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pers1st · 2 months

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i can't handle change - leah williamson x reader

part two of let down

pairing: leah williamson x barça!reader

warnings: bit angsty

You had expected your first day, merely a day after arriving in the city, to be full of football. Barcelona did media duties occasionally, for sure. But you had expected to throw yourself into training immediately here, mostly in an attempt to conceal your emotions and at least act as though you wanted to give everything for this club. In truth, you wanted to give everything for yourself. You wanted to keep yourself a candidate for the national team, you wanted to keep yourself a candidate for Barcelona once they were ready to sign you back, you wanted to play, partially, out of spite as well. Anger was one of the emotions in your mess of a mind, and although you knew that it was no use, you wanted to show Jona the mistake he had made.

What you hadn't expected was the absolutely overwhelming amount of cameras, catching every inch of you they could. London Colney, otherwise known as the Arsenal training centre, was nice, but it was different from what you were used. The corridors were small and you feared they'd squish you if you stared at the white walls for a second too long. The friendly woman from the entrance, who's name you had missed due to her heavily accented English, had led you all the way to Jonas' office on the first floor, and the man was gauging at you with a grin you couldn't quite place. You shifted uncomfortably.

"So, let's put pen to paper!", he clapped his hands as he gently motioned to the seat next to him after having shaken your sweaty hand.

"Yes", you croaked as you sat down, taking the pen with the Arsenal logo into your shaky grip. The smile on your lips was fake as ever as you scribbled your name onto the dotted line. You fooled them again when holding up your shirt for the cameras. And again as you sat in front of the social media's team, answering all of their questions.

Your move surprised everyone in the Women's Football Community, can you tell us what exactly made you choose Arsenal?

Of course. I think Arsenal are very good with the fans, and they play really good football. I'm really excited to maybe play at the Emirates, and yeah I think anyone can see they are a real family so that's why I'm happy to be a part of it.

They payed the most. That was the answer you would've given, had anyone actually wanted to hear the truth from you. But people didn't want the truth. People wanted you to love Arsenal. And although it pained you, you had to admit that so far, it wasn't that bad.

Leah gave you a tour of her home that was now yours too, and the training grounds were nice. The gym was nice. The changing room was nice. The cafeteria was nice. You couldn't hate the club as much as you had when you hadn't seen it yet - hadn't been a part of it.

"So, do you like it here?"

You thought for a second that you would choke on your food when Wally asked you this, completely blindsiding you as you sat with her, Leah, Laia and Teyah in the dining hall, letting most of their conversation slip past you. Their English was difficult for you, not because you hadn't learned (or, attempted to learn) them language, but because you'd never heard it as much as you did here. The words were starting to become a constant, distant noise somewhere in the back of your mind, but as Wally looked at you expectantly and the others turned towards you, you knew that this wasn't something you could escape.

"Yeah, sure", you smiled. "It's nice here."

"Your contract is two years, right?"

You nodded. "Sí."

Two years. Two long years of being away from Alexia, except for Spanish camps. Two long years of being away from your parents, your actual teammates, your actual home. The thought didn't scare you as much as it used to.

"So, two years and then you'll go back?", Leah nudged you playfully, sipping her water as she smirked.

You shrugged. "We should see."

Over the next few days, you got to know the team, and London, even better. Leah spent every minute she could with you, always partnering with you during training and offering to show you her favorite cafés and places in the city when you weren't kicking balls around, inviting you over to her flat for a movie night or taking you to the little Spanish market she'd found halfway across the city. You appreciated her company, knowing that she was trying to make this transition as comfortable for you as possible. She didn't succeed completely, as you still felt homesick whenever she spared you a minute to call Alexia, or when you checked Barça's social media to see all of your teammates together, seemingly not even missing you.

Logically, you knew that they did. Barça was a family, and Alexia told you everyday that the girls were asking about you. Many of them texted you as well, informing you that they would try and find a livestream of your cup game against Reading, in which you would likely make your debut for your new club. Still, seeing them without you felt like someone was shooting daggers through your chest, piercing the skin and leaving you to bleed. You wanted to be there. You should be there. They had taken that opportunity away from you, ripping it out of your hands and tearing it apart like a piece of paper.

Anger and longing rose within you interchangeably, and if you didn't know any better, you would've believed you were simply going through a breakup like any other. But you forced yourself to push through the first week as hard as you could, keeping conversations with Alexia short in order to not be pulled back into memories and instead attempt to enjoy the present.

You were glad when Laia told you about her birthday party just a few days before your first match. The team had planned to go to Laia's favorite Spanish restaurant, and as you were a part of the team now as well, Kim had extended the reservation for another person. That was how you had found yourself, dressed in a tight black dress with a pullover on top, in Leah's car, allowing yourself to accept her offer to share a ride, trying to ignore the ringing phone in your hands.

Your ringtone cut off the soft country music playing in the background, which you had told Leah many times you would not enjoy. When the ringing finally stopped, you breathed a sigh of relief. Just for it to start again mere seconds later.

"Maybe you should answer that", Leah huffed, her eyes focused on the road but a soft smile on her lips. You shrugged.

"It's Alexia."

"You're ignoring the Alexia Putellas?" Leah's expression turned into a shocked one at once, but you could only chuckle.

"You're feeding her ego. She's just- my best friend, you know?", you attempted to explain how Ale's success had never driven a wedge between the two of you, not only because many believed you were equally good at football, but because Alexia was likely the most down-to-earth person you knew. Of course, the woman knew how good she was. Everyone did. But she'd never let it change her.

"Isn't that just more of a reason to not ignore her?"

You shrugged again.

"I dunno. Don't want to talk to her."

Leah's eyebrows furrowed as you finally reached your destination and she put the car into park. Your phone began ringing again. This time, you declined her call, texting her quickly that you couldn't talk right now.

"Why?"

You shrugged again. It seemed like all you knew to do, but as you looked at the way Leah's expression didn't relent in the slightest, you knew that it wouldn't work anymore. Maybe it was good to talk to Leah. Maybe she would understand.

"It just reminds me of home, you know. I miss it", you croaked, suddenly overwhelmed with longing once more. You wanted nothing more than to be in your apartment again, to drive to the Barcelona training grounds in your blue and red shirt, to join Mapi's banter, you even missed being yelled at by Irene and Marta.

"Are we really that bad?", Leah attempted to joke, a hand of hers flying out to gently land on your knee. Your breath hitched at the sudden contact, your eyes leaving hers to stare at her fingers on your skin.

“No”, you huffed. “Not at all, that’s the problem.”

Sitting in the car with Leah, nothing but the annoying country music in the background, for a second felt like a breath of fresh air. For just a second, you could focus on the warmth of her skin, on the air refresher dangling from her rearview mirror, on the eyes that she lay on you gently, on the softness of it all.

“Should we go?”, you broke the silence, knowing that Laia would not be happy if you were late. It was past ten already, and you softly smiled at the knowledge that some Spanish habits never truly left. It felt comforting to eat this late, as stupid as it sounded. It reminded you of the countless team dinners you’d had with Barça. You didn’t allow yourself, once again, to dwell on the fond memories as you pushed your door open without awaiting Leah’s answer, her hand retrieving from its position as she followed you into the restaurant, a bottle of Spanish wine in your hands. You had brought as much as you had been allowed to bring, and you figured passing Laia one singular bottle couldn’t hurt too much.

The restaurant held a nice atmosphere, one that immediately pulled you in as the bell jingled above your head. Most of the girls were already sitting at the table reserved for you, who all turned as they waved at you happily, grins plastered on their faces. Laia caught your eye first - she was wearing a little plastic crown, grinning like a kid on Christmas as she rose from her seat, hurrying to welcome you and Leah, who seemed to be the last ones to have arrived.

"¡Feliç aniversari!", you hugged Laia shortly, rubbing your hand across her back before pushing the bottle into her hands.

"Merci", she smiled as she accepted it, taking Leah into a short hug as well before you made your way towards the only seats available. The warmth of Leah's body next to yours, the familiar food and music playing softly in the background almost made you forget about the guilt in your stomach. You weren't supposed to enjoy all of this half as much as you did.

Seemingly as a distraction, though you figured you subconsciously wanted to remind yourself of what was your actual home, you opened Instagram. A video of Aitana singing the Barça chant, laughing into the camera with golden confetti around her shoulders, made you halt. You scrolled. You saw the trophy.

Shit - that was what Alexia had been calling you about. Of course. It came back to you flying - the supercopa final was today. How could you have forgotten? It was all you had been looking forward to ever since the winter break had ended. Yet you were so far away from it all, the match had slipped between your fingers, and you were left with nothing but the reminder that Barcelona functioned just as well without you, that they had simply moved on, while you were stuck here - in a Spanish restaurant, with your "friends", trying to remind yourself that if you tried hard enough, this could feel like home.

With a screech, you pushed your chair back and wobbled out of your seat uncomfortably.

"Just need the bathroom", you excused yourself in response to Leah's surprised expression, before marching through the restaurant and leaving all of the girls behind.

The bathroom was empty, luckily, and you let the tears flow at once. How had you been so stupid? How had you thought that, even for a minute, you would be okay so far away from your home, watching your teammates do all the things you wanted to do with them, while seemingly not missing you at all?

It didn't make any sense to you- Barcelona could win every trophy they wanted, while you were stuck in London, not even sure whether they would want you back after your contract was over. Were you delusional? Were you ever going to return to Barcelona?

Just as your brain started spinning further, and you had to steady yourself on the sink, knuckles turning white from how hard you wanted to keep yourself grounded, the door to the bathroom swung open. You didn't need to look up to know who it was - her body was right behind you, and she smelled of vanilla, just like her car did.

Leah. It was Leah who had entered the bathroom. Leah who was frantically trying to get you to talk to her, all the while you were choking on your sobs. Leah, who had tried her best to make you somewhat comfortable in the club she loved so much. How were you supposed to look her in the eye?

#woso community #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #woso fanfics #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson oneshot

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11vr1 · 10 months

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Still Yours ⭒ Miles Morales

Part one: Been Away

Synopsis › You’re still his. You just need a little reminder.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Reader

Inspo › “Still Yours (feat. Big Sean)” - Bryson Tiller, Big Sean

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, angst, fluff, swearing, Spanish, toxicity, going back to your ex, man has a staring problem, stalking, mentions of violence, manhandling i think?, kissing, terrible grammar, maybe some continuity errors (don’t think about it too hard)

P.S. › I had to write this part on my phone because my house has no wi-fi. Forgive me.

You were a vision as your head threw back in laughter at something your friend said. Absolute perfection in the way your uniform fits in all the right places and the gentle swoop of your edges framing your glowing skin in the harsh fluorescent lighting. It was aggravating. “When did she get that?” Miles’ rich eyes narrowed at you and your group of friends.

His best friend looked up from his phone in your direction. He didn’t need to ask who she was. “Get what?” he sighed, already sensing where this conversation was headed.

“Her lipgloss.” He tilted his head. “It’s Fenty.”

Ganke couldn’t remember when Miles became a makeup enthusiast, but he knew he was a Y/n expert. “And how do you know that?” he asked in disbelief. Their lunch periods had turned into a sort of Y/n watching session since your mysterious separation. He was over it and tired of watching his friend not-so-subtly stare at his not-ex-girlfriend. It was sad and getting a little creepy.

“It’s her favorite brand, but the shade’s darker. She’s never worn it before.” Miles’ food was left untouched, too preoccupied with the sight of you. You must’ve been doing this on purpose, he thought. Sitting directly in his eye line with your annoying ass group of friends. And Drew Harris, Brooklyn Vision’s resident dickhead jock, sat a little too close to you.

Ganke shrugged, turning back to his game. “I don’t know, man. It looks like the one she always wears.”

Miles tore his gaze away to face Ganke. His eyes hardened to an icy glare. “Why do you know what color she usually wears?”

“Chill, dude,” he rolled his eyes. “This break up is actually making you go insane.”

“We didn’t break up,” he snapped, but who was he fooling? Ganke was spot on. Miles was increasingly on edge, waiting. He’d texted and called multiple times since last weekend when finally spoke to you for the first time in weeks. But you didn’t respond or pick up. At this rate you were going to block him…again. Just when he thought everything was piecing itself back together, you slipped away out of his reach.

Ganke stood up with his trash. He had better things to do than watch his best friend run himself to the ground over a girl who obviously wanted nothing to do with him. “Broken up or taking a break, either way you’re miserable. You need to figure your shit out or move on before you burn a hole in the side of her head.”

Miles waved him off, not showing his words struck a chord. Moving on wasn’t an option. You were on his mind twenty four hours a day, seven days a week without fail. The thought of you waiting for him safe and sound kept him alive while he committed every crime in the book. Everything he did was for you, to keep you protected in this twisted city. Nothing was going to ruin his forever, not even you.

⋆

“Why not Drew?” Ellie suddenly asked while they walked the halls away from the cafeteria. You could tell she was enjoying having you back with their friends. “He’s all over you. You guys would be perfect,” she gushed, practically skipping across the tile.

You gave her a stern look, “Ellie.” You hated to burst her bubble, but she was too eager for you to be single. “I’m not interested in Drew Harris.”

“Okay, picky,” she hummed in thought for a moment. “Erik Falls? He’s on the basketball team and I heard he thinks you’re gorgeous,” she tried again. You stopped at Ellie’s locker. You weren’t going to ask where she heard such a rumor or why it seemed she had a mental list of the single male population.

You shook your head. A new relationship was the last thing on your mind. Miles was it for you, the one who made your heart sing, the man who made you believe you could be loved like in the stories. No one could compare, especially not a couple of immature jocks who would eventually become mere blimps in the timeline of your life. If only there wasn't a plot twist. “Despite what you think, I am more than happy being single. A new man is not on my list of priorities.”

“If you say so. You’ve just been so down since…” Ellie’s wide eyes briefly glanced over your shoulder. “I thought you and Miles weren’t together anymore?” her voice lowered to a sharp whisper.

Your response stalled, caught off guard by the question. Did Ellie know you and Miles had spoken? You didn’t want to imagine what kind of hell would be unleashed if she found out. “Of course not,” you forced a laugh. “Why?”

“Don’t look, but he’s at your locker!” she scowled, tossing her books back into her locker. “Don’t worry, girl. I got this.” Ellie pulled the earrings from her lobes along with her stack of bracelets, mumbling something about the “little creep.” She never hid her distaste for Miles, the two bumping heads more than once the duration of your relationship.

Against your better judgment, you looked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. Miles Morales leaned against your locker like he owned it. With his shirt untucked and tie loosened, he never failed to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

You stopped her before she stalked off in a fury. “Hold on, let me talk to him. I’m sure it’s nothing.” You didn’t even sound convincing to yourself.

Ellie drummed her fingers, lips pursed as she looked between you and the boy over your shoulder, skepticism written all over her face. “Fine, go ahead, Y/n. But I swear if he tries anything, I’m coming for his ass,” she pointed, making sure to shoot him a steely glower.

“I’ll be alright,” you assured her, already walking away.

You finally approached Miles, rolling your eyes at the enigmatic smirk on his lips. “You ignoring me, ma?” He asked, his gaze never leaving your face as you fiddled with the combination on your locker. “I thought we was good.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you, Miles. I just…” you struggled to explain without sounding like you were in fact avoiding him. Did he really think cornering you in an alley would fix everything? “I still needed a bit of space.”

He was clearly unsatisfied, but held his tongue. Instead he nodded his head. “Let’s take a walk, princesa.”

“I can’t,” you stuttered out, unable to trust yourself around Miles. Ignoring his messages took everything in you, so used to spending hours of your day spamming him with the most trivial things when you weren’t together.

“Yes you can. You have a free period.” Of course he had your schedule memorized. Nothing could get past Miles. He entwined your fingers in his, enveloping you with the rough calluses of his palms and dragging you through the halls without care for the curious stares directed your way.

The usual commotion of the city hit your ears as Miles swung open the rooftop door. Fond memories of your favorite meet up spot came flooding back, the late nights Miles would help you study for a Spanish test or when he simply wanted to sit in silence and bask in your presence. You’d fallen in love here over and over again, the stars and city skyline your only witness.

Miles had yet to release you from his hold, savoring your touch after being starved for so long.

He wasn’t going to let you go, not when you were finally where you belonged. “We need to talk.”

“We’re talking now, aren’t we?” No one wanted to hear those dreaded four words.

Your attempt at humor was not appreciated. His grip squeezed your hands in a gentle, but firm warning. “I’m done playin’ your little games, mami. This back and forth shit ain’t gon’ work. I need you to be straight with me.”

The impending weight of the conversation began to settle on your shoulders. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Miles. That I’m totally fine with you being the Prowler and everything can go back to normal?” You avoided his gaze, choosing the cerulean sky knowing his gaze could pull whatever he wanted from you if you dared to stare too long. “You lied to me for the better part of our relationship. Where you go, what you’re doing, who you are and if you’re okay, like really okay. I can’t trust you!”

Too much had been broken for you to go back. And you tried! Lord knows you fucking tried. You hid your tears when Miles missed a date, coming up with some lame excuse. Or the days he’d return and couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. Your mind turned to the worst. Doubt festered where trust should have been. But you held on just as fast as Miles held onto you now.

Now you know the reality and it scared you more than any possibility you came up with.

Miles listened to the cracks in your pretty voice, seeing the damage he caused. He never hated himself more. Ripping out throats and cracking skulls he could stand, but the sight of those crystal tears nearly broke him. “Mi corazón...” A large pad tenderly wiped a droplet from the smoothness of your cheeks. “Lo siento.”

“Say what you have to say, Morales. You can’t keep wasting my time.” You forced yourselves apart to furiously rid the traitorous tears. He didn’t deserve them.

“‘A waste of time?’” he repeated incredulously. Miles grabbed your left wrist, tugging down the sleeves of your navy blazer to reveal the golden bracelet you wore and its various charms. The cursive “M” dangled in your face, mocking you and your devotion to him. “Is that what this is?” He fished the delicate chain from beneath his own uniform where he wore your name closest to his heart. “Are you done with me? Was all this pointless to you, Y/n?” he nearly shouted, doing his best to keep what little composure he had left.

The answer had never been more simple. “No, of course not,” you said. “I don’t regret loving you. I just can’t keep loving half of you when you already have all of me.”

Shock filled the silence between you. “You love me?”

“Yes, dumbass!” You pushed against his chest. He didn’t budge, too stunned to breathe properly. “I know you won’t say it back but I don’t care. You should already know.”

Miles cradled your head and leaned down, your noses touching, sharing the same air. “Say it again,” he ghosted your lips.

Your knees weakened, his heat creating a haze of solely him in your mind. You studied the gentle contours of his face, the fullness of his lips, the healed scar on the edge of his right brow, someone only as close as you could see. An inch was all you needed to think, but you were snatched back. “Miles,” you gasped in surprise, steadying yourself in his arms. Through layers of fabric, you felt the rapid rhythm of Miles' heart and you were positive he could feel yours.

“Dilo de nuevo,” he commanded, pressing your body against his in a vice and yet you were still too far. “Por favor, para mi.”

“I love you,” you began, but Miles cut you off as he eradicated the damned space between you. Your mouth parted, the taste of spice and uniquely him familiar, like loving Miles was a reflex you’d always succumb to.

You relented to your need to breathe, still cradling Miles’ face in your hands. “Te amo también, mi corazón.” You never thought he would return the words and you’ve never been happier to be wrong. “Let me do it right this time. Be mine again. No more secrets, no more lies. Prometo.”

One chance was all Miles needed to gain access to your heart. You should have kept his number blocked, called the police like you threatened to do, but his determination was endless. He wanted you and here you were in his embrace saying, “I’ll always be yours, Miles.” You reached on your toes to steal another kiss, consuming as much of him as you desired. The pink of his tongue peeked out as he licked the sticky glitter from his lips. You moved to wipe the remaining gloss about to apologize before he took your mouth again, his teeth teasing the delicate skin.

“It is new.”

#iivri writes ˚·⊹ ⟢˖∿#Spotify #marvel #spider man: across the spider verse #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #prowler miles #earth 42 miles morales x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman fluff #spiderman #fanfic #angst #fluff

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sweatervest-obsessed · 5 months

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Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

TW: Serial killers, murders, blood, referencing to infidelity,

A/N: This has been something I have been thinking about for a while. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Spencer did not realize that someone could know more about anything intellectual than he did. It honestly baffled him, when Hotch called him into the office, to introduce the two of you.

“Spencer this is Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, Doctor Y/L/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

He gave you a small smile, and a slightly awkward wave. You were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, an absolute plus to the fact that you were intelligent. He was captivated by your eyes but quickly coughed and looked back at Hotch.

“Doctor Y/L/N—”

“Please Agent, call me by my first name after the initial introductions, Doctor makes me feel a tad bit ridiculous after like the second time.” You couldn’t have been more than twenty four, Reid deduced.

Hotch smiled at you, nodding. “Please, call me Aaron, or Hotch, I feel the same way about agent. Reid,” He turned towards Reid. “Y/N, is going to be a consultant on this next case, and you two will be working closely together.”

Reid was suddenly excited by the prospect of working with a consultant. He usually dreaded them, but something about you made him excited to actually be able to converse intellectually with someone on the team.

But luckily for Morgan, you were not what anyone was expecting. You all had boarded the jet, sitting around and chatting since you had a long flight from DC to Oregon, not really willing to get into the details of the case just yet.

“So, Doctor Y/L/N, what made you choose Shakespeare?”

You rolled your eyes. “Agent Morgan, if you keep using my official title, you’re going to be talking to the wall. Wanna try again?”

His jaw dropped slightly, enjoying the banter you were providing. Derek Morgan was far from ugly, far from it. But he simply wasn’t your type. But that did not mean you couldn’t flirt back.

“Well then, Miss Y/N, why Shakespeare.”

You smiled, “Shakespeare is just another language. And I already speak French, Arabic, Spanish, some Latin, a little Greek, and I’m learning enough Mandarin and Cantonese to get by on my next trip to China. So understanding Shakespeare from a linguistic point, I’ve already got covered. Especially since it was something I could read easily from a young age.”

JJ and Emily had stopped their conversation and turned to face you, eagerly listening in to what you have to say.

“But, from a theatrical point, his writing is so incredibly intricate. There are layers upon layers of text and context and subtext throughout all of his plays and sonnets, not to mention the fact that Shakespeare can be transformed, moved from one thing to another incredibly easily. You have to factor in that he was a misogynist, anti semitic, probably-most-definitely racist, among all of the other things, but adapting his works throughout time is something I have a special interest in, particularly his portrayal of woman and how that has been changed throughout productions over the years, mainly focusing in comedies and this strange need for him to have happy endings end in weddings.”

The jet was all staring at you, while a smirk slowly slid onto Derek’s face. “Looks like you got some competition here, Pretty Boy.”

You shrugged at Derek, and looked back at your phone. “I appreciate competition more than meaningless run-around conversations Derek. If you’re going to profile me, then just profile me. Or google me really. There’s no need to prod and pretend like you’re not trying to find out whether or not I’m single. If you wanted to ask me out, you should just ask me out.”

Jaws on the plane dropped. Derek tried to stutter out a response but was cut off by Emily, smirking over at him. “Besides consulting on murder cases, what do you actually do with a PhD in Shakespeare?”

You looked up at Emily and shrugged. “Whatever I really want to do. It’s just flexible enough that I can bullshit a job I want and take it, excluding present company. Usually I consult in England with the Globe Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company, I also guest lecture Shakespeare for younger audiences, like high schoolers and first years in college because I’m still young enough that I could be considered nerdy by a high schooler, but have college freshmen not be able to talk to me because I’m just good enough to get away with it.”

“What did you get your undergrad in?” Spencer spoke for the first time to you since you met him, you smiled a little bit.

“No one really asks me that.” You looked over at Spencer. “I have a bachelors in Directing with minors in English Literature, French, and Classics, and then I went on and got my Masters in Art History, since the visual aspect of the Arts is what interests me so much.”

Rossi nodded, “Makes sense considering I’ve seen your thesis–very impressive.”

“What did you write about?” JJ looked over at you.

“I–” You started but Rossi interrupted you. “Actually, if any of you had done any research, or were familiar with the Theatrical Arts, you would know that her thesis was an incredibly well-received production of Hamlet that delved into the female psyche and experience.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I-I didn’t think you, any of you would have even known that. Let alone had time to go and see my production?”

“Well, I have a fondness for the arts.”

You shook your head. “Or incredible timing.”

“Wha–timing?” JJ scoffed.

“Well,it’s— the program was in London, and it was only running for a few weeks…”

“Rossi when the hell did you go to London?” Derek finally spoke up, slightly captivated by you, but not in the way Reid was. You were something else, something completely new, which meant he could learn, and you were something he wanted to learn everything about.

“Well, right before I rejoined the BAU, I did a lecturing series over at Scotland Yard, and everyone had been discussing this production by the youngest female director to ever direct at the Bridge Theatre. I loved your use of, what were they, silks?”

You nodded, slightly embarrassed, mostly in awe.

“Ah yes, your usage of silks and the columns. I was on the floor, part of the cattle that was moved around. Very innovative use of that space, very impressive.”

“I’d have to agree.” Hotch spoke up, and you turned to look at him, eyes even wider than before. He smiled at the look on your face. “When we got this case, and we were requesting you as a consultant, I watched the recording. Very good work Y/n.”

“W-wow, um, thank you so much Age–Hotch. I really appreciate it–from the both of you.” You smiled at him and Rossi.

“I would love to hear all about this production, if you don’t mind me asking.” Emily slid across the aisle, taking the seat across from you, JJ doing the same, crowding Derek.

“Well, as Rossi said, it was about the female experience, and my Hamlet, was absolutely incredible, really took on the queer aspect of the role since Ophelia was still a woman, and–” You explained the concept, the design, the thought behind all of it. Every single person on the plane was simply obsessed with you by the time you were done, asking questions when they were curious. It confounded Spencer how he had never really paid attention to that section of the world of academia, and he was almost beating himself up over it, because he had missed you this whole time.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Eyes look your last, Arms take your—this is Romeo’s death monologue before he stabs himself. And this other one, is ‘Be buried quick with her, and so will I’, which is Hamlet trying to fight Laertes after he learns of Ophelia’s death…And..this is the one from this morning ” You turned to the sheriff who was just trying to make sense of the fact that you just were able to comprehend and relay Shakespearean information after reading the images of the victim's blood used on the walls, so calmly. “Sheriff?”

“Sorry, yes. Yes”

You frowned a bit, “They’re getting more violent. This is Brutus finding out Portia is dead–’with meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now…”

Reid looked over at you, “All of them are the men’s reactions to the death of their beloved.”

You nodded and sighed. “That means, uh…If he has a list,” You walked over to the white board and started writing the names of the fictional couples on it. “He still has Antony and Cleopatra…Macbeth and Lady Macbeth,,,,and….”

“And what?” The sheriff looked between you and Reid, as you turned a little white. “The um. The last couple dealing with murder/suicide of each other is, uh, Othello.”

Hotch gave you a look. “Explain.”

“What do you know about Othello?”

Hotch furrowed his brow.

You took his silence as permission to ramble. “It’s just a theory but, it’s regarded as not only one of the most tragic endings to lovers, even beyond the stupid miscommunications of Romeo and Juliet, because Othello kills his wife, believing she had cheated on him, suffocating her to death on their marriage bed, and then once he realizes he’s been tricked by Iago, he kills himself next to her body. It’s horrendous.”

“If I had to guess, He’s forcing the husbands to kill their wives, and then he kills them..” Spencer followed up, analyzing the pictures across the tables. “Based on the way they were positioned—he’s setting them up as a series of muder-suicides, just like Shakespeare.”

“Actually.” You picked up one of the pictures and handed it to Hotch. “I think it’s a woman.”

“You just stole Reid’s line.” Derek mused from the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee, which you gratefully accepted.

Reid huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not my line.”

“It is.” Hotch said dryly as he analyzed what you had just told him. “Y/n, can you please get me a list of the monologues left, so we can try and figure out who might be his next victims, so we can try and link the victims we do have.”

You nodded and sat down at your laptop. It was bugging you slightly at how much you enjoyed working on this case, working with the BAU, working with Doctor Reid.

This was the most action your PhD had seen since you had written it.

Part 2

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #Spencer reid x y/n angst #Dr Spencer reid x dr!reader

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ivystoryweaver · 7 months

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im so interested in what u think the moon boys would be like as dads???

Ohhhhh, this is gonna hurt my heart. In a good way. I have a lot of feelings about Moon Dads and I've not yet written fics about it so yeah...

I'm gonna jump right in with Marc.

I think if Marc had a child, he would be all in: attentive, tender, affectionate.

I don't actually believe Marc would be afraid of parenting. I know that can be a popular hc/fic plot and I totally understand why, and love reading those.

But I think Marc would be one of those people that would try to do the opposite of what was done to him. Example: his parents were married and that went well... (sarcasm)

Yet Marc got married. He and Layla were together for years and, according to her, had "adventures together", meaning they worked as a (likely successful) team. Marc bailed on Layla once his mom passed and he could no longer control or hide his disassociations (plus Khonshu's threats for Layla to be his next avatar).

Point being: Marc did get married and seemed pretty successful at it, for the most part.

Marc is in charge of bath time. This includes little toy boats, fish that squirt water, bubbles. He's going to wash their hair, or whatever hair needs they have, depending on race and hair types. If it is a hair type he isn't as familiar with, he is going to be talking to his partner, looking up vids, whatever it takes. Touch is going to be so important to him. He is the dad who will know how to do french braids or styles for textured hair.

He's never going to react in anger. If he is angry, he's going to hand the reins to Steven or sometimes Jake (if he is able, it's obviously not a parlor trick), or he will just say to his little one, "Daddy is going to take a time out. I'll be back in a minute and we can have a talk." The idea of putting himself in time out is so endearing to his child that they end up calming from whatever misbehavior they were attempting, wanting to join him in the corner for time out, touching a plushie or reading a book in his lap.

They learn very young that their father's expressions can be stern but his hands are safe. They will not want to disappoint him.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven can converse naturally with children, this we see in the first episode. Steven's open, engaging nature is great for children. His own childlike wonder will shine in fatherhood. He was also able to quickly redirect the behavior of the girl who was littering at the museum. So a spunky child in a doctor's office waiting room will be easily wrangled by a distracting toy, quick game or wonderful story.

Steven is your go-to guy for bedtime stories. With a young child, Steven will share how wondrous the world around them is. He'll always have a anecdote or a fun fact for tweens or teens.

He will offer choices. "Do you want to put on 'jammies now or after a story?" "Do you want to help Dad set the table or feed the cat?" Steven has lacked agency in his life, so he is going to give it to his child. He will teach them to speak up for their needs.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Jake is going to be such a little shit as a dad. I'm sorry but there is no nicer way to say it lol. Jake's used to operating in the background and he's a night owl. He's the fun dad. He's the "don't tell mom" dad (or don't tell dad, dad). Kid wants stay up 15 extra minutes? It's Jake that's gonna sneak them some of the popcorn he popped after they were supposed to be asleep. As a partner, you'd find your little one on Jake's knee in the most comfy chair, watching the Yankees play baseball.

You give them The Look™ and they know they are busted. They exchange guilty glances and then Jake starts repeating words in Spanish. Baseball, Popcorn, very good! If you are already all Spanish speakers then Jake pretends to be practicing in both Spanish and English.

Either way, he and his little twin, with their adorable curls, give you shit eating grins.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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#ivy replies #inbox #asks #✧ ˚ · . answered #nonniekins #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marc spector headcanons #steven grant headcanons #jake lockley headcanons #moon knight headcanons #moon boys #moon knight system #moon dads

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miloformula123fan · 2 months

Note

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader where he's got into crash and she's worried because she thinks he'll never got the chance to know that she's pregnant? Add something you'd like. Thanks :))

ahahah, i know i just said that i was gonna halt updates, but then i churned this out kinda quick haha :)

it is kind of short though so apologies :)

if you want to participate in my 100 followers event, look here :)

(hint hint: this closes on Thursday 1st March 0:00 GMT, so if you want to make a request do so soon because this is in a little more than a week when publishing this :))

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

fernando alonso x wife!reader

“Be safe, please, mi amor.” he held Fernando in her arms as he paused getting ready to turn around and look at her.

“I am always Carina… Podium on the cards for today haha” He smiled

“Ha, got a surprise for you after the race…if you get a podium today of course.” She looked down, smiling, thinking of the surprise she had planned.

“A nice surprise I hope carina…” He winked and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the implications of his flirty statement, and the blushes of the mechanics who had heard their conversation.

“Not that kind of surprise, but I think you’ll be happy nonetheless…” She smiled knowingly as he looked slightly puzzled before the activity seemed to pick up and was aware he needed to start getting ready.

“As long as you are feeling better than you were this morning I will always be happy.” He smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

She gave him his traditional pre race good luck kiss and then his helmet was on his head and he was in the car.

Y/N snuck into Nando’s room, being let in by his trainer Alex. She placed the box on his massage table. It was a pretty simple box, all that was inside was a sonogram, a baby onesie and the positive pregnancy test that was gonna change their lives.

She’d been feeling sick for a couple of weeks now, and when she’d missed her period she’s had a hunch as to what it could be, but it wasn’t until she had bailed on a triple header because she hadn’t been feeling well, that she’d had time to take the test, freak out about how positive it was.

(she’d called Mark in a panic, and then he’d added Jenson to the call in his panic and then they’d just had Mark, Seb and Jenson on a call freaking out, not helping her to calm down in the slightest, but making her laugh. Eventually Hanna had tried to work out what the fuck was going on with her husband, and had provided some actually useful advice)

Following Hanna’s advice, she’d gone to the doctors and gotten the ultrasound photo. She’d sent Hanna and Lance a photo of the ultrasound, to thank Hanna for her help in the boys panic call, and to let Lance know that he would be the godfather (she thought Nando would like that) but not to tell Nando, as she hadn’t told him yet, but she needed to tell someone. The doctor had confirmed that everything was going okay and that she was about 10 weeks along. Y/N had immediately spotted the onesie online and ordered it, preparing to tell Nando whenever she saw him. The onesie arrived fairly quickly, however, trying to keep the onesie, the test and the sonogram hidden from him for the week that he was home before the Spanish grand prix. She wanted him to know immediately because they’d been trying for so long and so many fails that it was a fucking miracle right now.

Their miracle. Their miracle baby.

Finally the week had arrived and she’d hidden the box with Nando’s personal trainer, who handed it to her after she’d given her good luck wishes to him and he’d sat in the car. She made sure to make it back for the start of the race, so as to not raise any suspicion. And then it was lights out and away they went.

The race had been going well for Fernando. Actually better than well. He was in P2, not even a second behind Perez. It had been helpful that Max had had his first mechanical failure in like 5 years, taking him out of the lead, and promoting everyone up a place. And now Fernando was contending for the lead. Y/N was so excited for him, she couldn’t wait to see him on the top step of the podium and then tell him the awesome news.

Of course then it all went horribly wrong.

Crofty’s voice filled her ears, “AND THAT’S FERNANDO ALONSO GOING FOR THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX GOING FOR HIS 33RD WIN GOING AROUND THE OUTSIDE OF SERGIO PEREZ AND THEY TOUCH AND THAT’S BOTH OF THEM GOING INTO THE BARRIERS AND OUT OF THE RACE WHICH PROMOTES LANDO NORRIS INTO THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX AND THAT’S A BIG CRASH. FERNANDO IS WEDGED BETWEEN PEREZ AND THE BARRIERS, AND HIS CHASSIS LOOKS CRUSHED and we are really hoping that he is okay there.”

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

No response.

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

Y/N could feel her legs getting weak, and could tell that the people around her were holding her up. She remembers being introduced to Shakira at the start of grand prix, and she complimented her nails. She could feel the nails digging into her left arm, which meant that Shakira was holding her up right now, and if Fernando's life wasn’t at threat, she might be fangirling right now. Still no response.

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

No response. Their miracle wasn’t going to meet their dad

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

fuck.

“And while i’m not entirely sure why Fernando wasn’t responding on the radio just then, but I can now tell you that he is walking out of the crash and he seems all okay.”

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and tried standing up while letting out wet sobs. She knew she was probably on TV right now, looking a mess, being held up by Shakira and crying when her husband was all okay, but that didn’t matter.

Because Fernando was okay.

She followed his progress on the TV as the team moved the focus to Lance and potentially getting him a win. But she tracked him until he was back in the garage and back safe in her arms. Whispering his reassurances to her.

This was also being broadcast, but she didn’t care.

He was safe and he was in her arms.

Y/N followed Fernando into his driver's room, entirely forgetting about the surprise that she had left in his room until they came in and she saw the box sitting on the massage table.

Fernando turned around to her in confusion, “Did you leave this here Carina?”

“Uhh, yeah but it’s nothing, it was supposed to be a surprise for when you got your podium, so look at it later maybe…”

Within 2 strides Fernando was at the box and lifting off the lid. There goes the plan of telling him when he was in a good mood.

Fernando pulled out the onesie, black with a message of ‘daddy’s little race engineer’. Maybe Y/N’s hormones were hitting hard today because the sight of Nando holding a baby onesie was enough to bring her to tears, imagining Nando holding their baby.

“What is this carina?”

“It’s ummm, the surprise I mentioned before…I wanted you to see it when you got your podium, so you can ignore it I guess…”

“No, no, I mean, why is there a sonogram, baby onesie and pregnancy test in here? Is Lance having a baby and wanting to let me know I was the godfather?”

“No, no, mi sol, it’s ours.”

“Ours?”

“Our baby.”

Y/N watched as Fernando processed the words. And then all of a sudden she was being picked up and spun around in a hug as Fernando cried at her.

“Our baby…oh Carina…our baby! I’m so happy right now.”

He was practically yelling, so a few team members came to see what was going on. And then walked in on a happy couple, sobbing to each other as they curled up on the floor. A baby onesie in one’s hands, and the sonogram in the other.

And all of a sudden the media could wait.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @janeholt3

#f1 x reader #miloformula123fan #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso x female reader #f1 x female reader #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x y/n

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ninyard · 27 days

Text

The monsters and their ability to pick up languages is so interesting to me so here’s some random HCs about monsters + languages that are definitely not original at all:

- Neil learned French in Europe before him and Mary found their way to French-speaking Canada. He essentially had to semi-adopt the language discrepancies while he was there, and even though his fluency is in French from France, sometimes he messes up and pronounces things weirdly or differently (and Kevin frequently makes fun of him for it)

- Kevin has some rusty Japanese that he was forced to learn growing up. He can understand it pretty well, and can somewhat speak it to a lower level, but he can’t read or write it. He’s not fluent, and probably couldn’t hold a conversation with a native speaker, but he could understand his Japanese counterparts in the Nest when he needed to.

- In turn Kevin isn’t able to order in Japanese at a restaurant, but he could explain the rules of Exy to someone fairly coherently if he had to.

- This isn’t an original thought by any means but Neil and Kevin definitely speak in French when they’re by themselves just to make sure they don’t lose it.

- They sometimes make calls to each other on the court in French, and because of this, most of the team picks up very basic calls in French. None of them can actually speak it, but Andrew picks up a little more than the rest, having spent so much time with Kevin. Again, couldn’t hold a conversation, but every now and again he recognises certain words in their conversations.

- Neil is like a walking version of those White Guy Speaks Chinese And Stuns Waitress (he can understand her?!?) polyglot youTube videos. It becomes more of a hobby for him once he’s settled and the FBI are off his back, but the foxes are constantly shocked by how many languages he can speak. He is fluent in English, French, and German of course, with some conversational Spanish, but he can pretty much have a basic interaction in most of the languages of countries he’d been in. His Dutch is the worst, because he could never quite grasp the proper pronunciation of things, but one time he speaks to a waiter in Italian and Andrew can’t believe it.

- (RIP Neil Josten, you would’ve loved duolingo)

- When he goes to the Olympics he’s like a kid in a candy store. It’s like a subconscious bingo game for him to speak to someone from every country at least once.

- Aaron loves listening to music in German. He would definitely drag Nicky to a rave if they ever found themselves in Berlin.

- Katelyn asks him whenever they have their kid if he wants to raise them bilingual, but he decides not to because he only really learned German for Nicky and his brother, and doesn’t really speak it at all after he graduates.

- Neil and Nicky study Spanish together sometimes. It helps Nicky stay close to his roots now that his immediate family is pretty much out of the picture. It means way more to him than Neil even knows.

- Another unoriginal one but Andrew and Neil definitely do learn sign language in the future. I could talk about this one forever.

- When Kevin gets frustrated, he finds it hard to speak ANY language. He messes up words in English, forgets how to say things, and occasionally is the butt of the joke when he combines a French and English word accidentally.

- Kevin watches anime when nobody is around. He thinks dubbed anime is a crime.

- Andrew thinks he’s pretty good at German until he tries to have a conversation with Erik and realises wow native speakers talk a lot faster than we do. You wouldn’t know, because even if he just understands half of a sentence, he can usually piece together what is being said 90% of the time, and he would never admit out loud that he needs Erik to slow down when he’s talking so he can understand him.

- He is, however, REALLY good at accents. He has a talent for speaking gibberish but sounding as if he’s speaking fluent French. It drives Kevin up the wall when he does it, but he also hates when he can’t understand what Kevin and Neil are saying to each other.

And Bonus:

- Jeremy is really bad at accents. He is initially frustrated by Jean and his French, but once he understands that it is Jean’s first language (that the Moriyama’s took from him), he makes an effort to try and learn. He’s just really, really bad at it. Jean cringes every time he tries, because he speaks with a heavy American accent. Jean is not pretentious about his language, but he is, at the end of the day, French. So when Jeremy says bonjour in that hideous so-Cal accent, it’s in part endearing that he’s trying, but mostly like nails on a chalkboard.

#this is so. pointless #and not original #but I just want to share :)#Kevin day #Neil josten #aftg #tfc #Andrew minyard #Nicky hemmick #jean moreau #jeremy knox #thank u for ur time

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 8 months

Text

Secrets That Whisper & Shout

Pairing: Moonknight trio (Steven mainly) x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: idk brief mentions of violence

Genre: fluff & minor angst

Summary: you are extremely intrigued by your neighbor and the voices you can sometimes hear in his head because of course your neighbor seems extra susceptible to your powers

***

It's an interesting way to live life, being able to see into people's minds. To alter their memories, control their actions, hear their deepest inner thoughts even if you're not trying to sometimes. It can be weird but you just try your best to live your life normally. Right now the biggest hindrance to your delicate balance of normal is your neighbor. He lives across the hall for you and unfortunately, for some reason, you keep finding yourself inside his mind. It happens when you let your mental guard down for a little too long. You've always compared people's minds to houses, or offices full of filing cabinets, your powers give you a key basically but it seems like your dorky neighbor's mental door is never closed let alone locked.

The weirder part is what you hear when you do find yourself in his mind. For most people, the voice in their head sounds like them- and while you've never really spoken to your neighbor, you know for a fact there's no way he's simultaneously a nervous Brit, a cocky American, and a grumpy Spanish speaker. There are three voices in his head as opposed to one, they speak to each other and seem entirely independent of one another. You haven't intentionally done any snooping in his mind but you can imagine his mental filing cabinets are entirely different than any you've been in. It's not really your business though so you never look into it. No matter how curious you are about how and why he has three voices in his head.

You know very little about your neighbor. From accidentally listening to his mental debates you think his name is Steven. The other voices have names too but you're unclear who is who because you've never stuck around long enough to discern that. He's not very social and only leaves his apartment for work or errands. He hardly ever takes phone calls and he never really calls anyone- except, around the time you moved in he used to call his mom pretty often but you think she never answered and eventually, those calls stopped. The strangest detail you've realized is sometimes he'll sneak out of his apartment, through the window and you have no idea where he goes or what he does but he's always back within a week. You don't mean to keep tabs on him, sometimes you cast your magic out to scan for threats and you'll notice the lack of presence in the apartment across the hall.

He's a curious case, your neighbor across the hall, and today you've decided you're going to bite the bullet and speak to him. Your curiosity about him is the main reason and you hope that being able to assign personhood to the voices you hear will quell it even a bit. You cross the hall and knock on his door confidently before you can convince yourself not to on one Saturday afternoon when you know he's home. You checked first. There's some shuffling on the other side of the door and eventually, it opens a bit hesitantly but it opens.

"Hi! My name is y/n. I live across the hall from you." You say, your chosen tone is friendly but soft.

"I'm- Steven. Can I help you?" He asks sizing you up.

"I hope so! I was baking cookies and even though I went to the store before I started I guess I didn't make a complete list of things I needed because it turns out I actually don't have enough sugar so I was just wondering if you had any I could borrow by chance?" You ask. You are baking, but you also definitely have enough sugar, it just seemed like the simplest way to initiate conversation. A bit cliche but it's a classic for a reason.

"You want to borrow sugar?"

"Yes. A cup if you have it." You hold up your measuring cup with a smile. Steven pauses for a moment before he answers.

"Sure. I've got some. Come on in I'll pour some for you." He says walking into his apartment. You follow him in glancing around. The studio style flat is full of books littered everywhere, it's the first thing you notice when you walk in. Steven takes the measuring cup from you and quickly grabs his container of sugar to pour some.

"Thanks so much! I'll bring by some cookies to repay you!" You tell him.

"Oh, no thank you. I appreciate the offer but I am vegan and I'm sure you don't intend to bake vegan-friendly cookies so-" He trails off with a shrug. You frown but make a note of the information. He's vegan. "I've never seen you before." He says after a moment while he puts up his bag of sugar.

"That's probably because you don't leave much besides for work. I've lived across you for over a year." You muse.

"Hey! I- I leave!" He turns to look at you.

"To do your laundry at the witching hour when you're the least likely to run into people?" You smirk a bit at him.

"No." He huffs.

"Thanks for the sugar, Steven. Hope to see you around more." You toss over your shoulder as you walk back into your apartment.

You do make a handful of vegan cookies for your neighbor, even though it wasn't your plan, after checking to find that it really is just a couple of minor changes, vegetable oil instead of butter, water or nondairy milk instead of eggs, and since you don't already have vegan chocolate you leave out the chocolate chips- at least according to the recipe you found. They're basically sugar cookies and you only make six for Steven, some of which you sprinkle with cinnamon to make up for their plainness, but you imagine they're a decent thanks for the sugar you borrowed- even if it was a ploy.

A couple of hours later, you knock on Steven's door again, this time with a small Tupperware container for the cookies you made him. He opens it again with the same confused frown after a few moments.

"Hi again! I know you said not to bother with the cookies because you're vegan but I wanted to say thanks anyway so- I adjusted my recipe to accommodate. They're sugar cookies except two of them are cinnamon, I wasn't sure if you like cinnamon so I didn't make them all cinnamon but the cookies are vegan. So, thank you, for the sugar." You say handing him the plastic container.

"You adjusted your recipe so that I could have some cookies?" Steven doesn't seem to believe the words even as he says them.

"Yes. I know you said I didn't have to bring any but I wanted to anyway. Since I did use your sugar to make them."

"Thank you. I appreciate the effort. I can't wait to try them."

"If you ever need anything, just knock." You tell him and wait for his cautious nod. "I'll be seeing you." You say leaving without waiting for him to agree with that statement. From then on, Steven does in fact make a point to speak to you more often. The first time is a couple of days later, he runs into you in the elevator and tells you he enjoyed the cookies. He'll definitely speak to you when he sees you around the building but it's on you to actually make plans if you want to see him otherwise and sometimes you do. You invite him out to lunch, have him over for tea, suggest movies to watch together, you even visit him at work every once in a while. The first time you went to his job you didn't even know he worked there, I mean he'd told you he worked at a museum but you never thought to ask which one, but once you knew he worked there you definitely made a point to pop in and say hi when you're around and he's working. It takes a while but you manage to build a pretty good friendship with him over the next few months to the point where you're hanging out a couple of times a week these days. In fact, he's supposed to be over later today to show you some movie he's been dying for you to see. For now, you're sitting on your couch reading a novel until he gets here. It'll be another few hours before he comes knocking at your door.

You've really enjoyed getting to know him, more than you expected to honestly. He's as sweet and awkward as he comes off at first glance but there's something endearing about his gentle shyness even when he's raving about whatever thing has most recently captured his attention. You find yourself looking forward to the time you spend together more than you like to admit. You have no idea if your fondness is reciprocated to the same extent and you also have no idea how to broach the subject with him. Much like a skittish animal, you're always careful about how you make changes to your dynamic. It's something you try not to dwell on, if he likes you or if you'll tell him you like him and how to do so, things are good between you two and as they say, if it ain't broke don't fix it.

Your head snaps up at the sudden rush of fear you sense. The book in your lap long forgotten anyway as you had been lost in your thoughts until the dread you felt in your very bones pulled you from them. It's not your own though, that panic, and you have to take a moment to pinpoint the source. You gasp when you realize it's coming from Steven. It's been a while since you felt someone's feelings so uninhibited and you rush out of your apartment before you can even consider a plan. He must be in trouble for you to feel his alarm this way. When you reach for his doorhandle you hear some sort of crashing sound inside and you force open his apartment door to find Steven evading someone attempting to corner him in the apartment.

"Steven!" You gasp when the masked intruder chucks some sort of dagger at him.

"Y/n?! Get out of here!" Steven shouts at you from behind the couch. You ignore him and charge the attacker by launching yourself using Steven's side table. The attacker can't react quickly enough to the kick that you aim directly at their chest and they go down hard. You don't give the stranger a chance to get up and strike either of you, taking advantage of their disoriented state you slip into their mind, 'suggesting' that they leave and forget they ever came here, forget Steven even exists and forget you while you're at it. When the masked assailant stands again they climb out of the window they came through without saying a word.

"Are you alright Steven?" You frown turning your attention to where he's frowning from behind his kitchen counter. When did he move behind the kitchen counter?

"What just happened?" He blinks at you.

"I am- a magical being of sorts-"

"Like a witch?"

"Something like that. I mean- I can do magic in the more traditional sense, like spells and such but most of my powers are telepathic. I can read minds and alter memories, reshape reality-"

"What?" You hardly register Steven's shocked exclamation.

"I mean that can take a lot of energy depending on the scale, like I obviously can't do it for everyone, everywhere, at the same time but like- I could say, make it look and feel like there are spiders all over this room." You shrug.

"Why would you ever-"

"Arachnids are a common phobia, it's gotten me out of some touchy situations." You say.

"That doesn't explain what just happened though." Steven shakes his head.

"Oh, I can control people if it comes down to it. I just- made the person leave and forget you exist."

"You can do what?!" His eyes widen.

"I don't use it! Usually. I've only done it a couple of times to protect myself or someone who really needed it." You shrug.

"And your protection was to force someone to do something else against their will?!"

"Hey, that person was literally trying to kill you! I could've taken the violent route instead but I'm not a fan of it!"

"So that man-"

"Doesn't remember being here, doesn't remember attacking you, doesn't even remember you exist. You're safe." You say.

"Holy shit."

"Look I wanted to be honest with you because I care about you but if this is too much for you to handle then- I will leave all I ask is that you keep my secret to yourself."

"You won't just... take it from me?"

"I don't want to. And I won't, unless that information in your hands becomes a threat to my life."

"Have you ever used them on me? Your powers?" He asks. You pause for a moment considering how to answer. Admittedly he doesn't seem to be taking all this super well, you wonder if it would be worse to just say no but looking at him you can't bring yourself to tell the lie.

"I have. Not- on purpose and nothing altering. No mind control or memory changing or reality reshaping- absolutely nothing that changed anything about you it's just that sometimes your thoughts are loud. You yell in your head a lot- in several voices. Sometimes I can hear them." You explain.

"You can hear them? The different voices?"

"Yes. I don't quite understand it but I never snooped I just- would leave when I realized it was happening again." You say.

"I think you should go." Steven says avoiding your gaze. Your shoulders drop for a moment that you're sure he doesn't see.

"I see. Alright but Steven-"

"Your secret is yours. I won't tell anybody." He says quietly. You nod although he's still not looking directly at you.

"Okay. If you need anything- my door's open. Otherwise, take care- Steven." You say and exit his apartment before he can respond. Steven's reaction hurts more than you'd like it to, you suppose you wouldn't have been able to keep the secret from him forever though. It would've come out eventually, especially if you got any closer to him as you had considered.

The next two weeks are weird. Steven doesn't text you, or call you, or come over for tea or lunch, you make a point not to visit him at work as you are positive he's avoiding you based on the fact that he's clearly adjusted all of his habits so as to not run into to you around the apartment building. That- you think stings more than his initial reaction. To think he was so put out by your revelation that he no longer wanted to even risk seeing you... Whatever, you wouldn't dwell on it. The world keeps spinning. A sudden knock on your door interrupts you before you can focus back on what you were working on. With a confused frown, you walk over to the door and look through the spyhole to see Steven standing in the hall, and that surprises you immensely. For on that knock was sharp and harsh in a way you've never heard Steven knock on anything ever, but also for him to just show up at your door after 2 weeks is... unexpected. You pull open the door and lean casually against the frame.

"Hello." He nods and you immediately notice he does not sound like himself. You quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Steven? Hi. What are you doing here? And- why are you talking funny?"

"I'm not Steven my name is Marc Spector." He says.

"Did you hit your head or something?" You snort crossing your arms in confusion.

"No? I'm perfectly fine."

"Right except your name isn't Marc Spector it's Steven Grant. Unless you've been lying to me since we met which- would certainly be interesting but I don't think that's what's happening here." You say.

"Not quite. See we have a... condition-"

"Do not tell me about what's wrong with your body!" You put your hands up to stop him.

"It's psychological." He says.

"Oh okay. Proceed." You say.

"It's called dissociative identity disorder. My mind is- fractured. Essentially this body houses more than one consciousness." He explains.

"This sounds very Jekyll and Hyde and if you're coming to me to say you're a serial killer I don't-" You trail off when suddenly something clicks. "Holy shit you're one of the voices in Steven's head!" You gasp. You knew he sounded familiar but you didn't pinpoint it until just now.

"First of all, it's my head okay I am the original. Secondly- Steven told you about us?!"

"If he did do you think I would sound as confused as I do right now? No, he didn't tell me anything. I just realized why I recognize your voice." You say.

"Recognize my voice?" Now he's looking at you like you're crazy.

"I can hear you sometimes. You are quite loud- especially compared to the other one."

"You can hear us?" His eyes are wide as saucers.

"Yes, never on purpose though. I'm a telepath. I can read minds and change memories and alter reality and stuff like that so- sometimes I can hear you- which by the way we still haven't answered the billion dollar question why are you here?"

"Steven has been moping around for over a week now and every time we force him to leave he looks longingly at your door so I came to find out what the hell you did to him because I swear-"

"I didn't do anything to him. I told him I was a telepath and he freaked. He's been avoiding me since. All on his own. And before you start throwing around threats I'll warn you Marc Spector that I could take hold of your entire fractured little mind without even breaking a sweat. So tread carefully if you're going to start swearing things." Your eyes narrow at him.

"He's been avoiding you?" He blinks.

"We talked about my powers, he asked me to leave, and so I did. Probably assumes I'll take advantage of him using them or something." You shrug.

"Well you did just threaten me."

"It wasn't a threat it was a warning. Besides I'd never hurt Steven, you I don't know and you did start a pretty menacing sentence that prompted me to- never mind."

"Now I'm confused. If he's avoiding you, why is he moping around the apartment?" He frowns.

"You're asking me. You're the one that shares a body with him." You say.

"Explain to me exactly what went down?"

"I was in my apartment and someone attacked Steven- I don't know who or why but could feel it so I went over to help and I used my powers to get rid of them."

"What'd you do? Launch him out the window?"

"No? I just made him forget about us and where he was but when he mindlessly climbed back out the way he came in without attacking us I obviously had to explain some things. I guess Steven didn't take it all that well." You shrug.

"That doesn't sound right. I think you should talk to him."

"I- don't think he wants to do that." You shake your head.

"No. No, this has gone on long enough. Hang on." Marc says.

"Marc seriously mind your-"

"Y/n?" He grimaces. You recognize immediately that it's Steven you're talking to now.

"Steven- one the uh- voices? Marc? He thinks we need to have a conversation. Does he make a habit of meddling in your life this way?"

"Less often than you might think but- I do owe you an apology." His head drops.

"What for, exactly?"

"How I- handled things before. I was... cold, it's just that when you said you could hear Marc and Jake I was worried about what else you-"

"I'm sorry, who is Jake?" You shake your head at him.

"The identity disorder thing- there are three of us as far as we know. Myself, Marc, and Jake." Steven says and you nod as you piece it together.

"Would it be presumptuous of me to guess that Marc and Jake are not your only secrets?"

"No actually. Marc is an avatar."

"Of what?" You ask. Steven's shocked confusion prompts you to fill in the gaps, "I've met avatars for each of the sins so, one of those maybe? Or a celestial body of some sort? The moon perhaps- I'm guessing you don't mean in the same sense as the cartoon boy because people with elemental manipulation do not refer to themselves that way in real life so-"

"Khonshu." Steven says when you trail.

"What?"

"He's- Khonshu's avatar."

"Egyptian God. Interesting. Correct me if I'm wrong he's the god of justice, right?"

"That's right." He nods.

"So the guy that was attacking you a few weeks ago was probably mad at him for- something related to that."

"Most likely. Can't imagine a museum guest putting a hit out on me for not having any more pyramid pens or something." Steven scratches the back of his neck and you chuckle a bit at his joke.

"Interesting."

"Look- that day, I wasn't sure if this was something I was ready to tell you. I've never told anyone this before, the only person that knows is Marc's ex-wife, so when you said you could hear our thoughts I was worried you knew more than just that there were voices in my head and- I'm sorry." Steven trails off with a sigh.

"So- what changed? Why are you telling me now?"

"Well Marc revealed himself to you." Steven says. "But more than that I just- really hate not being able to talk to you. I like my life way more with you in it but I- after how I reacted I sort of figured I'd earned my misery, that I didn't deserve your forgiveness because when you chose to trust me with your secrets I turned you away, I even judged you, instead showing literally any modicum of support of the person I care about. I made an ass of myself."

"I wasn't upset with you, you know. I mean as far as shitty reactions go yours doesn't even make the top 5. You didn't tell the apartment building to gather their pitchforks so- I count that as a win." You shrug.

"I would never-"

"I know." You nod. "While we're- confessing our sins anything else you wanna share?" You ask with a chuckle. Steven holds your gaze for a long moment and there's a brief second where you consider finding out for yourself what he's contemplating so hard, you won't of course, but the silence drags long enough to make you want to rescind the question. Eventually, Steven's hand grabs your arm and yanks you towards him. His eyes are so wide at the action you'd think he's not the one who pulled you but before you can ask him about it his lips are on yours. The kiss is short and a bit unsure but his mouth is soft against yours and when he pulls away still with that wide-eyed look you do nothing but blink at him for a moment.

"I- I'm so sorry that was- I mean Marc was- I didn't plan- I wasn't going to-"

"Steven." You place your hand against his cheek to halt his frazzled rambling. "Did you want to kiss me?" You ask.

"I've wanted to kiss you for months." He breathes.

"Then don't apologize. I've wanted to kiss you too."

"Really?"

"Yes so- I think I'm going to do it again." You say pausing long enough to give him an out. When his eyes flutter closed you take that as your sign to lean forward and connect your lips again. You're sure in that moment you could do this forever and you silently wish to whatever powers above that you'll have that long to do it as many times as you wish.

***

A/N: I'm thinking of turning this into an anthology (like There is No Right Way) of the moonknight trio dating a telepath because I think it would be interesting idk- anyone interested in more of this dynamic?

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fluff #steven grant fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #moonknight #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant angst

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http-prettycupid · 1 year

Text

Sweetness

Alejandro Vargas x fem/reader(18+)

COD/MW2

[Slight breeding kink,]

Your back is straight, your legs are crossed, your smile so sweet under your circumstances it looks sick. Encased in a metal confine, surrounded by men who can kill you in a few seconds, you’d have to play in their game. So you continue your streams of enigmatic answers to their interrogation.

“Valeria’s right.”

Your objective in this whole missile mishap, mission, or whatever the hell people would call it is simple. Everyone just seems to think other wise. Money talks and you keep the conversation going. It just so happens that your morals revolves around dollar bills, in pesos, pounds, or any forms so long as you can cash it in the bank.

“ That’s it. Hmph! You’re working for her? Over her? With her? Cual es?”

Alejandro who’s growing tired of your answers, breaks in a huff of frustration. He grew sick of Valeria’s taunt and now he has to deal with a new face that’s somehow less mouthy but much more vexing. Although his growing curiosity about who this vixen is maybe the real cause of his pent up anger.

“Guapo, if you want me to keep talking you’d have to pay me.”

You literally have to bite back a laugh at how the brunette you heard the men call, Alejandro turn slightly pink at the nickname. He honestly could not begin to comprehend why the way you called him handsome made him so flustered.

Flirting to safety wasn’t the first plan but if that’s what it takes, you know now how to begin. You couldn’t fully speak Spanish but even if you don’t speak at all you’d still have his eyes on you.

“How about this. Since this is most important to you…I’ll tell you first.”

That sickly smile now completely focus on Alejandro as the rest of the men seem to uncomfortably shift in their stance while waiting for you to continue.

“I’ll even discount my answers, if everybody else scrams.”

A chuckle slips through your lips as they somehow actually begin to consider your terms with quick glances at each other. Then letting out a huff, Graves orders everyone out of the metal container leaving only you and Alejandro.

Oh how easy it is for you to bust out of here.

They actually left. Although they may be outside, they left you alone with no restrains, unarmed but gifting a delicious man fully equipped.

You don’t know how to put your finger on it but every since meeting him on the roof of the cartel lieutenant’s mansion, Alejandro made you want to tease him. Getting captured with Valeria wasn’t part of the plan but staying that long in the Mediterranean home wasn’t either. Who could predict in the midst of your side hustle a whole ass swat team would ransack the place.

They’ve probably also figured out that you don’t have much loyalty towards Valeria and work for someone else completely, seeing how much authority you had in a house full of cartels. Even the mafia don’t treat their guests like royalty but they most definitely wanted your blessing. Now it was their job to decipher why and why not also ask about the missiles since you seem to know plenty.

And that’s what led you here, under interrogation in a metal container. Although with your skills you could walk away free, you’d be a little disappointed having to end your fun here.

“Well-”

“Ah! My price first.”

Pressing your index finger on Alejandro’s lips seemed to startled him just a tad. But that might be him not realizing how close you were to him.

“I’d have to see about transferring you pesos-,”once again the man is hushed by your finger. He’d be so entertaining to break, you’d just have to get closer. With his rifle out of the way…

“Aww, sweetling. I never said you’d have to pay me money,” taking a chance you stepped closer. Your front now pressed against the gun, you look up to study his face. His eyes are heavy, pupils blown, kissable lips slightly parted as he took a sharp intake of air. Oh and the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he gulped down his nerves. You knew he’s guard is on the edge of a drop.

Ugh! Who knew a man could look so appetizing that your the one feeling like there’s a 70ft drop before you. Come on! This is no time to be a pussy.

“Uhm…no?” Gosh the way his accent soaks into the smallest words that he lets out soaks your panties. Your starting to question if you’d break first.

“No. Do you want to know what my price is, Alejandro?” You keep your voice as light as your right hand when it reached his gun and sweeps it seamlessly out of the way. Fuck! Why are you getting so nerved.

Finally standing on your tippy toes you move to his left ear, leaving light breathes that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. As smoothly as it went your right hand delicately traces its way from his chest, shoulders and then to gingerly rub the stubble along his jaw and upper neck.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t hear the heart beat bashing on your chest.

Come Y/N! Swallow those timid valor! You never had them before today.

With your mouth tracing his earlobe you continue the teasing. “Alejandro…fuck-please touch me.”

Aight, it’s up.

You knew the butterflies in your stomach at the start should’ve been a sign to take caution. Flirting your way to safety would’ve been easy if you weren’t getting wet feeling the hardness pressing on your stomach.

Your statement should’ve been confident and alluring but it escaped you sounding way too desperate with the airy whimper.

On top of that the soft grunt he made when you pressed your front harder on his cock had you rolling your eyes. Fucking hell! There’s no way a man can have this much affect on you!

“Ah-fuck. Alejandro, I want you to touch me. Mmhp…wanna feel you inside me, fuck your cum into me. Oh god, please. I’ll tell you anything. Just please, please fuck me-

You couldn’t even finish before he lost his senses, dropping the gun and dug his big hands into your waist. Sliding his gloved palms downwards, the brunette then lifted you into that solid body of his and rushed to press your back on the metal wall.

Your hands weaving into his hair as his mouth went to work on your neck. His chest pressed so tightly against yours that your breathe heaved even more and oh did those heavy pants and small whimpers egged him on.

The self-assured and flirtatious vixen now starting to melt in his palms and she looked so enticing all the while. Her cropped black tank top strap had fell off her shoulder, leaving more room for him to kiss and gnaw at. Her also black spandex they had left her in after ridding her cargo pants full of weapons and ammo was not doing a good job covering her neediness. Taking a quick glance he could already see her leaving wet patches on the front of his jacket. The sight alone made a moan slip out of him. If that wasn’t enough his hardness was aching in his pants, begging to be relieved.

“La hostia! Muñeca-my cremalle-mi zipper princesa”, even with his rushed sentence you understood. Hands leaving his hair, you reached his belt buckle. Then with some shuffling it came loose with sufficient room for you to unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, pulling it down just enough to also bring his boxers with it.

His tip immediately bumped your lower ass before you started to take him in your palms. With steady strokes, feeling the veins along his length, his girth that your fingers and thumb barley touched, you knew he was just a size too big. His pre-cum ran down to your palms making you instinctively lick your lips and pant. This might sting but you can already feel your girl pulse and drool for him.

“Alejandro,” with a whine you unhook your legs form his waist. Your feet meeting the ground again before you began stripping for a man you met just a few hours ago. And he absolutely ate up the sight before him.

Left in only your panties, damp skin kissed by the hot sun of Las Almas. The man wanted to ask what did he do for The Lord to bless him with you? Or perhaps it was the Devil that sent you to him. You just looked so heavenly and sinful. Hair now loose from the braid it was in, the stray strands framed your beguiling face. He had a thought you might’ve just been playing his heart strings to get your way but your doe eyes and pouty lips that are begging him to continue throw those thoughts away. He wanted to know about your stories, what made you came to Las Almas. Beyond the stories of missiles and the cartel, why you’d put yourself in such danger. But that would have wait for another time.

Alejandro rushed to hike you back up, this time roughly pressing his hot lips to your pillowy ones. Heavy breathing bounced off the container’s walls as the two bodies take in as much air as they could while devouring in each other’s rousing scents, electrifying touch and the thrilling environment they were currently in.

This was supposed to be an interrogation…

You flirted often, yes. But you definitely weren’t the most experienced with intimacy and with the pace Alejandro’s tongue moved into your mouth, you knew the footing on your plan had completely crumbled away.

He pressed his body harder on yours, gripping his right hand on your hip, taking in as much of you he could. Your small mewls that left your lips. Along with the strings of sounds, the smell of vanilla blended with coconut and some florals. It’s like the man couldn’t pick up on the musky scent of sex as his left hand made its way to your panties.

“Mierda. You’ve runined your panties Muñeca,”

You moaned in his mouth as he reconnected your lips. Pushing your panties to the side before he rather impatiently inserted his middle and index fingers, as if to test your readiness for his cock. With a gravely grunt Alejandro began working in your pussy that was now making a mess all over his digits. He reluctantly paused his ravaging in your mouth once more to look at his work below.

“ Fuck Muñeca! Your pussy’s already in love with my fingers. Imagine how much she’ll love my cock stuffing her full, hm.”

All you could do was mewl and curse into his shoulders as he stuffed your throbbing womanhood. This smug man then begin to laugh at your current state.

“Que pasa, Muñeca? What happened to that assertive vixen telling my men to scram so she can bargain for her safety?”

It was now your turn to blush. You couldn’t for your life begin to think anymore. His scent was intoxicating you, hints of cleanly soap, gun powder and musk was enough to make you lose your mind. What else? His voice and accent. God have mercy you could cum with just his talks alone. AND don’t even get started on his long fingers working in and out, now pairing with his thumb on your clit.

You can feel a certain knot tying itself in your stomach, the twisting feeling caused your body to tremble and your eyes to brim with tears. The increase in volume and movement was a dead giveaway that you were close. Even so, Alejandro removed his hand from you core, cutting off the high that had been peaking thus far.

“N-no, please. Please, Alejandro.” Fuck. Your watery eyes with those lips that he made red and swollen caused his cock to drip. Such a pathetic plea and face along with a moan of his name.

“Aw, I know guapa. I just wanted to give that needy pussy of yours something bigger.”

With a taunting pout, Alejandro then gripped your sides before a hand left to guide his cock to your messy hole. He then let your body slowly slid down his length.

“Mierda! Your so tight. And what a fucking mess your making of my pants, princesa,” he couldn’t help his strangled moans as you took him in so willingly with the most welcoming clench on his manhood.

“Alejan-fuck! Too much.” You whine with hazy eyes as tears fell from the sting as well as the delight of him bullying his way inside.

Alejandro the tease only chuckled at your words, “your doing so well princesa, taking in my cock. Come on, you can take all of it.” He sang praises as he continue to slowly sink into you, kissing away the tears that had fallen on your flushed cheeks.

When he finally bottomed out he pulled back up to the tip before refilling your sloppy pussy and setting steady pace. Your volume now becoming alarmingly loud so as to prevent his team from hearing, his lips were back on yours.

Of course if the team hadn’t heard your voice already they probably hear the wet squelches as Alejandro’s cock picked up the pace. Feeling you flutter around him and hearing your increase in volume he began slamming so hard you couldn’t help but drip down his balls and to the floor.

Legs wrapped tightly around his waist, armed draped over his shoulders while he worked you up and down his manhood. You dissolved into putty in his arms, only able to babble incoherent words into his mouth. Saliva was slipping from the edges as he continued his assault in your hot cavern. Every audible cry you began to muster with your lips parted and connecting to his with a string of wetness would dissipate as he ate them up.

Ya, as if the team could hear…

The team catching on to Alejandro’s ‘special interrogation’ was the last thing he cared to pounder about anyways.

“Mmm, princesa. Your pussy’s a real fucking treat.”

And his cock is making you drunk.

“After this I’m never letting you leave.”

And you didn’t want to.

“You gonna let my breed your pussy, hm? Cum deep inside your filthy hole?”

“Fuck Yes! Please, please! Give your cum please.”

Alejandro’s pretty done keeping your voice down. Besides, he may as well give his men a treat hearing your pretty cries for his cum and cock that they would never indulge in themselves.

“Cum on me then, Muñeca.”

Just like a magic command, the build up in your core since Alejandro’s fingers fucked your pussy snapped.

Your high came crashing down in tremors and sniffling sobs. So out of breathe you barely finish chanting his name, whiteness covering your vision you’d think you were going to heaven. And what’s an even better feeling then this high heaven? His cum pumping into you as he groaned and thrusts it in deeper. More moans pass through you as Alejandro couldn’t help but grind his seeds into your hot mess, now leaking with his cum.

“Ugh, mierda. Your going to get me in trouble guapa.” With a soft laugh Alejandro peeked at the mess you two made below before his gaze carried back to your fucked-out face. God, just your face alone was making his length stir again.

BANG BANG!!

“Fucking hell! There better good intel after you guys clean up whatever mess y’all made in there!”

Ghost’s voice could be heard from behind the container door as strings of snickers followed. Keeping his gaze on your heavy lids that were now blown wide from the sudden startle, Alejandro knew he’d have to continue this later.

“Ya, ya.”

Yup. You weren’t leaving even if you spill your whole life story to the Spanish man.

#alejandro vargas #interrogation #enemies to lovers #military #smut #x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish #alejandro vargas x reader #fem reader #fanfic

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spctrsgf · 10 months

Text

to his office

prompt #351 from @/lyralit:

“I could kiss you right now.”

“You’re very welcome to do it.”

word count: 3.8k

warnings: spidey!reader (tried to make it gn, lmk if i messed anything up!), language, my shitty spanish, innuendos but no actual sex

a/n: i saw atsv and miguel was SO SCRUMPTIOUS i had to write this

“HOBIE!” You yell at the aforementioned Brit, narrowly missing a chunk of some building that is being thrown at you. “I bloody know!” He yells back, swinging from the building next to you.

You nudge your head to the left as a signal to him, releasing a quick whip of web to maneuver behind a rough, brick building to land on the side of it. Hobie wasn’t too far behind, and Gwen was soon to your left as well. The three of you heave in heavy breaths, synchronous in your silence. The inevitable stomp of the angry anomaly of the week roams in search of the very people next to you as well as yourself.

“She just does not give up, does she?” Hobie quips, filling the silence.

“Well,” Gwen adds. “We did make her angry.”

“We? You were the one who threw a brick at her, mate.”

“And who’s idea was it to do that?”

“It was a bloody joke!”

“It didn’t sound like it–”

“Okay!” You exclaim, cutting their childish argument in half. “Enough. Back to defeating the Wannabe Crab woman, okay?”

“Right,” Hobie answers, quick to drop his anger like usual. “What’s the plan, boss?”

“We gotta trap him somewhere, but this fucking city is endless. It’ll take forever.”

“I think we gotta get her hands tied,” Pavitr says from above, nearly desticking Gwen from the brick wall in surprise. “That’s where the power is, right?”

“Jeez, Pav,” You yelp, coming down from your initial shock. “We didn’t see ya there.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for scaring you, but seriously. I think we gotta tie her hands!”

“He’s right, that would solve all the cement throwing we got going on.” Hobie agrees, shifting to lean on the windowsill next to him.

You tilt your head. “Do ya think webs’ll be strong enough for that one?”

“Ours? Nah.”

“True, but Miguel’s would do us a solid right now with all this.” Pav interjects.

“He’s right. We need those ever so strong webs your boyfriend has to do the job.” Gwen nudges you with her shoulder.

Your cheeks flame, and you’re eternally grateful for the silky mask you have on. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Gwen! We’re not– he doesn’t– oh my god,” You pinch the bridge of your nose as best you can through the mask. “Back on topic!”

“Seriously,” Hobie nods. “You should ask the lad to help us out.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

All you get is a shrug from him.

“Or you, Gwen? Or Pav?”

They all give you a look, a look that tells you exactly what they’re thinking.

“No. Oh my god, guys! Seriously? He doesn’t like hearing from me, anyways.”

That’s true, you firmly believe it, and you have ever since you first got to Nueva York. Being the person you are, you originally doted around the idea of talking to him, of engaging in a conversation. But, to be frank, he scared you shitless. He towered over your stature, a whopping 6’9” to your pacifying build. But, somehow you found yourself standing next to a nonchalant Hobie, watching his floating platform float impossibly slow towards the two of you after a mission.

He’d been… you could tell right away that Miguel wasn’t the type of person to sugar coat nor was he very good at hiding the emotions that flew across his face, because oh my you felt it. You felt the trail of his scarlet gaze as he took in his first impression, you felt the razor sharp cut of disgust, felt the way his tongue ran along his accentuated canines as you rambled through your report.

He’d dismissed you as quickly as humanly possible, opting to talk to the laid back Brit, the one who didn’t have to clear his voice every few sentences. Maybe it was a force of habit, you’d tried to reason as your head bowed to scurry out of the room. He has been working with Hobie longer, there has to be an ease between them.

But, as time passed, Miguel remained the same. He tossed you a cold shoulder, and seemed to avoid your presence unless needed. You tried to shrug it off, to pretend like it didn’t hurt you as much as it did, but it was hard to pretend when the sting of rejection slapped as soon as he was brought up. Which actually happened a lot.

You weren’t sure where Gwen had gotten boyfriend from that. Sure, you thought he was attractive. It was hard not to with his broad shoulders, a stark contrast to his (slutty) waist. There was something about his fangs that intrigued you, it was something you’d never seen before. And it wasn’t just the appearance that did it for you: it was that under all the anger and the rough exterior and the mask was a man, vulnerable and caring and wanting to stop what happened to him from happening to someone else.

He might be blunt and mean and pushy and all those things, but he came from a truly caring place, from a want to help. You could see that shine through in the way Gwen and Hobie and even Lyla talked about him, and you could see that in the mission notes he writes and in the slim amount of time that you were graced with his presence.

“That’s why.” Gwen’s voice shakes you clear of the memories.

“Wha?” You blink incredulously at her, like that would somehow shock you into understanding her sentence.

She shoves your wrist, which hovers in front of you with the button to call Miguel in a booming orange. “Call him.”

You glare at her, but all that earns you is a tilt of the head and a not-so-encouraging punch from Pav. “Fine! Fine.”

You take a deep breath before hitting the call button. It sends off some sort of interdimensional wave towards Nueva York, and you buzz with a different type of frequency, suddenly nervous. The Miguel effect. Your brain blurts. Always nervous. You sigh and remind yourself that there are three other spiderpeople next to you as the call goes through, and Miguel’s face pops up unceremoniously in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” Are the first words out of his mouth. “Uh, well, you see–” You start, only to be rudely cut off by his attitude. “Get to the point. I don’t have all day.”

The blunt words don’t roll off your back like normal, maybe it was because you could hear the anomaly pound, inching closer. “We need help. We need your webs, they’re stronger and can hold this guy’s claws together. He’s been tearing up the city.”

“You’re supposed to be containing the threat, not me.”

“Miguel, if you don’t get your fucking ass over here right now, all four of us are gonna be dead.”

“Doubt it.” He sounds distracted, like he was observing something else in front of him.

“Seriously? You can’t take two seconDS..!” You cut yourself off to launch off the building as the anomaly slams her fist into the spot you were rested at just a few seconds before.

You go to follow your partners in chasing the monster away from the buildings, to yell at the stubborn man currently still on call from the watch encircling your wrist, but your spidey senses perk up and then you’re swinging back towards the anomaly. Your eyes train on a woman, not much older than thirty, running for her life from the gnarly creature above her.

You don’t think. Normally, you’re all about thinking and finding the best course of action to try and save everyone, but you don’t now. Not when you’re so short on time, not when that woman could die. You dive, holding your arms out as you beeline to the poor woman. Her face turns from fear to relief when she sees you, reaching out to grab your hand as you scoop your arm around her waist and carry her to the nearest roof.

You’re off before she can say a word, and the glance back you lend her tells you that she knows exactly why you couldn't linger and conveys the thank you she couldn’t say to your face. It fuels you, and you move quickly, pulling the anomaly farther and farther from the people. “Are you a quiet one, huh?” The anomaly’s voice is low and gravelly. “I’m always up for a little banter.” You shoot back, taking a quick left to navigate to where you see your partners waiting, hidden and ready to attack.

“Alrighty then, let’s banter!”

“Let’s.”

“Are you expecting me to now spew out my whole plan and sob story, cus it ain’t happening.”

You shrugged. “Nah. Most of you don’t anyway.”

“We don’t?”

“No,” You shake your head, coming to a stop. “We usually have you caught by that time.”

Right on cue, Pav, Gwen, and Hobie shoot webs out, attempting to contain the anomaly. You realize, as you're adding your own webs to the mix, that Miguel must’ve hung up the phone during your little fright. “What happened with the boss? We getting that bloody help we need?” Hobie calls out, tightening his grip. “Dunno!” You call back. “Maybe he hung up.”

“Call him back, eh?”

“I- I can’t! This is harder than it looks.”

“We know!” Gwen screeches, voice strained.

“What do we do, guys?”

“Try and hold on.” Pav’s voice is uncharacteristically dim, lacking its normal cheer.

His tone sinks into your stomach. “What if we don’t–”

“You will,” Miguel’s voice crackles from your wrist. “I’m here. Where are you?”

“Uh–” You risk a look around as the anomaly struggles with a scream. “Open field. I can see an ocean from here, and there’s mountains to my right. Actually, I think it’s a river– we’re at a bend in it.”

“Got it. I know where you are, I’ll be there in a minute tops. Stay on the phone with me, okay?”

“Will do.”

“He won’t be here in time.” You look up at the anomaly, her deep green eyes locked unsettlingly with yours. She yanks hard this time, and you see Gwen nearly topple and Hobie’s footing slip slightly, giving her arms more wiggle room. “Yes he will.” Your jaw sets as you shoot another web to wrap around her wrist, yanking her down onto her knees.

“You’ll lose. Wouldn’t that be crazy? Spiderman. Losing.”

“Crazy? Yeah, cus it won’t happen.” Gwen grunts from above, struggling to keep a clean facade.

“I’m almost there, cariño, hold on.”

“I am, we’re fine–”

And then you’re not. Because the anomaly bursts up in a spur of movement, effectively breaking the confinement you four had put on her. She runs forward, taking a straight track for you. You leap up, swinging away as quickly as you can. You pick through the strain on your forearms, through the cloud of fear in your head. You try to stay in the same general area you told him you’d be in, but it’s hard with the anomaly on your heels.

“Miguel! Help, she’s chasing me, I can only keep her away from me for so long–”

“I know, I know, I’m coming. Hold on.”

But you’re not responding anymore. The anomaly swings a mighty claw straight into your abdomen, effectively sending you into the ground. Pav lets out a scream, sliding to catch you before you can slam into the grass, and Miguel knows something is wrong. You can hear his yells and Pav’s telling you to respond, but the pain in your side is excruciating and your brain feels like mush and your mouth is dry like sandpaper and your vision is tunneling into black and you try to speak but–

…

It’s very dark.

That’s the first thing you notice when you come to. It’s nice. But there’s an off putting feeling about it, like something’s lurking in the dark, and then you’re itching to turn on the lights so you can see something. “You have something covering your eyes, you do realize that.” Miguel’s smooth tone slides in from the left, decorating across the bland abyss.

Ah. So that was the problem.

Your arms feel foreign as you reach up to pull the fabric off your eyes, exposing you to the room you were in, only slightly brighter than before. “Lyla said the mask was supposed to help you heal better,” Miguel starts, and you can’t quite bring yourself to look at the man next to you quite yet. “I listened, she’s better at this than I am.”

“Am I not in the infirmary?” You question, before frowning at the way your voice sounded. You sit up, clearing it a few times.

“You were, but I moved you.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you in there.” He answered bluntly, yet it lacked any substance at all.

“Why?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You chuckled dryly. “Miguel, you moved me from the fucking infirmary to your office. I think you owe me a damn explanation.”

“No.” He turns away, slinging a web out to launch him onto his floating platform.

“Miguel–”

“No.” The orange screens encircle him, effectively slamming his hard tone into the flow of conversation that wasn’t really flowing anymore.

You frown, half sat up in the bed that he’d placed you on. You’re frustrated, you don’t understand what’s been going on between you and him. He hated you. You’d previously established that, his vibrant reaction to your question confirmed it. But he saved you. And he moved you into his fucking office.

Your head swims with this new information, and you flop back down unceremoniously onto the bed. Your head tilts automatically to him again, the fiery red in the bleak, monotone room. His back is to you, and he’s furiously tapping at something on one of his many screens. The boldness of his stature, the way he’s standing is so unwelcoming that you’re now sure he never really wanted you there at all.

You sit up and hop out of the bed as quietly as you can, even though you know he can probably hear you in the silence that enveloped you both. Yet he doesn’t react, he doesn’t turn and yell like you thought he might. He stayed stoically and almost stubbornly facing his screens, so you turn and slip towards the door.

Fucking say something, Miguel.

He doesn’t. You don’t know what you expected anyways.

So you continue your walk, your path out of noose that the room brought. Yet, steps to the hallway seem harder and harder to make, like the hallway is getting longer or maybe you’re moving a lot slower than you normally do. You move to shoot a web, hoping to gain traction and move somewhat faster, but you can’t quite get your aim right–

And then your vision is fluctuating and you start to feel unbalanced. You’re not moving. You’re moving your feet, but you’re not going anywhere. Your brain is fuzzy and the ground is getting closer than it normally is- you don’t remember being this short? “Ay, cariño!” Is exclaimed from behind you, and then something’s grabbing onto your back and pulling you back upright.

Miguel has his arm wrapped around your waist as you wobble, guiding you back to the bed and then lifting you up to sit on it. Your hands come up to rub your eyes, trying to get them to refocus. They blur and then unblur, finally resting to take in your wobbly hands, which are held out shakily in front of you. In response, you twist your hands together just enough to feel the pain of it, reminding you that you were in fact awake and aware.

“Are you okay?” It’s then that you realize that Miguel is still in front of you. He’s got you caged in, blanketing you in his grand shadow. Your neck cranes up to reach his eyes, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t let your eyes linger during their ascent. When you meet the scarlet of his irises, you’re taken aback by the level of concern in them. Like he was actually worried about you.

“I’m okay,” You respond, tilting your head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” He scoffed, but didn’t move away. “I’m not worrying.”

“If there’s one thing you’re bad at, Miguel, it’s lying.”

“I am a great liar.”

“Oh?”

“Dios mio, cariño, yes.”

“What does that mean, anyway?,” You question, rocking backward to tuck your feet underneath your legs. “I tried to get Lyla to tell me, but she will not let the secret loose.”

He freezes. “Nothing, sorry, slip of the tongue.”

“You do realize I can just search it up, right? Would you rather me find out from the reach of the internet?”

“Not really, what if you just don’t–”

“Miguel.” You rise onto your knees, leveling your gaze with his own and resting a hand on his shoulder. “What is it? It can’t be that bad, it’s not like you’re saying you’re in love with me or something.”

“Well–”

“Right, cus that would be like…” Your words tumble over him, your brain too keen on keeping your feelings, your delusions to yourself. “Te amo? Te quiero? I’m not sure…”

“Either one.”

“Yeah, so it’s not one of those, so what is it?”

He takes a deep breath, looking slightly troubled. His face twists his face up like he’d just bit into a lemon, and then you’re panicking again.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that–”

“It’s a term of endearment,” His voice stops your apologies in their tracks. “It literally means affection, but when you use it as a nickname it’s more like sweetheart or darling. Dear is another way to say it, but you get the point.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry about that–”

“Don’t be,” Your head tilts with his, following the way he turns his gaze away from you in embarrassment. “I like it.”

He meets your eyes again, curiosity and hope strung in his vibrant eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah. The way you say it is so satisfying, if that makes sense.”

“You like when I speak Spanish, huh?”

You nod, and suddenly you’re the one hiding your face from his smirk.

“Querido, mírame.”

“Miguel–”

“Ahora. I won’t ask again.”

You sigh, glaring at him. “I don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay, you’ll learn,” He leans down and then innnn, so that the two of you are practically nose to nose. “I know you can do it.”

“Do you?” Your brain is screaming at you, making you even more painfully aware of his proximity to your face, yet you somehow manage to clearly deliver the line.

“Mhm.”

“Well, it’s only cus I’ll have the best teacher. You.” You hit his nose with your finger, catching him off guard.

“I am happy to take that title.”

“Good.”

He hasn’t moved. Even as the room fades into silence, he hasn’t moved. He’s still so close, like you could lean in, barely four inches, and you’d be kissing him. You can smell him, a tinge of metallic blood yet so earthy and centering. It’s intoxicating: your brain is swimming and you're struggling to keep your head above the water.

Cariño. Sweetheart. A term of endearment. You still haven’t quite wrapped your head around that, not that you’ve been given much time to mull over it. Was that him telling you that he liked you, more than a friend? Was that a normal thing, using that term? You didn’t know, but you had a feeling that would be the best confession from him you were getting, if he meant it that way at all. You were gonna have to make the leap yourself.

“Everything okay?” His hand lands on your shoulder, a gentle reminder that you’d been staring into nothingness for what must’ve been a painfully long time for him. “Yeah,” You stumble to regain your words. “Sorry, I-”

“Spaced out.”

“Yeah.”

He nods, smiling just enough so you could see his fangs peek out. You were caught.

“Migu–”

“I could kiss you right now, you know that?”

“Huh?” stumbles stupidly out of your now slack jaw.

“I could kiss you. You’ve been staring at my lips for the past few minutes, mi amor, whether you realize it or not.”

“I have? Oh my god.”

He chases your drifting gaze, just like you did with his. “It was cute.”

“Cute is a word I never thought I’d hear come out of your mouth.”

“Cállete, you hear me? Shut up.”

You giggle, grabbing his hand and sliding it up to fit comfortably on the back of your neck. “You wanna kiss me, O’hara? You’re very welcome to do it.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Now he’s leaning in, closing in those four painstaking inches to lock lips with you.

And it’s insane. Showstopping. Any kisses you had before then? Not even a fucking kiss. Sure, it was a bit awkward at first– mainly you, you suppose– but it worked itself out. Miguel must’ve really gotten into it, because once you swear he nipped at your bottom lip with those fangs of his, just hard enough to draw blood. Your hands, in the meantime, explored his mass of brown curls, previously smoothed back but released by your fingers.

His own hands nestled themselves in your hair, tugging on it just enough to draw a sigh out of you. He tastes like blood– surely yours– yet ever so homey. You lean into him inadvertently, so content in the moment. The rational part of your brain reminds you that you’d probably suffocate if you kissed him for much longer, but nothing in you cared very much about that fact at all.

In the end, it’s him who takes a dip for air, who drags your face off of his reluctantly to gasp softly. You do the same, resting your forehead on his toned chest. His hand, still in your hair, guides you gently back up, just so he can absorb your appearance and vice versa. It’s crazy, taking him in like this. He looks so out of control, his hair disheveled and his lips puffy and his cheeks red, releasing air in quick puff puffs. You’re sure you’re not much better looking.

“Out of breath already?” He says, head tilted with a goofy sort of grin adorning his face. “I’m regaining it currently, don’t tease.” You puff back at him, dropping your head back onto his chest.

“Oh, but teasing you is the best part.”

You stab a finger into his side. “Be quiet.”

“If you fare like this, mi alma, you won’t last very long where we’re headed.”

Your head whips up, equal parts confusion and frustration. “First of all, I’m fine. Second of all, what?”

“C’mon.” he pulls you off the bed.

“Are we sure I can even–”

His arm is around your shoulders, hand clamped tightly around it to squeeze you reassuringly. “I got you.”

“Thanks.” Your smile towards him is mushy, but you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to care.

“De nada,” He smiles back, and you mentally note to tease him about his softness later on. “Let’s get all the way to home plate, huh?”

“Let’s.”

feel free to drop by my inbox anytime, everyone, before i run out of ideas

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #atsv #oscar issac #oscar issac x you #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac characters #oscar issac imagine #oscar isaac x you #spiderman #spiderman: across the spiderverse

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lovettesgem · 10 months

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miles e1610! hcs bc y not

I feel like miles is the “love at first sight” kind of person but subconsciously?, and only realizes it / accepts it consciously the more time he spends around the person he fell for.

that being said, i feel like when yall first met and were starting to get to know each other, he was pretty awkward and nervous, and you noticing it makes him think that he’s blowing his chance to get closer to you bUT it actually makes him so much cuter and charming

would 100% try the shoulder thing w you at some point in the beginning bUT !! IT’S SO MUCH BETTER THIS TIME BC HE ACTUALLY HAS SOME RIZZ AND HE MAYBE MANAGES TO MAKE YOU FEEL SOMETHING DESPITE BEING A PUDDLE OF AWKWARDNESS (his uncle would be so proud omg)

I feel like he likes being friends with the person he’s into before he jumps into dating them, regardless of whether he knows you reciprocate his feelings or not. He likes the idea of 1) getting to know you gradually and having a solid foundation for a relationship if you two do decide to date later on, and 2) if you don’t like him back or if things don’t work out, he can still be friends with you and have fun with you if you’re okay with it.

He’s very giving. He doesn’t need to spend a lot of money to spoil you or make you feel special. He always gives you little gifts like cute doodles of the things you like, going out to eat at that place you mentioned you wanted to try out, setting you as his wallpaper, making you playlists for every possible scenario and mood, etc. these things seem so simple, but it’s his way of showing you that you mean the world to him and he’s thinking about you every second of every day.

I feel like he’s a more simple person. The things that give him butterflies are the things that seem so small to you. He’s a sucker for sharing earphones and listening to a shared playlist you both created, holding hands while strolling down the street, having matching denim patches or enamel pins, etc.

He wants to get into whatever you’re into. Even if he was completely uninterested prior to meeting (and later dating) you, the fact that it’s YOU who likes it makes it worthy of a (borderline) hyperfixation. He tries to learn everything he can about the things you like, because every time he starts a conversation about it with you, the way your eyes light up is so precious that he can’t help but get addicted to doing it.

Being spiderman and a full-time student at a boarding school makes it fairly difficult to carve out a chunk of time to spend with you. So, he proposed that you guys could just study together, finish some assignments for your classes, and then help each other with the subjects the other person struggles with. Most of your study sessions just result in you two talking about random things and being less productive than you usually would individually, but yall have such a good time together and your grades stay high so if it ain’t broken don’t fix it ig.

ALSO !! you’re canonically good at spanish, you have to be for his sake. Though, he tutors you with physics so it’s a win-win situation.

trust me though, Rio’s thrilled that you brought his spanish grade up, you speak a decent amount of spanish yourself, and refer to her by her surname and not her first name. In some ways, it really does look like she’s a bigger fan of you than her son 💀

since miles’ is spiderman in earth 1610, he spends half his time doing night patrol and ensuring that the city is safe. I feel like he’s fairly trusting of his partner? even though he was absolutely petrified of revealing himself, he sat you down on a friday night and told you he was spiderman. you were shocked at first but thinking back to all the times he came in through the window into his dorm room, the barely comprehensible texts, and the number of times he was late to class because he was either tired or had some shady excuse – you were surprised you didn’t piece it together sooner.

you assured him that you still love him regardless and you’ll try to be more understanding from that point forward, so all in all it went great

#miles morales #miles morales 1610 #earth 1610 #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth1610 miles #earth 1610 miles x you #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles angst #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #spiderverse x y/n #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #miles morales headcanons #miles morales hcs #miles 1610

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stxrvel · 3 months

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i don't wanna live forever (5)

summary: the time had come to destroy HYDRA and collect for all that had been taken from them...

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: 6k

warnings: descriptions of: blood, wounds, fights and weapons. probably gonna wake a lot of sadness since the begining. mentiones of suicide thoughts. heartbreak. stubborn characters. mentions of character deaths (canon). remember i'm not that good at writing action scenes and that English is not my first language!

note: hi guys! i didn't rest today at work. instead, i wrote 6k words for my actual hyperfixation and i'm actually exhausted. sometimes i write first in spanish and then in english, when my head is not up for the double translate, and leave the conversion to future me. this is future me talking and i hate myself for that. but i'm kind of proud how this one came out, so i hope you guys like it the same! feedback and reactions are always appreciated! see u guys next time <3

part 1

It was already getting dark when the small cellar you were in with your friends filled with applause and singing, a joy bouncing off the walls as you walked in Steve's direction with a grin from ear to ear. Your blond friend watched the small cake Peggy had gotten him that afternoon head towards him between your hands, setting it down on an upturned wooden barrel, a little damp, that they would use as a table.

Peggy and Bucky were off to the side, their faces matching your excitement as Steve reached down and shook his head.

“I don't even want to imagine how you got that cake in,” was the first thing Steve said when the happy birthday song ended, shooting you a grateful look. His eyes sparkled like you hadn't seen in many days and you felt Peggy's squeeze on your forearm as she came over to form a little circle just like Bucky.

“Trust me, you don't want to know,” Peggy shook her head, her smile matching the blond's.

You watched Steve split a piece of the cake with a spoon you had no idea where Peggy had gotten it from, your friend bursting out laughing when Steve raised his head and she smeared white cream all over his nose. At that moment you felt Bucky's body heat behind you, all your senses turning on at once.

“No candle, but you can make a wish before you take the first bite.”

Steve shared a look with his friend, still with that twinkle in his eye and the most relaxed expression he'd had in days. He was still wearing his uniform, having caught him by surprise to bring him into the warehouse after a long day of planning strategies for the next mission against HYDRA. You and Peggy had been thinking for several days about doing something, and being that it was rather difficult to throw a small party in the camp you were in, you decided to opt for something a little more ordinary and familiar. You couldn't say, however, that Steve didn't like it, not when you saw him smiling at everyone so openly, shoulders down and spreading laughter to everyone around him.

With the spoon halfway to his mouth, Steve closed his eyes and made a wish.

You smiled indulgently, watching two of your friends share a small moment as Steve took some more cake to give Peggy. With your hands behind your back, you suddenly felt Bucky's left hand make its way through your fingers, intertwining your hands very carefully.

“How's the taste?”

Steve shook his head nodding at your words, his brow furrowing in pleasure as he enjoyed the large bites he was taking of the cake. At that moment, all you could think about was how much you would sacrifice to stay in that bubble forever, even without knowing what was coming next.

“Are you okay?”

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, his body leaning against the second to last step where you had sat and turned away from the others. The routine you had had to get used to over the past few months, after believing you were going to change the world, had become a constant burden that was hard to shake off. Still, you took and cherished moments like those when you could go out and sit and just watch the vast sky stretching for miles. The stars shone so brightly there, in the middle of the forest, that they seemed like little beacons seeking to guide you to a better future; perhaps to a future that you did deserve. Steve also sometimes accompanied you in silence, having learned that he couldn't always argue with you about the meaning of life and the purpose for which you two had to carry out the unjust orders of superiors. You once saw one of his drawings, a woman sitting at the top of a flight of stairs and a starry night giving her a message of hope. Maybe he saw it the same way too after a while.

“Yeah,” you replied to Bucky with a tight-lipped little smile.

Bucky didn't know much about you now. As the weeks went by you realized it was true what he had once told you, when the America's couple shows and his platoon's stay coincided for the first time in months. You had changed a lot since the serum injection. And, well, who wouldn't, after all? That's why when you were together after so long he spent time very close to you, very aware of you, checking with his excellent senses that nothing was out of place. That you were okay.

You didn't know if he had believed you, by the way his face remained expressionless, barely a slight twitch of his eyebrows, but he didn't repeat the question.

“Do you think there's anything else for us, besides this?”

Bucky turned his gaze to look at the sky and you watched his profile, the curve of his eyelashes and his half-opened lips. Situations like that had become commonplace, too. Since you no longer spent so much time together and you had changed so much because somehow you had to adapt to the harsh reality against which you had crashed, Bucky constantly wondered many things about life that ended up being his own fears materialized in existential crises. For him his world was shaking. Since you told him that you had been invited to the Super Soldier project with Steve, everything had become uncertainty for him. Uncertainty about his life, about your life, about the life you wanted to have together, uncertainty about the future, uncertainty about life.

You had the conception that Bucky could never fully adapt to the abrupt change that meant his two best friends were involved in a private experiment that gave them heightened senses and more strength and speed than an average human. Now he seemed to looked at himself like the mere mortal who walked shoulder to shoulder with two gods. He seemed to feel that death would knock faster at his door and it drove him mad.

“Yeah, I don't think this is it,” you shook your head in assent, watching out of the corner of your eye as Bucky rested his forearms on his knees and leaned forward a bit. His hands interlocked and parted, his fingertips met and parted, his fists opened and closed.

“But you'll outlive me,” Bucky looked down, his blue eyes glittering focused on yours under the moonlight. You could barely hear movement in the back of the hold where Peggy and Steve were still talking. Your heart flipped at the vulnerability you saw through his eyes, lately more common than you'd like. You didn't like not being able to quell those thoughts that dominated his head; the insecurities and fears that made him doubt so many things in the middle of the night.

“We'd live the same amount of time,” you assured him shaking your head, your own mind refusing to accept that Bucky's fears could take more power over him. Whatever you could do to calm him, you would do, always.

“You have the serum. You and Steve will live for many more years. Hell, maybe you'll even be immortals,” Bucky tried to smile, but a grimace settled on his face and made his words bitter. He was subtly trying to untwist his shoulders, barely moving to your side trying not to show too much that he was kind of nervous.

“Why are you telling me that now?” you shifted on the wooden step, moving a little closer towards him. Bucky tensed visibly, not because of the closeness, but because he knew the moment was coming when you would stop following his lead and start asking him what was really plaguing his mind. For some reason, Bucky couldn't approach those topics of conversation naturally, letting his mind and words wander a bit before daring to take his fears by the horns.

“I don't know… I guess. It's a truth I have to accept,” he confessed, his voice so fragile and soft that had it not been for the extreme hearing the serum had granted you, you surely wouldn't have understood him. You felt your heart crumple and moved your hand from your lap to cradle his hands that he still could not let still.

“But it is a truth that is still a long way from being fulfilled.”

“And first we have to get through the war,” Bucky turned his hands to lace them with yours, his fingers intertwining with yours and giving them a squeeze.

“We will. I have no doubt about it. In fact, I have a plan to persuade Phillips,” you smiled at him trying to lighten the weight on his shoulders a bit.

Little surprised, Bucky let out a laugh, his free shoulders shaking in sync with his chest. A beautiful smile spread across his face, and you would've enjoyed it except you could still notice his tired eyes and the dark traces beneath them. It seemed that the moonlight intensified the reality of his emotions.

“You always have a plan for everything.”

“What can I say? I'm an optimist,” you lifted your shoulders, leaning against Bucky's side. His head dropped to rest on the crown of your head, his breathing synchronizing with yours for a moment.

“Between the two of us, you definitely are,” he murmured, taking a deep breath, enjoying the moment for several seconds. “Sorry for… coming to bring up those topics of conversation.”

“No, it's okay. I like to listen. And you tend to do that sometimes,” you shook your head over his shoulder trying to dispel the topic, Bucky's hands tightening around yours.

“What?”

“You suddenly talk about things you don't want to tell me too much about and then put a little light-hearted attitude on it so it doesn't sound so serious.”

Bucky lifted his head, causing you to move in time to meet his surprised expression as well. His lips were trying to twitch into a smile, but he didn't seem to know if he wanted to laugh or frown.

“Do I really do it that often?”

“A little, yes.”

“Ah, I'm pretty bad at dissembling I guess,” Bucky looked up, finally succumbing to the smile. The gesture satisfied you enough to delve into the emotion with him, taking a moment to further enjoy that scenario you could no longer be a part of lately; to enjoy those everyday moments where you could feel love materially spark around you, as if it was a novel written solely to satisfy human romantic desires and whims.

You shook your head, returning to the subject.

“But you don't have to worry about my supposed immortality. I know we'll live the same,” you assured him once more, your arms wrapping around his right arm and squeezing it securely, hugging him, trying to send him some of the confidence you felt inside.

“How are you so sure?”

The truth was, you weren't, but you couldn't let him know that, much less let him know that you didn't expect his life expectancy to be as extensive as yours was now either. But how were you going to tell him that? He must've been martyred enough by his own thoughts during every moment of the day when they drowned him, and it wasn't as if you expected too much of a life after him either. You could have immortality served on a silver platter, but what would be the point if you had to spend it on your own? Bucky was thinking about not wanting to leave you alone, and you were thinking about the impossibility of finding a reason to live after him.

“Because I know I don't want to live forever if I'm not with you.”

Bucky stopped his light, ghost-like caresses on your fingers. He turned his face to look at you, his nostalgic expression disappearing in a matter of seconds. His blue eyes looked contrite, as if there was a storm inside them. You had never hesitated in your answer, no matter when he had asked. And yet you seemed to have taken him by surprise; it seemed that such a thing would never have crossed his mind even by accident.

“Y/N…”

“I'd be living in vain. Stolen time,” you shook your head, averting your gaze from the depths of his, an unknown kind of longing or fear furrowing across his features that you couldn't bear to see a second longer. You were there at that moment and you would see each other again later, why did you have to think about it too much?

Bucky sighed. Only when you felt his body relax against your side did you know he understood that it would do no good for him to try to antagonize you.

“Still, you deserve a life like this. After all you've been through,” his voice was barely a whisper that tore through the silent chill that surrounded you, but the implication of his words furrowed against your chest like a dagger. You shook your head before the memories could reach you.

“We all deserve it, especially in this world consumed by the greed of power and hatred.”

You saw him nod out of the corner of your eye, his hands wrapping around one of your hands, the one closest to his side and bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. His eyes were fixed on your profile, you could feel it, but you were afraid to turn to look at him and allow your emotions to come out. You were too sweet to succumb to strong feelings when you were with Bucky.

“Hey!” was Steve's voice, like a beacon in the middle of the ocean, making you both turn at the same time. “Peggy's just leaving.”

“Want a ride, Barnes?”

“Ah, it would be my pleasure, Agent Carter.”

Peggy moved, after saying goodbye to Steve and you, and walked in the direction of the huge forest that stretched into the distance where she had parked her car. Or Howard's car, you couldn't quite make out through the darkness.

“See you later, Miss I-don't-want-to-live-forever,” Bucky approached you with a half smile, having said goodbye to Steve, meeting him halfway to melt you in his arms. The tension in your shoulders eased considerably, a sigh making its way into your chest.

“Take care, Bucky,” you squeezed his waist, because you weren't tall enough to reach his shoulders in a hug, and he squeezed you back in response.

“Sure thing. I got to see my girl again, after all.”

You laughed between the hollow of his neck and shoulder, feeling your cheeks burn. Bucky broke away just barely to look at you with his own huge grin.

“Don't overdo it, Barnes.”

“Come on!” Peggy insisted, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

You broke away from Bucky, trying to push him to get into the car with his affianced friend, but he had other plans. In the midst of your struggle to push him away, he grabbed one of your wrists, using very little force to pull you close to his chest, his lips crashing against yours in a fleeting action, but not at all rough, barely a brush. Before you knew what happened he had already pulled away from you.

“When I get back, we have a lot to talk about.”

He never came back. He left in the next couple of days for the mission on the train and all you got back was a shattered Steve, his face dirty and sticky from all the tears he'd shed, his pleading eyes crystallizing on you the moment he had to tell you that Bucky had died. You could still remember how his voice cracked as he begged your forgiveness, repeating it over and over as if it would ease the burden he felt on his shoulders, the guilt for not being able to get him in time. You never blamed Steve for what happened, but it seemed like he did for a long time.

Reliving those memories was always a constant martyrdom. After Bucky's funeral you didn't think you could move on, but carrying all his pain in a sack of rocks, Steve assured you that they would avenge the reason Bucky had died. HYDRA. So you did and were able to carry on for a while until Steve was also declared KIA.

Peggy and Howard were a great help when you realized that you couldn't die on your own, because you healed faster than normal and could spend more time than humanly possible underwater. To say that you didn't try to leave the earthly world would be a lie, but your friends tried to help you in every way they could until you had to leave the United States. When you thought you would have to spend years hiding in Europe, Howard told you that wasn't necessary. Just staying under the radar and out of the feds' jurisdiction would be fine and he would take care of it. And one day, after spending a week in the apartment you were renting without getting out of bed for almost any reason, a knock on the door startled you.

“Correspondence,” rang through the silence of the apartment.

You only got up because you knew the mailman was wrong. You had given your address to absolutely no one and there was no way any person knew of your existence in that country. You thought you took pity on the man, when he handed you the letter and it did indeed have your name on it.

It was an acceptance letter from some university. Apparently you had enrolled to study mathematics.

You had a suspicion of what was going on, but something in your chest asked you to ignore it. The letter asked for an interview before classes started in exactly three days, and after that interview you received a letter from Peggy.

When Howard died you knew you couldn't go back to Europe. Largely because you had to find out who his killer was, but also because you wanted to watch over Peggy's life as you couldn't do for your other three friends. You were often terrified for your friend's life, especially having the job she had and dealing with all those powerful people who wouldn't hesitate for the blink of an eye to order her death.

Steve was right. You stayed with Peggy to investigate Howard's death. But you also stayed because she was the only thing you had left and you had to take care of her; you had to preserve her, to do everything you could to prevent another tragic and unnecessary death. You would've sacrificed anything in life just to allow Peggy to have the life she deserved. And so you did. You cared for her for many years, you were so attentive to her that her children called you aunt and then her grandchildren called you grandma; you were at all her family gatherings, giving gifts to her children at Christmas and celebrating each new year as you watched time pass through her eyes. Every January 1st you saw it as a win, a whole year in which so much sacrifice had been worth it.

Now… well, now everything was a bit more complicated.

Natasha had left the abandoned dam first after going over the plan one last time. You were supposed to go with Steve and Sam, even though Steve was reluctant to have you near the Winter Soldier again, as if you didn't have the same strength and agility as he did. Of course, his fear was rooted in something completely different than that, something he and Natasha had discovered with Zola.

“HYDRA spent years searching for you to recreate the super-soldier serum after the war. If not for the excellent work Peggy and Howard did, they probably would've found you more easily.”

Now, having such a palpable possibility of destroying HYDRA, you didn't think there was the slightest chance that they were still thinking about it, although Natasha stressed that it seemed to be that the soldier had two different missions when he found them in the middle of the city, one of them being that he was to keep you alive. Zhivoy, you recalled bitterly. Alive.

Steve didn't want to risk finding something else waiting for them when they reached the helicarriers, something that might lead you away from him. And yes, you understood his concern because it was the same one you'd felt for years and was more latent recently since Steve returned. But you weren't going to stand by like a fucking statue while they did all the work. You would take it upon yourself to destroy HYDRA completely and deprive them of any chance they might have to get close to Steve, you or Bucky again. Whatever you had to do, you'd do it.

“He's not the same,” you had told Steve, as you walked to the Triskelion in the company of Sam and Maria.

“But he'll remember us,” Steve assured, his hand tightly gripping the strap with which he held the shield. Steve had been repeating that to himself all day, even in front of Sam. You couldn't believe you were the one trying to maintain an objective demeanor in that situation.

“Yeah, maybe at some point. But right now it's not him, Steve,” you turned to look at him, his face fixed on the expanse of water surrounding the large building he used to work for. “He's not the Bucky we knew.”

Steve looked back at you, pausing for a moment. You knew he was mindful of it, you knew Steve was aware of how dangerous he was now; that there was a good chance he really didn't remember them and you wanted to make sure that wouldn't cloud his judgment; that he would still fight for his life.

But the resolve in his eyes didn't convince you. His lack of response fanned a hollow in your chest, your hands breaking out in a cold sweat as you stared at the empty space he left in front of you.

Steve was willing to bring him back and you were afraid of losing him.

For some reason, you felt it had to be different.

You heard Steve's voice over the speakers, running so you could find the helicarriers exit before they took off. Steve and Sam were supposed to meet you halfway, but you were already halfway there, fighting off a few agents, and you still didn't hear them nearby. Your breath caught in your throat as one of the STRIKE agents grabbed you by the throat while another plunged an electric baton into your side, the sensation of volts coursing through your entire nervous system sending you into a momentary state of shock.

You dropped your hands to stop struggling with the agent behind you and grabbed the wrist holding the baton with an overly strong grip, snapping the bone in place and jerking your head to strike the face of the man behind you as his grip wobbled for a second. Both agents fell to the ground, two bones broken in less than a minute. You grabbed the baton before departing, hitting them both in the head barely using half your strength, knocking them unconscious instantly.

As you exited the Triskelion facility to meet the gap you would have to jump over to intercept the first helicarrier, you heard Steve and Sam's voices closer. Oh, right, you forgot to use the communicator.

“Where were you?” Steve exclaimed, running alongside Sam closer to the chasm.

“You've got blood on your neck,” Sam pointed out, before spreading his metal wings and flying off into the sky.

“Put on your communicator,” Steve asked you just before you both jumped at the same time, a feeling of emptiness planting itself in the pit of your stomach.

You landed with your legs bent and leaned forward for a spin before getting up and continuing to run alongside Steve. You rummaged in one of your pants pockets, praying that the small devices hadn't been shattered during the fights you had inside the Triskelion.

Only one was spared.

Steve barely sent you a reproachful glance, shaking his head, as you approached a horde of HYDRA agents. You barely finished putting the small communicator to your ear when the hail of bullets came in their direction. Steve grabbed your arm to pull you behind his shield until he managed to hide behind two large containers. The fight was immediate.

The group of agents split up and you jumped right in front of two of them, sliding on the ground to use the baton from below to disarm them. You knocked one of them out with the high volts of the baton and the other tried to stab you from behind, but you stopped his hand midway and flipped his arm over, a shriek of pain escaping him as his shoulder dislocated. The man fell to his knees and, lifting one leg, you half-turned to strike his face with your full tibia.

“Cap, I found the bad guys you were talking about,” you heard Sam's voice, noting that, although that communicator was working, the voice you perceived sounded distant.

“Are you okay?” you heard Steve, as he came closer and you stepped on the handle of the staff, lifting it in a single stroke so that it landed in your hand.

“Not dead yet.”

Steve nodded, though he knew Sam couldn't see him and gave you a questioning look.

“Works?” he pointed to your ear, starting to pace.

“A little bruised, but does the job.”

Your friend shook his head, starting to run inside the helicarrier.

“Cap?” you smirked.

“Don't start,” the blond spoke through his teeth, moving toward his target. “Report location.”

You nodded in his direction, heading for the first agents who appeared to obstruct his path, clearing Steve's way in the direction of the helicarrier hub.

When you were done with the agents and Steve was finally able to enter the control center, you turned your attention to the voices ringing through the communicator.

“Ah, shit,” was Sam's voice, and the next thing you heard was gunfire around the helicarrier next to it.

“Fine, but you're going with me. I don't want to let you out of my sight,” Steve had said a few hours before they left the dam, leaving no room for argument in his haughty voice.

“That's unnecessary, Steve. We'd waste too much time,” you shook your head, trying to match his stoic, stern expression.

“She's right,” Maria nodded in your direction. “There are three helicarriers and three of you.”

“No,” Steve began to rise, your eyes following the movement of his body and his blue eyes fixed on yours. “Fury delegated orders to me, and that's an order.”

You indulged Steve until you lost sight of him, understanding he had said that out of pent-up fear. You grabbed one of the weapons that had been left on the ground and passed the strap over your head. The third helicarrier was a considerable distance away at a jump. You had to pick up too much speed to even make it to the tip, but you weren't going to stand there waiting for Steve when you could be doing something more; something necessary.

So that's what you did. Steve still hadn't reported state when you started running from tip to tip, your steps getting bigger with every second until you reached the gap and picked up momentum at the tip. That was insane. You felt the emptiness in your stomach again and out of the corner of your eye you could see a couple of explosions occurring in the harbor where the helicarriers had departed from. You stretched your arms out, counting on having propelled your body far enough, fearing a deadly fall as the other edge began to look higher and higher.

“Y/N, status,” you heard Hill, your heart in your mouth.

Your mind went blank for a second, when in the midst of the adrenaline you almost didn't even feel the moment when your left hand gripped the edge of the helicarrier tightly, the aircraft moving a little farther with each passing second. You had jumped at just the right moment.

Breathing hard, you propelled yourself upward until you could plant your feet back on the runway floor and replied to Maria, “Waiting.”

Steve must've thought you were still on the helicarrier with him.

As you ran, Sam reported that he had intercepted the second helicarrier after Steve, barely recognizing their voices amidst the tussle you were having with the agents who had appeared before you could reach the control room door.

“Y/N, where are you?” the voice of Steve came over the comm, a few minutes after you took down the last agent, moving in the direction of the metal door. You felt heavily for the programming card you had taken from Steve when he had pulled you close to get behind his shield, as you heard him ask Sam if he could see you.

You were about to reach the door when the scenery abruptly changed, a body appearing out of nowhere colliding into your left side sending you crashing to the ground hard.

“Shit.”

“Y/N?”

You ignored Steve's voice, moving to push off the heavy body on top of yours. Amidst the struggle you crawled away across the floor, a hand clutching at your ankle before you could move any further.

You recognized him by the coldness that ran through your body at the contact. You could almost be sure it had burned you.

This time he wasn't wearing the mask, those blue eyes boring deep into your head, the angry expression very different from how you had seen him last time. Although you would've liked to stay longer just watching, after spending so many years suffering his death, you pulled the leg he had held captive and tried to hit him in the face, his metal arm moving faster neutralizing the hit.

At that moment you stood up arching your back, planting your feet hard and running towards the soldier before he could catch you off guard.

You tried to strike his face, but he nimbly dodged every blow, just as you dodged his. He let out a grunt of frustration as you sent him to the ground with a kick to the chest, pulling a weapon from his side that he didn't hesitate a second to point in your direction. Feeling the air caught in your throat, you moved quickly on the ground, trying to escape his bullets while managing to find a place to hide.

You heard his footsteps approaching, as you hid behind a container, stopping just on the other side, and you moved to the right side of the container when you knew he was going to jump out and surprise you from above.

His body froze for a second, which you took advantage of to jump over the dumpster and grab him from behind, the baton you had on your belt wrapped around his neck, cutting off his breathing. You tried to hold him tight as he tried to push away your grip with his metal arm, almost as strong as your push to keep him in place.

The soldier began to slow his movements, but if you hadn't been so torn between he's the Winter Soldier and he's Bucky, you would've noticed one of his hands move over his vest, grabbing the handle of a knife and burying it in your right leg hard, all the way in, causing you to gasp.

Clearly your grip wobbled, the soldier taking possession of your staff and turning around as he pulled the blade out of your leg to direct his foot towards your chest, pushing you back to the ground where you fell with a loud thud.

The wound was deep. You could feel and hear the blood pouring out of it, but you didn't just stand there as you saw him leap down from the container, raising his arms to parry his attack as he directed the knife towards your face. His face contorted and scrunched up in concentration was all you could focus on, remembering that you couldn't let him win, but you also couldn't hurt him like he wanted to hurt you. You had to be objective, yes, but the thought of hurting him once more was heartbreaking.

You struggled with his hand until he let go of the knife, using your strength and trying to ignore the sharp pain in your leg from the effort to push him to the ground beside you with your hand on his neck and your leg around his waist, lying on top of him with one leg on each side.

At that moment, as you tried to keep your arm over his neck and he tried to weaken you by hitting your sides, you heard Steve and Sam's voices again. A small panic ran through your body which was enough for the soldier to push your arm away, grabbing you by the neck with his metal arm and bringing a gun close to your face as he rose up, taking you with him, until he slammed you into a wall with great force.

You raised your hand between your bodies to move the tip of the gun, the shot falling a short distance above your head, your exorbitant eyes watching his furious expression. His metal hand closed tighter and tighter around your neck, your breath hitching, but you didn't relinquish your grip on the hand still holding the gun.

In the midst of the struggle, you brought your knee up to strike his crotch. The soldier jerked away, a whimper dying in his mouth as you moved toward him again, pushing his arm away as he pointed the gun at you again and the shot landed somewhere behind you again.

You hit him in the face with your own head, one of your hands holding his right arm with the gun and the other trying to keep his metal arm that held the knife dripping with your blood at bay. You hit him full in the nose again, but even though the blood was starting to drip down, the soldier didn't budge one bit.

“Go!” you shouted to Steve and Sam, the soldier averting his attention for a tiny moment before struggling against your grip again.

You had to break free somehow to get the card to Steve. Your body began to give way with the soldier's thrust, your boots sliding on the floor like it was marble. The soldier began to close his arms and you tried to match his strength, but the blood leaking from the wound in your leg was slowly weakening you. And it was a vibranium knife again.

Suddenly you noticed Steve running towards you, the fleeting glance costing you restraint, as the soldier raised your arms and turned you roughly, his back crashing against your chest and his metal hand burying in your chest the knife hard, moving it from side to side as he did that cold night in Siberia.

In the midst of the pain and weakness from the blood loss, you laid your head on his shoulder, the adrenaline slowly draining from your body.

“Bucky,” you whispered like a prayer, your strangled voice barely making its way out of your mouth and the soldier tensing behind you. The struggling stopped for a second.

Then his body heat disappeared. Steve must've reached and tackled the soldier without missing a beat.

“Hey, hey,” you heard Sam approaching you, kneeling beside you and taking your hand that wanted to pull the knife out of your chest. Right through the center, near the heart. That pain was no match for the disappointment that was tearing you apart inside. Maybe that time you could actually die. “Don't touch that.”

“Give the card to Steve…” you barely muttered breathlessly, one of your hands moving to pull the card out of one of your lower pants pockets. “Run.”

Sam hesitated for a few seconds, looking between your knife and the fight that was still picking up steam in the background, until he clicked his tongue and stood up.

“Don't take that knife out!”

You saw him run in the direction of Steve and the soldier, his metal wings rising in the midst of the struggle. Steve and Sam began to get the upper hand, and at some point, Steve took off in the direction of the helicarrier control center.

You dropped to the ground, watching helplessly as the soldier overpowered Sam, dislodging his wings with the force of his metal arm. The pain was too much, but Sam was completely helpless. No matter how much training he might've had, fighting the Winter Soldier was disproportionate.

So in a matter of seconds you stood up, grasping between gasps the handle of the knife and pulling it out of your chest without a second thought.

The electric current of pain that coursed through your body was unbearable, feeling as if the hollowness you constantly felt in your chest from emotions had suddenly materialized, a constant pang that coursed through you from head to toe at every microsecond, with every movement. Sam didn't even have time to react when you grabbed the soldier by the throat, burying the knife in his leg and trying to wave him off.

You could consider yourself well served if at that moment that was your death.

The soldier grabbed the arm around your neck and leaned forward, lifting you up and flipping you over onto your back, falling hard and painfully to the ground. You looked at the knife in his leg before looking at his face again. He had a couple of cuts, his expression still angry, but he seemed to hesitate as he pulled the knife out like it was nothing and watched you lying on the ground, completely at his mercy.

His hesitation brought unease to your chest.

“Bucky,” you called again, tears welling in your eyes.

The soldier only frowned, his anger momentarily fading until he seemed to remember something.

He turned to look at the control center. Before running off, he sent you another disgruntled look, just like that time on the road.

Whatever had happened after that, death or not, was extremely painful.

tag: @samodivaa @rubyxx16

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