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folkloreguk · 3 years

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an angel for a demon (3)

A/N: Here's the last part of this small series! You don't necessarily need to read all of them to understand this one, but it does probably make more sense if you do. As always, feedback is deeply appreciated! Have a good day x

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), demon!bias, angel!reader, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), reader gives her first bj

words: ~ 6.7 k

PART1 (M)

PART2 (M)

“I’m going out to pick up some food and stuff, do you want to come along?” you heard him ask. You had your legs up against the wall, your back on the bed, and a magazine in your hands. The women on the pages had you gushing, on the verge of hypnotization. You swore if you looked at those infatuating pictures one minute longer, you’d be swallowed whole by them.

When you had worked your way through some science books and were still hungry for more to read, H/N had brought you some magazines, mostly about fashion but also gossip and lifestyle tips. Turns out letting a clueless angel read about what’s supposed to be good for women was not a smart idea. Up in the clouds, from where you used to watch earth’s women, they had all looked equal to you – beautiful, intelligent, and capable. Now, down in the reality of it all, things appeared much more complicated. Which angel could have known it took diets, workout routines, anti-aging creams and the perfect outfit for your body type to be viewed the same way you had always looked at women from above? And most importantly, how did any woman manage to uphold all these expectations the magazines named? It was all too much and seemingly impossible. Abruptly, you were pulled out of your train of thoughts.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” he asked, peaking his head through the door. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, putting down the magazine on your chest. “No, I’d like to stay here.”

“Alright,” he said, “Would you like me to bring you anything from the store?”

He walked over to you and sat on the bed. His hands softly brushed over your hair, down your cheek and neck, barely touching your collarbones. He was in his black, intimidating clothes, per usual, but his eyes held nothing but fondness for you.

“Actually, maybe there is something,” you said. “Look.”

You picked up the magazine and pointed at the page.

“Can you buy me a dress like this one? They say it would fit me best. And could you get some makeup for me? I don’t know much about it, but maybe you-“ you said. Usually, he was one to listen carefully to every of your words, as if you were the most interesting person he had ever met. This time, he interrupted you.

“Stop. Where is this coming from?” he asked. “I want you to forget all those things you’ve read in those magazines, okay?”

You were confused, thinking you were learning by reading those articles. Gently, he caressed your face. “You know I’ll buy you anything in the world, right? But only if that’s what youwant. Everything they tell you to do, everything they tell you to buy, it’s brainwashing. You will wear whatever dress you find pretty, and if you want to wear makeup, that’s fine. But you will only do those things if you want to do them, okay? There’s nothing you need to change about yourself.”

“But they say you need to start early to get a nice body, and to prevent aging,” you said. “They say men will admire me.”

“We’re immortal, my angel,” he said. “And even if we weren’t, what’s wrong with growing old? Wouldn’t you want the traces of your experiences to be visible on your skin? Those companies, they all just want your money and so they try to scare you into believing you’re not good enough. But truth is, you always are. All those times people tug on their skin in front of a mirror, or whenever they break a sweat trying to lose weight, or when they compare themselves to those who look different from them – they’re already good enough. They’re perfect. This worlds wants you to never be at peace with who you are. But you need to promise me you won’t succumb to those nonsensical tactics to make you hate yourself. And don’t you ever wait for a man to give you approval. That’s your job and your job only.”

You listened, wide-eyed and intrigued. No magazine could ever speak so honestly, and you believed every word he said. After all, you trusted him much more than some random author of an article that was trying to sell you the latest weight loss-magic-powder.

“Okay, I promise.” You sat up and leaned your head against his shoulder. “I’ve never even really thought about it, but I think I’m pretty.”

“Not thinking about it might just be the best way to go about it in this world,” he said, and placed a kiss on your forehead. The feeling of warmth lingered on your skin seconds after he had already pulled away.

“I change my mind, then,” you said, “Do you think you can get me a dress like this?”

You showed him a different picture this time. It showed a lot more skin than the one you had pointed out before. You only realized this when he was already smirking at your choice.

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said. “That’s an interesting option, angel.”

“Hey! I just like the color, alright?” you defended yourself, making him chuckle. Over the course of four weeks, you had come to know his insinuations and his little jokes better. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny the incredible sensation his eyes on you gave you. When he goggled at you because you had decided to wear his shirt for a day, or the way he watched you welcome him with open arms when he came home.

You now understood that certain words or actions, or even just an article of clothing – or lack thereof – could conjure an insatiable hunger in his eyes. At first, it was a little scary, having a demon stare you down as if he wanted to eat you up. But now that you knew what his hands felt like on your skin, and that his lips were made for much gentler actions than to hurt you, you wanted nothing more than to coax the starving demon into playing with you, any chance you got. And perhaps that dress in the catalogue would do just that, and not only bring you joy. It was a win-win, really.

“I’ll be back in the afternoon,” he said. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“You know I always do,” you said.

“I’ll give you all the missed attention when I get home, alright?” he said, bending down to your ear. “You can have whatever you want, then.”

To be honest, half of the time you didn’t know what you wanted him to do. But with every time his hands explored your body you learned more. There were so many things humans did to make each other feel good, you doubted you’d ever be able to try everything. His promise made you wish he was already back home when he had barely stepped out of the door. One last grin and nod and he left you alone.

What did angels do on a Saturday noon? Usually, you’d be patrolling your village, entertaining yourself by watching children play tag, admiring lovers walking hand in hand or discovering a family that had just adopted a small animal. Their human eyes shined when they felt happiness, and it was infectious to you. You wanted to send your blessing to all of them, make sure they never felt anything but delight, but you knew that wasn’t how business worked down there. Some things were even out of your control. Now, on earth, you were ready to take whichever hardships were to come if it meant you could have been with your demon lover.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You had only gotten up an hour ago. Last night, you had been kept awake for long. He was untiring when he was between your legs. You had learned that he didn’t need nearly as much sleep as you did, and when he set his mind to making you come by his administrations, he didn’t waver to do so. But losing sleep in exchange for pleasure was okay with you. Time became meaningless, either way, when you had your face buried in a pillow, tears threatening to spill over from how good he made you feel. Sometimes he made you come while sitting in his lap, then you’d cling to him like a baby and muffle your whimpers by pressing your lips against the skin of his shoulder. He loved telling you ‘Look at me’ right when you were falling. It was hard to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head or not to collapse in his arms, but for him you would try your best. Often you found your thoughts lingering on the memory of his gaze when you came apart under his touch. It had something of fascination and protectiveness, and you’d never get enough of it.

Great, now you wanted him again. And he wasn’t here. How had you gotten this way? On occasion you wondered if one of the other angels had already spotted you and the sins you were committing. You wouldn’t call them sins now, or ever again. It wasn’t like you wanted to adapt to a demon lifestyle. But you felt at home for the first time, here on earth. It was the perfect grey zone between heaven and hell.

As an attempt to appease your needy mind, you picked up your magazine again. Just because you shouldn’t believe everything they said didn’t mean you shouldn’t have read it at all, right? You flipped through articles on fitness and the newest fashion, but after skimming the pages for only a few seconds, you were done with those tips. He wanted you because of who you were – an angel – and you doubted than any beauty routine could make him more obsessed with you than he already was. But then you read something most curious to your angel eyes. ‘How to make him feel best – tips from a porn star’ the title said. Whatever in the heaven a porn star was, they seemed to be some sort of expert on pleasuring men, and you, always eager to learn something new, were intrigued from the very first word.

But soon you had to admit, you weren’t at all sure what they were referring to with those words and actions. When you and your demon boyfriend had sex, he usually did most of the work, while you took whatever teasing or pleasure he inflicted on you. He had said he liked it this way, but now you weren’t so sure. Or was this ‘10 things to do become a blowjob-pro’ – list just another attempt of society to brainwash women? You weren’t one to initiate talk about sexual stuff, but maybe you’d try to question him on the meaning of what you had read.

You flipped another page and finally you had arrived at a page you could work with. It was a bunch of comfort food recipes. Right away you fell in love with the picture of the freshly baked cinnamon rolls in the top right corner. H/N had promised you to teach you how to cook, but so far you hadn’t made much progress. The difficulty level read beginner, and five minutes later you stood in the kitchen. With some music in the background your enthusiasm only sparked more. Baking was new and came with slight overwhelmingness and the stress of making sure you weren’t forgetting to add any ingredient. But the Christmassy scent of cinnamon and the feeling of making something from scratch made you happy, and with rapt attention you finished your first completed recipe ever.

You wiped some flour off your forehead. Hopefully H/N would like the cinnamon rolls too, because as tasty you found your creation, there was no way you were able to devour them all by yourself. As if on cue, you suddenly heard the key slide into the lock of the front door. Probably prompted by the heavenly scent, he called your name.

“Here,” you answered, mouth full of a bite of cinnamon roll. When he walked in, he already had his famous smirk on his face. It was your favorite. You knew it was reserved only for you.

“What did you make?” he asked. But he had his answer when he saw the baked goods in front of you. He set down the bags and put his arms on your waist from behind. With a hum, you lifted the cinnamon roll to his lips, and he took a bite. He almost moaned at the taste and you grinned.

“Do you like them?” you asked, already knowing the answer but still awaiting more praise. You squealed a little at how quickly he spun you around. His nose touched yours and your heartbeat raced.

“It’s like they came with you straight from heaven,” he said. “Hmm…I missed my angel.”

His lips when he kissed you tasted like sugar and spice and you melted straight into his touch. You only noticed he had run his finger over the gooey leftover icing when it was already too late. He was a demon after all. And if demons were good at one thing, it was causing mischief.

“Hey,” you protested at his hands on your neck. Then your reaction quickly altered as his finger slid lower, down to your collar bones and to where your low-cut shirt started. “Great, now I’m all sticky.”

You didn’t understand at first that messing with you wasn’t his full intention. But he tilted his head to the side and ran his hot tongue over the icing on your skin, and you gasped suddenly. This wasn’t just a joke. He wanted you. He made a humming noise, as if the sweetness combined with your own taste were only complimenting each other. When he pulled down the neckline of your shirt a little, so he could have every last drop of the sugary substance on your skin, you couldn’t help but whimper. You wanted so desperately for him to do it again, that you thought about sticking your own fingers into the bowl of icing and smearing it on your chest. His eyes were playful when he looked up at your reaction.

“Oh no. If you’re all sticky I guess you’ll need a shower, will you?” he said, “What a coincidence. I was thinking of taking one, just now.”

You had never taken a shower with him, or anyone, for that matter. But you had a feeling that the both of you wouldn’t be keeping to yourself, standing naked in front of each other. You didn’t mind. And you guessed your approval was written on your face, because he pulled you in and kissed you hard. Again, you remembered the article you had read. Was now a good time to ask him about it?

While you were contemplating, his tongue slid over your bottom lip and met yours. You had been too shy to ask before, but now you were speechless. Gently, he grabbed your hand and led you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. You were a mess of lips and tongues and hands and feet stumbling over each other. Every few meters you stopped to push yourself close against him. It was like a game of who could go without kissing each other for longer. And you were both lousy at it.

He loved pushing you up against the wall, trapping you between his arms on each side of your head. This way, he could brush up against your shaking body and you had nowhere left to go. Needless to say, you had no intentions of getting away, no matter what. He knocked the breath out of your lungs, and you kissed him back like you could breathe him in instead. As if he had become your new source of oxygen, or whatever it was you really needed to survive. It these moments, air seemed like a subsidiary matter. So long as you had his hot tongue licking down your neck and his busy hands on your ass under your dress, nothing else truly mattered.

Your kisses were open-mouthed and far more confident than they had been only weeks ago. You now knew how much he liked when you grabbed his hair tightly, or when you whispered his name against his devouring lips, as if it was the only word you had ever been taught. Like it was the only word you ever wanted to know. Before you had even made it to the bathroom, half of your clothes were scattered somewhere along the way.

“I can’t believe I just had you yesterday and here I am already missing you this much again,” he mumbled against your earlobe, teeth playing with your soft skin. “You really are otherworldly. There’s no other explanation.”

His words made you feel proud. The pleasure was one thing you had come to love quickly, but then you noticed the power you could have over him, by merely existing. It was almost unbelievable, but there he was, hard and needing you, day by day. Again, your mind wandered off to the magazine article.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice must had been different from your usual timid tone when you were in the middle of something unholy.

“Anything, angel,” he said. He let his lips linger on your cheek, half an inch from your mouth, and your stomach twisted in how badly you wanted him to sip on your lips like he was starving.

“Do you like always doing everything when we- ,“ you said. He gave you a puzzled expression, so you tried to explain yourself better. “I mean, if you ever want me to do more, you can ask me to. I don’t know everything yet, but I can learn.”

You weren’t even sure if you understood what the heaven you had just stammered. His look reminded you of the one he had when you asked him to buy him the dress and the makeup that morning.

“I love what we have, little angel,” he said, “What’s making you think you need to do anything differently?”

How were you supposed to explain what you had read when you hadn’t even properly grasped it yourself? You opted for taking his hand and walking him to the bedroom. There the magazine still lay, like an ancient cursed book you weren’t sure you wanted to know front to back. You picked it up and quickly handed him the article. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you opted to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

His lips curled into a devilish grin upon eyeing the page, and you thought the ground might swallow you whole. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all and spared yourself the embarrassment. But at the same time, you were eager to know.

“I thought I told you, magazines are just trying to make you doubt yourself,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“I know, but if there’s anything I can do to make you feel as good as you make me feel, I want to do it,” you confessed. He bent down, cupping your face.

“No one’s ever felt as good to me as you have, angel,” he said, “You’re heaven to me. Do you understand that?”

With your mouth squished together slightly, you nodded your head that was in his hands.

“By the devil, you’re so adorable,” he said. “If you really want to know, though, I’ll show you.”

Even more eagerly, you nodded again. He chuckled. You couldn’t handle how handsome he was – all messy hair, bare chest and black eyes that made you dream of the most unholy things possible.

“You remember how I kiss you…down there?” he asked. You hummed, cheeks on fire. “And how I’ve asked you to put your hands on my cock before?”

You did. But it had been brief, only a few pumps and small touches, until he had become too needy. You had been whining so deliciously for him to fuck you and so he had to have you on the spot.

“In the way you touched me then…you could use your mouth on me. Make me come with your perfect lips and sweet hands,” he said. “If that’s what you want, too.”

“I do!” you said with enthusiasm that only an angel at the feasibility of making someone’s day could bring on. “Let’s postpone that shower.”

The pride in his eyes lasted for approximately two seconds before the raw hunger replaced it. He climbed onto the bed and pat his thighs. On command, you settled on his lap. The simple feeling of his bulge under your center, even if interrupted by some fabric, made your head dizzy and your stomach drop. You kneaded your hands, not sure where to touch him first. But just as he always did to you, you had the impulse to start by his head and go lower from there. Although you were on top of him, he looked amused at your shy eyes.

“Can I kiss your neck, like you always kiss mine?” you asked.

“Be my guest,” he said, grinning like he had just won the lottery. Your lips met his skin and you used your tongue the way you had felt him do it. His scent was intoxicating. It made the empty bedsheets you breathed in sometimes, when he left in the middle of the night for his demon antics, seem like nothing. You used your hands to stabilize yourself as you moved lower. The hiss he let out when you felt up on his abs and waistline almost scared you. Then you realized it was a good sign. Only for the blink of an eye you dared to graze your teeth on his skin. His reaction was immediate.

“Shit,” he cussed, “That’s my angel.”

So, he liked that. You couldn’t wait to tease him by biting him in the future. Provoking a demon would have sounded like something close to a death wish to you, had you thought about it months ago. Now, with a demon as tame as they come beneath you, the thought only excited you. As he liked to do, you touched him through his boxers while you continued your journey down his chest and stomach. The guttural moan he released made your head spin and you never wanted him to be quiet. Usually, you weren’t in a mind state to notice his groans, or your own noises were covering his.

“You’re doing so good, little angel,” he said, short of breath. Once again, your effect on him surprised you. Where was the intimidating, big bad demon you had been taunted by?

“I’m gonna fuck you so well for this,” he said, “Even the angels in heaven will hear you scream. Wouldn’t you like that?”

There he was. You pressed your legs together at the simple mention of him inside of you, but if he thought you were going to answer, he’d be waiting endlessly. You still had enough respect for your angels not to think of them in this moment. Nonetheless you hummed weakly. When you got to his hipbone, you hesitated. You drowned out your doubts by kissing him there, while you contemplated what to do next. Your hand was still wrapped around his clothed cock. It was rock hard, and a wet spot had formed on the fabric from how much he needed you. When your touch became softer, and you pulled your hands away slowly, he lifted his hips, not wanting you to stop. You supposed this was the part where you took off his boxers. At least he didn’t complain when you pulled them off his legs, so you assumed you were still on the right track.

Watching his face for signs of approval, your hand wrapped around his length. He almost seemed electrified at your touch. His jaw dropped slightly, and his hooded eyes somehow appeared even darker than usual.

“Just like that,” he said, “And now move your hand up and down.”

So you did. As you regarded your hand around his shaft, all you could think about was how it used to be. How did your hands, that were usually folded neatly in your lap while you looked down on earth, end up doing such ungodly things? And how come you didn’t even for a second feel guilty?

“Angel, you’re so good to me,” he moaned. Angel. That’s what he loved to emphasize. But was that what you were, still? Maybe you would simply stop putting yourself in a box. Perhaps you were just you, doing what you felt was right and would make you happy. And right now, having a demon clench his fists in your hair and saying your name in that tone, you couldn’t think of a lot of incidents that had made you happier. Was this the part where you should use your mouth? You weren’t sure, but your eyes jumped from his cock to his face and it caught his eyes.

“You can take me in your mouth if you want. If you ever feel like stopping, just do so,” he encouraged you, “But remember, no teeth there, okay?”

You grinned and nodded. You parted your lips and your tongue placed kitten licks on the underside of his member. When you reached the top, you took him between your lips, mirroring the motion of your hands around him. You were surprised at how comfortable you were, when ten minutes ago you were ready to personally descend to hell from embarrassment. There was something enticing about the power you possessed in that moment. You understood humans just a little better, once again. Knowing that the way he bucked his hips and his groans were caused by you and only you had you smiling inwardly. It was a way you had never caught yourself smile before. You felt brave, and like you could do anything, with a demon so at your pity.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out where he was most sensitive. Whenever you pressed your tongue against the tip of his cock, he let out a sigh. It was almost like relief, as if he had been waiting for you all his life. And now here you were, granting him all his wishes. You bobbed your head, but kept your attention on his sweet spot, his moans just too delightful not to evoke them on purpose.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he said. Often, you looked up at him. His lids fluttered from the pleasure, but he seemed to like it when you made eye contact. For a moment, you lifted your head, needing some air. Gently, he caressed your face, like you were made of precious porcelain.

“Which one of my dreams did you escape from, little angel?” he asked. You smiled sheepishly, lowering your head. Again, you wrapped your lips around his length. You wondered what he was thinking about. Was his mind as free from any worries as yours whenever he fucked you? Was he able to form any coherent thoughts or was his brain going into the same mental blackout you always experienced?

You continued the way you had, sucking the tip of his cock while your hand pumped him. From time to time, you took a breather and pulled away. Little did you know what you were doing to him. With the short intervals of your lips on him and the pauses in between, you unknowingly made everything more intense for him. It was a dangerous game of edging him you were playing, and you were outright unaware of it.

But why would he have complained? In that moment, you were his personal guardian angel, making sure all his needs were fulfilled. When he saw your lips, all red and puffy, he asked himself where you had been hiding all this time. You peeked up at him through your angel eyes and he felt his entire world become whole in front of him. He was completely and absolutely at your mercy, inebriated by your entire being. Never in his long time on earth had he seen someone so ravishingly beautiful, yet so unaware of their might. He swore to himself in that moment, he’d do anything to make you love him forever.

As divinely as you were treating him, he suddenly wanted you in a different way. And if you continued your sweet actions, he wasn’t sure if that would still be possible. He gently cupped your head, making you look up. You hummed in question.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, “Let me give back to you, won’t you? Does my angel want some attention, too?”

You would have been lying if you said you weren’t practically touch-starved at this moment. And having been taught to always be truthful, you nodded before you even knew it.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, “Why don’t you take off the rest of your clothes?”

When you got up to slip out of your dress, your legs were weak. You hadn’t even done anything, and yet your body felt heavy. All you wanted was to go back to him and have him so close, it felt like he could have been a part of you. As much as you had felt on top of the world minutes ago, his hungry eyes made you shrink inwardly. But it wasn’t out of fear. It was almost admiration, or rather anticipation. You knew he knew your body inside out, and you couldn’t wait for him to prove it to you.

“Come here, angel,” he said. You climbed back onto the bed. “Turn around for me, okay?”

You were on your knees, sitting up right, facing the headboard. His breath on your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine. Then his hands snaked around your body from behind you. A small whimper left your lips when he ran them down your chest, fingers drawing small shapes on your breasts. They continued their way down your stomach and to your parted thighs. The cold air was hitting your dripping core, and had you not had enough self-control, you would have moaned at the mere sensation of his fingertips on the inside of your thigh. But maybe that was just what he was waiting for. After all, he was still taking his time with you. But in this instance, you knew what you wanted, and more importantly when you wanted it.

“Please,” you said. You weren’t sure what to say but starting with a ‘please’ was never a mistake.

“Please what?” he asked. You couldn’t see his face, yet you knew his devilish grin that must’ve been plastered on his face. He never missed a chance to make you shy. “Is this what you want?”

He slid two of his fingers down your slit slowly. It would forever be a mystery to you, how such a simple touch could put you in such a mental state of disarray. You whined at how needy you were, fighting the urge to press your legs together. In a second, his fingers were coated in your juices. When he pressed them against your opening, but didn’t push any further, your head spun with frustration. An impulse yelled at you to grab his hand and show him how you wanted him, but you sensed there was a specific aim in his teasing. Above that, you weren’t close to that brave. Purposely lightly, he rubbed circles onto your clit. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and your breaths came out in little, desperate noises.

Before meeting him, you never knew this sort of inability to control your body. Having power over your motions was an obviousness to you. But as with so many things in life, you had been wrong. Or rather, you had not known better. Now, with his lips brushing over the side of your exposed neck, you were willing to let him do whatever he wanted to do to you. If there was a noise or reaction he wanted to coax out of you, he could do so. And if evoking your little melodic whimper was his aim, he was on the right path, fingers teasing your pussy and flicking over your clit. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. In fact, he had a head so full of ideas of things you could do together, you doubted you’d ever start to get bored here.

“I want you…inside of me,” you said, surprising yourself. This was your desperate body taking control of your motor speech center, that little region in your brain that allowed you to let out what you wanted to say. Your cheeks were hot for only a moment, then you realized if it got you what you wanted so badly, speaking your mind was probably a fantastic idea. You should really do it more in the future, you thought.

“What my angel wants, my angel gets,” he said. Just for a few seconds, he moved his fingers much faster. You yelped at the sudden pleasure, your hand wrapping around his wrist. His other hand reached for your hand, softly taking it away as you became a whimpering puddle in his arms. You were ready to fall, give in to the pleasure and let go. It was what you so desperately wanted. But as quickly as it had begun, he removed his hands. His attention was gone, and you were left yearning for more.

“Lift your hips,” he said, softly touching your sides. A part of you wanted to cry out, hold him responsible for denying you your sweet release. But you knew it would be no use, and he would tell you to wait either way. You were still on your knees, but straightened up, arms hanging by your sides, waiting for his touch. He was right behind you, his upper body against yours. When you felt his cock run over your slick folds, you sighed at the awaited sensation. The stretch when he filled you up felt so perfect, so out of this world, you reached for his hand to hold on to.

“Why didn’t you ask me earlier if you wanted me so bad?” he asked. He squeezed your hand as his other pulled you flush against his back while he pushed himself further into you. He’d thrust against you for a while, only to pull out completely, and repeat the whole process. It was sending you into complete overdrive.

“Because I wanted to make you feel good,” you said. “Only you, for once.”

You moaned when he snapped his hips against your ass, picking up the pace. In an attempt to support your jittery legs, you grabbed the headboard in front of you. Your breathing came out in short huffs, uneven and a little shaky.

“You’re so sweet and selfless…my patient angel,” he said, his fingers coming in contact with your clit again. His touch was an allure to you, and you wished you could have stayed this way forever. No thoughts, just his body and his dark voice to sedate your mind. “I’ll give you anything you want. You know that, right?”

You hummed and nodded. “Yes. And I’ll do the same for you.” Your words were interrupted by your small whimpers. There had been a time you didn’t know what it felt like, when you didn’t even know there was a such thing of having someone inside of you. Now you couldn’t get enough of him. You were already so sensitive that every time he quickened his thrusts and moved his fingers on you slightly faster, he had you hanging right over the edge. And he could tell by the way you held your breath when you were close. He didn’t want you going there just yet.

“As much as I love your mouth around my dick, this is my favorite way of having you,” he said. He used both of his hands to dig into your sides, pulling your hips closer to him every time he dragged his cock through your walls. You agreed. Should any of your angels ever catch wind of this, they would ban you to earth – or worse, send you to hell. So be it, you thought. You’d be like your lover. One of the creatures of the darkness, thought to be the personification of sin. Even if they ripped your angel title from you, they could never steal away what you had now.

Yes, you were meddling with a demon, but also having the time of your life. It was vastly better than spending your days judging humans for being themselves and for humans living the true way they want to live, instead of abstaining from the simple pleasures of life. Their true colors shown, they weren’t harming anybody, but rather making the world a more acceptable and open-minded place. You aspired to be like them.

“This is my kind of heaven,” he said. It’s what he always called you. Heaven. He groaned when you clenched your walls around him, your inevitable high drawing closer.

“This is my new heaven…you are,” you replied. He chuckled darkly, probably relishing in your confession. The thought that he could make an angel reject the very place they should have belonged filled him with a sense of superiority.

“Look how well you’re taking me,” he said. His hand wrapped around your body, pulling you tighter. He slipped his hand between your legs again, and you almost felt like collapsing, had he not held on to you. On instinct, you closed your eyes and let the feeling crash over you.

“Let me see you come, little angel,” he spoke in your ear, just for you to hear. You would do anything for him. You quivered and buckled at the severity of the feeling, but he had you. Your moans were high and dragged out, as his digits pressed harder onto the sensitive nub on your center.

“Take just a little more for me, can you?” he asked. You obliged willingly, nodding your head while it was still full of nothingness. Even as he kept fucking you, it was pure bliss for another while. It made your legs shake a little, but you felt so safe there, in his embrace, the sensitivity was alright to handle. You could tell by how sloppy his thrusts were becoming that he was almost there, too. He was pressing you against his chest as if you were all he ever wanted. His moans sounded like home to you as he came. He said your name and bent forward, reaching for the headboard, but you both tumbled into the bedsheets together instead. You giggled at your shared clumsiness and you could feel his chest move from laughing as he was lying on top of your back.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” he said, “You’re amazing.”

You turned your head and his lips brushed along your temple, kissing you softly. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes so you could look at him. Seeing his beautiful face had you falling into an even deeper state of serenity.

“I want to cuddle,” he said, and it was probably the sweetest thing you had ever heard a demon say. As he rolled off you, you followed his movements and settled in his embrace. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on your skin, but neither of you cared enough to get up just yet.

“I love what you’ve done to me,” you said.

“What is it I have I done to you?” he asked, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of your bare hips.

“You changed me. But not in a bad way. You let me be who I want to be and showed me that that’s okay,” you said, “You made me understand. Some sins aren’t that sinful at all.”

563 notes · View notes

girlwiththereapertattoo · 3 years

Text

begin again - part three

Jax Teller x female!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jax grow closer... I don't know what else to say without revealing spoilers haha

Word count: 4k words

Warnings: very bad language, mentions of blood, physical & verbal abuse, angsty & some fluff

Author's note: I appreciate all the positive feedback I've received this far! It's much appreciated :) also, I'm bad at writing these summaries

If you’re in an abusive relationship or you suspect that someone you know is being abused, speak up and reach out to the correct people!

Beta read by @crucifixedbitch

PART ONE | PART TWO

💀💀💀💀💀

He’s late. The thought brings about a familiar uneasiness and your mind conjures images of a bloodied Jax lying unconscious in some dingy ditch. Jesus Christ.

“Mommy, why did you stop reading?”

S/N’s soft voice draws you back to reality. You look over to his bed where he’s laying beside Abel. “Did I stop reading?”

He giggles, “Yep.”

Oh. You look down at the book in your hand then back up at the boys. “I’m sorry, ace. I guess Mommy’s a bit tired.” And apparently, she’s distracted. You look back down at the book, willing yourself to remember your place.

“Cooper the Cat was stuck in the tree,” he reminds you.

“Right, Cooper the Cat!” your eyes hastily skim through the short paragraphs until you land at the right sentence. “Got it. ‘Help!’ cried Cooper from the tree…”

And just like that, all thoughts of Jax and his safety are shoved to the back of your mind to deal with at a later time. It’s your lucky day today, the boys have had a long day and they’re out before you reach the end of the book.

“I love you, ace,” you whisper to your son after you’ve kissed him goodnight.

It’s because of your love for S/N that you left Jax and the endless bullshit that comes with him. Anxiety-filled nights like this one are a thing of your past and you know you can’t allow yourself to be consumed by thoughts of him. Once you start, there’s no stopping you. You know this, very well, so why is there a sick feeling twisting in your gut? Because a small part of you is still in love with your ex.

Hope blooms when your phone vibrates in your pocket but it’s only B/N. It’s not that you’re not happy to see your boyfriend’s name on your phone screen, but the anxiety’s gnawing at your mind, and you’re desperate for it to be put to sleep. Fortunately for you, B/N’s in high spirits. He’s been frustrated with you lately, and wants you back in Charlotte — his insecurities about Jax are beginning to show.

It’s for that reason that you don’t tell him about S/N’s friendship with Abel.

“This time next week, you and S/N will be back home,” he muses.

“Yeah, we both can’t wait.” You feel disappointed at the realization, “It feels like forever, doesn’t it?”

And S/N has been asking about B/N more and more these days but you don’t tell that to him, afraid that he’ll catch the earliest flight to California. Truthfully, you’re not exactly ready to let Jax out of your life which you’ll be forced to do if B/N’s in Charming. You see, he’s… protective and doesn’t like the idea of you hanging around men. Especially Jax. Hell, he almost stopped you from attending your own mother’s funeral.

Of course, it was under the guise of being the protective boyfriend. “Are you sure it’s safe for you to be in the same town as your violent biker ex?” He said all the right things and did everything in his power to talk you out of the decision but in the end, he failed to convince you to stay away.

“Goodnight, I love you.”

You hang up just in time to hear Jax’s motorcycle pull up out front. The relief is quickly overshadowed by concern when you open the door and are greeted by a bloody-faced Jax.

“I’m late.”

“I’m more concerned about that gash on your brow. Come in.” You open the door wider, “If you’re here to get Abel, he’s asleep. You can fetch him in the morning.”

“Shit.” You step aside to allow him access into the house, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I got caught up in Oakland.”

“It’s fine. S/N was happy to have Abel stay the night.”

He smiles, “Thank you.”

You return his smile, “We should clean that before it gets infected.” Before you can process your actions, you’re leaning closer to take a better look at the cut. “I can’t see much, you should rinse it with water. I’ll go grab the first aid kit.”

“It’s late, I’ll have Chibs take care of the cut.”

“Meet me in the kitchen,” you start for the bathroom, “rinse the cut.”

You grab the first aid kit from the bathroom and find Jax sitting at the breakfast table, pensively staring into space, a half-drunk bottle of water sitting in front of him.

“Here.”

Your voice pulls him from his reverie. His eyes drop to the pill container in your hand and he arches a brow.

“It’s for the pain.”

“Thanks.” He accepts the pills and pops the cap open, “I should’ve called.”

“It’s fine.” You do your best to keep a casualness in your voice when you ask, “What was happening in Oakland? Is everyone okay?”

He gazes at you for a long while before he responds, gauging where your head is at. “Yeah, we’re all fine.”

“Should I be worried?”

He slowly shakes his head, “No.”

You watch him take the pain medication, there are so many questions to ask, questions only Jax has answers to.

“Is it safe for you to be here?”

He swallows the pills and smiles, “I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t safe. Don’t worry, you and S/N are safe.”

Hesitantly, you nod as you pull a chair from the table. In a bid to lighten the mood, you tell him, “No offense, Jackie, but you look like shit.”

“I feel like shit,” he chuckles.

You take your seat in front of him and suppress the urge to smile, “Who punched your handsome mug?”

“I was pistol-whipped.”

“Ouch.” Scooting forward in your chair, you lean towards Jax to get a better look at the rinsed cut, and for a very brief moment, your eyes lock with his before they dart up to his cut. “It’s like the good ol’ days, isn’t it?”

“You playin’ nurse?”

“Yeah.”

Back in the day, nights like these were common. Jax would sit at this very table, at the very chair he’s sat on, whilst you tended to his cuts and bruises. Mother would be sitting in the living room, hurling insults at both you and Jax. She would take any chance to remind you that you were making a mistake you would regret for the rest of your life.

“Your mom hated me.”

Your eyes lock with his, “In her defense, you would always be finding ways to antagonize her.”

And in return, your mother would call Jax all kinds of names but even that wouldn’t keep him away. Nothing ever could keep him from you. Memories of Jax sneaking into your room late at night come to mind. “I had to come kiss my girl goodnight,” he’d tell you.

“We were pretty wild back then,” you reminisce.

And you were madly in love with each other, however, you keep that part to yourself. The situation’s complicated enough without the added layer. You’ve barely mustered the courage to mention B/N’s existence to Jax because, in all honesty, you’re not quite sure how he might react to another man raising his son. The thought of his reaction fills you with dread. Heaven knows he’ll give you a hard time about leaving next week.

Gah, it’s all too much! With a shake of your head, you dismiss all thoughts and grab the ointment from the kit. “Shall we?”

He nods and shuts his eye for you to apply it on the cut. A silence descends upon the kitchen and neither of you makes an effort to fill it.

“You’re good to go,” you announce once you’re done.

“Thanks.”

“I couldn’t risk it getting infected.”

More than anything, you don’t want S/N to see Mommy’s friend sporting cuts on his face. He’ll ask questions, probably mention it to B/N, and you’re not looking to have that drama in your life.

“Are you hungry? I’m assuming you haven’t had your dinner…”

“Nah, but I should get going.”

Your mood deflates at his announcement. The truth is you don’t want him to leave but how do you stop him without giving him the wrong idea? Why are you even stopping him from leaving?

“Stay,” you blurt out.

“Stay?”

“Yeah, there’s the guest bedroom. It’s late and you’re medicated and you shouldn’t be driving and–”

“I have nothing to wear.”

“Sure you do.” You take a breath to compose yourself, “I was cleaning out the closets the other day and I found some of your old stuff. They’re clean, I uh, washed them. Everything is oversized, they should still fit you.”

You had intended to take them to Goodwill and you will but right now, Jax needs them.

“Look, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

It isn’t a lie but it isn’t the full truth. Honestly? You just want him near you. It’s wrong, and you understand the implications and know that B/N won’t be happy should he find out, but one night wouldn’t be harmful to anyone, right? Besides, he’ll be sleeping in the guest bedroom.

He thoughtfully considers your proposition. After a stretched silence, he reluctantly accepts your offer.

“Great,” you perk up, “I’ll warm up your dinner.”

You make some conversation over dinner, none of the heavy shit, mostly catching up on all you’ve missed in the four years you’ve been away. He tells you about the club, and that Opie met someone and they’re now married.

“And how about you? Is there anyone special in your life?”

He doesn’t answer your question, not that you expect him to. You just can’t help but be curious. After dinner, he heads over to the bathroom to take his shower whilst you load the dishwasher and dig through the laundry to look for Jax’s old t-shirts and sweats. The guilt sets in and you fight the urge to call B/N to tell him about Jax.

You’re dialing his number when you stop yourself. “Geez, Y/N!” you toss your phone into the laundry basket and step back to create distance between you and the device. Think about this. The last thing you need is B/N bulldozing into Charming and starting shit with Jax and the M.C. — that could be fatal. No, Jax staying the night is you helping out an old friend, there’s nothing more to it.

Grabbing the folded pile of clothing, you make your way down the hall to the guest bedroom and find Jax waiting patiently on the bed for you. Nothing but a towel tied around his waist.

“I should’ve knocked, I’m sorry.”

He rises off the bed and that’s when you get a clear view of his torso, and the tattoo inscribed on his ribcage.

“You’ve proved your point, Jax, now let’s go.” “No, why?” You look over your shoulder to the big, tattooed man standing over by the counter, laughing at whatever joke he’s just been told. You’re at some grimy tattoo parlor, somewhere in Reno, and Jax’s about to get your name tattooed on his body. His ribcage to be exact. The sentiment is sweet, you admit, but it’s a permanent decision, and you’re only 17. You look back at Jax who’s now laying shirtless on the tattoo chair, “Do you realize how insane this is?” He smiles brightly as he shakes his head. “Do you have a death wish? Gemma’ll kill us both when she sees this.” Part of her rage will be due to the fact that it’s your name on his ribcage instead of hers. “And what if they find out we’ve lied about our age?” “Babe, will you relax? They won’t, this place is a dump.” Which is exactly why he shouldn’t get his first-ever tattoo done here. “There’s no talking you out of this, huh?” “No.” He laces his fingers with yours and raises your hand to press a kiss to its back, “This is what I want to do. I don’t care what my mom thinks.” “And the pain? You don’t care about that either?” He shakes his head, “No.” You glance at the stencil transfer on his ribcage and sigh. “I know you don’t have to do this–” “I want to do this.” “And there’s clearly no talking you out of this.” “Yeah.” You squeeze his hand and flash him a reassuring smile, “Do you want me to hold your hand?” His smile returns, brighter than ever, “I’d appreciate it, darlin’.” “You’re insane, you know that, right?” He nods. “Only because I love you.” You lean over to lock your lips in a kiss — you don’t doubt it for a second.

You pry your eyes from his torso, forcing yourself to face the now smirking Jax. Right, his clothes!

You hold out the pile to him, “Did you put your clothes in the hamper?”

He accepts them and murmurs ‘thanks’ before he responds to your question. “Yeah, just like you said.”

“Okay,” you fight off the urge to look down at his ribcage. He kept it. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight Jax.”

Spinning on your heels, you scurry out the room before you do something you’ll regret later.

💀💀💀💀💀

“Mommy! Come see!”

S/N and Abel’s laughter sounds from the living room. Saturday mornings have always been your favorite. Sleeping in is always a winner in your books, a vital part of any Saturday routine, and once you’re up, B/N takes S/N out of the house whilst you prepare breakfast. Last weekend was S/N’s first Saturday away from B/N and he was miserable. This Saturday is different.

“Mommy?” More laughter sounds, “You will miss it!”

Lowering the heat, you abandon your cooking and make your way over to the living room. A slouched Jax is taking up most of the three-seater with S/N and Abel on either side of him, all three pairs of eyes fixed on the television screen.

“What’s got you laughing so much, ace?” You take a seat on the armrest and press a kiss to the top of your son’s head. “Beaky Buzzard?”

“Yeah.” He looks up at you, “Are you coming to sit with us?”

“No, Mommy’s got to make breakfast.”

You’d like nothing more than to stick around and watch cartoons with them but there’s breakfast to prepare. When you walk back into the kitchen, you discover your phone vibrating on the counter and you just know it’s B/N. It’s his fifth attempt in the last half-hour, probably looking to speak to S/N, but that just isn’t a good idea. Not when Jax is in the house. You’re being deceitful to both parties, but the timing just isn’t right.

B/N would lose it if he found out about Jax’s regular visits, and you don’t know how Jax would react to B/N’s existence in your life and the role he plays in your son’s life. It would ruin a perfectly good morning. The day got off to a good start with the news of the sale of your childhood home, and your son’s mood is the best it’s been all week. Why would you even think to ruin it by starting trouble with B/N?

It’s not worth it. You’ll just have to come up with a story to tell him later.

“Breakfast is served!”

The boys come barreling in and take their places at the breakfast table. You assist the two youngest boys to plate up their food before you plate up for yourself. Everyone digs into the food, and the compliments you receive are a definite boost for the ego. You listen intently as S/N and Abel excitedly recount the Looney Tune episode they’d watched earlier and S/N’s beside himself with laughter.

The happy moment is disrupted by the unwelcomed vibration of your phone on the counter.

“Is that Daddy calling?”

Shit! You wince at the name ‘Daddy’. It’s what S/N always calls B/N but somehow, it doesn’t feel right when Jax’s sitting across the table from him.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, ace?” you look over to him, very aware of Jax’s eyes burning into the back of your head.

“Is that Daddy calling?”

“No, it’s probably the estate agent.” It’s not a convincing lie, but you’re caught off guard and can’t come up with something better. “She’s calling about the house.”

“When is Daddy calling?”

“Probably later.” You hate that you’re being so dismissive. “We’ll call him after Abel and Jax leave, okay?”

He looks like he might ask another question, maybe press for a better answer, but he resumes eating his food. You avoid Jax’s eyes for the remainder of breakfast. He helps you clear the table and load the dishwasher in painful silence. Once Jax has helped you load the dishes, he leaves you alone in the kitchen. Can the morning get any worse? Apparently, it can. You unlock your phone to find multiple texts from an irate B/N.

He didn’t take kindly to you ignoring all ten of his calls. Shit. You’re on the verge of tears when Jax saunters into the kitchen.

“Abel and I are leaving.”

You nod, unsure of how to respond. “You’ll ride on your bike with Abel?”

“No. Ratboy’s waiting out front with the van.”

“Ratboy?”

“The new prospect.”

“And will we see Abel tomorrow?”

His impassive expression says it all. Your gut twists with anxiety at the thought of not seeing Jax again before you leave Charming. How do you make this right?

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He slowly shakes his head. Just then S/N and Abel sprint into the kitchen, bustling with energy. Abel hugs you goodbye before the boys run back out of the kitchen and out of the house onto the front yard.

“I’m leaving my bike here. I’ll come by to get it later.”

“Cool. Yeah, that’s fine.”

You walk Jax out, and just like he’d said, Ratboy is waiting out front in a black van. Together with S/N, you watch Jax and Abel climb into the van and drive off.

“Can we call Daddy now?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” you lift him up and carry him towards the house. “Did you have a good time with Abel?”

He nods his little human head, a bright grin plastered on his perfect face. Once inside the house, you dial B/N’s number but he doesn’t pick up, in fact, it seems his phone’s off. Strange.

“I think his phone’s off, ace.”

His face falls. In an effort to brighten his mood, you suggest driving over to the playground.

“When is Abel coming back to play?”

You inwardly sigh. It looks like today’ll be one long ass day.

💀💀💀💀💀

The last person you expect to find standing on the other side of your front door is B/N and yet here he is, and he looks anything but pleased with you. Oh, shit. Your heart sinks at the sight of him, the chill of fear coursing through your body, and your mouth dries.

“B/N?”

His unsettling smile causes the hairs on the back of your neck to raise. “Hi, Toots. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Your movement’s robot-like as you step away from the door to make way for him. He walks past you, and once inside, his eyes search around the small space.

“Are you home alone?”

You seem to have forgotten how to speak.

“Toots?”

“S/N… He’s, uh… He’s asleep.”

He murmurs a soft ‘good’ before he turns around to pull you into an embrace. For a moment, you stand frozen, your brain seized up and you feel like a foreigner in your own body.

“What’s the matter, Toots? You don’t look too happy to see me. Were you expecting someone else?”

Yes. “No.” Moving one arm at a time, you return B/N’s embrace and do your best to calm your nerves. You’ve done nothing wrong, he’s not going to hurt you, you repeat over and over until he releases you from his hold. “I just wasn’t expecting you to come all this way.”

“It’s only a five-hour flight.”

Why the fuck are you here?

As if he read your mind, he tells you. “I missed you guys so much, I thought I’d surprise you,” with a tight smile, he adds, “You’re not very good at answering my calls.”

“I’m sorry.”

B/N hauls his luggage from the porch and dumps it onto the floor before he makes his way over to the living room. You follow slowly behind him, watching as he settles onto the couch and searches for the television remote.

“C-can I get you anything?”

“Join me,” it’s an order.

You drag your feet over to the couch and take your place next to him. Casually, he slings an arm over your shoulder and forcefully pulls you into his side.

“There. Now you’re close.”

You can’t bring yourself to fake a smile. Too petrified. He presses a kiss to the side of your head and whispers into your ear to relax.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He’s told you that lie far too many times in the past.

“Are you enjoying being back in Charming?”

You nod, the words caught in your throat.

“What are you? Mute? Use your fucking words, Toots.”

“It’s good to be back.” Your voice is shaky, barely recognizable. “I missed it here”

His fingers start stroking up and down your upper arm. “Good.”

Your eyes fix on the blank television screen in front of you.

“Is he here? Is he hiding in one of the rooms?”

“Who?”

“Your white trash biker ex!”

You jump up, surprised by him raising his voice so suddenly. “Jax? No! Why would he be here?”

“You lying piece of shit,” he spits out, shoving you away from him, the force sending you to the ground. “I saw his bike parked out front. I’ll ask you again, is he here?”

“No, B/N,” tears fill your eyes, you know exactly what’s to follow but still, you plead, “Don’t do this here. Not now, please, baby.”

“Shut up!” He raises to his feet, towering over you, and kicks at your trembling frame. “No one’s touched you, why the fuck are you crying?”

“I’m sorry.” You swipe the tears from your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t… I don’t know whose bike that is.”

“Are you cheating on me, you whore?”

Frantically, you shake your head.

“I said use your fucking words.”

You bring a trembling hand to your mouth to muffle your sobs.

“I asked you a question, you dumb bitch!”

“No. No. No.” You crawl over to him, closing the distance between you. “I’d never, baby. Never ever.”

“That doesn’t explain why a bike’s parked outside your house.”

“B/N, please,” you plead softly. “S/N’s asleep, we can do this another–”

The words are lost when he harshly grabs your face and shoves you onto your back. Both hands cover your mouth to muffle your pained cries. He’s vicious, and tonight, he’s out for blood.

“Get up, you–”

Knock, knock, knock! You’ve never been more relieved in your life. B/N shoots you a warning glare, daring you to make a move. A few moments later, the knocks sound again, a little louder this time around.

“Y/N?”

It’s Jax. You are faced with two decisions: do you call for Jax to help you or do you take your deserved punishment?

“Y/N?” he knocks louder. “Are you in there?”

You’re sobbing so much, your body’s trembling. B/N kneels beside you, placing two additional hands over the ones already covering your mouth. His additional weight pushes your head further into the hard ground, causing your head to hurt. It’s sure to leave a bruise. With a final knock, Jax gives up and some moments later, you hear his motorcycle ride off. Once he’s certain Jax’s left, B/N removes his hands.

“Why is he here at this hour?”

“I don’t know.” You gasp when he wraps his hand around your neck and applies pressure, making it difficult for you to breathe. “B/N, please…”

“You’ll regret cheating on me,” he murmurs softly before his hand connects with your cheek in a hard slap.

💀💀💀💀💀

PART FOUR

tag list:

@princesssterek @derangedcupcake @furiouscopshepherduniversity @crucifixedbitch @holl2712 @sweet--catrastrophe @marvelsmylife @brittjulianne97

196 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Attached: Word Is that We Might Work It Out

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6850🙈

Summary: You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move.

A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, language, lots of fluff

A/N: Timeline-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four of Attached!!! At the end, you can find the reason behind me writing this. You can consider it one big flashback, if you will 😅 Gif by capchrisevaans.

Series masterlist | previous in timeline

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.

It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that so what if that might be a bad idea. It was not against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only might go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.

Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”

You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been the topic ever since the faithful Monday.

So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?

Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?

“Dude. He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.

“I texted him like that.”

“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”

You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.

Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-

“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.

Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?

“Spoilsport.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.

Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)

Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.

Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.

Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made one thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.

Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”

“He’s not that much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She knew that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”

You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.

“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”

“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on send on purpose at the same time.

I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.

“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. Duh.”

The reply came way too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.

“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn heart.

It’s a date <3

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

It was a date indeed.

Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable good morning :) ), apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and smart. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.

You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.

You were not ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could ever prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- wearing a suit no less.

How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- Jesus Fucking Christ, the suit- how could you even put words together when looking at him-

“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”

Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would not survive tonight.

But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.

“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”

You could always just strip the suit jacket, was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.

“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.

Yes, he was fine indeed. Always. It was unfair, really.

“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.

It was ridiculous. It was just a word. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- beautiful.

You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.

Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But beautiful?

You might actually swoon.

And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking crush speaking to you and he was on a date with you and he had read your erotica, one that was about him no less-

Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.

“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the two classes he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-

You were screwed.

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get any more awkward?

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.

It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.

But clearly, you succeeded at that already.

Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.

“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.

“Oh, yes. Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly.

For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Not tonight. Not on a date.

What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.

It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.

“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.

Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh bless, another reminder of why this dinner was and should be really weird.

Steve read your smutty story. The one about him.

“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”

“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.

Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.

“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully pretty lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.

“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“

“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for this? “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”

Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He wanted to be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.

And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”

He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.

Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?

Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.

It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date made sense. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.

This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.

You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.

“What are you sorry for?”

You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attraction couldn’t be enough.

“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. And still, there’s this…”

“…tension?”

You wished.

“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”

He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” You knew why. “I like you, Steve-“

“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”

Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. Stunning, Jesus, was he for real?

“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—why did I say that.”

One corner of his lips quirked up.

“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.

His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.

“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”

You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and good Lord, it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and long-

“Tell me.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.

You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.

Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date wasn’t as disastrous as it could be.

“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”

“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. Shame. He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”

This is ought to be good, Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.

Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.

You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.

And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve that. It wasn’t important.

André was.

André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely believed he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear André closing to your station from two tables over.

He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced talk. Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.

Asshole.

You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.

A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.

And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.

“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.

Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.

Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.

“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.

You took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew... you sighed and continued. “And If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”

No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?

He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.

And then he burst out laughing.

Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.

“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… softer.

You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face. And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.

“It was one of the longest and most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did not appreciate the comparison.”

“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”

“Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.

And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, Professor. Your turn.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.

Oh, so that’ s still a thing. You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.

“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there is at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”

One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.

Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He did want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.

You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.

Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.

“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”

He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.

“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were hilarious. And surprise surprise, he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.

But you guessed that since you were on a date, you could ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally did feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.

Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.

And you didn’t want it to end.

The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Which… yum. The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.

You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?

“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely deliberately caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.

A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled so good.

“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.

Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how much suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.

It was absolutely not crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.

“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. Surprise, professor, you little shit. I can keep up.

“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”

“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.

‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’ Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.

The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you could.

And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.

But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.

He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.

You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.

“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.

“Looks like it.”

Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was beautiful; you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He was. The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was Steve only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.

You wanted to kiss him so bad. But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.

“Would you-“ “I want to-“

“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.

Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.

“You go first,” he prompted you gently.

You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. Jesus, why were you being like this again.

Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.

“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“

Stronger than ‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’ you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.

This felt more serious. More intimate.

“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.

“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.

Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.

How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?

“Good. I’m glad.”

He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.

Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.

“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.

But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…

But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.

Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.

He was so precious and this felt so right and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.

Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.

You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and clearly he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively chaste.

And you wanted to take it very very far.

Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but fuck, you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.

Did he?

You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and Jesus fucking Christ he was firm.

Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.

Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.

It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.

Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.

“You okay?”

You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.

“Uhm… beard,” you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.

Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.

You almost let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.

Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.

And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.

He hummed appreciatively, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.

There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and oh, your back was pressed against a wall now.

You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.

“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for that. Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably weeks. “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”

The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.

“Me too.”

“So… we’re doing this again, right?“

You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“

“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.

Babygirl. Jesus, he was going to be the death of you.

“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because holy shit he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”

He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.

“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”

You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.

“You could give it back later.”

“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.

Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would that come from...

Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.

“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.

You could melt on spot.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.

“I will. You too?”

His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.

Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.

And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.

You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with Steve Rogers.

And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.

As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.

What he didn’t know was that maybe, just maybe, the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.

And hopefully, he would.

Soon.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

...how it happened? I was asked about the first date, very kindly and in a no pressure manner.

S: Hey, just out of curiosity, you don’t really have to answer… how do you imagine their first date went?

me: Hm, let me think, I guess, mm, it would be like this--- oh shit. Oh no. It’s gonna be a fic again, isn’t it? Maybe I could finally write a headcanon or a drabble--- sigh.

As if I could ever.

Thank you for reading :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #professor steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #captain america au #modern au #professor au #college au #steve rogers #captain america #student reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #word is that we might work it out #attached #attached: word is that we might work it out #anika ann

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dragonsareourfuture · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Belong Here — L Lawliet/GN! Reader

Summary: What kind of a story begins with the main character dying? Well, this one. L Lawliet has lived out his days on earth and finds himself in the afterlife. The Good Place, he is told by a neighborhood architect named (Name). One who shows him around his own neighborhood and introduces him to new people. But something doesn’t add up, L notices. Does he really belong in the Good Place?

(I'd advise having knowledge on the TV show "The Good Place" if you wish to understand the majority of this clusterfuck. Although, if you wish to proceed regardless, go right ahead!)

Chapter One: L Lawliet, You Are Dead.

Weclome! Everything Is Fine.

Everything is fine? Is that so?

The last thing L remembers is the ceiling. Just…the ceiling. The fans twirling on the ceiling of the headquarter building and the cross hatching of the tiles. It was peaceful. Was he sleeping? If he had been sleeping, then how did he end up here?

Now, instead of the ceiling, he stares at a wall. Big, green letters stare back at him. “Welcome! Everything Is Fine,” they say. Something inside L is prickling, like something he is forgetting struggling to find its way to his brain. He wants to ponder it, but something about the words splayed out on the wall in front of him is telling him that he doesn’t have to. Everything is fine, after all.

He only manages to tear his eyes away from the bold, sans serif font when the sound of a doorknob turning catches his attention. Huh. Has there always been a door there? If so he hadn’t noticed it, which L thinks is completely absurd as he usually takes mental notes of everything in a room before getting himself seated. But there it is, a door he missed while transfixed on the somehow calming message on the wall, now opening to reveal...a person.

You stand in the doorway, simply smiling.

Now that L’s attention has been drawn away from the mystifying message he can properly analyze his surroundings, and his new visitor. He’s in a rather simple room, nothing but a few plants dotting the perimeter and a couch in the middle, which he is currently sitting on. And he’s sitting normally. Hm. That feels…itchy. L inches a foot onto the couch in his discomfort of sitting with his bottom planted firmly on the cushions with both feet on the ground. Though he hesitates to bring both feet up and hug his knees to his chin as he normally would, because he senses that your sudden presence means he is about to be standing and following you into that mysterious room behind you. Like a doctor calling a patient into an appointment. Except in this case L has no idea what you are, and judging by your suit and comical, colorful bowtie, you are certainly not a doctor.

“L?” you ask, showing your teeth in a kind smile. “Come on in.”

And against his better judgement, he does. L was never the person to simply keep quiet and obey orders in a situation he does not understand. And there certainly is not a whole lot of understanding happening in his brain right now. He should be asking questions. He should be refusing you. He doesn’t know you, you could be leading him to his doom. All this is possible but something about the way you smile at him…like those big, green words, all he reads from you is “Everything Is Fine.”

The room that you lead him into doesn’t look all that much like a death trap, but you can never be sure. It’s a simple office, plants similar to the ones in the waiting room sit in pots in the corners and on the windowsill. The sun shines outside, seeping through the glass and illuminating the desk on the left as you walk in. On it are a few little trinkets, paperweights, and, right in the middle, a manila file folder.

You circle around the desk and settle yourself into the rollaway chair, gesturing to the sleek armchair across from you. “Why don’t you have a seat, hm?”

What is wrong with him right now? You ask him to do something and he just…does? What happened to his spine, other than it bending exponentially thanks to the way he sits?

No matter, there are more important things to think about right now. Like the fact that he might finally be getting some answers.

You open the file in front of you and skim whatever’s written, opening your mouth to say something when your eyes meet his. And then they drift down to his legs. You stare at him curiously with your mouth still agape for a few moments at how his knees are pulled up to his chin, eventually shaking your head and getting back on track.

“My name is (Name), and of course I already know yours.” you say, folding your hands in front of you. “So, how are you, L?”

How should L even answer that?

“I’m…confused, mostly. How are you?”

Your eyes light up, as if you haven’t been asked that in a while. “Oh, well I’m fine. Y’know, busy, but fine! And, yes, I’d assume you’d be confused, everyone in your situation usually is.”

“My situation? What exactly do you mean by that?” Now that L has finally asked one question he can’t seem to stop the ball from rolling “Speaking of you, who are you exactly? Actually, never mind who, but where—“

You hold up a hand. “All of your questions will be answered, I promise. There’s just one thing that you need to know before we tackle any of that.”

“And what is that?”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, elbows digging into the surface of your desk as you lean forward. You look like you’re about to tell him that he’s fired. That his dog died. That some kid took the last of the strawberry shortcake and he’s going to have to settle for carrot cake. What comes out of your mouth is much worse.

“L Lawliet, you are dead.”

…

He’s…?

Yes. Yes, he is. That’s why he doesn’t remember how he got here.

He’s dead. Huh.

L is perfectly content in not saying anything about this new little factoid, but you’re looking at him expectantly, and a little cautiously. Like you either expect him to punch you or burst into tears. L wonders if that fear is based on experience. How many other people have to told this to?

“…Am I, now? That’s a shame.”

You breathe out a sigh, which could be from relief. “Yes, it is. But, not to worry! Because you’ve ended up in the Good Place, L. You’re going to be okay.”

“So it’s called the Good Place?” L brings his thumb to his lips. “A rather simple thing to call it.”

You nod. “Pretty self-explanatory, right? We didn’t want anyone to get confused. There are just so many names for it on earth. Heaven, Valhalla, Nirvana…But it all translates to one place. Here. And you get to be a part of it.”

“That sounds…” Before he can articulate his thoughts, a dilemma from earlier brings itself to the forefront of L’s mind. “Wrong.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My memories are all wrong. Before this, all I can remember is the ceiling and nothing else. If I were to have died, surely I would remember it, yes?”

You take a gulp of air and pull the manila file closer to you. “We take it upon ourselves to erase the memories of death if they are particularly traumatizing or embarrassing. Helps the residents adapt into a peaceful afterlife better, I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, that is perfectly sensible. Although I may ask, what is an example of a death that is not at all traumatizing?”

“Pfft, there hardly is one. You’d be surprised how many memories we have to erase.”

“On the contrary, I am hardly surprised. I’m sure there are plenty of people who cannot accept the nature of their death, let alone the fact that they have died in the first place.”

You sigh, “You’re tellin’ me. Most people come around once I tell them that they’re basically in paradise, but some won’t even listen to me once I break the news. One person tried to convince me I was the dead one! It’s just—oh, um, but that’s hardly the point.”

“Do you ever tell someone how they died if they ask?”

Your expression hardens. “I do, but I like to know that they’re certain before I tell them.”

“I am.”

Exhaling through your nose, you prop the manila folder up like a book, scanning the files inside. “Alright then. Let’s see here…ah, okay. So, unfortunately this one’s pretty traumatizing, it’s not really one of those embarrassing deaths that some people get a kick out of, so brace yourself.” You look over the top of the folder as if checking to see if he’s braced himself. His expression and stance is unwavering, large eyes merely staring back at you patiently. “You were betrayed by your colleague Yagami Light – also known as your adversary Kira – and killed by the Shinigami Rem at his request.”

Oh yeah. That.

The ceiling was not clear in view, no, there was something obstructing L’s view of it. A face, staring down at him as his heart gave out right on the floor. Brown eyes filled with such cocky maliciousness, the upward tilt of lips L only knew to spout lies. It all equated to a side of Yagami Light that L knew existed but had never seen up until his final moments. It all added up to one final conclusion -- Yagami Light was Kira all along. L had been right. But the price of knowing that for certain is that, now, there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I’m..I’m sorry. I never know what to do when I have to tell people…” you try, reaching across the table and planting a hand down in front of him. Not asking to hold his hand, not even expecting a reaction. Just showing that you’re there, and that you’re trying.

“It’s up to them now. I’ve done all that I could. I trust my successors.”

“In catching the murderer Kira, right?” you ask, to which L confirms with a polite utterance of ‘yes’. Obviously you know the answer. “I understand that is one of the many, many cases you’ve worked on during your lifetime.” you scan your eyes quickly down what appears to be a long list in your folder. Do you have every detail of his life in those files? Every case he ever took? Hell, every day in his life? You set the file down flat in front of you and look at him with something L determines is admiration. “You’ve done so much good in your lifetime, L. You’ve worked so hard over the entirety of your life to make sure you left the world a little better than you found it. Now…well, now you can rest.”

You can relax, you tell him. And it seems to simple coming out of your mouth yet somehow it still feels out of reach.

“I can…” Is all L manages to say, his preoccupation coming across as dreamy and wistful. His mind is busy running a mile a minute and his mouth just can’t keep up. L decides to test the words out on his own tongue to see if they still sound foreign, “I can rest now.”

Yeah, no, it still sounds like bullshit.

“Yes! Well, after the tour, of course.”

“Tour?”

You start to stand, straightening your colorful bowtie and circling around your desk to the door which you pull open. You don’t exit right away, though. You stand next to the exit, waiting for L to follow you. While he works on untangling himself from his current position you clarify, “A tour of the neighborhood! Where you’ll spend your afterlife.”

#death note #death note x reader #death note fanfic #the good place #the good place au #l lawliet x reader #x reader fanfic #x reader #reader insert #death note l #l lawliet

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mageofseven · 4 years

Text

The Demon Brothers when Discovering they’re in Love

Spoilers: Mentions the end of the first season of the game in Belphie’s. If you haven’t read that far yet, you’ve been warned.

Lucifer:

Feels rather torn when he comes to this realization.

On one hand, he feels that the object of his affection has become too much of a distraction.

The amount of times he finds himself spacing out while doing paperwork because thoughts of you plague his mind is truly appalling to him

But still, he gets lost in the care that you give him and finds your reliability refreshing.

All the nights he stayed up to get his work done and you came in with some coffee to help him along, sometimes unprompted; it’s like you just know when he needs a little boost.

You even remember that he likes his coffee with a shot of poison. It’s truly the little things like that where he gets lost in your consideration.

Then there are the nights where even some small part of him realizes that pushed himself too far.

It would have been his fourth consecutive night without sleep if it weren’t for you.

“Luce?”

The man didn’t look up from his paperwork. Instead, he finished signing the document before switching papers and starting to skim through it.

“Thank you, MC. Just set it on the desk.” He said, assuming you had just brought him coffee as usual.

“I’m sorry.” You say as you step in. “That’s not it.”

The Avatar of Pride finally looked up and sighed as he saw your empty hands.

“Then what is it? I’m afraid I have neither the time nor energy to chat right now.”

“That’s the point, Lucifer.” You say, approaching his desk. “You need sleep.”

He scoffed at your words. “I can assure you that I am more than capable of doing my work without a few nights of rest.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t, Lucifer.” You lay your hand on his forearm. “I know you are capable, but still. Please, just sleep.”

He looked up into your eyes and sighed. They held no hint of deceit or trickery. He had grown so used to looking for such signs in people, most commonly in his brothers, but in this moment, he only saw genuine worry in those beautiful orbs.

When was the last time he had seen such? When was the last time someone had shown real concern for him?

The man couldn’t recall.

“Alright.” He relented. “I’ll put the papers away for now, but I expect you to head to bed as well. It’s nearing 3am.”

It was that night, as he laid in bed, that he tried to decipher the feelings within him, floating around in his chest.

When he realized it was love, the man could only shake his head at the thought. After all, he had no time for such feelings, he told himself.

But the more he dismissed them, the stronger they seemed to be within him.

The man even spaced out during a conversation with Diavolo one morning and was mortified with himself.

Obviously, Diavolo was more curious than upset though.

After some pressing from the prince, Lucifer sighed and explained the issue that plagued him.

I don’t think it would be possible for Lord Diavolo to have a bigger grin on his face than he did in that moment.

The prince congratulates his friend on finding someone that inspires such feelings within him and asks about when he’s gonna ask you out.

Lucifer waves away his friend’s words, but the thought stays with him throughout the day.

It would be a lie to say that he doesn’t want to date you, but the man’s pride has always told him that he doesn’t need such a relationship with others, most especially a human.

However, you were no ordinary human. To him, you were special; he could admit that much to himself.

When he finally does ask you out, he’s as calm and collected as he is with anything else

…except for the hint of a blush on his cheeks, seen by only the most observant of people.

This boy is not as in denial about his feelings as you might think.

Mammon:

Mammon recognizes his feelings for you fairly quickly and is pretty honest about it.

At least, he’s pretty honest with himself with the subject, just not with other people.

He knew he had feelings for you since day one. What he should do about them, however, was the questions.

Yeah, he spent a lot of time denying it to his brothers, but that was mostly because he didn’t want you to know until he got himself sorted out.

That and he didn’t wanna risk his brothers ruining things for him. I mean yeah, he’s had some small crushes, but they never lasted long and none involved feelings this strong.

He just really, really didn’t want to fuck this up.

So he spent a long time keeping his feelings to himself; months easily passing.

Every time he saw you smile or when he heard you speak in defense of him with his brothers, he could feel his face go hot and chest tighten.

You really felt like his human when you did stuff like that. Still, no matter how many times he said it or felt it, it didn’t make it true; not officially at least.

One day, you both were hanging out in his room, studying together.

Well, you were studying. Mammon was just kinda half-assing it. He only agreed to this so he could spend more time with you after all.

Boy was getting all fidgety as he thought…maybe now was a good time to tell you?

You both were alone together, which made things easier. He definitely didn’t want to actually sit here and study either.

Not to mention, if he had to hide his feelings any longer, the poor boy felt as if he’d just burst.

“Oi, MC! I got something to say so you better listen up!”

Your eyes flickered up at him and then back down to your notes, searching for a specific section.

“I’m listening.” You say as you go back to skimming through the page.

Nervous boy looks away from you.

“So…the Great Mammon likes you, alright!” He told you, booming with fake confidence.

“I know.” You tell him, not even looking up from your notebook.

That’s…that’s it? You must not get it. His tone starts to falter.

“I…no! I don’t mean just like!” He leaned in closer to you. “I… I meant I love you!”

You lift your head and smile at him.

“I know.” You tell him before leaning in and kissing his cheek.

The Avatar of Greed’s brain starts to short circuit. Was it really that easy all along?

You laugh at how red his face gets and find it cute. You always had feelings for Mammon and honestly, as much as he tries to be otherwise, he is an open book. Not just you, but everyone knew he had feelings for you. It was just a question of when he would admit it and you had waited patiently for him.

Leviathan:

This boy struggles to even identify the feelings within him for the longest time.

When the feelings do form inside him, he starts becoming a lot more red in the face over the simplest things.

Blushy boy is overwhelmed by basically any compliment you give him.

“Holy–Levi, I was stuck on that level for past month!” You tell him, practically buzzing from excitement. “You’re amazing!”

Levi.exe has stopped working.

It’s not just what you say that makes his brain freeze up. It’s your sweet, excited tone, your smile. The fuzzy feeling in him that tells him he did good. All of it is too much for his brain.

Honestly thinks something is wrong with him when you fixed his tie for him one morning because it was messy and all he could think about for the next ten minutes was the fact that you touched him.

Wait, why did you fix his tie? He always wears it loose like that and you never commented on it before...

Otaku boy is very upset with himself right now.

Tries to avoid you for a while, but after a couple days of this, he heard you asking his brothers if you did something wrong and what you could do to apologize to him.

Poor boy felt bad that he was making you feel guilty when you didn’t even do anything wrong.

Invites you to watch anime with him so you can stop worrying.

He tries his best to act like his usual self with you and honestly, it was pretty easy with him getting so absorbed with the show.

At one point, he had to pause it to rant about something the protagonist just said.

“I can’t believe it! They completely contradicted part of her character progression from season two! And have the gall to completely ignore that they did it!”

Boy was so annoyed until you stopped him. You pointed out a couple moments from mid-season three and one from season 4 that actually make the protagonist’s words very in character for them.

In the back of his mind, he’s really beating himself up for forgetting that one scene between Tsusaki and Momo

If it had been anyone else or if it was you, but at a different point in your friendship, he honestly would be livid to hear you make such a contradiction.

Levi has bonded with you for so long at this point though that he’s just impressed with your memory and character analysis ability.

I mean, he shouldn’t expect anything less from his Henry, but still, the boy is still loving this.

He’s found someone that not only enjoys the same nerdy stuff that he likes, but can actually have discussions about at the same level. You understand him just like you understand the anime on the screen and it’s characters.

At some point, he kinda got lost in his thoughts about you, checking out in favor of such thoughts instead of your words.

A smile slowly formed on his face as he thought about just how great it was that he found you. Or like, that you came to him, I guess.

He got so lost in all the good things about your friendship that he didn’t even realize at first when his thoughts were becoming words off his lips and had no time to censor himself.

“Man, this is great. This is why I love you.”

Silence.

Levi started panicking, realizing what he just said.

You sat in your seat, confused and a bit flustered.

After all, he interrupted you mid-sentence to blurt that out.

“Gaaah, I didn’t mean that!” He shouted. “Okay, maybe I did; I don’t really know, I just–aaaah I’m such a stupid, no-good–”

His words are stopped by your kiss. It only lasted for a second though because the boy quickly bounced back and covered his mouth with his hand.

You give a small chuckle at his reaction.

“Don’t worry so much.” You tell him. “I’m glad you told me.”

“H…Huh??”

“I…” You blush. “I actually have feelings for you too. I’m glad you said something first or I would have never been able to do… that.”

Levi is stuck wondering what the heck just happened, but as he starts to settle down, he decides he doesn’t really care; he likes how things have ended up.

Satan:

Is another brother that is not really good with his emotions.

Instead of panicking or getting overwhelmed with this new feeling inside of him though, he faces it with calm curiosity instead.

It’s hard for him to fully understand any emotion that is not anger, but he’s always trying to expand his knowledge on such things.

So when he starts noticing how small things you do cause his heart to race or a blush creep onto his cheeks, he’s not shying away; on the contrary, he seeks you out even more, wanting to spend time with you so he can analyze these feelings as they come.

He starts asking if you need some help studying more often since the answer is almost always yes. Study sessions with Satan are always very productive.

He starts lending books out to you even when you don’t ask. He brings you books that made him think of you as he read them, but doesn’t tell you that and presents them as a simple recommendation.

Always feels a sense of satisfaction when you accept them and come to his room later on to discuss them.

Starts reading more books on interactions between people to understand his seemingly strong awareness of you.

Like, why your finger tips brushing his when he hands you something or your shoulder touching his when you both read next to each other just sends an an almost electrifying feeling within him or when even the softest expressions on your face can make him smile.

Starts with mainly nonfiction books and slowly finds himself searching within the realm of fiction as well.

Despite what some people might think, he doesn’t really read fiction books much. When he does, it’s usually horror stories or the occasional sci-fi story (he finds how human picture the future to be fascinating, but also a bit silly).

He has very little experience with romance novels; he finds them to be pretty repetitive and predictable.

Still decides to read some since they do in fact focus on interactions between two people.

Finds that a lot of his experiences are mentioned in these books.

….he also finds his mind imagining similar situations with you.

This is…not the answer he thought he would get. ‘Love’.

So it was love that he felt for you? He honestly never gave any thought to loving someone in this way before. It simply was never a priority of his

But if that is truly what he is feeling…he wants to feel it to its full extent like the characters in his books.

Isn’t actually all that nervous when he decides to tell you. Like always, curiosity leads him through.

Not to say that he wouldn’t be hurt if you rejected him; merely that he wastes no energy worrying about such an outcome.

The day he decided tell you about this conclusion, you were sitting with him on his bed, backs against the wall, reading books.

He heard a little gasp to his right and glanced over to see you staring at your book, eyes wide, and whispering things to the page.

‘Oh my god’, ‘Why would you do that?’, and ‘Nonononononono’ were just some of the words you spoke into your book.

Satan chuckled, finding he scene to be cute.

You let out a groan, mildly annoyed with him.

“It’s not funny.” You whined. “He just walked away from her. Walked away! Right when she tried to kiss him! I can’t believe this!”

“Oh really?”

“Yes really! He–”

The blonde cut you off with a kiss, brief, but a bit fervent.

As soon he pulled away, you dropped your book and covered your red face. He quietly picked up your book and read the page that originally upset you.

“This is the same story I read yesterday.” He told you, hiding his own red cheeks within the pages. “The one that made me realize I wanted to kiss you.”

You lowered your hands and stared at the blonde, eyes wide.

“R-Really?”

“Yes.” He lowered the book to look you in your eyes. “Our protagonist may have failed you, but I’d like think that I just came through for you where he did not. Am I wrong?”

“N..No.” You mumbled, eyes darting away from him and to a stack of books. After a moment, you added. “C-Can you do that again?”

Satan chuckled softly and took his chin in his hand, guiding her face to look at him. He stared into your eyes for a minute with a teasing smile before doing just as he was asked.

The boy never actually said the words like he planned to, but it was obvious that his meaning got across to you.

Asmodeus:

As the Avatar of Lust, Asmo is no stranger to feelings.

He had so many crushes during his time in the Devildom that he probably couldn’t even count them all.

They were always simple feelings though, flights of fancy that came and went, holding no real long term significance to him.

Don’t get him wrong; he finds a lot of fun/cute/sexy/beautiful people that he enjoys spending time with, but he sees them all as just temporary beings, coming in and out of his life without a second thought.

It’s still new for him to develop strong feelings for a person to the point that he actually thinks 'I never want them to leave’.

But with you, he does just that. Doesn’t realize he feels that strongly for you till you actually leave though.

It wasn’t anything unpredictable; the school year had simply ended. Everyone knew it was coming, but Asmo gave it almost no thought till it was here.

Your absence hit him harder than he let any of his brothers know. Still, he did he did usual activities; shopping, partying, spa days (though he noticed that he needed those more often than before).

He called you as often as he could. Would have probably spammed you with texts and calls if Lucifer hadn’t set a limit on all the brothers with when they can talk to you.

There really wasn’t an ‘Aha!’ moment for him discovering that he loved you. The question for him wasn’t if he loved you; it was more like how much he loved you that he questioned.

After dealing with your absence, he got his answer: a lot.

When you finally came back for another year at RAD, the boy was ecstatic.

Immediately jumps into hugging you, giving you little kisses on the cheek, and coming up with different reasons to keep you close.

Really clingy, but in a cute way.

Boy drops the ‘love’ word on you like it’s nothing.

Absolutely adores your blushy face after.

Is nothing but smiles when you said it back to him and wasn’t worried about it all.

I mean it is him we are talking about so of course you love him back.

Beelzebub:

Is slightly slow with the realization, but not the slowest of the brothers.

There was kinda already signs floating around about his feelings before he even knew it.

The other brothers suspected it, but unlike with Mammon, they just kinda left the big boy to handle it on his own and didn’t tease him about it.

Though he’s commonly helping all his brothers out with one thing or another, without even realizing it, he started treating you with the same level of care he usually only gives to Belphie.

He shares his foods with you and is always checking on you to make sure you feel okay (physically and emotional). Sweet boy knows how stressful it can be in House of Lamentation with all the arguing and his brothers’ shenanigans so he tries to makes sure it doesn’t bring you down.

He even once carried you to bed after you fell asleep on the couch after school. He felt bad you were so worn out from the day and didn’t want you to wake up with a sore neck from sleeping wrong on the couch.

Then there was one day when he managed to make you laugh--not on purpose, mind you, and the poor boy is still confused about what he did to this day, but the sound of your laugh filled with his cheeks red and the sweet boy couldn’t help smiling at it.

But once the moment ended and your laugh was gone, all Beel could think about was wanting to hear it again. He really wished he knew what he did the first time so he could replicate it.

He started asking around with his brothers about the moment that made him feel so warm inside and why he couldn’t stop thinking about you or that moment. They all waved him off with small smiles, telling him that he’ll figure it out on his own. Except for one.

Asmo was way to excited to follow the other brothers’ lead.

“That’s because you love her, silly!” He grinned at the redhead. “Now! When are you asking them out? I’ve been waiting foreeever to give you dating advice!”

Cue Beel’s brain buffering. And buffering. And buffering.

Ding.

Wait..love?

The boy smiled a sweet smile and walked away from his brother mid-sentence.

He kept walking till he found you in your room working on homework.

You lifted you head and smiled at him, mid-greeting when he wrapped his arms around you in a hug. You blinked in confusion, but hugged back.

“What’s this about?” You laugh from in his arms and the good boy loved the sound of it. In fact...

“I love you.” He said, smiling down at you.

It was a cute albeit random and unexpected moment for you, but also one of your favorite memories with him.

Belphegor:

Belphie was surprisingly quick with discovering his feelings for you.

He knew it was love, but tried pushing the feeling down inside of himself out of guilt.

Yes, you forgave him for using and killing you, but the boy hadn’t forgiven himself for doing it, which made his feelings for you just hurt him worse.

Sleepy boy tries his best to take care of you to make up for it, but feels like it’s not enough.

He’s always the first person to realize when you’re starting to stress out and pulls you to him for nap. Naps always help him take a break from stress and various other emotions that he doesn’t want to deal with and knew it’d probably help you too.

Nap buddy. That’s what you’d call him, causing him to blush and turn away from you.

With the poor boy feeling so complicated, it was actually you who confessed your feelings to him instead.

It was during one of your nap sessions, unsurprisingly. Belphie just stared at you, eyes wide in disbelief, before switching to a glare.

“You stupid--how can you say that after what I did to you?”

“Belphie...that’s in the past and you’re different now.” You tell him. “I love the person that lays next to me; he’s different than the man who killed me.”

Oh Lord Diavolo, the way your human mind works is so ridiculous to him.

Ends up rejecting you and finds a new place to take a nap. His anger quickly turns to sadness as he falls asleep.

Feels awful the next few days. He didn’t mean to hurt you; he just wants you to understand that he doesn’t deserve you after what happened.

Eventually approaches you to explain himself, hoping you’ll understand and let go of your feelings for him.

Instead, you launch into trying to reassure him that it’s not like that and regardless of what happened in the past, your feelings still stand.

He still thinks you’re idiot and tells you as much...but admits that he feels the same.

During the first two weeks of your relationship, the boy is surprisingly tense, but eventually accepts where you both have ended up and just lets himself enjoy it.

Masterlist

#obeyme #obeyme otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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octoberink · 3 years

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In His Hands Part 3

When I woke up, relief coursed through me. I was home. In my own bed. It was all just a bad dream. Kade had been nothing more than a nightmare. I smiled and almost teared up at the thought. It had felt so real. My hips still felt sore from how he held me.

When I stirred a bit in my bed, I noticed that my hips really did hurt. Alarm pulsed through me at that. I sat up and looked around with dread. No. No, it had to be a dream. I can’t still be here!

But I was. In the massive room that held what looked like my own belongings in my size. I curled up into a tight ball, and squeezed my eyes shut. Please, wake up, Taylor. Come on, wake up! This isn’t real!

I felt like sobbing again. So, everything that happened yesterday actually happened. I was kidnapped. For my own good, apparently. And for the rest of my life, I’m stuck in a world of giants. Living with one who knew nothing about personal space or empathy. And I will never see my family again.

I quickly wiped away the tears on my face when the ground began to tremble beneath me. His footsteps grew louder the closer he came to my room. I heard a knock on the door frame.

“Mornin’ buttercup.”

No. No, no, no. Please, just go away.

“How’d you sleep?”

Leave me alone!

His steps got closer.

Goddamnit.

I twirled around to face him, ready to kick and scream if he even reached out to pick me up. I just woke up, thinking I was home due to his people’s trickery, and I’m not home. I’m here. With the likes of him. I just wanted a few moments to myself, was that really too much to ask for?

Kade was, of course, wearing only a pair of black boxers. They were loose-fitting, thankfully, so that his low-hanging fruit wasn’t staring me down in the face. But it still, for some odd reason, made my face warm up as if I was the one who should be embarrassed to be seen mostly naked. I looked away, scooting further into my bed.

“You’re blushing.”

Screw you. I shook my head, and looked up as he bent down to my level on the floor. He was all smiles. Just like yesterday. Doesn’t this guy have anything more than a creepy smile, or a scary glare to offer? I thought that because he at least looked so human, despite his size, he would have the same range of emotions as one. But maybe I’m wrong.

“You like what you see, dollface?”

Oh, for the love of f—“No, I don’t like what I see, Kade,” I muttered. “I don’t like waking up, thinking I’m home, where I’m supposed to be, and that you were nothing more than a nightmare, only to realize that you are all too real, and I’m imprisoned here for the rest of my life.” I dramatically gestured to my bed, the room, and even him. “No. I don’t like what I’m seeing.”

He smirked at my words with a small chuckle before slightly shaking his head. “Well, someone’s crabby in the mornings. I’ll have to remember that.”

I looked away feeling completely hopeless with this guy. I can’t believe I’m here.

“I’ll have to come up with something to make your mornings better.”

And my initial reaction to those words was surprise. And gratitude. Would he really try to think of me like that? To help me? But then I remembered this was freakin’ Kade, and I pushed the feeling away. I glared up at him, skimming my eyes down to his bare chest. I noticed a few scars on him. He did mention that he was in the army years ago. Had he been in battle? Is that where those scars came from? Before I was caught staring again, I quickly shifted my gaze back to his smug face, derailing that train of thought from my mind.

“You could start by at least putting on a shirt, instead of walking around in your house, ninety percent naked with a woman you just met,” I muttered. “Sorry, not met. Kidnapped.”

And I actually thought I saw his grin waver a bit at my words. But it was hard to tell with him. He shrugged at me. “Fair enough. Anything else I can do for you, princess?”

No more nicknames! I almost yelled, but held it in. I didn’t want to push my luck with this guy. One thing at a time. Otherwise, he would just do the opposite to get under my skin. Like walk into my room one morning completely naked. And the last thing I needed to see was a giant p—

I chased that thought process away. I needed to focus. This was no time to picture my giant captor in his birthday suit. I sighed heavily, trying to remind myself to breathe. “I just need a few moments, Kade. Please.”

He hesitated. And I looked back up at him when he didn’t respond to me right away. He was watching me closely. Hardly a smile. It made me worry. Did I push it too far? Is he mad at me? But Kade’s stupid grin was back, and he stood back up to his full height. “Sure thing, squirt. Any requests for breakfast?”

Like I could eat after this morning. But I did hear my stomach growl, and I knew it was important for me to at least try. I needed to take care of myself. I wasn’t going to see my family again. And if they were going to go through the end of the world with the knowledge that I was at least alive, then I owed them that much.

I shrugged at Kade. “What do you have?”

He crossed his arms and took a moment to think. “How does bacon and eggs sound?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

Appeased, Kade also nodded, and turned to leave the room. When he was out of sight, I sighed heavily once more to calm myself. At least he didn’t grab me the moment he saw me. Would that change for good? Would he change the longer we lived together? I doubted it, honestly. I was doing my best to prepare myself for a lifetime of hell with him.

But maybe that wasn’t fair of me to do. Maybe I needed to give him a chance. I need to give all of this a chance. This is my life now. And if I tried to fight it every second of every day, then I would only end up hurting myself. I would drive myself insane if I didn’t accept things. Like truly accept it. Maybe I needed to get used to him holding me. It’s not like I can get up and down from things in his house like his couch, or table on my own. I have to be open to this.

But don’t accept what he believes. I felt a shiver speed down my spine at that. He believes I’m only here to be his pet. His rescued little companion. But I’m not. I’m a person. And I can’t let myself think the way he does for a moment. Because the moment I do, I lose sight of my worth. Of who I am. And he may be able to take everything I have away from me. But he can’t take that.

Feeling a bit braver—and honestly a bit more satisfied with my current mental state than I had anticipated—I finally got out of bed, noticing I still had my clothes from the other day on. And they felt dirty. I turned to the dresser that looked just like mine from home, and reached out. The moment my fingers touched the wood, I felt my heart pound in sorrow. And fear.

I’ll never go home again.

The thought tempted the tears in my eyes, but I had to fight it. I needed to stay strong through this change. My situation could be much worse. I don’t know exactly how, considering I was in a brand new world with rules and ways of life I had yet to learn. But I had a strange feeling that I could be in a worse place.

With someone who wants to hurt me.

The sudden fiery anger and defiance within me fueled the rough way I pulled open the top drawer. That’s how. I’ve already been through worse with the kind of person who only lives to hurt others. To abuse and manipulate them.

It took everything in me to try to push away the memories that flashed like lightning through my skull. His rough hands. His sharp voice and black eyes. I gripped the drawer with one hand, and used the other to pull at my tangled hair. But regardless of how hard I pulled to distract myself, he wouldn’t leave my head.

You’re selfish, Taylor.

Some days his words hurt more than his fists ever did. The way their echoes continued to haunt me like a cruel phantom wore me down. But it’s been so long since I’ve dwelled on him for more than a few moments. Why now? Why won’t he leave?

Why won’t you just go away?

Because you feel guilty. And you should.

I shook my head at the way his voice filled my skull. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. My hands started shaking. It was as if he was in the room with me. As if he was breathing down my neck in this very moment. I could almost feel his warmth on my back.

Something touched me, and I jumped in fear and alarm. I twirled around in surprise to see Kade. He had bent down to my level and watched me closely with a serious expression. He slightly tilted his head at me. “You okay?”

I stared up at the giant man with wide eyes. I haven’t had one of my “moments” in months. Almost a year, actually. I used to have them regularly after the incident. But ever since I had a major breakthrough with my therapist, they haven’t really been around much. So, why did I have one just now?

I could see Kade edge closer, and I quickly nodded to answer his question. “Yeah. I’m fine, sorry.”

He continued to observe me for a moment. “You sure? I called your name like ten times, and you wouldn’t even look at me.”

He did? Oh, my god. I didn’t even hear him. Or feel him enter the room. I looked down with a shrug. “Sorry, I was just distracted.” It got quiet. I could feel his deep gaze continue to stare at me. Waiting for me to explain. To tell him the truth. Not that it’s any of your business. I looked back up at him. “I was just about to change.” I took a quick glance into the drawer. And sure enough—as I had hoped—there were clothes. Clothes that looked my size and style. Kinda creepy. I turned back to Kade. He still stared with a rare frown on his face. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

His eyes flicked up and down my small frame. And he smiled again. “Wanna shower?”

As much as his words pinched at my nerves, I was actually glad he brought that up. “I guess, but how—”

Without warning, his hand reached out, and his fingers wrapped around my waist. The soreness from the other day returned, causing me to squirm uncomfortably in his clutch. I had to close my eyes again when he lifted me up. I felt his other hand cup beneath me so that I could sit. His fist around me loosened, but never fully let go.

I dared myself to open my eyes when he started moving. I wasn’t ready to look down. But being able to see things from his perspective was interesting. Or at least, what it would be like to be his chest. I was pressed firmly against it, feeling his heartbeat vibrate my skull. I also just noticed that he had put on a shirt like I had asked. Which was nice. Regardless, I could still feel the warmth of his skin seep through the fabric and warm up my back.

He walked out of the bedroom, and turned right down a little hallway. As he turned left to a new doorway, I caught a glimpse of two more doors at the end of the hall. One was rather skinny, so I think it could be a closet or something. And the other must be his own room.

I focused back on the space we had entered. Yup. The bathroom. And of course, everything was enormous. How was I supposed to do anything in here? I could feel Kade’s grip tighten on me as his other hand disappeared from beneath my legs. I closed my eyes when he lowered me to the floor. The moment my feet touched the ground, I struggled to get out of his hand.

He released me with a small huff of amusement. I turned around to look up at him with confusion. He smirked in return. “So, this is the bathroom. The place to take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He gestured to his right where the giant sink was. “Take a look.”

I turned to the massive cabinet that held the sink, and felt surprise reach me. There was a door. My size. It was next to the regular cabinet door one would have to get access to the pipes. I cautiously stepped up to it, and opened it. A light blinked on at my presence. And inside the extra space, and right beside the large pipe was a toilet. Next to the toilet was a small sink. And a stand-up shower. The perfect size for me.

I looked up at Kade with surprise as he observed me. “What do ya think, sugar?”

I cringed at the nickname, but couldn’t help the next words that escaped me. “Thank you, Kade.”

“No problem, cupcake,” he winked. “Why don’t you freshen up, and then we’ll eat?”

I nodded. And when I saw his hand begin to reach for me again, I backed away. “Wait, I can walk to the room. I’ll get my own clothes. I don’t mind.”

He hesitated. As if he was going to ignore my words. But he eventually nodded, and left the bathroom without another word. Once the floor seemed to stop trembling from his weighted steps, I made my way back to the bedroom with my things. It took a few minutes, but I really didn’t mind. I’d rather walk several miles than be picked up over and over just to get from one room to the other.

I searched the drawer I had opened for something to wear. Something simple and comfortable. I grabbed a pair of black leggings with a bulky, soft sweater. It was a calming lavender color. Exactly what I needed today. I grabbed some socks and other things I needed before making my trek back to the bathroom.

The moment the hot water hit my back, I felt like I could breathe again. I closed my eyes, and pictured myself in my apartment. In a safe place. A familiar one. And I felt sad again. Would I always feel this sad when I thought of home? Would I feel empty for the rest of my life? It was hard to distinguish between the tears and the water on my face. But I took in a deep breath. And I slowly let it out.

I needed to stay calm and positive about this. I was alive and well. And my family would hopefully gain that knowledge soon. I just wanted them to be at peace. The end of the world would be enough to deal with when it arrived.

I should be there, though. I should be with my family when it happens. I still didn’t understand why I was chosen among so many others that could offer something better for humans when they have to come here. I’m not a therapist who can mentally help them accept things here. I’m not a doctor who can heal someone when they’re sick or injured. I’m not rich, or powerful, or well-known.

I’m just...me.

As I scrubbed every inch of my body down, I noticed the dark spots on my hips. As I had thought, his grip left bruises. They didn’t hurt as bad as they looked. Although, I wondered if I mentioned this to Kade if he would be gentler with me. The thought of having him leave marks like this just by picking me up rolled my stomach with dread. I can’t even imagine how easy it would be for him to break a bone.

I had to immediately push that thought away. Thinking like that would only scare me more. That was the last thing I needed. Regardless of how much I didn’t like him, I had to learn to trust him. To rely on him. Only because I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

Instead of focusing on the negatives of our living situation, I tried to picture us eventually getting along. Like the other day when we had talked about his favorite color. It felt normal for a moment. And I held on to that moment. It was a good feeling. A good memory to have. And it might help me accept things here if I made more moments like that with him.

After feeling fully clean and cozy from my shower, I dried myself off and changed into new clothes. Everything had already been available to me here. The shampoo and conditioner. Soap and a razor. The towel. Everything. And when I had put on the bulky sweater, I noticed it smelled like Kade. He had this strange, cheap cologne smell in his house. And it was now in my clothes.

But instead of being annoyed by it, I held the fabric to my nose and smelled it again. Something about this was also familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it. But it brought me the slightest bit of comfort. After a few more moments to myself that I knew would be a rare occurrence, I opened the door. And Kade’s massive foot was there. Waiting for me.

Barely even a moment to myself.

I exited the space, and looked up at him. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he gazed down at me. His smirk still plastered on his rough features. “Feel better, buttercup?” he murmured.

I nodded, carefully holding my dirty clothes as if they would break. My stomach growled again, and I caught a whiff of bacon sizzling through the air. It did smell really good. I was glad to finally be hungry enough to eat.

Kade, of course, carried me through the hallway and to the kitchen after taking my dirty clothes. He said he would have them washed by the end of the week. He walked down the hallway, past my room. And just before the entrance to the living room, he turned right. It was an enormous kitchen. At least for me. For someone Kade’s size, I can imagine it would be average. He placed me on his tabletop beside the cooked eggs and bacon. There was even a plate of toast, already buttered. My stomach grew louder with anticipation.

Kade set down the small plate and silverware set from the other day, and sat across from my position. And we silently began to eat. I noticed that he was quieter this morning. Maybe he’s the kind of guy that needs coffee and breakfast to turn him into himself.

No. That’s not it.

He didn’t look tired. He seemed distant. Distracted. He mindlessly chewed on his bacon with eyes staring into the unknown. To a place I couldn’t go. I almost asked him if he was okay, but I stopped myself. I was honestly enjoying the silence between us. And I should savor it. Something told me it wouldn’t happen often.

He caught me staring when his eyes finally lifted to me. I tried to quickly move my gaze back to my almost empty plate, feeling my face warm up. I didn’t want him to know I was staring like that. And with any touch of worry I might have been showing. I quietly chewed my food, ignoring his eyes now gazing at me.

Damn it, Taylor. Now he’s going to open his big fat mouth and—

“Taste okay?”

I glanced up at his voice. His eyes flicked back and forth from me to my plate. I nodded. “Yeah, it’s good.”

He still wasn’t smiling. Was he mad? Did I do something wrong? Should I dare myself to actually ask him if he’s okay? He looked at me almost expectantly. As if he wanted me to ask. I held back a heavy sigh. “You okay, Kade?”

That’s when I realized he hadn’t been looking at me. He was staring just past me. Lost in his own thoughts. When I said his name, he seemed to snap out of his daze, blinking away the remnants of his daydream. He finally looked at me. And he smiled. “What was that, dollface?”

Why is he acting so weird this morning? It’s like he’s a completely different person from yesterday. “I asked if you were okay,” I regretfully murmured.

He seemed somewhat surprised by my question. Yeah, me too. But instead of rubbing it in my face that I showed even the smallest bit of concern for his well being, he shrugged at me, and shook his head. “I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well.”

So, tired-Kade is a better version of fully-awake-Kade? I didn’t know what to make of this. Of him. Instead of dwelling on it for too long, I decided to try and take advantage of it. I put my plate on the tabletop beside me, and leaned forward into a more comfortable sitting position. I looked up to see him eye me with question. “Kade, there’s something we need to talk about.”

And I swear I caught a gleam of despair flash across his dark gaze at my words. But I wasn’t sure if I saw it right. He cleared his throat, pushed his own plate aside, and leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. He stared down at me, and nodded. “Sure thing, peanut.”

I looked away, twiddling with my thumbs a bit. “So, while I was showering, I noticed something. Um,” I hesitated. Would he even believe me unless I showed him? If it came to that, then I would. But until then, I was staying right where I was. “My hips are a little bruised from being picked up.” I looked at Kade again. And his eyes held what I could only describe as some sort of panic. Before I could even rethink my words, I tried to reassure him. “I’m fine. A little sore, but I’m okay. I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind not p—”

His hand cupped my back and pulled me in closer to him before I could finish. One hand gently but firmly gripped me from beneath my arms to keep me steady, while the other pinched at my shirt. I struggled in his hands, writhing with fear.

“Kade!” I yelped when his fingers lifted my shirt. “Kade, stop!” I then felt the edge of my pants lower just a little. And I fought him. I kicked at the hands that awkwardly held me, and yelled again. “Kade! Let me go! Now!”

At my screams, he finally released me. I crawled away from him, lifting my pants back to my waist, and pulled my shirt down. Red consumed my vision with a mixture of rage and fear. My heart was pounding madly in my ears while my hands shook from the scare.

“What the fuck was that?” I yelled. The red curtain blinded me, leaving me to simply scream at him. “I don’t know what your problem is, or how you came to be such an entitled jackass, but I’ve had enough!” I stood on trembling legs, and back away. “You can’t just grab me like that whenever you want, I’m a person too you know! If you wanted to see the bruises, all you had to do was ask, Kade! All you have to do is treat me like an equal, not your goddamn ragdoll!”

The curtain was finally lifted when I heard his chair scrape against the floor. Kade stood up and turned around. He took a few steps over to a coat rack. He grabbed his jacket. Opened the door to the outside world. And as soon as he exited his house, he slammed it shut.

*~*~*~*~*

Kade had been gone for hours. I glanced at the clock on the stove again, and felt dread consume me. Four hours and counting. It was past noon. And even though my stomach growled, I was very far from being hungry in the slightest.

I was shocked with myself. I had finally cracked. I screamed in full-blown rage at a giant man who had the strength to crush me in his fists. What would happen when he came back? Would he ever come back? Maybe he went to his Director to get someone else to take care of me.

I sighed heavily. A part of me was proud of myself for finally saying something to him. For fighting back when it was necessary for me to. I’m not usually a fighter. But something about Kade changed that in me. Something about this place and my permanent situation has made me defiant. I was never like that. Like Kade had stated before, I was a submissive person by nature. I allowed people to take advantage of me, and kept my true thoughts and feelings bottled up.

But lately, I’ve been a different person. And I have my therapist to thank for that. I learned what I was worth, and how to value that. How to keep it safe. How to fight for it. I’ve never had the chance to fight for myself like this. I haven’t really needed to since the incident. And while a part of me felt good and proud of what I accomplished, there was another part of me that felt guilty.

I know Kade’s intention was to see the bruises for himself. I could see the panic and despair in his eyes when I mentioned them. He was upset about it. Was he afraid he wouldn’t get his money if someone found out? Would I be taken away to a new caretaker?

I don’t know. I don’t know anything.

My thoughts were broken by the sound of the door opening. I looked up to see Kade had come back. He kept his back to me as he put his coat on the rack, and locked the door. And he stood there for a few moments. Hands on hips. Quiet. Back facing me.

I didn’t know what would happen now. What I had done by screaming at him like that. I certainly didn’t regret what I told him. But how it came out was something I wish I could go back and change. I stayed in my sitting position on the table, waiting for him to do or say something. Anything. When he just stood there, I decided to finally speak up.

“Kade?” I murmured.

He didn’t respond. He just stood there. And my immediate instinct was to apologize. To fix this from my end. I had nothing to be sorry about, but it was a habit. A habit that always got me out of the trouble I had put myself into. It always made things better and easier between me and the other person when I apologized first. If it would get him to talk to me, or even look at me, I would suck it up, and do it.

“Kade,” I tried again. “Look, I’m really s—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Taylor.”

His words were cold. But his voice was gentle. I didn’t know how to feel about his response. I sat quietly. Unsure of what to do or say now.

“You’re right,” he continued. “I could’ve just asked.” He finally turned around to face me. And the guilt in his eyes almost made him look like a stranger. He slowly made his way back to the table. And sat down. His eyes locked onto mine. No trace of amusement in his stare. No smile, or tug of a smirk on his lips. He was dead serious. His voice came out as nothing more than a whisper as he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

I was so shocked by this version of Kade. The way he looked at me with sincerity. The way he apologized. He meant it. And I was relieved at that. I felt hopeful. But my screaming voice from earlier haunted me. And he couldn’t be the only one to apologize. I shrugged at him with my own words. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” I murmured. “I’m sorry, too.”

He shook his head again. “Nah. Sometimes that’s what it takes to get through this thick skull of mine,” he smirked. He took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Taylor.”

I looked away, bringing my knees up to hug them tightly. “I know.”

I glanced back up to see him staring down at me. In thought. His smile wavering the longer he watched me. He swallowed as if nervous about something, and stood back up. He began clearing away the table from the cold remains of our breakfast. “You hungry?”

I wasn’t. At all. But—“Sure,” I replied.

Kade fixed us lunch, and we ate silently together at the table. After we were done, he stared down at me with furrowed brows. He crossed his arms, clearly thinking hard about something.

I shrugged at him. “What?”

“I was thinking of watching a movie,” he replied. “But we need to figure out a new way of carrying you.”

He wasn’t wrong. I looked up at him, just as lost. Then, I realized there was a rather simple solution. I stood up as he continued to think. “Put out your hand,” I replied.

He cocked a brow at my command but complied. Kade offered an open hand toward me, palm facing up. I reached out, and hesitated. His hand was just so large. I wondered if I would ever see someone my size again. But I had to stay focused, and chased the train of thought away. I gently clutched his fingers and pulled down.

His hand rested a few inches above the tabletop. I looked up at him, wondering if I should be asking for permission first. Oh, like he really cares. This is what he wants afterall. To get you comfortable with him so that you’ll watch movies and laze about whenever he wants.

Hey, I scolded myself. There are worse lives to have, Taylor.

Kade watched me with a small smirk as I pointed to his open hand beside me. “I could just sit, right?”

He nodded with his familiar smile lighting up his face. “Of course, munchkin.”

I took a moment to gage the best way to sit in it. His fingers ever-so-slightly twitched with anticipation. I took in a breath, and carefully lowered myself into his palm. When his hand began to move up, I quickly grabbed his thumb to keep myself steady. When I got to his chest, I expected him to stop. But I kept moving up.

I turned to see him keep me at his eyes. He gazed at me. Smiling. Cheeks slightly rosy. I continued to grip his thumb with everything I had. While it may have hurt when he picked me up, I’ll admit I felt secure in his grip. Sitting in his cupped palm like this felt dangerous. Especially at this height. As if I was on an amusement park ride with no harness.

His fingers gently curled over my thighs to hold me better as if he read my thoughts. Kade continued to stare. Getting lost like he did this morning. I don’t know where he went when he wandered off in his head. But it certainly made me curious.

“So,” I began, breaking the silence between us.

Kade was drawn out of his thoughts and focused back on me. “So?”

I shrugged up at him, hugging his thumb tightly. “What are we watching?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you all for being so patient for the next part, I’m so glad you’re enjoying it! I wanted to have part 3 out before Christmas, and I actually did it! (which is a lot for someone like me who isn’t very good with meeting personal deadlines lol) Anyway, I hope you all like the story so far! We got some emotional bits this time around, and next chapter will hopefully be up soon! Enjoy! :D

#giant #tiny #Giant/tiny #short #story #writing #writers #art #cartoon #artists on tumblr

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

The Iowa Caucus Happened

A job offer slides into Rafael’s DMs as he waits to find out if it’ll be a new start or prison on February 8.

Accidental Feminist Icon

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

“Mister Barba?”

Rafael didn’t like hearing his name from the young woman behind him, especially not given what he’d done. He’d texted Carmen on the first day of the trial, and she’d agreed to look into the offers from attorneys he knew, and some he didn’t, while he sat beside Dworkin and emotionally prepared himself to testify. The ones he’d looked at the night before came from people he didn’t like or were last resorts. He’d moved from his visceral response to finding law to back his actions. Applying logic could let him detangle himself from his conflicted emotions. Catholic guilt wrestled his humanity. That said, he also found himself desperate to introduce Ollie to music as Carmen worked from his apartment that first afternoon, not caring for once as the toddler drooled or sneezed or spilled all over him.

“Yes?” he asked, taking his coffee from the cart. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“We haven’t. I follow you on Twitter.”

“Ah,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss-”

“Rachel Sullivan. I have, like, a reading Twitter.”

“I’ve seen that! Read with Rachel? Your icon is a copy of Howl?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, chuckling. “I just- listen, I know it’s bad what’s going on and a lot of people are really hurt and going after you. Do I get it? No. But, I think you didn’t get a good choice, and you did what’s right for you. When it seems impossible, it’s not my place to judge something I can’t fathom. And a lot of people feel the same. A bunch of us have a group chat and we hope everything goes well and you get to start again.”

It was a stark contrast to his interaction with mami or emails from church ladies. There was an acknowledgement of disagreement, but he needed more people to respect that they weren’t there like she did. He also remembered watching his father die, and while he didn’t like the man, he regretted not ending that pain. It only drew out hurt for everyone.

“Thank you, Rachel. That really means the world to me.”

“Good luck today,” she said, giving him a wave when she took her coffee and left. By the end of the day, Rafael hated Peter Stone for being a damn good prosecutor, and he wondered if there were any cases he’d tried, especially the ones before SVU that he was wrong on. He made his way into a new bar, definitely not his usual during all of this, and he sat and drafted his resignation. It took longer than he cared to admit, and he restarted and reread it time and time again. By the time he was drunk, he’d written something he could proofread the next morning and ignored calls from Olivia, Carmen, and mami.

He decided it was time to do what he had been dreading, logging into Twitter. Since Carmen had cleaned it up, more people had found him, and he was able to easily ignore anything hateful by skimming for murder or murderer in the body of the tweet. He skipped those, and Rafael was surprised to see some apathy, sympathy, or respect for his reasoning. Lazily, he scrolled his direct messages. A select few of the people who knew him contacted him with revulsion, but his filtered messages were filled with vitriol. He found Rachel’s account again, following her back and deciding he could break his unspoken rule of only following people he knew or the occasional blog/podcast/museum/celebrity. If anyone contacted him with kindness, he was now more open to the reciprocity of Twitter; no one would be asking him to prosecute their case soon.

He saw a message from Tripp Greene. In Harvard, they’d had an unspoken alliance as the two scholarship kids in their cohort, a silent allegiance that continued into law school. There were very few people Rafael respected personally from Harvard, but Tripp had remained kind, even if he worked in something as ruthless as politics. They’d been reunited by Rafael’s uptick in Twitter popularity. He was more proud than he should be by the potential presidential candidates that had followed him. Rafael should have known Tripp would reach out; he was ever the silent cheerleader and had watched a sibling die on life support when he was at Harvard. They’d discussed the morality of pulling plugs and the selfish desire to keep people alive, though most of it had been Tripp talking and Rafael listening.

While moving to Iowa seemed extreme, he was acutely aware that he would end up haunting the DA’s office and Manhattan SVU like some ghost of ADAs past instead of moving forward. His mother had a boyfriend and looming retirement that seemed likely to take the pair to Miami, where she could play grandma to his grandchildren. There was nothing left for him here but Carmen, and while a great friend, she was not enough to erase the last twenty-one years of his life. When Carmen called for the fifth time that night, he ignored it, but it was quickly followed by Answer the phone or I tell Olivia I haven’t heard from you. With a groan, he answered when Carmen called again sixty seconds later.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to delve back into a play by play of my day.”

“That’s why you’re drunk at seven o’clock,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm as she pretended that solved everything.

“It’s only been two hours?”

“You’re not at Forlini’s.”

“I’m not hanging out with Stone.”

“Send me your location. I just picked Ollie up from mom’s.”

“Take your son home, Carmen. I’ll be fine.”

“But we could talk about how much I also hate Stone. I’ll even stop and let you grab take out from that Cuban place you like.”

“Deal,” he acquiesced, motioning he wanted to close his tab. “Call me when you’re close.”

“Deal. ETA is about fifteen minutes.”

He polished off his scotch, signing the check and tipping well before taking his briefcase and leaning against the wall as he waited for Carmen’s SUV. She waved at him out the window, and he hurried into her passenger seat. Though he always knew that she was a great secretary and assistant, Carmen was proving to be the friend he needed right now. Olivia, in the few phone calls they had, was unwilling to discuss anything but the case. She was in cop mode, and she talked to him like she could swoop in and fix what he had done. While she thought he didn’t know, she’d talked to McCoy, talked to Stone, talked to anyone who would listen. But what she didn’t understand is that he’d accepted going to prison was a possibility, but it was one he felt was worth it.

“Barba!” he heard from the backseat, smiling softly to see Ollie more awake than he’d expected. He’d seen the boy periodically, mostly during evening handoffs when Carmen’s mother would drop him off so Carmen could take him home. There were a lot of single mothers in his life, and all were exceptional. The last few days, Carmen and Ollie both had spent a lot of time with him. He kept introducing Ollie to music and movies and foods like he could make up for everything Drew wouldn’t experience by making sure Ollie did.

“Oliver!” he smiled, twisting around to smile at him. The boy kicked his leg, and the blue stripe on the rubber of his sneakers lit up. “I like your shoes.”’

“Thanks,” he giggled, kicking again.

“You’re good with him,” Carmen smiled, the navigation now leading her to get his take out.

“He’s a good kid. Noah made me better with kids. Liv said I held him like a sack of flour at first.”

“You’ll be ready by the time you have your own.”

“I work too much.”

“That can change.”

“I don’t deserve to have a child,” he shrugged, and he could see Carmen purse her lips. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be good at it anyway. Wouldn’t be fair. Besides, I might end up like dad. No kid deserves that shit.”

“Bad word!” Ollie scolded, tablet in hand as he watched a movie.

“Sorry, Ollie. Stuff.”

“You’ve never told me what he did.”

“He wanted heterosexual, toxic machismo and got a swarmy, emotional bisexual.”

“You’re not that emotional.”

“He took care of that,” he said darkly. “I used to cry when he went after mami. That turned his attention to me.”

Carmen knew there was nothing she could say, so instead she silently took his hand, squeezing softly. He was taken aback at first, but he kept her hand loosely in his as his head lulled against the headrest. It was strangely grounding, the physical affection. He’d felt like he was swimming the last few days as memories of his father, his father’s death, his childhood, and each case he tried bubbled up. That wasn’t including the vision of baby drew and Maggie in the hospital room that lingered everywhere.

The conflicting guilt and conviction he’d done the right thing also broke a damn and the feelings he’d suppressed- loneliness, guilt, abandonment, distrust- were all bubbling to the surface. He’d spent so much of his life trying not to process them so he could focus on a conviction rate and moving forward that he didn’t have the tools everyone else did sometimes. Right now, Carmen felt like an anchor, and he was grateful for her.

He got out of the car when Carmen parked, ordering enough food for three adults, one take out container containing whatever he thought a toddler could handle. Soon enough, they were settled in his living room and eating, though Ollie had minimal interest in the pork, beans, and rice in front of him. The thought crossed his mind that when he took one of the out of state jobs, he wouldn’t have Carmen there like this. He was sure this friendship would be short lived; when he didn’t need her anymore, she’d leave him. That’s what usually happened, wasn’t it? She just felt bad for him.

“I’m moving to Iowa,” he blurted out before he was able to spiral into the self loathing he’d recently discovered.

“That’s far,” she said, and he thought he could detect sadness in her voice.

“There’s FaceTime.”

“Not quite the same, but I’ll take it.”

“Tripp understands,” he said, sobering up as the food hit his stomach. “He lost a sister. Watched someone dying like with my dad except she’d been born that way. It was years, Carmen.”

“That’s a lot. I’m going to miss you, Rafael. Ollie will too.”

“Come visit. If the tickets are bad, I’ll pay. Or cover renting a car.”

“You’re drunk,” she chuckled.

“Sorry. Best friend. It’s the rules.”

“We’ll come. But I can afford tickets.”

“Promise if it’ll make things tight, you’ll let me. You’re raising a kid. No kids means I can afford to get my friend the occasional plane ticket.”

“Deal.”

“Next week, will it be Des Moines or prison? Who knows! I’ll probably grow a beard either way. Think they’d recognize me in prison if I grow a beard?”

“I’ve never seen you with a beard. Stop shaving and we’ll find out.”

She could see Rafael getting tired, head leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. She preferred when he joked about all of this. They were stuck waiting, and this time the next night they’d probably know. Ollie climbed between them on the couch, and she realized her boss wasn’t the only one almost asleep.

“You two can stay,” Rafael yawned, hand smoothing Ollie’s curls back.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice not being alone in the morning. And you can stay here to work. We didn’t talk about it, but I know you hate Stone. He’s a good attorney. Doing his job.”

“His job is wrong.”

“That isn’t his fault. If another ADA had done what I did? I’d be prosecuting them.”

“Go get ready for bed,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. As she scooped Ollie up, she kissed the top of Rafael’s head. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Carmen?” She turned in the doorframe. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“I’m glad to, Raf. Promise you’ll actually sleep.”

“I promise.”

“Night, Barba,” Ollie yawned, waving over his mom’s shoulder as they entered his guest room. Maybe Iowa was going to be too far if he didn’t go to prison. He was getting quite fond of having Carmen around quite quickly. He wasn’t going to be her superior anymore, so this friendship could be something he maintained.

Olivia would be a given; even if they were primarily united around work, she was also one of his closest friends and maybe not working together would make him relax. Hell, maybe the end of his life in the city would do it. Rafael couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt he was chasing an upward trajectory in New York City. Even at Harvard, the plan had been to return. Maybe coming into Des Moines established would let him feel comfortable just existing.

He liked cooking and reading in the park and going out dancing on occasion. He rarely had time for two options, and the latter made his cheeks red with embarrassment at the prospect of a colleague seeing him during the outing. In Iowa, maybe he could go dancing and take up a new hobby and wear jeans without feeling like something was out of his control.

He woke up before Carmen, excited to be able to cook for her. He appreciated the fact she was happy to help him, but she had paused her own life for the last few days. Their friendship was relegated to offices and dinners by the office. He’d come to her baby shower and birthday parties and even a holiday party, but that was it and that had other colleagues present. Except maybe the baby shower, but he was determined to buy up whatever was left on her registry when the day came, using mami, abuelita, and the older women at church as pseudonyms to pretend he’d just let family know.

“You can cook?”

“I just never had time,” he shrugged, tray coming out of the oven.

“You made pastries?”

“Pastelitos de guayaba.” Carmen didn’t miss how proud he looked as he admired them. They were something he’d always made with family. “They aren’t hard, but abuelita used to make them for me all the time. Puff pastry, sweetened cream cheese and guava paste. Cafe con leche on the way.”

“You couldn’t sleep?” He shook his head, pouring the espresso and adding the milk before placing mugs at the breakfast counter. His mouth was set in a line now, the corners sucked in as he focused on the countertop. Her hand rested on his, giving a squeeze and he rewarded her with a soft smile. “We’ll be helping you pack for Iowa in no time.”

“I hope,” he nodded, biting into a pastry. Ollie came out, eyeing the countertop. “Want one, Oliver?”

“What are they?”

“Delicious,” Carmen groaned, having torn into her own. That was enough for Ollie, who accepted a pastry from Rafael with a soft Thank you before biting into it carefully.

“Wow! It is good!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

It felt a somber affair, despite the pastries, when Carmen saw him off to court. She chose to wait in his apartment, ringer on high and news coverage on. Ollie was easily entertained by the toys she had in the car, and the phones were forwarded to be answerable on her cell phone. By the end of the day, she’d put dinner in his slow cooker and cleaned most everything at least once. And then her phone rang with his ringer. She’d picked one of the other presets for him long ago, and she watched Ollie with his blocks as she answered.

“Rafael?”

“Not guilty,” he exhaled, still unable to believe it as he surveyed his office to begin packing. Her desk was empty, and he didn’t mind today because if she had been here, McCoy would’ve had her helping Stone. Carmen was his assistant, his friend, and it was bad enough to know Stone would probably take his place at work.

“Thank God,” she whispered. “Did you turn the letter in?”

“I put it on Jack’s desk. I’m hoping to be gone buy his return. I think three heavy boxes will cover it. Plus anything I hung, but other than diplomas most of it came with the place.”

“I put dinner on. Ollie and I ran to the store and picked up short ribs and potatoes and carrots. I needed something to do.”

“Nervous you’d be visiting me in prison?”

“You know damn well juries can be swayed. You’ve done it.”

“And I’m safe. I’ll be there in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m really glad you get to go to Iowa.”

#Rafael Barba x Carmen #rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #svu

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kinglazrus · 3 years

Text

Not Your Danny – Ch 3. Familiar

Previous | First | Next | FFN | AO3

Word count: 3814

The city had looked unremarkable that day. It shouldn’t have surprised Dani, considering Amity Park rarely looked remarkable, but it upset her anyway. After nearly three days straight of flying, coming all the way from Australia, she collapsed on the outskirts of the city, gasping for breath. Every inch of her body ached.

Flying wasn't like running or jumping; it didn't use muscles the same way. Being in the air for too long could make your head dizzy and your vision blurry. It gave her headaches and watery eyes and filled her with exhaustion so heavy she wanted to sleep for days on end. But, if Dani was desperate enough, she could push through that. This is exactly what she did when she found out Danny Phantom had died.

It was a long flight from Australia to Amity Park, over vast, empty expanses of ocean. She rested when she could, stealing a few minutes of shuteye whenever she came across land, but never more than that. She pushed herself in a way she never had before, until the headaches turned to full body aches, and every muscle in her body was tense and cramped, and she could barely stay upright when finally, finally, she saw the cheerful welcome sign of Amity Park.

On her knees in the dirt, Dani held herself up with trembling arms.

A Nice Place to Live!

The soft green letters loomed over her with their deceptive message. Nice for who?

She might have fallen asleep there, collapsed in the ditch, because the next thing she knew, she was face down in the soggy grass, her clothes damp from the drizzling rain. When she had arrived, the sun was nearing its peak. Now, it barely breached the horizon, warming her face even as the sunshower soaked her through.

It took her a moment to realize the sun was rising, not setting, and she had been out for a full day. Exhaustion still pulled at her, but her headache was gone, at least, and she had enough strength to take to the air once more. She flew around the city, not sure exactly what she was looking for.

(A lie. She knew exactly what she wanted to find, was so afraid of not finding.)

Below, the city looked the same as ever. Despite the early hour, people were already out, cars filling the road, a few stray souls strolling along the sidewalk. They didn't even look bothered by the rain, which was more of a mist, really. Dani tugged on her sopping gloves, grimacing at the squelch of water between her fingers. That's just what happens when you lie prone in a ditch for hours in the drizzling rain.

As she flew, she found no signs of spectral activity. No ghost attacks, no ghosts. No halfas. Her heart plummeted.

Fearing the worst—fearing the truth she didn't want to believe—she finally turned toward Fenton Works.

—

At the sight of the ecto-gun, Dani pales. She scrambles to her feet, shoving Danny's old t-shirts aside, and throws herself to the farthest corner of the room.

"I didn't mean it!" she shouts.

Jack blinks, confusion marring his smile until his gaze drops to the gun in his hands and his eyes widen with realization. He quickly hides the weapon behind his back. "Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you."

Dani doesn't step away from the wall. Her back tingles, itching to go intangible and let her disappear into the alley just outside, away from this potential danger. But Jack's apology feels genuine. He smiles at her, though he doesn't step any further into the room. That gets Dani to relax after a few tense seconds. The tingle fades, her desire to flee going with it.

"What's the gun for?" Dani asks. It is the first thing she has said to Jack since moving into Fenton Works, she realizes. This is the most they have seen each other in four days, and she does not know what to think about that. She assumed he had been avoiding her.

"Some of our weapons used to go off around Danny," Jack says. He pulls the ecto-gun out from behind his back, this time with the barrel pointed down, and fiddles with something along the barrel. "Never really thought about why. So, I've been trying to make them safe for you to be around. I can only do so much without an ectoplasmic sample, though."

Finally, Dani steps forward, skirting around Danny's bed. Still, Jack does not make a move closer, letting her come to him. Dani stops with a few feet left between them. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

Jack shrugs. "Partly. I also never said hello."

"Hi, I guess."

Jack smiles. "Hi, Dani. Nice to officially meet you."

Dani can only meet his gaze for a few seconds. He looks a lot like Danny, with kind eyes, but that is not what bothers her. Something about the way he looks at her is different. Over the past few days, she has gotten used to Maddie and Jazz, how they look at her like she is a ghost—like she is Danny.

She casts the thought out as quickly as it comes.

"So, about that sample?" Jack presses.

Dani rubs her arms, feeling phantom prickles along the inside of her elbow. If she were to roll back her sleeves, she could easily find the pinprick scars left by Vlad's needles. In fact, she does not even need to look. Skimming the sleeve, her fingers stop, instinctively, over each scar.

"What do you need it for?" she asks.

"Your ecto-signature, mostly. But we've found that a ghost's ectoplasm has its own form of DNA beyond the ecto-signature. If we can isolate yours, we might be able to make ammunition that won't harm you," he says.

Dani squeezes her arms tighter, memories of Vlad's lab flashing through her mind. No matter how rough the nomadic lifestyle got, nothing ever compared to those first few weeks of life when she spent every second being poked and prodded, not understand how wrong that was. It makes her shiver.

"Do we have to go downstairs for it?"

Jack looks about the room, taking in the mess of Danny's clothes, and the general clutter Dani hasn't bothered to clean up during her stay. "I don't see why not. I can bring the equipment up here."

"Please."

Jack nods and leaves, returning not even a minute later with a case. He must have had it ready to go. The case looks small compared to his large hands, but when he sets it down on Danny's bed, it is nearly half as wide as the mattress. Dani floats to the top of the bed, setting herself down on the pillows while Jack gets set up. Inside, the case holds a few packaged syringes, some sample tubes, swabs, and medical plasters. Hardly enough to fill it. Most space is taken up by the foam padding that holds the delicate glass tubes in place.

"I'll need to take two or three samples if that's alright. It's easier to work with more ectoplasm. And a blood sample." Jack grabs a syringe. "If you're comfortable with that."

"I guess that's okay."

He talks throughout the entire process, describing what he is doing. While he does, Dani fixes her gaze on the shirts laid out across the bed.

"This is called a phlebotomy," Jack says as he rolls up her sleeve. "It actually refers to drawing blood from a vein, but I think ectoplasm is close enough. I need to swab the area first; it might be cold."

What little tension remained in Dani's shoulders bleeds out as Jack talks.

"First needle. I'll use this one to get your ecto-signature. We have some devices that can focus on a ghost's signature without taking a sample first, like the booo-merang, but power use and exhaustion can actually alter those results. A stable sample taken in a relaxed environment works better. We can also use it to measure how a ghost's signature changes over time. Second needle."

Dani's eyes widen. Pulling her hand back from one of the shirts, she turns and finds Jack inserting a second syringe into her arm, the first already back in the case, filled with glowing ectoplasm. She hadn't even felt it. The second needle stings, although she blames that on her watching it go in, and she quickly focuses on the shirts again.

They're plain overall, basic colours with simple graphics, and a little on the baggy side. The one she likes the most is a button-up, one of the few Danny had, with short sleeves and covered in large stars. She pulls it closer with her free hand, tracing the stars as Jack finishes with the third syringe. It does not seem like the kind of shirt Danny would wear. Too gaudy for him. Dani likes it, though.

A tap at her shoulder distracts her.

"Can you change to your human form?" Jack asks.

"Why?"

"Can't exactly draw blood from this form."

"Oh. Right." Dani chews her lip, contemplating. Except for when she's asleep, she hasn't been in human form at all the past few days. Even then, the only reason she changes is that it is easier to sleep as a human. Jazz has not asked her about it since that first day, and neither has Maddie.

In the relative safety of Fenton Works, there is no reason for her to choose one form over the other. When travelling, it is easier passing along as a ghost. Fewer people bother her then—if they don't run away screaming—and her powers come easier. Making up her mind, she closes her eyes and lets the transformation take over.

It passes in a flash, her jumpsuit disappearing, replaced by the comfortable weight of her hoodie. Unable to help herself, Dani touches the star shirt again.

Jack doesn't go for the next syringe right away. His gaze lingers on Dani's face. The weight of his stare bears down on her, but she refuses to look up.

"Is something wrong?" she asks.

The mattress shifts as Jack moves, neither closer nor farther away. A nervous jump and nothing more. "No. Everything's fine."

He only needs a few seconds to take the last sample. He presses a cotton swab against her arm, blotting the fresh needle marks to wipe away the blood, then covers it with a plaster. That last part is unnecessary since all Jack did was prick her, but Dani does not say anything. It is too funny that the Fentons even have their own plasters, covered in little fiery Fs. They really know how to lean into a brand.

"What are obsessions like?" Jack asks.

The question takes her by surprise. "I don't know."

"Really? Don't all ghosts have obsessions?"

Dani shrugs. "Probably." She isn't a ghost, though. Not a proper one. "Nothing's ever compelled me the way an obsession is supposed to. There's stuff that I like, but none of it draws me in."

"Is that how it works?"

Dani frowns. "Aren't you supposed to be a ghost scientist?"

Jack chuckles. "True, but we don't know everything about ghosts. You can only find out so much through watching them." And experimenting on them, but he doesn't mention that part. Dani doesn't need him to. "Asking one about their experiences can tell us a lot more. I can only imagine what we might have known if... if we had known."

"I guess I can tell you about them," Dani says. A good part of her education under Vlad's "care" was about different aspects of being a ghost, prepping her for the rest of her existence. A good portion of those lessons were not as necessary as Vlad thought they would be.

Jack scoots closer, nodding enthusiastically. Suddenly, he looks less like a trained scientist and more like an enthused child. The thought makes Dani giggle.

"Okay, so. I was told that an obsession can be anything. Like, food, a specific colour, an object, a person. There are no limits. Most ghosts have more than one that helps sustain them. They don't need an obsession, or they don't need to fulfill it, but it helps keep them grounded. Really old ghosts have a lot of obsessions. Young ones might only have a few."

Jack grins as Dani speaks. Even though he doesn't write anything down, she knows he won't forget a single thing. He hangs off every word, taking in Dani's lesson as easy as air.

"They can also change over time. A ghost can go from having a lot of obsessions to only a few, or the other way around. It depends. If they lean into one obsession too much, it can completely alter their personality. Having only one can be dangerous, though, because it makes them unstable. If something happens and they lose that obsession, it can really unbalance them. I can't tell you what having an obsession actually feels like, though."

"Are you sure?" Jack asks.

"Pretty sure. I think I would know if I had an obsession. And if I did but I never did anything about it? I probably wouldn't be here right now." It comes out grimmer than Dani meant it to. A ghost doesn't die without an obsession, but the way Vlad explained it, existence became painful, confusing. Hard to cope with.

Jack leans back, nodding slowly. The room falls silent for the next minute as he absorbs everything Dani said. "Did Danny ever tell you about his obsessions?"

"No. It never came up."

The answer obviously does not please Jack. His hopeful smile slips away, and he falls silent. He packs away the sample case, locking it shut, and rises from the edge of Danny's bed. As he walks away, Dani can't help but think she did something wrong.

—

After Jack leaves, Dani stays in her human form.

When Jazz comes into the room an hour later asking for some TV time, a smile breaks out across her face. "You're human."

Dani shrugs, having no better response than that.

"About time," Jazz teases. Reaching out, she ruffles Dani's hair and gives her a playful shove. Dani doesn't find it as comforting as she should.

—

"Are you sure you don't have an obsession?"

Dani nearly jumps at how close Jack's voice is. She heard him coming, since his pounding feet were hard to ignore, but hadn't realized how close he got before speaking. The plate in her hand becomes tangible again as her focus slips. The water that had been passing through sprays outward, soaking the front of her hoodie. She ignores Jazz's snicker.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

Jack makes a disappointed hum. "Not even a little one?"

"Not even a little one."

He sighs but doesn't press her further. From the counter, he grabs one of the dinner plates set out, loaded with a stir-try that Jazz and Dani spent the last hour making. To Dani's surprise, he sits at the table rather than heading downstairs.

"Mads had a call, but she'll be right up," Jack says.

Dani nearly asks, "Why?" Ever since she arrived, everyone seems to have done their own thing, including during mealtimes. Having no long-term household experience, Dani was starting to think this was the norm. She looks to Jazz for an explanation but finds none.

Jazz already has her plate in hand and quickly takes the seat next to Jack. She waves Dani over. "Come on. Can't be family dinner if the whole family doesn't sit down." There is a twinge of sadness in her voice, one Dani completely understands. It's not the whole family, never will be. Jazz and Jack must be thinking the same thing, but none of them say it out loud.

Dani grabs her plate and sits down on Jack's other side.

"You don't want to sit here?" Jazz asks, patting the chair next to her.

"I'm fine here," Dani says. Her chair places her back at the wall, giving her a good view of the room. And, more importantly, the entrance. She doesn't expect a threat to come barrelling through, but it is instinct by now to keep an eye on things like doorways and windows. She can see both from here.

This is the only seat at the table she has sat at since arriving.

Jazz presses her lips together. "Are you sure? It was Danny's spot."

"Great. This is my spot."

"Jazz," Jack says. "It's just a chair."

Jazz has the mind to look embarrassed at being scolded. Dani thinks she is going to drop it there, but Jazz opens her mouth again, about to say one last remark.

A sharp intake of breath cuts her off.

Maddie, standing in the doorway, stares at Dani.

Jack and Jazz must see something Dani doesn't, because they both jump to their feet.

"Mads," Jack starts, but Maddie turns and flees before he can say anymore.

Jazz pushes her chair back. "Dad, I'll—"

"No, it's fine. You two eat." Jack goes after Maddie, leaving Jazz and a very confused Dani alone.

"What was that?" Dani asks.

Jazz sits back down. "She hasn't seen your human form before."

It hardly sates Dani's curiosity, but it's the only answer she gets.

—

Maddie's cellphone rings just as she's about to follow Jack upstairs. A glance at the caller ID shows it is an unknown number.

"I'll be up in a minute," she says.

She gets no answer from Jack, but that's expected. Ever since he came back down with Dani's ectoplasmic samples, he's been muttering about obsessions. When he gets like this, he rarely acknowledges the people around him, although over the years Maddie has learned that he still hears them. Answering them just is not high on his priority list.

She turns away from the stares and answers the phone. "Hello, this is Dr. Madeline Fenton. How can I help you?"

"That's an awfully formal way to greet a friend," Vlad says.

"What the hell are you doing, Vlad? I blocked your number."

"And I got a new one. Just hear me out, Maddie."

There's an edge of desperation in his voice. Maddie can't decide whether to roll her eyes, cuss Vlad out, or hang up immediately. Maybe all three. If he honestly tries to play that pathetic act again, she will be livid.

"You have two minutes," Maddie says. Better to hear him out now than hang up and have him leaving message after message again.

"I wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day. It was incredibly inappropriate."

"Yes, it was. And if you're looking for forgiveness, you won't get it." She shouldn't even give him the time of day.

"I understand. And I know we've grown apart these past couple years—"

"You mean when you finally wised up, stopped hitting on me, and left us alone?"

"Yes. But I wasn't lying before, Maddie. I need you!" His tone actually makes her pause. It reminds her, briefly, of the young man she used to know. One who had to beg his family not to cut him off when they discovered his chosen career. His voice now makes her think of the day she caught him on the phone, pleading with his mother.

They had only been college freshmen, then. Vlad was hardly more than seventeen at the time, having graduated high school early. Maddie had never heard him so distraught before, or ever since. But now, his voice cracks with distress. It almost makes her feel sorry for him.

"This has been hard for me, too, for reasons you can't begin to fathom. I wasn't lying when I told you about my friendship with Daniel."

Maddie's pity for Vlad evaporates in an instant. "Stop. Don't call me again, Vlad."

"Maddie, you don't understand—!"

She hangs up before he can finish. Disgusting. She can't believe she actually felt for him for a moment. She had half a mind to call him back and tell him the truth, tell him that she knew everything. But that would mean telling him Dani was here, and Maddie was not comfortable with that. Who knows what Vlad would try if he found out the clone he created was so nearby?

She takes a moment to compose herself before heading upstairs.

When she reaches the main floor, the smell of garlic, ginger, and spice greets her. It has been a while since they had stir-fry, and even longer since they sat down at a full table. Something like this is exactly what she needs after that brief call.

Maddie steps into the kitchen and sees Danny at the table. Her breath catches in her throat. The dark hair, the baggy hoodie, the sharp edge of his nose in profile. But then he turns and it's not Danny, it's Dani. In the form Maddie had yet to see, with a face so familiar that seeing it feels like a stab to the chest.

Jack stands, calls out, but Maddie doesn't stay to listen. She bolts. Her feet carry her to the back of the house, past the weapon's lab, and out the door into their cramped backyard. She crouches on the poor, one hand cupped over her mouth.

She knew, when they took Dani in, that she looked like him. Her face wasn't so different from Phantom's. A little softer, a little less worn, but with a wary edge. Maddie knew. But she hadn't known how bad it would be when she finally saw that face in human form. Not Phantom's face, who still felt so separate from her son, but Danny's.

Maddie's willing to bet that, when Dani was first created, she looked exactly like Danny in his middle school days, before he came out and started presenting as male. If Danny hadn't started taking hormones, would he have looked like Dani does now? On the shorter side, with rounder features. It's not the same as having Danny back, not even close. No clone can ever replace her baby.

But it still hurts so much.

Maddie squeezes her eyes shut, fighting against the burn of her tears. She can't stop them, though. No matter how much she tries, rubbing her eyes, pressing the heel of her palms against them. The tears keep coming, and a sob follows soon after.

Jack's arm wraps around her shoulder, pulling her into a tight embrace. Maddie falls apart completely, then, clinging to her husband and crying into his shoulder. It isn't fair. There was so much about Danny they never got to see, never got to know. All that time they wasted trying to hunt him down.

He died too soon, too young. But worst of all, he died believing his parents hated a part of him, and Maddie can never change that.

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#phic phight #phic phight 2021 #notyourdanny #phanfic #phicc #dp fanfiction #danny phantom #dani phantom #danielle phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #nyd chapter three #trans danny #trans danny fenton

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deathonyourtongue · 3 years

Text

Winter Passing | Chapter 11

Summary: After car accident leaves him at the base of a mountain with no sign of civilization for miles, a breakup is the least of Henry’s problems. Just as death’s icy fingers begin to coil around him, salvation presents itself in the form of an old cabin in a clearing. Despite years of being told fairy tales and ghost stories that warn against such things, he uses his last of his strength to reach the cottage. When he wakes, he finds not a demon, but an angel, long removed from the insanity of the modern world. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: None. A/N : I’ve never had more trouble with a chapter than this one. Sorry if it sucks.

Henry’s confusion was clear as the car they’d rented left Rome in the dust, the bustling city giving way to sun-baked fields and Italian Cypress the further east they got.

“How’re you feeling?” Olivia asked softly, one hand smoothing through Henry’s curls as the other kept them on the road.

“Like every atom in my body was pulled apart and put back together, but shifted one to the left in the process,” Henry murmured, leaning into the touch, hoping it would help the dull throb of his head.

The ‘typical’ way turned out to be some form of teleportation, as far as Henry could tell. All he really remembered was holding onto Olivia as tight as possible, closing his eyes, and opening them in the parking lot of a rental car business, feeling immediately overheated due to the change from the cold of the clearing to the heat of the mediterranean.

“Well, you’re not wrong, although if everything had shifted, you wouldn’t be in one piece, handsome,” Olivia replied, smiling softly as she pulled into a roadside kiosk. With a kiss to his temple, she got out and went into the small store.

Closing his eyes, Henry only opened them when he heard the driver’s side door open once more. Squinting against the sun, he couldn’t help but let a little relief color his expression when Olivia slipped a pair of knock-off Ray Ban’s over his ears, immediately counteracting the bright sun he hadn’t been prepared for.

“Here, eat and drink a little, it’ll settle things down, bring you back to earth,” she explained, passing him a frosty blood orange soda, and a small paper bag filled with what looked like croquettes. Never one to turn down food, he took one of the fried pieces out and pulled it apart, finding, to his surprise, that there was mozzarella and rice inside, the aroma immediately making him hungry.

“It’s like Arancini, but not quite,” he murmured, mostly to himself as he took a bite, his eyes closing for a very different reason.

“The Roman version. It’s called Supplì,” Olivia nodded, opening her mouth while keeping her eyes on the road as Henry popped the other half of the antipasto into it. “And it’s just as delicious as I remember.” She added, her smile bright despite the fact that she had railed against coming for as long as she could.

“How long’s it been since you’ve been back?” Henry asked as he took a sip of the soda, eyes widening behind his sunglasses at just how different, yet refreshing, the taste was.

“Formally? 200 years. I did slip in for a visit sixteen years ago though, just to see some friends. Stayed under the radar as best I could.” Olivia’s smile faltered a little at the memories of her last visit. Though it had been a nice time, the pain of watching others living out the life she’d always dreamed of had dampened things considerably.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you dropping centuries like they’re days of the week,” Henry chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled apart the next piece, repeating the process of giving half to Olivia once more.

It didn’t take long for the open road to suddenly turn into something a little more fitting for a witch’s coven. The trees were first to change, the Cypress slowly giving the land over to seemingly-primeval Oaks that twisted and twined, forming a canopy over the narrow blacktop. The sky seemed to darken and the radio--which had been off the whole trip--suddenly crackled to life, an 80’s-sounding song intercutting with one from the 60’s.

“Well, the lyrics are on the mark,” Henry chuckled with a bit of unease, tucking his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and looking at Olivia to make sure everything he was seeing and hearing was par for the course and not another bad omen.

“Oh, so I’m your girlfriend now?” Olivia smirked, turning down the volume as she made a slow right turn off the main road and onto an even narrower dirt one.

“If...If you want to be. I want you to be,” Henry answered softly just as Olivia threw the car in park, her gaze meeting his.

“I’d like that quite a bit, actually.” Their smiles bright enough to light the overcast sky, Olivia and Henry got lost in one another’s eyes, Olivia only breaking the reverie when she leaned over for a tender kiss. Whatever remained of his travel sickness was abated the moment Henry felt Olivia’s lips on his, and the two indulged in a quiet moment, each knowing the next few days would be anything but ordinary.

A clap of thunder and bolt of lightning parted them, Olivia rolling her eyes as she unlocked the doors and got out, grabbing the two backpacks she’d packed for them from the trunk. Much like the first time she’d shopped for Henry’s clothes, the backpacks were filled to the brim with the things they’d need, and though she had no doubt her apartments would be well-appointed, Olivia knew that bringing some creature-comforts for Henry would go a long way to easing his transition from the clearing to the coven.

“An aqueduct?” Henry asked, scratching his head as he took one of the backpacks, slinging it on before taking Olivia’s hand as they began to walk. Locking the car, Olivia gave a quick flick of her wrist to make it disappear entirely, a move which earned her a double-take from Henry.

“It’s still there. Just...cloaked, if you will. The more the local authorities think it’s an empty field, the less they’ll come nosing about.” She explained, tugging his hand gently in the direction of Ponte Lupo.

“Cars disappear and your coven is in an aqueduct. Is there a chocolate fountain I should be wary of?” He asked, pulling Olivia in under his arm before pressing a kiss to her temple, as much to soothe himself as to ground her.

“I wouldn’t touch it, but that’s because people double-dip. It’s disgusting,” she winked, tucking her head against his chest, in no hurry to reach the aqueducts, despite the threat of an impending storm. Another strike of thunder and lightning behind them only confirmed Olivia’s suspicions.

“She’s so dramatic,” she sighed, picking up the pace just a little, knowing full well who was behind the storm.

“What? Who is? Theofina?”

“Quick learner. Yes. This whole mess above us is her doing. Her way of getting the stragglers in and keeping everyone else out.”

Henry was silent for a moment, before his head cocked to one side.

“How exactly does one fit a coven in an aqueduct?”

Olivia smiled and flicked her wrist once more.

In a blink, the view through the middle arch of the aqueduct was gone, replaced by a shimmering white veil that seemed to draw elements from all three states of matter. So bright it had Henry squinting on instinct, the veil kept secret whatever the portal held on the other side. His heart hammered in his chest, but with only a touch of fear. More than anything, Henry felt excitement in a way he hadn’t since his schoolboy days. There, in front of him, was a real-life secret passage, one that held unforetold magic and adventure--or at least he hoped. The last thing he wanted was to be cooped up in a room the whole time they were there. If Olivia trusted him enough to bring him along, he only hoped she trusted him to be at her side throughout the duration of their stay.

Olivia looked up at Henry to gauge his mood, smiling when she saw a sparkle of anticipation in his eyes. She couldn’t help but reach up on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek before tucking herself in close.

“Should I hold my breath?” Henry asked with a smirk.

“Just one foot in front of the other,” Olivia grinned, shaking her head in amusement as she took the first step, bringing him with.

Henry’s breath caught in his throat when he opened his eyes, taking in the world before him with shock and wonder. Bright blue skies created the backdrop for a cove lined by mountains, the water in front of it a crystalline turquoise that made Henry want to jump in immediately. Birds flew in dizzying patterns, swooping down to skim the surface of the lagoon that he knew for a fact wasn’t there in the real world. In the center of it all stood a gleaming white edifice, the architecture harkening back to a Rome of old, yet unidentifiable as any one style. With three towers that reached dizzying heights, and columns that resembled the ones found at the Forum, the coven’s headquarters were as beautiful as they were intimidating.

It felt as though he didn’t have enough time to take it all in, Henry’s eyes darting to every corner they could as he and Olivia walked towards the coven. Plants he didn’t recognize added splashes of vibrant color to the lush greenery, fish sprang out of the water and flew until they decided to dive back in, and even the butterflies seemed impossible in their coloring and wing design. He barely noticed as they made their way across the long bridge that connected the coven to the aqueduct gate.

The entrance was no less grand than the rest of the new world, and Henry stopped in his tracks to admire the craftsmanship, amazed by how intricate and detailed everything was. Olivia smiled, letting him have a moment while the doors opened for them.

“Is it…”

“Real? As real as the very breath in your lungs.” Olivia nodded. “Now come on, if we aren’t ready in time for dinner, Theofina will have a cow.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #winter passing #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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starryknight09 · 3 years

Text

No longer in service

Febuwhump Day 10: “I’m sorry. I didn’t know”

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“We’re sorry. You have reached a number that is no longer in service.”

Peter hung up and redialed. He must’ve pushed a number wrong.

“We’re sorry. You have reached a number that is no longer in service.”

He frowned and stared down at the phone screen as if it held the answer to why the number wasn’t working. He knew it was the correct number. Although it’d been five years for everyone else, it’d only been a blink for him. There was no way he’d forgotten May’s number.

He tried dialing one more time even though he knew it was pointless.

“We’re sorry. You have reached a number that is no longer in service.”

He blew out a heavy breath and tried not to panic. Just because May’s number was out of service didn’t mean anything bad had happened. Maybe she’d been snapped too. That seemed like the most likely explanation. But even if she hadn’t, five years had passed. There could be any number of reasons for why she’d changed her number. Maybe it’d been a reminder of him that’d been too painful. Although didn’t most people keep their numbers when that happened to preserve old voicemails and relisten to them?

In fact, that nudged something in the back of his mind. A memory hit him along with a shot of adrenaline. May had a voicemail from Ben that she’d kept, and she’d listened to it over and over when he’d first died. As far as he knew, she still listened to it sometimes, just not everyday. His stomach clenched. She wouldn’t get rid of her number by choice. Not if it meant losing that last piece of Ben.

Maybe something had happened financially and she couldn’t afford her phone anymore? But he knew he was grasping at straws. If anything, losing Peter would’ve relieved some financial strain. Or maybe… His brain wouldn’t even go there. Wouldn’t acknowledge the other possibility. He shook his head. She had to have been snapped. She had to have been.

But then what could he do? He took another deep breath and looked out at the beautiful blue sky and lush rolling hills, the magnificence of the scenery in direct juxtaposition to his mood. Any other time he’d be over the moon to be in Wakanda, but even before the phone call mishap, he’d barely been keeping it together. He’d arrived there in terror along with everyone else, hoping for a miracle for Mr. Stark. The man’s heart had stopped on the battlefield but that hadn’t phased Dr. Strange. He’d portaled him to Wakanda along with some other girl that looked to be about Peter’s age, who he’d later found out was Princess Shuri.

When Dr. Strange had returned to the battlefield half an hour later it was with the news that they’d managed to restart Mr. Stark’s heart but they couldn’t make any further promises yet. Dr. Strange had transported whoever else wanted to go to Wakanda, which had been quite a few of them, but not all.

Now, it’d been almost 24 hours since Peter had arrived. Initially he’d gone straight to Mr. Stark’s room to see him, and eventually he’d fallen asleep for almost sixteen hours. He’d been exhausted. The fight in the city, on the spaceship, on the alien planet, and at the compound had all occurred in the span of less than twelve hours for him. And he hadn’t escaped the final fight unscathed. His concussion, broken nose and broken ribs had mostly healed, but he was still sore. Things with Mr. Stark had improved as well, but not quite enough that the medical personnel were ready to guarantee he was going to survive.

“Peter?”

He turned and it took him a couple seconds to acknowledge the other man. “Hey Mr. Rogers.” Maybe he needed some more sleep.

“It’s Steve, son.”

“Right.” He nodded. But really, no way was he calling Captain America by his first name the day after he’d officially met him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you had a chance to shower?”

He blushed but the other man probably couldn’t tell behind all the dirt and grime on his face. He’d accidentally seen his reflection a couple hours after he’d arrived and he’d looked a mess then, and since he hadn’t had a chance to clean up yet, he definitely didn’t look any better.

“Oh. Uh, no. I don’t, um, know where it is.”

“The shower?” Captain American frowned. Great, the man probably thought he was an idiot. “There isn’t one in your room?”

“My room? I don’t…I don’t have a room.” He frowned. He’d passed out in a comfy lounge chair in Mr. Stark’s room, and even after he’d awoken, he hadn’t left the man’s room until about fifteen minutes ago when he’d suddenly remembered May and realized he should try calling her.

“I’m sorry.” Steve apologized, looking slightly chagrined. “We must’ve missed you. You have a room. We all do. T’Challa was nice enough to accommodate us. Come on, I’ll show you.” Mr. Rogers beckoned him forward, and Peter automatically followed.

After a short walk, Mr. Rogers stopped in front of a door. “Here we are. This is your room.”

At least his room wasn’t too far from the medical wing. Not that it mattered. He didn’t have any intention of staying in it. As soon as he cleaned himself off, he planned to head back to Mr. Stark’s room.

When he made no move to open the door after a few long seconds, Mr. Rogers reached out and opened it for him.

“Go shower son.” Mr. Rogers said and the suggestion came out like a gentle command. “And then maybe take a nap. You look a little rough.”

“I’m fine.” He denied automatically.

Captain America cocked his head to the side and studied him intently for a few seconds with a slight smirk.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The man shook his head. “You just remind me of someone.”

Peter frowned but didn’t care enough to ask. Now that he was faced with the idea of a hot shower, he found it was all he could think about. “Ok, well um, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Mr. Rogers gave him a slight nod and then turned and walked away, heading toward the medical wing.

Peter sighed and walked into his room. It looked like something out of sci-fi movie. Windows composed the entire back wall and light streamed in, illuminating the interior with all its sleek lines, metals combined with woods to make the space feel a mix of modern and natural. Calming earth tones in the space set a calming mood, but Peter couldn’t take the time to appreciate it. He headed straight toward the only other door in the room, which he assumed was the bathroom.

The bathroom décor matched the rest of the room. He almost felt like he’d stepped into a spa. Wow. This place was nice. It reminded him of Mr. Stark’s living spaces except with more of a nature twist. Mr. Stark. He really needed to shower so he could go back and check on the man. Pepper had been with him when he’d left, so he hadn’t been alone, but Peter didn’t trust that something wouldn’t happen while he was gone.

He quickly undressed and stepped into the shower, scrubbing all the dried blood, dirt, and grime off his body, the water turning a dirty grey as it swirled down the drain. Any other time he would’ve slowed down and savored the luxury, but right now he couldn’t, not with his thoughts filled with Mr. Stark and May. As soon as he was clean, he turned the water off and stepped out, eyeing his dirty clothes warily. He’d changed out of his suit and into a pair of scrubs when he’d initially arrived in the medical wing, but after 24 hours, he really didn’t want to get back in them. He stepped out and searched the wardrobe in the room, not surprised to find it stocked with clothes in different sizes. Mr. Stark did the same thing in his guest rooms. Peter picked out a pair of black sweatpants and a grey sweatshirt in his size. He threw them on, and was about to leave, when the desk computer in the corner of the room caught his eye. If May was dusted or…not, there should be some record of it online.

His feet made their way over to it, and as soon as he sat down, the screen lit up. It only took him a few seconds to find the browser icon and click on it, Google coming up as the default home page. He settled his fingers over the keys but paused, breath quickening. He knew what he needed to search, but he was afraid to find the answer. The only way he managed to force his fingers to move was because he still held onto hope that everything was actually ok, and he wanted that reassurance.

‘May Parker Queens New York City obituary,’ he typed in, fingers stuttering over the last word. He took a deep breath and clicked ‘enter’.

The results came up and his heart stopped. The first link had a match for all his keywords. He clicked on it, still hopeful. It was probably just her obituary from being snapped.

But no. The short paragraph popped up on the screen and his eyes skimmed over it, taking in all the important information in a matter of seconds.

‘May Parker…’

‘…lost her brave battle against breast cancer on June 23, 2021 at the age of 51.’

‘Preceded in death by her husband Ben Parker and her nephew Peter Parker.’

‘A funeral service is scheduled for June 26th at…’

The words blurred in front of him. He tore his watery eyes away from the screen and let out an anguished sob, head falling into his hands. She was gone. She’d been gone for two years. He’d missed her funeral. Thought after thought struck him like bullets, tearing his heart open. He was alone. He’d been resurrected from the snap just to find himself the sole survivor of his family. He had no one left.

And he had no home. He had nowhere to go. That last thought hit him so hard he buckled forward, falling from the desk chair to collapse onto the soft carpeted floor. He dug his hands into its plushness, not caring if he ripped it out, not caring about anything, as he cried and cried. His entire being was pain. How could one person have such bad luck? Why did he have to live though loss like this over and over? First his parents. Then Ben. And now May? And now he might even lose Mr. Stark. What had he done that the world saw fit to punish him this way? Anyone that ever got close to him died.

“Why?” He whispered, between sobs, face pressed into the floor. He didn’t know exactly what he was asking. Why did they all have to die? Why had he been brought back? Why couldn’t he have stayed dead? “Why?” He repeated, louder, and more desperate even though he knew it was pointless to ask. It wasn’t like he would get an answer.

He had no idea how long he laid there, sobbing uncontrollably, but eventually he exhausted himself and his tears tapered off until all that was left were intermittent weak hiccupping cries. He stared at the wall as the agony ebbed away and numbness crept in to take its place.

Eventually, he pushed off the floor with a sniffle, wiping the evidence of his anguish off his face. He had to pull himself together. For Mr. Stark. There’d be plenty of time to fall apart later, especially if the worst happened with his mentor, although he hoped the world wouldn’t be so cruel as to take him too.

‘Please. Please.’ He closed his eyes and begged, mouthing the words, afraid voicing the plea might jinx it, like telling someone your birthday wish.

He took a deep bolstering breath before stepping out of his room and making his way back to the medical wing.

When he entered Mr. Stark’s room, Ms. Potts graced him with a smile from where she sat in a chair next to the bed. Or wait, he supposed her name was Mrs. Stark now. At some point she’d told him they’d gotten married in the intervening five years. And they had a little girl together, but she was staying back at home with Happy.

“You look better.” She commented on his clean appearance. “Are you hungry? The staff brought some dinner by.”

He shook his head. No matter how hungry he was, there was no way he could stomach anything right now.

Mrs. Stark seemed to sense his mood. She frowned, concern lining her face. “What’s wrong honey?”

He shook his head and his gaze fell to his feet. May used to call him that. Honey. Hearing the endearment come from Mrs. Stark’s mouth made his throat tighten. He didn’t know how to form the words to explain what he’d found out.

Mrs. Stark stood and crossed the distance between them, her hands landing to rest comfortingly on his shoulders. “What happened?” He looked up at her as she searched his face for answers. “Something happened.” She stated.

He nodded.

“You can tell me.” She encouraged softly.

He swallowed hard and croaked out, “May.”

“May?” Her brow furrowed. “What about May?”

After a few quick inhales through his nose, he managed to say it. “She…she died.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Mrs. Stark lamented, pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Faced with the comfort of her embrace, he started crying again. She just held him tighter, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into her blouse once he’d calmed down.

“Don’t apologize. You’ve had a terrible couple of days.”

He snorted messily. That was the understatement of the century. He pulled away, wiping at his face again.

“I don’t want you to worry about anything, ok?” Mrs. Stark told him, making a point to look seriously into his eyes.

He chewed at his lip. “I-I don’t know what to do. I don’t…I don’t have anywhere to go.” Admitting it almost made him break down into hysterics again.

“Of course you do. You’ll come with us.”

Peter’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“I know he wasn’t good at showing it back then, but Tony loves you.” She explained having seen his disbelief. “You’re not alone. You have a home with us.”

“But what if…what if Mr. Stark…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, the possibility too terrible.

Mrs. Stark winced. “The doctors say he’s doing a lot better, but if that happens, you’ll still have a home with me and Morgan. As long as that’s ok with you.”

He nodded, eyes welling up again. “That’s…thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” Mrs. Stark leaned forward to hug him again. “I know it feels like the world’s ending right now, but it’s going to be ok. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Ok.” He whispered. He just hoped it was true, but even if it wasn’t, at least he had somewhere to go. He had a home.

And he wasn’t completely alone.

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhump #irondad

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 4 years

Text

The Set Up - Harry Styles One Shot (Part 2)

Part 1

Harry sighed at his sister’s words. He knew that should never set him up with someone that wasn’t a good person, but he just wanted to find someone naturally. Then again, how many times had he gone out with someone through mutual friends, so why would this be different just because he was his sister and his mother behind it.

Looking over at you, chatting and laughing with the man at the bar. His annoyance level was beginning to rise and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he was slightly jealous. He wouldn’t say he was a shallow man, but as with most human beings he noticed how beautiful you were. Your smile and what little bit of your laugh he could hear brought a smile to his lips.

“Go and talk to her,” Gemma said. “Just have a few minutes of a chat. We’ll be leaving soon anyway, so might as well get it over with now.”

He rolled his eyes, downing the rest of his drink and handing the empty glass to Gemma.

“Oi, what am I supposed to do with this?” She asked.

He shrugged with a smirk before making his way over towards you and the man. When he approached the two of you, he cleared his thought, making both of you look over at him.

“Uh, hey, Y/N,” he smiled.

“Hey,” you smiled back looking over at him.

“I uh, I hate to interrupt,” Harry started.

“It’s uh, it’s okay,” Alex said. “When you said you came here with a friend, I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, we’re not-”you started, but he had already excused himself.

“Sorry,” Harry winced.

“It’s fine,” you said. “So, did you need to tell me something? Is Gemma ready to leave?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “I thought since I invited you to come along, it would be rude of me not to.”

You sighed, looking at him, “Before we continue this, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said cocking his head to the side in confusion a bit.

“Are you only doing this because Gemma put you up to this?” You asked.

“So, you know about the whole set up thing, too?” He asked.

“I knew it,” you sighed. “You know what, you don’t have to take pity on me for your sister. In fact, I shouldn’t even be here right now. I’ll just go and you can carry on about your night.”

You grabbed you jacket and hopped off the stool to make your way towards the door, when he grabbed your arm. You stopped, feeling this weird sensation in your body from his touch. You turned around to look at him. You two were standing closer than you had been all night.

“I’m not taking pity on you,” he said softly. “Do you want to know the real reason I came over to talk to you?”

You sighed shaking your head, “Why?”

“Because when I saw you talking to that guy, I was a bit jealous,” he whispered.

“Okay, you’re drunk,” you said. “And if you’re just looking for someone to fuck tonight, you need to look somewhere else.”

You went to leave again, but he pulled you back. “I’m not-Okay, maybe I’m a little bit drunk, but I’m not looking for someone to fuck tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, “So, what? You saw me talking to some guy and got jealous, for god only knows and now what? You don’t even know me.”

“Exactly,” he sighed. “I don’t even know you, yet I got fucking jealous over someone else talking to you because I wanted to be the one to talk to you.”

“Well, now’s your chance, what do you want to know?” You asked.

When you left your flat that night to go to the award show, you never imagined that you would find yourself grabbing ice cream with Harry Styles at one in the morning. After the little scene at the after party, he had asked you to join him for ice cream and you found yourself saying yes.

Which brought you to where you are now, stopping at the supermarket to grab a pint of ice cream, since all the shops were closed. You were sitting out on a park bench taking turns taking bites of the ice cream.

“So, my sister said you worked for The Mixtape?” He asked.

You nodded, “I do, although technically, I’m co-founder,” you said.

“Wait? Really?” He asked. “That’s been around for ages.”

“You know it?” You asked.

He blushed, “I may have listened to a few podcasts and read the magazine a bit.”

You smiled, “I started the blog when I was sixteen with one of my best friends. I mostly posted about my favorite songs, albums, how music easily music could take you back to a place or a memory. I would also talk about different shows or bands I had found. Then it sort of just took off... turned into more a website after we found a few other writers because it was too much for the two of us to handle. Next thing I knew, we were printing a magazine with interviews with different artists and other music fans. And now we’ve started a podcast to really dive into topics.”

“Wow,” he said. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” you blushed.

“Now, I do have to ask,” he said. “Since you own a music website, I assume you’ve listened to my music before?”

“I have,” you nodded. “Let me guess, the follow up question is going to be... am I fan?”

He laughed, “Perhaps.”

“I’ll be honest with you. I am a fan,” you said. “But as far as keeping tabs on who are as a person, I’m not that type of fan. The only things I do know about you are from Gemma and your mum.”

“Oh god,” he laughed. “I feel like I’d rather you google me.”

“Stop it,” you giggled. “They never told anything bad... except maybe not to try anything you’ve cooked.”

“I swear I’m never going to live that down. It was one time. I was watching a cooking show and I thought I’d give it a go, but I didn’t exactly have all the proper ingredients, so I improvised,” he laughed. “It was horrendous.”

You giggled, “How old were you?”

“Twelve, I think?” He said. “I was trying to be nice and cook my Mum dinner instead we ordered pizza.”

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” you smiled snagging another bite.

You noticed him watching you, staring at you, with a smile causing you to blush, “Uh, what’s wrong?” You asked. “Do I have ice cream on my face?”

“No,” he laughed. “Nothing’s wrong...well maybe a little.”

“I’m not following,” you laughed.

“I’m going to have tell my sister she was right,” he said.

“About what?” You whispered.

“That I would like you,” he said. “I know it’s a little premature and we technically only just met, but I would really love to see you again, if you uh, also want to see me again.”

“I’d really like that,” you smiled.

It wasn’t until a few days later when you met up with Harry again. You two had briefly chatted over the phone trying to figure out where and when you see each other. During your conversations, neither one of you mentioned or referred it to as a date, but you had to admit you were hoping it was. You both decided on some doing something casual, a simple dinner at a nearby restaurant and then you said you would take care of the rest of the night.

Harry was on his way to pick you up and you could feel the nerves bundling up inside of you. You changed your outfit five times before finally deciding upon a pair of dark wash jeans with a gucci belt paired with a long sleeve see through black top. You wore your hair in a curly half up do with a bun on top, slipping on a few of your favorite rings and necklaces.

Once you were fully dressed, you took one last look in the mirror before throwing some necessities into your bag and heading into the living room. Just as you were grabbing your coat, your phone alerted you that you had text message. It was Harry saying he was outside. Instead of going through the letting him in process, you decided to just meet him there.

Pulling on your coat, you grab your bag, locking the door behind you and heading down to the main floor. You looked around, seeing Harry parked just down the street a little bit. You smiled knocking on the door, which he quickly got out to open the door for you.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled.

The drive to the restaurant consistent of mostly small talk. A bunch of how was your day, how have you been, etc, etc. When you arrived, Harry gave his keys to the valet before following you inside. He had placed his hand on you back as the two of you walked in.

“Reservation?” The hostess asked.

“Yes, two for Styles,” He smiled.

“Right this way,” she smiled taking two menus and walking towards the back fo the room.

“Is a booth okay?” She asked.

Harry looked at you and you nodded, “It’s fine.”

“Your server will be right with you,” she smiled.

“Thank you,” both you and Harry smiled.

“If you’ll hand me your jacket, I can hang it with mine,” he said. “There are hooks over here.”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled slipping it off and handing it to him.

Even though he was trying to be discreet, you could easily see him looking you up and down. You felt heat rush to your cheeks before sat on your side of the booth. Harry joined you on the other side taking the menu in his hands.

“Have you been here before?” He asked.

“Once,” you said. “Actually, it was uh, with someone from work.”

“Uh-oh,” he said. “I feel like there’s a story there.”

“Nothing gets past you,” you joked. “But yeah, there’s a big, fat, shitty story there.”

“I’m all ears if you ever want to share,” he laughed.

You laughed before skimming back over the menu as you gave the waiter your order.

“Okay, so what’s the plan for after?” He asked.

“Well, there’s pub that has a songwriter night a few times a week,” you told him. “I usually go to scope out any up and coming artists to profile on the site. I thought maybe we could check it out tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“It’s more than okay,” he smiled. “I’d love to go.”

“Great because I already got us tickets,” you smirked.

“What would you have done if I said no?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I would have just found someone else to join me,” you shrugged.

“You wouldn’t,” he gasped. “You know for a fucking fact that you wouldn’t have near as much fun with anyone else.”

“Hm, I guess we’ll just have to see about that,” you smirked.

“Guess we will,” he smirked.

The rest of dinner had gone great, in between bites and sips, the two of you found yourself laughing and joking about different things. At one point, you two were laughing so hard, tears started filling up your eyes. After Harry paid for the bill, you both got up and he helped you slip your coat on. You smiled pulling your hair out from under the collar and grabbing your bag.

“So, I need to tell you something,” he said as the two of you waited for the valet to bring around his car.

“Should I be nervous?” You asked.

He laughed shaking his head, “I have that exact same shirt, but it’s in white...”

“Oh my god, you do not,” you giggled.

“I do,” he laughed. “It’s a possibility for tour.”

“Well, if you do, you know I’m going to do a who wore it better, right?” you smirked.

“You, definitely, you,” he smiled.

“Thank you,” you said looking down a bit.

The pub you were taking it him to was a few streets over, so it didn’t take entirely too long to get there. You smiled getting out of the car after he parked. He headed towards the entrance to wait in line, but you pulled him back.

“Follow me,” you smirked heading towards the back door.

“Well, someone’s a bit of a rebel,” he joked.

“Or I know a guy,” you smirked.

“Should I be jealous?” He laughed.

“That does seem to be your thing,” you laughed.

“I promise I’m not like a jealous, controlling type boyfriend,” he said quickly.

“Boyfriend?” You raised an eyebrow. “Already throwing the b word around? What sort of girl to you take me for, Styles?”

“I well, I mean, you know... Im just going to shut up now,” he said.

You laughed, “I’m just taking the piss out of you.”

“You know my sister said you were nice, and I’m starting to think she was lying,” he smirked.

“Remember how I said I could find someone else to join me?” you smirked.

“Fair enough,” he laughed.

You showed your tickets to the security guard, who let the two of you in, and Harry followed you over to the VIP section.

“Damn, you are quite official aren’t you?” He asked.

“That I am,” you smiled. “I mean it’s not exactly a suite or side stage tickets to an Ariana Grande concert.”

He laughed, “Maybe not, but it’s cool nonetheless.”

“Pst, I know,” you smirked.

In the hour that had passed at the club, you two had seen about 3 performers, finished a small cocktail and somehow had inched closer together at the booth. His arm had made it onto the top of the booth, which made you even closer. You found yourself looking over at him throughout the night whenever you sipped on your drink or bopped your head to the music. Luckily, he never caught you, but there were times you could feel his gaze on you.

Since the music was pretty loud in the smaller space, it was hard to make conversation.

“Are you having fun?” You asked him once the performer was done.

“I am,” he nodded. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this place before now.”

“Well, glad I could be the one to let you in on a little secret,” you smiled.

“Maybe next time I can be the one letting you in on a secret,” he smiled.

“Ooooh, so not only have you brought up the b word, but you also want to see me again?” You smirked.

He blushed with a laugh, “I’d be a fucking liar if I said no.”

“Well, that’d make two of us,” you said turning towards him. “If I said I didn’t like the sound of that.”

Smiling over at you, you could feel him leaning closer towards you with a glance down to your lips. Instinctively, you moved your head closer to his, and just when you both were about to close the remaining distance between you, when music started playing again, causing the two of you to jump out of your little trace.

It had gotten late, so the two of you decided to head out. Ever since the almost kiss, the tension between you was growing. You weren’t sure if it was your own need or his as well, but you were practically itching at wanting to press your lips against his. Of course, you wouldn’t be opposed to taking it past way more than kissing, but this was still new and you didn’t want to just bed your best friend’s brother in case it didn’t work out.

When Harry pulled up outside of your building, he turned the car off and looked over at you.

“Do you mind if I walk you up?” He asked.

“Not at all,” you smiled.

He nodded as you both got out of the car and headed into the building. You typed in your code and then got onto the elevator. Neither of you said anything on the ride up, only once you were standing outside your door.

“Well, this is me,” you said.

He nodded running his hands through his hair, “Tonight was fun.”

“It was,” you smiled. “Thank you for inviting me out.”

“Anytime,” he smiled. “I meant what I said about seeing you again. I’ve uh, I’ve got to go to New York in a few days, but I’d love to see you when I get back.”

“Sure thing,” you smiled. “Just let me know when you get back.”

“Well, I uh, I was hoping I could call you, while I’m gone?” He asked putting his hands in the pocket’s of his coat.

“You better or I’ll hunt you down,” you joked.

He laughed, looking down as he shuffled his feed, “I should probably go. It’s getting late and I’m sure your neighbors don’t want to hear us talking out here in the hallway.”

“Right,” you nodded. “So, I guess I’ll just see you when you get back then?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

You nodded again waiting for a spilt second to see if he would try to kiss you again, when it was apparent he was not, you grabbed your keys out of your purse and unlocked your door.

“Goodnight,” you smiled with a wave.

“Goodnight,” he smiled back.

You turned to head inside, when Harry’s voice stopped you.

“Wait,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” you asked looking back at him.

He walked closer to you looking down into your eyes as he put his hands on the sides of your face. Your gaze dropped down from his eyes to his lips and back up again. Next thing you knew, his lips were against yours and you felt as if your heart was going to burst.

Sooo... this one shot has now turned into more than one part. I don’t see it being super long... but we’ll see where this goes.

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles One Shot

374 notes · View notes

too-lit-for-fanfic · 4 years

Text

A Traitor In Our Midst

PART I OF III

PART I

PART II

PART III

Summary: Cal Kestis x ex-Galactic Empire!OC, but can be treated like an x reader, ugly secrets from her past are resurfaced. In light of the truth Cal and crew no longer feel as if they can trust the newest member to the trio. Tempers flare, sacrifices are made, and the truth finally comes out.

Warnings: It’s fucking long (sorry not sorry) and this part is mostly a set up for the next bit, but still CRUCIAL. The two first parts gets dark, like holy shit kind dark. Angst, Blood, Violence, Swearing.

“We’re coming under heavy fire! One of you get back to the ship as soon as possible, we can’t hold them off much longer!” Cere’s panicked voice wafted through the com-link, her voice scratchy and filled with static as the connection failed and reconnected.

Cal shot a glance over his shoulder, his bright eyes connecting with the much darker pair belonging to his companion, Aylin, her eyebrows knit together with barely concealed concern. The interaction was brief, broken as a trooper tackled Cal to the ground, his saber knocked flying as BD-1 shrilled in the background. The fiery haired male gasped for breath as the wind was knocked from him, the troopers heavy boot digging under his ribs forcing the little air left from his lungs. Just as the trooper raised its blaster Aylin materialised, knocking them to the ground with a harsh swing of her stun baton, their helmet splintering under the force. Cal grinned sheepishly at the woman as she handed him his saber, an angular eyebrow raised as the red head scrambled to his feet.

“You stay here until BD’s finished downloading the maps,” the pair glanced towards the little droid, whirring and buzzing as its eyes flickered. “I’ll go help the others at the ship, meet us there as soon as you can.”

Cal went to retort, his mouth opening with a disgruntled look upon his pale features. He did not like the idea of the pair separating, not at all.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” The blonde grinned, patting the slightly taller male on his shoulder as she began to head off, jogging in the general direction of the landing pad. Cal sighed as she raced away, dodging out of the troopers blaster fire with ease, she’d be the death of him one day; being on edge for another’s safety all the time couldn’t be good for his health, he muttered, he’d be having a stroke before long.

Before long Aylin had reached the landing pad, which was actually just a flat area in amongst an abundance of trees, but they couldn’t be picky. She caught her breath for a moment, surveying the scene below: Cere was huddled behind a stack of crates, exchanging blaster fire with several troopers just inside the tree line, Greez was still stranded on the ship, using his small blaster to ward off another two troopers flanking the opposite side. It didn’t look good. Deciding to pick the easier route for once, she ambled towards the two troopers penning Greez in the ship, hoping with the addition of him she’d have more of a chance against the five troopers currently engaged with Cere.

Crouching low, she shimmied her way through the thick shrubbery, uncaring for the spiky fauna that scratched at the exposed skin on her face and neck, her dark eyes trained on her closest trooper. Her knuckles turned white with the force she gripped her baton as she sprung from the brush, ramming the closest trooper with the electrically charged end to her weapon. The man yelled before he collapsed, alerting his companion of her presence. Greez yelled something to her but she barely payed him any mind, repositioning her baton just in time to deflect the oncoming blaster fire, the end of her weapon shattering upon impact. She grinned as the troops blaster faulted to recharge, discarding her broken baton to tackle him to the ground. Her teeth ground together as the man struggled, her arm locking around his neck, pinching at the unarmoured flesh. His legs kicked wildly as his hands clawed at her arm, unable to tear himself free. With a cry the trooper managed to flip the pair onto their backs, Aylin’s arm still constricting his airways as they struggled.

“Come on!” She begged, reaching for the newly charged blaster just out of reach, skimming the handle with her dirt stained fingers. Catching onto her actions the trooper also reached for the gun. Aylin panicked, knowing the troopers longer arm could reach the discarded weapon. Throwing her leg over his reaching arm she wound her legs around his torso, trapping him in place as she wriggled further, dirt and leaves meshing into her hair. “Come on.” She finally grasped the blaster, immediately pressing the cool barrel on the underside of the mans helmet and firing. He fell limp as she pushed him from her, scrambling to her feet.

She leans over, hands on her knees as she gasped for breath, blaster still grasped in her shaky hand. “You okay kid?” Geez called, hurrying down the ramp as fast as his little legs would allow. Ayling looked toward the small Latero, eyes wide. She looked feral, her short hair a mess a top her head, dirt and debris caked across her figure and blood splattered onto her jugular and jaw.

“I could’ve- could’ve used your help back there.” She gasped out, rubbing her chest to ease the pain the troopers helmet had caused as he had thrashed against her. Greez spluttered, gesturing wildly.

“I didn’t want to shoot you-!”

“Fine, fine.” She reloaded the blaster, not wanting to receive the same fate as the unfortunate troop strewn in front of her. She gazed at the unknown man for a little too long, the familiar white uniform striking uncomfortably at her heartstrings. As much as she detested herself for it, and as much as she would never admit to it, the uniforms always gave her a sense of home, of comfort, of familiarity, of belonging. The corner of her bust lip pulled down slightly, her eyes flickering over the troops number engraved onto his suit. That could of been her, and the reality of that caused something fowl to twist in her gut - she glanced back to Greez, who didn’t seem to notice her momentary destraction, if she dwelled on the subject too long she’d surely go mad. “Come on, we’ve gotta go help Cere.”

The two rounded the corner of the ship, ducking behind a nearby crate. Aylin pocked her head around the side of the small object, gnawing on her lip. There was no way they could interfere from their current position, they’d be dead before they could even start firing.

“Do you fancy causing a destraction?” She turned to the short male, said Latero staring back at her with wide eyes.

“No.”

“Go and cause a destraction.”

“You go cause a destraction.” He huffed, Aylin rolled her almond shaped eyes. “Why does it have to be me? You’re faster and I actually want to reach the age of sixty.”

“I’m the better shot.” She bragged, reaching to grab his blaster. He recoiled, hugging it to his chest. “You’re not going to need it.” She stressed, pulling it from his hesitant grasp. “But I will, this blasters not got much left to it. Better safe th-“

“-Than sorry.” Greez sighed. Beginning to head off into the foliage. “I hate it when you’re right.”

The young woman turned back to the task at hand, blaster gripped tightly in her hand as she awaited Greez’s move. She glanced down at her stolen blaster momentarily, brows furrowing further when she remembered the five troopers awaiting her. There was no room for any mistake, one wrong hit and they’d all be dead. More crucially, she’d likely be dead first. She cursed as she watched Greez amble around the perimeter, a large rock grasped in his hands. Cere, not realising the plan, finally spotted Aylin from her position, eyes widening when she saw the blaster in the girls hand. Even from such a distance Aylin could see the worry on the older woman’s face, frantically mouthing ‘don’t do it’ as the blaster fire assaulted Cere’s own crate. Forcing a shaky grin onto her lips, Aylin gave the woman a thumbs up, indicating she had no intention of listening to her, at all.

Greez yelled something incomprehensible from the brush, launching the rock at the closest troopers head. Stupidly, all five turned towards the noise, Greez legging it back into the cover of the dense woodland. Aylin sprang from her spot, blaster aimed and loaded, glaring down the barrel of the gun as if her life depended on it, because it did. Each shot had barely left the the blaster before the other was fired, all hitting their mark. The ease by which she possessed as graceful as that of a ballet dancer, muscle memory doing the work - the same routine, the same outcome. One by one each trooper went down, her aim deadly accurate and unforgiving.

The three stood alone in the clearing, Aylin with her blaster still raised, Cere finally able to emerge from her hiding spot, holstering her own weapon once again. Greez also reappeared, a large grin on his thick lips.

“Thank god you came back when you did, it took you long enough.” Cere playfully jibed, a gracious smile sent the young girls way as she approached. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” The blonde smiled, already forgetting about her bust lip and bruising chest. “Are you good? Can’t believe there was so many on you.”

“We always get through it. Where’s Cal?”

Aylin shrugged nonchalantly, knowing the boy was more than capable. “He should be back any minute now. BD was still-“

It all happened at once, and the rapidity of it all almost gave Aylin whiplash just thinking about it. Cal had called her name as he emerged from the forrest, BD perched hazardously on his broad shoulders. She had turned with a smile upon her lips, her guard down, blaster lowering just a fraction, and that’s all it took. One final trooper had crashed through the brush, weapon trained on the woman who had killed the last of his squadron. Aylin didn’t even have time to blink as Cal screamed, the shot hitting her square in the shoulder and sending her tumbling to the ground, her head connecting with the stony earth, plunging her into the dark abyss.

She came to moments later, Cal kneeling over her as Cere and Greez ran over, shouting. The pain hit her immediately and she grimaced, Carl’s worried eyes staring right back into her own, his hands cupping either side of her face.

“You’re back.” He sighed, dropping the now empty stim as relief flooding his system. The few seconds it had taken for her to regain consciousness were agonisingly slow and Cal had been close to tears. The shining dew drops threatening to spill from the corners of his bloodshot eyes at the relief. His hands fell from her angular face as his attention turned to her wound, the blood already soaking her shirt and jacket. BD booped loudly on his shoulder, practically screeching. “Thank Kriff it didn’t hit your chest.”

He gently tugged at her leather jacket, his fingers sliding across the material and coating in the fresh crimson blood. He barely noticed. Aylin lurched as the material brushed against her wound. A low groan catching in the back of her throat as her head fell back, suddenly feeling nauseatingly dizzy.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Cal murmured, brows furrowing as he tried to see the extent of the damage. Immediately noticing her deteriorsting state he propped her up, crouching next to her with a firm grip around her waist and her uninjured arm slung over his shoulders, grasping her hand in his bloody one. “We’ve got to get you in the ship.”

“Are you alright?” Cere skidded into view, Greez hot on her trail. Aylin gazed up at her languidly, already beginning to feel the haze of blood-loss.

“She’s in shock and she needs medical attention. A stim won’t fix this.” With the help of Cere Aylin finally stood properly, unstable on shaky legs, the pair guiding her towards the entrance to the ship as Greez scuttled inside, clearing a space on the sofa.

“I don’t feel great.” Aylin groaned, the pounding of her skull from where she had collided with the rocks below causing her to trip and stumble. “I think I’m con-concu-“ she couldn’t remember the word. Cal sat her down on the plush orange sofa as Cere left to collect some medical supplies.

“We’ve got to get this off.” Cal began tugging her jacket off, pulling the sleeve gently over her wounded shoulder. Aylin grimaced again, hands balling into fists as she shrugged the tattered jacket off. “You know,” he mumbled, draping the jacket over the holographic table. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without this on.”

“Don’t get used to it.” She joked, smile twisting into a grimace when her shoulder knocked against the backrest as she readjusted the brace on her lower arm, blood smearing onto the metal. “I already miss it.” Cal laughed at her comment as his fingers fluttered over the scorched flesh of her shoulder, his hand resting delicately on her bicep to keep her steady. Aylin had been travelling with the company for about a year now, and even though it had taken a while for them to trust each other in the current climate, Cal couldn’t even remember what life had been like until she had stumbled into it, quite literally. He could feel his heart begin to race at the mere though of what could of happened if the troops aim had just slightly moved to the left. His throat tightened at the thought, the alternative wasn’t worth dwelling on. Cal was drawn back from his thoughts by Cere, who sat down opposite the pair, a bundle of medical supplies in her arms.

“Look at me.” Cere commanded, a small flashlight in hand. Both turned towards her, Cal with a look of curiosity, Aylin with a half conscious glance.

“Cere what-“ the older woman grabbed the blondes chin with a firm grip, forcing her head forward as she shone the small light into her amber eyes. Aylin jumped back, wincing, her hands coming up to grab at either side of her head.

“Fuck Cere I’ve already got a migraine, no need t-“

“You’ve got a concussion.” She quips, rolling her eyes. Cal hides a laugh into his elbow as Aylin glares at the woman, fingers still roughly massaging her scalp.

“Cere is this the time? The kids got a hole in her shoulder.” Greez meanders into the living quarters, desperately trying to avoid gazing at the mangled mess of Aylins shoulder.

“Concussions can be deadly. I can fix that shoulder no problem.” Without warning Cere sticks a syringe into Aylins left bicep, the uninjured one, and injects a purple liquid into her system. Cal actually saw the difference, the scowl of pain instantly lifting from her face and her shoulders slacking at the release of tension.

“Better?” Cal grinned, thumb absentmindedly massaging her upper arm.

“Much better.” BD shrilled loudly from Cal’s shoulder, hopping up and down excitedly. She smiled softy at the droid, reaching out to run her fingers along its antenna. “Thanks buddy.”

“Cal can you come and sit over here? I need you to hold her arm still.” Cere shuffled over to allow Cal to crouch in front of the pair, antiseptic-drenched cloth in each hand. Cere turned towards Aylin, who had paled in colour considerably upon noticing the rags in her hands. “This is going to hurt, you’re going to have to stay still.”

“We don’t have any painkillers?” Aylin questioned, her eyes widening a fraction. At her lack of response Aylin purses her lips. Cal frowned as his grip tightened against the junction between her neck and shoulder, his other grasping just above her elbow. Greez immediately excused himself from the room, speed walking back to the cockpit. Cal’s lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced down at the wound, fresh blood seeping from the singed flesh. Her whole arm drenched in the crimson substance. Hopefully it just looked worse than it actually is.

“It’ll be over before you know it.” He offered in comfort, lying between his teeth, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. BD booped despondently.

“Right.” She sighs, “Just get it over with.”

Without warning Cere presses both rags on the entrance and exit wounds, digging deep to be rid of all infection. Aylin, unprepared, screeches and almost leaps from her chair, if not for Cal’s hands pinning her in place. She’d had plenty of blaster wounds before and no matter how many times she went through the process, it always stung like a bitch. Her head slammed against the head rest as her foot stomped onto the floor, anything to distract her from the fiery inferno engulfing her shoulder. She clamps her mouth shut in an attempt to regain some control, the scream desperate for release reverberating about her chest and sticking in her throat. Cal’s eyes never leave her face, his own body just as rigid as hers, watching as her features twist and contort. Cere pulls back, dragging the drenched cloth in a meek attempt to try and clean up the bloody mess. Aylin sighs in relief, body falling limp.

“Not so bad, was it?” Cal whispers cheekily, removing his hand from her shoulder to pat her thigh gently, his other hand remaining just above her forearm.

She gazes back at him, trying to appear unamused though she found his comment endearing. “I’m so glad you’re here Cal, it’s always a pleasure-” She stutters as Cere begins applying the healing ointment, her arm jerking involuntarily. Cal’s hand slips to rest against the brace on her lower arm and before he can retract it a memory hits him in full force.

He’s in a market, at a vendors stall with an assortment of accessories laid out on a plush purple cloth. He can’t seem to make out where he is, but a bright sun hangs over head and a soft breeze whips sand into the air. The market is busy, full of all sorts of creatures speaking differing dialects and in the midst of it all the familiar blonde approaches, but he can tell something is different about Aylin and he frowns at the uncomfortable feeling in his gut. What powerful memory could she have of simply buying an arm brace?

He steps up next to her as she exchanges cash with the small merchant, plucking the familiar leather binding from the table. As soon as she turns away from the small creature she tugs the thin cotton material of her shirt up, exposing her forearm for the briefest moment before securing the brace in place.

All colour drains from Cal’s face as he watches her flex her fingers, a content smile tugging at her chapped lips. It had only been for the briefest of moments but he had seen it. He had seen the small ink black tattoo etched onto her tanning skin. He had seen who she really was; TX-5579.

Cal lurches away from her, falling onto his elbows along the ships floor. Both women stare down at him incredulously as he breaths heavily. BD-1 beeps as he hops over, concern evident in the little boops he released. Cal pays him no mind, his eyes transfixed on the woman before him, on the stormtrooper before him. He felt like throwing up.

“Cal are you-” Aylin stops in her tracks as Cal scrambles to his feet, his eyes never leaving the leather binding on her forearm. She knew Cal had some strange abilities with the use of the Force, and she paled as she realised what he might have seen. “Cal, no-”

“Cere get away from her.” His voice is both panicked and stern, both hurt and enraged. He felt like his chest was being ripped open, that he couldn't breathe. The dark haired woman glances up from her work on Aylin’s shoulder, unamused.

“Cal, what are you-”

“I saw.” He stammers, pointing a finger accusingly at the young woman. “I saw you, I saw-”

“Cal, please, it’s not-” She tries as Cere backs away, going to stand alongside the distraught redhead. Greez emerges from the cockpit, alerted by the commotion.

“You’re one of them.” He turns to Cere. “She’s a stormtrooper.”

The air inside the ship froze, the only sound the whirring of the hull and a string of beeps from BD. No one moved and the atmosphere was so full of tension it could be sliced with a knife.

“Cal,” she tries, raising from her seat. “please, I-”

“Take it off.” He all but bellows, gesturing wildly to her leather brace. “Take it off and prove me wrong.” She freezes, there was nothing for her to do. This was it.

“I can’t-”

“Aylin-” Cere interrupts, her eyes begging her for it to not be true. Aylin struggled to meet her gaze.

“Why can’t you?” Cal steps forward, his voice uncharacteristically cold. His brows furrowed as she took a step back, still cradling her injured arm, the brace pressed against her chest. “Why, can’t, you?”

“Because what you saw is true!” She snapped, finally pulling the binding from her lower arm and dropping the heavy material onto the holographic table. The bold lettering stood out from her pale skin like a bruise, TX-5579 permanently branding her as a token of the Galactic Empire.

Greez mutters an almost inaudible “kid” at the revelation and Aylin could swear she visibly heard her heart shatter along with his.

Aylin’s mouth hung open as she tried to formulate a sentence, her mind still half preoccupied with the throbbing pain emanating from her shoulder. “I-” she tried, glancing at each of her companions in turn. Greez looked as if he had just been slapped in the face by a particularly disgusting specimen, Cere’s arms were crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes ablaze with the fury of a thousand suns. Finally, her sights landed on Cal, and she almost winced at the expression painted across his features. He looked completely and utterly betrayed, his brows furrowed together and his lips pulled into a thin line. His arms were tense at his sides, she clenched her jaw upon realising his hand rested against his saber, ready. “I’m not a stormtrooper, I-”

“You were.”

“I was never a stormtrooper.”

“If you weren’t a trooper, what were you?” Cere interrupts, pushing Cal back who had strode closer and closer to the blonde. “What did you do?”

“I-” Aylin stammered, she couldn’t tell them, she couldn’t. If this was their reaction to her being a trooper, how on earth would they react when they found out who she really was? Another wave of nausea hit her and she collapsed back onto the couch, elbow propped against the table. “I-”

“Dammnit Aylin answer the goddamn question.” Greez spoke up from beside Cal, the whole situation putting him in a bad mood. She panicked, her eyes constantly searching for a way out, for a way to just disappear.

“It’s non of your fucking business.” She bit back, her hands clenching into fists. “I’m not who I was, I defected. I-”

“You didn't tell us. You didn't tell me.” Cal was furious, his hand clenching and unclenching around his saber. “And you’re still lying. You’ve been with us for over a year and we still don’t know anything about you.”

“Stop with the bullshit Kestis.” Her outburst shocked everyone in the room, including herself. Throwing caution to the wind she continued on, she was tired, she was in pain and she’s had enough. “I’ve never given any of you a reason not to trust me. I’ve constantly put my life on the line for you all, time and time again. Yeah, fine, you don't know shit about my past but you know me, you know how much I hate the ocean, how much I love flying, how I fucking like my tea- you know me, not my past, me. If I wanted you dead, I would have done so a long time ago. I defected and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and you lot are not going to give me shit for doing the right thing.”

The room enveloped in silence once again, the tension growing thicker with each passing moment. Carl’s eyes bore into her own and Aylin fought the urge to let her eyes wander. She had done nothing wrong, she had no reason to feel the way she was feeling; the fowl something clawing at her chest and twisting her stomach, so many things she wanted to say that clogged her throat. Their eyes locked as Cal took another step forward, ignoring Ceres hand against his shoulder. The icy blue contrasted against her earthly hazel; fire and ice, the sun and moon, water and earth, they were incompatible, Cal was only now beginning to realise. He was the first to break the intense stare. His voice a fragile whisper, far more hesitant than seconds prior.

“Is your name even Aylin?”

“Yes,” she stressed, free hand absentmindedly wrapping around her right forearm, hiding the branding from view. “They don’t take names from sup-“ She immediately cut herself off, eyes closing as she realised her mistake.

“You were a superior officer-“ Cal couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What is your last name?” Cere questions from behind Cal, tone accusatory, leaning her shoulder against some shelving. Aylin’s fiery eyes snap towards the woman, flickering from conflicted to purely distraught. After a tense moment, the blondes features finally caught up with her emotions, settling on absolutely enraged.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Cere.” Instead of shouting, as the four others had expected, her voice was eerily monotone, an icy edge under toning every word. Cal only felt further sickened when he realised this was most likely an attribute she had learnt from her time with the Empire. “You don’t get to judge me for this, they do,” she motioned harshly to BD, Cal and Greez, who shared a confused glance with one another. “but you can go fuck yourself before you try to play the innocent role with me. I know what you did, I know all about Trilla.”

“How do you-“ Cere had visibly paled at the revelation. Cal, Greez and BD’s focus flitted from one woman to the other, BD’s little head spinning so fast he began to whirr, his circuit fans trying to cool his joints down. Cal was by far the palest of them all, his stomach churning as the reality of things came crashing down. He had trusted these people, he had finally found a home, and now, that home was crumbling through no fault of his own, the pillars of lies at its foundation destroyed with each fatal truth surfaced.

Trust only in the Force. His masters final words echoed back to him, he worked his tense jaw at the memory. Why couldn’t he just listen for once?

Greez was completely and utterly lost, he really didn’t understand the crooks of the situation, and with how everyone around him was acting, he didn’t think he wanted to. He glanced towards Cal, and upon seeing the dazed look in his eyes, reached up to place a comforting hand against his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter how I know, but I do, and if I’m going to be held accountable for my past, so are you.”

“Cere what is she on about?”

“Not now Cal.” She snapped back, eyes never leaving the dark blondes from across the room.

“No, I think he deserves to know.” Aylin interrupted the exchange, finally gathering enough strength to stand, hip propped against the table. “Cere told you her padawan didn’t make it, right?” Cal nodded stifly, gaze flickering to Cere. “Well that’s not entirely true. You see, after Order 66 Cere was taken in for questioning and then requisitioning, as were a majority of Jedi Masters. Unlike the majority of Jedi Masters, Cere still lives to tell the tale. Do you ever wonder how? Why her, of all masters, survived?”

Cere’s fists clenched as Aylin took a step forward, her full attention on Cal.

“She didn’t die so her padawan could live. She sacrificed her padawan so that she” the blonde glared pointedly. “could live. Cere escaped and left Trilla behind, and now she’s the Second Sister.”

“You have no idea what it was like-“ the dichotomy of both the plea for understanding aimed at Cal, combined with the seething venom aimed towards Alylins accusations created an unusual tone, the woman’s dark eyes shifting with emotion as they landed on each separate individual in the room. Cere’s tone was something Cal had never witnessed before, on any living creature, but for Aylin it was as familiar as the brightened tone to a child’s laugh, or the sullen croak of those laden with grief. She had seen this instance time and time again, traitor upon traitor, prisoner upon prisoner, begging for understanding yet grounded in conviction.

“For you personally, no I don’t. But I know exactly what it entails. So many masters before and after you didn’t break under the presssure, most barely splintered. And yet you’re going to try and persuade me - him -“ she gestured to Cal, gathering her discarded jacket in her arms. “that you’re circumstances were significantly different. Own up to your mistakes Cere. I don’t pretend to be something I’m not, you do.”

The room plunged into another bought of sickening silence, the tension thick enough that it began to suffocate the tall redhead pressing himself against the wall, desperate to just get away. It was too much, the yelling, the arguing, the hatred and the anger seeping into him through the force from those around him. Two outcomes lay before him, and with solemnity he realised which path was inevitable, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try his damnest to try and salvage what he could from the fiery inferno before him.

“As much as you may hate to admit it, none of us are perfect. Not me, not you,” Aylin pointed to Cal and Greez. She turns to Cere. “and certainly not you.” Spinning on her heel she practically marches to her sleeping quarters, her clenched fists hidden beneath the jacket she gripped to her chest.

Cal scrambled after her retreating figure, his blood pounding in his ears as the panic began to consume him; if this wasn’t resolved, this could be it. Somehow he managed to get in front of her, gripping both of her shoulders “We need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing more to talk about.”

“No, there is. We can fix this, everyone just needs to calm down-“

Aylin felt nauseated at the hope theat lingered in the depths of Carl’s crystalline pools that bore into her. The swirling blue now redrimmed with the stresses of the day. As much as she stood by what she had said to Cere, she would sooner die than recount every last word, she knew, deep down, Cere also spoke the truth. She couldn’t be trusted, not after all the monstrous things she had done. It was foolish to believe other wise. She was foolish to think she ever had a chance. “21.” Bursts from her lips before she could prevent it, her small lips pressing into a thin line as Cal’s grip on her shoulders tightened and his brows furrowed. In some sick way, she was thankful for the pain seeping from her shoulder as his grip tightened; it grounded her, and inadvertently, even if Cal didn’t realise what he was doing, it was payback. Payback for the pain she was about to inflict.

“What?” His voice was airy, preparing for whatever blow he was about to hit full force.

“That’s the number of Jedi I helped the Empire capture. 21.” His hands immediately retracted, as if the contact burnt the very flesh from his palms. Aylin ignored the horror in his eyes, burying her own regret with the monotonous stare she had mastered. She didn’t give him a chance to leave before she continued, he deserved to know. “Atleast 10 were younglings, padawans, whatever you call them. They all died, I gave the orders.” He looked pale, too pale, a thin sheen of sweat covered every inch of exposed skin she could see. His features acted completely on their own; there was no more restraint, no more hiding - complete and utter horror, anguish and fury swirled with the depths of his pale yet drakened features, she could practically sense the disgust that rolled off of him in waves.

She knew this image would forever be burned into her mind, alongside all the other horrors she had faced, and she knew this would be the image to haunt her beyond the grave.

Regardless, she continued; she had dug this hole, and she wasn’t finished yet, she wanted to dig until the rays of the overhanging sun failed to reach her, until she was cast into the dark abyss and forgotten, along with the horrors she had committed. “I was a superior officer, I was awarded one of the highest positions in the Galactic Empire, I answered directly to Lord Vader himself.” She sidestepped the young man, heading to her dorm. He didn’t turn to watch her, but he could still hear every ragged breath that parted her lips. “It was a game for me Cal, and I was winning, and I lived for it.”

Cal usually had a hard time reading her emotions through the force, she was always disconnected, in a sense, but now she was an open book, each emotion crashing into him like the most ferocious tsunami; the pride that had gripped her with every fallen Jedi; the thrill of the chase; the glee at another puzzle to solve and destroy.

“But that’s not who I am anymore, Cal.”

He felt the conflict she had hidden for so long; the anguish once she realised the consequences of her actions; the regret; the terrror; the disgust; the pain; the loathing that had gripped every fibre of her being, that now threatened to suffocate them both.

She took one final breath as she stepped into the boundaries of her room, turning to face Cal with an indescribable look plastered upon her features.

“I’m not who I was, but there’s no changing who I used to be.”

And then the door slid shut.

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notquitecanon · 4 years

Text

Billionaires, Archers, and Spies, OH MY! Marvel Criminal Minds crossover pt. 2 (reader insert) ___

Part one!

Sorry for the horrendous title. Not much about the BAU in this one, but we’re getting there

______

When Coulson said ASAP, he meant ASAP. No sooner than you had been settled into a provided apartment, you were escorted to the Airport to fly to an aircraft carrier. There, Coulson introduced you to Maria Hill who gave you access to an office. There you were given file-upon-file about one, Clint Barton.

You built a solid profile based on the files, and then when you felt you had a good basis- you boxed up the files, shut your notebooks, and (as you had been told) pressed a button. Two minutes later, a man in a SHIELD issue suit walked in.

You immediately recognized him as Clint Barton, and smiled at him, “Hello, Agent Barton, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m going to ask you some questions, please answer honestly- there aren’t right or wrong answers.”

“Aren’t there always?” Clint grinned, slouching into the seat across from your makeshift desk. You just quirked an eyebrow as you sat down.

“So let’s start at the beginning. What was your childhood like?” You asked, watching everything from his breathing to how he drummed his fingers on his knees. Hyper Vigilant, channels into constant movement.

He gave a brief overview of his childhood, his parents Edith and Harold, growing up in small-town Iowa, graduating high school, but focusing on his marksmanship afterward. “If you’re wondering if something traumatic happened, it didn’t.”

“I never assumed, but thank you for the clarification.” You nodded, noticing his aversion to your questioning-hiding something.

“Ok, well, according to your file, Nick Fury hand-picked you for your skills. Marksmanship, archery if I remember correctly? That must have been quite an honor.” You remarked, eyes carefully watching his facial expressions: a huffed (sarcastic) chuckle, a slight smirk, and his eyes flitted out the window looking up- checking for snipers.

“An honor, I guess you could call it that.” He nodded, meeting your eyes again.

“So what would you call your relationship with Director Fury?” You asked.

“Professional, he’s my superior. We’re friendly, he trusts me to get the job done.” He answered, to get the job done. Is he implying that Fury doesn’t completely trust him- or maybe that he doesn’t completely trust Fury? “He did me a favor, so I trust him as much as he trusts me.”

Interesting wording again, but when he said “favor” his left thumb rubbed his ring finger. His file said unmarried...

“Alright, any girlfriends? longterm partners? Children?” You asked, trying to prove your point. Clint visibly tensed, eyes immediately narrowing in on you.

“No, no, I’m a player through and through. Hook-ups only.” He easily splurged, lying through his teeth. Definitely has a girlfriend- possibly a wife? Obviously doesn’t want it in his file.

To try to relax the clearly agitated agent you simply nodded, “Well, Agent Barton, I’m sure you know how babies are made. Hookups...”

Clint simply shook his head, “No, No, children.”

“Alright, now let’s talk about professionally, you have a nearly perfect success rate. I understand you recently survived an assassination attempt?”

____

Clint Barton: Loyal to SHIELD, Pride in his work, but not in killing, close emotional ties with Natasha Romanoff, and unnamed girlfriend/wife (not in Files), will follow orders unless he finds a better solution, can work with others, prefers not to. Long-distance specialty- aversion to close up/ slow deaths. Secretive, low to none security risk

Good for the Avengers Initiative.

____________

As soon as you presented your findings to Director Fury, he had more files sent to you. These files were all labeled [classified] and many of them were mostly redacted.

“Unredacted versions will be available in your office only. I’m eagerly awaiting your next report.” As ever, a man a few words, Nick Fury sent you on your way. This time, you had a couple of weeks to read up on your next interview as she was on a mission.

Natasha Romanoff, Natalia Romanova, Natalie Rushman, Black Widow, your eyes skimmed down the page-long list of aliases. That’s a profile all it of itself, You thought. Next, you read over her accomplishments, both as a Russian spy and as a SHIELD agent. They were extensive. She was a member of the KGB when she was a Soviet (with an unspecified body count). Then, she was brought into SHIELD, where she worked as a normal combat agent before being promoted to strike team delta- then her accomplishments allowed her to keep climbing rank. Skills include excellent marksmanship, more black belts then you cared to count, espionage, seduction, sabotage, hacking, interrogation, and deception. You noted to yourself, a spy of this caliber definitely has training in hiding behavioral traits and tics- might even be able to fake other tics to skew the profile.

A month and a week after interviewing Clint, you opened the door to a stunningly beautiful woman. She was tall- long legs, pale skin, green eyes, body toned from years of training yet still looking like the picture of feminity, blood-red curls that fell almost to her waist. You observed everything, even down to how she was standing, Her stance is meant to come off as unassuming, but actually, she’s already poised to strike if she has to.

“Hello! I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I’m here to ask you a few questions to build a psychological / behavioral profile. Can we get started?” You asked, gesturing to the chair in front of your desk. She nodded, sitting down. Once again, her posture was faux-relaxed- leaned back, legs crossed, arms delicately laid on the armrests, but ready to fight in a split second.

Her emerald eyes watched you as carefully as you watched her, not quite threatening but almost challenging, subtle hostility towards authority? no, maybe other women.

“Well, I have a three-mile-long list of alias, but it doesn’t tell me what you preferred to be called. What can I call you?” You asked, carefully watching her. You registered the nanosecond of confusion before she smoothed the expression, Not used to having a choice.

“I prefer Natasha, thank you.” She nodded to you, and you smiled back.

“Before we get started, I’d like to clarify there are no right or wrong answers, just honest ones, please.” You clarified, noticing how her eyes narrowed, nostrils slightly flared, but no comment as she nodded.

“Alright, let’s start with your life in Russia.” You motioned to her, waiting for her to begin, but she just cocked her head.

“What do you want to know?” The hostility was well masked, but you still caught it. You didn’t comment on it, only thought for a moment how to spark the conversation.

“Just walk me through growing up in Russia, starting as early as you can remember.” You prompted, watching her try to hide a frustrated sigh.

“My earliest memories are of the red room. That should be in my file.” She brushed off, voice even, not too fast or slow- carefully hiding any defensive tone.

“I know, I was given the files. I’m former FBI and haven’t been here long enough to ask questions. You’ll have to explain it to me.” You apologized. For a long pause, she didn’t say anything, “If you don’t want to talk to me, we can-”

She interrupted, “Ballet lessons, that’s how it started. Then, ballet became a polisher, kept us strong, but lithe. Feminine, but deadly. Then they taught us everything we’d ever need in the field. From flirting to torture.” She divulged, the information was still vague but gave you enough information to prod the conversation.

“So there were other girls with you as well?” You asked, she nodded. Intense competitive conditions among young girls, explains her challenging attitude towards me. “And they taught you...”

“Espionage, seduction, combat, marksmanship, how to blend in and stand out at the same time, deception...” She listed, trailing off. You hid a smirk, not condescendingly, as a joke crossed your mind.

“How to lie.” You remarked, “You could have been a politician.”

She laughed quietly, a laugh which you couldn’t decide if it was fake or she actually thought it was funny, “You think I’m a liar?”

You smiled softly, noting how she was trying to intimidate you, but didn’t comment, “I think you could lie through your teeth and 99% of people in the room would believe you. It’s an impressive talent.”

She smirked, cocking her head slightly, “Would you believe me?”

You shrugged, knowing she was luring you into a trap with either answer, “Are you going to lie to me, Natasha?”

She smiled, showing off perfect rows of pearly white teeth, “Agent (Y/L/N), there’s just some things I can’t tell you.”

You nodded, using the natural pause before moving on, “Let’s move on then, can you tell me about Budapest?”

Her smile faded, “When I worked for the KGB, I had a very specific skill set, and I didn’t care who I used it for. I got on SHIELD’s radar, in a very bad way. I’m sure I was probably on FBI lists and you just didn't know it was me. Well, Director Fury put Clint on my case, to, well, I’m sure you can guess. But He made a different call, and once I defected from the KGB and renounced Russia, he gave me a second chance. I felt like I owed it to him to try to fix what I had done- at least my targets now are bad people.”

“So- for lack of better word- Redemption influenced you to work in SHIELD?” You asked, watching her carefully. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m not naive enough to look for redemption.” She stated, before eyeing you up and down, “What are you really doing here?”

It was your turn to be smug, smirking as you started, “Agent Romanoff, there’s just some things that I can’t tell you.”

She chuckled, glancing down at her hands. You cleared your throat, “Just one more question, were you aware of Clint Barton’s wife?”

Her shock actually registered, telling you that your suspicions were correct, and also that she probably knew her personally, “He told you about them?”

Them, not her, which means more than one: children. You smiled, proud of your deductions, but shook your head no, that he didn’t tell you.

“Oh, you’re good.”

_________

Natasha Romanoff: Spy/Seductress personality traits, Only appears to completely trust Clint Barton, but Nick Fury seems to be a close second. Alpha female- flirty (manipulative) towards men, abrasive around other women until they prove themselves / or aren’t a threat to her position. Prefers close quarters combat- uncharacteristic of female assassins but registers high levels of confidence, control, and discipline. Eager for redemption/ paying her debts- seems to want to do good. This paired with her high levels of training can make for a ruthless weapon in the right hands (even if it’s her own). Not necessarily a team player, but knows how to manipulate people around her to further her mission.

As for the Avengers Initiative, as long as Agent Barton is present (to have at least one person she trusts), if given separate orders could potentially point other team members in the most effective direction.

Approved at Director's discretion.

__________

The next time you saw Natasha, it was two months later and you were asking about Tony Stark. You already watched all relevant interviews, spoken to both Phil and Nick, and read all the files available to you. Natasha was undercover in Stark Industries (at the moment) and had dealt with Stark one-on-one. The spy seemed more relaxed around you, even pausing the conversation to open a bit.

“I noticed you didn’t put ‘wife and kids’ into Clint’s file.” She started, to which you nodded, “I really appreciate it, His family means everything to him, and he pisses off some powerful people- it’s best no one knows.”

“I know. His family was the only thing he lied about, and Director Fury didn’t admit it, but definitely already knew. Which means the only reason to put it in there would be spite, and Clint seems like a good guy- like a asshole, but a good guy." You explained.

Natasha snorted a laugh, “Yeah that’s Clint.”

“Speaking of Assholes, Tony Stark. What can you tell me about him?”

“Deep down, deep, deep, down- he wants to be a good guy.” She nodded thoughtfully. The wording caught your attention.

“Wants to be?” You quirked an eyebrow. She sent you a tight-lipped smirk.

“He hit’s some roadblock- every time.” She nodded, to which you nodded.

“Keep me updated?” You asked, tapping your pen against a grainy shot of an iron man suit flying through white clouds.

“If it goes according to plan, I’ll get you an undercover interview.” She smiled, flipping perfect curls over her shoulder. She kind of felt like a super intimidating version of Prentiss.

“Thanks, Nat, you’re the best.” You flinched at your own words, noticing her tense and then relax.

“That’s what they keep telling me,” She smiled, and your tension fell away too. “See you around.”

________

“Hello, Mr. Stark, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I’m a writer for a psychological magazine. I’m working on an article about the psychology of billionaire superheroes-” You started, but the cocky billionaire interrupted you. It was now September, and you had been waiting for the interview since July.

“There’s more than one? I should start a book club.” He chuckled, swirling a whiskey drink in one hand It’s ten AM, alcoholic tendencies as Nat reported. It was probably best he didn’t know you worked for SHIELD, as he was more relaxed around you now. You faked a laugh, blushing as if you were flustered.

“You’re right, few and far between. But, uh, superheroes are a hot topic right now, billionaire superheroes, the public is interested. And also, as you’ve said in interviews, you don’t trust the military to have your tech- so the public wants to know if your...”

“Stable?”

You nodded, finally, he motioned for you to sit across from him, which you did quickly, “So let’s begin, we’re going to build a psychological profile based off of behavioral analysis.”

“I’ve read about that science, in fact, I’ve been following the Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI- David Rossi’s books are fascinating. Don’t you think?” The question caught you off guard, bringing back intrusive thoughts of your team- all the phone calls you were told to ignore, the purposely left signs that Penelope tried to hack your computer, Reid still emailed you a weekly reading list.

You snapped back to reality, lying easily, “Yes, I’ve actually learned some of my techniques from BAU lectures. David Rossi and Dr. Spencer Reid, Agent Aaron Hotchner would occasionally guest lectures.”

“Well, sweetheart, show me what you learned.” He told you, spreading his arms as if to say ‘hit-me-with-you-best-shot’ meanwhile, you inwardly cringed at ‘sweetheart’.

“Alright then, let’s start with early life and childhood.” You prompted, pretending to take notes as he began recounting his life story. You didn’t pay much attention to his words, so much as his actions, which made it easier to tell when he was lying, exaggerating, or under-exaggerating.

Control issues, perhaps to deal with feelings of helplessness- even though he’s a super genius, God Reid never shut up about it. Narcissistic tendencies, which normally doesn’t pair with a savior complex. Alcoholic tendencies, possibly remnants of a bad relationship with his father. Flinches when he moves in certain ways, either still hurting or phantom pains from his time held hostage. Early stages of PTSD?

Finally, he closed his epic tale as he got up and made another drink, “And here we are together now. Isn’t life funny like that?”

“It’s strange, I’ll give you that. And how’s your current life?” You asked, he offered a cocky grin, running his hand through his disheveled hair and downing his drink. The cocky attitude didn’t reach his eyes, you noted that.

“Me? I’m living the life. Now, let me answer your real question. Why I won’t let my tech go to the government- and why I’m qualified to keep it?”

“That’s a jump. But if you’d like to tell me....” Something you want to get off your chest, Stark?

“When I was held hostage over there, it was because my tech got into the wrong hands. Then I got back and became acutely aware of how many people had been injured because of my negligence. Then I thought to myself, I can hand over some weapons solely to the military, that’ll fix the problem, right? wrong. The military is controlled by politicians, politicians who have agendas. Me? I have no agenda. With tech in my hands, I can go fix problems myself- no bureaucracy.”

Survivor’s guilt. Dangerously independent which feeds into his savior complex. He will not play well with others. Definite signs of depressive self-loathing and self-placed blame.

“Wants to be a good person, but hit’s a roadblock every time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I have everything I need. Thank you for your honesty.”

____________

Tony Stark: Classic narcissist, paired with a savior complex (likely caused by survivors' guilt, heightened feeling of responsibility, and guilt from his weapons being sold on the black market). Control issues. Will not follow orders, always thinks he knows a better way. Substance abuse issues are likely, alcoholic tendencies are confirmed. Sex addiction is highly likely. These are escapist tendencies. Early signs of PTSD, depression, and anxiety. Issues from childhood include a bad relationship with his father (never felt true validation from an unavailable father figure, mother never stepped in). Butler, Jarvis (not to be confused with his AI) seemed to be the primary influence in his upbringing. (Mentioned Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter more than once, bitter with Steve and fond with Peggy)

Avengers initiative: He’s self-obsessed, volatile, will not work well with others. But no matter if he’s part of the team or not, it is almost certain that he will inject himself into any global/ SHIELD conflict.

Rejected, even though he will involve himself regardless of SHIELD decision.

_______________

In November of 2010, you were called into a meeting with Fury,

“This is good work, agent.” Director Fury nodded as you thumbed through the file on Tony Stark. He read over the profile, but didn’t show any emotion.

“Thank you, sir, but I have a feeling that I didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know.” You replied, watching his eye as he switched to the file on Natasha.

“You confirmed some suspicions. This will help me convince my higher-ups.” He affirmed, dropping the file on his desk with a quiet thump. You quirked an eyebrow, a small smirk on your lips.

“You have higher-ups?” You asked, wondering who on Earth was brave enough to give Nick Fury orders. He was like the dark, scary version of Hotch.

“We all have superiors, agent.” He replied lowly, his eyebrow raising in a way that told you he wasn’t angry but not to press the matter. “You know these were the easy ones, right?”

“I wouldn’t say that Tony Stark was easy to deal with.” You muttered as he slid another file across. The cover read ‘Dr. Bruce Banner / The Hulk’.

“I want a profile of Bruce Banner, and a separate one on the Hulk.” He stated, and your eyes flicked to him. You remembered watching the news at the BAU, as the Hulk tore through Harlem. Spencer went on and on about Dr. Banner’s theories in astrophysics, and then the theories that surrounded Dr. Banner’s.... condition.

“Didn’t Bruce Banner fall off the face of the earth after the Harlem incident?” You asked, ignoring the task of profiling the Hulk. He nodded, turning his computer monitor around. It had several red dots throughout the middle east and down into India.

“We’ve been following his whereabouts. You will not be conducting an interview, but just build me a profile based off these files, we’ll be bringing in a few other people who had contact with both Banner and the Hulk, and you can interview them.” He explained, leaving very little room for argument.

“Yes, sir. But, I just need to make sure you understand that these are all secondhand sources, so the profile won’t be near as accurate. And, I’m afraid there won’t be much on the Hulk to profile.” You admitted, collecting the files as you got up.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something, Agent.” He called as you left, for the first time feeling uneasy about your position in SHIELD.

__________

Two months. Two months to build a preliminary profile on your Jekyll/Hyde situation. Two months of reading files, trying to understand his old scientific journals, talking to other scientists who worked with him, and reviewing his childhood through the documents SHIELD could get his hands on.

You looked over your glass board (making you nostalgic for all the cases you has laid out on boards like this, only now you were working alone), printed out photos (mostly of Bruce, but also of Betty and Thaddeus Ross, a few of project Rebirth, and a lot of the Hulk), dry-erase marker notes, a tentative timeline of his life, and red string connecting relevant ideas.

Real name Robert Bruce Banner (10/18/1969), M.D., 7 Ph. D.s, expertise in biochemistry, thermonuclear physics, and specifically in GAMMA radiation. (which was used in the creation of the original supersoldier, Captain Steve Rogers WW2)

Reid would be jealous, he’s only got 4.

Strained relationship with father- from feelings of incompetence/invalidation- possibly what pushed him to constantly overachieve. Went to Harvard, was apart of hallucinogen research trials.

Then a red string connected that thought to one, Betty Ross.

Know a romantic relationship with Betty Ross, after graduation moved with her to Virginia together and were instructors at Culver University. Went on tenure in late 90s, met Erik Selvig- another astrophysicist, and worked on Electron collisions with gamma radiation.

Is this a constant overachiever or just someone who knew his potential?

Up until 9/11 he led a relatively normal life (for a super genius)

Project Rebirth was where it got fishy. Thaddeus Ross (presently General Ross, I had the pleasure of dealing with him with the BAU in the anthrax scare of 2009) father of Betty Ross (Bruce Banner’s then-girlfriend). Tasked with recreating the original super-soldier serum. Knowing of his daughter’s boyfriend’s talents (and of his own ability to possibly manipulate Banner) he recruited Dr. Banner without telling him the truth of what he was working on- that’s why Banner chose Gamma radiation, thinking he was combating radiation poisoning.

ingrained mistrust of authority/father figures, but not likely to act on it. Will keep striving to impress/ complete work. probably why he prefers solace.

Thinking his work was combatting radiation poisoning, and completely on the right track, he tested it on himself- hoping to impress both Ross’s. Of course, since this was now weaponized gamma radiation, it went terribly wrong. Prompting his first transformation into the Hulk. During which, two doctors and a soldier were killed, and Ross’s were among the injured. Overwhelmed with guilt, he escaped to Canada- evading multiple capture attempts. Attempted suicide by gunshot on top of a mountain in Alaska (2006)

eager to impress father figures until another one betrays him, driven by severe guilt, depressive tendencies, unsuccessful suicide attempt.

Escaped to South America and lived in hiding for 2 years until his location was discovered. He transformed into Hulk before returning to America. Stayed hidden for a couple days before the ‘battle at Culver university’ marking the first public appearance of the Hulk. Upon provocation, Hulk took Dr. Ross with him.

Two years without an incident. Bruce Banner has to have a good handle on that anger. Which makes him still extremely organized despite it all.

A few days later, Banner was found in custody and taken in by an Emil Blonsky (special forces) his file was extremely redacted. so that’s all I know on him. After being taken into custody, a second ‘Hulk’ appeared in Harlem. A bitter fight pursued, and with its conclusion, Bruce Banner was in the wind again and still is. Rumors include the middle east, rumors of a Hulk spotting at a destroyed terrorist base.

~~~

With the Hulk, you had less to work with, mostly grainy photos and videos. You had biased first-hand accounts from General Ross, Doctor Ross, Samuel Stern, and a handful of soldiers. The least biased was Betty’s interview but she was very much so still in love with him, so the cognitive interview wasn’t much help. The biggest help you had was the videos of the Hulk in actions of which there weren’t many. Even though they were helpful to the profile, it was like watching videos unsubs would send in- unsettling, scary, and sad.

Preliminary ONLY- this is a tentative profile, it could be largely inaccurate without further information.

Bruce Banner: Reclusive loner type. Can and will survive on his own. Beyond Genius level IQ. High distrust for the government. Goes without saying, but anger issues. Extremely organized. The limited current information makes it hard to complete the profile, but the medical work

Avengers initiative: With his high distrust of the government, it’s more than likely he’ll just be a security risk. And despite his level of control, it will also make him a safety risk to those around him. Unless you require someone with a knowledge of gamma radiation, you’re better off with another astrophysicist.

The Hulk: Despite the low level of control that Dr. Ross reported after the incident, it is clear that no one can control the Hulk. He can be pointed in a direction, but that level of rage is indicative of the lowest form of control and in most cases intelligence. The Hulk will not take orders. This is a stone best left unturned.

_______________

“Director Fury will be pleased with your progress. I think you’ve earned some time off, take a week and when you get back we’ll have more work for you.” Coulson told you in early February as you handed over all your research. You quirked an eyebrow.

“Now that you’ve run out of things for me to do? Am I allowed to visit my old team?” You asked, as he began to leave. Phil turned back to you, with a smile that almost reminded you of a younger version of Rossi.

“As long as you don’t compromise SHIELD intelligence, I don’t care what you do.” He assured, closing the door on his way out. You breathed a laugh, pulling your old go-bag out from under your desk- old habits die hard.

____

more BAU interaction in the next part I promise!!

#marvel x criminal minds #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #captain america x reader

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mythologyfolklore · 4 years

Text

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 17

Chapter Seventeen: The gods during the dark age

“My, those were a few messed up mortal centuries!”, Zeus exclaimed.

The legendary kings of old were no more and the last heroes had finally passed away; Menélaos and Helene, who had been granted a prolonged life, had died together and their souls had been carried away to Elysion, where many of their friends were waiting for them.

“Now that this mess is over, I think mankind should have a break – preferably several centuries.”

“U-huh”, Apollon agreed. “The Age of Heroes is over now. Soon the people who worship us will forget how to even write. The old cultures are dying.”

“So they won't remember us? We will be forgot?”, Hera asked, bewildered.

“Not really”, Zeus soothed his wife. “We will remain in their collective memories. In a few centuries, they will relearn how to record things and stories. They will remember us again and this time, they will write about us. Mankind won't forget us, just where our worship came from and who we once were.”

“But can't we just make them write everything down now, instead of letting them forget?”, Athena objected.

Zeus shook his head. “No, my child. We have been meddling way too much lately. Humanity doesn't need us now, it needs rest. It needs time.”

The goddess of wisdom sighed sadly, but didn't protest any further.

What were centuries to humans were but decades to the gods.

During that time, they focussed on their own lives.

And on their family.

Eris had damaged the bonds between the gods during the great war, but now it was time to repair their family ties.

Of course Eris and Ares' twin Enyo received a house ban; Zeus was now hundred percent done with the quarrelsome nature of his daughter and of the daughter of Nyx. Not only he – the other Olympians applauded, when he announced his decision.

It was a lot more peaceful and a lot more quiet.

Without Dionysos' constant partying it would have been too quiet.

It had been ten Olympian years now and Ares was still travelling the world.

Sometimes he wrote letters to them, but he wasn't much of a writer and his messenger bird needed a while to get to Olympos from wherever its master was.

None of the Olympians would have admitted, that they were happy about the war god's letters. Except for Aphrodite of course; she was quite openly joyful every time the divine vulture arrived with as many letters as it could carry in its talons.

Today was such a day.

They were holding council, when Iris came in.

Zeus rose from his throne. “Iris, this better be an emergency. You know that no one is allowed to disturb the council meetings of the Dodekatheoi, unless the matter is important.”

Iris cleared her throat: “Forgive me, my king, but here is a letter from Ares.”

The meeting was forgot instantly and everyone jumped up.

The eleven Olympians gathered around the rainbow-haired messenger, until Hera snatched the roll of papyrus from Iris' hand.

“Let us see it!”, Aphrodite demanded.

“Everybody settle down!”, Zeus commanded. “Hera, give the letter to me. Let's gather around Hestia's hearth and I will read it to you all.”

So they all did.

Hestia eyed them curiously, as they all gathered around her warm and friendly fire.

“My dear sister, our goddess of the hearth”, Poseidon spoke, “We want to have a little family moment in your peaceful presence.”

Hestia smiled through her flame and it became just a little brighter, as her aura of domestic harmony spread out.

As they all sat down on the floor, Zeus unrolled the scroll and began to read:

“9th Maimakterion¹ (I think)

Dear family,

sorry for not having written to you in a while. Been kinda busy lately. I just arrived here. I'm being on the move a lot, so I don't stay in one place for long enough to have something to write about …”

Zeus huffed: “And he's not even telling us where he is!”

“Read on”, Hera urged.

Her husband went on: “I'm kinda on the other side of the world right now. Kinda boring here in Polynesia – oh, so that's where he is – but it's fun to fly above the Pacific Ocean with the wind. The ocean is so huge, that I need ages to find the tiniest islands. And even longer to find islands where gods live. The communication is awkward, because I don't speak their language and vice versa. Worse, they seem to speak, if not a whole other language, then at least a different dialect on each island. Even using sign language is problematic sometimes. But they seem friendly enough and they do seem to understand the concept of host and guest exchanging presents. There are a few things I have memorised so far, mostly a bunch of prohibitions called Tapu². Some of them are pretty dumb, if you ask me. Then again, once I manage to tell them about my home land, they would probably think some of our traditions pretty stupid too (reasonably so, if you ask me). The peoples of Polynesia have no writing system and neither have their gods.³

So yeah. I'll be staying here for a few mortal decades. Boring as it is around here so far, it's also weirdly relaxing and maybe I will finally get the hang on those Polynesian languages and their culture, which is pretty similar between all these scattered islands (luckily for me). Perhaps then I'll be able to tell you guys more.

That's it.

Sorry for this letter being so short, but there really isn't much to write about right now (also I'm running out of writing material). Maybe I'll go to Australia next.

Sending you gifts from the indigenous gods. They may be simple compared to the last ones, but they were made with love, so you better appreciate them.

Lastly, I'm fine and hope you're too. I'll let you know, when I come to Australia and how long I will stay there, so you too can write to me and tell me how you're doing. I haven't heard from y'all in a while and … well, I just think about you guys a lot. Wish you were here.

Love and miss you all and wishing you happy early or late birthday, because I can hardly congratulate you all punctually.

Always yours, Ares.”

Zeus rolled the letter up. “That's it. The letter really is way too short. Such a shame.”

“Show us, what else he sent us!”, Aphrodite demanded.

The King of the Gods rolled his eyes, but opened the magical bundle the letter had been attached to.

“Ah, look at that!”, he cried, when he pulled out a huge-ass shell. “I think that one is for you, brother.” And handed it to Poseidon.

The sea god laughed and cradled the shell in his lap.

Afterwards each and every of the Olympians received a present of some sort.

Athena grinned, when she was handed a harpoon.

“Don't even think about it!”, Poseidon snarled.

“Too late!”, the wisdom goddess smirked.

“Ah, this is also for you too, I think”, Zeus said, when he fished out a bundle of scriptures written on tree bark, probably because Ares had run out of papyrus.

Athena skimmed over a few of them and smiled. Ares had sent her an account about what he had understood about the culture of the people there so far. How thoughtful of him.

“Here are a few recipes for Hestia – oh, he even has some gifts for Hades and Persephone! Flower seeds and … oh great, more of those creepy masks. Hades will love them.”

“Did he not send anything for me?”, Hephaistos inquired glumly.

Zeus searched through the package. “Doesn't look like – ah, here! 'Dear brother, sadly I haven't found a people that knows metal work so far, so have some photographs.'”

The divine smith beamed and took the stack of photographs.

“Show them to us, pleeeease!”, Aphrodite begged.

Hephaistos handed them around, so the other gods could look at them too.

After the gods had passed the pictures around with lots of chatter, they each tucked their respective souvenirs away and sat in comfortable silence.

Eventually Aphrodite whispered: “I miss him so.”

“Me too”, Hephaistos agreed quietly.

“As do I”, Hermes admitted. “Even though he calls me squirt and pipsqueak all the time.”

Athena spied Zeus and Hera clasping each other's hand – they missed their son too, even though they didn't say it.

Even she herself did miss her prick of a half-brother.

It just seemed too quiet around here, even with Dionysos throwing a party at least once a week. It felt wrong, not seeing him every day, not hearing his dumb suggestions and annoying rambling about violence and the horrors of armed conflict, seeing his throne empty in the assembly … and having someone to spar with. She couldn't even train with Enyo, because the goddess of bloodlust and violence had a house ban (and Zeus was showing no sign of lifting it anytime soon).

Even not hearing the inevitable insulting nicknames felt off by now.

It was lonely without her volatile counterpart.

Not that she would admit it.

A few months later, the Olympians got a letter saying that he was in Australia.

“You wouldn't like it here”, Ares wrote. “The part of the continent where I'm in is unbearably hot (the deserts of Egypt are a dream compared to that) and the gods around here are actually ancestral spirits, rather. They're really benevolent, but you wouldn't like their life style. They're nomads, which honestly is no wonder, because the great desert is … well, pretty damn dry, so staying in one place wouldn't make any sense. They live as hunters and gatherers, just like the mortals here do. Australia has a unique flora and fauna though. In other words, it's fine, if you're tough and can live without the comfort of our civilization.

Btw, I've heard stories about a rainbow snake, who is asleep during dry season and shouldn't be woken up from their slumber. I think I'm gonna wake them up.”

A few weeks later, he updated them: “Waking up the Rainbow Serpent was a shitty idea. The indigenous gods and mortals are now pissed at my stupidity (and my disrespect). The Serpent was really pissed at being disturbed, caused one Tartaros of a thunderstorm and set the whole area underwater. But hey – this place really could use the rain.”

The Olympians laughed; this was just such an Ares thing to do!

Not long after, they got a letter from the New World.

Ares was in South America and travelling up the continent. He would then move on to North America, he wrote, and once he was done there, he would cross the Atlantic and stay with the Norse gods for a while, before returning to Hellas and Olympos.

Zeus put the letter down and sighed: “I hoped that he would return to us right away, as soon as he's back on our continent.”

The other Olympians nodded glumly.

But there wasn't much they could do; they couldn't keep Ares from visiting his old friends, especially when he was so far away.

A few Olympian years later, Ares had finally got his arse up to leaving the Americas and the first European pantheon he stayed with was the Norse one.

“Welcome, Ares, son of Zeus!”, Óðinn greeted the Olympian. “Your father told us, that you were on a journey. I hope your travel was safe?”

“Yup!”, Ares grinned. “Safe and fun! Sorry for just showin' up here, but thanks for havin' me anyways. So good to be here and see y'all! How're ya doin'?”

“Just fine, thank you”, the one-eyed god replied.

“HOLY COW, ARES, IS THAT YOU?!”

Before Ares could respond, he was pulled into a bear hug by a giant of an As with flaming red hair and eyes.

“Hey, Þórr”, Ares choked, squirming in the thunder god's embrace. He didn't worry about the three-quarters-Jötunn crushing him, but damn, he couldn't breath!

“Oh, sorry!”, Þórr laughed sheepishly and put him down.

The Hellenic god gasped for air, before grinning from ear to ear. “Missed ya too, man!”

Ares, who wasn't exactly a small man either, still barely reached up to the Norse god's shoulder and had to stand on his tippy toes to hug the other back.

“What have you been up to?”, Þórr asked.

“Travelling the world, meeting new people, seeing new places – oh, hey, Týr and Freyja!”

“'Sup”, Týr responded and Freyja waved.

Óðinn cleared his throat: “Anyway, my friend, how about you settle down first? Let's find a place for you to stay. And once you have rested a little, how about we throw you a celebration worthy of a divine guest such as you?”

Ares beamed: “Awesome! Your hospitality is one of the greatest things around here – apart from your battle prowess, of course!”, he added with a wink and everyone laughed.

He was received with all honours and it had been a while since he had felt home like this.

The panthea abroad had been nice and all, but their definition of hospitality was completely different, sometimes downright dubious. This was what he knew; the Germanic and Hellenic peoples had their hospitality in common. And the crazy parties of the Norse gods were right up his alley.

He had been invited to stay in the halls of Óðinn himself and that was fine with him. While the one-eyed god had his own brand of creepiness (which was reflected in his Kenningar: Raven God, Father of the Slain, Father of Victory, Hanged God, Foretelling God …⁴) he was a fine host … most of the time.

That evening he was laughing and dancing with his hosts (and watching out for a certain trickster, who likely would try to prank him).

A few of the gods were looking on in envy, as Ares danced wildly with Freyja, laughed heartily with Þórr and even had an arm wringing match with Óðinn (turned out the Allfather was a lot stronger than he looked) which ended in a draw.

There was some amusement, when Ares got into a little spat with Óðinn's blood-brother Loki.

The trickster had the tendency to roast everyone, when he was drunk – good to see, that this hadn't changed in all those centuries.

The Æsir just rolled with it, obviously having heard it all before.

Ares on the other hand (though he too was used to being roasted) had no intention to let it slide and perhaps escalate; this was a party, not an assembly or battlefield.

After a short banter with the trickster (that he lost, because even drunk Loki was more eloquent and witty than him), he just made short work of it and carried the smaller god off, to where he knew Loki's own house to be.

“Foxy jerk made trouble again?”, Sigyn deadpanned, when she saw her drunk husband squirming on the taller god's shoulder.

“Just some roasting”, Ares told her and dropped the fire giant unceremoniously. “Not really trouble. Still, I think he needs a nap.”

“Sure does”, Sigyn snarled.

Ares almost laughed, when the tiny goddess dragged Loki off, grumbling about how “the foxy jerk” made nothing but trouble and so on.

Olympos, 4th Poseideon⁵

My dear love,

thank you for telling us you're in Asgard.

Your children and I have been anxious, since you haven't written to us in a while.

We're doing okay and it's good to know that so are you.

We hope you have lots of fun in Asgard.

But you really should come home soon.

We miss you all so terrible, even your parents and – you won't believe it – even Athena misses you! Of course she would never admit that, but I know she does; women just know these things, you see. Things down on earth are starting to get interesting too. This one city in Italy, Rome is its name, is showing great ambition. The Italian gods are starting to get more ambitious too. Venus is a bit obnoxious at times and it pisses me off, because Aineías was my son, not hers! And don't get me started on Mars – I know, you hate him.

But to more pleasant things; the rest of our family is okay too, but your father has been very glum lately, I don't know why.

Hephaistos is working on improving his far-speakers and cameras even further, though he did that just last year. Oh well, I guess a genius is never truly satisfied.

Eris and Enyo are alright too, I think. At least Athena says so – she meets them more often than I do. Athena is in a bad mood, because she has no one to spar with – she's complaining that sparring with Enyo just isn't the same.

But I must go now, your mother is stress-baking again and I want to get at one of her delicious cakes.

I love you lots, we all do.

And we miss you.

Please be back soon, Ares.

In love, Aphrodite.

Ares grinned and tucked the letter into his magical bag.

“So Daddy's Owl misses me too, huh?”

---

1) Maimakterion: the Attic month from November to December. I allowed myself a small anachronism here, because the Attic calendar was likely invented just a bit later than where my story currently is. The Attic calendar is a lunisolar calendar and was used in Athens. The month Maimakterion is named after an epithet of Zeus. 2) Tapu: "Consecrated/Forbidden/Prohibited/Cursed" (also "tabu" or "kapu", the spelling and precise meaning depend on the region), the traditional prohibitions of the Polynesian peoples. The origin of the word "taboo". 3) The only known exception is the Rongorongo glyph system from the Easter Island, which hasn't been deciphered yet. 4) Those are genuine epithets of Odin. 5) Poseideon: the Attic month from December to January. I think you can guess who this one is named after.

Bonus: I sincerely apologise for my treatment of Australia. I had to write this from the POV of an entitled Greek god who is used to ... well, Greek culture. And the ancient Greeks were rather snobbish towards the rest of the world.

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3

Over the last few months you and Steve were living a blissfully mundane life. Things were quiet in Wakanda so they asked you to stay state side. Steve only went to the compound a few days a week. Sometimes you would tag along. You liked visiting with Clint and Laura and their children. Steve loved watching you with the kids. Even though you repeatedly said you did not want children he knew you really did. He wouldn’t push the issue.

Everything was so easy that you didn’t even bat an eye when Steve said he and the team were headed to Nigeria. Sure it would be dangerous. They were going after Rumlow and the remainder of the STRIKE team. This would not be an easy mission. He talked to you a lot about strategy and how to minimize casualties. A man like Rumlow would likely go for a big showdown because the Avengers Initiative was already under scrutiny.

“Ok, my love, I’m out of here. I’ll call when we land.” You jump up to kiss Steve goodbye.

“K. I love you. Stay safe. I’ll see you in a few days.” He kisses you deeply dropping his shield which makes an awful sound.

“I love you too. See you in a few days.”

“You come back to me, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiles and he’s out the door.

It was literally disgusting how much you loved Steve Rogers. You’ve never been this happy in your life. Don’t get too comfortable. With the lives you lead there’s bound to be pain. You shoved that thought into the back of your mind and tried to carry on with your day. You just had a nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong. That made you do something you vowed never to do. You hacked into Steve’s computer. Even though you knew he wouldn’t walk back in you still felt paranoid.

Most of the time when girls snooped they were looking for evidence of cheating. Maybe porn. Even his porn was boring. He’d run screaming if he knew what you were really into.

No. You were looking for mission reports. You looked for anything that could give you insight into what Steve was really getting into. You knew some details. They were going after Rumlow. You didn’t know what was in Nigeria. You skimmed some building plans. Looks like a lab. You searched the name of the lab and found mostly pharmaceutical research. Back to Steve’s notes there was mention of a bio weapon. That was it. That was a major operation.

You paced back and forth thinking of all the questions he asked over the last few weeks of the planning phase. Why didn’t you see it? Nat Steve and Sam were highly trained and could handle this sort of thing. Not Wanda. She was too unstable and inexperienced to be on this type of mission. They should have taken Rhodey or Tony instead of her. It pissed you off that they routinely excluded them. Steve was trying to distance himself from Tony a little. You didn’t like any of it.

You decided that was enough intelligence gathering for the day. Quite frankly the whole thing gave you a migraine. You checked your calendar and saw that you had a meeting with T’Challa soon. The UN was meeting in Vienna in a few days and he wanted to go over security.

“Good morning, Mhibu. How is your life of domestic bliss?” T’Challa teased you like a brother. He loved seeing you happy but had reservations about Steve’s motives.

“It’s going well. Thank you. Have you spoken with Nakia?”

“I’m afraid not. Nakia is on her own path. She will find her way back to me. I know her heart.” His face went from joyous to thoughtful. He and Nakia have been in love since they were children. Nakia wanted to save the world. She couldn’t do that from Wakanda. You cleared your throat.

“Well, your highness, Vienna looks pretty well secure. No vehicles are allowed within a 20 block radius. Your security team has already been granted upper level clearance. The floor of your hotel is virtually empty. I think you’re good.”

“Perfect. Thank you for all of your hard work. When will we see you again? Mother has been asking for you.”

“Soon. Steve is in Nigeria now. Hopefully when he gets back I can talk him in to taking the trip.”

“Nigeria? Where exactly?”

“Lagos I think.” His expression changed quickly.

“We have a good will team in Lagos right now.” Your heart sank. There it was again. That overwhelming sense of dread.

“Yikes. Maybe reach out to them? Let them know to be on the look out.”

“I will, Mhibu. Please contact me at once when you speak with Captain Rogers.”

“Yes, sir.” He hung up without saying goodbye. You tried calling Steve. No answer. He was in the air no doubt.

You spent the rest of the day pacing the floor. You didn’t eat. The very thought of food turned your stomach. You couldn’t sleep but your body was exhausted. Steve finally called early the next morning. You jumped when your phone rang.

“Steve? Hey.”

“Y/N. It’s bad. We stopped Rumlow. He ran into a market. It was so crowded. He detonated explosives. Wanda contained the blast and transported it into a building

“How many dead?”

“Thirty. Ten of them were from Wakanda. I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you before you heard from someone else.”

You dropped the phone and ran to the sink to vomit. Steve tried calling out to you but you didn’t answer. Your Kimoyo beads started alerting. It was Okoye.

“Y/L/N, you are needed. Transportation will be to you within the hour.” You nodded and she hung up. You scrambled to pack a bag and called Steve.

“Hey, my girl. We have things pretty sewn up here. We’re on the jet. Be home by late tonight.”

“I won’t be. I’ve been called back. I’m leaving shortly. They will call for Wanda’s prosecution. You should know that.”

“She’s just a kid.”

“Right which is why she shouldn’t have been out there. She’s too inexperienced to have dealt with Rumlow. You knew that. People died, Steve. My friends. I have to go face their families. I can’t protect her. I’ll call you when I get there. You should stay at the compound.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“Of course not. You should stay with Wanda. I have to go. I love you.”

“I love you too. Come home soon. Please.” You hung up.

You reached Wakanda before daylight. You were ushered into the palace. King T’Chaka and the Council were waiting.

“Y/N. Please come in. What can you tell us about Wanda Maximoff?” You stood before the Council. Your hands trembled.

“She has scientifically enhanced magical abilities. She can warp reality. She can manipulate time matter energy and the laws of probability. She was the subject of genetic experimentation by Hydra along with her twin brother Pietro. He was killed in Sokovia.”

“What do you know about the mission in Lagos?”

“Nothing. I am not privy to such information.”

“I see.”

“Miss Y/L/N, this Council would hate to accuse you of protecting your boyfriend. May we remind you that you are an outsider to Wakanda. The King and Queen have accepted you. Not everyone on this Council shares their sentiment.”

“Counselor M’Bali with all due respect, Captain Rogers and I do not discuss sensitive matters. I have more than earned the respect of the Royal Family. I will continue to do my best to earn yours.”

“Miss Y/L/N do you support the Sokovia Accords?” asked King T’Chaka. You were quiet for a moment fighting back tears.

“Yes, Your Grace. I support them fully.”

“Do you think Captain Rogers will support them as well?” You almost laughed. You knew Steve wouldn’t agree. Moreover you knew if he found out you knew, it would break his heart.

“I don’t think he will be quite as accepting.”

“Secretary Ross will be presenting the Avengers with the proposal. You will return home to convince him.”

“Your Grace, Steven Grant Rogers is as stubborn as an ox. But I will do my best. When will I be leaving? I would like to pay my respect to the deceased.”

“Of course. Stay for a few days. You’ll fly home before we leave for Vienna. Please, join us for breakfast. My wife is longing to see you.” You bow and go to your room to freshen up. You felt weak and bone tired.

When you got to the dining room Queen Ramonda stood to embrace you. “Mhibu! Beautiful girl. I’ve missed you.” The Queen served as your surrogate mother over the last few years. When she first met you in the hospital, she wept when you told her how you came to be injured. She insisted on helping you get back to your family. T’Challa explained to her that, because your own men hurt you, it would cause an international incident if you left the country with the help of a foreign government. With that, she arranged for you to return to Wakanda. She would not take no for an answer.

“I don’t mean to sound insensitive but, you don’t look well.”

“I know. I’ve been traveling all night and haven’t really eaten.”

“Well come sit. Eat.” Shuri comes in and kisses her mother. “Wow! Y/N, you look like shit.”

“SHURI! Apologize.” You just laughed. Shuri was never one to mince words.

“Let me look you over after breakfast.” You agree and finally start eating. Others come to join you. You feel more like yourself.

The remains of the good will ambassadors are returning. The Royal Family is hosting a memorial service to honor the deceased and to pray for their souls to enter into their next chapter. You stood with these families sharing their tears, their pain. You prayed with them and listened to their stories. Your sympathy was not enough. Even getting justice was not enough. Putting Wanda in prison would not bring their loved ones back. You had to make sure no other family suffered at the hands of the Avengers.

Once you collected yourself you found Shuri. You were starting to feel sick again. Maybe it was the heat but you were feeling queasy. “Ok, Y/N. Lie down. Let’s have a look.” She started scanning your body starting at your head. “Uh huh. Here’s your problem right here.”

“What?!” you said squinting at the image “What is that?”

“Well that’s your uterus. Here is a sack. And there is your baby. See the heartbeat, Mhibu? I would say you are around eight weeks. I’ll get a midwife.”

You laid on the table in complete shock. You hadn’t spoken to Steve since yesterday. You knew he was dealing with a lot. So were you. A midwife came over to confirm the scan. “Yes, Y/N. Congratulations. Looks like you are nine weeks along. Very healthy.”

“Shuri, not a word about this to anyone until I talk to Steve.”

“Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”

You went to your room and called Steve. He sounded upset.

“Y/N, I’m glad you called. I’m heading to London. Sharon...Peggy passed away.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

“Can you come with me?”

“Of course. I’ll be there first thing in the morning. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You said your goodbyes to the family. Shuri gave you some prenatal vitamins and something for nausea. Queen Ramonda’s eyes widened and she winked at you. You smiled and put your finger to your lips.

LONDON

You met Steve at the church. He was quiet. You sat with Sam and Nat. The services were beautiful. Peggy was such an accomplished woman. You understood why he loved her. After the service was over he talked with Sharon. You hung back.

“Are you two ok?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. I think so. We haven’t really talked.”

“That was a bombshell Ross dropped on us. Did you know about the accords?”

“Yes. I’m sorry but I did.”

“Steve is pissed.”

“I watched ten families say goodbye to there loved ones today, Sam. I’m tired of all this bloodshed.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that but you can’t possibly agree....”

“I agree that there needs to be oversight.”

“When it’s an emergency we can’t wait for a committee to decide if we step in.”

“I agree. The US also can’t unleash super people onto foreign soil. Look, I don’t want to talk about this here.”

“You’re right. Let’s go check on our boy.”

You joined Steve and Sharon. Steve put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his body. “Hey, stranger” he said softly.

“How are you doing?” He pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Could be better. Why aren’t you in Vienna?”

“I didn’t want you to be alone.” He hugged you tighter and all but collapsed in your arms. You cried too but not for the same reasons.

Sam came into the room and cleared his throat. “You guys. I’m sorry to interrupt but you have to see this” There was an explosion in Vienna. King T’Chaka was killed. News footage showed Bucky at the scene. “Oh my God” you said covering your mouth. “I have to go.” They raced behind you helping you gather your things. “Y/N that’s not him..”

“Stop.” You tried holding back tears dialing your phone to arrange transport.

“We can get you there faster than someone can get to you” Sharon said “Please let us help.” Steve tried to grab your hand but you pulled away. Your phone rang. It was one of the Dora calling instead of Okoye. “The General requested that you meet the Prince in Vienna at once.” “I’m on my way. Who is with him?” “He is alone.” “Ok. I will be to him within the hour.”

You got on the jet and flew in silence. Once you were closer you changed clothes and still refused to make eye contact with Steve. He was watching you actively avoid him. “Can you say something? Please?”

“What would you have me say? He is...was like a father to me. T’Challa is alone.”

“I’m sorry. I know how you are feeling but...”

“You have no idea how I’m feeling.” You landed and grabbed your bag. Before exiting the plane you looked at Steve who was standing now. “I will not stop Prince T’Challa from seeking justice for his father. Get to Bucky before he does.”

“Wait. Where does this leave us?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Please don’t walk away from me. I love you” his voice broke.

“Then admit that Bucky can’t be saved and let us take care of it.”

“He can be, Y/N. I know he can. I have to help him.”

“Bucky didn’t become this way because of you. Don’t you see? This isn’t your fault.”

“I LOST HIM THAT DAY. I CANNOT AND WILL NOT LOSE HIM AGAIN.” This is the first time Steve has ever raised his voice to you. It stung like a slap. “Please, Y/N. I’m sorry this is happening. What happened...neither of us can change that. We can’t walk away from each other right now. I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you. Tell me you love me.” he grabbed your hand and kissed your fingertips then your palm and pressed it to his face. You held his face for a moment. Your phone was ringing. Sharon called after him. You tried pulling away but he held you tighter.

“Please. I have to go. “

“Tell me..”

“Stop. I have to go.”

“Y/N, please. Tell me you love me.” You couldn’t speak. Of course you loved him. You couldn’t get your dumb brain to make words. You were shaking and crying. He was crying. “I love you, Steve. I have to go.” He let your hand go. You rushed off without looking back.

T’Challa sat on a bench outside of the UN building. His father’s blood spattered his shirt. You sat next to him not knowing if you should touch him or even speak. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Mhibu what use would it have been to have you there? He could not have been saved.” He held your hand. You had never laid eyes on Bucky Barnes other than the pictures in his file but you couldn’t help but feel responsible. “I won’t stand in your way, Prince T’Challa.”

“Of course you will. For the man you love you will move mountains. I cannot fault you. And I love my father. The love that a child has for a parent is immeasurable. I will kill Sergeant Barnes. Captain Rogers will need you.”

“But I love you too. Your family has shown me more kindness. I don’t know where I would be without you. I am responsible.”

“No, you aren’t. The man responsible will answer for his crimes.” He hugged you but it did not have anything behind it. He was still in shock. He slipped on his father’s ring and was off.

Nat was already in Vienna but was not injured in the blast. She spoke to T’Challa briefly as well. When she found you on the bench she sat down and said, “Steve and Sam are here.”

“Yes”

“They’ll try find Bucky”

“Yep”

“What will happen if T’Challa does first?”

“He’ll kill him. Or he’ll die trying.” You knew T’Challa would use every resource at his disposal including his suit.

“You have to know this won’t end well.”

“Yep.”

“What will you do?”

“You’re asking me who will I choose. Ask the right questions, Natasha.”

“Are you ready to answer that question?”

“No.” You put your head in your hands and wept. She rubbed your back.

“I wish I could tell you the answer. This is a tough one, buddy.”

“I’m pregnant.” Her eyes got wide and she gasped.

“Shit. Does Steve know?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

After the tussle with German Special Forces in Bucharest everyone was transferred to Berlin. You and Nat waited in a conference room with Tony who was on the phone with Secretary Ross. You didn’t have access to Steve so you went to T’Challa first.

“Prince T’Challa, are you hurt?”

“No. Go back to Wakanda. Escort the King home. This is not a fight you can be a part of.”

“I should help.”

“And risk your safety? I cannot ask you to do that. Mother will have my head if anything happens to you or the baby. You know I can take care of myself.”

“Shuri?”

“My sister has a big mouth.” You both laughed. “Have you told Captain Rogers?”

“I hardly think this is the time.”

“He should know. He’s about to risk everything. He should know who he should really fight for.” You nodded.

“Will they release your father to me?”

“I will arrange it. You won’t have long. Go. Speak with him.”

“Please be careful.”

“Always.” You hugged him and then left to find Steve. He was sitting at the table being scolded by Tony.

“Ah, Y/N. Are you here as a Wakandan operative or Steve’s girlfriend?”

“Tony...”Nat tried to interrupt. Steve went to speak up but you put your hand up to signal to him that you were ok.

“Both. Steve can I to you alone?”

“Hey don’t try to help him escape. He’s been a bad boy.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Tony.”

You stepped out into the hall. There were too many people. You found an empty room and pulled him in. You wrapped your arms around him and he hugged you back so tight.

“What’s going to happen?”

“Secretary Ross is calling for our prosecution. I’m sorry to put you in this position.”

“It’s fine. I knew the risks going in.” He smiled and kissed you.

“I’m going to escort the King back to Wakanda. I feel like I shouldn’t stick around for what’s going to happen next.”

“Ok. I’ll keep in touch with you the best I can.”

“I know. I have to tell you something. Steve, I’m pregnant.” He stepped back to look at you. His mouth went dry. He was speechless.

“You don’t have to be a part of our lives. I know you have more pressing things to worry about. We’ll be fine....” You paced and stared at the floor while you spoke.

“Look at me.” He grabbed your shoulders to stop you from moving.

“Are you serious right now? How far...how long have you known?”

“Just a few days. It was never the right time to tell you. Now that you’re about to do something incredibly dangerous, it seemed like the only time to do it.” He held you and kissed you. It was the deepest most passionate kiss you could imagine.

“I’m going to take such good care of the two of you.”

“I would hope so. I have to go. You had better come back to us, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am. Hey. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You had the devastating task of riding with the Dora’s to escort the King home. The Queen and Princess Shuri met them. You stepped away to give them some privacy. You could hear them. The grief was palpable. You excused yourself and hid in your room. A few hours later Queen Ramonda was at your door.

“How are you feeling?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

You patted the bed for her to sit. “I’m ok. Tired.”

“Hmm. I remember when I was pregnant for Shuri chasing after T’Challa. He was so full of life. I was not.”

“So he was high spirited?”

“To say the least. Have you told Captain Rogers?”

“I have. He took it well. Shocked but happy. I didn’t get a chance to really tell you how sorry I am. I should have gone to Vienna.”

“Hush. It was his time. His next chapter is beginning. He is at peace. All of this pomp and circumstance. The crying and carrying on. That is for the living.”

“T’Challa does not share the same sentiment.”

“No. My son is not his father. He will learn.”

“In the mean time my boyfriend and my adopted brother are fighting. I’m worried.”

“I trust T’Challa to show restraint. Captain Rogers is a good man. I trust he will do the same.” She kissed your forehead and left to rest. You could not possibly close your eyes. You stared at the wall wishing one of them would call to let you know everything was ok.

It had been two days and still no word from Steve. Your midwife was breathing down your neck for an appointment but you didn’t want to go without him. You kept yourself busy working with Shuri. You started looking through news reports and anything you could find trying to get a location. You called Sam. No answer.

You tried Nat, “Nat? Have you heard from him?”

“No. Sam, Wanda, Clint and Scott are being held at the moment. I was going to call you. We really need to find him, Y/N.” Your blood went cold. “Why? So you can lock him up too?”

“He almost killed Tony. Rhodey is paralyzed. No one wants him in prison.”

“Ross does.”

“Please. I don’t want this to get worse.”

“Well I haven’t heard from him.”

“Ok. If you do...” You hung up. You found a renewed purpose and started looking for the prison.

Finally, the next day, Shuri heard from T’Challa. He was visibly shaken. “It wasn’t Barnes. I almost killed the wrong man.”

“Where are they now?” you asked looking up the coordinates for the Hydra base.

“Mhibu, when I left, Steve and Tony were fighting. Really fighting. Steve almost killed him. I don’t know where he and Barnes went. I’m sorry.” You had to sit down. Your stomach turned into terrible knots. You were going to be sick. You tried his phone again. No answer.

T’Challa returned. He spent some time with his family before coming to find you.

“How are you?”

“Worried.”

“I promised Captain Rogers I would take care of you myself.”

“No. Please don’t say that. That means he’s not coming back. He promised.”

“We will find him, Mhibu. I will bring your Captain home.” He hugged you and you cried into his shoulder.

T’Challa received word from Everette Ross that there was a breach in the floating prison. Steve sent his communication device back to Tony. No way to track any of them. He was in shock when he heard from Steve the next morning.

Until they could figure out how to deprogram him, Bucky asked to go back into the ice. Wakanda had the capabilities and could keep him safe. Steve watched Bucky as he was frozen. “I believe there is someone waiting for you, Captain.” Steve smiled and shook his hand.

When he found you you were bent over a computer screen tapping your pencil on the desk. “Don’t we have an appointment to get to?” You dropped your cup, jumped up from your seat and ran over. “Should we clean that up?” “After you kiss me.” And so he did. You held each other for what felt like ages. “I promised I’d come back” he said against your hair. “I knew you would.” “Come on. I want to see my baby.” “Wait. Where’s Sam and Bucky? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” “We have all the time in the world to talk about this, kid. Let’s go.”

The midwife was waiting for you. She shook Steve’s hand and let you get on the table. Wakanda had technology far superior to anywhere else so they were able to scan the baby without an ultrasound. She pulled up the screen and turned up the volume. “Is that his heartbeat?”

“What makes you so sure that’s a he?”

“Lucky guess?”

“The baby is not big enough to see yet if it is a boy or a girl.” said the midwife “If you want to know I can run some tests.” You looked at each other. You were eager to know. “What do you think, mommy. Should we wait?”

“I want to know now if that’s ok.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Yes. We want to know.” She touched some points on the screen.

“I am analyzing the baby’s chromosomal make up. This will spot any abnormalities and will determine if Captain Rogers passed on the X or Y chromosome. It will just take a few minutes.” Steve stared at the screen watching the baby’s heart beating. “Is it’s heart supposed to beat so fast.” She smiled, “Yes. Your daughter’s heart is perfectly healthy.” His eyes filled with tears. He kissed your cheek and watched your daughter’s heart beating.

#steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #mcu x reader #captain america x reader

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