes of this essay, I will be dividing the Three Days fics I have read into two categories: worse Three Days fics and good Three Days fics. This is not to say that this trope is black and white. Every fic– no matter the trope– can have bad and good elements. However, I can’t use this essay to dissect every Three Days fics I’ve encountered and give them a unique rating, so I will use the worse and good categories for convenience.
First, let’s talk about the depictions of trauma. If this would make you uncomfortable, skip to the next paragraph. I notice that, in the worst Three Days fics I have read, Nico's trauma is handled in one of two ways: it is glossed over or it is romanticized. Both of those depictions promote unhealthy views of trauma for everyone & it takes a critical writer to not fall into those traps. When it is glossed over, Nico's trauma is dismissed as just a part of his character– such as his hair color or his sense of humor– or even made into a joke by the less-traumatized characters. This irks me and the first sign of one of these depictions is enough to turn me off a fic. In HOO alone, Nico goes through an immense journey to save the world. He comes out of that exhausted and in need of physical and mental rest, but some Three Days writers forget that. Their fics consist of Nico walking into the infirmary, chatting with Will and others while in a bed, probably having an angsty moment or two about how he wants to leave, then, all of a sudden, the “am I in love with Will?” scene. It doesn't make sense! Anyone in need of such rest and care wouldn’t be looking for a new crush. If they did start to have feelings for someone, pursuing that relationship should never be at the forefront of their mind. However, that’s how these kinds of Three Days fics work. This brings me to my next topic: romanticization. This depiction is on the flip side of glossing over but it is just as harmful as irritating. Here, Nico's trauma is used as a plot point. For example, I read a Three Days fic once where Will has to pull Nico out of a nightmare (a common trope within this trope), which is the inciting incident for Will realizing he’s in love with Nico. In another example, Nico's poor health, whether it be him fading into the shadows or something new and creative, drives him to realize that he loves Will and needs to do something about it before it’s too late. In both of these instances, Nico's trauma is used to further the romance of the fic. There's no detailing of Nico recovering or learning to care for himself, just a jump straight into romance. Both the glossing over and romanticization of Nico's trauma makes an uncomfortable read for me. As I said before, Nico has seen some horrors! He's not going to jump into the infirmary A) completely ignoring them or B) ready to fall in love! Before I wrap up this paragraph, here is a quick note: notice how I didn't talk about Will's trauma? Neither do these Three Days authors. Most of their fics center on Nico’s POV and, if they do have Will’s POV, he’s mostly talking about how smitten he is. I think the Three Days trope as a whole could benefit with Will recovering from his own battle against gaea but, then again, RR doesn’t give solangelo writers much to work off with that one. This shouldn’t be an excuse to ignore Will’s own backstory, but, instead, should be an invitation for writers to explore the potential Will has as a character.
Now for the characterization in these worse fics: it’s always lazy. In fics where Nico's trauma is glossed over, he is babied by Will and is written to look like he can’t take care of himself. This often bleeds into Hurt/Comfort, but with Will as the perpetual comforter and Nico as the perpetual hurt one. Not only is this characterization of Nico not true to the books (Nico is, in fact, one of the more mature characters in the rrverse), but is a harmful and frankly stale take on trauma. His pain does not turn him into a baby! Furthermore, Nico ignoring his trauma is just as unrealistic. The war is fresh in everyone’s lives, who is going to turn from it after three days or less? But that’s not just for Nico– Will's characterization is a whole other can of worms. I will state, however, that Three Days writers aren’t given a lot of source material on Will's character. Despite this, some of the Three Days fics I’ve read write him as, what i like to call, The Forever Doctor. This trope means that the character is always in doctor mode: commenting and supporting others’ health, stressing over their loved ones' well being, and never needing support or care themselves. It's like these Three Days authors forget that Will fought two wars as a teenager, too! Not to be all like “Will has been traumatized, too!” but he does have a decent backstory that anybody with an imagination can learn and write with. In summary: glossing over/romanticizing Nico’s trauma is a poor characterization for him and is a harmful depiction of trauma. Trauma victims are not babies, and they can’t forget about their trauma in a few days. Adding on, this weak characterization of Nico and Will as The Forever Doctor make for a boring story. If these characters are rendered down to a patient and doctor who fall in love, there is no room for conflict and character growth. It would be way more interesting for both writers and readers to see Nico and Will develop as characters and in their relationship over time.
Good Three Days fics also discuss trauma but in a much different way than the worse ones. Again, this paragraph will be discussing trauma in this trope. If that makes you comfortable, scroll away, my friend. Good Three Days authors care about both Nico and Will's trauma. It’s not glossed over because it is always addressed with care and respect, but it is not romanticized because, when it is discussed, it is not to help the romance progress. These Three Days authors strike a balance between having a discussion on trauma and allowing the romance plot to continue. Usually, this is done when the two topics are separated: romance is not mentioned in the trauma moments, and trauma is not mentioned in the romance moments. (However, I’d like to make an exception: personally, I enjoy when Three Days authors discuss Nico’s internalized homophobia in romance scenes. It is consistent with his character!) It is helpful to a Three Days fic when there is one plot for trauma and another for romance. Which brings me to my next point: recovery! The worst Three Days fics I've read never handle this topic properly. The recovery is either rushed for the sake of romance or it literally doesn’t take place at all! But in the good Three Days fics, Nico and Will recover from the war, physically and mentally. Nico learns to live at peace with himself, makes some friends, and tries to find a home at CHB, while Will finds a new friend, relaxes from his Forever Doctor trope, and becomes a regular camper again. Recovery is always handled with as much sensitivity as trauma, which creates a well rounded piece and the perfect amount of catharsis for the reader.
Good Three Days fics have characterization that is consistent w/ the source material. Nico isn’t infantilized, & Will isn’t a Forever Doctor. Instead, they are introduced as complex survivors, and, throughout the fic, grow into peace. It isn’t like the worst Three Days fics where every word is spent for Hurt/Comfort. Instead, Nico and Will (and sometimes other characters!) have time to breathe. I can't stress enough how important it is to give characters time to breathe in any fic!
I have read a lot of bad Three Days fics, but I have also read some great ones! The first Three Days fic I read that really blew me away was “A Myriad of Stars” by chameleonwrites on AO3. It's a 25k one shot following Nico & Will's relationship, from when they were strangers after Gaea, friends in the infirmary, and falling for each other in the weeks after the war. I love this fic so much because the author is so gentle with Nico’s trauma, from battling his internalized homophobia to making friends for the first time. And what made this fic stand out so much to me when I first read it is that there’s no romance at all during the actual three days!! Instead, the romance plot is introduced after Nico is discharged from the infirmary.
More recently, I read “oh, the whole world, it is sleeping, but my world is you” by thelordofshrimp on AO3. This is an untraditional take on the Three Days fic but I won't go any more into that because no spoilers! The reason this fic represents everything that can go well with a Three Days fic is because of the sheer imagination the author had while writing it. And there’s no dramatic confession of love at the end! Sure, there’s a bit of romance because it’s a Three Days fic and that’s to be expected, but the story focuses on Nico’s growth & his friendship with Will. In my opinion, too many Three Days fics take inspiration from RR and shove Nico & Will together ASAP, but this fic (& the last one) take their time in writing Nico and Will’s relationship, which is why they stand out so vividly in the sea of Three Days fics I’ve read.
I originally shared this essay in a Discord server with other solangelo fans, and I learned something that definitely contributes to the mix of quality Three Days fics have. The RR books are targeted for young audiences, namely for middle schoolers, and solangelo is a very popular ship in this fandom. Therefore, young fandom members who want to try their hand at fanfic writing often gravitate to solangelo. It might even be their first pairing in any fandom! Similarly, Three Days is a very popular solangelo trope, so it makes sense that these young fandom members are driven to write this. I know that, when I began writing fanfic at fourteen-years-old, I didn’t have the ability to write nuance about trauma and romance. I see this in the worst Three Days fics I’ve read, because this trope requires nuance. I fear that young fanfic writers and readers who engage with this lack of nuance will grow into people who don’t know how to discuss trauma, recovery, and healthy romance.
I’m not saying the Three Days trope should be abandoned entirely. I still think it has potential! However, Three Days writers need to think critically about what they are writing. Glossing over and romanticizing trauma feeds into harmful ideas and stereotypes about trauma. Nico, Will, and the other PJO characters who have fought wars deserve to have their stories told with respect. In a lighter area, lazy characterizations such as Will The Forever Doctor and infantilized Nico are just painful to read. I believe the Three Days trope can be used to tell wonderful, touching stories, and I believe that because I’ve read those stories. It shouldn’t be retired, forgotten, abandoned, or ridiculed: it should be used as a learning experience.
This essay was inspired by my recent return to the solangelo tag on AO3. Everytime I read a good Three Days fic, I am well fed and have a deeper love for the characters than I did before reading it. Everytime I read a worse Three Days fic, I wonder how I would write my own version of this trope. The only reason I’ve never tried my hand at it is because I don’t know what I would write that hasn’t already been written.
I would like to leave one last message on the Three Days trope before I complete this essay: it’s just fanfiction. Nico, Will, and the universe they live in doesn’ t exist. Don’t get too pressed. Just because I expressed my critical views on a fanfiction trope does not mean you, the reader, can never enjoy that trope again. I enjoy it myself! If you’ve read this far, thank you for indulging me.
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love you from afar
note: this has been in my drafts since MARCH. can't decide whether i like it or not lol. @wetsocksinbed angsty fic is up next >:)
pairing: john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader
wc: 9.5k (oops)
summary: you receive a series of mysterious gifts from a mysterious admirer.
warnings: longing, yearning, pining, best friends to lovers trope, idiots in love, heavy on the idiots part, tooth-rotting fluff
ao3
over the last two weeks, you’ve noticed some odd things happening around you; a good kind of odd, the kind that left you thoroughly confused, but was heartwarming nonetheless.
after going back and forth with it in your mind, you've come to the conclusion that you have a secret admirer. it was odd, and a little hard to believe, but it was the only option that made any sense to you. in all honesty, it was probably just your hopeless-romantic heart clouding your mind with optimism, but one can dream.
the first incident was harmless enough, a small inconspicuous gesture that was so subtle, in fact, that you barely paid it any notice at first.
it was the dead of night, and you’d just returned from a particularly gruelling solo mission, uninjured but bone tired and desperate to collapse into your bed and finally sleep. before you could fall into the blankets, however, you noticed through the darkness of your room something strange.
resting neatly on your pillow, illuminated by the dim light of your phone screen, was a single bar of your favourite chocolate. you didn’t remember buying it, and certainly didn’t remember leaving it there, but it was exactly the kind of pick-me-up you needed after the day you’d had. at the time, you’d chalked it up to you simply being forgetful, devoured the chocolate in record time, and promptly knocked out.
over breakfast the next morning, you'd recounted to the others the mysterious appearing chocolate as a funny anecdote; the five of you had laughed about your terrible memory, and you'd moved on. but now you weren’t on the verge of blacking out, you couldn’t help but think of it as weird.
for the life of you, you couldn’t remember buying the chocolate bar, and it didn’t make sense that you would leave it on your pillow like that. what did make sense, however bizarre it may seem, was someone else leaving it for you – but you had no idea who would do that for you, or why. either way, you didn't imagine that anything else would come from it.
the next incident happened three days later.
during training that afternoon, you were in the middle of running laps around base, when you’d – stupidly – tripped over a ditch in the ground and rolled your ankle pretty badly. it hurt too much to put any weight on it, so you’d sat there in shame with no choice but to wait for a few minutes until gaz and soap caught up to you.
as they rounded the corner, you'd reluctantly waved them over with a grimace at how your ankle was throbbing in your boot. johnny was immediately crouching by your side, abandoning the idea of training to focus completely on you.
"christ, what happened?" he fussed, worry creasing his face and making your own heat up under the attention.
"i tripped…" you mumbled, dragging a hand over your embarrassed expression. it was bad enough that you'd made such a simple mistake, but now the man you were crushing on, hard, was lifting your leg so gently and untying your laces and you were certain you were moments away from cardiac arrest.
he'd ushered gaz away to continue his run, telling him he'd accompany you to the infirmary with a tone that left no room for argument. not that gaz would've, the knowing look he sent you as he jogged away told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.
after making sure nothing was broken, soap had pulled you to stand with an arm around your waist, supporting you with his solid frame when you stumbled.
"sure y'don't want me to carry you?" he'd teased, earning a laugh from you as you wobbled in his arms. as you chuckled though, you noticed a hint of what seemed like sincerity in his eyes. you'd felt your face burning again at the implication that he really would carry you, if that's what you'd wanted, and quickly started dragging him along with you in an attempt to hide your flustered state.
he'd kept his arm around your waist the entire way to the medical wing, only releasing you when you were sat in front of the doctor, which did absolutely nothing to calm your racing heart. to your dismay, he couldn't stay with you – you were still in the middle of training, after all.
"you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" he'd asked as he left, and the concern in his eyes almost finished you off. you were almost glad he didn't stick around to see the effect he had on you.
luckily, after a quick inspection, the doctor concluded that you only had a minor sprain, and you'd be good as new in a couple of weeks. she'd sent you on your way with an ice pack, a crutch, and strict instructions to stay off your feet.
you would've gone back outside to watch the boys (mainly soap) finish the rest of their exercises, but honestly, the embarrassment of what happened had you wanting to curl up with a pillow over your face for the rest of the day; so that's exactly what you found yourself doing.
you must've drifted off to sleep at some point, because once you finally sat up again, the sun had painted the horizon a bright orange, and your stomach had begun to rumble.
as you went to walk out into the hall, you heard the crinkle of plastic under your boot, pausing you mid‐step. when you looked down, you were stunned to find a bundle of three beautiful white flowers – gardenias, you'd found out after googling them later. an incredibly warm feeling blossomed in your chest, and despite your best efforts, your eyes had welled up with tears. you couldn't even think of the last time someone bought you flowers. there was no note attached, meaning you had no way of knowing who had left them for you, which sent your mind back to the chocolate bar from a few days ago.
so i'm not going crazy, you'd thought to yourself, someone really did leave it for me. but still, you had no clue who this mystery gift-giver could be.
you'd carefully picked them up, being mindful of your ankle, and turned back around to put them in your room. there wasn't really anywhere to put them, so you just set them on the ledge of your windowsill and made a mental note to find a vase for them at some point.
when you eventually made it to the mess hall, there were very few people left, leaving the room unusually calm. ghost was sat by himself at one of the far tables, so you hobbled over on your crutch to sit with him while you ate.
you sat down opposite him, and he'd looked up, gave you a subtle nod, and gone back to eating with his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. the two of you ate like that for a while, sitting quietly in each others presence.
ghost had been the first to break the silence, asking you, "how's the ankle?" as he pulled his balaclava back down to cover his mouth.
"just sprained," you'd replied, looking up to meet his eyes. another beat of silence fell over you, before you continued, "did you see who left me those flowers?" you'd asked him; it was worth a shot, you figured not much gets past ghost. to your dismay, he simply shook his head, standing and mumbling a goodbye as he left.
you were only more confused now. if ghost didn't know who it was – and, granted, you wouldn't actually be able to tell if he was lying, but you trusted him – then who would know? the next day, you'd asked the other boys, but they'd all said the same thing, even the captain. so you were left with nothing to do but wonder who on earth could be leaving you these gifts.
after that, it was another four days until your secret admirer struck again.
you'd been in and out of briefings and debriefings and meetings all day, your mind was beginning to numb with all the information that had been unloaded. you were tired; not quite the same exhaustion you'd felt coming back from your mission earlier in the week, though, this time you were at the end of your rope mentally. there hadn't been a moments peace since you got out of bed, and once that excruciatingly long day was over and you were relaxing in the common room, you'd had no energy to actually engage with your friends.
you were nestled into one end of the sofa with gaz next to you, ghost on his other side, and soap in the armchair with a small book in his hands. they were all chatting, with you occasionally saying a thing or two, but you were mostly just zoned out with their conversation serving as white noise in the background.
occasionally, you'd look up and catch soap already watching you, but he'd quickly turn his gaze back down to his book. his attention caused you to be equal parts flustered and confused. if you'd been any more awake, you probably would've asked him if something was wrong, but you were already having trouble keeping your head up as it was.
once you felt your eyes slip closed one too many times, you'd decided it was time to turn in for the night. with a quick 'goodnight' to the others, you'd made a beeline straight for your room – but it was more of a hobble, since your ankle still required you to walk with a crutch.
that night you'd slept like a baby, waking up early the next morning feeling well rested, and thankfully your ankle had even started to feel better. though you still couldn't join the team's training sessions, you had other responsibilities to fulfil, so unfortinately you did have to get up at some point.
you'd just finished lacing up your boots when you noticed it; a single sheet of paper on the ground by your door, folded once in half so you can't see what's written on it. from where it lays, you conclude that whoever left it must've slipped it through the gap under your door while you slept. you'd picked it up and sat back on the edge of your bed to unfold it, your curiosity certainly piqued. it make you wonder, though, what reason someone could have for leaving you a note.
except, when you'd lifted the page it wasn't a note at all. on the slightly wrinkled paper were a number of beautiful pencil drawings – drawings of you. the surprise of seeing your own face staring back at you nearly stopped your poor heart.
the jagged edge on one side of the page indicated that it must have been torn out of a sketchbook, which had interested you even more. you couldn't think of anyone you knew who could draw, let alone who would have a sketchbook dedicated to it.
whoever made this, it was clear that art was a passion of theirs – these drawings were really good. your hair, your eyes, the subtle expression on your features, every line was expertly crafted. it was incredibly flattering, and admittedly boosted your ego a little with how good those sketches made you look.
as you sat there smiling to yourself, you'd glanced up to the three flowers blooming on your nightstand. like the gardenias, the drawings were from your secret admirer, there was no other explanation; and an admirer they were, it was abundantly clear from these sketches that this person had an appreciation for you, if only from afar.
the drawings had been your favourite so far, but unfortunately, it was almost a week until your admirer made another move.
it had been long enough for you to start walking properly on your ankle again, and so you'd been slowly easing back into your workout routine, starting with your morning run. you'd taken it slow with lots of breaks to rest your muscles, but still decided to call it early, which had you back at your locker earlier than usual. as you were rounding the corner to the locker room, you'd heard the door slam closed and a set of heavy footsteps racing down the corridor. you'd only caught a glimpse of whoever it was as they dashed around the other corner, quick enough that you weren't able to see who it was.
you'd been concerned at first, whoever it was had been in a terrible rush, but you'd quickly shaken it off – it wasn't uncommon for people to be rushing around base, especially first thing in the morning. with your own meeting to get to, you'd decided not to dwell on the strange almost-encounter, and carried on with grabbing your towel from the bench and showering.
as you opened the door to your locker to fetch your clean clothes, sitting front and centre on top of them was something you definitely hadn't left there; a bag of your favourite hard candy, unopened, in the space that had been empty not half an hour before. how did these get here? you'd asked yourself, and you stood there confused for a moment or two before the answer came to you.
of course, your secret admirer. you'd felt the familiar giddy excitement bubble up in your chest at the revelation. it had been a while since the page of drawings had been slipped under your door, and it pained you how the gardenias had begun to wilt already. honestly, you'd been slightly worried that they'd given up, or something had happened to them. thankfully though, they seemed to be doing just fine, and you were too with such a pleasant start to your day.
it wasn't until you were sat in the meeting room, munching on your sweets and waiting for the others to arrive, that you realised.
the person, the one who'd been in a hurry as you got back from your run, it was them; that person was your secret admirer. they had to be, you'd concluded, the sweets weren't in your locker when you'd been in there earlier, and you did cut your run short, so they probably hadn't expected you to return so soon – that's why they'd been in such a rush to get away.
the revelation had butterflies swarming in your stomach, the idea of being so close to finding out who it was that held such fond affection for you sparking giddy excitement in you; but at the same time, it filled you with a sickly apprehension.
the problem was that you already knew who you wanted it to be – you had from the beginning – and you worried that uncovering their identity would only lead to disappointment; because there was no possible way john mactavish could feel the same way you felt about him.
soap had always been nothing short of kind and respectful of you, never stepping over the unspoken line if being your closest friend. sometimes, you can fool yourself into thinking he treats you differently – when he checks in on you after missions, when he always saves you a seat next to him in meetings, when he'd practically carried you to the infirmary, all of it ignited a warm feeling in your chest. but then you think about it a little more, and remember that all those nice gestures, that's just who he is. he wormed his way into the heart of ghost, for fucks sake, it was almost impossible not to like him.
you'd been so lost in thought, that gaz sitting in the seat next to you had startled you back to reality.
"gonna share with the class?" he'd asked with a teasing smirk, gesturing to the sweets sitting on the table in front of you. he'd reached out to grab one, but you'd pushed his hand away and snatched the bag to your chest.
"no way," you'd said with a playful glare, sending a quick smile to soap who'd taken the seat on your other side, "these are from my secret admirer, get your own."
gaz paused. "...your fucking what?" he had an incredulous look on his face, and you'd forgotten that you never actually told the others about it. "soap, you hearin' this?"
soap looked almost panicked when you'd turned to him, but he didn't have time to respond, as that was the moment price had walked through the door and announced the start of the meeting.
"i'll explain after," you whispered to gaz, who gave you a pointed look that said 'you better' and turned his attention back to price. you'd stifled a chuckle and looked back at soap, expecting him to have a similar expression, but he was already facing forward. you'd frowned at this; you and johnny would always whisper back and forth during meetings – a way to keep eachother entertained, as well as an excuse for you to sit close to him – but today his face had an odd air of seriousness to it. oh well, you'd thought somewhat downtrodden, just have to talk to him after.
and that's what led you to the present, where you'd been explaining to the boys everything that has happened over the last two weeks. well, you were mostly telling soap and gaz, ghost honestly didn't seem that interested, though the captain did have a rather amused expression as he listened.
"so you have no idea who it could be?" gaz had turned sideways in his chair, leaning forward slightly with his eyebrows raised. he looked to be in disbelief, and you were almost inclined to feel the same.
"nope, not a clue." you sighed, turning from gaz to look at the others around the table. price was standing with his arms crossed, giving you a similar disbelieving look, and ghost had that familiar unreadable look in his eyes.
"someone went in your room while you were gone?" ghost's low voice caught your attention, "bit creepy, innit," he grumbled, his gaze darting between you and somewhere next to you. he did have a point, you supposed, it was a bit weird.
"well… maybe a little, yeah…" you trailed off. perhaps he had a point, but you found yourself not wanting to believe it; all of the mystery person's gestures had been so sweet, thoughtful, it was hard to think they had any ill intentions.
that, and your heart has already made up its mind about who it should be.
"don't be like that, lt., whoever it is meant well, didn't they?" gaz chuckled, the grin evident in his voice.
"christ…" ghost mutters, shaking his head in exasperation.
"it may be a slight invasion of privacy…" you begin; and it's true, but after the first incident, it didn't appear that anyone had been inside your room again. "but it was only once. and it was just a chocolate bar, it's harmless. besides, are you really telling me you've never been in anyone's room when they're not there?" you continued, earning only an eye roll from ghost.
"and you haven't tried to figure out who it is?" price asks from his position standing opposite you, across the table.
"no, i wouldn't even know where to start, it could be anyone…" you try to think of anyone to suspect, but your optimistic mind only draws one name; the object of your affection, who happened to be sitting directly next to you. unfortunately, the two of you were strictly friends – no matter how much you longed for something more.
"i think you should investigate," gaz's smile makes you think for a moment that he knows something that you don't, but you brush it off. he didn't even know about your admirer until you told him, how could he? it wasn't like they were leaving any hints. "whoever it is obviously really likes you."
"you think?" you unwrap another sweet and pop it into your mouth as you consider his words.
"yeah! and, we could even help you investigate," gaz gives the others a hopeful, if slightly suspicious, smirk.
"speak for yourself…" ghost leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, the picture of uninterested, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"could be a good bonding exercise," price had the same entertained tone in his voice as he looked between the four of you, "any thoughts, soap?"
you hadn't realised until the captain brought attention to him, but soap had been uncharacteristically quiet during all this; since before the meeting, actually. he hadn't said a word to you yet today, which had you a little worried. usually the two of you couldn't shut up when you were together. you turn to look at him, and find him looking wide-eyed back at price.
"i don't– ah, maybe…" he stuttered, looking between price and the table rather than meeting your concerned eyes, "...they're just shy? don't want to be known yet?"
"oh, y'think, mate?" gaz fully laughed at that, sharing a look with both ghost and price that held something you couldn't understand. now you're thoroughly confused.
"well, maybe he's right," uncertainty laced your voice, their reactions throwing you for a loop. "if they wanted to be known, they probably would've shown themselves by now, right?" you turn to soap, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else – but he meets your gaze with a tiny smile.
"so you're not going to investigate?" you look back at gaz, who has that incredulous look back on his face, and from the corner of your eye you see price and ghost both shake their heads.
"they can show themselves when they're ready, i don't want to push them." your mind was made up; if your secret admirer wanted to reveal their identity, then they would, it's as simple as that.
"but–" gaz tries to argue, but price quickly interrupts him.
"right, enough, you lot, clear out, you've all got work to be getting on with." he gestures for you all to stand, and after grabbing your sweets, you follow the others out of the room.
for the rest of the day, you endured endless amounts of teasing from gaz, and he even got some of the people from other units in on it. it had your face burning when they cooed over how romantic your 'mystery lover' was. you could only pray that they got over it soon, in the back of your mind you were slightly worried the attention might scare off your admirer, and you certainly didn't want that. but although you told the others you'd wait for them to reveal themselves in their own time, you'd be lying if you said you weren't practically dying to know who it was.
✹✹✹
"hey sarge," a voice sounds from beside you, drowning out the din of the mess hall around you. turning your head, you see it's a private; one you don't really know, but you give her a polite smile anyway. "i've got a message for you." she continues, producing a folded piece of paper from behind her back.
"a message? who from?" you ask, taking the paper from her when she holds it out to you.
she giggles, giving you a sly smile, "a secret someone," and with a suspicious wink, she turned around and left.
with the note in your hand, you look to gaz and soap, a baffled expression on your face. "does she mean my… admirer?" they both shrug at you, sharing an equally perplexed look between themselves.
"go on then," gaz says, "what does it say?"
you unfold it, and scan the neat handwriting of the message. soap and gaz watch as you read it, their curiosity overwhelmingly present in the way they leaned forward to try and see.
your face falls, and you frown. the note was signed – 'your secret admirer' – but you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in your heart.
"what's up? what does it say?" gaz notices the change in your expression, standing up from his chair and leaning fully over the table to read the note himself. you hand it to him, your good mood from this morning completely soured.
"apparently it is from my admirer," you begin, not bothering to hide the dejection in your voice, "telling me to meet them outside in five minutes."
the pair don't say anything, too stunned to form words as they continue to frown at the words in front of them. this can't be right, it just can't be, your mind laments, if johnny is sitting here, that that means he's not–
"seriously? just like that?" gaz interrupts your thoughts. he sounded annoyed underneath his shock, and you find yourself feeling the same way. "sorry, but i find that hard to believe – they didn't even leave a card with the flowers, did they? it just doesn't feel right to me."
you look to soap, who has yet to say anything on the matter. he doesn't meet your eyes, boring holes into the table with the anger in his gaze. your frown only deepens at his expression, the look on his face so unlike him it almost has you forgetting all about the cause.
"who knows," you sigh, plucking the note back out of gaz's hand. "this probably won't take long, i'll–"
"wait, you're going?" soap interjects, the frown on his face set much deeper than your own. his sudden question caught you off guard, paired with his irritated expression, and you almost thought he was angry with you.
"yeah, i mean, what's the harm, right? might as well just get it over with." you stand as you respond, folding the note back up. even if you were setting yourself up for disappointment, you still wanted to at least hear this person out; even if it wasn't him.
"what's the harm?" johnny scoffs – at you or at very idea of all this you aren't sure – and joins you in standing up, throwing his arms out with such annoyance, it catches you off guard. he gestures sharply at the paper in your hand, "this– whoever that is, it's pure shite! you can't see that?"
now it's you who scoffs at him; where is this hostility coming from? yesterday he seemed as though he couldn't care less when you were telling everyone about it, and now all of a sudden, he thinks he has all the answers?
"how would you know?" you shove the note into your pocket, your earlier sadness quickly morphing into annoyance.
as you move to walk away, johnny looks like he wants to say something more, to stop you, and you hesitate. you want him to; whoever your admirer was, whoever that note was from, none of it meant a thing if it wasn't him. all you wanted was for him to look at you the same way you look at him. gaz is looking at him too, subtly gesturing for him to do something, but he doesn't speak, doesn't meet your eyes as your face drops again.
"exactly, you don't. i'll be back in a minute." you huff, and without another word from either of them, you turn on your heel and make your way out of the mess hall.
it's safe to say your mood had swiftly and effectively been ruined. the disillusionment of realising that your secret admirer was someone other than johnny was one thing, but his sudden attitude towards you was the final straw. your face was decidedly sour as you trudge through the corridors, still with a slight limp which was only fuelling your annoyance for how your day was going.
the cool air of the courtyard makes your skin bristle as you push the door open, taking a moment to survey the area as you stand in the entryway. to the left stands a lone figure, and you recognise his face, but – like the private from earlier, who you assume is his friend – you can't remember ever having spoken to him. with a deep sigh, you blink away bitterness in your expression and make your way over to him.
his grin is wide as he shamelessly checks you out while you approach, and you instinctually cross your arms over your chest. you come to a stop in front of him, frowning in a look that you hope screams uninterested.
"hey, sarge." he has an overly confident air to him as he speaks, shuffling closer under your scrutinising stare. of course he wouldn't take the hint.
"so it's you, then?" you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion. you just wanted this to be over with, but it seemed luck just wasn't on your side today.
"it's me," he confirms, the blinding grin still plastered to his face as he inches even closer, "you surprised?"
"yeah, actually. i didn't know you were an artist." you reply, voice flat, and you watch him blink once in surprise. you raise a brow at his bewilderment, your patience already wearing painfully thin. he chuckles awkwardly in an attempt to hide how you so obviously caught him off guard.
"ah, yeah i uh–" he stutters, but you cut him off before he can make too much of a fool of himself.
"in fact, i don't actually know you at all. i couldn't recall your name even if you held a gun to my head." the hiss in your voice reveals just how over this whole situation you are. he opens his mouth to spout something else you have no interest in hearing, the sleazy grin falling from his face, but you hold a hand up to silence him. "so i'd really appreciate it if you left me alone."
"but–"
"and stay out of my room, and my locker, too. if it happens again, you're getting reported." you spit the final words at him, and turn on your heel to leave. before you can take another step, he grabs your elbow and spins you back around to face him, causing your ankle to twist awkwardly, which sends a fresh jolt of pain up your leg. you hold back a groan and fix him with a deadly glare instead.
"hey, c'mon, don't be like that!" you wince as he practically demands, getting much closer to you than was necessary, even with you arching backwards to put some space between you. "at least gimme a chance,"
"just leave me alone." you hiss, pulling your arm out of his grip and before he has the chance to do or say anything else, you hurry back the way you came, your limp noticeably more pronounced than earlier. thankfully, the private – jackson, you’d just about been able to read on his jacket – didn’t follow you back to the mess hall, which proves that he has at least half a brain. you hoped that he’d take the hint to stay away from you, but somewhere in the back of your mind you were preparing yourself to be hassled by him in the coming days; he certainly seemed the type.
you were gone less than ten minutes, but in that time most of the lunch crowd had cleared out, leaving the room a lot quieter than it had been. as you shuffle towards soap and gaz, still sitting at the same table, they both turn to look at you, and you can tell by the way both their expressions drop that they sense something is off.
"what happened?" gaz asks as you take your seat across from them, trying to hold back a wince when you put too much strain on your ankle, "your face says it didn't go well."
you sigh, looking between both of them, lingering on soap who’s already watching you with an intensity that has your face heating up. "it didn’t. it was just some private who can’t take no for an answer." you grumble, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand.
"your ankle okay?" soap asks, holding your gaze until you relent and look away first. you want to tell him not to worry, but you find it's impossible to lie to him, not when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the room. "what happened?" he presses, his voice taking on a dangerous tone.
"its nothing, he just– i just twisted it a little." you trip over your words under his stare, looking to gaz for help, but you find that he has a similar – albeit less intense – look of concern on his face. the silence hangs between you for a moment as you wordlessly try to convince them, but they see through you. "alright, fine. when i was leaving, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, and i pulled my ankle."
if johnny had been pissed before, he was furious now; his eyes were dark underneath his furrowed brow, his lips turned down in a frown that looked more like a snarl. to see someone usually so easygoing with such a threatening look on his face was almost worrying, the only reassurance being that you know it's not directed at you.
"that prick… who was it?" gaz isn't nearly as affected as soap, but he's clearly annoyed by the audacity of the private. you shake your head, urging them to just let it go; he wasn't worth the trouble, after all.
when johnny says your name in that deep, gravelly tone, your heart skips a beat and your eyes snap to meet his. "who was it." he asks, but it's not a question anymore, and every fibre of your being is telling you to just give in to him.
"jackson. i don't know his first name…" you mutter, slightly flustered by the way he's acting. the tension in the silence that follows is nearly suffocating. from where his arms rest on the table, you notice johnny repeatedly clenching his fists, seemingly having some sort of internal battle with himself.
"what a bellend…" gaz grumbles, pausing for a moment to shake the disgust from his face. "so, what about the whole 'secret admirer' thing then?" he leans back in his chair, eyes darting to soap's profile then back to you.
"i don't know…" you sigh, "didn't really seem like something he was capable of, but i guess i don't really know him, so–"
"yeah, he doesn't seem the type, does he?" gaz interjects, with a newfound energy at your words. you narrow you eyes, sensing an ulterior motive, but let him continue. "i mean, buying you flowers, sweets– seems a bit too thoughtful for such a twat."
his jab coaxed a laugh from you, "maybe; i guess i was pretty disappointed when i saw it was him, though."
"oh yeah? expecting someone else, were you?" gaz has a grin on his face, one that has you worried that he's clocked on to your true feelings.
"something like that…" you clear your throat, suddenly feeling a little too seen for your liking. "anyway, i'd better get going, desk duty is no joke," you slowly stand up, making sure to be careful of your newly irritated ankle, and adamantly avoiding eye contact with either of them.
"yeah, me too, cap said he needs my help with something." gaz stands as well, giving soap a pat on the back and a suspicious wink as he walks off, which you willfully choose to ignore.
"you gonna be okay?" johnny comes to your side as you shuffle around the table, his hand brushing over your back to support you. butterflies begin to flutter at the feeling, and you scold yourself for being so easily affected. he seems to have calmed down a lot, the anger from earlier overtaken by his concern.
"yeah, i'll be fine, i think i'll just have to grab my crutch," you smile at him and take a step forward, wincing as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.
"c'mon, lemme help you," he tilts his head to meet your eyes, his worry evident within them. his hand is warm on your back, you have to hold yourself back from leaning into him. "cannae have you hurtin' yourself any more."
"you sure? don't you have work to do too?" you have every intention of taking him up on his offer, but you couldn't help feeling guilty for needing his help like this.
"i'm sure lt. can survive a few extra minutes," johnny gives you a reassuring smile, already ushering you out of the mess hall.
"well, don't blame me when has your head," you grin back at him, relishing in the comfortable feeling of being so close to him. distracted by his proximity, you momentarily forget about your injury and without thinking, you put too much weight on it as you take a step. with a pained gasp, you wobble on your good foot and pause to give your ankle a break.
johnny moves his arm to sit securely around your waist, gently pulling you to lean fully against him. "you sure you don't want me to take you to the infirmary?" he asks, lifting your arm to wrap around his shoulders.
"no, no– they're just gonna tell me to rest, and i'll be sitting down all day anyway," you move to continue on your way to your room, but he stays put.
"you should still get it looked at, might be–"
"johnny." you stop him with a hand on his chest, "i'm okay."
you watch his adams apple bob as he gulps, his eyes flickering to where your hand is touching him and back up to your own, almost too fast to notice.
"right, right. sorry." he dips his head, breaking eye contact. you pull him gently, and the two of you start walking again. "you know jackson well?"
you scoff, frowning as you recall the events of earlier. "what? no, before today i didn't even know his name. he seems like kind of an arsehole, to be honest."
"really? made that bad of an impression, eh?" his lopsided smile feels oddly smug, but you decide not to overthink it.
"like i said, can't take a no." you grumble, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand, "i doubt this is the last time i'll have to deal with him…"
"he's not gonna bother you." johnny states, with a finality that is as stunning as it is comforting.
"...if you say so." you don't press any further, wanting to simply move on and forget about the whole thing. you'd gladly never think about that arrogant private again.
before you know it, the two of you are standing in the hall outside your room. his grip around your waist loosens as you push open the door, and you're all too aware of the cold feeling left behind as he lets go.
"thank you, for helping me." you shoot him a grateful smile, grabbing your crutch from where it leant against the wall, propping it under your arm.
"course," johnny pauses, looking past you to something in your room. "you… kept the gardenias?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. you tilt your head, a silent question, but he's still staring at the flowers.
"yeah, they're…" you begin, but his words have you pausing too; he didn't seem like the kind of person to be interested in floristry, you'd certainly never heard him say anything about it before. but somehow, he'd identified the flowers on your end table with no problem. "...they're nice. i like them, even if they do look a little sad now."
when he finally meets your eyes again, there's a distinct redness to his face that wasn't there before, and you feel your heart beginning to race with renewed hope. it could be that he just likes flowers, but if he already knew they were gardenias, maybe he…
"right, i, uh– i should get going, or ghost might actually kill me." johnny's voice had a dazed quality to it when he spoke.
"alright, i'll see you later then," you give him a small smile as you step back into the hall next to him. the two of you look at each other for a moment before you speak again, holding back a laugh, "you gonna go, or just stand there all day?"
your words seem to snap him out of the trance he’d been in, and he shakes his head in an almost comical manner, "right! right, sorry, bye!" he sputters, waving over his shoulder as he jogs away. you chuckle to yourself as he goes, and start walking the opposite direction to get started with your own work.
✹✹✹
you didn't see soap again until the next day, considering that he was strangely absent from mealtimes both last night and today. thankfully the incident from the day before hadn't done any further damage to your ankle, so you were up and about without the need for your crutch after a good night's rest.
you'd just dropped off a folder of paperwork in price's office – which you'd completed in fairly good time, thanks to being stuck behind a desk for nearly two weeks – but as you descend the staircase, you're almost knocked over by someone flying around the corner. you caught yourself with a hand on the railing, blinking away your surprise and glaring at whoever had carelessly bumped into you.
much to your chagrin, it was jackson, and you feel your face naturally falling into a frown at the realisation. you’d been expecting him to try and change your mind about yesterday, but true to johnny’s words, he had yet to bother you about it; actually, you hadn’t seen him at all since then, not even at breakfast or lunch, but it's not as if you were complaining.
though, as you stare down at him from the step above, you notice a deep purple bruise decorating his cheekbone that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. your frown turns from malice to confusion as you wonder how he could have gotten it in the span of less than a day, it looked like he’d taken a serious punch. you couldn’t say you felt bad for him, but it did look painful.
"listen, about yesterday… i- i lied,." jackson mutters, eyes glued to the floor to avoid your own. he was shuffling in place, as if he was preparing to bolt at any second. your eyes narrow as you process his words.
"what?"
he clears his throat. "i lied. it wasn’t me, i just said it was because one of the guys bet me i couldn’t get you to go out with me." he admits. the way he keeps avoiding your eyes, glancing around like he was waiting for someone to jump out at him has you a little suspicious, but your heart still soars when you realise what he means.
jackson wasn't your secret admirer, so your hopeless romantic heart could still dream that it was johnny. the flutter of butterflies even distracts you from the insulting notion that he only wanted to go out with you for a bet.
"seriously?" you ask, your shock evident in your voice as you stare him down. finally his eyes land on your own, an embarrassed grimace overtaking his nervous expression. it's a stark, satisfying difference to his arrogant overconfidence from before.
"yeah. i’m sorry, okay? i don’t want any trouble, it was just–" he cuts himself off, but when you give him a questioning look, he can't tear his eyes from the space behind you, and only mumbles what sounds like a ‘sorry’ before scurrying off back the way he came. you watch him go, thoroughly confused by the whole interaction, but not a moment later a voice from where he was staring brings you out of your thoughts.
"y’alright? little shit wasn’t botherin’ you, was he?" soap's voice cuts through the quiet, and you turn to see him descending the stairs to stand next to you.
you shake your head, "no, no, he just–" you hesitate, your mind going back to yesterday and the gardenias. "he lied, it wasn't him."
"really?" he asks, but his voice doesn't sound surprised at all. you're not sure if you imagined it, but for a moment his expression changes into something like satisfaction.
"yeah, he was about to say something else too, but he just ran off," you sigh, walking down the last few steps. soap follows close behind, a hand hovering near your back. "did you see that bruise on his face? wonder how he got it…"
"looked nasty, eh?" a laugh escapes him, and you admire the way his lips curve, the creases around his eyes as his smile reaches them. "maybe he finally got what was comin' to him."
his face was close to yours, a lot closer than you could reasonably handle without losing your nerve and making a fool of yourself. realising you had yet to respond, you clear your throat and start walking down the corridor, your eyes to the floor and a burning in your cheeks.
"if he never speaks to me again, it'll still be too soon…" you grumble, willing your heart to calm down as he comes up next to you in a few long strides. "anyway, what have you been up to? i haven't seen you all day." with a quick glance, you see the easy smile he has falter slightly.
"i was, ah–" he avoids your eye as he stops himself, a beat of silence passes before he continues "nevermind, i– i was… looking for you." your heart skips a beat, but you scold it for being so eager; the two of you were teammates, friends, he could be looking for you for any number of reasons.
"looking for me? what's up?" you turn your head to face him as you walk, a curious tilt to your brow.
johnny comes to a stop, and so do you a moment after. he looks at you, fidgety and shifting on his feet, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. the look on his face is unsure, uncomfortable, like he was debating running off like jackson had done a minute ago.
he's nervous, that much you can tell. but despite the slightly awkward tension, you you wait for whatever it is he's struggling to say.
"i… uh– y'know what, i actually forgot." johnny hangs his head, pulling his hands from his pockets and scratching the back of his neck.
at his words your heart sinks, and you can't help the disappointed look that takes over your expression. "oh? are you–"
before you can finish, he drops a hand on your shoulder and steps ahead of you, turning around so you're face to face. "listen, ghost is waiting for me, so i gotta run," he smiles again, but it's weaker this time, almost forced as it doesn't quite meet his eyes.
"right… better not keep him waiting."
"right," his reply is short, and the tension between you only grows every moment he avoids your eyes. "i'll see you later though, promise." he flashes you another false smile, gently patting your shoulder, before turning on his heel and swiftly escaping down the corridor.
"bye, johnny." you release a sigh, from longing or exasperation you're not sure, watching his form disappear through the doors.
✹✹✹
despite his promise, once again you don't see soap for the rest of the day. at dinner you'd questioned ghost on his whereabouts, but he only told you that he had no idea either. this time however, you got the strong feeling he was lying to you.
still though, you couldn't find it within yourself to be annoyed with him. you could see clear as day that something was going on with johnny, and if he didn't want to confide in you about whatever it is, then you certainly won't be the one to push him.
having finished today's obligations, you decided to head straight to your room once you'd finished eating. you open your door, a sigh escaping you as you prepare to collapse for the night, and stop dead in your tracks.
a folded sheet of paper lays in front of you, standing out against the emptiness of your floor, crumpled like it had been screwed up and flattened out again. a sense of déjà vù overcomes you, for last week, when you'd received the sketches of yourself in the same way. for a moment all you can do is stand there, staring at the paper, processing.
eventually, you do step into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you and picking the paper up from the floor. you keep it folded until you're sitting on the edge of your mattress, hands shaking ever so slightly with the anticipation.
you're not sure what to think, as you sit burning holes in the paper with your stare. after yesterday, you thought you were done with the idea of your secret admirer; but then again, jackson had admitted to you earlier that he'd lied when he met you yesterday, and the whole reason you weren't as interested after that was because your pipe dream of the mystery person being johnny had been shattered. but now that the identity of your admirer was once again a mystery, you couldn't help but want to dream like that again.
with a defeated groan, you decide to just rip off the bandaid and read the note. you unfold it, immediately noticing the scratchy handwriting – the opposite of the note jackson gave you, so thankfully it couldn't be from him.
you hear your heartbeat in your ears as your eyes scan the words in front of you.
i stayed up all night trying to write this note, but nothing i came up with felt good enough, so i'm just going to say it.
i'm your secret admirer.
i know you probably won't believe me after that bastard yesterday, but i need you to know anyway. i used to think that love just wasn't my thing, that i'd never find someone i wanted to spend my life with, but that changed when i met you. i didn’t realise it at first, but it's always been you. you're my person, and i can't hide it anymore.
i love you.
maybe i'm a coward for giving you a note instead of telling you face to face. but if you don't feel the same, you can throw it away, or burn it or something, and i'll never bring it up again.
your heart,
johnny
the silence in your room borders on deafening as you sit completely still, reeling from what you'd just read. you didn't realise you'd stopped breathing until you release a shaky breath.
all this time, it was johnny.
every longing glance, every touch that lingered just a little too long, the racing pulse every time he says your name; it was all reciprocated.
every time you thought you could never have him as anything more than your best friend, you were wrong.
he cared enough to leave you a pick-me-up after a hard mission, buy you flowers when you got injured, draw you the way he saw you, gift you things he took the time to notice you like.
all this time… he'd felt the exact same way you do.
you set the note down next to you, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth that had fallen open in shock. there was only one thing to do, in your mind, and that was to run into johnny's arms and make up for all the lost time you've spent pining over him.
in seemingly no time at all, you find yourself standing at johnny's door, your fist poised to knock. theres a moment of hesitation, but before your apprehension can cloud your mind, you let your knuckles rap on the wood once, twice, three times, and take a step back as you wait for a response. after a second or two – which felt a lot longer than it actually was – you hear the sounds of footsteps from inside.
another moment passes, and you assume johnny is standing on the other side with his heart in his throat just like you, short-lived before he finally swings the door open.
he looks at you, eyes wide and like a deer caught in headlights, the way he holds himself uncharacteristically shy as you stare each other down.
"the note," you finally murmur, and johnny almost flinches, clearly fighting the urge to look away from you. "tell me you meant it." you continue, taking a miniscule step closer to him. you hear his breath catch in his chest.
"every word." he whispers, gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes again, and your heart misses a beat.
with no hesitation this time, you hook your arms around his neck and pull him towards you, crushing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss that's as much teeth as it is lips.
johnny groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist as he turns and walks you backwards into his room. the door gets kicked shut behind him once he's got you inside, neither of you breaking apart more than enough to draw a single ragged breath before meeting in the middle again. with another needy whine into you he pushes you up against the wall, caging you in with his broad shoulders and his arms around your waist.
the weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his stubble prickly against your face, the softness of his lips against yours; it's everything you've been waiting for, and now you finally have him, he tastes sweeter than you could've ever imagined.
the two of you stay like that for moments that feel like hours in each other's embrace, only pulling away when your lungs are burning and your lips are swollen. leaning your head back against the wall, his eyes meet yours with such adoration it sends your heart fluttering all over again.
"i'll take that as a good sign," he mumbles, a lopsided grin lifting his features. his joy is so infectious you can't help but mirror his expression as you drop your head to rest on his shoulder.
his chest rumbles with an airy, disbelieving laugh and he tugs you impossibly closer, resting his cheek against the side of your head. standing chest to chest now, you can feel the hammering of his heart against yours and the way his skin burns under your touch.
"you’re my person too," you murmur into him, one of your hands moving up to tangle in the strands of his mohawk, "always have been."
johnny's arms wind tighter around you as he releases a deep, content sigh. he's hugged you countless times before but somehow, this feels different while still staying exactly the same. the heat radiating from him is soothing like it always has been, the knowledge that your feelings are reciprocated only making it that much sweeter.
"why'd it take us so long, eh?" he utters, tender and loving in the way he runs his hands over your back and sides.
"we're just idiots…" you reply, "gaz is gonna have a field day with this."
johnny laughs again, pressing his lips to the side of your head so you can feel his smile. "oh, he clocked us a long time ago, bonnie."
you can't help but groan as you imagine how gaz will tease the both of you for how oblivious you've both been.
he lifts you up by his grip around your waist, carrying you over to his bed and flopping down onto his back with you on his chest. a satisfied groan escapes him as he settles, burying his face into your hair and inhaling a deep breath.
you're enveloped by the scent of him – gunpowder, and the faint smell of something burnt, but it's pleasant and familiar nonetheless.
"yer stayin' with me tonight, non negotiable." he murmurs, running a hand up and down the length of your spine.
"fine by me." you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, and find them already locked on you. "so, about jackson…"
johnny scoffs, lightheartedly frowning in response. "yer gonna bring his name up while yer in my bed?"
"he looked really spooked when he saw you earlier," you begin, smoothing your hand over his chest. his eyes widen at your words, his hand freezing as he looks away from you with a distinctly guilty expression on his face. you narrow your eyes, holding back the amused smirk pulling at your lips. "johnny… did you…"
he clears his throat, and by the way he can't hold your gaze for more than a second you can tell he knows he's been caught. there's no stopping the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at his reaction.
"...i may have, uh– potentially put some fear o'god into the little bawbag…"
"soap!"
#soap x reader#soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#mw2 x reader#cod x reader#141 x reader#call of duty x reader#mw2#cod mw2#call of duty#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish#roosterr writes#releasing this into the wild like an injured bird
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Spot Of Tea | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
*GIF isn't mine*
Summary: Marrying Daryl was one of the best decisions you ever made. He was no longer the hot-headed, rude hunter from the quarry who you couldn't stand. Instead, he was someone who you'd come to love above all else, someone who you bled with and shared a beautiful baby girl with. And just when you thought you couldn't love your husband more, he just had to go and have a cute little teaparty with your daughter.
Genre: Fluff
Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge.
Warnings: None.
Word count: 1.5k
A/n: Back at it again with another Dad!Daryl fic, and this one was inspired by @louifaith's amazing idea! This was so cute and I just had to write this. Domesticity with Daryl is my favourite genre. I hope you like this!
As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.
—
The sun was just starting to set. Everyone was starting to retreat into their homes for the night and the people on guard were switching shifts with the people on night shift. You were done for the day, a successful day's work in the infirmary adding a bounce to your step as you walked up the porch stairs and into your shared home with Daryl, locking the door behind you and shedding your coat.
The house was eerily silent. Daryl had sustained an injury while on a run and had been given the week off by Rick to heal. Although your husband had initially been against the idea, one look from you had shut any protests down—being the community's nurse and his wife gave you that advantage. It was already day three and he'd been spending all of his time with Hazel, your daughter. Each night you'd come home to find him watching some old cartoons he'd found tapes of with her in the living room, all cuddled up under a big, fuzzy, comfortable blanket.
So where were they that night, and why was it so quiet?
“Daryl?” you called out after searching the first floor of your small home with no sign of the archer or your daughter. You started descending up the stairs, but stopped when you got to the top. You could hear your three year old's voice coming from her room, soon followed by Daryl's own.
You walked down the hallway and into her room, stopping in the doorway at the sight that you met; your daughter sitting down on the ground in front of her bed, surrounded by her stuffed toys with the plastic tea set Daryl had found for her in the middle, with the archer himself sitting on the opposite side of her. The big, gruff man was "drinking" from the plastic teacup, sporting a plastic tiara. Hazel was happily babbling on, and Daryl was looking at her fondly, a small smile on his face as he hummed in agreement to whatever she said.
You leaned against the doorway with an amused smile on your face, silently observing your husband dutifully playing out Hazel's storyline. They hadn't noticed your presence yet, and you jumped at the opportunity to admire the two most important people in your life.
“Do you want some more tea, Daddy?” Hazel asked, pouring the imaginary tea into the cups of the stuffed animals surrounding her.
Daryl nodded and extended the plastic cup in her direction. “Yeah, 'course I do. Ya make the best tea in the land.”
Hazel giggled and poured the imaginary tea into Daryl's cup. “There you go, Daddy.”
“Thanks, Princess Hazelnut,” Daryl thanked her, taking a sip from the plastic cup and humming in approval. “Tastes good. Wha'd ya put in this?”
“My secret recipe,” Hazel responded with a giggle, placing the plastic teapot down on the ground, picking up her own cup. “You look pretty, Daddy. Like a real princess.”
Daryl chuckled and patted at the tiara on his head. “S'the crown. S'makin' me look like royalty.”
“Yeah, the look suits you,” you voiced, finally making Hazel and Daryl aware of your presence.
Hazel dropped the plastic teacup in her hands and hastily got up, rushing over to you. “Mama!”
You crouched down to catch her in your arms, picking her up and placing sweet, soft little kisses on her face. “Hey, baby,” you greeted her, an affectionate smile on your face. “Were you and Daddy having fun?”
“'Course we were,” Daryl chipped in, slowly getting up from the floor due to the injury on his leg. He walked with a noticable limp over to you, ruffling Hazel's hair. “We always have fun. Ain't tha' righ', Hazelnut?”
Hazel giggled and buried her face into your shoulder. “Yeah. Daddy played princesses and tea parties with me.”
“Yeah. 'M Princess Dana of the Forest Kingdom. This lil' one is Princess Hazelnut of the Fairy Kingdom. We were jus' meetin' up to form an alliance to fight against the dangerous Fire Tribe, who wants to destroy the forest and all the animals in my kingdom. We need the help of Princess Hazelnut and the Fairy Warriors to defeat them once and fer all,” Daryl explained, using a deeper voice for dramatic effect.
“Well I'm sorry I interrupted your meeting. Do you want me to leave?” you asked teasingly, sending the archer a playful smile over your daughter's head.
Hazel shook her head. “No. Daddy and I will finish tomorrow.”
“Well, I've got the day off tomorrow. Would you mind if I joined you two?”
“Yay! Mama's gonna join us, Daddy!” Hazel exclaimed happily, hugging you tighter.
Daryl smiled fondly at Hazel, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Yeah, I heard tha', Hazelnut. Mama's gon' help us defeat the Fire Tribe. They will no longer hurt the animals in my kingdom.”
“Yeah! Mama's gonna help us win!”
You laughed lightly at their theatrics, shaking your head. You placed another kiss on Hazel's forehead before placing her back down on the ground. “Why don't you go wash your hands and wait for me and Daddy downstairs? If you promise to be good, there will be a surprise for you after dinner.”
“A surprise? Yay! Thank you, Mama!” Hazel exclaimed, hugging your legs tightly before bounding out of the room excitedly.
You chuckled affectionately at the little girl that brought so much light into your life. It amazed you how one small human being could fill a hole in your heart that you hadn't even realised existed before. Hazel was your pride and joy, your baby girl who you'd go to great lengths to protect, as would Daryl.
You turned back towards the archer and gave him an amused smile. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Daryl mused, stepping forward to place his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. “How was yer day?”
“Not as eventful as yours, I'm guessing,” you teased, laughing lightly. You gently took the tiara from his head, inspecting it. “Gotta say, though, the whole "Princess Dana" thing suits you. Never would've guessed it was you with this tiara on. You looked really pretty.”
“Stop,” Daryl said with a chuckle. “Hazel asked me to wear the tiara. It made the story more believable.”
“It sounds like a good storyline. I'm actually invested now, and I wonder how the two of you are gonna work me into the story.”
“Hazel will figure it out. She's a real creative kid. She has a big imagination,” Daryl replied, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over your hip in a gentle caress. “She's amazin'.”
“Just like her daddy,” you responded, gazing up at your husband lovingly.
Daryl scoffed and ducked his head, but you didn't miss the way his lips twitched up into a small smile. “Nah, she got it from her mama. She's a mini ya.”
“I don't think so, but okay,” you relented, dropping the tiara on the bed before wrapping your arms around his neck. “She's perfect.”
Daryl hummed. “Jus' like her mama,” he whispered before capturing your lips with his, kissing you sweetly and lovingly.
The kiss ended all too soon for your liking, but you remembered that you had a toddler waiting for you downstairs. “We should probably get her fed and ready for bed.”
“Yeah,” Daryl agreed, taking a step back. “Wha' surprise do ya have fer Hazel?”
“Cookies.”
“Who made them?”
“Carol. She dropped them off earlier before she went back to the Kingdom,” you explained, before leaning up to whisper something in his ear. “If we get Hazel to bed early enough, I'll show you what surprise I have for you.”
Daryl Dixon loves his daughter. She is his little girl and he would do anything for her, including dressing up as a princess for tea parties. He enjoys her company and wished to be in it 24/7. He'd kill anything that tried to hurt her and he'd die protecting her.
But at that moment, Daryl wanted to get her to bed and asleep as quickly as humanly possible. As much as he loved her, he had another idea of fun that involved only you, the love of his life, a bed, and no tea sets.
#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon x female reader#the walking dead#daryl x reader#twd daryl#norman reedus#norman reedus x reader#dad!daryl#dad!daryl dixon#domestic!daryl#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction
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Hi idk if you’re taking reqs but I’ve been reading your posts about Luke Castellan a lot and I think I’m getting obsessed- So could you make a fic/shot about a Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo reader where they’ve known each other since childhood and they’re kind of like frenemies (friends and/or enemies) and one day he ends up getting badly injured after a quest so she has to take care of him in the infirmary for a week, but ever since that happened he’s been trying to get injured just to go and see reader at the infirmary again?
Sorry if that wasn’t clear, and this is kinda inspired from another fic you made about Luke and daughter of Apollo:)
But if you ever make something like this I would really appreciate it if you tagged me!
two hearts
luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians
[fem!daughter of apollo reader]
summary: (as above)
warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, kissing, flirting, a couple of swear words, blood, idiots to lovers a lil bit too (can you tell it’s my favourite thing)
word count: 3.5k
(hiiii hello hi!! sorry this took me so long to get out, but here it is!! thank you so much for the request i had a lot of fun with this one (3.5k words of fun apparently). hope you enjoy it!)
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if someone had told you luke castellan was going to be gone on a quest when you arrived at camp for the summer, you wouldn’t have spent the whole drive to camp preparing to deal with his annoying ass.
you hiked up half-blood hill and over the boundary, noticing the distinct tension in the atmosphere. something was off.
when luke hadn’t come to see you as you dropped your bags off in the apollo cabin, or when you stopped into the infirmary, or even when you walked past the hermes cabin, you were clued in that something was up.
“where’s luke?” you asked chiron curiously.
“he is on a quest, child. sent by his father,” he smiled down at you warmly. “do not worry about him.”
“i’m not worried,” you bit your lip. “just curious. that’s all.”
and that was that.
it was weirdly boring being at camp without luke’s constant snarky comments. ever since you’d both gotten to camp when you were younger, he’d been a persistent thorn in your side. maybe it was because you both were new around the same time, or because you didn’t like it when he hovered around the infirmary, poking his quick fingers into buckets of bandages and medications. whatever it was, he seemed to enjoy irritating you. and you apparently enjoyed it more than you thought.
monotonous days: breakfast, archery, infirmary, training, activities, dinner, bed.
sleepless nights: nightmares of quests and dragons and a bright white scar.
you sighed one night, waking up from yet another dream of flashes and brief images. your siblings were sleeping around you, a couple of them snoring, and you sat up.
the air on the porch was cooler that night, especially for summer time. you wrapped your sweatshirt a little tighter around yourself and leaned on the porch railing, peering out into the darkness. you just needed a minute, really. you sat down on a chair and relaxed.
you woke up abruptly.
at first, you were confused as to why.
then you saw the figure on the hill.
it was a camper. the hint of orange in the full-moon light told you that much. they were stumbling down—no, they were rolling now.
you stood up and dashed back into your cabin, grabbing your to-go first aid kit. you then turned and ran towards the obviously injured figure. there were only three people it could be. and where were the other two?
you reached them quickly, dropping to your knees beside them and rolling them over.
luke.
it was luke.
the air rushed from your lungs. he was here. he was back. he was alive. you’d never felt such an overwhelming emotion before. it drew slight stinging tears to your eyes.
his eyes were barely open but he gripped your arm with a strength you didn’t think his weak body could still possess. “y/n?”
“just hold on, luke,” you whispered. there were injuries all over his body. you hardly knew where to start. “just hold on.”
“they’re gone,” he said absently.
you looked at him, but didn’t stop trying to help. “who’s gone?”
��everyone,” he stared up at the moon.
you bit your cheek and looked over your shoulder. one of your brothers had gone on that quest with him. “wake up!” you shouted. “someone come help!” you turned back to luke. “okay, luke. you’re gonna be okay.”
his cheeks were hollow. it was then that you noticed the way his eye was swollen closed and a dark red angry cut traced its way down the side of his face. you gasped and turned his head gently to see it better.
“not looking good, huh?” he murmured bitterly. “guess i won’t be getting any modelling contracts soon.”
“we’ll see about that,” you muttered. “stay awake, yeah?”
“you’re not the boss of me,” he grumbled, but kept his eyes open as help finally arrived to get him to the infirmary.
he’d had more injuries than you’d originally thought. it was like he’d been attacked by half of the monsters in greek mythology, honestly, based on the peppered burn holes in his shirt, the cuts and scrapes on his arms and knees and the gashes littering his abdomen. oh, and not to mention the gaping spear wound in his right shoulder.
after working all night with some of your siblings and chiron in the infirmary, he was finally stable. finally, he’d be okay.
you volunteered to stay with him to keep an eye on him for the first few hours, though your eyelids were drooping with sleep.
you held his hand. it felt like the right thing to do.
he didn’t stir.
it was strange, being around him without him talking. since you were fourteen, he’d rarely managed to shut up around you. incessant talking and waving his hands around, explaining some new thing he learned in sword fighting or some joke one of his brothers made. it was both infuriating and entertaining. you loved and hated it, just like you loved and hated him.
sitting in silence with luke castellan felt like the world was turning on its head.
a couple of hours passed. you didn’t let go of his hand. not even as you slipped into a dream—a memory, really.
you were fifteen, and it was raining. it had only been a few months since you got to camp. things were still fresh and somewhat unknown. what you did know, though, was you could never get a moments peace anymore.
“y/n?”
you rolled your eyes. of course it was luke. “what?”
“where are you?”
you supposed you were hidden pretty well. sitting among the reeds at the bottom of the lake was one of your favourite places to be. it was cooler there, but even in winter it wasn’t cold. your feet could sit in the water if you wanted them to and the reeds blocked you from the wind and outside attention.
when you didn’t respond, you could hear him coming closer anyway.
“that’s fine, don’t tell me. i’ll find you anyway.”
and he did. he always did.
there was some theory about that, you realised as he sat beside you, the tiny space between the reeds barely big enough to hold both of you. some theory about a string of fate tying people together. some greek myth about people originally having four arms, four legs and two hearts, and when zeus split them down the middle, those people spent the rest of their lives searching for their other halves. drawn together by fate and reconnected always. you arm was pressed against his arm and your leg against his leg, and maybe it felt so right because you were cold and he was warm. not because of some silly soulmate theory that didn’t even make sense. because there was also the idea that maybe he’d put a tracker on you, but you had no idea where he would have gotten that. or maybe you were just bad at hiding.
“i’ve been looking for you,” he said.
you tilted your head in confusion. “what? why?”
“well,” were you mistaken, or were his cheeks kind of red? “i kinda hurt myself at training today. and the people in the infirmary told me to grow up and get over it. but honestly, it really hurts and i just wanted to know if you could heal it.”
you rolled your eyes. “always needing something, huh, castellan? is it so much to ask for you to just want to see me?” you hold your hand out and he extends his sword arm, revealing the cross-muscle cut on his forearm.
“i do want to see you,” he protested. “honestly. it’s not my fault that i’m also coincidentally injured whenever i want to see you.”
you couldn’t stay mad at that smile. “coincidentally, huh?” you handed him a small section of ambrosia from your pocket as your fingers ran over the cut, whispering a prayer to your father. you watched as the skin knit itself closed again, leaving not even a scar on his arm. you pulled back with a smile. “there. done. good as new.”
“thanks, doctor. don’t know what i’d do without you.”
“die a horrible death and be left permanently disfigured? to the point where we’d do a closed casket funeral just so we don’t have to look at your ugly face?” you tilted your head with a teasing smile.
he elbowed you. “shut up, loser. you know you love my face.”
and as you woke up, feeling his hand tighten around yours, you realised you kind of did. there was gauze over the cut on his eye and cheek, covering half of his face. and yet, he was still annoyingly beautiful.
“something on my face?” he mumbled as he saw looking, finally awake. “except for this thing, of course.” he gestured to the gauze.
you smiled wanly. “i’m glad you’re awake.”
“missed me?” he half-grinned.
you snort and drop his hand, patting the back of it and standing up to check his bandages. “you wish.”
he was silent as you checked his bandages and reapplied the few that were loosening. then, as you left to go and get the next person to keep an eye on him, he spoke up. “i missed you.”
you paused in the doorway, a small smile growing on your face. you looked back at him. his eyes were earnest and soft. he looked younger like this. “i’ll be back a few hours. we’ll have dinner together.”
you did have dinner together. in fact, you had almost every meal together for the first few days.
it was quiet, mostly. you didn’t ask him what happened and he didn’t tell you. you knew he’d already been interrogated by everyone else. he didn’t need that from you.
annabeth came and joined you a couple of times, chatting about some new architectural design she’d learned about or a new move she’d learned in training.
you realised how alike they were. family in every way that mattered, regardless of blood.
it didn’t take long for luke to start getting annoying again though.
once he’d been in the infirmary for four days, he regained most of his usual personality. and that meant bad jokes, incessant talking and poorly-timed, half-hearted flirting.
“the sun makes your eyes glow,” he said one day. he’d never had much of a filter, so it wasn’t too out of the blue, but it still caught you a little of guard.
you fumbled the supplies in your hand. “sorry, what?”
he was sitting up on his bed now. his wounds were almost healed. two more days and he’d be out of the infirmary. you didn’t know if you were one hundred per cent happy about that.
“your eyes. they glow in the sun.” he repeated.
you paused, glancing over at him. “thank you…?”
he nodded and leaned back, his eyes staying on you.
that was only the beginning.
within five hours he’d complimented your eyes, your skills, your smile and your kindness. multiple times. it got the point where the other two patients in the infirmary had stopped taking you seriously, just complimenting you instead. that’s where you drew the line.
“okay, luke, you need to stop. this is too much,” you said. you were checking his remaining wounds and nodding happily at them.
“what, am i flustering you? are you blushing?” he teased.
you were not blushing at all, you decided. whether it was strictly true or not was between your brain and your cheeks, not your honesty. “you’re annoying me,” you grumbled. “like, a lot.”
“you know you’ll miss me when i go back to my cabin,” he leaned back on his pillows, a smirk on his lips. it warped the scar on his cheek more than you expected, and it made your heart clench every time.
“if i miss you, you have permission to annoy me for the rest of my life,” you grumbled. you definitely wouldn’t miss this.
finally, he was out of the infirmary.
finally, you could work in peace.
finally, you could— oh, what the hell?
“good morning!” luke said as he waltzed into the infirmary. “i’ve injured myself.”
you looked him up and down as you walked closer. “you look fine to me. what did you do?”
“i fell of the rock climbing wall and hit my head.” he turned his head to show you the small trickle of blood above his ear.
you sighed and led him to a bed. you handed him ambrosia as you used a wet cloth to clean his head. “you were meant to take things easy for the first few days.”
“i did!” he protested. “i was only like, twelve feet up!”
you pursed your lips and shook your head. your hand was under his chin now, stopping him from turning his head to look at you. “taking it easy means no rock climbing at all, dumbass. you’ve been out of here for half a day and you’re already back!”
“maybe i like it in here.” he shrugged, pouting slightly, looking up at you.
“maybe i find you really annoying and ban you from coming in here,” you countered.
“you can’t do that,” he gasped.
“watch me, castellan.” you prodded his cheek mockingly. “don’t mess with me.”
his smile wasn’t exactly the response you were looking for, but you found that you didn’t mind it all too much.
luke came into the infirmary almost every two days for the next two weeks.
there was always some new injury that he couldn’t ignore, that he needed to have you heal. he only came in when you were there though, like he knew your schedule off by heart.
he probably did.
his sheepish smile was becoming a fixture of your days and you couldn’t help but smile a little brighter when you saw it. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating a little faster either, and it was annoying.
in the years that you’d been at camp, luke castellan had driven you up the wall. did you hate him? did you love him? how did you love him? how a friend loves a friend? how a doctor loves a patient? how a lover loves a lover? how did you hate him? why? why anything? why nothing? the questions only got worse.
“another minor injury?” you sighed, hearing his footsteps entering the infirmary. you didn’t know when you memorised the sound of his footsteps, or the rise and fall of his breathing while he slept, but you did.
“uh, not exactly…” the weakness in his voice made your stomach drop.
you turned around to see him clutching a bright red wound on his inner arm. he looked pale. that wasn’t a good sign. the blood was still seeping past his fingers. also not a good sign.
you gasped and pulled him to a bed immediately, pushing him to lie down and placing hard pressure on the wound. you could feel him reaching into your pocket and fishing around for ambrosia. once he found some, he ate it quickly and sighed in relief.
“what the hell happened?” you exclaimed.
he shrugged with one shoulder. “sword training.”
“were you training against the fucking terminator?” you took in the other minor cuts and bruises. your voice was unfairly shaky. you didn’t want to get close to losing him again. even just the thought made you feel sick.
his eyes were soft when they looked up at you. you almost dropped all of your anger right there. “i got sloppy,” he said nonchalantly. “i’ll be fine once i get back to normal.”
“this is an artery,” you said. “you could die.”
he didn’t look all that upset or shocked. “i won’t die, baby. i won’t.”
your stomach gave a pitiful lurch at the nickname. “save your energy.”
“is that your doctorly way of telling me to shut up?” he teased.
“yes, it is,” you nodded. “now, shut up while i help you.”
he looked at you like you were hanging the stars in the sky, not tending to him with hands red from his blood.
no one had stopped talking about luke since he got back. the first failed quest in years, with two of the three members dying and the third one permanently scarred by a dragon. not a good ratio.
you often saw luke sitting alone now, and when he was nowhere to be found, you knew where he was.
maybe there was something to the strings of fate theory, you thought as you found him and sat down beside him among the reeds. they were taller now and more dense, but the two of you had carved out a little spot for yourselves over time. your limbs were still pressed against each other though. that was one thing that would never change.
he was turning something over in his hands. a repetitive motion.
you tried to make sense of what it was, but couldn’t.
“it’s a dragon claw,” he spoke up. “the one that did this.” he pointed at the still-red scar on his face. that was why you couldn’t get rid of that one. magic scars never really went away.
you stayed quiet.
“peter distracted the dragon just in time for me to get my sword back. i got the cut, but when i turned back he was getting thrown against the mountainside.” he shook his head bitterly. “he didn’t stand a chance.”
you stared at a dragonfly on a reed in front of you. “knowing my brother, he just would have been happy to be there. and happy that you’re alive.”
he smiled, but it looked forced and bitter. “yeah. he spent the whole time talking about how lucky we were for this opportunity, and how he was so excited to explore beyond camp… and gianna was the same. they were just…” he was fiddling with his camp beads now.
you watched his movements slowly. it was like he’d never been gone, but also like everything had changed. there was a new tension in the air around him. you weren’t sure if it was you or him.
“don’t be resentful,” you said softly, breaking the silence.
“what?” his eyes turned to you. “what do you mean?”
“don’t resent yourself and the gods for this,” you said, leaning a little closer to him and looking away. the dragonfly hadn’t moved—like it was listening. watching. “peter and gianna made their choices. they’re in elysium now. that’s about as good as it gets.”
he pressed his lips together and nodded. “i know.”
maybe there was something to the two hearts theory too, because you could tell he didn’t. he didn’t agree. he didn’t want to. you slipped your hand into his. “you know i’m always here for you, right, luke? i mean, you annoy me—a lot—but you’re still, well, you. and you’re important to me. i’ll always be there for you. if you want to hold hate in your heart, then be my guest. i’ll just have to hold more love in mine to balance you out.”
he was watching your connected fingers as you spoke. his hands were calloused and hard, but yours were softer. less time spent training and more time spent healing. “love for who?”
you, you thought. you didn’t speak.
he turned to look at you. you were already looking at him. “love for me?”
you swallowed tightly. “luke…”
he leaned in closer, until his lips were moments away from touching yours. one wrong move and you’d touch. or was that the right move? was the wrong move pulling away? leaving him alone—again? that didn’t feel fair. but nor did your pounding heart and your flushing cheeks, and maybe you were blushing now, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.
then you gave in. that string that connected your souls was pulling you too tight. your lips brushed against his softly at first, and before you could think to move any further, his hand was gripping the back of your neck and pulling you closer, and his lips were pressing against yours with the passion of years of built up tension. you’d never hated him at all, you realised. you loved him the whole time. sure, he was irritating. he was chatty. he was pushy and annoying and never stopped bothering you. but you’d missed his bothering, and you’d missed his smile, and when he pulled away to take a breath, you missed his lips with a fiery need that bubbled up from deep down inside you.
“guess i’ll be annoying you for the rest of our lives then, huh?” he said softly, chest rising and falling against yours.
your eyes were still closed, reeling from the kiss. “wasn’t that a given anyway? i wouldn’t want it any other way, personally.”
when he kissed you again, you decided that the theory about two hearts was, in fact, correct. you met as two, seperate halves in a fucked up world that had you grow up far too fast. you grew as two, finding your places at camp, finding your people, but always finding each other first. you met now as one. four arms, four legs, two hearts, meeting in a tumultuous display of love and desire. and that’s how you wanted to stay. your limbs locked with his, your hearts pounding in sync, your every feeling, every emotion, every sensation making your very soul hum with joy. you’d found him, finally, after years of your hearts waiting for this moment. finally, your two hearts were one again.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo#pjo x reader#luke castellan x you#charlie bushnell
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the air that i breathe | ellie williams
˗ˏˋ "because i can make it quick, or i could make it so much worse." ´ˎ˗
synopsis: a camping trip you and ellie embark on takes a devastating turn. with you in the hands of raiders ellie's sanity is brought to her breaking point and she will stop at nohting to get you back.
wordcount: 8.3k +
warnings: 18+ ellie n readers headspace is very dark!! depression, panic attacks, horrible desperation, and lots of trauma responses that are vividly described. graphic depictions of violence, kidnapping, reader is confined in a cell by chains, food/water deprivation, hallucinations, torture (reader by raiders, ellie to the raiders) ellie is basically santa barabra ellie but multiply it by thirty n reader is like trapped in the dark so i think that counts as claustrophobia. this fic can b very triggering so pls take the tags seriously!! different povs (ellie n reader) they are seperated for most of this fic, theres some fluff in their dreams but thats truly as soft as it gets
author note: pls pls read me!! this story came to me randomly, its not a traditional fic in my eyes but i hope u guys like it nonetheless!! the name comes from the show bridgerton, one of violets lines towards her husband and i was like THAT is true love so here we are :) theres a lot of in game elements to this story on ellie's part so i hope i did that justice :)) i'm a lil nervous to post this im ngl so pls be kind and lmk if yall like it plsssss i beg of u i wanna make this a multi part fic esp w the way it ends so any feedback will be appreciated!! ily guys enjoy
ellie’s pov
– three days after the kidnapping
the first thing ellie hears is the low, familiar voices of joel and tommy. as their mumbled conversation rings through her ears, her head throbs. a groan escapes her lips, bringing her hand up weakly to rub it as if it would help. ellie opened her eyes slowly, the pain intensifying from the sun shining through the windows. her vision came to focus, looking around it was the infirmary in jackson. she was laid down in one of the beds and when her eyes landed on joel and tommy, they looked at her sympathetically.
joel took small steps toward her, barely able to make eye contact. “how ya feelin’ kiddo?” he asked, painfully sitting himself down at the end of her bed. ellie wasn’t able to read him clearly, and then she started thinking. why am i in this bed? her mind raced and it must’ve been obvious to her company because joel spoke again. “it’s gonna be okay.”
she frantically searched through her foggy mind, everything was so blurry and out of order. she thought of you. the only thing that came to the front of her mind with ease. the camping trip, she thought to herself. she saw you in her head, all bundled up in the sleeping bag and wearing ellie’s shirt. her lips began to curl at the ends before she realized you weren’t here by her bedside. she remembers leaving the tent that night, for what reason she doesn’t know, but you stayed behind, cuddled up in the sleeping bag.
thats when– your scream. it echoed in her head, taunting her. the quiet forest that surrounded the two of you amplified your terrified scream and ellie’s face grimaced at the memory. she knows she ran to you, why was i so far away from you? her brain was waking up and with it, horrible images flashed in front of her. the tent that had been cut open, the rusty old pick-up truck, the men that had you in their grasp, the last glance ellie had of you before the bud of a gun was slammed into her head. it all came flooding back in an instant.
ellie looked up at joel, tears brimming over her eyes. she spoke in a low voice, but despite the tears that fought to fall, her tone was flat. “where is she?”
joel was quick to answer, “we’ve been tracking them–”
“how long have i been out?” she boomed, trying to sit up but her brain pounded against her skull, forcing her back down in the bed. joel moved up, sitting closer to her but couldn’t find the words, his heart ached for ellie. he looked to tommy with a solemn expression, and his little brother stepped forward.
“it’s been three days, ellie,” tommy vocalized softly. “we’re doin’ all we can, i promise.”
“obviously it’s not fucking enough!” ellie shouted, pinching the bridge of her nose and shutting her eyes tight. you came to mind when she did, usually she pictures you happily; picking a flower and tucking in her hair, taking a nap on ellie’s couch with your head in her lap, posing while she drew you. you were the spitting image of innocence in her mind. but as her eyes shut now, all she could see was the absolutely heart-wrenching image of your face as you were thrown into the truck.
her eyes opened almost immediately, unable to see it even for a second longer. her cheeks became wet as the tears poured out of her, her breathing became erratic and she clutched her chest. joel was quick to comfort her but it only did so little. “we-we have to fi-find her,” ellie managed to speak through panicked breaths, feeling her chest about to burst.
the pain in her head was nothing compared to this, and it almost felt non-existent in the face of you being gone. being with them. whoever they are, whatever they want with you. they should have taken me. it should have been me. it should have been me. it should hav–
“ellie, breath–” joel cooed next to her, rubbing her back and removing her from her thoughts. “we’ll find her.”
“i’m co-coming with you,” her chest was still heaving and she felt like she’d never breathe right again. not until you were standing next to her.
tommy sighed, barely audible over ellie’s apparent panic-attack. “you’re on bed rest, kid. i’m sorry. but we will bring her back to you.”
his words felt like daggers and she was quick to respond. “if you think for one sec–”
“it’s not up for discussion, ellie.” joel interjected, his voice was soft but stern. and ellie scoffed through the tears, looking at joel harshly.
before ellie could spew a rant to him, tommy spoke, “we think they’re on the border of utah. were going tomorrow at first light and when we come back she will too. okay?”
ellie’s thoughts were a jumbled mess, and as her breathing became somewhat normal she was able to think. play it cool. “o-okay,” let them think i won’t go anywhere. “my head r-really hurts. gonna sleep for now,” she mumbled, pulling the blanket up and over her head. she laid with her back turned to them and she felt the bed move beside her. joel and tommy mumbled another string of words to each other before ellie heard the door creek open.
“rest up, kiddo. she’s gonna be okay.” joel said to her sympathetically and ellie remained quiet under her covers, plotting her escape.
she slept for another few hours. she knew she had to wait until night time anyway, there was no use in staying awake and plaguing her thoughts with what is happening to you. but as she slept her mind played horrible tricks on her, she dreamt of saving you that night. brutally slaying the men who had dared to even think about touching you, their blood stained her dreams but at the end of it you were in her arms.
when she woke up alone, her reality came crashing back down. it forced her to sit up, ignoring her head that was killing her slowly. there was no night time infirmary nurse and she knew now was her only opportunity to sneak away. the clock on the pale blue walls read one in the morning, jackson was asleep. the only people she would need to avoid were night patrols, and the guards around the armory.
she hauled herself out of bed, her feet dragging on the cold floor and she located her bag. her clothes from the camping trip were tucked inside and she quickly changed. ellie tried to picture the men’s faces, and all that came to her were figures whisking you away. she decided it was best to not think about it, but it was a lot easier said than done and she found herself shaking her head frequently to rid the images from her mind.
slipping out of the infirmary was easy, a small house on the corner of a dead end street. the streetlamps had been turned off by now, saving power and ellie easily made her way towards the armory. she approached in a crouch, hiding behind a bush in the shadows. she watched as the guards were laughing, telling stories and all around not paying attention. the armory was a larger building near the stables, the guards were circled around a makeshift booth at the front.
sneaking to the side of the building she tugged open a window and crawled inside. she loaded herself with her usual rifle that she took on patrols. taking it down from the wall she stared at it for too long, remembering the day she taught you how to shoot.
“all you have to do is point, aim and–”
“if you say point, aim and fire one more time.” you laughed at her, your attention shifting between the gun and ellie.
“i’m just trying to help you, pumpkin.”
instead of making her feel soft and warm, the memory made her go cold. she couldn’t place you, your face was a cloudy mess in her mind but your voice rang true. her eyes glossed over, hearing your laugh in her head and all she could think of what she would do to these people once she found them. in a haze she stuffed supplies in her bag, a surplus of ammo for her rifle and pistol and then some. she removed her switchblade from her bag and put it in her back pocket for easy access, throwing a trench knife into the backpack just in case.
she was almost back of out the window she came in when she realized the trip was going to be long, and she had no food in her bag whatsoever. sighing, she looked around. the left over food from the guards littered the small counter to the side of the room. sandwiches and nuts and ellie figured it would have to do and before long she was sneaking to her usual spot in the fence.
the walk to it was familiar, she had done it with you a thousand times. it was a loose panel of wood that to the unknowing eye would be a secured fence, but with a gentle tug, it gave way. ellie and you had discovered it one day, and it quickly became your get-a-way whenever one of you wanted to escape the confines of the walls. there was a small over-look just beyond the wall, about a ten minute walk from jackson. ellie had drawn you there with the landscape behind you, the picture is hanging on the wall in her garage and she cherishes it like it was gold.
she pictured you there, trying to remember how peaceful you were to her. like the calm in the storm that was her life. all she could conjure was that night so she dropped it and viciously bit her cheeks with frustration. ellie came to the broken piece of wood, taking a quick look around before pushing it and then herself through the gap. the forest beyond was still and quiet. peaceful almost. putting the board back in place, she turned and headed for the highway.
readers pov
– day of the kidnapping
the last you saw ellie she was falling to the ground as she came up to your campsite. the man who had been hiding behind the tree knocked her out with a swift blow to the head. you cried out, thrashing in the hands of the man who had lifted you from the ground. “fucking let go of me!” you shouted as your world tumbled around you, you fell into the bed of the truck with a hard smack, pain shot up your spine and you groaned, rolling over.
the man jumped up onto the back of the truck, making it wobble with his weight. you crawled backwards instinctively, your eyes darting from him and your motionless girlfriend on the ground yards away. your stomach turned as he pulled his fist back and there was nothing you could do before he brought it down heavily onto your skull and everything went black.
while unconscious, your mind brought you back to ellie’s room. her stereo playing softly as you sat on her bed, watching her read the same book she always did. her eyes scanned the pages as if she had never seen it before. she was laying on her stomach, legs dangling over the side of the bed as she flipped the pages. it was a book about the constellations in the sky and every so often she would show you a page and say it reminded her of you. “this one–” she showed you, a cheeky smile on her face as she turned the book towards you.
“that just looks like lines, els.” you chuckled at her while you examined the page. you never understood her when she spoke about space, but you liked to hear her ramble. her voice was so comforting to you and it always brought you back down to earth.
“no, no, pumpkin, look–” she pointed with her fingers on the page, outlining the stars. “its cassiopeia on her throne. d’ya see it?” her soft green eyes met yours, a hopeful look in them.
you didn’t see it, you just saw lines on a page but ellie’s enthusiasm poured through her and who were you to deny her of it. “yeah, i see it,” you lied, getting closer to get a better look hoping it will just come to you. “why do you say that?”
“dunno,” she shrugged, looking back to the page. “but it says here she was a queen, so i think that’s why.”
her words always left you feeling like the most special person, and to ellie you were. you playfully hit her with a pillow, causing a mildly loud “ow!” from her.
“you’re so fucking cheesy,” you smiled, hitting her again with the pillow. as you brought it down on her she grabbed it. ellie moved quickly and sat on her knees as she struggled to take the pillow from you. she looked down at you, back against the bed and giggling so sweetly. she was able to snatch the pillow, throwing it to the side and leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“you love it, shut up.” her words bounced off your face and she pulled her face down to be directly in front of yours. her eyes stared into yours and you could see just how much she loved you on full display within her green eyes. she leaned in to kiss you and as her lips brushed against yours, the world around you melted away.
you felt cold and you could swear your eyes were open but you couldn’t see anything. you felt around, the ground beneath you was solid and ragged and as you moved you heard the clanking of chains. moving your hands down your legs you sensed the frigid metal that encased your ankle, following the chain with your hands to a bolt in the wall.
the walls had the same texture as the floor and you began to panic. you recounted the last memory you had, ellie laying on the ground. the man punching you in the face. reaching up to touch your sensitive skin, a sharp pain came from your cheek and you gasped. incoherent curses came stringing out of your mouth that quickly turned to yelling. you shouted for ellie, her name bounced off of the walls around you and with every call unanswered the hope inside you diminished. the darkness was over-bearing and you were forced to picture every horrible thing these people could do to you simply just because they could. your voice, that was still begging for ellie, became hoarse. a lump settled in your throat from wailing and you felt sick to your stomach.
you knew none of this was helpful. the screaming, the wailing, but you couldn’t help it. the emotions poured out of you until there was nothing left, ellie could be dead and you were locked up god knows where. you hadn’t even begun to think of why they had taken you, your head was too jambled to think straight. and after what seemed like hours in the black void of your cell, a dim light flickered on and came peeking beneath a door you didn’t even know was there. it illuminated the room just enough to see that cement encased you behind the metal door.
with a click of a lock the door opened and the sudden light hitting your eyes made you jump, shielding your face with your hands. you heard footsteps approach you slowly but stop a few feet away. a cold hand came up to your forearm and you swung, trying to keep whoever this was away from you at all costs. but their cold hands grasped your arms, forcing you to look upon them. the dim overhead light in the next room outlined the man in front of you, you couldn’t make out a face but he was brutish, and he smelled like a campfire.
“don’t bite the hand that feeds you!” the man growled, the taunting in his voice was sinister.
you used all the energy you could to spit in his face and he recoiled, letting go of your arms to wipe his face and he took a step back. “fuck you!” you snarled, spit leaving your mouth with the anger that boiled inside of you.
he chuckled as he wiped the remaining spit from his face, “we could have killed you, ya know?” the man muttered, taking small strides towards the metal door. his hand reached for the wall, turning on an overhead light in your cell. looking around, it seemed to be a basement. you could see stairs past the door to the cement room and as you peered through the door, the man repositioned himself in front of your face.
you didn’t say anything and his head cocked to the side as he knelt in front of you. “but we didn’t, do you know why?” his tone was antagonizing and as your eyes adjusted you could make out his face, a large scar was centered by his nose as if he had been cut. you shook your head at his question, not wanting to speak. also because your throat stung from the previous screaming.
“well,” he looked to the side, using his hands on his knees to hoist himself back up to his feet and he towered over you. “i would have told you but–” he motioned to his face, still glistening from your spit. “maybe tomorrow.” his words were fast, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.
in a panic you lurched forward, arm out and you tried to stop him. your ankle tugging on the chain as you reached for him.“wait, please don’t!” came rushing out of your mouth but it was too late. the light was switched off and as the door shut behind him, you were enveloped in the darkness yet again.
— four days after the kidnapping
the black void of your cell had become never ending. after the man with the scar left, the only time anyone would open the door was to give you as little food as possible. keeping you weak and unable to fight back, but alive just enough to do whatever they had planned. if you had been told you were here for a week you would have believed it, time moves weird in the dark and you never knew what time of the day it was, if they were swerving you breakfast or dinner– you had no idea.
at first you tried to stand, to pace around and get your body moving. after a while it became too repetitive and you fell to your knees, tired and disoriented. you hadn’t moved an inch since, just laying curled up on the floor with your back to the door. the only thing that kept you occupied besides sleeping was reliving memories, playing them over and over again in your head. they were all of ellie, her freckled face and auburn hair and that stupid constellations book.
she was your every waking thought and even slipped her way into your dreams. ellie was the only thing keeping you from going completely insane in the darkness. you could picture her so clearly, but when you thought about her voice it never sounded right. you were only able to hear it in your dreams, but when you woke it slipped away like water in your hands. traceable, but not recognisable. you made it your mission to remember, a small controllable goal in a situation so far out of your hands and it provided a sense of comfort. as much as it could.
you were tracing her name over the cold ground beneath you, whispering it softly as if it was a crime when you drifted off once again. it had become routine and a sure fire way to make sure she was in your dreams, her voice and all. this time your dreams planted you in the memory of watching her favorite movie together, curled up on the couch with your head in her lap and her hands playing in your hair.
“don’t get attached to her,” ellie said casually above you, pointing to the small tv. you groaned, looking up at her and her innocent eyes met yours.
“you spoil every movie, els.” you say with a fake annoyance in your voice, playfully swatting at the hand pointing to the tv.
“i didn’t say what happens to her!” her hands go up defensively, looking down at you in her lap. her face had been speckled with sun freckles from the previous day, leaving it absolutely covered from her chin to her forehead. even her eyebrow slit had a few small dots in it, and you found it hard to be annoyed with her.
turning your attention back to the movie with an unsure mhm, your eyes left hers and for a moment there was silence. and ellie couldn’t help herself, she mumbled, “exceptshetotallygetschoppedinhalf.”
you sprung up, your head leaving her lap, positioning yourself next to her on your knees. swiftly you propelled her down and straddled her torso. dramatic gasps left her mouth and she placed her hands on your hips, looking you up and down. “you’re gonna pay for that, you know,” you said to her, cupping her face with one hand.
“i’m soooo scared, pumpkin” she teased, and as the words left her mouth it was like someone had pressed the mute button. her lips moved, and she was definitely talking but her voice was gone, like it had blown away in the wind. the nickname you cherished so deeply from her inaudible and as you realized this your eyes snapped open. the darkness was back, and ellie was gone, along with her voice.
you tried to cling on to it, but the harder you tried to remember it, the further it went in your mind. if you weren’t so dehydrated, you’d be crying and thrashing around, desperately hoping for her voice to come back to you. but instead being too weak to do anything, you pulled your legs up to your chest and laid in the silence. you didn’t know how long you had been asleep, not that it mattered anyway, but your stomach was feeling emptier than ever before so it must have been a while.
remnants of your dream flashed in your mind and your hand placed itself on your face as ellie had always done, imagining it was her. imagining her coming to save you, her holding you. every thought that consumed you was her. she can’t be dead. you repeat to yourself like your own little mantra. she isn’t dead.
time shifted again and you heard footsteps coming down the stairs beyond the door. the metal door clicked and opened as it always did, but instead of food being thrown at you in the dark, the lightswitch flicked on. your eyes nearly burst from the pain after being in the dark for so long and you covered them with your hands. “ready to talk like a civilized person?” the raspy voice spoke and you removed your hands from your face, squinting your eyes until they adjusted.
you nodded slightly and the man with the scar sighed, “good,” he crouched in front of you and you locked eyes with him, anger filling you up head to toe but you fought against it. “where’d we leave off, huh?”
“w-why you took me,” your voice was small and you realized you hadn’t actually talked in days besides muttering ellie’s name to yourself.
“right!” he exclaimed loudly, making you jump as it echoed off the walls. “you seemed valuable, at least to that girl,” as he acknowledged ellie, your face lit up and you hung on to his words. “so we figured, you’d be a good bargaining chip for food and whatnot.”
the nonchalantness in his voice made your skin crawl and your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. “and you think giving me back like this will get you what you want?” you asked, your voice slowly returning. the man looked down on you with a smug expression.
“if they want you back alive, yeah. i do. we’re gonna send a party to your town to give them our demands for you,” his finger grazed your leg and you snaked it back. the chains rattled as you did and a chuckle came from him. “we just need to know exactly what you people got.”
worry swirled around inside of you and you knew what ellie would do in this situation, so you remained as strong as you could, picturing her in your mind. “i’m not telling you anything–”
“it’s your choice,” he sighed, reaching into his back pocket. he pulled out a small knife and it was too similar to ellie’s for your liking. “just know you can change your mind at anytime.” with that, his knife pierced your skin and your screams filled the room.
ellie’s pov
— five days after the kidnapping
ellie had been traveling on foot for two days now. her head still ached with the concussion she suffered and her feet felt like they were on fire with every step. everytime she felt like stopping, a foggy image of you would cross her mind and she would keep going. she only stopped when she was practically falling over, hours after the sun had gone down.
by the second day, her legs were giving out on her. she stumbled into the underbrush to the side of the road, falling to her knees and then flat on her stomach. too exhausted to eat and sleep came easy to her. she knew it would only be an hour of sleep but she physically couldn’t go any further tonight. so she embraced sleep, knowing it would only make her nightmares surface yet again.
tonight her nightmare seemed to be a complete recollection of that night. she was in the tent with you and you rambled about a book you had borrowed from dina. ellie was rifling through her backpack, looking for the constellations book. she had promised to show you cassiopeia on her throne in the night sky, but her book wasn’t in her bag. “i fuckin’ packed it,” she said mindlessly, dumping her belongings out onto your sleeping bag.
“it’s okay, we can find it without the book.” you reassured her, a soft smile on your face as you did.
“no, there was– ugh,” she sighed, accepting defeat. you looked at her, a puzzled expression on your face that she couldn’t quite see. “i had something for you, it was in the book.”
“i’m sure whatever it was, i’ll love it when we get back just as much.” you leaned up, planting a delicate kiss on her lips. ellie’s worry washed away and placed a hand to your cheek when you pulled apart.
thats when the silent forest came to life. animals could be heard sprinting between trees, and the birds caulking as they were so rudely woken up by whatever had scared them. ellie’s head turned to the opening in the tent and you grabbed her arm, forcing her to look back to you.
she saw the usual cloudy mess instead of your face, but in her dreams it seemed to be normal. she sat up, rubbing the arm that clutched hers before she spoke. “probably just a runner, i’ll be right back.” she kissed the top of the blur and felt the grip loosen around her arm.
“be quick–” you whispered to her as she left the warm tent into the chill air. ellie looked around the campsite, not seeing anything but the noises of the animals still alarmed her, so she expanded her search.
she had wandered down to the small creek about twenty yards from you, hoping the sound of the rushing water had attracted the infected but there was none in sight and as she turned to make her way back to you, and the night you had planned, your shriek came barreling through the trees.
not hesitating for a second, ellie was running. her fists pumping at her sides like a madman, she didn’t have time to think about what could possibly be tormenting you, but when she bursted into the campsite and her eyes locked on you, thrashing in the grasp of a random man, her heart sank to her stomach. your face was no longer blurred, she could see every detail that made your face so perfect but your terrified expression haunted her and the gun coming down on her head sprung her awake.
the sun hadn’t risen yet and her surroundings were still dark. she pushed herself off the ground, not wanting to go back to sleep until you were next to her. coming from the trees that lined the highway, she kept going. the little rest she got was enough to propel her forward and while she walked her mind wandered. it wasn’t long before the sound of morning birds snapped her out of a haze and as she looked up from her feet she saw a welcome to utah sign. it was still dark, probably the very beginning of the morning and ellie noticed smoke coming from the trees just behind the sign.
not hesitating she moved closer, taking her steps slowly and lowering herself to the ground, she pushed past the trees and saw the makings of a camp. a giant fire roared in the middle of all the people sleeping around it. her eyes landed on the man to the left, furthest from the horses and a picture flashed in her mind. he laid there peacefully, but ellie recognized him as the man who had knocked her out. and suddenly her thoughts halted themselves and her feet moved for her.
knowing she could never take all of them at once, especially as exhausted as she was, ellie decided on a different plan. starting with the woman closest to the horses, she positioned herself right next to her and grabbed the knife she had placed in her pocket. ellie’s hand covered the womans mouth and her eyes opened harshly. without a second thought, she sliced the knife along the neck of the panicked woman.
the fires crackling was enough to mask the sound of her blood gurgling from the wound. the woman grasped at ellie desperately trying to save her own life but her movements soon slowed, her arms falling to her sides. removing her hand, she moved on to the next one. watching as the life drained from him as well as he struggled to alert his friends. ellie had gone glossy eyed, and if she was being honest she wasn’t in full control of her actions. her mind only had one goal, and these people stood in her way. they caused this. they deserve it.
blood spattered onto her face while she glided the switchblade across the neck of the third man, once he had stopped fighting back and his eyes were staring blankly up into the sky ellie locked her own eyes on the final man. the one who had prevented her from saving you, now that it was only him left she stomped over to him. as she approached him, her chest was heaving and blood dripped from her face.
she stood over him for a moment, watching as he slept peacefully. cocking her head to the side, she kicked him harshly in the stomach. immediately he rolled over, clutching his stomach and groaning in pain. ellie drove her foot into his now exposed back and he cried out in pain yet again. despite his pain, the man tried to get away. crawling on his hands and knees as quickly as he could, he only made it a few feet when the sound of ellie’s gun cocking made him stop in his tracks.
“turn around,” ellie grunted, her breathing more heavy than before. the man did as he was told, and as he did his eyes widened at the sight of ellie, covered in blood, sweat and dirt. they wandered past her, looking upon his dead friends and his hands raised to the side of his head.
“take it all–”
“you remember me?” her voice was low, hushed even and as the terrified man studied her face his eyebrows raised slightly, and ellie’s lips threatened to curl at the ends. “yeah, you remember me.”
the man remained quiet in his realization and ellie’s gaze directed itself at the paper poking out from his pocket. the fire illuminated the camp just enough to see it was a map and she motioned her gun towards it, “you’re gonna show me exactly where she is.” her voice was flat but firm.
“i can’t do that–” his voice trembled and his words were cut off by ellie moving closer to him, her gun now directly in his face.
“you don’t have a fucking choice!” she shouted, ripping the map from his pocket while her gun remained closely trained on him. she laid it flat on the ground, crouching down to his level and staring him down. he shook his head feverishly, terrified of ellie but even more concerned about her finding their base. while he refused to speak, she had grown tired of waiting and with her available hand took her switchblade and dug it deeply into his thigh and twisted with all her strength.
he wailed, losing balance on his knees and falling to his side. ellie removed the knife, wiping it clean on her jeans before lowering her head to him. “you’d better start fucking talking.”
the gun was still pointed to his face and he looked at her with disdain, “i’m fucking dead anyway why would i tell you anything.” he said breathlessly, trying to cover the hole in his leg with his hands and failing miserably.
“because i can make it quick,” she twirled her switchblade in her fingers, grazing it over his cheeks as he winced back. “or i could make it so much worse.”
“fuck you!” he spat with all his might and ellie dug her knife into his arm, sliding it down while it tore open his flesh. his screams filled the woods around them and in a desperate attempt to save his life, he reached for her gun.
it pointed up and ellie fired at the sudden scramble. the man tackled her to the ground, pinning her down and fighting to take the gun from her hand. in the tussle, her switchblade fell from her grasp and landed a few feet away. in a panic she fought for the gun, kneeing the man in the stomach as hard as she could but he remained firm on top of her. her free hand swung up, knocking him on the head and his grip on the gun loosened. as she yanked it back, it slipped from her own hands and fell to the ground. while he was stunned from her punch, ellie managed to throw him off of her. she rolled around, looking on the ground for her gun but it blended in so well with the dirt and sticks she couldn’t see it.
taking a quick look back to the man, he had picked up a rather large rock and tried smashing it down on her head. ellie moved, nearly missing having her head bashed in and she noticed her blade glistening in the now rising sun. she army crawled as the man grasped at her legs to pull her back. her fingers fiddled with the handle before she was able to firmly wrap her hand around it. as she did, the man dragged her back towards him and while he tried to position himself on top of her, ellie plunged the switchblade deep into his chest. the crunch of it piercing his sternum confirmed it was a deadly hit and she watched as he lost any hope to stay alive.
his mouth hung open in shock, looking down to the puncture wound and his hands went to grasp around it. his legs straddled ellie’s torso, allowing the blood that poured from it to fall directly onto her. the man coughed and instead of spit, blood spewed from his mouth staining his teeth in the process before he fell over beside her. ellie didn’t move, her breathing erratic from the fight.
the man gurgled on his own blood for a moment before it got quiet again, the woods silent as ever except for her heaving breaths. her hands fell to her sides and she gazed up to the sky, the stars still burning brightly above the trees. all of her exhaustion hit her at once like a truck and she fought to keep her eyes from closing. right before she thought sleep would consume her and she would have to relive her worst nightmare all over again, she saw the makings of a constellation. at first, it wasn’t recognizable, just another clump of stars in the galaxy. but when it clicked in her mind, she propped herself up on her elbows and the tiredness melted away. it was cassiopeia.
that was everything she needed. ellie got up with a new surge of energy, taking the map with her and anything else she could find useful. she strode away from the grim scene on their horse, following the map to the first exit off the utah highway. with the horse, the rest of the journey seemed like light work. it was only an hour before she spotted the fences to the community.
tying the horse to a hidden tree for a get-away, she circled the small town. the fence was chain linked and she watched inside as the town woke up to start their day. ellie was able to see that only a small amount of people woke up this early, leaving the streets barely occupied.
staying in the shadows, she slipped under the fence that was poorly secured. she found herself in between two small houses, ellie could make out mumbled words from the street so she moved up, making sure to stay as close to the wall of the house as possible.
“....hopefully they will come back with the stuff by tomorrow.” a woman's voice could be heard, ellie dared not to peek around the corner and listened further to their conversation.
“we don’t even know if they have anything, we could be chasing a dead end.” ellie’s eyebrows furrowed as the second voice spoke. she figured they were talking about the group she had slaughtered, but could jackson be the dead end they were speaking about? is that why they wanted you?
“just gotta hope for the best, i guess.” the woman spoke again before her footsteps could be heard walking away. ellie’s body tensed up, quickly her mind showed her the haunting image of your face and she shook her head, focusing her eyes around the corner. she caught a glimpse of the woman walking down the sidewalk, leaving the man to stand in front of the house alone. he was reading a note intensely and ellie took a look around to make sure her coast was clear.
she came up behind him, swiftly covering his mouth and dragging him back between the houses for cover. she ripped the note from his hands and used the bandana that had been around his head to cover his mouth and threw him to the ground. while she examined the note, her pistol was focused on him keeping him in place.
residents be advised that your council is doing all they can to provide for you. we are currently bartering with a town in wyoming for food, and unlike last time, we are sure they will be more than happy to provide.
ellie balled up the paper in her fists, scoffing and throwing it beside the man. “the girl, where is she?” ellie hissed at him, keeping her voice low. he mumbled through the bandana and she rolled her eyes. “don’t fucking scream, you can make it out of this.” she said before pulling the bandana down.
the mans eyes were wide with fear as he looked upon ellie, but he spoke fast and quietly while darting his eyes between her and the gun. “i don’t know about a girl, i really don’t plea–”
ellie shook her head before snatching his wrist in her hand, bending his finger back and he winced. “okay, okay okay,” he rushed out, feeling his finger about to snap. “our hunters, they came back a few days ago with something they wouldn’t tell anyone about,” he paused, looking at ellie and her grip loosened.
“keep talking.” she ordered him and he stammered his words, trying to desperately abide by her rules.
“usually they bring the meat to the kitchen but-but they parked the truck outside of our leaders house, said it was nothing but it didn-didn’t look like nothin’.”
ellie moved the gun into his neck, nuzzling it right below his ear and his breathing hitched up. “where?”
“go left do-down the street, the truck is old you can’t miss it!” ellie knew the truck all too well and without another word she removed the gun from his neck and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“thanks–” ellie whispered as her switchblade lodged itself in his neck. he didn’t scream, just looked at her wide-eyed as he tried to stop his neck from bleeding. ellie didn’t wait around, his blood still bubbling as she walked away, turning left down the street.
she was careful, she moved down the street hiding behind cars, bushes and whatever else she could find. when she was starting to think the man had given her bad information, the truck came into view. it was parked blissfully in the driveway of a quaint looking house. she found herself climbing through an open window on the first floor, escaping the street and its peering eyes. ellie landed in the living room of the house, it wasn’t decorated, the walls were blank and the furniture looked like it was rotting away.
that's when she heard voices coming from upstairs, she almost ascended the stairs herself but the voices were coming closer. she hid behind the dusty couch as the stairs creaked and found herself in the company of two men who had no idea she was eavesdropping.
“we already sent the group, why do you need more from her?” the raspy voice uttered, a hint of annoyance laced in his tone.
ellie heard a long sigh, “because they could become our primary suppliers. as long as we have her, they will give us whatever we want. for as long as we want.” the second man spoke with a heavy country accent and her blood boiled, she stopped herself from jumping the two, instead listening for more information.
“she wasn’t very forthcoming the first time–”
his voice was cut off, “well fuckin’ make her. i told you whatever it takes.” another sigh filled her ears, and she wasn’t sure who had done it but feet were stomping away and she glanced around the couch. she witnessed a bald man opening a door down a dark hallway, while the man who had the accent went back upstairs. her brain was split, but she knew they wouldn’t have kept you upstairs so she followed the bald man with the raspy voice, opening the door silently and descending the stairs that were behind it.
the end of the staircase opened up to a dimly lit basement, it was unfinished and dirty. she caught a glance at a metal door at the opposite end of the room before turning her attention back to the bald man, who was crouching down beside a workbench. it was lined with tools, but ellie knew what they were for. so as fast as she could, she approached him. he was barely able to turn around before she tackled him to the ground. the man was big but being caught off guard helped ellie as her hands gripped around his neck.
she put all of her body weight into his neck, he was choking and failing his arms around at ellie. it didn’t phase her, even when he had slapped her across the face in his panic. her face was contorting with all the exertion and she stared down at him, never breaking eye contact. a scar was slashed across his face and she recognized this as the man who had thrown you into the truck, the image coming to her clearly. his eyes were bulging from their sockets and his legs were kicking with a passion but as ellie came to this realization she jerked her hands down, the applied pressure breaking his neck under her hands and he immediately went limp.
in a cloudy haze she stood up, catching her breath and looking around for a key. she practically threw everything off of the workbench in front of her and when she didn’t find it she moved back to the man on the floor. she dug through his pockets and her fingers found a small metal key.
she walked towards the metal door slowly. now that she was here, she was terrified of what she would see behind the door. she put the key into the lock and turned, earning a click. she breathed out all the air in her lungs before pushing it open and her heart was beating faster than she had ever known possible. the room was dark, and seemed empty. the light from the other room allowed her to see a small switch on the wall and she flicked it on, now fearing you werent even here.
but you were. the light came on and your hands flew to your face shielding your eyes. ellie’s eyes immediately brimmed with tears seeing you. she took a step forward, taking off her backpack and laying it on the ground beside her. you were so obviously injured, puncture wounds up and down your legs with dried blood surrounding them. the chain around your ankle had almost embedded itself in your skin, resulting in a horrible looking bruise that had worked its way up your leg. ellie breathlessly said your name, tears falling from her eyes and your hands moved from your face slowly.
your eyes weren’t adjusted, you just saw a blurry figure in front of you but you could have sworn you heard her voice. the voice that had escaped you every time you tried to hold on to it, and you thought your brain was playing a cruel prank. “please don’t,” you uttered quietly, fearing she was the man with the scar coming back to torture you more.
ellie dropped to her knees in front of you, looking at your battered body not able to form words. they had broken you, and she blamed herself. anger brewed inside of her but in this moment, she remained soft spoken. “it’s me,” she whispered, reaching her hand out to touch your leg which you snaked away, still not believing she was actually there. you believed you were so desperate to see her, to hear her, that she materialized out of thin air. but that meant you were truly losing your sanity and you could barely look at her.
“its not you–” you said back to her, looking to the floor and ellie’s eyes shut tightly to hold back anymore tears. you had backed up all the way to the wall, leaving ellie in the center of the room. she slowly moved to you as you watched her from your peripheral view.
she came up in front of you, “it’s me, pumpkin,” and placed a hand to your shallow cheek as she always had done.
feeling her warm hands on your face, you met her eyes. her warmth couldn’t be your imagination and your own eyes welled up as she dragged her thumb carelessly across your cheek. her appearance didn’t even phase you, all you cared about was her. “ellie,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and placing your hand on top of hers that cupped your face. “you’re actually here?” your voice was small and faint, and it felt like ellie was stabbed in the heart.
the blur that ruined her memories of you was gone. even the image of you being whisked away was gone. she scanned your still perfect face, it’s only faults being sunken in from hunger and bruising that littered your cheeks but it was still perfection to her. she felt more relief than she had when she killed the man in the woods, and the bald man that still laid a few feet away. you were here in front of her, finally. ellie couldn’t help but smile at you, all her efforts hadn’t been in vain.
“i’m actually here,” she repeated to you, connecting your foreheads together. “i found you.”
ellie leaned back, inches from your face. her voice rang in your ears and you felt like you were floating with every word that came from her mouth after missing it for so long. you managed a smile for her. she was so close to you that you had barely seen the figure towering over her from behind, your mouth began to form her name to warn her but it was too late. the figure smashed ellie over the head and she fell unconscious beside you.
#ellie williams#ellie williams fic#ellie williams x you#ellie williams angst#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams fanfiction#biblically accurate ellie williams#angst angst angst#ellie williams the last of us part 2#santa barbra ellie
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hi! i would like to request a hurt/comfort fic for luke! it’ll be luke X GN!reader. the scenario would be that reader got badly injured when a monster appeared in the forest, and luke is trying his best to heal them (they are fine in the end).
(sorry if this was bad, this is my first request for a fic so i tried my best!)
thank you, and have a good day!
NO BUT LIKE THIS SNAPPED ME OUT OF MY WRITERS BLOCK- I JUST GOT BACK FROM A FAIR, I'M TIRED, HUNGRY, BUT I MUST WRITE-
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Eyes On Me, Baby
♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡
Summary: On a walk with your boyfriend, monsters are just hell bent on ruining your mood.
Warnings: Injury (Not very descriptive): No mentioned godly parent for reader: Use of petnames (Babe, baby, honey): blood: angst to comfort: swearing:
Requested: Yuh
GN Reader!
Being a half-blood was hard.
Not that it was a big deal usually, but when one was bleeding out on the forest floor it was hard to not curse the god that made you.
Neither of you even saw the monster before it already clawed you, which you were almost positive Luke would beat himself up over for weeks.
"Okay- okay, I know you're dizzy baby, but you gotta keep your eyes open, okay? Eyes on me honey." Luke rambles, one hand pressed to your abdomen, the other digging around in your bag for the nectar you always kept. "Do not close your eyes."
"Didn't plan on it." You mumble, shaking your head to get rid of the fuzzy feeling taking over your brain. You yelp when he pours the nectar over your wound without warning.
"Don't sass me. Stay awake." He says quietly, his hand still pressed to your abdomen while he searched your bag for something to cover the wound with until he could carry you to the infirmary.
"I'll be sassy if I want to be- FUCK!" You hiss, mumbling a plethora of curses under your breath when a sharp pain racks your body.
He huffed when he found nothing, tugging his sweater over his head, tying it tightly around your wound, whispering comforting nothings when you groan.
"I gotta pick you up, baby. It's gonna hurt but we need to get back to camp." Luke says softly, pushing your hair up from your forehead in a soothing gesture.
"Are you ready? I'm gonna count to three, okay?" He says, waiting for your nod of comfirmation.
You mutter some weak agreement, and he nods, looping one arm under your knees and the other behind your back so he could pick you up bridal style.
"One, two-" Before her reaches three, he picks you up, wincing at the strained wail slipping past your lips, "I know, honey. I know." He mutters, holding you close while he carries you back to camp as quickly as he can without tripping over roots, or rocks.
"You said on three." You groan, looping your arms weakly around his neck.
"I know I did. I know." Luke rambles while he rushes you back to camp, whispering sweet comforts and praises the entire time. Begging you to stay awake. To keep you eyes open.
The dizzy feeling in your brain amplifies by the second, and it's starting to get hard to keep your eyes open.
Your vision feels fuzzy, and everything sounds like your underwater...
You hear muffled voices, feel the warmth of one of the infirmary cots, and a comforting hand in your hair before you fade into unconciousness...
You wake up with a low grown, and someone was quick to shower you with comforting words and ghosting touches to ease the tension in you muscles.
Your entire body felt sore, it even took effort to open your eyes.
"Luke..?" You mumble hoarsely, and he brushes his hand over your cheek.
"I'm right here, (Name)." He whispers, squeezing your hand, "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit." You reply, looking over at him with a weak grin.
He chuckles, leaning down to give you a kiss, "You scared the shit outta me, you know that?" He mumbles, still close enough for his breath to hit your lips, "Don't you ever do that to me again."
You were okay. Thank the gods you ended up being okay. Both of you know he never would have forgiven himself if anything worse happened.
"I love you." He says softly, kissing the tip of your nose, "Can't lose you, baby. Not ever. Do you hear me? I need you. Always."
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I'm not to happy with the ending, but I REALLY like the rest of it.
I FINALLY POSTED SOMETHING GUYS LOOK AT ME GO-!
#normie writes#pjo luke#luke castellan x reader#luke x reader#luke castellan#pjo x reader#pjo x you#percy jackson and the olympians#luke x reader fluff#luke x reader angst#pjo
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Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Verse)
★"Nonviolent Communication"★ (ongoing story; 190k words minus one-shots)
soft!Miguel x SpiderFemReader; Slow burn; Colleagues to Friends to Lovers | After the events of BSTV, you're recruited into the Spider Society. Your boss is distant, works day and night. You can't help but feel intrigued by him despite his coldness. One day he shows up to your apartment after you fail to show up for duties.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight
Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve
Part Thirteen |
Part Fourteen |
One-Shots (First three need to be read between Part Eleven and Part Twelve if reading the fic; Valentine's one-shot needs to be read after Part Twelve!)
Thanksgiving One-Shot for Nonviolent Communication
Blanca Navidad One-Shot for Nonviolent Communication
New Year's One-Shot for Nonviolent Communication
Valentine's Day One-Shot for Nonviolent Communication
When they Met - Short Thought on their First Interaction
OFFICIAL SPOTIFY PLAYLIST - NONVIOLENT COMMUNICATION
THANK YOU SO MUCH, IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!! ❤️ 🥹
☆Part One☆
"No Fever"
"A Really Good Cook"
☆Part Two☆
"Two Random Coffee Cups"
☆Part Five☆
"So Serious"
☆Part Six☆
Miguel's Ofrenda
☆Part Seven☆
"Two Hot Drinks"
"Merry Christmas"
Miguel Receives Food
☆Part Eight☆
Seconds Tick By
Miguel is Found
☆Part Nine☆
Recovering Miguel
Cleaning Miguel's Face at the Infirmary
Grumpy Miguel Eating Hospital Food
Scars n All - Reader's view of Miguel!
A Helping Hand
☆Part Ten☆
Trying to Not Make a Sound
Ternura - Miguel Observing Y/N
Peaceful Sleeping
Hand Feeding Miguel!
Miguel Smelling Reader's Sweatshirt
Miguel Peacefully Sleeping
Dreamy Sleeping
☆Part Eleven☆
Late Night Kids Talk - Reader and Her Peter
Late Night Kids Talk - Reader and Her Peter (Full Version)
Caught Dancing
"I Wondered if Maybe... I Wasn't Enough"
"Mwah!"
Pinky Squeeze
The Pinky Squeeze, A Sleeping Miguel, and Peter Sketches
☆Part Twelve☆
Pinky Squeeze
Thinking
☆Part Thirteen☆
Comforting Miguel after His Nightmare
Holding Hands
So Beautifully Strange
☆Other Art☆
Peter and his support for SpiderReader
"I Bite" - Animatic
Miguel (Possibly) Dancing due to his Record Player - Animatic
Mayday's "Miggle" Nickname and Sweatshirts - Ask Thread
Promise Me Miguel - AU by a lovely reader
Record Player
Peter's Photo
ONE-SHOTS ART
☆Thanksgiving One-Shot Art☆
Peter B., Mayday, Miguel, and Lyla
Miguel and Reader - Various Scenes
Miguel Caught Staring
☆Blanca Navidad (Christmas) One-Shot Art☆
"... heard, appreciated, and ... loved." - Various Sketches
☆New Year's One-Shot Art☆
Drying Tears
New Year's Photo
☆Valentine's One-Shot Art☆
Various Sketches
★ Making Tamales with Miguel ★
Fluff
★ Baking Halloween Cookies with Miguel ★
Fluff
★ A November Morning ★
Fluff
★ Double Trouble 18+ ★
2099 Miguel X Reader X Variant Miguel, adult themes, no plot |
You find yourself with two Miguel's.
★ Double Trouble 18+ - Part Two ★
2099 Miguel X Reader X Variant Miguel
★ Waking Up with Miguel ★
Fluff, short piece
★ Miguel on Peeling an Orange for you ★
Short Drabble, fluff
★ Miguel and His Wife/Husband ★
Short Drabble, fluff
★Miguel and Gabriella | Easter 🐇★
Fluff, short drabble
★Nicknames I would give Miguel as his romantic partner★
Just nicknames for Miguel, drabble
★The Boop Thing but at The Spider Society★
Fluff
★A Romantic Concert Night★
Fluff
★What If...?★
Mother's Day, smut, fluff
#writing#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o hara x reader#miguel o hara#miguelohara#miguel spiderman#miguel o hara x you#miguel o hara x y/n#Nonviolent Communication fanart#miguel ohara#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara fanfiction#slow burn#fluff#miguel o'hara fluff#female reader#romance#atsv miguel#miguel x reader g/n#miguel x reader#miguel x you#miguel x y/n#miguel o'hara smut#spiderman 2099
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Need to read some fic where Law is the one who falls HARD and instantly, while Luffy takes a while.
Law full on pining from day 1 while Luffy’s like “haha you’re so weird but your bear’s cool”
Law convincing himself that just being close to Luffy during their alliance is enough, treasuring every moment bc he knows Luffy doesn’t feel the same. All the straw hats pitying him and/or outright hostile towards him bc he’s transparent as fuck
Luffy being like “I’m busy becoming the pirate king traffy’s cool I like him but he’s not my crew” and law accepting that and thinking it’s for the best, he doesn’t have a good track record keeping loved ones alive anyway.
Law devoting himself mind body and soul to luffy after Dressrosa, knowing even then that Luffy’s going to be pirate king and law will do anything to make that happen because he wants luffy to have the freedom law’s never felt
And luffy, despite what everyone seems to think, he’s not dumb. He knows how law feels. He doesn’t GET it, just like he doesn’t get why Boa Hancock feels that way, or why he has a fan club, but he does know how law feels about him.
And maybe it’s not until after egghead that something changes. Maybe it’s when Luffy realises that Teach HAS Law, and he gets more upset than people expect. When he goes after Black beard with a fury even he doesn’t understand
And I dunno, maybe Luffy’s never felt love this way before, can recognise it in others but not in himself because it’s all new, but when he gets law back, beaten and tortured in the name of the eternal life surgery, Luffy can’t let him out of his sight.
Almost maniacally, carries law all around the sunny like a soother, law barely conscious as chopper is desperately trying to tend to his injuries but luffy just feels WEIRD without law in his arms. He’s being petulant and stubborn about it because he’s not processing WHY he feels this way.
And law comes back to himself slowly and is equally confused. Feels undeserving for this weird questionable kindness of being dragged all over like a favourite stuffed animal while, again, chopper is BEGGING luffy to leave law in the infirmary
It goes on for days, until law finally tells luffy to for the love of god put him down, and luffy says “I WON’T I CAN’T something BAD will happen again” and Law has to stiltedly assure him that no, it really won’t. He goes on a tangent about compulsions that luffy clearly ignores
And to law this is a special sort of hell because he LOVES this. Knows this is the luffy version of being doted on,and feels entirely undeserving. He’s knocked luffy off course of becoming the pirate king, his one dream. Law can’t be the reason that doesn’t happen
But Luffy keeps not letting him go, until Law has to FORCE the issue “STRAW HAT YA PUT ME DOWN” only for luffy to say “NO I FEEL WEIRD YOU’RE MAKING ME FEEL WEIRD AND I DON’T GET IT, YOU’RE MAKING ME NERVOUS”
he’s throwing a whole mini tantrum on the middle of the deck on the Sunny where everyone is pointedly looking away as if they can’t hear. And Law, equally unable to understand the situation, says, “WELL HOW DO YOU THINK *i* FEEL”
And maybe that’s when it clicks for Luffy. Ohhhhhh this is how law felt all that time? Like uncomfy bad nervous and upset tummy? THAT’S what this is?
“Traffy is this LOVE?”he asks, VERY loudly.
And law, turning beet red, says “no!! It’s not!! Put me down!!”
Because law has known luffy in some form or another for three years at this point and law has loved him for all of it and therefore he is WELL AWARE that luffy doesn’t love him back, so this is clearly something else. PTSD, probably. OCD, definitely.
But then , because all of the straw hats ARE there, Franky yells, “don’t listen to him, little bro! That’s definitely love!”
And law chokes, starts struggling to be put down, ears BURNING and face in flames. “No it’s NOT” he yells.
“Traffy,” Luffy says, a deep frown on his face as his arms wind again and again around law’s middle. “I think franky’s right.”
“He’s not,” law seethes, struggling against the rubber boa constrictor arms. “ You CAN’T like me, you’re going to be PIRATE KING.”
Luffy looks up at him. “So what?” He asks, genuinely confused
“You can’t TIE YOURSELF DOWN to THIS,” law says, furtively motioning to himself. “You’re the freest man in the world, you can’t be tied down to someone who couldn’t even beat black beard.”
Luffy studies him. He thinks REALLY hard, tilting his head and observing law’s expressions go through the five phases of grief. Then he says “that’s dumb, Traffy. Being free means I can choose whatever I want, and I want you.”
Which is, like, something law never let himself think about. So he doesn’t know how to respond. It doesn’t make SENSE. Luffy is everything, is freedom and joy, and law is a man who’s failed every important person in his life.
But luffy IS free to choose, is the thing. And law long ago vowed to do whatever he could to make him pirate king, so.
“…fine, straw hat-ya. I think you will change your mind, but I won’t stand in your way.”
Luffy laughs. “That’s a weird way to say you’ll be my boyfriend, traffy,” he says.
And then he gives law the worst, most wet kiss in history. All the straw hats in the vicinity cover their ears in embarrassment.
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hi srry if you don't do requests but I have to ask cuz I love everything about your writing.
Can u write a fic where the mc is strictly monogamous but 141 are SO madly in love so they fight on who gets to be with her and it's causing actual problems between them?
Ignored this if u don't want to. Anyway stay slaying✨
Hey ☀️🩷 Ofc I take requests this is my first one tho, I hope you like It, and it's like you imagined because I always have like a little movie in my head when I write a scene and with requests. I don't know if my thoughts match with yours- performance anxiety lol. Still thank you for supporting me 🩷☀️
Fighting for you
TF 141 x Reader
You always had that one plan in your life: meet a nice guy, date for 2 years, marry him with the most extravagant wedding dress someone could imagine, and after that, you get three fat babies whom you will love and dote on.
The only problem was, as a nurse on a military base, you didn't meet guys capable of this lifestyle. You hated to see all these men trying to get in your pants while they were married.
"Why are you in the med again, Johnny?" You scolded him. Of course, you found the Scotsman funny and liked his daily visits, but still, having him here all the time felt like a lost puppy when you had work to do.
"Look, Bonnie, have a mean scratch, need stitches from ya."
"Is that so, Mr. MacTavish?"
"Yes, Bonnie, look." He showed you a scar on his biceps, and you sighed. You knew he was only coming for something else; no soldier went to the medical just because of a scratch. He started to flex his biceps.
"Johnny, that's barely anything."
"But ya always fix me good, lassie." He looked at you with puppy eyes, and you sighed, disinfecting his nonexistent wound. "Such a good caretaker, lass. Need to put a ring on ya before someone else does." You blushed at the thought of marrying someone like Johnny. He was handsome, funny, and super strong, but he was a flirt, probably flirting with every other nurse. Besides, you had a date today.
"Johnny, stop flirting. I have a date today."
"Just a date, lass. It's not like you'll marry him."
You stared at him with a dead glare. "For some people, dates are important, Johnny!"
"Who is it?"
"None of your business, and now leave," you scolded him, annoyed by his noisy behavior.
-----------
"Who of you bastards broke the agreement?" Johnny started to scream at his teammates.
"What do you mean, Soap?" Kyle asked, confused.
"We agreed that no one can have her since she doesn’t want to share, so who of you tossers broke the agreement and goes on a date with her?"
"How do you even know that mate, if you didn’t break the agreement too?"
"I just needed her to take care of my injuries, Kyle."
"Bullshit, you barely got a scratch. Admit that you wanted to break off the agreement too. Admit it." Gaz barked, walking towards Soap to pick him up by his shirt.
"Enough of you, Muppets!"
"You broke the agreement, Captain, didn't ya? Telling us all about the agreement and then taking out my future wife."
"I didn't, and even if, she'd be more happy to become Mrs. Price than Mrs. MacTavish."
They were so close to fighting; everyone accused the other of taking you on that date. They remembered the first day they saw you; all of them were smitten. You were just too precious, full of love and excitement. Perfect hair, perfect body, everything about you was perfect for them. You could walk with your greasy messy bun, and they’d kneel for you, promising you’re the most beautiful woman on earth. After a while, they noticed how every one of them was smitten, how Johnny spent every minute in the infirmary, Ghost becoming your shadow, protecting you from every danger of the world without you even knowing, the Captain always treated you better than every other staff member, you had more off days, better shifts, and even better pay, and Kyle bringing you always your favorite coffee and a bunch of pastries when you overworked yourself again.
Johnny was the first one to ask the rest if they’d be open to a poly relationship. He was the most open about his sexuality, and having Simon and you was the perfect thing for him. Whether the reasons why they agreed to try to court you in this relationship, every one of them thought you only deserved the best, and that included being worshiped by four muscular men.
Unfortunately, your best friend, who noticed their goal while you still stayed in your naive bubble, popped their bubble, telling them to sod off. You weren’t made for this kind of relationship; you were jealous and liked the idea of monogamy way too much. You only wanted to have one husband. That's how the agreement started none of them will pursue you, and they will only start something with you if you approach them, no more flirting, favoritism, or looming over you.
Nonetheless, they gave a fuck about their agreement, behind closed doors still trying to court you in various different ways, but how could they not? You were perfect, and they were obsessed and way too much in love with you to let someone else have you.
"Where the fuck is Ghost?" Kyle asked, looking around for the scary man with the skull face mask.
"Fucking hell, he is her date."
"Sick bastard."
------
Soap walked into Ghost's barracks, eager to scream at his best friend. He was the first to love you, so Ghost should not have gone on a date with you without telling him. The betrayal felt immaculate, his best friend with the love of his life.
"Aye, Lieutenant, heard you're going on a date with the lassie."
"Johnny, it just happened."
"No hard feelings, LT. Where are you taking her?"
"Alfredo's."
"Oh, okay."
Simon looked confused at Johnny. "What's wrong?"
"Take her to a better place a steakhouse or a fish restaurant. Give her a real meal, not something cheap. Lassies love this fancy shit."
"Thanks, mate."
---------------
Your date with Ghost was okay. He was brooding over something, and as he insisted on ordering something for you as a surprise, despite you telling him no, he did it, wanting to be a posh bloke who knows what his lady wants. Soap said you liked this fancy shit and heavy meat and fish.
As you looked disgusted at the filet steak, trying not to be rude by saying you're a vegetarian, he lost it mentally, not with you but with his best friend, who betrayed him just for you. He'd do the same, of course, but it's still different, right?
The date went on way too cringy, Simon spent most of the time apologizing to you for the messed-up date, and you tried to reassure him that it was okay. When he brought you back home, he asked if he could stay the night, and you politely declined.
"Johnny, I'm going to rip your fucking head off."
"Aye, shit," Johnny screamed as he began to run.
"The date went shit, I guess?" Kyle asked, unfazed by all the screaming from the two men fighting. He acted as if he didn't let slip the information that she is vegetarian next to Johnny or told Price she liked roses after she told him for 20 minutes straight how they are overrated. The best part was no one even suspected him; he was calm about the situation, not trying to solve it with violence like Johnny and Simon. While the others played checkers, he played chess to get you.
"Yes, it was."
"I told you muppets, I'm the one who deserves her."
"Shut up, Price," Ghost scoffed.
"I think so too, Captain should have her. At least he treats her well," Kyle said with a boyish grin.
So the Captain asked you out on a date, and after some convincing, you agreed, making yourself ready and waiting for him in desperation. You looked great, hair curled, mascara applied, and in a dress that was classy but a bit sexy. You knew Price could be a guy for this, maybe a bit too old, but still, you could grow old with him, and maybe he would give you everything your innocent heart desires.
After waiting for an hour, you were sure he wouldn’t come. If only you had known that Ghost was faking an accident and Soap's promise to tell you about it, not to let the sweet angel wait for the Captain. Soap was already on the way to play the knight in shining armor, fully confident to finally sweep you off your feet and make you the future Mrs. MacTavish, his sweet little angel. Oh, how the boys would look to know that he got the heart of their sweetheart finally.
Too late.
"Hey, lovely, why are you sobbing? Do I need to punch someone for you?"
"It's embarrassing, Kyle."
"Tell me about it."
"Just had a bunch of weird dates. One wanted to only bed me, I guess, and the other stood me up," you sobbed, looking into Kyle's pretty face.
"Oh, love, you know that all these guys around the boys are head over heels fighting over you like wild animals."
"Never."
"They are, how couldn't they? You're perfect."
"You're a flirt, you know that."
"And you're too pretty to cry, you know that?" He winked at you, removing the tears from your beautiful eyes.
"You think so?"
"Mhm."
"Kyle," you asked him shyly, looking deep into his brown eyes.
"Yes?"
"Are you one of the boys who fight over me too?"
"Sure as hell, love!" He almost shouted, full of enthusiasm.
"You wouldn’t want what I want."
"And how do you know that?"
"I just want you, to know all, exclusive dating."
"Mhm, I'd give you that without a doubt, love. Just let me prove to you that I'm the right one for you, love." His hand slowly went to your face, caressing the soft skin that was still tinted by your mascara tears. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen." And when you looked at him with your doe eyes, he lost it, slowly pulling his rough lips on your soft ones, holding your head for dear life as if you could vanish any second. He was afraid he did something wrong, maybe scared you like a deer, but you didn't shy away; you pulled him closer, letting his lips intertwine with yours and slowly opening your mouth to let his tongue explore yours. It felt like a firework in your body; every fiber burned with pure passion as he kissed you. You didn't want to stop; you needed him as deeply as he longed for you.
"Fucking Garrick, I didn't think he’d win her over," Ghost murmured behind the wall, watching you with the others in jealousy as Kyle got their girl.
"He played us like fucking fools, telling us it's okay if we win her over," Price muttered, annoyed and kinda proud at his sneaky bastard.
"I'm more of a looker than fucking Gaz," Soap said, annoyed.
As happy as you were right now, all of the boys knew the fight for your heart wouldn’t stop until there was a ring on your finger.
#john price#tf 141 x reader#call of duty#cod x reader#cod mw2#cod#cod mwii#tf 141#john mactavish x reader#captain john price#john price x reader#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#gaz x reader#ghost fanfiction#simon ghost riley#ghost#ghost cod#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#cod mw#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare#soap cod#soap x reader#soap mw2#price x reader#price
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Smoke stings his eyes.
He sits and lights incense after incense, sits at campfire after campfire, never able to open his mouth to sing the mourning songs for fear of it coming out hoarse, broken. Not good enough to honour the dead. Never good enough to save them, either, but that's neither here nor there, is it?
The Fates will have their way, Mamma had said. God has a plan for you, cuoricino, just you wait. You will rule the world one day, you and your sister, I know it.
Nico hates the Fates, sometimes.
same fic another scene 1 - dubbed Panic! in the Library
#nico di angelo#hey who do you think led the funeral rites after blood of olympus#idk if I think it was nico or not#toying with a chb fic about nico and grief and what three days in the infirmary actually looks like#plus my healthy nico agenda and a healthy dose of solangelo obv#riordanverse#pjo fic#worldbuilding my beloved
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You're So Timeless | Vol. 2
Steve Rogers x Reader
Fandom: MCU
Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year.
Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.
Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. This is PART 2. Part 1 is linked HERE.
Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.
Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)
Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female
The Recovery Period
When you woke up, Steve was there sitting in the infirmary, sleeping. His head was leaning back against the wall, snores deep and quiet. It was dark. You weren’t sure how long it had been. You blinked a few times and took a breath, your chest protesting when you did.
The monitor you were hooked to started beeping loudly and Steve awoke, meeting your eyes. He called for Bruce and stood from his chair, approaching the side of your bed. You reached for his hand and he gave it to you immediately, fingers latching onto yours, as though to prove you were awake, that you were alive.
Bruce arrived and gave you the rundown, the grenade, which you remembered, the fact that you had a cracked rib and quite a bit of bruising, but that you had gotten very lucky otherwise. He prescribed you some pain meds and six weeks of rest with a brace before he’d reevaluate.
And at first, it wasn’t bad. Sam played a lot of Fortnite with you. You were pretty good at it, surprisingly. Tony had a pretty extensive collection of movies and you had every snack you could ever dream of. You got some reading done, you picked up crochet, and everyone spent a lot of time entertaining you.
Bucky introduced himself. Steve had talked about him a bit before you met him, but the man standing in front of you was a lot quieter than you’d expected, more timid. You figured he’d open up more once he was convinced none of you were scared of him. And you weren’t. The dangerous part of him was the Winter Soldier, something Wanda had been working with him to unwind from the depths of his mind.
After a few days, when your pain had toned down a bit, Natasha sat you on a stool in the kitchen and gave your hair a trim, getting rid of the singed ends. Wanda got into the undercover stash in one of the bathrooms and found a few bottles of hair bleach and some blue dye. Steve found the three of you in there with hair shears, and a bowl of mixed blue dye that Wanda was painting onto your freshly bleached ends.
He had no complaints. After all, blue was your color. It was quite a bit shorter, too, but he thought it suited you. He thought everything suited you, to be honest.
You did some online shopping in those first few weeks. Your Avengers allowance was no joke and you had barely touched any of it yet, which meant a new reading chair was well within the budget, a cool round one than you could hang from the ceiling. It was Steve that found you pushing the giant box down the hall when it arrived.
“Hey! Woah, are you supposed to be pushing that?”
You froze, turning to face him. “Maaaaybe.”
“Alright, move.” He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves and taking over, pushing it down the hall to your room. “What is this anyway?”
“New reading chair. It’s really cool, it hangs from the ceiling.”
“And you were going to do that part, too?”
“I was gonna figure it out. Maybe use my powers for that part.”
“Ah, right. Forgot about those.”
“Me too, honestly. Haven’t used them much lately.”
“For good reason.” He straightened out, the box now sitting in the middle of your room. “How are you feeling, better?”
“A lot better. Still a little sore, but my bruises are starting to clear up.” You motioned to the brace you had to wear around your middle. “Might be out of this thing before six weeks if I can help it.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see what Bruce says.”
“Of course.” You nodded, using a pair of scissors to slice the tape along the top of the box.
Steve opened it up and started taking parts out. You reached for the instructions and sat down next to him on the floor, familiarizing yourself with the process. It didn’t look too difficult and it was only a few pieces of hardware.
“I’m gonna go grab some of Tony’s tools.” He told you, walking towards Tony’s workroom. He returned a few minutes later with a drill and a screwdriver. “Alright, where are we starting?”
“Okay, so we attach the chair part to the support chains, and then those get screwed into the ceiling. Like this.” You showed him the diagram.
“I’m no handyman, but I think we can figure it out.” He grinned, scooting a little closer to you.
“Oh I’m sure we can.”
It didn’t take long. Less than an hour. The two of you talked, joked, laughed. Eventually, you used your powers to hold the thing in place so Steve could screw it into the ceiling. He got off the stepladder and sat in the chair, testing the strength of the chair himself before deciding it was good enough for you. With a smile, he got up and motioned for you to give it a try.
You put the cushions on the chair and sat down, smiling. “I’ve always wanted a chair like this.”
“Well I’m glad I could help that dream come true.” He chuckled. He handed you the book sitting on your desk. “Here, give it a real test.”
“Oh good idea.” You chuckled, positioning the book in your hands, curling your legs into your desired reading position. Yep, it worked. And it was pretty comfortable. “Now all I need is a little lamp over here.”
“Let me know when that comes in.” Steve chuckled, thumbs tucked into his pockets. “I’ll be here.”
Steve watched you with a soft smile, how happy you were. Maybe someday, he would build other things for you, in a house you shared. A nice little place in the suburbs, or on a farm somewhere, like Clint had made for his wife, Laura. He’d build you a million reading chairs. Hell, he’d build you a whole library if it’d put that smile on your face.
“You ever built Legos before?” you asked.
“I don’t even know what those are.”
“Alright, we’ll fix that. There’s a really easy fix to that, actually.” You pulled out your phone, clicked a few links, and then looked back up at him with a smile. “It’s on its way.”
“What’s that look for?”
“You will find out in two to three business days.”
***
By the time your Millennuim Falcon Lego set came in, Steve had been sent on another mission. And while he was gone, the Compound got an unexpected visitor in the form of Scott Lang, who Sam found on the roof and promptly got his ass kicked by while you were sitting at the monitors, one of the only things that you could do with your current injury.
“Don’t tell Steve.”
“Oh I won’t.” You spun out of your office chair, made a portal to the warehouse, and stepped through it, using your augmented goggles to find the guy, trapping him in a tiny forcefield. Sam came into the warehouse shortly after, looking at the bubble you’d made with interest.
“Got him. Ow!” Something nipped at your ankle and you looked down to find hundreds of ants. “Oh FUCK no.” You dropped him and kicked off the ants, making a platform of energy to stand on so they couldn’t crawl on you.
“Hey man, she’s injured!” Sam called into the room, looking around for wherever he had gone.
“Sorry!” The attacker replied.
And that was the last you saw or heard from him until Sam tracked him down, offering him membership on the team, if he so wanted it. Someone who shrunk could be a great asset on the team. Which is why when he told the rest of you about Hope, someone who did the same but with wings, obviously, she was invited, too.
The team was growing, and as it did, the Compound felt less empty, which was nice, especially when the team was split off doing their own things.
Steve came back shortly after, looking tired. It hadn’t been anything too bad, from what you’d heard, but he, Natasha, Clint, and Tony had been gone for a week. Still, the moment he was back, he popped his head into your room.
“Hey.”
“When did you guys get back?” You asked, looking up from your book, curled up in your reading chair.
“Just now. Um, I’m gonna take a shower, and then…Legos?” He asked, eyes earnest. You could tell he had been thinking about it the whole time he’d been gone.
“Oh absolutely. I’ve got ‘em ready to go.”
“Excellent. See you in twenty.” He saluted, walking down the hall to his room. You got the massive box of Legos out of your closet and brought it out to the table in the lounge, waiting patiently for Steve, who got out of the shower not that long after, dressed in sweats and a tank-top, still a bit damp from the water.
“Tadaaaa~” you said, pushing the box across the table.
His eyes lit up as soon as he realized what it was. “Where did you get this?”
“Amazon.”
“It comes with Han Solo?” Steve asked, looking at the pictures of the minifigures on the box.
“Yeah, of course it does. Comes with Leia, too.” You grinned, opening the box and dealing out instruction manuals, sorting the bags into neat little piles.
“This is great.” He smiled. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged. “I owe you one for building my reading chair. Now pay attention; This little orange thing is a Lego separator. It’ll help if you get them stuck together and can’t get them apart. Oh, and do not step on them. It will hurt so bad.”
He chuckled. “Thanks for the heads-up. So where do we start?”
Catch Me Now
Finally, after what felt like the longest recovery period ever, you were cleared once more for missions and training. However, you didn’t have any at the moment. Missions, that was. You were back to training with the others three times a week. Steve had you back on a workout regimen, but he was treating you different, like at any moment your rib might randomly re-crack.
Wanda and Vision got sent off on a mission with Clint, a recruitment mission. Apparently, there was another archer on his radar. A good one. It was his hope that with another archer on the team, he could take a bit of a step back, still be involved when he was needed, but hopefully, he’d be able to spend some more time with his family.
This meant, however, that you didn’t have anyone to go to the local theater’s Hunger Games marathon with. You asked Natasha first, but she was busy looking through some files, working out the details of the coming missions.
“I think Steve is here today. You could ask him if he wants to go.”
You could, you supposed. You felt a lot closer to him, lately. You had been spending a lot of time with him, between the extra training and the Legos. He had custody of the Millennium Falcon set, but he’d given you the Leia minifigure. She was sitting on your desk in your room.
So, with a shrug, you agreed, walking down the hall to Steve’s room and knocking on the door. He and Bucky were in there, talking hushedly about something, but they quieted at the sound of your knuckles against the wood.
The door opened and Bucky looked down at you, smiling when he realized who it was. “Oh, hey, (Y/N).” He welcomed you in, shooting Steve a look.
“Hey, (Y/N). What’s going on?”
“If you’re busy, I can come back later.”
“Oh, no, we’re just…catching up.” Steve said.
“Gotcha. So um…Wanda was supposed to go to a movie marathon with me at the mall today, but she forgot she had to go on that mission, so I was wondering if you wanted to come with? I already bought the tickets.”
“Oh, sure. What movies?”
“The Hunger Games.”
“Yeah, absolutely.” Steve nodded. “Just let me get changed.”
“You can come too, if you want, Bucky. I’m sure they’re not sold out.”
“Oh, that is alright, (Y/N). Thank you, though. I’ve gotta work myself up to public outings.” He looked between the two of you, a weird sparkle in his eye. “You two have fun.”
“Will do.” Steve replied, chuckling as his friend left.
You left after, getting changed into the outfit you’d picked out. It was pretty simple: a bleach-dyed Hunger Games shirt, some comfy joggers for the long day ahead, and a pair of slip-on shoes. You grabbed your purse and walked back out to the living room, where Steve was waiting, dressed in his civilian disguise, a baseball cap and glasses. No one would ever recognize him in glasses.
“Ready?”
“Ready.” You nodded, plucking your keys off of the hook by the door.
“Oh, I can drive.” Steve offered.
“Okay.” You agreed, putting your keys back.
He picked up his instead, from the hook next to yours. You walked out and got in Steve’s car, hopping in the passenger seat. The mall was about an hour out. Steve took the backroads, the scenic route. But you didn’t have to give him directions. He knew where he was going. After all, it was the same mall where he had met you.
You gazed out the window, watching the trees go by, looking for deer. Steve gazed over at you every so often, thinking about how someday, when you were driving places, he’d be able to reach over and take your hand, bring it to his lips. His heart ached just thinking about it. The next four and a half months couldn’t pass quickly enough.
“So what are these movies about? I keep hearing about them.” He asked, desperate to hear your voice.
“Are you familiar with the dystopian genre?”
“Yeah, kinda. Like weird, bad future kinda stuff.”
“Exactly. So this one is in a world called Panem, which is supposed to be North America hundreds of years from now. There’s twelve districts and a Capitol that rules over them all. Because of a rebellion about seventy-four years earlier, every year, two kids are chosen from each district to battle to the death in an arena.”
“Woah.”
“Yeah it’s kind of a lot. It’s really good, though. Lots of commentary on the United States government. No offense.”
He chuckled. “None taken. The America I stood for back then…I’m learning it was a different America from the one we live in now. But it’s hard to shake a name that’s been stuck with you for the better part of a century.”
“What would you choose?”
“What name?”
“Yeah, if you got to choose again, now, what codename would you choose?”
“Oh, gosh, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Something cool. I’d need help workshopping. And you? If you got to choose again?”
“I’m good with Waypoint. For a while, at least.” You shrugged. “It’s kinda fitting, all things considered.”
“It is. Suits you.”
“Thanks.” You chuckled. “So how is everything? How is Bucky doing?”
“Good. They’re um, scheduling a day to test out his…what’re they called, his trigger words? To see if Wanda’s tinkering in his head has been working.”
“Oh wow. That sounds like a lot.”
“It is. He’s nervous, but he knows it has to be done.” Steve sighed and gave a shrug. “And whatever happens, he’s got us to catch him, figure out what comes next.”
“Absolutely.” You nodded.
Steve pulled into the mall parking lot, following the signs to find the doors closest to the theater. You handed him his ticket, which was printed on shimmery, gold paper, the Mockingjay symbol stamped on in black ink. You reached into your pocket and handed him a length of string with beads on it.
“I made it for Wanda, so it might not fit.” You warned.
He read the words, spaced between orange and black and gold beads. “District 12?”
“It’ll make more sense in a bit.” You chuckled and held out your wrist, where the matching one was. “Gotta represent.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He slipped the bracelet on, the beads spaced out and stretched around his wide wrist. “See, fits fine.”
“Uh-huh, sure does.” You laughed. “Look, it fits perfectly. You can almost read it.”
“Just about.” He grinned, reaching for the door handle.
“So, what’s our cover?”
“What?”
“Our cover. We can’t be Avengers here.”
“Right, um…” Steve thought for a moment. “You work at the library. I’m your boyfriend and you dragged me here, but I’m very supportive.”
“The most supportive.” You agreed. “Alright, I’ll play. Let’s go.”
Steve locked up the car, the horn honking as the two of you walked towards the entrance of the mall. You led him upstairs to the movie theater entrance. You checked in with your tickets and the girls at the table gave you your commemorative popcorn tins and cups. Steve went to get the popcorn filled. You stood over by the soda fountains. He returned with a huge grin and a bucket of popcorn.
“Look at this! They’re so big now.”
You laughed. “How big were they before?”
“Little paper bag.” He chuckled and turned towards the Cocacola Freestyle machine, looking at the buttons with wonder. “Alright what is this?”
“The future of beverage technology.” You told him, putting ice in your cup and tapping one of the beverage options, opening up all the extra flavors before choosing yours.
Steve poked the Coke button and read over all the options before settling on Cherry Vanilla Coke. He snapped the lid on and put a straw in it, taking a cursory sip. He smiled. “Takes me back.”
“Got that vintage taste?” You asked.
He nodded. “At the risk of sounding like a commercial, yeah, it does.”
You led Steve to the theater where you’d be spending the entire rest of the day. You walked him through the schedule. First was Hunger Games from noon until 2:22. There’d be a ten minute break, then Catching Fire from 2:32 to 4:58. There was a forty-five minute break for dinner. Then Mockingjay Parts 1 and 2 until just after ten. Every movie, they punched a hole in your ticket, and if you got all four, they were handing out little prizes, supposedly. You weren’t sure what yet, but you were excited to find out.
“Got a long day ahead of us.”
“I better not catch you nodding off.” You teased, kicking back the recliner.
“I don’t snore that loud.” He said, following your lead and pressing the same button to lift his. God, theaters had changed. He set the popcorn tin between the two of you. He couldn’t count on two hands how many pointless dates he’d gone on with Bucky before he met you for the first time, how many pretty dames he’d offered popcorn, only for them to completely blow him off. But when he’d taken you to the movies back then, you’d shared gladly. And today was no different. You scooted closer, your hand brushing his every so often.
The movie started and Steve watched, enamored. It was different than the movies he was used to, sure. Maybe Star Wars had warmed him up, or maybe it was the fact that you were sitting there beside him, but he loved every second.
Between movies, the two of you went back out to the lobby to get your tickets punched for Catching Fire, stretch your legs and get refills. Steve noticed a handout for the flashback movies that were coming up. His eyes landed on the Wizard of Oz and his gaze softened.
“They still show this?” Steve asked, pointing to the poster.
“Yeah, every handful of years. It’s a classic.” You smiled. “I think I was Dorothy for Halloween one year.”
“Would you go see it with me?” He asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
Sure, things were different between you and Steve than he thought it would be. He knew it would be a while before you’d know. You’d told him you’d been friends for about a year before visiting him, but it felt so much longer, living through every day, scared to even take your hand without sending the wrong message.
You saved him the trouble, though, reaching out for his free hand. He took it without hesitation, giving it a squeeze. God, he’d do anything to kiss you, but he knew that would be stepping clear over that line. Holding hands was friendly enough. Hell, you held Wanda’s hand all the time and that didn’t mean anything. He was pretty sure, anyway.
“Where’d you go just now?” You asked, your hand his anchor in the moment, keeping him from drifting back off into the past again.
“Nowhere, I just…this is nice. Thanks for taking me out.”
“Thanks for coming with me.”
You went back into the theater, hand in hand, carrying your refills. This time, you’d gotten a slushee, and he had decided to do the same. You settled back into your seats, assuming your spots with the people you had been sitting near before. If anything, there were even more people in the theater for Catching Fire.
Steve took a sip of the slushee, looking over at you. “It’s cold.”
“Yeah, it’s ice.” You laughed. “Do you like it?”
He scrunched his face. “Ooh, brainfreeze.”
“You’ve gotta go slow.”
“Lesson learned.”
The lights dimmed and you grinned, looking back at the screen, missing the longing look in Steve’s eyes, admiring the way your face was lit by the glow. And in those seats, once again, he was that little guy from Brooklyn, watching a movie with his soulmate.
***
Two and a half hours later, the theater lights went up and you had forty-five minutes to kill until the next one started. You wandered down to the food court to get something to eat.
“So what did he mean there’s no District 12?” Steve asked when you settled down at one of the tables. Shoppers walked all around, laden with paper bags full of goods. It was a kind of busy day, actually, but it was fine. You liked to peoplewatch.
“When the books came out, I had to wait a whole year to get the answer. I think you can handle the next forty minutes.”
“There are books?”
“I have them. You can borrow them. And they are even better than the movies, if you can believe that.”
“They must be pretty damn good, then.” He chuckled. “You want to shop around a bit? We’ve still got some time.”
“Oh absolutely. There’s a Lego store here.”
Steve grinned. “They have a whole store for those?”
The two of you finished eating, threw out your trash, and then walked down the hallway to the Lego Store. Steve browsed some of the boxes. There were a lot of cool things. Buildings he recognized, landmarks, things from movies he hadn’t gotten to watch yet. There were also flowers. Lots of flowers, and Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He could see himself building any number of them with you.
You were over by the minifigure bags, squishing them to feel which character was inside. Steve chuckled, but didn’t question your process. Instead, he wandered over to a rotating display of minifigure keychains. A few caught his eye, but more than anything, you did. That was, a keychain of you, in your suit, that eight-pointed star on your chest. Right next to it was him, shield and all. He chuckled and then grabbed one of each, heading towards the checkout.
By the time you caught up with him, he had already paid.
“What did you get?” you asked through your giggles.
“It’s a surprise.” He smiled, voice soft, eyes softer.
“Alright. Keep your secrets.” You chuckled.
Steve took your hand, walking back towards the theater. You got one last refill for the last two movies, got your cards punched, and headed back inside to finish off the saga.
***
At the end of the night, all the people who had been there for all four movies got a t-shirt, a Mockingjay pin, and a mini poster. Along with the tin and cups they’d given you, you’d say it was definitely worth the ticket price. You and Steve walked out to the car together and sat in the seats for a while before either of you spoke.
“Thanks for coming today, Steve.”
“Oh, any time, (Y/N). We should do it again sometime.”
“I’ll let you know if I catch wind of a Star Wars marathon.”
He grinned. “Oh please do. I’d love to see those on the big screen.”
He pulled out of the parking spot and drove off the lot. By the time you got back, almost everyone was asleep. Almost. Bucky was on the couch, watching something, volume on low. He looked up when the two of you came in the door.
“Fun time?” He asked.
“Oh, very.” You laughed kicking off your boots and setting them in your slot on the shoe shelf.
Steve plucked your keys off of your hook and, very efficiently, added his top secret Lego purchase to yours, the keychain of himself.
“Oh my God.” You giggled, looking at it. “This is great.”
“We match.” He said, holding up his own keys, which already had the keychain of you on them.
Your heart just about melted. “We sure do. God, you’re giving my soulmate some awfully big shoes to fill, Steve.”
“Well,” he smiled, and suddenly, he was that little guy from Brooklyn again, at your height, in awe of the woman the universe had plopped directly onto his front porch. “I’m sure he’ll grow into them.”
Mr. Perfectly Fine
You had training early, almost all hands on deck. Tony was on a business trip, Thor was on Asgard. But otherwise, everyone was accounted for. Clint’s new recruit, Kate, seemed nice. She was twenty-three, fresh out of college, and really did have quite a shot. She might shape up to be a pretty good Hawkeye after all.
Scott and Hope were there as well. Hope was extremely skilled. You could tell she’d practiced for a while, knew her suit and the Pym Particles inside and out. And Scott was also there. He was nice, there was no question about that, but you could tell he still had a lot to learn about the crazy world he’d stepped into. Still, it was nice to have them around regardless.
Tony hadn’t officially inducted them to the team, and there had been no party announcing such a thing. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for someone. One more member, perhaps, before making it official.
You had been in…something of a mood since your little outing with Steve. It had been a blast, sure, but it had also been a reminder: Steve had a soulmate, in the past tense. There was a name on his wrist. And your bare wrist meant that it wasn’t you. You had a soulmate out there somewhere, human or super, whether you wanted them or not.
Steve was perfect for you. But you couldn’t have him.
And god, did it hurt.
You trained hard, hitting the punching bag that occupied what was usually Steve’s corner. He was there a lot, blowing off steam. Now you got it; it felt good to hit something. You spun, kicking the bag.
“You’re unbalanced.” Bucky piped up, walking over.
You looked up at him, watching his movements, but he didn’t mean any harm. Obviously he didn’t. He’d passed his mind-control test with flying colors. He was a free man now, and he was a lot lighter because of it.
“Am I?”
“You’ve gotta shift your weight a little, really plant that other leg.” He instructed, adjusting your body, hands gentle but firm. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you from across the room, but he didn’t come over. “Otherwise they’re gonna push you right over.”
“Well thanks. I appreciate it.” You said, giving the tip a try. “I haven’t done enough hand-to-hand.”
“We’ll get ya there. I’m surprised Steve hasn’t been working on it with you.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Things have been weird since the Hunger Games.”
“I noticed.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll talk to him. See what’s going on in that head of his.”
“It’s not his fault. I’ve been the weird one.”
“Oh. Need to talk about it?”
“No, I just…I need to work through some stuff.”
Working through stuff meant that after training, you went straight to your room, closed the door, and started listening to your angst playlist, spread like a starfish across your king-sized mattress. And that was how Nat found you almost an hour later.
“Knock-knock, I’m coming in.” She said, opening the door. “Hey. Why are you listening to Songs for Sad Bitches in here?”
“What? How’d you—?”
“Your playlist name is on the screen out here when you play stuff on the built-in speakers.”
“Embarrassing.”
“Happens to the best of us.” She shrugged, closing the door behind her and sitting on the bed. “So, why are we sad bitches today?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“You can’t talk about it, or you can’t talk about it here?”
“The second of those options, yeah.”
She dangled your keys from her hand, the little tiny Captain America taunting you. “Thought so. Let’s get out of here. Kate hasn’t been to the mall yet and she needs to buy some more clothes.”
“Alright. I could go for some mall pretzels.”
So, for the second time in a week, you piled into a car and headed off towards the mall. This time, however, you were with your friends, Wanda, Nat, and Kate, not your unattainable work crush.
Wanda loved the mall. Seeing her that happy almost made your heartache go away. The four of you shopped around. You picked out a few new tops, some accessories, a cute bag, and it was a nice distraction until you passed the Lego Store. You got some pretzel bites and hunkered down in the food court with the others.
“Alright. Spill.” Nat urged.
Wanda offered a sad little smile and Kate looked up, waiting to see where this was heading. She was new to the team, which meant she was new to the drama, too.
“I don’t know, just…going out with Steve…”
“What, you don’t like him?” Nat asked, prodding.
“The opposite.”
“Then why are you all torn up about it?”
“Because I can’t have him.” You said, pushing a pretzel bite around in the cup of cheese. “He has a soulmate.”
“Had. In the forties.”
“Right, but…I turn twenty-five in what, like four months now? And then I get whoever and…I need to let him go before I get hurt, but I can’t.” You sighed. “Or before I hurt him, leading him on just to run off into the sunset with someone else…I just feel like shit about the whole situation.”
Natasha sat there with the perfect poker face, giving a sly little smile. “It’s gonna be fine. I promise. And if not, you’ve got us here to catch you.”
“What she said.” Kate agreed.
“It will be fine, (Y/N).” Wanda promised, patting your hand. “My birthday is first. Let me be the stressed one.” She let out an incredulous laugh. “I have a crush on an android.”
“Hey, if any robot has a soul, it’s gotta be Vision.” You said, eyes soft. “Obviously, he doesn’t have a mark, but, if your wrist has his name…”
“That would be enough for both of us.” Wanda agreed, nodding. “It’s weird. I know…I know he’s the one but I still have to wait. I wish if you figured it out early, the universe would just let you have it.”
Natasha looked to the rest of you, soaking in silence for a moment before taking off the cuff she wore around her wrist. “Alright, it’s been a secret long enough.”
“Woah, Nat…” You gave her a moment to back out, but she held up her wrist, letting the rest of you read the name on her wrist. Bucky. Her soulmate was Bucky. It…made a lot of sense, actually. The way he looked at her during training, the way she kept herself so guarded around him. “Does he know?”
“Unclear.” Natasha shrugged. “I, uh…Steve said he wasn’t sure. And Bucky’s memories are a little fuzzy. The Red Room tried to get rid of our marks. Said they made us liabilities. When I got out, they hadn’t found a way to do it yet. It showed up a few years after that.”
“Is that like…still around?” Kate asked. “The Red Room?”
“Unfortunately.”
The word sat on the table for a few long moments before you said, “What if we took it down?”
Something sparked in Natasha’s eyes and she met your gaze. “Elaborate.”
“I’m serious. The four of us,” you thought for a moment and then it clicked, “Hope.”
“Maria.” Natasha said, putting the pieces together herself. “I mean, that’s really all we’d need. Plus a location and a plan.”
“Oh my god, are we going on a mission?” Kate asked, lighting up at the prospect of her very first real mission.
Nat grinned. “Yeah, I think we are.”
I Can See You
Steve caught wind of Operation: Red Room before you’d so much as suited up. Of course he didn’t think it was a good idea. After your accident, he still saw you as fragile. You were fine. Your ribs were fine. They’d healed better than even Bruce had expected them to. Still, that look in his eyes said otherwise.
“I’m just not sure this is something you should be doing on your own.”
“We can’t bring you. We can’t bring Bucky. It’d be handing them two supersoldiers on a silver platter.”
“So you’re just gonna waltz in there instead?”
“Yep.” You replied, lighting a little forcefield around your fist and holding it up as evidence. “I can handle myself, remember?”
His eyes softened. “I know that.”
“Then why are you still fighting me on this? Do you seriously think Natasha would let anything happen to me? Do you think Wanda would?”
“What if they have something that disables your powers? Both of your powers.”
“If they did, they’d have used it already.”
He sighed, muscled arms crossed, pink lips pressed into a pout. “(Y/N)...”
“You’re not talking me out of this.” Not even with those pretty blues, you sneaky bastard. “Besides, it was my idea. I’m not leaving the girls hanging.”
His eyes widened. “It was your idea?”
“Well, it was a group effort, but I’m the one that put it into words, yeah.” You shrugged. “If you didn’t think I could handle being an Avenger, why did you recruit me?”
“I never said that.” His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “I just…I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened and I wasn’t there to stop it.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Always.”
“Then trust me to do this.” You told him, resting a hand on his chest. “And trust me to come back to you.”
He met your eyes, melting at your touch before relenting, “Okay. But be careful, alright? Promise me.”
“I promise. I always am. You guys should be here to hold down the fort anyway, in case they retaliate.”
He nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be here.”
You walked down to the locker rooms and suited up, making sure everything was tugged tight, belt equipped with both real guns and stun guns. Natasha had told the rest of you there was brainwashing afoot with the Widows that were still in the Red Room. If you could help it, the goal was to get them out without hurting them. That was where Wanda came in. Her specialty.
You all loaded up into the jet, Maria Hill joining you as your getaway pilot. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work with her yet, so you were excited to. You rehashed the plan on the way. The Red Room was housed in a floating base, which was why it was so untraceable; it was always moving.
You, Kate, and Wanda were on Widow duty. Wanda would dispel their brainwashing, and you and Kate would deal with the physical cells and deal with any guards standing in your way. Once the brainwashing was handled, Wanda would go with Nat to kill Dreykov himself, the man in charge who had escaped countless assassination attempts. This time, she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Hope was going to shrink down and destroy the place from the inside, and once everyone was out and safe, Maria would fly you all to safety.
Ideally, anyway.
Steve saw you off, standing in the driveway as you flew off.
“Natasha wasn’t kidding. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” Maria chuckled.
“You could say that.”
At the moment, the Red Room was hovering over a suburb in Maine, nearing the Canadian border. Any closer and it would become an international incident. It had to be now. Maria cloaked the jet as it approached, hiding it from onlookers, obviously, but also, hopefully, from the Red Room itself. Though, their sensors were very advanced so there was no way of knowing until you got closer. That put you on edge.
So, instead, you turned to Kate. “First mission today. You ready?”
“Oh hell yeah. I’ve been waiting for this.” Kate nodded. She slung her quiver over her shoulder. “What was yours?”
“The local county fair.” You chuckled. “Though, I guess if you count my first encounter with a bad guy, it was at the mall, guy with a flamethrower and a dream. He is in jail now.”
“That is typically what happens when you dream of arson.” Natasha said, grinning. “Thank you all. For this. For coming.”
“We’ve got you, Nat. They did some pretty awful shit to you. Time to make them pay for it.”
“Speaking of, ready up, ladies. We are two minutes out.”
Power crackled in your fingertips. You were ready to go. Well, as ready as you could be.
Maria pulled up to the docking bay and the five of you got out. Hope lowered her helmet visor, saluted, and then shrunk, flying off into the vents. The other four set off in a linear path, up the winding hallways towards where they kept the Widows.
The hall was bathed in red light, dim. It set you on edge. Natasha led the way, motioning the rest of you on. You noticed as you approached each camera, it flicked off, the heads of them tilting down.
Oh right, Hope. Awesome.
You approached a series of rooms, doors all identical. They slid open when you approached, and sure enough, two dozen women came charging at you all at once, dressed in identical athleisure. Wanda waved her hands, red mist cascading down the hall, their eyes filling. It took a moment, but they all stopped, looking around at each other for some idea of what was going on.
“Natasha?” One of the voices in the crowd said, a blonde girl with wide eyes. “You came?”
Natasha nodded, smiling. “Of course I did.”
“You’re the Avengers.” The girl said, looking at the rest of you. “You’re really here.”
“Some of us. Come on, we’ve got a ship waiting.” You told her.
The girl looked at you and then back at Natasha.
“Go with her.” Natasha instructed. “I’ll be back in like five minutes. Tops.”
“What’s your name?” Kate asked, starting to lead the others back to the ship.
“I’m Yelena. Natasha’s sister.”
As you led them back down the hall, armored guards rounded the corner. You made forcefields at their feet, tripping them up. Kate shot arrows down the barrels of their weapons, causing a few small explosions. The Widows fought with you, taking out anyone that approached. Soon enough, you got to the docking bay, which exploded as soon as you approached.
You put up a shield between the rest of you and the explosion, blocking the girls from the flying debris. Okay, that put a wrench in things a little bit.
“What are we gonna do?” Kate asked, looking to you, the reflection of the flames shimmering against her skin.
“I’ve got an idea.” You said, approaching the opening carefully, wind whipping all around. Maria was still piloting the jet, doing her best to get close to the massive hole.
You made a platform with your power, curving it up at the edges, like a giant spoon. Slowly, you slid it across the gap to the jet. Maria got the hint, turning it around and opening the ramp. You made another platform and two of the Widows hopped in without hesitation. Slowly, you started the process of feeding them all across, two by two until everyone was in the jet. Everyone except you.
“Hey.” Hope said, landing and returning to full size, out of breath. “What did I miss?”
“Not too much.”
“Want a lift?”
“Why not?” You shrugged. Hope took your hand, flying you across the gap and into the ship. That just left Wanda and Nat unaccounted for.
You watched anxiously, waiting, waiting, waiting. Nothing.
“Hope, how long before this thing blows?”
“A few minutes.”
“Fuck.” You shook your head. You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Nat, Wanda, do you copy?”
Radio silence.
“(Y/N), there they are.” Kate pointed. She really did have eagle eyes.
“I’ll get them.” Hope offered until an enemy ship opened fire.
“I’ve got it.” You said, channeling something deeper. Instead of making a bubble, you formed a tunnel of shimmering blue energy from the platform they were standing on to the back of the jet. “Hold her steady, Maria!”
“As steady as I can.”
A few explosions started at the back of the base, setting off a chain reaction. The two of them ran through the tunnel, its energy shielding them from the fire, the debris, and the rain of bullets. Wanda sped them along, until they were safe and sound, in the jet again.
Maria closed up the door as more explosions went off. You lowered your hands, letting the energy dispel. She flew off to a safe distance. The rest of you watched in awe as the Red Room fell, crumbling to bits, to ashes and ruin.
Yelena hugged Natasha, thanking her. Natasha apologized for not coming sooner. And the rest of the Widows were able to rest, breathing free for the first time in years.
***
The first stop on the docket was a SHIELD base in New York to drop off the majority of the Widows. SHIELD had a plan in place to get them back into society, integrated, rehabilitated, whatever they needed.
The second stop, of course, was Taco Bell, for refreshments.
The third stop was home, where Steve was waiting at the dinner table, chin resting against his folded hands, Bucky sitting across from him. He whipped around at the sound of the door opening. You, Kate, Wanda, Natasha, Hope, and Yelena were talking and laughing, laden with bags of fast food.
His eyes fell on yours first and it was like time stopped.
“How did it go?”
“Good. I got you a Baja Blast.” You said, setting the large cup of the teal drink in front of him.
He stared at it for a long moment before looking back up at you. “You…”
“I’m alright, Steve. We all are. And, uh, we have a new teammate.”
He finally spotted Yelena in the mix. “Oh?”
“Natasha has a sister.” You shrugged, sitting down and unpacking your order. “Apparently.”
Speaking of whom, Natasha walked up to Bucky, looked him in the eye, and said, “Barnes. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, following her into another room.
“Wonder what that’s about.” Steve murmured, sticking a straw into the drink he kept staring at like it was a potion you’d plucked from a fantasy realm. You supposed teal was kind of an odd color for a drink…
You smirked. “I have some idea.”
“She told you?”
“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It makes a lot of sense. The way he looks at her…”
He nodded. “Like something out of a movie.”
“Yeah, exactly.” You sighed and then shook out of it, motioning to the drink. “Alright, let me know what you think.”
He took a first sip, holding it in his mouth for a second before swallowing. The smile on his face grew. “It’s sweet.”
“Too sweet?”
“A little.” He chuckled, going in for another sip. “No, maybe…maybe I do like it.”
“Uh-huh. Think about it.” You laughed.
Yelena sat down next to you. “Is this seat taken? I’m starving.”
“Have at it.”
“Alright, well, you girls have fun. I’m headed to bed.” He held up his cup. “Thanks for the drink. Glad you’re home safe.”
“Night, Steve.”
Yelena looked at you, wonder in her eyes. As soon as he was out of earshot, she said, “Oooh, tell me everything.”
You chuckled. “Where do I even start?”
Champagne Problems
Two weeks later, you got dressed for Wanda’s twenty-fifth birthday outing. It would be just the girls, headed to a club nearby. Wanda would turn twenty-five just after midnight and she didn’t want to be in the same building with Vision if she was going to get her heart broken. It wasn’t a bad plan, all things considered.
You were wearing a black dress, knee-length, form-fitting, paired with a dark red lip, and of course, the star necklace Steve had gotten for you all those months ago. You let your fingers linger on it in your reflection before throwing on your heels and walking out to the living room to wait for the others.
Steve was on the couch, watching the Muppets Movie.
“See? I wasn’t lying about Gonzo.”
“You weren’t.” He laughed. He opened his mouth to make a quip, but it died on his tongue when he got a good look at you, eyes softening. “You got a date tonight? You’re all dolled up.”
“Huh? No.” You laughed. “It’s girls’ night.”
“Didn’t you just have girls’ night? I believe it involved several explosives.”
“Right, well, Wanda turns twenty-five just after midnight, so we’re going out again. This time hopefully with less explosions.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, ya look great.”
You blushed. “Thanks.”
“You hear about Nat and Buck?”
“It’s official.” You grinned. “I’m happy for them.”
“Me too. They’ve both been through so much. They deserve to be happy.”
“So do you, Steve.”
He tilted his head, giving you that sad smile. “I am. Promise.”
The other girls came into the living room before you had the chance to respond. Nat was hand-in-hand with Bucky, who kissed her on the cheek before releasing her and joining Steve on the couch, grinning like he’d won the lottery. In a way, he had.
“Let’s get a move on, birthday girl.” Natasha said, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulders. “The night is young.”
She looked back longingly where Vision was hovering in the corner of the room. “Be back soon.”
“Text me when you find out.” He said.
“I will.” She promised, eyes brimming with tears.
You took her hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. She squeezed it back, meeting your eyes and offering a smile.
The five of you piled into the car. Hope wasn’t coming because she was in San Francisco for the weekend, but Yelena was. She seemed determined to experience all the life she’d missed out on thus far. You couldn’t blame her in the slightest.
The club was lively, music pulsing loudly. There were lots of birthdays being celebrated, it turned out, announced by party hats, birthday crowns and sashes, and the periodic cheers of groups of people, yelling out in excitement when their friends learned who their lives were promised to. It was kind of magical.
You ordered a drink, downing it quickly and surrendering to the fuzzy feeling at the edges of your mind. You were pretty sure the last time you’d been drunk was your induction to the team. You remembered that night with Steve, how he looked at you, how it felt. And then you ordered a second drink, dancing to the music with the girls, trying to forget your worries, even if only for the night.
A guy approached you, a look in his eye. He eyed up your bare wrist. “No soulmate?”
“Not yet. A few months too early for that.”
“Then would you mind if I swept you off your feet for the night?”
“Sorry, I…I’m here for my friend. It’s her twenty-fifth.”
He scoffed, looking you up and down before stalking off towards his next victim. “Alright. Your loss.”
“Asshole.” Yelena rolled her eyes, taking your hands and spinning you around on the dance floor. You let her, dancing along. “I do not blame you, (Y/N). If I were you, I wouldn’t settle either. Not for that.”
You laughed. “Yeah, not my thing.”
“You’ve never…?”
“Well, a little. In high school, we used to have parties where we ‘practiced’ for our soulmates. It never got any further than a little spin the bottle, though.” You confessed.
“Ah, see, I’ve had practice. But it never meant anything. Red Room, bleh.” Yelena shrugged. “I am ready for something real.”
“How long you got left?”
“Another year.”
“I’ve got three and a half months.”
“So I’ve heard. I bet you are excited, being so close to it.”
“Excited, nervous.” You laughed, shrugging. “I kinda just want to rip the Band-Aid off, get it over with.”
“I’m sure.” She motioned Kate over and she joined the two of you, dancing to the beat. “Kate Bishop, how long do you have left?”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“Ah, well, then you have lots of time to party.” Yelena grinned, spinning her around. “We should really do this more often.”
You chuckled. Yelena had only been part of your little family for a few weeks, but already you could tell she was going to be a handful in the best way.
Eventually, you wandered back over to Wanda, who was standing in the corner of the room, nursing a single glass of Vodka Cran.
“Hey, birthday girl. You doing okay?” You asked.
She nodded, irises ringed with red, as they often were when she was stressed. She blinked a few times, forcing them back to hazel. “Doing great.”
“Wanda, whoever they are, they’re so lucky to have someone like you.” You took her hand. “Now let’s go dance and forget about it for the next hour.”
She smiled. “Lead the way.”
***
In what seemed like no time at all, midnight came. Natasha ordered a bottle of champagne and each of you got a glass. Wanda sat on a barstool, staring at her wrist. From right next to her, you had a pretty good view, watching with a racing heart as a string of letters appeared, darkening into existence.
The Vision.
She burst into tears, hitting the call button on her phone. He picked up on the first ring.
“It’s you, Vis! I knew it was you!”
The rest of you gathered your things, eager to reunite them as soon as you could. Your thoughts were racing, though. You’d never really thought of it before, but…your soulmate could be someone you already knew. Someone you were already in love with.
Someone who was already in love with you.
Maybe there was some hope after all…
The Origin
Only weeks after your night in the club, you found yourself in yet another bar. This time, it wasn’t for fun, though. You, Sam, Nat, Bucky, and Steve were undercover in a quaint little tavern in Alaska. A quaint little tavern that happened to be a front for Hydra, as it were. But that didn’t mean that everyone there was Hydra, just definitely the bar tender and the security guards that kept eyeing you up. Probably a handful of the patrons, too.
In addition to that, so were the flannel-clad guys at the bar.
“Hey, little lady.” One wandered up to you, bumping your elbows. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’m all set with this one, thanks.” You said, taking a long sip from your drink.
“Aww, come on, just one more?” The guy on your other side egged on. “Pretty girl like you deserves to have a little fun.”
The guys around them started getting riled up, trying to convince you to have another drink. Never had you been so glad to hear Steve’s voice.
“Sorry fellas, she’s taken. Come on, sweetheart.” You felt his hand on your shoulder and let him pull you away from the fray, back to his little corner. He had been growing out a bit of a beard for this. God, did it suit him. He rested his hands on your waist, face approaching your own, nose nestled beside your cheek. “You see anything?”
“Bartender has a gun under the counter. Intense code-protected lock on the door in the backroom.” You told him, masking your words with a smile, nuzzling your nose against his.
“I’ll get to work on the door.” Bucky said over the coms. “Whatever you’re doing is working. Those guys have lost all interest.”
“Perfect.” You chuckled. “Thanks for defending my honor.”
Steve smiled and it was breathtaking, the way his eyes sparkled in the warm light. “Anytime.”
You really couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol; there hadn’t even been any. It was a virgin drink. Your arm wound around his neck, pulling him in so you could kiss his cheek. His arms wrapped tight around you and he buried his face in your neck to hide his rosy cheeks, laughing.
Once again, that line between your cover and your feelings began to blur.
“Alright, I’m in.” Bucky said. “Feel free to join us whenever.”
“Coming.” Steve murmured, a hand moving the hair out of your eyes. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead, sending your heart into a frenzy before taking your hand and leading you to the backroom, where Bucky and the others were waiting.
“You were born for undercover work, (Y/N).” Natasha said, giving you a smirk and a friendly nudge.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You laughed. “It’s kind of fun, though.”
The five of you walked down the tunnel. When you finally reached the main room, it was kind of dark. You lit your fist with blue energy, using it to find a lightswitch. There were several computers that flashed to life, a wall of weapons, and also, a wall of screens. There was a little electrified cell, but it was empty. No captives, as far as you could see.
You started looking around while Natasha backed up files to a hard drive. Bucky watched the entrances. Sam looked over the weapons, taking notes of the ones that were out of the ordinary. Steve stared at the screens, mesmerized by…something.
“Um, (Y/N)?” He asked, motioning you over.
You looked up at the images. They were all of you. Pictures of you in the field, diagrams of your anatomy, hospital records, your birth certificate. There were illustrations of you, and a few fields marked as unfulfilled: blood sample, soulmate information, DNA.
Beneath it was written Planet of Origin: Illustria
“What the actual fuck.” You said, voice flat, staring at the word. You’d never heard it before. Not even with the recent discoveries about space and the wider universe. Thor, your only connection to space, had never mentioned it. Yet, for some reason, Hydra had reason to believe you were connected to it.
“Company.” Bucky announced, readying his gun as a group of Hydra agents stormed down the tunnel.
A section of the wall slid open and a scientist-looking man stepped into the space. Steve threw his shield, bouncing it off of three surfaces before it came back to him. The man made a run for it, but you lit your fists and ran after him. Steve followed after.
Once you were both through, the wall slid shut. On the other side, you could still hear the sounds of the fight. They needed you. But you needed answers. It was an impossible choice, made easier when he started talking.
“Ah, the Girl from Space and the Man Out of Time. How nice to have you both here in one place.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” You said, fists clenched, eyes glazed over with raw power, glowing like Wanda’s did.
He laughed. “You didn’t know? Your commerades didn’t tell you? Surely they must have seen the suppressor in your neck when they were running all those tests.”
Your world came crashing down. “The what?”
“Your parents paid us to put it there. Paid SHIELD, at least, but, we’ve been one in the same for a long time. Didn’t know how to handle their little alien girl, especially at her full power, on a planet that wasn’t their own. They should have known you’d outgrow it eventually.” He tsked. “Of course, I could always take it out for you.”
“You touch her, you die.” Steve said, voice as smooth as steel. It sent a chill down your spine. “I’m warning you.”
It made sense. It was like a switch had been flipped when you were in college, your powers coming from seemingly nowhere. They’d been suppressed all your life, but finally, the suppressor stopped working. You hadn’t even known it was there. Maybe that was why you’d been stopped at so many airports.
“Not to worry Captain, I was on my way out of here anyway.” He raised his hands and started walking towards an exit tunnel.
You raised yours, making a cuff of energy around his wrist, holding him in place.
“No, you get to answer to SHIELD.” You told him. “And then you get to answer to me.”
Steve used his shield to knock the guy out with one quick, precise throw. The door behind the two of you slid open, Natasha pushing it open. There were downed Hydra agents all over the floor behind her.
“Having a party without us?”
“Something like that.” You mumbled, heart still racing.
“I got the files, (Y/N).” She said, playful demeanor falling immediately. “We’ll figure it out.”
Steve lugged the scientist over his shoulders, handing him off to the SHIELD agents who had come to help, one of whom happened to be one of the guys who was hitting on you at the bar. Go figure. Bucky and Sam joined the three of you. Sam put a hand on your shoulder and offered a supportive smile.
You still felt numb.
***
You got back to the safehouse and the snow outside doubled, coming down in droves, thick snowflakes and heavy winds. It was safe to say you would not be making it back to the Compound tonight.
You changed out of your bulletproof gear and into a tank top and sweats, running a hand through your hair. You met your eyes in the reflection, noticing how they flickered blue. In the other room, you could hear the video call finally go through with Tony and Bruce, who were back home.
“Oh don’t give me that look, Rogers.”
“Well, can you blame me?”
“What, like you’ve never kept a secret ever in your life, give me a break!”
“About her life, Tony!”
“I’ll get her.” You heard Natasha tell him, and then heard her footsteps approaching the bathroom door. She knocked. “Hey, they’re on. I made you some cocoa.”
You opened the door, letting out a sigh and nodding. “Thanks, Nat.”
She smiled, patting your shoulder and leading you out to the couch. Tony and Bruce were sitting in the living room on the screen. Steve had been pacing, obviously, given his stance and the fact that he was still standing.
You sat down, making eye contact with each of them, lips pressed into a flat line. Your heart raced, chest aching, stomach on fire from the adrenaline of it all. “So?”
Tony sighed. “You’re an alien.”
“Half.” Bruce amended. “On your mother’s side. She’s from a planet called Illustria.”
“Uh-huh, yeah. I got that part. How long have you known?”
Bruce looked at Tony, hoping he’d deliver that part of the news. He did. “I’ve known since you were recruited. Fury did a background check. You were already on the files.”
“What about the suppressor?”
“We didn’t know what it was. We didn’t know what taking it out would do to you.” Bruce admitted. “We thought you knew it was there.”
“I want it out.” You said with certainty. “I want it out as soon as we get home.”
“Are you sure?” Bruce asked.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I want to know who I am. That starts with knowing what I’m actually capable of.” You sighed. “And call Thor. I have questions I need answered. His alien friends might know.”
“Anything else?” Tony asked.
“Who else knew.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.
“Just me and Fury,” he said, but you couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.
“And Hydra.” You snapped. “What, are you afraid of me? Had to keep a lid on my powers because you’re so fucking obsessed with control?”
Tony scoffed. Clearly, you’d struck a nerve. “That’s not it.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know how you would take it.”
“Okay well, I think I would have been okay hearing it from a friend, in a place I felt safe. I had to hear about it from Hydra. They had a fucking cell with my name on it.” You said, trembling as you remembered it, tucked away in the corner there. That was the only explanation for it, really. And then something else clicked, too. “That…that day when Steve got tranq’ed. They weren’t trying to hit him, they were trying to hit me. He jumped in the way. They’ve…been trying to take me this entire time.”
“Oh my god, Tony…” Natasha said, voice quiet.
“Get those files to me, Nat. I’ll take a look. See if they have anything on the suppressor so I can take it out when you get back.” Bruce said, eyes soft. “And I’m sorry, for the record.”
“It’s not you I’m mad at.”
“Kid, please don’t—”
You cut Tony off with a click of the remote, hanging up the call. You let out a shaking sigh, setting the remote down. Your fingers were trembling. You took a few breaths, lungs heaving. You wanted to scream. You needed to let it out.
Everyone else on the team knew why they were there. Every other person in your life knew what made them special. Wanda’s power came from the Mind Stone, Steve’s came from the Serum, Tony’s came from his massive fucking ego. They all got the privilege of their origin story.
All of them except for you.
You needed to call your parents, if you even could. They’d told you they were moving to Florida. Now you wondered if they’d moved off the planet.
“You gonna be okay?” Sam asked, eyes trailing you as you paced through the room towards the door.
“Nope.” You walked out to the other den, burying your face in your arms, sobbing for a few minutes until you got it all out, or most of it anyway. Eight months. Eight fucking months he’d known you and didn’t think to tell you.
The chip in your shoulder burned.
You began to seriously wonder if anyone else had known. Bruce had run all those tests, surely he had seen something. He’d told you there were abnormalities, but he’d assumed they were from your powers, not the cause of them.
Steve crossed your mind briefly, but you shot that down pretty quick. He, of all people, would never keep a secret like that from you. You knew him well enough to know that.
Aside from that, the only real suspect you had was Vision. He had been JARVIS once, surely he still had some of that database in his mind. You’d give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.
“Hey.” Even before you looked up, you could tell Steve would be leaning in the doorway, that lovelorn look on his face. You were right, obviously.
Tears welled in your eyes. “Steve.”
He crossed the room, collecting you in his arms, hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. You surrendered to him, crying into the fabric of his crewneck, face tucked into the crook of his neck. One of his hands cradled your head, smoothing over your hair comfortingly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He rumbled, voice deep and soothing. “I would have told you.”
“I know you would.” You sniffled, gripping him like a lifeline, your anchor in the storm. You pulled away to meet his eyes. “I feel so stupid for crying about it.”
He shook his head. “It’s not stupid. I would, too.”
“Like it’s fine. Aliens are cool. T-Thor is cool.” You sniffled again, more tears running down your cheeks. “I’m fine with being one, I just…”
“You’re still (Y/N).” He asserted, a gentle thumb wiping your tears away. “You’ve always been able to do these amazing, beautiful things. Now we know why. And maybe there’ll be even more things you can do with that thing out of your neck.”
“Yeah…” You nodded. You took a deep breath. “I’m really glad you’re here, Steve. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”
He pulled you back into his arms to hide the look on his face. “I’ve got you. Always. We’ll figure it out.”
***
Hours later, you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Despite the fireplace raging with fresh-chopped wood, you were still shivering, pulling the blankets around yourself as tight as you could.
Steve watched you from the dining table, forlorn. Natasha nudged him, motioning towards you. He shook his head. He couldn’t. Right? What, take advantage of you in your vulnerable state?
Bucky seemed to agree with Nat, grinning into his mug of coffee. Of course they agreed. They were soulmates, after all. Just like you and Steve.
The mark on his wrist seemed to thrum when he thought about it.
Relenting, Steve got up off of his seat, walked towards the fireplace and adjusted the logs, adding another small one for good measure. He looked back at the others, who were silently, but aggressively, encouraging him to go over to you. Sighing, he did.
He knelt down in front of you, clearing his throat, which caused you to jolt awake.
“Is everything okay? Are we under attack?”
Steve chuckled. “No, uh, we’re all good. Are you cold? You’re shivering.”
“Kind of, yeah.” You admitted. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise. I’ve always been kind of cold. Must be an alien thing…”
“Do you…want some company?” He asked, unsure of how to word it. “I…run warm.”
“Do you mind?” You asked, sitting up a little and raising the blankets you were under.
His heart raced. “Here, um…” He wiggled in underneath you, letting you lead as the two of you settled.
“God, you do run warm.” You hummed, all but collapsing against him, a hand flat against his chest while you adjusted.
“I didn’t always.” He said, voice sincere. “Buck and I used to have to share a bed in the winter. It was brutal.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Yeah, he snores.” Steve joked, earning a laugh.
“Oh I know. I can hear him three doors down back home.”
“And I can hear you from the other room!” Bucky called, sending you and Steve into a fit of giggles, like kids at a sleepover. “It’s a small cabin!”
You heard him and Sam devolve into a bickering match about the truth of whether or not Bucky actually snored that loud.
You looked up at Steve, asking “is it okay if I put my arm here?” while carefully draping an arm across him.
“Yeah, of course. Get comfortable.” He nodded, leaning against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.
You rested your head on his firm chest, listening to the way his heart was racing. Cute.
“We could, uh, put on some music if you want.” Steve suggested. “I’ve still got that playlist on my phone.”
“Which one’s your favorite?” You asked, voice soft, curious.
“Timeless.”
“I thought it would be.” You smiled, meeting his eyes, which sparkled in the light of the fire. “You’re so timeless, Steve Rogers.”
He grinned. “You think so? You don’t think I’m a fossil like everyone else?” he said, quoting Natasha and Tony and many others who equated him to some dinosaur because of his accident.
“Not even close.” You shook your head and sighed. “This might be the wrong thing to say, but…I’m really glad you’re here. Your life could have looked a lot different, but I’m really glad you ended up in mine.”
It took every ounce of his being to hold in his tears when you said it. If he could have confessed then and there, he would have. He would have kissed you square on the lips, told you he loved you, that he always had, that you weren’t some accident, you were his destiny. Always had been.
Instead, he had to settle for, “I’m getting used to it, but I am, too. I’m really glad I found you that day, (Y/N).”
“Me too.” You smiled, readjusting your cheek against his chest, letting out a long breath. “Goodnight, Steve.”
“Night.”
His warmth lulled you to sleep after a long, emotional day. Never had you felt so safe and protected. It was easy to feel that way in the arms of a supersoldier, you supposed, thoughts meandering until there weren’t any left. You were asleep in minutes, breaths slow and long and even.
Once he was absolutely sure you were out, Steve pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, grateful beyond words to have you in his arms again, grateful you were safe, grateful you were his.
Even if you didn’t know it yet.
***
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the sliver of a gap in the curtains, right into your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out why the mattress was moving. And then you remembered. Steve.
The supersoldier was still asleep, breaths long and slow, those thick, gorgeous eyelashes resting against his sharp cheekbones, lips impossibly pink. His muscled arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other settled on the couch.
Your eyes wandered to the band on his wrist. It was out of place slightly, the edge almost crooked enough to read the letters etched onto his skin. Almost.
There was a part of you that was tempted to look. To nudge it aside the tiniest bit, say it was an accident, and finally know who it was that had been holding his heart in their hands for the last seventy or so years.
But you couldn’t do that to him. He trusted you enough to hold you while he slept, while he was the most vulnerable. You respected him too much to do that. So instead, you adjusted slightly, closing your eyes again.
“(Y/N).” Natasha said from the doorway of the kitchen.
“Hmm?” You replied, eyes opening again.
She eyed up the two of you, grinning. “Cute.”
You chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Got those files sent to Bruce. He doesn’t think it’ll be a problem getting that thing out of you. Won’t even have to put you under.”
“Cool.” You nodded. “Is it…like right between my neck and my shoulder? On the right side?”
“That’s where it is on the diagrams, yeah.”
“Okay. Thought so. I get pain there sometimes.”
“During training?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think it was anything serious. Thought it was like a pulled muscle or a pinched nerve or something.”
“You never said anything.” Steve murmured, blinking awake. “You were in pain that whole time?”
“No. It comes and goes. Mostly when I try out new stuff.” You said, still planted on his chest, looking up at him.
He smiled. “Morning.”
“Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Really well, actually. How did you sleep?”
“Like a fucking rock.” You grinned. “You weren’t kidding about running warm. Thanks for sharing.”
“Anytime.”
“Let’s get a move on, team.” Sam said, walking out from the bedrooms down the hall, Bucky not far behind him, looking tired.
You reluctantly left the warmth of your shared cocoon, sitting up and stretching, brushing your fingers through your tangled hair. “Alright, let’s go get this thing out of me.”
Show Yourself
“Alright, so, this might hurt a bit. Are you ready?” Bruce warned. You were laid out on a table on your stomach, a curled pillow beneath your head. It was a bit like a massage, except Bruce had made an incision at the base of your neck where your suppressor was implanted. He’d given you some numbing gel and pain meds, though, so you didn’t feel much.
On the other side of the observation window, Steve was standing with Natasha, his arms crossed, eyes focused. Tony wasn’t allowed even in there, which pissed him off. He’d tried to get on your good side when you’d gotten home and you blew him off completely, which, Steve had to admit, was amusing.
And Tony definitely deserved it.
“I’m good. Go for it.”
Carefully, Bruce used his tools to wiggle it free from your flesh, setting off a chain reaction in your body. The wave of relief you felt was almost enough to put you to sleep, a refreshing, cool sensation rushing from your head to your toes. Power crackled between your fingers, and you could feel your eyes glowing for a moment, despite the fact that you couldn’t see your reflection.
Bruce moved to stitch you up, but your body did the work for him, mending back together on its own before his very eyes. He adjusted his glasses, sure he was seeing things. But no, the wound was healed, just leaving a little dried blood on your skin, which he wiped off with a wet piece of gauze.
“Woahhh.” You murmured, coming out of the trance. You blinked a few times and it felt like waking up from a college nap, the kind you don’t set an alarm for and then come out of in a stupor.
“You feel okay?”
“Yeah, I’m great.” You nodded. “Are you done? Did you stitch it up?”
“I…didn’t have to.” He murmured, still staring at the spot. He handed you the shirt you’d brought in and you tugged it over your head, staring at your arms, your hands. You didn’t look any different, but it was like every atom in your body was electrified.
It felt right.
Bruce opened the door and Steve and Natasha walked in, watching your every move.
“Wow.” Natasha said, grinning. “You look…”
“The same, but…more you.” Steve met your eyes, offering you his hand.
You took it, letting him help you stand. Even his touch felt different now. Better. You settled, adjusting. It felt different, like even the gravity itself had changed. It would take some getting used to.
“I need to hit the training room.” You said with an excited grin. “You two are welcome to join me.”
“Can I watch? I want to take notes.” Bruce said. “From the observation booth, of course.”
“Oh yeah, by all means.” You nodded, leading the others down the hallway. A few others tagged along, Yelena, Kate, Wanda, who were all curious to see what you were capable of now, and just how much Tony’s lies had been holding you back. Sam and Bucky were already there and smiled when they saw you coming, Steve and the others in tow.
They cleared out some room, letting you have the space you needed. You stretched and then got to work.
First, you made a few forcefields. They still had that shimmer, like sunlight in a swimming pool, but they were twice as thick as they had been before. Steve couldn’t break them with his super-strength anymore.
You had more control over your waypoints and your portals, which, the more you used them, were becoming two different things. The waypoints, your stars, were a quick zip from point A to point B. Your portals, however, were more like a window that you could open and close, and took on more of a circular shape.
You were stronger, too. Nowhere near as strong as Bucky or Steve, but twice as strong as you’d been before, faster.
And then came the other thing. If you focused hard enough, and focused on the floaty, tingly feeling in your chest, your body started to glow around the edges, and at long last, your feet rose from the floor.
“Oh my god…” You murmured, lifting yourself from the tile ground. At first, it was hard to control, but you quickly figured out how to get from point to point, and how to hover in the middle.
Steve stared up at you as you hovered, fists lit with power, hair floating in the breeze you’d created. It was like watching the birth of a star, powerful and beautiful and otherworldly.
For the first time since 1943, he knew in his soul that he had to paint you, exactly like this. He memorized the moment in his mind, every detail from the streak of sunlight on your chest to the misplaced strand of hair on your forehead, the exact hue of your glowing irises.
“A picture might last longer.” Natasha teased under her breath, watching as you touched down.
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Steve replied, already picking out a color palette in his head.
“Holy shit…” You breathed, the glow dissipating as you returned to normal. “What a rush.”
“Welcome to the fly club, kid.” Sam said, patting you on the back.
“Thanks.” You grinned. “You’ll have to give me some pointers sometime.”
“Oh, anytime.” Sam walked over to Steve with you. “You see her up there? She’s like Superman.”
“I saw.” Steve agreed, arms crossed. “I think this calls for celebration, huh?”
“What did you have in mind, Cap?” You asked.
“Baja Blast?” He suggested, earning a laugh and a friendly shove.
“So you did like it?”
“It’s growin’ on me.” Steve admitted, that sly smile spreading. “Come on, my treat.”
“Oh I’m in.” You agreed. “Let me just take these monitors off.”
You turned in Bruce’s software, all of the vital-measuring instruments, cuffs and little sensors hooked to your arms and legs and chest.
“So, give it to me straight, doc. Am I stable?”
“Yeah, everything looks great. Vitals are great, heartrate is fine, if not a little elevated, but I’d assume that’s just from the adrenaline.” Bruce noted, looking at the numbers and charts on the screen in front of him. “If you feel weird, let me know and I can check things over, do some scans, but otherwise, it seems…you’re doing better than you were before, actually.”
“Alright, good to know.” You said, trying not to let his words hurt you.
It was good news, it really was, but you could have felt this way for eight months, not two hours. You were thinking faster, processing things at better speeds. Hell, it even felt like you were breathing easier. Whatever that thing was that had been inside you, it had been sapping your health for your entire life. And now, you finally knew what it was like to be at a hundred percent instead of eighty.
Fuck Tony.
***
Steve drove the two of you through the nearest Taco Bell drive-thru to get snacks for yourselves and the rest of the team.
You ordered your regular, your Baja Blast, and everything the others had requested, running it on one of the team cards Tony had given you all. On the drive back, Steve had a question you didn’t really expect.
“Where do people shop for art supplies these days?”
“Jo Ann’s or Michael’s. They have a little bit of everything. Fabric, yarn, paint, beads, basically everything you could need. Why, you got a DIY project planned?”
“Something like that, yeah.” He grinned. “I don’t do much shopping, so I didn’t know where to start.”
“We should go sometime. I was running low on yarn.” You said, taking a sip of your Baja Blast.
“Make anything cool lately?”
“I’m working on a sunflower cardigan for Wanda.”
“Oh she’ll love that.”
“Yeah, she’s the one who sent me the pattern.” You chuckled. “It’s gonna look really cute on her.”
The two of you got back a few minutes later, a drove of hungry superheroes descending upon the paper bags you were carrying almost instantly. It was a welcome sight, a full table of laughing people. Your family. You felt a little different now, but nothing had changed. Not really. They still liked you, still smiled at you, joked with you, laughed with you.
So then why had Tony felt the need to hide it for so long?
***
Days later, Steve walked down the paint aisle of the craft store, picking out some brushes, some canvas, paints. He found the perfect one for your eyes, another hue for your forcefields. The amount of time he spent looking at you made it easy.
He smiled to himself. The little guy from Brooklyn would be proud of him, getting back into art beyond the sketches he did from time to time. It reminded him, though, that he needed to swing back to that antique shop and finally pick up the painting that had been waiting for him for so long.
Surely, he could keep it hidden until your big day.
Happiest Place on Earth
Being an Avenger often brought along unexpected adventures and opportunities. Today, that adventure was a theme park. Apparently, Disneyland was putting in a whole section in homage to the Avengers and Tony wanted you all to be there.
And though the two of you weren’t on the best terms at the moment, who were you to fight a free vacation?
You and Wanda helped pick out each others’ outfits for your day off following the grand opening. But today, you were wandering the park in uniform, side by side with Captain America himself, as you walked side by side down the street in the parade.
They’d tried to teach you all to do a little dance as you walked. The only one even attempting it was Scott, who was absolutely thrilled to be there. Supposedly, his daughter Cassie would be there to see him, too. You hadn’t met her yet, but Scott loved her to the moon and back. With him as a dad, she’d have to turn out pretty cool.
“Waypoint,” Steve said, motioning you over to see a little girl dressed not as a princess, but as you, your star shining proudly on her chest.
“Hey there, superstar.” You smiled, giving her a high-five. “You look great!”
“I want to be a hero just like you someday!” She said, her voice impossibly small. Impossibly innocent. It was a cute moment, but you couldn’t help but hope she’d never have to be. That someday, you and the rest of the team would get the world to a place where superheroes weren’t needed, where there was just peace. Where people with powers could simply be like everyone else.
“You already are, hon.” You told her, posing for a picture as her mom held up her phone.
You continued along the parade route and saw a couple. The guy was wearing a Captain America hoodie, the girl was wearing a Waypoint shirt. You wondered if Steve noticed, but didn’t have to ask when you saw his eyes lingering there, his mask all but hiding the faint blush on his cheeks.
A few teenage girls stopped you and you signed their autograph books, throwing something together. Despite your time on the team, there had never really been a time you’d been stopped for them. It was an odd feeling, being famous for something like this.
Steve signed with confidence, though. Sometimes you forgot that before he actually got to go out in the field and make a difference, he’d done a stint as a celebrity, touring the country to sell war bonds.
Someday, you’d bribe him enough to show you the videos, if he hadn’t already burnt all of them first.
“Are you excited for your birthday?” One asked. “I heard your twenty-fifth is coming up.”
“Oh! Yeah! I mean, I guess I’m more anxious than anything. It’s the big one.”
“You’re going to have every twenty-four year old in the country on the edge of their seat waiting to find out if they’re the one.” Another joked.
You laughed along. “Yeah, I guess it’s coming whether I want it to or not.”
You were near the end of the route, so it wasn’t long after that you were off the hook to walk around a bit, get something to eat.
Steve turned to you, trying to sound casual when he asked, “You don’t want your birthday to come?”
“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “I’m not entirely set on the idea of pledging myself to some stranger for the rest of my life.”
“It’s not always a stranger.” Steve said. “Maybe you already know them.”
“That’s true. That would be…I mean, it would be better, sure, but…I’m pretty sure the only person I want it to be already has someone else.” You couldn’t meet his eyes when you said it, afraid of the answer, one way or the other, whether he finally said it outright, or if those pretty blue eyes said it for him.
You couldn’t handle the heartbreak.
“Wait—”
“(Y/N), we have time to hop on Pirates of the Caribbean.” Wanda said, swooping in to save you. She was really good at that. She took your hand and the two of you ran off in the direction of the ride.
Natasha walked up behind Steve, hand in hand with Bucky, who was nibbling on a churro. Obviously, they had heard the exchange.
“Fuck.” Steve muttered, shaking his head. “Well, great.”
“What’s going on, soldier?” Natasha asked.
“She’s gonna be so pissed when she finds out it’s me.” Steve said, voice small, as he watched you walk away. He waited for you to glance back at him. You didn’t.
“What are you talking about? Steve, she’s liked you for months. She listened to Songs for Sad Bitches when she thought she couldn’t have you.” Natasha reasoned. “Feelings like that don’t just go away.”
Bucky chimed, “Are we forgetting the night at the cabin?”
“That was three months ago.” Steve said, staring at his shoes. “I…I’ve been keeping it from her this entire time, hiding it from her, letting her feel like shit and stress herself out over it. I shouldn’t have gotten so close in the first place, but…I just can’t keep myself away from her. She looks at me with those eyes and I just…crumble.”
“I hear ya, pal.” Bucky said, patting his arm. “But you remember the look in her eyes at the bar that night? You remember the things she said to you? That (Y/N) is still a month away. She still has feelings for you. She still loves you, and she’s…she’s even excited to see the little guy.”
“She loved the little guy.” Steve agreed, smiling softly, remembering the look on your face when he’d found you, laying on his porch, the tenderness with which you’d whispered his name. In a world that constantly looked down on him, figuratively and literally, you were the first person aside from Bucky that made him feel loved, like he had something waiting for him.
Steve let out a long breath, nodding. Bucky was right. Back in the forties, he’d been the level-headed voice of reason, getting Steve out of the trouble his big mouth got him into. Even in the twenty-first century, he was still doing his damage control. In a way, he had missed it.
“Alright, now I know I missed some chapters.” Sam was on Steve’s other side, holding an ice cream sandwich, eyes wide. “When exactly were you going to tell me your soulmate is on the team?”
Steve chuckled. “Surprise?”
“Welcome to the inner circle, Sam. We’ve been waiting for you.” Natasha joked, wearing a grin.
“I mean, it explains a hell of a lot. Here I was thinking she was like…the grandkid of one of your old war buddies or something.”
“That’s what I thought!” Natasha agreed. She and Bucky finally filled Sam in on everything he’d missed over the past several months.
Steve’s eyes wandered back to that couple, dressed as him and you. They were holding hands, walking down the pathway, laughing, talking. They stopped for a selfie together in front of the Avengers Campus sign, which inevitably devolved into a kiss.
And in his head, he replaced them with him and you, carefree and in love in the happiest place on earth.
You’re On Your Own, Kid
Maybe, if you lied very still, you could convince the universe no time was passing at all. You were staring at the ceiling, flat on your back, the weight of the world resting flat against your entire body. No, against your soul, weighing you down.
Tomorrow was your birthday and you were not ready. Not in the slightest.
You let out a loud groan, forcing yourself to get up, to get dressed. You chucked your pajamas in your hamper, throwing on some joggers and a t-shirt, the old Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. It was a simple one, black with stars scattered across the fabric, the yellow logo emblazoned across the front.
There was a knock on your door.
“It’s open.” You called, not turning around to see who it was. You put on your star necklace, the one Steve had given you almost an entire year before. You tucked it under the fabric of the shirt.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Steve asked, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes searching.
“Not well.” You sighed, turning to look at him.
“I didn’t either when mine was coming. I swear I didn’t get any sleep for a week.” He said, eyes soft. “I, um, got breakfast. It’s in the kitchen. Those breakfast sandwiches you like.”
Your lips curled into a tired smile. “Thanks. That’s really sweet.”
“Of course. Whatever you want today, just say the word.”
You crossed the room, walking right up to him and straight into his arms. He held you to him, read resting against yours. For a moment, he questioned if it had already happened, if he’d gotten the days mixed up.
If you already knew.
“I just need you to hold me.” You whispered, holding in tears. You should have been excited. It should have felt like Christmas Eve. You should have been absolutely buzzing with excitement for the day to come.
But you weren’t ready to let him go, for everything about your relationship to change. You needed more time.
“I can do that.” He said softly, thumbs etching circles into your shoulders. “As long as you need me to. I’ve got you. Always.”
“Okay.” You whispered, voice breaking. The tears finally slipping down your cheeks. It was all you could say to keep yourself from saying ‘I love you.’
You ate breakfast with the others. Natasha could tell you had been crying, so after, she took you, Wanda, Kate, and Yelena out of the house. It was a welcome distraction. The mall was the perfect spot. It always was.
“What about this one?” Wanda held another dress against you, imagining you in it for your birthday party the following night. Steve had taken it upon himself to be the entire planning committee, which was why he was back at the Compound with the boys, getting things in order. The only thing he wanted to have to worry about tomorrow was the party itself.
“Does it come in blue?” You asked, eyeing up the rack she’d pulled it off of.
“It does.” She smiled, putting the red one back in exchange for blue. It was sparkling, form-fitting, a little less formal than the one you’d worn to your Avengers induction, but it had the same vibe, just shorter and with a deeper neckline.
“Perfect.” You said, turning towards the dressing room. You handed Wanda your purse and slipped into it. It fit perfectly in all the right places. You did a little turn in the mirror, satisfied, and then walked out into the store again, where Natasha was nodding in approval.
“Alright, dress acquired, where to next?” Kate asked, checking the list she was keeping on her phone.
“I heard there is a Lego store here.” Yelena said absentmindedly, glancing out the door. “We should go.”
“Is that where you got Steve’s Millennium Falcon?” Natasha asked.
“Steve has a Millennium Falcon???” Yelena asked, eyes wide. “I want one.”
“I got it online. It was on sale.”
“I didn’t know Steve liked Star Wars.” Kate noted as you walked back into the dressing room to change back into your Star Wars shirt, ironically enough.
“Loves it. He’s a big nerd. Bucky, too. Buck’s more of a fantasy nerd, though. He’s super into Lord of the Rings.” You could hear the grin in Natasha’s voice when she said it.
“Steve said it was the first thing he watched out of the ice. Star Wars, that is. I don’t know if he’s seen Lord of the Rings yet.” You added. “And he’s talked about going to the Stark Expo back in the day. Vintage nerd.”
“Nice.”
Once you’d paid for the dress, you moved on to the Lego Store, where Yelena just about ran to the Millennium Falcon set to see it for herself.
“Lego typewriter.” Natasha noted, pointed at it. “Speaking of vintage nerd.”
“Oh I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that.” You laughed. Depending on how things settled after your soulmate bomb dropped, maybe you’d come back and get it for him. At the very least, you were pretty sure you’d still be friends after it all. And friends built Lego sets together.
“Hey, wait, there are Legos of us?” Kate asked, eyeing up the display where Steve had, you assumed, gotten your matching keychains. “This is news to me.”
“Let me see.” Yelena walked over and gasped, eyes falling on her Lego self.
Wanda smiled softly, head tilting as she looked at you. She rested her hand on your shoulder.
“It will be fine. To quote someone I care about very deeply: whoever they are, they are lucky to have you. Now, let’s forget about it for a bit.”
“Alright.” You agreed, letting her lead you over to the Build-a-Figure station, where you started mixing and matching the pieces. It was hard, but you let your worries melt away, at least for a little while.
***
Meanwhile, Steve was walking around the Compound with a clipboard, making sure everything was ready for the next day. Scott and the ants were helping put up the decorations. He’d sent Sam and Bucky to pick up the cake, and Tony had taken it upon himself to take care of the catering. A peace offering of sorts.
Steve was putting together the playlist for the party himself, hand-picking songs you liked, recommendations from Nat and Wanda, songs from Taylor Swift’s discography, and then, finally, a special song he’d been saving.
Steve liked to listen to his records in the privacy of his room, away from the ears of members of the team who would tease him for it. They were forties jazz mostly, made the place feel a little more like home, especially when you weren’t around. But there was a song that he would soon share with you, as soon as tomorrow came. He hesitated to add it, but eventually, he pressed his thumb to the song, adding it to the playlist.
He closed his eyes, remembering that moment. The last song of the night before Val’s closed. It was one of the last times he had gone there.
“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…” The singer’s voice had floated across the room, words striking him to his core. He got chills, opening his eyes again. God, he couldn’t wait for you to know. Sure, he was a supersoldier, but he was pretty sure the weight of his secret was finally crushing him.
***
You retreated to your room when you and the girls got home. It was kind of late. You’d decided to catch a movie while you were out. You didn’t mind. You were beyond ready to go to sleep and just…get it over with.
Off with the Band-Aid.
“Where’s (Y/N)?” Steve asked, finding Natasha and Kate in the dining room.
“She went to her room for the night.” Kate replied innocently.
“Alright.” He nodded. “How was she doing?”
“Not great.” Yelena said, already into the box of the Lego set she’d settled on. “I mean, she’s like fine. Just…kinda sad.”
“Quiet.” Wanda agreed. Vision had his arm around her.
“Okay, well…” Steve put his hands on his hips, thinking. What was the harm in telling them now? Warning the rest of them what they’d be waking up to tomorrow. “Vision, can you round up the others?”
“Of course.” Vision nodded. “To be clear, I am to leave out (Y/N)?”
“Yeah. Yeah, everyone but (Y/N).” Steve confirmed, leading the others upstairs to one of the lounges. He sat on the couch, mouth resting against his hands, elbows on his knees. Tony sauntered in, followed by Bruce. The rest of the team filed in one by one, finding seats, staring at Steve, waiting for answers.
“So, um, thanks for coming everyone.” Steve said, meeting their eyes.
“Uh, Cap, we’re missing (Y/N).” Clint said, looking around.
“That’s the idea.” Natasha replied.
“Is this a party planning meeting? Do the decorations look okay? I really thought the ants did a good job.” Scott said.
“They did a great job.” Steve reassured him, taking a moment to collect his words. “So, as you all know, tomorrow is (Y/N)’s twenty-fifth birthday. And…I need to finally come clean. I’m her soulmate.”
“Okay, now that I did not know.” Tony said, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Your long lost love is one of our housemates?”
“Tony.” Nat shot him a look.
“No, I’m serious. I’m just…I’m relieved is all.” Tony admitted with a sigh. “I…the reason I didn’t tell her is because I didn’t know if Illustrians…I didn’t know if she’d have one. I figured…” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “I didn’t want to bring her down when it was so close.”
Steve took off the cuff on his wrist, finally finally showing him the mark that had been there since his twenty-fifth birthday in 1943. Your name, written in your neat, careful handwriting, first, middle, and last.
“Why not tell her, then?” Kate asked. “Why haven’t you told her?”
“That’s a little more complicated.” Steve thought. “When I turned twenty-five…she was there. In a few hours, when she goes to sleep, she’s headed to the forties to see…well, me, before the serum. I don’t know how or why, but…when she got there, she didn’t know. I didn’t want to risk changing anything. Butterfly effect and all that.”
“Time travel?” Bruce asked, eyes bugging out of his head. “You are just casually telling us that time travel exists.”
“I guess so.”
“Woah. Bruce. We’ve got some tests to run.” Tony said.
“Oh I am already taking notes in my head.”
The meeting ended shortly after that. The rest of the team gave him supportive words and smiles, but Tony’s were the most poignant.
“I don’t know what you’re still doing here, Rogers. Go see her off.”
“Right. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good luck, Steve.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
***
You closed the door after Steve left, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall, steady and even. You let another tear roll down your cheek. All of the crying was exhausting. You just wanted to be done with it.
You sat on the bed, taking off your bra and chucking it across the room, laying back to relax and, hopefully, get some sleep.
The exhaustion must have been helping, because as soon as you closed your eyes, you felt the drifting start. It was strong and immediate, pulling you down through the mattress. You felt like you were floating and falling at the same time, limbs tingling. Your eyes shot open when you realized what was happening, but it was already too late.
And then everything went white.
Right Where You Left Me
In 1943, you walked hand in hand with your soulmate down the sidewalk, through Steve’s favorite park. It happened to be a shortcut between his favorite diner and the local theater. He liked to sit there sometimes, sketch couples walking by. Never had he imagined he’d be one of the couples someday.
For the past week, he’d about worried himself sick. He’d barely slept, he’d had no appetite, he’d had the worst art block of his life. Every time he fell asleep, he had dreams of finding his soulmate, only for them to be some pretty but shallow girl who didn’t want anything to do with him. He had nightmares of a grayed out mark like Bucky’s, or worse, no mark at all. Which is why when he’d run out that morning to get the mail, he hadn’t even checked yet.
Part of him didn’t want to.
And then he’d found you out there, laying under the mailbox.
And now, he was holding your hand.
You caught his eyes, grinning. He smiled back, heart racing. Gosh, maybe he needed to sit down.
“Hey, could we sit for a minute?” He asked, motioning to the bench beside the path and trying his best not to sound out of breath.
“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, following him and sitting down beside him, hand still clasped tight in yours. “Do you have an inhaler?”
“What’s an inhaler?”
“Shit, right, they probably haven’t been invented yet…” You murmured, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“You…know about the asthma.” He realized.
You nodded. “I know about all of it, Steve.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “And you’re still looking at me with those eyes?”
“What eyes?” You tilted your head, innocent. “There’s no one else I’d rather be looking at, Steve. Just you.”
“Okay, now I know you’re not real.”
“Am I gonna have to spend all day convincing you I am?”
“You just might.”
You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a reddish mark there. “Oops. Sorry, let me—”
Steve grabbed your hand, stopping you from wiping it away. “Leave it. Bucky comes home covered in ‘em all the time. I’ve never gotten one before.”
“I am going to cover you in lipstick marks by the end of today.”
He grinned, finally standing up to keep moving. “Is that a promise?”
***
It was nearing the end of the night. Steve could feel his time with you was nearly spent. So he led you by the hand to the stairs at the back of the bar, the ones that led up to the roof. He’d found himself up there alone on quite a few nights, when the double dates Bucky set up inevitably crumbled.
It was a beautiful night, clear. The stars were out in force, dotting the sky in perfect constellations. In the distance, fireworks boomed. It was one thing he’d always loved about his birthday.
“Wow, this is great.” You murmured, looking out at the city. It was like you were living in a photograph, the old buildings looming in the skyline, vintage cars driving down the street.
“My favorite spot.” He explained, walking over to the railing.
“I can see why.” You let out a sigh, gripping his hand tighter, fingers laced with his. You turned towards him, looking at the smattering of kiss marks on his cheeks. You’d kept true to your word.
Steve twirled you around, pulling you closer, a soft, romantic smile on his face. “God, you are so beautiful.”
“Let me show you something.” You told him, drawing his eyes to your hand where you made a tiny, gentle forcefield, its blue light shining across his features.
“What…is that?” He asked, staring at the orb. “Is that how you got here? Where were you keeping it?”
You curled your fingers, letting the bubble fizzle away. “It’s not a thing. It’s part of me. Something I’ve been able to do since college. There are a lot of people like me where I’m from, people with gifts. Steve…after I leave, your life is about to get a lot weirder than time travel and forcefields. I can’t tell you how or why, but…”
“I appreciate the heads-up.” He assured you, smiling. “And I love you, too. I didn’t say it down there, and I know I just met you this morning, but…I…I love you so much, doll. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”
“You, Steve Rogers, are going to do amazing things.” You whispered, taking his hand again.
“Says the girl with superpowers.”
“I’m serious.” You told him. “I grew up hearing stories about you. I wanted to be just like you. Brave beyond words, fiercely loyal. I guess it only makes sense that we share a soul.”
Steve grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you deeply, lips dancing against your own, heart racing, knees wobbling like Jell-O. He rested his nose against yours, breathing shallow.
“Careful, there. Don’t let me take your breath away.”
He shook his head, kissing you one last time before murmuring, “Oh doll, I could do this all day.” He glanced back towards the door, music from downstairs faint. He took your hand. “Let’s go back downstairs. I think they’re playing the last song.”
You smirked, following him. “I thought you had two left feet.”
He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”
***
After you’d disappeared, Steve felt hollow, walking slowly back into the house. Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table, absently reading the paper. He met Steve’s eyes when he heard his trudging footsteps.
“She left you something.” Bucky chucked the bundle of fabric at him and Steve caught it, holding it out in front of him.
Your Star Wars shirt. Shit. He hoped you didn’t need it for anything. “Uh oh.”
“Might fit you.” Bucky chuckled. “Obviously you can’t wear it out, but…”
“Yeah.” Steve agreed, eyes sparkling with tears. He held it to his face, inhaling the scent of your perfume like it was oxygen. “God, I miss her.”
“I know, pal. It’ll be alright. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will be.” Bucky’s eyes fell to the grayed out mark on his own wrist, so faint it was barely legible. “You just gotta take it one day at the time.”
Don’t Know Where, Don’t Know When
Your veins were on fire. The blinding white shimmered, giving way to…your ceiling. You were laying on your bed again, sunlight streaming through the window.
You blinked a few times, feeling flowing back into your limbs slowly. Your heart raced. You sat up, staring at your hands. Soon enough, your eyes found your wrist. The letters were still there, spelling out the name of your soulmate.
Steven Grant Rogers.
“Oh my god.” You looked up and met your reflection’s eyes, your hair still set in elegant 40s waves. Your pajamas were gone, replaced with the blue dress. Your lips were a deep shade of red, the same shade you’d left all over Steve’s face last night. A different Steve in a different time.
You let out a breath, standing up and walking towards the door, your new-vintage forties heels clicking with every step. You marched straight out to the kitchen, where Steve was sitting at the table, fiddling with his cuff. He was sitting across the table from Bucky and Natasha, whose eyes tried to warn Steve that you were approaching behind him.
“Happy Birthday, (Y/N). Um, how’d you sleep?” He asked, eyes widening when he saw the way you were dressed. His first love, in the flesh, just the way he remembered her.
“I didn’t.” You replied, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room, snatching up the folding footstool leaned on the end counter as you passed.
“Good luck, pal.” Bucky laughed.
You just about kicked open the door of the conference room, skirt swishing as you did. You closed the door behind you, locking it with a click.
“(Y/N), listen, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but—”
You unfolded the stool, getting up on top of it and pushing him against the wall. You crushed your lips against his, hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. He moaned into your mouth, frozen for a moment until the rest of him got the hint. His eyes fluttered shut, strong arms wrapped around your waist, head tilting as he deepened the kiss.
Your grip on his shirt weakened, arms looping behind his neck, holding him close as his lips left yours. He rested his forehead against yours, breaths ragged. He laughed, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to hide the tint of his cheeks.
“Not quite where I thought this conversation was gonna go.” He murmured against you, pressing kisses up your neck.
You reached for his left hand, fingers lingering against the strip of leather that was still hiding your name.
“You can take it off.” He told you, eyes sparkling. “It’s about time.”
Carefully, you undid the metal bit holding it in place and peeled it back, revealing your name etched there onto his skin, your handwriting unmistakable. You choked on a sob, tears slipping down your face.
“The whole time?” You asked, grabbing onto his hand with both of yours. “You knew the whole time?”
“I’m sorry.” He apologized, eyes falling to the hand you were holding. “I…You didn’t know when I met you. I didn’t want to risk…changing anything.” I didn’t want to risk losing you.
“I can’t believe…Here I thought I was your rebound.” You laughed, sniffling through your tears of relief. “I thought you were falling in love with me and I would be the asshole for getting a soulmate and breaking your heart. And it was me the whole time.”
“That’s why you were worried we wouldn’t be friends?” He asked softly.
You nodded, more tears falling when you remembered the way you’d felt day before.
“Oh, sweetheart…” He shook his head, wiping your tears away. “Honestly…I’m really glad we got to be friends first. Most soulmates don’t get that. It made me appreciate every moment with you even more. It was weird and hard, but…loving you was easy. Always has been. It was not telling you that was crushing me.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner…” You said, shaking your head. “All of those little moments…the reading chair, the Hunger Games marathon, the cabin…” Your heart ached remembering the night in the cabin.
You remembered him sleeping against the wall in the infirmary after you’d been knocked unconscious, unwilling and unable to leave you alone when you were hurt. You remembered the bewildered look in his eyes when he thought you were dressed up for a date instead of Wanda’s birthday outing. The argument about whether or not you should go on the Red Room mission, when he was more worried about your safety than anything else, broken over the idea of something happening to you when he wasn’t there to help. The Lego set you’d spent hours building together, his hands so careful, fingers brushing against yours every so often. The mission in the Amazon, when the only thing he could think about while pseudo-drunk was you.
It was always you. It had always been you.
“Steve…”
“Are we gonna be okay?” He asked quietly, watching you, searching your eyes for some flicker of disappointment. “It’s okay if you need time. I’d understand. It’s…well, it’s a lot to process.”
“I just…” You sighed, squeezing his hand. “I can’t believe I get to have you. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
“Believe it.” He said. He raised your hand, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. “I love you, (Y/N) (L/N). I always have.”
“I love you too.” You confessed, earning that handsome smile he was so famous for. You couldn’t help but admire him, your supersoldier, the man that time had saved specifically for you. “I don’t need time. I just need you.”
You looked down at your new dress, realizing for the first time what it meant that you were still wearing it. You’d left your other clothes behind.
“Right. Before I forget.” Steve said, presenting a tattered, faded wad of fabric that had once been a shirt. “You left this at my place.”
You unfurled the fabric to find your missing Star Wars shirt, or what was left of it. You stared at it, dumbfounded. “You’ve had this the whole time?!”
“Took it everywhere with me.” He admitted. “Storming Hydra bases in Europe, Battle of New York, Sokovia, everywhere. I used to wear it, back when I was…you know, but it didn’t fit after my growth spurt. Sorry I couldn’t get it to you in better shape.”
“This is why you like Star Wars.” You realized, staring at it and looking back up at him.
“Yes.”
“Oh my god.” You laughed, shaking your head. You handed it back to him. “I think you need this more than I do, Steve. You can hold onto it for me if you want.”
He smiled, eyes soft. “You mean it?”
“Yeah, of course. I know it’s safe in your hands.”
Your shirt wasn’t the only thing that was safe in his hands. You were pretty sure, finally, that your heart was, too.
You stepped down from your footstool. Steve watched with an amused smile, chuckling.
“We had less of a height difference last night.” You reminded him, folding up the stool.
“I remember.” He reached for your hand and you gave it to him. He brought it to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles with care. “God, I missed this. I missed you so much, doll. Which is silly because you’ve been here, but…”
“I get it.” You reassured him, dropping his hands and wrapping your arms around him instead.
He hugged you to his chest, resting his head against yours and letting out a long breath. You could tell he’d been holding it in for a long, long time.
***
Before you changed out of your forties look, Wanda insisted on a little photoshoot, which you were grateful for. Looking back, it would be fun to have pictures, even just as more proof that it had actually happened. Steve obviously sat in on some of the photos.
You asked some questions, of course, such as “who all knew?” The answer was everyone, but not until the night before when he’d finally come clean to the team. Before that, it had just been Bucky and Nat, and more recently, Sam.
Wanda claimed she had felt something, but never pried. Anyone could see it, though. Anyone with eyeballs. The way he looked at you had always been with love.
You changed into your dress for the party, necklace on display between your collarbones. You touched up your makeup a little bit, but left it. Bucky’s vintage lady friend had done a good job.
Tony showed up about an hour before the party was supposed to start, instructing the caterers. He stopped in his tracks, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. “Rogers tell you my side of the story?”
“He did.” You nodded. “And I appreciate you looking out for me. Kind of. In your own way.”
“And I am sorry, for the record. Maybe there would have been a way to bring it up without…you know.” Tony shrugged. “Happy birthday, kid. I’m glad it all worked out for you and the old-timer.”
You chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Got in touch with your parents. You were right. They’re off-planet. But I have their contact info if you want to…”
“Yeah, I’d really like that. Thank you, Tony.”
“Of course. I’ll get that all squared away.”
Steve walked up to you as Tony walked away, eyes landing on the necklace there. You realized, as he stared at it, that you’d been wearing it the night before. You hadn’t taken it off before bed.
“Is that what you meant when you said you had help picking it out?” You realized, putting the pieces together. “I thought you meant Natasha or something.”
“No, I uh…” He grinned, nodding. “I got a good look at it that night. You never said who gave it to you, but I figured it may as well be me.”
Steve was wearing a blue button-up, his nice black slacks that did everything for his legs. He’d shaved, combed his hair all neat. His hand settled on the small of your waist, pulling you closer to him.
You stood on your toes, hooking an arm around his neck and tugging him down for a kiss, lips melting against his. You felt his warm hand settle on your jaw, tilting your head just so. He smelled good, like his woodsy mahogany cologne. His breath was fresh, spearmint. And his lips were soft, confident but gentle.
His nose nuzzled yours, breath warm as it fanned across your cheeks. He met your eyes for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead, pulling you against him again. Now that he could touch you freely, he just couldn’t get enough.
“Bout time.” Bucky chuckled, walking into the room, Natasha’s hand in his. She looked great, wearing a nice red dress. “How are you two doing?”
“Great, Buck.” Steve replied, still not letting you go as he swayed. “I’m doin’ great. How are you, birthday girl?”
“It’s the best one I’ve had so far.” You said, echoing his words when you’d asked him the same question. You kissed him again, lips finding his easily.
He smiled, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Same here.” You told him. “I’ve had a crush on you since middle school. Imagine how I feel.”
“Middle school???” He asked, laughing.
“Yeah, why do you think I was crying at Air and Space Museum?”
“I was still in the ice!”
“Middle school girl crushes know no bounds, Captain Rogers.” Kate said, her and Yelena walking into the room next, more or less matching in their black dresses and purple and red accents. “I had plenty of crushes on old dead guys when I was in middle school. No offense.”
He laughed. “None taken.”
The party guests arrived in waves. The remainder of the team came, along with the extended family: Maria Hill, Jane Foster and her intern Darcy. A handful of your college friends came, buzzing about the prospect of being at the Avengers Compound, as well as the fact that you were an Avenger now, since most of them hadn’t seen you since that change had occurred.
You greeted them all as they came in, smiling and laughing and joking around like you did during the good old days. You introduced them to your new friends, your team. The playlist Steve had agonized over set the perfect tone. Some songs were upbeat and danceable, some were chill and slow, giving the couples in the room the chance to pair off and dance together.
During one of such songs, Steve offered his hand.
“Come on, let’s dance.”
“Like old times…” You murmured, hand sliding into his as he led you out onto the makeshift dancefloor.
Steve faced you, strong hand settling on your waist, the other still wrapped around yours. There was only one song it could be, of course. His favorite of the songs you had shown him thus far. He spun you around, face hovering just behind your ear, where he pressed a tender kiss before spinning you back around to face him.
“Even if we’d met on a crowded street in 1944, and you were headed off to fight in the war…”
“You still would have been mine, we would have been timeless…” You sang softly, meeting his eyes, the smile on your face matching his own. It was like Taylor had plucked the lyrics from your very heart.
“I think we kind of are.” He said, head nuzzled to yours, still swaying along to the song.
“Yeah, I think so too.” You replied.
When the song was over, Steve leaned in and asked, “Can I give you your presents now?”
“Yeah, of course.” You nodded.
He led you out of the room and down the hall to one of the conference rooms, where he’d stashed them earlier. There were four things waiting there. A medium box, a tiny box, and two easels covered with sheets.
He turned a chair around and motioned for you to sit, so you did. He handed you the bigger box first, and the infamous clinking sound gave it away before you could even get the wrapping paper off.
“Oh I think I know what this is.”
“I thought you might say that.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know if you had this one or not. I kept the receipt just in case…”
You tore the paper off to reveal a Lego set. It was Van Gogh’s Starry Night. “I don’t have this one yet. And I cannot wait to build it with you.”
“That makes two of us, doll.” He kissed your cheek, handing you the next present, the smaller one.
You tore the paper off to reveal a small velvet box. You gently lifted the lid and inside, there was a set of star earrings and a simple silver band. An eternity band, if you weren’t mistaken. Not an engagement ring, but it was a common gift for soulmates to give once they found each other, especially after they’d spent some time together.
“Oh, Steve…” You murmured, tears in your eyes. “They’re beautiful.”
“Can I?” He asked, kneeling down beside you and reaching for the ring.
“Yeah, of course.” You held out your hand and let him slide the band onto your finger. How he’d gotten your size, you didn’t know, but it fit perfectly.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this since 1943.” He confessed, hands lingering around your own.
“It’s still so crazy to me.” You sighed, shaking your head. You met his eyes. “You were in love with me before I even existed, before my parents were even born.”
“I know.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek, another to the corner of your lips. “When I woke up after the ice, I…I was lonely for a while. I spent a lot of days alone, learning, trying to figure out the new world I’d found myself in. I was kind of bitter. I didn’t know why it had happened to me…until I found you in the mall that day. And then I knew it wasn’t some accident. What happened to me was fate. You’re my destiny. Everything that happened led me straight to you and it was all worth it.”
“You can’t keep doing this to me.” You sighed, fingers intertwining with his.
“Doing what?”
You leaned your forehead against his, whispering, “Making me fall more in love with you.”
“No promises.” He laughed, kissing your lips and pulling you to your feet. “On my twenty-fifth, you said you didn’t know I was an artist and I promised I’d show you sometime.”
He pulled the sheet off of the first painting. It was you, glowing a brilliant blue, streaks of energy emanating from you like you were a star. Your eyes glowed, hair blew in the breeze. Behind you was a bright waypoint and zipping through the air was his shield, all of it captured in breathtaking oil painting. You wondered how long it had taken.
“This is so beautiful, Steve.” You rested your head against him, arm wrapped around his waist. “You made me look like a freaking goddess.”
“Well now you know how I see you.” He reached for the sheet covering the second painting, a little more careful with this one due to the age of it alone. “You might recognize this one.”
It was the painting from the antique shop, the soulmates dancing in Val’s. Now, with your new knowledge, you recognized them immediately. It was you and Steve. Always had been. Tears slipped down your cheeks and your hand covered your mouth, muffling your sobs. There was a time when you were afraid no one would ever love you as much as the blond-haired man loved the girl he was dancing with and it had been you all along.
But that little blond guy had painted it for you, not knowing whether or not you would ever get to see it.
You turned to Steve, standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders, head resting against his strong frame as you cried.
“I never stopped looking. Never.” Steve said, voice getting emotional. “Every base I went to, I met every nurse. At every coffee shop, I studied every college student in case you were there doing homework. Every time I went to the theater, I was scanning faces for yours. It became habit, looking for you. I…”
“You found me.” You said, pulling away to see his face. You brushed his tears away with a gentle thumb. “You found me, Steve.”
He surged forward, kissing you deeply, with a century of passion behind his lips. Your hand wandered into his soft blond hair, the other settling against his firm chest. His hands caressed your body, memorizing every curve and dip, lips chasing yours through every slight movement. And after, he pressed a dozen kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. You giggled, finally catching his lips again.
Your breaths were heavy when he finally pulled away; his, too. You straightened out the fabric of his dress shirt, pulling him back down for one last kiss. Then another. Then, really, one last one.
“I love you, Steve Rogers. Now, then, and always.”
“Now, then, and always.” He murmured, kissing you again.
The two of you cleaned yourselves up before returning to the rest of the party. You blew out your candles and made your wish, for an eternity side by side with him, that wherever life took the two of you, it took you there together.
You had a slice of cake and some ice cream, sitting on the couch next to Steve, legs draped over his. He used his thumb to dab a little frosting onto the tip of your nose. You smeared frosting across his cheek with yours, which made him laugh.
After, there was one last song before most of the guests would be headed home for the night. As soon as the instrumental kicked in, you got emotional. It had been your last song with Steve the night before, a song that had been written about those going off to war, their futures as uncertain as the stars were numerous.
For Steve, it held a different meaning. He’d known then that his time with you was running out. He had no idea when he’d see you again, just that it would be a long time and that the version of you he met wouldn’t even know him yet, that it might be years before he got to kiss you again.
And so, the two of you danced as you had the night before, on Steve’s twenty-fifth and on yours, your face tucked against his, his arms wrapped tight around you as you swayed gently to the music.
“We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…”
Tags: @cap-lu20
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers#captain america#marvel#mcu#soulmate au#steve rogers soulmate au#the avengers
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Sick Days 2
Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader
Summary: The men are sick, and it's your duty to nurse them back to their healthy selves. Yes, the men are sick— all twenty-seven of them are ill, and you're the only one who's taking care of them. Some of them made it easier for you, but others made it complicated for you. It's a good thing you don't have emetophobia.
Note: This is highly requested by either three people or one person. Either way, I'm surprised someone wanted part two of the previous mini-fic because I felt iffy about the first part. Anyway, I am back from my vacation! That means we can finally get back to the longer fics because this upcoming week will be a villain!isekai'd!reader fic because it won the voting on Tumblr and Discord :> I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).
Warnings: The men are sick, and some of them are vomiting
Word Count: 3.5k
This is part two of Sick Days.
RING!
“Onikabuto booboo bear! I’m hungryyy!”
You run to the left side of the room with a tray of food in your hands. “Coming!”
RING!
“Sweetheart? Can you get me water? My throat is feeling parched.”
You run to the nearest water pitcher, grab a glass cup and fill it with water. “Give me a moment!” You holler. After filling the cup with water, you run to the right side of the room, making sure not to spill any water on the wooden floor.
RING RING!
“Snookums!!!! I’m cold! Can you get me an extra blanket and maybe cuddle with me?”
You run toward the piles of blankets on the table and search for the softest blanket you can find. The thicker and softer the blanket, the better it is. You don’t want any of them to be cold and feel uncomfortable while ill. You know how your boyfriends are—when they’re feeling unwell and sick, they need your attention around the clock. While searching through the mountain of blankets, you hear someone cough loudly.
Without looking, you announce over your shoulders, “Make sure to cough into your elbows and keep your masks on. You guys wouldn’t want to get me sick, now, do you?”
“No,” Aether mutters before sniffling under his face mask.
Zhongli sighs, rubbing his throbbing temples. “Apologies, dearest.”
“Childe, you can’t just ask [Y/N] to cuddle with you. You’ll get them sick, and if they get sick—”
Diluc was interrupted by Childe coughing loudly into his elbows, causing the redhead to roll his eyes and scoot toward the edge of his bed. Childe drops his arm to his side and narrows his eyes at Diluc before snuggling into his blanket, shivering like a chihuahua.
After what feels like forever, you finally found the perfect blanket for the poor, shivering Snezhnayan. You pull the blanket from the pile and walk to Childe’s bed. Childe’s eyes light up, and he sits on the bed, making grabby motions as you get closer to his bed. You decided to have the men stay in the infirmary at the estate instead of their bedrooms because, to you, it’d be easier to tend to each person if they were all in the same room instead of scattered around the estate.
Well, at least that’s what you assumed. Now look at you— running from each side of the room to tend to each person’s needs, from getting water, cooking, and feeding your sickly boyfriends to getting them extra pillows and blankets if they’re in need, and so much more. It’s safe to say that you’re getting your daily exercise.
“I think I found the perfect blanket for you, Childe. It’s warm and really soft,” you say proudly, tossing the blanket over his shivering body.
Childe smiles at you beneath his face mask before grabbing you by the wrist while you adjust the blanket over him. You pause and look at the ginger Harbinger curiously. For someone who’s sick, Childe still has his strength because he somehow managed to pull you onto his bed. You stumble forward, making sure not to crush him when you land on his bed. Childe wraps his muscular arms around your neck and his legs around your thighs.
“Well, hello to you too,” you mumble, head resting against the crook of Childe’s neck.
Childe doesn’t reply. Instead, he sighs with contentment before rolling over to his side, bringing you with him. You snort and run your hands through his unruly, ginger hair. You pause and squeeze your eyes shut after feeling Childe’s damp hair. Oh, dear Archons. You pull your hands from Childe’s hair and wipe your hand on your shirt. Childe doesn’t seem to notice your slight change of behavior as he continues to nuzzle against you, sighing with contentment. You hear a disgruntled sigh coming from the small infirmary bed beside Childe’s bed. You peek from Childe’s neck to see Diluc and Al Haitham glaring holes into the back of Childe’s head.
Al Haitham sniffles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Childe, you shouldn’t cuddle with [Y/N], or else you’ll get them sick too,” Al Haitham grumbles, continuing to glare at the ginger Snezhnayan.
“How are you freezing when you’re from Snezhnaya? Aren’t you used to the cold?” Venti asks from the other side of the room.
You chuckle. “Just because Childe is Snezhnayan doesn’t mean he’s used to the cold. Besides, Childe freezing due to being sick and being in a cold environment are two different things,” you say.
You pat Childe’s head and roll off the infirmary bed. Childe whines with protest, grabbing the hem of your shirt and attempting to pull you back to his bed, only for the hem of your shirt to slip through his fingers. Childe pouts and remains in bed, gazing at you with puppy dog eyes. You walk to the person closest to the medicine cart and adjust the pillow under his head.
“How are you feeling, Baizhu? You’re usually the one caring for us all and giving us medication, but today you and I switched spots,” you say, grabbing the medicine bottle with his name on the bottle and uncapping it.
Out of every sick man in the infirmary, you’re worried about Baizhu the most. Baizhu’s health is more at risk, and he’s prone to catching illnesses quickly out of the twenty-seven men. You’re grateful to have Baizhu give you some pointers on what medication to give each man in the infirmary, how much they need to take their medicine, and how often they need to take them.
Baizhu coughs into his elbow, wincing when he feels a sharp pain in his chest. “I could be worse, but with your assistance, I should be okay,” Baizhu wheezes.
You take out two pill tablets for Baizhu and hand them to the green-haired man. Baizhu takes his face mask off, throws the two pills into his mouth, and grabs the cup of water from your hands before downing the water to wash down the pills. Baizhu hands you the cup before lying on the bed. Changsheng, on the other hand, is perched on Baizhu’s lap, slowly slithering up to the green-haired man’s chest and staying there.
“How did we all get sick simultaneously? This sucks,” Kaveh sniffles from the other side of the infirmary, rubbing his red and irritated nose.
Just when Kaveh’s about to say more, his cheeks suddenly puff up, and he covers his mouth with his hands. Everyone stares at Kaveh, watching his pale, sickly skin gradually turn light green. Oh no. You recognize the expression. You rush to the trash can, grab it, and run to the other side of the infirmary to give Kaveh the trash can before he can spew bile all over the place.
Kaveh whimpers a ‘thank you’ before dry heaving into the trash bin. The others close their eyes and cover their ears while you look away, rubbing Kaveh’s back as he vomits into the trash can. After a few minutes, Kaveh wipes his mouth with the back of his hand while you take the vomit-filled trash can from his hands.
“I think you should go brush your teeth, Kaveh. Wouldn’t want to have vomit breath, now, do you?” Scaramouche asks, his nose scrunching up with disgust.
Kaveh sighs and shoots a glare toward Scaramouche. Kaveh tosses the blanket off his body before getting up from the bed and going to the nearest bathroom. Scaramouche chuckles before quickly pulling up his face mask and coughing into his elbows. You sigh and dispose of the vomit-filled trash bin.
After changing the trash bin, you walk into the room and grab a pill bottle for Xiao. You didn’t think it was possible for Archons and Adeptis to get sick, but you were wrong. You stand beside Xiao’s bed and nudge him lightly while he remains on the infirmary bed with the blanket over his head. Xiao groans and curls into a little ball.
“Xiao, I have your medicine. You should take it before you sleep,” you say, nudging the Yaksha lightly.
“Adeptis don’t need sleep,” Xiao grumbles, his voice nasally due to his stuffy nose.
You sigh, grab the edge of the blanket, and yank it off his head. Xiao grumbles and squints at you. Xiao sighs and rolls over on his back, rubbing his eyes. Poor Xiao looks miserable— the tip of his nose is red, and he is constantly sniffling. Xiao wipes his nose with the tissue you hand to him while you uncap the pill bottle to give him his medication.
You hold out the two pill tablets to Xiao. “I know you don’t need sleep, but you should get some sleep regardless. If you don’t rest, then you won’t be healthy. If you’re not healthy, then that means I can’t give you kisses,” you say.
Xiao stares at you before reluctantly grabbing the tablets from your hands, throwing them into his mouth, and swallowing the pills dry. You gaped at Xiao. Xiao points at his head while you stare at him with your mouth agape.
“What is he doing?” Cyno mutters, hugging his knees to his chest.
Kazuha wraps himself up in the blanket before falling over on the bed. “I think he’s asking for a forehead kiss from [Y/N] as a reward for taking his medicine,” Kazuha replies.
“So… are we not going to talk about how Xiao swallowed those pills without needing water?” Heizou asks, blowing his nose into the tissue.
You and Xiao continue to stare at each other in silence. You chuckle to yourself before leaning toward Xiao and kissing his forehead. Xiao closes his eyes, heat rushing to his cheeks. When you pull away, you notice Xiao’s cheeks are bright pink. You’re not sure if it’s because of his fever or if he’s blushing. Either way, Xiao looks adorable.
“Get some rest now, okay?” You stroke Xiao’s hair.
Xiao nods wordlessly before lying on his back while you tuck him into bed. Xiao closes his eyes when you lean in to kiss his forehead before leaving him to let him sleep. You walk to the next person to check on them, only to see Kaeya knocked out cold. Kaeya’s not wearing his eyepatch as it lays above his pillow. You press your hand against his forehead after brushing his bangs from his forehead. He still has a high fever, and he’s been sick for a few days— luckily, his fever isn’t nearly as bad as the first day.
Kaeya cracks his eyes open when you wipe the sweat from his forehead with a rag. Kaeya clears his throat, wincing when he feels how dry his throat is. “Oh? Is it my turn to be taken care of by nurse bunny?” Kaeya teases.
You snort. “Yes, it’s your turn to be taken care of by me, Kaeya,” you reply. “Try sitting for me, okay? You need to take your medicine.”
Kaeya sighs and sits up, grabbing the eyepatch from above the pillow and putting them on while you grab his medicine bottle. Why would the men need their own prescription if they have the same illness? Well, some are allergic to certain ingredients in the medication, and others are not. Some need stronger doses than others. People’s bodies react to medication differently, and you sure as hell do not want your boyfriends to have a negative reaction to their medication. Especially when they’re sick— some sicker than others.
You take two tablets from the pill bottle, handing them to the Cavalry Captain. Kaeya smiles at you, taking the pills from your hands before swallowing them with the help of water. After downing the medication, Kaeya places the cup on the nightstand between his and Tighnari’s bed, resting his head on your lower abdomen, and closes his eyes.
“Get some rest, alright? I only bothered you awake so you can take your medication,” you murmur, running your hands through his hair.
Kaeya nods before lying on the bed and closing his eyes. You turn to look at Tighnari, whose staring at you with a faraway look. His hair is pulled up in a half ponytail, there are dark circles underneath his eyes, and he’s shaking his head.
Tighnari clears his throat. “Before you say anything, I already took my medication,” Tighnari rasps.
You blink at him. “When? I didn’t even notice you getting up to take your medication,” you say incredulously.
“He took his medication while you were occupied with Kaveh,” Thoma interjects, snuggling up against the body pillow and closing his eyes.
You sigh. “At least it’s one less person to worry about,” you murmur, running your hands through your hair. “You should get some rest now. Since you took your medication already.”
Tighnari stares at you before pointing at his forehead. You playfully roll your eyes and lean down, kissing his forehead. Tighnari silently cheers before taking his hair out of the half ponytail and lying down. You were about to go over and check on Gorou and Albedo, but the two men were also knocked out cold.
Gorou cracks his eyes open and rubs his eye. “Can I take my medication later? ‘M tired,” Gorou mumbles, rolling over on his stomach, and slowly falls asleep.
“Sorry, Gorou, but I can’t let you skip out on your medication. There’s a time slot, remember?” You poke Gorou’s cheek lightly.
On the bed, one foot from Gorou’s bed, Albedo raises his hand. “I also took my medication earlier as well,” Albedo comments.
You stare at Albedo as the Chief Alchemist gets comfortable in his bed. Well, at least the ones that took their medication are somewhat making it easier for you. You walk to Dainsleif’s bed and sit across from him. The blond man cracks his eyes open and gazes at you with bleary eyes, slowly rubbing his eyes as he sits on the bed. You pull his medicine bottle out from the small basket and hand him the bottle. Dainsleif uncaps the bottle, takes two pill tablets from the bottle, and pops the pills into his mouth before downing the water from his water bottle.
“I didn’t know you could get sick,” you murmur, hugging your knees to your chest.
Dainsleif hands the bottle back to you. “I’m immortal, not immune to diseases and sicknesses,” Dainsleif replies, wiping the droplet of water from the corner of his lips.
You stand and hand him the eyemask. “It looks like not even Archons are immune to diseases and illnesses. I’m going to let you rest now, alright? I’m going to check on the others,” you say, stroking Dainsleif’s hair before walking to the next person.
What amazes you is how Capitano continues to wear his helmet despite being sick. When you hand him his medication, Capitano gets up from his bed and leaves the room for a brief moment before returning.
“You didn’t throw the medicine away, did you?” you ask, gazing at the tall Harbinger skeptically.
Capitano’s shoulders bounce as he sits on his bed and shakes his head. “Just because I took my medication out of sight does not mean I threw them away. You needn’t worry,” says Capitano as he pats your head before lying down.
You sigh in relief and smile at Capitano before turning over to the other three Harbingers. You pass the medicine bottles to each man and fill their cups with water from the water pitcher. You hand the cups to the men, trading the cups of water for the medicine bottles. The three men take their medication before remaining sitting on their beds.
“Is there anything else you three need before I check up on Neuvillette and Wriothesley?” you ask, putting their prescription bottles back into the tray.
Pantalone sighs, takes his glasses off, and puts them on the nightstand. “When can we start cuddling again?” asks the black-haired Harbinger.
“When you’re not sick anymore, Captain Obvious. Do you want [Y/N] to get sick all because you wanted a cuddle session?” Dottore asks, glaring at the black-haired Harbinger.
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Even though the two men are sick, they still bicker with one another. Pierro clears his throat and motions for you to come close. You walk to Pierro and stand at the foot of his bed. You grab an extra blanket for Pierro and drape it over him. Pierro grabs your hand and pulls you toward him.
You stand beside Pierro’s bed, and he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into your stomach. You run your hands through his hair, untangling the small knots in his hair as Pierro rubs your back with his thumb. You press the back of your hand against his forehead, sighing in relief.
“It looks like your fever is going down faster than the others! That’s great news,” you say, patting his head.
Pierro clears his throat. “It’s all thanks to you, little one. If it weren’t for you, my fever wouldn’t have gone down,” Pierro replies.
“Hey! Stop giving the old man attention because we’re dying over here!” A nasally voice hollers from the other side of the infirmary.
Pierro reluctantly releases you as you turn to where the other two men are lying. Wriothesley looks like a mess, but you can’t blame him since the poor man has emptied his stomach four times so far. Wriothesley sniffles pitifully, hugging the trash can to his chest as he wipes the snot from his nose with the back of his hand. You hand the medication to him, only for Wriothesley to shake his head and place a hand over his stomach.
“I don’t want to take it right now, my dear. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it down if I were to take the medication,” Wriothesley says, pressing his lips into a thin line.
Wriothesley’s face turns bright green before shoving his face into the trash bin and retching and emptying his stomach for the fifth time. You sigh, rubbing his back as he continues to spew into the almost full trash bin. While Wriothesley is retching and whimpering into the white trash can, you turn to Neuvillette.
“Did you take your medication?” You ask, shaking the prescription bottle lightly before him.
Neuvillette shakes his head. “I just woke up. Waking up to your face and the sound of your voice is something I would prefer over the sounds of Wriothesley heaving and whimpering into the trash can,” Neuvillette sighs, brushing his hair away from his face.
You run your fingers through Neuvillette’s hair, smiling at the silver-haired man. “Maybe next time when you’re not sick. After all, you and Wriothesley arrived at the estate not long ago, and look at you two… sick just like the others,” you sigh.
Poor Neuvillette and Wriothesley. The two men have moved into the estate not long ago, and yet both of them end up getting the virus that was going around the abode. The first person that caught the virus was Kaveh, and it passed around to everyone in the abode except for little ole’ you. This was strange because you get sick easily— you don’t have a weak immune system per se, but you have lived with children in the past back in your world, and those children would get you sick whenever they were sick.
“Here’s your medicine. Get some rest after, alright? I know you have a headache right now,” you murmur, handing Neuvillette his medication.
Neuvillette grabs the medication from your hands, and you turn to Wriothesley, who places the trash bin beside his bed and gazes at you with bleary eyes. You prop one hand on your hip, looking at Wriothesley curiously.
“Are you done throwing up?” You ask.
Wriothesley nods.
You tap your fingers on your hips. “Do you think you can take your medications now? If not, I can give them to you later when you don’t feel like you have to throw up again,” you suggest.
Wriothesley shakes his head wordlessly and extends his hand, the palm of his hand facing up as he waits for you to hand the pill tablets to him. You sigh and place the two pill tablets on the palm of his hands, and watch the black-haired man shove the pills into his mouth before chugging the water.
“Wriothesley, please don’t chug the water. You might make yourself throw up again if you do that,” you chide.
Wriothesley places the cup back on the nightstand between his and Neuvillette’s bed, wiping the water droplets from his lips with the back of his hand. You pat his head while he smiles, pressing his head against your stomach. After a few minutes of petting Wriothesley’s hair, you grab the trash can beside Wriothesley’s bed and walk out of the room to empty the trash can, only to stop in your tracks when you hear someone retch and a collective groan.
“[Y/N]! You have more trash cans to empty!”
You sigh, shoulders slumping. Whatever this virus is, you sure hope it stops floating around because you don’t know how much longer you can deal with having to change out trash bags. Especially when you’re not a huge fan of vomiting. It’s a good thing you don’t have emetophobia— that would render you useless if you had it. As long as you’re not the one that’s vomiting, you’re okay with cleaning up after someone else’s vomit since it’s not your first rodeo.
Note: Not gonna lie, as I got closer to completing this mini-fic, I started getting nauseous out of nowhere. But I am okay-ish now! The Gatorade kind of helped me feel better. But yes, this upcoming week is the somewhat lengthier fic of villain!isekai'd!reader since it did win the Tumblr and Discord polls. Speaking of Discord, for those who want to join my Discord server, here is the temporary link to [Zhongli's Abode]. Please make sure to read the server rules to save yourself from getting in trouble (if you like the server, you can stay, chat, and lurk. If not, you can leave if you don't vibe with it ^^). I didn't post a new link last week due to being away on vacation, and I didn't want my mods to feel overwhelmed with new members while I was away. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!
Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)
Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^
#Genshin impact x reader#Genshin impact fanfiction#Arataki Itto x reader#Gorou x reader#Thoma x reader#Kaedehara Kazuha x reader#Xiao x reader#Albedo x reader#Zhongli x reader#Childe x reader#Venti x reader#Diluc x reader#Kaeya x reader#Kamisato Ayato x reader#Dainsleif x reader#Scaramouche x reader#Baizhu x reader#Aether x reader#Heizou x reader#Al Haitham x reader#Tighnari x reader#Cyno x reader#Kaveh x reader#Pantalone x reader#Pierro x reader#Dottore x reader#Capitano x reader#genshinluvr#Wriothesley x reader#Neuvillette x reader
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Worried Moms
a/n: hey it's my first request, i hope you'll like it. I loved to write it.
*not my GIFs*
WandaNat x adoptive!daughter!reader; Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff; Avengers x teen!f!reader
Request: And I do have something to request if you feel comfy doing it. Mom!Wanda and Mama!Nat with the reader as their daughter. Reader gets sick and tries to hide it and push through it but they end up fainting or something like that, cue to mama bears mothering her to health. (Idk if fainting can be considered a trigger but if it's for you, I'd gladly read the fic with whatever you have in mind.). [Request by @darkstar225]
Summary: You're sick but you have to hid it from your moms because you want to go in mission, unfortunatly for you and Sam everything don't go well.
Type: Fluff
Warning: maybe 'fucked up' use three time
word count: 1319
--------
You awoke with a headache; it was unusual for you to become ill since gaining your powers. You didn't know if it was a bad thing, but you had to hide it; the next week, you'll go on a mission, but first you have to get your moms' approval. They said they would think about it if you managed to survive your training session. Easy, no? The rest of the day, your state was getting worse, but because you successfully hid it from an ex-assassin and a witch who could read your mind (even if she didn't do it without your consent), you could handle it a little longer.
The next day, otherwise, at the time you woke up, you thought you could die; if it was a cold, it was the worst you ever had. But you didn't really have the time to think about it; you checked your clock: 9 a.m., which meant you had one hour before the start of your training session. You decided to take a hot shower; it was helpful for the next 40 minutes. Today you were paired with Sam to upgrade your hand-to-hand combat skill. At first it was like usual, but suddenly your breath hurt your lungs. You stopped and tried to process what was happening, but Sam punched you in the face. It wasn't a strong punch; he restrained himself, but due to your poor condition, you fell on the training ground with your eyes closed; you were knocked out. When your body hit the ground, everyone in the room froze. There was silence until Sam kneeled next to you and asked, "Y/n? Y/n, are you all right?"
Obviously not, but you didn't mind that he couldn't think clearly. To be honest, no one could; the Falcon picked you up from the floor and ran to the med bay, followed by all the rest of the team.
"You're fucked up, Sam." Bucky said,
"I didn't do anything; we were training, and I just tried to punch her. "Usually, she'd dodge and hit me back," he defended himself.
"But now she's knocked out, and the only person with her was you. FRIDAY, could you please call doctor Cho?" Steve asked the A.I.
"It's done, Mr. Roger," the IA confirmed, but the hero couldn't respond before FRIDAY spoke again. "Mrs. Romanoff and Mrs. Maximoff are back."
There; he was fucked up. On their way to the kitchen, the two redheads found Helene, who was in a hurry and bumped into the shorter woman. "Sorry Natasha, I didn’t look where I was walking,” she apologized, and the Russian nodded.
“It’s okay, don’t worry, but you seem in a hurry, so we will not restrain you more.” She said and stepped aside to let the doctor resume her course. Wanda just had the time to put the bags on the counter when FRIDAY spoke.
“Mrs. Maximoff, Mrs. Romanoff, the doctor needs you in the infirmary right now.” The two women exchange a confused look before heading to where they were called. In front of the room, the witch felt a wave of fear and sadness, and she started to worry. Of course, Nat noticed and grabbed her hand before they walked into the room.
Their eyes widened when they saw you in the bed; they rushed to you before any of them could say anything Sam explained what’s happened. “How couldn’t you notice she was not like usual?” the Russian yelled at him, and nobody found the courage to defend him.
Wanda approached you and cupped your cheek. "Don't worry, dragă (darling), she's fine," the Sokovian assured her, and Helen spoke up.
"Don’t worry, Natasha I just got the results from the test, and it seems she just has a cold.” The doctor reassured her, and the ex-assassin seemed to be more calm. “She just needs to rest for a week. I’ll give you some medicine in case she needs it after she wakes up.” Everyone except your mothers left you after your mothers nodded.
After two hours, you awoke. You were surrounded by two worried redheads. “Hey, you.” you said softly.
“Hey, you.” Wanda said, and Natasha gave you a soft smile. “How are you feeling?” the witch asked you.
“Like I collided with a bus, but he was moving. But I think I'm okay," you said, looking around and raising your brows. "Where am I?" you inquired.
“In the infirmary,” the Black Widow said this time, “we were really worried about you when Sam told us what’s happened.”
You sighed “I’m sorry,” you said quietly.
“Since when?” Wanda asked, and her wife looked at her confused. “Since when have you been like this?” she added.
“Yesterday.” You admitted it shyly.
“Yesterday!?” the older woman loudly repeated, and you nodded. “Why did you hide it from us?” She inquired, a little concerned about her failure to notice it earlier.
You played with your fingers to try to erase your anxiety, “because you said you’d let me go with you if I finished the training session. And I wanted to make you proud of me, and show you I was ready. So, I forced myself to not let you know and not think about it when I was near Mama.” You paused a moment, saying, "I'm sorry if it makes you worry," and some tears found their way into the corner of your eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Nat cupped your cheek and brushed your tears with her thumb. “It’s okay; we’re a little worried, but it’s okay; we’re not mad or anything. You don’t have to cry, malyshka (baby girl)” their eyes were wet too.
You were about to speak again when a red whip lifted you. The scarlet magic tickled you “We can’t stay here, and you have to rest.” The witch said, and you laughed, “What is so funny?” She gave you a falsely curious look.
“It-haha…it’s tickling me.” You barely said and before you could notice she lend you on your bed. ‘Thank you,” you said, and they gave you a kiss on both cheeks before heading to the door. “Where are you going?’ you asked.
“We must cook you something. We’ll not let you like that.” Wanda said before they left the room. In the kitchen, everybody was waiting for the two women to give an update.
“How is our little fireball?” Tony asked.
“Much better,” Wanda replied, “she just needs rest. We put her in her bed, and we’ll cook something, so she’ll eat before sleeping again.” She explained, and after that, Natasha hit Sam’s head.
“What was that for?” he asked, a little scared.
“You hit our baby girl.” the Russian replied; “you’re lucky Wanda didn’t throw you away earlier,” she added, and the atmosphere changed. “And for the mission, I think we will let you go. We will stay with Y/n. I’ll text Fury.” She explained, nobody found any reason to argue; they know how much they love you, so it's obvious they’ll never let you alone in this condition.
You spent the next week in your bedroom, surrounded by your moms’ love; you couldn’t leave your bed without one of them following and making sure you were okay. Sam was not allowed to approach you for a month. It was pretty funny, and after that, he spent two months making sure you forgave him, even if you assured him it was not his fault.
This little incident proved how much they loved you, and of course you were glad even if you already knew that. You adored them just as much as they do.The world knew how scary the Black Widow and the Scarlet Witch were, and Sam could approve. But the world didn’t know how lovely and careful they could be, between them, of course, but twice as much with you.
#natasha romanoff#natasha romonova#wanda maximoff#wandanat#natasha romanoff x daughter!reader#natasha romanoff x teen!reader#natasha x daughter!reader#natasha x teen reader#wanda maximoff x daughter reader#wanda maximoff x daughter!reader#wanda maximoff x teen!reader#wanda x teen!reader#wandanat x daughter!reader#wandanat x teen!reader#marvel fic#avengers x platonic reader#mama!nat#mama nat#mama!wanda#mama!wandanat
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I DON'T KNOW IF YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN BUT IT'S OKAY CUS I AM AN EXCEPTION!! ( also , your the first person I'm sending a request to so be happy :3 )
okay so it's more than one request but it's up to you if you wanna use them okay sis ?
Okay so we know that Poseidon is lowkie a sucker for fine woman so what if Percy gets a new sibling (a little sister) and Percy takes her around camp and shows her all the cool things ??
a fic where Jason Grace's girlfriend is sick and Jason is like ,, taking care of her and reading books to her because the reader likes books.
Anyways I might end up stealing one of these (i'm an honest young lady okay) but I want you, my favorite sister, to do the honors of making one.. or none, depending on how you feel, of these.
Love, your favorite sister, Zuri ♡
⚡️┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。ONLY LOVE WILL CURE THEE!
jason grace x fem!reader super short blurb <3
📬 sunni’s notes : AWWW ZURII i haven’t made a jason fic yet so i might as well >0< ugh and ofc you can totally do either of these bebi. I MIGHT DO THE PERCY ONE TOO IT SOUNDS SO CUTE AHHH! omg also WAT?! im so honored 🥹 trying not to let you down fr!!! SORRY IT TOOK A WHILE MY WRITER BLOCK WAS CRAZY AND IVE BEEN SO BUSY WITH DANCE HEHE thanks for your awesome sauce request my favorite sister, sunkisses!!! 💛
jason was a warrior. a soldier. a son of jupiter. he doesn’t fall into or give out affection so very easily. it’s all about war, and sword fighting, and contsantly fighting for your life.
but he’s also, (name)’s boyfriend. and when his girlfriend so happens to fall ill, this man does not PLAAAY. the blonde had to turn down several quests because she was sick. knowing well that she would try to get up and pretend that everything is okay.
“no. you’re staying in bed and that’s final love.” (name) pressed her lips together in a pout. “but i’ll be bored.” she complained, her head to the ceiling of the infirmary. “i hate sitting in bed all day knowing everybody else is out doing something fun.” jason curved his lips into a grin, “tell you what sunshine.”
remembering the time (name) had spent a week in her cabin just reading this series she had been obsessed with,
the blondie walked out of the infirmary and grabbed a few books from annabeth, in the athena cabin and made his way back to the infirmary. he had three books in his hands, all different colored and different genres.
“got you entertained.” jason carefully placed the books on the bedside, the flowers he had gifted her prior beside the thickly books. she gleamed, “aww.. honey.” she coo’d.
she handed him one of the books and she scooted over, room for an extra person. without her actually saying anything, jason knew exactly what to do. he took the book from her hand and laid beside her.
she quickled leaned her head in his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck. he opened the book and began to read for her,
jason’s voice was the right amount of soft and sweet, while still being able to make some sort of feeling. kind of like honey. the way the words slipped out of his tongue were like heaven to her.
and as much as she liked reading by herself, she thought it was 2x better when jason read for her. and it wasn’t like he couldn’t pass up the opportunity either.
“you still bored.. sunshine?” he turned, a snoring (name) in place. letting a soft chuckle escape out of his lips, he kissed her forehead, “sweet visions, love.”
#— sunni writes jason! ヽ(*´∀｀)#jason grace x reader#jason grace#jason x reader oneshot#heroes of olympus x reader#heroes of olympus#pjo#pjoverse#percy jackson x reader#sunni's sunkisses ☼ *.
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