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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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The Daughter of Aphrodite | Leo Valdez

Hello Lovelies! So I was inspired by my classics class and figured hey, what better than to write about Leo Valdez to make the cravings go away? This is my first Leo fic and I decided to take up a third person perspective because it felt right. It’s really fluffy and I hope you all enjoy! Until next time, all my love!

Description: Leo and y/n have been pining after each other for too long. Her friends help her come up with a plan to get close to him, now she has to cross her fingers that her mother, Aphrodite, doesn’t step in.

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Female!Reader

Warnings: Absolutely none

Word Count: 2.7k

Tags: FLUFF

(Pics not mine but mood board is :) )

Her hands were covered in dirt, a trait most uncommon to a daughter of Aphrodite. Somehow, though, she wore it like a pair of silk evening gloves. Her hair was messy, thrown in a bun atop her head, but every strand that fell around her face seemed as though placed by the gods themselves. Even in chaos she was perfect.

Leo leaned precariously against a two by four, watching the daughters of Aphrodite and Demeter replant the gardens around camp. Well, more like the daughters of Demeter and one daughter of Aphrodite. The rest of the Aphrodite sisters were lounging in the sun, avoiding the mud. He couldn’t help but smile when one of her friends gingerly rubbed some dirt off her face. He could almost hear the girl scold her. Always getting your hands dirty, hun.

“Just talk to her already man.”

“I have, multiple times. At least a couple times a day.”

Jason ran a frustrated hand through his hair, watching as his friend watched the girl he loved from a distance. Everyone at the camp knew how Leo felt, everyone except her. She was every bit as pure as she was kind. Not to mention loving, gentle, and patient. She was everything he knew he needed and, even more so, everything he desperately wanted.

“You know what I mean.”

Leo turned to his best friend, a lazy smile plastered on his face, “I know, man. I will.”

Jason only grumbled before heading off. Leo always said that. Clearly he hadn’t followed through yet. Not that it mattered. No one was exactly raring to go head to head with the boy who could light his entire body on fire. His girl would remain his girl until he could work up the courage to, well, make her his girl. Still, Jason just wanted his friend to be happy.

Leo watched her for another moment before heading off to do what he was supposed to be doing; fixing the door for the sons of Ares.

Across the green, musical giggles filled the spaces between the chatter. Her laughs were contagious, the Demeter girls rolling around in the plots they were supposed to be filling with hydrangeas, clutching their stomachs with red faces. The other girls, her sisters, also laughed, just a little more contained. They sipped on pink lemonade, twirling the straws in dainty fingers.

“So you’re telling me,” Arabella, a Demeter daughter with wayward curls, barely contained a chuckle, “you have never been kissed.”

Dawn, one of y/n’s sisters, chimed in with a few of her own runaway giggles, “don’t forget the best part: she’s never been kissed because every time a boy gets close, mother steps in!”

They collapsed again in another fit, filling the camp with some much needed life. She smiled sweetly, cheeks blushed like an angel, giggling right along with them. It was funny after all. She liked making her friends smile, it made her feel warm inside.

“Is it really true? Every time a boy has gone to kiss you Aphrodite has stepped between it?’

Her voice was pure honey, slow and sugary, “oh yes. One time, right as a boy leaned in, a bolt of lightning struck the ground, right at his feet. I’m not sure what she told Zeus to get him to do it. Mother has her ways, I'm sure.”

“Well,” the giggles died down but the atmosphere remained light, “if you could kiss any boy here, without Aphrodite striking him down that is, who would it be?”

Her eyes widened a touch at the question. One boy immediately swam to her mind but she brushed it away quickly, her smile still neatly in place. She knew for a fact that he wasn’t interested in her like that so there was no reason to offer his name to the group. Regardless, though, her heart still fluttered for a certain son of Hephaestus.

She coiled a loose strand of hair around her finger, her charm bracelet jingling gently on her wrist, “hmm, I’m not sure.”

Her sisters eyed each other cheekily before peering around the camp. When their gaze landed on precisely who they had been looking for, they giggled a collective hum.

“How about him, hun? Would you kiss him if you could?” Daisy nodded her glass across the field.

Her eyes wandered with her sister’s gesture, past a couple of younger campers playing a game, to a boy fixing what looked like the door to the Ares cabin. Silly boys, always rough housing. That cabin had to have the window fixed just last week. Her eyes lingered on him a little longer than they should have considering she was trying to convince her sisters that she didn’t like him. Her soft lip pulled between her teeth as he ran a hand through his hair.

Giggles erupted around her again, pulling her from her daze with heated cheeks, “Leo? He would never kiss me.”

The giggles only increased. Her eyes shifted quickly to the Ares cabin, hoping to Zeus that her group wasn’t causing too much of a scene. She wasn’t so lucky. Her eyes met Leo’s brown ones from across the lawn, her nose instantly burning. She tried to look away, she wanted to. Well, she thought she wanted to, at least, but his eyes held hers in a way that made it impossible to look anywhere else.

She bit her lip again and he smirked, his lips pulling tight in a way that should be a crime. His skin caught the light like a gem, shining from his labour in the hot sun. When he noticed her eyes, drawing over his face and arms, his grin widened and her heart stuttered dramatically. When he winked at her and went back to work, her heart stopped.

“Oh, hun,” Arabella’s hand swept under her chin, pulling y/n’s focus from the fire boy, “you’re clueless, aren’t you? Have your sisters taught you nothing? That boy is smitten.”

Sarah Beth, her eldest sister, huffed indulgently, a teasing smile on her rosy lips, “oh we tried, Ara, trust us we did. Sis is helpless. Blame it on mother.”

Y/n whined, the sound like one of Apollo’s harps, “what do I do? I’m cursed!”

Even in her torment she giggled, rubbing her cheek affectionately in Arabella’s palm. Arabella smiled lovingly, an idea sparking as she pulled y/n’s face back up. It was a foolproof one, too. Arabella looked at her wide eyes, watching them dart across the green to the boy she was clearly head over heels for. Yes, it needed more than anything to be foolproof.

Arabella poured a fresh glass of lemonade, taking extra care to mix enough ice with the pink liquid. She plopped a straw in it, stirring it once, twice, three times before shoving it in y/n’s perfectly polished nails.

Her eyebrows scrunched, a cute confusion laid over her features, “I have lemonade, Bella.”

Arabella had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, “it’s not for you,” her eyes tilted to Leo, “he looks thirsty, hun. I think he wants a drink.”

“I don’t think lemonade is what he’s after,” Sara Beth didn’t look up from her own drink but her cat like grin said it all.

Her sisters had to stifle another wave of giggles as she gingerly passed the lemonade back and forth between her hands, contemplating whether or not to go to him. When she looked over at him for the hundredth time in an hour, she made up her mind. It was now or never.

She stood, much too gracefully for a girl with a heart racing a mile a minute, and took a deep breath, “please, mother, do be nice. He’s a lovely boy. I really like him.”

“Go get him, tiger,” Arabella nudged her gently towards the mechanic, a proud smile on every girl in and around the flowerbeds.

The walk across the green felt like it was never ending and much too short all at the same time. Every step that she took towards his crouched figure she debated downing the liquid herself and then running away. But no, she couldn’t. He was like a magnet, drawing her towards him with ridiculous ease. He didn’t even know he was doing it, that was the worst part. The tips of her ears felt hot, her feet stopping a few feet away from him. Oh, gods, what did she get herself into this time?

Leo’s hands stalled, a flowery scent curling around his face and clinging to his skin. He closed his eyes, breathing in as much of it as he could. That had to be what heaven smelled like, he just knew it. Like chrysanthemums and honeydew. Yes, he knew for certain. He drew another breath. Gods, he couldn’t get enough.

“Hey, Leo,” her voice went high, her words like unintentional poetry, “whatcha working on there?”

Why did she say that? She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. So silly, what did it look like he was doing? When she opened them Leo was looking at her, a loose grin on his lips, a glint in his chocolate eyes. Her chest squeezed fervently.

“I’ll give you one guess,” his eyes glanced to the door before landing back on her, peering at her from his seat on the ground.

She scrunched her nose at him, trying not to giggle as he stood to face her, “oh ha ha, very funny.”

Leo laughed easily, a sound less honeyed than her own but still so sweet, “that’s my job. Well, when I’m not picking up after Ares’ sons. Can you believe they split the door in half?”

She glanced up at him, her doe eyes dancing over his tanned skin and black curls, unable to fight the butterflies that bounded inside her chest. He really was something. She held the glass a touch tighter when she breathed in his motor oil and nutmeg scent. She was certain this was what Olympus smelled like, not that she’d ever been.

“Honestly yes, I can,” she met his eyes again, sucking in a small breath when they drew down her body to the drink she had yet to hand over.

His eyes flitted back to hers and darkened a touch, a knowing smirk plastered on his lips, “say, is that for me, cariño?”

Her cheeks flamed and she knew if she lifted a hand to them they would be hot to the touch. How fitting.

“Erm,” she stalled, pulling her lip between her teeth once more, her eyes shifted to the grass at her toes, “I thought you might like some lemonade? If not that’s ok! It was silly of me, I’m sorry, I can just-”

Leo’s hand closed around hers, pulling the glass, and by default her, closer to his heady nutmeg chest, “I’d love some, thank you.”

His voice had lost its playful edge, only the soft warmth remained. He lifted the glass to his lips, drawing her hands with his as he took the first sip. She could practically hear her sisters swoon from across the grass. Wow, she’s really doing it isn’t she? Way to go, sis! Her whole body heated this time, her neck to her toes consumed by lapping flames. It was intoxicating.

Leo took the glass from her hands and set it on the step beside him, the taste of strawberries pungent on his lips. When he glanced back at her, he ran his tongue across his lip. The light hit her in a way that was entirely ethereal, clinging to her skin in a way that defied the laws of physics. It was maddening, like standing next to one of the muses themselves. God’s when did this ever happen to someone like him?

“It’s my sister’s recipe,” she fiddled with her fingers, lost with what to do without the glass to hold onto, “I hope you like it.”

He closed the small gap between them even more, pulling her fingers into his. Her heart skyrocketed, his hand was warm and calloused. His fingers fit too perfectly into the spaces between her own. Was it normal to be this breathless?

“It was sweet,” he squeezed his hand in hers, his voice carefree but low.

He slipped his other arm around her waist, thanking the gods for wherever his courage was miraculously stemming from. She practically buzzed in his arms, her melon and flower perfume melting around him. He bit the inside of his cheek. Was it perfume, or was it just her supple skin?

“I like sweet things,” he mused, revelling in the way her eyes widened, catching his innuendo without missing a beat.

Her mind was stuck on his hand. It was on her back, low on her spine, his fingers lightly tickling up and down. She avoided arching into his fingers. It was heavenly. He was good with his hands and it showed.

Her eyes brushed over him once more, stopping on his lips for a millisecond too long, “she makes muffins too.”

He tightened his arm around her, drawing the daughter of Aphrodite against his chest. Gods, she was soft.

“I don’t want muffins, cariño.”

Now or never, Leo. He leaned his head down, his nose brushing hers sweetly.

Please, mother, let me have this. She tilted her head up, her hands sliding up his chest.

Leo’s lips found hers at the same time her hands circled his neck. His lips were slow, testing to see if she would kiss him back, as if it was even an option for her not to with the way the flames, his flames, were licking at her skin. How did he do it? She felt like the sun; his lips tasted like fire and recklessness. And strawberries, a bushel of them.

She took his sweet kiss, savoured it, and then slammed her lips back against his, slipping her hands into his raven locks and tugging-- hard. He moaned softly against her sweet lips, giving in to every demand her mouth challenged. How could her lips be sweeter than the lemonade? He clutched her harder against him.

She pulled back only when her lungs demanded it, leaning her forehead against his heaving chest. She took the staggering lack of lightning as a good sign as a dizzying warmth filled her chest. He pressed his face against her hair, nuzzling against her sweetness lovingly. He had been waiting forever for that and he wasn’t about to let her go just yet.

Her fingers slid back down his chest, curling around his shirt, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you, Leo.”

What? He pulled his head away from her hair, staring into her doe eyes confused. And then he laughed, a full laugh that had his whole chest shaking and hers as well, before drawing his lips back to hers. He tugged her bottom lip between his lip, his hands squeezing her hips fiercely. She’s mad, beautiful but out of her mind. Gods.

“Cariño,” his lips brushed over hers, his words mingling with her breaths, “I kissed you. And trust me, I wanted to. Believe it or not, I don’t owe anything to the Ares’ brothers. You, on the other hand, have all my time at your disposal.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer before closing his lips over hers. There was a lot of lost time he was more than ready to make up for.

Meanwhile, across the green stood Jason, Sarah Beth, and Arabella, their heads close together but their eyes glued to the Ares cabin.

“I’m taking credit for this,” Jason and Arabellas’ voices mingled, proud and in sync.

Their eyes flashed to each other, “no, I did this!”

Sara Beth just giggled lusciously, twirling the straw of her own lemonade in lazy circles.

#Leo Valdez #Leo #Valdez #leo valdez x reader #the heroes of olympus #thoo #leo valdez imagine #Jason #grace #Jason grace #aphrodite #hephaestus #imagine #reader insert

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vivisextion · 3 years

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I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

#Joey Jordison #Slipknot #Murderdolls

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id-never-letyoudown · 3 years

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Uhhhh part two of the rare pair part 1

"Sleep well, Dove?"

"It's too early for your nonsense." Henry complained, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He had not. Slept well, that is. It was the damn nightmares again. They always came this time of year.

Henry had already visited the field. That usually helped things, but not this time.

"Tell me about them."

"Them what?"

"The nightmares." Even though he already knew well enough what they were about. "The men." Wilbur already knew. He's been in Henry's head more times than he could count. He had to make sure he was the right one for the job, after all. He didn't dig through everything in that mess Henry called a mind. His thoughts were constantly all over the place. And why were there so many musicals and chemical compositions in that thing?

Besides, he needed Henry to trust him if this thing was going to work. Something told him digging around that brain of his wouldn't end well.

Henry paused, looking down at his steaming mug of coffee. "They were dear friends of mine. Lovers." He takes a sip, it's more bitter than usual. "I was the cause of their deaths. Though... you already knew that." His eyes flick up to meet Wilbur's over the rim of his mug. "Didn't you?"

"..."

"I knew I could feel something rooting around. You were scoping me out before we even formally met, weren't you?" Henry grins in victory, setting his coffee down with a satisfying 'clack' against the marble counter.

"Aren't you supposed to be pissed?"

"If anything I'm intrigued! Can you read everyone's minds?" He leaned against the counter, head propped in his hand. "Ooo-what else do you know about me? I want the details."

Wilbur snorted, "Course I can. And for the record I don't know everything about you. I stopped looking around after a bit."

"Oh? So I still got some secrets then?" Henry would have thought he'd have long since taken advantage of his abilities. Know him inside and out. "Huh, seems I've pegged you wrong."

"You couldn't peg me at all." He grins.

Henry only shrugged. And something told Wilbur that he didn't get the joke.

Wilbur clears his throat, "Anyway, uh, wanna hear about which of the Monroe brats isn't Gerald's? The answer may shock you." Like a damn click bait article.

Henry's eyes light up, a loud gasp escaping him. "I knew it!" He was always down for gossip. And a scandal like that? It was right up his alley.

Wilbur enjoyed watching the man lose his shit with every little Hatchetfield secret he told him. And there were a lot. He could tell Henry was plenty skeptical of him, but he was getting there. Little by little.

Henry walked into the kitchen to fetch some refreshments for his monthly 'date night' with John and Xander. Used to be bi-monthly. And before that it'd been weekly. Nowadays he found the pair trying to gently nudge him away. And normally it wouldn't have bothered him. But they hadn't started doing this until after he was let go from P.E.I.P. Which made him think.

And think.

And overthink.

He had no problem with leaving the relationship. If they were to simply ask him. But all these hints? He could do without. Xander kept trying to set him up on blind dates. And John was cold. Even when the three of them were intimate. Especially when the three of them were intimate.

It really got him thinking....

His hand barely touches his turtleneck. Was it... no, it couldn't possibly be the scars. John had plenty of his own. Although, baring witness to how Henry got them probably made that very, very different. And there was the nerve damage. And the pain. Which always got worse when there was a storm approaching.

John was his friend. He didn't want him thinking he was responsible for any of that. He should call him-

His phone began ringing, as if on cue. He fetches it from his pocket. Of all the coincidences-

He answers it immediately. "I was just thinking about you, say we really ought to have a chat when you two get here-" his stomach sinks at the reply. "Oh... so, you can't make it then?... No, no. I understand. I hope you two have fun." And he hung up.

He looks at the bottle in his hand. At the neatly set dinner table. At the flowers he picked himself. Apparently the date the three of them made their 'throuple', as the kids called it, official wasn't all that important to them.

Such a shame he had to spend the day alone.

Or... not.

"... Wilbur, how do you like your steak?"

Wilbur was always there, even when he thought he wasn't. He didn't know why he felt comfort in that.

"Who was that?" Xander commented, fixing his tie in the mirror.

"Henry. I was telling him about how we couldn't make... it...." He trailed off when he walked into their bedroom and saw his husband getting dressed. "Where are you going?'

Xander paused, standing up straight. "Couldn't make it next month, right?... You told him next month, right?"

John pressed his lips into a fine line. "Iiiii thought you said-"

"John!" Xander dropped his tie. "Why would I tell you to tell him that we wouldn't be able to make it on the three of us' anniversary?"

"It was a mistake-I'll just call him back real quick." John did not want to face his husband's wrath, he could already feel his eyes melting the back of his skull as he dialed Henry's number. "It's just going straight to voicemail-"

"Get dressed, we're going anyways. And y o u can explain the mix-up."

"Where'd you learn to cook?" Wilbur asked him. Not that he needed to eat. Or had a great sense of taste nowadays. But it was nice to have something to chew on now and again. And it smelled amazing.

"Oh, my aunt. This is all from her recipe book." He seemed rather proud of that fact.

"Well, safe to say those two are missing out."

Henry hums. He's been quiet all through dinner. Still down about being cancelled on with such short notice. "You know what? They are." He stabs his fork a little too forcefully, and sends his mashed potatoes straight in the air. And right smack in his face.

They both pause.

And then Wilbur starts laughing. Which sets Henry into his own fit of giggling.

"Do you hear that?" Xander paused on Henry's doorstep, hearing the laughter coming from inside.

"Doesn't sound like he's alone." John muses, trying to see if he could sneak a peek through one of the windows. He can see Henry fine. But whoever it is he's with is just out of sight.

"John!" Xander whisper shouts, tugging on his husband's sleeve. "You can't just spy on our friend like that!"

"Aren't you curious?" John looks back at Xander.

"I-well-yes! But not enough to spy on him!"

The two continue to bicker quietly, or, they thought they were being quiet.

Wilbur looks over his glass, humming. "You've got guests." The curtains then shut themselves. It was a good thing neither of them could see him. He doubted seeing the former colonel would sit well with either of them. Especially John.

"What-" Henry looks towards the door, face now free of the mess from before. He can hear exactly who it is too. And it both confuses and ticks him off.

"And they know you're not alone. They won't buy it if you say you are." Wilbur stands up, "Gotta make them leave somehow."

Henry wracks his brain for an idea. And seeing as he's well into that bottle of wine, they're not really thought out. "... You can change your appearance, right?"

Wilbur locks eyes with Henry, a grin splitting across his face.

"Just knock."

"You knock-"

Henry opens the door a crack, taking a peek at the two of them. "... I thought you two couldn't make it." He responds plainly, not even greeting them.

"There was a mix-up." Xander explained, elbowing his husband to elaborate.

"I meant to tell you that we wouldn't be able to make it next time." John tells him.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Henry wraps his fingers around the door, glancing back into the house. "Because I ended up taking your advice, Xander. And I think it'd be terribly awkward of me to explain to my date."

Xander is equal parts thrilled and... well, confused. Thrilled because he wanted Henry to have someone to lean on when they weren't around. And confused because Henry had always outright refused whenever Xander brought up mixers or blind dates. "That's wonderful, Hen! Do we know who it is?"

"I ah-well-" Henry blinked, shit. He didn't even know who Wilbur was going to come around that corner looking like-

"Gary Goldstein, attorney at law!" Henry nearly jumped when the man announced himself. His face flushed. He let the door open fully, and there he was. The supposed Gary Goldstein. A faithful rendition, he'd say.

It was an... awkward conversation to say the least. When Henry finally managed to turn the two away he locked the door behind them.

"Whatthefuckwasthat?"

"You didn't tell me w h o to look like! I just chose a rando guy!"

"I... goddamnit." Henry stood there, trying not to laugh at the thoughts that had to be bouncing around in John and Xander's head right about now. "At least you chose someone at least somewhat attractive."

"Yeah, cuz talking non-stop about audits is so attractive." Wilbur runs a hand through his hair, the illusion dropping almost instantly.

Henry smiles, wine getting to his head. "That's much better."

"What?"

"... Hm? Oh, nothing. This was fun. Should do it again sometime."

"You're really going to make an entire plotline-"

"Is that what we're calling our 'reality scheming'?"

"-be quiet, are you really creating an entire plot based off of one thing this Matthews guy said to you?"

".... Yes, of course. Naturally. I'm calling it 'The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals'... hm, sure is a mouthful. What do you think?" Henry slides over his tablet to show Wilbur, who doesn't know if he should be impressed or not.

He rolls his eyes, leaning over to get a good look at it. "... You know, I think the big man might actually get a kick out of this."

"Speaking of, am I ever going to meet this 'Wiggley' character?" Henry slides his tablet back, tapping on the screen before resuming his scribbling.

"Depends on how well you perform, Dove-"

"Why do you call me that?" Henry looked up, reading glasses askew. He pulls them off to clean them up, fetching a cloth from his coat pocket.

"What, you don't like it?" Like that'd stop him. Wilbur watches Henry. He can't decide if he likes him better with or without the glasses-

"I just find it odd, is all. I don't mind it." He slides them back on, looking back up at him once again. "You called me that the first time we met-"

"That wasn't the first time we met."

"Excuse me?"

Wilbur is no longer sitting on the table. Henry thinks he's up and left until he finds him sitting in the living room, just barely visible from the kitchen. He gets up and follows him with a huff.

"I watched you for a while, before that day. I saw a lot of things." He chuckles, "Lotta embarrassing things too. But that's not the point." He pops his feet up on the coffee table. "I saw you with that bird a while back. You were talking to it. Thought it was kinda kooky, kinda sweet."

Henry has to think for a while, and then his face softens. "The bird you saw was one I nursed back to health." He sighs, walking up to him and kicking his legs so he's forced to move them. "Get your damn feet off my mahogany." He then walks past him, just to sit on the other end of the couch.

Wilbur scowls. He could kill Henry so easily, doesn't he know that? "How kind."

"It was either that or put it out of its misery." Henry makes himself comfortable, leaning back on the couch.

"I doubt you'd have the guts to do that."

"You don't think I'm capable of mercy killing? That's laughable." Henry eyes him, "Look in my mind and find out. Go on. You have my permission."

Wilbur did. And it hit him all at once. It wasn't that the scene shocked him. He just hadn't been prepared for the rush of emotion.

He saw Henry's hands. Injecting something into an IV drip. Shaking as they did so. And a man. So pale and sickly. Just lying on the bed. But he was smiling. And that's all he could see before Henry pushed him out.

"Promise me something, Wilbur."

He looked at him. So he actually was going to use that damn condition then? "... What?"

"Don't ever underestimate me or think me incapable." He curled up on the couch, looking ready to settle in for some sleep. "Promise me, Wilbur." His eyes weren't leaving him anytime soon.

"... I promise."

Henry seemed satisfied, now closing his eyes. "Alexa, play my Sleep playlist."

As soft music filled the room, Wilbur realized that maybe he bit off more than he could chew. Henry was chosen for a reason. He had to remember that.

He also realized it really didn't take long for Henry to fall asleep. At all. Out like a light.

Wilbur gets up, not even thinking when he takes the professor's glasses off for him. "Dumbass."

#tgwdlm #cridgens #henry hidgens #wilbur cross #professor hidgens #black friday musical

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angelaiswriting · 3 years

Text

Undercover | Bandit x fem!reader

[video by Yogendra Singh from Pexels]

✏️ Pairing: Bandit x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: In which Dominic realizes he's fallen too hard for a woman during an undercover mission and he doesn't think he's fit to work for Rainbow anymore.

🎁 A/N: I wrote this for @kind-wolf‘s birthday but she gave me the okay to post it, so hopefully y’all will enjoy it too 💛

✏️ Warnings: slight angst, 18+ only? idk (the sex is generally only implied but there are some paragraphs in which it’s a little less implied), also a dash of fluff?

✏️ Word-count: 11,555

UNDERCOVER

There was something about early-morning runs that just calmed his nerves, even with music blasting in his ears. There was something in the way his trainers would rhythmically slap against the ground; something in the burning in his lungs, in the way the wind would blow against his face every now and then…

The British countryside expanded to infinity on his runs and it erased anything Hereford Base inevitably brought along—training sessions, mission calls, even more simulations, and then endless tests to pieces of equipment that he surely had not missed while on his last undercover mission.

He didn’t think much about it. About the mission. He always tried his best not to, although he did so unconsciously, probably more out of habit than anything else. It was never easy, to go back to a daily routine that didn’t feel yours anymore, to a routine you couldn’t recognize after having pretended to be someone else for the past six years. Some things just get to your head at some point, and going back to who you had once been feels like being reborn completely, and into someone you can’t recognize. You wake up one day, and you find yourself being forced to put on yet another mask, with the only exception that this is no mask. This is your face. Who you are. Or who you’re supposed to be, at least.

And although most likely unprofessional, this was how Dominic Brunsmeier still felt, six months after his mission had come to its end. He woke up every day and for the first, endless minutes he simply lied there, staring at a ceiling he had problems recognizing, with the reality that he was thousands of miles away from Germany hanging like Damocles’ sword above his head. His ears still subconsciously strained for the sound of two dogs’ nails ticking against the tiles of the floor to come to say good morning, and his left hand still stretched out to feel for someone who wasn’t there—who would never be there again.

That’s why running helped. It emptied his mind—and it also filled his lungs with the smell of wet grass and dirt. And although he still turned around to check behind his back every few minutes in search for furry snouts—one of the habits he had developed in the past life he had been forced to leave behind—, it was getting better, and the music in his ear pods seemed to be starting to do the trick.

Sometime later, when he got back to the Base, he was somewhat ready to be a Rainbow operator once again. At least for that day.

The truth was, he had somehow grown almost detached from anything and anyone Rainbow. He would do something, and then he’d mentally compare it to how he did it before. The way his morning coffee would taste; the way her laundry detergent would smell fresh and somehow cozy; how peaceful car trips would feel, almost as though he could lose himself into one of them for the rest of his life. Now his coffee was just Marius’s boring blend, and the detergent they used in the laundry at the base had no scent. And when he did end up tagging along on short weekend trips, there was no dog whining ecstatically in the back of the car and trying to lick his neck.

“How was your run?”

Monika was looking at him from above the file she was reading—a mission report, a test session report, he didn’t know and he also found himself not caring. That life still felt alien to him.

He shrugged. “Good.” He had somehow become a man of few words, and he had also started to realize that maybe undercover missions weren’t for him. Not anymore, at least. Maybe he had let this one get to him a bit too much, and everyone he had met had grown under his skin without him wanting so and he still did somehow feel like he had betrayed his family, sent them all to jail.

It was a stupid thought—he tried to remind himself of that every time that feeling came up, but maybe he just wasn’t cut for long undercover missions anymore. He didn’t remember when it had become difficult to tell right from wrong, but it had happened, and every time his mind stopped on that period of his life, he found himself growing homesick for a home he never had, not there.

“Just good?”

Elias was there, too. Of fucking course, he would be there. He had been keeping an eye on him for a few weeks now, and Dominic was too much of an expert not to notice. It hadn’t been a surprise to see him enter the kitchen a minute or two after he had.

“Just good,” he nodded

There was some staring, then. Dominic stared at Elias because he wanted to be left alone, and Elias stared at Dominic because he wanted to understand what the problem was, so that he could help his friend. It was all useless, though, and they both knew it: one had closed off too securely to let on anything—or let anyone in, and the other was too stubborn to just stop caring about someone he loved.

That afternoon, though, he was running some errands in town with Marius when a dog stopped right in front of him to sniff his pants. It was a lovely animal, with fur of an almost bronze-red color and a tail that never once stopped wagging.

It brought him back in time, and for a moment he stood there, frozen and rooted to the spot. He could almost still feel the rain on his skin despite that exceptionally bright sunny day. But then, the Irish setter’s owner called Bonnie, let’s go! and Dominic was back to the present day, a bag with stuff he had bought at the hardware store just on the other side of the parking lot in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other.

“Everything alright with you?” Marius asked when Dominic reached him. He had been waiting for him, leaning against the door of the truck, and he hadn’t missed the way his friend had grown rigid. It didn’t matter how much pride Dom felt at the idea of being good at hiding feelings: there was always someone that saw right through his shit. And called him out on it.

“I used to have two dogs,” he blurted out with a smile on his face before he could stop himself. They were both loading bags into the trunk of the car and he hadn’t even felt the words slip through his lips that they were already out there in the open. But the memory had hit him with the same force of a freight train, and he had found himself basking in that warm feeling that had started to blossom inside him at the memory. After all, he loved those two pests like his own kids.

He looked up, the feeling of being caught red-handed quickly seeping in, and he found that Marius had a weird look in his eyes as he watched his every move.

“You had two dogs?” his friend quoted, one hand reaching up for the back door of the car. He closed it shut, and the frown didn’t leave his face for a second. “Back during your mission, you mean?”

“Forget about it. It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have said it in the first place.” It had always been custom for him to not open up about his undercovers—the person he was when he was on one wasn’t the person he was when he came back to his real life, and that’s how things had to be.

“To hell with your bullshit!”

The first five minutes in the car, however, were spent in silence.

Dominic was still cursing himself mentally for opening his damn mouth—or his memory vault, for what it mattered. It had been the first time he had mentioned anything about her since his return—his return home his friends had cheered him with six months ago, but that homely feeling still had to make an appearance. She had become taboo, and he had done so to protect her—and himself, in a way, for not having to bring her up had seemed to be the most sensible way to forget all about her, at least back then.

But now here he was, catching himself just in time before worsening his case.

“Where are those dogs now?” Marius used the excuse of a red streetlight to speak again and when Dominic looked at him from the corner of his eye, he found his friend already staring.

A shrug of his shoulders will do the trick, or that was what he hoped. Unsuccessfully.

“You’ve barely put full sentences together outside of missions since you came back from Germany. And now you mention two dogs. That you owned, apparently.”

“I didn’t own them, they weren’t mine,” he corrected.

“Whose were they, then?”

The first time Dominic sees her is on a chilly early-April morning. It’s pouring rain outside, and she’s walking two dogs with nothing to shield her from the rain but an old sweatshirt.

It’s half past five in the morning and his first thought is: What the fuck is this girl doing out here in the rain?

He almost slows down his truck when he drives past her. Probably he should be a good person and ask her if she needs a ride, but this side of town is new to him and he doesn’t want to risk anything that would have Fabian put him on his boss’ black book the month after having been fully accepted into the gang.

She’s in his rearview mirror before he has the chance to think his civilized deed through. He finds himself staring for two seconds at most—red sweatshirt, jean shorts that are a tad bit out of season now, and two happy dogs that walk on either side of her without the need for a leash. Then, he’s pulling over and stopping the truck right before the closed garage door of his new two-bedroom house. He still has to fix it—along with other things inside—but Christian has been keeping him busy with errands and whatnot, and he’s lacked the time.

He’s barely out of the vehicle when there’s barking—short, quick barks in succession coming from two different dogs, defying the sound of the rain and the otherwise silence of the early morning. When he turns around, the girl’s dogs are running across the empty street, their owner right behind them, and they’re aiming at him, tails wagging happily and tongues lolling out from open mouths.

They don’t jump up as he expected them to, but they still do take their few seconds of freedom to sniff him up. His shoes, his legs, a hand—and all the while he’s getting soaked through just as much as the girl running over with two leashes in a hand is.

“Hey, buddy,” he coos, almost involuntarily, as he presents the bigger dog with the open palm of his left hand.

It looks like a nice mutt, the fur a shade of brown streaked with white and black, and it excitedly licks his skin after a moment of indecision.

“I’m so sorry.” When he looks up, the young woman is panting, a hand on her side as the other comes up to wipe the rain from her eyes. “C’mon, Otto, come here.”

The white dog with a chocolate-colored stain on the left side of his face is quickly put on his leash, and he sits still by his owner’s feet as she pries Rex from his hand.

“I’m sorry they’ve bothered you,” she offers, and then groans when she can’t seem to attach the leash to the ring in the dog’s collar. “They’re usually well-behaved.”

“No problem,” he smiles.

Rex lunges forward one last time to get a good-bye caress on his head before he eventually chooses to behave and steps back.

“They didn’t do anything but smell me up a bit, it’s all cool.”

She smiles. He smiles. Rex barks happily and turns back to nudge Otto, and both their tails are wild whips against the soaked grass-less ground of his short driveway. Then, she’s gone.

He stares as she runs down the street, thunder finally rolling up high in the steely sky, and he smiles when he hears her laugh and call for the dogs when the rain starts pouring stronger. Then he turns, walks around the back of his truck and up to his door, and leaves the world outside.

That night Dominic sat at the desk in his room. His things had been relocated to a smaller one while he had been away on his mission and although he would have probably complained once, he found that this new accommodation somehow suited him better now. It felt much more secluded and since it was in the newly-built dorm area where his buddies didn’t reside, it felt much calmer. It didn’t give him much need to lie.

And it didn’t give his friends the chance to see that most of his stuff was still in cardboard boxes he had yet to unpack. The mere thought seemed to overwhelm him somehow and even that night, all he did was stare at them for endless minutes before eventually begrudgingly opening his laptop.

The brief and vague chat with Marius that afternoon had given him that sort of push he needed to finally pull out the hard disks and SD cards he had hidden away but that still contained all the files he had to organize. It was nothing major, of course—that kind of stuff had been transferred onto Rainbow servers the moment he had set foot onto British ground, one could say. But he still had private stuff, videos and photographs he had never thought he’d one day keep, back when he had first taken them, but then again, here he was.

Part of his brain did know that wasn’t the smart thing to do, but when he plugged in the black hard disk with that owl sticker she had slapped on it one night after tipsy sex, he found that his hand hesitated on the mouse.

He had chuckled—even now, he could still hear the sound in the otherwise quiet room. It had been at the beginning of that thing that had slowly—and then more and more quickly, like an avalanche effect of some sort—turned into a relationship. Why? he had simply asked, putting his lighter back on the nightstand when she gave it a disgusted look. And she had laughed, too, and he had stared at her sweaty skin glistening in the light of his bedside lamp, at the way her messy bangs stuck to her forehead, and he thought that fuck, what the fuck was he doing? Because I felt like it, she had answered with a shrug and he had laughed deep in his chest before pulling her back over his body.

Maybe he could keep what was in there. He did not have to look, but maybe he’d keep those files stored away in some folder-in-a-folder kind of thing, hidden away from his eyes and hopefully from his mind, until he’d forget all about them. Until he’d stop being a spineless dick, murmured a mean voice in the back of his head.

“Fuck it!” he groaned, finally opening the main folder and watching as his old laptop loaded everything.

There were some pictures he had never stored away in their respective folders, and he suddenly remembered now that it was because he loved them. Loved those two dogs piled up on each other as they slept in his armchair. And loved the way she’d scream song lyrics using an almost-empty beer bottle as a microphone.

Those were memories—and damn good memories at that! There was no reason to shy away from them. Just as a reminder, he reasoned—something to keep for a long time so that it could remind him to keep his head on his shoulders next time he’d be assigned on some other undercover mission. Something that could tell him not to fall for a chick he’d eventually have to leave behind forever. Something that could prove to him that yes, he could enjoy things while living a lie, but that no, there were things he could not bring back home.

Like Rex and Otto.

Or like Y/N.

He meets her again two weeks later, when Fabian drags him along to a club to have fun and maybe get some pussy. Dominic’s not exactly in the mood for pussy for once, still exhausted after having come back from a quick ‘business trip’ to Austria with two other guys, but he doesn’t want to be the buzzkill. He’s also not been in the city long enough, so he’d rather fly low and not risk making even the slightest doubt arise.

So he goes. He dresses up in an all-black combo of pants and shirt, and meets his friend outside one of the clubs Christian owns. The air is warm, and the night traffic buzzes behind his back as Fabian leads him all the way up to the entrance while recounting the weird-ass trip Alex had the first time he did acid. Domi laughs along in all the right points and for a split second, before Julian lets them in without a question, he finds himself thinking that it isn’t so hard after all, to pretend to be someone he’s not every time Fabian’s around. The dude is chill, five or so years younger than he but just as crazy, and there’s this tiny voice in Dominic’s head that seems to whisper to him that they could actually be great pals if the situation and the setting were different.

“What’s your poison?” his friend of sorts asks as he takes him through the place and then to a table—not right up under the stage, but a bit in the back.

“Just beer,” is his reply. He didn’t think he’d be seeing girls perform when he left his house, but now that he’s here and he gets a glimpse of a redhead beauty before she disappears offstage, he’s not exactly opposed.

Fabian’s face is contorted into a grimace of confusion before it opens up into a grin as things seem to clear up in his head. “Oh, yeah, as a warm-up, I see!”

He laughs, leaning back against the seat before he shakes his head. “One of us gotta stay sober enough to take you home when you’re shit-faced,” he bites back, subtly implying to that one time, three months after Dom had officially become a rookie, when Fabian had ridden himself into a tree on his bike. The others had made him look after and take care of the younger idiot, and he had had to swallow down his pride and cater to any and all silly needs he had been presented with and that had felt like a setback in his undercover path.

A girl hurries by then, a serving platter with drinks in hand as she flags down another waitress and mouths something over the music of the new performance, and Fabian is quick at grabbing a hold of her forearm. When she turns around, an expression on her face that makes it clear she would be more than ready to throw hands, it takes Dominic half a minute to recognize her in this new setting.

“Come back to us later, Baby,” Fabian says, his hand moving to swat at her ass before she grabs a hold of it and presses down hard enough to make him wince.

“Don’t make me kick your ass.”

Dominic turns around when she walks past him and watches as she serves drinks at a table. She’s all smiles as she replies back to something she’s being told, and steps back a little when one of the men tries to stretch a hand out and touch her.

“Is that how you act with women?” he asks when he turns back around.

His friend laughs over a text he’s sending—probably to one of the other guys they’re supposed to meet here tonight, or probably to someone else entirely—Dominic does wonder about it, just as he wonders about many things when it comes to the Club, but he voices none of his thoughts. He never does.

“It’s not what you think,” he shrugs, grinning at him before glancing at the brunette performing on stage. He stares for a long while, and Dominic has the time to study some more of the details in the snake tattoo that crawls up the side of his neck and disappears into his hair. “She’s a friend.”

“She’s still not excited about you slapping her butt, though,” the girl in question chimes in when she finally reaches their table again, her serving platter now held securely against her abdomen. “But Fabian’s— Hey!” she grins, stopping mid-sentence when she seems to recognize him from that rainy early morning of fifteen or so days ago. “You’re the new guy on the block.”

“You know each other?”

“Sorta. The boys ran up to him when we were on a walk a few days ago,” she nods, eyes trailing down to where Domi’s left the first two buttons of his shirt undone, tattoos on full display underneath, before moving back to meet his.

Fabian’s pout distracts the both of them, and when she sets her eyes on him, he’s quick at letting out a childish complaint. “You never smile at me like that.”

“Don’t be a douche.” And then, to Dominic: “I’ll pay you real money if you drag him out of here.”

“Geez, women!” Fabian scoffs. “Anyway. Nic, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Dominic.” He watches briefly as they shake hands before continuing. “She’s off-limits, unless she’ll somehow consider you worthy enough of her and her p— I’m just kidding, Angel!” he pleads, leaning away from her hand as she slaps at his shoulder. “C’mon, be a good girl.”

“You be a good boy and I might not spit in your drink.”

Dominic’s still thinking about her sometime later, after some of the guys have joined him and his company for tonight. They’re watching girls perform, but he’s unfocused. Even the beer in his hand has been forgotten for a while now, as his gaze finds itself being attracted back to the bar—or to wherever she is at the moment.

He stares, and even blatantly so, half listening to Fabian’s words echoing in his mind, and half ignoring them. She’s close to Christian, that’s what he knows: she used to be his sister’s best friend before the girl passed away a few years after finishing high school. And, as Fabian has half-heartedly complained more than once, she’s not that friendly with gang members—if you know what I mean, Nic. Not that he’s thinking about that with her! He barely even knows her. What he does know, however, is that there’s a file, back at Rainbow, that he has to fill with pieces of information he finds out here, and he’s starting to wonder what she could know.

And sometimes—every once in a while and almost covertly—she glances back and meets his eye, and when she finds him staring, she seems to stumble over her words for a heartbeat before the smile is back on her face and she turns her attention back to whatever patron she’s tending to.

He’s back the next Friday night, and the week after that, and on the third week, it starts becoming a habit. Fabian’s with him sometimes; sometimes it’s someone else, but more often—because he starts hanging out at the club on whatever free nights he has during the week—he goes on his own. He drinks, spends money on women, and goes as far as paying for personal dances—and maybe it becomes a bit too often, because one day Christian asks him—through Alex, because Christian’s too busy with a rival gang to do it in person—and mentions something about it.

But the more he sits in there, the closer he somehow seems to get to Y/N—and the closer she seems to get to him. It’s just smiles at first; even when he goes up to the bar to order drinks, she’s always too busy to focus on him only. But then they start exchanging a few words—and in the meantime they wave at each other from opposite sides of the road they live on, when they pass by—and then a few puns, until at some point, probably three, almost four months into his habitual trips to the club, she starts actively seeking him out. And if by any chance he’s absent on one of his regular nights, he finds her politely asking whether everything’s alright on the first night he’s back.

He missed that—missed his club nights and the dancers, even the waitresses. Y/N, of course, although he always did his best not to allow his brain to bring her up. But sometimes, out of the blue, the most random things would make one of the many memories he had stored away out of sight resurface and he found himself thinking about her. It would start subconsciously—with something someone said or did, or maybe it was something he saw in the window of a shop, or in one of the girls he’d find himself dancing with when his friends dragged him along. And then, when he caught himself red-handed, it was hard to stop. His brain would fixate on a memory and the more he willed himself to shift the focus of his attention onto something—anything—else, the harder it was to actually do it.

So, he turned his strategy around. He did that when he transferred all his secreted files onto his laptop—and then onto a new one yet again, when the old thing slowed down too much for him to be able to do work-related things on it. The reasoning was, if he kept those memories where he could easily reach them, then maybe they’d lose that hue of exceptionality and he’d get so used to them that it would finally be easier to coexist with them and all they had once meant.

And the next time Marius asked, tried to pull things out of him the same way he’d done with shards of glass after that one assignment in Bosnia, Dominic found himself loosening up. With him only, no one else for the time being, but it still felt liberating. Marius would listen, and he wouldn’t try to guilt-trip him the same way Domi had done to himself. He’d listen, and chime in every now and then, and then he’d stop asking when it was clear his friend wasn’t comfortable with continuing for now.

Y/N hadn’t come up yet. He told him about the dogs, and the guys—about Fabian most of all, and Markus, the two he had bonded with the most. He talked about the club—and he won’t lie, about the women there and the ones he had ended up in bed or against a wall with, as well. Not many, but enough to make Marius tease him for a while before he eventually relented.

But then one day, when most operators had been sent off on various missions, they decided to go on a trip. They took a Jeep car, loaded it with backpacks and food and tents, and took off for a week to spend camping far from the Base.

It had been quite a long couple of months—with training and simulations and tests, and even weeks spent abroad. And meetings in Harry’s office so that the Agency could see where Dominic’s loyalty lied, and how he was doing, how he was settling back into his old routine, now almost ten months after having come back from Germany. Which he… was, in a way. Settling back into his old routine, that is—everything was normal when he was working, at least.

But opening up to his Director wasn’t the same as opening up to his friend. And probably even Harry knew, or had at least come to that conclusion, for he had relented in his questions and had given him more free time, away from his Rainbow responsibilities.

“So, you were telling me about Fabian the other day.”

Marius’s voice shook him out of his thoughts, and Dominic found himself blinking a couple of times at the pale light of the sun that still had to fully rise. He felt almost as though he had dozed off, his tongue still heavy and laced with the slumber he had been forced to wake up from at two.

“What?” he mumbled, fumbling with his seat belt when he realized his friend had parked the car and it was now time to get out.

He had been sleeping poorly the past few days, with endless thoughts incessantly mulling around in his mind and keeping him awake. Stuff about Germany, but also stuff about Rainbow—missions and briefings and that upgrade he was helping Elias come up with for his shield. It all slowed him down, left him less reactive than he had been in a while, always dozing off when he was supposed to do something else. Even his morning runs had stopped being that nice a distraction.

The cup of coffee Marius pushed into his hands was hot, almost comforting in a way, and it sent a shiver throughout his whole body as they stood there, in the low, late-March temperatures. It was supposed to get warmer as the day progressed, or so the forecasts seemed to promise, and he surely found himself hoping for that to be the case.

“You were saying about how Fabian introduced you to this Angel dude,” Jäger insisted sometime later, when they had heaved their backpacks on their backs and locked the Jeep. They’d be back in a week—or that was the plan, but they both knew that if the weather would take a turn for the worst, they’d be back much sooner, neither of them willing to deal with storms and cold temperatures when they could feel warm somewhere else.

“Angel’s not a dude,” was Dominic’s chuckle.

The sun had finally risen and its light, although still pale, filtered in through the foliage of the forest, casting shapes on the ground and on their faces alike. The temperatures had gone up a bit, but Dom was still glad he had listened to Lera’s advice and had taken off with thermal clothes on.

“Angel is— was,” he quickly corrected himself, casting a quick glance at Marius, walking by his side, “my girlfriend… I guess.”

“You guess?” His friend frowned, not even taking his eyes off of the path they were currently trekking on. They still had quite a few kilometers to go before their next stop and he had absolutely no intention of spending them in silence, not now that Dominic seemed like he had slowly regained his ability to talk and let his tongue loose, although not in everyone’s company. But progress was progress, and he didn’t want to risk and ruin it.

Dominic shrugged. “I’m not sure Y/N and I ever officially defined the relationship.”

“Y/N… Angel, you mean?”

“Yeah, we called her that most of the time. Those dogs I told you about… they were hers.”

Marius nodded. Dominic had started to introduce him to bits and pieces of his undercover life—the clubs, the gang, the dogs, the speed races at night, the way Fabian would often crash on his couch when his partying got too wild and out-of-hand, or the way Markus, three years his junior, would often trail behind him like a lost puppy. It was never a chronological recollection of events, with some kind of thread that would link them together. Sometimes he’d ask questions, making sure to remain as vague as possible when it came to enquiring about someone’s life, and Domi would reply with what came to mind.

But now… Now he had slowly started to piece all those memories together, bit by bit, and he was seeing that it was not all black and white, the way some back at the Organization would make it out to be, but more like grayscale. The good and the bad would mix together in the same bowl, and it would make it hard for anybody to draw absolutes.

“Tell me something about her.”

Dominic’s sitting in Christian’s backyard for the first time in two years and a half. It’s something new, but at the same time it feels so familiar, in a weird and convoluted way, as he’s surrounded by people he knew nothing about just three years ago. He laughs at what his friends say, and even whistles with them when the girl Fabian has shown up with leaves in a hurry after printing the fingers of her left hand across his cheek.

“You truly can’t keep them for more than a week, can you?” Christian laughs, taking a sip from his beer as he and Marcel flip the meat on the barbeque.

Fabian groans. “Always pointing out the details, gee. Anyway!”

Some bickering ensues, and Dominic sits back against the seat of his plastic chair with the rim of his beer bottle grazing his lower lip, barely containing his laughter, but still trying his best because he’s usually the one taking Fabian’s sides—even if just out of pure sarcasm. It all only settles when Franziska walks out of the house, a bowl of salad in each hand, saying something about leaving the poor child alone, what are you? Five? before Marcel pulls her into his side for a kiss.

They’re cute—it’s a weird and intrusive thought as Dominic watches, eyes glinting with a badly concealed smile, but it’s also the truth. Franziska and Marcel are like opposite sides of the same coin, but they somehow fit so well together… He’d tell Marius that, years after that day, and he’d recall the way she’d look up into her lover’s eyes with such emotion that, before Y/N came along, it would have made him feel the pangs of jealousy stab his stomach.

“Ugh, lovebirds.” Markus rolls his eyes, and when Dominic turns his head to look at him, he adds a snort and a wave of his hand.

“Kids.” Marcel shakes his head at Domi, almost as though he knows just how Markus and Fabian can get, and Dominic’s the one who’s spending the most time with them. “Always moaning about what they don’t have.”

But no one’s that serious. They all sort of envy what Marcel has, but they cherish it most of all, and although there’s often some playful mocking during gatherings, Marcel still knows they’d all jump in front of his woman without batting an eyelash if that meant keeping her safe.

There’s commotion coming from inside the house, then. The old dog that had been snoozing by Christian’s feet lifts her head, barking low in the back of her throat, still sleepy, before two dogs dash outside and she’s suddenly chasing them on her three paws, long fluffy tail wagging.

The guys cheer the new-comers and although the white one—it takes Dom a while to recognize Otto, Angel’s dog—jumps and huffs to play with Christian’s Stella, the loud and cheering voices send the other one in a frenzy. Rex runs back and forth, tail wagging as hard as a whip, tongue two meters out of his snout. And it’s such a hilarious sight that it sends Dominic laughing with his other friends as the dog almost trips Eva and that jar of cold lemonade over.

Then, when Dominic’s regained enough breath to stop the wheezing and wipe the tears from his eyes with a hand, he calls him over. “Hey, Rex! C’mere!”

He has no time to see the surprise flash across his friends’ faces, for it’s all downhill from there. Rex stops dead in his tracks, front paws down on the grass to his elbows and butt up in the air, his tail still wagging wildly—and really, he doesn’t know how he hasn’t sprained it yet, or how he hasn’t taken off like in some cartoon. His head turns here and there for half a second before his caramel eyes zero in on him. Before Dominic has the time to beg Stop!, the dog is on him: The impact sends his empty beer bottle flying backward as the chair tips back, a leg snaps, and he’s suddenly half-laying, half-sitting almost horizontally with an ecstatic Rex licking his face and his beard, barely able to keep still in his arms.

The other two dogs are quick to join them, and before Dominic can turn his head to the side and see the way Christian kisses Y/N’s cheek hello or hear the way she groans out a fuck! before she can intervene, two more wet snouts blind and sniff at him.

Sometime later, as Markus is complaining under his breath about the ladies’ ‘rabbit food’, Dominic turns towards Fabian and half-says, half-asks: “I thought she didn’t do members.”

“Huh?” Fabian looks up from where he’s stuffing his face with pork ribs and Franziska’s salad, moaning for a second about how much I love fucking onions, God. But he’s quick at looking where Domi’s quick tilt of the head is pointing.

Y/N and Christian are sitting next to each other, heads close as they discuss something before she feels them staring and sends them a quick smile.

“Oh, no. No.” Fabian coughs as he tries not to choke on his food when he picks up with what Dom’s implying—Jeez, no, shit, Angel and Christian? He laughs, still breathless, and chugs down the glass of lemonade Verena’s poured him. “Nah, she’s like a sister to him. Same for her. It was hard for a while after Mia’s death. The gang…” But he shrugs, cuts himself off and trails his gaze back down on his plate. “It was rough. And they’ve grown real close, but there’s nothing more than fraternal love between them.”

Dominic nods. “Oh, okay.”

He’s thinking nothing of her—or is he? They’ve been hanging out quite a bit these past few weeks. He’s been over at her house for a leaking sink just last Saturday afternoon, and she’s made him stay longer so that they could eat dinner together, watch the wrestling match on TV. He’s not… into her like that, he thinks—yet. Because, really, he wouldn’t mind being.

“Why?” There’s a suggestive smirk growing on his friend’s face. “You thinking of—”

But he’s cut off when Christian calls Dominic and steals his attention. No one discusses business during this kind of gatherings, but there’s a look on the man and his right hand, Marcel’s faces that just makes him think he’ll be hearing from them not long after going back home that night. He’s already made great progress on his undercover assignment, but this truly does start feeling like a step in the right direction.

When the party’s over, that night after dinner, he ends up sitting in Y/N’s car as she takes both of them home. Her dogs would be all up in his neck if it weren’t for the shield provided by the passenger’s seat, and she’s apologizing—although with a grin on her face and a tone that doesn’t make her apology come out that sincere—about their behavior.

“I just don’t understand why they like you so much,” she muses. “Rex most of all.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t even know I was that good with dogs before these two.”

Years later, he’d tell Marius Streicher how pretty she looked, with her make-up slightly smudged and the hair locks that had escaped her now messy bun. How accessible she felt—and not even in a bad way, but more like, he could reach a hand out and poke her cheek with his fingertips, or trail his index along her hairline, down the curve of her ear and touch her piercings, or even just lean back against his seat and just, look at her. How peaceful the interior of her car felt.

He’d tell Marius how Rainbow didn’t exist back then. How it was just him and the wrong waitress he had started falling for. And at the same time, how he still had this thought in the back of his mind, constantly nagging him—what if he ended up blowing up his mission in smoke?

“You’re staring,” she’s saying, smiling, eyes still on the road ahead.

“And you’re blushing.”

If there’s one thing he’s learned about her during his countless nights at the same stupid club, then it’s that she doesn’t blush. Not when his eyes are glued to her. He has stared at her much more lewdly than he’s doing now, most of all with a few drinks too many in his stomach and in his system.

She shrugs, and when she stops the car and Dominic turns back around, he notices they’ve arrived at her house. “You should come in,” she says instead, already getting out of the car and opening the back door to let the dogs out. “You don’t have to,” she adds quickly when he gets out, too. And he can’t see her face now that she’s unlocking her entrance door, but he knows she’s still blushing. “Only if you want.”

He wouldn’t tell Marius how her lips felt against his, nor how the drinks they had in her kitchen tasted when her tongue brushed against his. How she felt in his lap, one of her hands on the back of his head and the other up his shirt, against his tattooed chest. How she ground her hips down against him just right and tore a grunt from deep inside his belly and that vibrated against her lips, making her smile.

He’d tell none of that, but his friend would still understand.

What he did tell Marius, however, as they laid under the starry sky, was that, somehow, no one had felt like her again. Not his random hook-ups, the ones he was guilty of picking either because he needed a distraction or because they reminded him of Angel, and not even Katie, that kindergarten teacher Seamus had introduced to him and with whom he had hung out for a month or so. Nothing serious, and he hadn’t even exactly put effort into it, but a part of him still had tried. More for Seamus’—or even just Katie’s—sake than his own.

It was exactly Katie that Marius brought up with a yawn. And when he asked what had been wrong with her—or, well, maybe not wrong per se but more, I don’t know, brother… Amiss?—Dominic had found himself scoffing.

Katie’s not her—but he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t say how he had fallen for the way Y/N fought in the ring, how she grimaced or grinned, the way her braids would slap against a cheek or a shoulder when her movements would be too abrupt. He’d go to her after the fights, and sometimes still sweaty and bruised, she’d straight up fuck the living sanity out of him—a hand around his throat and the other on his chest to keep her balance as they went at it on either his or her couch.

“Katie was…” He thought it over, fighting with his words and his brain’s ability to pick the right one. “Too nice.”

Y/N hadn’t been just black or just white—she was a whole spectrum of grays, ranging from one end to the other of it. Soft and kind on any day; but then also fearless and strong when she needed to be, ready to raise hell and fight God when she had to.

Dominic would have never been able to picture Katie on a ring, taking blows and also giving them back, because that wasn’t who Katie was. And although there was absolutely nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with being who you are, it just… wasn’t the same. He never found himself with his wrists tied to the headboard of Katie’s bed, with a blindfold over his eyes, almost holding his breath to see—feel—where she’d touch him next. Or how. Or even with what.

And probably that was why he couldn’t take Angel out of his mind—because he knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t be able to have her again. That she was gone, lost in a chapter of his life that he had reached the end of, and that he had left in the past. And although he did often go back to reread it, that was exactly all he could do—read, but never change a word of it.

“You still have time to add something more, though.”

He had almost dozed off to sleep, the exhaustion and exertion of that day’s worth of hiking catching up with him and his tired limbs. And it was only when Marius uttered those words that he realized he had spoken that inner monologue out loud into the darkness of the night.

The stars were blinking down at him, almost winking at his powerlessness in that situation. He wasn’t scared that she might cut his balls off and feed them to the wolves; nor that she might pull her hair back into two braids and teach him a lesson or two.

What stopped him from working was the very last voicemail she had left him, when she had called his German number for the last time. He had seen her cry—cry with laughter at some stupid joke, or sob her lungs out that one time they watched Marley and Me together, the mere idea of one day losing her dogs tearing her up from the inside out. But the way she had breathed into the phone, trying to hold back the sobs, and the way her voice had broken on every other syllable—Please, Domi, pick up. I don’t understand what’s going on, but I know you’re not with the others—it still wrecked him.

He had listened to it so many times that not only did he know every word by heart, but he could hear her voice—the way it cracked, when she’d sob, when Otto would whine in the background. And what was worse, was that he could see her with his mind’s eye—sitting in the empty tub, or on one of the stools in the kitchen, or even behind the wheel of her car. So strong and resolute… crumbling apart because all he had had to offer was a lie.

Or maybe not all—he had been honest with her. Honest the first time he had told her he loved her, and honest the last time he had professed his love. That hadn’t been a lie. The way he’d hold her at night, when she’d sleep with her head on his chest, or the way he had always been ready to pounce on way-too-daring customers at the club, or when he told her she was the light of his life—none of that had been a lie.

But everything surrounding that? His loyalty to the gang? To the guys? To Christian? His made-up past before he settled down in the city? The real reason he’d sometimes love to go on solo trips and enjoy some peace, when he was in fact meeting up with people from his real life?

“I had my chance,” he decided to say instead, closing his eyes against the night sky. He’d been out stargazing with her, once, the first time they had fucked. It had been sweet and peaceful, until it had turned hotter and messier and sweatier. If he stared up at those stars one minute longer, he knew it, he’d be back on that field, with her trapped between him and the plaid blanket, clothes strewn haphazardly all around. And that was the last thing he needed. “And I wasted it.”

He didn’t say how he wasted it by coming back, but the implicature was still out there, heavy and acrid in the otherwise fresh air of the mountains.

But there had been no backing out of it. Rainbow would have come; something would have been done anyway. At some point in his staying, things had moved too forward before his heart had been able to pick a side, and there had been nothing else he could do. He had broken her heart, but he had also broken his own, and that had been inevitable. A fate he had had zero chances escaping. They had found each other too late, and he’d probably die regretting anything about that case.

There was absolutely no going back there, but he had also started to think that his future didn’t lay in Rainbow anymore, either. It had become too much—and also too little, all at the same time. Gang life surely wasn’t for him, but he was starting to realize that his last undercover mission had ended up messing up with him a bit too much, and although it didn’t exactly interfere with the way he acted in Rainbow, it did with the vision he had of it—and of himself as part of it.

“I think I need a break from this,” he muttered into the night, eyes closed both out of tiredness and that lingering sort of embarrassment he felt any time he addressed how inadequate he now felt. “It’s almost been a year and I still haven’t been able to stop long enough to think.”

He didn’t know if Marius had turned to glance at him in the semi-darkness, before they turned off their torches to sleep, but he knew he had heard.

“What Angel? You’re a little minx,” Dominic chuckles, still out of breath, his chest burning with exhaustion every time it rises and falls. His sweaty back sticks to the leather seats of the car, and he knows the sensation she must be feeling can’t be much different.

But he doesn’t turn to look at her. His gaze is glued to her lace panties, hanging from the gear shift in the front. If he didn’t feel too boneless to lean forward and take her phone from the passenger’s seat, he’d for sure take a picture.

“Who are you calling little?” Her laugh is breathless, and when she moves around like a contortionist to sit up straight, her lips brush against the side of his neck, making his skin break out in gooseflesh and the short hair on the nape of his head tug. “I’m still taller than you with my heels on.”

Laughter rumbles deep in his chest, and he lets her pull his head back when she tugs on his hair with a hand. “Details, pretty doll.”

She doesn’t remind him how she’s kicked his butt just a couple of weeks ago during training and part of him is happy because all they’ve been using that accident as is some sort of foreplay that always ends up with her straddling him, making him tremble with the unexpected touches his blindfold always seems to heighten.

When her finger traces the underside of his cock, however, that chuckle dies on his lips and he gasps almost inaudibly in the back of his throat. Suddenly, his suit pants pulled down to mid-thigh feel constricting and he knows that if she keeps it up, he’ll be hard again soon.

“Don’t.” He didn’t intend for it to come out that way, but his prayer is soft on her lips, when she turns his head to the side to stare into his eyes. “We’re running late for the party.”

She shrugs—and he thinks that fuck, if this car didn’t feel this cramped, he’d fuck her brains out, party or no party, not even when it comes to his boss. “You made me come twice,” she replies, matter-of-factly, not at all moved by his begging or by his breath hitching in the back of his throat when her fingers move down to his balls. “I think it’s just fair I pay back the favor, no?”

His chest and neck are still flushed when he walks into the villa Christian has rented out for his New Year’s party. The initial surprise of Y/N caving in for a member has quickly subsided, and no one whistles in their direction when they see them walk in hand in hand.

They greet their friends, exchange quick hugs, and before long, they’re all drinking and chatting.

“You were late,” Christian says. The expression on his face is serious, but the left corner of his mouth is slowly twitching up into a smirk he manages to hide when he tips his head back and downs his shot.

Dominic shrugs, gaze wandering back to where Angel is catching up with Franziska and Verena, one leg crossed over the other, left bare by the slit in her dress. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, trying not to think about how her panties are still hanging from the gear shift of the car. “We had a setback.” He hesitates on that last word, for he tries to come up with something that could at least sound unassuming, but by God, the crotch of his pants feels like it’s growing tighter and he just knows kissing her won’t be the only thing he’ll be doing when the clock strikes midnight.

Christian laughs. “If my car smells like sex—”

“We rolled the windows down. We’re not animals,” he replies with a snort.

“Just… get it cleaned before you give it back.”

Y/N glances back at them then, eyes twinkling and lips still kiss-swollen and bruised under the lipstick she reapplied before getting out of the car, he’s sure. But before she can call him to her or he can walk up to her a bit stiffly of his own accord, Christian speaks again.

“We still have some time before dinner. There’s a meeting in the other room. Marcel has news on that seemingly lost package.”

Dominic turns around, brows furrowed in confusion, before his brain manages to quickly piece everything back together and he follows the other man down a corridor and into another room. He’s almost forgotten about the new cargo coming in—it’s been a feat lately, to remember he’s not actually one of them but an undercover agent trying to blow a gang up. It’s harder and harder, and he knows the lines aren’t blurred—not yet, at least—but it’s become way too easy, to lose himself in his new friendships and in the unexpected love he’s found here.

But when reality strikes back, it’s hard to distract his mind again.

Anton’s there—and while he isn’t the boss, he’s high up enough to be one of Rainbow’s main concerns. The oldest in the group, he’s rarely there, he rarely shows up. He does work behind the scenes, but that’s where he’d rather stay—away from the kids’ stupidity, or that’s how he always jokes about it.

He’s tall and strong—a whole wardrobe of a man, but Dominic’s still been promoted to be his bodyguard and he can’t help but feel a pang of something deep in his brain, and there’s this unsolicited thought bubbling up that makes him feel all sorts of ways. Maybe someone’s had some suspicions about him, and this is all a test—or this is what he thinks before Anton moves the wrong way and he’s forced to explain that the reason for that agonized groan is the extent of the injuries he’s incurred into not too long ago.

But then they’re all back for dinner, and Dominic doesn’t have time to bask in that wave of relief washing over him when he figures out there’s nothing to fear. They eat and drink and play stupid semi-drunk games, until it’s half an hour to midnight and Y/N has dragged him into a bathroom and unbuckled his belt.

It’s quick and messy, and his fingertips dig hard into the flesh of her hips as they stare into each other’s eyes in the mirror.

“I was thinking,” she hums, wrapped tight around his arm as he walks back with her at five minutes to midnight—enough time to make her come once more, or maybe twice, but Alex has promised a great pyrotechnic show and neither of them wants to miss how he almost gets himself blown up like last year.

“My thoughts are still in that bathroom and you tell me you’re thinking?” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he gives her hand a squeeze, almost as though he’s telling her to just continue.

“You dork,” she laughs. “But yes, I was thinking. Why don’t you move in with me?” she asks. “You’re already there most of the time, and your house is always messy and your couch not comfortable enough for…” She shrugs, trying her best to hide her smirk. “Plus, I’d really love to have you there.”

He feigns thinking about it, but when she gasps in mock shock, he pulls her in for a kiss—and that is when their friends must see and whistle. “I’d never say no to that, Angel.”

Her smile is bright and in the moment, he doesn’t even realize he doesn’t have forever with her, although that’s what he’s come to crave for.

He didn’t know how he let Marius convince him to go back to Germany and see her. He really had no clue, just as he didn’t have a clue about many things—what he’d tell her, how she might react, what he’d do after. How he’d feel after—relieved? like he’s finally had some closure? and how would things be once back in Hereford?

There were a million and one thoughts in his mind as he sat there, on his hotel bed. Harry had offered to let the organization pay for it, but Dominic would have felt too bad if he had let him. This was personal, and there was no saying if his heart still lay within Rainbow schemes. He’d probably keep in touch; he’d probably always be available for anything, really, but the more time passed, the less he thought that was still the right place for him.

Düsseldorf was still buzzing with life despite the torrential rain when he walked out into the street. Y/N—he feared too many emotions and memories would resurface if he let himself think of her as Angel—had moved from the city three years after her lifetime friends had ended up in jail, sent behind bars by none other than her lover. They wouldn’t stay inside forever—he knew how these things worked, he didn’t live a delusion.

He had called her, the day before he had booked his flight. If there was one thing he owed her, it was at least that—let her know he’d be coming… if she wanted him to, that is. If she didn’t want to meet up, then so be it: he’d go on with his life the way he had done throughout the past year and try not to regret too much stuff he had been forced to do because of his job.

But when she had picked up the phone—he had called her old number with his old number—things had felt… well, not normal, of course—he had disappeared overnight without leaving a note or a text or a simple word that could let her know what the fuck had been going on during the past six years of his life—of their life. But she had picked up the phone and she hadn’t killed him through the device, and although she had remained silent for most of the call—and he had done the same, truly, not even knowing what he wanted to tell her, for the words just wouldn’t come—she had eventually agreed to meet up.

Not at her new house, although Harry had done some digging and knew where she lived—a nice apartment in a nice part of the city, but Dominic hadn’t wanted to know where, exactly, when his Director had offered to share the knowledge. She had picked a café, a nice and cozy place he had looked up on the internet, but still popular enough that the awkwardness of their date of sorts would be easily drowned out by the other patrons’ presence.

She was scrolling through her phone when he walked in and spotted her in the far left corner. It was secluded enough to guarantee them some privacy, but still not enough to cut them off from the rest of the world. He figured it was just perfect.

“Hey,” he greeted when he walked up to the table she had picked and he tried not to sigh when he noticed she had pulled her hair back into two braids.

She looked up at him—she didn’t glare the way he had expected her to, but she also didn’t smile. “Hey.”

He sat down, and they both stared at each other until a waiter came up and Y/N called for a coffee and an orange juice before glaring the guy away.

The awkwardness of it all quickly filled the space between them, and wrapped them up like a blanket, but it wasn’t just that. She was pissed, and angry, and probably murderous, but under all that he could still see the heartbreak in her eyes.

“Well, I’m here,” she said. “Say what you wanted to say. It’s the least I deserve, I think.”

Dominic opened his mouth to speak, but then the waiter came back and he closed it again as he watched their order being placed on the table. His cup of black coffee and her glass of juice seemed to put even more distance between them and he had to resist the impulse of passing a hand over his shaved head the way he did when he was nervous.

“I’m sorry,” was what he sighed, lowering his gaze first to the table and then back out of the window and the rain-washed street outside.

She leaned forward and took a sip from the straw before crossing her arms and sitting back against the cushioned back of the booth. “That’s it? You came all the way from wherever the fuck you’ve been hiding to just say I’m sorry? No explanation whatsoever?”

Another sigh, but before he could open his mouth to speak again, she cut him off.

“Was any of that real? Was there at least a crumb of truth? I opened up to you and you just—” Her voice trembled, but whether it was out of tears or pure anger, Dominic couldn’t tell.

“It was real.” He was quick at biting back, probably a bit too aggressively than he had any right to be. “It was real,” he repeated after a moment, voice much quieter and eyes boring into hers. “I did love you.”

“Love’s too big a word for the things you’ve done.”

“It was work,” he tried to reason. “I got sent here on an undercover mission—”

“I know that. I’ve been interrogated by the ones who didn’t go in. They suspected me. Because of you. Because I had been fucking the snitch for almost five years.”

He gaped at her for a moment before sighing in defeat. “I loved you,” but he didn’t say I still do, or You’re still on my mind day in and day out, and not even I still see your panties on the gear shift of Christian’s car. “That wasn’t fake, it wasn’t part of the mission. I told myself I wouldn’t fall for you, that it would mess things up, that it wasn’t fair to you. But I still did. Every I love you I said was real. Every single one of them.”

She was silent for a minute before she scoffed and shook her head. “You’re so full of shit, Dominic.”

It was different this time. She had told him that he was full of shit many a time, always laughing, always joking, but this time those words cut deep—deep enough to rob him of his breath for a moment.

“I trusted you,” she continued then, much quieter, voice barely audible above the sound of the music and of the other people chatting. “I thought you’d be my forever. How stupid I was…”

He looked down at his cup, his throat too knotted to even stomach the idea of drinking his coffee. “That makes two of us. I thought that I—”

“Don’t you even dare—”

“That I’d have more time,” he continued unrelenting, shaking his head with closed eyes for a second before opening them and staring at her again. “That I could buy more time. I kept on hoping I’d fuck up somehow, that things would go wrong and that I wouldn’t have to complete the mission. Or that I could have the time to make you hate me before it was all over.”

“Well, I do kinda hate you now.”

“Breaking your heart was never in my plans, though.” He almost moved his hand on the table to place it over hers, but a last-minute realization made him understand that that was most definitely the worst thing he could do at the moment. And not because she could snap his wrist easily, but because he had no right to. “I really did love you. I wanted to take you back with me. I tried to tell you.”

There was a spark of recognition in her eyes, then, and he knew what memory his words had brought back. The two of them relaxing in the bathtub, her back against his chest, her damp hair tickling his neck and cheek. Come away with me, he had told her, fingers trailing up and down her arms, making her shiver. Let’s go far away, where no one can find us.

“I didn’t want it to end,” he confessed. “Any of that.”

“You built everything on a lie, Dominic.” A scoff. “If that’s even your real name, that is.”

“It is.”

It seemed to take her off guard and erased the words she had been about to say.

“My name’s Dominic Brunsmeier, not Neumann. I work for an international unit of elite agents that fight terrorism. I was assigned on this mission because we were informed Anton was doing more than simply dealing drugs. I went undercover with a Hells Angels chapter in the past, so the GSG-9 called me back for this one,” he confessed, voice flat and almost professional. He would have never thought he’d one day be making such a speech out loud, but there he was, in a busy café, in front of the woman he still had the nerve to love but who didn’t love him back anymore. “And my love for you could’ve never been a lie.”

She nodded once and turned her head to the side and to the city outside. He was trying to gauge what she might be thinking, what might be going on inside her head. But she remained unreadable and distant. “They’d kill you if they knew you’re back,” she eventually said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye, her chin still resting on the palm of her hand.

He shrugged. “I’ve been close to death too many times to be scared today. This past year…” He couldn’t tell her it had been rough; he didn’t think he had the right to when in her eyes he had gone back home. “I knew I had to see you, even if it was for the last time. I didn’t think you’d agree to meet up, but I’m glad you did.”

They were silent after that. They drank their beverages, and all without speaking a word. But then, when they paid and left, she let him accompany her home.

“I thought you’d break my bones,” he confessed with a chuckle as he stood outside her apartment complex and she picked the right key to open the building’s door.

“I thought I would, too.” She was pensive, lost in thought, and it took her a couple of minutes before she pushed the door open. “But the truth is, I probably could never.”

They stared at each other, and before he could have the time to chicken out, he said, “I know it’s too much to ask, but… We could still have time together.”

She looked at him for a moment longer before she stepped into the building and closed the door behind her back.

Later that night, as he sat on his hotel bed once again, on a phone call with Marius, he couldn’t stop thinking about the last words she told him.

Yes, we could.

Feedback is always welcome if you want to drop old me a line 💛

If you want to be tagged, hit me up! xx

#dominic brunsmeier #dominic bandit brunsmeier #rainbow six siege imagine #r6s bandit imagine #dominic brunsmeier imagine #dominic brunsmeier x oc #r6s bandit x oc #rainbow six siege fanfic

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stellar-starseed · 3 years

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Closer Than That

Group: Stray Kids

Pairing: Changbin x reader, Jisung x reader, polyamory

Summary: Your best friends happen to be 3racha, but Changbin was your closest friend from childhood. When things start to take a different turn in your relationship, you’re left wondering which way is up.

Word Count: 2,280

Chapter: 14/14

Other Chapters: Master List

Warnings: 18+; sexual content, language

Chapter 14

Jisung moped around for months and avoided any group activity where you may be involved. He was miserable. He wasn’t able to get into any groove and his recent songs were all sad songs. One of the producers told Jisung to snap out of whatever his bullshit was. He resented that statement. But he also knew he couldn’t continue like this. He took off his headphones and shut down his computer. He needed to settle things.

You were so relieved to spend time away from everything. You hadn’t had time off of work in nearly a year. It was nice to spend a day at the beach with your boyfriend. After hours of playing and kissing and floating around in the water, you and Changbin laid on the sand covered blanket under the setting sun.

“Princess?” Changbin started. He was nervous and he didn’t want you to smell it on him.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.” He said almost chickening out. He leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose. You giggled and told him you loved him back.

“I want to marry you.” He blurted out before he could think about it. He couldn’t look you in the eye and he played with the corner of the blanket. You were shocked as you looked up at him. A smile began to grow on your face slowly but oh so wide.

“I want to marry you too, my prince.” You poke his side.

“Ah,” He wiggled and couldn’t hold back his smile. “I know I should have a big ring for you, but I wanted your real ring to be perfect. So, maybe we can pick that one out together?” He pauses and you nod with a smile, biting at your lip trying to contain your excitement. “But I did get you something.” Changbin pulls out a ring with your birthstone and takes your hand. He begins to put it on your ring finger but stops and looks at you for approval. You laugh and nod. Changbin nods back, sighs, and slips the ring on your finger.

You immediately wrap your arms around him and kiss him. You fall back on the sandy towel and fight over who should be in control of the kiss.

Jisung stood at your door for a few minutes as he wondered if he should really be there. He didn’t deserve a chance just like Changbin said months before. He couldn’t handle it, he fucked up. He should’ve never been so hasty, giving you that letter. He should’ve sucked it up and stayed with you. He would rather have half your heart and feel your love than none of it. Just that thought crushed him.

“I miss you.” He said to the door in front of him. He was immediately embarrassed when your neighbors walked by smiling and waving. He waved and smiled as well. He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again and looked down on his key ring. He didn’t have your key anymore. “Fuck!” He growled at himself and stormed off.

When Jisung returned to the dorms, Felix was the only one around. Jisung plopped down on the couch next to him. Felix offered a warm smile and pat Jisung’s thigh.

“No Felix approved baked goods?” Jisung questions. Felix chuckles.

“Not today, mate.” He shakes his head. “I think there might be some left over brownies. The guys went out before I finished making them yesterday. Not sure they knew they were there.”

“Good.” Jisung pushed himself off the couch and headed for the kitchen. He found a single brownie with a bite mark in it at the bottom of a very large container. He walked into the living room to show Felix.

“Who does this?” Jisung says as he grabs for the partially eaten sweet. He takes a bite and has a seat on the couch again.

“Are you eating your sorrows?” Felix questions. “You seem a tad mopey.” Jisung nods and continues eating with a pout.

“Do you want to help me make more?” Felix questions. Jisung thinks about it for a moment.

“Can we make cookies instead?” He asks with puppy dog eyes.

“Of course.” Felix says and he heads for the kitchen. Felix calls out directions to Jisung as he walks around the kitchen.

“I thought I was just going to watch.” Jisung grumbles.

“You said you would help.” Felix gives Jisung his brightest smile and pats him on the back. “You’re doing fantastic. These might be better than mine.” Jisung tried to hide his smile as he continued mixing what was turning into dough.

Several cookies and a romantic drama later, Jisung began to sigh and shift in his place.

“Wanna talk about it?” Felix caught on.

“I want to talk to her.” Jisung crossed his arms over his chest. “I need her to know how much I care. I don’t want it to end like this.”

“Didn’t you tell her how much you care in your letter?” Felix reached for a cookie.

“Stupid fucking letter.” Jisung’s head fell to his hands. “I want to tell her myself she means so much and I’d rather be with her than without her.”

“But I think the time passed for that right?”

“I thought so but the longer I wait the more excuse I give myself to say that.” Jisung stood up. “I want to go see her.”

“Isn’t that where you were? She’s not at home mate.”

“Right.” Jisung took a seat and sighed. “I’m going crazy. I need to talk to her to let her know before it really is over.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jisung.” Felix said solemnly.

“I have to try.”

“But what about her?” Felix said sternly. “What about Changbin? You hurt her. I’m sure you hurt him too.”

Jisung was surprised to hear this from Felix. Felix has always put things lightly and he was there for Jisung through this whole process. Hearing Felix take on a serious tone and defend the others almost made Jisung mad. His blood began to boil as he thought about his own pain through this.

“What do you know?” Jisung spat as he got up and left.

Felix sighed and shook his head. He put his half eaten cookie down and sat back on the couch. This wasn’t going to end well for Jisung and he didn’t want to stick around to see the car wreck this may become.

“Relationships suck.” Felix said to himself.

“Why do you think I don’t do them!” Chan chimes in and he turns the lights on.

“Except you’re always trying to get into Changbin and ______’s.” Felix laughed. “Everyone home?” He questions. Chan shakes his head.

“Just me and Jeongin who stopped for ramen.” Felix nodded.

“Hannie alright?” Chan plops down on the couch and offers candy to Felix who gladly takes a couple.

“I don’t think so, mate. He wants to tell her he still wants to be with her.”

“Seriously?” Chan sat up straight. “You know where Changbin is right now don’t you?”

“Fucking proposing, bro. I know. I tried to talk him out of it.”

Somehow Jisung snuck past Chan on his way out hearing Chan ask about him made him cringe. Everyone’s been walking on eggshells and he didn’t like it. He needed to end all of this once and for all. He hoped that if you gave him a chance, just listened to him, that you’d understand and want to fix things too.

Jisung waited outside your apartment until he saw your car pull up. He hoped harder than he had ever hoped before that Changbin wasn’t with you. The Gods must’ve been in his side tonight because Changbin was nowhere to be found when you walked up. Jisung took that as a sign he was doing the right thing. He was nervous but decided to shake it off because even the universe wanted him to be here.

“Hey, ______.” Jisung said. You were startled by him as you had been admiring the ring on your finger.

“Hey...” you were taken aback. “What are you doing here Jisung? Is everything okay?”

“No, it isn’t.” Jisung started. You immediately unlock your door and let him in. He didn’t look well. You got him a glass of water and sat next to him on the couch.

“Breathe.” You tell him. He does as you say.

“I love you, jagiya.” Jisung starts once he’s gained some composure.

“What? Well, I love you Jisung, but we’ve been down that road and I’m not going there again.”

“But I need you to know why.”

“You were pretty clear in your letter.”

“I was jealous.” He pleads. “I felt worthless.” His eyes fill with tears and he tries to reach for your hand when he notices the ring.

“Jisung, I can’t do this.” You pull away from him and stand up. “We had our chance. I asked you never to do that to me again. You promised me you would never just up and leave me like that. You fucking ghosted me Jisung. You did that.”

“Are you getting married?” He questioned.

“Yeah.” You smile down at your ring. You were going to have to get used to this. It seemed sudden, and then it didn’t. Everything about it felt right. Changbin was it. You looked up at Jisung.

“I should be thanking you. I realize what I have with Changbin, and I’m sorry if you ever felt anything but love from me. I really am, Jisung. I love you still. I just had to move on when you broke my heart.” You placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed your thumb over his soft skin. He leaned in to your touch and you gave him a sad smile.

“I hope you find someone who makes you feel the way Changbin makes me feel.”

Jisung returned your sad smile and you offered the couch in your studio to him. He gladly took it and fell fast asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

You sent Changbin a message letting him know what happened and where Jisung was. You decided to just head to bed since work probably wasn’t the best idea.

It was weird to think the attraction between you and Jisung was so intense from the very beginning. All just to fizzle out. It was weird to think of how he would fit in your life moving forward. But as you drifted off to sleep you started to realize you wouldn’t stop loving him as one of your best friends.

Changbin let himself into your apartment. He checked on Jisung who was peacefully sleeping and snuck into your room.

“Jagiya,” he whispered. “I’m here, Princess don’t try to kill me.”

“Binnie?” You whispered in your groggy sleep voice. He chuckled and affirmed with a hum. His arms found their way around your waist and you both settled in.

“Everyone knows about the engagement.” Changbin whispered.

“I knew you couldn’t keep it a secret.” You laughed.

It was Jisung’s turn to dream about you. He dreamt of that day you met in the café to make up. His dream wasn’t as vivid. It was very clearly a dream, but Jisung was ready to enjoy his moment with you.

He was sad when he was watching his dream from the outside, but as soon as you walked in he lit up. He saw his own face light up at the sight of you and he felt excitement all over again. He could smell you and he nearly tasted you in the kiss you shared before leaving the cafe altogether. Jisung heard himself promising you that he wouldn’t leave you like that again. ‘Never’ he told you.

Jisung woke up feeling the weight of his actions. He recalled Felix’s advice not to talk to you about his lingering feelings. He was just being selfish and he just began to realize it. The faint memories he had of his dream in an almost blurry faded state, made Jisung wonder if he had been living in a fantasy. He wasn’t fantasizing his love for you and he wasn’t fantasizing the loneliness he felt, but maybe he was expecting too much from it all. Nothing is perfect and maybe his relationship with you was as perfect as it could get. Maybe he made too much of the little jealousies and the bad feelings.

You woke up earlier than usual and decided to make breakfast for the two sleeping beauties like old times. You walked around the kitchen and began your work on a hearty breakfast.

“My Princess.” Changbin says next to your ear as he wraps his arms around you from behind. You smile and lean back into him. When Changbin starts in with kisses in your neck, you turn in his arms to kiss him. You feed him a sausage and smack his butt as he heads to sit down.

Jisung finally made his way out of the studio when you and Changbin were about half way through with your breakfast. You noticed Jisung’s form entering quietly and get up to fix his plate.

He smiles at you and takes a seat next to Changbin. He’s hesitant to start, but tries not to make things awkward.

“Like old times.” You smile at them. “I hope we can be okay, Jisung.”

“Of course.” He says with his mouth half full. “I’m sorry I made it awkward and I’m sorry that I hurt you. Both of you.”

“That you, Ji.” You walk around the breakfast counter to give him a tight hug.

“Thank you.” Changbin says seriously with a nod and pats Jisung’s back.

It wasn’t what you expected when you started dating your best friends, but you couldn’t really complain about how you ended up at this point. Things felt right.

———————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed!

While this has come to an end there will likely be at least one deleted scene to come from this in the future.

Stay safe. Stay healthy. Stay golden. ♥️

#queued for your reading pleasure #closer than that #stray kids #SKZ #Changbin #Jisung #Chan #Jisung x reader #seo Changbin #Changbin x reader #Han Jisung #bang Chan #Chris bang #kpop #kpop fic #kpop scenario #kpop imagines

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repentantsky · 3 years

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5 Companies That Have Too Much Hype Around Them

Look, we all love our favorite games with a passion, and to an extent that’s fine, but when that passion becomes obsession and that obsession becomes forgetting our own moral compass for the sake of entertainment, it does feel like it’s gone too far. It’s one thing to love what a company releases, it’s completely another to ignore every problem they’ve ever had. Not all of the companies on this list have done horribly un-ethical things, but they’ve at least been anti-consumer, and the fact that people don’t question that enough has led to them sometimes, making horrible mistakes. I am RepentantSky, I love making lists that trash on things that are popular, and these are 5 companies, that have too much hype around them.

5. Nintendo

Already I can hear people getting angry, and in a way I get it. Nintendo is for many people the place where they either begin to play games, or the place they go to keep on playing them when everything else let’s them down, and of course, they put an end to the flipping video game crash of 1983, and no one else will ever be able to claim that from them. That’s all wonderful, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be critical of them. I’ve talked about a number of things they’ve done wrong before, so let me quickly run down the list of some of their anti-consumer practices. They, charge too much for remasters and ports, they don’t drop prices in games, they used to charge for fixing Joy-Cons and now completely deny it’s a problem for legal reasons, despite everyone pretty much having experienced drift, they haven’t been good at getting stock for their items in at least 20 years, and oh yeah, they sell all the content for a remake for $115 on the 3DS, the system and the fans that helped them get by while the Wii U was massively underperforming, all while handing owners of the, at the time, unproven Switch, free content. Nintendo has a tendency to still think like a toy company, and they even used that idea to present the Nintendo Entertainment System as a toy instead of a console when they first game to the West with it, but they aren’t a toy company, their a gaming company that also sells toys, just like everyone else. I get they’ve done amazing things, I own over 150 physical handheld games from them, and a ton of digital games besides, but when they start charging twice what they are worth for SD cards, while releasing games that absolutely won’t fit on the limited space of the Switch, and they simply don’t care when costumers complain, it’s time to at least question their motives.

4. Bethesda

Boy I used to really rip on this company back when I posted lists on Facebook, but I haven’t done it in a while, so let’s do it again. Bethesda has absolutely spent at least the last 10 years lying to people, Todd Howard, has become famous for it, but I think I might have been the only person who wasn’t shocked when Fallout 76 was the disaster that it was. There were so many things wrong with that game, that I don’t even have time to go over every little thing, but lying, you know the thing that will get another company on this list very soon, was a big thing they did with the game. They promised at one point that they weren’t ever going to charge for items in the game that gave in-game benefits, and they did, allowing ammo and other items to be bought with real money for a time, they promised new, specialized servers if you paid for a yearly service that was way too expensive, and that wasn’t true because people found proof of things missing from what would have been a freshly made, private server, and there’s no excuse for that, games in early access do that correctly, and they aren’t, at least supposedly, even finished yet. I wish I could say that’s all they’ve done, but they also bullied an indie developer over their game Prey, a game they may have bullied the original developer for so they could get cheaper, but we’ll never know because they refused to comment on that when asked, they also refused to update their outdated game engine for years, which caused something they spent over a decade fixing, games releasing with glitches, some of them game breaking. Yet somehow, they have such a fan base that those who love their games will claim the glitches are just part of the charm. That kind of fierce loyalty led to Fallout 76, and even though we make jokes about it even now, the horse DLC from way back in the day, was an indication of everything they’ve done, including trying to charge for mods made for free, meant to be consumed for free, twice. Bethesda is a bad company and they do not care.

3. Activision/Blizzard

You know one of the worst things Nintendo does that I didn’t really mention directly in the first entry, is limit the amount of time a product is available, instead of just letting it be there for consumption as long as it’s selling (that was what the toy company reference was about if it wasn’t clear). However, Activision/Blizzard are the Kings of doing this, as they not only limited things while they were in control of Destiny 2 to the point where you pretty much had to use real money to get everything, and never mind everything else they did to it, because we’d be here all day going through it all, but they also don’t support games as a service titles long enough for dedicated fans. Crash Team Racing Nitro fueled, is a prime example of this. People weren’t done with that game, and when fans thought for even a split second that an update was going to come to fix an issue, their hype (mine to) was so explosive, it was almost like we were getting a new game, but then nothing happened, because they didn’t care. A lot of companies that do yearly release titles as a service have this problem and nothing exemplified that more for Activision, than Skylanders, a series originally made off the back of Spyro, who didn’t even wait for a year to release new games, as technically between October 21st and November 20th of the year the first game came out, they released three of them, and I’m not even kidding. Two of them, were mobile games! You might have thought I was going to go after Call of Duty, for this, but that horse has been beaten to ground, somehow, more than Skylanders was. They also, for whatever reason, released each expansion on different generations console generations, at different months throughout Fall, like somehow the season of Fall, they needed a release every month, if not two, and so off they went. I didn’t even get into Blizzard, but all I need to say is “Blitzchung” and all the memories will likely come flooding back. There’s also the fact that in two separate years, after gaining massive profits, they dropped hundreds of employees, and hired more than they’d let go, but I guess that doesn’t really matter to some of you, because when they did it this year, with so little warning, most employees found out via the news articles about it, but we all made such a little stink this time around, it didn’t create any media buzz, so I guess that doesn’t matter, you’d all rather play flipping World of Warcraft, like better MMO’s don’t exist.

2. CD Projekt Red

I know this one comes off a little more fresh in the mind, and they technically only lied about one game, but man, what a series of lies it was. Also, let’s be honest, one major game, does not a great developer always make. CDPR’s previous two Witcher games did exactly what the author of the books thought they would, and that was almost nothing in terms of making a serious impact, and the reason is, they are kind of bad. They aren’t the worst games out there, but there is a good reason why The Witcher 1 and 2 haven’t been ported and/or remastered, despite how important they are to the story of Witcher 3, and that’s because they both suck. Cyperpunk 2077, was in a lot of ways, them just going back to being the developer they were before, the BIG ONE happened. They lied about nearly everything in regards to the game, including how the main platforms where consumers were going to buy it, were actually running well. I made those references to Witcher 1 and 2 for a reason, although if I’m being honest, they actually look better than Cyberpunk did on day 0, and that’s completely unacceptable. The budget for CDPR was basically nothing for Witcher 1 and 2 combined to what Cyberpunk got, but they were so focused on the PC versions because PC ran the game better, somehow (like maybe because they didn’t try with consoles) and they missed glitches that were so bad, the game felt like it was still in beta, if not alpha upon release. The fact that they’ve only released eleven games in twenty-three years, and only two of them didn’t have The Witcher on them, should have told us all we need to know, and yet the game, even after returns, which was another massive screw-job that led to Cyberpunk being removed from the PlayStation store, still sold Sixteen million units, all because of hype, and because apparently, some people don’t care if they’re lied to. Do you want to know what the other game they released is besides a Witcher title? It was flipping Saints Row 2, a fun game, but also one that’s too goofy for it’s own good, and yet suddenly makes Cyberpunk’s release, make sense, because it was all a massive joke, and a parody of good, well running, open world games. CDPR needs to seriously do something, anything different, and never release a game in this poor of a state ever again.

1. Ubisoft

I put Ubisoft at number one for a damn good reason, and that reason is, that everyone seems to hate the company, but loves their games, and I don’t know why. They haven’t been the overall worst company on this list, although they are pretty bad, but the major problem they have, and have had for at least a decade is that none of their games have any identity, they are literally all the same game, with different coats of paint. Sure, an occasional gem sneaks through like Assassin’s Creed IV, but all of the rest of their games have the same visual style (although ACII does seem to be the base for which they create their art let’s be honest), the shooting mechanics they have in all the games that have guns, all feel exactly the same, which is something even Call of Duty manages to avoid most years (guess I took a shot at them anyways) and yet somehow, someway, I keep seeing people getting excited for their releases, and it doesn’t make any sense. Sure, they throw a celebrity actor in from time to time, and the artistic style they use does look pretty cool, but everything is always the same with them, every single time, no matter what it is, and they still keep making money. It doesn’t really make sense either, because a lot of developers do make games that are very similar feeling, see the Life is Strange team or much as well all loved them, Telltale Games, but at least those titles told extremely interesting stories, and developed their mechanics at least a little, which is something most companies do just on principal, but not Ubisoft. They throw out a few Tom Clancy games every time they talk about what their releasing, the Trials and AC games are still mostly a yearly experience, and I’ll say it again, their entire list of releases since at least 2013, the year the previous generation kicked off, have pretty much all been the same. It would be nice if they made more games like Child of Light, but despite the fact that their games will likely never be as popular as Call of Duty, they keep churning out same-y shooters hoping that one day, maybe just one day, they’ll create their own CoD, and it’s just not gonna happen. The saddest part of all is that when they announce something different, something fans have wanted for years, we get The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time Remake, which was literally delayed because fans said they wouldn’t buy it unless some actual effort was put into making it, why is this company so popular that it can keep doing this, someone please explain it to me.

And that’s my list, can you think of any other companies that are too hyped? Let me know in the notes below, hit me up with a follow if you like my content, and give me a reblog, I’d really appreciate it. Have a wonderful life!

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

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Coach Cavill - Chapter 5

Summary: Amelia sees coach Cavill at Benji’s practice, the day after the pumpkin patch.

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

‘Oh no, honey,’ I say to Benji, when we’re off the parking lot, ‘I forgot my bag in the car. You go inside and get changed, I’ll be right there.’

Benji simply nods and walks inside, his sports bag thrown over his shoulder, while I hurry back to the car, to grab my bag. My head has all over the place since the moment I woke up and me forgetting my bag in the car, fits exactly in today’s events. I rush back inside and before I can walk around the corner, I hear: ‘Benji, is your mom not with you today?’

‘She is, just getting her bag out of the car.’

‘Right,’ Henry says. ‘Get dressed, okay? Ricky is doing the warm-up today, but after that, we’ll work on your grip and some other things. I saw a few things this Saturday that I want you to improve on a bit more.’

‘Sure thing, coach.’

I have to try not to scream, because Henry freaking Cavill was asking my son if I wasn’t with him today, meaning he must’ve really wanted to see me, right? Or am I reading way too much into this?

I mean, I’m thirty five years old and this stuff shouldn’t make me this giddy as if I was still in high school. Right?

Right?

I walk around the corner, to see Henry in his judogi, his black belt securely wrapped and tied around his hips. ‘Hi Henry,’ I say.

‘Amelia.’ Is his face lighting up? Am I seeing this correctly, thus not reading way too much into this? ‘How are you?’

‘I’m okay,’ I say. ‘I’ve got your sandwich with me.’ I rummage through my bag that has been everything but organized today (I’m really a mess) and give him the packed sandwich. I massage my temple when he has taken the sandwich out of my hand.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asks me.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that I’m having one of those days that everything I do, just miserably fails. It’s a surprise Benji and I made it here alive.’ I let out a deep sigh and say: ‘I’ll just grab a cup of coffee, maybe I’ll feel better after that.’

‘Why don’t I get you a cup, while you go sit on the bleachers?’ he suggests. ‘Want a cappuccino?’

‘That would be great. I mean, I can totally get it myself.’

He shakes his head. ‘Allow me, please. Besides, if I get it for you, it’s free.’ He sends me a wink and I’m nearly one with the tiles, but I manage to keep myself upright.

‘Okay, if you insist,’ I chuckle. I watch him walk to the bar, before I make my way to the bleachers. Benji rushes towards me and throws the roll of tape to me. I somehow manage to catch it with simply one hand.

‘Nice one, mom.’ He plops next to me and I start taping in his ankle.

Henry joins us, with a cup of cappuccino in his hand. He tells me he’ll hold onto it, so I can finish up taping Benji. The two of them start to talk about the things they’ll work on today and after Benji gave me a kiss, he rushes off to join his friends. ‘Here you go,’ Henry tells me and I hear the gossiping mothers behind me audibly gasp.

Yeah, eat that up after you ladies all gossiped about me after the game.

‘Thanks, I really need it. Oh, I didn’t know they did latte art here,’ I note, seeing the heart on my cappuccino.

‘They don’t,’ he says. ‘I made it for you.’

‘Henry Cavill,’ I say with a smile out of disbelieve. ‘You keep on surprising.’

‘I sure do,’ he chuckles. ‘Back in Jersey I worked in a cafe and was one of the best barista’s they had.’ He buffs out his chest, causing me to roll my eyes, but that is more to cover up my upcoming giggles, because I’m flustered.

Call me a thirsty bitch, but I would kill to see a glimpse of his bare chest.

‘Well, I’m a professional cappuccino drinker, so let me see if this is any good.’ I cock an eyebrow, before I take a sip and goodness me, this is delicious! How is this even possible? ‘This… This is wonderful,’ I note, ‘might be one of the best cappuccino’s I’ve ever had.’

He smiles. ‘Well, I can make you a cappuccino every time you’re here. If you want of course.’

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Really, thank you.’

‘Not a single problem, Amelia. It’s my absolute pleasure.’

I take another sip and say: ‘You left your pumpkin at our place.’

‘I realized when I got home,’ he says. ‘Okay, I might have left it on purpose, so I had an excuse to visit your house again. It sure is a lot cozier than my place and it feels like a home. Even with the enormous pile of laundry.’

I gasp, as I try to ignore the fact that he left the pumpkin on purpose so he could visit my house again. ‘You promised me not to look.’

‘Couldn’t help it. There was a lot of laundry,’ he laughs. ‘Oh, I was wondering actually: did Hattie stop by today?’

I nod. ‘She did and the three kids whose parents were going to pick them up a little later, absolutely adored her already.’

‘I think she would be a lovely teacher,’ he says. ‘She seems like the patient kind.’

‘Oh, she is. She babysat Isabella and Yara a few times and somehow didn’t need to sedate them. though I told her she could. An absolute angel she is, so I’m really grateful that she’ll be helping me out.’ This cappuccino is finished way sooner than I intended to. ‘Well, I have a deal,’ I say, ‘how about I bring you sandwiches and you make me cappuccino’s?’

‘That sounds like an excellent idea.’ Henry smiles at me and looks into my cup. ‘Let me take this,’ he says.

He stands up to walk away, but I grab his sleeve, causing him to halt. ‘Thank you, Henry.’

‘For what?’

‘Everything,’ I say. ‘After this shitty day… This was exactly what I needed.’

Henry smiles and nods. ‘Of course, Amelia. I’m happy to do it.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Benji and I walk towards the car, his arm hooked through mine. He never showers at the centre, but always at home, because he doesn’t want to be naked around everyone and honestly, I totally get it. When I had to share a bathroom with eight other girls back at our dorm in Seoul, I quickly learned that privacy is barely a thing, but it was hard on me the first few weeks.

‘No, no, no,’ I groan, crouching down near the tire, that is really really flat. I really can’t use this today. I actually can’t use this ever, but today seems like the worst day. I nearly pull out my hairs out of frustration and I am willing to just lay on the pavement and not to move, even when cars pass by. I slam the door with my hands.

‘Mom, it’s okay.’

I look over my shoulder. ‘No, it’s not. Everything is going wrong today.’

‘I’ll take care of it.’

I shake my head. ‘No, I’m not going to let you fix the tire. Knowing you, you’ll sprain your wrist, or weirdly enough, injure your back. Believe me, I’ve been there. Just… Let me think for a second.’

‘I can ask someone,’ Benji says, placing down his bag. ‘Just wait here.’

‘No, honey, I swear, if you bring back Keaton Johnson’s dad, I’m going to kill you. That man bullied me all the way through high school, but when I got back from Korea, he all of the sudden asked me out and didn’t understand no for an answer. He stalked me for three weeks!’

‘Well, I don’t like Keaton Johnson,’ Benji deadpans. ‘He always pinches me when trying to get out of a headlock and his dad is always really loud, so don’t you worry.’ He sends me me a reassuring smile, before rushing back inside. I open the trunk of the car, trying to look for that spare tire and the other stuff you need for changing a tire. My mom once showed me how to do this, but I injured my shoulder doing so, so that was the end of that.

‘Mom, I brought back-up.’

I turn around and see Benji and Henry walking towards the car. ‘Oh,’ I say and I want to say something else, but the words just don’t come out.

‘Got a flat tire?’ Henry asks.

‘Yeah.’

‘This really isn’t your day now, is it?’ he laughs and I shake my head. ‘Well, I may be a judo trainer, but I also happen to be a knight in shining armor on the side, luckily for you.’

You’re an adult woman, Amelia, please, don’t blush because of this. ‘Then I think you’ve got this covered,’ I say with a smile. ‘I’ll just lean back and let you boys do this.’

‘Have you ever changed a tire, Benji?’ Henry asks, who rolls up the sleeves of his sweater. He is already wearing his normal clothes again, instead of the judogi, making me wonder if he wasn’t going to continue to give training tonight.

‘I haven’t, coach.’

‘Well, first time for everything. You should take off your jacket. It looks new and there is a chance you might get a little dirty.’

Benji hands me his jacket and rubs his hands together. ‘My dad always wanted to teach me,’ he admits, ‘however he never got time.’

‘That,’ I say, ‘and he didn’t know how to change a tire.’

‘Can you change a tire?’ Benji asks me.

‘Well, I did do it once with grandma, only I injured my shoulder, so you, Benji, need to be careful. But, to answer your questions, I can read the instructions online and if I really needed to, I could do this. Why would I do it, when I have two very capable men around me? I think I should just leave it up to them.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Henry lets out a deep breath and gets up, stretching his back. ‘Well, this looks good and please, remember that this will only bring you home.’ Before I can say something about that, he fist bumps Benji. ‘Thanks kid, you’re a great help.’

‘I am?’ Benji asks. ‘I barely did anything.’

‘You did plenty,’ Henry says with a smile. ‘You always do.’

Benji blushes and I pat him on the back. ‘Thanks, coach.’ He loads in his own bag and some other things and says goodbye to Henry, before getting in.

‘You truly are a knight in shining armor,’ I say to Henry. ‘Really, I don’t know how to make this up to you. Somehow you’ve managed to make this day not absolutely terrible. First the cappuccino, then you change my tire and all in that progress, you are the greatest to my son. Are you even real, Henry?’

‘Very real,’ he tells me. ‘And it’s always my absolute pleasure.’ He walks to my car door and opens it for me. ‘Here, allow me, Amelia.’ He holds out his hand and though I roll my eyes, I take his hand and he helps me in my car. ‘Well Benji,’ he says, holding the door in one hand, as he leans against the doorframe with his other, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow and hopefully your mom will join us too.’

‘My mom always brings me to practice,’ Benji says, ‘don’t you worry.’

Is Henry blushing and is my son teasing him? ‘See you two tomorrow then,’ he awkwardly says, ‘and remember, Amelia, you have to get that tire checked. This one will just take you home.’

‘I know, Henry,’ I say with a laugh. ‘You’ve told me this four times already.’

‘Shoot, I’m sorry,’ he laughs, ‘just wanted to make sure.’ He clears his throat, before closing the door and I start the car.

‘Mom, are you happy?’ Benji asks.

I look to the side, before I pull up and wave to Henry. ‘Why are you asking that? I’m always happy.’

‘You were happy with dad, but that faded over the years. When we found out about dad and Mindy,’—it’s good to know that Benji hates her just as much as I do—‘you weren’t happy anymore and that broke my heart. During the process of you and dad finalizing the divorce, I missed who you were. I mean, you still put on a brave face for me and Isabella and you were amazing, but… Seeing you smile around someone who is very important to me, that means a lot.’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ I say. ‘That is so sweet of you. But, I don’t want to make rushed decisions. Besides, there is nothing going on between me and your coach.’

‘Yet,’ he says, ‘I can see it in the way you two look at each other.’

‘Since when did you become such an old lady?’ I ask him. ‘Goodness me, you sound just like my grandmother.’

Benji laughs. ‘Well, he always asks about you.’

‘We’ve known him for a week, maybe he just wants to get to know your family dynamics a bit more. He is new in town, so yeah.’

‘Mom, do you even believe that yourself?’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Anyways, during stretching, he usually helps us and he has been asking some things about you. Like, the types of flowers you like, about your favorite movies and books and how you like your tea.’

Wow… ‘And what did you answer?’

‘Told them you love tulips, but only if they are the same color, that you love every movie with Keanu Reeves in it, that you only read books you can use for class or for your own development and that you like fennel tea.’

My son knows me way too well. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this?’

‘Because… I don’t want to interfere in my mom’s dating life.’

‘Benji! This is barely a dating life.’

‘What is it then?’

I simply shrug. ��I don’t know. Remember, I only dated your father. I have no experience in this whatsoever. Benji, honey, I love you very much, but why am I talking about my so called dating life with you?’

‘Because,’ he chuckles, ‘I just want to make one thing clear: if you date my coach, I wouldn’t mind. That’s all.’

‘You’re a weird kid. My weird kid, but still…’

He nudges my shoulder and laughs. ‘Just think about it.’

✰ ✰ ✰

I managed to put Isabella and Benji both to bed and at ten o’clock, I finally have the chance to sit on the front porch. I lean back in the wooden chair and let out a deep sigh, thinking about how the hell I’m going to do that with the tire tomorrow. Johnny has to get to work tomorrow and won’t be back until ten in the evening, Eve has important meetings and has enough time to pick up Isabella and Yara after school, but not to help me with my car and I have to get to work.

I watch a very familiar looking car park in front of the house and Henry gets out of his car, together with Kal, who rushes towards me.

‘Hi, big bear,’ I say to him, as I scratch him behind his ears. ‘I missed you too.’ I look up and smile at Henry. ‘What a surprise visit. I’m almost thinking that you are obsessed with me.’

Henry chuckles, before taking place right next to me. ‘Well, while I was bugging you about making sure you get your tire checked, I forgot that you might be too busy. I figured I’d offer to help out. I can drive you guys to school and take your car to the shop. After that I can pick you up from work. I know that Eve picks up Isabella and Yara, so…’

I smile, as my eyes water. ‘That is so thoughtful.’

‘I’m happy to help and I don’t want you to drive around too long with the spare tire.’

I can’t help but note: ‘You seem to care.’

‘Of course I care.’

I look up to Henry, as Kal places his head on my knee. ‘Henry, I need to say something.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘If I were single and didn’t have two kids, I’d totally go for this, whatever it is between us, but… I have two kids, I have an ex-husband and I can’t drag Benji and Isabella into something I don’t know how it will end.’

‘That is totally understandable,’ he says. Obviously he understands, he is the definition of perfection. Look-wise and personality-wise.

‘I spoke to Benji about it and he was very supportive of it and I know that Isabella will be too, but… I don’t want to rush anything. So, my pace, okay?’

‘I don’t want to rush things either,’ he says. ‘But I do have to say that it’s such an honor to be around you.’

‘Don’t over exaggerate,’ I laugh.

‘I’m not! It’s just that you are so strong and easy to be around with. Guess I’m lucky that I bumped into you in the store, picked up your tampon box, only to see you later again that night.’

‘Oh no, not the tampon box,’ I whine. ‘Can’t believe you brought that up.’

‘It’s okay, it’s just tampons.’ He clears his throat and bumps his knee against mine. ‘Well, you know, I actually watched some of your former group’s music videos and performances.’

‘Oh shoot,’ I chuckle, ‘this is so embarrassing.’

‘It’s not. I quite liked it, actually. It was very catchy. You sure are main vocalist material. I mean, for someone who only was sixteen in some of the performances, you sure as hell can sing. You still do that?’

Those compliments make me blush like crazy and thankfully it’s pretty dark, so no one can actually see it. ‘Every now and then. I usually sing in class or with my kids or at Eve’s place as a joke. I also like to overdo the happy birthday-songs.’

‘Well, my birthday is in May, so I think I have to wait awhile before I can hear an exaggerated version of ‘happy birthday’ by the one and only Amelia Jung.’

‘Well, you are always invited to come to Benji’s birthday in January and of course, my birthday in December.’

‘Your birthday is in December? When?’

‘December twenty-first. The first official day of the winter.’

He nods. ‘Well, I’ll wait for my invitation.’

‘You should,’ I say. ‘I don’t like uninvited guests.’ I look up, only to see Henry already looking at me again. ‘Well, about tomorrow, I want to leave here at seven thirty. It’s pretty early, I know, but I have to prepare some things and since my brain was all over the place today, I think I have some fixing up to do.’

‘Then I’ll be here at seven thirty, with a cappuccino for you, in exchange for one of your delicious sandwiches.’

‘Of course,’ I chuckle, standing up and giving Kal a big kiss. ‘See you tomorrow, Henry.’

‘See you tomorrow, Amelia Jung.’

#henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x amelia jung #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #amelia jung #asian ofc #coach!henry cavill #Coach Cavill

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teenwolffanclub-me · 4 years

Text

Season 2, Episode 1: Omega (Part One)

Welcome to Season 2 bitches! This one’s gonna be fun 😉 Here’s the masterlist for the series if you wanna catch up!

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader

Notes: thanks everyone for the encouragement to continue!! every single one of your messages made my heart so happy! this is more of a filler chapter to catch us up but hopefully you guys still like it! I’m super excited for this season and have lots of good stuff planned 😏

I love feedback so let me know what you think!

—————————

“Oh my God, Stiles. Just do it already.”

I huffed out an impatient breath and watched as he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. We were sitting in the middle of his bed, my crossed legs only an inch away from his.

“Hey, I’m the anchor here. Alright?” His honey eyes twitched at me as one of his hands hovered above mine. “Let me do my thing.”

It was always hit or miss, whether Stiles’ touch would help calm my abilities or set them off. We’d been practicing the last couple days, trying to figure out how I could regain some control.

Most of the time, I felt like I was completely losing my mind. My thoughts were constantly racing. I was hearing and seeing things that weren’t actually there and showing up in random places again. None of it made sense. Peter had done something when he bit me, dialed my senses up to a hundred, and I had no idea how to fix it.

I was brought out of my thoughts as I felt a gentle touch on the top of my hand. My eyes flickered down to my lap, where Stiles was hesitantly running his fingers along my skin.

“Anything?” My gaze flickered up to meet his, my heart fluttering at the intense concern shining back at me. He hadn’t stopped worrying since I woke up in the hospital, so now I was growing concerned about his mental state.

“No.” A small smile twitched at my lips as I realized my senses had calmed significantly. The dull hum that had become a constant in my mind since I was bitten was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief, relishing in the few moments of silence. “Nothing.”

“Okay. So hand on hand...good. Hand on arm...bad.” Stiles’ eyes narrowed as he nodded to himself, referring to yesterday when he’d barely brushed against me and I’d practically passed out.

I glowered at him and slid my hands out from under his. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that we had any idea how this works.” He quipped with a swivel of his head, his eyebrows raising incredulously.

“I think it has more to do with....” I trailed off with a sigh, realizing that I actually had no idea what I was talking about. “Yeah, no. I’m at a loss.”

A frown pulled at his lips as he took one of my hands again and dragged his fingers along my skin, moving up my arm inch by inch. I let out content breath when he reached my shoulder and squeezed it gently. A moment later his hand cupped the side of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair as his thumb rubbed soothingly at my jaw.

I watched his eyes as they followed each of his movements, seemingly waiting for something bad to happen. When they flickered up to meet mine, I practically melted into a puddle. They were rounded gently, glimmering a bright golden color as a ray of sunlight snuck in through his blinds, perfectly illuminating his freckled skin.

I couldn’t help but lean forward to capture his lips with mine, my eyes fluttering closed in the process. He stiffened for a split second, as if caught off guard, before relaxing into the kiss. His fingers twitched against my face, but he was otherwise completely still in front of me.

When my tongue tentatively swept along his bottom lip, a quick image flashed in my mind. I grimaced involuntarily, whatever it was disappearing too fast to decipher.

“What is it?” Stiles pulled away from me with a jerk, his eyes wide as they jumped around my face.

I shook my head, hoping that would somehow clear everything away, and sent him a tight lipped smile. “Nothing. Promise.”

His eyes narrowed for a split second in disbelief, but he seemed to think better of arguing as he pulled me back to him with the hand that still rested against my face. I wasn’t exactly lying to him, but he was already worried enough. He didn’t need to know every single time something weird happened to me.

I didn’t even realize we were slowly drifting toward the mattress until my back pressed against it lightly. I brought my hands up to the sides of his face, momentarily forgetting that his hair was too short to run my fingers through. The spiky buzz cut poked at my skin as I ran my fingers along the back of his head. His free hand squeezed at my hip gently as he leaned over me.

I pulled away fractionally to catch my breath, giggling slightly at his timid nature. “Stiles...”

“Mmm?” He hummed against my lips and leaned forward, trying to reconnect them.

“I’m not going to break.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I slid one hand down to push against his chest, creating enough distance between us so that I could catch his eyes.

He let out a sigh, gaze flickering around my face in question. Since the day I was bitten, he’d been treating me like a porcelain doll. It was almost like he as afraid to touch me, which was honestly understandable because half the time when he did I lost my mind, but I needed him to cut it the fuck out if we were going to be together.

He nodded slightly before reaching down to grip my hand. His mouth met mine again as he tangled our fingers together and gently pressed my arm into the mattress beside my head. My lips twitched into a small smile against his as our tongues danced languidly. An idea suddenly popped into my mind and I pressed against him until he let me roll him onto his back.

I landed on top of him, my legs on either side of his hips. I pulled back and dragged my lips along his jaw, lightly pressing kisses against his smooth skin as I continued down his neck. He let out a shuddering breath and suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist, flipping me onto my back. He used a little more force than necessary, sending us clumsily tumbling off the side of the bed.

I yelped as we crashed onto the floor, Stiles managing to turn at the last second so that he took the brunt of the fall. He grunted in pain, his eyes pinching shut as he grimaced beneath me. I winced, pushing myself up onto my elbows to remove some of the weight from him.

His eyes popped open and we stared at each other for a long moment before erupting in a fit of giggles. I let my head fall against his chest, feeling my worries drift away in the comfort of his arms.

“That was so your fault.”

—————————

I huffed out an annoyed breath as I climbed into the Jeep, shutting the passenger door behind me with a slam. I pressed my back against the leather seat and rubbed the scratchy material I’d just stolen between my fingers.

“Did you get it?”

My eyes narrowed into a glare before sweeping toward Stiles as I held up the fabric in my hands. Clearly, he wasn’t very observant at the moment. “This is stupid.”

“Just shove the thing in his face and let’s find her.” His hand, which rested on the back of our seats, gestured behind us.

I hesitated, pursing my lips tightly. “If my mom gets fired because of this—”

“There’s no way anything’s gonna go wrong, Y/N.” Scott spoke up from the backseat as he reached forward and snatched the hospital gown from my lap.

I whipped around to glare at him. “You do realize that’s exactly what people say before everything goes horribly wrong?”

He just rolled his eyes and brought the gown up to his nose, ignoring my jab. After several unsuccessful days of Stiles and I trying to figure out how my personal brand of crazy works, Scott had the ridiculous idea to find Lydia by scent. There was no way it was going to work.

At this point, she’s been missing for five days. It was honestly impressive, in a terrible way, that no one had been able to find her yet. I was beginning to worry that she wasn’t even in Beacon Hills anymore. I couldn’t help but think, if she were still here, that we should’ve come across something by now.

Stiles started the Jeep from beside me, instantly jumping in surprise as the headlights illuminated a familiar thin figure. “Jesus Christ...”

Allison narrowed her eyes at him before rushing over to the passenger window.

“What are you doing here? Someone’s gonna see us.” Scott squished me against my seat as he leaned forward to peer out the window.

I pressed my shoulder into his chest to give myself more room, but he didn’t even budge an inch. I huffed in annoyance, watching as his wide eyes flickered around the dimly lit parking lot of the hospital before meeting hers again.

The two of them had been sneaking around for the last week, after Allison’s dad caught them making out in her car and nearly killed him on the spot. In exchange for his life, she’d promised to stay away from him. That lasted about an hour—which was honestly impressive given how obsessive they are—before he was sneaking into her house again.

“I don’t care. She’s my best friend and we need to find her before they do.” Allison insisted, completely ignoring my existence as she looked into Scott’s eyes pleadingly.

I squirmed uncomfortably under his weight, but quickly gave up on getting free. I sagged back in my seat with a sigh, knowing I wouldn’t be moving until he did.

“I can find her before the cops do.” His brows furrowed in offense as he probably assumed she was doubting his werewolf abilities.

“What about before my father?” Her voice rose with worry, and I shoved against Scott once again as my heart skipped a beat in alarm.

“He knows?” My question was slightly muffled behind him, until he finally leaned back with a grimace in my direction.

“Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs.” Allison’s eyes flickered between the two of us, wide with concern.

Well, shit. That couldn’t mean anything good. If her dad and other men were out looking for Lydia, our timeline was easily just cut in half. Maybe they wanted to kill her, or just catch her, but we couldn’t sit by and let either happen.

“A search party?” A spark of hope rose in my chest, although I knew it was a long shot.

“More like a hunting party.” She sighed, her eyes shining with guilt as if it were somehow her fault.

I popped the passenger door open quickly, scooting closer to Stiles to give her some room. Clearly, she wanted to come with us, and I wasn’t about to turn away extra help. “Get in.”

We drove in tense silence for a few minutes, all of us lost in our own thoughts. I was stuck on the same fear I’d had since the dance. It was highly unlikely that Lydia wasn’t a werewolf. I mean, if she wasn’t, she must be dead by now, and that wasn’t something I could even begin to entertain.

Then there was the fact that she would not handle being a werewolf well. I dreaded the idea of chaining her up on full moons, or dealing with extra moodiness on top of her usual attitude. It wouldn’t be pretty for any of us.

“Alright.” Stiles suddenly spoke up, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel anxiously. “If she’s turning, would they actually kill her?”

Allison’s eyes met his in the rear view mirror from beside me. I’d switched places with Scott when she got into the car, putting him up front with Stiles.

“I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything. All they say is ‘we’ll talk after Kate’s funeral, when the others get here.’”

“Others? What others?” My head snapped in her direction, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. This situation was quickly going from bad to worse, especially if they were calling in more hunters.

She sighed dejectedly and avoided my eyes. “I don’t know. They won’t tell me that, either.”

“Okay. Your family has some serious communication issues to work on. Scott, are we going the right way?” Stiles glanced toward the passenger side expectantly.

Scott nodded, his head sticking out the window as he tried to catch a scent. I rolled my eyes and dropped my head against the back of our seat. This whole thing was completely ridiculous. He may have hightened senses, but that didn’t mean he was a fucking search dog.

Even I could admit that we were desperate. We were taking things into our own hands as best we could. Scott was really our only hope at this point, which was pretty sad. He directed us all the way to the preserve, where we got out to continue on foot.

“She came here? Are you sure?” Stiles squinted his eyes at the Hale house a few minutes later as we approached it cautiously.

None of us had been here since the night Kate and Peter died, and I think it was safe to say that it wasn’t high on our list of places to visit. I’d be more than happy to never come here again.

Just the sight of the withering structure had my heart racing in my chest. Allison only glanced at the house fleetingly before crossing her arms and ducking her head away. It was probably harder for her to be here than any of us. Even though her aunt was a crazy bitch, she was still grieving as anyone would.

“This is where the scent leads.” Scott confirmed, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Dried leaves crunched beneath our feet as we slowly made our way toward the house. All of us were on high alert, waiting for something terrible to happen. Honestly, it was still hard for me to believe that Peter was actually dead. There was just something off about the whole thing, but I couldn’t place it for the life of me.

“Alright. But has Lydia ever been here?” Stiles turned around expectantly as he lead us up the small hill in their yard.

“Not with me.” Allison frowned, still refusing to look at the house.

Scott and I shook our heads as his eyes flickered over us. He sighed heavily before facing forward again and letting his hands smack against his thighs. He was a natural born detective, and it was killing him that he couldn’t figure this out. Despite our best efforts with my abilities and all the information we could get out of his dad, it didn’t feel like we were any closer to finding her.

“Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek?” Allison leaned toward me and mumbled the theory, as if she didn’t want to admit that Lydia could actually be a werewolf.

“You mean...looking for an alpha?” Scott sighed, easily hearing her with his heightened senses, and looking very troubled by the idea.

“Wolves need a pack, right?” She pressed, playing with the material of her sweater’s sleeve nervously.

“Not all of them.” Scott muttered, his eyes trained on the house in front of us as if waiting for something to jump out.

She let out a huff in annoyance at his cryptic answer. “But would she have been drawn to an alpha? Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?”

“Yeah,” His lips pulled into a knowing frown. “Were stronger in packs.”

“Like strength in numbers.” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. It made sense. Wolves were pack animals in the wild, after all.

Scott suddenly came to a stop and glanced between Allison and I, his eyes . “No, like literally stronger. Faster. Better in every way.”

That must’ve been why Peter was so hellbent on turning as many people as he could. He was a power hungry monster—even as a human—add in all the werewolf shit and it’s no wonder he went insane.

“Whoa, hey. Look at this. You guys see this?” Stiles’ voice rose in concern from behind me and I turned to see him crouched near the ground.

I hadn’t even realized that he was rummaging through the leaves around us, too caught up in my own thoughts. I quickly made my way to his side, my eyes widening when I caught sight of a thin wire tied tightly between two trees.

“I think it’s a—” My breath caught, the words dying on my lips as Stiles tugged on it, some rustling and a grunt instantly sounding behind us.

“Uh. Stiles...” Scott’s voice was breathless.

“Yeah, buddy?”

I peered at him over my shoulder, wincing as my eyes landed on his he upside down frame, the wire wrapped tightly around one of his ankles.

Stiles spun on his heel beside me, his face falling into a grimace at the sight. “Oh.”

“Next time you see a tripwire, don’t trip it.” Scott shrugged, his voice light with amusement.

“Noted.” Stiles nodded quickly, moving forward to inspect the wire in an effort to release him.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of this situation. We couldn’t get through a single mission without something going wrong, no matter how small. Allison joined my side as we made our way toward Scott, but we only made it a few steps before his eyes widened in alarm and he held his hands out to stop us.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He started swinging as he jerked his arms frantically. “Someone’s coming.”

My heart skipped a beat as panic surged through me at his words. I could only assume that the trap was left by hunters, which meant he was as good as dead if we left him hanging there.

“Go!” He snapped when none of us moved, causing Allison to bolt away instantly.

I hesitated, wishing there was something I could do. Realistically, I knew I’d be no match for literally anyone who tried attacking me—let alone trained hunters—and Scott could easily defend himself. I’d seen it several times when he fought Derek, and then Peter. But there was no telling how many there would be, and he was at a serious disadvantage.

Stiles gripped my arm and dragged me along with him, only stopping once we were safely hidden behind a nearby tree. I squinted through the darkness as four men emerged from the distance. When I saw that one of them was Allison’s dad, I couldn’t help but glance her way. Her eyes were firmly planted on Scott, though, her brows pinched with worry.

“Scott.” He greeted curtly, crouching down to meet him face to face. “How are you doing?”

Scott let out a nervous breath, his skin turning pink from all the blood rushing to his head. “Mr. Argent. Good. You know, just hangin’ out. This one of yours? It’s, uh, good. Nice design. Very constricting.”

I let my eyes fall closed and internally cringed at his nervous rambling. Stiles let out a sigh from beside me, probably thinking the same thing. Technically, we were trespassing on private property, and he wasn’t building a very good case for his innocence.

“What are you doing out here, Scott?” Mr. Argent’s voice was hard, disapproving almost, as his eyes flickered over his dangling body.

“Looking for my friend.” He said quickly, surprising me with his honesty.

“Ah, that’s right. Lydia’s in your group now, isn’t she? Part of the clique? Is that the word you use? Or is there another word for it?” Mr. Argent’s gaze was unrelenting as he stared Scott down. My jaw clenched at his threatening tone. I didn’t like what he was implying. “Part of your pack?”

“Actually, clique sounds about right to me.” Scott’s voice hardened as all traces of amusement left his face, instantly in full protective mode.

“I hope so. ‘Cause I know she’s a friend of Allison’s, and one special circumstance—like yourself—one, I can handle. Not two.”

I heard Allison’s sharp intake of breath from the tree beside us, and let my attention flicker toward her. She was staring at her dad with wide eyes and parted lips, as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying. Although he wasn’t being explicit, it was obvious what he meant.

If they find her, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.

“Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?” Mr. Argent drawled, still kneeling on the damp ground in front of Scott.

He threw his arms out, looking completely over this conversation and being upside down. “I have a feeling I don’t want to.”

“Medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. Cutting them in half. Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that.” As he spoke, one of his hands came up to swipe across Scott’s abdomen. “Let’s hope a demonstration never becomes necessary.”

With that, he slowly rose to his feet and walked away. The three men that had come with him followed suit wordlessly, disappearing into the darkness a moment later. We all instantly rushed to Scott’s side, Allison bending over to look into his eyes anxiously.

“Are you okay?” She fanned her hands over him, as if trying to help but not sure what to do.

“Yeah. Fine. Just another life threatening conversation with your dad.” He scoffed humorlessly, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

He’d been “threatening” Scott’s life for weeks now, but hadn’t actually done anything. It was obvious that he was looking out for him, since we hadn’t had any more encounters—other than tonight—with hunters. It seemed to me that he had a soft spot for Scott, but had to keep up appearances since his daughter dating a werewolf would probably hurt his reputation.

I walked toward the tree where the tripwire was tied, turning back to Stiles expectantly. “A little help?”

He jogged my way with a huff, his breath condensing into a small cloud in front of his lips. Before we could even begin strategizing how to untie the thing, a snap sounded from behind us. I spun around quickly, thinking something was wrong, but let out a breath of relief when I saw that Scott was back on his feet.

The corner of his lips twitched into a smirk as he somehow retracted his claws back into his fingertips—which was honestly weird as fuck—and gestured toward the house. “You guys comin’?”

We followed his lead, continuing on our search for the night. We only stopped a few hours later, completely exhausted and nearly frostbitten, when Allison forced us to go home.

Tomorrow was my first day back at school since being bitten, and they were all way more concerned than necessary. At this point, that was the least of my worries. Our failed efforts tonight made me feel ten times worse, because we still didn’t find a single trace of Lydia.

My hope was dwindling by the minute, right along with her chances of survival.

Season 1, Episode 12 Episode 1, Part Two

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years

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where our demons hide {dark!tony stark x fem!reader}

where our demons hide {dark!tony stark x fem!reader} part 1

status — ongoing series

warnings — non-con turns into dub-con, oral sex (giving & receiving), name-calling, swearing, porn with a bit of plot, dark!tony stark, unprotected penetrative sex (pls dont do this, use protection!)

word count — 3,205

a/n — so i’m not gonna lie this is a little self-indulgent and this was an idea i somehow had after reading a few fics/drabbles with the same premise. this will be a dark series featuring not only tony stark but also the other male avengers. i’m also considering on making a separate dark series featuring the female avengers with the same concept. also!!! infinity war, civil war, and endgame did not happen (totally not bc everything went downhill from there & i hate it but because it just would be more fitting for the story) and that tony & pepper are not in a relationship in here bc in this house we do not condone cheating. & this is my first ever time writing smut so feedback would be very much appreciated :>

masterlist

“Boss lady, you heading out already?” John asked as he knocked on the outside of my office door. Seeing him with his bag strap over his shoulder, it made me turn back my attention briefly to the desk clock I had, my eyes widening in shock as I noticed how it was already a quarter to 9. “Jesus, has it been that long?” I said to him and to myself in disbelief.

John chuckled as he approached my desk and moved some files out of the way and sat down, “Well time sure does fly when you’re working your ass off.” I threw my head back, trying to rub off of the exhaustion off of my eyes, agreeing with him by saying, “As the head of the research department, I don’t think I have time to slack off and mess around.”

As I looked into his eyes, I felt that he was conflicted — that he did want to help me furthermore, but there was also this part of him that wanted nothing but to spend a night out and enjoy himself and afterwards proceed with crashing into his bed. He inched closer to me, “You need to take a break though. Your report is like, 90% done, and that it is extremely well-detailed and comprehensive. I’m sure the mighty heroes of the world will understand if you go home now, rest and enjoy for the weekend, and come back on Monday to finish it up.”

“Do you think that these mighty heroes of the world always have the option to take a break on the weekends and come back to the job on Monday?” I sassed back as I moved my attention from him back to my computer, searching for more essential information for the team’s next mission. John, not taking a hint that I had already wasted time by talking to him, scooted closer and said, “Well for one, your work does not involve travelling suspects and mercenaries. You’re computer ain’t going anywhere, you know?” as he brushed a strand of hair that has fallen from my ponytail as he explained, “I just don’t want you to overwork yourself. I really care about you, Y/N.”

Creating some distance between me and him, I looked at him pointedly and told him, “I get that you may be worried about how I overwork myself, but I’m okay. If it ever gets too much, I will take a break. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish this research and report so that I can go home and get some rest. Unless you’ll help me in accomplishing this task, then I suggest that you just leave.”

John looked like he was in disbelief, but he quickly masked up what he felt and just walked away from my desk and awkwardly waved as he headed for the door. “What a bitch..” I heard him mumble lowly, not having enough strength to say it directly in my face — for in doing so could get him fired.

Following John’s departure, I was able to work peacefully and productively. Gathering and verifying information, confirm tipped intelligence, compiling these into an extensive and coherent report. As I was re-reading once more the final product of my long hours of labor and hard work, I stretched my arms up, hoping to provide some relief to my aching back.

“Mr. Stark would like to ask if he can swing by your office, Ms. Y/n,” the voice of the A.I. startled me briefly, but it somehow also brought me back to my senses. Wanting to look decent and not like I was mere minutes away from passing out, I quickly removed the hair tie from my ponytail, fixing up my hair as I replied to Friday, “Yeah, he can come up.” As I was done attempting to look presentable, it wasn’t even a minute until I heard the office door open and the man himself, Tony Stark, did walk in — wearing a tight dri fit shirt and sweatpants.

“Good evening Mr. Stark, was there anything I can help you out with?” I watched as he walked around the office, as if he was checking out if everything was in place — as if he had been there before and was making sure that things were the way he once envisioned. He settled down on an office chair, opposite from where I was sitting down.

Putting his chin on his hand as he crossed his legs, he stared at me curiously and intensely as he informed me about his sudden visit, “Was walking around the office wing when Friday informed me that you were the only employee left in the building. So I thought I’d drop by and see as to what was the reason as to why you were still working late and not going about with your weekend plans.”

I let out a sigh I did not know I was holding — probably out of relief that I was not in trouble — before sharing with him the reason, “I was just finishing up the final touches on the researched information for your mission next week.” He looked interested in that and rose to his feet and made his way to where I was sitting. “You mind if I take a look?”

I shook my head no and started to get up from my seat, when he placed his left hand on my shoulder, pulling me down to remain seated. “Stay,” he requested as his right hand operated the mouse in order to inspect the document opened on my computer, “I might have some remarks or questions about what you have researched.”

Beginning to feel a bit of uneasiness, I tried to fill him in about some parts I thought he was confused or curious about — judging by how he spent some time longer on certain pages compared to the others. “You did a good job, Y/N. Without a doubt next week’s mission would have already failed without what you have done.”

Avoiding his look and our close proximity, I shrugged off the compliment by responding, “Um, thank you. But it wasn’t just me, you know? Some other researchers also helped, I merely just organized and arranged it, Mr. Stark.” His hand still on my shoulder moved to turn me so I was facing him, he sat down on my desk and begged to differ, “I don’t think you would have been the overall head of the research department if all you did was compile shit, right?”

Fiddling with my fingers, I halfheartedly agreed with what he said. Looking up, I saw him cross his arms and his face lit up, as if he had remembered something he forgot to mention. “Which reminds me, I do need your help in researching something. Think you can handle it?” I was able to conceal my surprise, what was it he needed help with? And most importantly, why would he tell me about it now? There are procedures if an Avenger needs something to be researched relating to their work. But I could not bring myself to question him, so instead I buried those doubts in the back of my head.

“T-That would depend, I guess? What is it about? And w-when do you need it to be completed?” I couldn’t help but scold myself for coming out as timid and scared. He uncrossed his arms and checked his wrist watch while he answered, “I need it to be completed tonight. Possibly into the morning. It depends.”

My jaw dropped in shock and astonishment. Does he seriously think that a research can be completed in mere hours? But if I had wanted to keep this job, then I had to comply with what he wanted. “I think that it would be a challenge to do so, but yeah. I guess it can be doable. What would the research be about?” I managed to blurt out and started to roll up the sleeves of my white, long-sleeved blouse and preparing to type on the computer.

However, Tony held my hands and placed it in my lap, preventing me from moving towards the computer and looked at me deeply, “It’s gonna be about you, Y/N.” I once again found myself dumbfounded and speechless. Opening my mouth I stammered out, “W-What? Mr. Stark, what do you mean?”

He chuckled as he brushed the strands of hair that had covered a portion of my face. One of his hands stroking my cheek while the other had a firm hold on both my hands situated at my lap, he calmly said, “It’s gonna be about you, baby. I wanna get to know you better. Let’s start with me finding out what it is you’re hiding underneath all these clothes, hm?”

As he guided me onto my feet and pushed me against the office table, his lips grazed my ear and he kissed it lightly and whispered, “I like the way you call me Mr. Stark, makes me feel powerful.” His kisses started to descend, his lips leaving a trail in my neck as his hands started to caress my waist. Snapping out of my frozen state, I somehow managed to speak up and attempt to push him away from me, “Mr. Stark, please don’t do this. Please, stop”

With one hand, he quickly grabbed both of my hands and placed it behind my back. His other hand wrapped around my throat, just where his lips were and hissed out, “Why do you want me to stop, Y/N? Do you not like this, baby?” I shook my head, telling him I did not in fact like where this was going. He scoffed, “I think you do. You like the idea of someone taking you in your office, the place where you spend most of your days in. Can’t imagine you getting laid frequently with how busy you are, baby.”

Tears were slowly streaming down my face, trying to wiggle away from the hero that everyone adored and respected. He pushed his body into mine, causing me to stumble which he used to his advantage by lifting me up and sitting me down on the desk. His legs wrapping around mine, effectively trapping me, he lifted my jaw and looked into me as he smirked and said, “Tell you what, if I search you up down there and find that you aren’t wet, I’ll let you go. Think that’s fair, baby?”

He did not even wait for me to answer as he made quick work of removing my skirt as he knelt down on the floor. After unzipping my skirt and discarding it to the floor, he chuckled upon seeing that I was wearing red, lace panties. “For someone who claims to not want this, you sure as hell came prepared.” His hands were then fondling my thighs as he kissed both my kneecaps and requested, “Open those legs, baby girl.” I shook my head and tried to cover my intimate area with both my hands. This evidently displeased the billionaire as he harshly placed his hands on my knees and threatened me by saying, “Unless you want to walk away jobless, then I suggest that you fucking open your legs.”

Filled with fear and horror, I reluctantly opened my legs and showed him my lower half. He showed his appreciation by chuckling darkly and immediately ripping off my panties. Just as I gasped with what he did with my piece of clothing, he brought one hand to my entrance and scooped some of the juices that my body was involuntarily producing. “Well what do you know, you’re not just wet. You’re soaking wet,” he bragged as he used his other grab my leg and stretched it out sideways, giving him more room to work with. “Time to start our research on you, baby.”

As he slowly inserted two of his thick fingers, I could not hold back the whimper as he ruthlessly moved his finger in and out of me. “Please, Mr. Stark, don’t do this.” I pleaded, hoping that his conscience would slap him and somehow get him to stop. But shortly after saying that, I let out a moan of pleasure as I felt his tongue lick my bundle of nerves.

“Just stop resisting, baby,” With his mouth still attached to my pussy lips, he used his other hand to fondle my thighs — hoping to rub off the tension within me. I threw my head back as he thrusted his fingers hard and sucked hard enough that I forgot my earlier concerns of how I was at first reluctant in giving in to him. I threaded my fingers into his hair, pushing his face closer, urging him to continue with what he was doing. He complied and proceeded to focus his sucking my little nub while he added another finger inside before managing to go at even a faster pace than he previously was.

“Fuck,” I exclaimed, “I’m close.” Right after saying that, Mr. Stark abruptly stopped his actions. I looked at him, and there he was licking off the residual juices off of his fingers.”Can’t have you finishing just on my fingers, baby. Has to happen with me inside you. But before that,” he stood up and pulled down his sweatpants and briefs, “Show me how talented your hands and mouth are first, baby.”

Before I could even process what he said, my body responded to the words that just left his mouth and I was pushing him away in order to make room for me to work and dropped down on my knees. Despite being of average length, I took note of how he had an incredible girth. With one hand fondling his balls, the other swiped the precum that was leaking out and spread it around the tip. He let out a loud groan as I then opened my mouth and captured his length.

“Yes, that’s a good girl, baby,” he complimented me while stroking my hair and later on gathering it all up in order for him to control the pace and speed of how I was sucking him. I glanced up at him just as I started gagging around his cock and fondling the rest that failed to fit in my mouth. “Do I taste good, baby?” he teased me while probably noticing that I was struggling not only to fit his entire length in my mouth, but also to please him.

A gurgled yes was the only reply that I managed to get out and he suddenly pulled out of my mouth and quickly put me back into my feet. He ripped off the blouse that I was wearing and briskly unclasped my bra. I watched him intently as he sat down on the swivel chair where I spent most of my working hours on and called out for me, “As much as I love how you please me with your mouth, it would be a waste to not cum inside you. So come over here and ride me,” he demanded as he patted his thighs.

I slowly began to walk over him and climbed over his legs. His smirk widened upon seeing me slowly get into position to ride him — with one of my hands holding onto his shoulder and the other one holding his cock up, I sank down onto him fully. The action might have taken the superhero back as both his hands flew into grasping on my hips and he threw his head back in pleasure.

Moving in slow, circular motions I found myself moaning and panting loudly, breathing out words of praise that had stroke the ego of the superhero. He brought his hand to my clit and he rubbed me fast enough that got me to stop riding him because of how intense the pleasure was. Mr. Stark’s dissatisfaction with what I did was made evident by him slapping my ass with enough force to push my chest into his and reprimanding me, “Did I fucking tell you to stop? No! So keep riding me, you fucking whore!”

I let out a whimper as he once again slapped my ass cheek and rubbed me even harder and faster. Placing both my hands near his collarbone, I began to ride him even faster and started to feel the release begging to come out. This pleased him as he stopped his assault on my ass and began to twist and pull on my nipples. The simulation proved to be too much for me that my head fell into the side of his neck and I began to trail kisses on there and suddenly let out a loud scream as I had suddenly reached my climax.

“Fucking hell, you’ve become even more tighter,” Mr. Stark sounded like he too was already on the verge of reaching his climax. Both his hands then met my hips once more and he started to bounce myself on his cock, disregarding that I could have been sensitive, hoping to finish inside of me. “I told you that you wanted this. That you needed to be fucked hard. So much for the “I don’t want this bullshit,” huh baby?” He mocked me as he noticed the stray tears that were falling on my cheeks as I felt that the stimulation was too much.

“I bet I can make you cum again. That by the time I release my load deep inside you, you will also be creaming over yourself.” His overconfidence was once again being made evident and determined to make his statement true, he began to wrap his mouth around my nipple and one of his fingers was shoved right into my asshole. It might have been the sudden intrusion on my backside, or the feeling of his warm tongue on my nipple, or the fact that his cock was being rammed in and out of me at a dangerously quick pace, but I found myself squirting all over both of our legs.

“Fuck, baby, that’s a good girl,” he moaned out as I also felt him release his juices inside of me. He stopped his licking, fingering, and maneuvering of my body as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled my head to lay down on his chest. We both took this time in order to calm down and catch our breaths. His one hand was playing with my hair while the other lightly ran up and down my spine.

With his cock planted still deeply in me, he made me look into his eyes as his hard and demanding tone vanished and instead was replaced with a soft voice accompanied with a gentle look in his eyes as he said, “You did very well in accompanying and complying with my research, baby.”

His praise made me smile and I once again placed my head by his shoulder and briefly closed my eyes — still not having fully recovered from our sexual activity — when what he said caused me once again to be speechless and shocked, “Get ready because in a few minutes I’ll once again be conducting research. But I was thinking about conducting it in a different venue.”

#tony stank #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark oneshot #tony stark x you #dark!tony stark #dark!tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark x you #dark!tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x fem!reader #this is somewhat a fantasy of mine #noncon smut #dubcon smut #tony stark smut #dark!avengers #dark!tony stark smut #quietmyfearswith #my writing

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nicnacsnonsense · 3 years

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Been thinking about my hypothetical live action remake of Korra (seriously Netflix, call me, I have so many amazing ideas) and how I would tackle season two since it’s definitely the season that needs the most work, specifically and especially the Unalaq & Raava-Vaatu plotline. I kind of got carried away, like I do, but I’m very excited about it; a lot of good strong themes here. I’m going to start by talking about the changes to the first half, pre-Beginnings interlude, then the Beginnings episodes, then the back half. For the most part, all of the major plot beats still stay the same, at least until the climax, but the way those beats are contextualized are going to get pretty different building up to a radically different climax (no spirit being kaiju fight, yay!).

With Unalaq in the front half, the one major change is I want the religious fundamentalism vibes that come on so strong when he’s introduced to ramp up after the Northern Tribe soldiers show up and especially after Korra finally realizes he’s a bad guy, rather than petering out like happens in canon. I want to actually see him impose strict expectations of behavior in accordance with what he feels honors the spirits on the people of Southern Water Tribe. Let’s get some misogyny and restrictive gender roles up in here. That’s going to be great (from a storytelling perspective, obviously) because it’s relatively low-hanging fruit to communicate that the bad guy is bad, it fits in well thematically with where we’re going and the religious fundamentalism, and there is canon precedent in The Last Airbender that restrictive gender roles are a traditional value in the Northern Water Tribe.

A quick sidebar related to themes, in whatever episode where we first have Unalaq really cracking down on those gender roles, I want a B or possibly C plot with the Tenzin family vacation, where Jinora comes out to Tenzin as nonbinary. She is questioning with regards to the exact nature of her gender, but does say its some combination of both masculine and feminine, though other nonbinary identities – including agender, genderfluid, and a gender that is completely divorced from male-female – are floated. Tenzin is supportive and affirming and also suggests Jinora talk with her Aunt Kya, who he identifies as being a transwoman. (Kya is a trans lesbian in my version; you gotta deal with it.) This obviously serves to contrast Unalaq with his strict gender roles, and continues to build our theme.

For Korra in the first half, I do want to drag her emotional volatility down just a tad as compared to where she’s at in canon for these episodes. I still want her getting emotional and acting rash – that’s a huge part of her character – but I want her anger to feel sympathetic to the audience. Though I do also want at least one moment where Korra gets angry for good reason and starts yelling at Unalaq and he chides her for being emotional and irrational and he’s not going to discuss this with her if she can’t behave calmly and logically, blah, blah, blah, misogyny.

The final and biggest change that we’re making in the first half is Korra does not yet have her bending back. Season one does still end with her talking with Aang and learning energybending, which she uses to restore everyone else’s bending and restore her own connection to the other three elements, but in the opening episode of season two, we learn that she still can only airbend. She says that as far as she can tell everything should be alright and she should be able to bend fire, water, and earth, but obviously she can’t. She also mentioned that while it looks like it should, she feels like there is something missing, or maybe something there that she can’t see. Which my clever readers of course realize is a reference to Raava. After her flashback coma, Korra gains the other elements back, explaining that what she was missing was her connection to Raava had been damaged. Not broken, which is why she could still airbend and do all the other Avatar stuff she was doing, but damaged enough that Raava could no longer switch elements for her or give her access to multiple elements at once.

Moving on to Beginnings, right off the bat, I’m getting rid of the notion that all humans have to huddle on the backs of lion turtles out of fear of the spirits. The two worlds are connected, but humans and spirits co-exist peacefully for the most part. The lion turtles instead act as mediators when necessary, and do sometimes give out bending for humans to defend themselves with, but not as a regular thing every time they need to leave their city. We’ll have to switch up the stealing fire and Chin plot a little to accommodate this change, but somehow or other it happens and Wan gets banished with firebending.

Eventually he comes across Raava and Vaatu fighting and these two characters are getting some major shake ups. First off, in canon Raava identifies as being peace to counter Vaatu’s chaos, but peace is not the opposite of chaos; order is. Now, looking into yin & yang, chaos & order are not aspects that traditionally apply to them, but we’re going to let that addition of order to yang and light and chaos to yin and dark stand. Not everything has to be perfectly aligned. That said, one way in which we are going to switch things to make them fit better is yang is the masculine energy with yin as feminine. We’re switching the voices.

So Wan sees them fighting, and Vaatu calls out for help. And Wan is like, oh no, a damsel in distress; I’ll help you, milady! So, he helps, giving Vaatu the advantage. She beats up Raava, then flies off. Raava chastises Wan, explaining that he is the spirit of light and order, and he has been trying since the beginning of time to defeat Vaatu, but their battles have always ended in a draw. But now Wan has given Vaatu the advantage and if they don’t fix this, she’ll be victorious at the upcoming Harmonic Convergence, sending the worlds into ten thousand years of darkness. To which Wan is like, oh no, that sounds horrible. Well, Mr. Masculine Manly Spirit-Man Raava, I like light and order and you seem like a logical rational person; I’ll for sure help you put that emotional crazy spirit lady in her place. (Have I made the irony here clear enough? I don’t think I can get much more blatant. Though obviously in the show version it would be a little more subtle.)

After that we get Raava & Wan’s training and learning the elements montage, with some encounters with “corrupted” spirits along the way. Corrupted being Raava’s word, and he elaborates to say that all spirits fall under either Raava or Vaatu’s domain, all with varying inherent levels of light & order and dark & chaos to them. Vaatu gaining in power is causing the levels of dark& chaos in these spirits to rise, throwing them out of balance. Eventually comes time for Harmonic Convergence, Raava & Wan vs. Vaatu, and Vaatu wins. Ten thousand years of chaos, baby. With the last of the spirit energy as Harmonic Convergence ends, Wan fuses with Raava, then unleashes a crazy, amazing spirit attack, imprisoning Vaatu, banishing all the spirits from the physical world to the spirit world, and sealing the portals, all as an attempt to mitigate the fall out from chaos ascendent. Since then, the Avatar, imbued with the spirit of order, has fought back against the chaos to try to restore balance to the world.

Korra wakes up and panics. They have to stop Unalaq who is trying to free Vaatu, probably because he wants to destroy the world or something. But when she next has a chance to confront Unalaq, he’s like, not you stupid girl. I’m not trying to destroy the world; I’m trying to save it. Wan was right to side with order, but wrong to think he could stop chaos by teaming up with Raava and destroying it from without. No chaos is inside all of us, the evil infesting every human heart (Unalaq’s words, not mine) and it can only be dominated through one’s own strong force of will and conviction. So his plan is to fuse with Vaatu and then dominate her, destroy her chaos and using her power to allow him to bring his order across all of existence, both in the physical and spirit worlds. Korra’s not too keen on that plan either. She’s still going to stop him.

Korra fails to stop him. Harmonic Convergence begins, Vaatu is freed, she goes inside of Unalaq, and she immediately subsumes him. Turns out you can’t eliminate all the chaos in the world just by willpower, you absolute looney toon. Vaatu explains that even as Unalaq was planning to use her, she was using him to get free and now is going to use him as a meat puppet to help her fight Raava & the Avatar.

So, they fight, and for a bit it’s evenly matched, then Vaatu gains the upper hand. Just as Vaatu appears she’s about to deal the finishing blow, Unalaq briefly regains control and interrupts her – to be clear, he manages this because of his desperate need for order and control, not out of any affection for Korra. While he’s in control he says something in defiance of Vaatu that coming from Unalaq we can hear is clearly some fascist bullshit, but also echoes something that Wan/Raava said back in their battle with Vaatu. And Korra’s like, wait, hold up a second.

Lightbulb turns on for Korra at that moment, and by the time Vaatu has resecure control, Korra has dropped her offensive stance. She tells Vaatu she doesn’t want to fight her; she wants her to fuse with her and Raava. Neither Vaatu nor Raava like this idea. Korra has to go on the defensive holding off Vaatu’s attacks, and has to internally fight against Raava wanting to attack Vaatu all while trying to sell them both on this idea. She explains that too much chaos has been bad for the world, but too much order would be bad too – case in point, Unalaq. Both chaos and order, both Raava and Vaatu are needed for balance. And yeah, they can achieve balance by constantly fighting each other, with every encounter ending as a draw, or they could achieve balance through harmony together. Because even as they are opposites, they are one and the same, a part of a greater whole. A bunch of stuff to that effect, including mentions of the Northern Water Tribe upsetting the balance by trying to dominate the Southern Water Tribe, and also a shout out to Tui and La in there somewhere, the original Yin/Yang Avatar couple. Eventually Korra convinces them, she fuses with Vaatu, and Harmonic Convergence ends in a tie, returning the world to balance once again.

And of course, now that balance has been achieved, Korra leaves the spirit portals open. Remember in this version spirits and humans got along fine, and the separation was only necessary because the world had fallen out of balance. And yes, the rejoining of the physical and spirit worlds was probably something Unalaq wanted too, but we’re not giving him credit for it, because for every good idea a fascist ever had, there’s someone else who isn’t a fascist who had the same idea, but better, because it wasn’t coming from a fascist.

#the legend of korra #atlok #unalaq #raava #vaatu #long post

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Hiding In Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Two AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.

You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.

How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

Raven worked diligently on the room. Growing up, she had to adhere to the very strict upbringing which she had that did not permit her to do very much for herself, which always irked her greatly. There were some things that she knew she would never be good at, cooking being one such example. Somehow, she still had not figured it out for herself, she managed to set a bowl of porridge on fire. She loved sewing and embroidering, she loved working the needle and thread until a design was created, it was something she always adored so much so that her maid used to be forced to endure Raven staring at her as she mended anything that needed fixing through the years but such was seen as beneath a princess so she did not get to do it often herself, though she had convinced the maid to teach her. She also liked to decide for herself where she would place her belongings and how the room should look but such was not allowed and she was often admonished for doing such things. She was the daughter of the king, she was often told, she was not to do such menial things, they were beneath her station. The issue for Raven was that she was the only daughter of the king, born amidst four brothers. Something of an anomaly in Ljósálfar royalty. Very few Light Elf kings had ever sired a daughter. She often felt something of a black sheep of her family, never truly feeling like she fitted in.

Her brothers always knew what it was they were to do with their lives; the eldest, Dafydd was to be king, trained for the role since childhood, he would be a good king, if not slightly fond of a hunt more than a trade meeting, the second oldest, Johann was a soldier at heart, earning his way legitimately through the ranks of the Ljósálfar army and would by everyone’s predictions, be general someday. With a good relationship with his brother, it would be nothing but a blessing in everyone’s eyes as kings and generals often clashed heads. The third, Richard was to be made Lord of the Lowlands, a title usually bestowed to the second son of the King but Johann renounced his claim to it as high ranking soldiers were not allowed such titles and he rather earn his own, so that left Richard with a good living as well. The last and youngest, Kieran had learnt early that fighting was the exact opposite to what he wanted in life. Instead, he loved tending to its injured and much to his family’s startled pride, he decided as a youth to become a healer and was studying diligently to do so. Amongst them all, Raven’s life seemed somewhat less defined yet incredibly more restricted. She was given no role for so long and now was forced to one she knew she would most likely have but to one she never thought possible. She could not fathom how it came to be that she was to wed someone so notably high born as the second prince of Asgard, the son and brother of the current and future Allfathers. When her father first stated it, she thought him to be having some form of a peculiar joke, but when his face remained stoic and none seemed to see anything funny in what was being said, she realised he was entirely serious.

She loved the sound of the cloth squeaking against the mirror as she worked. If anything, the experience was fun for her. Most days were dull and boring for her, long hours of reading and writing in areas that were entirely uninteresting. She liked a good book on occasion but she liked them to be on matters that interested her, most commonly, a genre known as thriller, not something befitting a princess. She often hid those books so none would know she read them but then it made finding time to read them difficult. This far surpassed reading about the history of trade between Alfheim and Vanaheim. Most would think her mad had she stated such, but it was true nonetheless.

She heard Loki’s return before she saw him. A low irate growl rang out around the rooms. “Maid...Norns, what is your name again, Raven...no, Brianna...Norn’s what is it?”

“Breanna, Your Grace.” Raven rushed from the bathroom where she had been shining the glass to see Loki, noting the manner in which he was presently standing in front of her, hair tousled, twigs in it and a mud smear on his face. “Oh, are you alright?”

“Well, at least one person cared to ask me and it had to be a foreign maid, of course, not my supposed friends or indeed my family,” Loki growled to no one. “I am fine. Breanna, of course. Run me a bath.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” she bowed and rushed into the bathroom once more.

Loki watched her for a moment before walking in after her. “Where did you learn to bow like that?”

Raven, thinking the question to be entirely obscure, turned to look at him. “Sorry, Your Grace?”

“Who taught you to bow? You’re female, females do not bow, you are supposed to curtsey.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice as he spoke.

“I…” Raven had only done the bow to be swift but seeing his reaction, she was unsure what to say. “I don’t have the balance for that.”

Loki’s brow rose. “The balance?”

“I tried but it ended badly.”

Loki folded his arms and leant against the door frame, a smile forming on his face. “Well now, this sounds interesting.”

“I tried to learn, I was even given a tutor because I was not getting it. I kept crossing my ankles wrong and I ended up….” Her eyes darted to the side embarrassed.

“Oh, please continue.”

“Falling….into a…” She toyed with her hands slightly. If Loki had not been listening so astutely, he would not have heard the final word that she all but mouthed. “Fountain.”

Loki tried, to his credit, not to laugh at her. He bit his lips together and willed himself not to do so but he failed as her face went an interesting colour of red at the memory. He did not last long before his failure became vocal and he laughed heartily at it.

The laugh was not a malicious one, something she could take solace in but it did not stop her feeling embarrassed. The story was a true one, she did indeed struggle to curtsey when she was young. With her brothers, in informal settings, she did bow but had long mastered the curtsey also. Her unique form of training in that her unsuccessful attempt led to a thorough soaking left a lasting impression on her. “So as you can see, bowing suits me better.”

Loki cleared his throat and forced himself to stop laughing but his smile was still blatant. “I would wager that was somewhat hilarious.”

“It would have been, I laughed myself for a time, only my father saw it and was none-too-pleased. He did not think it to be so amusing.”

“He sounds as stoic as my own father.” Loki all but snarled the words, his previous good humour dissipating as he thought of his father.

“I do think them to be of similar mindsets.”

“At least you are free of your father. I am stuck seeing mine every day.”

“I know him to be strict but if I am honest, I miss him and the rest of my family dearly. Being on an entirely different realm is so difficult, a lot of the time.” Raven did not mean to be so honest but at that moment, it slipped through.

“I wish I could be on a different realm. I am sick of them all.”

“We all think that until we get that wish, then all we wish for is to have what we had before.” Raven felt herself becoming slightly annoyed at Loki, her tone became more clipped as she spoke. “I will get your bath readied, Your Highness. I would suggest that you ready yourself for such without twigs in your hair.” She gave another slight bow before turning to continue her work, not wanting to accidentally reveal her true identity to him.

Loki, stunned into silence by her demeanour and tone and the manner in which she spoke to him, took a moment to look in a mirror to assess his appearance only to see her words, to be honest. There was indeed debris from his scuffle in his hair. Miffed at everything, he decided to say nothing more, allow his maid to do as she was supposed to and prepare for his bath.

Loki had no idea what it was that was used for his bath, but his aching muscles seemed to soothe as soon as he submerged himself in the water. He groaned from the comfort of it all before enjoying his bath, his tension disappearing as he did so.

When he came out of his bath a time later and into the front part of his rooms, dressed in only his pants, he noted that his maid was busy trying to organise some books. “Do you find such things taxing?”

Raven looked over her shoulder at him. “When one decides to have no order at all, I find it distressing, not taxing.”

Loki felt insulted by her tone. “I do have an order, excuse you. Just because you cannot see it does not make it so.”

Raven stood back slightly. “It is neither chronological nor alphabetical, it makes little to no sense.”

Loki frowned. “Chrono….how in the realms would you even know the chronological order?”

“So because I am a maid, I cannot know the chronological order, is that what you are saying? Do you think me to be so unintelligent as to not know the order of some books? Do you look down on others so?” she did not snap the words emotionally as others would at being spoken to in such a tone but kept her voice calm yet clearly displaying how insulting his words were.

“I did not claim that you were unintelligent.” Loki found himself backpedalling very quickly. “Only, those books…”

“Are of Alfheim, as I am, so of all the maids here to have any knowledge of such things, I should know such and do not even dare suggest that you think it’s because I should not know how to read.”

“Do not put words into my mouth.” Loki became angered at what she was implying. Especially ones so demeaning.”

“The words already in there do not seem much better.”

For a moment, both royals stood face to face, glaring at one another. “Before I went for a bath, you seemed to be the only one to care about my wellbeing after the situation today but now you are worse than others.” He turned to leave.

“I should mention, your female companion called by while you were in the bath,” Raven informed him. “She let me know your opinion on us dim, airheaded Light Elves and your opinion on our Princess, the one you are to marry. What can I say, it left a bad taste in my mouth.” Raven walked off leaving Loki startled in her wake.

#Loki #others #submission #Submitted fic #hiding #chapter 2 #wolfpawn

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infiniteshawn · 4 years

Text

Golden

a/n: 4k of meeting Steve Rogers fluff. Yes, I am writing for Steve Rogers. No, I never thought I would. Yes, this is the first thing I’ve written in months. No, it is not very good. Enjoy nonetheless.

The street was quiet. Dark, almost, save for the glow of your halogen headlights. You took a breath and tapped your forehead on your thin, massive steering wheel, mentally collecting yourself for the social situation you were seconds from entering.

Elizabeth Andrews, a family-friend that you’d known since you were only seven, was getting married.

You lived an hour away and had to work later than usual at the restaurant, so naturally, the street was already filled with the parked cars of the guests that had actually arrived to the engagement party on time. A sigh left your lips.

You swung open the heavy door of your ’65 Mustang to twist in your seat and slip your heels on. Huffing a laugh to yourself, you were sure you’d be kicking them off after taking twenty steps to the front door.

You couldn’t help it. You’d always found these social events too formal and too busy and too emotionally taxing to bear, and if Liz wasn’t someone you’d known so long, you’d be curled up on your hand-me-down couch with a glass of red wine to watch endless reruns of Full House. Instead, you were constricted by a black cocktail dress and a bit too much makeup.

With a bottle of wine in one hand and an envelope of cash in the other, you knocked.

And of course, no one answered. You could hear the stereo blasting Roxy Music from the front step and for a second, you thought that this might not be so bad.

You reached to turn the brass knob to notice it was already being turned, and the crisp April air was subsided by indoor warmth as the front door swung open by itself.

It didn’t really open itself. It was opened by a very large, very handsome man you’d never met and at first, he didn’t say anything. Either did you.

Instead, your eyes travelled from his dark brown dress shoes up his long, navy-slack clad legs, over his broad middle, and landed on a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

The moment must have ended because he was stepping to the side and saying something to you, and all you could focus on was his smooth, honey-like voice. He must have told you to come inside, but it really didn’t matter because he seemed to be experiencing the same lack of words that you were. The two of you must have looked ridiculous.

His eyes left yours as someone in another room called, “Steve!” and he seemed to come to his senses.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “I’ve gotta get back in there,” he spoke with a playful grin, “drinking game.”

“Ah,” you said, forcing a giggle and nodding, your false amusement failing to fool him.

“You know people here, though?” he asked, suddenly serious and earning a raised brow from you, “I mean, I just don’t want to leave you here if you don’t know anyone. You’re good?”

“Oh,” you grinned, “yeah, yeah. I’m good. I’ll see you in there.”

“You better,” he smiled warmly before walking away, and you knew he was just being kind as opposed to suggestive. He actually seemed more polite than the guys you were used to meeting at social gatherings like this.

“Finally!” a voice greeted you as you snapped out of it, meeting the chocolate brown eyes of a woman you knew all too well.

“Liz!” you grinned, pulling her in for a hug, “sorry, I had work and then the drive, it’s always too long,” you reassured, handing her the envelope and wine bottle you’d been gripping for a few minutes. “Hey, you’ve met James, right?” she spoke, waving a handsome brunette over to the two of you.

“Yeah, at your birthday last year,” you smiled politely, pulling him in for a hug.

“Bucky!” someone called and James turned his head, and you remembered something Liz had mentioned to you a couple of months back: his friends were literally the Avengers.

You’d never met any of them, but you did have a deep, suppressed memory of researching the lot after Liz had muttered something about James and the Second World War and Captain America. You turned your head to get a glimpse into the living room, and were shocked to see many people you knew, and a few you didn’t. Steve—the one who’d answered the door and the one you now realized was Captain America—stood among the group, throwing his hands up in surrender and then took a swig of his beer. You wondered what he’d just confessed to.

* * * * *

You mingled. It was nice. You caught up with many people you weren’t recently in touch with and got to know many others you’d never met, and Steve somehow became a large part of it. He stuck by you toward the end of your rounds, and for a little while it was just you two. He asked about your degree and career plans, and you asked about his job but refrained from digging too deeply—his old-fashioned tendencies told you enough.

You found it charming, actually. He had called you ‘ma’am’ a few times and turned a deeper shade of pink soon thereafter, but you couldn’t help finding it endearing and innocent. You’d even reached out to grab his arm a few times, but not too many. There was something between the two of you, and neither of you could accurately put your finger on it. So you didn’t try.

“You need another drink,” Steve said, swinging the fridge open and retrieving two Stellas, “I didn’t-“ he started, “I didn’t mean you need another drink, I was just getting one, so I figured maybe you wanted one, I-“

“Steve,” you chuckled, stepping closer to him to take the bottle from his hand, “you’re all good, I wanted one.”

He smiled, relieved, but you felt for him. He was trying, you thought, and it seemed as if he really didn’t want to say the wrong thing or give you the wrong idea. A tortured gentleman.

* * * * *

“And it just started pouring rain,” Liz spoke animatedly, a little huddle having gathered around her in the living room as she explained how she met James, “and this guy who’d also missed his train asked me if I wanted to dance.”

You couldn’t help the smile creeping up your lips. You remembered this story—she’d only told it a million times—but it never got old.

“I just knew, that was it,” she finished. Everyone was looking at her, but Steve was looking at you.

You raised a brow at him, and he realized he’d been caught. A bashful grin crept up his cheeks and you didn’t even think, saying exactly what was on your mind.

“I’ve never danced in the rain.”

His gaze was a little more concentrated, now, but still warm.

“I’d recommend it,” he replied, and you couldn’t help the small tinge of jealousy tugging at your heart strings. Steve must have sensed it, because something told him to reach down and give your hand a squeeze. You squeezed back.

* * * * *

The party was dying out, but you hadn’t really noticed. Steve’s humour had kept you busy all night, and you found yourself wondering why you’d always hated gatherings like this when people like him existed.

Steve had been thinking about what you said earlier, and after much mental deliberation, he shot his Asgardian friend a look.

Your laugh was interrupted by a low rumble.

“Oh, fuck,” you said under your breath, attracting the attention of Steve and a few other members of his posse. He raised a brow.

“Sorry,” you spoke, placing your beer on the table as you stood, “I just realized I need to cover my car.”

You walked away briskly, calling something along the lines of “be right back!” as Steve followed suit, also breaking from the group.

“I can help you,” he offered and you ignored him, too worried about water worsening any rust on your factory paint. Not bothering to locate your jacket and thankful you hadn’t taken your shoes off, you flew out the door, Steve hot on your heels. You looked back and squinted your eyes at him with a smile, questioningly, but sweetly.

“It’ll be faster with two peop-“ he began, but interrupted himself, “shit. Didn’t peg you for a muscle car kind of gal.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrugged but grinned slyly, proud of the classic car you’d managed to maintain for the last couple of years. “My dad bought it in ’95, I grew up with it,” you spoke, popping open the trunk to retrieve the fitted fabric, “it kind of died when I was seventeen, and my dad didn’t bother. Sat for a while,” you explained, and Steve watched intently as you began to unfold the blanket-like tarp, “and I begged my dad not to sell it. Told me if I could fix it, I could have it. So she’s mine now.”

“Cool dad,” Steve chuckled, reaching for the opposite side of the cover as you hooked it under the front left corner, “was it a lot of work?”

“Not really,” you replied, “brakes, battery, new plugs. It was pretty light work, if I’m being honest.”

Steve looked impressed, smoothing out the last of the cover for good measure.

It seemed that the second your Mustang was protected to your standards, the rain began.

And it wasn’t just rain.

It was fucking pouring.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, ready to make a run for it, but Steve wasn’t budging. He didn’t give you time to ask questions.

“You said you’ve never danced in the rain,” he called, the falling water droplets drowning out his voice.

You grinned slightly, suppressing a giggle as rainwater dripped from his hair onto his face, trailing down the tip of his nose. You wanted to kiss it.

He took a step closer, arms stretched out a little, bringing your attention to the situation. You’d already caught on.

“I haven’t,” you spoke with a smile, your dress clinging to your legs as you took a step toward the super soldier. His dress shirt was stuck to his torso and you had to fight the pressing urge to look. You focused on the water dripping off of his long lashes instead.

“Well, then, I’ve gotta ask,” he spoke smoothly, tilting his head to the side as he held a hand out, “can I have this dance?”

There was no music save for the fuzzy melody of endless rain hitting the pavement as he pulled you close, one hand intertwined with yours and the other on your waist. If you weren’t so cold, you’d have blushed.

His box-step was well-rehearsed, and you wondered if he did this often and then remembered that he’s just, well, old. Steve was impressed with yours, and you didn’t mention that your dad had taught you to dance by standing on his toes in the living room to “Surfer Girl” by The Beach Boys when you were four.

Your head was nestled into Steve’s firm shoulder, and you snapped away in fear of getting makeup on his white shirt.

“You alright?” he asked in response to your quick movement, moving his hand from your waist to his side to capture yours. He moved it to his chest.

“Yeah, sorry,” you smiled up at him, appreciating the way his eyes remained an icy blue even in the dim lighting of the few street lamps, “just wanted to look at you,” you half-fibbed. It wasn’t why you moved, but it also wasn’t wrong.

Steve tossed his head back for a second, mouth falling open with a wide smile.

“Smooth,” he chuckled, but he held you a little tighter. He swayed with you, soon lifting his arm and indicating for you to do a twirl. The ends of your sopping hair spewed droplets of water as you rotated.

He pulled you back in, but the air was thick this time. His smile was tight-lipped yet he was beaming down at you, admiring the slope of your nose and the curve of your lips and those big, beautiful eyes.

“Steve,” you whispered, loudly enough for him to hear. He tilted his head, urging you to go on, “I’ve also never been kissed in the rain.”

He squeezed your hand and spoke, more gently than before, “Would you like to be kissed in the rain?”

“I’d like to be kissed in the rain by you.”

That was all he needed. Steve leaned in, pointy nose brushing yours gently before his lips molded to yours, applying the gentlest pressure in the warmest way. Your hands were freezing but your soul was on fire, heart going a thousand beats per minute and mind running even faster. The rain engulfing the two of you kept you separated from the world, creating a moment in which there was only you and Steve. You didn’t want to be anywhere else.

His hands left yours and travelled up your sides, settling on each of your cheeks, fingertips reaching into your hair. Yours had found his chest and there was no turning back as you slid your palms upward, finding his neck and pulling him into you and kissing him harder.

Steve broke it.

“Slow down there, partner,” he grinned, and you laughed against his lips.

“Partner?”

“Sorry,” he laughed, too, “I guess you can tell that I don’t do this often.”

You couldn’t tell, but it did make sense. He led an unusual life.

His forehead rested on yours as water dripped down both of your noses. You shivered.

“Yep,” he concluded with a sigh, breaking apart fro your frame, “it’s cold. Shall we go back in?”

It was playful but formal, and he held his arm out for you to link yours with. You held onto your dance partner, trailing slightly behind him as he hopped up the steps and pushed the front door open, pulling you inside to assist in soaking the welcome mat.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve called, but quickly lost himself to laughter, “we have a bit of a, a situation.”

James popped his head around the corner with a furrowed brow, changing his expression to that of surprise as he laid eyes on the two of you, absolutely drenched.

“What the hell?”

Steve stuttered, his gaze moving from his best friend to yours, unsure of how he was going to explain himself.

“Caught in the rain,” you grinned, eyes locked on Steve’s as you replied to James’s question.

“I-uh, okay,” he shook his head, hands raised in surrender as a silent declaration not to ask questions, “Liz is in the kitchen cleaning up, and you have about ten seconds to get upstairs and avoid interrogation. Try not to drip too much.”

You were shocked at the lack of consequences, but Steve knew that Bucky had been attempting to set you up as long as he’d known you--as long as he’d known you were perfect for Steve.

You each kicked off your shoes for a silent exit, nodded at each other with an uneasy giggle, and made a run for it. Steve seemed to have a destination in mind, so you followed, hot on his heels until he was pulling you into the guest room and pushing the door shut.

All it took was a raise of your brow and Steve was already defending himself, insisting that this was not what it looked like.

“Not what you think, I promise,” he pressed kindly, opening up the closet to retrieve two stark-white towels. He tossed one in your direction and you began patting down your hair. You watched as Steve moved a duffle bag from the dresser to the edge of the bed, unzipped it and began to rifle through its belongings, “I’m staying here tonight and I packed two t-shirts,” he began, “you’re welcome to borrow one because I don’t think you’re driving home in this weather with that car.”

“I’m sure I can just borrow something of Liz’s,” you spoke, eyes set on his hands as he re-folded the grey Camp Lehigh t-shirt he’d offered.

“Yeah, that makes more sense, yeah,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, fearing that he was being too forward or not forward enough or just flat-out weird. You noticed his insecurity.

“Actually,” you piped up, placing the towel down on the opposite side of the mattress, “I will take it. Thank you.”

Steve looked up with the slightest smile, handing you the shirt and lingering, just for a second. His eyes travelled downward.

“Sorry! Um, I, I can turn around, if you wanted to, to put that on, now,” he blurted, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his innocence.

“Sure, Steve,” you grinned in response, gaze momentarily fixed on his wet dress shirt stuck to his muscular back. You reached around for your zipper, but the wet fabric didn’t allow for much flexibility and forced a frustrated sigh from your lips.

“Okay?” Steve asked, eyes set on the wall as he listened to your strained breathing.

“Yep,” you tried one last time, giving up after an exaggerated effort. “Nope, actually, I can’t get this zipper down for the life of me.”

“Need help?” he chuckled, turning around before you could answer. He crossed the room, grinning down at you before you turned around and lifted your wet hair out of the way.

Steve’s fingers hovered over the nape of your neck before he took hold of the tiny zipper, taking his time sliding it down the track. He tried not to look at your newly-exposed skin, really trying not to think about what he could see of your lacy black bra, and didn’t let go until you huffed a quiet “thanks.”

Steve gulped as you turned around, tilting your head upward in hopes that he’d kiss you again. He got the message, eventually, because he seemed to take forever to meet your lips. Your noses brushed and his hands were peeling the damp dress from your shoulders when a sudden knock at the door caused both of you to jump.

“We’re going to bed, Steve,” James called from the other side of the door, a sigh of relief leaving Steve’s lips.

“Alright,” he called back, thankful that Bucky wasn’t asking any questions—yet. “Night, Buck.”

Steve was the one shivering, now, and without thinking, your hands quickly travelled to the top button of his dress shirt. His chest rose and fell as you worked your way down one, two, three, four, finally asking, “is this okay?”

He nodded, a distant smirk on his lips as his forehead fell to yours once again.

His shirt was open and you hesitated to touch his skin.

“It’s okay,” he spoke hoarsely, “I’m not gonna be able to peel it off by myself, anyway.”

He was cold but his skin was fire against your touch as you opened the thin, white garment, tugging it off his broad shoulders. A light dusting of hair coated his hard chest, and even soaking wet, he smelled like mint and honey.

The fabric fell to the floor at his feet and still, he hadn’t kissed you, worried it would escalate into something too much too quickly.

“Steve,” you started, your hands falling from his chest to your sides, “we probably shouldn’t-“

“You’re right,” he agreed, moving his head to the side to plant a kiss on your rosy cheek, “not the right time. I will, however, spare you the second-hand embarrassment of watching me kick wet pants off,” he chuckled, breaking away from you to sling his bag over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” he spoke, leaving the room quietly to change elsewhere.

You put on his dress of a t-shirt and attempted to comb through your hair with your fingers as you sat against the headboard, unsure of what was to come upon Steve’s return.

He clearly didn’t know either, because the way he gently pushed the door open and looked at you with such affection and uncertainty had your heart bursting with the urge to hold him. He wore blue plaid pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt, and of course, his socks were fuzzy.

“Nice socks, Captain,” you noted, and his cheeks flushed at the sound of that name on your lips.

“Very funny,” he grinned, planting himself in the space beside you and laying on his side. You looked down at him, wondering if you should shift to tuck yourself into his chest or continue admiring him, so relaxed and vulnerable and raw.

“You gonna get over here or stare at me all night?”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, tucking yourself under the covers and curling up beside him.

“Oh, we’re doing that,” he joked, shifting to tuck himself under the duvet, too. “You look pretty.”

“I look insane,” you responded quickly, positive that what was left of your makeup was a mess and your hair was frizzed to the max. “You, on the other hand,” you trailed off, reaching out to drag your fingertip across his jaw, settling on his chin before you brushed his lip with your thumb.

“Hm?” he hummed, eyes shutting for a second as his arm locked around your side, pulling your narrow frame flush against his own.

“Just didn’t think I’d end up here,” you spoke softly, and his ocean eyes fluttered open once again.

“I never thought Bucky would be getting married,” he quipped, “but I guess life’s full of surprises.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Steve broke it.

“Promise I’m gonna go sleep on the couch,” he muttered, eyes shut as he appreciated having your face nestled into his neck, “just resting my eyes.”

* * * * *

Everything was golden. The light streaming in through the white curtains, the feeling that came with the strong pair of arms wrapped around you, and the little flecks in the blue eyes that slowly opened to greet yours.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, realizing both of you had fallen asleep and morning had come. “M’sorry,” he spoke groggily, his hand navigating its way out of the blankets to run his fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay,” you spoke more cheerfully than he did, pressing your head against his shoulder once again and revelling in the feeling of his warm shins on your cold toes.

“No, really,” he continued, sounding worried, “I was going to leave, I really was, but you fell asleep and you were so peaceful and warm and I couldn’t let go, I tried,” he paused, “and now Bucky’s going to have a million questions and you’re gonna have to deal with all that and-“

“Steve,” you cut him off, lifting your head to meet his concerned gaze and hushing him, “remember last night? I told you I’ve never danced in the rain, and we danced? And then I said I’d never been kissed in the rain, and you kissed me?”

Steve blushed a little, but nodded nevertheless.

“I don’t want to have to ask every time I want you to kiss me.”

His cheeks flushed more deeply this time, but you could tell he was happy when his lips formed a lazy grin and his grip on your lower back tightened.

“Good to know,” Steve smiled, pulling you into him for a soft, perfect kiss, and neither of you cared about the consequences.

It was just you and Steve, and it was golden.

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