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la-undercover-latina · 2 years

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Greek Temper- Biersack Family

Summary: We know Amber Lee-Biersack suffered PPD after having her daughter Addison was born. But what planted the seed in her head that turned her into a gym rat the second her doctor cleared her?

A/N: I used Google Translate for the one Greek word in here.

T/W: Fighting, Cursing, drinking, and body shaming

January 7th, 2017

Black Veil was celebrating Jinxx’s birthday, and this was the first time since Addison was born that Andy and Amber hung out with the guys in a group without their newborn.

“Happy birthday man,” Amber told Jinxx who gave her a smile.

“Thanks Amber. You know it’s become weird to not see you either pregnant or carrying Andy’s little twin,” he joked.

“Are we sure that the first one isn’t still true?” Ashley murmured, but Amber’s sober ears picked up on it. Especially after about six weeks of learning how to listen for any little peep that the newborn made during the night.

“Ashley, what the fuck did you just say about me?” Amber demanded, anger kindling in her hazel eyes. Ashley acted as if he didn’t hear her.

“Kitten, ju-just chill,” Andy told her with a goofy smile. The two of you tried your best to stay away from liquor unless it was a special occasion. But Andy had already had quite a few drinks and after not drinking for so long consistently, his tolerance crashed through the floor.

“Really Andrew?” Amber demanded, turning her anger towards her husband before sending a text to Ella quickly.

‘Hey, I know it’s a lot to ask but can you keep Addison overnight? I’ll tell you later’

“Oh shit,” CC raised his hands, knowing that Amber inherited her father’s temper when provoked. And the fact that she used Andy’s whole name didn’t bode well for the lead singer.

“It’s Jinxx’s birthday. Don’t make a scene baby girl,” Andy tried to calm her down, not realizing she called him by his legal first name.

“You’re gonna let him get away with calling me fat? While my body is still recovering from pushing our big ass baby out of my vagina!” Her voice started to raise and she was suddenly blocked by Jake.

“C’mon. I need to talk to you outside about Addison,” he told her, grabbing her arm gently and pulling her out of the living room and on Jinxx’s patio.

“Don’t you dare try to defend Ashley,” Amber threatened the one of two best friends of her husband’s band.

“I’m not. I actually did want to ask if you needed me to take Addison so you can take a day for yourself,” Jake offered a smile.

“Oh so you want godbaby cuddles, is that it?” Amber joked, relaxing ever so slightly.

“Please, I get cuddles whenever I want. But I read on Reddit that new moms need time to be themselves again to reduce the chance of postpartum depression,” Jake admitted with another shrug.

“Yeah that would be nice. I’ll let you know once this shit storm settles,” Andy had made his way to the patio. Thankfully Jinxx lived on the ground floor.

“H-hey Jake. Can I talk to Amber?” He asked with a hiccup and Jake flashed a look to Amber who gave a tiny nod. Jake left the married couple on the porch to hear CC and Jinxx bitching Ashley out for being a dick.

“Dude, how fucking stupid are you? She just had his big ass baby. If something happens, it’s on you,” CC’s voice turned threatening, which was a rarity for the drummer who was usually happy go lucky.

“If something happens to my best friend or godchild, I’m skinning you alive,” Jake threatened.

“Maybe you should just go chill in the back room dude,” Jinxx told Ashley, after his eyes wandered to a red faced Amber on his porch. It would be best for everyone if Amber didn’t see Ashley.

“Stop coddling her,” Ashley bit back.

“A little constructive criticism never hurt anyone. Maybe it’ll get her back in the gym. She used to have a banging body and now since she got pregnant, she’s not the same,” he shrugged.

“For a guy that gets so much ass on the road, you have no idea how the female human body works. She’s still recovering from her body being stretched and going through actual trauma. It’s gonna take some time for her body to get back to normal,” Jake snapped.

“What the actual fuck Andy! You let him talk about me like that IN FRONT OF YOU! I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re drunk. You obviously know how to speak considering you used to do whole ass shows drunk off your ass. So why can’t you defend me from that kólos?! (Greek for Asshole)” Amber yelled, her tanned cheeks turning an angry red.

Sign #2 that Amber was pissed without having to see her face: she switched to Greek.

“Baby, you’re being,”

“Do NOT say I’m being sensitive. It was clear as day. Jinxx said that it’s weird to not see me pregnant or carrying Addison in my arms and Ashley literally went,” Amber started to imitate Ashley, stupid face and all.

“Are we sure the first one isn’t true?” Her voice and face went back to normal.

“How the fuck am I supposed to take that?!” Amber demanded.

“I mean baby, you are still a little bi-” Andy remarked and Amber never thought she would see the day but she slapped Andy.

But today was the day.

“Don’t you dare come home,” her voice came out venomous as she opened the glass sliding door and grabbed her purse before heading to the street where she was parked.

She called the one person that would understand what she was going through completely.

“Hey Amber, is everything alright?” Her aunt Taylor answered the phone.

“Hi honey!” Heather spoke from her spot next to Taylor.

“Mama, Mama #2 I’m coming over,” Amber tried to keep the tears at bay, but both moms went on high alert.

“What happened baby girl?” Heather asked and Taylor got up to unlock the door.

“Are you guys at Aunt Taylor’s mama?” She asked and Heather sighed, hearing the note in her baby’s voice.

“We’re at Aunt Taylor’s,” Heather responded softly.

“Daddy isn’t there, is he?” Amber asked, knowing how overprotective Tommy was of her, especially since she got pregnant and still since she gave birth.

“No he and Uncle Nikki are at the studio,” Taylor answered. By now, Amber was pulling into the street that would lead her to the Sixx household. Luckily the roads were pretty empty, relatively speaking for Los Angeles. Also, Jinxx didn’t live far from the Sixx’s.

Amber’s car skidded to a stop and she got out of it with her mascara running down her cheeks and she opened the door, hiccups leaving her lips.

“Amber sweetie, what’s wrong?” Taylor asked when she saw the door open and the new mom come in with mascara running down her face.

“Where’s Andy?” Heather asked, taking a peek through the still open door.

“I left his ass at Jinxx’s,”

“C’mon baby,” Taylor steered her away from the door and into the kitchen, Heather hot on her heels.

“Sit down and hug your momma while momma #2 makes you some tea,” Taylor told her while Heather stood next to Amber sitting at the breakfast bar, and held her shoulders while Amber’s head laid on her mother’s shoulder.

“Sweetie,” Heather started before her best friend cut her off.

“Heather, hold off until she gets the tea,” Taylor told her best friend softly while the water boiled and she grabbed the chamomile tea bags.

Amber pulled her phone out of her pocket when she felt it buzz.

A picture of Andy and her holding Addison filled the screen and Amber tossed her phone on the counter.

“The fucking voicemail can take that,” she growled. Once it did go to voicemail, Heather peeked at it to see a text from Ella.

“Baby, Ella said she’ll keep Addison overnight for you. She’ll just need more milk to last her,” Heather started to rub circles into Amber’s back.

“Alright sweetie, some chamomile tea,” Taylor slid the mug of tea to Amber and she got up to give Taylor a bone crushing hug.

“Thanks,”

“It’s completely alright baby,” Taylor told her, before Amber pulled away and sat down taking a sip of tea.

“He let Ashley call me fat,” Amber finally spoke. The dynamic mom duo were just going to wait until she was ready to talk to find out what happened.

“What?” Heather asked, not being able to picture it in her head.

“Ashley needs to be taken out back to find his own switch,” Taylor growled, her own protective nature coming out.

“Not until after I hit him with a car,” Heather added.

“So what happened before that? Last I knew, you guys were celebrating Jinxx’s birthday at his place,” Taylor prodded while Heather continued to rub Amber’s back and ensure she kept drinking the tea.

“We were. Jinxx made a joke how it’s weird that I’m not pregnant or holding Addy. And then,” she took another sip.

“The fucking kólos said that I still looked pregnant,” Tears welled in her hazel eyes and Heather brought her head to her shoulder.

“Baby I’m so sorry,” The moms didn’t have to know any more to put the missing pieces together. Andy didn’t stand up for his wife.

“I’m his fucking wife for the gods sake. Had someone done that in front of daddy or Uncle Nikki, that person would be six feet under,”

“You’re not wrong baby,” Heather continued the circles before looking at Amber’s phone to see another call from Andy.

“Yes?” Heather answered.

“H-hey Heather,” the frontman was shitting bricks, getting sober pretty fucking quick. The fact that Heather answered his wife’s phone meant there was a ticking clock above him before his father in law and Nikki found out. He knew he fucked up when Amber slapped him so hard it just stopped stinging a few minutes ago.

“Put his ass on speaker,” Taylor ordered, ready to deliver a verbal ass whooping.

“Andrew Dennis bless your heart,” Taylor mumbled under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose before continuing.

“How fucking dare you let that little asshole talk about Amber and not defend her? After all y’all have been through, for you to just stand there with your thumb up your ass,” Taylor demanded, the southern coming out strong. For the most part, she’d lost her accent, but it always came out when she was tipsy, sad, or pissed.

“Heather, Taylor, I’m-”

“We’re not the one you need to apologize to,” Taylor spoke before hanging up.

—-

“Shit,” Andy mumbled, looking at his phone.

“So are you a dead man walking?” CC asked, stepping outside to see Andy pacing and as pale as a ghost.

“Not yet. She’s with Heather and Taylor. When Tommy or Nikki find out about this, I will be,” he spoke.

“Plus they’re right, I should’ve stood up for her. She’s my fucking wife and mother of my child,” Andy ran his hands down his face.

“Yeah you should’ve. Amber shouldn’t have felt the need to leave. I will say though, the little Greek got you good,” CC commented. The red handprint was still vibrant against Andy’s ivory cheek.

“Has the princess not calmed down yet?” Ashley asked, stepping outside and grabbing a smoke.

“Dude, you called a new mom fat. I’m surprised she didn’t go all Tommy Lee on your ass,” CC remarked, before sitting on one of the patio chairs.

“She still probably will the next time she sees him. And if I’m going down, you’re going down with me,” Andy looked at his bassist, not knowing if the love of his life was going to forgive him or not.

“You better hope to God that I don’t lose my wife over this,” Andy growled before grabbing his phone and calling an Uber to Taylor’s. He needed to see her.

—

After twenty minutes, a car pulled in front of the Sixx house and Taylor peeped through the window.

“Aw hell nah! Amber baby, go get me my belt or a hanger from the closet,” Taylor told her before cracking open the door.

“Boy, you better hope you got a tennis bracelet in your pocket for that poor girl,” Taylor spoke as she saw the frontman get out of the Uber.

“Andy, you’re so lucky Tommy and Nikki are at the studio,” Heather told him, coming to stand beside Taylor. It was almost comical. With Andy standing at 6’4 and the moms standing at 5’5 and 5’3, they had to look up at him.

“Please, can I see her?” Andy asked, his voice cracking as tears filled his eyes.

“That depends,” Heather crossed her arms.

“On what?” Andy asked.

“If she wants to see you,” Heather told him. Taylor walked back to the couch where Amber was sat texting Ella about what happened, and how the moms had it covered.

“Baby, Andy’s here and he wants to see you. Your momma and I told him it’s up to you. You can always stay here as long as you’d like if you don’t wanna see him,” Taylor offered.

She would never want any of the kids to feel like they had to stay in a situation where they didn’t feel 1000% loved.

“Yeah, bring him in. But can you and mama sit in the kitchen and listen in?” Amber asked softly.

“Oh that’s what I was planning on doing anyway,” Taylor smiled and kissed the top of her curls before walking over to see Heather still guarding the door and opening it farther so Andy could enter.

“C’mon Heather, let’s give them space,” Taylor said quietly as she steered the fellow mom to the kitchen. The blonde’s face looked outraged until she realized what Taylor had planned.

Andy stepped into the living room to see his wife staring at the ring he put on her finger three years ago and the band he put on her almost two years ago.

“You know, if there was one person I counted on to fight for me, it was you,” The young woman’s voice was calm and still, and Andy knelt in front of her.

“I’m so sorry baby. Please forgive me,” Amber looked up from her ring and saw genuine fat tears in Andy’s oceanic eyes.

She’d seen that look before.

She’d seen it on her father’s face twice.

Once immediately after her mother told him she wanted a divorce and the other when it happened with Pamela.

“I’m not leaving you,” she told him softly. Every fiber of the frontman’s being wanted to pull his wife in for a bone crushing hug, but he knew better.

“I’m not going to leave you. But I’m not going to stand by and let people disrespect me like that and have you just let it slide. That’s bullshit and you know it. I’m kicking Ashley’s ass and there’s nothing any of the guys are gonna be able to do to stop me,” Amber wasn’t afraid to go after a man.

While her father loved her immensely, it also extended to having taught her how to fight if need be.

Plus, when she started developing anger problems, Tommy and Heather signed her up for martial arts classes to try and give her another outlet that would serve a dual purpose and teach her self defense.

So along with her having been taught the Mötley way to fight, she was also taught the discipline of martial arts.

“And if he makes another comment about it, I want him out. I know the guys are getting sick of his shit too. He’s been acting like a Prima Donna since Wretched and Divine. Hell, he didn’t want to do the Bryan interview the night before the record came out because he felt he was too good for it,” Amber finished her rant, not having taken a breath through that rant and now her tanned cheeks were red from no air rather than being upset.

“I promise kitten,” he told her and held out his arms and Amber tossed the blanket to the side, pulling her husband into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck.

Taglist:

@youlightmeupfinn

@buckysimp101

@kata1803

@hallecarey1

@midsummereve1993l

#motley crue #amber lee #andy biersack #Amber Biersack #black veil brides #andy black #tommy lee #nikki sixx #heather locklear #Taylor Sixx #christian coma #jake pitts #jinxx bvb #Jinxx #ashley purdy #Addison Biersack #Ella Sixx

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

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Spring Into Offspring:

Tag: @keffirinne @howl-fantasies @flaysthings

Tw: Manipulation, minor violence and possible mentions of self harm.

Maggie’s POV:

Spring had finally come in Gotham, which mean there were two citizens in particular who’ time it was to shine. Me and Ivy Pepper. I growled under my breath at the thought. She’d been dormant for a while, probably biding her time and planning. But I knew she’d come back for me eventually, so all I could do was be ready. I’d make Ivy rue the day she ever step foot in this town, if only I didn’t agree with her. Though her tactics are drastic, we had a common goal. Protect the plants.

Recently I’d convinced my boss to start selling more living plants on the shop. Normally we sell clippings or even sometimes dried specimens, for the few morbid people in Gotham who preferred to gift totally dead things. And I loved each flower the same. Every order I made was like giving a piece of me to Gotham. Oswald didn’t understand it, but I was glad he kept his word on letting me keep my job anyways.

My boss did make the point that most people didn’t want to put in the effort of keeping a plant alive. So we started easy with a few cacti and succulents, working our way up to carrying more difficult plants. But I had a secret weapon. No plant that left our shop would die. I’d been steadily feeding each plant my blood since they’d come into the shop. As long as my blood ran through their stems, they live as long as I would.

And with Oswald doing everything in his power to play over protective best friend. And Jim and Harvey still having my back, I doubt my death would happen anytime soon. Unless of course… Ivy.

“Hello Magnolia!” A sickly sweet voice came.

“Hello Miss Pepper. What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a plant.”

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific in afraid. You’re a botanist, use your words.”

“I belive the Koreans call it Hangeul.”

I snapped the pen I held in my hands, sending red ink everywhere. A splotch staining the skin of my cheek. I flinched when it hit me. I took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, we don’t sell that here.”

“Really? That’s a shame. Are you sure you don’t want to check in the back?”

“Right this way Miss Pepper!” I said, loud enough for my boss to hear.

After how I got this job, I doubted he wanted to run in with her again. Ivy could be terrifying when she wanted to be. So I hoped he caught my drift and escaped out the back before it’s too late. I took Ivy to the back room where we kept all the new plants. She ran her hand across a few of them before stopping abruptly.

“The floors all yours.” I motioned for her to continue.

“You know, you’re much smarter than when I first met you My Dear. But don’t worry, I wasn’t gonna hurt him. Not unless he refuses to give you the week of that is. I’ll be needing your services.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. I’ll let him know it’s urgent. I’ll tell him my dogs sick or something.”

“Do you even have a dog?” An amused smirk crawled onto her face.

I had to admit in moments like this she reminded me a lot of Y/N. I was certain they’d had a few encounters before I came along. Y/N seemed to know everyone in this god forsaken city. But I suppose that was the job of an assassin, to know any and everyone who could be perceived as a threat.

“I have a Penguin, that’s close enough. Doubt he’ll question if the Mayor needs my services. Believe it or not there are a few people in this city that actually like to stay out of trouble.”

“Hmmmm, smart. Like I said. I’m glad we met Miss Blossom. If you ever get bored of playing little league you could always join me full time. I actually don’t mind your company. You and Cat are the only two people I can stand.”

I rolled my eyes. More like Cat and I were the only two people that could stand her. She was cold and vindictive, but I had to admit she made it look good.

“So what do you want with the resurrection flower. Stupid question, I know, but I doubt I’ll like the answer.”

“As far as I know there are only two things on this earth that can bring people back to life. But since I have no idea where the Lazarus pit is, and it’s not exactly my area of expertise, I figured I’d stick to what I know.”

“Who are you, we bringing back?”

“It’s not a who, so much as a what. He’s an old friend from out of town, but seeing as he’s not exactly human, I’ll need to tweak the formula. Which is where you come in. You’ve had longer to study plants than I have, considering my life took the fast track to adult hood. You bring him back, ill owe you one.”

“Really, not gonna threaten me for my help this time?”

“Like you said earlier, you’ve worked your way into the Mayors heart. Don’t exactly want to piss off the little bird today. I actually do value my life. You were much easier to threaten when you were a nobody. But we should meet somewhere else, I think your guard dogs are getting suspicious.”

I looked to the front of the store when I heard the bell above the door chime. Y/N was off on another one of her tirades so it must have been Tabby or Butch.

"My apartment, 7:00, I'll ditch the security detail, but if you're late I'm locking the door." The annoyance in my voice was clear.

"It's a date then." Ivy purred.

I could tell she was genuinely impressed my indifferent demeaner. Most people wouldn't dare be anything short of gentlemanly with her. But my temper was on a short fuse today. I sighed heavily as I pushed down the slight blush painting my cheeks. Why was I even blushing? I mean sure, Ivy was beautiful, probably one of the prettiest women in the city, but I didn't like her. Not like that, our personalities didn't mesh. And I prayed they never would. I shook the thought from my head, releasing my hair from its ponytail and letting my messy locks caress my shoulders. I needed a haircut.

I replaced my blush with an innocent smile. If it was Tabs or B today, they'd be easy to fool. Don't get me wrong, they were both incredibly smart in their own rights, but not like Y/N was. She could see through me better than anyone ever had. Even my own siblings couldn't read me like she could. It almost sacred me sometimes. But Tabby trusted me, she'd never assume any foul play on my part. She saw me as some innocent maidenhair fern that needed to be shieled from the harsh burn of the sun. But my Icarus tendency would seep through the cracks eventually if I wasn't cautious.

And Butch, the big old teddy bear, as smart as he was, he was like every other man in my life. Thinking with his dick, instead of his brain. A little flirting could go a long way with him. A little hair flip, caressing his arm, and batting my eyelashes, I could have him melting in my hand. You can do this Maggie, just play your role and the curtain will close soon. I pushed past the literal curtain in the back and sauntered to the front of the store.

"Sorry about that, there was a problem out back, what can I do for you?" I asked innocently.

I mean I wasn't technically lying to them. Ivy was a problem. I fiddled with the plant in my hand, almost hypnotizing myself with how soothing it actually was. The leaves were smooth and cool, calming any nerves daring to rise in my chest. I didn't look up from my feet, meeting their eyes now would be too dangerous. For I was just as weak as they were.

I heard Tabitha let out a stifled huff, almost akin to a laugh. The closet you could get from her at least.

"Not a problem Bunny, we were just checking in, you left our line of sight for a while." Butch explained.

I let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Oh, it's just you."

It came out harsher than I wanted, and I cursed myself under my breath.

"What a way to greet us, Princess." Tabitha jeered.

I met her gaze first.

"Sorry. It's just been a long day."

It wasn't hard to feign exhaustion. That conversion with Ivy had been emotionally draining enough. Butch approached me quickly, reaching out his hand, but I instinctively flinched. He paused, drawing back.

"Are you alright."

"Hmmm?" I hummed.

I didn't miss the look her shared with Tabby. But just as quickly his eyes were on man. And damn it where they pretty. I could easily stare into them all day if he'd let me. His eyes held every scar, every crack in his polished demeanor. Sometimes it hurt if I looked too hard, read too much into every imperfection they adorn. I'd almost forgotten my mission, wanted nothing more than to pull him into my embrace and never let go. I barely noticed Tabitha coming up behind me, reaching around to take the plant out of my arms, which suddenly felt heavy. I couldn't tell them about Ivy Pepper, I couldn't stand to drag them into this mess. Sure, they could hold their own, but I'd sooner crack then ever entertain the thought of letting them get hurt on my behalf.

My hard flattered, before tensing, crushing the leaves in their grasp. My body was stiff. I was thinking too damn hard. Tabitha strengthened her grip on the plant pot and pried it from my hands. I barely noticed Butches' now confident hand brushing against my cheek. Why was my face wet? Was I crying? Pathetic.

"Where are you, Bunny?" His voice softly broke through my ears.

Tabitha wrapped her arms around my middle, pulling me backwards to sit on her lap. My legs nearly giving out despite my best efforts. But I recognized the symptoms, I was having a panic attack. The burning in my lungs, racing thoughts, the shakiness in my legs. I thought back to my sister and how she would help. Her voice telling me to breath, ground myself.

"Sorry." I muttered.

I accepted defat and sunk into Tabitha. Butch was now crouched in front of me.

"What are you apologizing for?"

God why did he have to be so sweet? It hurt me to have to lie to him, but it would be for the better.

"I'm just tired, I guess."

Tabitha stroked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Maybe you should take some time off work."

"Yeah... maybe I should."

He was looking through me, right at her. Like a silent conversation was being held between them.

"We'll handle your boss for you." He finally offered.

I finally pushed his hand away.

"It's fine Butch. I've got it."

"Let us help you." He nearly begged.

My plan was changing, I couldn't turn this around now. I'd shown too much. I was too vulnerable like this, too open to be hurt. But if I blew off Ivy, it would get so much worse. She never backed down when her mind was set on something.

"I don't need your help."

I tried to stand, wiggling out of Tabitha's arms.

"You're shaking." Tabitha calmly observed.

"I'm not a baby, I can handle my own problems." I nearly growled.

God, why were they so insistent on helping me? Why did they even care? I left home to get away from his feeling, to distance myself from the pain of loving someone. All I brought with me was a plague, a damned curse that ruined everything I touched. Butch stroked my arm lightly, brushing soft circles into my flesh. But I pushed him once more. He looked hurt, but he quickly recovered, hiding his distaste for my actions.

"Maggie-" He satrted.

"Oh my god, will you just drop it already! I don't need this, and I don't need you! Either of you." I seethed.

I pushed past them, ripping the damaged plant out of Tabitha's hands and throwing it into the trash as I wake back behind the counter.

"I've got an hour left of my shift, so why don't you two just go back to your jobs so I can go back to mine?"

"Maggie, this isn't healthy. You know you can talk to us, right?"

Her voice was soft, too soft. I desperately wanted to crack, to run back into her arms and cry myself to sleep. This really had been building up for a while, everything slowly pushing me to this moment.

"Oswald's not paying either of you enough to care. You know what, why don't I call him! He won't be very happy to hear that the two of you made me cry at work." I dared.

"We didn't-"

"Oh, but didn't you? Why couldn't you have just stayed outside, stayed out of my life? Instead of bothering me with you mushy, bullshit! I know the two of you are just pretending to care, because Oswald will be more lenient with you if you're in my Favour. You know he wants to kill you, right Butch? And it's funny, cause the only thing stopping him right now, is me. So, I'll cut you a deal. The two of you leave town, don't bother me again, and it will give you a head start. Maybe in a few years, he'll forget you exist, and you can finally stop running."

The venom in my voice disgusted me. And the looks on their faces made me want to throw up. Nothing stung worse than the bite of betrayal. Tabitha turned cold quicker than I expected, they really believed me. She pulled a knife on me. I smirked; in any other circumstance this would have been hot.

"Go ahead, kill me. See how well that bodes for you and your little boyfriend."

I watched her grip tighten, white knuckling in the process. It sucked to hurt them, but it was better if they left. Then they couldn't become collateral damage to whatever the hell Ivy was planning for Gotham. I knew there was so much she wasn't telling me. But I was certain she'd hurt anyone she needed to in order to achieve her goal. So, my path of destruction had to be faster than hers, cut deeper and leave no room for doubt.

"Oh wait, you can't do anything without the approval of a man, first your brother, then Oswald and now your dear, sweet Butch."

She was shaking at this point.

"What do you say B? Think she should kill me? Damn you too a life of torture at the hands of your Master? You know she'll leave right? Tabitha will save herself, even if it meets letting you rot for her crimes. It's your call Sweetness."

I used Victor's nickname, and I felt sick hearing it leave my mouth. He really was rubbing off on me, and I needed to remedy that too.

"Let's go."

He glared at me, holding Tabitha at his side as they back out of the store. I sent them a sadistic little wave as they glanced back at me from the widow, sealing their fate. They wouldn't know I'd never actually call Oswald, but they had to believe it. As soon as I was sure they were gone, I broke down. Barricading myself behind the counter and curling into a ball. I vaguely heard the back door open, but my mind was numb. My boss was suddenly in front of me, arms firmly on my shoulder, attempting to shake me from my trance.

“What happened? Did Ivy hurt you?"

I couldn't bring myself to explain, saying it out loud made it far too real. So, I just nodded.

"Not physically."

He sighed deeply, leaving my side for a moment to turn off the open sign and lock the front door.

"I've gotta go away for a while?"

"What was that?" he called, coming back over to hear me better.

"I can't trick her, and I have to do what she says, or other people are going to get hurt. Including you. I'll let you know when I'm safe to come back, not a second sooner. In the meantime, just forget I exist."

"You know I can't do that Maggie."

"I literally blackmailed you into getting this job. And Ivy beta you within an inch of your life. You can't honestly sit there and say you've grown to actually care about me. If so, you're a dammed fool and only you can save yourself."

"What can I say, you're a good kid, just got in with the wrong people. Not that hard to do in Gotham. Do what you have to do, but this job will still be here when you get back. You're the best employee I have."

I let out a choaked sob, more akin to a laugh, then a true cry.

"I'm your only employee."

He ruffled my hair.

"That you are, and I prefer my employees alive. So do me a favor kid, don't let her kill you."

I rolled my eyes, finally testing out my legs.

"I have to go. I can't be late."

He walked me out the back door, giving me a sad sort of smile as he locked the door, watching after me. I made my way as quickly as possible to my apartment. Oswald would be upset I wasn't back at the mansion. But I'd just shoot him a text that I needed a mental health week to myself. Surly he'd understand. he'd grown more lenient with me recently. Letting me off that tight leash he held. I threw my stuff down the second I was in the door. Lackadaisically letting my feet carry me to the bathroom as I wanted to wash away the days stress almost literally.

The water felt nice on my skin, soothing any ache from the tenseness I held. And I was almost certain I'd lose track of time if I let my mind wander for even a moment. I had to stay sharp until Ivy lost interest in me again. I threw on some clothes and made my way into the hall, rounding the corner to get a glass of water from my sink.

Suddenly a sickeningly sweet scent filled the air. It smelt of country fairs and aged rum, with the lightest hint of cherry. It was odd, unfamiliar. When I heard the sound of my floor board creeping behind me, so subtle most people wouldn’t have noticed. I panicked. How had I not heard the door open and anyone enter. Ivy shouldn’t have been here yet and this didn’t smell like her. I thought quick and reached for the fire axe I kept hidden behind the fridge, I swung for the intruder but stopped in my tracks when I noticed a child.

“Who the hell are you?” I growled.

I was surprised when they never flinched. But my guard was still high, you could never truly trust anyone in this city, not even a child. I watched as they moved around me, making their way over to my table and sitting down. Biting nonchalantly into a peach from the bowl at the Center. I twirled my axe over my fore arm, letting it hit the ground as I leaned against it.

“You know it’s rude not to answer someone’s question.”

She starred up at me and raised her brow, motioning to the chair across from her with her eyes. I glared but listened nonetheless, what did I have to loose? Maybe she was an associate of Ivy’s, I mean the girl was a child herself not too long ago. She still had a child like mind no matter how grown her body looked, which made me uncomfortable. I slapped the axe down on the table in front of me, a silent threat daring her to try something… anything.

“So?”

“You’re running from something” she stated casually.

“Really, and what would I be running from?”

She looked to the ceiling for a second, almost as of to show she was really pondering the question.

“Yourself, obviously”

The eye contact this kid made was brutal and unnatural. I’d never felt so naked under anyones gaze before. But somehow her eyes felt familiar, like ones that had starred at me 1000 times before, exactly how she was right now.

“And what are you running from, Kid?”

“Not from.”

“Hmm.”

I had to admit, through how little she spoke, she still sounded wise beyond her years. But this saddened me a little. She held the kind of knowledge one only get through learning things the hard way. I finally let my eyes truly take her in. She wore short sleeves which allowed me to see the several scars adorning her arms. Self inflicted? I thought. No… they were deep, old. Something she wasn’t trying to hide.

She awkwardly rubbed her forearm noticing my analytical gaze. I felt bad, tearing my eyes away.

“I’m assuming you know who I am…”

“Yes.”

“And you want something from me?”

I met her gaze again. But this time it was softer, less defensive.

“No particularly, I was just curious.”

“Curious?”

“A lot of people seem to like you. Important people, by Gotham standards.”

I signalled for her to continue.

“But I don’t get it.”

She probably expected me to take offense. But I couldn’t bring myself to be upset. I sighed heavily, brushing back my wet hair.

“I don’t either Kid, I don’t either.”

She chuckled. A cute sound. Far softer than I expected from someone like her. Or rather, someone who looked like her. I had to remind myself she was still very much a stranger. One who had broken into my house. I scanned her once more, looking for weapons. A knife in her boot, poorly hidden. Was it on purpose. She wants me to know she’s not a threat, but you’d be stupid to come to this part of the city unarmed.

“Nice knife.” I complemented.

“Good observation skills. So you aren’t totally useless.”

I rolled my eyes, stealing the peach from her hand and tossing it across the room into the sink. She starred at me like I’d just broken some unspoken rule.

“Only polite guests get to eat food in my house.”

“Yeah? Well your house sucks.”

I threw my head back in a laugh, the first genuine one of the day. It actually felt nice, to not have to be so defensive every second.

“Ain’t that the truth. Look Kid, I’ve got company coming over so you should probably scram.”

“Ivy Pepper.”

I glared at her. She knew too much for my liking.

“If you know her, then you know what she’s like. I don’t want you to be here if she’s in one of her moods. We can finish this conversation later.”

“Oh we most certainly will. See you around, Maggie.”

She said my name with indifference. Almost as if trying to taunt me. I watched as she walked out to my balcony. Normally I’d question it, but this was Gotham. Maybe that’s how she’s gotten in. I watched as she disappeared over the ledge, but something fell out of her pocket onto the ground. I approached the balcony, looking over the ledge to see her disappear into the ally way across the street. She stopped suddenly turning to wave at me.

That wave… I knew that wave. And the way she carried herself, it was an aura that was burned deeply into my brain. So calculating, sadistic, trying at act like they don’t care, but really, deep down they were hooked. I sighed, turning back around to grab what she had dropped. A letter. I turned it over in my hand, first admiring the blood red wax seal on the back. My heart nearly stopped when I read who it was addressed to.

Victor Zsasz.

An: ahhh this chapter went in a direction I wasn’t expecting at all. But omg was it fun to write. I hope you guys like the new mystery character 👀 I can’t wait to reveal more about her later.

#victor zsasz gotham #poison Ivy #Ivy pepper #Gotham #y/n zsasz #gotham oc #gotham #magnolia blossom #maggie #gotham imagine #gotham tv #butch gilzean #tabitha galavan

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anxietyisoverme · 2 years

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I Will- A Lumity Fanfic

Read on Ao3 here :)

Chapter 1- The Runaway

It had been a long day, every day was a long day in Amity’s life. Tied between her parents, her schoolwork, and lack of motivation, Amity had been falling in every aspect of her life. She went from straight A, perfect high school student, doing everything her parents asked, to, as of that morning, a college dropout with no future ahead of her. Because of that, she decided to take the long way home, to look at the local city, take in the trees, and the calming breeze in the graying sky.

“Okay Amity Blight- you have no future, and gave up being perfect. That’s okay.” Amity tried mumbling to herself on the streets. “You are fine. This is good. relaxed looks good on you anyways. Your mom won’t kill you.” She found her heart racing more and more with every step. “Bascha might hate you now, and you may have no friends now that your siblings are free, but that’s okay. It’s fine. You know how to make friends.”

Amity puffed her chest and saw herself in a reflection. Her green hair was falling in every direction, her roots vivid and dark against the color. Her eyes were framed with dark circles, her skin pale, her frame frail. She looked grotesque and disheveled, now with a puffed chest and worries written in her every breath.

“Who am I even kidding. I’ll be shocked if I can make it out of that house alive after this.” Amity sighed and hung her head down low, tracing the ground with her eyes as she continued the walk.

“Uhm, excuse me?” A familiar voice spoke, not far behind Amity.

Amity perked up to look around for who it could be- hoping it wasn’t anyone to make her day worse than it needed to be. That was, until her eyes met a pair of circle frame glasses, a rounded face, and a smile that felt warm and welcoming. “Willow?”

(Read the rest here or on ao3)

“Amity! Is that really you?” Willow smiled, stepping closer to Amity.

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s you.” Amity said, moving towards Willow.

“It’s been what, seven years?”

“I-” she quickly counted out the numbers on her hands before continuing, “Yeah, seven years since we last got to talk. How are you? Didn’t your family move before high school ended? To some, country or whatever- it had plants.”

Willow laughed and placed a hand on Amity’s shoulder. “Yeah- My grandma decided to give me her old business when I graduated. She worked here with me, but she went to the family a while ago.”

“Man- how is she?”

“On the decline, but in her age, I’m just happy to still have her. Plus, the business is thriving and I know that makes her really happy.” Willow smiled.

“I can’t believe that, I always thought she’d work there until the end.” Amity chuckled.

“Well you haven’t seen her in the past few years. It’s good she’s resting.”

“Yeah…” they both went quiet.

“I- I guess I should get back to work. It was nice seeing you-” Willow said, her smile now dropped.

Amity nodded and turned off back onto her path.

“Wait- Amity!” Willow shouted less than a minute later.

Amity turned around to see Willow running over, something in hand. “Yes?”

“Here’s my new phone number, and the shop address. Come back around. I’d like to catch up.” Willow placed a paper into Amity’s hand and smiled. “I hope maybe we can make amends.”

Amity smiled and watched Willow run back, her heart racing as she placed the paper into her pocket. Perhaps if she survived the night, she would try again with Willow. After all, it was Amity who pulled them apart.

The walk stretched on and on, yet wasn’t long enough. Amity stepped one sore leg after the other, as she started up the stairs to the grand double doors, ready to hear the worst. Once at the top, she took a deep breath and opened the doors. The familiar scent of incense and lavender welcomed her as she stepped in, her eyes darting around for her parents. Once she saw all was clear, she started running through the hall and up the staircase to her room. Through the day, she planned this very situation. In every possibility, she needed a go bag, and fast. So she hastily grabbed anything important and irreplaceable and started shoveling that into her empty school bag. Clothes, charger, emotional support childhood item, hygiene supplies, all a check. Now it was time for the worst part. Telling her parents. Ruining her life for forever, moments away.

“Ah Amity. Are you finally joining us for dinner?” Odalia asked, her voice calm, with an undertone of what felt like sarcasm.

“I-” Amity felt the blood drain from her face as she stood in front of her mother. “I already ate.” That was a lie.

“Ah, then I will pack up your dinner in case you want it during classes tomorrow.” Odalia said, starting off towards the dining room and kitchen. “How are your classes anyways? I know your grades should be coming through soon.”

Amity paused, and quickly shuffled after her mother. “That- haha. Actually-”

“I hope you tell Professor Brown I say hello. You know, he was my professor when I went through and got my degree in psychology.”

“Mother- I dropped out.” Amity spat, her mom pausing, and not turning around.

“Hm. I guess that is to be expected. You were never the best child of mine.” Odalia said calmly, too calmly.

“Oh- well, is that, okay?” Amity asked, picking at her fingernails as she looked towards her mother, back still turned.

“I had expected this from you. Good for you, I had something to discuss at dinner. Now is as good of a time as any.” Odalia turned around and looked at Amity, her eyes serious. It sent a chill down Amity’s back. “There has been an opportunity provided to us by Mr. Belos to join our companies if, his nephew could take you as a wife.”

“I don’t want an arranged marriage!” Amity said abruptly. “This is the twenty-first century. Arranged marriages are a thing of the past.”

“You should consider my offer. I’ll make peace with a dropout for a daughter, but I will not let you disobey me.”

“Why should I care? I don’t want to marry some hand-washed rich boy who doesn’t know how to dress himself.”

“He’s a perfectly fine boy. You can’t be picky anyways. No boy would honestly want you, and with your standards, you won’t find a husband who meets your standards. At least this one will let you do whatever you want without your degree.” Odalia started to raise her voice, her calm and stern demeanor fading into anger.

“I. Don’t. Want. Him.” Amity shouted. “I don’t want any man!”

“You just haven’t settled for the right one. Just say yes.”

“I will never say yes. I will make my own choices. I am in my twenties, you can not make my decisions for me. You should just leave me alone.”

“That will not be allowed in my house, not if you are to continue taking my money. Not if you wish to get anything when your father and I pass on.” Odalia said, her brows furrowed, a vessel popping out of her forehead.

“It’s not like I was going to get shit from you anyways.”

“Watch your tongue young lady! You are not to say such words.” Odalia said, anger still bubbling up in her voice.

“I can say whatever I please. I am an adult- I- I don’t need you!” Amity shouted at her mother, all fear now replaced with every emotion she had held back from her mother.

“If you do not need me, then leave, and do not think of reaching back out when you falter as you always do.” Odalia said, now shouting back.

“Fine. You weren’t much of a mother anyways.” Amity said, one final blow before storming off to her room.

She grabbed her bag, locked her bedroom door, and sighed, looking at her room for one last moment. The bed in the corner, the large circle window, posters, and old school books. Twenty three years, and this was it. It really hadn’t dawned on her what it would mean if she ever truly had to run. It’s not like there really was a way to prepare for leaving everything behind. She always knew there would be one day she would leave and never go back. Still, there was a certain surrealism to it. Twenty three years of life, gone in a flash. So she whispered one final goodbye to her room before opening the large circle window and swinging her legs out for what would hopefully be the last time. Down the house she went, as fast as she could, to the only place she could think to go. The only person who would still take her in. Willow.

It didn’t take long for her to find her way back to the flower shop, her heart pounding heavy in her chest. What was she to say, what was she to do? She was appearing to her old friend’s house, in the middle of the night, looking for shelter. As she thought her situation couldn’t get more pathetic, she felt rain begin to pelt her from overhead. She took a deep breath and rung the bell. She watched through the glass windows as yellow lights flickered on and a silhouette started to appear and shuffle closer. The same kind, round face greeted Amity, with squinted eyes she opened the door, messy pigtail buns forcing her to wipe her eyes.

“Amity!” Willow said, as it clicked who she was looking at. “Come in.”

Amity shuffled in, Willow’s arm reaching and pulling her through the shop and up stairs until they reached what looked like an apartment door.

“What happened to you?” Willow asked, opening the door and immediately pushing Amity into a comfy chair.

“I uh… I ran away.” Amity said quietly.

“You still live with Odalia and your dad?” Willow asked over the sound of her putting water in a kettle and setting it on a stove.

“Yeah, they wanted me to until I graduated college.” Amity started picking at her fingernails again as she kept her head turned down, her usually perfect bun now loose and falling to the sides of her face.

“Oh, I’m sorry Amity. You’re welcome to stay with me. I have an extra bedroom you can use.”

Amity looked over to Willow and gave a weak smile. “You’ve always been so kind.”

“It’s just part of being a good person.” Willow said as she handed Amity a cup of tea, steam still rising from the cup.

Amity blew the hot liquid as she held it in her hands. “I wouldn’t know.”

Willow sat down in the chair next to her and sighed. “That was Odalia. She was, controlling. I think you probably have some good inside of you, just waiting to come out.” She shot Amity a comforting smile.

Amity sighed, holding back. “I don’t know. I could’ve said no.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t change. You were reliant on Odalia, you were alone. Why don’t you give yourself a chance and work here. Get on your feet.”

Amity looked up at Willow, her eyes misty. “You- you’d do that for me? After all I did to you?”

Willow smiled softly and nodded. “You’re still my BFF. That’s forever.”

Amity set the cup down and reached to hug Willow. “Thank you, thank you.”

Willow hugged her back. Eventually Amity relaxed and sipped on her cooling tea, feeling warmer, lighter. The night went on for a while longer where the two women talked back and forth. It was as though the past didn’t matter, and all Amity had was her future, in her hands. The lights from outside continued to go out until there was no light left in the large living area. Eventually Willow retired off into her room, leaving Amity alone in the dark living room. She sipped on her tea, looking out to the city around, and once all the liquid was gone from her cup, she took the dishes and washed them before finally wandering to the guest room, alone.

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finsterhund · 4 months

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Watching my world record run to remind myself that I have skills and aren't entirely a failure and right at the beginning I mention that I haven't eaten?

And yeah, that takes me back to the chemotherapy where I was straight up fucking starving.

And I felt better back then than I do now because Cazza was still alive.

So it's a testament that even though I'm eating better now that doesn't automatically mean I should be better now because clearly losing her is more significant than going hungry in my mind.

I should buy a new wifi adaptor or wire through Ethernet from my roommates room to mine (the router is in his room fjgkgjfjdjd) and then try to stream again. I know I'm able to beat the easy and normal PC runs too. Easy. And I would have if Cazza hadn't died. I never really got back to streaming after. My friend is bringing back his Minecraft server and I want to ease my way back into playing that as well. It will be fun to hang out in real time with friends.

God I really did just try speedrunning maximum involvement in every single hobby I have an interest in trying to feel something and they all failed. I need to remember that HoD is the most beautiful perfect thing in the world. And while I love plants and primitive technology and stuffed animals that HoD is my big thing. The ultimate special interest. The one that unlike Power Island, doesn't hurt me to open my soul into.

Fishy got me a rock tumbler that I'm really excited about and another package that's arrived today I haven't opened yet and I am excited thinking about tumbling small stones and making my own stone beads. I'm certain if I make a day out of building a neolithic hand drill that will also be fun. I need to remember that I'm allowed to have fun. I also need to learn how to make mistakes.

New years resolutions maybe.

When I next get to go to fabric land I'm going to buy some of the exact type of fabric the original Sly or Sly II's heads are made of (velveteen and/or upholstery cotton respectively) and see if that has any bearing on working with the pattern or not. I also have decided I need to aquire more random scraps. Gotta find packages of scraps when the thrift stores have them. I'm even starting to consider getting worn out stuffed animals with the intention of taking them apart and rebuilding them. I've always felt bad about that but so long as they aren't thrown away by the end it's a victimless crime. They're still being appreciated and taken care of.

Again, I wish eBay wasn't so damn expensive. Stupid shipping.

There's a local quilters guild that interests me. I'm so paranoid of human interaction I'm scared I won't be accepted as a young man who has an atypical disabled relationship with the hobby as a newcomer. It's something I should really try to work past more often. I have no clue if they're still even active due to COVID shit but I should at least try to turn up for one of their themed days.

But I feel that seeing people in person working on the craft will help me build skills and learn things.

Will also says he's thinking about getting into soft sculpture so maybe he'll share the stuff he's doing online.

Idk. I'm not entirely down in the dumps this new years but it does feel I'm just drifting aimlessly in life. With Cazza everything felt perfect. It was our blue sky grassy field orchestra music moment. And now it's gone. There is ultimately no overcoming of death except in memory.

The little spectre Sly head (the one I just made out of felt) seems to be the best I've made yet. Despite omitting the horn and ears I've got the snout at the right level of pointiness. Maybe even overkill for a spectre. But that makes me how that I'm going to continue to get better.

I am glad I've had things like the crying dog and Sly to keep me going though. And my friends who love and appreciate me so much it's actually staggering to think about it too deeply. I wish the internet gap wasn't a thing. It's funny. I feel id be no less further from my friends if I was living in the middle of the prairie away from everyone else.

Someday.

But for now there's Sly.

#text post

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nctsworld · 3 years

Text

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone off to one side.

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.”

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly.

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

Text

Safe With Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! May I offer you and angsty fic in these trying times?

If you like what you read, please reblog so that others can find my stuff! 🥰

Warnings: 🚨Implied SA🚨. Reader injury. Blood. Hurt / comfort.

"If you ever need me, just tell me

and I'll be there.

Cause I was built for you, yes,

I was built to carry all your feelings."

There was a time when Bucky first joined the team that he wanted to be disconnected, knowing that it was easier to be by himself than to try and open up to others. He wanted to appear aloof and unconcerned, simply doing his job and nothing more. Retreating to the empty silence of his mostly-bare bedroom kept him from forming attachments or getting to close to anyone on the team- but his resolve was nowhere near as strong as he’d thought. He tried to resist your warmth and charm, your bright smile and kind eyes- but simply couldn’t seem to stay away from you.

The warm feelings of safety and trust you’d planted deep in his heart blossomed into a beautiful friendship and, eventually, a fervent love. Everyone, including you, knew how strongly he felt about you. But, for Bucky, acknowledging those feelings felt taboo, almost as if bringing them into the light would scare you away- so he kept his pining for you restricted to the shadows.

But you returned his love tenfold. He was the first person you wanted to go to with good news and bad, the one you wanted to stay up late with and sleep in next to on Sunday mornings. But you settled for being his close, close friend, handling the situation carefully as though dismantling an atomic bomb. Bucky was deeply hurt. He’d been tortured and tormented for decades, leaving him lacking an ability to trust anyone- even himself. And dropping an ‘I love you’ on him seemed to you like a recipe for disaster.

But he felt whole around you. Something about you encouraged him to trust again, and telling you every dark detail of his past life left him feeling unburdened for the first time in decades.

Spending time away from you was by far his least favorite thing to do. He hated going on missions without you, but hated being sent on separate missions even more. If you weren’t assigned to a mission while he was away, at least he knew you were safe at home in your cozy apartment. But when the two of you got sent away on different operations, he could feel himself falling apart at the seams. Knowing that he couldn’t be there with you to watch your back and make sure you returned home safe ate away at him like a vicious parasite, consuming his sanity until he saw you again.

“Alright, meet in your room like always. Yeah?” you finished lacing up your combat boots and pulled Bucky in for a hug, promising to meet in the usual spot when the two of you returned from your separate missions. “Of course, doll. Then pizza at your place?” Bucky much preferred spending time at your apartment in the city- getting away from the compound and living some illusion of a “normal” life until duty called. “Duh”, you gave Bucky an extra squeeze and the two of your parted ways in the direction of your respective jets.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky called, stopping you in your tracks, “be careful, would you?” You jogged in his direction with your pinky outstretched, linking it with his when you got close enough.

“Promise, Barnes. You watch your ass, okay?”

“Promise, doll”.

With one last wink, you turned on your heel and ran toward the hangar, going confidently in the direction of your mission. Bucky let a dopey smile crawl across his face as he watched you disappear down the hall- he loved you. And if he made it back from this mission alive, he’d tell you.

He did return alive, but didn’t find you in the agreed upon spot. His room sat empty, undisturbed and locked in an eerily quiet stillness. He expected you to be sprawled across his bed in your pajamas, catching up on Drag Race or marathoning Schitt’s Creek as you waited for his return, but you were nowhere to be found. He checked the hangar log for the third time, confirming that your team had, indeed, returned to the compound two days before.

Dread pierced his chest, making it impossible to breathe. The image of you lying in the medbay, bloody and broken, rendered him frozen, but an icy tingling sensation prickled down the length of his spine as an even more horrifying possibility entered his mind. What if you weren’t in the medbay…what if you were lying in the morgue?

He rushed down the hall to Rhodey’s door in a desperate search for answers. The loud, metallic clanging of Bucky’s vibranium arm striking the door made Rhodey jump, “Barnes? What are you doing?” Rhodey stood before him clad in his pj’s, clearly having been woken up.

“Where is she? Is she-?”

“She’s fine- the mission was fine. I don't know where she is”, Rhodey huffed, “Is that all?” He stared expectantly at Bucky, wishing he hadn’t been given a room down the hall from the former Winter Soldier.

Bucky felt silly suddenly, embarrassment turning his cheeks a bright shade of pink. He'd gone into full panic mode before even checking the rest of the compound- maybe you were in the bathroom or grabbing a snack from the kitchen. “Um, yeah. I’m sorry. My bad”, Bucky gave Rhodes an awkward thumbs up and headed to continue his search.

With his en suite bathroom empty and the library and living room both missing your warm presence, Bucky headed for the kitchen. He found Clint sitting by himself, eating a BLT and talking on the phone with his new partner, Kate. “Barton, hey. Have you seen-”

Clint asked Kate to give him a sec and rolled his eyes at Bucky, “have I seen your girlfriend?”

Bucky never liked Clint much, but grew a particularly negative attitude toward him after he heard how Nat died. “Not my girlfriend, but- have you seen her? Is she around?”

Clint shook his head and took another bite of his sandwich, “haven’t seen her. She grabbed her shit and ditched the second the jet touched down. Didn’t come to the debriefing we had yesterday, either”. Alarm bells sounded in Bucky’s brain. You were a straight and narrow, by the book member of the team- you never would’ve missed a debriefing. With a new sense of urgency, Bucky ripped his phone from his pocket and dialed your number, only to be greeted with your voicemail.

“Did it go straight to voicemail?” Wanda stood in the doorway, mug in hand, “Sorry, I was eavesdropping. I keep calling her too, but I think she turned her phone off. Or it died. It’s not like her…” Wanda was your closest friend on the team, aside from Bucky. She loved stealing you away for girls’ nights and movie marathons, telling Bucky that you needed some “girl time”- which you always used to talk about your feelings for him. “I’m worried about her-" Wanda said, "I went by her place this morning just to check in.... she won’t answer. I could hear the tv on, but she didn’t open the door”.

With that, Bucky made a dash to the garage. He hopped on his motorcycle and sped toward your apartment, his nerves tangling into knots for the entirety of the ride. He turned the fifteen-minute drive into a seven minute sprint, slicing through traffic and breaking the speed limit to reach you as quickly as he could.

When he finally arrived outside your door, he heard Moira Rose’s voice blaring from your tv. Normally, your laughter accompanied the crazy antics of the Rose Family and the rest of the characters from Schitt’s Creek, but you were silent.

Bucky knocked with no response.

He knocked again. Silence.

“Doll, it’s me. It’s Bucky… Is everything okay? Wanda’s worried about you. I’m worried about you- could you talk to me? Please?” He waited patiently for a response, a sigh of relief leaving his chest when he heard your slow footsteps making their way toward the door. But the relief was short lived.

Bucky barely recognized you when you finally opened the door. Dark circles sat under your vacant, bloodshot eyes. Tear tracks stained your cheeks and mascara smudged your skin. Your normally neat hair rested in messy, bloody braids that stuck to your scalp, held in place by the dried, red ooze. A smattering of indigo bruises colored your neck and cheek, and a gash sat just above your eyebrow, it’s bloody trail dried along your face. You looked tired, used, hollow.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Bucky choked, worry blazing in his chest, “what- what happened?”

Without warning, you collapsed into his body, sobs wracking your fragile form. Stunned, Bucky’s mouth hung open as the strongest person he knew fell apart before his eyes. He caught you with ease and carried you to the couch, holding you as you wept against his chest. He didn’t know what to say or how to help you, opting to stroke your back in an attempt to help you calm down. It was a small gesture that you always did for him, and the least he could do was return the favor.

But when your breaths grew erratic and devolved into sharp, shallow gasps, Bucky launched into action. He knew all too well how to spot a panic attack, and employed all of his strategies to help you out of yours. He walked you through the breathing exercises and helped you focus on nothing but him, clearing your mind of the aggressive panic.

“That’s good- That’s so good- yeah, just look at me. Just like that- I'm right here.” Bucky encouraged you and kept watch of your breathing, working with you as gently and slowly as you needed. But your chest burned. It ached with the hurt and sorrow and fear that your most recent mission had thrust upon you, and you were certain that you were dying- but you were okay with that.

“See? You’re okay. You’re alright, doll. You’re safe with me”, Bucky took your face in his hands when your breathing finally evened out, assessing the every scrape and bruise that now decorated your skin. “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to. But you can- if you want”.

You fell silent, your eyes aimed downward as every disgusting memory of your mission took hold of you. Bucky watched you disappear into the horror, your eyes growing emptier and more haunted by the second. With a shake of your head, you denied Bucky any information about what you’d done, what you’d experienced at the hands of one of Hydra’s most notorious arms dealers. “Okay- that’s fine. Have you eaten today?” Bucky’s heart sunk when you shook your head once again.

He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as worry twisted the knife in his gut. He knew your mission returned two days prior and that you’d come home immediately to isolate yourself from the rest of the team- meaning that you most likely hadn’t eaten in about three days.

“Alright, let me make you something, sweets. I’ll make anything you want”, but Bucky’s offer was thwarted by your empty kitchen. The best he could do was some peanut butter toast and a glass of water, but it was better than nothing.

Some of the light returned to your eyes after you’d finished eating, but they remained vacant. Bucky couldn’t help but think that you looked like a ghost haunting your former body, lacking the vibrant warmth that usually colored your cheeks and brightened your smile. “Do you maybe want to get cleaned up? I should take a look at that gash on your forehead and any others you might have, get ‘em cleaned out. Just so they don’t get infected”.

The thought of stripping out of your clothes and looking at the damage that littered your body made your stomach turn. You’d changed into your comfy clothes the second you’d gotten home but made the mistake of doing so in front of the full-length mirror. Your skin looked like a warzone, marred and abused and neglected. Each injury brough a new memory hurtling forward, each one more horrifying than the last.

The desperate need to stay safely wrapped up in your sweats for the rest of eternity was all encompassing, but Bucky was right. With a cautious nod, you agreed to his plan and let him take your hand. He led you to the bathroom and ran you a warm bath, testing the water every few moments to ensure that it wasn’t too hot.

“Okay, um. I’ll just be out in the hall. Call for me if you need anything, okay? And I’ll tend to all your wounds once you’re cleaned up. Sound good?” Bucky gave your hand a squeeze and headed for the door, but you stopped him.

When you’d initially arrived back from the mission, being alone was the only thing you wanted. But now that Bucky was with you, you didn’t want to be without him. He brought a sense of safety and comfort that you needed desperately, and spending even a few minutes without him seemed impossible.

“Stay…” you breathed, your voice raspy from disuse.

“Okay, doll. Promise.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand and gave you a reassuring nod, easing a fraction of your anxiety.

With Bucky’s help, you shed your sweatshirt, the henley you’d ‘borrowed’ from him, and the AC/DC t-shirt that obscured your torso. Bucky fell speechless as his eyes raked over you, a pit forming rapidly in his stomach. Dark, nasty bruises lay scattered all over your body, staining your ribs, stomach, wrists, and breasts a sickly purple. Teeth marks and scratches sunk deep into the flesh, leaving dark red impressions all over your skin. Combined with the dark blue bruises that encircled your throat, your injuries painted a very detailed picture for Bucky- a picture of non-consensual acts performed for the good of the mission.

With his heart in his throat, Bucky assisted you in removing the two pairs of sweatpants and two pairs of socks that adorned your bottom half. It might’ve been a warm August afternoon, but covering your tortured body brought you some semblance of comfort- even if you were almost sweating through your layers. Bruises resembling handprints and fingertips splattered across your thighs and backside, giving Bucky even more clues as to what you'd endured. Dark rings of bruises around both ankles completed the picture for Bucky, and he knew you'd been through hell.

His hand shook ever so slightly as he helped you into the tub with a manufactured smile. He was seconds away from falling apart at the sight of your battered body, but simply couldn’t let himself break. You clearly needed someone to be there for you, to make you feel safe and taken care of- and Bucky desperately wanted to be that person. He wanted to give you the same warmth and support that you always afforded him on his darkest days. It killed Bucky seeing you so shaken, so tormented, but he kept his composure as best he could, giving you the shoulder to cry on that he knew you needed.

With gentle hands, Bucky helped you rid your hair of the blood that fused it into sticky, red clumps. He worked slowly and carefully, ensuring that he wouldn’t cause you any more pain or discomfort. And when the bath grew a sickly vermillion, Bucky ran you fresh water, banishing the memories of your mission down the drain. It took longer than expected to get you cleaned up, but Bucky didn’t mind. He wanted to make you as comfortable as possible, no matter how long it took.

“How’s this for pajamas?” Bucky offered you a sweatshirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants he’d given you for your birthday, complete with a pair of dinosaur undies. You nodded in approval and allowed him to help you get out of the tub, welcoming the cozy towel he wrapped around your shoulders.

But before Bucky could let you get dressed, he needed to appraise and treat your wounds.

He helped you dry off and sat you down on the edge of the tub as he looked you over, starting with your legs. A deep cut in your left ankle, no doubt the result of a restraint tied too tight, needed his attention. It was red and angry, clearly inflamed and probably on the brink of infection. Bucky grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and got to work, treating you with the care you deserved.

A sharp hiss ripped through your gritted teeth as he cleaned the wound with betadine and saline, hopefully banishing the oncoming infection.

“I know, I’m sorry, doll…” He dressed it gently with a bandage and moved on to the next injury, a series of scrapes on your right knee. His jaw tensed as he connected the dots of your injuries- the tight restraint cutting into your ankle, the scrapes on your knee no doubt coming from you tripping and falling during your eventual escape. It sent a wave of sadness barreling into him, but he couldn't let you see it.

With the scrapes cleaned and bandaged, Bucky helped you into your underwear and sweatpants, noting the sense of relief you experience at being covered once again.

With you half dressed, Bucky moved to the frighteningly deep bite mark in your left breast. “Jesus…” Bucky shuddered, adding this wound into the puzzle of your injuries before banishing the thought from his mind- he wasn’t sure he wanted the full story. He touched the deep wound gently, assessing its severity.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, so I’m not gonna make you….” Bucky kept his gaze fixed on your injury, knowing he’d lose it if he met your eyes with his. “You just need to know that whatever happened to you is not okay. And it isn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have been put in that position.”

You simply nodded at him, unable to speak for fear of another breakdown. But Bucky stopped working when he noticed a tear rolling down your neck.

“Am I hurting you?” Bucky removed his hands from your skin, alarm striking through him. But he wasn’t hurting you- Bucky couldn’t never hurt you.

“No…” you managed, “I just- thank you”. Bucky wiped gently at your tears and pressed a kiss to your forehead, sending a warm rush thought your body. With the mark on your breast cleaned and covered, Bucky slipped the sweatshirt carefully over your head.

He wished there was a way to treat the startling number of deep bruises that littered your skin. But no amount of gauze or betadine could heal them. Instead, they were to lay beneath your skin, darkening every day and revealing just how deeply you’d been hurt. They’d serve as harsh reminders of the violence you’d experienced- not that you needed reminding. You could never forget. Bucky knew the deep purples and blues would force you to relive the horror every time you got undressed, every time you looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Okay, doll, last one”, Bucky cleaned and bandaged the gash on your forehead, noting just how deep it was. Another wave of dread washed over him as he thought about the amount of force necessary to create such a wound. Between the head injury and the bruises around your neck, he couldn’t believe you’d gotten back alive- moreover, he couldn’t believe Rhodes let you leave without going to the medbay.

But the shame kept you from seeking help. Sitting in the jet with the team while everyone looked at you had been suffocating, and getting away from them seemed to be the only remedy. Every one of them knew what you’d suffered through, knew what you’d experienced-hell, they heard the whole thing over comms. It only made sense to divulge the details to Bucky; he was your best friend and the person you loved most, your trusted confidante.

But telling him felt far too risky- you couldn’t lose him. If he saw you differently or thought less of you because of it, you’d fall apart.

“Have you gotten any sleep these last few days?” Bucky noted your red-rimmed eyes and hollow stare, already knowing the answer to his question- but his heart still broke when you shook your head ‘no’.

“Okay, well, I think it would be a good idea if you got some rest… what do you think?” He watched you toy with the strings of your hoodie, your jagged, broken nails snagging on the fabric now and then.

“Is it okay if... would you lay with me? I- I think I’m gonna have nightmares…” the shame forced your eyes down, avoiding Bucky’s gaze at all costs, "that's why I haven't slept". Never in your life had you felt so weak, so pathetic, so utterly empty. But Bucky didn’t see you that way. He obliged your request, accompanying you to your bedroom and getting your blankets and pillows arranged just the way you liked them.

“Oh, shit. I’m still in my tac gear- I should really get cleaned up before I get in your bed…”

“Buck- I sat in my own blood and grime for two days”, you sighed, wincing as you climbed into bed, “I don’t care… please, lay with me?”

Somehow, the warm bath had you feeling sorer and stiffer than before, your entire body aching as you collapsed into your pillow. Bucky joined you, unsure of how close he should get- but you answered his question before he could even ask. You buried your face in his chest and wound your arms around his neck, holding on to him for dear life.

“You know I trust you, right?” you lifted your face from Bucky’s tactical suit and looked up at him, concern drawing your brows together. Bucky nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I know you’ve told me all your stuff- everything that happened to you. And that it was a big deal for you to trust me. And I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you- I want to tell you everything that happened. I just… I can’t go through it all again. Not yet. And I know that’s not fair, but-”

“Hey, it’s not about being fair. This isn’t a transactional relationship. You can tell me all about it when you’re ready- or you can keep it to yourself forever. I don’t care. You should do what’s best for you, not what you think will make us even. Okay?” Bucky smoothed a gentle hand over your hair. “Just get some rest. You need it. And I’m gonna be right here- You're safe with me, doll.”

You buried you face in his chest once again, whispering a quiet “thank you” against his tac suit. “No thanks necessary, sweets. I’m always here for you- always”.

Bucky ran a hand gently up and down your spine, soothing you to sleep. When your breathing evened out and Bucky was certain that you'd fallen asleep, he whispered a confession in your ear- "I love you..." He reached over and turned off your bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness, "but we can talk about that later".

———————————

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daisies-and-buttercups · 3 years

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“Love and War - Chapter III” - Luca Changretta x reader

Summary: You’ve picked a side, and now you have to deal with the aftermath.

A/N: When I started this fic I had a decent outline what I wanted to happen but my ideas sorta ended with this part. However, I’m loving where this is going and I have some more ideas, so there probably will be a few more chapters 👀 Either way, I want to thank everyone that liked and commented, not only on this fic but in general, it always makes me so happy and it really means a lot 💕

Words: 3.4k

Chapter I Chapter II

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Your house was now used to your incessant walking, the wood singing along as you stood on it over and over, pacing from one room to the other, picking the phone up, sighing, falling on the bed for a short moment before starting the routine all over again.

By morning you had slept for only a few hours, the ghost of Arthur visiting you in your dreams to blame you for his death, shaking you up until you woke up. The sun was now high, making you jump up to reach the phone. You weren’t backing down, you’d have no more deaths.

The phone rang consistently, bothering Ada enough to make her pick it up, ignoring Tommy’s order against it. “What?” Her tone was annoyed, but she understood once she heard yours, nervous and desperate. “Ada? Ada! I need to know where they are. I’m not having them kill each other.” “Oh darling, I… I can’t. Tommy was adamant about not letting you know.” Her tone was now softer, having missed your conversations and feeling the desperation in your voice. “Ada, please. I covered you when you and Freddie-“ “Is this a me-and-Freddie situation?” “What?” “Is he your Freddie?” Your fingers tapped on the table, looking up at the flowers that had started to wither. You had pressed the nicest ones in a book, but couldn’t bring yourself to throw the rest away and, even if dried out, they still somehow looked good, so you kept them. Was he your Freddie? He definitely felt like what Ada had described all those years ago, the feelings she described so vividly were now also your own. You hadn’t spent long enough with him to truly know, but you didn’t want him to die before you had the chance to figure it out. “I don’t know, Ada. I think so.” Her sigh was the only sign, along with your impatient tapping, that time was still flowing. “The distillery. Tommy left not too long ago, so I’d rush there.” You groaned and ran to get your shoes, running back to the phone to thank her. “You didn’t hear it from me, you hear me! Not from me!” She repeated over and over, hoping that you wouldn’t be the victim of the day. She really didn’t want to lose a friend.

The roads were deserted as you ran past the first buildings, spotting the distillery in the distance. You turned the corner, trying not to run the final meters that separated you from whatever was going on inside, thinking it wise to listen to what was happening before jumping into a situation you might not know how to handle, but stopped dead in your tracks. Someone stood outside the door, taking a few steps, listening, scratching his head and checking his gun. Someone that looked a lot like… “Arthur?” He turned and faced you, smiling but quickly placing a finger over his lips, letting you know to be quiet. You walked fast again, walking over to him and crashing against his chest, pulling him in a quick hug, but freezing when you realised why he was out here. He wasn’t alone, but the men stayed back, leaving you the space to talk, holding their guns in clear sight nonetheless. “How are you doing, love?” He whispered. “You’re… you’re meant to be dead.” “Hope it’s not too disappointing to see me still standing, dear” he laughed softly, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I’d suggest leaving now, it ain’t gonna be pretty.” he motioned to the gun, glancing inside while focusing for a moment on the voices that could faintly be heard. You stood still, listening along and hearing Luca speak, then the sound of banging and glass breaking, the clear sound of a fight. It was the vortex of emotions swirling in your steps that kept you there, trying to make sense of the situation. Your image of Luca had been shifted because of Arthur’s death, only to now find him standing there, armed, ready for a fight. And you knew who the bullets in his barrel were for. “Ah, that’s my cue. See ya, love.” You weren’t sure if it was the sound of your heartbeat or of your footsteps, but before he had time to react you slipped past him, holding your stare straight ahead of you, the colour of blood painting your thoughts. It was rage, that rage that had never been strong, that always came when you weren’t part of Tommy’s plans. When you had to stay behind. When it was better if you didn’t know. You wasted all your tears on a man that wasn’t dead, not an ounce of regret in anybody’s mind when you walked in.

The first thing you saw was Tommy’s expression drop when his eyes landed on you, the only person that could’ve complicated this further. Then you saw Luca. His face wasn’t the same as when you last saw it. Gashes decorated it, his eye was swollen and his lips hung open, showing you the damage dealt in its full glory. It was a gruesome show, only made worse by the stares that you received for being there. Tommy was holding him up when you walked in, the faint glimmer of surprise passing through his eyes, expecting Arthur to walk in, not you. But to see you walk over to the bloodied man… maybe that’s what made him truly speechless. When you reached Luca you stopped, looking at his injuries for only a second before hearing Arthur cock his gun. “Get away from him, sweetheart. I told you to leave.” You turned slowly, first meeting Thomas’ cold stare and then facing the gun that was pointed at you, crossing your arms in defiance. “I’m not going anywhere, Arthur. Shoot me, I’m not leaving.” Luca called your name, pulling you weakly away, trying to get you to stand behind him. He wouldn’t have you get killed over his life. But you didn’t move, asserting your position once more in front of the man, planting your feet harshly against the ground. You saw Arthur’s eyes wander between you and Tommy, unsure as to what to do. You all waited for the next move, the only sound being Luca’s demands for you to leave as he clung to you, trying to get you to leave. “Go.” Tommy spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on your hand, the one that gripped on to Luca’s. He couldn’t watch you, so worried for the life of that man. A person he had considered a friend, a helper, family, even, now standing on the enemy’s side. You had been Luca’s only request. He didn’t care about the rest, but he wanted you to leave with him, if that was what you desired, and he didn’t want anyone trying to stop you. He wanted you, and that made Tommy’s blood boil, but he played his part, knowing full well that he had the upper hand. He knew that there's no leaving, not for you and not for him. There was nothing to go back to either way. Luca was never going to leave alive in Tommy’s eyes, but when you crossed the threshold the illusion shattered. The way you looked at him made it clear that you’d be willing to risk more than your life for the Italian. He’d been a fool, maybe, but there had always been something about your ways. He knew you, cared for you, and underestimated you all at the same time. In his eyes you’d always follow him like a lost puppy, just like Arthur did, but you were strong enough to break from his spell and get away. “Now!” he shouted, walking over to Arthur and ripping his gun out of his hands, aiming it at you, allowing his emotions to leave him, falling back into his new reality. You were an enemy now too, and he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot. A small flinch and the beginning of a tear was all that you allowed him to see before you moved, cringing at the sound of Luca grunting in pain at your movement, trying to pull him up somewhat gently, but not allowing him to see that, no matter where you stood now, this still hurt.

Feeling your heart beat in your chest, you focused on the gun aimed at you for a moment, stopping at the door to look each one of them in the eyes. Tommy’s gaze didn’t falter, menacing and cold, while Arthur couldn’t look at you, moving away from where you stood, realising the side you chose didn’t match his own. You had often sat with Arthur, the two of you ignored on many occasions and gave you an extra reason to bond, and he cared deeply for you, but he wouldn’t go against Tommy, not even to look at you to show you that he somehow wasn’t mad, just surprised and disappointed at your choice.

While you walked out of the door, no man followed you, making it clear that Luca’s men were no longer his, Matteo standing still behind you, not daring to look up and meet Luca’s eyes, clutching his rifle tightly against his chest. “I should be the hero coming to save you, not vice versa.” “Yeah, well, maybe next time.” You muttered, struggling to walk while carrying most of his body weight. You weren’t sure what other damage he had apart from his face, but his limping and laboured breathing suggested that other parts of his body had been wounded too. He pretended to be fine, taking steady steps before falling back onto you with a grunt, whispering a mix of Italian swear words and apologies.

The moment you crossed the threshold of your house you walked him over to the sofa, finding the phone and calling the doctor before gathering anything useful that you could find, cursing at yourself for not being more organised. “You could’ve died.” he spoke, his voice coarse as you made your way back to him with the various creams. “You’re a goddamn fool.” You muttered, dabbing his wounds, making him flinch and hiss in pain. “Gentle, love.” He tried to joke, moving away from you, only to stop when the pain between his ribs got worse. “I wouldn’t have to be gentle if you weren’t such an idiot.” You answered back, scoffing but softening your touches nonetheless. The doctor was going to be here soon, so you decided to focus on the various cuts, moving as gently as you could, wiping away the blood and removing any piece of glass still stuck in his skin. “Never do that again.” He spoke seriously now, moving ever so slightly while you took care of him, lifting his hand to wipe some of his blood that had gotten on your cheek. “Never do what again, save your ass?” “Stand between me and a gun.” It had been a bold move, trusting your gut, knowing that Arthur wouldn’t shoot at you, even when your brain was cursing at you to get out of the way, but you weren’t sure if that made all the difference. You hadn’t thought about it, you just felt the need to stand in front of him, to shield him, whatever the outcome. “Then next time be on the right end of it.” Your movements were stopped by his hand gripping yours, holding the blood-stained rag still, some of the drops dripping down your arms, colouring your skin with faint red lines. “That was my intention and always has been, I can assure you, but in no circumstance I want you to take a bullet for me.” His eyes wandered, looking at you while you took care of him. He couldn’t have hoped for a better sight, yet something about the scene before him tugged at something deep within him. The fear of what he thought he could never achieve being right in front of him, maybe. “Turns out I am here to clean up your wounds in the end, eh?” you joked, trying to wipe the serious look off his face along with all the blood. “Y’ won’t want to kiss me anymore, with all these cuts. Too many scars.” “Who said I ever wanted to kiss you in the first place?” It was a harmless joke, proved for good measure by the soft kiss you placed on his lips, the meeting of your tongues enticed by both of your lips curving into a soft smile, the feeling of finally belonging somewhere filling your chest. “You never seemed to mind, dear.” “I’ll always want to kiss you.” You added, letting the truth run free. He laughed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled, gently caressing your face with his fingertips, tracing invisible lines. “No good came from kissing this old man, sweetheart. You-“ his words were interrupted by the timid knock on the door. He watched as you rose, making your way to the door, welcoming the doctor in and gesturing towards Luca, quickly explaining that you tended his external wounds and needed some help at assessing the internal ones. He looked away, nodding at the annoyance of being interrupted.

“He’s got a broken rib. It will take him up to two months to fully recover, but in a week or two the pain should lessen. He’s also running a low fever. Everything seems under control, but if it rises you’ll have to monitor his condition.” The small man talked quietly, as if he didn’t want Luca to hear. Timid steps made him grow closer to the exit with each word he spoke, evidently eager to leave. “Thank you, doctor.” He nodded, turning to walk away, stopping just before the door to glance behind him, looking at Luca, now standing tall behind you. “Is there a problem?” You asked, feeling the tension rise. You knew that Tommy had men all over town, but you didn’t want to believe that the doctor that had been helping you for years might be close to turning on you. “They told me to deliver a message.” A message. Through a man, rather than a phone call. Was that too personal for him now? They had no issue telling you about Arthur’s supposed death by phone, but now that he was threatening you, he used someone else’s voice. “Have they, now?” Luca’s words were raspy, still out of breath from the movement and the pain, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating in the doctor’s eyes. He was shorter than both of you, a small and round man, and, even with a broken rib and in pain, he knew Luca could easily overpower him if he so wished. “They… Mr. Shelby said that you’ve got to leave. You’ve got until tomorrow. If you’re not-“ he took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling voice, “if you’re not on the last ship out of here they’d…” he trailed on, not wanting to anger either of you. A quick glance at you and he nodded, rushing out of the door, closing it behind him in a haste, eager to get away. You turned, letting out an exasperated sigh while Luca stood behind you, considering the doctor’s words. He hadn’t looked at you, only at him, which meant that it was very likely that their appreciation for you over the years had counted for something. They wouldn’t kill you. “I’ll pack my bags.” It wasn’t a question, there was no doubt that you’d follow him. Life with the Shelby’s had been a blessing, some of the best years of your life, but you doubted Tommy would welcome you back, at least not so soon. There was nothing left for you here, not in the land of Thomas Shelby. “He’s not after you.” he tried to stop you from grabbing the bag, grabbing a hold of your hand as he spoke, holding you in place. You moved to face him, studying his expression. A lot of Luca came from his eyes, using his words to charm and threaten and keeping his secrets hidden deep inside. “But he’s after you.” “You’ve got a life here.” “I had a life here.” you answered, feeling the electricity of a new start in the air. “If I stayed I’d have to find a job, and not only are most businesses owned by the Blinders, but those that aren’t wouldn’t welcome someone that got away from them on bad terms. They’re feared, and I’d just make whoever wanted me a target. I made a choice, Luca, and you’re not getting rid of me so easily.” you laughed, moving closer to him and caressing his cheek, gently, avoiding the small cuts. “I get to start over.” He smiled at your words, wishing he had your way of seeing things, the simpler ones, his eyes now trained to see the thousands of possibilities and dangers that his way of life offered him so easily, yet ignoring the other possibilities, the ones that weren’t deadly. You complemented each other, lacking what the other was strongest in. And while he looked at you, all he saw was the image of the wife he never could’ve dreamed of having, hoping that one day you’d be just that. He smiled again at the thought, watching you as you walked back to your bed, opening your bag to pack your belongings. “America?” you asked, choosing the limited clothes you could bring. You could buy more once you arrived there, but you were sentimental and some had to come; the dress you wore on your first day in Small Heath, the one you had on when you saw Ada’s kid for the first time, and the few dresses you wore with Luca. You placed them all neatly, feeling the soft fabric under your hands, picking a few other items to fill the bag. A photograph of you, Polly and Ada, all smiling proud, a pearl necklace that made you feel like you could rule the world, along with a few memories of your years in England. He nodded, still deep in thought. “Will Matteo be joining us later on?” “Matteo’s with the Blinders now.” “Is he?” you smiled at him, knowing that the truth wasn’t that simple, and when he looked at you, you knew you were right. The mafia didn’t work with money, but with honour. It was a different world from Tommy’s, and Matteo wasn’t going to bail on the Changretta family just for some extra money. “There’s only two ships leaving, one tonight and one tomorrow.” He watched you from the mirror, his fingers lightly dragging over his wounds while he was deep in thought. “They’ll know where to find us.” you spoke the implication out loud, giving you the time to think of a solution. “So what if we don’t go to America?” He stood, his eyes closing at the brusk movements, still not used to the level of care he needed to take when he moved, making his way to the small table where a bottle of wine had been discarded the night before, half of its contents still in it, two glasses lined up next to it but only one used. “My family needs me.” “Yeah, alive.” “The Shelby’s have fucked with the business, I’ve got to fix their deeds.” “But you can’t fix anything if they kill us tomorrow.” he opened his mouth, ready to protest, but you continued “I’m talking about one extra day, one stop before heading to America.” The wine was sweet, calming his nerves in the slightest of ways. “What do you suggest?” “Call your family, fill them in on what they haven’t figured out on their own. Then we pack our things, spend the night in each other's arms and when we wake up, we leave. The ship sets sail tomorrow at 9am.” “You’ve planned this.” You nodded, looking at the man that stood before you with a pleased smile. You had spent enough time alone with your thoughts to come up with more than one plan, and this one was your favourite. A simple exit. You picked up the papers, the tickets for your journey, that had been abandoned on the desk, handing them to him with a wink. “Italy. You’ve got family over there too, right? I’m sure you’ll be able to secure us a place to sleep for the night, and if not I guess we’ll just have to sleep under the stars.” You raised your hand dramatically, moving your fingers around an imaginary constellation. “Then we leave for America. One day, a small change in plan, and we’ll have the Shelby’s waiting for us here. Wrong place, wrong time, but not for us. And once we arrive, you’ll have all the time to fix what needs to be fixed. Deal?” He took a second to think about it, pursing his lips in thought, watching as you waited patiently, switching your weight from one leg to the other. Then he nodded, your hands lifting in victory as you approached him, softly placing your arms on his shoulders.

“We have a deal.”

#luca changretta x you #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta imagine #luca changretta #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #Liza's attempts at writing

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selfproducingfanfictionauthor · 3 years

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BTS Scenario: An omega arrives in your pack (Hyungline x alpha/beta fem!reader)

Summary: An omega joining a pack is a blessing - an unmated one is a miracle. So when the village elder came to you not with authority in her eyes but pity and pleading for understanding, you had no choice but to let him go.

Or, an omega joins the pack and you’re an alpha/beta in a relationship with another alpha. The community asks for your sacrifice. Warnings/Notes: Implied Smut, slight ass play, Angst, Drabble (no resolution... yet) I wanted to explore a different dynamic in the ABO Universe, since it’s usually Alpha BTS x Omega Reader but how about the Beta or even the Alpha reader? Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 2k+ (500 per drabble)

KIM SEOKJIN

(after he’s called to participate in the matching, and Jungkook is an unmated male omega who’s always had a crush on you) (though crush is a understatement)

He’s here for a final goodbye, you think as you allow him to push you back against the wall.

He kisses you with desperation, all teeth and tongue, as if he wants to devour you whole. He reeks of her but you push it at the back of your mind, together with your instinct to gain the upper hand.

If this is goodbye, let it be as soft as you two could be.

You close your eyes to blink back the tears and wrap your arms around his neck. You match his passion kiss after kiss until you both are panting, breathing in each other.

Seokjin slows it down and pulls at your shirt, slipping it off your head. His eyes are wan, and he hasn’t met your gaze the whole time. It feels wrong, but then again, everything is.

So you try to bring back some normalcy and let the urgency in your touch show. Your arms slid down his shoulder, pushing him back into your room, your strength easily matching his.

In the dark of the room, you tug at his shirt but Seokjin grasps your hand away from his chest. You thought he’s going to lead you to his cock just as he did many times before, but he pulls you closer until there’s no more space between your chest and his and leads your hand to his hole.

He’s dry as the dessert but her pushes your hand closer, until your fingers tap his puckered hole.

You can feel him force himself not to tense up, breathing deeply and dropping his head to your shoulder. His back is caved over you, like a tall child and he turns to graze his lips against your ear.

“I’ll let you fuck me too, if that’s what you want, jagi.”

Your eyes widen and you try to pull your hand away but he holds it still. Your other hand tries to push his chest away but his other arm wraps around your shoulder blades, unwilling to let go.

He keeps still in the crook of your neck, murmuring words you never imagined you’ll hear from the alpha, “I’ll moan like he did. Beg like he did.” His voice shakes, and you startle at the tears wetting your skin. It doesn’t even occur to you to wonder how he knew about Jungkook, and what had transpired the night before because here he is.

He’s crying. Your alpha is crying.

“Just please don’t leave me.”

MIN YOONGI

(Your love for Yoongi knows no bounds, you can give him this. In which your arranged marriage is thwarted.)

“It’s a good thing we’re not bonded yet, huh?”

You try not to wince at the relief in his voice and instead you laugh, hoping that the dark is enough to conceal the wobble on your lip.

You are both lying on your bed, exhausted by your hours long of… what do you call it again? Ah, he did call it his favorite recreational activity. He figured sexual compatibility is an important factor in arrange marriages earlier on your engagement.

And you, in love with him for more than half your life, said yes.

His fingers are playing with your hair, while his other hand lifts a lit cigarette to his lips. He glances down at you, his cat-like eyes half-lidded.

“You want a smoke?”

Pulling the blanket higher to your chest, relishing in the slight flicker of interest in his eyes, you shake your head. “Actually, can you not smoke on my bed tonight?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow but says nothing and puts out his cigarette against the ash tray on your bedside table. Usually, you take up on his offer, and he’s not gonna lie and say that the image of your lips around a cigarette doesn’t stir his cock alive.

“Not feeling well?” He asks, the only time you refused his offer was whenever you’re feeling the drop after your activities. But usually, you’ll tell him outright, communication being as open as you both could.

You let a small smile touch your lips at his tone. He cares for you, you know, maybe not as much as you want him to, but it’s enough.

Or it used to be enough.

“Just a mild migraine,” you lie before pressing a kiss against his shoulder.

Yoongi smiles and kisses the crown of your head, “You know what cures migraines?”

Your smile grows wider as you look up to his grin, his hand already sliding down the small of your back under your blankets. “I think I have an idea.”

By the time he’s pulled out 3 more orgasms from you, the moon has started fading from the night sky. The brisk winter air entering your room by the open window, drawing goosebumps on your skin.

Beside you, Yoongi sits up and pulls his shirt over his head.

“You’re not staying the night?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “The trials start the day after tomorrow, I’ve got to get a head start.”

Your press your lips together, your hand sneaking down your belly. You imagine your child, the size of a pea, hoping they do not hear your breaking heart. “I thought you didn’t like being choices taken away from you.”

That was one of the major points of discussion when your parents arranged your marriage. It’s also a source of your many arguments at the start, before slowly becoming some sort of unwanted roommate in your makeshift relationship.

Yoongi pauses, there’s something in your voice that he can’t pinpoint. He turns to you, for once, you are unreadable. “This is different.”

“Oh,” you breathe. How so, you want to ask. How come a choice robbed by our secondary natures so much different than the ones robbed by our parents? How come it’s the lesser evil in your eyes?

How come I was never a palatable choice in the first place?

But you don’t. Instead, Yoongi presses on. “At least now, you know, if it turns out that it’s me, you’re free. You can go to university just like you want.”

“Yeah…” you chuckle dryly, “Well, good luck then.”

You don’t beg him to stay, you’re an alpha too and an alpha protects their pack. As your hand travels down to your belly again, you remember - you have your own to protect now too.

JUNG HOSEOK

(You’re just his best friend. What can you say?)

“She smells like lilacs! No, wait, honey! Honey and cream.” Hoseok sighs, all lovestruck on your couch over the new omega girl in town.

As part of the search party that found her, he hasn’t stopped talking about her for weeks. Giving you updates on her recovery in the beginning, and then her smile, her eyes, and the way she laughs as time went by.

At first, you didn’t mind. An omega joining the pack is a blessing, given their rarity. They symbolize fertility and bounty, and you are nothing if not loyal to the community. You foster the village children as their teacher, you teach them the ropes of the land - how to feed the cows, how to plant the seeds, and how to prepare for harvest - after all.

But as time went by, as Hoseok’s visits to her home frequent and his visits to yours lessen, it’s become harder and harder to keep the bitter thoughts away. Hoseok may still visit you, but when was the last time you two talked about anything other than her?

“The trials for her mate starts next week,” Hoseok starts, almost as if waiting for you to say something, “I’m thinking of participating.”

From the kitchen, you tighten your hold on the tray balancing your tea and snacks. Without a wobble, you inquire as you step back into your living room, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he picks up one of your cookies, suddenly looking all bashful, “I’m unmated and I’m not getting younger so, might as well give it a shot you know?”

You frown behind your tea cup, “We’re barely past our mid-20s, Seok-ie, that hardly qualifies as old.”

Hoseok leans back and tilts his head on the back of your couch until it hangs in relaxation. “It’s different between you and I.”

It’s true, betas are not so pressured to reproduce early. After all, there’s nothing special to be had in your genes, you think bitterly.

“Besides,” he continues, “I think I like her. You know, maybe we should invite her next time we hang out! You can get to know her too!”

“I’d rather not.” It spills over your lips before you could control it, and Hoseok stiffens before turning his gaze to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re jealous.” Hoseok teases, unaware at how his words hit home.

You stiffen, biting your lip before the dam breaks. “Maybe I am.” you whisper.

He blinks in surprise at the feebleness of your tone, “B-but… you’re a beta.”

You know. You know your place, in this village and in his life but somehow it’s different hearing it from him. Standing, you turn away to step back into your kitchen when a hand grasps your wrist.

“I don’t understand.” Hoseok whispers, trying to look up to your face but thwarted by your hair. He doesn’t need to see your watering eyes to know there are tears in them. He’s reeling from the sudden change of atmosphere, smelling your distress in the air.

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by the sense of inferiority and your heart caves into itself. With the last of your strength, you shake off his hold, pointing to the door.

“I think it’s best you leave.”

KIM NAMJOON

(Namjoon has always been a man of duty, and though you are tough and strong, there are limits to what you can and will endure)

You pride yourself to be level-headed, calm, and objective unlike many of the alphas in the pack. You’ve never lost your control, or flown into fury even during your youth but at this very moment, you summon all your discipline to keep your lips from pulling back and snarling at the older alpha in front of you.

How dare she?

How dare they ask this of you?

“It is his duty.” She repeats and beside you, Namjoon is silent. Eyes straight ahead, back as rigid as the trees outside your home. The home that you two built for your children that will come after your wedding.

The wedding that’s supposed to be in a month.

But the longer Namjoon stays silent, the farther that future seems to be. By the time the elder leaves your home, you don’t even see a speck of it in your mind’s eye.

The silence continue as you clean up the cups and uneaten rice cakes. The silent clink of the utensils echoing in your quaint home.

As you wash the dishes, you feel like an outsider watching your body go through the motions. Scrubbing the plate clockwise, once, twice, three times, before running it under the faucet. Next, you pick up the cups, here, clockwise, once, twice —

“It is my duty,” you hear Namjoon, and oh, he’s beside you, hand on your wrist, pulling your hands away from the frigid waters, “you know that, right?”

As one of the strongest and wisest alphas this pack has ever seen in generations, your betrothal to Namjoon was tolerated at best. Alpha bondings are common nowadays, with the scarcity of omegas. So yes, your betrothal was tolerated - just tolerated, even with you being as strong and as wise as your betrothed - but now?

With that young omega in the picture?

They are making you feel as if you’ve committed a grave sin against the community, as if it’s not within your rights to rage against the unfairness of it all.

They’re asking you for your love.

And he’s so willing to be taken away. Your heart breaks but you nod quietly, “I know. I understand.”

Namjoon stupidly thought that was the end of it. That you knew he’ll always come back to you, omega or not.

Maybe he was naive, or he truly was selfish to ask it of you but when he gets home the week after the trials to a dark cold house the surprise knocks him to his knees and drops his heart to his stomach.

You left the kitchen untouched, his mug still next to yours but, Namjoon pauses at the threshold of your room. There, glinting under the moonlight, sits your ring and the last of your scent wafts away.

END NOTES: Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know if this should have a second (or even third) part! :)

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Cerise

Those are people who died, died Those are people who died, died They were all my friends and just died.

Word Count: 5736 Warnings: Crime, Weapons, Mentioned Murder of a R/pist, Crude humor.

Jason’s friend and roommate, another Gotham villain, is ordered to return to Task Force X.

ce·rise/səˈrēs,səˈrēz/ [noun] a bright or deep red color.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Let’s open up our story on a colorful note: Fuck Amanda Waller.

Nobody likes her. You don’t like her. Jason doesn’t like her. None of the characters in this story like her. Arguably, none of the characters in your present universe like her, either. There’s a reason why people call her “The Wall”. It’s because that’s what it’s like talking to her. And that’s what it would be like trying to deny the request she’d passed on to you in her letter.

It weighed on your mind briefly as you walk up the stairs of your apartment building. By the third flight, the weight’s pretty much disappeared. Sure, there’s anger at Waller for violating your agreement, but it’s so useless being annoyed with her that it washes away fast. So by the fourth flight, the whole thing is settled in your head to completion. You’ll go back to your Suicide Squad- or a Suicide Squad, considering most people Waller selects are idiots. Then you’ll do the job, and walk away bing, bang, boom.

You tip your head politely as if in salute to the older woman, Mallorca, who occupies the apartment across from you. She returns a warm smile that raises her prominent and wrinkled jowls, igniting the fire in her warm brown eyes. “You need me to do your laundry again?”

Of course an angel such as Mallorca would make such an offer. It’s not a bad offer, either. Your dark, silver lined chest plate is splattered with blood all over the front. It’s nobodies blood that doesn’t deserve it, as per your agreement with Waller. Just some perverted little prick who thought with his dick instead of his brain with the wrong girl. She looked frightened, and you saved her, and since the prick had just hit 18 (a fact you learned after rummaging around his wallet after), you had permission to bash his brain in. Hence the blood splattered vigilante armor.

The first time Mallorca had seen such a sight, she had no reaction whatsoever. You weren’t sure what else you were expecting from an old woman living in a back alley apartment building, but it certainly wasn’t that. She offered no shock to your red masked, blood stained roommate either. Mallorca is simply an otherworldly being. And is that cocaine you see on the collar of her shirt?

“I got it,” you throw in return, rounding the corner so she’s at your back, and nearing the climb up the next and last flight of stairs. “Hey, is Jason home?” But when you turn around fully, Mallorca shows no intention of responding and has disappeared down your previous staircase. You clasp your hands against the sides of your thighs, “Oh, okay.”

You make your way up the final steps and stick a hand in a secret back pocket to fish around for your keys. You wince when you begin the rigorous task of tugging the lanyard free from the depths, which unfortunately fell near to your back hole. Then you slip the key into the lock and twist.

Inside your apartment is near emptiness. There’s a couch, a rug, some windows, a TV, and to your immediate right is a small kitchen beside a hallway that leads to a bathroom and two bedrooms. You see the large plant you’d stuck in the corner is wilted and tinged brown, and the TV is playing some movie with the sound muted. No sign of your roommate, however.

You toss your helmet and keys onto the couch. Then you make your way to the kitchen to search the fridge for a snack (that you know is not there) or perhaps some water. You bend down to peek an eye in, only to stand back up and close the thing. Then you pass over to the counter, and reach up to now peek an eye in the overhead cabinet.

“You’re home early.”

You let out a short-but cathartic- scream, jumping as you turn around. You relax quickly. It’s only Jason, and your face changes from shocked and panicked to simply annoyed.

The man at the other side of the room pulls his infamous red helmet from atop his face. Underneath is a classically masculine, handsome face with eyes that blend between green and blue. Black hair falls free in messy strands, accented by the one white tuft that you’ve claimed reminds you of a skunk. You tilt your head lazily in defeat. “How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Jason shrugs in his red hoodie and jeans, walking across the room to set the helmet on the coffee table. “Four. Any particular reason you’re home so early?” he flops himself onto the couch and kicks his feet up, crossing them tastefully next to the Red Hood helmet.

You turn back around to continue the task of grabbing a cup from the top cabinet. “It’s been five, and I apologize for assuming I could do what I wanted in my own home.”

“If you have to ask me to stop sneaking up on you five times, you’re probably a really bad vigilante.”

“Fuck,” you mutter as you fill the cup with tap water. “That’s true.”

You turn around to face Jason. His eyes are already on you, illuminated by the blue glow from the television. They linger purely on your form for a moment, then they dip down to narrow at your armor. “Were you the one who killed that guy on the back of main?”

You furrow your brows and look up with pursed lips in thought. “Are you talking about the main diner or the main records shop?”

“Main diner on main street.”

“No, that was Azrael. This was by the records shop.” You raise the glass to your lips.

Jason snaps his fingers. “Oh, that guy. The kid?”

You nod and take another sip of the water. “He just turned eighteen, so you know. Free game. So, what do you want for dinner? Pick something good. I’m going back to the squad so I won’t be here for a few weeks.”

Jason’s brows furrow for a split second, then he perks up attentively. “You’re going back to the task force?” he repeats, though it sounds defeated and disbelieving. Distraught- is that the word you’re looking for?

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I got the letter-” you set the cup of water down and reach a hand into your pocket. Then you pull the crumpled envelope free of its confines and toss it onto the counter, “-today.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow again. This time the movement is quick and curved and almost offended. “So, that’s it then?”

“What’s wrong, Jason?” you smirk. “Did you finally fall in love with your roommate turned friend? I always knew this day would come.”

“Uh, no?”

“Suit yourself.”

You turn back around and begin rinsing the cup out. Jason watches your back, something in his chest sinking. You weren’t his best friend. Besides living together, you weren’t really all that close. You were living a life a lot like his, running around at night as some antihero vigilante. The only difference was that you’d crossed paths with Waller and had managed to make it out of her system alive. Most antihero vigilante’s weren’t so lucky. Most of them died. But now you’re telling Jason right to his face that you’re going back. That you think you’ll only be gone a few weeks when it could just be forever. Sprayed with dark blood all over... what if it was yours?

“Actually,” Jason leans forward. His legs drop from the table and spread open, elbows resting against his knees with a hunched back. “Why don’t you pick dinner tonight?”

The glass clinks against the metal of the sink as you set it inside. Jason almost always picks dinner. Most of the time he chooses burgers or Chinese. Your apartments stove isn’t working, so eating from home really just means a BLT sandwich for the both of you.

“Are you offering because you’re hoping I’ll choose that new steakhouse?” you smile.

“I’ll get you anything you want,” the man replies. “It’s on me.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Jason meets you on the roof of the building about an hour and a half later. You wanted to go with him, since you’d say his behavior is different from usual, but he was very adamant about you staying in. Jason even encouraged you to go ahead and pick your favorite movie to watch while he’s gone.

When you told him you’d decided on the steakhouse option, you meant it ironically. Between the two of you, money could be described as ‘tight’. Going to a new place like that would mean saving for a while. Furthermore, you hadn’t even given him your order before Red Hood was gone.

To his credit, looking at him now, you wouldn’t change a thing. The first bite of the food is phenomenal. The second bite is just perfect. Jason must have mind reading powers to be so aware of your taste in food- you’d thought he never noticed.

He gets a steak, as predicted. Jason loves steak.

Gotham looks most like itself at night, a view shared between the two of you. Two sets of legs dangle over the side of your building, both of which are clad in heavy boots and armored knees. Jason had decided to go out as his alter ego- a fact he thought he could keep from you by putting his hoodie under his leather jacket.

“I saw you put your helmet by the door,” you tell him. “I know what’s under that sweatshirt.”

“No you didn’t,” is all he says back.

The wind tickles the back of your neck. It ripples through the air in lazy waves, making Jason’s hair ruffle. The white skunk streak disappears and reappears between the darker-than-midnight-sky strands. Behind Jason, the moon is full and lonely. Its only company is the two of you.

“Oh my god,” you stuff your mouth. “This is so good.”

“Hm,” Jason hums in agreement, stabbing his steak once again with a fork in his black to-go box. It’s the next movement of his shoulder that catches your eye.

“Jason, is that cocaine, or powder donut dust?”

Jason glances over at you.

Your eyes linger on the white splotch of something in the wrinkles of red fabric. “Because I asked you not to eat them since there’s only two left.”

Your face slowly falls to one of horror as Jason stays still. With a face of steel, he finally says, “It’s cocaine then.”

“Then?”

“Look what I got you.”

Jason sets his box to the ledge beside him and leans down.

“Worst subject change ever.” You take an angry bite of your meal in an attempt to both silence yourself and to make you feel better. Unfortunately as you pull away from the bite, crumbs attach themselves to your chest plate and stick to your fingers. “Crap. Jason, your dumb food is getting shit all over my stuff!”

When you look over, Jason’s orbs are already on you. His eyes pierce yours, almost unintentionally daring them to look away. The skunk strands glow this close. He holds two things in his hands. The first is a small, brown pot you could balance in the palm of your hand, filled with miniature yellow and red flowers. Scarlet tulips, golden sunflowers, and blonde alstroemerias. In the other hand is a Blu-ray copy of your favorite film.

“Oh,” is all you can muster out.

When was the last time the two of you had actually exchanged gifts? You weren’t lovers, or best friends. You were just friends. It had to have been last Christmas, when you had gotten him a TV subscription for South Park and a pair of socks. Jason had gifted you a new bedframe that he later helped you put together.

A big smile reaches your eyes and makes your cheeks sore. “I haven’t been able to find this anywhere,” you say, taking the movie from his fingers. Your voice comes out pure and genuine. “Thank you.” Your smile grows even larger when you cup the pot of flowers with both hands.

“All of the flower shops were closed,” Jason explains. “Those are plastic. They won’t die anytime soon.”

At that moment, you swear you could’ve kissed him. He’s looking at you like this is all nothing, like he didn’t just drop big money on dinner and flowers for you. Jason knew what food you wanted before you did. He knew your favorite movie when you can’t even remember saying a thing about it. When had any other man or woman been so thoughtful? So romantic? So caring?

You glance down to the film in your lap. “I didn’t think you payed attention this well.”

Jason’s brow quirks upwards. Something flashes in his eyes as he adjusts his position, seven stories up from the ground. “What kind of roomie would I be if I didn’t?” he asks. Something tells you there’s a shyness blooming in that broad chest of his. Jason’s eyes flit downward to the blood on you, before his head dips back upwards to lock a stare with you once more. “You smell nice,” he states.

You look up at him simply. You know your eyes are filled with pure adoration, and that it’s showing all over your face, but you don’t care. Your red hooded, drug pedaling, bat wrangling, gun toting equal roommate is your favorite person in all of Gotham at this exact moment.

Behind Jason, a small bird flits overhead with a flash of crimson. “Hey, look,” you pat Jason’s shoulder. His eyes follow yours until they land on the floor of the roof behind you. “I think it’s a robin.”

“I know that bird,” Jason scowls. “That’s the son of the bitch that keeps waking me up in the morning.”

“Hm?”

You watch as Jason swings his legs over the side and pushes himself from the ledge. One hand reaches into the back of his pants while the other searches his leather jacket pocket for something. After a few seconds, he produces both a clip of ammo and a gun, which connect with a click.

“Ah!” you yelp, placing both the flowers and movie on the brick before copying your friends actions and standing on the roof. Jason hasn’t shot yet, but the gun in his hand is aimed right at the little birdie. He’s got a clean shot. His face remains neutral and unmoving as you take your place beside him.

It’s a full minute, and the robin is still alive and intact. He nibbles on a little crumb of bread. “He looks happy,” you think out loud. The air of Gotham goes quiet up on that roof, despite the distant sirens, music, and people throughout the city. “Are you gonna shoot?”

Jason’s finger lingers over the trigger. Even the slightest of a squeeze would set the weapon off at this point. The balls of your feet move to and froe, anticipating the bang you’re so familiar with. But then Jason lowers the gun completely, and the robin flies away at the movement. “Nah. He’ll feel the pain I dish out in the morning.”

“Don’t be sad,” you nudge Jason. “He’ll be back at six AM tomorrow to wake you up.” You turn to return to your beckoning food on the ledge. “Thanks for all this, anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” you hear Jason respond. “Hey Y/N?”

Jason watches you spin until you’re completely facing him. He can see the blood again. How it’s completely standing out against the darkness of your outfit. You look powerful, yeah. And you look like the antihero you’re labeled as. But all Jason sees is a corpse of a... of a friend. “Yeah?”

“You’re sure about this Waller thing?”

“Yeah?” you reply, as if it were obvious. The stain on you is so haunting it’s easy to think otherwise. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. It’ll only be a few weeks. I’ll be back before you know it. Then I can show you this sick ass movie.”

Then you go back to walking towards the ledge to retake your seat. But Jason remains standing. He watches as you, the person he thinks of naked so often, get comfortable, your back facing him. And, despite your word, Jason has the sinking feeling that some Suicide Squad mission isn’t the only place Amanda Waller will send you to.

This time, Amanda Waller will send you to your grave.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was supposed to be out on August 16th, for Jason’s birthday. But the concept came to me too late and I spent too long on it. Anyway, here’s some symbolism for ya.

Tulips symbolize unconditional love. Sunflowers symbolize adoration. Alstroemeria’s symbolize devotion. The reader describes the plant in their apartment as turning brown, suggesting it may share a similar fate as the reader as plants go brown when about to die. Robin’s symbolize optimism, a trait the reader displays towards the idea of returning to the Suicide Squad. Robin was also a former identity of Red Hood. Both of which could be why Jason decides to spare the bird.

I’ll go back and proof read this in the morning.

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (March 9/2021) - Roses and Blood Vines

One day remains before Ponk’s attack. Ponk gives Foolish another warning, another chance to join the Egg. Foolish still says no.

Hannah returns from a five-day journey feeling sickened by something. The Blood Vines have crept onto her house...

Something has to be done.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Tubbo

Foolish

Ranboo

Hannah

Karl

Eret

Captain Puffy

---

- Ponk makes his way through the Nether to the Temple of Undying. He surveys the place, wondering what to blow up first.

- He scouts through the chests, taking some diamonds here and there.

- Ponk places a few pieces of TNT in Foolish’s snake statue as a warning and heads back.

- Foolish joins the call, Ponk now at the Oogway Shrine.

Ponk: “Foolish...you know that time is ticking, right?”

Ponk: “Are you familiar with the hourglass parable?”

Foolish: “No, I am not.”

Ponk: “Me neither, but an hourglass has lots of sand in it, right?”

- Ponk starts talking through the Egg

“Hello, Foolish...the time is ticking...blood, fire and explosions will happen. You’re going to die, Foolish, if you don’t join me. DEATH.”

Foolish: “You speak of my summer home?”

“Your summer home will be no more.”

Foolish: “We’ll see about that.”

“Tick-tock goes the clock.”

- Ponk abruptly switches back to his normal voice and starts talking to Foolish about that scene in Kung Fu Panda where Oogway paralyzes the leopard guy by poking him, and the leopard guy broke out of prison to defeat the five people

- Foolish asks if there’s a meaning to this. Ponk tells him he stole all of his music discs and put TNT in their place.

- Ponk says to be careful about the tripwires he put. Foolish says that with his emerald eyes, he will see through them.

- They go back and forth about preparations and Ponk’s plan. Ponk tries to convince Foolish that actually, he already blew it up (he didn’t)

Ponk: “Look, Foolish...I’m here to offer you another chance, okay? You can join the Egg, be a happy family, y’know? You can be a god, but you have to serve the Egg...”

Foolish: “You see, Ponk, I think the Egg will lead to heartbreak. Misery. Regret. And then death.”

Ponk: “Remember, Foolish, remember...you can never save a life. You can always prolong it.”

Foolish: “I might disagree with that...but that’s for another time.”

- They get distracted by Skeppy’s prank on the mansion

- Ponk goes to an Ender Chest and shows Foolish its contents. Foolish is outraged that Ponk actually took all his discs -- even Pigstep!

- Ponk shows Foolish the Wall of Pog Women

- The subject goes back to the Egg. Ponk asks again if he wants to join the Egg. Foolish says no.

Foolish: “I don’t think the Egg is good for anyone, and you know? The Egg may not even need you guys! The moment the Egg has enough power, it’ll toss you all aside like the little ants you are.”

- They start talking about cats

- Ponk meets Foolish down at the spider spawner and attempts his Technoblade-killing tactic on him.

- Ponk continues to prepare

- Foolish is still working on Tubbo and Ranboo’s mansion

- He goes to see Michelle in Snowchester. He ponders how strange their family is. A sheep pirate, a totem-part-shark and his totem son, an undead zombie piglin baby, the other brother -- a green blob?

“Nice meeting you, Michelle...um, yeah. Hopefully you never meet Dream.”

“...Just your average Minecraft family...”

(More “Schrödinger’s canon” family dynamics for now, but this is the moment the Wiki is referencing if you were wondering)

- Foolish continues work on the mansion

- Hannah heads back to the main Dream SMP area

- She’s been trying to make the server more beautiful, adding trees, flowers, natural things. But she was off picking flowers for the main pathway when she woke up with extreme nausea. She could barely walk.

- It’s finally time. Something is pulling her back.

Hannah: “It’s definitely time to bring spring to the server. This server is so, so messed up. There’s not enough trees, there’s not enough flowers, there’s not enough anything, especially in the main area."

- The only thing keeping her strong -- alive -- are the rose flowers. It took her two days to find the strength to walk back.

- Hannah starts planting flowers everywhere. The pathway is deteriorated, there are no trees, no flowers, not enough natural fauna that weren’t planted by the people. Her flowers have been picked and turned to dye by people. She needs more flowers to stay strong.

- She sees her house has been covered in Blood Vines. She suspects the Blood Vines have been eating up some of her rose flowers. All of it has to go. She doesn’t know who or what this is, but she believes it’s trying to kill her.

- Sam (and Tubbo disguised as Ranboo) arrive, and Hannah speaks with Sam about her house. Sam was coming to clean up the bank site.

- Sam helps Hannah start to clear off the Vines.

- A cow gets in the way. Hannah says it must be contaminated and kills it.

- All of a sudden, Sam shouts to not break anymore. Hannah looks and Bad and Antfrost have arrived.

- Bad says he thought Hannah was a supporter of plants. They don’t see why Hannah needs to clear the Vines away. Hannah and Sam insist they’re just trimming, doing some landscaping because Hannah is allergic.

- Bad and Ant suggest testing? They can take Hannah to a place with a large concentration of Vines and see if they have any effect.

- Hannah says she’s willing to try. Sam tells Hannah he can’t go down there again. They tell Bad and Ant -- Hannah will try it while Sam takes a trip to the Nether. Sam whispers to Hannah that while they’re gone, Sam is going to clear the rest of the Vines in secret.

- Bad and Antfrost admire the Vines in Hannah’s house. Even the dogs seem to like it. Hannah promptly kills the dogs to put them out of their misery.

- Bad and Antfrost take Hannah down to the Egg Room. Hannah puts down a rose to help, but they destroy it. They tell her that the Egg likes her.

- They make her a “seat” (box) of black concrete and say she should stay there for “exposure therapy.” They convince her to put her items in an Ender Chest even as she’s having doubts, and leave her alone there.

- Hannah thought she had no enemies on this server, but she may have made a mistake.

- Karl wakes up in his library. He hangs up the poster for “The Haunted Mansion” and writes the Tale down.

- He writes his next diary entry. He feels confused. He doesn’t know who to trust anymore. At least the Inbetween seems like a genuinely peaceful place, but there were those books warning him about it.

- He decides he needs to get into that portal the next time he visits the Inbetween.

- His memory is getting worse. He needs to tell his friends the stories, but worries he won’t have any at this rate.

- Bad and Sapnap arrive to Kinoko. Karl wants to get new members.

- Sapnap kills Bad, sending him back.

Bad: “What have I told you about playing with fire there, son?”

- Karl plans to spread out advertisements about Kinoko.

- Foolish and HBomb arrive.

- They go to the Holy Land to put up posters.

- George arrives and they all decide to put up a massive poster in front of the prison, where the mining fatigue will make the blocks harder to get rid of. Bad protests this as a prison guard.

- They do it anyway

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

459 notes · View notes

fangirlovestuff · 3 years

Text

More Than Meets The Eye - Steve Rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this one is for @s1utforfictionalcharacters, who asked for a Steve x reader enemies to lovers a while ago. thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient, and i hope you enjoy!!<3

Summary: Between figuring out what was the Tesseract doing at a Hydra base and if it even is the Tesseract, you need to navigate your relationaship with one annoying, broody Captain. Honestly, you might prefer the Hydra thing.

this isn’t set in the mcu timeline, but takes inspiration from a few mcu movies. it’s not canon compliant and everyone’s alive:)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: lowkey angst and some tension, maybe a curse word or two? tell me if i missed anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Rogers!" you heard Tony's voice over the comms, "Where the hell are you?"

"Babysitting," you heard Steve's irritated voice, not only over the comms but also behind you, right before you saw him dashing past you to punch the Hydra agent you were fighting square in the jaw.

"Well, get America's ass over here, now," Tony grunted, clearly mid-fight himself, "we need backup."

"Go!" you yelled at him, spinning to take out another agent that was coming up behind Steve, "I got this!"

"You sure?" he asked, his tone sarcastically degrading, jumping while kicking two agents simultaneously. Showoff.

"Yes," you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, "I can handle them, go help the others!"

"Alright," he grunted as he pushed off another agent before running back in the direction he came from, towards the rest of the team.

"Cap, you coming or what?" Natasha spoke on the comms, calmer than Tony, but it was obvious she's just as in need of backup as he was.

"Coming!" Steve replied, before it went relatively quiet.

You finished up disarming the rest of the agents in your wing of the building. No one was calling for you on the comms yet, so you decided to make another round in the perimeter, make sure you didn't miss anything.

God knows captain know-it-all is gonna be on your ass about it if that's the case. And honestly, you have more than enough of that as is.

As you were walking down the hallway, you noticed a strange, glowing light coming from under the doors. Upon finding it was unlocked, you opened it to reveal a room that was entirely filled with the same blueish light you had seen, and it was all coming from a desk in the middle of it.

Approaching slowly and letting your eyes time to adjust, you got closer and closer, realizing the shiny object was a peculiar blue cube. A cube you knew well, perhaps even too well.

"Guys, if you're done over there, you might wanna come to my wing. There's something you're gonna want to see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, we have to keep looking, maybe they left some blueprints or anything that can indicate how they were planning on using it," Steve commanded, "or already have."

"Wait," you said before everyone split up to follow his orders, "as important as the why they got it is, I think the first question we should be asking is how the hell they got it. I thought it was locked away in the Asgard safe?" you looked at Bruce, who out of all of you had the most contact with Thor.

"It was, the last time I checked," he frowned. "I'll see if I can contact Thor, see if he knows anything."

"You do that," Tony interjected, "the rest of you, follow Cap's order while he and I have a little chat. Shall we Rogers?" he pulled a frowning Steve aside, while you all split up to try and find any information you could salvage.

In your search, you ran into Natasha. As you were both scouring the same desk for clues, working together like a well-oiled machine, you asked, "what did Tony want from Cap?"

"Probably to ask him where the hell was he when we needed his backup," she said matter-of-factly. "Or, you know, where the heck he was. We all know Steve's proper like that," she smiled, and you let out a chuckle at her words.

"Well, that’s good," you remarked, "since he really should've been there for you guys. I don't know what was that all about," you scrunched up your nose. "Nothing here," you added, closing the drawer you were looking through.

"Yeah, here too," Natasha closed her own drawer, "let's go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day, you were all having dinner together as you went over some papers the others found at the Hydra base. Since you were already in the same place, you split the takeout, taking caution not to spill any of it.

"Cap," you asked, seeing the saltshaker was too far for you to reach, "Can you pass me th-" your words were abruptly cut by him planting it in your hand, going back to whatever it is he was reading.

"Thanks," you muttered, going back to your paperwork as well.

This might be the place to mention that pretty much ever since you joined the team, Steve exhibited a certain… coldness to you. Arrogance, indifference, call it what you want – from day one, Steve Rogers made sure you knew he was better than you.

And considering he was literally Captain America, it's not like you thought you were ever better than him in the first place.

You blended in with the rest of the team seamlessly, fighting and training among them. I mean sure, there were jokes about you being "the new kid", but it was just that – jokes. No one, or at least no one but Steve, seemed to view you as inferior.

You still fought well together, it was your job. Hell, he just passed you the salt before you even finished asking for it. Being attuned to each other's actions and attitude in that way made it all the more obvious how much he seemed to covet his leadership position, his place of dominance.

It got on your nerves. So. Much.

You see, if he were like that to everyone else on the team, so be it. But the absolute majority of it was directed towards you – the new girl. And it was clear that's all he ever saw you as. A girl.

Even that salt thing – he handed it over so impatiently, so suddenly, like one would handle an irritating child.

You had hoped he'd get over it at some point, but so far, that didn't seem to be the case. Well, you're not planning on going anywhere, so you'll both have to get over yourselves at some point.

"Hey!" Steve snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, shaking you from your reverie. "C'mon, listen up. Tony found something."

Oh well, that "some point" is probably not today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, Hydra wanted to use this," Natasha gestured at the Tesseract, "To power up a weapon they've designed?"

"That's the gist of it," Tony confirmed. "But from the looks of it, this thing is a lot more powerful than it seems. They planned on powering up a whole armored aircraft, plus all of their rifles using this cube. If that's possible, and by the looks of it, it very well might be, it's a lot stronger than you'd think."

"Wait, what do you mean their rifles as well?" you asked, your brows furrowing, "like, split this thing into pieces?"

"No, it looks like they were planning to project its power somehow, like…" Tony trailed off, struggling to explain.

"Like… Bluetooth?" you suggested.

"Yeah," tony snickered, "pretty much."

"Okay, but they didn't do that yet, right? We stopped them?" you looked around to the rest of your teammates before looking back at Tony.

"Seems like we did," Steve answered instead. "Bruce, any update on how they managed to get it?"

"Didn't hear anything back yet," the man in question shook his head, "I'll try again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bruce ended up getting an answer from Thor, telling him to come to Asgard, you immediately volunteered to go with him. It was partially because you've never actually been there, and you were very curious as to why Thor would ask Bruce to come.

But also, you could use a break from a certain Captain.

You tried to ask Bucky and Sam what his deal with you was, several times, but they just shrugged and gave you vague, unhelpful answers. You even considered trying to convince Wanda to just tell you what he thinks about you, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of bothering you so much that you'd stoop that low.

So lately, you've been just trying to avoid him, which usually worked just fine, since it's not like he was that adamant about being around you either. That is, until you said you'd go with Bruce.

"No way," he immediately objected.

"Why?" you asked, "Bruce might need some backup, and I'd like to visit Asgard. Win-win."

"We need you here, going over the papers."

"C'mon Cap, I think we both know I do better out there in the field than I do with all the blueprints. Tony's way better with that, he's the only one who does it anyway."

"So what, you're just gonna go on a field trip?" he sneered.

"No, I'm going to look out for my friend and teammate." It took everything in you to keep your voice level.

"That's nice. Cause it would be a shame if Banner had to watch your back while you went on vacation."

You scoffed. "Where did you even get that idea? I said I was gonna give Banner backup. That's the first thing I said, cause that's the most important thing. End of story."

"Fine." Steve shrugged.

"Fine?"

"Yeah, if Banner's willing to take you with him, go."

"Good," you nodded.

"Great."

Somewhat awkwardly, you shuffled out of the room to tell Bruce to count you in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha was the one to send both you and Bruce off to Asgard, the rest being otherwise occupied.

"Be safe," she told the both of you, holding each of your shoulders with one of her hands, before stepping away.

"We will," Bruce promised and you nodded, and just in time the Bifrost came down, taking the both of you where you needed to get.

Thor was the one to greet you, taking you both in for a warm hug before his face became serious.

"I didn't call you all the way here for nothing," he said, "come with me to the palace."

As you were on your way, he explained. "When you told me you encountered the Tesseract in Midgard, I immediately checked in our vault. Sure enough, there's still a Tesseract there."

"A Tesseract? I thought there was just the one," you frowned.

"We did too," Thor replied, "which is why I wanted you both to come see it for yourselves. Maybe you'd be able to point out some differences."

Getting to the palace, you wasted no time going down to the vault. And there it was – the Tesseract.

"How…" you trailed off. It looked completely identical to the one you had found on earth, the same blue tinted glint lighting up its surroundings.

"That's what I was hoping you might have an answer for," Thor sighed, his brows furrowing. "You said the one you encountered was previously in the possession of a group called… Chimera?"

"Hydra," Bruce corrected him. "And yes, we found it in one of their bases."

"Is it possible that the one we found was a fake?" you asked, lifting your eyes from the Tesseract. "Or maybe this one is the fake? Is there a way to know?"

"The only way to know is to try and use them," Bruce sighed, "but trying to wield the power of an infinity stone can be dangerous and destructive to the one who tries. It's something we should try and avoid."

"Okay," you thought, "can't we try and take this one to earth? See if maybe Tony could run some tests on them both, find us a lead as to which one's the real one?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Bruce agreed, "or at least the best one we've got. Can we take it?"

"Of course. I trust you to guard it," he looked at Bruce fondly.

"Thank you," Bruce's eyes and smile are sincere as he shakes Thor's hand.

You pick up the Tesseract tentatively, putting it in your bag and looking back up at Bruce, whose handshake with Thor was still lingering. You hated to interrupt, but you two needed to go back to earth to fill your friends in if you wanted to solve this mystery.

"Shall we?" you asked, somewhat softly.

"Yeah," Bruce shook his head slightly, "Let's go."

You trailed behind Bruce and Thor as you made your way back to the Bifrost, thinking it over.

If the Tesseract you found on earth was the fake, then why would Hydra have a fake? And if the one that was currently in your bag was the fake, then why would they just leave the real one lying around while the Avengers stormed their base? And at any case, how did they manage to make such an accurate replica?

"Thank you, Thor," you said sincerely once you reached the end of the Bifrost. "We're going to figure this out."

"I know you will," he said, and touched your shoulder affectionately.

You said your goodbyes, and then, you and Bruce started to make the journey home, until suddenly you felt a force push you out of the Bifrost, and before you knew it you landed on dirt, rolling a few times, Bruce landing a few feet away from you.

Hurriedly getting up, you helped Bruce to his feet as well, before the two of you looked around to find yourself in the middle of what seemed to be a desert, but it was like nothing you've seen before.

The sand was orange, red, much darker than it was in deserts you've been to. You and Bruce landed in some sort of valley, surrounded by large dunes of the dark sand, creating a perfect circle around you.

"Have any idea where we are?" you asked, trying to keep your cool, "Or how we got here?"

"I-"

His words were cut off by the sound of a gun cocking behind you. Instinctively, you crouched down and spun around, sending your leg out, taking the man down with a kick to his ankles.

But it wasn't enough. Before you could fully get back up, you and Bruce were already surrounded by agents, and the fight quickly escalated into a hand-to-hand one, having to take on multiple agents at a time. At some point, Bruce hulked out, but even then, you were still fighting them all simultaneously.

You barely managed to take in the glint of a knife from the corner of your eye before the felt the sharp sting of it on your ribs, your hand automatically going to hold the wound. The man started running in the other direction, which was when you realized you weren't the objective of this attack.

Your bag was.

"Bruce!" you yelled, trying to get his attention, as you started trying to run after the agent.

But before Bruce could even notice you, a deep rumble sounded through the air, the prominent crackling of thunder. You turned around just in time to see Thor coming down from the sky, Mjolnir clad tightly in his fist, sending bolts of lightning at your enemies.

You turned back and tried to keep running, but you couldn't do it fast enough, the wound in your ribcage still bleeding, and soon, the agent disappeared from sight.

You were panting when the battle died down, a mere few minutes after Thor's arrival. You didn't turn around, even as you sensed Bruce and Thor approaching you from behind.

"I lost it," you said, still unable to meet their eyes.

"They took it," Bruce said gently. "Now, let me take a look at that wound."

Well, you thought, that's not how Steve's going to see it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You lost it?" Steve asked, his disbelief clear. His eyes were trained on you, a frown on his face.

"She got hurt trying to protect it, Steve," Bruce answered before you could. "We'll get it back."

Steve's eyes didn't waver from yours, even as Bruce spoke.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted to. You cleared your throat, continuing stronger, "I did everything I could."

"I told you, you shouldn't have gone out there," he sighed, frustrated.

"Really, Cap?" you asked, "is this the time for 'I told you so's? for a hundred-year-old that's really fucking childish," you said through your teeth.

"Watch it," he snapped, "next time, maybe if you listen to me you won't get hurt."

"If I'm that bad of a soldier, Captain," you spat out, "am I not dispensable to you? Why do you even care if I get hurt? I bet it would've been just the same to you if I died but you still had the Tesseract."

Your words rendered him speechless, and you turned to walk towards the med bay. Bruce offered you his arm, but the look you sent him made it very obvious you weren't interested in company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wound healed well. You and Steve were… civil, to say the best.

You'd admit your words that day you were back from Asgard were harsh. You'd even admit that to his face, if he'd change his attitude towards you. Which he didn't, so really, maybe he deserved to hear them.

Anyways, a few days after the Asgard thing, the wound was fine, and you had an idea.

"Hey," you asked Tony, who happened to be next to you at the moment, "what if we go ask Strange?"

"What?" he looked up from the robot he was currently tinkering with.

"What if we went to Strange to ask him about the Tesseract?" you repeated, "he'd probably know more than us about this stuff."

Tony wasted no time in calling a team meeting, in which you told the others your idea about reaching out to Strange.

"That's a really good idea," Steve said.

Taken aback, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he continued, "I'm coming with you."

Yep, it was way too good to be true.

"Why?" you asked, frowning. "I thought Tony would come, since he's already had a run-in with him before."

"Yes, but I think we can agree he's not the most diplomatic person out there," Steve smirked.

"I'm right here," Tony remarked dryly.

Steve paid him no mind and continued, "And besides, he's pretty much the only one except Bruce that knows enough to figure out Hydra's blueprints, and we still need all hands on deck in that front. So, I'm coming with you," he finished in a tone that left no room for argument.

You considered objecting anyways, but knew whatever you'd say would sound childish and tactless, so you simply nodded at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since the Sanctum Dr. Strange usually resided in was in New York, there was no need for Steve and you to take the Quinjet, but you did take a car from Tony's collection, which Steve drove. The car ride was filled with quite the uncomfortable silence, but at least it was better than arguing, right?

Small victories.

When Steve parked the car about a block away from the Sanctum, you both got out swiftly, blending right in with your civilian clothes, and making your way to the doorstep.

There, Steve knocked on the door hesitantly. You both listened, but there was no answer. You held onto the handle and managed to open the unlocked door easily. You exchanged a look with Steve, both of you on high alert, and entered through the door, Steve closing it behind you.

You both silently stood in the threshold, contemplating your next move. Eventually, you took a tentative step forward, and just then a red object whipped right in front of your eyes, making you stumble backwards, right into Steve. You quickly turned around to apologize, but before you noticed it the red fabric was wrapped tightly around your arms, holding them tight against your torso. Steve was in a similar predicament, and since the cape wasn’t that long, you two were left tied face to face and extremely close to each other.

You tried to wiggle out of the fabric's hold, but it was almost like it tightened with your every move, adjusting itself accordingly. You struggled against it, trying to move even the slightest bit, but it wouldn't budge. You sighed, looking up at Steve.

Oh my god, he was way closer than you'd realized. His wide frame towering over you, you swallowed dryly before you whispered, "What now?"

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps carried through the halls, and soon enough, Dr. Stephen Strange was descending down the stairs of the New York Sanctum to greet you.

"Hello," he said, his face indifferent, "I wasn't expecting you."

"Well, we weren't expected to get so… tied up, so that makes three of us," Steve remarked, prompting you to chuckle.

"Hello, Dr. Strange," you introduced yourself to him, "the Captain and I were wondering if you could help us with some… Tesseract trouble."

"Sounds awful," he smirked slightly. "Follow me," he started going up the stairs again and you exchanged a look with Steve. "Oh right," he gestured with his hand, and the red fabric detangled itself from the two of you, and turned out to be a cloak as it wrapped around Strange's shoulders. "I almost forgot," the man chuckled, "Now come on."

You and Steve exchanged another look as you rubbed your arm where the cloak dug into it a little, before following Strange up the stairs and into the library, where he offered you two chairs to sit in before sitting down in front of you. In the air. He was sitting down while floating.

Still less weird than the cloak, in your opinion.

"So," he started, "what, uh, Tesseract trouble are you having, exactly?"

Steve and you took turns explaining the situation to him, from finding a Tesseract in a Hydra base to losing the one that was previously in Asgard. Steve, to your relief and wonder, said nothing about it being your fault, but just said it wasn't in your possession anymore.

"So," you summed up, "we were wondering if you knew how anyone could manage to replicate the Tesseract this well, and how can we tell which one's the fake one. Without using them, of course."

"Well, those are great questions. I don't know of another way to determine if an infinity stone is indeed real besides taking the risk and trying to use it, so I can't help you with that. But as for the fake, I believe opening the Tesseracts will provide a good enough answer. You see, the Tesseract isn't that hard to fake. Might be a little expensive, sure, but some lights and plastic and you're set, and from what I understand Hydra isn't exactly struggling financially. But," he sighed, "you can’t fake an infinity stone. For most people, once you'll come in direct contact with it, you'll feel its power, and also its destructive properties."

"So the only way to know if an infinity stone is real is to risk touching it?" Steve asked.

"As far as I know of, yes," Strange nodded.

"Thank you," you said, "for your help. We sure get back to the compound, but we'll let you know if there are any big developments."

When Steve and you got back to the compound, everyone was already waiting for you, and you told them what Strange told you. Together, you all went to open the tesseract you had found in the Hydra base.

"Be careful not to touch what's inside," you warned, and Tony put of his Iron Man arm before breaking the side of the glowing cube, opening it to find…

A bunch of wires and lightbulbs. They didn't even try to make it look like an infinity stone.

"Well, the one in Asgard could've also been a fake," Natasha shrugged. "This doesn't really tell us anything. C'mon guys, we'll continue the search tomorrow," she touched your shoulder comfortingly before slipping away.

You were about to do the same when you saw Steve fidgeting with his sleeve, around where the cloak was wrapped around him. You walked up to him.

"You okay?" you asked, expecting him to brush you off.

"Yeah, I just think this cape held on a little too strong," he chuckled, removing his hand to reveal a stain on the fabric of his right suit sleeve, on you knew all too well was blood.

"Oh my god," you frowned. "C'mon, I'll help you clean it up," you gestured towards the med bay.

The walk there was brief and silent, and when you got there, you told Steve to sit down before ripping his sleeve enough to see the shallow wound.

"You don't have to do this," Steve said, as you looked for some gauze pad and wet it with water.

"I know," you said, "but since I'm the reason we needed to go there in the first place, I am doing this."

"You know it's not your fault, right? You couldn’t have known he'd have a magical cape that ties up people."

"That's not what I was talking about," you mumbled, before cleaning the wound gently.

Steve sighed. "I guess I do owe you an apology for the Asgard thing. I acted like a jerk. I'm sorry."

"No, you were right," you chuckled bitterly, "it's my fault we lost what might've been the real space stone to Hydra. You were just the only one willing to admit that."

"Well, I hope you know what you said about me then wasn't true. I care. You know, if you get hurt. And I wouldn't want anyone to die so I can have anything."

"I know," you said dryly, "you're too perfect for that."

You finished cleaning the wound and started bandaging it.

"That's not- god, I really do have a way with words, don't I? you probably hate me by now."

"I don't hate you, Steve," you looked up from his arm to his eyes, and he smiled at you. "Relax, it doesn't mean I like you all that much either," you smirked, prompting him to laugh.

"Yeah, that's fair, I guess. Thank you," he gestured to his now bandaged arm.

"Sure," you sent a small smile his way before walking away.

Maybe Steve Rogers wasn't that bad after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, scratch that, Steve Rogers was the worst.

The conversation actually started out civil. Nice, even.

"Hey, Cap," you started, "do you know if Bruce found anything on the wiring in the fake Tesseract yet?"

"Nope," he turned to face you.

"Oh. Well, thanks," you smiled, "I'll just…" you gestured at the exit, but he stopped you.

"Wait. Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Can you…" he gestured at the empty chair in front of him, and you sat down.

"About the whole Tesseract thing," he started, "I think you should consider sitting this one out."

"What?" you frowned.

"I just…" he sighed, "I think it might be better if you sat this one out."

"Steve, I found the Tesseract in the first place," you said, getting angrier by the second, "I'm not backing down from this."

"You found the fake Tesseract," he corrected, "and lost what might have been the real one."

"I thought you said it wasn't on me."

"It's not, but still."

"I don't get it, a few days ago you were telling me it wasn't my fault and now you're benching me because of it?"

"I just… you're clearly very invested in this-"

"Which is why I deserve to stay on this mission," you cut him off, fighting to keep your voice level.

"Which is why I think you should sit it out," he ignored you, "because you don't need to get yourself hurt for this."

"I'm an Avenger just like you," you snapped, "you might get hurt as well. So might everyone else. I don't get why I'm any different."

"I told you, because you're too emotionally invested," he insisted, his tone rising.

"Oh, you're benching me cause I'm 'emotional'? really? That's your excuse?"

"That's not an excuse, I-"

"No, tell me, Steve, what's your problem with me? Just spit it out, clearly you have one. What have I done to you to make you hate me?" you were yelling now, exasperated at his flawed logic.

"I don't hate you."

"That's all you have to say?" you scoffed. "You know what? If you're letting whatever your problem is with me to get in the way of the mission, maybe you're the emotional one."

The charged atmosphere was interrupted by Natasha's frame showing up in the doorway.

"Hey guys," she started, before looking between the two of you. "Is this a bad time?" she waited a second before shrugging, "Doesn't matter. There are sightings of suspicious activity midtown, we think it can be Hydra. We gotta move, be down in five," she stated, before walking down the hallway, leaving Steve and you alone once more.

"I-" he started.

"Let's go," you said at the same time, before simply turning away to go and suit up. You had a battle to win, no matter what he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So," Tony started once you were all on the Quinjet, "Here's what we know – Hydra is probably in the possession of the real Tesseract, since we just got word of people seeing a big aircraft over midtown. My guess, they wanted to test the new weapons out before using them on a larger scale," he said, "which is why it would be the best thing to stop them now."

You split up into groups, Tony, Wanda and Sam going after the aircraft, Bucky and Steve go one way on the ground, you and Natasha the other. Thanking every god you knew you weren't paired up with Steve, you and Natasha ran and turned into a large square, starting to point people away from the steady stream of Hydra agents that was coming your way.

You and Natasha were both fighting off the agents together, most of the civilians already cleared from the area, when suddenly, they just… stopped, all in unison.

"Avengers," a voice with a heavy accent boomed through the air, presumably from the aircraft, magnified by speakers, "I know what you're here for," the voice chuckled. "Come and get it."

All at once, the Hydra agents in front of you pulled out something from their bags, or the pockets of their jackets, and it took you a second to realize what it is – exact replicas of the Tesseract. Dozens of them, maybe even hundreds.

You looked over at Natasha, who was just as exasperated as you were. "We gotta break these things," she said, and you nodded in understanding, charging at the men and women with renewed energy.

Because this was your chance to fix what you broke, to make things right. To show Steve you're better than your mistakes.

That was the mantra that was going in your head, as you smashed Tesseract after Tesseract, even as you found nothing but wires, you kept repeating it – fix what you broke.

Slowly but surely, you and Natasha tackled and defeated more and more agents, moving closer towards where they were coming from – the aircraft, that was lowering more and more, sending out more agents, in a wave that seemed never ending.

Expect when you got closer, you noticed that there was a staircase going down from it. A staircase that at the top of stood a small an in old fashioned army clothes, holding, how not, a small, glowing cube in his hand.

Your vision zeroed in on him. You had a target.

Barely stopping to disarm the other agents, you quickly made your way through the crowd of agents surrounding you, until you were right at the bottom of the staircase. You looked up to see the man still standing on top, smiling at the chaos unraveling at his feet.

You decided to take advantage of the fact he hasn't seen you yet, and climbed the staircase from the bottom side, hanging on to creases and bumps, to keep the advantage. When you got to the top, you tried to swing yourself over the rails. You would've fallen down if a hand wouldn't have reached out, catching your arm and throwing you back on the staircase, right side up.

"Ah, the new kid," the man snickered above you, "I've heard about you. Were you really the one they sent here?"

"No one sent me," you hissed as you got up. "Now hand over the stone and it'll be much more pleasant for you."

"So much spite," he laughed, "but alas, I don't think I will, sweetheart."

"Whatever you say," you delivered a poignant kick to his knee, "sweetheart."

You tried to punch him, but this time he was quicker, avoiding your blow and landing one of his own on your shoulder. You shrugged it off and continued to try and pry the stone from his hands. The struggle was drawing attention, and Natasha yelled at you to watch out just in time before a Hydra agent from down there shot at you, only missing narrowly.

You continued to fight the man, who was stronger than he let on, considering he was fending you off with only one hand, but you also had getting shot to worry about, which was in his favor.

At last, you managed to knock the Tesseract out of his hand, and it fell to the ground in a shattering sound. Out of the broken pieces, there were no wires to be seen, only a stone.

Bingo.

You heard Steve shout something at you from far down, but you weren't paying attention, instead diving for the stone, grasping it in your hand, along with some shards of glass that cut you, but you couldn't care less, because this was it.

Fix what you broke.

You concentrated with all your might of the stone, its power almost physically throbbing in your hand, along with the excruciating pain, but you didn't care.

Fix what you broke.

Your breathing became labored, the pain near insufferable when you finally did it – opened a portal. You didn't know where it led, but the important thing is, it wasn't here. You threw the stone away with all the power you had left in you, praying it would reach so far you'd never see it again.

Fix. What. You. Broke.

Just in time, the portal closed, and you sighed gratefully. The pain was starting to take over now, your mind dancing on the edge of consciousness when you heard voices coming towards you. You wanted to tell them you were fine, but you found yourself falling to the ground, registering the pain of the fall before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up, your first thought was that the light's too bright. It felt almost like a hangover, but way worse, and

"I didn't even drink anything," you said, before breaking into a dry cough.

In a second, Steve was there by your side with a glass of water, holding it to your mouth. You took some small sips until you calmed down enough to remember that while no, you didn't drink anything, you did wield the power of an infinity stone, which means it's a miracle you're even alive.

So really, you should be thankful all you ended up with is an awful hangover. Of sorts. A magical hangover.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, breaking you from your reverie, and making you meet his gaze with yours.

"As much as I can be," you replied, your gaze falling to the blanket that was laid on you. "how long was I out?"

"About 18 hours," he said solemnly, "we didn't… we weren't sure if you'd wake up," he admitted, his voice dropping below a whisper by the end.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," you joked. Despite everything Steve put you through, for some reason you couldn't stand to see him this devastated.

"No, don't-" he sighed, "no one wants to get rid of you. Least of all me. Hell, thinking I'd lost you and it was my fault… hurt more than I could imagine."

"It wouldn't have been your fault, if I, you know," you shrugged, "that was my choice. I had to fix what I broke."

"No, you didn't," he insisted, his eyes snapping up to meet yours once more, "because you didn't break anything. None of this was your fault, and yet you fixed it, alone. You risked wielding the power of an infinity stone to keep earth safe, alone. You shouldn't have been alone."

"It worked out just fine. Besides, what difference would it have made, one more injured person?"

"If I was quick enough… I don't believe the stone could've taken both of us down."

"Us?" you smirked, "I didn't know we were an 'us'. But it's fine, I can deal with that, I guess," you shrugged, and Steve chuckled. You couldn't tell if you were imagining it, but it looked like the slightest of blushes was sprinkled on his cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a part of getting you back to normal, you started training again, moderately at first. But as you regained your strength, your training was almost as intense as it was before. Or maybe, even more intense.

You see, before that, you weren't training with Steve.

Since you didn't really get off to a good start, you'd always train with the others – Nat, Wanda, Sam… other non-super-soldier humans with a very human self-discipline, meaning that you could take breaks and chat in between reps.

Alas, those days were far behind you. I mean, not that far, that's just kind of dramatic, but you get it; you trained with Steve way more often and it was a nightmare.

You didn't know what standards Steve held for his other friends, but if he's like that with everyone then maybe it was better off not being his friend.

"What was that?" Steve asked, his eyes not moving from the timer, which looked comically small in his large hands.

"I said," you repeated between labored breaths and fast push-ups, "if you're like this with all your friends maybe I was better off not being one."

"Who said you are?" he shot back with a smirk, "and… time!"

You collapsed on the training room mattress, letting out a deep breath. "how much was that?"

"98 pushups in one minute," he stated, "not bad."

"Okay, Mr. captain super soldier," you breathed. "You know, maybe I should go back to doing these with Sam. A human being with normal people achievements," you sighed, faux-dreamily.

"I thought you wanted to get better?" Steve chuckled, extending his hand out to help you off the mattress.

"I'll tell him you said that," you smirked and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your touch lingered for the briefest of moments before you let go of his hand.

"Be my guest," Steve shot back, before taking a couple of sparring staffs off the wall, handing you one. An unusual technique in battle, but you found that practicing them with Steve provided a decent challenge to you both, since you were better with it than he was.

With both of you getting into a fighting stance, you started the match by dashing forward, trying to land one on his shoulder, but he quickly spun to the side, accompanied by a move of his staff that, fortunately for you, was a bit poorly aimed, thus only hit you in the arm.

You continued this back and forth for the next few minutes, one graceful move answered by a steady block from the other side, almost like a delicate dance. After a while, you felt yourself getting a little tired, and knew if you didn't end it now, he'd win.

And well, you just can't give him that kind of satisfaction.

You quickly planted your staff on the ground, using the momentum to jump up and wrap your legs around his neck, using your weight to push him down onto the mattress. You'll have to thank Natasha for that move.

His staff fell from his hand as he hit the floor, and you used your advantage to pin his arms above his head, making sure to lean enough of your weight on his torso so he couldn't move. You were both panting from the exertion of the fight, and you could feel a bead of sweat traveling down your back.

He smirked up at you. "Did Nat teach you that one?"

"Maybe," you raised your eyebrow in amusement. "But I executed it to perfection."

"You sure?" he asked, and before you could answer he broke free from your grasp, flipping the both of you so your torso was pinned below him, catching your arms the same way you did to him moments ago.

Breathing heavily, your tongue darted out to wet your lips. "Well, maybe not perfection," you murmured, "but I'd say I did pretty well. You're in nice shape for a hundred-year-old," you slowly grinned up at him.

"Just nice?" he mock pouted, not moving from his position above you.

"Yeah," you smirked, "from what I've seen."

"Well, maybe you've seen nothing yet," he suggested with a quirk of his eyebrow, his head lowering even closer to yours.

"Maybe," you said softly, standing your ground. His eyes were boring into yours, you could hear the shallow sound of his breath, feel it even.

Closing the distance between you was almost more impulse than an actual aware decision. Your lips met his soft ones, his momentum pushing you back against the mattress, your head hitting it with a soft thud you paid no mind to. One of his hands left yours, coming to cup your cheek as his tongue hesitantly entered your mouth, continuing eagerly when you let out a hum of approval, one of your hand sneaking around his neck and tangling in the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling slightly.

When you finally parted, your breaths were once again labored, but for an entirely different reason now.

"Okay, maybe you are in good shape," you rasped, shrugging as well as you could.

He chuckled before his eyes met yours. "You don't hate me," he stated incredulously.

"I already told you I didn't. I take it back, maybe old age is getting to you," you giggled.

He groaned lightly, making your laughter grow stronger.

Okay, so Steve Rogers wasn't the worst. Final verdict.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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bubsdolan · 3 years

Note

Woah!!! Part 2 to Reader getting in an accident after an arguement with Gray???

{part 1}

there were many moments in grayson dolan’s 21 years on earth where he felt incredibly blessed to have a twin brother, especially one like ethan. from being his best friend and number one supporter in anything, to sharing food and girl advice, learning and growing together and being grayson’s right hand man through life, he had never been more grateful to have ethan by his side in this moment.

that and the fact ethan had purchases a car that can exceed a speed of up to 199.5 mph, meant they wasted no time in getting grayson to the hospital to be reunited with you.

as he sat in the passenger seat, legs bouncing uncontrollably with fear and anxiousness, tears softly rolling down his cheeks, he clutched tightly to the stuffed animal in his hands. a sight for anyone who would laugh at a 200 pound man, crying and cuddling a teddy.

petal, your stuffed elephant, was a childhood teddy your mother had given you the day you were born. you never slept without petal, she was a third wheel in your relationship with grayson as she offered you the same comfort he did every night being away from family home. home was anywhere grayson was, but petal was also a piece of the family you left behind when staffing a new life with the man you loved.

grayson knew you better than anyone and he could guarantee that when you woke up, because he wholeheartedly knew you were- his strong brave girl and you couldn't leave him- that petal would be the first thing you would want to see as much as his angel eyes. the stuffed animal also brought grayson a sense of comfort and reassurance having her with him.

grayson didn't even allow ethan the chance to drive into the car park of the emergency room before he was taking off and sprinting to the reception desk. teddy in hand as he panted out your first and last name. shocking the nurse at his panicked state, dishevelled appearance and the continuous fidgeting on the heels of his feet.

“y/n-y/n y/l/n… she’s in a coma. pleas-please i need to see her. she needs- she needs me.”

“may i ask your relationship to the patient?”

growing impatient, grayson raises his temper to the next level. the longer he was kept away from you, the more agitated he became.

“my girlfriend is fighting for her life right now! i need to see her, i don’t have time for this!”

“bro-” ethan came running in, throwing the tesla in the first available space before jogging after his fragile brother and coming to be the calm, sensible one in this situation. “let me handle it.”

reluctantly grayson stood off to the side, his ears perking and eyes desperately following every patient being rushed through the automatic doors, every doctor or nurse walking past him with sympathetic looks. he hoped someone would tell him what's going on and where you were. the waiting game was torture, but it was only just beginning.

“they’re gonna take us to her now, c’mon.” ethan pulls grayson down the maze like corridors to where the receptionist who he had to apologise profusely for his twins attitude earlier, lead them to the room where apart of grayson was fighting for her life. fighting for his life. he was nothing without you.

ethan let grayson walk in first, accidentally colliding into the back of grayson as he stood frozen outside the door and mentally prepared himself for a sight he never wished to see. his breathing hitched as he took in the sight of you battered and braised. covered head to toe in a mixture of dirt, dried blood and bandages, as the only thing keeping you alive right now were the medical tubes swarming your precious body.

grayson felt his heart shatter into a million pieces inside him. he couldn’t help but feel tears well up in his eyes, imagining how bad your accident had been to the point where you were put into a coma and how he wasnt there to protect you like he has always promised. he pictured how scared you must have been, all alone and defenceless.

with rushed but easy strides, grayson was at your side before ethan even got the chance to thank the nurse and follow behind. not wanting to cause you any further pain or discomfort, grayson gently placed petal under your arm, keeping her close to your body and secure so you wouldn't lose her even in your unconscious state. with a shakey breath, he plants a soft kiss on yours then petals forehead, his own slient way of commciaing to you that he was there. that you had nothing to worry about because he was finally there to protect you.

“hey my sweet girl. im right here, im here and i love you. so much.”

“fight for me yeah? for us.”

grayson automatically took the seat next to your hospital bed, reaching forward to hold your hand kindly in his own as he vowed to himself he wouldn’t leave your beside until you woke up. no matter how long it was going to take. weeks, months, years, he was willing to wait for you.

grayson vividly remembered being told that the brain of a coma patient may continue to work. it might “hear” the sounds in the environment, like the footsteps of someone approaching or the voice of a loved one speaking. he made sure to continually talk to you about everything and anything on his mind. referencing back to the time you would take late night drives and talk about life hand in hand and contently in love.

when discussing your future together on a late night monty’s run, this definitely wasn’t how he envisioned it would turn out to be. what once was a shared dream, was now a shared nightmare.

“e’s here too.”

“hey squirt.” ethan felt stupid speaking aloud to someone who wouldn't respond to him, but the small smile it coaxed on grayson’s face, after hours of sadness, made it worth while. grayson always valued the sibling friendship you and ethan shared. he didn’t even pause for a minute to think about your accident had affected him also, until he hard the nickname ethan often uses to tease you.

swallowing the lump in his throat, grayson spoke up again.

“im sorry. im so fucking sorry. i meant nothing i said earlier, fuck im an idiot. i love you baby, always and forever.”

“we aren't going anywhere you hear me. you come back to us ok, show me those pretty eyes of yours baby. let me hear your laugh, let me see your smile, you gotta wake up for me- please wake up for me.”

grayson begged and pleaded with your unresponsive body. the sound of your heart rate monitor being the only sign you gave him as his eyes focused on your lifeless body. desperately hoping for so much as a flinch from you or a miracle to happen.

he caressed your hand slowly, continuing to cry silently as he looked over to you, feeling like this was all his fault. “i’m sorry” he choked out, resting his head down against the back of your hand. “this is all my fault. i’m so sorry baby.”

grayson wish you could say something back, even if it was to spite him and call him out for his outburst hours earlier. he just wanted to hear your voice again.

“grayson, none of this was your fault!” ethan was quick to jump to grayson’s defence, hating the way his brother was beating himself up over something that was out of his control. ethan feared how grayson would react if the worst case scenario of turning your life support machine off would happen. it didn’t bare to think about.

hearing a knock at the door, grayson wiped his tears quickly before turning to see the doctor was approaching grayson with a warm smile. grayson felt a sense of relief finally meeting the incredible man tasked with saving your life.

“here’s some personal belongings that they recovered at the scene. this seemed to be the only thing to survive the terrible ordeal.” he said, handing grayson an all to familiar box of the watch brand he had non stop being gushing about.

as the doctor made his swift exit, promising to return shortly and check on your progress, grayson opened the box to reveal the item that causes you to end up where you were right now. with no pieces of his heart left to break, grayson felt numb.

the engraving of the date grayson first told you he loves you, joined together by your pairing initials, elegantly graced the under face of the watch. he swapped his old one with the new, staring down at the jewellery on his wrist that held a brand new meaning from the simple pleasure of owning it, he planned to never take it off.

everything seem to make sense now. the guy in the scandalous photo become Crystal clear as he recognised him to be the gentlemen from his brief encounter when trying to surprise ethan with a housewarming gift. much like what you were doing for grayson. he realised it now, when it was too late.

you never cheated on him. you never betrayed him. never used him. he discredited the great lengths you went to in order to surprise him with his dream watch. his own insecurities and the fact he was easily manipulated by twitter fingers and his so called fans, may be the reason you never wake up.

was this watch the only thing to survive the accident? grayson was about to find out.

{part 3}

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early2000smovieimagines · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Napoleon Bonaparte

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Having worked at the Museum of Natural History for over two years, very little was capable of surprising you at this point. You’d come to expect the unexpected and you were almost always prepared for anything.

- Apparently though, there was still a few things that managed to catch you off guard: like your dear friend; and ex coworker, explaining that Ahkmenrah’s evil brother was trying to take over the world …or the fact that you’d wind up finding Napoleon Bonaparte of all people; or wax figures, …sort of attractive.

- Yeah... that was an interesting discovery....

- So, as the story goes, Larry informed you that the museum exhibits were in trouble and that he’d be traveling to Washington in hopes of saving them from whatever danger they’d found themselves in. With very little convincing, you’d agreed to accompany him and you soon found yourself facing off with Kahmunrah and his various minions.

- Which led you to this exact moment: standing cornered in a random room as Napoleon and his guards pointed weapons at you and; mainly, Larry.

- You watched silently as Larry and the man went back and forth, arguing about height and whatever other unimportant thing came up before you’d made yourself a little more known by complimenting the French mans plan.

- Whether you were being serious or merely taking the piss is unimportant, all that matters is that you’d made it seem as though you found the man to be impressive and that you’d directed his attention towards you …and boy did he like what he saw.

- He immediately walked over, putting on a smile and thanking you as he began to noticeably behave in a far more flirty way.

- Although it wasn’t entirely successful; particularly after he slid across the floor to question Larry about your relationship, it did manage to catch you off guard and get you just a tad bit flustered.

- But, just as soon as it began, it was over in a flash. The man forced Larry to come with him, interrupting you as you began to say that you were coming with them, telling you that their fight was not with you; which you would probably have considered to be quite noble in just about any other circumstance.

- Your story momentarily ends here but that isn’t the last time you encounter the Frenchmen. It’s only a few months later that the Museum of Natural History gets a few new guests....

- The first time Napoleon awakens again, he almost immediately encounters Larry; which neither of them are very happy about. What he is happy about is the realization that if Larry is here, there’s a very likely chance that you are as well.

- So; with forced nonchalance, the man asks about you.

“And your friend ...is she here?” He says slowly, looking around as though he expects you to show up at any moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s here. She works here so …you know,” Larry pauses. “She’s probably in her office …working. Downstairs …her office.”

- They stand in an awkward silence for a moment before they both excuse themselves and Napoleon goes off in search of you.

- He runs into you just as you’re coming up for a break, greeting you with a charming smile and a “Bonjour Mademoiselle”. And, for the first time since you first met, he properly introduces himself, kissing your hand and making it increasingly obvious that his interest in your love life was not merely a “French thing”.

- And though you should probably be doing whatever you can to get away from the wax figure with a questionable moral compass, you find yourself unable to. Instead, you stand and speak with him, making conversation until you really need to get back to work.

- But that isn’t the last time you speak with him …he makes sure of that. It seems as though you’re the only thing that really interests him in the museum and soon enough, you’re growing quite used to; and fond of, his growing presence in your life.

- It doesn’t take long for Napoleon to try and ask you out. I mean he conquered most of Europe; wooing a woman is childs play compared to that, right?

- Partially. While you do like him and admit that his French flirtation is tempting, you also know that you have to be reasonable and being reasonable does not include dating a museum exhibit who is only capable of coming alive at night with the help of a magical tablet.

- So the two of you play a game of cat and mouse where he flirts and you enjoy it but do your best to pull away when things start to get too heavy and you can feel the damning words approaching the tip of his tongue.

- You never let him get to the point of actually asking you out. You excuse yourself, you distract him, you change the subject, you do whatever you can to keep your head on straight.

- And it works, it works for a pretty good amount of time, but there's only so long that you can avoid the inevitable; especially when its obvious that you both like each other.

- So finally, the wax figure manages to get the words out, very romantically and suavely asking if you would be his, and though your mind is telling you that it really isn't a good idea, you cant help but say yes.

- He smiles and plants a kiss on the hand of yours that he was holding, telling you that he’ll meet you at your office the next night and the two of you say goodbye.

- Your first date is a stroll around the museum, talking and enjoying your newfound attempt at a relationship.

- You share your first kiss a week or so later after you have a few good dates and decide that you want to continue on with this out of the ordinary relationship.

- You’re sitting outside on the steps of the museum, looking out at the view of the city under the stars when he leans in and presses his lips to yours. You share a soft kiss before you pull away with a smile and scoot in closer to each other.

- After that, the two of you get to experience all the nitty gritty of relationships with each other.

- Napoleon isn't shy about his interest in and affection for you so pda isn’t a rare occurrence in your relationship. He adores you and he thinks that people should know that.

- His arm around your waist; depending on your height it’s probably the easiest place for him to reach.

- Keeping close to each other. He’ll oftentimes hold your hand or your elbow and stay right by your side, looking at you lovingly and listening to you intently.

- Knuckle kisses.

- Slow, romantic kisses.

- Him occasionally just laying one on you; particularly when he’s frustrated or overcome with another sort of powerful emotion. They’re always abrupt and passionate and wind up taking your breath away.

- He uses a lot of pet names on you; oftentimes ones that make you sound small or cute: things like my little darling, my little mouse, etc. He’ll also use a plethora of French terms of endearment on you since he doesn’t speak a whole lot of English.

- He secretly likes when you use pet names on him but he probably won’t admit it to you; he’ll just have a little smile on his face and a warm reaction to them whenever you happen to use them.

- Don’t even bring up the idea of him being the little spoon because he will never take kindly to it. He’ll always be the big spoon or have you resting your head on him regardless of how little sense it may make snuggle-wise.

- The two of you are only capable of seeing each other at night and only when you can get away from work or when you’re able to get night shifts so he likes being able to have a keepsake of you. More likely than not it’s a photo or note that you wrote him which he keeps in his pocket or hat.

- Bringing in little treats for him. He’s stuck inside a museum and his own waxy body most of the time, he’s bound to miss things from the outside world so it’s always nice when you surprise him with something no matter how small.

- Having him by your side whenever you can. He likes lazying around and just being in your presence while you work so you better get used to him.

- He’s always the first one to greet you when he awakens or as you arrive at the museum for your shift. He likes having that honor.

- Telling him about the outside world. He’s missed a lot so you’ll definitely need to fill him in on some current events. He’d also be rather interested in hearing about his impact on the world and how people view him; just try not to mention the complex thing too much.

- Learning about each others lives. He’s obviously going to have a lot more interesting stories but he never minds listening to yours; even if they’re really boring in comparison.

- Letting him brag about his military prowess. He’ll probably try to act all humble and modest in the beginning but will then start eagerly talking about it like you were begging him to do so.

- Hyping him up and making him all smiley with your compliments. He’s pretty approval driven so your praise and validation does wonders to his self esteem.

- His soldiers standing guard or interrupting you if something important is happening.

- His soldiers have also probably helped him execute grand gestures that he’s thought up for you.

- Trying to sneak him out of the museum and into your home every now and again.

- If you’re able to sneak him away for a night then he’d probably enjoy going to a quiet café or restaurant; somewhere the two of you can relax and enjoy some nice food away from the typical chaos of the museum.

- He’d definitely be the type of guy to order for you at restaurants; if you were able to go to restaurants. It’s really up to you if you want to spend your hard earned money and take the time to try to figure out a way to get him out for the night.

- Getting him to play little games with you. You have to do something to pass the time, right? And he’s secretly a bit of a pushover for you so it’s never very difficult.

- Using his telescope to look out the windows of the museum.

- Picnics in areas of the museum or right outside on the steps.

- Marching/strutting around the Museum. Something tells me that he’d walk around with his chin held high and his chest puffed out; as though he were still emperor.

- Romantic language; though he probably speaks in French when he wants to be all lovey dovey with you.

- Him looking you up and down. He’s fairly obvious about it but it’s up to you to know if you’d be able to pick up on what he’s doing.

- Get used to winking and borderline salacious facial expressions and gestures because they’re fairly common with him.

- Love letters.

- He’s old fashioned; partially because he’s just old, so chivalry and social etiquette is a big part of who he is; though it might only surface when he’s around you. He’s always on his best behavior whenever he can be and acts endearingly gentlemanly.

- Gossiping with each other.

- You having any Napoleon “merch”; for lack of a better word, would make him completely smug and he’d have no other choice but to tease you for it.

- Dealing with his overdramatic reactions and behavior.

- Making sure he doesn't get into trouble; or at least trying to whenever you can. Sometimes it’s just inevitable so you’ll have to do your best to provide damage control.

- Letting him handle his fights. It’s best to just sit back and let him deal with things sometimes; he likes thinking that he doesn’t need any help even when he really does.

- Ivan probably makes sure that you have only the best intentions for Little Nippy and once he likes you, he’ll feel the need to defend and protect you as well.

- Larry thinks you’re sort of crazy for wanting to be with a wax figure; particularly one who literally had a complex created in his image, but you just pay him no mind.

- Napoleon isn’t an incredibly jealous person, mainly because he’s not afraid to be direct and ask questions. If he thinks something is going on between you and another person, he’s going to interrogate them to see what their intentions are.

- But on that note: he does get jealous when you fawn over someone else; someone like a movie star, or show fascination in another exhibit; although it’s less jealousy and more him feeling insecure and wondering what they have that he doesn't.

- He isn’t particularly protective but he also has guards he can order to watch over you whenever he perceives there to be some form of danger. That being said: he’s immediately rushing to your side the minute he hears you let out any pained/frightened noise or hears that something might have happened to you.

- Given how sensitive he is, there’s bound to be a few arguments in your relationship. They’re never very serious but they still occur.

- He’s easily placated with an apology or an explanation but if you’re not in the mood to give one, it still wont take him very long to forgive you and begrudgingly admit that he may have overreacted.

- Napoleon tells you that he loves you quite a bit but he leaves it for when you’re alone or tries to say it quiet enough for the people around you not to hear. He wants people to know that you’re together, he doesn’t want them thinking he’s weak.

- Your relationship might not be the most conventional nor is it one that’s easy to keep up for years to come, but you know that you care about each other more than anyone can know and that's enough for you.

#napoleon bonaparte imagine #napoleon bonaparte imagines #napoleon bonaparte headcanons #napoleon bonaparte headcanon #night at the museum headcanon #night at the museum imagines #night at the museum imagine #night at the museum headcanons #battle at the smithsonian imagines #battle at the smithsonian imagine #battle at the smithsonian headcanons #battle at the smithsonian headcanon

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milkyway-writes · 3 years

Text

i’m not ready for that s.r.

pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader (anyone could read though)

summary: Even though Steve has been living in modern times for a couple of years now, he still finds himself not used to the present, especially when it comes to women. But when he meets you, an outspoken girl who completely embodies the kind of woman “he’s not ready for,” Steve is forced to reevaluate what he wants.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dry humping, unprotected sex, sex in a hotel room, a small age gap (but not mentioned much), probably some typos and/or bad grammar, disregard for card games and 60′s music

word count: 2,828

author’s note: This is my first time writing a fic! So, tell me what you think and if you’d like more stuff from me.

After waking up in a world filled with people dressed in unfamiliar clothing, using confusing language, and carrying around these tiny devices they called “phones,” Steve experienced the expected amount of disassociation. He said things which earned him weird looks, struggled to understand modern references, and sometimes secretly wished he could just go back to his own time.

But if anything, Steve Rogers was determined.

He kept a notepad to track the new things he learned and reviewed them in his spare time. He made an effort to listen to the radio and watch popular TV shows. Steve even managed to tailor his wardrobe to a certain degree. Except for the khakis. The khakis were essential.

Despite his acclimation and newfound understanding of the 21st century, Steve still struggled with women. And in all honesty, he doesn’t even feel that open to dating. He’s completely content with simply working and living his life, romance not much of a priority of his.

But Natasha keeps pushing it.

“What about that girl from accounting?” she says, “Laura, Lisa…”

"Lillian,” Steve answers, “lip piercing, right?"

"Yeah, she's cute."

"Yeah, I'm not ready for that.”

•••••

So, when you show up with a total disregard for authority, a smile that could fool the devil, and a snarky attitude all complete with a cute little nose piercing, Steve doesn’t quite know what to do with you.

Your words are much bolder than any woman he knew from the 40’s. You behave with a certain level of confidence and self-assuredness that it’s impossible to believe that you’re only in your twenties. And you don’t shy away from showing men up, never one to hold your tongue. Steve notices that you don’t mind interrupting people. You seem to get a glint in your eye each time he clenches his jaw after you’ve cut him off.

Everything about you is overwhelming to Steve.

Any time he tries to correct you, you scoff, blowing air through your plump lips. Always rolling those brown eyes in annoyance. (It makes Steve want to scream.)

Nothing is ever easy with you. There is always a rebuttal, or some type of teasing remark, or simply a look that tells him “you can’t tell me what to do.” It enrages him. Steve doesn’t think he has ever met a person who could find a way to fight him on every single thing.

Now, as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips, freshly-manicured nails on display, Steve wonders how he’ll ever manage to get through to you.

•••••

You hadn’t known much about Captain America before you’d agreed to work with him and Natasha when S.H.I.E.L.D. started falling apart.

You had been working for the agency for a while now, assisting in the capture of criminal individuals as a sort of immunity for your own crimes. Your skills were too valuable to waste, and honestly, they knew you’d escape any prison they put you in anyway. Despite this, you weren’t the most reliable.

You often took risks, and your youth raised a sort of concern amongst other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. No one trusted a girl whose main motivation to be an agent was to avoid prison. And because of this, Nick Fury did not bring you on for the Avengers Initiative right away. You needed time to grow, time to figure out your priorities.

For two years, you focused on your development, learning how to control your abilities and use them most effectively, and in the meantime, you only took on small missions. You were happy with this, so happy that when Fury began reaching out to you with the intent to bring you back on for more advanced missions, you promptly avoided them.

One quiet afternoon, you were feeling the soil of your succulent, trying to figure out if the plant needed watering when you got the call that Nick Fury was pronounced dead.

Immediately, your stomach dropped.

Your mind was racing as you rushed to the hospital, hoping that this was all some sick joke. A test. Something Fury had comprised to teach you a lesson.

Natasha noticed as you stood frozen at the door of the hospital room. Your heart ached seeing him lie there lifeless.

While you pretended that you didn’t care about him, Fury had always been important to you. He had given you a second chance when you didn’t even think you deserved it. He saw potential in you when others saw you as a delinquent. This grief, coupled with the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised, led you to agree to work with Natasha and her new friend, Steve Rogers.

•••••

Since the beginning, your presence had been an immediate concern to Steve. Along with your untamed attitude, he didn’t like the way you would make hasty decisions that left him wondering if you were still alive. He had to bite his tongue at your stubbornness. And each roll of your eyes pushed Steve further and further to the edge. After a while, he had had enough and pulled you to the side to express his disapproval.

You stare at him expectantly with your hands still on your hips, waiting to hear why he’s singled you out.

He lets out a breath, “these antics of yours have got to stop.”

You instantly laugh. Because he has to be kidding.

It takes everything in him to remain calm when you flash him a smile and saunter away, throwing a “oh loosen up, Captain,” over your shoulder.

He has to stop himself from watching your hips sway. He catches your wrist. “No. Not ‘loosen up.’ You need to be more responsible.”

“Well you need to understand that I’m not a soldier,” you yank your arm back. “I’ll follow your plan,” you offer, “but sometimes things don’t go as planned and we have to make adjustments,” you say, speaking slowly as if Steve’s a child.

He steps closer, now towering over your small frame. “Your ‘adjustments’ almost always result in dangerous situations.”

“Really?” You cock your head to the side, “Is that right?”

He narrows his eyes at you.

“So, this is coming from the man who jumped out of an elevator?” Your perfectly arched eyebrow raises tauntingly. “Right?”

You chuckle as he rolls his eyes. You don’t miss the hint of a smile in them.

•••••

You do eventually try to be more of a team player, sticking to the plan when you can. You figured you’d be working with them more often, so it was in your best interest to make yourself easy to work with. Your efforts don’t go unnoticed.

Steve is grateful that you don’t pull any surprises when the Winter Soldier makes his attack. The revelation that it was his best friend already enough to throw him off.

Surprisingly, when Steve decides to go after Bucky, you offer to join him and Sam. Your excuse being that you don’t trust two men to get the job done.

Honestly, you just didn’t want to go back to your life before. Working with Steve was exciting. He was exciting. The way he’d catch your eyes after you’d say something snarky made your stomach flip because there was a hint of a threat in them.

You enjoyed the way he wasn’t afraid to touch you. He liked to grab your arm and pull you to him when you didn’t listen. He’d once backed you up against a wall when he thought you weren’t telling him the full story pertaining to the mission. And while he was angry, you couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to have him take you right then and there.

You had come to terms with the fact that you wanted Steve Rogers. You just didn’t know if he’d want someone like you. You were aware that he probably hadn’t encountered many women like you in his past life.

•••••

While your eye rolls and sassy comments do remain, Steve finds himself enjoying your presence despite himself. The struggle between the two of you slowly morphing into playful teasing, teetering the line between that and sexual tension.

“How’d you end up here anyway?” Steve asks as he lays down an ace of spades.

You grimace and tuck your king of hearts back into your hand in embarrassment. “We’re on a mission, silly.” You giggle, the diamond in your nose catching the light.

“Mhm very funny,” he says. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You don’t say anything. The only sound coming from your breathing and the Solomon Burke song that’s playing through your phone speaker.

You hum along as you pretend to search your hand for a card to play.

Steve nudges your knee. You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t answered him or because you still haven’t put down a card.

“You mean how’d I end up doing this? Working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

He nods.

“It’s a long story,” you manage to let out.

“We’ve got time.”

You sigh and place your cards down on the mattress knowing you were gonna lose anyway.

“A while back, I lost someone…someone very important to me,” you say, “and all I wanted was to hurt the people who took them from me.” You glance up to meet Steve’s eyes, “one thing led to another, and I sort of lost myself. I hurt people in ways I never intended to, caused the kind of pain that,” you search for the words, “that I had always been so afraid to feel.”

“I was so blinded by rage,” you shake your head, “I just completely forgot my morals.”

You feel the bed shift, and Steve reaches out for your hand.

“Long story short, Fury offered me a job. Said I could use my skills for good. And next thing you know I’m going on these crazy missions and catching ‘bad guys,’” you say using finger quotes.

You sigh, “you must think the absolute worst of me now, huh?”

Steve chuckles, “no, not at all.” He pauses and his eyebrows crease. “It actually makes me respect you more.”

You let out a laugh, “well then, sir, you are most definitely twisted.”

He shrugs, “maybe I am.”

You notice that he never let go of your hand, and for a second you swear you feel a flutter in your abdomen. Lightly, you slide your fingers up his arm, tracing the veins. He doesn’t move or protest. Instead, he brings his other hand to rest on your knee. You look up at him as his hand moves from your knee up your thigh, gripping you firmly where your shorts end.

Steve looks at you for approval, and when you nod, he pulls you in by your hips and leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours.

You haven’t felt like this in awhile, and it takes a lot of strength to hold back a whine. Steve continues to tease you, only letting his lips lightly touch yours while rubbing circles into your hips under your shirt. Impatiently, you link your hands together behind his head, and when you grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, Steve finally leans in, letting his lips press against yours.

Almost instantly, you climb onto his lap, straddling him. The playing cards from earlier are hastily pushed aside as Steve scoots back, bringing you with him.

His hands find your hips again as he sucks on your bottom lip. You softly grind into him, causing Steve to groan into your mouth. He works to control himself. He hadn’t expected it to feel this way with you. So desperate, so needing.

You can feel his hardness through the material of his sweatpants, making your arousal even more apparent.

Steve leans down to kiss your neck. The feeling of his tongue makes you buck your hips, searching for some type of friction. His hand travels up your side and comes to cup one of your breasts. He runs his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden.

This must give him an idea as he moves to pull your shirt over your head. He grabs you again and takes your nipple in his mouth. You moan, continuing to grind onto him as his hands cup your ass. At this point, you’re sure that your arousal is leaking through your shorts.

Steve feels completely lost in you, your body setting him on fire and awaking something within him he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before.

He continues his assault on your breasts as you fight to control your arousal. You feel his cock twitch under you. “Please, Steve,” you say breathlessly.

“Please what?” He mumbles around your breasts.

“I need you.”

Those seem to be the words he needed as Steve promptly flips you over, roughly yanking your shorts down. He tosses his shirt off as you grab onto the waistband of his pants, urging him to take them off. He pushes you back on the bed, leaning over you. You feel his knee press into your cunt and let out a moan.

Steve grabs your face, kissing you sloppily, and trails his hand down your body. You nearly grind onto his hand as he places his thumb over your clit and rubs slow circles over it.

“You like that, honey?” He teases as he rubs you over your panties.

You nod, biting your lip.

He grabs your chin, “I said do you like it? Answer me.”

You cry out, “yes, Steve yes,” You whimper, “please I need more.”

He scoffs, “who would’ve thought to get you to act right, I’d just have to play with this pretty pussy?”

You let out a pitiful whine.

“Now you wanna be a good girl huh?”

You’re afraid you’re going to cum just from his words when he stops and drags your panties down so slowly that you want to scream. The smug look on Steve’s face makes your face burn. He’s enjoying this too much.

Once they’re off, Steve settles between your thighs, making you look him in the eyes before reaching his hand down and dragging the head of his cock from your folds to your clit. You moan as he gently taps it against your clit a few times and makes a comment about how wet you are. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he lines himself up at your entrance. Steve groans as he eases into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper.

He bottoms out, and you both moan. Steve begins to thrust, and you’re already so worked up that you know you won’t last long. He brings his hand down to rub your clit causing you to cry out.

His thrusts become more forceful. Your eyes close tightly, your sharp nails digging into his shoulders. He leans his forehead against yours, “I know you want it, sweetheart. I know you wanna cum.”

His words shock you but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core.

“Come on, honey, cum for me.” Steve says as he thrusts into you. Your walls spasm around his cock, causing him to groan into your neck. He never lets up on his thrusts though, continuing to slam into you as your first orgasm ripples through your body.

“You feel so good around my cock, baby,” he brings a hand up to lightly wrap around your neck.

You groan in response feeling your abdomen tighten once again.

You can tell Steve is close now, his thrusts becoming frantic and rushed. You clutch onto him as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. Your name falling off of his lips repeatedly in your ear.

“Cum inside me, Steve,” you plead, “I wanna feel you.” He groans at your words, and you feel his hand tighten around your throat. You look at him, and his eyes are dark with lust, you feel yourself clench around his length. The look he’s giving you fills you with a primal need. You plead one more time, pushing Steve over the edge. His thrusts begin to slow, the feeling of him filling you up is enough to bring about another orgasm.

You find it difficult to keep your eyes open. Sleep begins to take you, and you drift off with Steve guiding you to lay your head on his chest.

With one hand caressing the side of your head, Steve stares up at the ceiling of the hotel room, Nina Simone’s voice floating out of your phone.

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me,”

“And I’m feeling good.”

•••••

Initially, seeing a girl like you would have made Steve doubt himself.

But now, he knows he’s ready for you as he sits next to you holding your hand as you prepare to get your first tattoo.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x black!reader #black reader #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america x reader #enhanced!reader #steve rogers x enhanced!reader #captain america smut #chris evans

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