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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Never Too Late 2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (later in series)

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.

Note: Things are... going. But I’m doing my best.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was about time you started doing something. Past due, you’d say. Your body was screaming for it. You were no longer the college grad who could sit and eat potato chips to her heart’s desire. Or the thirtysomething in denial of the looming 4-0. No you had stepped upon the threshold and you felt and saw the changes which came with another decade.

And yet, the simple act was daunting. Your old beat up sneakers squeaked as you descended the stairs of your building to the street. You wore a pair of thin track pants you’d bought years ago on the unspent whim of a New Years’ resolution. Your sports bra was new and uncomfortable; the tank top a bit too tight for your liking.

You did your best to stretch outside. You kicked your foot up against the brick and lunged a few times forward and back. Your muscles were stiff from inactivity; from years of neglect; from time. You hopped in place as worked up to your departure.

You began at a slow jog. You reached the first corner out of breath.

You were old. Accept it.

You continued and wove your way to the park where few others paced themselves around the fountain and winding paths where happy owners walked their happier pets. Another breather as you gasped. The sweat gathered under the cotton shirt and created a humid tent in the pants.

You gripped your hips and stared ahead. Keep going. You pushed off your heels and bent your arms as you fought your way through the tension in your chest, the burn in your lungs, the ache in your knees. One day at a time, it would get easier. You hoped.

You wondered how you’d manage to fit in your new regime on workdays. A morning run would mean even earlier days; likely shorter nights. You’d have to make it work. You didn’t have another ten years to wait around; if you did, it might be too late to change.

You were tired. Of the years passing like second. Of the tedium. Of nothing happening. Of failed hopes. Of pointless relationships and temporary stability. You weren’t where you wanted to be and you’d likely never get there but there were other desires in life. Other achievements to be made.

Your mother could resent you for your singleness; your lack of familial bliss. She could not begrudge you entirely. Not if you bettered yourself. Not if you turned it around and tried. Not if you set aside your passivity for proaction. Because it was your life, not hers.

When you got back to your building, you were ready to collapse. The old elevator was still out of order. It’s old grated doors marked with an X of tape and a handwritten sign. You dragged yourself up the stairs and stumbled inside. You downed a glass of water and splayed over your single armchair. Your heart slowed as you flipped on the television and checked off day one in your newly downloaded app.

👟

Day two. Exhausted and still sore, you made yourself go. You had an hour before you had to be back to shower and ready for work. The day seemed even longer ahead of you. Eight hours at a desk in pain, dealing with the frustrated public. It was worse than you could imagine. Your night was spent with an ice pack and half-dazed.

Day three, four, five. A tic in your phone which barely felt worth it. Six almost saw you giving up as you ambled around work with splints in your calves. Seven, another day off, but you still had work to do. You pulled on your freshly washed track pants and a loose tee. The last days of summer approached but the heat had yet to relent.

You took your usual route to the park. You stopped at the entrance and stretched a second time. You found it was helping. The pain was duller, the aches less spread out. You set off and found your step. A week and you could already see the ounce of improvement. Well, inside more than out.

You measured your breaths as you neared the curve shrouded in trees; leaves still lush and aromatic. Soon enough, they’d darken and drop. Time was like footsteps. Each one forward took you further from where you were and yet you could feel like you were standing still or come to a startling stop that left you hurtling into the void.

Like then. Your worn treads slid over the ground as you collided with the unexpected runner coming your way. Your eyes had been above him, staring at the rounded tree tops and their sprawling branches. On the early morning hues that cast the sentinels in a placid mural.

You stumbled back, your hands reaching back to catch yourself but you never met the ground. Two thick hands caught your upper arms and steadied you. You looked up, both surprised and not by the face staring back at you. Both familiar and not. After so long in the city, the last two weeks had seen as many run-ins with Steve Rogers. More, now.

“You,” He smiled as he slowly released you, his fingers tickled your arms.

“You.” You echoed dully.

“Small world,” He chuckled.

“New York isn’t that small,” You said. “You must think I’m some weirdo.”

“Or maybe I’m the weirdo?” He ventured. “Didn’t peg you as a runner.”

“Wow, thanks,” You scoffed. “And I’m not. Well, wasn’t. New hobby.”

“New?” He raised a brow.

“One week,” You shrugged. “Not much and I’m sure once it’s cold, I’ll go back to my sloth,” You said. “Uh, sorry about… wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not at all. Neither was I.” He smiled.

“Well, I, uh…” You looked past him, “Have a lot to go.”

“Can I join you?” He asked. You squinted at his eagerness.

“Weren’t you going…” You pointed over your shoulder.

“I just do circles,” He said. “Doesn’t really matter which direction.”

“I’m not very fast.”

“It’s not a race.”

“Alright,” You threw your hands up, just wanting to get it over with. “But if you feel like leaving me behind, don’t think it’ll bother me.”

“Come on,” He turned so he faced the same direction. “It’s always easier with company.”

You exhaled and righted yourself before you fell back into a jog. He kept pace beside you. You could smell his sweat. You tried to keep your breathing quiet.

“I used to run with my pal Sam but… he joined a gym.” He said. “So, new hobby?”

“Hobby is putting it… nicely,” You huffed. “More like trying to make up for my own laziness.”

“It’s never too late to make a change,” He preened. “You got any other hobbies? Maybe something you enjoy more?”

You glanced at him. Your chest hurt but you didn’t want to slow down.

“Cross-stitching? Tetris?” You offered. “Nothing special. Just… life.”

“How’s work?” He asked.

You were silent as you kept running. You listened to the sound of your foot falls as your breath came faster.

“I--” You came to a stop and turned to him as you touched your side. “Forgive me for being a bit--confused but--” You gulped. “Don’t you have friends? Super friends?”

“Co-workers,” He said and his hands went to his hips. “Oh, maybe you already have enough friends then.”

“Look, I’m forty, I work the same job I had sixteen years ago, I live in a box, and I’m falling apart,” You shook your head. “Not many people are trying to be my friend. All my friends have families; obligations.”

“Well, it sounds like we have a lot in common,” He grinned. “So we should be great friends.”

You frowned. His optimism was irksome. His refusal to be rebuffed more so.

“Friends?” You repeated darkly.

“Maybe just running buddies?” He suggested. “I do get a bit lonely out here with just the chipmunks.”

“Steve.” You uttered.

“And I think you need someone to keep you on the right path, hmm? I’ve been told I’m a great motivator. Bit of a hard ass but I’ve got a talent and I use it.”

You considered him. He was right. An app wasn’t going to keep you going forever. Already, you were tempted to drag the little icon to the bin. Already you were tempted to sleep in. Already you were succumbing to failure.

“You sure?” You asked.

“What time do you usually run?”

“Well, weekdays, I head out at six, back home at seven, then off to work,” You explained. “Weekends I get an extra hour of sleep.”

“Alright,” He turned and set off. You followed. “I can’t promise every day. Lots of work out of town but weekends at least.”

“You really don’t--”

“Maybe if you start saying yes, you’ll find what you’ve been looking for,” He intoned.

You grumbled and pressed your lips together. He was right. You hated that he was. Something about this man both intrigued and disturbed you. He was kind but with a hint of pushiness. You just couldn’t decide if his insistence was merely clueless or something more deliberate.

👟

Another week and the mornings were easier, though the days continued to drag. Steve met you again on Monday and Tuesday but Wednesday he was gone. You didn’t mind so much but he returned on Saturday. He waited for you at the park entrance, a wrapped box in his hand. You were curious but not nosy.

You slowed as he greeted you.

“Hey,” He smiled. “I didn’t realise until after I’d gone that I had no way to tell you I’d be away.”

“It’s fine.” You assured him. “Think I managed just fine on my own.”

“Work,” He said. “But a quick mission so I can’t complain.”

“I saw you on the news,” You looked towards the fountain that stood further inside the park. “I figured.”

“Still, I think maybe… I’d like a more direct line.” He pulled out his phone as he kept the box under his arm.

“Are you asking for my number?”

“In case anything happens,” He said. “I mean, we’re not strangers.

“Sure, but…” You wetted your dry lip with your tongue. “Okay. Um, I don’t have my phone on me but I can give you my number.”

“Great, I’ll text you.” He unlocked his cell and carefully keyed in your details as you recited them. He replaced the phone in the strap around his bicep. “There. Your very own on-call hero.”

“Right,” You nodded slowly.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed the box from beneath his elbow. “Happy belated birthday.”

“What? Uh, I can’t. You already--”

“A cake? Really. Everyone should have a cake on their birthday.” He held out the gift. “And presents too.”

You looked at the small square box. You chewed your lip and shifted your weight on your feet.

“It’s really nothing special.” He urged. “If you’re wondering, July fourth,” He pointed to himself. “So you’re in the clear.”

“Steve--”

“I already got it and… it’s not really my colour,” He shoved it closer. “Please.”

You slowly took it as you gave a quiet thank you. You carefully slipped a finger in the crease of red wrapping paper and tore it open. A dusty pink smart watch shone back at you. You blinked and looked up at him.

“The guy at the store said you sync it with your phone and it can count your steps and all that. Send you reminders.” He rubbed his neck. “I thought it would be useful. Especially when I’m away.”

You tilted your head at him then looked back to the clear plastic window of the box. It was expensive, you could tell.

“It’s… a lot.” You said.

“It’s a gift. It’s not about the price tag,” He shrugged. “Come on. Try it on.”

You scratched your hairline and muttered. You went over to a bench and sat as you worked at opening the box. You took out the watch and admired its round face. He offered to do it up for you and you turned your wrist over. He secured it and you held up your hand as you looked it over.

“You like it?” He asked. “They had gold but I liked the pink.”

“Nice color,” You affirmed. “I guess… I guess I can use it.” You lowered your arm and hid the watched with your other hand. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. It’s what friends do,” He stood and gathered the packaging. “You don’t need all this, do you?”

“No,” You stood. “Thanks.”

He tossed it in a bin surrounded by hedges and you neared.

“Well, should we get going?” He asked.

“Yeah. Maybe an extra lap today?” You said. “Push myself a little.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader smut #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #series #never too late #mcu #marvel #captain america

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gansey-just-gansey · 5 years

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Under the Needle part Three

Ronan let out a slow breath as the pain of the needle built and moved over his spine.

“You good? Need a break?” Adam asked.

“Keep going,” Ronan commanded.

Adam wiped away excess ink from Ronan's back before leaning over and continuing the line he had been tracing. He wished Ronan would just give in and ask for a break because Adam could use one as well. His muscles were stiff from sitting in this position for so long. He longed to stretch and work out the kinks in his joints, but if Ronan could sit through three and a half hours of unrelenting needle poking, Adam could at least suffer some stiffness.

“It looks good on you, Ronan,” Gansey said, coming to inspect Adam's work. Adam had thought 'Gansey' was a weird name, but it was the only one he would give. He had paid for his own tattoo in cash that he had on hand (who just carries that much cash on them?) so Adam couldn't even ask Noah what Gansey's first name was.

Ronan grunted, keeping his mouth shut. Adam could tell that he was grinding his teeth and tried to speed up a little, but there wasn't much he could do without sacrificing the quality of the art. He wiped away some more splattered ink and continued.

Finally, after another forty-five minutes, Adam finished the section he had outlined for this session.

“Sorry that went a little longer than expected,” Adam apologized while stripping off his black latex gloves and tossing them in the near by trash can.

“It's fine,” Ronan said, standing and stretching. “How's it look, Gansey?”

“Positively perfect,” Gansey answered. “It's flawless.”

Adam retrieved a handheld mirror from the front desk and brought it to Ronan so he could check it out in the reflection of the big mirror hanging on the wall.

“You're right,” Ronan said after staring in the mirror for a long minute. He looked Adam in the eyes. “Flawless.”

For some reason Adam couldn't quite understand, hearing that from Ronan made Adam's face heat slightly and he was sure his ears were pink. Probably because Ronan seemed like the type that was hard to please. Succeeding in that made Adam flush with pride.

He cleared his throat. “I'm glad you like it.” He beckoned Ronan over to the front desk so he could pay. Ronan was already pulling out his wallet. “Let's call it six hundred.”

Ronan looked up. “You said four thousand for the whole thing. I owe you eight.”

Adam shrugged. “Six will cover it.” He had no idea why he was fighting to get less than he quoted Ronan. Usually he had to argue with clients when it ended up costing more than originally quoted.

Ronan shrugged. “What's your last name?”

“Parrish. Two R's.”

He wrote out a check for six hundred and handed it to Adam.

“All right, let's schedule your next appointment for two weeks from now and we'll see how you're healing. If it looks good, we'll start the next session,” Adam said, skipping through the day planner to find an empty slot for him. “Looks like I can do Thursday or Saturday that week.”

“Let's do the Saturday, I don't know what my class schedule will look like yet,” Ronan said. He looked almost angry about it.

“Okay, let's do noon then?”

“Works for me.”

“Let me get you bandaged up. Keep it on for hour or two and then wash it with antibacterial fragrance free soap. Use Aquafor on it three times a day for three days. After that you can just use any fragrance free lotion on it. Three times every day,” Adam instructed.

“Three times daily,” Ronan nodded. He let Adam dress his tattoo and then pulled his shirt over his chest.

“Yup, you got it,” Adam said. “Feel free to call or drop by if you have any questions.”

“See you in two weeks then,” Ronan replied as he Gansey started to leave. As they passed the front desk Ronan reached into his pocket. “One more thing.”

Adam raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Ronan pulled out a huge wad of money. Who were these rich kids?

He counted out a couple of bills and slapped them on the desk. “Your tip.” Then he left.

Adam went to the counter. Four hundred dollar bills. “What the fuck?” he asked Noah and Blue, holding up the money for them to see.

Blue laughed. “Someone has a crush.”

“I wasn't going to say anything, but yeah, definitely,” Noah chuckled. Adam shook his head, but his ears turned pink in embarrassment.

“Whatever,” Adam mumbled. “Help me cash out for the day.”

….

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Ronan asked.

“You tipped him sixty six percent,” Gansey said.

“No, he under charged me. I owed him two hundred extra and then I tipped him twenty five.”

“Seems like there was more to that,” Gansey said in a sing song voice.

“Shut the fuck up before I throttle you.” Ronan reached to scratch the back of his neck.

“Hey, don't do that.” Gansey smacked his hand away. “Noah said no scratching. It'll mess up the lines.”

“Whatever,” Ronan snapped. “Just take me to the admissions office.”

“They're closed on weekends. But we can go on Monday,” Gansey said gleefully. He hadn't asked why Ronan had suddenly decided to attend Gansey's university, but Ronan got the feeling he already knew.

“Fine. I have to tell Matthew I'm signing up.” Gansey gestured at Ronan's phone as answer. He pulled it out and sighed. Then he dialed Matthew's number.

He answered on the second ring. “Ronan! Thank God you called. Declan was starting to get worried about you.”

Ronan barked out a laugh. “Declan isn't worried about me. He's worried about the family name.”

“He is worried about you,” Matthew insisted.

“Did you tell him where I was?”

“Nope,” Matthew sounded proud. “I didn't tell him anything. He didn't call Gansey did he?”

“No.” That was proof enough of Matthew's silence. “I have to tell you something.”

“Do I have to keep it secret from Declan again? It was so hard this time,” Matthew complained.

“No, actually, he should know too.”

“Ooookay,” Matthew drew the word out slowly.

“I'm applying to Gansey's school.”

“Really? You're going to college?”

“Yup.”

“THAT'S SO AMAZING!” Matthew yelled into the phone. Ronan pulled the phone away from his ear until it seemed safe to bring it back.

He could hear Declan in the background. “What are you yelling about, Matthew?”

“RONAN IS GOING TO COLLEGE,” Matthew screamed. Ronan had to take his ear away again.

Ronan waited until Matthew and Declan were done to talk. “I'm going to talk to admissions on Monday and then I'll be back to pack my shit.”

“I'll start for you!”

Ronan chuckled. “Thanks, kid. I'll see you probably Tuesday, maybe Wednesday.”

“See you.” Matthew hung up.

“They excited?” Gansey asked.

“Matthew is, at least.”

“I'm sure Declan is too.”

“Yeah, probably. Happy I'm not bumming around the farms,” Ronan said, referencing his family home.

“Happy you're doing well for yourself,” Gansey amended.

“Signing up for college is not equal to doing well.”

“That's true, but I really think this will be good for you.”

“Well don't get too attached to the idea. It's just one sememster. If I even get in,” Ronan said.

“They'll let you in,” Gansey said confidently. Ronan knew that meant Gansey was planning on bribing whoever he had to in order to get him in. He would let Gansey, because for the first time in a long time, Ronan actually wanted something, in a real way. Not necessarily to go to this school, but to see Adam. He could have just visited Gansey every couple weeks, but Ronan wanted to stay close to Adam.

I might as well get something productive done while I'm waiting around, he told himself.

Even he didn't believe that.

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