#my god i was Not prepared for the emotional truck that would hit me with verlaine and rimbaud

[dabislittlemouse]

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.5)

PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 6

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon incoming, stalking

[Her POV]

“I’m back!”

My pace speeds up as I reach my house, I can see Keigo standing outside the door. Though the look on his face makes my skin crawl. Irritation and doubt were evident on his features. My brother was not one to ever get angry or annoyed easily, always a bright charming smile on his face. But now I’m just hoping nothing unpleasant happens.

“I’m sorry for making you worry Keigo..” I say the moment I approach him. I can’t look him in the eyes at all, I make sure to act as casual as possible while unlocking the door, though my hair still remains a bit disheveled and my breathing heavy and irregular.

“S’alright” he shrugs, entering inside and getting what he came here to collect. I feel my heart pounding out of my ribcage the moment he turns at me again, golden irises studying my appearance. Until they fixated at a certain spot in my neck.

Shit.

“Well I’m heading upsta-”

His hand grabs mine instantly, preventing me from moving further. Keigo takes in a deep breath before speaking.

“You sure you went at the store?”

The question hits me like a truck, even though I tried to prepare myself mentally for him to ask me this, it still didn’t make me feel less nervous.

“W-What do you mean? Also don’t grab me like this” I respond, getting away from his grasp. “Yes I was at the store. Or at least looking for one, it was an emergency”

“Emergency?” he replies, raising an eyebrow at me. “The emergency got anything to do with that nasty hickey on your neck, Y/N?”

My mouth falls open but no words come out. I can feel myself sweating, I need to say something, no matter how stupid it would sound. Just deny it all. If he finds out that I was making out with Dabi at the park-

“Well, actually yes. I don’t really know what this mark is,” I swallow. “I thought it might be some allergic reaction, or maybe something stung me. It’s reaally itchy.”

I feel like punching myself from the way I’m lying like a child who’s been caught by their parents.

Keigo simply rolls his eyes before letting out a chuckle, shaking his head at my nonsense.

“You think I’m an idiot?” he says sternly and I zip my mouth instantly. “That’s a hickey, someone left that on you and you’re trying to hide it!”

“Well Keigo, believe what you want! Stop treating me like a child, asking for my whereabouts and who I meet with- that’s none of your business okay?”

The sudden anger inside of me actually helps to hide all the nervousness from earlier. At least I won’t seem too obvious that I’m lying him straight to his face.

Keigo stops for a moment before speaking again.

“Look.. okay I believe you alright? You went to the store, whatever. Even if you met someone, you can simply say that you have a boyfriend, it’s not complicated.”

My face heats up at the mention of that word, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“Would you stop this interrogation already? I’m done” I rush upstairs, not engaging further in the conversation. I close the door behind me and wait until Keigo has left the house again. Sitting on my bed, I take in a deep breath, trying to calm myself down from everything that’s happened tonight. My blood is buzzing with adrenaline, the fear of getting caught, the thrill of meeting Dabi, the swirl of emotions in my chest at the way he talked so dirty to me.

God, the way he touched me, breathing in my neck, kissing me like that..

It doesn’t take long for me to realise how drenched my panties are. My brain keeps repeating all the memories, my skin crawling and my legs squeezing while remembering how warm Dabi was, how his hands roamed so inappropriately around my body, how he sat me on his lap, how hard he was. I feel ashamed, I didn’t expect it at first, I am still unsure of all of this, and he did not ask for my consent to touch me at all. My gut feeling is telling me to never meet him again, the alarms going off in my head, warning me of the danger he could possibly bring.

Though I still crave him so bad and I don’t know why. Feels like I’m under his spell, his hypnotic eyes and his intoxicating scent making me feel dizzy and all putty on his scarred hands. He brought the kind of excitement in my life I’ve never felt before. I feel my chest exploding, euphoria consuming my whole body, I just want to see him again.

I look at the mirror and gasp; no wonder Keigo made such a big fuss about it. The hickey is way bigger than I thought.

Dabi’s very first mark on me.

His quirk was scorching azure fire, I wonder.. would he ever go that far and leave burn marks on my body too? I shiver at the thought.

Though he still kept things hidden from me, the fact that he has done bad things makes me nervous. Who is he? What could this man have possibly done? Is he really Keigo’s friend? Why is Keigo associating with people who have done bad things?

I can’t help but think something is going on behind the scenes, especially seeing Keigo’s behaviour that day when Dabi came to visit, and refusing to elaborate. I need to find it out.

The loud notification ping from my phone interrupts my overthinking, almost making me jump. My heart skips a beat the moment I see the name on the screen.

DABI: “Everything alright doll?”

ME: “Yes all good, Keigo was a bit suspicious but I made him shut up and didn’t interrogate me further”

DABI: “Atta girl. You alone rn?”

ME: “Yes”

Now he is calling me. I bit my lip nervously, even though I was with him earlier, literally sitting on his lap, I still feel the rollercoaster of emotions in my stomach.

“Hey” I answer.

“We still didn’t finish our little date did we?” Dabi speaks. I gulp, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“I thought I said we can meet another time? It’s getting kinda late to be outside now..”

“Who said outside?” he responds, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. My breath hitches at his indication, but I still act like I don’t understand anything.

“C’mon y’know what I mean.. if nobody’s home it won’t hurt to visit you a little, sweetheart. And I’m sure we’ll be way more comfortable that way”

His comment makes me blush a little, but I have to use my logic.

“I can’t let you in, no way! If Keigo comes again, how will I get you out of the front door?”

“Front door?” Dabi laughs. “Did you really think I ever used your front door to enter in yo-”

Wait, what?

He didn’t finish the sentence, zipping his mouth from talking any further.

“I mean, I can use one of your windows~” he corrects himself.

“Wait hold on- what did you mean to say earlier? About never using my front door?” I whisper, my breathing getting heavier. Did he actually break in without me knowing?

“Nothing” he says nonchalantly. “Nothing at all”

I remember the pretty blue flowers I found on my nightstand, and how he said that it was a gift from him. He never elaborated how he got them in my room.

“Dabi you’re scaring me” I say. “Can you please tell me how did you-”

“I think you had a long day, dollface” he interrupts me. “Best for ya to take that beauty sleep now. We can meet another time, yeah?”

I hum in response and nod, even though he can’t see me.

“Good. Talk to ya tomorrow”

Dabi hangs up. I sit there motionless, if my brain was boiling with thoughts earlier, now I feel it almost exploding. I’m already getting paranoid, I make sure to lock all the doors and windows, and close the curtains as well.

Maybe Keigo was right. I must not interact with Dabi any longer.

(Dabi is not gonna like her decision)

Tagging: @mostlyheinous @touyalove @awalkingshame @scariusaquarius @dabislittlebeaniebaby @dabihawksluva @syrenkitsune

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi smut #mha smut #bnha smut #x reader #hawks #keigo takami

[the-hinky-panda]

The Preacher's Wife Series: Escape (Part I)

TW: Domestic spousal abuse: emotional, mental, physical, and sexual

Hank’s in love.

Again. 

It’s too soon, the wounds from the previous relationship still fresh, still stinging. But he thinks back to feeling Maggie pressed to his side, her hand in his, her head resting against his shoulder. It was one of the only times that he actually followed the speed limit back to her rental, trying to draw out the time. He can’t get it out of my mind just how perfect everything had been. He certainly doesn’t believe in romantic nonsense like soulmates but the feeling of watching Maggie walk into the cabin by herself was like watching a piece of himself go with her. 

Maybe he is starting to believe in soulmates. 

Either way, the problem remains of her husband and the process of getting her and the two children out of that mansion in La Jolla. He can’t contact Maggie directly so he approaches the next best thing, Maggie’s sister, Stitches. She’s been the medic for a couple years now and hasn’t mentioned anything specific about Maggie and her marriage. She’s hinted at being concerned for Maggie, always excited for Maggie’s visits to Santo Padre. But never has she brought up to the club a fear for her sister’s safety. 

Stitches is organizing her medical supplies in the treatment room in the clubhouse when Hank finally tracks her down. He’s only been back from Big Bear Lake for two hours and he can’t shake the conversation he had just earlier today in the truck with Maggie. He raps lightly on the open door. 

“Stitch, you got a minute?” 

“Yeah, absolutely.” She stands up and immediately starts scanning him, looking for any injuries. 

“I’m fine,” he waves her off. “I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about your sister, Maggie.” 

Concern immediately clouds her face. “Maggie? What’s going on with Maggie?” 

“I ran into her, up at Big Bear Lake.” 

Stitches’ concern dissipates immediately and she breaks into a big smile. “Oh yeah, she was heading up there for a conference.” 

Hank smirked. “Conference.” 

“Ah,” Stitches leans against the exam table. “So she told you about her other ‘job.’” 

“She did. My mom likes reading her books.” 

Stitches’ grin gets wider. “I’m sure the next time she’s visiting, we can stop by and see your mom if you want. It’ll do Maggie good, finding people who enjoy her books. She doesn’t get to have that satisfaction too much.” 

Hank smiles at that but then gets to the real reason for his visit. “Has Maggie ever said anything about how her husband treats her?” 

All positivity drains from her face. “I know he’s an asshole. Emotionally manipulative and a bully. I’ve been stashing money and family heirlooms for her in preparation for her to leave but she keeps telling me the timing isn’t right yet. Her publisher is also holding on to her royalties as well. Why?” 

“She just said a few things that concerned me. Wanted to get a clearer picture from you.” 

Stitches’ mouth is a firm, tense line. “What things?” 

The words are so bitter on his tongue when he says them. “I think he’s hitting her.” 

“That son of a bitch.”

She starts to move past him but he puts out a hand and catches her shoulder. The explosion is expected and he is prepared for it thankfully. “Now hold on. You know if that’s true, we do have to wait on her.” 

“Dammit, I know.”  She emits a frustrated noise and kicks the small trash can. “Shit. I had no idea he was hitting her or that it was even a possibility. He’s so focused on goddam appearances I didn’t think he would do that.” 

“It seemed like she let it slip when we were talking. She said it was never anything to go see about at a hospital or ER. I don’t think anyone knows.” 

“Course not. Simon Peters needs to keep his reputation clean or he could lose that money machine of a church. Can’t have a wife sporting bruises and casts…” Stitches pauses in her rant, her eyes going wide. “Oh my God. Her foot.” 

“She mentioned breaking it but didn’t say how.” 

Stitches returns to pacing the small room, her face thunderous. “I knew it. I knew Simon had something to do with her broken foot. The bones on the top of her foot were just snapped. She had to have metal pins and plates in there to fix it. She said her foot got caught under a box and she lost balance and fell backwards. It sounded fishy to me but she assured me that’s all it was.” 

Hank feels that sick feeling settling in his stomach. “What did it look like to you?” 

“It looked like someone stood on her foot and pushed her backwards, that’s what the breaks looked like.” Stitches lets out another sound of anger. “Six years! Six years, she’s been stuck in that house with that asshole! And I didn’t…” her eyes flood with tears and she covers her face with her hands. “I didn’t know, Hank. God, I didn’t know.” 

“What the hell is going on in here?” Bishop appears in the doorway. 

Tears are still streaming down her face and gives both Hank and Bishop the most helpless look. “My sister needs help.” 

Bishop turns to Hank. “What kind of help?” 

Taza appears at Bishop’s shoulder, peering into the room. “What’s going on?” 

“Stitches’ sister needs help,” Bishop says. 

Hank fills in the rest of the information. “Abusive husband.” 

Bishop nods. “He armed? Security guards? What are we talking?” 

“He’s the pastor of a megachurch,” Hank answers. “Lives in a mansion in La Jolla.” 

“The kids,” Stitches says. “We need to get the two kids too.” 

“Alright,” Taza puts his arm around Stitches’ shoulders. “We will. You talk to her, find out when would be a good time to get her and the kids out.” 

“Safely,” Hank adds. 

“Safely,” Bishop repeats. “In the meantime, if we have something coming up that needs attention, I’ll make sure at least three guys stay behind to help. You pick them. Okay?” 

Stitches wipes her eyes with her sleeve. “Okay. But don’t you have to bring this to the table or take a vote in Templo or something?” 

Bishop  glances at Hank and Taza, who give him minute nods, and he shakes his head. “No vote needed this time. Sometimes, we’re just all in agreement.” 

#hank loza #hank 'tranq' loza #hank loza x ofc #hank loza fic #hank 'tranq' loza fic

[rosesfromslashers]

Deep Ellum - Chop Top Sawyer x Reader

I've fallen down the TCM pipeline and I can't get out. Plz send help. Sorry if my writing comes off as a lil rusty! I'm in the process of teaching myself how to write again.

CW: Kind of a dark fic! Drunk reader, Chop Top to the rescue in his own special way (aka kidnapping), so be prepared for yandere vibes. Referenced stalking. Nothing explicit. Reader has she/her pronouns and is referred to as a girl.

They ditched you.

They fucking ditched you.

You're trying so hard not to cry, but with the alcohol coursing through your blood stream, it's hard not to let your emotions get to you.

Surely they didn't mean to. I mean, maybe it was your fault. You try to remember if you were the one who broke away from the group - maybe you took a wrong turn, or something caught your eye, or maybe you went into a different bar and forgot to call after your friends. But you're not that fucked up, right? But no matter how hard you dig into your memories, it's like they never even existed.

And that's when it hits you.

You're alone, in a wild part of Dallas - a place you've never been to - wandering around Deep Ellum after dark. And as your lack of memory serves, you've been blacking in and out three ranch waters in on an empty stomach, because your new friends said you should have one more. When in Texas and all that yeehaw bullshit.

Fuck.

You're in a dangerous spot, drunk off your ass to the point of swaying. There's nobody around on the street you've found refuge on, just lines of cars up and down the sides of the road. And judging by the ache in your head, your brain could decide to turn itself off again at any minute.

So you cry. The drunk tears just start to flow and you become aware of just how sloppy you look, crying on a street corner in a mini skirt, boots, and a shitty cowboy hat on a cold Texas night. God, it just makes it worse.

Then nothing. You try to form memories, to keep track of where you are and what you're doing but you just CAN'T.

Then something briefly snaps you back. The rumble of a truck. A soft denim jacket being wrapped around your shoulders. A slight Southern twang with almost a boyish charm and excitement saying you'll be alright, "I've gotcha," an arm around your shoulder to steady you and the rumble of that truck growing closer. Wait, did this person just... smell your hair?

You can't form images, but you can feel and hear faintly, like everything is ten miles away.

And just like that, it's over, and you're concious (and panicked) enough to know that you're in a stranger's truck going God knows where.

You're too scared to look at the driver. To see who it is that would snatch a drunk girl off the side of the road. You're positive that you're going to end up dismembered in a ditch by sunrise.

"I-I've never brought a girl home for dinner!"

You blink, keeping your eyes focused out the window.

"I-in the traditional sense, a-anyways."

You sit in shaking silence.

"It's okay. I know you're p-plastered. We'll be there in 30 and I'll let you sleep it off."

"Where are you taking me?" You ask, trying your damndest to not sound so scared, but it comes out as a squeek.

"Come on baby," he says, "look at me."

You do, and a sense of recognition floods through you.

It's the guy. THE GUY. The one from the record shop you stopped in yesterday. The weird one with the shaggy black hair and the vest and sunglasses and the pin that gave you a laugh when you saw it. Something about sitting on a happy face? It doesn't matter now. Because he's glancing from the road, eyes burning behind purple shades.

"'Member me? I sure do remember you!" He sounds so excited.

"You look real pretty when you cry, i-if you don't mind me saying."

"I kind of do," you whisper.

"Speak your mind! Ya know, I have this theory that nowadays people are just so scared of open communication and-"

He starts to go off on a tangent, but there's just too much going on for you to process that right now.

He's still rambling as he takes an exit onto a dark road.

"Please don't kill me!" You find yourself pleading. He laughs.

"Y/n, I ain't gonna kill ya." How does he know your name? "In fact, I think my family's gonna love you!"

"Y-your family?" You try and piece together as much as your inebriated brain will let you.

"Yeah! You've got my baby brother Bubba, my older brother Drayton, and my twin Nubbins. I really can't wait to introduce you to Grandpa!" Your head is spinning.

"T-they're gonna be real proud of me. None of them have brought a girl home before." He sighs almost dreamily. "I won't let 'em touch a hair on your head. You're all mine."

Okay, so his family is A) dangerous, and he is B) insane. Perfect.

You're never drinking again.

His hand finds your knee, you try to recoil but there's no where to go.

"I know what you're thinking. We're moving real fast, I'm aware of that. I mean, I didn't even say hi yesterday!"

"But I know we're just gonna be just perfect. Good thing I was following you tonight. Something real bad could've happened." Yeah, like getting abducted.

"But Chop's gotcha now, and you won't have to worry about a thing."

#chop top sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre #chop top x reader #slashers #slasher fic #this is so cringe plz review and validate me I will owe you my life #tcm 2 #slasher x reader

[empressofthesunwriter]

Isekai'd as Chloe

You were watching Miraculous Ladybug on your phone as your bus got hit by a truck. You died, it sucks. But a godly being gives you the chance to start anew in a brand new world. Sadly it's Miraculous, with all the plotholes, and flat characters, and don't forget worshipped while being a sexual abuser Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir. Could your day get any worse? You shouldn't have asked because you were reborn as Chloe and forgot who Papillion was. Someone wanted to see you suffer, that was sure! But you wouldn't give them the satisfaction. It was time to throw canon out of the window and make Miraculous a better show or in your case world!

Main Pairing: Reader/Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

I made a little mistake last chapter. The chapter took place Saturday and I wrote that Reader and Sabrina would see each other tomorrow at school. But it’s a Sunday XD I will correct it when I have time, just telling you it’s Sunday, no school, but not Akuma free you will see. ;D

Chapter 7: Times change

When you woke up the next day, you felt well-rested. After the whole rollercoaster of emotions, it was yesterday you earned a good sleep.

You stretched yourself and started to grab your phone from the night table. That’s when your fingers brushed something wooden.

You frowned, checking what it was.

A little familiar box from the show was beside your phone and a letter.

Suddenly you remember what had happened yesterday and started to grin.

So Master Fu did break into the Agreste household, getting Plagg back and in your hands.

Giddy you sat up.

Ah, it was so awesome!

First, you read the letter.

It said: “Dear [Y/N], Plagg is informed about your situation, so you don’t need to explain anything. We reached also out to Tikki and she will inform Marinette that you two should meet up at the Eifeltower this morning at 10 a.m. It’s better that Marinette meets you before an Akuma attack begins and learns to trust you. If anything is troubling you don’t forget to call me. M. Fu”

You checked the time and let out a sign.

Thank god you woke up earlier.

You had time till to meet Marinette aka. Ladybug.

Time enough to get familiar with Plagg and have breakfast.

That was good.

But first, you destroyed the letter. You could never be more careful.

After it was just tiny paper slips, you opened the box with your Miraculous.

You saw for a moment the ring of the black cat, then a glowy green orb floated from it, encircling you.

You let out a little ah.

Then the orb stopped before you and took the form of a yawing Plagg.

“Good morning, Plagg, it’s an honor to meet you!”, you greeted him excitedly.

The kwami of Destruction just stretched himself, then blinked at you.

“Wow, Dimee and Khee really have gone beyond to be assholes, must suck to live in the body of Miss Mayor Brat.”, he stated nonchalantly. “But it explains why you suddenly did a 360-grade change in personality.”

You admin, you were a bit disappointed. Not even a greeting? Just stating the obvious?

If you were an anime a sweatdrop would appear on your forehead.

“Do you want some camembert?”, you just asked.

At least that got Plagg excited and you called up room service to prepare breakfast for you and a plate of camembert for your kwami.

When it arrived, you already were dressed for the day with your new Miraculous on your ring finger. It had taken a nice design and it didn’t resemble Adrien’s version one bit.

You enjoyed the tower of pancakes, while Plagg stuffed himself full of camembert.

God, how could he like the stinky cheese so much?

You made small talk with each other.

“Are you really okay with me being your new holder?”

“If what Fu said is right, what Adrien would have done in the future, then yes I am. Don’t get me wrong, I like the kid, but if he takes such a dark path because he can’t accept a No from a girl, then I’m happy I got out of time.”

“All right, if you say so. Did you meet others like me before?”

“Dimensionwanderer? Yeah. You are actually my second partner who is one.”

“Really?! Who was it before me? Where did they come from? Did they live a happy life in the end?!”

“Woah, slow down, girl, chew, before you ask questions. It was also a girl, but she was here reborn as a boy. You can imagine what mental stress and body diaspora it gave her. She was one of my kittens who worried me the most, but we managed. It was in Ancient Egypt.”

“What really?! One Akuma in the future will be a copy of the Pharaoh whom Ancient Egypt Ladybug fought. So she had a female cat with her, how cool!”

“How will this happen, girl?”

“Oh well, there will be soon an exhibition in the Louvre about it.”

“Well, then we go there and I will tell you more about my kitten Sanura.”

“Aww, please give me a tiny spoiler.”

You both kept on bickering and it was quite fun. You felt it in your gut. You and Plagg would get along.

Then it was time to transform and meet Ladybug.

It was so simple to say the transformation phrase, but it was so difficult to open the eyes.

You had transformed before your mirror, so you could see yourself, yet you were scared.

What if transformed you didn’t look like yourself again?

Could you survive it?

It was inconvenient that you hadn’t much time left to meet Ladybug. You could stand here for another hour or so.

You were really freaking out!

“Come on, [Y/N], don’t be a coward. Just like a bandaid!”, you encouraged yourself.

So you opened your eyes.

And it was like the whole of Paris heard the happy, relieved, and tearful shout of a young girl.

Ladybug stood with crossed arms in one of the beams of the Eifeltower.

This whole day started crazy!

Tikki just told her that Chat Noir wouldn’t be anymore her partner and that she would get today a new one, was freaking her out.

Who decides this?

Why did this happen?

Her kwami had been all cryptic, just saying that with time she would understand. It wasn’t the right time.

Well, Marinette didn’t have a lot of time today too.

Her parents would celebrate their 20 anniversary with a fancy lunch date and she needed to finish her homework fast, so she would be punctual at Trocadéro, where Alix and Kim would have their race today.

Also, Adrien would be there!

She could amaze him with her self-made banner, she was sure! Yet thinking this made her remember how little her self-made scarf had mattered to him.

The pigtailed girl shook her head.

No, this was Chloe getting to her with her strange words.

Adrien…he didn’t do it on purpose. He was too sweet for this world, too pure.

Yeah, that was it…

That’s when she heard someone land beside her.

Prepared for anything Ladybug turned to the intruder and saw…you.

A breathtaking female cat, with the only similarity to Chat Noir, was the simple black mask with the green cat’s eyes.

You gave her a friendly smile and Ladybug felt the blush rising in her cheeks.

That…was new.

She never got shy around girls, but you…wow, you were practically glowing with happiness and satisfaction that you seemed out of this world.

In a good way!

Like a beautiful angel!

Ladybug blushed even more at her thoughts.

What was up with her?!

“Hello Ladybug!”, you greeted her with a sparkling smile and she swore her heart stopped for a second. You were just too beautiful! “I’m Calamity, it is an honor to meet you. I hope we can be partners and friends!”

You reached out with one hand to shake hers.

She blinked like in trance and took your hand in her. It was like you burned her…but in a good way.

“Hi.”, she croaked out. She mentally scolded herself to get a grip. Chat Noir never made her react this way, so why you?! “I admit…I’m a bit shocked to have a new cat on my side…but I trust my Kwami…so…to a good partnership?”

“To a good partnership.”, you agreed.

“All right. If you have time, we should do a short patrol to get to know each other better.”, she suggests.

You agreed and you both were off.

All your way over to Trocadéro with Sabrina, you were grinning so brightly and happy that Sabrina actually asked you if you had taken some kind of drug.

This only added to your happiness, that she could joke with you already like that, giving her a cheek kiss, which shut her up shocked.

Chloe never showed her any signs of affection, so her brain had to reboot.

You just took the time to remember how awesome patrol with Ladybug had been. The first few minutes it was clear that she expected you to act like Chat Noir, goofy, head-in-the-clouds, non-serious, but you surprised her.

You listen to every word she said, try to give your own input, and never did you flirt or make a stupid joke or pun.

After patrol ended she seemed pretty happy with you, that’s when you flirted a bit and told her she had a pretty smile.

Work was over so you could do it now.

She blushed so cutely at this, that you cooed at her. Also, you were so damn happy.

Seems like Ladybug/Marinette liked your true self! Maybe you could somehow date her and Luka.

But you wanted to first have with her a real friendship, before trying to romance her. And you had to tell Luka and Marinette that you were polyamorous or it could never work out.

You would see when the time came, for now, you were happy that all was good.

Marinette accepts you as her new partner. You both worked well together. Plagg was happy with you too and Sabrina grow more confident.

Yep, it was a good day.

Now you only had to prevent Alix from turning today into Timebreaker.

Sabrina and you finally reached Trocadéro, where all your classmates, besides Marinette and Alix, were there already. Kim was doing some over-the-top exercises to warm himself up, and you had to bite your lip to not laugh out loud.

Rose, the sweetheart, was the only one of your classmates who greeted you and Sabrina. She would have hugged you for sure if Juleka didn’t hold into her shoulders.

You both greeted back and tried to ignore the looks of your other classmates. There was still a lot of distaste, and distrust in them.

You would give them time.

You didn’t expect that they would want to be your friends after all the shit Chloe had pulled for years.

So Sabrina and you choose a place where you wouldn’t much disturb the others, yet could still cheer for the race.

That’s when you noted, that Adrien was missing.

Uh, did he in the canon time only come to the race since as Chat Noir he could break out from the mansion? Well, shit, seems like no Adrien today then.

A part of you did feel bad. No one, not even Mister I-Don’t-Respect-A-No should live like a prisoner in his own house/mansion.

You needed to get him out there fast.

Even more so, since he couldn’t anymore break out without Plagg.

Suddenly you hear delightful shouts and praises.

Ah, Marinette finally arrived, presenting proud her self-made banner. You and Sabrina applauded, you were pretty sure, Marinette wouldn’t take your praise as praise.

But she didn’t even notice you, since her eyes searched for, well you wanna guess?

Right, Adrien!

She looked like a kicked puppy to Alya, who just shrugged her shoulders. Marinette signed in defeat.

If only she knew that it was better to let Adrien go! You needed to destroy the Love Square!

…Was it even squared anymore, since Chat Noir was out?

“You all picked the wrong side to cheer on.”, yelled Kim loudly over everyone. “Looks like Alix isn't even showing up! Probably too chicken to race an extreme athlete like me.”

“Spoke too soon, Kim.”

There was the star of today and potentially Akuma, Alix! Everyone cheers her on.

“Your ridiculous bets are over. I'm gonna leave you in the dust, meathead!”

“You're no match for me. My neck is bigger than your thigh.”

You mumbled the same thing to Sabrina, that Alya did to Marinette: “Is that a good thing?”

Sabrina giggles cutely. You are happy that you can joke around with her. She is really a lot better since she started therapy.

Max comes between Kim and Alix and pushes them away from each other.

“Let's review the official rules.”, the glass wearer begins. “Two laps around the fountains; approximately 500 yards. The first one over the line's declared the victor! If Kim triumphs, Alix will relinquish her rollerblades to him. If Alix triumphs, Kim will be prohibited from making another dare for the rest of the school year.”

Nearly everyone shouts no more dares and such, then when Alix and Kim make themselves race ready, you make yourself ready too.

As you know Alix will give Alya her watch, which is actually the rabbit’s Miraculous, Alya hands it to Marinette and she would let it fall on the ground if Adrien didn’t catch it.

Since Adrien isn’t here, you would do it.

It plays out just like you remember from the show.

You can practically see how it falls in slow motion, till it lands securely in your hand.

“Oh dear, that was close.”, say’s Sabrina.

Marinette starts at you in disbelief.

“Chloe?”

“Marinette.”, you answer simply and put the watch in your purse. In it sits Plagg eating his camembert, eyeing the watch curiously. You close your purse to be extra safe so that nothing happens to it.

“Chloe!”, repeats Marinette in an accusing tone of voice. You kinda expected it. “That’s Alix’s watch you can’t just pocket it, give it back!”

“I’m not pocketing it, I’m keeping it save for Alix.”, you explain.

“Hah, you want me to believe that?!”

You sign and rub your temple. Sabrina looks worried between you and the angry Marinette.

“Marinette, I know you don’t believe for one bit that I want to change and be a better person and that I’m truly sorry for all the things I did in the past, but you could, at last, give me the benefit of the doubt, please.”, you beg tired.

It was true that Marinette liked you as Calamity, but Chloe she still hated. How are you ever going to romance her with this disadvantage?

You all heard then how Alix won the race and Kim practically demanded a rematch. The girl couldn’t care less, she just asked Alya for her watch back.

Before Alya could respond to her, you walked over to Alix and handed her the watch.

“Here you are Alix.”, you said simply.

You swore, it was like the whole world stopped moving. All your classmates turned silent and you felt their disbelieving burning looks on your back. Alix herself stared at you her watch back to you.

“Erm…thanks, Chloe?”, made the skater girl sound like a question, blinking rapidly with you.

You heard how Kim whisper-shouted to your classmates: “Alien, what did I say?”

With a loud groan, you turned around, ready to again explain yourself, that’s when a giant white orb crashed into the building of the Trocadéro completely destroying it!

The destructive wave was so strong then nearly everyone fall down on the ground.

You coughed the dust from your lungs, which had formed after the destruction of the building.

What in the world was-?!

“Little kitty on a roof...”, you heard a familiar voice sing.

Your heart was in your throat, sweat was breaking out and you fearfully looked around.

No…

No…

NO!

It couldn’t be?!

Alix was supposed to be the Akuma today and you prevent it!

“...all alone without his lady.”, the voice continues to sing.

The dust finally settles.

And you saw an Akuma who shouldn’t ever exist.

You feel like throwing up.

So much from preventing to destroying too much of the canon timeline, you should have gripped the stupid Miraculous Spellbook!

The Collector was nothing against…

“Chat…Noir?”, you heard Marinette whisper in disbelief.

No, you thought, that’s…

“Chat Blanc is awfully sorry to interrupt your little race my friends.”, purred the akumatized white cat. “I’m just searching for my lady, so we can fix anything!”

Chat Blanc grinned a cold smile and his blue eyes formally burned into your being.

How many of you have expected this? Be truthful :D

I hope you liked this plot twist!

Next chapter Calamity first Akuma fight against her predecessor Chat Blanc! *dum, dum, dum!*

Let’s hope Reader-Chan and Marinette can handle the crazy cat! :D

Also if you have time check out my DeviantArt there with bases I made my version of Reader-Chan and this Calamity ^^

Next

#miraculous fandom #anti adrien agreste #anti chat noir #anti love square #anti miraculous creators #luka couffaine #lukanette #marinette deserves better #marinette dupain cheng #miraclous ladybug salt #chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgeois redemption #ml salt #reader get's reborn as chloe #marinette x reader #luka x marinette #marinette dupain cheng x reader #luka couffain x reader #ml fanfic: isekai'd as chloe #marinette dupain cheng x luka couffain x reader

[stonewallsposts]

16 personalities questions: 46-48

46. You rarely contemplate the reasons for human existence or the meaning of life 

Disagree. I do contemplate these things. I accept the Biblical accounting for them and they make the most sense for me. And those are that we were created to love God and be with him. That was broken through sin, and God himself, through the person of Jesus, paid the price for sin and we, through trust in Jesus, can be restored to the Father. That is our most basic reason for existence and meaning- to serve the Lord. 

While I accept that as truth, I am also interested in what people who disagree with me have to say. I try and learn some philosophy and understand what kinds of things people search for to provide meaning to their lives. But one of the things I've become convinced of through reading not only the philosophies, but the lives of the philosophers themselves, is that we are all subject to the time and place we live in. None of us has a full picture of life. As brilliant as some of these men were, their attempts to categorize all of life still falls short and is subject to their own limited view of life.  

With this in mind, I tend to read them with a grain of salt. I try to understand where they're coming from, and why they might believe what they do. To be honest, I try to do the same with myself, but I'm subject to all the same limitations, and lack the genius that most of them had, so I'm even more restricted in what I can figure out. But clearly, as Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes 3:11, God has put eternity in the hearts of men. We are interested in such things and we can't help but think of these things on occasion. I know some people do their best to put it out of mind, but nonetheless, we can't escape it altogether.  

Perhaps this will seem a bit strange, but I've been mentally preparing for death, mine and others around me, for some time. I'm sure I've told many people this story, but years ago I read a long-form article in the LA Times about trucking deaths. The lead story was of a couple that worked in different places and had made a lunch date to meet someplace in the middle. The husband drove to the spot but the wife never showed. A truck had overturned on her car and killed her. The story had an impact on me and it struck me that we never know what is going to happen. I plan on going home this evening, but there's no guarantee that I'll make it there. I decided that I wanted to be ready for these things. So I have tried to live my life in such a way that I don't leave things unsaid to my loved ones. I let them know how much I love them. I was prepared for my father's death, and I'm prepared for my mom's, and I'm prepared for my wife or kids too. That's not to say it won't hurt, but I'm fully aware that this life isn't meant to last forever, and even if we live out the full measure of a human life, it is still, as the Bible says, a vapor: here and gone. 

This brings up another anecdote, but years ago I used to open up the church in the mornings for prayer. One morning I went in, and the sanctuary had been prepared for a funeral. In the back was a photo montage of the gentleman's life: he had been in the Air Force and there were all kinds of pictures of him. It hit me that one day, that would be me. The only thing left would be some pictures. A few people would mourn me for a while; my wife and kids would remember me, but beyond that, I'd be forgotten. The only thing that would matter at that time is what I did for the Lord.  

These little incidents have been formative for me, and cause me to approach life in a way that is informed and directed by Christianity.  

Of course, since I'm an idiot, I don't always live up to this, but I do think I contemplate the meaning of life. 

47. Your emotions control you more than you control them 

Hmmm, well, my gut reaction is to agree with this, but then maybe it needs more reflection. 

I think I probably control them more than they control me. There can be a lot of inner dialogue going on in my head over my reaction to things, so there is clearly a struggle. But the good thing is that most people are probably unaware of it. I take that to mean that I generally manage to keep the inner struggle under control. 

But given the previous discussion over the whole head v heart approach, I have decided that I don't like that dichotomy very much. I'm choosing to see them as simply different sets of input that inform the deliberation process, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously. So while I may feel like I'm making a logical decision, even my criteria are going to be informed by subconscious information.  

But perhaps this statement isn't meant to probe into this so deeply, they're just using colloquial parlance to express it. I'm going to give this a 5, slightly disagree. 

48. You take great care not to make people look bad, even when its completely their fault 

I'm towards the agree on this one, but only slightly. If someone makes a mistake, I'll usually do what I can to keep it from being a bigger thing. I make mistakes, and I don't like it when those get broadcast. 

So yeah, I'll probably go out of my way to try and not make people look bad, even if they screwed up. 

There is a bible verse that covers this too: love covers over a multitude of sins.  

But of course is someone is being a complete jerk, then I'm less apt to want to shield them from themselves.  

For myself, I don't really reject the hatred if I've done something bad. I don't like it.... but I accept it. 

A few months ago I had said something earlier in the day to our office manager, and later on I said something that she thought was a contradiction, so she called me out on it. I stopped and said: Are you trying to catch me in hypocrisy? She just smiled and said, Of course. I explained the resolution between the two statements and she sort of joke grudgingly accepted it, but I did think the interaction was kind of funny. Unless I'm really close with someone, I wouldn’t point something like that out, and even then, I'd be reluctant to do it.  

That has come through time and the experience of so many of my own failings. Years ago, when I was cheated on, I tried my best to reconcile. When she chose to move on, I stopped trying to shield her from the consequences of her actions. I sort of wish I would still have been more quiet about it. It's not like I broadcast it all over, but I didn't try to stay quiet either. I would do things differently today. 

So yeah, I take care not to make people look bad. 

[ussa4kids]

Bright-Eyed Bear Hunter Ready to go

Steve said, "While our dogs were still running on the one we turned loose, our other hunters let us know they had a bear treed. So, we got back into the truck and drove near where the bear was treed."

Savanna and the hunters with her had a 500-yard walk-in that took them about an hour! They watched the dogs' tree for a bit upon arrival at the tree, then tied them back from under it. The bear was 70 feet up in a big pine tree with big limbs. One of the hunters cut a shooting stick to rest Savanna's gun. Then they all moved around until they could see the bear well, and she could make a good shot. Steve knelt on the ground beside her and held the shooting stick stable while Savannah got the gun set up.

Savanna said, "I was confident in a standing shot, so I looked through the scope of my 7mm08 Savage Arms youth rifle, put the crosshairs on the bear's head, took a deep breath, and gently pulled the trigger."

Steve said, "It was a direct hit, and she could not have hit it any better. It was unbelievable, and the bear was going to drop right there, but I thought he might get hung up in this tree, which would mean we would have our work cut out for us getting it down! So I took the gun from her, put in another shell, and then told her to shoot him again, both times right in the head, and fortunately, the bear fell out of the tree.

Savanna added, "We ran towards where it fell to make sure it was dead, and then we all got excited.

Cindy said, "When the bear was up a tree, we all watched her skillful shot. The bear was moving so much that it was tricky. If my dad were here today, he would be a very proud grandpa. Savanna learned how to help prepare the animal and what cool things can be done with the meat and the hide."

"Everyone you meet during the hunt is nice, and they are what really makes the whole experience so rewarding People are friendly enough to let you do almost anything you want, even horseback riding."

"Just the thrill of being there and watching these kids succeed, knowing we are sending them home happy. Every one of these kids brings tears to my eyes. My standard on hunting has changed; having a kid with me is my goal," Steve expressed with emotion.

Thanks to Ryan Caputo for donating his bear license, Steve Salmon, Scott Wendt, and the Stoney Lonesome Bear Hunters for their continued participation in USSA bear hunts. Congratulation to Savanna on her trophy bear and the beautiful memories shared with her mother and new hunting buddies! God bless!

If you are interested in getting involved, want to donate your 2023 bear license, or know of a deserving youth or veteran, don't hesitate to contact us at [email protected].

United Special Sportsman Alliance

www.childswish.org

.

#childswish ussa bearhunting bearhunter bearhunt hunting huntingseason huntinglife huntingislife hunting_the_wild futurehunter huntingdog bea

[pascalslittlebrat]

Drunk Dial

Rating: T

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count: 4223

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, tiny bit of language, other than that this is just some soft shit with a bit of angst

Summary: Javier left you broken years ago. Now he’s back and after a little too many drinks with friends, you can’t help the draw to call him and let the liquid courage try to give him a piece of your mind.

A/N: big thanks to @autumnleaves1991-blog for Writer’s Wednesday, I saw the picture last night and immediately started writing this. Forgive any mistakes I wrote this around 1am and honestly fell asleep at some point. May this make up for the more deep angst I’ve put out😂 Big thanks to @mothandpidgeon for keeping me from overthinking! Enjoy me once again trying to write a drabble and ending up with a One Shot and me being slightly self indulgent in wanting someone to keep my ass grounded during hard shit.

Taglist Masterlist

“Hello?” the familiar deep voice answered hoarsely on the other line. God, how many years had it been since you had heard that grumpy tone?

Your heart races at the sound of Javier’s voice and you couldn’t help but be thankful for the liquid courage flowing through your veins or you’d be kicking yourself for obviously waking him up or even calling him in the first place. “Javiiiii,” you giggle leaning against the phone booth, the coolness of the glass feeling good against your warm skin. “I can’t believe you’re awake.”

“It’s two in the morning I wasn-Y/N?! Are you drunk?” Javier asked and you can hear the frown in his tone. He sits up in his bed the moment he recognizes your voice, of all the calls he expected tonight, he wasn’t expecting one from you. Not after what he did.

You shrug as if he could see you, playing with the cord, “I’m not drunkk, I’m just tipsy and it’s your fault. I had 5 shots because I couldn’t get your stupid big head out of mind.” You pout, your emotions starting to shift, the hurt mixing into your tone. You didn’t drink often for this reason, you always felt so cheery and happy at first but then sadness seemed to always creep up once the drinks started to fade out of your system.

Javier gulps at your answer, he runs a hands over his eyes, wiping away any exhaustion he was feeling. He had been known you long enough to know that tipsy meant you were drunk and you being drunk meant you would definitely need someone soon. “Where are you? Are you at home?” he asks as he gets up, holding the handset between his cheek and shoulder as he grabs his pants off the floor pulling them over his naked form.

“Umm…” you purse your lips looking around, trying to remember which bar your friends had dragged you to for the night. They had forced a girls night on you to keep you from doing exactly what you were doing now, looking for Javier Peña. What had started as just a margaritas at your favorite Tex-Mex restaurant had turned into bar hopping over Laredo.

You mumble a fuck as you turn to face the bar and almost run into the glass of the booth. Javi silently curses whoever had decided to let you drink as much as you had without keeping an eye on you. “Lonestar Bruisers,” you mumble out as you look at the flashing bar sign, watching as the words shift. “What a weird name...I got a bruise though, I hit my knee on the dummy bar stool.” You then gasp the touch of sadness you had been feeling slipping into the emotion of shock, clutching the receiver closer as if you had just discovered some secret and didn’t want anyone to hear, “Javiii! That’s why they call it Lonestar Bruisers, because I got a bruise!”

Javier tries not to smile, you were definitely always something when you were drunk. So giggly and smiley, you always lit up the room even more when you had a little bit of alcohol in you. But he also knew the edge he had heard to your tone earlier, the one that he had learned signaled the courage of the alcohol starting to slip and soon you’d be feeling something worse if someone didn’t get you home and in bed. He always hated to see the way your mind would get the best of you. “Mariposa, it’s Lonestar Brewers. I’m right down the road, are you alone? Tell me you’re not alone,” he asks, pulling a shirt over his head, hoping the image of you standing in a phone booth alone in the middle of the night was wrong.

You almost drop the phone out of your hand when you hear him use his old nickname for you. You feel the tears well in your eyes, the memory of years of friendship and love running through your head, the reason you had even called Javier in the first place, “Y-You can’t call me that. I don’t need you to come, you didn’t even tell me you were back.” Your voice cracks at the last sentence, the old wounds from years passed, open up, the night that caused this all. “And I’m not alone, Kelli and Rebecca and…I think her name is Cassie...I don’t know but I’m not alone… Well I’m alone outside cause duh I’m in a phonebooth but they’re inside, I bet they have shots...I need more shots.”

Javier sighs, he knew he had been wrong to not contact you. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to come back quietly, everyone in town knew everything. So of course word would get around to you that he was back, he had just hoped he had prepared enough to be the one to go see you. He had planned to see you, to discuss the night he threw everything to shit, he just hadn’t found the courage, or the will, not after he was still processing the reason he had even been sent back to Laredo. “Marip-Y/N, I need you to go inside. You shouldn’t be out there alone, someone could hurt you,” Javi says gently, trying to mask his worry, he had seen too many women hurt over the past few years.

He might not have been in Colombia but that didn’t mean that there weren't bastards around waiting for a chance to take advantage of an innocent woman. “No more shots, ask for water, I’m on my way. If you all have been drinking, you’re not getting in the car with any of those girls,” he grits out, just as he knew you, he knew your friend group and Kelli hadn’t always been the best influence on you. He could feel the old irritation towards your oldest friend already flaring knowing she wasn’t watching over you.

“You can’t tell me what to do Javier,” you snap at him as you look out the booth wiping your eyes. It was a dark night, the only glow of light came from the bar’s sign and the street lamps across the street of North Central Park, fog filled the outside air, almost as thick as the Texas humidity. You frowned, hating the shiver that ran up your spine, maybe he was right to go inside, “I’m going to hang up now, I shouldn’t have called you. It’s almost out of time, I’m out of coins, and I just don’t want to talk to you meanie pants.”

“Y/N just sit st-” Javi starts before the line cuts off. He groans running his hands over his face before grabbing his keys and knowing you were definitely going to be a joy when he picked you up.

******

He expected more of a scene from you when he had walked into the bar. You were indeed nursing another glass of alcohol and you had told the bartender how he was the meanie head that you had been complaining about. Javier had rolled his eyes and told you it was time to go home. You had glared at him and made sure to down the rest of your drink out of spite before telling him you wouldn’t leave without your friends.

He dealt with the glares that each one gave him, raising his hand to stop Kelli from chewing him out and refrained from telling her off himself too. You were his sole focus and he wasn’t going to waste any time arguing with someone he never saw eye to eye with in the first place.

You definitely had way too many drinks and she should have known better than to let you get this far gone. For your sake, he would take care of both you and them. He knew that would be the only way you’d let him drag you off anyways, if you knew your friends would be okay. He had called a cab and gave them money to pay for it, before throwing your arm over his shoulder and helping you out as you tried and failed to keep the world from wobbling underneath you.

You argued with him that you could go home with your friends the whole way out of the bar. He silenced you with his narrowed eyes. There was no way he wouldn’t make sure you got straight to bed and not to another place where they might hand you more drinks or be too inebriated to make sure you didn’t get sick or help you if your anxiety starts to hit. He wouldn’t fail you, not in this at least. He always took care of you then and nothing could stop him from doing it now. It didn’t make up for what he did, but it was the least he could do for you after years of leaving you alone, hurt.

“I don’t want to go home yettt! I’m having fun,” you whine as Javi tries to help you into his truck, catching you as you stumble. You’re glaring at him and pouting, arms crossed over your chest as he gets you settled into the seat and buckling you in, “I’m not a child Javier.”

Javier can’t help the chuckle that escapes his lips at your words, especially with just how much of a child you looked like in that moment. He knew if you had been standing outside of the truck still, you’d stomp your foot. “Could have fooled me, mariposa,” he gestures to your crossed arms and you stick the tongue out at him as he closes the door.

He decides he’ll just let you crash in his bed, the ranch was closer than your home and he could still feel how exhausted he was. He hadn’t exactly been sleeping well since he had arrived back in Laredo.

He practically jumps out of his skin when he feels your hand on his arm. He hadn’t expected your touch, at least not out of your own free will. “Javi, you’re not holding my hand, you always held my hand,” you pout out, as you take his hand in yours.

Javi hates it, almost finds it cruel actually,how much your hand still fits perfectly in his hand. How soft and small it was under his calloused and larger one. He hates how much he has missed it, how much he enjoys it. He had always been a man that depended on touch, you had always told him just a single touch from him could tell you how he felt. You had always been good at reading him, knowing that sometimes the simplest touch was just what he needed to keep him grounded to what was in front of him and not spiraling into whatever chaos was going through his head.

He felt the ache in his heart as he remembered the way you would smile at him and call out each touch. “That’s your ‘I love you’ touch.” “That’s your ‘it’s been a bad day’ touch’” “That’s your ‘I just felt like grabbing you ass because I can’ touch” You were silent next to him and he wondered if maybe you were dozing off already, smiling a bit to himself at the old memories. He could only hope that maybe this would be a time you could avoid your sad side effects of drinking.

He gave your hand a squeeze as he pulled into the ranch. “That’s your ‘I’ve needed this, I missed you’ touch” you breathed out and Javier froze, he glanced over at you. You weren’t wrong, as always. You were staring at him intently, gazing at him in the dark, trying to read him. You gave him a small smile and he felt his heart drop at how broken it looked, lacking the complete joy it used to.

He parks in front of the guest house where he stayed, glad that he wouldn’t have to worry about waking Chucho. “Why did you bring me here?” you ask, frowning and pulling your hand from his. Javier misses it the moment you do, hating how he could feel the hurt resonating off of you now. He had caused this.

“We were closer to the ranch. I don’t think you’d make it up the stairs to your apartment either,” he say softly and watches as you just nod before he gets out of the truck to help you out. He opens your door and takes your hand, putting the other on your hip to keep you steady as he helps you down.

The world still feels like it’s spinning and you grab Javi’s shoulders as you lay your head on his chest. He still smells the same as he had years before, woodsy, musk, minty, and something else that was just pure Javier that you could never put your finger on. You can’t help but laugh in his chest as another realization hits you, “You don’t smell like cigarettes.”

“I’m trying the nicotine gum to stop” Javier answers, wrapping his arms around you, he knew at any moment you could push him away again, so he wanted to enjoy the feeling of you holding him close. He couldn’t deny the need he had to be held after everything that had gone on, to just feel the comfort of someone’s arms around him and to be lucky enough to be having you doing the honors? It took everything in him to break the dam of emotions he had going on. The emotions of everything in Colombia with losing Carrillo, chasing after Escobar, working with Los Pepes to still holding onto everything that had happened the night he left and hurt you came to head and it was overwhelming how much he had been choking down.

He holds you tighter, clinging onto you, to keep centered. He focuses on the sense of you pressed against him, the sweet scent of you mixed with alcohol, the way you were holding him just as tight. Then he notices the now wetness against his stomach and his heart clenches realizing you were now softly crying against him, “Mariposa, what’s wrong?”

You hated it, hated that you were now crying against him. How could he still cause you such an easy comfort for you even after he had left you behind with no explanation? It wasn’t fair that after all these years, just his scent and being in his arms still made you feel the safest and at home. You look up at him, tears flowing, moving your hands to grasp his shirt, “Why did you leave Javi? H-how could you just leave me like that?”

Javier gulped,a hand coming back to rub the back of his neck. He wanted to feel like he had been prepared for this conversation but he wasn’t. He breathes out a sigh, wiping your tears off gently with his thumbs, he presses a kiss to your forehead, “Let’s not talk about that right now, let’s get you to bed, we’ll talk tomorrow when you’re not drunk.”

You shake your head, frowning at him. You tug on his shirt to let him know you weren’t going anywhere. You needed the answers, you had spent too long needing them. “No, I want to know now Javi. I deserve to know...I woke up and you were gone...then I have to have Chucho tell me that you had left? That my boyfriend had joined the DEA and left me a note, a-a fucking note Javi! You literally broke up with me through a note!”

Javi’s teeth clench, he always hated seeing you cry, he always tried to do everything to make sure he was never the cause of your tears. Yet he knew it, knew the pain he caused you when he left, the tears you had shed, and seeing it now hurt him, hurt him more than leaving you did. He holds you close to him, rubbing you back as you sob, “I...Let’s get you inside and I’ll answer you.”

You look at him through blurred vision, gently releasing the hold you had on his shirt, leaving it wrinkled from your touch. “You promise?” you ask weakly and Javier feels the pull in his heart, a line formed between his brows and he nodded at you before taking your hand in his and helping you inside.

He sat you down on his couch, helping you out of your shoes, before leaving you to grab you a glass of water. When he returned to your hand on your head, eyes closed. “Drink some water, we need to get you hydrated,” he tells you softly. You open your eyes and look at him, he could tell the sobering up was starting to happen and he hated that he was going to have to have this conversation with you like this. He sits down next to you and hands you the glass of water.

You mumble a thank you to him as you drink before laying your head on his shoulder, shifting closer to him. Javier sighs as he wraps an arm around you, rubbing circles on you shoulder, hoping you’ll doze off. Luck, however, was no on his side, “Javi...why did you leave..”

He sucks in a breath, you were looking up at him expectantly, eyes puffy and red from your tears. “You deserved better than me…” he answers out, admitting what had gone through his head the moment he had signed up to join the DEA.

“Bullshit Javi, I loved you, we were happy...at least I thought… I thought we were,” you trail off in the last part, you had spent years wondering if you had made everything up in you head.

Javier tilted your head up to look at him, he could sense it, you starting to get in your head. “I was happy with you baby, so fucking happy. But I was holding you back, do you think you would have finished your pharmacy degree if I had stayed? You were always so worried about me on the job, I felt like I wasn’t getting anything done here, I wasn’t helping enough people. You remember me complaining about how routine the job felt. I was making you worry and I just...I felt like if I left, then you would be better off. No worrying something would happen to me, you could focus on school, on bettering yourself. I also had found the letter, you got into the best pharmacy school in Texas, and your sister told me you were waiting to see if you got something closer to here because you didn’t want to leave me...One of the guys mentioned the DEA hiring in Austin and I honestly didn’t think they’d accept me but they did.”

You can feel the tears streaming down your face again as you listen to his words. Javi fights back his own, as he remembers how much he beat himself for making decisions without you. “I tried to figure out how to tell you. I just didn’t know how. I was a coward Y/N, here I was trying to go out and do something bigger, yet I couldn’t tell my girl how I was feeling like I was holding her back. I knew there was more danger in joining, how could I worry you more? If I left then I figured you’d leave, go to Houston, become the best pharmacist this damn state has ever seen,” his mouth quirks at the last part and you can’t help the chuckle that comes out. Javier had always been your number one fan in everything you did, as you had always been his.

His face becomes serious again, “I tried to figure out how to tell you...but I knew you’d either try to go with me. I couldn’t let you hold yourself back for me, to change your plans for me. I couldn’t keep you from reaching your dreams… that night...it was different… holding you the last time, I barely slept. I wanted to wake you and tell you everything but I couldn’t find the words. Pops, lectured me, I’m surprised he even gave you the note, he was so angry with me. He thought I had told you, then for me to just leave you that note. I think he was ready to beat my ass. He was disappointed in me for the longest time, could barely forgive me for doing that to you…”

You reach out to touch Javi’s cheek, he closes his eyes leaning into your touch. Every word he said was sobering you up more and more. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m really fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. I should have been more honest, I was an idiot. I just selfishly decided for myself and left, I shouldn’t have left you like that, you always treated me right, you always watched out for me, you always took care of me. We grew up together and you never got tired of my shit….I just…I thought it was the right thing to do.” He chuckles humorlessly, “You did become the best pharmacist though. Pops made sure to brag about how great you were doing in pharmacy school. He made sure to tell me about you, to keep me updated and to make me feel bad that I wasn’t here to see you doing as good as I knew you’d do. He called me a dumbass for not being here to see you graduate or to watch you open your own pharmacy. I’m proud of you, I was so proud of you, just know even away I was so proud of you every step of the way even though I know I shattered you first.”

You roll your eyes at Javier, you wanted to punch him in his pretty face if you were being honest with yourself. “You’re such a big dummy,” you scoff out rolling your eyes. Your head was starting to pound but you were thankful that your mind felt numbed still, so you could give him a piece of your mind. “You’re lucky I’ve had all these years to accept you leaving. It hasn’t stopped the ache or pain, obviously.” You bitterly think about the amount of drinks you had just tonight. “Because I would punch you right now but of course, you just left because Javier decided to be selfishly unselfish. You should have talked to me Javier, I never felt like you were holding me back. Yes, I worried about you, but so did all the other sheriff wives and girlfriends. I didn’t tell you about Houston, not just because I didn’t want to leave you, but because I was feeling unsure of myself and being a pharmacist too. I didn’t want to disappoint you if I decided to change careers! I would have been so proud of you being accepted, would I have gone with you? Probably. But it would have been MY choice Javier. I would have never tried to stop you from going and even if I didn’t go with you, we could have made it work. I loved you, I loved you so much and you just left me a note saying you were sorry and it was for the best that you left. It felt anything but the best!”

Javier flinches at your words and you sigh before placing both hands on his cheeks making him look at you, “How could someone as intelligent as you be such an idiot?”

You watch as his mouth twitches under your gaze, “Hell if I know, I seem to get in my head too much, don’t I?”

You give him a look letting him know that you can’t argue with him on that and he reaches out to caress your cheek. “I lost myself then, just like I lost myself now,” he mumbles out bitterly and you press your forehead against his, taking him in as you close your eyes.

“Sometimes we have to lose ourselves to find ourselves again,” you whisper out as you meet his eyes.

Javier takes you in, your gentle gaze, the soft touch of your hand going through his hair. It’s the first time since he had touched down in Laredo that he felt at home. “I still love you,” he says before he can stop himself. He had never stopped thinking about you and now with you in front of him, making him feel the calmest he has in years, he knows it’s true.

You freeze and he wants to apologize, tell you that you don’t have to say anything. But you smile at him as a tear falls from your right eye, “I still love you too, big meanie head.”

Javier smiles and it feels the most real it has in days, the first time he feels like he’s not forcing one out. It makes your heart soar seeing it, how you had missed seeing his bright smile.

You don’t know what the future holds, knowing the whispers around town that he would be leaving again soon. But in that moment, wrapped in his arms, his lips softly pressing against yours for the first time in years, it was just you and him and nothing else mattered.

permanent tags: @sleepylunarwolf @greeneyedblondie44

Those who may be interested: @mothandpidgeon @metalarmsandmanbuns @221bshrlocked @wyn-dixie @starlightmornings @waywardimpalawriter @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @purplepascal042

#Javier Peña x Reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x y/n #Javier Peña Fanfic #javier peña #my writing #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

[spockandawe]

I cannot for love or money let go of the idea that like... I don’t think Lan Wangji canonically was sleeping with Jiang Cheng while Wei Wuxian was dead. But I’m enthralled how easy it would be to slot that into place in the story. And my favorite part of Jiang Cheng is how messily he’s emotionally imploding in the story present, and the big reason I would argue why lan wangji/jiang cheng didn’t actually happen is because I think the present would have been so much messier, but... that’s also exactly why I’m so delighted by the idea of just. Slipping it in there and seeing just how much hotter this dumpster fire can get.

Like, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji are both MESSES in their own ways in this story. Jiang Cheng’s turmoil is loud and obvious, while Lan Wangji’s is a lot more self-contained (I was hit harder than I expected by lan xichen’s callout where he was like ‘IT WAS SO OBVIOUS HOW HE FELT’ and wei wuxian just completely blacked out that couple of days, and he’s been fake-flirting with lan wangji while lan wangji thinks he knows exactly how he feels and is so gentle despite how from his pov wei wuxian has been pretty darn cruel and AUGH). But also, I just got my heart broken by the way the main story ended on the note of Jiang Cheng failing to tell Wei Wuxian that he didn’t go back to Lotus Pier to get his parents’ bodies, he went back because he drew the attention of the Wen soldiers to protect Wei Wuxian, and I’m gonna CRY.

Jiang Cheng is a fragile, brittle mess on the whole, and while I wouldn’t say that he’s hungry for love in general, he’s desperate for approval from His People (and since his parents have both failed him hard on that count and his sect was effectively exterminated, that adds up to wwx and jyl). And when Wei Wuxian dies, he’s left horribly wounded over losing everyone he’s ever loved, blaming Wei Wuxian for it, blaming Wei Wuxian to break his promise to stay by his side, and, very importantly, blaming himself for not being enough to protect and/or keep the people he loves. I don’t want to rehash his whole arc, but these are critical character notes.

And if a horrible, grief-stricken, ill-considered affair between Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng, possibly even a long-running (if irregular) affair, I think... I think they would hurt each other too much for it to be healthy, or for it to be a relationship-relationship. But they’re both overflowing with emotional wounds, and Lan Wangji is observant, and even if he gives Jiang Cheng less to work with, Jiang Cheng is real good at spamming attacks until he finds something that hurts. Knowing each other’s weak spots so that you can hurt each other isn’t a healthy kind of intimacy, but it’s still a kind of intimacy. And in general, I also feel like Jiang Cheng would be pretty awful at keeping as much internal emotional distance as he intends in their not-relationship. I’m not going to write this essay right now, but I’ve got thoughts about this.

But, where I’m headed. Is the present day. Where Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are still desperately, hopelessly hunting for any hint of Wei Wuxian, and understanding each other and spending more time near each other than they want(?) because of that shared goal.

And then Wei Wuxian comes back. And Wei Wuxian chooses Lan Wangji.

The POTENTIAL of this implosion!!! I don’t want to undervalue what we get in canon, because canon DELIGHTS me. But just imagine the doubled blow, when Jiang Cheng is abruptly ditched by the two people who understand him the best, who each had.... in theory some kind of connection with him. He melts down terribly just over Wei Wuxian still being alive, and i don’t think it’s even possible to untangle how much anger is thanks to how he wants to hate Wei Wuxian vs how much is being upset over Wei Wuxian choosing someone else, again. But what if we add, simultaneously, more of a meltdown because his not-boyfriend has ditched their not-relationship without a backwards glance, and he stole Wei Wuxian when he knows how much this means to Jiang Cheng, and that reluctant/resentful intimacy between them taking an abrupt turn into a mutual jealous mistrust, and they could be such a tag-team if they trusted each other enough to share, or were forced to share early. But Lan Wangji got the first opening and he took it, and neither of them is certain enough of Wei Wuxian’s love to even consider sharing after that imbalance is in place.

Part of what fascinates me is because Jiang Cheng is already doing Not Great for a lot of canon, and I just. I want to add more fuel to the fire. As far as canon goes, he got hit with that Complete Abandonment truck way back in the past, and has had time to cope and push some of those issues down. So...... what if we hit him with the truck again, and he’s taken super off-guard, because it wasn’t supposed to be possible again, but, you know, your brother rises from the dead and two seconds later your not-boyfriend elopes with him, it’s a little hard to predict things like that. I want more reasons for him to be upset with Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and himself. I want extra concern from Jin Ling as he watches Jiang Cheng refuse to admit that anything is wrong. I’m assuming that Lan Wangji would be prepared to keep this secret until he died, but that Jiang Cheng would 1000% spill the beans in his meltdown at Lotus Pier (oh my god, the ways that would flavor the first wangxian sex scene, holy shit), and that Jiang Cheng would be an extra messy wreck when he shows up at the guanyin temple

And also, I very much want a scene where Lan Wangji tries to reassure Wei Wuxian that yes, okay, he slept with Jiang Wanyin, but don’t worry, it didn’t mean anything, and Wei Wuxian is upset because ‘hold on, you slept with him and it didn’t mean anything? Lan Zhan, how could you? he’s very sensitive!! :(’

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #wei wuxian #psst read by proxy i forgot how much i loved that fic #maybe i could write that first wangxian encounter with that context #longer fics are beyond me rn #but that might be manageable #is it i don't know #my brain is mush

[maxwell--lord]

Hand Grenades and Helipads

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit)

Warnings: language, violence, blood, talks of death, smut, sexual tension, jealousy, weapons, warfare

Summary: You are part of a special operations team, deployed to South Africa, patrolling near diamond Mines to ensure the safety of the locals- you work for a military contracting company. During a normal patrol, something goes terribly wrong and you are injured, Pope, Will, and Benny bring you to safety, while Frankie blames himself...

A/N: This will be coming in parts, probably pretty slowly. I hope you enjoy it, any and ALL feedback is appreciated 💕

Casings land all around you, the distant sound of gunfire and yelling whirl through your ears, your vision is blurry and your breaths are heavy and short, the pain flushes through you as the ringing in your ears becomes less and you hear someone calling your name close by. “Y/N! Y/N. God damn it, answer me!” he growls out and you feel a heavy shove against your chest, a shadowy figure looms above you, before kneeling down directly over you, “She’s lost a lot of blood, the wound isn’t fatal but the infection will be if we can’t get this bullet out and this wound cleaned up” he speaks into his coms, you recognize the voice, Benny. Your eyes flutter and roll back into your head as you mutter “Benny” before coughing up some blood, and coming to enough to hear Benny respond “Shh. It’s going to be alright, you’re going to be okay. We were ambushed…” his words fading away as your breathing becomes erratic and your eyes fall away. “SHIT!!” he exclaims and begins shouting into his coms for the team to get here faster.

Pope and Will come rushing into the south quadrant of the hot, arid, damp, pavilion that your team had been assigned to for routine patrol. Pope hits the ground quickly, skidding towards Benny as he slings his M16 over his shoulder, swiftly moving his arms under your head and shoulders to pull you up to a sitting position. Will has his hands on the coms, breathing heavily as he yells into it at Frankie- “You need to get here, Fish, NOW. Y/N is down, unconscious…” Benny cuts off Will “It’s not as bad as it sounds, Fish, she will be okay. You need to get here, FOCUSED. We will meet you at the extraction point, two clicks east. You know the spot. Be ready. We need to move fast”. Frankie grunts into the coms “I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let her go today… I fucking knew something wasn’t right this morning” he spits. “Fish, get your shit together, this isn’t your fault. Get that bird in the air and get here NOW”, Pope declares as he turns to Will to motion him over before him and Benny lifts your body and begins to carry you out of the building. “Make sure you grab her rucksack and her pistol, we don’t want to hear from Tom about this” Pope scoffs as Will grabs your pistol, vest, and ruckack. Your M16 dangles below your body and Will grabs it to position it on top of your chest, while you are carried. You’re in and out of consciousness as they travel to the rendezvous.

You can hear the Apache’s blades ripping through the rigid, hot, air and can hear the men yelling to each other before you feel the cold floorboard under you and you’re able to open your eyes enough to see Frankie looking angrily at Benny with his finger pointed, their words lost in the sound of the helicopters blades spinning rapidly. You manage to move your left arm up towards Frankie’s leg and barely clasped your hand around his ankle, encased in the boot, this causes him to stop whatever he was saying to Benny and he looks down at you, adjusting his hat. He moves his leg back from you and kneels down as Pope and Will shut the choppers doors, running his finger along your cheek and looking at you with concern in his eyes, and you nod your head to him, assuring him you will be alright. He stands up and glares at Benny before disappearing to the cockpit to lift the Apache into the sky and take you back to base. Benny leans down and places the tactical headset on your ears so they can communicate with you and so you don’t go deaf from the obnoxious droning of the helicopter. You’re looking around at the team, glossy eyes, wondering what happened and what Frankie had said to Benny that’s left him looking like he is guilty. You push the mic closer to your mouth “Pope?” you manage to say before the pain flushes down your body and you groan in agony, Benny jumping up to pull you into his arms and give you as much comfort as he can. “What happened?” you grunt out. Pope shakes his head “There… There was a child…” his eyes drop and he winces as he takes a deep breath “you hesitated, he shot you. Benny was focused on another assailant who had an assult rifle in his hand, followed by a man with a belt of grenades, and a light machine gun” Benny cuts off Pope “You've been shot because I was not focused enough on our surroundings and I-“ “You’re goddamn right you fucked up! You were not close enough to each other to protect one another and now Y/N’s been shot, Benny!” Frankie growls angrily, you can sense the tension and blood boiling in his veins. “I know I fucked up, Fish, but it was not a situation we could have scraped out of. Those men had assault rifles on them and they were rushing towards us.” You glance over at Will, his hands on his temple and he’s looking at you “You have to shoot, I know how hard it is to take out a child, but your life is more important” he pinches his nose “I’m not angry, I was scared and I still am. You’re lucky that it only hit you in the shoulder and didn’t puncture your lung. We were ambushed, there was nothing we could have done other than stay close but there were too many and we would have been like sardines in a can if we stuck together, and we don’t know what kind of weapons they had or how many more there were''. Frankie eases the helicopter onto the helipad and Pope is requesting medical to the helicopter, exclaiming that you have suffered a significant injury. The doors of the helicopter rip open and Will and Frankie are pulling you towards the edge, where the nurses are on standby with a stretcher prepared for you. Frankie grabs your hand, rubbing his thumb across your hand and looks at you, “you’re going to be okay, I can’t go with you but we will come see you tonight, as soon as we are allowed to”, you grip his hand tighter, looking into his eyes, and you can see how serious he is. He releases your hand and medical rushes you to their facility.

Frankie turns, seething, staring at Benny and clenches his fists and walks towards him, Benny’s back is turned talking to Will and Will sees him coming, he swiftly moves behind Benny and stops Frankie in his tracks, and Pope grips Frankie’s shoulders, Benny turning around to face Frankie over Will’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing, Fish?!” Will exclaims and slaps him in the chest “You gotta get your shit together man, this isn’t Benny’s fault. We were one man down on this assignment. Benny did what he could. He even killed the-“ his breath hitches and he stumbles on the word “k-kid”. Frankie glaring at Benny, unclenches his fists and pries Pope’s hands off of his shoulders before inhaling sharply and snapping “you’re right, Will, this isn’t Benny’s fault. I should be angry at Tom who never fucking showed up today” as he releases his gaze from Benny “I’m sorry, Benny. You were meant to protect each other and she got hurt, I blamed you but I shouldn’t have…I knew something was wrong in the air this morning. Something about those details didn’t feel right” He gruffs, clenching his fists together again. Will pats his chest “Fish, it’s gonna be alright. She doesn’t need serious surgery or anything. They’ll get the slug out and stitch her up, she’ll be light duty for a while but it’s going to be alright, man”, Frankie nods. “I’m going to go get cleaned up” Benny says, looking down at your blood all over him “Go see her, Fish. We can all meet for dinner later”. Pope grips Frankie’s arm “Let’s go see her, hermano”. 

You’re sat up in a chair in one of the makeshift hospital rooms, blanket draped around you, so you aren’t topless, as the nurses finish your stitches, when you catch a familiar voice and you shout “I’m in here, three rooms down”. Pope emerges around the corner first, smiling followed by Frankie hot on his tail. His eyes scan you with concern and you move your left hand to face the palm up reaching for his hand “I’m okay, I’ll be on some strong antibiotics for 7 days and a light duty order for a month…” you sigh, as Frankie places his hand in yours and steps closer to you, grabbing the chair and pulling it up next to yours, before sitting in it, his eyes never move away from yours. Pope rounds the right side of the bed, as the nurses walk out of the room, he leans down and places a gentle kiss against your forehead, and sits on the stool the nurse was using. “You scared us, hermana, but none of us could show it..” he smirked looking at Frankie “except Fish, he couldn’t control his emotions”, Frankie jerks his eyes from yours and looks at Pope “fuck you, Pope” he smirks as he says it, his smirk turning into a smile before looking down and adjusting his hat. Pope grabs your right hand gently and gives it a soft squeeze before leaning down and kissing it “I’m going to go get showered and cleaned up, get the truck ready. Benny has us meeting for dinner tonight at 8. You’ll be out of here soon and can clean up. I’ll see you two there” before he can leave you squeeze his hand “Thank you, Santiago” offering him a smile, letting go of his hand and watching him leave.

Frankie places his lips gently on your cheek as he holds your hand and hums against your skin “I was afraid, afraid of what could have happened. My heart was racing, my blood was boiling….” He’s cut off by the nurse walking in, he jerks his lips away from your cheek and clears his throat. The nurse glances at the two of you before speaking “Y/N, these are your papers, light duty for a minimum of 30 days, antibiotics twice a day for 7 days. These WILL affect your birth control, they will make them” she clears her throat “less effective”. Frankie laughs awkwardly and says “There’s nothing going on here, we don’t need to worry about birth control failing” and she looks back at him with judgement in her eyes before handing you the discharge papers and leaving the room. You look at Frankie “can you help me get my shirt back on? My right shoulder is in incredible pain” He nods, letting go of your hand and picking up a blood stained, white tee-shirt from the roller cart behind your chair and he places your right arm into the shirt, pulling it up and then over your head, and you push your left arm through the other sleeve, standing up and letting the blanket fall to the floor, your chest with dried blood on it and your bra stained and ruined, Frankie can’t take his eyes off of the dried blood that is on your breasts and he sighs deeply and shakes his head “they could have at least cleaned you up better, hermosa”, you bite your lower lip gently, noticing where he was looking and quickly pull your shirt down over your breasts and stomach. “Are you ready?” he asks, reaching out his hand towards yours, “Yes, let’s get home”, home is your shared house with Benny, Will, Pope, and Frankie. You place your hand in his, stand up and start walking out of the facility.

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@asta-lily @starlightmornings @greeneyedblondie44

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Nine

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 9 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; use of a derogatory slur/racist language (not said by any main character); mentions of blood and injuries; angst!  

Word Count: 11,200+

A/N: One more chapter after this - I should really stop labeling this as a mini-series considering it’s already over 100,000 total words lmao. Thank you for staying with me this long! I love you guys soooo much!!!

~

Utah Merry Hotel, January 2025, 2:09pm

     “I’m being an ol’ sport, why can’t you?” You whine, stomping your feet as you trudged up the stairs to the hotel roof. “It’s our first serious stakeout in forever! I’m pretty sure Wanda shaved her legs for this.”

Steve shoots a flustered and unsettled look over his shoulder. He’s lugging the rifles and extra equipment on both his shoulders so you know he’s truly baffled because to even attempt a look over… well, that required real effort. He doesn’t answer, however; he continues upward. 

Bucky and Clint are following close behind. They’re tired, huffing every few steps and grunting while doing so. Finally, Bucky whines and throws himself against the wall dramatically. “Remind me why we couldn’t just get Wanda and Sam to lift us up there?”

Steve readjusts one of the rifle straps while he replies, “Buck, I told you not to skip leg day.”

“I skip ‘everything’ day. I’m just now employed as a superhero, thank you very much. The serum should be enough.”

“Are we even close?” Clint asks and passes Bucky on a few steps. Bucky takes that as a challenge though and hoists himself more steps before giving up again. 

You just watch in pure amusement. Makes you really proud that your thighs are stronger than theirs. “Just a few more flights.”

They both groan in unison. Steve has already rounded the next flight, no longer waiting on the three of you. It takes several more minutes until you kick open the roof door Steve had left slightly ajar. It’s cold outside, wind howling with icy droplets whipping through your hair. It’s only fifty stories up but it’s pretty high - you can see the tops of the trees, or branches really. It’s winter in Utah and most of the trees are naked and covered in snow. You hope Bucky and Clint, the dynamic duo no one saw coming, still have good aim in this wind after a year of vacation. 

“Alright. Buck - Clint, set up over there. Y/N, you’re over there.” 

“Aye Aye, Captain.”

You set up where Steve instructed. You’ve got a simple magnifier and some binoculars - you won’t have to do any shooting today, thank the Gods. Clint’s got his arrows and Bucky’s got his sniper. Steve’s waiting for a signal from Sam if need be - he won’t need to shoot today either. 

“Wanda and Sam will let us know when the cars pass the barrier. The tech cannot, under any circumstances, pass through the gate right over there.” Steve points to the giant, black coated metal gate. There’s no one on duty. You made sure to evacuate the area and any staff before. The tech these goons are bringing in is all stolen Stark Tech. And according to Happy, strict instructions are to ‘blow it to Hell’.  

“And if it does?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously at Steve’s pointed look. 

“What’d I just say?”

Bucky laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Stevie. Calm thyne tits.” He goes back to fiddling with his rifle. “Blow the tires before they reach the gates but after they pass the barrier. Got it.”

“Peter, you in position?” Steve asks and adjusts his earpiece. 

You can hear Peter over your own mic. “Seatbelts look easy enough to break. I’m in position, I can easily pull them from the trucks.”

“Five minutes then.”

You all settle in. The cold has passed through the leather of your boots and your toes are paying the price. It makes you miss the rain of spring and the sprinkles of fall, when everything is drenched rather than frozen and your toes still have mobility. Your jacket is big enough but it scratches your neck every time you lean down to look through the magnifier. As the minutes tick by, you brave the cold and take it off. You’d rather conduct your part efficiently and without the constant distraction. 

“It’s almost forty degrees out,” Steve mumbles beside you. He’s looking over the roof balcony and into the trees. He’s squints and refuses your offer of binoculars. 

“So I get a sore throat.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Tony put a heater in all our suits. You should have worn yours.”

“My suit is half nano. It’s excessive for a stakeout.”

He huffs but you ignore him, choosing to look through the rejected binoculars instead. He shuffles, and then there’s a warm weight enveloping your shoulders. It’s his sweater, cotton and baby blue, and he lifts the hood to cover your cheeks and ears. Your stomach flip-flops.

“Uh, thank you,” you say and zip it closed.

Steve shrugs lightly, “Don’t mention it.”

So you don’t. He doesn’t look cold besides or he’s just really good at masking it. It’s quiet now; you can’t really hear the quiet mutters of Clint and Bucky enough to join in and to not mention the jacket is eating at you. You opt for a casual conversation instead while you wait. 

“Soooo… how’d your date go last week?”

Steve clears his throat and turns to you, a forced grin on his face. “They, uh, they were sweet.”

“Sweet,” you repeat, nodding at nothing and cursing yourself for creating such an awkward moment. “Going on a second one?”

He sighs and his expression actually turns truthful. “No, don’t see that happening.”

For a second, you’re appalled. Who wouldn’t give Steve a second date? He’s an absolute catch and being a famous superhero wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker for many. Or maybe it was and Steve was blaming his alias once again for no fairytale ending. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want you?”

The words leave your mouth too quickly to reel them back in. Steve’s cheeks turn pinker, both from your words and the chill, and he ducks his head low as he answers. “It’s my fault, really. They were sweet but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Mm, on your phone? Daydreaming? Were they a bore?”

Steve chuckles, “I pulled out my phone, like, once to answer a text but I was a proper gentleman!”

The tension is slowly melting and there’s a soft twinkle in his eye as he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s looked at you this way: on his own accord and not on order. “Bucky said they were, and I quote,” you lower your voice and look over at Bucky to make sure he’s distracted. “‘Cute as hell’.”

Steve gives Bucky a warm look. “Eh, it’s fine. Wasn’t the one.”

“The one,” you mock in a deep voice. “Who texted you that it was so important to ignore someone cute as hell?”

Steve hesitates and looks over the balcony as if wishing for an interruption. But the trucks aren’t near yet and Sam hasn’t given the signal. “Uh, it was Peter.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel incredibly guilty if he ruined your chances at getting laid.”

Steve shoves your shoulder a bit harder than he intended and it makes you stumble back. He quickly catches you by the arm and holds you still, a sheepish smile painting his pink face. He mumbles a quick ‘sorry’, and goes back to lean over the railing. “It’s cool, he knew.”

You fake a surprised gasp, “Even worse!”

“He needed me to stop by the compound and I did. Really, it’s okay,” Steve assures and he’s speaking a little quicker. He fidgets with his thumbs and it looks like he wants to wrap up that portion of the conversation. But he looks over at you and sighs deeply, and he rolls his eyes as his upper lip tilts upward. “Ask.”

“What’d he want?” It makes your belly all warm to know he expects this enthusiasm from you.

“Wanted me around. Buck and Wanda were out getting dinner.”

“Yeah, but like, what for?”

He gives you a knowing smile, like you walked right into that trap. “You made dinner but Peter was too nice to say he didn’t enjoy it, so he texted me knowing I would like it. Knowing I had it before. He didn’t want there to be leftovers because then you’d be sad.”

You step back and shake your head like there’s a fly swarming around. It startles you. “You left your date… during dinner… to come to the compound to eat the dinner I made instead?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“How not?”

It’s five minutes when Sam calls it in. You groan in frustration and give Steve a look that says the conversation isn’t over. 

There are four armored vehicles and the magnifier illuminates three bodies per car. The targets will be hit starting from the last to keep the explosions out of each driver’s line of sight. 

“Target acquired,” Bucky mumbles and clicks off his safety. He closes one eye and settles comfortably as he awaits Steve’s signal.         

Clint tugs back an arrow, “Same here, Cap.”

“Wanda, you ready?” Steve’s voice is lower when he’s focused. He looks over at you, your hand up with an index finger raised, and waits. Wanda answers that she’s ready and Sam counts it down. The first truck crosses the barrier, then the next, next, and finally the fourth and you drop your hand in a fast swipe. 

“Fire! Go Parker!”

Bucky shoots the back tires of all four vehicles and Clint shoots his arrows to penetrate through the passenger doors. Peter works fast, webs slinging from side to side grabbing one passenger right after the other. Once the trucks are empty, Clint activates the arrows and you all prepare for the explosions. The fourth car catches flame first and Wanda contains the explosion perfectly, balling it up into a weak bundle of light and string. She does the same to the third and second, bundles extinguishing just as quickly as they burst. But the first car swings out of control on manual and the explosion is delayed.

“Clint?”

Clint leans over the balcony and squints, as if it would help. “I don’t know. It’s not going off.” He’s clicking the detonator repeatedly, holding it up for all of you to see. 

“Wanda, the truck! The truck! Sam!” You scream as the truck crashes through the gate and hurls closer to the hotel. The commotion is enough for Bucky to pop out from his cover and the four of you watch in horror as the truck still doesn’t stop. Clint has stopped clicking the button, but it’s no use. The truck finally explodes in an outbreak of debris and electricity. The Stark Tech reacts poorly to the strain, electric gusts of smoke fire left and right and rattle the building. It feels like an earthquake, shaking the already weak foundations and old brick. Wanda catches the bottom to better contain it and tries desperately to smother it. But the shaking doesn’t stop and the corners of the roof are collapsing. 

Steve leaps to grab and pull you away and just as quickly to catch Clint’s leg before he falls over the edge. Clint is thrown back rather harshly but Steve isn’t thinking about the abuse of strength right now - no, not while Bucky slips and hangs on to a rogue pipe. Steve crawls and latches onto his hand before the pipe gives way. He yells as he tugs Bucky up with only one arm, the other having to hold onto undisturbed brick. He won't let Bucky fall. Not again.

Bucky throws his leg up and over solid ground, and you go to help Steve pull him up. Bucky’s heavy and his metal hand pinches your skin bad but he’s safe. Wanda struggles to contain the electricity but she’s succeeding. The rumbling slows until nothing moves anymore. You collapse back in exhaustion.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Bucky gasps as he rubs his face. 

“Is Wanda okay?” You mumble more to yourself and struggle to pull yourself back up. But the sudden weight of your body proves too much for the edge and in a horrible wave, you’re falling through. You practically file your nails as you try to latch onto falling brick.

“No!” You feel the scratch of someone’s fingers along your forearm and soon they’re digging into your skin, and it hurts but you figure it’s better than splitting your skull open. Pebbles of concrete are falling down onto your face and the smoke from the explosion is clogging your nostrils. You hang for a few seconds, like the person can’t believe they actually caught you. Then they begin pulling you up, lifting you to safety, and you claw the rest of the way only to tumble into Steve’s chest, shaking. 

He pulls you into his arms but they’re restless, roaming over your shoulders and through your knotted hair clumsily. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice wavers and he’s on the verge of tears, it seems. His waterline is glossy and his lips are quivering. “Answer me.”

“I’m fine, hey. Steve? I’m good.”

He pulls away and his hands hover you like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you close. I-” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

Disregarding his words is difficult, especially when you feel a second meaning to them, but you force yourself to do so. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him like this. And each time you have, it was never because of anything good. “Y-yeah. I’m good, Rogers.”

Bucky and Clint look at each other, they look at Steve, to you, and back to each other. Finally, Clint breaks the silence and huffs a light chuckle. “Are we really THAT rusty?”

Present Day, 2025, 11:45pm

    The Montana skies are clear and free of passenger planes, allowing the Quinjet to swift easily on autopilot. You could never drive this thing and the building anxiety of that reality bubbles each time it makes an unsteady bounce. 

Steve’s laying in the makeshift medical wing and though it’s against protocol, he’s on a secure line with Dr. Cho. She takes her time, albeit working as fast as possible too, and her light voice is fairly calm. It settles you to hear her speak this way. 

‘I need you to use this disinfectant, Captain Rogers. Do not pour it on all at once… Good, now dig through gently and make sure the pliers are sanitized.’

Steve digs out the bullets himself and bites down on a clean towel. He’s biting down hard enough that his teeth make a squeaking sound against it. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not do it for him. The Montana skies are beautiful, at least. It’s a good distraction. 

Steve gives a rather painful yell as he finally plucks the second bullet, cursing as a stream of blood drips onto the table. He’s got such tough skin - miracle or serum - that the bullets didn’t pass all the way through. Dr. Cho moves on to how to properly bandage the wound but Steve begins to tune her out. 

Two years mucking through mud and bodies and getting patched up every other day has prepared him for whatever life may throw during this new century. Not much has changed, it seems. 

When the line disconnects, Steve can finally just relax. He focuses on the soft rumble of the engine and your steady breaths. 

     You hold your breath as you settle the Quinjet on the open field, only half of you actually trusting automatic tech. Steve coaches you the whole time too, the little shit, and promises you’ll never be doing that again. 

Steve stumbles and teeters and falls on the porch steps with a low groan. You let him fall because you know you’d only fall with him. He catches himself with the hand he’s been pressing over the bandage while the other still holds on to you. You fight the urge to crash down with him and bite your lip as you look up to the night sky. 

“C’mon, Rogers,” you swallow down the increasing worry, “We’re almost inside.”

Steve huffs a pained laugh and nods. He grabs your arm again and with his remaining strength, pulls himself up,

The inside of the cabin looks comfier than the outside. You help Steve to the couch closest to the unlit fireplace before going out back to turn on the power. There’s a thin layer of ice in the grass so just in case, you scope out the garage and make sure there are snow supplies. Not that you really know what the hell snow supplies actually look like, but there’s a shovel and you figure that’s as much as your brain is going to piece together. 

When you get back inside, Steve’s fumbling with the coffee maker and leaving tiny fingerprints of blood over every surface he touches. You don’t comment on them, just step back and discreetly wipe the counters each time he passes. 

“Figured you’d like a pot,” Steve says. 

It damn near breaks your heart how small his voice sounds. The fact he’s stumbling around the cabin making sure you’ve got your coffee fix while he’s nursing two bullet wounds damn near snaps it in two.

“Thank you,” you respond and go to lead him back to the couch. He moans quietly when he sits and again as you lay him down. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping here,” Steve laughs and tries to hide his wince due the uncomfortable rumble. 

You smile and touch your hand to his hot cheek. His body is working overtime fighting off infection and regenerating tissue. His cheeks are a lovely scarlet red and so is the beautiful bulb of his crooked nose. He’s a little shiny, like varnish over light paint strokes, and taking the fever like a champ. “I’ll help you to the bed in a little bit. Let’s get that fever down first.”

Steve sighs, defeated, but nods. He lays his head back on the pillow and once he shuts his eyes, you get to work. The bathroom is stocked with the simple necessities: aloe vera, vapor rub, heating and cold pads, dozens of towels, and painkillers. You pop two painkillers yourself before gathering everything and dropping it on a nearby table in the kitchen. The coffee is about done brewing so you fill up a mug with bottled water and set it in the microwave for two minutes. You dip a chamomile tea bag a few times once the water is heated. There’s no teapot - you’ll apologize to Steve later. 

Once Steve’s happily sipping his tea, you start on the medicine. You wet the small towels and lay them over his forehead and bare chest. You rub aloe vera on the other cuts he obtained from hand-to-hand and finally rub the vapor rub in the dip of his neck and just below his nose. Steve gives you this funny smile as you do so, scrunching his nose and wiggling it back and forth. 

“Vicks,” you say as you show him the small container. “Heal you right up.”

“I bet,” he laughs. “Stuff smells like what I think liquid morphine would taste.” A laugh bursts from your chest, your first real instance of calm during these last few hours. You ignore his protests and smother more across his chest. 

Steve settles deeper into the couch and returns to his tea. He’s got less sweat on his skin now but he’s still red. You go to pour yourself that coffee and return to his side. The nanotech is growing stiffer and scratching your skin but you refuse to get comfortable until Steve’s fever breaks. You’re still covered in Ernesto’s blood, the red now a hellish brown, and you try not to move your face much for risk of feeling the dry pull of it. 

“Steve,” you try, but Steve shakes his head and makes sure to meet your gaze before he speaks. 

“No. The less I know the better.”

It surprises you, makes you feel more guilty, but you understand. Not telling him the full truth would be beneficial in the long run. Still, your hands hug the mug closer to your chest. “Do you think I did something bad?”

His upper lip tugs upward, “Do you think you did something bad?”

You don’t think for long. There’s not much need to. “No.”

He nods, “But you care what I think?”

“Of course I do. You’re not just my Captain anymore - you’re my friend. I care even when I’m asking you if my eggs need more salt.”

“You trust me enough to correct your cooking?” He teases, but it’s a question disguised as another. 

“I trust you enough to tell me if I need more salt. You’re not correcting it.” He laughs and dips deeper into the couch. The bandage is bleeding through, only slightly, so you move to find the first-aid kit. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”

You hum your disagreement. “I’m gonna keep it clean until you’re strong enough to shower.”

“You can always help me shower,” he mumbles into his tea. 

Rolling your eyes, you gently nudge his shoulder as you sit back down with the kit. “If you fall, I can’t catch you, you big lug. We’d have to tell everyone we screwed in there because you falling on top of me, injured, is somehow more embarrassing.”

He allows you to remove the soiled bandage and dab around the healing wounds. He’s bruising around the sides, multiple shades of green and yellow already, and the holes are stitched rather poorly. It makes you feel a little better about your own criss-cross work - even Steve sucks at it. 

“I’m sorry I had to go and get myself shot,” Steve apologizes and sucks in a deep breath when the towel drags a little too roughly. 

“Yeah, what the hell happened there?”

He almost mimics you in the way he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his arms in that ‘well, fuck if I know’ position, pursing his lips and expelling a chuckle. “Had my gun trained on Ernesto. Ernesto had his own on Ramirez. Then Seda came in and Ernesto ordered Ramirez to hand his over to Seda. Played right into Seda’s hands.”

You process the explanation slowly and dab his wound a few more times before unwrapping the clean bandage. “And the damn shield?”

Steve’s embarrassed by that small detail, he’ll admit it, because he truly was blindsided by Seda’s appearance. You were supposed to be holding him down after all. “In my defense! When it’s shrunk down and in your pocket rather than latched onto one’s arm, it’s easily forgettable.”

You clean around the wound softly before placing and taping the new bandage. The conversation settles and you’re both quiet for a long, long minute. He thanks you for cleaning him up by rubbing sweet circles into the knuckles of your right hand. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. It’s like a wave of irrefutable worry and rage, all bunched together with each emotion trying to outweigh the other. That goddamn riptide, sucking you in and keeping your head below water just for the hell of it. Breathing in harshly, you fail to keep yourself from stuttering over your words. “I’m sorry.”

Steve bites back a groan of pain as he leans over to take your cheeks in his palms. The brush of his fingertips lets you know that you’ve already started crying. You don’t much care about the facade anymore. “Doll, listen to me. Listen.”

“I never meant to leave you alone.”

“You never did.”

You bark out a wet laugh, sarcastic. “I should have run faster. I should have killed him all those years ago. I should have never brought you into this.”

“You did what you had to do,” he says, fiercely. He forgets his own strength for a second, only slightly diminished from the healing process, and loosens his tight grip against your cheeks. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I wanted to hate you,” you admit. Your bottom lip is trembling and your hands clench together over your thighs. “I wanted to hate you so much. If I did, then you getting hurt or killed on this mission wouldn’t hurt so bad. I hated you for what you did. Because it made me realize that I could never hate you at all.”

“Hey,” he tries, hands now lowering to clutch at your own. “Stop apologizing for having a heart. Stop thinking you’re not worthy of even having one.”

Your face crumbles and Steve realizes for the first time in a long time just how much you’ve been holding in. “Why didn’t you use the stones?”

Steve’s heart clenches at the sound of the crack in your voice. He hasn’t heard that crack since Clint fell to his knees without Natasha by his side. He holds onto you tighter and prepares himself for an admission he never thought he would ever have to give. “Because Peggy told me not to.”

Something confusing happens in the middle of your chest. It clenches with anger but understanding. The answer to your question was always this simple but it looks like it’s tearing Steve apart from the inside-out.

    She’s as beautiful as the day he went into the ice. All he has to do is whisper her name so sweetly, delicately, and she turns her head like she’s answering the prayer. First her knees buckle, eyes watering and blotching her vision, and she collapses on the soft grass of her backyard. Steve’s holding her the very next second, repeating that he’s real, he’s here. 

“Steve,” Peggy gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to his wet cheeks. She grips and pokes and does everything so comically that Steve laughs a wet laugh when she starts smacking him. “What is going on?”

And he tells her. Everything he can remember: the good, the bad, the wretched. He spills everything, and he spills the most delicate information of their time: he’s alive, just frozen; Bucky’s alive, just hurt; the world is saved, just broken. Whether she believes it or not Steve’s not sure, but he’s so goddamn happy to see her again that he chokes every other word. 

“And you? You’re happy?”

His eyebrows come together and he looks at Peggy like she’s speaking another language. She’s got the same red lipstick, same curl in her hair even if it’s longer now, and she’s filling out her dresses more. “Pegs, don’t ask me that.”

She detaches herself slowly from his arms, pausing their dance as she speaks. “Why not? You can’t expect me to accept that you stopped by to see me all willy-nilly after saving the universe.” Her lips twitch into a knowing smile and Steve melts. Her voice is sending him into a spiral, a world he never thought he would see again, and he realizes just how much he loves accents on women  - especially this woman. 

“I just,” he chokes out, and brushes his index finger down her cheek. “I had to see you again.”

“I get that,” Peggy says and pays no mind that the record player has stopped; she still sways gently with Steve. “But you’ve just mentioned a whole other world you’ve been a part of. You’ve got your best guy back, that Wilson fellow sounds like the life of the party, and this Agent Y/N certainly sounds like she’s been by your side through it all.”

Steve stutters in his step and holds her closer. Her stomach presses against his, and he stops abruptly. He looks down between them and runs his hand from her shoulder, down, to lay across her growing belly. “Pegs.”

She gives him the same wide and proud smile she gave him when he returned with the 107th. She lays her hand over his. “I know.” She laughs and tilts her head lovingly. “I’m happy, too.”

Steve bites his lip to keep from sobbing. He was so stupid for coming to this timeline, for ruining Peggy’s chance at happiness, for interrupting the life he already knew she created for herself. He inputted the wrong year, he suddenly realizes, and steps back arms-length from her. “I’m sorry, I was stupid to come here. I just wanted to see you and then I did, and I… I still love you, Pegs.”

“Oh,” Peggy gasps, bottom lip trembling. “Darling, do not mistake yourself, even for a second, into thinking that I do not love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for having a heart.”

He wants to argue, say he’s stupid a million more times, but he finds himself listening to her gentle words. It’s Peggy, Steve thinks. She’s always been right.

“In this world you live in, you have James?” He nods. She continues, “In this world you live in, you just lost two of your most loved friends?” He nods again. He wipes his face from forehead to chin. “In this world you live in, you have met a woman who has the same stubbornness as you; has the same self-sacrificing streak, who has your heart in such shambles that you dare call her one of your best friends?”

Steve thinks of you and how broken your smile was as you waved him goodbye, hand clenching Sam’s as Steve gathered the stones and Mjolnir. He thinks of the times you’d leap onto his back and demand a ride; the times he’s saved your ass in a firefight; how his sleep has definitely improved ever since he started calming you from nightmares - he hasn’t slept so well since before the war. He nods again.

Her eyes go soft. “Steve,” she starts and Steve knows. He doesn’t want to know. “Don’t abandon the world you’ve built for yourself. Surround yourself with the people you love. Do this for me.”

“There’s so much hate and blood waiting for me when I get back, Pegs. I don’t want to-”

“There is a difference between you not wanting to and you having to.” He drops his head and focuses on the floor. Peggy isn’t done grilling him, however, and he looks back up to grant her the respect. “You must not abandon the world you helped create. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this because I know you don’t want to.”

“Pegs.”

“I see right through you, Steve. We marched together through mud and blood before. We’ve got two years of fighting side by side under our belts. I’ve seen you at your worst, and you I. I know that face anywhere.”

“I missed you, Pegs,” Steve breathes. She cups his face with her hands and draws their foreheads together.

“The stars weren’t written in our favor. But to know that you’re alive, and that you make it, and that you actually get to live,” she bites back a sob. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“It isn’t my world to begin with.”

“No, you’re a man out of time. But so is James. You won’t abandon him now, will you?”

He chuckles low and their noses touch. “Stop making me feel guilty for wanting to find you, Peggy.”

She presses a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and finally breaks away. “And you won’t abandon that sweet girl who has put up with your nonsense for the last five years, you say?”

Steve shakes his head and meets Peggy’s gaze. “I’m just tired.”

“They are too, I bet.” He turns to the door and to Peggy, and she figures it’s almost time for him to leave. “You have been the archer and the brave, Steve. I’m absolutely certain you’ve been more. You will be more.”

Steve says his final goodbyes and stops to remember the fine details of Peggy’s face. The fifties are treating her well. Steve expected nothing less. Bright lights flash around him and he’s back to the world he wanted to leave, to hide from, and he sees you - and your mouth parts in shock.

     “And you listened to her?” you ask. 

Steve smiles, although it’s hard for him to remember that conversation. “I came back. I didn’t listen to her when she said to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love in return.”

“No, you made damn sure of that.”

“Hey,” Steve chuckles. “Don’t take smacks at me when you’re down.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just too easy sometimes.” Laughing about the two years of missed chances and spoiled friendship was not on your bingo card for this week. 

“I don’t know how this is going to play out,” you admit. Steve looks so young with a somber expression: his eyebrow creases gently without wrinkling the rest of his forehead, the side of his mouth tilts downward, and his eyelashes kiss the pink of cheeks. “I decided in the moment. So I’m fuck all out of ideas on how to proceed.”

He nods in understanding. “Guess we just have to look over our shoulders three times instead of two now.”

“Simple like that?” You scrub a hand over your face and curse inwardly when you smudge your lipstick down to your chin. You ignore it. “I know we’re Avengers, but.”

“No buts,” Steve says and moves to sit up. You help him by pushing his shoulders and he accepts your help as you struggle to the bathroom. “You helped the guy and his daughter. I’m sure he’s going to be watching our backs from now on.”

You help Steve strip from his dress pants and shoes and finally remove your suit as well. The graze on your arm is covered in brown, dried blood but the wound isn’t deep. It’ll sting like a sunburn, you know that, but it’s better than being shot through. You watch Steve enter the shower and leave the curtain drawn. His bandage is soaked again but thankfully it’s from the water and not more blood. You grab a spare towel and soak it with water and soap, and rub it across your lips and chin. 

“Let me do that,” Steve calls. You strip bare and bring the towel with you into the shower. Steve takes it and scrubs over your face, gently but more rough as he gets to your eyes. It’s an innocent moment of ‘ouch, scrub softer!’ and ‘surprised I didn’t take all your lashes off’. He helps clean your wound as well and once you’re both clean, he bandages you up and you him. 

The master bedroom is the only room without electricity so you gather some candles. It’s like the two of you won’t admit you’re currently afraid of the dark or what may lie in it. They illuminate the room in a delicate orange and it’s such a peaceful color to briefly see before falling asleep, head tucked into Steve’s chest and his heartbeat thrumming gently with your breath. 

     It’s a wonder what a night’s sleep can do. Steve’s wounds are sealed and his fever is gone, but there’s a signature left behind. A pink and white patch of skin as tender as a newborn’s, a memory. Steve pours your coffee and his tea while you trace your fingers over it.

Two hours after eating a small breakfast and securing the perimeter, a soft ding startles you from the random book you’re reading. Steve’s phone shines with a message from Sam. It simply reads: ‘Clear’. Grabbing the phone and walking out onto the porch, you find Steve sitting on one of the steps he tripped over just yesterday. He’s sketching the sky and the trees, taking his time on the lines of the branches, the strokes of the leaves, and the frost over them. He looks up, studies his surroundings, and looks back down to add a detail he previously missed. He sniffs, rubs his nose, and finally notices you leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Any news?”

You hold up his phone and nod. “Sam says we’re clear to fly in.”

Steve looks back to his drawing. You hesitate before speaking, knowing damn well an all clear means get your ass back as soon as possible. “Finish your drawing. I’ll pack whatever we need to.” Steve’s mouth parts but he shuts it just as quickly. Slowly, he nods. 

     There isn’t much to pack since you brought nothing but the clothes on your backs. Everything at the hotel was collected before the wedding and should have flown back with Scott and the others. It feels awkward stealing bottled water and processed foods to hoard on the quinjet, but it’s a necessity. Steve meets you at the quinjet doors, shows you his drawing, and volunteers to take the wheel. 

“You’re not volunteering. You’re ordering.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No license, no drive.”

“What are you? A cop?”

“Don’t think for one second I won’t actually hand the wheels over and happily crash while screaming ‘I told you so’.” 

Steve steers for the duration of your flight. The next few hours are spent just enjoying each other’s company, speaking of all things and simply catching up. It’s amazing how much you two missed from one another’s lives those two years.

      The landing base is clear and it’s Sam who’s waiting for you as the Quinjet manually lands itself. He shoots you a gap-toothed smile and extends his arms, pulling the two of you in at the same time for a strong hug. He’s talking a mile a minute about how successful the mission was, how Fury is over the moon that it’s finally over, how the DEA is thinking of congratulating everyone one by one. It’s enough to distract Steve, who’s just happy to see his best friend again, but it isn’t enough for you. The large metal doors sealing the storage facility from the rest of the compound are thrown open. Bucky stumbles through and practically sprints over to the three of you. 

“Get back on the jet,” he orders, already pulling you by the arm. You all look at one another like he’s gone mad but that’s impossible. Bucky’s paranoia isn’t something to take lightly; he’s right nine out of ten times. 

“Buck, what-?”

“Rhodes couldn’t hold them. They have warrants, Steve.”

Steve hauls Sam onto the jet as well. “Warrants for who?”

“Get down from the jet without a fight and this will all go smoothly.”

There are about twenty uniformed officers surrounding the jet. They spread out in case anyone decides to run but it seems pointless to even try. Secretary Ross points his gun directly at you, proud and tall and looking just the same as you remember him. Last time you saw him was at Tony’s funeral. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you bite, and raise your hands in cooperation. Ross shakes his head and his expression contorts into one of disgust. There are red beams coming from each gun but your friends are clean - the beams are only pointed at you.

“Agent Y/N Y/LN, you’re under arrest for multiple charges of drug smuggling, trafficking of illegal goods, the murder of Ernesto Vega and Daniel Seda, aiding and abetting drug-lord Omar Ramirez, and for conspiracy against the United States of America. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law...”

You drone out half way through. Ross finishes up the speech but no one is listening. Sam is already yelling over your Miranda Rights and Bucky’s frozen in place. Steve’s fighting his way through to Ross, pushing through the muscle until he’s face to face with him. But Ross isn’t fazed. There’s nothing left to do but exit the jet. 

Immediately there are handcuffs slapped to your wrists. Two men drag you over to the containment car that’s enforced with so much indestructible material it’s almost insulting. You weren’t enhanced - they were doing this for fun.

“You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N! Y/N!”

You don’t fight. Conspiracy… you’re surprised they didn’t just shoot you dead. Steve’s still yelling, begging to be heard, but you try to block him out. It’s not your first time being arrested but it is your first time being charged with something you didn’t do. As funny as that sounds, it’s terrifying. 

“Steve,” you say, and Steve breaks through some more hired muscle so he’s within earshot. “It’s okay.”

His face pulls up in pain, “No, you didn’t do this! They’re not listening!”

One of the officers pushes your head down roughly and tries to shove you in the backseat. You’re still looking at Steve. And those eyes, wounded and vulnerable, haunt him even after the door shuts and the car drives away.

     There’s a privilege attached to the mantle of Captain America. Perhaps he was too blind to see it during the war or just too proud he was finally being heard and respected, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s a mantle this country has never truly associated with the person but with the purpose. Steve was manufactured to help protect this country under government orders and when he defied that purpose, he disgraced the mantle. Seems like some people idolize the role a little too much. 

But he’s still Captain America. This reality has continued to clear his name from stunts he pulls and laws he breaks. And once Steve is able to walk away without so much as a scratch, he leaves bodies behind.

Sharon. Sam. Bucky. Wanda. And now you. All people who fought his fight and weren’t granted the quick privilege of that perceived pureness and holiness. He was always ready for combat, he was built for it, but he didn’t really want it. 

Did he?

Ripping that star off his chest was one thing. Accepting his new shield cemented his continual legacy as the Star-Spangled Man. He deserved to be in that cell with you. But if he learned anything about how the world works, it’s that cruelty doesn’t just win in the movies. All of his enemies started out friends and if he had to bet, he’d bet the reason they’re labeled as such is partially because of him. 

So he sits and listens to everyone’s ideas and plans, vetoing and dismissing one right after the other, his mind doing jumping jacks. He’s both there and not, drowning in the fact that he made it home and you didn’t. He doesn’t know how to sleep without the sound of your snoring anymore. 

He sits and listens. 

    The cell isn’t one you would expect for someone who has been charged for betraying her country. It’s modestly furnished: a black cot in the far right corner with a mini table beside it, a desk with some paper, and a door that leads to the private bathroom. All in all, the room’s size is that of a child’s bedroom; there’s no actual pens and pencils for risk of violent behavior and there’s a bulb camera that moves when you move. 

You’ve been trapped in worse. 

Countless detectives and investigators have visited already. They all ask the same questions: Why did you do it? Did Captain Rogers know? Who are you, really? 

You give the same answers: I didn’t do it. Of course, every single person knows. Who do you think I am?

Every time they leave more discouraged than the one before them, refusing to compare notes with one another in case they were in possession of gold. They all ignore you when you try to ask for Steve and his wellbeing. Their faces contort, they whisper to their partners, and they shake their heads in disappointment. One even goes as far as to threaten you, warning you to keep Captain Roger’s name out of your wetback mouth or else, until he’s escorted from the cell. Not that it really matters - the manipulated ideals of these people will always blur their search for the truth. And when the truth fails to satisfy such greedy manipulations, they choose to create their own.

There is one agent who peaks your interest. He offers you gum when he settles in the chair near the door. His name badge reads ‘Kavert’; it glares in the bright lights overhead and he makes no other attempt at small talk once he gets comfortable and opens his little notepad. 

That goddamn notepad, you think. Every single person before has prided themselves over it, scribbling little notes about your tone of voice, body movement, and vague answers. You never give much, Natasha had taught you better, so they always end up writing less than two bullet points before giving up. 

But Agent Kavert surprises you by opening up to a blank page, spitting his chewed gum in the middle, and then he shuts it closed. He offers you a real smile, one that doesn’t look practiced or forced. It lets you study him without being so guarded or uncomfortable. He seems young, not really a rookie but it’s obvious he’s spent more time behind a desk than out in the field. His dark hair is short, sprinkled grays near his temples, and his attire screams upper level. His build is lean, his gun is in the holster on his right hip, and a part of you knows he’d put up a hell of a fight if you tried to escape. 

“I was gonna comment on what lovely weather we’re having, but I don’t think you get out much.” 

You’re startled into a real laugh. Satisfaction washes over his face. 

“I think you’re wasting your time, Agent Kavert.”

He grins and moves to proudly pull at his jacket and present his badge. He sets the notebook to the side and leans forward to cup his hands together on his knees. 

You squint at him. There’s nothing interesting about you right now: back against the wall as you sit criss-crossed on the cot, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, hair brushed but a little greasy. Your last shower was two days ago and you figure they’ll let you have one tonight. 

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no point in hoping you’ll tell me anything you haven’t shared yet.”

“Nope.”

He hums low in his throat and tilts his head to the left. Now, he squints at you. “I just don’t get it. How did you do it? Not show up on our radar, I mean?”

It doesn’t seem like he’s calling you guilty or innocent. Already he’s one-hundred percent different from the other agents. “I wasn’t exactly hiding.”

He sits up to lean back in the chair, “Different last name, government and Avenger protection, covering your tracks so carefully even the DEA missed you.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“Yes, but,” he starts. He acts like he’s having a normal conversation on his front porch. “It still doesn’t make sense. How could Nick Fury miss this? Tony Stark? After the whole Obadiah situation, I expected him to-”

“It’s simple, really. Do you want to know or do you want to keep making assumptions?”

He’s watched the other agents leave by this point. Some couldn’t even make you talk. So he shuts up and waves his hand for you to continue. 

“Cool,” you breathe out. “First of all, I’m literally only telling you this because I’ve already been refused a lawyer or some crap like that and I highly doubt this is going to actual court. The publicity would be horrible.” 

He bites his lip but you catch the little smile forming. You continue, “And I have nothing to hide. I’m sure my Captain, my teammates, and Fury himself have given their sides. Am I right?”

Agent Kavert adjusts himself in the seat and nods in response. He doesn’t dare interrupt you now. 

“Good, then I’ll keep it sweet. They knew who I was. I was recruited to be an inside source, a double agent, and this wedding was the perfect chance to corner those men,” you declare, turning your hands palm up and shrugging your shoulders. “There, happy?”

“Double agent.” Agent Kavert chews over the words, rolling them around on his tongue a few more times. He’s squinting harder and you can see his brain working. The next sound to leave his lips is a heavy sigh and a feeling of immense irritation washes over you. It wasn’t enough.  “Are we going to be truthful yet, Agent?”

Chuckling lightly, you rest the back of your skull on the wall. It was wrong to assume he’d be any different from the others. “Of course you don’t believe me. You want more, they all do. I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”

He claps his hands on his thighs and leans forward again, loud and restless. “Then let’s get started, really: Did you or did you not let Omar Ramirez, Mexican drug-lord involved with Ernesto Vega, your father... imagine that, run away from a crime scene, evade arrest, and possibly leave the country?”

“You expect me to follow all those questions?”

“It’s not the time to be funny.”

“You were enjoying it just a second ago,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer.  “Then let me put it simply: no, I did not.”

“Did you or did you not assassinate Ernesto Vega?”

“I would have remembered such a brilliant kill if it came from my gun.”

“So that’s a no… Daniel Seda?”

“His gun was pointed at my Captain. Yes.”

“Against orders, then?”

Confusion is written all over your face and you make sure the camera knows it too. There are only so many times you can repeat yourself. “Don’t you have Steve’s report? Scott’s?”

“We have to hear the story from you, Agent.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t believe me.”

He shrugs and quickly scans you up and down. Even if he doesn’t have the tangible notepad in his hands, he’s getting away with making mental notes. “The story just isn’t piecing together the way it should be. Why would Daniel Seda murder his greatest ally and friend?”

“Our mics have already transcribed that answer for you, sir. I’m sure of it. And I’ve got sources outside of the DEA and Avengers-”

“Like Maribel Rodrigo? Another smuggler who has operated inside the cartel, HYDRA, Madripoor…”

You cut him off, angry. “Not the full story.” 

Tone of voice: defensive.

“Then that leads me to my next question.”

“Oh, fun.”

Tone of voice: sarcastic.

He speaks with a tinge of astonishment hidden in every syllable. “Why didn’t you do it? Kill Ernesto, I mean.”

“I was disarmed at the time. The Captain and I both were,” you answer, growing more impatient by the second.

He uses his hands to speak now, finger pointing along an invisible timeline detailing the order of events. “So you admit you were going to kill him if you had your weapon.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Body movement: rigid.

“Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe my boss is right, maybe the FBI is right in thinking that you are a double agent leaning more towards your roots than our boys in blue.” He says this like its scripture; like it’s some holy conspiracy he’s just found evidence for. He wants you to plant words in your mouth and in this discussion so he can pluck the evidence from the ground and water it with fire.

You scoff hard, “I hardly ever wear blue when doing your job for you.”

“Was letting Omar Ramirez escape our job or just yours?”

Telling him the truth would mean losing all credibility, all titles, all trust in your work. You know what you’ve done and you don’t regret it. Ramirez was never the biggest fish and if you spun this right, then he was simply a fish who got his meal and promptly swam away. “You assume I let him go. What evidence tells you that?”

He ignores the question and instead asks another of his. “Why were your relations kept hidden from SHIELD and the FBI?”

“That’s a question for you know who.”

He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I bet I am. But this is not some precinct where you can get my team to turn on me so easily. And this is not a situation in which they’re lying for me. I trust that whatever the Captain has said is the answer to all your questions.”

“We’re gonna unravel this case. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of sleepiness. These past two weeks have been exhausting even if you haven’t moved more than five feet from wall to wall. Having to repeat yourself to people who have already written the story for themselves is tiring. “I don’t know why you guys can’t just believe the words of myself and everyone vouching for me. We got you all the evidence. We have given you more names and connections that you’ll ever know what to do with. You don’t need to unravel anything; it’s all there! But because we weren’t able to arrest the one person you wanted, that being Ernesto, you go after me. You have White but I guess he’s not talking. And you’ll believe what you want to believe.”

“I trust my gut.”

“As simple as that, huh?” You sigh deeply and cross your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a saying the late Agent Carter used to tell all SHIELD agents when they first started out and when they came back from missions. When she retired, it was Fury who then eased our minds.” 

Agent Kavert has a harsh line creasing through the middle of his forehead and he looks deeply interested. 

“There are three sides to every story,” you recite. “Your side, my side, and the truth.” A gentle shrug of the shoulders feels like all you’re allowed to give him. “I’m not lying to you but I’m not telling you the full truth either. Just my side.”

Agent Kavert shuts his eyes and bounces his left leg. He looks conflicted and unable to formulate a response at all. He’s shaking like he’s at war with himself or with the suits on the other side of the door, but no one has come knocking yet. “Let’s say I believe you. Just for a second.”

You nod. 

“Daniel Seda murders Vega at his own daughter’s wedding. We managed to catch Marcus White and because of fault entirely, Omar Ramirez gets away. Because from what I heard, Ramirez was working with you.” He paints the picture rather mundane, but you shoot him a smile that tells him he’s on the right track. “And you and all the other Avengers were blindsided by Ramirez. You gathered all the evidence you were told to gather, worked together and played your cards right, infiltrated one of the most secure estates in the country, and fucked up so badly that you managed to let two of your biggest giants die?”

“I really think you got it spot on.”

He laughs dryly, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Once Vega was gone and Seda survived, where would you have fallen in this tree?”

He wants to retract his question the moment he sees your face fall with such a sincerity he wasn’t ready for. “That’s just it, Agent Kavert. I would have fallen.”

“And the other two? How would business work? Would Daniel Seda have been the head of it now?”

“Your answers are in the evidence we gathered. I know you guys aren’t touching it because you think I’m compromised.”

He stands from the chair and dusts off his jacket. “Your side, my side, and the truth,” he repeats. He goes to open the door but you speak quickly before he can leave. 

“They think I infiltrated SHIELD, the Avengers, and am in bed with HYDRA because they’ve been helping Ernesto’s vision all along.” Agent Kavert stops and turns back to you. “I am a double agent whose identity was kept secret to aid this country and not raise suspicions from your part. I have seen a lot of things, have done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it all for a reason.”

Agent Kavert looks almost ashamed. Tone of voice: sincere.

“Me and my Captain saved lives, our own as well, and we stopped three of the most notorious drug-lords who have been at large since the eighties. We got your giants for you. And the truth is, I have discovered: through all my pain and experience... that it’s excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.”

Agent Kavert doesn’t know if you’re talking about Ernesto, the U.S Government, yourself, or him. His eyebrows pinch together and he slowly moves to leave the room.

    It’s another week before you’re visited by someone who isn’t bringing you food or extra toilet paper. You’re picking at your cuticles when the vents above your cell begin rattling with the obvious weight of a human being. You sit dumbly on the bed, straining your ears and trying hard not to laugh as each rattle is returned with a muffled curse. The vent on the ceiling right outside your cell drops to the concrete floor. 

Ernesto’s men wouldn’t go through all that trouble to kill you James Bond style. They would have just bribed a guard. So it’s a treat when the door swings open quickly and in comes a staggering Clint, keys in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen is illuminated, showcasing what looks to be blueprints. He’s got a bandaid over his left eyebrow and dust all over his clothes.

Your upper lip twitches into a silly smile. “You’re ridiculous if you thought you wouldn’t be heard in those damn vents.”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s saying ‘maaaf’ and he plops down beside you on the cot. It’s absolutely hilarious he traveled in the vents and that the team approved this when in reality, they could have just sent Scott. “Just had to get past the first line of security. Plus, the blueprints said they were wider... I figure we’ve got a good three minutes before they check the cameras.”

It’s not the first time you sit in a cell with a time crunch. 

     The Raft is nothing special. They have you all separated by rank, meaning you were in the same vicinity as Clint, Sam, and Scott. Wanda was moved to a more secure location and you haven’t seen her since they brought you in. 

There isn’t much to do in a place like this. You tried counting how many strands of hair you had but gave up once you counted two hundred; you tried seeing if the others could hear you when you yelled out to them but the cells were soundproof; you even tried filing your nails against the uneven paint on the wall. It’s like they made life in these cells purposefully horrible - like you didn’t save the world a couple times over, c’mon. 

The camera fidgets over your head where you’re laying down and after a few seconds, it stops. The red light slowly fades and turns a bright yellow. You move to stand on the bed and reach for it, but a voice startles you from doing so. 

“Don’t mess with my magic!”

You topple over the single pillow you were given and fall flat on the bed, scrambling to shield yourself from whoever intruded. “Jesus!”

“Oh, I met him. Strange lad, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

There’s a moment where you think you must be dreaming. His hair is longer and hits his shoulders and he’s added some blue and yellow to his usual attire. But other than that, he’s alive. Truly, brilliantly, really alive. 

“Loki, what the fuck?”

“Right!” Loki claps his hands and extends them outwards, smiling.  “Ta-da!”

A few beats pass. You blink a few times just in case you’re hallucinating. Barely a week in containment… 

“I’m sorry… I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re still alive!”

He scoffs low and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. “A God never truly dies, darling.”

“Well in Greek mythology-”

“Greek mythology and I have this unsettled beef that’s been going on for about five hundred years. Do not mention Greek mythology to me.”

“Excuse me, right, I should have known that was a sensitive topic.”

Loki swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and expels a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your restraint is gone and you lunge forward to envelope him in the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. He returns it, sighing into your shoulder and holding you close. You pull away just to stare at him, watching his features as they move ever so slightly. It’s really him. 

“I-” Loki tries but stutters. He’s studying you too and he almost looks sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Does Thor know?” Loki shakes his head at your question and winces when you smack his shoulder. “Loki, Thor has been grieving you for months!”

“I’m planning on it!” You don’t believe him. He goes to rub his shoulder. “Gods, I forgot you had excellent aim.”

You look back at the camera and find that the yellow light is still glowing, dim. Loki’s magic is blocking footage out or putting footage in, you really don’t know. But it’s allowing you a few moments with the man you thought you’d never see again. “Spontaneous reincarnation aside, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”

“I’m on this planet for five-FIVE minutes, and the television has all these reports about you and everyone fighting each other?”

“Mm, right, right.”

Loki stares at you, amused. “... Care to explain?”

Your face contorts into a hundred different expressions until you finally settle on one of gentle guilt. “The person we were after was a friend of a friend. I made a judgement call and let him go.”

“You went against orders?”

“I went against the law.”

“Even better.”

With an eyebrow cocked, you give him a judging look. “Loki.”

His eyes crinkle from the intensity of his smile and you’ve missed him, you missed him so much. “That’s what I love about you. Barely starting out as an Avenger and you’re already realizing you can do more good in your own way.”

You groan quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I mainly did it for Steve. Wasn’t like it was a big ‘fuck you’ to one-hundred and seventeen nations for the hell of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Spoken like a true anti-hero.”

“You comparing me to yourself?”

Loki chuckles and runs his fingers through the strands of hair closest to your cheek. “Darling, I’m a God. No one comes close.” He sighs, serious again. “All I’m saying is that it’s refreshing to see the young break the rules.”

“I missed you,” you softly say. You can feel the nudge of his cheek turning upward against your head. 

“Always nice to hear.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to meet his gaze. “So, no reason why you came to visit me specifically?”

Loki takes one cautious look at the camera, to outside your cell, and back to you. “I too do things for your lovely Captain.” His smile grows wider. 

“What?”

He winks and tilts his head over to the giant metal doors that are starting to pry open. “See you in a minute.” 

The alarms begin blazing; there is fog filling the room, and Steve emerges from that fog with a winning smirk.

     You look over at Clint, half selfishly wishing he was Loki on another one of his midnight visits, and quickly do away with the thought. “So how’s life without me?”

“Oh, it’s great! The flowers are in bloom, the kitchen isn’t always a mess, and my bow and arrow aren’t misplaced because you wanted to have some fun with it,” he jokes, stretching far enough that his feet dig into your thigh like he’s trying to make more room for himself.  

“Not like it’s your only bow and arrow.”

He chuckles and sits up. He does a once over of the room and adjusts the frequency on his hearing aid. “They read you your rights at least?”

You wait to respond until he finishes fixing it. You speak and sign the words slowly,  “I don’t think any lawyer in America will want to take this case anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a career killer.”

Trying to refrain from smiling around Clint was nearly impossible. You look to the door quickly, “Two minutes?”

He shoots up straighter as he watches your hands, “Right! So we’re currently tracking down your sister-”

“My sister?”

“Steve thinks she’s our only hope at clearing your name.”

“Why is that? I told her to get as far away as possible.”

Clint sighs and scratches the skin just above the bandaid. “She stayed in Mexico all those years you were gone. By all accounts, Ernesto adored her. Because of that, her influence might clear your name.”

“But she stayed. All the more reason to believe she was involved as well,” you say, shaking your head.

“She’s barely out of her teens. Everything that happened, happened when she was a minor. She has a first hand account of the abuse Ernesto caused you. And Steve thinks that the Julian fellow might even come clean and admit to the arranged marriage. Shows a pattern of abuse by Ernesto to his own children. Could spin it to make it seem like you had no other choice but to follow his orders.”

You follow his hands slowly, some signs difficult to read but you latch onto the gist of his argument. You groan and lean your head back on the wall with a small thump. “They go against Ernesto and they have targets on their backs. Even my other siblings who are still involved with all of this won’t let it go.”

“Y/N… Ernesto’s dead. You know that.”

“His influence isn’t.”

There’s minimal commotion a few doors down. Clint realizes it’s time to leave. “It might never be. But we don’t get to live in the future.” He stands with another small groan and stretches as he prepares to lift himself back into the vent. “We’re living now, and it’s all any of us can do.”

“Clint?” You also stand and have to wave in his peripheral to get his attention. He turns and knows what you’re about to say even without the hand gestures. “They won’t answer me when I ask.”

His lips pull into a perceptive smile, “He’s okay. Doing what he does best - blaming himself.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

He’s had enough practice reading your lips to notice the sarcasm that drips from them. He hurries to lift himself up. “We’ve got about a million tricks up our sleeve. If Jackeline’s word or the evidence isn’t enough, we’ve always got Fury and his blackmail.”

“Yeah, half the guys who interviewed me look like they cheat on their wives, so.”

He genuinely laughs and jumps high, muttering more to himself than to you. “Up we go…”

     The team locates Jackeline just a few days after your run-in with Clint. The building saw a triple rise in security but even then it didn’t prevent undercover agents passing all the checkpoints and sliding notes with your meals. They’d leave the tray, tip their hats, and smile like they knew the cameras wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

The first note is from Bucky, with the simple message of ‘I watched a few episodes of The Crown without you… I’m sorry.’

The second comes on the same day at dinner time, this one from Wanda. ‘I think Peter is trying to flirt with your sister.’

The third isn’t slipped through with any meal, but rather through the tiny opening beneath the door. ‘Surprised we did this the legal way this time! See you soon! - Rhodey’

The final one is actually hand delivered when several guards come in to tell you you’re free to go. They’re mumbling amongst themselves, cursing the system and the privileges Avengers always get, when the smallest of the five turns to you and hands you the note. ‘I owe you one. You owe me one. Who’s counting anymore? - Joaquin’

Jackeline had been able to track down Maribel and the two of them, with such accuracy in their stories and their timelines, constructed your defense perfectly. They showed them phone records, all of the recordings from that week, had proof that you never signed a thing, and made several special deals. Jackeline promised to reveal where bodies were buried, where business was dealt with, who else was involved with Ernesto and Seda. Maribel managed to get a message to them from Ramirez, which basically cleared you from the crime they were trying to stick. Ramirez was a damn good liar, you’ll give him that, and it made you the tiniest bit sad that you’d probably never see him again. 

The tipping point was when Steve turned himself in. There was no evidence that you did anything, never signed anything, never conspired behind your teammates backs. Fury made sure not to keep a paper or electronic trail. But there was evidence that implicated Steve - the contract. No matter how badly the FBI and CIA tried to make it go away, to absolve Steve from it, he didn’t back down. It was like the story they originally wanted toppled in on itself and it was actually Steve who forced you into all of this - playing your connections and forcing your hand. The contract hadn’t been voided, still hasn’t, and they really couldn’t risk another SHIELD fiasco. So it was destroyed to protect the Stars and Stripes, and in return they promised to let you go if you didn’t tell a soul. The image you’d come to despise, that tacky red, white and blue, is starting to grow on you.

‘Let me think about that and get back to you,’ you had joked. You think they let you go sooner because they feared the truth in your joke. 

But there wasn’t anything to think about, ever, still isn’t. Steve pulled another sacrifice play and you wanted to get out as soon as possible to kick his ass. 

You leave the prison with the same clothes you had on when you entered. They smell washed and you’re thankful they allowed you to shower before you left. You ignore the looks guards and prisoners aim at you, each trying to somehow get their hits in without actually pulling their punches. This would be a media disaster either way, didn’t matter the outcome of a supposed trial, and PR was most likely struggling to prepare their defense. 

You resist the embarrassing urge to run into his arms. He’s standing right outside the gates, leaning back on the passenger side of his rusty old blue pickup, positively glowing underneath the blazing sun. You’re blinded by it, skin thanking the dangerous rays for its first touch in weeks, but it only takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. He still hasn’t shaved and his hair is getting longer, and instead of his usual tucked-in dress shirt, he’s wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded graphic tee that reads AC/DC. It was Tony’s.

You’ve only got the broken burner phone and a hair tie in your possession; it’s what was on you when you were arrested. You drop the burner in a nearby trashcan and head on over to the truck. Steve’s wide smile buckles your knees and it damn near breaks your heart. Even when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, you still saw each other at least twice a week. Going two weeks without seeing him feels like a lifetime. 

Once you're a few feet away, you stop in front of him. There are no immediate words you know to say, so you simply shrug your shoulders and give him a look that asks ‘What now?’

“Home.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer​ @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng​ @mycosmicparadise​ @missnighttigress​

#captainsimagines #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel masterlist #marvel fanfiction #mob fanfic #reader insert #trigger warnings listed #you x steve rogers

[my-simp-land]

Orange Blossom Kisses

more domestic fluff because that's all I dream about. Bucky x reader. 1747 words. again, i didn't do any profreading so...happy reading!

Fridays are reserved for baking. Ever since I moved into the compound, I’ve trashed my(Stark’s) kitchen making delicious cakes, pies, pastries, you name it. Each week I try to make something for someone, but I don't tell them it’s for them. Kinda like gift giving. This week, I’ve been pestering Steve about things Bucky may like. I think he knows I’m trying to get recipe ideas out of him, so he’s made it quite difficult.

“Cakes? From the old days? Oooooh, I don’t know. It’s been so long ago. You said yourself I’m an old geezer. My memory isn’t as good as it used to be.”

“What’d ya say? I can’t hear ya. These ears aren’t as good as they used to be.”

“Oh I don’t remember any pie recipes. I was but a wee lad and didn’t pay attention to the kitchen.”

Thankfully, I got Sam to work as my spy in exchange for an apple pie. Steve had told him about the orange blossom cookies Bucky’s mother would make. Usually Steve and Bucky were joined at the hip, but on orange blossom days, Bucky and Becca would stick to their mother’s side. Steve would usually hang around and enjoy the fresh orange smell. I used a couple favors to track down an old fashioned orange blossom cookie recipe. I changed it up to fit Bucky’s description of a good cookie (don’t worry; he can be pretty critical.)

“Damn hothead. The whole building smells like an orange. What are you making?” Tony asked. He funded my Friday

baking extravaganza as long as he got his ‘blueberry stuff.’

“I’m making orange blossom cookies, Tony. Orange. Blossom. The kitchen is sticky, so I couldn't come any closer.”

“The kitchen? The whole thing? How did you manage to get orange juice everywhere?”

“I’m the one baking. What did you expe- oh hey guys. Y’all are back early. What are you doing here so early?”

Steve, Sam, and Bucky shuffled their soaking wet bodies onto the dining room rug. “Rain. Apparently, the weather station is as bad as it was in the 40s.”

Tony switches his concern from the sticky kitchen to the soaked rug, but Bucky steps into the kitchen.

“Whatcha makin, doll?”

“Uh, just some cookies. Go get dried off and you can help me if you want.”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.” Bucky hurries down the hall. His heavy steps down the hall gives Steve enough cover to slip into the kitchen behind me.

“Bucky loves orange blossom cookies. It was one of the only things that could separate us. I know you’re good at guessing, but how did you end up hitting the nail on the head?”

I could only smile. Steve was a smart guy, but he could get pretty boy syndrome sometimes.

“A little red bird happened to mention something to me. A few favors later and I was presented with the finest orange blossom cookie recipe in the Northeast.”

“I see. I guess I should’ve known the master baker could get whatever they want with the promise of a home baked pie or honey butter croissants. I’ll keep that in mind next time you need something. I’ll see you two around.”

With Steve’s departure, Bucky slides right next to me, hip to hip. He’s only wearing some classic grey sweatpants and the tee shirt I embroidered a chibi Bucky onto. His hair is pulled back into a bun, still dripping water onto the nape of his neck. At this distance, I can admire Bucky’s baby blue eyes and his 5 o’clock shadow. Once Bucky got back from Wakanda, he cut his hair short and shaved his beard, but recently, he’s been working towards the white wolf look.

“Alright, doll. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Oh okay. Uh, I’ve got all the ingredients prepared for baking. Let me check the recipe.” I go to grab the sheet of notebook paper that I scribbled the recipe down on, but Bucky gets to it before I do. He studies the paper hard. His brows scrunch together and his lip between his teeth. His metal arm falls around me and brings us shoulder to shoulder. At this proximity I can tell Bucky spritzed a little cologne on. The refreshing smell of pine and eucalyptus cuts through the overwhelming smell of oranges.

“This recipe is shit. What if I told you I know a better one?”

“Oh um well then I’d say take the lead. I hope I’ve got everything you need.”

“You’re everything I need sugar, but this stuff should be good.”

I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks. “Let's start by making the wet mix and then we’ll slowly add the dry ingredients in.”

Baking with Bucky is a dangerous game. We work well in the kitchen, but Bucky’s hands tend to wander. Resting on my lower back, brushing my thigh, standing close enough that I could feel his warm breath on my neck. By this point, my face is flush enough to cook these cookies, but the cookies are already in the oven. Maybe next time.

“Lookin’ beautiful, dollface. The cookies are looking pretty good too. They gotta rest a bit. We can work on the glaze now.”

Oh god. Things got saucy with the glaze. Not only did Bucky wiggle his eyebrows and point to the glaze in an inappropriate manner, but he was very handsy. We basically recreated that one dirty dancing scene with the kitchenaid. It didn’t help that Tony walked into the kitchen halfway through our romantic mixing. He had quite a lot to say: tinman and hothead, the cold and the hot, opposites attracting. You get the bit.

“Doll, I think this is the best glaze I’ve ever seen. We make quite the pair.”

“I’d have to agree with you there. I wonder what else we could get into.”

I realize what I said too late. His eyes grow wide and his smirk stretches from cheek to cheek. “Is that so, doll? I would love to work with you some more. Cooking dinner, dodgeball, go karts. Maybe some f-”

“Aren’t you supposed to be best friends with Steve? Like two peas in a pod? I wouldn’t want to upset Steve. That just doesn’t seem right. A disrespect to America. America’s ass, you know? A disrespect.”

That shuts him up.

“You look at Steve’s ass?”

“Well, yes. I mean no! I don’t look. I mean it’s a nice butt, you have to agree, but I wouldn’t know since I don’t look. I do not look at Steve’s ass.”

“Oooooo. You look at Steve’s ass. No wonder you zone out during meetings so much. All that cake bouncing around. Is that why you bake? Trying to recreate that dump truck? Do you look at other people’s ass? Do you look at my ass?”

“Bucky! I- I just know a good ass when I see one okay?”

“Well, what about my ass? Whose is better: mine or Sam’s? I know you’ve looked.”

Christ on a cracker this man is gonna kill me. “Bucky, y’all both have nice asses okay. Steve has the ass. You have the thighs. Sam has the pecs. It's as simple as that, okay? Why don’t we invite everyone down to try these cookies”

“Whatever you say, angel.”

Once everyone made it to the kitchen, we fixed everything up nice and served them to the rest of the family. They were an overall hit. Tony loved them because he’s a hardass, but Rhodes would’ve liked them just a bit softer. Thor enjoyed them with milk. Natasha made quite a few comments about how silky smooth the glaze was and how it complimented the cookie perfectly.

Once everyone was served and sent on their way, Bucky and I sat down to try our creation. I set our plates and meet Bucky in the common room. We cuddled up hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder in the common room to enjoy our cookies and begin a movie.

“You know, my mother used to make orange blossom cookies when I was young.” I looked up to Bucky’s face. I could see all the emotions. Pain. Happiness. Nostalgia. “My sister and I would always help her cook them. It was damn near impossible to come by an orange back in the day so sometimes we’d use other citruses. Orange was always the best. There was one time Becca had gotten some flowers from a sailor visiting from down south. The flowers were damn near dead when she brought them home. My pa told her that they would eat the flowers on their journey, so she did what she could to stick the flowers in the glaze and make pretty cookies. I wish I could remember what the flowers were.”

“I’m sorry Buck. I wish I could help.”

“No, no. I should say thank you. Coming in and smelling the orange and you telling me what you were making awoken something in me. At first, I was upset because I never got to make those cookies with my mom and sister again, but I’m glad I go the opportunity to make such sweet memories with you.” My breath was caught in my throat. I could feel the tears in my eyes and could just see the reflection of some in his. “She would’ve loved you. So strong, don’t take any shit, but so soft and gentle. You could keep me straight and make me bake cookies with you. Becca would’ve picked at you a bit to see if you’d hold, but she would’ve made you her sister quicker than I could’ve married you.”

“You want to marry me?”

“Well, doll, I love you. I’d love to spend a future together with you, but I think I should ask you to be my girl first. But I don't want you to feel pressured. Or you might like Steve or Sam or someone else. I don’t know. I don’t want to assume. You-”

I don’t you what came over me, but his lips were so sweet. They were sugary sweet from the cookie glaze, but the tartness of the orange made it refreshing. His lips felt so soft against mine; I never wanted this kiss to end.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I’ll be your girl. Only if you’ll have me.”

His smile took over his face. His lips were stretched thin and wrinkles fell beside his eyes.

“My girl. My best girl.”

#bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky x you #marvel #mcu fandom #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter solider

[spideymarvelws]

Always But Not Forever

Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My TagList

Summary : During the interrogation of a mole, Tom learns something

A/n : I want to write something for the holidays but i dont do fluff (unless its requested) so here’s a angsty mob!au instead

Warnings : Torchere, blood, violence, cursing, illusion do death, fluff if you squint (dont worry it doesnt last long), mention of injuries, mention of manipulation, implied death?

Word Count : 1.7k

...

“You know, I almost admire the audacity you must’ve had to pull off something like this,” Tom chuckled, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up, “To betray us, to betray me,”

The pads of his fingers passed over the array of equipment laid out on the table in front of him, teasing the handles of guns, knives and other various torchere devices. Usually, he would just grab his trusty blade from the holder on his belt, slicing the person's throat to watch them bleed out on the chair, coughing and pleading for their life.

But this was a special occasion, one he wanted to drag on for as long as possible. He wanted to hear her screams fill the room, echoing its way around the warehouse. He wanted the floor to be soaked in her blood, dripping from her skin. He wanted to watch her life drain from her eyes slowly and painfully.

But first, he needed to get answers.

“So,” he said slowly, “Are you going to tell me why? Or do I have to force out out of you,”

The woman only chuckled, her eyes hooded as she stared him straight in the eye, “I think we both know the answer to that Tommy,”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growled, striding up and grabbing her throat with enough force to lean the chair back, not caring if it were to fall and break on the hard, concrete floor.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” she fake pouted, “I thought you loved the name? Or is it only reserved for your whore of a wife,”

“You really want to die don’t you,” Tom chuckled darkly, bending down to look her directly in the eyes, face inches apart, “You’re on thin fucking ice,”

“And I want to shatter it,” she sneered, leaning her own face forward as much as she could with the restraints tied around her, “Just like I did your best pals heart,”

Tom felt his chest tighten at the mention of Harrison. He would never blame the blond for what happened, because despite the guilt he held, he knew that it wasn't his fault. He blamed himself for getting his friend in the hospital on his deathbed. Well maybe not that drastic, Harrison was a hard fucker to get rid of, he knew that no matter what he would hang on  but it felt like he had already lost him.

He couldn't get the images out of his head, the flashes of red, screams pounding in his ear. But the sight of her standing above his best friend, gun in hand, ready to fire. The thought alone made his go feral.

And he hated that, he hated that she knew how to get under his skin so easily. After getting so close, to not just him but his close family, his friends, to you. He could already picture the hurt that would spread across your face when he would tell you. You both valued close bonds with people, building that relationship to something reliable, something worth trusting.

So when that trust was broken, all hell broke loose.

“I’m sure you’ll do just a fine job at that,” he muttered, standing back straight up, “And the moment you do I’ll put a bullet between your eyes,”

“Oh we both know you couldn't do that Tommy,” she smirked, “Not when I have so much valuable information that you so desperately need,”

Tom chuckled, picking up a syringe filled with a light blue liquid. His fingers flicked the cover before taking it fully off, revealing the needle to the open air, “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he turned back around to face her, his face void of emotion, “Gag her,”

Him and his men had spent the next, god knows how long trying countless methods and tactics they always used to get people like her to talk. But nothing worked, even after repeatedly taking out the gag, waiting for the answers they had been searching for, she didn't budge.

She stayed completely stoic.

Tom tried his best to keep calm, unbuttoning the top of his shirt when his breath became restraint with the added pressure to around his neck

“It wouldn't matter anyways,” she sniffed, finally calming down while spitting out a wad of blood from her mouth, “I’ve already gotten what I wanted,”

“What the fuck is that suppose too mean,” Tom said exasperatedly.

“It means-,” she interrupted herself while trying to stop the sick laughter threatening to erupt from her throat, “I never thought you cared so much about me Tommy, to spend so long with me when-,” she tilted her head to the side, “You have a wife at home don’t you?”

Tom felt his heart stop, “What did you do?”

“Might want to check that little wifey of yours Tommy,” she cackled, blood splattering from her mouth, staining the collar of her shirt and the floor in front of her, “Who knows how much time she might have left!”

“WHAT! The fuck! Did you do!” He screamed, clutching her bloody shirt in his fists, not caring if some of the liquid transferred to his already red hands.

“You left me alone, with Y/n, for months,” she giggled, “What do you think I did?”

“If you hurt her-,”

“You’ve already done your worst to me Holland,” the grin settling on her face became unsettling, “Now it’s my turn to watch you suffer,”

Tom didn't want to question her further. He didn't want his temper to take over the little control he tried to maintain over his mind. With a short gruff he pulled away from the woman, walking over to one of his men stationed by the door of the warehouse.

“Break her legs and take her to the hut, prepare the call and get Dr brown on the phone and tell Sam to get to Y/n as soon as possible,” he whispered under his breath, “Take me back home to my wife,”

...

“Good Girl,” you yawned, lazily scratching the top of Tessa’s head. It had been a chill day for you in the mansion, lounging around in your husband's clothes while you decorated your section of the building, preparing for the holidays. Tom insisted on getting decorators, knowing how clumsy you were, he didn't want you to hurt yourself. At least that’s the excuse he told you, you knew it was because he didn't want you doing any work on your holidays. 

Nevertheless, you were proud of the work you’ve done, the lights strung along your bedroom walls illuminating the room, making your placement by the window feel more cozy than usual. And with the addition of the cutest dog and a mug of ginger tea, staring out into the snowy garden never felt more calming. The only thing that would make this better is to be cuddled with your personal teddy bear, but your prayers were answered when he called unexpectedly.

“Hi Tommy,” you answered sweetly, gulping down a good bit of the tea,“What’s wrong? I thought you were busy with work?”

“Y/n?” Tom said seriously, a hard edge to his voice you never heard when he talked directly to you, “Y/n, you need to listen to me right now, okay?”

“Okay,” you sat up, throwing your blanket off your lap, “Okay, yeah,” you learnt not to question things like these with Tom’s line of work.

“Where are you right now?” you could hear the click of his shoes hitting the floor in the background, the sound of the vehicle's engines vroomed to life.

“I’m in our bedroom, with Tessa,” you answered quickly, squinting your eyes when you watched her body bounce away when your hand retracted from her fur, “Well just me now,” 

“You’re going to need to go to the medic bay, Doctor Brown will be there and he’ll explain everything,” a car door slammed shut, “Sam is coming to escort you, just,” he let out a deep breath, “Are you alright?”

You melted at the crack in his voice, clearing your throat before answering him, “I’m fine Tommy, never felt better,”

“Are you sure love?” he whispered, his voice losing its harsh tone, falling back to the soft, breathy one you grow to love.

“I’m-,” you moved away from the phone, coughing into your sleeve, “Sorry, uh, yeah I’m fine Tom,”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re okay to me,”

“I-,” you coughed again, this time more violently that the last, “It’s just a cough, probably from that food truck we went out to last night,” you forced a chuckle, trying to keep the air as light hearted as possible.

“A cough? When did this start,” Tom said urgently.

“Uh, this morning i think?” you sniffled, shuffling around to find a tissue box for your sudden runny nose, “I’m sure it’s just a bug Tommy,”

“Y/n, Is Sam there yet?”

“I didn’t hear him no,” your coughing continued, “Do you want me to go outside to check?”

“No, no, stay until he comes, I don’t want you going by yourself,”

Tom’s words began to blur when you took note of the red sploshing your white hoodie. You ran to the bathroom, cursing at the blood trailing from your nose, staining the bottom half of your face.

Your raging coughs continued, splattering droplets across the marble counter

“Love? Are you still there?” Tom said panicked, “Sam said he’s moving as quick as he can,”

“Tommy,” you whimpered, your hand clutching your chest in pain, “I-,” you braced yourself against the counter, feeling weaker and weaker, “Tommy, I don’t-,”you grabbed at your closing throat, “I don’t feel so good,” 

“Love? Y/n?” Tom said frantically, “Hey, hey, hey, listen to me, Sam is almost there, I’m so close to our house, hang in there okay?” he debated his next words, “You’ve been poisoned okay? You’ve been poisoned and if you get the help in time you will get better, just,” his voice hitched, “Please don’t go,”

Your throat burned as your breath started to become short, hiccupy wheezes. Blood began to drip from your nose and mouth onto the tiled floor. You could feel your chest tighten, your heart physically hurting until you couldn't take in any longer.

“Tom-my?” you managed to let out before collapsing on the floor, the shouts of your name echoing in the back of your ear before blackness covered your eyesight, followed by a bright, white light.

...

Permanent TagList : @jadegill​ @joyleenl​ @sarcastic-sunset-7​

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x gn!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

[jigensass]

JIGEN AND HIS EYES PART 2 - this got too relatable

I loved the flashback and how their eyes contrasted one another’s. The Doctor’s being large, soft, and full of hope while Jigen’s were small, a bit more rough, and darker.

But this is where things once again get personal because I was not only picking out things of myself from the doctor, I was picking things out of myself from Jigen too.

This line hit me like a dumpster truck.

I think this should have been translated something to like ‘the more pain a person goes through’, I’m not an expert, I just think that is what makes more sense in the context of the second half of the sentence.

Because my past trauma resonates with that. I have gone through a lot of emotional abuse in my past and it started to seep into my personality where I thought that I had to trudge my own path alone and any help that I needed was a burden, but when people asked for my help I would give my left arm for them, whoever they were.

But it only got worse when Jigen was being honest about his views and his way of life. Now being surrounded about some coworkers who care, I can be more open and people take me seriously. There was one coworker who stranded me to work from home when the pandemic first hit two years ago and I honestly thought she meant something to me. Come to find out, she never took me seriously and probably still doesn’t because the few words I spoke to her yesterday before she left were followed by laughter. Knowing the truth about the whole ordeal and my brain went to make a fallacy so elaborate was painful, but it was a weight off my shoulders that I am glad is now gone.

It still dwindles in my mind how important I was for this person to have the life they wanted, yet I am still moving on a boat in the middle of the ocean going god knows where because my life hit the reset button five years ago when I began to address my mental anxieties. Yet it never dawned on them what trials and tribulations I was put through. I never told her straight up because I considered it bearing my fangs and turning into a monster. There was no point in burning a bridge and making things uncomfortable, sometimes things are best left unsaid. She got everything handed to her on a silver patter and prepared while I was kicked off cliffs,thrown under many buses, and screamed through so many metaphorical megaphones to even get a fraction of what she had/has.

BUT I DIGRESS. The point was that yeah, I see a bit of myself in Jigen after this episode, but it’s the good traits that he has that makes him likable.

#out of the fiat #might delete some of thing later #spoilers

[aficwhore]

Truth Is (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3: Paper Weighted Problems

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!reader

Summary: After the night before, tensions between Fish and Chip arise. While tearing through the jungle and Lorea’s place, Frankie and the reader fight, leading to an amazing discovery.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity?, smut, sexual innuendos, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death/death itself, and talk of mental health(PTSD and depression).

A/N: Sorry for the late update, Life has its ups and downs! Today we had a bad storm so I sat in my basement and wrote this. I hope you like it<3

Regret. Frankie couldn't hide the emotion from me. It was as clear as day, I wondered if the boys had noticed it. 

“Well what’s for breakfast?” I broke the awkward silence, causing everyone but Frankie to break their gazes away from me, but exchanges looks between each other. I finally looked anywhere but in Frankie’s direction.

Tom cleared his throat, “Uh nothing special, we saw that you had some frozen waffles and just made those.” He tried to lighten the mood, it was obvious, everyone knew about last night. 

“Haha, yea, what grown woman buys Eggos?” Benny attempted to joke, causing Santi and Will to stifle a laugh. 

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile, thoughts of Frankie still clouding my mind. “For occasions just like this one! When five grown men have a slumber party in my living room.” I added, walking over to the counter and grabbing a plate full of waffles and dowsing them in syrup.

“Right, because that’s definitely what it was.” Tom chuckled, handing me a napkin.

“Exactly, I’m pretty sure I saw Pope braiding Benny Boy’s hair.” I joked biting into a chunk of food.

Ben scoffed, “It gets in my eyes!” And everyone froze, staring at him in shock. After a second of complete silence, Frankie burst into laughter, sending the rest of us into a laughing fit, except Ben. He stood there blushing, trying to act like he didn’t reveal that he braids his hair.

Will began to cough, struggling to not choke on the mouthful of food while he snickered. Pope roughly patted him on the back as our giggles died down. 

“So, does that mean you sit in the mirror and braid your own hair?” Tom questioned with a smirk on his face, wanting to bother Benny more.

“You shut up.” He jokingly spits. Tom raises his hands as a sign of defeat and continues to finish the last bites of food on his plate.

“Anyways...Other than our ‘slumber party’ I know two people that had some fun last night.” Pope spoke up, causing mine and Fish’s eyes to open wide.

“Oh yea, how could we forget? ‘Oh FrAnKiE, Oh YeS! HaRdEr!’” Benny mimicked me while thrusting his hips for dramatic affect. I could feel heat rising to my face as the boys roared with giggles again. 

“Would you cut it out?” Frankie replied, wanting to avoid this talk entirely. 

Then Pope joined in, making fun of Frankie, “’FuCk, bAbY, I wOn’T LaSt LoNg!’” I sat there, embarrassed and not knowing what to say. Normally this would be a joke, but with everything, this wasn’t a joking matter.

“I said enough!” Frankie shouted, “It shouldn’t have happened, okay?!” He expressed, shoving his chair back, getting up, and storming outside.

All the commotion died immediately. Pope and Benny opened their mouths to apologize when they turned to me, but were met with a blank stare.

Did he really mean that? After pursuing me? After trying so hard to make up, he goes and says ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

Everyone remained quiet, continuing to stare at me in concern. After what felt like hours, Tom pushed his seat back and got up, hopefully headed to catch Frankie.

Once Tom had made it out the front door, I cleared my throat, "So, what time are we leaving?" I asked, trying to hide all the hurt and pain from my eyes.

The three remaining men all exchanged looks, "Here in 15." Santi spoke quietly, unsure of what exactly just happened.

"Sounds good!" I faked enthusiasm, stuffing my mouth with the last bite on my plate and getting up. I swiftly put my dishes in the sink and headed back to my room. I could hear the boys whispering to each other, trying to understand what the hell was going on with Frankie and I.

I closed my door behind me. I leaned against it, letting my head fall back with defeat and hit the door. Feeling my emotions topple over the brim, tears rushed to my eyes as I slid down the door and sank to the floor.

What the fuck was going on? Why was Frankie so upset with our actions. I thought finally we had made up, that he was once again MY Fish. Had he just used me last night? What changed his mind? Why was this happening all over again?

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realized that my sobs were now audible. I couldn't hold back the garbled gasps I let out. Tears stained my cheeks and began to soak my shirt.

Through the door I could hear the boys trying to get each other to come get me, because it was close for us to leave. Not wanting to deal with the water works anymore, I slapped my cheeks a few times, trying to smack the emotions out of my head. I wiped my tears off and quick got up to change my shirt.

After rummaging through my clothes, I found a similar shirt, threw it on and swung open the door, wanting to just head to the airport, and to get this over with.

Holding my head up high, I confidently walked back to the kitchen/living room to meet the boys. Only Benny and Will stood there waiting for me, finishing the dishes and putting them away.

"All set? I'm ready to get this over with and be rich." I attempted to joke, causing the brothers in front of me to awkwardly chuckle, their eyes full of worry.

Benny shook his head, acknowledging that I wanted to ignore the fiasco and to get on the road. He led the way out of the apartment after hanging up a dish towel and grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter.

I followed quickly behind him with Will right on my heels. When we made it to the cars, Frankie sat in the front passenger side of Santi's truck, Santi in the driver seat, and Tom between them.

"I'll drive," Will offered, making his way to his truck and getting in. Benny walked ahead of me, opened the door and waited for me to hop in, before getting in after.

No one spoke as we tailgated Santi's truck all the way to the airport. Will placed his hand on my thigh the whole time, as a way to console me. Benny had his arm around me, slightly pulling me into his side. With them, I felt much better, they were my best friends and knew exactly how to comfort me.

When we found a good parking space, we all hopped out, and grabbed our things from the bed of the trucks. It was still awkwardly silent between everyone.

As we checked into our flights and went through TSA, Benny tried to lighten the mood by saying he needed a snack, even though we had just ate. We all giggled when Will called him a 'garbage disposal.'

Sitting at our flight gate was almost unbearable, realizing this mission would be very difficult, now with the added tension.

When we boarded the plane, Will and Santi sat with me, of course I was in the middle. Tom, Benny, and Frankie sat in the seats next to us. During the first hour I attempted to read a book, but quickly got bored as I felt Pope fall asleep and rest his head against my shoulder. Will sat with his eyes closed and headphones in.

I glanced over Pope's sleeping frame to find the others. Benny was leaned forward, head down and snoring on the tray he had propped up. Tom was slouched in his chair, his head lulling back and forth with sleep consuming him. And Frankie, who was also reading, looked up and met my eyes.

I ignored the gaze he gave me and turned my attention back to my book. Moments later I felt my phone buzz with a text. I sat my book down and pulled out my phone, reading the message;

Fishie: "I'm sorry..."

I rolled my eyes, was he really apologizing for his blowout, over a text?

Locking my phone, I put it face down into my lap, leaving the message unanswered. I continued my page in my book, only getting past a few sentences before my phone vibrated again. I acted as if I didn't feel it and remained reading. Only for it to ping again.

Frustratedly, I opened my phone again, seeing two additional texts;

Fishie: "Really?"

Fishie: "I meant what I said. I am sorry, but last night... was a mistake."

Heat began to rise to my cheeks, I forcefully typed back;

Me: "Wow, you are unbelievable."

I heard him shuffle and type back quickly;

Fishie: "Because I apologized? It's true, I'm only helping us both here. Yea it was my fault, but I shouldn't have gone to your room."

Me: "You took advantage of my feelings. You acted like we can just ignore this, I can't help but feel you led me on."

Fishie: "Led you on?! How? WE both decided to sleep together, thats it. I didn't LEAD you to do anything."

Me: "You're a real fucking piece of work."

Fishie: "Oh really?"

Me: "Yea, fuck you."

Fishie: "God you are the most stubborn and hard headed person I've ever met. Can't you see that this was a damn mistake?"

Me: "Screw you, oh wait, I did, but look where that got me. I don't even know why you're trying to apologize, because somehow you keep shifting the blame to me."

As I hit send and shoved my phone between my legs and put my book away, I heard Frankie huff with anger. Awaiting a reply I closed my eyes and leaned against Will, using his arm as a pillow.

But for a while, nothing came, and I slowly began to drift into unconsciousness.

My sleep had been interrupted by the plane shaking and a loud thump. I opened my eyes abruptly, and slightly frightened. I faced Will, to glance out the window and found that we had finally landed in Colombia.

We all silently gathered our things and slowly made our departure from the plane and airport. Once we trudged through the doors, we made it into the humid climate, the wet air immediately dampening our skin and clothes.

"Damn, this is gonna be fun." Benny chirped as we all huddled into the jeep Santi had prepared for us. Santi hopped upfront, and so did Tom, leaving four of us to try and fit in the backseat.

"Pope, there six of us, there's no way we'll fit AND have room for the bags." I spoke up, watching as Will, Benny, and Frankie smushed into the seats together.

"I know, I promise I'm more prepared than that," he laughed. "We only have to ride like this for a few miles, then we're on foot, and they'll have cargo vans there." He explained, turning on the engine and motioning for me to somehow get in.

"You can sit on my lap, I'll hold you down during Pope's insane driving." Benny laughed from between Will and Fish. I climbed over Will, careful not to hurt him, and landed in Ben's lap when he yanked the arm I used to brace my weight.

I twisted in his lap to sit comfortably, hoping I'd fit and we could just hurry up and get this over with. Benny wrapped his arms around my waist as Santi sped off and made way to a long and bumpy road.

We hit quite a few bumps and potholes, causing me to shift and bounce in Benny's lap. I tried to lean forward and hang in-between the two front seats, to help alleviate the rough contact between us.

"Damn it Chip, quit wiggling." Benny grunted from behind me.

"I can't control that, Pope is hitting every possible bump on the road." I squeaked as we hit a particularly hard one. I landed back into his lap and felt something. "Ouch, what the hell is in your pocket."

Will snorted and faced the window to hide his face as Benny gulped loudly. "I-I can't help it, you keep moving!" I froze, wanting to still believe it was something in his pocket.

"C'mon man, can't you control yourself?" Frankie angrily spoke up.

I pulled my back from Benny and sat as far forward on his legs as I could, turning to look at Frankie. "What? How is it-" I countered, my voice dying in my throat.

"Fish, you know how it works, it's not like I'm doing this on purpose." Benny awkwardly explained.

Frankie huffed and shook his head. "Whatever." he muttered.

"Looks like someone is jealous." Santi quietly joked.

"I am not jealous! We-we are on a damn mission! That should be the last thing from anyones mind, we need to focus on not dying and getting the fucking money." Frankie snapped, filling the jeep with his booming voice.

All noise ceased, the only sound was the creaking of the car as we rolled off the main road into a trail. The tension was at an all time high, it was engulfing and in a way, suffocating.

After some time, we stopped, Santi throwing the car in park and quickly turning to us. "My informant said that the mansion should be vacant, but we only have about 15 minutes, so we get in and get out, with as much as we can carry, but we can't take too much time." We all nodded. "When I get the signal, we're coming in hot and getting right to it. Get out and suit up." He turned back around and hopped out.

We followed behind, pulling out our bags and pulling on our gear. Not much else was said, due to the shit that was about to go down, even though it would be empty, you never know what could happen.

"Alright, obviously with everything, we no longer fit, I'll ride the side." I spoke, waiting for Will to get in and shut the door.

"Me too, easier that way." Frankie offered, shutting his door after Benny jumped in.

Will shut his door and I placed my foot on the step bar, hauling myself up to grab the rack on top for support, hanging on tight as Frankie did the same. "All good?" Pope asked through the window.

"Game time bitches." I quirked, slapping my free hand on the top of the Jeep. As we waited for the signal, I took in my surroundings, lush, thick forest all the way around, If Pope doesn't know where to go, we'd definitely get lost.

As I admired the greenery, I turned to look over the roof of the car, meeting Frankie's eyes for what seemed like the millionth time since we've reunited.

He sheepishly looked away and down at the ground, his knuckles which wrapped around the frame of the rack, tightened and turned white.

A garbled and staticky noise came from the cab of the vehicle, causing Pope to slam the gear shift into drive and yell "Hold on tight!" He lurked the jeep forward, stepping up the speed.

I held on tighter, pulling my body as flush as I could to the side of the Jeep, to avoid hitting the branches and brush that littered the sides of the overgrown trial.

After a long blur of green, the forest broke into a path, leading to a small mansion. Just as fast as we drove, we stopped. I jumped off and quickly swung the door open for Will, stepping back and pulling my gun from my side.

Without any words, we all strategically filed into the house, making sure to take cover and search the premise, eliminating any threats. The first floor had been barren, as for people, though it was filled with expensive artwork and furniture.

Once we all searched and met at the staircase, Pope nodded at me, signaling for me to take the lead upstairs and sweep the area. I quickly glided up the stairs and took cover near the first door, getting ready to burst in the room and check. To my luck, when I leaped into the room, it was empty. I glanced behind the door, and walked further into the office, keeping my gun at attention.

I could hear the boys doing the same, in the last four rooms. I observed the room, a big desk sat in the middle, a fancy chair accompanied it, the walls were decorated with paintings and portraits. The was a door in the corner, which I strode over to, swinging it open, full force. An alarmed Fish sat on the other side, the door led to the next room. I quickly pointed my gun at the ground and rolled my eyes, turning to examine the room again.

"Clear!" I yelled, letting the team know our section was safe.

Frankie walked through the door and up to me, as I sifted through the desk. "Hey I just wanted to talk real quick."

"Really? Now is not the time, look for the money." I spat back at him. "Any luck?!" I yelled hoping someone found something.

A faint voice answered, "No! I swear, she said there was money here!" Pope echoed.

Getting antsy, I shoved the desk, causing it to fall over, Frankie stepped back, "Listen, I didn't mean to make things worse, okay? Trust me I wanted nothing more than to be with you again."

I paused my movements, holding a paperweight in my hand, "No Frankie, you've done enough, either you want me or don't." I spoke harshly.

"Damn it Chip, just listen!" He raised his voice.

"No! I'm not doing this again, get your shit together and fucking look for something!" I yelled, bending down to put the weight down. He leaned forward and grabbed my arm. "Fuck you!" I yanked away, causing the paper weight to leave my hand and barrel into the wall.

The wall cracked, a hole forming as the weight bounced off and fell to the ground. "Look at what you did!" Frankie gasped with frustration.

I whipped around, walking to the wall, grabbing the paperweight. As I stood, I stopped halfway up when I was met with the hole. But it wasn't just an empty wall or beam behind it. There were plastic packages sticking out, which is very unusual for houses. Frankie began to murmur again.

"Shh! Shut Up!" I shushed him, reaching into the hole and tugging at the bag.

"You never let me talk-" Frankie continued.

"Frankie shut the fuck up! Look!" I screamed when the bag came out of the wall and into my hands. I Twisted on my heel and showed him the bag, which contained a huge stack of One-hundred dollar bills.

"Holy Fuck." Frankie gulped, making eye contact with me.

TAGLIST @tanyaherondale @winter-fox-queen @supernaturalgirl @actual-spawn-of-satan @hnt-escape @toomanystoriessolittletime @shadowolf993 @goldielocks2004

*if your user has a strike through, it wouldn’t let me tag you*

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish Morales x reader #catfish x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier x reader #frankie morales angst #angst

[quentinbecks]

Summary: Charlie left Hope County years ago hoping never to come back. But when she learns of her parents involvement with the local doomsday cult, she finds herself heading back to a life she thought she left behind. (Begins two years before the reaping/events of the game)

Words: 5 k

Warnings: The typical lack of boundaries from the Seeds, slight use of violence, mentions of violence and death, peer pressure to use drugs (bliss), and this is a big one, lots of talk of anxiety/ build up to a panic attack.

A/N: Thank you so much to @adelaidedrubman and @johnnycranes for being my betas/second and third eyes on this! And to @smut-goblin for hitting me with the writing stick! You have no idea how much I appreciate you guys 💕 Since the atonement process begins now, hopefully I can start putting these out in a timely manner from here on out.

Chapter 4: Snakes in the Garden

“We’ll begin the process of atonement immediately.”

Charlie glances up at the man through her lashes. She should be trying to run away; pushing his hands off of her face, but she can’t. Frozen in place with John’s hands cupping her cheeks; their foreheads pressed together. From this angle she can see all the freckles that adorn his neck and collarbone. It almost makes him seem human.

“I thought,” she stammers, “I thought I was just getting baptized. That’s what we agreed to.”

John sighs, pulling away to look down at her; hands still gripping her face. “You will be cleansed, you will confess all of your sins, and then you will atone. That’s the only way you can reach true salvation. And you did just promise me you would allow me the gift of saving you,” he grits out, the hold on her face getting tighter as he goes on.

Charlie squirms away, attempting to free herself without making matters worse. “You’re hurting me,” she hisses as she grabs a hold of his hands. She may be willing to play along with his mind games; keep up whatever foolish charade she needs to to stay safe, but she draws the line at having pain inflicted on her.

The Baptist just nods as he backs away, hands held up as if to show her he won’t touch her.

Too fucking late.

But there was no apology, and Charlie can’t really say she’s surprised. “Listen,” she says as she leans against the brick wall, fingers rubbing the spots where her face was held, “you can have my soul or my salvation or whatever the fuck it is you want. But what happens to me afterwards?”

If she’s being honest, Charlie is afraid of the answer. Does she get to have a normal life? Just one within the parameters of the cult’s rules? Will they force her to marry another member of the project in one of those giant, mass weddings like the Moonies? Or will they just kill her? It’s selfish and would be a great betrayal to her friends, but she would marry The Father himself if it meant keeping them safe.

John sighs, sitting on the couch, legs crossed and arms spread across the back; posture too casual for such a tense environment. “I think it’s best we take the process day by day.”

Charlie glares at the man, only receiving a chuckle in return as he notices her olive eyes fill with rage. “Relax, sweetheart. I won’t send you back up to the mountains; back up to my big, bad, brother.”

Sitting down in the chair across from him, Charlie wills herself to calm down. The shock of the situation is starting to wear off rapidly and she can feel the panic inside her start to rise just as fast.

“Can we at least discuss the immediate future? Like, me going home?”

“What,” John teases, a hint of faux sadness in his voice, “you don’t like it here?”

Not really she thinks. But she would rather not vocalize her thoughts; too tired from all of the youngest Seed’s threats and games. She’s pretty sure she’ll combust from stress if she has to stay at the ranch a moment longer.

“Haven’t you had enough fun tormenting me for one day. I’m just,” her voice shakes and she can feel her heart start to pound; her anxiety starting to make itself known, “not in the mood for this shit. Please. Just let me go home.”

Charlie wishes she could kick her own ass at this very moment. Uncomfortable with becoming so emotional in front of John, but there was only so long that false sense of bravado and heroism could last. But the sight of his guest on the verge of a nervous breakdown does seem to have an effect on the man.

“Wait here.” He says, standing up and heading towards the door. He turns back before stepping out to look at her. “Don’t leave before I get back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

John just gives her a smirk before leaving. Flopping back onto the chair with a sigh, Charlie closes her eyes. She’s sure trying to take a power nap in a herald’s house is just asking for trouble, but she’s too exhausted to care.

She’s barely relaxed for more than thirty seconds when the door bursts open causing her to jump.

“Charlene, this is Deanna. She’ll be taking you back.”

“What about you?” Charlie cringes inwardly at herself. Now she knows she really needs to get out of here, the environment is clearly taking a toll on her sanity quicker than she anticipated.

A faint smile creeps across John’s lips before he rights himself. “Don’t worry. Deanna is one of my most trusted chosen.”

Charlie takes in the woman she’s being handed off to. She’s not much older than her, tall, tan, and athletic. She can tell by the excited grin on the chosen’s face that the other woman will most likely get on her nerves.

“Hello, sister,” Deanna says with a wave.

“We’re not quite there yet.”

“Here,” John drops a white hardcover on her lap. “Try to read this before your baptism.”

Charlie thumbs through the book curiously. She may not have had any sort of religious education, but she’s pretty sure this isn’t the traditional Christian text.

“Is this a bible?”

“It’s the Book of Joseph.” The chosen chirps from across the room. “It shows us the hardships the Father went through and how God spoke to him and showed him the path; the path that would save us all from the Collapse.”

“Sounds enlightening.”

“It is.” John is behind her now, hands on her shoulders. “But as much as I would love to keep you here to continue this conversation, I thought you wanted to leave.”

Charlie recoils at his usage of the word “keep”. She can’t see the man, but she’s sure he’s wearing an arrogant smirk; a smirk that she would happily slap off of his face if she wasn’t trying to behave.

Nodding, she gets up. “Thank you for the talk. It’s been… eye-opening.”

John leans over the chair as he beams at her. “I’m just glad you agreed to let me,” he pauses as if he’s contemplating his words, “work with you.”

“Well, you didn’t leave me with much of a choice. Certain death or,” she gestures towards him, “you. And I like being alive, thank you very much.”

Charlie doesn’t bother to wait for a response, pushing past the chosen and out the door to wait on the steps. She doesn’t need to wait very long as Deanna follows after her almost immediately. “My truck’s down there,” the woman points down the driveway to an old, white pickup with a black Eden’s Gate sigil on the hood.

Following silently behind the other woman, she tries to catch her breath. Relax, she chants to herself internally. In only twenty minutes you’ll be safe. Charlie tells herself she can do this as she gets in the car. All she has to do is wait a few, short minutes and she can scream and cry as much as she wants to.

The car ride is silent for the most part and Charlie is glad for it. Until about halfway to her parent’s house when the chosen turns to look at her nervously. “So,” she pauses, chewing on her lip, “are you excited to be joining the project?”

Charlie gives her a snort in response. Leaning her head against the glass, she closes her eyes. “That’s an overstatement.”

“Well, I’m thrilled to have you here. I really like your mom.” Deanna gives her a grin before turning back to the road. “And besides, we don’t have many young women. It’ll be nice to have a friend.”

Friend Charlie scoffs. “Let’s just take this day by day,” she says, repeating the exact phrase John used on her earlier.

She’s relieved to see her parent’s house come into view as they turn the bend. Grabbing onto the handle, the young woman prepares to jump out the minute the truck pulls into the drive.

Charlie goes to shut the door when Deanna calls out to her. “I know you’re scared or angry or whatever it is you’re feeling, but I’m happy you’re here. Maybe we’ll even get to work at the ranch together.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Slamming the door closed, Charlie heads towards the house. She looks back to watch the chosen back out. Once she’s absolutely sure she’s gone, Charlie heads to the bunker in the backyard.

Clutching The Book of Joseph that hasn’t left her hands since she left John’s house, she climbs down the ladder. Charlie gags once she’s inside the bunker, the musty air that hits her makes her think that it’s been years since anyone has been down there.

She barely makes it to the couch before her breath becomes labored, adding to her already rising blood pressure. Tossing the book on the sofa she begins to pace around the room. What is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to explain this to Eli? Will Mary May even trust her again after this?

Letting out a frustrated cry, Charlie slinks to the floor. She has to make them understand she’s doing this for them.

But are you really? Pops into her mind. She offered to join the project the moment she felt her life was in danger, not her friends. Protection for her friends only came as part of the bargain after she agreed to have her soul saved.

But is it really wrong to want to save yourself? To value your own life? Not really, she thinks. Trying not to dwell too hard on the guilt that’s eating at her, Charlie goes to pick up the radio she notices lying dusty and dormant on the desk.

Blowing the dust off, she turns the dials until she finds the channel that would reach Eli and the Wolf’s Den.

Pausing to sniffle, she presses down on the button to talk. “Hello? Eli? Tammy? Anyone? It’s Charlie.” She clears her throat awkwardly as she waits for a response. “Um, over?” She adds.

“Ya know, it’s not really necessary to say over.”

“I know, Wheaty, but no one was answering.”

Charlie can hear the younger man laugh into the microphone. “Well, ya gotta give us more than ten seconds to get to the radio, Charlie.”

“Patience has never been my strong suit.” Sighing, she bites her lip. Not sure of how to go about relaying the message about the mole in the militia; not even sure she should be telling them this. But, it’s the right thing to do. And it’s not like she made a promise to John about what she would do with the information either way.

“Is Eli around?”

“He’s out scoutin’ right now. Whatcha need?”

Charlie knows it’s not Wheaty who’s the betrayer, but she has a bad feeling about repeating the news over the airwaves.

“Is anyone else from the militia there?”

There’s a long pause over the line as she waits for the young militiaman’s answer.

“It’s just me and Tammy here. Why what’s wrong?”

Picking up the radio, Charlie goes to sit on the dilapidated couch. She takes in a deep breath, trying to quell the feeling in her gut that’s telling her she’s making a mistake.

“Tell them that there’s a snake in the garden. They snitched on me to the Seeds. They know I killed one of Jacob’s hunters and I-”

“Who is it? Are you at The Veteran’s Center?” Wheaty interrupts her. There’s a hitch in his breath as he asks his next question. “Did they take you?”

“No,” Charlie can feel tears start to fall and she digs her nails into her thigh to stop herself from openly showing her distress, “but I can’t come back to the Wolf’s Den anymore. That’s why I need you to report back to Eli, shit even Tammy, what I just told you.”

“But why-”

She lets out a deep sigh before cutting him off. “Can you just trust me? I’m trying to protect you. All I ask in return is you get rid of your rat infestation.”

Charlie waits, the static of the radio the only response.

“You got it.”

“Thanks, kid. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

And with that she flicks off the power, unable to continue the conversation; unable to accept her newly minted fate.

Tossing the machine onto the ground, Charlie falls back onto the couch. She decides to spend the rest of her day inside the bunker, certain her parents won’t come searching for her here. She isn’t ready to hear the exuberance of her mother when she tells her the news of her joining the cult; if it was up to her she would have offered Charlie’s hand in marriage the moment she had stepped foot onto the compound.

Though, Christine has probably already found out if John was actually telling the truth about there being a meeting. She can’t bear to think about the two of them conspiring about her; about her future. It’s too much to deal with. The whole day has been too emotionally taxing for the young woman.

Charlie reaches behind her, picking up the stray Book of Joseph; her curiosity getting the better of her. She’s pretty sure the whole book will be monotonous; mundane monologues about their terrible childhoods. It’s the same bullshit with every cult leader. Regardless, she wants to find the juicy bits for future ammunition for the next time John Seed wants to throw jabs at her about her own youth. They’re alike, her ass.

Opening the book to a random page, Charlie settles in. Admittedly, the book is a hard read, both from Joseph’s unreliable narration and the abuse the two eldest Seeds regularly suffered. What catches her eye, though, are the bits of a young, barely more than a toddler, John being beaten; abuse so bad it forced the brothers into foster homes.

The new information forces Charlie to slam the book shut. She can’t help but feel guilt and pity for the man, all of them if she’s being honest, but especially John. She doesn’t know if these feelings are stemming from the parental neglect she suffered as a kid or if it’s because of her own desperate desire to become a mother; to be able to give a child a life she was deprived of. She doesn’t even know if any of this is actually; maybe it’s all a ploy for people like her to feel empathy for them.

Shaking her head, Charlie closes her eyes. Do not think of them as anything more than the monsters they are, she chides herself.

Curling up into a ball on the couch, she tries to relax; tries to clear her mind of all the dizzying emotions that came from today. After what feels like hours of breathing exercises and mantras to shut her brain off, she finally falls asleep.

The nightmare is the same as it is every night. Charlie finds herself being hunted through the Whitetails by one of Jacob’s red camo clad chosen. And just like always she kills them; just as it happened in real life. But this time, the outcome has changed.

It’s still her blood splattered face that’s exposed after the ski mask is ripped off, but the eyes staring back at her are no longer the hazel eyes of the recently deceased hunter. This time they’re sky blue; blue like the eye color shared by all of the male Seeds.

Charlie wakes up with a start. Heart racing wildly, she puts her palm over her chest in a vain attempt to calm it down.

“Fuck me.”

She’s no dream interpreter, but Charlie is definitely concerned this means something. Means that she’s become prey to the Seeds; that she’s become some sort of toy for them to play with at will. It’s distressing, especially since she’s worked for years to ensure she would never be in such a vulnerable position with men again. And now here she is; in the belly of the beast, but this time it’s worse. This time it’s with cult leaders rather than a gaslighting husband.

“I need a drink,” she mutters to herself as she sits up.

Charlie heads up to her parents house, the early summer sun blinding her as she exits the bunker. “Mom? Daddy?” she calls out once she’s made it back inside. The calls for her parents are met with dead silence.

Searching through rooms gives her no leads on where they could be until she finds a note plastered to the refrigerator.

“Princess,

Mammon and I will be out for most of the day. You can find your mother up at Black Horse Peak if there’s an emergency. I’ll be out fishing on the bay with a few friends from church. Both of us should be back by dinner time. Don’t get into any trouble while we’re gone, ma fille.

Love,

Papa”

Charlie sighs. She was hoping to not be alone after the nightmare she had, let alone the day she had previously. But, on the bright side now she has time to come up with a way to explain to her parents about her change of heart towards Eden’s Gate.

Deciding the best course of action would be to tell them over dinner; a dinner where she can spike her own drink to take the edge off. There’s no worries about them being disappointed or angry with her. No, she needs to drink to hide the disappointment in her own mother who will be delighted that her boss managed to break down her daughter into joining his family’s cult. In one day too. What a feat!

A couple hours pass with Charlie trying and failing to concoct a meal when there’s a knock at the door. Immediately going on guard since she wasn’t expecting any guests, she grabs a kitchen knife off the counter.

As she heads over to the door she peeks outside the window to see who her surprise visitor is. None other John Seed is standing there on her porch; a look of fury written all over his face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she says, slamming the knife down on the entrance table.

Opening the door with a bit of trepidation, Charlie begins to panic. Why would he come here when he could have just had her brought to him? Why come when she’s all alone? The normally well-coiffed Seed looks frazzled; his usual slick backed hair falling loosely in his face.

“What do you want?” she asks through the crack in the door. Instead of giving her a response, John pushes his way into the house.

“Oh, okay. Please, come inside,” Charlie grumbles as she slams the door shut.

She watches as John paces through the living room; watching as he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dark chuckle as he does so. The situation started out unsettling and now it’s just flat out creeping her out.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” John asks, finally looking up at her.

Charlie blinks at him trying to understand what she could have possibly done in the last twenty four hours to anger him this badly. And then it dawns on her. She told the Whitetails about the mole amongst them and she’s guessing Eli handled the problem.

Oops.

“What exactly did you expect me to do? Allow your brother to keep getting intel on my friends? So he could, what, pounce on them when the timing was right? I don’t think so.”

“No, you’re right.” He clears his throat before leaning against the wall, no longer manically pacing around the room, but calm and collected. “I trusted you too early; had hoped you would be grateful for the gift I’ve given you, but I see now I was mistaken. Instead, you would rather squander it and try and pull off these childish antics of yours.”

John pushes himself off the wall, slowly making his way towards her; the action preemptively making her back herself against the counter.

“But I’m not worried about it. And you know why?” He knocks on the table as he continues on.

Charlie shakes her head “no”, uncertainty over whether that was the right answer setting in.

“Because Joseph saw you walk through the Gates of Eden with us; with me. So, I know all of the trouble you’re putting us through will be worth it in the end. I just need you to recognize your purpose and start behaving.”

They’re so close now; too close for Charlie’s comfort. She puts a hand between them; her fingers lightly touching his torso. The touch makes her flinch, but after he put her face in a vice-like grip just the day before, she’s not letting him get that close again.

“Walking through the Gates of Eden? What does that even mean?” She furrows her brow, she’s pretty certain Joseph is just making up visions to have his brother keep her in line, nevertheless the possible euphemism unnerves her. “Is that like heaven? Are you here to commit a murder suicide?”

Charlie quickly realizes that that may be the wrong thing to say when she sees the scowl cross John’s face.

He leans in closer to her, forcing her makeshift barrier of her wrist to drop. “You are in no position to be making jokes, sweetheart”, the Baptist glares down at her. “Because you, Charlene, in less than three weeks have managed to get two of our chosen killed. One by your own hand and,” John looks down towards her lips, “and one by your big fucking mouth,” he hisses at her.

“Good.” Charlie shoves him away, trying to reclaim some of her personal space. “That last one snitched on me; took my life away from me. So I guess we’re even now. Eye for an eye. Isn’t that what you people believe in?”

“You know, you’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.” Sitting on their loveseat, John splays himself out as if he owns the place; the overly cocky attitude in full swing again.

Admittedly, Charlie does feel some guilt over the news of another chosen dead. There’s a part of her that’s curious about who they were in the militia, but the other part doesn’t need that on her conscience; not when the first death has been haunting her dreams nightly.

“Joseph entrusted me with your atonement; he still has faith that you’ll come around. Jacob still believes you deserve to be punished. Now I’m of two sides,” he says, leaning forward. “I believe you need to be reprimanded for this; for making some of the project’s best hunters spend their morning burying their friend. But death is too harsh.”

“What – what were you thinking of doin’?” Charlie stutters, her drawl starting to slip out.

“I was thinking of moving up your baptism. To tonight.”

“No!” Charlie all but yells as she marches over to where John is perched. “I – I haven’t even read your brother’s book yet! I don’t know what I’m getting myself into! I don’t even have anything to wear!”

She’s practically in between the man’s legs and she’s half tempted to bend down and scream in his face; make him feel as small as he constantly makes her feel. But it’s inappropriate and she immediately rights herself of the urge.

“None of that matters. All that matters to me is that you start the process soon.”

It dawns on Charlie that she should be questioning John on why he is so insistent on keeping her alive; what he meant by her walking through the Gates of Eden with him specifically. But a voice inside of her tells that she’s certain to find out sooner rather than later; and she might not like the answers she gets.

“Can I at least find something decent here to wear?”

“Yes, but,” John shifts uncomfortably, “I need you to keep the door open. I can’t trust you to not try and run.”

Charlie laughs as she heads into her parent’s room. “Where could I run to that you wouldn’t find me?”

She shuts the door a crack, partly out of habit, partly because she doesn’t want John watching her undress. The thought of him seeing her naked alone makes her grimace.

It takes her a few minutes, but she’s able to find something buried in the closet. It's pink and floral, not her usual color, but it’s a sundress and that’s all that matters to her. Pulling her shorts and cropped top off she watches in the mirror as John loiters around her family’s dining room.

Uncomfortable with the Baptist going through their belongings, she quickly pulls the dress on; tossing her honey brown hair into a ponytail.

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, you’re ready,” he says as he comes and leans on the doorframe to the bedroom. “Like I said earlier, I can’t trust you. So I need you to do me a favor before we can leave.” John pulls a flask from his jacket pocket, handing it over to her as if she’s just supposed to accept a drink from him.

“I thought you guys banned this shit? Too good for a stiff drink or two.”

“It’s not alcohol.”

Charlie scoffs. He wants to roofie her so she’ll behave; be a good girl for the Seeds. And he thinks she’s going to consent to this? Fuck that.

“Then I’m not drinking it. Not until you tell me what’s in it.” She has spent way too many years practicing drink safety to just take a drugged drink, even if the man giving it to her is warning her in advance.

“It’s bliss,” John says as if she would understand what that means. But he sees the confusion written all over her face. “It’s safe. You’ll be fine. It’ll keep you calm for a couple of hours. Enough to get you through the cleansing . And after that,” he smiles down at her, “we can work on building trust.”

“What if I say no?”

John’s smile turns sour suddenly, stepping forward to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Like I said earlier, I’ll be forced to take your sins out the people you love the-“

“Okay, enough with the threats,” Charlie groans as she snatches the flask from his hands. “You’re a huge dick, ya know that?” She shoves past him, “a real pushy asshole.”

Uncapping the flask, she takes a sniff. It’s oddly sweet smelling. Maybe it won’t be so bad? She thinks to herself. John watches her intently as she puts the container to her lips. She can’t help but feel that he’s enjoying this too much.

The drink itself is bitter in spite of its fragrant scent. The taste makes her want to throw the flask across the room; then maybe projectile vomit afterwards. She manages to get a bit down before handing it off to John.

“I think I’m ready,” she says, trying to hold the bile in her throat down.

John nods, heading out the door. Charlie starts to feel nervous as she follows suite; afraid that she may pass out and be taken to God knows where to have God knows what done to her.

“Don’t worry about the door. I’ll have one of my chosen let your family know where you are so they can join us.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, allowing John to open the car door for her to get in.

Eli and the Whitetails will come for you soon. They know you’re in trouble now and he’ll come and save you. They have to. She thinks as she watches the youngest Seed walk around the vehicle to get in as well. And she wants his head on a platter when they do.

There’s not much time to dwell on thoughts of being rescued. John has barely backed out of the driveway by the time Charlie has started seeing green and feeling dizzy. Her head drops back to fall against the cool leather of the headrest.

“I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a moment,” she slurs; eyes drooping shut. Before she knows it, she’s out cold; on the way to start the most interesting chapter of her life thus far.

#fic: stillness in woe #john seed x oc #john seed #oc: charlie berger #far cry 5 fic #yay! baptism next chapter #we’re really in it now

[rome5683]

The Love Charade

Chapter Three: New Start

His eyes were angry but also had another emotion, they were like green calming flames, demanding your submission. "We aren't friends."

She gulped. The hand on her arm made goosebumps grow on every inch of her skin. "We're not?"

The smirk on his pinkish lips, the ones his tongue grazed over lightly, gave unease to her core. "We are..."

His hand left her arm, and went up to her face as he gently grazed her bottom lip with his thumb. Then, he genuinely smiled, his demeanor changing but his eyes the same: mad with lust. "We are much more than friends..."

Suddenly, unease wasn't the only thing her 'core' felt.

Marinette's eyes opened fast, her ringtone bugging her head and she groaned. Picking up the phone, she spoke into it, with her voice still groggy, she muttered, "Hello?"

"Hey, I'm coming over to pick you up."

Her eyes almost popped out of her head at the recognition of his voice, "A-Adrien?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh my gosh, Adrien! Um, yeah! Sure! Right now?" She got up fast, going to her closet and looking through her mess of clothes for something to wear. "Wait, where are we going?"

"It's a surprise, but yeah, when else? Are you busy right now?" He nervously chuckled.

"Oh! For you? Never, heh. I mean, not just for you, I try to be early- Ah!" By her luck, Marinette's leg slipped on one of her pairs of smooth jeggings, and she fell on her butt. She groaned, hitting the exact spot where her tailbone was when she fell. "I just have the worst of luck."

From behind her, she heard Tikki and the other kwamis giggling at her misfortune. Adrien laughed wholeheartedly, her clumsiness making her seem cute even over the phone. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing, I just slipped." She got up, rubbing her sore bottom. "Um... What time do you think you'll be here?"

"How does five minutes sound?"

"WHAT? Five minutes?!" She shrieked, putting the phone on speaker as she looked into her closet quicker for her outfit for the day.

"Yeah, is that okay?" She felt his smirk from the other side of the phone, and blushed. How could she say no?

"I-It's okay. I'm almost ready anyways.."

"Alright, princess. I'll see you in a few." Marinette's neck and face flushed as she heard him chuckle and hang up. Princess, he called me princess. I mean, that's what Chat Noir used to call me, but it never really affected me until now. Ahh! If he does that again I'm gonna lose it.

Heart still pounding, Marinette shook her head and started to put a cute outfit together, but there was one thing Marinette had in the back of her mind, one thing that irked her. The boy in her dreams had black cat ears, and messy blonde hair. She wasn't dreaming about Adrien, no, she had been dreaming about Chat.

Marinette groaned aloud, looking at her shirts. "Tikki, I really think we should tell Adrien."

Tikki frowned to herself, and flew close to her ladybug. "Martinette, you know it's too dangerous. Especially if you're seen fraternizing with Chat Noir in civilian form, Hawkmoth might use you against him!"

Marinette looked at her kwami with pleading eyes, "But Tikki-"

"Marinette, there's a reason Master Fu trusted you to be the guardian. You don't put your feelings over your head, while Adrien, although sweet, can mix feelings and logic."

Marinette stepped in front of the mirror, patting down her skirt. Guilt seeped in the pit of her stomach. Maybe one day…

-

Adrien woke up, his hand flew to the alarm, disabling it, and getting up immediately to get ready. He thought of yesterday, when Marinette was on top of him, and so close. God, he really had to re-evaluate his morals, especially when the memory had caused something he wasn't prepared to deal with so early in the morning.

He slipped on a nice outfit, a standard black tee and black pants. He ruffled his hair slightly out of habit, wanting to show his wild side, his Chat Noir ego.

"Plagg, come on, we gotta go meet Marinette." The black feline-like kwami chuckled to himself as Adrien looked himself up and down in his mirror.

"Why Marinette? She your new girlfriend?" He nibbled on some Camembert, teasing him lightly. He knew Adrien's love for Ladybug was practically unbreakable since the first time he laid his eyes on her.

"Maybe, you never know."

Plagg spit out his cheese, choking, and looked at him in surprise. "What?" He sputtered, "B-But what about-"

Adrien petted the kwami behind his ears, laughing joyously. "Just teasing, Plagg. Calm down. Now I think I need to call her..." His voice trailed off as he reached for his phone.

Plagg looked at him in wonder. He wondered what would happen when he learned the girl of his dreams and his 'friend' were one in the same. Plagg scowled, and took another bite of his camembert.

He dialed Marinette's number and smiled. Knowing the girl, she was probably asleep. But calling ahead of time was preferable for someone who is always running late. "Hey, I'm coming over to pick you up."

He smiled, conversing with her. His conscience was muddled, yet his heart and body had a clear, different feeling to Marinette.

-

His heart stopped as soon as he saw her. His heart swelled, and so did hers the minute they really laid eyes upon one another. He knew it was just to explain what was going on but it felt like, well, it almost felt like a date.

Marinette smiled, her cheeks rosy with blush as his eyes practically devoured every inch of her body. She was so beautiful. Her dark navy blue hair, usually wrapped in her iconic ponytails, was now let down with the exception of the top half being held back with a small, white bow. Her usual attire was replaced with a casual dress, the top was white lace with flowers designed all around it while the bottom was an above the knee pink flowing skirt along with her light pink flats. Her smile though, it topped off the whole look. He felt himself flustered as well, he had felt over-dressed, but clearly was well appreciated by the glance her eyes did every now and then.

She bit her lip nervously, his messy hair, his black attire really showing his wild and flowing spirit. It was all so, so...attractive.

She shook her head, Adrien doesn't like me. He likes Ladybug. "Should we get going, Adrien?"

"O-Oh yeah. Right." He took her hand, his knees felt weak, but he disregarded them, and kissed the back of it. "Onward we shall go, m'lady."

"Falling for me already, M'lady? I need to talk to you." Chat Noir twisted his tail playfully, smirking up at the hanging superhero. Marinette, or Ladybug, shook her head and met him on the railing.

"It's got to wait, Dark Cupi- Uh, uh..." He pulled her close, shushing her and smiling blissfully. Her nerves wracked, surprised to hear what was so important.

"Shh. I swore to myself that I'd tell you as soon as I saw you..." Chat Noir, or Adrien disguised, had held a finger to her lips. Remembering that now sent butterflies across her abdomen.

"Ladybug... I... I- LOOK OUT!" His eyes flickered behind her quickly, turning them around and wincing as the arrow of hatred hit his back.

Ladybug gasped, "Chat Noir!" Still in his embrace, she felt herself tear up. 'No...'

Marinette remembered that day. His words of loathing that pained her... The kiss they shared, the kiss that brought him back to normal. The memory had hit her like a truck. My first kiss, it WAS with Adrien. Her eyes widened as soon as he had uttered those words, and she smiled. "Yes, we shall."

Adrien extended his arms, being charmingly silly and she laughed as she took it. "So, before we get into it… how about we get to know each other a bit?

"Oh? So like, what? Twenty questions?" She smiled, looking at the floor as they walked towards the park nearby.

"Precisely. I'll even start us off, if that's okay with you?"

"Okay, why not?"

Adrien and Marinette sat on a bench, and looked at her seriously. "Alright, Marinette. Answer this honestly…"

She chuckled, slightly nervous. "As honest as I can be."

"What's your favorite type of ice cream, Marinette?"

Marinette laughed and shook her head, the tension melting away. "Really? That's it? I thought-"

"That what? That I'd ask for your social security or something?" He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes.

"Well, to answer your question...I think they're all really good. But if I had to choose, it would be strawberry or red velvet. You?"

"Well, this cat enjoys himself some good strawberries. But I think my favorite has to be... mint chocolate chip. The freshness and chocolate is so good."

Marinette laughed, and then nodded in agreement. "Well, can't argue with that…"

"Alright, ask a question."

"Oh, my turn, okay…" Marinette looked up, pondering. "Ooh! I got one." She looked at him, smiling. "Night owl or early bird?"

"Oof, definitely night owl. But because of my busy modeling schedule and school, I wake up early all the time." Adrien shrugged, sighing. "My sleeping schedule is literally non-existent."

"Hah, amen to that. Akumas never stop, they are always causing a ruckus no matter what time it is."

Adrien laughed, "I guess you could say there ain't no rest for the wicked."

Marinette giggled, and subconsciously played with the ends of her hair. "Your turn."

Adrien smirked again, "Who's your favorite superhero?"

Marinette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I think out of all of them, definitely Rena Rouge."

Adrien lightly and playfully shoved her, "Oh really? Does leather not do it for you?"

Smirking, she gave him a daring glance, "It actually does."

It had meant to be playful and teasing, but when Marinette uttered those words, they both just stayed silent. It was as if the playful tension had turned into something more. Marinette's brows furrowed, intensely staring into his beautiful green eyes with thoughts that swarmed inside her head, and conflictions burrowed in her heart. She was Ladybug. And as Ladybug, she had decided that no, leather did not do it for her. But now…I mean, this was Adrien we were talking about. But… it wasn't. He was so much more than that. He was her partner against crime, one of her best friends, and this whole time she had held him on top of a platform when all he had wanted was to be seen as someone normal. Someone free. Despite all that, Marinette couldn't bring herself to push her lips against his even though she desperately wanted to. This isn't right, she scolded herself. I can't just be with him because he's Adrien. I love part of him, but now...

Her eyes widened as she realized she had zoned out, and that Adrien and her were once again mere centimeters apart. She suddenly looked down, nervously chuckling as she evaded his gaze. "So, now that we got that part out of the way… shouldn't we talk about what we came here to talk about?"

Adrien recoiled, slightly moving away as he realized how close he had been, "O-Oh. Right. So, um, super powers…"

Marinette let out a dry laugh, "It’s like magic?"

Adrien took a deep breath, ready to really pour his soul out to her. It was weird that it was someone else rather than Plagg, but he was kind of happy about it nonetheless. "Well, part of it..."

She smiled softly, wanting to hear his side of the story. Adrien glanced at her, and smiled back. "It was the first day of school, and I had just gotten home from trying to attend it, and-"

"Wait, so your father didn't want you to go to school?" Marinette stopped, looking at him in confusion.

"Yeah, my father can be very… strict, I guess. He wanted me to do tutors and homeschooling, but I wanted to be like everyone else so I tried to. I was almost there too, but I saw an old man stumble without his cane, so I helped him up. But since I did that, Nathalie, my dad's assistant, and Gorilla, my bodyguard, blocked me from the school entrance."

Marinette gently placed a hand on his shoulder, "You helped out someone in need, like the hero you are, Adrien."

"Yeah. Anyway, I learned that the old man I helped was the one who gave me the miraculous I found in my bag. His name is Master Fu, and he was the last guardian of the miraculous."

Feigning obliviousness, Marinette tipped her head in confusion. "Miraculous?"

"They're basically pieces of jewelry. Like my ring," Adrien held his hand up, showing her the silver band, "it's what I use to transform into Chat Noir."

"Oh, like Ladybug and her earrings, right? And me as Multimouse with the necklace?"

Adrien nodded, "Yeah, and so basically, this specific miraculous is the power of destruction. I can use cataclysm, and m'lady, well, she is creation. She's basically the yin to my yang. I can't save Paris without her."

Marinette shifted uneasily, and sighed. "I promise I won't tell anyone, Adrien. You should just be more careful. I can't imagine what would've happened if it had been someone else, like Chloe Bourgeois…"

"Hey, Chloe isn't that bad."

"Oh yeah, it's not like she didn't tell the whole world she's Queen Bee or anything."

"Heh, yeah. I guess you're right." As Marinette looked at the ground, Adrien placed his hand on hers, which rested on her thigh. She looked down at his hand, and a slight blush crept on her cheeks. "I'm glad it was you, Marinette."

She smiled, looked up at him, and placed her hand on his cheek, "Me too."

-

"Get your tickets, right here at the fair!"

A man could hear the carnival manager from his cage, he frowned. They had just captured him yesterday, and they were in town for today. He saw the curtains open as he was on display for the world to see. His talent to breathe underwater had him believed to be a mermaid, so they had locked him in a large aquarium-like tub and basically imprisoned him. The kids tapped on the glass continuously, annoyingly, and then they ended up tipping him over.

He felt like he was suffocating. A fish without air, and as he grasped for something, anything as he writhed in pain, he ended up grabbing a piece of fork on the floor next to a plate of falafel, and then he felt something enter the tiny, plastic utensil.

"Hello, Triton. I am Hawk Moth, I'll help you get your revenge on all these townies and these wretched captors of yours."

"What's in it for you, Hawk Moth?" A butterfly shaped purple light shone on his face, the area around his eyes which shone with anger and hurt.

"Well, I'm glad you asked..."

-

Marinette and Adrien strolled down the street towards the ice cream parlor. "No well, I actually believe that there may be aliens out there."

"Oh come on, Adrien. Aliens, really?"

"Well, if there's a ring you put on so you can have a cat warped into your ring and then be turned into a leather-suited feline, I'm pretty sure there's another form of intelligent life out there."

Marinette chuckled, "You got me there, Chaton."

"WHERE'S LADYBUG?! SOMEBODY HELP!"

They looked over as people ran down the street, screaming for their lives in fear as water followed quickly behind. It wasn't enough for a tsunami, but enough to lightly flood the streets and cause panic.

"Run, you filthy humans! Run!"

Marinette's eyes widened, "Adrien.. you should go-"

Adrien shook his head, "You need to be safe first." He picked her up bridal-style, causing her to squeal as he ran down the street, looking for a place to change. She looked up at him, amidst all the chaos, and felt her cheeks burning up. Now is not the time, idiot.

"Adrien, there!" She pointed down an alley, and he ran into it quickly. He set her down gently, and smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, you'll be safe. Plagg-"

Marinette grabbed his hand softly, interrupting him. "Adrien, you can't worry about me right now! I'll be fine, just go save Paris-"

"Do you seriously think I would leave you?!" His voice was angry, but his eyes showed care. "Do you seriously think I would leave you in danger?"

She stayed speechless, and he pulled his hand from her grasp.

"Plagg, claws out!" His kwami screamed, awakening from his slumber and being dragged into his ring. Green magic flowed around him as he turned into his alter ego, Chat Noir.

As his transformation finished, Marinette felt her breath leave her chest. This was real. Adrien was Chat... The boy I love... "C-Chat Noir..."

He grabbed her close, and lifted her up by her thighs with one hand.

Marinette stammered, "C-Chat, I don't think-"

Chat Noir ignored her cries and used his bo staff to extend to the roof. Still carrying her in his grasp, he started to run. She buried her face in his neck without thinking, holding on for dear life. Yet, even in this dire situation, all she could think of was how her body was flush against his. Not the time, not the time, NOT THE TIME-

They finally reached his house, he sat her down on his bed and locked the door to his room. "Stay here, Mari." He went to the window, about to leave, when she spoke.

"Maybe I can help, maybe I can go with you." Maybe I could just show him.

"No. Absolutely not."

"But-"

"I need you to be safe, You'll just distract me." He looked back, his eyes desperate, almost pleading. "Please."

Marinette nodded and smiled gently, "Okay... I'll stay here, I promise."

Chat stepped up to the window, hesitated for a second whilst glancing back to her, and ran out quickly.

Tikki flew out of her coin purse and looked at her confused, "You're not really going to stay here, right?"

"Marinette might. But certainly not Ladybug." She smirked, standing up and going into the restroom, locking it behind her. "Tikki, spots on!"

A bright pink light glowed throughout the bathroom as she turned into her alter-ego, then jumped out the window. Her yo-yo extended, and as she grappled from house to house and street to street, she helped the people in the streets from the water. It wasn't as bad as that one mermaid villain, but still, it was problematic. She ran from rooftop to rooftop, and finally found Chat fighting the akuma.

Chat grunted as he was hit by a strong burst of water which sent him flailing down the street. He groaned, standing up. "Where is-"

"Chat Noir!" Ladybug landed next to her partner. "I'm here. Are you okay?" She looked him up and down for injuries.

Chat raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off. "I'm fine. Though water isn't exactly my favorite, I can deal, M'lady."

Smirking, she shook her head. "That’s my kitty." She heard a shout and her eyes refocused on the akuma. "We need to come up with a plan. Where do you think the akuma is?"

"My bets on that shiny fork he keeps waving around." The akuma marched down the street and away from Ladybug and Chat, turning people who weren't hiding away into water minions with his trident.

"Let's find out. I think we just have to get you close enough and we could be done in a jiffy."

"In a hurry, m'lady?"

Ladybug flicked the bell on his chest playfully, "Well, as much as I love hanging out with my favorite kitty, I'd rather not fight an akuma-possessed person. Now, let's get this over with."

She walked toward the akuma as Chat Noir furrowed his eyebrows. They had always had teasing banter, but this seemed a little different. More flirtatious? He shook his head, and followed his lady into battle.

-

"Miraculous Ladybug!" She threw the broken trident in the air, and grinned as everything was brought back to normal. Ladybug smiled wide, and then pounded Chat Noir's fist. "Pound it!"

Chat Noir helped the man up, who was already struggling to breathe. He looked to his love, "I should get this guy to a hospital, he seems to be having a tough time breathing."

"Yeah. You probably have a better chance of not transforming back than me right now." Ladybug smiled, then went to hug him. "Be careful."

Chat Noir instinctively hugged her back although surprised at the action. "What was that for?"

Ladybug pulled back, "Just be careful, okay?"

"Always am, m'lady." With a small bow, Chat Noir was on his way.

Ladybug watched him leave, and sighed. "How am I falling for such a goof?" Hearing her earrings beep, her eyes widened. "Oh crap! I gotta get to Adrien's before I transform back!"

Swinging her yo-yo, she went on her way to Adrien's as fast as she could. "I can do it, I can do it, I- AGH!"

Ladybug screamed as a bird flew into her face, and she fell onto the street with a loud thud. "Jesus, why?" She stood up, groaning. "That hurt so much-"

Another beep rang in her ears and she squeaked as she ran behind the nearest ad tube (wtf are those things called?!) and transformed back without anyone seeing. "Phew, that was close."

Marinette shook her head, and decided to run back to Adrien's. If she couldn't make it through being Ladybug, she'd have to make it on foot.

Her flats hit the pavement lightly, the hard cement bruising her feet through the light material as she ran through the streets of Paris. She saw Adrien's house in the distance, and grinned. "Almost there- oop!"

Her arms and knees hit the pavement harshly, and she hissed in pain. "Damn it." She stood up, her clothes dirty and slightly torn. "Adrien will know I left…"

She disregarded her injuries, and ran (albeit slightly slower), to the Agreste mansion. She rang the bell quickly, trying to regain her breath as she waited for someone to answer. The camera pulled out not a minute later, "Who is this?"

Marinette put on a smile, "Hi, I'm a friend of Adrien's. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I came by to help him with a project we're working on.” Reluctantly, Nathalie made a disapproving sound. Marinette pleaded, "I'll be in and out, promise!"

The gate opened and the young teenager beamed. "Thank you!"

She ran in, making her way up the stairs, and went to open the door. "Finally-" It was locked. She groaned. "Seriously!"

She leaned on the door, sighing. Adrien might get upset at her, and now she would look terrible in front of her crush and-

The door opened, and Marinette made an incomprehensible noise as she fell backwards into Adrien's body. "Marinette? I thought I told you not to leave?" Adrien helped her up and looked at her confused.

Giggling shyly, Marinette's hand flew to the back of her neck. "It's kind of embarrassing, but I went exploring the mansion and I kind of got lost. And then I kind of fell, and then I realized I accidentally locked myself out and-"

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Adrien smiled. "It's okay to be curious, Marinette. I don't-"

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked her up and down. "You hurt yourself." Pulling her, he closed and locked the door to his room again, then led her to his restroom.

"Adrien, I'm fine. It happens all the time- ah!" He suddenly picked her up and placed her on the bathroom counter. He then leaned down and got the first aid kit under the sink.

"Just let me help you, okay Marinette?" He stood straight again, and soaked a cotton ball with alcohol. "You're always so clumsy…"

"Yeah, that's me, heh." She shrugged, used to it by now. Adrien grabbed her leg gently, and she bit her lip. Okay, this can't be happening right now.

He smiled at her, then gently pressed the wet cotton ball against her scraped knee. She hissed in pain, her hand flew to his shoulder instinctively, and she clenched her jaw. "Adrien, it stings." This wasn't exactly how I imagined groaning his name aloud to him, but beggars can't be choosers.

"Relax, Mari. It'll go away." She frowned, and her lip ended up bleeding a bit by the time he had finished putting bandages on her scrapes.

"Thank you, Adrien." She hopped off the counter, landing by his side. "Um, this is kind of awkward, but do you have any clothes I can borrow? Mine are kind of tattered, and I don't want my parents to-"

Adrien cut her off, and his lips formed a small smile as he spoke, "No problem. I'm pretty sure I have something you can borrow, let me just check... " He walked out of the bathroom, towards his dresser, grabbing his favorite hoodie and a random pair of joggers. He walked over to the bathroom and handed them to Marinette, "I think they'll fit you; if not, let me know, okay?"

"I'll give them back as soon as possible-"

"It's fine, Marinette. As a matter of fact, you could keep them if you want to."

Marinette blushed, "A-Are you sure? I mean, these are literally model clothes-"

"I'm sure." He smiled reassuringly, and closed the door for her as he exited out of the restroom.

She looked down at the clothes in her hands, and slightly blushed. I'm going to be wearing Adrien's clothes, and they smell just like him too… like when he cradled me close to his chest… Jesus, I need help. She took off her clothes, folded them, and put on Adrien's clothes. The hoodie was warm, and the joggers were straight up comfy, but both were baggy and tugged on Marinette's heartstrings. I'm at Adrien's house, wearing his clothes. God, I'm hopeless. She self-consciously looked in the mirror, grabbing lip-gloss from her purse and re-applying it. Tikki peeked out, "Are we leaving yet?"

Marinette squeaked, then responded in a hushed whisper, "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry, but when are we leaving?"

Marinette pursed her lips, "I don't know just yet… I’ll let you know." She put her lip-gloss back in the purse, and snapped it shut. Opening the door, she grabbed her coin purse and clothes, setting them on the dresser. "Adrien?"

"Over here." She saw him just walk in with a tray of croissants in hand, and smiled. "Sorry, figured you'd want a snack."

"No, you're fine. Just- yeah." She awkwardly laughed, and sat on his bed. He sat beside her, and offered one. She took it, hungry after the day's events. "Your hoodie is nice, by the way."

He smiled, "Thanks, it's actually my favorite."

Marinette's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Wait, then, why'd you give it to me?"

"Why not?" Adrien quipped, smirking at her as he took another croissant from the tray between them. Their conversation was light and lasted hours, the topic going from the akuma, to video games, then to their homework, and more.

Marinette giggled, "Wait, so Chloe actually did that for you when you were little? I cannot imagine that from her..."

Adrien laughed, "Yeah, I know she's changed a lot. But I know how she truly is, and that's what matters."

She smiled softly, "Yeah, you're right. We may have our moments, but… I know how kind she can be, even if it isn't towards me."

"Hahah, I don't get it. You're the kindest person I know."

Her cheeks reddened, "I beg to differ."

"What do you mean?" Adrien set the tray on the floor, and looked at her quizzically.

"Well, clearly, you've never met you." Marinette's hand brushed against his that lay on the bed, and she looked down in surprise. Adrien looked down too, and enveloped her hand in his, hesitantly. Almost as if testing how it would feel, and his fingers then intertwined with hers, deciding as if it was worth it. His green eyes found hers, and their hearts hammered against their chests. Marinette subconsciously bit her lip, and instantly his eyes focused on them. Their faces seemed to drift closer ever so slowly, and Adrien rested his forehead against hers, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Mari…"

She didn't want to look up at him, she didn't want to look into those beautiful green eyes.

"Princess?"

Because she knew…

His hand cradled her cheek, and his thumb grazed her bottom lip. "Look at me, princess."

She stayed quiet, and instead cuddled her face into the croon of his neck. Adrien sighed, "It's getting late, I think I should take you home."

"Wait...what time is it?" Marinette scrambled up awkwardly, grabbing her coin purse for her phone. She clicked her phone and groaned as she saw a couple of missed calls from her parents. "Yeah, if I start walking now, maybe I could-"

"Plagg, claws out!" Marinette gasped, turning around as she saw the boy of her dreams glow green as leather enveloped his body.

"Adrien, what are you doing?"

The blonde boy smirked at her, walking towards the open window, and stood out on the ledge. He looked back, and held out his hand. "Do you trust me?"

Marinette giggled, "Are you seriously quoting Aladdin right now?"

Adrien's smirk grew, "Do you trust me?"

She walked up, smirked and rolled her eyes, putting her hand in his. "With my life."

He laughed, suddenly picking her up by her waist as her arms wrapped around his neck. "Then hold on tight, Princess."

Her giggle rang loud, and he extended his baton, jumping from building to building. His jokes and her quips eased the tension from earlier away, making it disappear quickly. As he took her home, neither could explain to themselves what their hearts tugged for, neither could even understand what they felt. Almost in sync, their hearts swelled with something, something unconditional. Something indescribable. Something pure.

Do I still love Ladybug...? Adrien pondered as his chest became slightly breathless, his gaze on the raven-haired girl's smile, loving almost every second they spent together on the way to her home. Will I ever love Marinette? I'm looking too much into it... We're just friends... Right?

They landed on her balcony with a light thud, and she slowly untangled herself from him. "I guess this is goodnight, Chat Noir.”

He smiled, "I guess it is, princess. See you tomorrow?"

She bit her lip, then suddenly enveloped him in her arms. "Chat… Adrien…"

"Mari?" His hands laid at her waist, and his chest filled with warmth and anticipation.

Marinette looked up at him, she gulped at the anticipation in his green orbs and finally spoke:

"Adrien… kitty... I'm... I think I'm in love with you..."

----

What did ya think?

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous chat noir #ladrien #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #miraculous au #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir