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wlwmarvelenthusiast · 3 years

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Turn Your Luck

Summary: After a day filled with bad luck and a series of unfortunate events, Natasha manages to turn your day around

Pairing: Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: None

Words: 6,167

When you woke up in the morning and smacked your big toe off your bed frame, you didn't even think twice of it. It sent a jolt all throughout your foot, but after a few swear words, you were already feeling a little better. You didn't bother making the bed you'd just stood up out of. All your life you'd reasoned that it wouldn't be 24 hours before you just messed it up again. You grabbed a towel and moved into the bathroom. The hot shower made you forget all about the sore toe you'd been sporting only a moment earlier.

You were feeling great when you stepped out of the shower. The warm water had always instilled comfort into your very bones even this early in the morning. You wiped some of the condensation off the mirror to brush your teeth. The tube of toothpaste was completely empty, and the drawer where you usually kept the new ones was also barren. You rolled your eyes at your own irresponsibility, before brushing your teeth without any toothpaste and then using some mouthwash to try and compensate for it. You stepped out of the bathroom.

You got dressed in your favourite white shirt and black pants before making your way into the kitchen. You tossed your phone onto the counter as you passed it on the way to the small kitchen table. You were after the fruit bowl, which was already needing a refill. There were still a few apples left, though, and you were expecting to have one for breakfast. You were mistaken. You pulled the empire apple out of the blue bowl to find the bottom had grown immensely soft and was clearly not in any condition to be eaten. You were disappointed but tossed it into the compost bin and moved on.

Humming a soft tune as you moved, you popped a pod into the single-serve coffee maker and pressed start. You were moving toward the fridge in no time when a strange noise caught your attention. You whirled to face the coffee maker. Instead of the steady stream of coffee you usually got, it was spraying the hot liquid like it was a shaken pop can. You jumped behind the small island, using it as a shield. Thankfully, you'd managed to keep your white shirt safe from the wrath of the coffee. When it stopped, you finally dared step back into the kitchen. The dark liquid was dripping down every nearby surface. You huffed, running some paper towel across the biggest surfaces quickly.

You gave up on the coffee. It seemed you weren't going to get it anyway. You glared at the machine as if it had intentionally smitten you. Instead, you reached into the fridge instead and poured a glass of orange juice for yourself. You sipped it before setting it back onto the countertop. When your phone buzzed and indicated an incoming message, you reached for it. Your elbow hit your glass and it fell onto its side. The orange liquid spilled off the counter and into your white shirt. You gave the mess the middle finger, tossing a dishtowel on it to soak it up, with the intention of actually cleaning it after work. You already had to clean the coffee up anyway.

Any attempt at breakfast was abandoned. After the three kitchen incidents combined, you were convinced you'd be better off heading to some drive-thru on the way to work. Now in a new blue shirt, you grabbed your bag and headed out your front door. You unlocked your car, slid into the driver's seat, and hit the ignition. The car sputtered for a few seconds, before refusing to start. You tried again, and then again, before groaning, taking out your frustration on the steering wheel in front of you. You stood up and stepped back out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind you with much more force than necessary.

Then, it was off to the bus stop. You headed down the sidewalk to the nearest one, pulling out your phone as you walked so you could check your app to find out when the next bus was coming. When you saw big red letters informing you that the bus was halted until further notice, though, you had to refrain from throwing your phone hard into the concrete. You supposed you should have had a little sympathy for those in the accident that had halted your bus, but you couldn't find it in yourself right then. Your morning was not going well.

It was a good thing you hadn't smashed your phone against the sidewalk. It was the only thing you could use to get you to work now. You switched apps and ordered an Uber to come to pick you up. When the driver arrived, you climbed into the back seat and gave him the address of your place of work. He nodded and pressed his foot down on the gas. Your eyes had been glued on your phone, but your gaze flickered at the driver's movement. He was adjusting the mirror and you were absolutely sure he'd angled it to face you a little better. You could have puked when you realized the creep was checking you out. You didn't say anything, at this point just wanting to get to work and be done with it.

You practically sprinted into the building when you arrived. Security didn't seem to mind your rush, having seen your face every day for over three years anyway. You hopped up the stairs two at a time, faster than the elevator would have been able to carry you anyway. When you reached the meeting room door you took a few seconds to catch your breath, not wanting to seem too flustered in your professional environment. When you finally pushed the door open, everyone was rising to their feet. Their eyes all darted up to glance at you. You smiled sheepishly.

"You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry." That was honest. You might have been frustrated, but you hadn't wanted to inconvenience any of your coworkers as well. "I've really had a rough morning."

Your boss nodded. "We've all had those days. I'll send you an email and give you a summary."

You thanked him and left the meeting room with everyone else. You trudged into your office, throwing your bag to the floor, and refraining from slamming the door behind you. You collapsed into your office chair and closed your eyes for a brief moment. But you didn't have time for that. The paperwork on your desk needed your attention. You gave it. The hours you spent on all the files, emails, and documents were the smoothest thing that had happened all day, even if it was mind-numbingly boring and felt absolutely endless. It might have been smooth sailing, but it didn't brighten your spirits at all.

When your phone rang, you reached out blindly until you felt your hand come in contact with it. You shuffled it until it was upright in your hand. You were so completely absorbed in the document that was displayed on your computer screen that you didn't even bother to look at your phone as you fumbled to slide the answer bar. Only when the incessant ringing had finally ceased did you know you'd successfully answered the call. You hesitated before you slowly raised the phone to your ear, eyes still scanning the lines in front of you.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hun."

Immediately you regretted not checking the caller ID before answering the phone. You could have kicked yourself. In fact, the move was so ridiculously and incredibly stupid that you could have beaten yourself to a pulp. The voice on the other end of the line was familiar, completely unwelcome, and not a surprise after having the day that you were having. You turned away from the screen, resting your elbow on the desk and massaging the migraine that was beginning to form in your forehead. You sighed heavily, sure she heard it.

"Hi," you stated. "What?"

"Hun-"

"Please stop calling me that, I already asked you."

You had asked her that. Multiple times. You'd broken up months ago after she'd broken your heart. Catching her in bed with someone else had left you shattered and unsure if you could trust anyone. You'd been okay for a couple months now after some comfort and reassurance from your best friend, who you were having dinner with tonight. You glanced at the time. Your attention was unfortunately brought back to the girl on the phone, though, when she sighed your name as if she were the one who was hurt. She had no right to be hurt.

"I just-"

"I'm working," you finally said bluntly. "Is it urgent?"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I... I can call you tomorrow."

You wanted to snap and tell her not to bother, but you didn't. You just nodded despite her not being able to see it, said goodbye, and hung up. Once more you were faced with the urge to smash the stupid phone. Once more you fought it, instead shoving it into a drawer so you could ignore it and work on the mountains of paperwork you had to get through before your six o'clock reservations. You got back to it. Soon enough, the information was able to push your ex far from your mind. You didn't want to think about her anyway.

It felt like it had been eons since you'd arrived at work, and yet, according to the clock in the corner of your screen, you still had over an hour until your reservation. You might have slammed your head down onto the desk in front of you had two things not stopped you. The first was the migraine that was still throbbing in your head, and the second was the ringing of your office phone. Even though you knew she couldn't call you on here, you checked the caller ID before you picked up this time. It was the front desk.

"Hey, Tamara. What's up?

"There's someone here for you. She said you're going to miss your reservations."

"Reservations? It's only 4:45."

Tamara hesitated. "Daylight savings. It's 5:45."

You had entirely forgotten about that and even if you hadn't, you would have expected the computer would auto-update something like that. But you had forgotten, and the computer hadn't jumped forward, and now you were going to be late, and you still hadn't turned in the file that you'd promised to turn in today. You groaned in frustration, but transferred the file to a flash drive, shoved it into your bag, and left your office. Clearly, everyone else had remembered the time change, as the office was empty.

You cursed all of your coworkers in your head. You made for the elevator. When you stepped on and hit the button to bring you down to the lobby, you actually crossed your fingers. With your luck, all of the cables on the elevator would snap and you'd plummet all the way to the parking garage and die in a fiery explosion. Thankfully, your little gesture of luck seemed to work, for the doors slid open safe and sound in the lobby. As you stepped out, though, your bag hit the door, and the company ID snapped off and slipped in that tiny little crack between the elevator and the floor and out of sight. You cursed loudly.

You didn't dare shine your flashlight down the crack to try and see how far it'd gone; either your phone would have gone down after it out the doors would have slammed shut on either side of your skull. Neither of those things were a chance you were willing to take. You abandoned your ID and continued to the front desk, letting Tamara know what had happened. She nodded in understanding before pointing out your best friend, who had come to collect you after you'd let her know this morning that you'd taken an Uber to work. You approached her and tapped her shoulder.

"Hey," she said brightly.

"Hey, Nat."

Natasha Romanoff was the best thing to happen to you all day. She was your very best friend. Too, maybe you wanted her to be a little more. She was the most beautiful woman you'd ever laid eyes on, the red waves on her head only accentuating her emerald green irises, which sparkled when she smiled at you. That was only her physical beauty. Though she was, to most everyone that knew her, a tough, scary Avenger, you knew it was a façade. Natasha was the kindest, most generous, selfless, and caring person you'd ever had the pleasure of knowing.

"Tamara tells me you forgot about daylight saving time started last night."

"Shut up," you grumbled.

"Irritable because you lost an hour of sleep?"

"Nat," you said, already feeling bad for snapping at her. You rubbed your head. "I'm not having the greatest of days."

That was how your friendship with Nat was. You both understood that not every day was a good day. She tried to convince you not to compare, but you especially understood that. Natasha had been through hell on Earth when she was a child and you wished with every fibre of your heart that you could bear some of that for her. But you couldn't, and you were sure that if you could have, she wouldn't let you. So instead, you understood the bad days, and in turn, she did too. When you stated that today was one of those days, she turned to you with concern sparkling in those beautiful eyes.

"You okay?" She asked.

Your heart fluttered when her hand took yours.

It was a friendly gesture, of course, but you couldn't help but wish it otherwise. You wanted to hold her hand and have it not be just as a friend. You wanted to be able to intertwine your fingers with hers and squeeze her hand tight and feel that constant touch against her. You didn't want it to be friendly, you wanted it to be more. You wanted it to be so much more. You wanted to call her yours and for her to call you hers. But she was just a friend, and it was far better than nothing.

You hadn't always believed that someone could fall in love without some sort of a romantic relationship leading up to it. Now you realized it didn't need to be romantic. You and Natasha were close. You were closer than you'd ever been with anyone before. Because of that relationship, you knew you loved her. You were head over heels in love with her at this point, and you'd realized that a little while ago when you caught yourself fondly admiring her as she drummed her fingers against the table, deep in thought. It was a habit that had once had the ability to drive you up the wall.

"Hello?" She tried again. Her hand squeezed yours.

Your stomach flipped. "Yeah. I'm alright. Just waiting for my bad luck to run out."

"What happened?"

"What didn't happen?" You scoffed. "My fruit is all spoiled, my coffee maker broke, I spilled orange juice on my favourite white shirt, my car won't start, my bus wasn't running this morning, my Uber driver was a creep, I missed my meeting, I almost missed our reservations, I lost my ID badge and... she-who-must-not-be-named called."

Natasha's eyes darkened, her hand gripped yours tighter, and her gaze moved to meet yours. You took a chance and swiped your thumb over the back of her hand to try and get her to ease the tension out of her muscles. It seemed to work, as she relaxed a little. Her shoulders moved back down, the crease in her eyebrow lessened, she loosened her grip on your hand and exhaled carefully. She nodded in thanks, green eyes once against soft and gentle as she searched your eyes. You knew she was looking for any hint of you being upset. You weren't, though. You were with her.

Natasha hated your ex-girlfriend about a hundred times more than you did. She'd begged you to let her sneak over to her house at night and slash her tires and egg her house. You'd given that a firm no, not wanting Nat to get in any sort of trouble. It was Natasha's idea to never speak her name again, and to burn a bunch of photos and clothes that were left behind at your house. She'd gone so far as to have the bench you'd once carved your names into removed from the park and replaced with a brand new one... on Tony's Starks card, of course.

"What did she want?"

"Dunno. I told her I was busy," you actually laughed a little for the first time that day. "It wasn't exactly a lie. I was swamped today."

"Hey, if Fury is overworking you, I'll kick his ass."

Imagining Natasha kicking Nicholas Fury's ass was utterly amusing. You had no doubt she could, but Fury was a force. She'd kick his ass and the next day half of S.H.I.E.L.D. would be at her doorstep to retaliate. But he was a good boss. It wasn't his fault you'd procrastinated your own work for days. That was on you, and you knew it. So, you shook your head no, he wasn't overworking you. She seemed satisfied by that, but the topic of your ex wasn't dropped yet.

"Next time she calls you can direct her straight to me."

"Tasha, you won't answer."

"Damn right I won't."

You laughed again. It brought a smile to her face too.

With that, you continued on down the street without another word of she-who-must-not-be-named. You had almost reached the restaurant where Natasha had left the reservations when you stepped on something that most definitely was not concrete. If Natasha hadn't had your hand, your leg sliding out from underneath you would have left you on your ass. She held tight to your hand, her other arm catching you around the waist. You had to force yourself from blushing red as a tomato.

You glanced down at what you'd stepped in and could have punched someone. The white paint that was being used on the storefront had spilled onto the sidewalk and of course, you'd stepped in it in your new, black shoes. You scraped the bottom of it off on the sidewalk, grumbling all the while. Natasha had let go of your hand when you'd tugged it away from her to wipe the excess paint on the side of your shoe onto the post of the 'no parking' sign next to you. It was still ruined, but at least you'd gotten enough off that you wouldn't stain the restaurant's floor.

"You weren't kidding with the bad luck, huh?"

You shook your head no. You motioned onward, though. She got the hint, and you closed the distance between you and the restaurant. You shifted your bag on your shoulder as you stepped in, hoping they wouldn't notice the wet paint you were tracking onto their floors. If you managed in and out without them seeing, you'd be alright. It was New York City. You were sure people had walked in with worse things on the underside of their shoes.

You watched Natasha closely as she gave her name for the reservation. You hated how the host eyed her even more than you hated how your Uber driver had eyed you this morning. You didn't want anyone to eye her like that. You wanted to be the only one allowed to look at her like that. You knew you weren't, though. You ripped your gaze away from where it had been travelling along her jawline just in time for the host to arrive and lead you to your table. You sat across from her, keeping your eyes down and you collected your thoughts.

"What are you having?"

When you looked up, her eyes were trained on you. Her eyes were your absolute favourite part of her. They always shone so brightly, and so clearly expressed whatever she was feeling. They sparkled like they could see into your very soul and were so deep you could get lost in them for hours. Even the colour was perfect. They were that amazing shade of green that had very quickly become your favourite colour. You often found you'd been staring into them for a little longer than what might be considered normal. Now was one of those times. You looked back down at the menu.

"I'm not sure. Definitely a drink," you hummed. "Though I might get poisoned."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't think your luck is so bad that your assassin will choose to poison you today."

No, because she would protect you from anything. She always had. You might have been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but she was always stepping in front of you to defend you. You couldn't say you minded. You liked having her at your back. Some people had a physical location where they felt safe. You didn't. Natasha Romanoff was your safe place. When you were with her, you felt like nothing in the world could touch you. She wouldn't let anything hurt you, and you wouldn't let anything hurt her.

Soon enough the waitress was stepping up to your table and taking your order. You gave yours first, opting for a simple fettuccine alfredo. Natasha gave hers, unaware of the way you watched her lips moving as she talked. When the waitress left and she looked back to you, your eyes were cast toward the window, watching a young couple pass by, huddled close together in the cool March evening. When she called for your attention and you gave it immediately, looking over to her. She sipped her wine as you did.

"You said your car wouldn't start?" She said.

"Yeah. It keeps sputtering on and on."

"I'll drive you home and take a look at it tonight. I know a thing or two about cars."

It was a good thing she did, because you knew absolutely nothing about what was going on under the hood of the car. All you could think was that maybe the battery had died on you, but that wasn't possible. If you'd left the lights on, you would have been able to see it through the window in your bedroom the night previous, and you hadn't. There was no other reason the battery could have been drained. You'd driven the car yesterday from your house to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York location. You might not have known what the hell was wrong, but Natasha would figure it out in seconds. The thought of her bent over to study the underside of the hood made you shiver.

The image was pushed from your mind when the waitress returned with your food. She placed your pasta down in front of you and you thanked her politely. She set Natasha's down as well. The redhead smiled widely and after double-checking that everything was alright, the server left the two of you to your dinner. Natasha glanced up at you, a very amused smile playing on her lips. You knew exactly what it was about, too. You'd gotten the wrong order and said absolutely nothing of it. Honestly, you didn't really care. At this point in the day, you just wanted to eat.

"You could've said something," Natasha teased.

"It's nothing. I'm hungry and this is just as good."

"We can still say something."

"It's fine," you assured.

"Let's stop and buy you a couple hundred good luck charms on the way back to your place."

You laughed aloud.

Dinner was good, despite having gotten the wrong order. You suspected that was due to Natasha's presence. The two of you had been exchanging stores of the craziest missions you'd ever gone on. Of course, she was winning. She was an Avenger. Your missions as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent were anything but boring, but they didn't compare to the alien invasion last year that Natasha had been at the heart of. You'd been helping from the edges of the city, evacuating civilians and the like, but you suspected she'd killed hundred more of the Chitauri than you did: one.

Before long you'd both finished, and the empty plates were cleared away. The server returned to you with the bill. You made sure your card was out before Natasha could even think about trying to pay. They collected your card, and you gave Natasha a very smug little smirk. She only rolled her eyes and thanked you softly. You thought all was said and done when the server returned. You prepared to leave but she shook her head, signalling you to stop what you were doing. She reached out, handing you your card back. You took it.

"I'm afraid the transaction isn't going through."

It seemed that your bad luck had struck again. You were fully confident that there was enough money in your account. There had been last night when you'd checked it, anyway. Either you'd had the misfortune of your card deciding to kick the bucket while you tried to buy dinner for Natasha, or even worse, someone had gotten into your bank account and cleared it out. That thought made your heart drop into your stomach as you reached for your phone, hardly noticing Natasha pulling out her own credit card this time.

You prayed for one tiny bit of luck today. Your prayers went unanswered. You logged into your online banking to find that someone had managed to get your credit card number and had been online shopping all day. Your card had long hit its limit and you were already dreading the phone call you were about to have with the bank. You huffed as you set your phone down roughly on the tabletop. Natasha glanced over at you as the server took her card this time. She raised an eyebrow. You were sure smoke was billowing from your ears.

"Luck isn't turning yet?"

You didn't answer that. "Thanks for dinner, Natasha."

She laughed. When the server returned her card and wished you both a good evening, she took your hand and dragged you back out the doors onto the noisy streets of New York. She was leading you back to S.H.I.E.L.D., where you knew she must have left her bike. When you got there, she scanned her ID and brought you both down into the parking garage. She brought you right to the motorbike and lifted the helmet off from where it was hanging on the handlebars. She reached out and set it on your head, doing it up underneath your chin. Her fingers brushed your skin as she worked at the straps.

"Normally I would never condone riding without a helmet, but I only have one. This head," she said, rapping her knuckles twice against the helmet on your head. "Is much more important than mine."

"Is not," you laughed. "There's hundreds of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but there's only six Avengers."

"And there's only one you," she insisted. "The helmet stays on that pretty little head of yours, and that's final."

That compliment seemed to awaken the butterflies in your stomach. They were still present when you both climbed onto the bike. They fluttered even more when Natasha told you to put your arms around her and hold tight. You could have stayed like this forever if she'd asked you to. You almost wanted her to ask you to, because you loved the ways your arms fit perfectly around her waist. Facing forward, she wasn't able to see the smile that was growing on your lips. Maybe all that bad luck was to make up for this.

Reluctantly, you took your arms off from around her when she pulled into your driveway. She put the kickstand down and took the helmet once you'd pulled it off and handed it back to her. You straightened out your hair a little bit in the reflection of your car window. Wordlessly, Natasha had moved to the hood of your car and tapped on the red paint to get your attention. You unlocked the car and popped the hood for her. She unhooked the latch and lifted it up, studying the inside carefully. That scene you'd been picturing earlier was coming true before your eyes.

"Start the car for me?"

You nodded. You dropped your bag on the doorstep, digging through the pockets until your hand had closed around your car keys. You withdrew them by tugging on the dinosaur keychain that Natasha had once given you after winning it at the arcade, where you'd spent hours at all the different games. You slid into the front seat, turning on the car when Natasha gave you the thumbs up. The car sputtered loudly. Then it made a sound you might have mistaken for a gunshot. The backfire nearly made you jump out of your seat. You quickly got out.

"You alright, Nat?"

"I'm good," she nodded. She moved away from the car. "It's probably just your spark plugs. When's the last time you had them replaced?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Hell if I know. I drop it off for a tune-up and expect them to tune it up."

Natasha laughed. "I'll grab some tomorrow and replace them for you."

You nodded. You watched as she reached up and grabbed the hood of the car, closing it again. She rubbed her hands against her pants. You clicked a button on your car keys, locking the doors. The lights flashed to indicate that it was indeed secured. You fiddled with the keys in your hand to get the house key out, opening your mouth to invite Natasha in as well, but found you couldn't find the golden key. You growled at nothing and dug through every pocket in your bag to see if it had fallen off in there, but there was no trace of it.

"My house key is missing."

Natasha actually laughed at this. "Did you walk under a ladder this morning? Spill the salt? Break a mirror?"

You glared at her. "Can you help me get in through a window?"

She nodded. You both moved around to one of the windows that you'd left open last night, after telling her you weren't sure you had locked it when you shut it this morning. Indeed, she found that once you'd removed the screen, she was able to slide the window open. You linked your fingers together to make a spot for Natasha to use for leverage. You boosted her through the open window and then moved back to the front door just as you heard the deadbolt slide out of place.

"My hero," you grinned as she opened the door. "I owe you a drink. Come on."

"I still have to drive home."

"Stay the night," you offered. "If you don't, I could very well just get murdered tonight."

Natasha laughed. "Well, I'd better stay and make sure you're okay, then."

You smacked her gently. She knew her way around your small bungalow well, having visited what could have easily been a million times. She made herself at home on the couch, tossing her leather jacket beside her. You moved into the kitchen, only paying half a glance at the towels you'd thrown over the two spilled beverages. You poured the both of you a drink and then brought them into the living room, kicking back on the couch beside her. You grabbed the remote, clicking the TV on. The screen lit up the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the beautiful face beside you that had been illuminated. You turned back to the screen.

"I can put Netflix on," you said, pressing a button. "What do you want to watch?"

"Can I test your luck?"

"What?" You responded, turning your full attention to her.

She didn't offer an explanation. You felt her hand touch your thigh. Your breath hitched and the remote almost fell to the floor. You managed to set it down on the table as your cheeks began to burn red. She left her hand there for a few seconds before it slid away, letting you take a moment to remember how to breathe. Her hand moved away and wrapped around her glass. You knew how obvious you were being when you watched her touch the rim to her lips and the slight movements in her neck as she swallowed the alcohol. You needed a drink too, but you were frozen.

"I just mean... I could either turn your luck around or just maintain the bad luck."

You still didn't know what she meant. She was setting her glass down on the coffee table. Her eyes searched yours and you were once again tossed into the sea of green that you were so obsessed with. When she leaned forward and connected your lips, though, you lost sight of emerald green. Her eyes had shut and only a second later, yours had fluttered shut as well. You put a hand on the back of her neck to hold her closer and moved your lips with hers. You wondered briefly if you were dreaming. You didn't have long with your thoughts. Your mind was so overcome with whatever was happening right now.

Natasha pulled back. Her hand had, at some point, moved back onto your thigh, and was resting there gently. Your hand moved to cover it. She flipped hers over so that her fingers could intertwine with yours and for the first time, it didn't feel like it was just in a friendly manner. It felt so much more than that, just liked you'd wanted it to. Your eyes moved from there up to her face. She had been studying you intently. You'd never seen Natasha Romanoff look nervous. Not until that very moment. You chuckled a little, nervousness in your chest as well, and let your eyes fall.

"You definitely turned it," was all you said.

"Yeah?"

"By a long shot. I mean, I think this amount of good luck was enough to actually balance out the bad luck."

You didn't know Natasha could giggle, but she did. The sound made a smile immediately spread over your face. You reached out and took her hands in your own. You leaned forward and kissed her again, infatuated with the feeling of her soft lips pressed against yours so rough and yet somehow so soft. One of your hands pulled out of hers so it could thread through the red waves on her head. You'd wanted to do that for so long. She only pulled back when you'd both lost your breath. Your forehead rested against hers and you could smell the whiskey on her breath.

"Do you know how long I've wanted that?" You breathed.

"I'd guessed it, but I thought it was just my imagination because I wanted the same thing."

You laughed. She put her hands on your shoulders, pushing your back down against the couch and then putting her knees on either side of your waist. Her lips were on yours again, a little hotter this time. You didn't complain. You just let her lean down over you and kiss you and run her hand down your side. You only raised a hand to her chest and pushed her away when you once more felt the need for oxygen burning inside your chest. She didn't move far, face inches from yours, studying you this time from above. You blushed under her gaze.

"I... I've felt really strongly about you for a while," you said, hand moving so you could trace your fingertips across her cheek. "You know what I mean?"

"Are you trying to tell me you love me without saying you love me?" She asked, the teasing back in her voice again. "Because you're not going to scare me off. You can say it if you want."

"I love you, Natasha."

"I love you, too."

You couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't funny in any way, but maybe it was the relief trying to find a way out of your body. The sound seemed to make Natasha's eyes, sparkle. Your heart softened and the laughter fell from your lips and you didn't move a muscle. Her face was so beautiful looking down at you like it was. You felt so right having her touch you like this and touching her the way you were. Her hands were holding her torso up above yours and yours were touching her face so gently. It wasn't like a friend touched a friend anymore.

"Thanks for turning my luck."

"Are you kidding me? I'm the lucky one."

"I think we're both really fucking lucky, Natasha. Thank you."

#natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #mcu #marvel #wlw #lesbian

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brandyllyn · 3 years

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Validation

Summary: Santi comes home early to find his new roommate a little undressed.

(Santiago “Pope” Garcia x f!Reader) Part 2 : Corroboration

My Masterlist

Word count: 5600 (I don’t know what the fuck happened). Read it on AO3.

Rating: NC17 (Explicit)

Warnings: oral (m & f receiving). alcohol.

Santiago slammed his truck door shut, leaning forward for a moment to press his forehead to the steering wheel. He needed to stop online dating. The chicks he picked up after hours in bars might not be the kind he ended up keeping around - but at least there he knew what he was getting into. The woman he had met tonight was using a picture of her granddaughter on her profile. And yeah, he didn’t have a problem with older ladies, but twice his age was really too much.

He groaned as he started the engine, swearing to himself and backing out of the spot. All he wanted to do was go home, get drunk, and maybe watch some basketball in his underwear. But he couldn’t.

Because you were there.

The light turned red and he coasted to a stop, mulling the issue over. It was a favor for Frankie. Put his sister-in-law up for a couple of weeks. Maybe a month while you were looking for a job in town. They didn’t have room at the Morales house, what with the baby and all, and Frankie had begged Santi to let you use his guest room for a bit. He’d agreed. 'Cause he was a nice guy and Frankie was a brother.

And to be honest, you weren’t exactly a horrible roommate. You cleaned up after yourself, spent most of your time in your room, and just generally gave him his space. Unless it was one of the nights you offered to cook, he barely saw you.

Which was a shame because you were exactly his fucking type.

"Do not fuck her." Frankie’s warning had hit him like a fist to the gut and he’d looked at the other man incredulously.

"Fish, you think I’d do that to you? She’s fucking family."

Frankie had eyed him dubiously. "Damn right she is. You fucking remember that when you meet her hermano."

It had taken approximately three tenths of a second for Santi to realize why Frankie had given him the warning. Standing on his front steps with a bag in one hand and a wide smile on your face Santi had had to resist the urge to throw you up against the front door and claim you then and there. The first day he had been a mess, alternating between staring at you and avoiding you. He knew you must have thought he was strange but he didn’t know what else to do.

And then you’d come out to get coffee the next morning wearing a tank top and a pair of tiny cotton shorts and every ounce of blood had shot straight to his cock and never come back.

Tonight was supposed to be a relief. A fucking date, his first since your arrival. But the octogenarian was a bust and he was pressing the button for the garage by barely eight thirty. He was home much earlier than he expected. Earlier than he had told you. He didn’t think about that fact as he parked his truck and entered the house through the side door. Didn’t think about it when he toed his boots off and wandered through the laundry room and into the hall, making a beeline for the kitchen and the bottle of tequila on the shelf there.

Maybe he should have.

If he’d have thought about it he might have called ahead. Texted to let you know he was going to be back sooner rather than later. Given you a heads up so that he didn’t walk in on you sitting in his favorite armchair wearing the skimpiest lingerie he’d ever seen in his life and about to take a photo of yourself.

There was just a moment before you noticed him. A moment where the phone blocked him from your view entirely and he couldn’t help how he froze, his eyes scanning over your body. And then your hand dropped, your brow furrowing as you looked at the picture. Another second ticked by before you looked up at him and then you screeched.

Santi spun on his heel, turning to face the wall and squeezing his eyes shut for good measure. "Fuck, sorry," he said, the words spilling out as he pressed one hand through his hair. He could hear you scrambling, muttering curses under your breath for a minute before your laughter shocked him out of his secondhand embarrassment.

"For Christ’s sake, turn around Santi."

He did so slowly, half hoping that maybe you were still… but no. You had a robe on, sash tied tightly around your waist. Yet even then, it was short. Barely covering the tops of your thighs. He’d seen that much leg before, those little shorts that made his fingers itch. But there was something about this expanse of skin. Of knowing that if he lifted the hem of the robe you’d be wearing just a lace-

"I thought you were going to be out late?"

Your voice cut off his train of thought and he tried to slip into his normal charm like it was a mask. "Yeah, date was a bust." He shrugged, walking past you into the kitchen. He really needed a drink. He slammed a cabinet door a little too forcefully while he searched for the bottle he swore he just bought.

"Want some wine?"

He raised an eyebrow when he looked at you, then at the nearly empty bottle of wine you were offering him. Well, that made things make a little more sense. You didn’t seem the type to take nudes - but maybe after a bottle of wine…?

He took the bottle, emptying the remainder into a glass and clinking it to yours before taking a sip. "Sorry I startled you."

You shrugged and the sleeve of the robe fell down your arm, exposing the wide straps of whatever the hell it was you had wrapped around your neck and dipping down to your breasts. It wasn’t a bra. Santi had seen hundreds of bras in his life. Whatever it was you were wearing did not qualify for the name. You pulled the sleeve back up with a casual tug, but now the front was gaping open and Santi could see the hint of your breasts.

"Sorry you walked in on that."

He wasn’t. In fact he was already mentally planning how he might set up this same situation again. What else might you do in the living room if you thought you were alone for the night? "Don’t worry about it, I told you to make yourself at home." Jesus Christ had he really just said that? "Who’s the lucky guy?" He grinned to cover the slight note of envy that crept into his voice.

"Who?"

"Whoever you were taking photos for," he gestured at your phone.

You bit your lip and then shook your head. "No, it’s not… there’s no he."

"She," Santi corrected with a shrug. "I don’t judge."

You laughed and Santi watched the way your throat worked. His beer at dinner and the wine now must be interacting in some strange way because he felt drunk. Light-headed. Like he wanted to lean into you and make some very bad decisions that Frankie would fucking castrate him for.

"No, it was… for a friend," you clarified.

Santi’s eyebrow rose. "You send your friends nudes?"

"They’re not nudes," you corrected him with a glare, "they’re just. You know… you send your friends photos and they hype you up. It’s validation." You sighed softly, "And it’s been a while since I got that."

Santi did not know. At no point in his life had he sent anyone he knew photos of himself. With clothes or without. Hell, he’d never even sent anyone a sexy message - he knew too well how much information someone could find on you if they wanted to. He kept things simple with a 'Mind if I come over' or if he was feeling particularly adventurous 'wanna fuck?'

No one ever complained.

"Validation," he repeated, rolling the word in his mouth. "Huh."

You sighed, setting your elbows on the kitchen island and leaning towards him. You didn’t seem to notice how the action pressed your breasts together or that he could see it in the way your robe gaped open. But Santi noticed. Santi noticed every detail.

"Not that you’d know anything about that." You said with an eye roll. "But some of us aren’t as cocky as you are. Some of us need our friends to reassure us we’re attractive."

Santi opened his mouth then paused, thinking about the next thing he was going to say. You didn’t seem to notice, finishing off your wine in a gulp and moving over to the sink to drop your glass. He shouldn’t do what he was about to do. He knew it - in fact he had promised he wouldn’t. But that had been before. Before he knew you or what your laugh sounded like or the way you smelled. Before the opportunity to do more than just want you had landed squarely in his lap and Santi was left with the easiest decision of his life. And he was nothing if not decisive.

After all, there was no harm in looking right?

"I’m your friend."

You froze in place and Santi swallowed, staring at the back of your thighs and what he thought might be the start of the swell of your ass. He let the words sit there before he said them again. "I’m your friend, querida."

You turned back to him, hands braced on the counter behind you. "What do you mean?"

"If you needed validation, why don’t you ask me?" Your lips parted as you stared at him, the soft gesture enough to send blood rushing to his cock. As if he weren’t already hard enough.

Finally, after what felt like eons, you smiled, huffing a laugh and moving to walk past him. "Funny."

He moved just slightly, not enough to block your way, but enough to force you to have to work to avoid him. He breathed deeply, smelling your soap and a faint overlay of something richer. "I’m a red-blooded man," he pointed out. "I think I can be reasonably counted on to appreciate a woman’s body."

You were so close. Close enough that he would only need to lean in to taste you, to run his tongue along your plush lips and sink inside of you. You blinked, looking away, and Santi realized that maybe he was coming on a little strong. Especially for someone who until recently had expressed no interest in you whatsoever. In fact had gone out of his way to give every impression of not being interested.

He held his hands up, moving to make plenty of room for you to continue by. "I’m only saying, if you’re looking for someone to admire your lingerie I’m right here and willing." He waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly, hoping the comical effect would lighten the mood and thank God it did. Your nose crinkled when you looked back over your shoulder at him, stopping near the kitchen table.

"I mean, I suppose you are my target audience," you mused out loud and Santi resisted the urge to adjust himself. He knew what you meant - but damn the idea of you buying lingerie for him was like gasoline on an already raging inferno.

He leaned his hands back against the island, facing you now. Feet crossed in front of him to hide the bulge in his jeans. He shrugged nonchalantly, listening to the blood rush in his ears, his eyes glued to your face. "Only if you want."

Your fingers were hesitant for just a second on the tie of your robe and Santi held himself still, keeping his eyes on yours. He wanted to see you. Fuck he wanted to see you. But he wanted you to want him to see you even more. Wanted you to feel the sense of power in turning him on. He was already there, you just hadn’t seemed to notice yet.

He saw your lips part. Saw the moment your lips quirked, as though you were laughing at yourself for even thinking of doing this. But your fingers pulled the sash and you shrugged and both it and the robe fell to the floor in a heap at your feet.

Santi tried. He really did. He tried to keep his eyes on yours until he saw that you were ready. That you were comfortable. But one of your hands twitched up to cover your stomach for a moment and his eyes followed the path immediately and then he couldn’t look away. There was probably a name for what you were wearing. He should definitely ask you at some point because his porn for the next month was going to feature this thing and it would make the search easier if he knew what it was called.

A wide band of lace - maybe two inches, in deep blue - starting behind your neck and running over your breasts to cover each nipple. The lace continued downwards, framing your stomach before meeting and disappearing between your thighs. There were small straps that went from the lace behind your back, out of sight, that must be holding the thing in place. In the front two sets of straps criss-crossed, one just below your ribcage and the other between your breasts. And right there, right between two of the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen, was a ribbon tied into a bow. Like a present.

He wanted to pull it apart with his teeth.

This… outfit had no practical use. If you moved too quickly you’d be falling out of it six different ways. It’s only purpose was to frame your body in the best light possible. To take your assets and offer them to someone else. To entice someone to commit several different sins with you all at once.

Santi was fucking enticed.

He realized abruptly that your fingers were twitching at your sides and more importantly, he had been just staring at you with no expression at all for what felt like several minutes - although it probably wasn’t that long.

"You’re beautiful," he blurted out.

Oh fuck, it wasn’t the right thing to say because you’re laughing and the motion is doing frankly amazing things to your breasts. But you were also crouching down and gathering your robe and yes that was definitely the wrong thing and he stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing your wrist before you could move further.

"Sorry, that was… you look…" he tried to find words that weren’t going to make you run away but all he could think about was how much he wanted to fuck you and if that lace actually joined together over your cunt or just skimmed around your thighs. "Fuck," he finally bit out.

"Well, that’s better," you said, picking up the robe with two fingers and standing up again.

"It is?" He asked incredulously and you laughed again.

"Santi, if I wanted someone to call me beautiful I’d take a photo on a Sunday morning and send it to my mom." You tried to make a gesture with your hands but he was still holding your wrist. You both glanced at it but he didn’t let go. "I want to hear I look hot. Like I’m smoking. Like you think you’ll come in your pants just seeing me." You gave him a wry smile and started to pull away. Started to put your robe back on and Santi rushed to stop you.

"Querida if you knew what I was thinking…"

You paused, partially turned away, and gave him an assessing glance. "Oh?"

His thumb stroked across your wrist while he considered his next words. He wouldn’t ordinarily. Fucking hell you were Frankie’s sister-in-law and he’d already been promised consequences for messing around with you. But your pulse was wild beneath his fingers and you were standing there looking like that and he just couldn’t bring himself to care about the consequences.

"You look like a fucking wet dream."

You dropped the robe, turning back to him fully. But he was too close. Too close to see you so he took a step back, then another, not letting go of your hand but holding it up between you while he let his eyes crawl over you.

"I’m going to jerk off later thinking about you," he said simply, watching you so closely he saw how your breath stuttered at the words. "Think about twisting my hands into that lacy bit of nothing and using it to hold you to my mouth. Is it scratchy or is it soft?"

"Soft," your reply was so low he barely heard it but it flowed across his skin like honey regardless and he didn’t bother biting back his moan.

"Fuck, of course it is," he nearly spit the words out, his fingers clenching around yours. "But you look even softer. Can I see the back?" He tugged on your hand as he asked and you didn’t hesitate before spinning around.

There was nothing there.

Well, not nothing. But five pieces of string no wider than fucking scotch tape was so close to nothing as to make no difference. He wanted to touch. Wanted to snap those strings against your body. Get on his knees and bite the globes of your ass that were perfectly exposed to him around the lines of what might charitably be called a thong.

"Fucking hell querida, I want to bend you over that table and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name."

You moaned. He heard it, clear as a bell in the room and he turned you back to face him. "When I say you look beautiful, that is what I mean. That I want to lose myself inside of you and not come out for days."

"That’s…" you trailed off, lips parted, your breath lifting your breasts in rhythmic motion.

"Validation?" He asked with a grin and laughed when you smiled in return.

"Yeah."

You were still holding his hand and he was sick of standing so far away from you. He pulled in the same motion he stepped towards you, encouraging you closer to his space. Looking down he could see your bare feet just a scant inch from his toes. If you took a deep breath your nipples would brush his shirt, hell if he took a deep breath they might. Ever so slowly he raised his free hand, hovering it over your chest before asking, "May I?"

"Please."

He groaned. Not 'yes,' but 'please' - said with a breathy moan that struck right to the heart of him. You were begging for his touch, your mouth slightly agape and your lips trembling with each breath. No man on earth could fault him for giving in. When his fingers touched the band of lace you took a shaky breath, eyes closing.

"It is soft," he commented, slipping his hand beneath to rub the fabric between his fingers. He slid his hand down, gently tracing over the lace until he felt the hard peak of your nipple pressing upwards. He paused for a second, lightly stroking, your entire body shifting underneath his touch, before he continued the path downwards. Over your stomach, your hip, just barely stroking at the top of your cunt.

"Soft," he said again and pressed his fingers a little harder, slipping between your lips and nudging at your clit. Your head fell back on a choked gasp and Santi’s control snapped. His hand wedged further, feeling your wetness coat along his fingers and forcing you to take a step back. Your ass hit the table behind you and he gently nudged your knees apart with his own. Now he had his answer, the lace never did join together between your thighs. There was absolutely nothing to stop him from twisting his fingers and pressing them up inside you.

You gasped again, his name this time, and he let go of your wrist to cup the back of your neck, jerking you forward and into his mouth. His tongue thrust inside, met immediately and enthusiastically by yours. Your hands came up to clutch at his shirt, twisting the fabric so hard he heard a faint rip at the seams. His lips quirked as he pulled away, his free hand falling to your wrist again.

"Seems I might be overdressed."

You nodded so earnestly he couldn’t help but grin, swooping in to kiss you again and pressing your hand to the buttons of his shirt. He could do it himself but that would mean pulling his fingers out of the hottest and wettest cunt he’d ever had the pleasure of being inside. And he wasn’t ready to do that yet. Instead he traced his fingers over the bow between your breasts, pulling gently before breaking away to ask, "What happens if I undo this?"

You had his shirt pulled free of his pants, the buttons undone and the fabric pushed back over his shoulders. He’d be more cocky about the lusty look on your face while you stared at his chest but he wanted an answer to his question so he tapped beneath your chin and forced you to look up. "The bow? What happens if I pull it?"

Your brows pulled together and you glanced down. "I think it’s decorative."

He hummed to himself and pulled, slightly disappointed when you turned out to be right. The sound of you undoing his belt hit his brain before he fully processed what your hands were doing and he finally pulled his fingers away from you, catching both of your wrists in his grip. You pouted, lips pursing and brow furrowing. Chuckling, he brushed his lips over yours and let you go, leaning down slightly to cup under your ass and lift you the few inches up onto the table.

"You got me distracted," he scolded, hooking one of the dining chairs with his foot and pulling it over. "I promised you my mouth, didn’t I?" Your eyes were hazy and he pressed a kiss to your temple before sitting in the chair, using his hands to spread your thighs wide. He stared for just a moment and then looked up at you, your breasts right at the level of his face. Never losing eye contact, he leaned forward and set his teeth to your nipple.

Christ, you made the most delightful faces for him. And noises too. He reached up and cupped your jaw in his hand, running his thumb along your lower lip where your teeth were digging into the soft flesh. He groaned when you pulled it into your mouth, your tongue caressing it and then sucking softly. He pressed his forehead to your chest, taking a deep breath.

"Lie back." He didn’t move as he said it, just mumbled the words into your cleavage. But he followed you when you did, catching a set of straps with his teeth and then letting go to turn his cheek to lay on your stomach. Slowly, he drew his fingers out of your mouth and down your body, grinning to himself when you shivered beneath his touch. Ticklish - he’d have to remember that for later.

He pressed a quick kiss to your navel and sat up, pulling your knees over his shoulders in one movement. You arched beneath him and he wasted no time tangling his fingers in that lacy bit of nothing you were wearing and pulling you closer to the edge of the table. He could see how wet you were, hell he could fucking smell it. That heady scent of arousal that made his cock jerk and his mouth water.

Santi moaned when he tasted you for the first time. It was partially technique, he knew the vibrations would riot across your nerve endings and drive you wild. But it was also just because he couldn’t fucking help it. He slid his tongue through your folds, pressing his tongue flat to you and burying his face into your cunt. He loved this. Loved making a woman squirm and moan for him. Loved the feel and taste and sound of it.

Loved that in this moment you were his.

He jerked his fingers tighter into the straps of your lingerie, digging into your hips and holding you still while he worked you with his tongue. Pressing his lips to your clit and shaking his head side to side, flicking his tongue over it, pulling it between his lips and humming. He pulled out every trick he knew, watching you heave and thrust and arch in his hands while he learned what you liked, what you didn’t like, and what drove you absolutely wild.

When he found that he kept at it, driving you higher and higher. Listened to you calling his name out while he coaxed your orgasm out of you. He wanted to be inside of you, wanted to feel the clench and pulse of your muscles while you came on his fingers. But before he could consider it, before he could try to untangle his fingers from your lingerie, your back arched a final time and he felt you get even wetter, your thighs clenching on his head.

Santi kept his mouth pressed against you while you came back down, gently licking deep inside you and staring up your body. You rose, propping yourself up on your elbows and giving him a bemused half smile and a huff of laughter.

"That was…" You started to say but he thrust his tongue inside you, pulling you closer and grinned when your back arched and your head fell back. "Fucking hell Santi…"

He turned his head to each side, placing soft kisses on your thighs before leaning back to look at you. "What else are friends for?"

God you were beautiful when you laughed, your eyes crinkling and your face breaking into a huge smile. "I feel very validated," you commented wryly and he nipped at your stomach, watching you flinch away from him and try to move backwards along the table. He twisted his hands in your outfit tighter, pulling you back.

"Now now," he tsked. " Where do you think you’re going?"

You stared at him and then sighed, reaching out and brushing a curl off his forehead. "You’re too close."

Santi felt his brows pull together. "What do you mean?"

Sitting up fully, you cupped his face in your hands and leaned down to kiss him, tongue stroking along the seam of his mouth. Tasting yourself on him. You pulled away with a small hum. "You’re too close to the table, I can’t fit in your lap."

The screech of the chair legs was loud in the room but it was covered up by the sound of your laugh. Santi pulled you off the table and onto his thighs, catching the joyful noise with his lips. You wrapped yourself around him immediately, settling onto him like you’d done it a thousand times before. This was… all of your bare skin. On him. Around him. At his fingertips.

He groaned when you pulled your mouth away. "I know there was talk of bending me over the table…" Okay, yes, he was listening. "But I was thinking maybe a softer surface, something more conducive to taking our time…"

The hesitancy in your voice hit him hard and he squeezed your sides and pulled your mouth back to his. "That is a fantastic idea," he mumbled against you. "I know of this great place just down the hall. King size bed. Just changed the sheets yesterday."

Your giggle sent pulse points of sensation through his body and he helped you stand up, unable to stop himself from leaning forward and pressing a kiss between your breasts before he did the same. He motioned you ahead of him down the hall. By all rights he should be leading - it was his room you were going to - but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to walk behind you. To watch all of you dip and sway as you sauntered in front of him. He reached out and cupped under your ass, pinching slightly and watched you jump and turn around right in his doorway. He didn’t stop, kept walking, shrugging out of his shirt and letting it drop to the floor. His hands fell to your hips, holding you close and dipping his head down to kiss you while he continued to back you up towards his bed.

He had a moment of disappointment when you ducked out of his embrace before you got there, side-stepping him and trailing a hand across his chest while you moved behind him. He leaned back against you when you wrapped your arms around his chest, groaning as your hands glided over him. You pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, licking up to his hairline. A shudder wracked his body and his hands covered yours, pulling you tighter around him.

"I want to see you," he heard you murmur into his ear, dropping one hand to his belt. "Help?"

"Anything you want," he promised quickly, pulling the belt free and jerking his pants and socks off together. He was left in only his black briefs and his thumbs hooked on them before he felt you stop him with a light touch. You ran your hands around the band, toying with it slightly. His fists clenched at his sides while he resisted the urge to turn around and toss you over onto his bed.

"May I return the favor?"

"What fa-" he started to ask but the words ended in a groan when you slipped your hand beneath his briefs and cupped the hard length of him. Fuck yes. Whatever the favor was you could return it as many times as you liked. As long as you kept stroking along him with those soft fingers and your other hand pushing his underwear down, down, down… much further down than you should be able to reach. It wasn’t until he felt you nip gently just at the top of his thigh that he realized you were kneeling on the floor behind him.

He turned without prompting, kicking his briefs off and nearly fell to the ground himself when you immediately took him in your mouth. "Oh Jesus fuck querida," he moaned, cupping the back of your head in his hands, "you’re going to kill me."

The pleased little hum that vibrated along his cock made his spine tingle. It turned into a shudder when you slid your mouth down him and felt himself nudge the back of your throat for a moment before you pulled away. Your hands were on him, thumbs pressed to the tops of his thighs as you guided him into a slow steady rhythm. Fucking in to your mouth and your tongue working against him.

He ought to close his eyes. The visual of you kneeling on the floor, that scrappy bit of nothing that was going to haunt his fucking dreams, your lips wrapped around his cock - it was too much. He jerked one hand off your head to grip the base of his cock tightly, giving you a half smile when you stopped sucking on him and gave him a quizzical look.

"You’re too good at that," he said with a shrug.

There was no way he could miss the pleased expression on your face, or the way you took the tip of him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. Your hand knocked his out of the way, guiding it back on to your head and then going back to stroke along him. It felt like you were taking all of him - every last inch into that perfect mouth. He let go of his tightly held control and just surrendered to the pleasure. Mentally cataloguing the sight and sound and feel of you and the best goddamn blowjob he’d ever had.

When he came it was sudden, he didn’t even have time to warn you. His toes curled and his eyes rolled back in his head and he grunted - the only sign before he was coming in to your mouth but you didn’t seemed phased, just sucked and fucking hell swallowed as he shuddered and cursed and stroked your face.

When the last drop of pleasure was wrung out of him he stumbled backwards, knees hitting the bed and he sprawled across it. His chest was heaving, one arm over his eyes while he tried to remember what his name was. He peeked out from under his forearm in time to see you rise to your feet, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and licking it.

"Fucking hell woman," he groaned, lifting his head slightly to look at you.

Your hands rose to the neck of the lingerie you had on. "Should I-?"

"Don’t you fucking dare," Santi growled, pointing at you for good measure and flopping back on the bed. "I’m not done with you," he said to the ceiling. "Just give me like… thirty minutes."

Your laugh floated across the room to him and he felt your weight shift the bed to each side of him. Suddenly his vision was you, straddling his waist and leaning over him. "Thirty minutes huh?"

He grinned and reached out to pull your hips closer. Smiling to himself he ran his fingers under the lace, rubbing it between his fingers. "With this thing? Maybe ten."

Frankie was going to murder him.

Somehow, he couldn’t make himself care.

Part Two : Corroboration

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #triple frontier #fic #smut

662 notes · View notes

fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Trapped Secrets

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader, Derek Morgan Platonic x Reader

Words: 3692

Summary: With no time to lose, you and Morgan storm an unsub’s house before the rest of the team gets there. After not hearing back from you, Spencer and the team start to panic. Injured, trapped, and keeping a major secret, you and Morgan have to stay alive in a frightened unsub’s basement.

Notes: I picture this in season four because that’s where I am in the series. Plus I really like Spencer’s hair cut at the beginning of this season. I am totally in love with Spencer Reid so expect to be seeing more imagines for him and for Criminal Minds in general! I hope you guys are as excited as I am.

Find more Spencer and more HERE

“You’ll be careful, right?” You asked, straightening your boyfriend’s tie underneath his vest.

“Only if you are.” Spencer gave you that little awkward smile that he always gave you. “Besides, I’m not going with Agent Action Hero.” He motioned to Agent Morgan; your search partner for the evening.

“He’s not an action hero.” You laughed, strapping on your vest. “He just really likes kicking in doors.” Spencer snickered slightly, but his expression was still uncomfortable.

“You jealous that I’m riding with your girl Reid?” Morgan laughed, patting the younger agent on the back.

“Morgan.” You hissed, jerking your head towards Hotch.

“What? We all know about you and the brainiac.”

“Yeah, and Hotch doesn’t exactly like being reminded about it.” The relationship between you and Dr. Reid wasn’t exactly protocol, especially on the same team. You hadn’t quite been able to figure out why SSA Hotchner hadn’t reported you or told you to put an end to it.

“You guys better get going. We only have about five hours before he’ll likely kill Audrey Lang.” Spencer hooked his finger with yours, only for a moment, but it sent a sweet, tingling feeling up your arm. With both of you being new to any kind of serious relationship, you stuck to pretty small signs of affection. You didn’t mind. It was personal and perfect. Spencer went to join Hotch and you headed to the car with Morgan.

“Is it just me, or did Reid actually look kind of worried?” Morgan asked. It was more to tease you than from concern.

“Shut up.” You couldn’t help but grin. Morgan had that effect. You got into the passenger side and waited for his list of snarky comments. He wasn’t done poking fun at you yet.

“I have to say, you’ve got ‘rule breaker’ all over you, but I honestly did not see this coming from Dr. Teacher's-Pet.” He shook his head with a smug smile and started the car. You just sat and rolled your eyes. Any response would just mean more provocation. “But dating a younger man… I always pictured you as more of the ‘Silver Fox’ kinda girl.” Now that pressed your buttons.

“Okay, first of all, just because I like Richard Gere, doesn’t mean I like older men.” You retorted, “Secondly, I’m not even that much older than Reid. There’s what, three years, between us?”

“Uuuhuuuh.” The side eye he gave you made you want to slap him. Morgan chuckled. “Come on, you and I are friends, right? Don’t I get a few little details?” From the smirk on his face, you knew what he was talking about.

“Derek Morgan, we are on a case. We are professionals on a case about three murdered federal employees. I will not divulge information regarding my sex life!”

“I never said anything about sex, Agent Y/L/N.” His grin grew and you begrudgingly turned your face to the window. Morgan laughed at the red flushing your cheeks. You would be mad if he wasn’t your best friend.

In the other car, Reid rode beside Hotch in tense silence. Spencer knew that his relationship with you could potentially get both of you into trouble with the bureau. Every time he was around Hotch, he waited for the reprimand. The unusual quiet was almost worse. Hotch turned a corner and took a heavy breath.

“It’s a bad idea. You know that right?”

“I know it’s against the rules, if that’s what you mean.” As intimidating as his superior could be, Reid was sure of himself.

“The rules are there for a reason, Reid.” Hotch sighed. He would give anything to not be having this conversation right now.

“Have either of us proven to be less efficient?”

“That’s not the point.”

“If our relationship complicates our work, I can assure you that Y/N and I will be the first ones to address it.”

“Reid-”

“You know, if anything, I think that we’ve working better together than we have in the past, which is saying something because Y/N and I-”

“Are you happy?” He asked a little more aggressively than he had intended. Reid just blinked at him blankly.

“What?”

“Are both of you happy?” He glanced over at the younger agent and Spencer shifted in his seat. He was awkward, but assertive.

“I can’t totally speak for Y/N, but… yes.” He sat and waited for his superior’s response. Hotch fixed his eyes on the road.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said okay.” Maybe he was going soft, but he’d never seen Reid or you like this before. If this relationship could help the both of you get through the horrors you saw every day, then turning a blind eye might not be the worst thing.

“Thank you.” Spencer felt a small smile creep onto his face. Hotch scowled.

“If a single problem arises, and I mean any dispute or laps in judgement-”

“You didn’t know anything about it. Got it.” Spencer stared at his lap to hide his smirk.

You were still avoiding Morgan’s inquiring gaze when Garcia’s voice came through your earpiece.

“Guys, Audrey Lang’s phone just turned on.”

“Where?” Morgan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“157 21st Street.” Your stomach turned. As selfish as it was, a part of you had hoped that someone else would be closer. Morgan whirled the car around.

“That’s just around the corner from us. We’re right on top of him.” He slammed on the brakes in front of the house and the two of you jumped out of the car. The house was about what you expected from a paranoid, conspiracy-obsessed unsub. The windows were boarded up and two different cameras looked down at you from the roof.

“Morgan.” You pointed to the devices. Jacobs knew you were here. He nodded and spoke into his radio.

“This guy has surveillance everywhere. He’s going to panic.” He glanced back at you, waiting for you to have his back. Despite your building panic, you didn’t have time to hesitate. You gave him a strong nod. “We’re going in.”

You pushed your fear to the pit of your stomach. If you showed even the slightest panic, Morgan would know and you could jeopardize everything. So when he kicked in the door, you were right behind him.

The house was silent. With guns raised, you both covered the first floor, finding nothing but scattered notes and ‘Big Brother Is Watching’ flyers. You located a flight of stairs leading to the basement and cautiously followed Morgan down. Similarly to the floor above, the basement seemed other than a desk with a few surveillance screens. Across from the stairs was a large metal door. It was open.

Morgan charged towards it, but something wasn’t sitting right with you.

“Hotch, how close are you and Reid?” You asked tentatively.

“Five more minutes. Have you found Mrs. Lang?”

“She’s in here!” Morgan announced. You stepped into the room, but kept close to the door. Morgan was kneeling over the unconscious body of Audrey. While she was out cold, she was still breathing.

“What about Jacobs?” Hotch asked.

“We looked everywhere upstairs and he wasn’t there.”

“Reid, when you went to the other crime scene, you said that the victim had been covered and made to look like part of the rubble, right?”

“Yeah, Jacobs wanted to hide the body. If the construction worker hadn’t been working there, it likely wouldn't have been found.” Spencer’s voice wavered as he figured out where you were going with this. You looked at Morgan with wide eyes.

“Then how did we get here so easily?”

Hotch yelled into the radio.

“It’s a trap. Get out of there. Now!”

You whirled around and came face to face with Steven Jacobs. You fired your weapon, but didn’t get the chance to see if you hit him. Instead, you stumbled backwards and the large metal door slammed shut.

“No!” Morgan shouted, throwing his weight against the door to try and break it down. “Hotch, can you hear me? Reid!” The radio connection was dead. Morgan slammed against the door again.

“Derek.”

“We’re going to get out of here.” He searched the door for any point of weakness.

“Derek.”

“Let us out, you son of a bitch!”

“Derek!” You finally yelled. When he turned around you watched his face morph with panic. Blood leaked through your fingers, your hand pressed against the wound in your shoulder. It wasn’t your gun that had gone off, it was Jacobs’. And you were hit.

The street swarmed with teams from local police, S.W.A.T, and the BAU. In the middle of all of it was Spencer. He just stared at the front door. Somewhere in the basement of that house, his girlfriend and his closest friend were trapped by a paranoid schizophrenic with a gun. Neighbors reported already hearing a shot go off. Judging by the lights still on in the house and the fact that you and Morgan still hadn’t come out yet, it wasn’t one of your guns to make the shot.

“He must be using something to jam the signal.” Prentiss huffed, her attempts to get a hold of either of you failing. “We need to get in there.”

“We don’t know what Jacobs has in there.” Rossi said gruffly, joining them after meeting with the S.W.A.T leader. “For all we know, he could try and blow the whole block.”

“The longer we wait, the longer he has Morgan and Y/L/N.” Spencer ran his fingers through his hair. “Audrey Lang is probably dead and we don’t know who shot the gun or-”

“When they found her, Morgan didn’t say anything about Lang being dead.” Hotch said sternly.

“He didn’t say she was alive, either.” Spencer’s voice was harsh considering he was speaking to a superior.

“Reid, I want to get them out just as badly as you do, but if we try and storm in there, Jacobs will likely kill them and himself.” Hotch’s tone was stern and surprisingly calm.

“You thought you had me, didn’t you!?” A voice boomed from the house. Every agent in the street tensed and raised their weapons. Prentiss was the first to lower her gun.

“Look in the bushes.” She pointed to the shrubbery on either side of the door. “Speakers.”

“You all thought you would silence the truth! Well I’m smarter than you. That’s right. And I will not be silenced!”

Hotch looked at the hostage negotiator, who gave him the okay to talk.

“Mr. Jacobs we don’t want to silence you.”

“Tell that to the three spies in the other room.” Underneath Jacobs' voice was the sound of banging. Like fists against a door. Listening closer, Spencer could hear a yelling voice.

“Morgan.” He whispered to the others. They listened to the sound of their coworker- their friend- trying to break free.

“Jacobs you son of a bitch, we’ve got two injured people in here!” Derek screamed. You closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sound that was just making the pain worse.

“Derek, don’t antagonize him.” You grimaced, trying to keep pressure against the still gushing bullet hole in your shoulder. “It’ll just piss him off.”

“Y/N, we need to get paramedics in here. Audrey is barely breathing and you’re bleeding out.” He knelt in front of you, lifting your hand slightly to look at the wound.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to tell the patient they’re going to die.” You teased, trying to get your mind off of the guilt and regret. Derek winced.

“You’re not going to die. I didn’t mean that.”

“Go check on her.” You motioned towards Mrs. Lang. “I’ll be fine.” You adjusted slightly so your vest was in your lap. You had to take it off in order to tend to your wound and it left you vulnerable.

As Derek crossed the room, you felt your vision blur with tears. You should have told him. You should have told him.

Outside the tension was only getting worse. Jacobs had gone quiet and the team was itching to break the door down. Spencer was pacing, running through plan after plan in his head. If Garcia could hack into Jacobs’ system, they could cut the surveillance feed and go in. But if Jacobs noticed the hack, he would kill everyone inside. Finally, the shrill voice came back over the speakers.

“One of your spies is dead.” He laughed frantically, a madman slipping more and more into his delusion. Spencer froze. “She said she didn’t know anything, but I knew she was lying. You train them well, you know.”

“She.” Spencer whispered, the panic making his hands shake.

“Mr. Jacobs, which woman is dead?” Hotch asked carefully. Jacobs laughed again.

“You have chips in all of them, you tell me.”

“Mr. Jacobs, I need to know who died.” While he kept his gaze focused on the house, Hotch could tell that the team was holding their breath.

“Damnit!” Derek exclaimed, slamming his hand against the floor. Audrey was dead.

“There was nothing you could do, Derek.” You said grimly. You looked around at the metal walls and felt the last bit of hope leave you. “He’s going to kill all of us.”

“No, no, you don’t get to talk like that.” Derek crouched in front of you and put a hand on your cheek. “We are not going to die in here.” A tear slipped down your cheek and you shook your head.

“I never even got to tell him.” Maybe it was shock, but you started to hyperventilate. “I didn’t tell him, Derek.”

“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t tell Spencer.”

“Tell Reid what?” Derek’s eyes searched yours until you watched the realization on his face. “You’re not…”

“Yeah, Derek. I am.” You wiped another tear away. “I found out a couple of weeks ago.”

“You’ve known that long and haven’t told anybody?” He sighed, sitting down beside you. You laid your head on his shoulder.

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” You laughed humorously. “I know I should have told Hotch as soon as I found out, but I couldn’t tell him before I told Spencer and I just couldn’t figure out how to tell him.” Your voice cracked and Derek pressed a kiss to your temple.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

It was eerily quiet. Jacobs had stopped his rambling and the sirens outside seemed distant now. Your hands fell to your stomach and you smiled sadly.

“Help me think of names.”

“Hmm?”

“Come on, distract me from the pain. Help me think of names for the little genius.” You shifted so that you were looking at Derek. “I was thinking that, if it’s a girl, I want to name her Diana. Spencer’s mom has always been such a big part of his life and I think that’s what he would want.”

“Diana is a beautiful name.” He gave you a sweet smile and took your hand in his. “What if it’s a boy?”

“See, I can’t make up my mind on that. I’m sure Spence would want some super smart author’s name or something, but... he’s the smartest person I know.” You spread your fingers over your belly, thinking about everything you had to lose.

“Well if Spencer Jr. doesn’t stick, you could always name him after your favorite profiler.” Derek chuckled. His smirk fell when he looked at the sorrow on your face.

“I need you to tell him.”

“What?”

“If I don’t…” You gulped. “If I don’t make it out of this, I don’t want him to find out from some doctor. I want him to hear it from you.”

“Don’t go there. Don’t you go there, you hear me?” He stood with new determination. “We are getting out of here and you and that wonder baby are going to be just fine.” He brought your hand up to his lips before turning towards the door.

“What are you-”

“Jacobs!” He pounded on the door. “I’m ready to talk! I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Derek what are you doing?” You struggled to stand and Derek moved you to the wall beside the door and motioned for you to stay still.

“I’m ready to talk, Jacobs! You win!” You both readied your weapons and Derek stood in the corner.

It didn’t take long for Jacobs to take the bait. Slowly, the metal door opened and Jacobs cautiously stepped inside. His wild eyes locked on you and your gun and he charged towards you. Before he could get far, Derek kicked the door into him. The impact made him stumble forward into you, shoving you against the wall. Your head hit the concrete hard, disorienting you long enough for Jacobs to aim his gun at your stomach.

This time the shot wasn’t his. And you didn’t miss.

The second shot had everyone ready to go in. Teams were prepping when the front door opened.

“Hold your fire!” Morgan shouted. “I’ve got an injured agent here!” He emerged from the house walking as fast as he could. He was carrying you. Spencer broke into a sprint, rushing alongside him and trying to examine your injuries.

“What happened? Is she okay?” Before he could answer, paramedics swarmed them.

“She was shot in the left shoulder, no exit wound, and she’s lost a lot of blood. She also hit her head pretty hard, but she’s remained conscious.” He informed them.

“Sir, you’ll have to come with us so we can examine you as well.” One ordered.

“I’m coming with you.” Reid said firmly. Nobody argued with him and so they all climbed into the back of the ambulance.

They sat Morgan and Reid down and got you onto a gurney.

“Agent Y/L/N, can you hear me?”

“Agent Morgan, did you sustain any injuries in Mr. Jacobs’ basement?”

“Dr. Reid, I need you to stay over there.”

So many things were happening at once, Derek could barely get a word in.

“There’s something you need to know before you give her anything.” He told the woman tending to you. He finally looked at Reid. He’d been avoiding his gaze since he stepped out of the house, but now he had to keep his promise to you. He had to tell him. “She’s pregnant.”

The paramedics acted accordingly and Spencer just stared at him.

“What?”

“She’s pregnant, kid.” Derek put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, his gaze shifting to you.

“That’s not… she would have told me. She would have-”

“She wanted to tell you. She was just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“I don’t know, kid.”

“Don’t call me that!” Spencer pushed away from him.

“Sir, I need you to calm down-”

“Reid-”

“You should have waited! If you had waited for the rest of us, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“We were trying to save Audrey Lang.”

“Audrey Lang died!” Spencer snapped. “And now so could Y/N. She could die and could my…” He trailed off, his anger fading quickly into a devastated panic.

“This is really not the place for this argument.” One of the paramedics warned.

“She’s going to be okay, Reid. Her and your baby are going to be okay.” He pulled the younger agent into a hug, trying to convince himself as well.

The whole team was in the waiting room. Hotch watched Reid carefully as he paced relentlessly. Judging by the tension between him and Morgan, there was something the two weren’t saying.

The bodies of Audrey Lang and Steven Jacobs were found in his basement. Hotchner would be filling out the paperwork as soon as they found out your condition. When the doctor finally approached them, everyone was on the edge of their seats.

“Agent Y/L/N will have to wear a sling for her shoulder injury and she’s suffering from a concussion, but in time, she will make a full recovery.” Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The doctor continued. “As for the other matter,” She gave Spencer a small smile, “she’s asking to speak to Dr. Reid before any other visitors.”

With everybody’s eyes on him, Spencer followed her back to your room. You looked a lot better now and you were giving him a nervous smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He stood in the doorway for a moment, unable to move.

“I’m going to go fill out some forms, but I will be just down the hall if you need anything or have any questions.” The doctor said before leaving the two of you alone. Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly shuffled forward.

“Is everything okay?” He asked. “I mean… is the… are you-”

“We’re both fine, Spence.” You held your breath, waiting for him to react. Spencer pulled up a chair and took your hand in his. His hands were shaking slightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Spence…”

“Were you that afraid of how I would react?”

“No!” You exclaimed, laying a hand on his cheek. “Spencer, I was afraid of everything. I was afraid of facing it. I love you and I want this child, I do. But… I know geological profiling and how to link victims and what to say to a grieving family. I don’t know how to be a parent.”

“You think I do?” He laughed anxiously. “I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. But…” He gulped. “I know that I have been happier with you than I have in my whole life. I don’t know a lot about love, but everything I do know, I know because of you. And if you can do that, then we can figure this out.”

A grin spread across your face and you pulled his lips to yours. You were too distracted by each other to notice the other figure at the door.

“I believe I was told something about naming a certain baby after me?” Derek smirked. Spencer gave you a look.

“You’re delusional, Morgan.” You laughed. Derek looked at Reid.

“Are we good, kid?”

Spencer smiled.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

#spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #matthew grey gubler #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner

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inyourwildestdreamslove · 3 years

Text

Tell Me No Secrets: Chapter 9

Pairing: Steve Harrington X Reader X Billy Hargrove

Begins in Season 2.

Summary: You thought you escaped the world of science experiments and torture when you walk out of that lab. However, high school has other plans, somehow you end up as unlikely friends and love interests to the two most desired boys in school. Not to mention monsters from another dimension and a little girl named El from your past that just won’t seem to leave you alone. Maybe that lab wasn’t as bad as you thought, at least there people left you alone.

Masterlist

Chapter 9: The Captured

The trees are a blur as the car roars forward. The bewildered and angry faces of Dustin and Steve in the rearview mirror sparks a twinge of guilt. It’s better this way though, they don’t need to be involved. It’s bad enough that Max and Billy are involved. Groaning as the two men in the car pull out behind Billy but in front of Steve. You can feel how startled Steve is and his growing panic as he realizes what’s happening.

Billy glances behind him and growls out, “Friends of yours?”

“Something like that…” you say absentmindedly as you assess the situation behind you.

Realizing that they have far more information than you would like punches you in the gut as town quickly approaches.

You make a decision.

“Pull over.”

The order hangs in the air.

“Are you crazy?!” Max yells, pulling herself forward in the seat, “They’ll catch you!”

“That’s the point,” you say emotionlessly as you regard her.

“No!”

“What is going on here!?” Billy yells angrily beside you.

“They’re going to take her!” Max screams turning to Billy, “You can’t stop! She’s going to give herself up to save us!”

“Fuck that,” Billy says as he revs the engine and makes an abrupt turn to the right. The car behind you all skids but makes the turn at the last minute.

“You need to let me do this,” you say calmly.

“Like Hell I do!” he says rage in his voice.

You huff in annoyance, “They will succeed, if not today, someday.”

“Then it’s not going to be today,” Billy says, taking another abrupt turn trying to throw them off your trail.

“You need to let me do this,” you say matter of factly.

The alleyway you find yourselves in is a dead end. Billy curses and slams his hands on the steering wheel as you get out of the car.

“No!” Max yells as you exit the car, Billy reaching for you a moment too late.

You turn to the men, each of them pointing a gun at you. Steve pulls up behind them a moment later and grabs his bat from the back seat.

“Steve… Don’t…” you murmur tiredly.

“They can’t have you!” Steve yells.

“It’s okay…” you soothe them.

“So you’re coming quietly?” questions one of the men.

“Yes.”

“Good choice,” the other murmurs as he pulls the trigger.

The panic from those around you is palpable as you fall to the floor the dart sticking out of your neck. Steve and Billy make to run towards you before they turn to the men and to rush them.

With the last of your strength your message echoes in their minds, “Don’t forget…”

***

Horror fills them as they watch her fall to the ground. Her eyes roll back into her head and everything goes silent before the rush of rage brings everyone snapping back to reality. Billy pulls back and punches the nearest man as a tranquilizer dart flies towards him. Steve falls next his bat rolling uselessly to the side. Max and Dustin panic and scream as they rush to Steve and Billy.

Max whips around in just enough time to see the two men haul her up and throw her limp body in the back seat of the car. Methodically, as if kidnapping is second nature to these monsters, they move Steve’s car. Dustin is struggling to pull Steve out of the way.

Max cries out in sadness, feeling helpless, as her friend vanished from sight around the bend. She’s left with her unconscious brother and a panicking Dustin.

“What do we do!?” Yells Dustin snapping Max from her shock.

“I don’t know!” She yells back, anger masking her fear.

“We have to do something!” Dustin yells as he paces back and forth. He would periodically rake his fingers through his hair.

“Like what!?” Max screeches back fists flying to her side in rage and frustration.

With no small amount of effort the two preteens drag their older and heavier brother figures into Billy’s car. The two young men are slumped together unceremoniously in the back seat as Max takes the wheel of Billy’s car.

“Are you sure about this?” Dustin asks, hesitation clear in his voice. The memory of the last time Max drove clear in his mind.

“Zoomer. Remember?,” She says pointing at herself in confidence, “Besides, you didn’t die last time,” she says flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“It was dark last time! No one was on the road! It’s the middle of the morning!” Dustin argues crossing his arms.

“Stop being such a baby! It’ll be fine!” She exclaims, frustration seeping into her voice.

With that, she starts up the car and nervously pulls out onto the road. Slowly the preteens make their way to the police station. Not without many near misses and loud honks of other drivers.

The preteens jump from the vehicle and rush into the police station yelling for Hopper as they do so.

“What are you two doing here? Why aren’t you in school?” Hopper asks in bewilderment coming out of his office. The receptionist unable to control the duo before her.

“They took (Name)!” Both Max and Dustin yell in a panic turning towards the confused chief of police.

***

When you wake up you are strapped to a chair with a helmet over your head. Your head is completely silent for the first time in your life, and if you weren’t concerned with figuring a way out of this, you would be enjoying it more. The room is dark save for the single fluorescent light in the very center of the room. There are one-way windows on one side of the room and you can practically feel the eyes of the people on the other side.

A man that you recognize from your childhood enters the room and regards you as a science experiment. He’s wearing a brown suit with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He hasn’t changed much except for the now graying hair on his balding head.

“Three… How have you been? You are quite the sneaky little thing aren’t you?” he asks conversationally as he sits down across from you at the table.

Your answer is an emotionless gaze. You can feel yourself retreating back into your mind as the man in front of you regards you the same way as so many years ago. Like an experiment, as if you are less than him.

“Where have you been hiding all this time, hmmm? With Melanie Snow perhaps?” he quips pulling the cigarette from his lips. The smell burns your nostrils as he releases a puff of smoke.

You feel your chest constrict as he mentions her name.

“I see you’ve made friends with a Steve Harrington? A Dustin Henderson? A Maxine Mayfield? A William Hargrove?”

“They aren’t my friends, they are annoyances,” you answer monotonously.

“Annoyances?” he sounds almost amused.

“Yes… If it wasn’t for them your lackeys would be dead,” you spit the words at the man fire in your eyes as you regard him coolly.

“Dead, you say? You would do that?” he asks leaning forward on his elbows.

“I’m not a child anymore,” your voice is ice.

“No… I suppose not… However, we will be picking up where we left off. Perhaps we will see the results that we want after all this time.”

With that, he gets up and leaves the room. You keep your mind calm and clear as you access the situation you are in.

It’s not long before a couple of men in white come into the room and push you from the chair. Their handling is far rougher than it should be as you walk down the hallway. You can hear the cries of a few children, but you keep your face void of any emotion. The room they take you to is the same one from your childhood. You see the number three on the wall and suppress a shudder. You are shoved inside, but before the door is shut you turn to the man behind you and lock eyes with him.

“You know… cheating on your wife when she’s pregnant with your child is disgusting.”

The look on his face as the door closes is priceless.

***

“We have to help her!” yells Dustin as he paces the living room floor of (Name)’s house.

“Can Elle find her?” questions Steve his hand in his hair as he sits on the couch.

“Damnit!” curses Billy as he punches the arm of the chair he’s in, “What good is this?”

Steve and Billy had woken up in a panic upon realizing what happened. They had given their statement to Hopper, who had been very displeased that Max had driven to the police station while the boys were unconscious, but that’s a talk for another day. They went to break the news to Melanie which is how they found themselves setting up camp in the Snow living room.

“Hey just calm down man! We’re going to figure something out!” Clenching his teeth against the pain in his head. The tranquilizer making his head pound with the leftover drugs still coursing through him.

“Well, what can this Elle girl do?” he rounds on him anger radiating off of his person.

“More than you!” yells Dustin.

“Hey! Yelling about everything isn’t going to solve this!” yells Max.

“She’s right…” laments Melanie, “She’s going to have to get herself out of this.”

“But Elle can-” Dustin begins.

“She would be putting herself in danger!” Hopper interrupts, “You don’t know how they found her, they could do the same to Elle.”

“We can’t just do nothing!” yells Billy as he stands up from his seat and takes a step towards Hopper.

“I’m not risking Elle being found. That doesn’t mean we aren’t going to do anything.” Hopper holds his stare until Billy backs down.

“Why do you care anyway?” Dustin asks looking over at Billy in confusion.

“Why do I-?” he looks angrily at Dustin, “Because-” He trails off looking unsure of himself for just a moment before his anger covers it up. “None of your business twerp!”

“Will everyone just calm down?” Yells Hopper trying to maintain peace.

“How?! How are we supposed to do that?” Asks Dustin shaking his head in frustration.

“Can someone just do something?!” screeches Melanie before she collapses to the floor crying.

Everyone is silent as they regard her, each of them thinking the same thing...

‘But what can we do?’

***

The next few days you sit quietly in your old room listening. Your powers while not entirely snuffed out are muffled and it isn’t long until the helmet is replaced with another stronger one. You don’t mind as much they think you do as you feign sleep all the while listening.

It’s in sleep that you feel him though. He’s frantic and angry and feels very alone.

You can’t blame yourself for this. You say calmly regarding him.

His eyes widen when he sees you sitting there on his bed.

“You got out?!” he says getting up and coming towards you.

No… I am still there…

“How are you able to…?”

We have a connection Billy… Perhaps it’s our emotions that bind us… We understand hurt better than most…

“You let them take you!” he explodes, “You could have fought them! We could have fought them! Max is… Max is really upset! And damn Harrington! He- Damn it!” He yells angrily picking up a can of hairspray and throwing it against the wall.

It had to happen…

“No, it didn’t! I could have… done something... protected you…” He sits down on the bed defeated, his elbows resting on his knees.

You’re silent for a moment, ‘There are bigger things at play than you understand. They would not stop and I had to think of more than just myself…’

“Bullshit.”

Tell them not to worry…

“Not to worry?!” he yells, “You’ve been captured by some freak show scientists, and no one is supposed to worry?!” he jumps up from the bed and towers over you breathing heavily in his rage.

You regard him silently with the same patience that you always have.

Trust me…

With that, you vanish from his mind. Blinking you are abruptly woken up by the sound of a little metal flap swinging as food is shoved into your cell. You sigh as you glare at the hard bread and porridge that is sitting in the bowl. It’s important that you keep your strength up though it’s imperative to your plan. You pick up the tray and begin to eat.

***

“What do you mean you saw her?” Steve asks, disbelief clear in his voice. He hadn’t been sure what to think when Billy asked to meet him behind the school, but this wasn’t what he expected.

“I told you! I saw her okay?! I don’t get it either!” Billy yells all while trying to keep his voice down. He doesn’t need anyone seeing him and Harrington talking behind the school, too many questions.

“But why did you see her and not me? I’m her friend!” Steve says defensively and maybe a little jealously. Why were you talking to Billy and not him?

“I’m her friend too! You aren’t the only one!”

“Yeah right! What have you ever done for her huh?”

“She-” Billy looks away from Steve. He can’t know…

“She what?” Steve presses, voice going lower in a warning.

“None of your business! Look, I just wanted to know if that makes any sense to you!”

“I mean… she’s special… you know…” Steve says uncertainty clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I know she is…” Billy says remembering the day you casually told him you were going to help him.

“So what do we do?” Steve asks.

“She said to trust her…” Billy says trailing off in thought.

“If she contacts you again see if she knows where she is. We’re going to get her back,” Steve says with finality. “Truce?” he asks holding his hand out to Billy.

Billy regards it for a moment before he nods, “Truce.”

The two young men clasp hands in a firm handshake, both trying to have a tighter grip as they shake on it.

“What are you trying to do? Break my hand?!” Steve yells.

“You’re such a wuss Harrington!” Billy laughs as he pulls back.

“Wuss?! You face a Demogorgon and tell me who the wuss is!”

“What the fuck is a Demogorgon?”

“You have a lot to learn Hargrove. A lot.”

***

You feel yourself growing stronger every day. And among the quiet in your mind, you’ve noticed something else. You can tap into emotions and you spend the next few days wreaking havoc on the workers of the lab. You cause anger outbursts, crying spells, and lust to run rampant. Papers are thrown to the floor in a rage and balled up in fits of uncertainty. You plant lies in their minds with the simplest of sentences. If you didn’t know any better you would say you’re having fun.

“It seems we’ve underestimated you…” Carl Watt says from his position in front of you. He adjusts the button on his ugly suit jacket as he sits down before you.

You just regard him blankly as silence rings throughout the room.

“You have caused quite a few problems for us. Are you having fun?” he asks patiently as if speaking to his six-year-old daughter who made a mess in the kitchen.

You gaze down at the steel table in front of you, eyes unseeing as you creep in his mind.

“If you don’t cooperate there will be consequences.”

Again you are silent at his threat.

“After all we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your friends would we?”

You fight the reaction. The flinch. The twitch. The way your mind screams at the man before you in rage. You give him nothing as you continue to gaze down at the table, the silence stretching long and cold in the sterile room.

“You think you’re fooling anyone? Teenage girls are so easy. You all have the same weakness. Emotions. Boys. Attention. You are not nearly as complex as you believe you are.”

You finally raise your head to look squarely in his eyes, your own void of any emotion as you regard him.

“You think you’re fooling anyone?” You mimic, “Men are so easy. You all have the same weakness. Power. Lust. Control. You are not nearly as complex as you believe you are.”

Carl looks enraged as his fist flies onto the table. Instead of flinching as he wanted, you merely tilt your head to one side and regard him in boredom.

“And you said teenage girls are emotional. You should really have better control than that,” you say calmly.

“Get her out of here,” he says through clenched teeth.

Walking back to your cell you sense it suddenly. A tickle in your mind. You snap your head to the side and hear it plain as day.

They know.

They found it.

The door. The door. The door!

There is panic in the words and in the mind.

He’s fourteen with dark hair and wild green eyes. You remember him vaguely from when you were here before.

Show!

You collapse as the boy enters your mind and you are thrown into a dream.

Billy is in a car accident. He’s pulled into a void. The screams are too much.

You try to pull away from him. To break away from his hold on you.

Bait.

The creature that fills the sky is terrifying. Black and everywhere. It fills your mind and you know in your heart that this isn’t over. That the Upside Down is beating at the door.

Wait…

You gasp as you are thrown back into your head. The haunted green eyes of the boy down the hall filling your vision.

“Get up!” yells the guard.

You are kicked roughly in the side as you double over again. The other reaches down and grabs your hair dragging you up to your feet.

“Not so tough without your powers are you?” spits the guard.

You blink and reorient yourself before you wipe the blood from your nose. You can feel him at the edge of your conscience.

Bad men… bad…

‘Yes…’ you think to him, ‘Bad men…’

Out?

He pauses for a breath as you are thrown back into your cell.

Out out out???

‘Soon.’

The thought seems to soothe him as his mind quiets and he drifts off to sleep. Vaguely, you wonder if he even knows how to talk. His mind is less fragmented than you originally thought though. You can use that to your advantage.

***

Billy opens his eyes to see you standing before him.

I need you to be ready.

“For what?” he asks instantly alert and sitting up, “Ready for what?”

The moment I expose them…

“What do you need us to do?”

The old base is where I’m being kept. Elle knows where. I will need a distraction in precisely three days’ time. You need to listen very carefully to my instructions. In a glass bottle mix carbon disulfide, phosphorus, and sulfur with a metal lid. This solution is highly flammable if exposed to air.

“What do you want us to do with that?”

I want to burn this place to the ground.

Notes:

I know! Such a long time coming! Concentrating has been difficult even with inspiration for this story! The next chapter will probably be the final chapter for this story, but never fear! I'll begin work on "I'll Tell You No Lies" the sequel to this story set in S3 of Stranger Things! There may be a little short in between this story and that one because I have such affection for this weird triangle between MC, Billy, and Steve. Please drop a comment to tell me your thoughts!

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #steve harrington x reader x billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things series #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fandom #love triangle #healing #i'm fixing this #you're welcome

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

Speaking of AUs and plots, OC damages someones car by accident and instead of money they want to be paid back in dates.

Anonymous said: For the request: “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse.”

↳ Auto Date Claim

2.3k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

Seokjin grips the steering wheel.

He blows through the yellow light even though he should’ve stopped but there’s no time to waste, not when the last thing he wants is to be late for the meeting. Everything has to be perfect.

Which is what makes this phone call the worst.

“I’m not coming.”

“What?!” Jin looks to the display screen where there’s Jisoo’s name as if he can telepathically send her his exasperated expression. “Why not?!”

“You know why. I don’t want to be a doll that’s supposed to sit there silently, Seokjin. I’m done.”

“No. Please. You know how important this meeting is to me. You can’t be doing this—”

“Oh, yes I can.”

She hangs up. Seokjin groans, the urge to slam his forehead against the steering wheel overwhelming. But he resists and when he gets to the next red light, he frantically calls Yoongi.

The dial tone rings over his car speakers and then the man picks up. Yoongi is calm by nature and there’s little that can faze him. But now, his voice pitches up every so slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you on your way to meeting the Jeon’s?”

“Yeah, but Jisoo just called to tell me she’s not coming.”

“Oh shit.”

Family. Marriage. Commitment. They’re essential pillars for the Jeon’s who’ve been married for fifty years. They’re old school, the epitome of tradition. The plan was for Jin to look like a family man too, to add to his own integrity and to show that he shares the Jeon’s company values. And everything matters when it comes to the contract they’ve been trying to sign for the past year. A minuscule detail like this could tip the scales and make the Jeon’s sign with the competitor instead.

“Is Irene there?” Jin asks as he drives. “Maybe she can come instead.”

“She’s already running an errand for Hoseok. Just...make something up. Maybe you can say—”

At the exact same time, as Seokjin stops for a red light, the entire car jolts forward without warning. He nearly slams his head on the wheel — this time, unintentionally.

What the fuc—

“Yoongi, wait. I just got rear-ended.”

“What?!”

As if things couldn’t get worse today. Jin undoes his seat belt and climbs out of the car. The perpetrator of the accident also gets out and he looks at you who’s completely wide-eyed.

“I’m so sorry!” you screech in horror. “I was just singing to this new album and looking around, I’ve never driven on this street before and I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so so sorry.”

You come to look at the damage at his bumper and a gasp tears from your throat. It’s a Maserati.

You don’t know much about cars, but even you’re aware this is a luxury vehicle imported from somewhere in Europe. Germany. France. Italy. One of those fancy countries where you haven’t even dreamed of traveling to. You don’t know much but one thing’s certain — you’re so fucked.

As you’re losing your mind, Seokjin taps his foot and checks his watch.

His eyes bulge when he realizes the hour’s almost up. “Do you have your insurance information?” he blurts, interrupting your internal meltdown.

“I-Insurance?” You deflate all at once. “I don’t.”

Seokjin sighs and glances over his shoulder. The Hwagae Hotel where the meeting was taking place was so close that he could practically see the entrance door from here.

There’s no more time to waste.

“I’m heading to the Hwagae Hotel.” He points down the street. “Do you want to talk about it there?”

You nod dejectedly and get back into your car to follow him into the hotel’s parking lot before you slow down traffic any more than you already have. Getting more angry drivers on your back is the last thing you need at the moment. At the same time, your mind scrambles for solutions. But it comes up empty.

God fucking dammit. You shouldn’t have been cheap. You should’ve just gone hungry for an entire week to get the car insurance. Why on earth did you think you didn’t need it?!

By the time you get out of your car again, you’re on the verge of tears.

You eye the expensive, sleek black car. Then your eyes stray to the stranger.

“I...I don’t have much money I can give you.”

Jin glances at his watch and then at you. He finally gets a good look at you. Or rather, he notices your simple skirt and blouse ensemble. In an instant, a light bulb flickers in his brain.

“You don’t need to pay if you follow me.” His head nudges towards the hotel and your eyes become rounded at the suggestion. You gawk at the door of the hotel and back at him within seconds, entirely horrified. Seokjin quickly clarifies, “I have a business brunch inside and I need a partner to go with. You don’t need to do anything. You can just stay silent and eat.”

Seokjin watches as you look at the car and then his crisp suit before you’re slowly coming to nod. “A-Alright.”

He turns on his heel and struts into the hotel lobby without waiting for you.

Seokjin wouldn’t necessarily call himself a spontaneous person, but when push comes to shove and it’s the last moment, he’s good at coming up with fixes. He prides himself on it, having been the person who jumped in at the last second to repair things on more than one occasion.

Podium mic not working at the charity banquet? He ran to the nearby mall and bought a portable karaoke microphone at a booth. The client has a pollen allergy he didn’t know about? He threw the flowers on the table out the window when she turned around. The handouts for the shareholder meeting were forgotten? He announced they were going paperless.

The point is: Seokjin will do whatever it takes. Even if his methods are unconventional.

He enters the lavish hotel restaurant, already finding the couple by the windows. He brushes past the hostess with a sparkling smile and peeks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still following after him.

“Seokjin!”

They’re an old couple in professional garb. The man is in a gray suit while the woman is in a modest navy dress. He doesn’t miss the Louis Vuitton purse next to her wine glass filled with water.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Jeon. You as well, Mrs. Jeon.”

He shakes their hands and at once, Mrs. Jeon looks at you with her brows raised. “And who is this?”

“This is my partner….”

“Y/N,” you fill in for him, realizing he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve been through your fair share of meetings, so you smile and shake their hands with ease.

As strange as the situation is, you’re just relieved he wasn’t lying about it. You had the impression he wasn’t, but you were ready to hightail it out of here if he brought you into a hotel room.

“I didn’t know you had a partner, Seokjin,” the older man notes, impressed and curious.

Jin laughs. “Well, I’m glad you know now.”

Everyone takes their seats and the waiter comes by to fill your glasses of water and ask if anyone wants a particular drink. Once he’s sauntered away, the woman across from you makes conversation. “What do you do, Y/N?”

So much for having to do nothing. “I’m an intern at JML.”

“Oh, I have a friend’s niece who works there. Are you looking to become an accountant then?” her husband asks.

“Hopefully.” You smile before lifting the glass of water to your lips.

“That’s so nice,” Mrs. Jeon sighs. “You young-ins should work and develop a career while you still have the chance. Heaven knows things become so much more difficult once you start a family.”

Family? It’s a foreign concept to hear considering it’s not a subject even in the realm of your concern. You manage to stiffly nod.

“How did you two meet?”

You almost spit out your water.

Seokjin reaches over to pat your back as you wheeze. “Are you alright...darling?”

You wipe your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. What was this guy’s name again? Seokho? No that wasn’t it. It had a J in it. Seok...ju? No….

“Seokjin, I’m fine.”

Mrs. Jeon watches the interaction through rose-coloured glasses and smiles knowingly. “My apologies if it’s an intrusive question. I just adore a good love story.”

“Actually, it’s a funny story.” Jin smiles as a sweat bead practically rolls down his face. “Y/N here rear-ended my car when I was on my way to a meeting and that’s how we got to know each other.”

He looks at you and starts to laugh. After a delayed moment, you join in and inwardly cringe at how awkward it sounds. Yet the old couple doesn’t notice.

“How long have you been together?” Mr. Jeon asks with a warm smile, hands threaded on the table.

You look at him and his laughter dies down. “T-Thr-Two years! Yes, two years.”

“Well isn’t that sweet,” she swoons to her husband who nods in approval. “Are you going to get married soon? It’s not good to let a young woman wait too long.”

If you didn’t choke before, you might again. This time from your own saliva.

Mr. Jeon hums. “Yes, I personally don’t think one should wait long if they know it’s the right person.”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s good news,” Seokjin interjects before you get the chance and he suddenly blurts, “Because we’re already married.”

Your head whirls to him, neck nearly breaking from the whiplash. You gawk at his profile.

Mrs. Jeon gasps in amazement. Mr. Jeon appears intrigued.

As the proclamation leaves his lips, it’s already too late to take it back. Seokjin isn’t spontaneous. He’s just good at quick fixes, too good that they become permanent fixes.

The point is: Seokjin’s an absolute idiot sometimes.

“Really?! Where’s the ring?”

“We’re getting it fixed at the moment. Y/N lost a bit of weight so it kept slipping off her fingers.”

He turns to you and you stare at him incredulously before deadpanning, “Right.”

“When did you get married?” Mr. Jeon asks.

“Recently,” Seokjin lies without batting a single lash. It’s not hard to pitch an idea or an outlandish one at that when he used to work as a door-to-door salesman during his teenage years and then a car salesman during his college years.

Seokjin’s entire career has been built on convincing others.

“So you’re newlyweds then.”

You give him a look. Jin smiles.

“Yes. We are.”

By the end of brunch, you know more about Kim Seokjin than you ever intended to know — case in point, you’re now aware of his last name. You know he’s three years older than you are, that he’s been working at his company for four, and he’s pretty high up on the corporate ladder but is still continuing to climb it. You even know about the possible contract between his company and the Jeon’s, and the open plot of land on Hwarang avenue that would apparently be the perfect location to expand the Golden Resort and turn it into a franchise.

You’re sure he knows way more about you than he’d like to know too.

“I’ll be honest, I was unsure if I wanted to sign with your company, Seokjin. But you’ve shown me you have a lot of integrity and a strong work ethic. I think our values are compatible as well.” Mr. Jeon shakes hands with Seokjin. “You’ll get a call from my office soon and I think you’ll like what you’ll hear.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“You’re a lovely couple,” Mrs. Jeon adds on as she looks at the pair of you standing next to one another. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes…”

The two of them bid their final farewells and Mr. Jeon lifts his hand to the valet across the lot. Mrs. Jeon hangs off his arm as their Cadillac is driven up to the door. They get in soon after.

It’s silent between you and Seokjin.

“So…..we’re married, huh?”

“I’m sorry.” He turns to you with a heavy sigh. “It was a really important client I have to sign with and they really value family and relationships.”

You nod. It doesn’t really matter now — what’s important is that it’s over. But one thing isn’t. “About your car….”

The both of you walk across the lot to his vehicle and he finally has the time to get a good look at the damage.

There’s a clear dent in his back bumper and a scratch. But luckily, there doesn’t seem to be much anywhere else.

“It’s a ninety nine thousand dollar car.”

You wheeze. “Pardon?”

“I don’t know how much the damage will be, but it might cost a bit.”

Oh my god.

Seokjin suddenly turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse. I know you don’t have the means to pay for the damage, so you won’t have to. But in exchange, accompany me to business brunches or galas. It won’t be often and it’ll be similar to what you just experienced. You won’t have to say much and you can even eat for free.”

There’s a drawn out pause. You blink at him owlishly.

“I accidentally told him you were my wife and if you weren’t there from now on, it’ll look suspicious,” Seokjin explains. “It’ll be just for a little while. Maybe half a year? I’ll figure something out after that. How does it sound?”

You know you don’t have much of a choice.

You don’t have insurance and you don’t have money to pay out of pocket. If anything, the offer is generous and Seokjin seems trustworthy — especially considering you’ve gotten to know him in the past hour.

For all those reasons, maybe that’s why you nod. “I can do that.”

He smiles and you brace yourself for a whirlwind.

#bts fanfic #jin fanfic #jin reader insert #jin fluff #bts fluff #bts scenario #jin scenario #bts drabble #jin drabble #Anonymous #Jimlings

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

Text

[I am once again giving you an unrelated fanfic. Have some Modern married Xiyao.

Potential CW: poor anger coping skills?, very brief mention of suicidal ideation in internal dialogue. It's an errant thought and he doesn't actually mean it]

Jin Guangyao is upset. What's more upsetting is that he doesn't know why he's upset--this lack of information rankles him more than the feeling. He's used to feeling badly. That's how life is. But without a name, there is nowhere to file it away neatly. It is easier to ignore the sharp sting of a newly noticed cut than this fucking awful malaise that has apparently decided to settle over him with no rhyme or reason like he's some stupid idiot in an artsy French film, slowly choking down filtered cigarettes on some rusty balcony against a sunset or something.

That's not what he does. He is efficient. He is useful. And when he is like this, he is not.

And he still doesn't know why. And the fact that he cannot categorize and escape this has the ennui sliding slowly into a slow boil of tooth grinding fury.

Had it been the morning traffic? The fact that the library had emailed to inform him of a delay on his inter-library loan? The fact that his overpriced coffee was just a tiny bit burnt? The fact that Zixuan had taken a sick day today and so had not brought the soup his wife had promised Jin Guangyao for lunch? It shouldn't be, because these are all so horrifyingly trivial.

He has a tension headache beginning to string itself along his temples. He hates that the receptionist has a perky goodbye ready. He hates that the sun is shining so brightly. Then, he hates that the shadows of the clouds when they pass make things look grungy and dull. He hates that there is a flap of leather from his steering wheel that has peeled up in the back from his picking and he can feel it rubbing against his index finger as he stares, white knuckled and unblinking into the brake lights ahead of him as this bubbling pique crescendos as slowly as one of Xichen's beloved classical music pieces.

In fact, one is playing on the radio, softly, just within hearing range. The quiet, shrill edge of violins makes him want to kill something. Maybe himself. There's a bridge coming up in half a mile. He, very sanely, presses the button on the dash that turns it off instead of doing any of those things. The thought of Xichen has a voice of reason suggesting that he might meditate, while trapped here, 10 minutes from home.

Instead, he jabs a button on his fancy, stupid steering wheel with this thumb. An attentive computer noise beeps. The sudden noise in the relative silence of the car makes him dig his nails into the leather. "Text A-Huan," he snaps.

"Okay! What would you like the message to be?"

Jin Guangyao is going to find whoever programmed this faux-friendly robot voice and make them watch him drown their entire family in a toilet. "I. Hate. Everything."

Beep. "Okay! Your message reads; 'I hate everything'. Send?"

"Yes, send," he seethes before it can fully finish.

There is no plan to this. None at all. He just needs something real to sink his metaphorical teeth into. A reasonable anchor to reality to tell him whether or not he's being stupid and terrible for no reason at all.

Even though he already knows that he is.

The response returns in 43 seconds. Jin Guangyao had been counting. The cheery beep sounds just as the very stale green light turns yellow ahead. He presses the gas. "One message from A-Huan."

The light blinks red while he is only 1/4th of the way through the intersection. The lead car of the adjacent left turners beeps and he bares his teeth at her because he isn't fucking invisible, he's in a high profile gold Lexus and she had definitely seen him fucking coming. He stabs the button that makes the car read him the message.

"'Oh no. Bad day? Want to call? Blue heart emoji'," the female robot voice chirps in a butchery of his husbands words and no, no, he does not, because, at this point, it would simply be a minute long sustained scream of rage over literally nothing at all. He should have kept it to himself and found a quiet place to throw rocks at a wall or something until he wasn't such a repellant time bomb.

He does not reply because if he hears that robot voice again, he's going to commit vehicular homicide. And being arrested would not calm him down.

Finally, traffic parts and he pulls into his driveway--he notices how the bush on the side of the house's branches are creeping up to scrape the window of the kitchen and makes a mental note to send a curt text to the landscaper about his pruning habits. Why are they paying him several hundred dollars a month to let a stupid bush get unruly enough to damage the paint on his window trim?

When he slams his door shut, he hears a loud CLACK that announces that he has just closed his seatbelt in the door and lost the last tenuous thread of his temper. Heaving the door back, he plants his other hand up on the black plastic next to the window and smashes it shut again with all of his strength. Repeatedly. CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK--Chunk.

Breath hissing between his teeth, he jerks his suit jacket straight, loosens his tie and stalks to the house. The garage door groans to life behind him. Xichen had been watching.

Perfect.

He's nowhere to be seen when Jin Guangyao slams through the backdoor like a vicious thundercloud, which is good and probably intentional, because it allows him to wrestle off his shoes, jacket, and tie in privacy. This does nothing to release any pressure, because it must be intentional wrestling--controlled and confined so he doesn't pop off a button or rip a seam or scuff the shining black leather. Now he's seething in their immaculate, state of the art kitchen, hating how the cold tile feels against his black dress socks and the fact that it smells like tea. Which is stupid. Because he likes tea. But not right now.

Stop being a piece of shit, he snarls at himself. You've already probably fucked up the car and Xichen doesn't deserve this. He balls up his fists so tightly that the bright pain from his nails sinking into his palms leaks up his arms. Be better.

He has no idea how to do that because he has no idea what is wrong.

Reason says to steer clear of Xichen until he can get a hold of himself and behave like a fucking adult. And in the early days of their relationship, he would have. He had. Whenever he got like this, he would shut down or not have inflicted himself on Xichen at all with a smooth lie, and no amount of prying would get anything useful out of him because he would not be a bother. There had been Talks. Long, extensive Talks about trust and love and wanting to take care of him. He had even believed some of them. That's how they can be married, now, years later--Xichen knowing just how close he is to this at all times. How thin his veneer of manners and pleasantries actually is. (He can't truly know, though, can he. If he knew how much none of it makes sense, there is no possible way someone as kind and intelligent as him would choose to stay.)

Xichen would purse his lips if he said this out loud; somewhere between exasperation and sad fondness. Jin Guangyao doesn't tell him, anymore. Most of the time because he doesn't actually think this.

This is not most of the time.

Yes, reason says that he should suck it up and become a human being before burdening Xichen.

But his husband has long, cool hands and soft eyes and a brilliant mind that can solve any problem just by holding it and maybe he just wants to be small and angry and ugly and pathetic and selfish in the comfort of his own home while someone reminds him that there have been, in fact, good things that have happened in his life and he had been, at one time, happy--believe it or not.

And if nothing else, it compounds his streak of bad decisions.

The smell of tea intensifies when he reaches their room. The curtains are drawn. It renders the deep, dusty blues of the bed spread and the armchair black and the aged gold accent pieces muted, except for where the warm light pouring from their open bathroom door paints them bright again. Xichen sits on the edge of their bed in the soft, expensive loungewear Jin Guangyao got him for his birthday last year, one ankle on his knee, watching him with eyes just as soft as he had been expecting. A mug of tea is tucked into his hand and a plate with round, lumpy shapes sits by his hip. Beside that lays spread out the absurdly oversized and absurdly soft heather gray shirt that Nie Huaisang had gifted to him as a joke but was, in fact, one of Jin Guangyao's guilty pleasure sleep shirts.

With his perfect voice and his perfect logic and his perfect way of being the only good thing on this entire, worthless planet, his husband says, "I think you need to scream into this pillow."

'This pillow' is, in fact, one of theirs, dark blue with a thread count that was higher than any savings he ever had in college, perched on a bundle of blankets that is the perfect size to throw himself upon like a sulking romance heroine. He hates it. Hates that this is known, that this might help.

So he fucking does it. He deliberately stalks around the bed, climbs up, smashes his face into the pillow and screams as loudly as he can. With every single ounce of rage in his body, curling him up like the shriveling of a raisin in fast forward, like the curling of a scorpion tail, like throwing up, wringing every last scant molecule of oxygen out of his lungs.

When the sound peters out and he has to drag in another breath, he curls tighter, the claws of his hands reaching over the top of the pillow to fist in his hair. It presses the plush of it firmer over his face and bites it until his teeth ring with dull pain, and his jaw aches and his head throbs and his eyes sting. His scalp burns from the pull on his hair and his throat is raw and tight.

Tearing himself away, finally, he gasps in a gulp of cooler air. Xichen has turned so he is now cross-legged at the foot of the bed, watching him with a mix of calm and understanding sympathy. "Lay down?"

There is a ragged, hollow hole in him that still has scraps of rage clinging to it like disgusting lichen--but the visceral, all consuming hate seems to have been absorbed by his pillow. So he lets himself roll sideways, eyes closing. Xichen gets off the bed--Jin Guangyao assumes, wearily, that he's putting down the tea mug and hopes that he uses a coaster--and then returns by knee walking up the bed to his side. Then, those cool hands he had been hoping for pick open the tiny hard buttons of his shirt. Each pop releases a a tension across his skin and he feels that he can breathe easier with every one.

Jin Guangyao can hear him breathing, slow and measured, through his nose and thinks that it's probably the most comforting sound that he's ever heard in his entire life--now that he's willing to be comforted. Able to be. The reminder of Xichen's continued existence is the only sound he will ever need to be calm again.

The button up is abandoned in favor of undoing his belt--breath, more of it, infiltrating him deeper and deeper--popping the button on his slacks, tugging them down his legs in a warm slide. The quiet clink of it being tossed somewhere. A closing quiet as Xichen leans in and presses his smooth lips to his forehead. Then the corner of his eyebrow. Then the bridge of his nose. Different points and planes of his face like he is unlocking a combination that will open him up and allow him to purge the rest of the awfulness that lingers.

What it mostly is is exhaustion, now. "A-Huan," he groans--whines. Ugh.

Before disgust at himself can settle in, his husband takes this as the invitation for what it is and kisses his mouth, gentle and slow. Jin Guangyao moves his mouth back, halfheartedly, mostly parting his lips to allow him access to do whatever. But all he does is kiss him chastely. Lovingly. He tastes like green tea. Then, Xichen murmurs against his lips, "Would you like a bath?"

He vents a negating grunt, lolling his head back and forth. Baths are so much work. Even when Xichen offered to wash his hair or read to him or even join him, you still had to keep it hot, you had to endure cold when you left, get yourself dry. Too much change, too much sensation and movement.

He should be shaking himself awake. He should be apologizing for his terrible, pointless mood. He should be trying to kiss him back, love him back, pay him back. Thank him.

Xichen merely lifts his hands and presses the heels of his palms into the hinges at Jin Guangyao's jaw, inexorably grinding the tension out of them. Jin Guangyao allows himself to melt. When those cool fingertips slide into his hair, he lets them tug him upright, so Xichen can slide off his button up and slip him out of his undershirt. He shivers against the chill of the bedroom air, but he doesn't feel a surge of utter hatred for the sensations so, well, that's something. In no time, Xichen has coaxed him into the oversized shirt, removed his socks and bundled him up against the padded headboard, tucked into Xichen's side.

Jin Guangyao allows this. He allows himself to allow the blanket to be tugged up over his bare legs, Xichen to tuck the warm mug of steaming mint tea into his hands, and wind his fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep, shuddering breath before sighing it all out. Xichen's fingers rub soothing circles across his sore scalp.

"Open?"

He cracks one eye to see a cookie hovering at mouth level. It's too dim in the room to properly tell what kind it is, but because Xichen has been perfect in literally every other way, he simply obeys and bites down. Browned butter and sea salt and semi-sweet chocolate ooze across his tongue and the instant spike of sugar satisfaction warms his chest. Jin Guangyao chews with utter contentment, swallows, and opens his mouth again.

"Good?" Xichen's amused voice vibrates warmly through his chest as he indulgently feeds him another bite.

"Mm. Very. Did you make them?"

"I did, earlier today. I just got lucky with the timing." His nails scrape oh so gently across his scalp. "How are you doing?"

Instead of answering, Jin Guangyao blinks up at him and his sweet, kind, ridiculously gorgeous face that is graced by a light smile and a gold edge light from the bathroom.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Being terrible."

"You're never terrible."

"I was today. I think I fucked up the car."

Xichen chuckles, smile crimping to a knowing press. "I saw. It won't be a big deal. We'll deal with it later."

"...Thank you."

"Of course, A-Yao. Do you still hate everything?"

"Mm-nn." He snuggles down deeper against his ribs, looping an arm around Xichen's warm waist. He has the best husband in his arms, his dark-sweet scent is in his nose, chocolate on his tongue, and 1000 count sheets against his skin.

What is there to hate?

#I was in an exceptionally bad mood #so therefore I projected it onto JGY and made Xichen make it better #because that's what writers DO #There is no plot at all except my own journey of being in a better mood. I am now. But it is also 4:20 am. Oh well. You do what you can.#my stuff #my fic #xiyao #lxc #jgy #text #xiyao fanfic #completely unedited because that's how it goes #it's an errant thought and he doesn't mean it #brief suicide mention

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hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Trial (4)

Summary: harry and y/n face the truth

Warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 4249 words

A/N: thank you so much for supporting this series !! @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. I will do the taglist later in the day :)

EDIT: idk why the ‘read more’ is not working. I apologize for the scrolling!!

Part 4 of the Tarnish series!

___

Harry was crying.

Admitting his feelings when he was younger was quite a task for him. Now that he was nearly in his thirties, the journey of being vulnerable with himself and with his feelings became easier with each emotion that he permitted himself to submerge in. Harry validated those emotions--he was allowed to experience them because it makes him human. It added texture to the ever-growing mosaic that painted who he was as an individual. Adding to the people that surrounded him, influenced by their kind-nature and the goodness of their heart to become who he was now.

And now, it seemed like his emotions increased tenfold. The clench of his abdomen and the harsh jolt of his chest forced his slouched shoulder to stay deflated. His breathing hitched as sobs threatened to take over, throat sore with the effort to keep it all in because Harry was smart enough to know that these emotions coursing through him right now were ones he wasn’t validated to feel. Paired with the latest information that that little girl being held by another man was his own daughter--and that the woman who was glowing with her caring, motherly-instincts was supposed to be his family; it broke him completely.

Quaking thoughts circled his brain and punctured his muscles as if they were attacking him not only mentally, but physically as well in exchange for his past mistakes that he couldn’t quite place if he deeply regretted or not. Was it a mistake to cheat on Y/N? To leave her alone in the exposure of the public eye while she was carrying his child in her tummy?

Harry should have known the day she fell sick and vomited in their kitchen sink. He was, sadly, too busy throwing a subdued celebration of finally having time alone with Camille. He should have noticed the way her face brightened with radiance. Or the way her cravings for strawberries and pickles either grossed her out or completely compelled her to consume more than she usually would.

But Harry guessed that that was around the time his efforts went out the window because he didn’t have to pretend to care as much anymore. Camille appeared to be his one and only. With their relationship coming so close to being revealed and Y/N having one foot out the door, Harry let fate play out the rest. Don’t get him wrong, Harry still loved Camille; that was why his slashed heart still throbbed at the sight of her watching over her little cousin, yet knowing that the topic of children was still not a card on the table.

The distress that he was feeling right now was core-shredding, heartbreaking grief that left a hole in his heart. The worst part was that Harry didn’t exactly know how to fix it or whether he even could. As he walked to his car with hands jammed into his pockets, he was grateful that the hood of his sweater hid his face and the tears sliding down the slope of his cheeks.

His senses were in overdrive, figuring out how to fix the mess he created. Wanting to run up to Y/N and ask her why she didn’t tell him, needing to feel his little girl in his arms. Pinching his skin to transfer the pain he felt in his heart because of the thought that he missed his baby’s first words, her first steps. Was it ‘dada’ that babbled out of her mouth? Did she reach out for Connor when she stumbled over nothing when she walked on stubby legs? Did Y/N mention his name to her?

“Harry!”

He kept on walking despite the hushed call of his name, assuming that it was a fan that caught sight of him and wanted a picture. Harry adores them, but now is hardly the time to fake a smile or act like his life didn’t just flash right before his eyes--quite literally.

The vehicle beeped as Harry pressed the ‘unlock’ button on his key fob, just about ready to pull the door open and shield himself from prying eyes. He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder, “Harry,”

He looked up to find Gemma panting, resting her hand on the roof of the car, “Are you. . .alright?” Her drifting eyes inspected his face, tinted a slight pink and moist with the salty liquid dripping from his tear ducts.

Huffing in annoyance, Harry clutched the handle to let himself in. Gemma followed his actions, shutting the door and locking it. The tinted windows of the car provided a semi-private enclosure that was filled with Harry’s sniffling and Gemma’s heavy breathing, trying to catch her breath.

“H-her name is Halo,” Gemma began, gulping when Harry paused his ministrations, straining his ears to listen despite the dull thud occupying his vessels. “She’s almost two years old,”

“You said you didn’t know,” Harry’s gruff tone echoed. Gemma anxiously rubbed the ends of her palms against her jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew all this time and y’didn’t tell me,”

“I-I was--she didn’t want me--”

“Why would she tell you and not me? I’m the one that dated her,” He raised his voice with every syllable he spoke. The frustration he felt from seeing the woman he once loved living the reality they shared together, except he wasn’t anywhere in the picture and that reality was only a fantasy in his life now. “It doesn’t make sense,” He rested his forearms on the wheel, facing the car’s symbol.

“The baby is yours, Harry,”

His head quipped with speed, grazing his forehead on the rounded leather but that pain didn’t amount to the new wave washing over him. “W-what?”

“It’s really not my place to tell,” Gemma said nervously, making eye contact with Harry’s searing yet teary gaze. “She wanted to tell you but you were so happy with Camille. She was posting these things on her Instagram about your trips and Y/N called me crying because you looked so free and happy without her. Y/N didn’t want to ruin what you guys had by dropping this on you,”

"That's-that's my baby?" Harry stuttered over his words while tugging his head out of his memories. Gemma nodded in confirmation. “Then why in the world was she--Halo?--calling him ‘dada’?

“Look, Harry, you’re not stupid. You know why Halo called Connor her dad,” Gemma spoke slowly, “This is a conversation that you need to have with Y/N if she lets you,”

At the mention of the man’s name, Harry couldn’t help but be filled with anger. He barely knew this man yet he received everything that Harry wanted in life. ‘But she’s my kid. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s supposed to give her kisses and make her laugh,” He mumbled quietly as if his inner thoughts were far too strong to be kept in his mind

He was staring mindlessly at the numbers on his dashboard, hands gripping the leather steering wheel to try and ground himself. "But if that's my baby, how can she call someone who's not her father, dad?" He whipped his head towards Gemma, searching for validation that would make him feel better but the siblings were aware that he lost that title three years ago.

“I think you know you lost that place in their lives,” She reached a comforting hand to pat his arm, feeling just how tense he was under the fabric.

Harry shrugged her off, pinching his brows and pursing his lips as sadness began to swirl down the drain only to be replaced with resentment, irritation and bitterness. The taste on his tongue was hot with anger and his ears felt warm as he wheezed air instead of opting to yell his dissatisfaction near his sister.

“This isn't fair. She's m’baby too. Connor is not her father,” He spat with venom, “I am,” A pointed finger poked his chest. "She knew she was pregnant when she left me. She’s so fuckin’ selfish. How could she do this to me?

Gemma was quick to remind him of his actions, "You cheated on her, Harry.” Gemma cowered back at Harry’s beady eyes glaring at her with an unreadable emotion, stone-cold. “Maybe you should go home. Calm down a little bit,”

“No!” Harry cut Gemma off, “Need t’a hear her say it myself,”

Harry didn’t know what his plan was when he harshly slammed the car door behind him, practically storming on the patches of grass like a mad man. It wasn’t hard to spot the picture-perfect family sitting on a park bench which brought a scowl to his shielded face. He wanted to give Y/N a piece of his mind and it wasn’t necessarily the nicest thoughts that crossed his brain.

Halo was sitting on Connor’s lap while he was feeding her a peeled cupcake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting—-Harry felt like he was punched in the gut. The baked good was Y/N’s specialty and it had a lot of sentimental value to both of them. It was what she baked for their first year together. He could vividly see her frosting-dotted nose, aiming to splotch the cream on his cheek while she laughed. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging Y/N from behind and proceeding to kiss her sweet cheek, leaving the perfect opportunity to stain his skin with the frosting.

But he didn’t care if he was smashed headfirst into the cake (as long as it wasn’t ice cream cake)—Harry just wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh heartily.

Y/N was snuggled on Connor’s shoulder, fixing Halo’s hair as she made grabby hands at the confection. He cannot lie--Connor was a handsome man. Harry rarely felt intimidated or insecure, but seeing that this man managed to snatch everything Harry could ever want seemingly in a blink of an eye; Harry felt very jealous.

He pouted, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering wishing that Cory or Connor--whatever that little shit’s name was would disappear so that Harry could take his place instead. Actually, it was his spot in the first place. Only if he didn’t mess up, he thought. He missed Y/N so much! Seeing Y/N in her element of niceness and bright-gleaming smiles sent a truck full of sand down his throat as he gulped his emotion below the surface. The closer he got to them, his vision tunnelled towards Halo; brown, flouncy curls and a cute dimple embedded in her cheek as she giggled, accidentally knocking the cupcake on the ground.

If that wasn’t symbolism staring at Harry straight in the face; a sign that their so-called relationship really had no chance of reprieve. Harry chose to ignore it.

Connor clutched Halo tightly against him, crouching down with a napkin to clean up the scattered cake on the ground. Y/N was the first to notice him, her forehead creasing as her eyes bulged at the sight of Harry walking towards them. She subtly poked at Connor’s arm, hurting Harry even more because it meant that Y/N felt uncomfortable with his presence.

He was close enough to read her pink lips, “We should go,” matched with Y/N’s frantic actions of packing the juice boxes and the Tupperware of cupcakes into the tote bag beside her. Connor searched the park until his gaze landed on Harry, protectively shielding Halo from him.

Is he serious? Harry thought. That’s my own daughter.

Speaking of Halo, the two-year-old happily continued munching on her new cupcake, frowning slightly when Connor stood up, “Why we leaving, Daddy? Did I do somethin’ bad?”

Y/N sighed, they promised that Halo could play at the park all day and now it was cut short because of a certain someone.

“No, you didn’t, bub. Let Daddy explain at home, okay baby?” Connor hitched Halo higher on his hip, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any more questions until the trio left.

“Who’s that?” Halo asked, pointing at Harry only metres away from them. Her stubby finger outstretched at the stranger in front of her, eyes bright and sparkling with curiosity. There was no sign of recognition painting her green orbs.

Harry gulped, wanting so badly to scream “I’m your dad!” but he knew that Y/N will add that to the list of his mistakes he had made.

“No one, angel,” Connor planted a kiss on her head, looking over at Y/N who had finished packing everything up. He tilted his chin in an attempt to scare Harry off.

But the thing was, Harry was already scared. He could feel his stomach in his throat but vomiting wasn’t the right word to describe it. His heart drooped deeper than the levels of the Earth. He was scared because his family was right in front of him but he couldn’t touch them or hug them in his arms. He was only allowed to look from the outside because there was a small possibility of being forgiven.

“Y/N. . .” Harry began hesitantly. The surge of confidence he had decreased with each passing second. He kept a close eye.

Y/N shrugged the strap on her shoulder, “Leave us alone, Harry.”

He felt his anger disappearing, a new emotion cascading his tear ducts and the blood in his veins. Harry looked back in retrospect; she really did mean it when Y/N said that she never wanted him around again. “I just want to talk. Please, let’s talk,”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Harry,” Connor interrupted, grabbing the bag from Y/N and wrapping an arm over her shoulder, guiding them away from Harry. “She’s happy without you, mate. can’t you see?”

Harry kept his gaze trained on Y/N’s face, actively avoiding eye contact but drifted when Halo’s frown caught his stare. The little girl’s chin was hooked over Connor’s shoulder, squirming in his arms in an attempt to stop him from walking. Halo was smart enough to know that Harry’s expression screamed sadness and her mummy said that “you need to find a way to make them happy” if someone was sad.

“Wait!” Her shrill yell caused both Connor and Y/N to turn around. A piece of Harry’s heart shattered on the floor when Halo pulled Connor down by the nape of his neck, small hand leading his ear next to her lips. Then, she did the same to Y/N, pointing at Harry which caused him to straighten his stance, wanting to impress his daughter even though there was no point.

The couple shared a look before ultimately having Connor walk closer to Harry. Halo gripped her cupcake towards him, “‘ere y’go hawwy,’ She still couldn’t pronounce her ‘r’s’ yet.

Harry began to sob.

It was his daughter and those were the first words she had uttered to him. She didn’t know him yet Halo treated him with kindness and it ripped at his chest because Y/N must’ve taught her that. His palms became wet as tears streamed from his eyes, dampening the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn't care about looking foolish in front of them, not when his daughter saw him as a stranger and called Connor her ‘dada’.

Halo recoiled at the sudden reaction, her lips curving downwards, “Dada, mama, he’s cwyin’,” She tucked her face at the junction of Connor’s shoulder and neck, scared that she made him cry. Halo didn’t mean to make him cry. She felt so guilty that she started spilling tears of her own too, her face contorting into a scrunched expression as her mouth wailed open sobs, matching Harry’s.

Harry’s first instinct was to take a step forward and comfort Halo but he was rendered frozen when Connor shot him a glare, shifting Halo’s body out of reach and he could only see her face over the man’s shoulder. Y/N dimmed her eyes, brows pinching when she couldn’t help but let a smidge of sympathy wash over her. She muttered a few words to Connor, pushing him by the small of his back towards the parking lot.

When they were out of earshot, Y/N faced Harry, “What were you thinking? Are you trying to mess everything up again?” He tried to cut in, “Isn’t it bad enough that we’re talking about this in public? Why must you ruin everything, Harry?” She whisper-shouted, trying her best not to garner them any attention.

“N-no, Gemma told me and I jus’ wanted to see her--and you. Wanted to hear the truth come out of your mouth,” His large hands jammed into his pockets to prevent him from fiddling with them.

“Look, you have no right coming here,”

“I know that b-but I--,”

She held a palm up, “I’m not sadistic like you Harry. If you thought that I wouldn’t let you around her then you’re wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss you and I wish that you were there for us when we needed you,”

“I had no idea--,”

“Will you let me speak?” Her tone carried irritation. “But we’re alright now and we don’t need you anymore.”

Harry never thought that those statements would ever come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Don’t you think I deserve to get to know her?”

She sighed, “Deserve? Definitely not.” He nodded in agreement. “But I’d live in regret if Halo never got to know her real father. . .”

Harry’s expression lit up, hopeful eyes shooting glances at her, “D-does that mea--? Are you--?”

“You can see her. You can get to know her but only because you’re Halo’s father,” Y/N took a brave step forward, ignoring the way her heart throbbed as if she was being stabbed by a thousand knives. Painful memories drifted in and out of her train of thought until she shook her head to muster them out. It was in the past but she could never forget the feeling of hopelessness taking over her whole body.

With a hand on his shoulder, she continued, “Anyone can be a father and you’re just that. Don’t think that you’re entitled to anything more. You will never be her dad. Connor is. Understood?”

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed a heavy gulp, “I. . .understand. Thank you, Y/N. For letting me back in when I don’t deserve it,” He glanced at the two tiny figures piling in the car. He could just imagine himself plucking little Halo into her booster seat, booping her nose as she asked for the hundredth time why she had to sit at the back and not at the front with them.

“I’m not finished,” She deadpanned, “You are going to be there for her. Not for me, not for us because our relationship is over. You can hurt me as you did before and I can accept it but don’t you dare try to hurt her,”

And it was true. Having endured his painful game once before, Y/N was stronger now. She could take heartbreak as agonizing as that but she wouldn’t dare stand seeing Halo’s teary eyes staring back at her, asking why Harry had left them. She was far too young to experience the feeling when a piece of herself is ripped apart.

“I won’t hurt her. I promise,”

“I heard those words come out from your mouth years ago and look where we are now. Once you hurt her, it’s over.”

“Y/N, t-that’s hardly fair. I am her dad, aren’t I?” Harry cleared his throat at Y/N’s raised brow.

“No, you’re not. We just went through this, Harry.”

“Don’t call me that,” He muttered quietly because she only ever called him ‘baby’ or ‘h’.

“Will you stop? I laid out my cards. If you want to even have a speck of presence in her life, then you have to abide by what I said,” She crossed her arms in defence, “You will never be Halo’s dad, Harry. Connor is her dad. I don’t know how many more times I have to repeat this before it gets through you thick head,”

He opened his mouth to talk, “No wiggle room whatsoever?”

“No. Do I have to write a letter for you to understand that?”

In a moment of hurt and despair, Harry spat out, “Might as well, yeah? Waited over two years to tell me anyway,”

“Are you kidding me?”

His throat ran dry, realizing that he just ticked another box to favour against being a part of his daughter’s life, “I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to,”

“Whatever. Are you willing to make the sacrifice?”

“This isn’t the place to talk about this,” Harry suggested, wanting to have some sort of foot on the ground so he doesn’t feel like he’s topping over with guilt and sadness. “Maybe you can come over to my house,”

Y/N shook her head, glancing briefly at her phone when it buzzed, “No. I will not step foot in that house again. If you really want to discuss it, you can come over at our place,”

“Your place?” Did they all live together? Well, that was another slap to the face. Not only was Connor playing dad to Halo, but he was also part of the household. Harry’s face must have contorted into a grimace because Y/N sighed softly.

“Yes, our place. Meaning all three of us,” She gestured behind her. “I have to go. You can probably get my number from Gemma; you can text me then.”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I want to talk to you. . . about this, I mean,” Harry lowered his enthusiasm. The small voice in his head reverberating that this was not about him and Y/N; this was about Halo.

“And make sure you don’t bring anyone else,” Y/N said sarcastically, subtly pointing in the direction of the paparazzi hiding behind some bushes. Harry was usually good at spotting them but today was just a puddle of hurt and confusion. “I don’t want her having to read nasty things like I did,”

What Y/N said may have been a side comment, but Harry couldn’t help but take it to heart. Was this a good idea? Sure, he wanted to be a present dad in Halo’s life. However, is it worth it to stir unwanted drama? If only he didn’t cheat on Y/N, all of this could have been avoided.

With his mind in a haze, Harry barely noticed Y/N’s figure moving away from him. He jogged to catch up with her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Harry felt numb to the way she shrugged her touch off of her immediately, “Were you ever going to tell me about our daughter?’

Y/N stared at him quizzically, tilting her head a little bit sideways, “I thought I did? Wait!” A look of recognition plastered across her features, “I did try to tell you but you blocked me before the message sent through,”

Harry gulped with realization. He blearily remembered bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,”

___

Y/N: Since you’re not picking up my calls

I need to tell you something

Y/N took a deep breath as her thumbs tapped on the letters slowly as if to withhold the news from him. She was not at all ready to reveal that she was pregnant and that he was the father but Y/N knew that it was the right thing to do. Despite the fact that he was currently out of the country on vacation somewhere on an island with sandy beaches with Camille. Y/N was aware that this spike of courage was rare and so, she had to do it now.

Y/N: I’m pregnant

And you’re the father

She locked the device as soon as she pressed the arrow to send the message, clutching the phone close to her chest and shutting her eyes so tightly that it hurt. Minutes passed with no response and Y/N was shouldered by curiosity to check if he had sent anything back or simply left her on ‘seen’.

It was neither. The screaming red exclamation mark surrounded by a circle indicated that she had been blocked.

___

The times when she left missed calls on his phone were for a reason much bigger than the two of them. Y/N didn’t call to beg for him back or to ask Harry to want her again. He was ashamed to admit that he had rolled his eyes upwards every time he clicked on a voicemail she had left, stating, “Hey H, it’s me. Call me back when you hear this. I need to talk to you,” which he deleted without a second thought. She didn’t text him endlessly to politely ask for her things packed and settled for her pick-up because Y/N could not bear to spend another second in a room with him.

It wasn’t that at all.

Y/N was physically moving farther and farther away from him, settling herself into the car before driving off to hers and Connor’s shared house. Halo sat in the backseat, singing along to the radio.

Harry was surrounded amidst the joyful squeals of children and reprimanding voices of their parents.

He stood alone with no one but loneliness by his side and the brisk flash of cameras in his peripherals.

_____

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jae-daddy · 3 years

Text

Red Rose (4)

jaebum mafia series

one / two / three / four / five masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: mafia, angst, romance, mature plot: im jaebum was your first love in university, but then he disappeared, and now he’s back, and he is a mafia leader? a/n: well, it gets better from here huehue :) hope y’all like it, not edited <3

“This is stupid,” you told Jaebum smiling so brightly you knew you looked silly. Jaebum only kissed your nose in reply, before gesturing you to follow him. You giggled quietly, following him as you whispered, “If we get caught, we’ll be facing the committee for sure, Jae.”

Jaebum turned towards you, his face shadowed with the darkness, but his eyes glittering with the stars of a summer night, “Trust me?”

“Always,” you breathed, Jaebum pecked your lips once more before rounding the corner. He stared at the security desk, peeking inside to find the guard sleeping. He celebrated silently before leading you towards the doors of the building.

A gasp left you as the cold air whipped onto your face, but the harsh wind wasn’t the reason. It was the stars shining above you, glittering brightly. The moon looked so big and close, you felt you could touch it. You felt if you would dare to reach up and glide your hand over the moon, you’ll feel the smooth silkiness of the surface.

“This is beautiful.” You breathed, turning towards Jaebum who looked at you like you were the stars and moon.

“It’s nothing compare to you,” he took a step closer to you. His warm hands holding your face, his thumb caressing your cheeks softly, “No beauty of this entire universe can compare to you.”

“That is actually impossible,” you peered up at him through your eyelashes, the smile on your lips not flattering for a second.

“Everything in this world is possible,” he took a step towards you, his warm breath dancing over your lips.

“That’s a paradox,” you breathed, lifting your lips towards him. “If nothing is impossible, finding something more beautiful than me-”

“Is impossible,” he cut you off planting his lips on yours.

“Please, help me.” You rasped, watching as the window wind down. Your breath got caught in your throat as you saw the familiar face.

“Get in,” Jaebum ordered.

Something about the way he spoke made you want to fight back. You wanted to turn away and keep on running down the road until someone else drove down this isolated road. But then you stopped, biting your nails into your palm, taking a deep breath.

“Jae-”

Jaebum turned towards you, his eyes blazing so darkly whatever fight you had in you got caught in your throat.

“Y/n!” Another voice spoke from inside the vehicle, you bent down to find his dark brows furrowed together.

“Jinyoung!” You smiled, wincing a bit at the pain from the action.

“Do you want to spend the whole night talking from outside the car?” Jaebum cut in, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “Get in the back.”

You straightened, rolling your eyes, as you opened the door and settled into the back seat. A silent groan fell from your lips as the pain ran all through your body. You closed your eyes and leaned against the driver’s seat in front of you.

These past few days felt like a fever dream, even the kidnapping a few minutes ago. It all seemed unreal; like you were trapped in a dream that you couldn’t get up from and it kept dragging on and on. But you knew it was real, you knew from the way your body ached and burned from different brushes and cuts.

“Where are they?” Jaebum asked, but it really wasn’t a question. His voice was full of demand and authority. He wasn’t asking you, he was just getting the information from you.

“It’s up the gravel road coming ahead on the right,” you muttered, peering out the window. You felt sick watching the road speed pass you. You could tell this wasn’t the speed limit.

And then, the car stopped. You closed your eyes, keeping your head down.

“Stay here,” Jaebum ordered once again. You didn’t say anything as Jaebum and Jinyoung got out of the car, their doors slamming shut. You just kept your eyes closed as you leaned against the seat in front of you.

When the first loud bang echoed through the empty lot, you froze. Your spine straightening on the second, the fear rose higher in your chest as more gunshots fired in the old building.

You sat there quietly, watching the garage door waiting for the two males to walk out. You counted the seconds, waiting and watching.

It had been quite a while since you had escaped. They had back-up by now. You could tell new people had arrived judging from the two new big vans stationed outside the old factory.

You were scared to go in incase you ended up being more trouble then help.

“Three hundred seconds,” you told yourself. “If they don’t come out in three hundred seconds, I’ll go in.”

Two-hundred and twenty.

You straightened, biting down at the pain. You gripped the gun tightly in your hand, checking through the car for something useful. But nothing beat the heavy cool metal in your hand.

“Two hundred-eighty-nine,” you took a deep breath, your fingers unlocking the car. Your fingers hocked on the handle, with three seconds to go, you began pushing the car door, but it swiftly jerked open by another hand.

A shriek left you, you felt your finger resting on the trigger of the gun press in surprise. Your chest heaved as you glared at a darkened face man staring at you with the fires of hell.

“Are you fucking stupid?!” You snapped at Jaebum, your teeth barred. “Are you fucking crazy?”

You thanked the heavens, the safety for the gun was locked otherwise you would’ve shot the idiot glaring at you as if you were the one missing brain cells.

You took in his appearance.

He wasn’t so dishevelled when he had walked into the old building. His shirt was straight, no buttons had popped off. There had been no red splattered on his expensive suit, his hair was set perfectly, and there was no cut on his forehead.

“You're hurt,” you stated, your anger fading as you studied the cut. Jaebum didn’t answer. Instead, he slammed the door close before walking around and getting into the passenger seat.

“Good call, JB,” Jinyoung instantly got into the drivers seat. He turned towards Jaebum with a teasing smile and sparkling eyes. “You may be gifted at most things, but driving is not one of them, my friend.”

Jaebum just glared at him in reply. Jinyoung ignored him, chuckling lightly, as he began driving off.

You sighed into the seat, looking out the window quietly.

Whenever your eyes would travel to the front of the car, you would find Jinyoung concentrating on the road. Your eyes would flicker towards Jaebum momentarily, and every time they did, you found him leaning back into his seat, his arms crossed and eyes closed.

“Who were they?” You asked after a while. You were driving into the city now.

“They were Marco’s men,” Jinyoung answered, his eyes meeting yours through the rearview mirror. “The guy you shot was their second in command.”

You nodded, before snorting after a while, “Are all gangsters that weak?”

Jaebum slowly opened his eyes, turning back to look at you. He looked like he was about to say something, his eyes darkening and jaws locking. You watched his dark eyes; challenging and not looking away.

Your heart sink as you noticed the darkness that surrounded him. He was nothing like the boy who had snuck you to the rooftop to give you the best view of the night sky. He was nothing like the boy who smiled brightly and made you laugh.

In the end, the corner of his lips lifted in a grunt, before he turned away.

“Should we stop at her place?” Jinyoung asked.

“No, straight to home,” Jaebum replied curtly, going back to his little nap.

You straightened in your seat, your hands gripping the leather of the driver and passenger seat as you leaned into the gap, “No, I want to go home.”

“We are going home,” Jaebum replied, only his lips moving, as the rest of him remained in nap mode.

“No, I want to go to my house.”

“Not happening,” he replied, he moved his shoulder, a little frown on his lips, “You need to see a doctor.”

“I’m fine,” you whined, as your whole body turned towards him. “I am not even hurt, just a few scratches.”

Jaebum’s eyes snapped open before he turned in his seat to meet your surprised ones.

You couldn’t move from your awkward position as his dark eyes bored into yours with an intensity that made your tummy flutter. His eyes glanced lower, focusing on your lips, and then back to at eyes and they weren't blazing as brightly anymore.

You bit your lip, wincing slightly at the tear at the corner of your lips. You could taste the dried blood at the corner of your lips. You could feel the inside of your cheeks torn from the brutal slaps, but you weren’t sure a doctor could be any help. They would heal naturally.

“You are bleeding,” was all he said before he turned to face forward on his seat again.

“Jaebum, it’s just a scratch,” you sighed tiredly.

Before Jaebum could reply. Jinyoung cut in, “We just passed the exit to your place, and there’s no way back there unless we round the city. I guess it’s home for now.”

Your eyes sharpened as they turned to Jinyoung. You stared at him for a few more seconds. Jinyoung’s gaze flickered to you before he shrugged, his lips pouted innocently.

“Fine,” you sighed with frown on your lips as you folded your arms, defeated.

“I can’t tell if you’re supremely talented and meant to be an outlaw, or if you’re just wrapped in pure luck?” Mark, the in-house doctor and a member of the gang, remarked as he cleaned your wounds and treated them. Turns out you were more injured than you had realised.

“I wouldn’t bet on luck,” you snorted, shaking your head at him.

“So what,” Yugyeom folded his arms, as he leaned against the dresser. “You’re talented?”

“I guess that is the only explanation, isn’t it?” you gave him a sweet sarcastic smile.

“She was clearly meant for the dark side,” Mark chuckled at Yugyeom’s annoyed face.

“How are you a waitress at a diner?” Youngjae, another member asked. You rolled your eyes at the question.

You were once again in the room they had given you the last time you were at their mansion. But this time, there were five other people sitting around the room. You recognised them all from their visits at the diner, but this was your first time meeting all of them.

But it seemed like they were more interested in you, then you were in them. You set in the centre of their attention on the bed as Mark treated you and wrapped your injuries.

This time you could say this place was a mansion with full confidence. You couldn't help but notice the size of this property as Jinyoung drove up the gated driveway.

It was an estate. A castle that belonged to a king, but was now taken over by fugitives.

“You are gangsters,” You sang, a statement more than a question.

“We like to be referred to as mafia, gangsters are not up to our standard.” The sour look on Bambam's face changed into a smug look as he shrugged, cocky, “Mafia are a different breed.”

You held his gaze, a little knowing smile playing on your lips as you shrugged, nonchalantly, “Same difference.”

Bambam looked over to the other three guys in complete and utter shock and betrayal, gasping, “She did not just say that.”

“She is clearly uneducated,” Yugyeom replied, shooting lasers out of his eyes as he stared at you.

“How did you learn how to fight?” Youngjae asked, again, changing the topic. You turned to find him sizing you up, as his eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know how to fight,” you furrowed your brows, confused. You really didn't know. You had never fought anyone in your whole life.

“So a fairy helped you escape the group of fully trained mafia members today?” he quirked an eyebrow, distrustingly.

“Don’t forget the perfect shot,” Jackson added, his eyes filled with suspicion too.

You stared back at the two of them. Your eyes narrowing as you studied them back, “I did do self-defence and a bit of karate growing up, but I haven’t done anything these past few years. Just muscle memory and adrenaline, I guess.”

Youngjae just hummed in reply, nodding, brimming with distrust.

“How about shooting?” Jackson asked, crossing his legs as he leaned forward. “How is your aim so good?”

“Oh, that’s just natural,” you shrugged, smiling. “I’ve been good at target games since I was a kid. My town even banned me from playing games at the carnival because I was so good people paid me to win them prizes.”

“That is the most bizarre thing I have ever heard,” Jackson leaned back, impressed through and through.

“Anything else you want to interrogate me on?” You smiled tightly at the group of boys.

“Nope,” Mark smirked up at you. He gently pinned down a bandage on your wrist. “It seems like we’re all done, and we’ll leave you to rest.”

“Thank you, Mark,” you gave him a soft smile. He replied smiling as he nodded, and rushed the other four out of your room.

You watched as Youngjae closed the door, his eyes glaring at you with mistrust as he did so.

You sighed once the door clicked shut and fell back onto the bed.

You didn't realise when you had fallen asleep. The misadventures of the past twenty-hour hours knocked you into a sleep coma.

You woke up when a steady knock sounded on the heavy wooden doors of the room you were in.

You groaned getting up, as you made your way towards the door.

You opened it to find Jinyoung standing there, already dressed impressively in a light blue suit.

“Good morning, y/n,” he smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. Jinyoung’s polite smile didn’t flatter as he brought his hand out from behind him, holding a pile of clothes, “I hope you slept well.

“Here change into this after freshening up. The bathroom is that door over there,” you followed where his finger pointed to the big double doors inside the room. You had thought it was a closet. “Breakfast is at nine, just walk downstairs, and you’ll see it on the left.”

Before you could say anything, he was already walking away.

You smiled at the group of boys as they walked in. Each sitting into their places around the massive slab of rich marble the table was built off. The whole mansion was literally an old castle, there was no other explanation for its enormity or its delicate designs over every aspect of the building.

“Good morning boys,” you greeted them, before taking a bite of the slice of apple on your plate. You took in each of the four boys, three of them missing. The four looked at you and then them among themselves, “Are the others running late?”

They didn’t answer, all staring at you in confusion and furrowed brows.

Before you could say anything, footsteps entered the room. You looked up to find Jaebum walk in, Mark and Jinyoung close behind him.

Jaebum’s dark hair was styled away from his face, revealing his forehead.

His eyes darkened as they landed on you, a small scowl on his face as walked towards the table. You quirked an eyebrow with dare, but he simply looked away, his face impassive.

“Nice to see you found your way, y/n,” Jinyoung sat next to you, Bambam on the other side. Jaebum sat at the head of the table and you rolled your eyes before taking a sip of your water.

“It was quite difficult, this place is huge,” you smiled at him. Jinyoung just smile, his polite smile as he nodded taking out pancakes onto his plate.

“It used to be a castle, a rich relative of some king built this for him as a gift,” Mark told you, sitting next to Jaebum at the first seat. Your eyebrows rose in surprise and impress at the fact about the castle, it did match the tale.

You attempted not to look at him, but you failed. Your eyes flickered towards Jaebum. His dark eyes watched over the table, taking in everyone with a dismal expression, his eyes skipping over you determinately.

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, as you tore your gaze away from him.

You had decided this morning in the shower that it didn’t matter to you. Im Jaebum didn’t matter to you. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t remember you, that he hasn’t smiled at you, or doesn’t say your name anymore.

He hadn’t even asked how you were, nothing.

You had received absolutely nothing from him, except for rude words and irritated expressions.

You didn’t need this, you didn't deserve this.

The gorgeous man sitting at the end of the table was nothing like your Jaebum. He looked like him, he sounded like him. But he wasn’t like him at all.

You had decided this was most likely the last time you would ever see him so you decided not to do anything. You had the patience to go through one breakfast, successfully biting down the urge to walk over to him and shake him furiously.

How could he not remember you?

“How’s the pain?” Mark asked, looking over from his plate. You turned your attention towards him, feeling your eyes soften as a small smile climbed onto your lips.

“It’s better,” your eyes darted towards Jaebum who had stopped now. He wasn't looking up at you, but he was listening to every word that fell from your lips. You tried biting down the growing smile on your lips as you turned to Mark, “But it didn’t hurt, to begin with. I wasn’t even wounded.”

Your eyes betrayed you once more as they slipped back to Jaebum. His hands gripped the fork in his hand, as he chewed his food carefully. You noticed the bandaid on the top of his forehead and wondered if it was serious.

Suddenly, his gaze lifted and met your startled eyes. You instantly looked down at your plate, your cheeks burning. You instantly cursed yourself for being weak, you should’ve stared back at him.

But he had caught you off guard... and that look in his eyes...

“Bam and Jackson, you both go down to the Guard and see if all is in place,” Jaebum began, addressing the boys, ignoring your existence once again. The rest of the boys stopped talking, all focusing on Jaebum as he spoke. “Youngjae find out what Marco is doing, and what his next step is. Yugyeom and Jinyoung, go help her move and then meet Mark and me at the Guard after you’re done. Mark come with me after checking up on her.”

Jaebum’s hand gestured towards you quickly, distastefully, discerningly, every time he said her. As if saying your name burned him; as if you weren't even worth his time. He spoke about you as if you were just some bothersome chore.

You turned towards him, your eyes hard as you spoke, “Help me move where?”

Jaebum didn’t look at you, instead, he turned to the male next to you, “Jinyoung, tell her she’s moving here.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Explain to her that she is,” again, he spoke towards Jinyoung.

You turned to Jinyoung, who stared at you with tired eyes. He clearly didn’t want to be in the middle of this, but you didn’t care. All you saw was Jaebum, all you felt was the wave of anger towards Jaebum, “Tell him, that I want to go home, and I am not moving anywhere.”

“If she stays there, there is a chance of yesterday repeating. Tell her that Jinyoung.”

“It won’t happen again because it’s already happened, they aren’t stupid enough to do the same trick twice-”

“Yes, because next time will be worse,” still staring at Jinyoung. Jinyoung looked at him, his neck quickly snapping towards you as you spoke to him.

“I can’t just up and leave everything, I have a life!”

“She has a life,” Jinyoung turned to Jaebum, sheepishly. Jaebum glared at him, as Jinyoung winced in his seat, casting his eyes down.

“She will not have a life if she stays there,” was all he said, still looking at Jinyoung.

“You do not get to decide for me,” you said, your voice raw, your eyes on him. Jaebum finally looked at you, his dark eyes so cold it burned you, but you didn’t look away. You held his gaze, your fists clenching by your side, “You do not get to decide anything for me, about me.”

Jaebum didn’t say anything, his eyes watching you intently.

You took a painful gulp, your throat dry, your eyes on fire. The words itched at your throat, each word climbing from somewhere deep in your chest. Each word filled with hurt, pain, and anger.

“You do not get to decide to forget me.”

The silence that filled the room was deafening. The silence traced its burning fingertips up your arms, along the back of your neck before tracing down your spine. The silence bit at you, filling you up, the only thing you could hear was your hammering heart and heavy breathing.

You kept your sharp eyes on him, not looking away from his enraged ones.

“Everyone leave,” Jaebum ordered, not looking away from you. You had forgotten about the rest of them sitting around the table, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t think about anything else except for the anger raging in your chest.

They all left instantly.

Jaebum spoke first, “You are staying here.”

“I already said no.”

“This isn’t the time to throw a childish tantrum,” he responded, his eyes piercing into yours. Your chest rose and fell from rage, from excitement. “Your life is in danger.”

“My life is mine to protect.”

“We owe you protection,” he replied, his voice even, cool, but you could trace the edge to it. “The reason you’re in this is because you risked yourself trying to save one of us. It is the only right thing to do, for anyone.”

“So much for a simple stranger,” you chortled, smirking. “I wonder what you do for the people you care about.”

Jaebum’s eyes lit up as he snorted, finally looking away. He moved with such grace, the tightness in his body disappearing as if the air wasn’t sparking with tension, “I won’t apologise for not knowing you. I can’t apologise if I am not wrong.”

“Cut the bullshit,” you snorted, you hated how you were acting. You hated how calm and composed he had become, and how you were still wild like a naked wire of live electricity, “Fuck you. If you want to deny remembering me then fuck you, asshole. But there is no way I am staying here, I want to go home.”

You stood up from your seat, the chair scraping against the polished marble. You matched his eyes, but you couldn’t calm the fire in them to match his coolness, “I am going home.”

You began walking away from him, your shoes clicking against the expensive marble. You hadn’t even reached the end of the table when a tight grip fastened on your wrist, turning you back to meet his foreboding eyes scorching with a sharp bitterness.

“You will be staying here,” he sneered at you, his teeth gritted tightly. You took a step back, your lower back hitting the rear of the table.

You were afraid.

You gulped, and he took a step closer, making the edge of the marble dig into your back. Your wrist burned where he held you. You weren’t sure if it was because of his touch or the bruise from yesterday.

Jaebum must have noticed the fear flash in your eyes, as his eyes softened. You had to grip the table behind you with your free hand to keep you steady.

You were afraid. You were scared.

You didn’t want to stay.

Jaebum’s grip on your wrist loosened, as he took another step back, sighing as he closed his eyes.

“Stop being difficult,” he spoke, his eyes looking at you but not meeting yours. You cast your eyes to the floor instead, your heart still trembling. “It’s for your own safety.”

You weren’t sure if you would be safe here too.

When you didn’t answer he sighed again, tired and exhausted, “Just for three months.”

You looked up at him, your lips parted. Three months was three months too long, you wanted to be out of here this second. You couldn’t put your life on hold for three months and hide in this old castle mansion with these criminals.

“Three months is too long,” you shook your head, tears springing in your eyes. It was too long.

It was too long a time to spend with this man in front of you.

He looked at you, there was no anger in his eyes. There was no hardness, no darkness, nothing cold in them. But there was no brightness, no light, there was nothing in them as he looked at you, drained.

“I’ll try to sort this out before then,” Jaebum spoke, more to himself than to you as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’ll have full freedom, you can do whatever you want. Just take one of the boys with you, and stay here.”

When you didn’t say anything, he looked at you. He took a step closer towards you, and when you shrunk in your place, he stopped.

Jaebum cleared his throat, before speaking softly, “It’s just three months in exchange for the rest of your life, y/n.”

You nodded.

You whispered, “Okay.”

Tears stung your eyes, and your heart bled.

You closed your eyes, a few drops escaping down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away with shaking hands. You could feel Jaebum staring at you, watching you. You bit your lip to hold yourself together.

Before he could say anything, you ran out of the room. Your weight hobbling over to one side, a result of the spoiled ankle from yesterday. You couldn’t make it to your room, so you disappeared into the closest room you could find, closing the door behind you.

And then you let it out.

It hurt you hearing him say it.

You didn't know your heart could ever hurt so painfully from hearing your own name.

But it could, anything could happen to you when Im Jaebum says your name.

It didn’t matter how much of an asshole Jaebum had become since you last saw him. It didn’t matter how afraid you were, or how much you feared him. Nothing mattered when you heard him say your name.

All of it disappeared, and you were once again standing outside the lecture hall waiting for your class. He leaned in, even with the distance his warm breath brushed the side of your neck, “Hello, y/n.”

You pushed your palms into your eyes and cried harder.

It almost felt as if you were mourning him.

You missed him.

You missed Im Jaebum.

214 notes · View notes

angelanimedesaray · 3 years

Text

Different Breeds Chapter 2: Roadblocks and Detours

AN: Yeah I got nothing for the notes. Enjoy the chapter!

Characters: Jockey!Levi, Horse Owner/Breeder!Reader, Isabel (Briefly/Mentioned), Mr. Forster, Sarah Annaheim, Armin, Trainer!Hange, Jockey!Mikasa, Eren, Jean, MANY HORSES.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Warnings: Language, Financial Problems, Job Instability/Loss

Word Count: 5592

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist

*Levi’s POV*

The door slammed shut behind him with enough force to make a vibration go through the car as Levi returned to his vehicle, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel in a tight grip as his teeth ground together.

Son of a bitch. At least this fucker had enough decency to give him the news face to face while the last three or four had done it over the phone.

The past few days, instead of gaining jockey jobs like he normally did, Levi was losing them. He hadn’t thought much of it with the two calls from potential jobs telling him he didn’t get the job, it happened, and considering his busy schedule, he usually didn’t mind when the occasional job went to someone else. But then came the call from two jobs he already had and was a few months into telling him they had to let him go, without providing him any real kind of answer as to why. Some bullshit about budget cuts--though at least one of them he knew was doing renovations to their stables, making them fancier, and they wouldn’t do that without making sure they could afford it first.

Again, bullshit.

Two potential jobs slipping by he could accept, but losing two already secured jobs at the same time without good reason meant something was going on, something he wasn’t privy to.

He opened his phone, scowling when he saw a voicemail from yet another employer. He started the car while he played the voicemail, slowly operating the car one handed to maneuver out of the driveway and back to the road as he listened to what turned out to be more bad news.

These assholes had let him go in a damn voicemail.

He cursed, throwing the phone into the passenger’s seat with a few more muttered curses, a fist pressed against his lips as his eyes darted around his surroundings, keeping an eye on the road even though his mind was racing with what he should do.

He didn’t have a reason why this was happening yet, not solid evidence for it, anyway, but he had his suspicions, and it made him furious. He was out three jobs and two potential jobs now. If this continued, he was in trouble.

And instead of waiting for the bad news to come to him, he needed to start making some calls and visits of his own. Those that were too busy or too far away to meet in person, he would call. The rest, this called for personal visits, if he wanted to do this properly. And if they were going to fire him, they were going to look him in the eyes and give him a damn good reason why, not pitiful excuses over the phone.

Muttering under his breath again, Levi retrieved his phone, scrolling through the contacts without really looking at them to get to his employers group in his phone, and starting at the top of the list and starting to make calls to people who were too far away to visit in person, while he mapped out the route to the next closest employer from the ranch he just left.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you, Levi. But I promise, we turned Forster down, even after he tried throwing money at as. We’ve known you long enough we knew the story he was spinning was a lie. And he tried to buy us off when we didn’t believe it, which just made the truth more obvious.”

As grateful as he was for the honesty and the loyalty, Levi’s teeth were grinding together in anger to hear the confirmation of his suspicion. He stared out over the training track, watching Loyal Larry--stupid name for a horse, in his opinion--as he was being put through his paces by Isabel, another jockey that the Annaheims worked with and a personal friend of Levi’s.

Apparently Forster’s pride had been stung when Levi quit the other day, and the man’s idea of getting even included going after Levi’s living and trying to freeze him out of any and all jockey positions so he couldn’t continue his way of living. He was spreading the word to potential hires that he had a bad temper, that he’d gone off the rails, picked fights, and quit when Bird’s Wing went down on the track, couldn’t stand the blemish on his record, and he was more trouble than he was worth. Those that he couldn’t convince with just words, he was apparently making more monetary arrangements in exchange for not working with Levi. Maybe not straight up bribes of cash, but arrangements to get bumped up the priority list for a chance to breed with some of their star horses, or time with some of the top staff, or buying and selling of horses--there were more ways to bribe people than just with money. Besmirching his name to people he didn’t work with yet, trying to convince people he did work with that he was trouble in the long run, citing a bit of the violence in his history as evidence to back his claims, bribing people...it was sickening.

“I appreciate it. I just wish more people had the same sense you do,” Levi said in a low voice. He’d already lost more jobs than he wanted to think about because of this. He had more people firing him than keeping him. He knew Forster had reach, but this was ridiculous--he hadn’t expected the impact to be this wide. At least some people he worked for had the sense to say no, but how long before societal pressures made someone else fire him? Upper class could be ruthless, from what he saw as an outside observer that brushed shoulders with them.

“Well, if you need more work to make up for any losses, I’m sure we can work something out,” Sarah Annaheim said, a hand outstretched to shake on it with Levi. He accepted the handshake, but his gaze was following Isabel as she led one of the horses back to the trainer who’d been timing the horse’s speed, the two of them discussing the ride out of earshot.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want to cut into Isabel’s hours. And so you have a heads up, I’m liable to knock Forster on his ass the next time I see him.”

Sarah chuckled, releasing his hand. “I doubt it would help, but that would be good to see. Are you making more of these kinds of visits today?”

“I am. I need to figure out who Forster’s talked to, and give a warning to those he hasn’t. And see what jobs I can keep.”

“We’ll be here. The usual days, usual horses. If you need more work we can work something out.”

Levi nodded, starting to turn away and giving Isabel a small nod of acknowledgement when they locked eyes before he made his way down the fine gravel path to where he parked the car.

It was going to be a rough few days before he could figure out where exactly this bullshit with Forster was going to end up. Before he put into action any plan to make up for the jobs he’d lost, he was going to have to figure out where he stood financially. If the damage was bad enough…

He’d worry about that when he got home.

It was dark outside by the time he got home, the house quiet as he sat alone at the kitchen table. Spread in front of him was a couple sheets of paper, some with information like bills or income on it, one holding his notes on the math, a calculator glaring a number he did not like at him as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Forster had done far too much damage. With all the jobs he'd lost, if he tried to make due with what he still had, he wasn't going to be able to maintain his current standard of living. Things would get tight, and he'd have to start making some cuts. The payments on the house and the utilities was enough to make him nervous when comparing it to the income he was left with. He needed to try and get back some of his jobs, or get his foot in the door with people he hadn't contacted yet that Forster might not have sway over. Of course, some of those options might be out of his league, the cream of the crop that probably wasn't looking for a jockey, but it was worth trying. It was a long term goal he would have to work towards. He could at least put out feelers, get his ear to the ground for possible jobs that might be opening up. And there were a few places that came to mind he might be able to get some kind of work.

He had to make money somehow.

Normally, he raced in the bigger races, the higher stakes, bigger cash prize stuff, not the small leagues, the races where owners tested out horses or tried to make a quick buck. But looking at where he was at financially thanks to Forster, he wasn't exactly in a position to be picky. He had to take what he could get and be grateful. If things eventually blew over, which he hoped they would, he could get some of his big league jobs back and probably drop some of the temporary small time work he was going to have to pick up to make ends meet in the meantime.

Well, unless he grew particularly attached to a job or two, he might keep some of the smaller gigs, then. Maybe. First he had to get the jobs before he considered repercussions like that.

And he knew just where to start.

"Hey there...seems like you’re doing okay. Least your shits easier to deal with this way.”

Levi was currently talking in a quiet voice to Bird’s Wing in the same stables he’d been in the other day, hand gently brushing up the stallion’s neck and across his forehead. True to her word, Y/N’s people had let him in to see Bird’s Wing when he’d arrived, the blond stable boy from before--Armin, if he remembered correctly--ran off to find and inform Y/N that Levi was here and wanted to talk to her. While he waited, he was catching up with Bird’s Wing, seeing how he was doing. So far it looked like more of the same--still suspended in that harness, though the stallion was staying still, looking around rather calmly while Levi spoke softly and petted the horse. The stallion must be getting used to being suspended in the air by the harness by now, considering how calm he’d been from what Levi observed starting the moment Levi walked inside.

The horse snorted, turning his head slightly to nudge at Levi’s shoulder, coaxing a slight smile out of Levi as he leaned against the horse in turn. He was glad the stallion got a second chance through Y/N--all of the racehorses deserved better than to be put down because of an owner’s stupidity.

“The surgery went well. He’s on a good track to recovery, so far. And it looks like he’s happy to see his riding partner,” came Y/N’s voice from the door to the stall. Levi leaned back, looking over at her as he started to back away from the horse and move towards the stall door. “I’m glad you decided to come back and visit, though...Armin said that you wanted to talk about something?”

“Are you still looking for another jockey?” Levi asked, cutting straight to the point.

Y/N blinked, giving him a curious look. “Not...actively. We really just need another jockey when the foals are born and grow enough to start getting ready for racing. Well,” she added after catching the flash of disappointment in Levi’s eyes. “We could always use some help, though. We’ve got a horse or two that is going to make a tentative return to racing soon and I’m sure our current jockey would appreciate not having to take on more racing projects, and we could always use some help exercising the rehabilitated horses, or helping with the therapy horse sessions. There’s work, even if it’s not always in races themselves. Why, are you trying to apply right now?”

“I found myself with free time in my schedule. If you don’t have any positions open--”

She held up a hand to stop him before he backed out after hearing she technically didn't, her hand gesturing for him to follow. He hesitated, but did as she wordlessly asked, following beside her as she started to talk.

"You usually race in the big important stuff, right? Breeder's Cup, Triple Crown races, important, renowned stuff like that? Or you at least race for people with a lot of money that are aiming for those races, right?" Levi nodded, but didn't give her anything else to work with, letting her sell the position she had in mind to him...even though he was going to take it either way cause he needed the money.

"Right now, we don't have any horses in those races or that I plan to put in those races. Our main goal here is rehabilitation, but…" she sighed. "I won't lie, it’s difficult to keep this place afloat. All the medical expenses, and it's far more common for the horses to be retired from racing after they recover or to return to their owners, than it is for them to be in good enough shape to race again, let alone in races as trying as those--and some of them get too old before they recover to try for, say, the Triple Crown."

"You're not doing a good job of selling me on the job," Levi said bluntly, and she came to a stop in front of the same two pregnant mare stalls she had brought him to before.

"What I'm saying is, in order to make sure this place doesn't slide into irreversible debt and go belly up, I'm aiming to change that. I'm going to start investing more in races. And not just your standard round the track Triple Crown races. Endurance races. Cross country. Short distance, long. Maybe even go international. There's more than just Thoroughbreds on this farm. I adopt mustangs when they put the wild horses up for sale when they're trying to control overpopulation--and I've gotten a few young horses that show promise for endurance racing. I've already told you one of the foals from these two mares is going to be a good racer, it's what brought you in. Heaven knows I want to get a few Arabian breed horses and get into Arabian horse races. Some of it is a little ways off, some we just need to train the horses, others we need to get our hands on the horses in the first place. The work may be small and little league at first, nothing like you've been racing, and you may have to help with training, rehabilitation, and the therapy horses and the like for a while,, but...there is a future if you come in now. A lucrative one, maybe, if some of these foals turn out as promising as I think they will. Maybe we'll even reach the point where you're too busy racing to be helping with the training of new foals or rehabilitation of old ones. You'll definitely wear multiple rider hats to start, maybe it could broaden your horizons, keep your life interesting and new. And considering the main heart of the farm, you're not going to have to worry about us doing something like Forster. We take care of our horses. And if one's injured, you can bet they'll be taken care of."

Levi appraised her for a moment. He wasn't much of an endurance or cross country jockey, but he could learn, if that's what it took to make ends meet. And it would certainly keep things interesting. Though personally he would prefer to stick with his usual round the field in the dirt ring horse racing if he could.

But again, ends needed to be met.

"What about winnings for races? What percentage would I get?" Levi asked, staring her down. This could honestly sway his resolve to take the job--if he was going to make shit money, then he couldn't take something that would take so much time. He had a living to earn.

"Let's see, for races...on average, the jockey gets about ten percent. We are trying to make enough to pay for a lot of upkeep and expenses...what's the share I'm giving Historia and Mikasa right now…" she pursed her lips, walking slowly out of the stables and craning her head up towards the sky. "Twelve for the little leagues. Big leagues, we'll talk more fifteen...maybe twenty."

Levi's eyebrows rose. That was actually generous of her. Sometimes jockeys only made say $50 a race they didn't win--hence why he nearly panicked with all the jobs he was losing thanks to Forster. With the usual ten percent average, he'd only get a thousand from a ten thousand winning pot. It would make a difference to make a little more, even by two percent, and big league races, races with bigger pots mean bigger earnings even at a regular ten percent, and she was offering him a bigger cut to go with it?

Thankfully he didn't have to worry about agent or valet fees coming out of his earnings. Clearly he found jobs himself and didn't use an agent to do that part for him--he liked to feel people out himself, and either he didn't trust anyone else to clean the tack and such besides him, or the owners of the horses he rode already had valet’s assigned to the horse so he didn't have to worry about it.

"What about how often? This won't be my only job," Levi said smoothly, refusing to give her a revealing reaction about that share of winnings she'd dangled in front of him. She certainly knew how to give incentive to win in the races.

"Naturally. Well, I assume you do a lot of racing for other owners, so maybe two days a week? I'm sure you'll fit us into your race schedule like anyone else on race days, but besides that, weekly, two days would be fine. Come in the morning, help the horses train and rehabilitate, get their morning exercise in. We’ll try you with some of the horses that will be racing that need a constant jockey, instead of switching between the two we have. One of those two days, if you’re alright with it, will be when we have our therapy sessions with the horses. It’s always helpful to have an extra hand to help out. It’s about 115 to 300 a session for each person, which you’d get a part of, of course. Whenever we sell a foal, if you’ve helped in raising it and getting it ready for sale, you’ll get a part of the money we make from selling it. Basically, if you put in work somewhere, you’ll get money back for it. If you want to put in more than two days, that’s your choice--it’s your schedule you’ll have to work around, but I’m sure if you show up outside the usual two days, we can find something for you to do.”

It sounded like a good deal--especially with how much he was hurting for work right now. She had plenty of different ways for him to earn money here, and two days of the week was manageable--not to mention she was willing to work with his schedule to give him more opportunities to earn. He was probably going to be doing work in the mornings and midday here, from the sounds of it, which meant he could probably do more work elsewhere in the evenings on the same days.

Long story short, he could make this work easily. It was a good opportunity that could help him make ends meet until doors started opening again and Forster forgot his pettiness over Levi in favor of his spite for someone else. Even then, he could slowly transition from the odd jobs he picked up here to make ends meet, back to his old work as opportunities started coming back in.

“Before you make any decisions, do you want to meet some of the staff and horses you’d be working with?” Y/N asked after a few moments of silence between the two of them.

He supposed that would factor into how much he would want to be here--if he could stomach the others enough to take those extra hours. With a small nod from Levi, Y/N gave him a slight smile and started leading the way again.

“You don’t talk much, do you? Doesn’t matter, we’ve got quiet types and...very talkative types here. You’re either going to be around like minded company who are just as quiet, or around people who are all too happy to do the talking themselves if they have to.”

“Like you?”

Y/N chuckled, guiding him further along to another stable, where he could see more people were moving around inside, a few horses being led out the doors towards one of the open fields by people in riding gear and work clothes. He saw the boy from earlier, Armin, leading a cream coated horse with one white sock and light brown legs to the pasture as he talked to a young woman in full riding gear with long black hair and grey eyes, both of them giving him curious looks as he and Y/N passed them, heading into the stables.

“That was Mikasa with Armin--she’s one of our jockeys. I’d introduce you, but it looks like they’re taking Treasure’s Truth out for a bit of exercise--she’s wrapping up her recovery and should be involved in some therapy work soon, so you might work with her a little bit. The mare, I mean. Mikasa’s a bit of a keep to herself type, too, so interactions with her would be up to you.”

“Do I see fresh meat, Y/N?!” came a new voice that was far too excited for his taste, a brunette with glasses in clothes that were covered in dirt and hay from the stables bounding up to them with a gleam in her eyes. “He looks like a jockey--you were talking about hiring another jockey. Wait, this is the one who you said might come by to visit Bird’s Wing, am I right?”

Levi leaned back from the woman, a little overwhelmed by the raw...energy she was exuding, but Y/N seemed unfazed. This was probably normal for the woman. Great.

“Don’t scare him off, Hange, he hasn’t agreed to anything yet,” she said calmly with a hand held out in an obvious ‘calm down’ gesture before she gestured between the two. “Levi, meet Hange, she’s our current trainer, which means you’ll be seeing a lot of her. And yes, Hange, we’re currently talking about Levi potentially becoming one of our jockeys and helping around the ranch.”

“I’m sure the kids would love having some extra help. Speaking of, Eren got kicked by Jean again a few minutes ago, by the way, so he’s in a foul mood.”

“Jean as in the hired hand, or Jean as in Jean’s Jacket, the horse? Both are likely to have kicked him.”

“The horse.”

“Well, he probably deserved it. Tell him to take a fifteen and then let the horses out into the grazing pasture.”

“Will do. Hey, if you end up hiring another jockey...any chance you might hire another trainer, too?” Hange asked in a conspiratorial yet also pleading tone. “Or at least an assistant.”

“I’m looking, Hange, I promise, you’ll have some help, soon.”

“I’m holding you to that. Anyway, I need to go watch Mikasa do a few laps with Treasure, I’ll see you later. Nice meeting you, Levi, I hope we’ll see more of you in the future,” Hange told him with a big grin before she left the stable to go look for the Eren that had been mentioned.

“Seems like a lively place,” Levi commented, following Y/N deeper into the stables.

“Well, there’s a lot going on. We have more horses in an almost recovered stage than we do recovering like Bird’s Wing, right now, so there’s a lot of work to be done with them. And we have a couple horses that Hange is hard at work getting race ready. Like…” She came to a stop in front of a stall and let out a low whistle, which brought the stallion inside to the front door, head poking out with a soft snort. Y/N went to the door, pulling a bridle off the wall and starting to fit it over the horse’s head. Right now, all Levi could see was the white stripe snip on a pale grey face with dark brown eyes, though the neck seemed to turn pure white with grey spots spattered across the coat, a grey and white mane a little long and perhaps in need of a cut.

“This here...is Ember Rain. You might have heard about him.”

Recognition sparked in Levi’s eyes. “He got a career ending injury just before a race, during morning exercises, right?”

“Well, that’s what they thought. But Ember here has made a full recovery. As long as he’s taken care of, he can still race. And I’m sure we both know he’s not a little league racer,” Y/N said conspiratorially, attaching the lead and opening the stall to bring Ember Rain out for Levi to get a good look at him.

Now that he saw the whole coat, he could see the horse looked like a pure white horse that had a can of watered down black paint thrown on him, spatters of black and grey in random places, except for the one almost all black leg save for a small white sock and a few white spots before halfway up the shoulder the black faded to black and then gave way to white again. A twin leopard coat--and a beautiful one at that, especially when kept clean so it shone like this. A light grey mane flicked proudly through the air as he was brought out in front of him, Levi’s eyes evaluating the muscles and the strong legs, the way the horse carried himself. He wasn’t a vet or a trainer, but he’d been around enough horses to have a decent sense for a good racer when he saw one.

“He’s a bit proud and stubborn--he’s picky about who he lets near him. He won’t let Historia or Mikasa ride him, unfortunately, no matter how much we try, so maybe…”

“You’re hoping he lets me ride him?” Levi asked, starting a slow walk around the horse. The stallion's dark brown eyes followed him, head turning, not letting Levi out of his sight as he circled and appraised the stallion. Y/N stayed at his head, holding firmly onto the lead and looking rather content as she let Levi do his thing.

“I don’t expect he will right away, but it’s worth a shot. And he’d be in the races your used to, eventually, which I figured you might appreciate. Eventually, of course. Hange is still trying to train him back up to where he was, which is difficult without a jockey, so he’s going to need a bit more time to adjust, but there’s other, smaller league horses that you could ride in the meantime. Race-wise, I mean.”

“But he’s the one you’d like me to focus on,” Levi asked, keeping a distance for now and not yet trying to pet the stallion or anything.

“For now. We’ll have at least one more big leagues racer from those mares in the other barn, and you never know what will happen in the future. I have some nice breeding IOU’s I’ve been itching to use that I might be able to start cashing in on with Ember Rain here...and whichever foal we keep when the mares give birth.” She paused in her discussion for a moment, gently rubbing Ember’s muzzle with a faint smile. “How do you feel about endurance racing, Levi?”

“Haven’t done it before,” Levi said bluntly, gaze still appraising the horse in front of him, trying to get a good sense of what the horse might be thinking about him.

“Are you willing to give it a try if I show you the most promising endurance horse I’ve got?” she asked him. It sounded like she was eager to share a secret, like she was bursting at the seams wanting to share this great horse with someone.

Well, he was desperate for money. And endurance racing was another way to do that, even if it wasn’t what he was used to.

“Maybe,” he said non committedly, and Y/N held out the lead on Ember Rain for him to take. Surprised, and even a little reluctant in case the horse decided he didn’t like Levi, he took the lead, keeping a firm grip despite his hesitance. Ember snorted and pawed at the ground tossing his head as if in disapproval, but when Y/N and Levi started to walk, the stallion followed, even if it was with a loud snort and after a pull or two from Levi.

“How many stables do you have in this place?” Levi asked as she started to lead him deeper into the property towards yet another barn.

“Well, we have the stables for the recovering, injured, and pregnant horses, we have our good health stables for our racers and breeding horses--that was the one we were just in, and it’s actually the biggest. Our second biggest stable is the one we’re going to now. It’s where we keep the mustangs.”

Levi glanced at her. “Your promising endurance horse is a mustang?”

“Nothing wrong with that. Just wait until you see her.”

When she’d mentioned she adopted mustangs when they went up for sale during the population cull, he hadn’t been expecting her to have a stable full of them. Maybe a couple stalls, but here she was telling him she had stables for specifically the mustangs.

Instead of walking into the stables themselves, she directed them towards the fence. Once there, Levi realized there actually weren’t a terribly large amount of wild horses running around in the large enclosure they were now overlooking. Quite a few, but not a stable full, for sure. He’d jumped to conclusions there for a second.

A couple looked like they were foals, which he quickly ruled out as the one she wanted to show him, his gaze roaming over the small pack that for the most part seemed to be running together. Behind him, Ember pawed impatiently at the ground.

Y/N pointed out into the enclosure after a few moments. “See the black appaloosa with the grey and white blanket?”

Levi followed her pointing finger, and there at the front of the pack, a few leagues in front of it, was the horse she’d just described, one that was notably faster than the others and seemed to be maintaining that pace and high energy as she raced around the enclosure, making turns around trees and jumping over a creek that cut through the open field with ease. They watched her for several minutes before she slowed down, and even then, she didn’t seem to lose that energy, which could be observed even at this distance.

Seemed promising. He was in no way an expert, but Y/N seemed to think she was sitting on a prize horse. Well, more than one. He would have asked why she hadn’t entered bigger stakes races yet, but she’d sort of already answered that for him. She was waiting for the right team. She needed a jockey used to bigger races, it sounded like her trainer needed some help, and the horses themselves needed trained and prepared for those races.

Again, it sounded like there was plenty of work for him to find here. He was still going to make a few calls and try to get some other jobs as well, since this couldn’t entirely make up what he’d lost in the Forster fallout, but...it seemed like a damn good start. And there was promise here, if he decided to stick around or if the Forster problem continued longer than expected.

And it was a guaranteed job, because even if he didn’t know much about Y/N, he knew enough to know she wasn’t going to cave into pressure he might try to put on her to drop Levi. Especially since she’d been there that day and knew what happened.

Levi looked away from the mustang she’d pointed out to him and back to Ember Rain, who seemed to be staring at him intently from behind. Levi turned all the way around, facing the stallion fully and very carefully reaching out with a hand to lightly touch the horse’s muzzle, sliding his hand gently up the horse’s forehead when he was successful touching the stallion’s muzzle.

Yeah...there was some promise around here.

“When do you want me to start?”

Everything Tags: @antisteller

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea @hauntedhousecat @peaches-and-clouds @queenofcurse @wubbawubwub04 @lollobos @pasteldays @xcocolinox @itsmeaudrieee @macaronnv @tokyo-banana @apuci-kis-szornye

Different Breeds Tags: @french-girl-online @mysteriousmagicx @classyunknownlover

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artxyra · 4 years

Note

post hawkmoth gabriel is outed as hawkmoth and no one except mari knows adrien is chat mari gows to batboys and one day adrien comes to visit her and the batboys think that adrien is here to get revenge on mari but imagine their shock when mari squeals and jumps into his arms and hugs him like theres no tomorrow (this isnt my idea but i wanted to see your take on it)

Note: So lack of motivation is a bitch and I’m surprised that writing and rewriting this fic worked. Hopefully, this stands up to your expectations.

“Breaking news, Adrien Agreste, the former head model of Gabriel Agreste Fashion, was seen walking down the streets of Gotham, New Jersey late last night. Tune in later for more Gotham gossip…” The volume slowly becomes muted leaving the person holding the remote sitting in silence.

Soon a series of noises, such as items hitting the floor, a body struggling to move fills the room ambiance sound. It wasn’t long before a phone’s ring tone goes off. More rustling is heard. The music stops, then there was a pause.

“Yeah, I just watched the news. So, what’s the plan. I already have Barb on speed dial.” A male’s voice states into the phone. This is Richard “Dick” Grayson on the four-way call with his brothers.

“Demon Spawn’s in charge of keeping, Pixie, busy. She cannot know that he’s in town.” Jason states before hearing his younger brother tsking at such an easy request. Of course, he could keep his fiancée busy in the meantime.

“Of course, I can keep my beloved busy, you imbeciles.” Damian scoffs at his brothers. In fact, his beloved was most likely in her studio right now working on a commission.

“Good, good, keep her away from any source of news. We all know how Gotham Gossip works. The rest of you meet me at WE and we’ll figure out a way to get Agreste out of here.” Tim explains to which everyone mumbles their agreements and slowly hang up on one another.

“What was all that about?” Kori asks coming out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, you know, the same old same old.” Dick smiles at his wife who raises an eyebrow but shrugs instead and goes into the kitchen.

“Ready for some more gossip Gotham! Former son of the Parisian terrorist was found shopping at Coccinelle de Pixie storefront that was recently vandalized not long after with the words ‘Traitor’ spread painted in black across the window…”

Timothy Drake sat in his executive chair nursing a new cup of steaming coffee. Gotham’s Gossip playing on a radio that he soon turned off and shakes his head. All the more evidence to place Adrien Agreste behind bars just like Paris did his father. For years, everyone thought Adrien was in cahoots with his father in terrorizing Paris, Adrien made no statement and he stayed away from the media.

“Mr. Drake, your brothers are here.” His assistant announces through the coms. Tim quickly replies knowing that his brothers are seconds away from breaking down his office doors.

“You heard the latest gossip?” Jason practically demands. Tim could feel the anger rolling off his predecessors. “Of course, you did, you wouldn’t be listening if you hadn’t. I swear if Gordon doesn’t find the culprit, I will.” Jason slams his fist against the wooden desk, to which Tim simply takes a sip of his coffee and stare directly at his brothers.

Tim would never say it aloud, but he was surprised to see Damian especially after he was given the job of keeping the person that claim as their sister busy for the evening.

“I don’t care what methods you use Todd, as long as the person—” Cough, Agreste, cough, “is behind bars and locked up with the worst of the worst.” Damian gave his brother the answer he needs.

“Back to the issue at hand.” Tim sets his cup down. “Babs sent me Agreste’s itinerary from his hotel location to any phone history. So far, we have gathered he is in contact with someone under the name Buginette, unfortunately, that number is tied to a burner. They are making plans that seem on the verge of making Bean suffer.”

“Great, we have our main suspect and we can’t even call his accomplice,” Jason growls, he hates feeling helpless but that only has so much time before Adrien could make his attempt.

“I wouldn’t say that; Dick you’ll be tailing Agreste, from his GPS location, he should be passing by WE any minute now. Use this and the GG, as we all know she’s in for the latest scoop.” Tim hands Dick a device with a beeping red dot moving. Dick examines the devices before placing them in his pockets.

“We have until eight o’clock tonight to detain him. This Buginette and he plans on meeting at an unknown location. We will intercept them either both or right on.” Tim then takes another sip giving his siblings time to process any information that he just gave.

“Just in, GCPD found a bunch of dead ladybugs in front of the Chordate Hotel, the hotel that Adrien Agreste is rumored to be staying at. Is this retribution to the future Mrs. Wayne as we all know how much she loves ladybugs…?” The broadcaster’s voice carries over the car’s radio.

Damian Wayne could help but tighten his hands around the steering wheel. Someone was after this fiancée and he felt helpless about it. Marinette doesn’t deserve any of this. She has too much to worry about with the wedding and her growing fashion empire.

He pulls up in front of their shared apartment and immediate parks into his parking space.

“Angel, I’m home.” He calls out tossing his keys into the decorative bowl that on the end table next to the front door.

“In the back room.” A female’s voice calls back. Damian smiles practically visualizing the smile on his fiancée’s face.

Walking past a series of boxes, Damian makes it to the back room. Marinette is kneeling next to a mannequin, hand sowing the lace fabric into place. Damian couldn’t help but watch her work in awe. They have known each other for years and even today her working still amazes him.

“Are we still going over to Bruce’s tonight?” Marinette asks looking up briefly to acknowledge her fiancé and give him a smile. Damian was quick to answer her with a yes to which she nods and turns her attention back to the gown. “I should be done in an hour. I also have a couple of stops to make before we head over. Or do you wanna carpool with your brothers while I drive?”

Ding, ding. Damian knows that the messages coming through are from his brothers. “I’ll be fine; getting a ride with Grayson.” He answers before grabbing his phone and unlocking it to view the messages.

“Dami…Dami…” Damian turns away from his phone to stare into the blue eyes of his fiancée. “I thought I lost you there for a minute; you didn’t respond when I had asked whether you’re going out tonight for patrol?”

“Tt, I am going on patrol with the others tonight. Doing a run before and after dinner.” He answers hoping that she doesn’t question it. Marinette narrows her eyes before shrugging and continuing with her sowing.

Quickly getting changes, it wasn’t long before Damian receives a message from Dick stating that he’s out in front. Damian gives Marinette a goodbye kiss and exits out of the apartment.

“Wha’sup Gotham. Tonight’s segment is saucy. With Adrien Agreste out in the public, the batbros are out and about. I swear I just some red outside the studio window. Now onto the sauce—”

“Are you seriously listening to the crap with the mask on?” Robin questions Red Robin, who waves his in his defense. “Should the target get here by now?” He looks over the building to view the streets.

Behind the two vigilantes, Nightwing and Red Hood appear on the rooftop.

“Agreste should be arriving in five according to his GPS location.” Nightwing states and a ringing sound goes through their coms.

“Nightwing is right. Though is it for certain that Mr. Agreste is the person behind the attacks against Miss Marinette?” Agent A’s voice rings through the coms. The four brothers look to one another all being on the same wavelength. They all think that Adrien Agreste is behind the attacks. There was no other reason to explain it. He arrives in Gotham and then there are attacks against Mari through her storefront and favorite animal/insect.

“We’re sure, Agent A,” Tim responds as the device on this wrist beeps. At the same time, a rental car pulls up across the building and parks. Adrien Agreste gets out of the car and straightens out his collar.

“Target is in place. All we’re missing is this Buginette person and we’ll move in.” Red Hood pulls out an AK-47 and position it to lock on Adrien. He wasn’t going to kill the blonde male, maybe just skim a little off the top or scare him shitless.

Down below, Adrien pulls out his phone and calls someone. Immediate the batbros knew that he is talking to this Buginette person, it’s not because Red Robin has the recording playing as well.

About five minutes later, a familiar dark car pulls up. Robin looks at the car in suspicion. This car was the same model that he has and shares with Marinette from time to time. From the corner of his eye, he could see Red Hood etching his finger closer to the trigger.

Adrien runs over to the car shouting “Buginette” happily to the person inside.

The car door opens and immediately they hear a gunshot. The door closes and Adrien jumps back. Red Hood side-eyes his brothers as Robin silently hopes that he is wrong for once.

This “Buginette” person finally gets out of the car to reveal a Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who was no doubly staring in their direction.

“Well shit.” Red Hood groans just as the rest of the family facepalm or are into much of a shock to do anything.

“Hold on for a second, Adrien,” Marinette states holding out her hand as her other hand goes to grab her phone.

On the rooftop, Red Hood’s phone was going off. None of them wanted to answer it. In fact, there were certain that they didn’t want to answer. Instead of taking it like a man, the brother quickly gathers their items and disappear off the roof.

“Do I even want to know, what’s going on, Buggy?”

“No, Kitten, you don’t wanna know.” Marinette huffs and places her phone back in her purse. “I have an hour to hour to kill before I dinner and you and I have a lot to catch up on.” Marinette wraps her hands around Adrien’s shoulder, who smiles sheepishly at the dark-haired woman. “I hear that you and—”

“Mari!” Adrien interrupts blushing a deep red to which Marinette laughs and opens the door to the building.

An hour later, Adrien stands behind Marinette, who was on a warpath knocking against the large doors to Wayne Manor. They could hear furniture moving, people yelping, and a cough. Alfred stands at the with a greeting smile like no other, though Adrien could sense the double meaning.

“Good evening, Alfred, how are you?” Marinette greets with that sickly-sweet smile; Adrien knows all too well. Marinette never the one to keep the deadly appearance apart of her getup but she knows how to use her best aspects for the worst.

“Good evening, Miss Marinette and you is your guest?”

“Oh, silly me, this is my brother in everything but blood, Adrien Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette gestures for Adrien to follow. She places her jacket and purse down and examines the room. Of course, the couch was being used as a blockage.

“Ooh…boys?” Marinette sings walking past the couch, setting each and everyone right side up.

In the dining room, the four men all look to one another scared to utter a single sound. They did not want to deal with Marinette, especially Jason.

“Whose bright idea was it to allow Hood to shoot at Adrien?” Marinette’s voice echoes throughout the manor’s first floor. Bruce, who was sitting at the head of the table raises an eyebrow at his sons. He wasn’t in the bat cave when they returned but they returned as quickly as they left.

Dick mouths “you don’t want to know” to his father figure and begins to sweat bullets. “Whatever happens, tell Kor’i and Mar’i that I love them.” The oldest adopted Wayne states as Marinette makes her way to the archway leading into the room.

“You don’t need to worry about that Dickie.” Marinette smiles, “I’m after Jason.” At the mention of his name, Jason darts out of his seat and through the window. Alfred and Adrien watch the scene play out in two different emotions. Adrien was curious while Alfred was just done with everything.

“I’ll place the order for a new window sir. Is any hungry for dinner?” No one answer to afraid to make them the next target to Marinette’s anger.

“Dinner sounds nice, Alfred.” Marinette smiles sending more chills down the remaining three batbros. “So, everyone, meet Adrien, my brother. Apparently, someone tried to kill him this evening, should I know something about that.”

“I’m more concerned as to why you were using a burner phone to contact Agreste.” Damian murmurs to which Marinette heard him and was immediately behind her fiancé.

Lowering herself to make sure her lips were closer to his ear, she whispers, “Why would it matter, Demon?” She leans back and gestures for Adrien to take a seat. “Adrien here was in hiding from the press and it was my idea from the start.”

Damian chokes on air, the feeling of death forever lingering. He knew there was a reason why he loves Marinette, and this was one of them.

“Is it safe to come in?” Jason’s head pops up only to get greeted by a Batarang. “Got still not safe, you know what I’ll just go eat out.” Everyone turns to Marinette, who was still showcasing her sickly-sweet smile.

“Anyone want to join him?” She asks taking the empty seat next to Damian, who was spatting himself down making sure he had no weapon on his being that she can reach.

“No, we’re all good here, um, Adrien tell us about yourself?” Tim ends the harsh silence quickly and for once he was actually awake.

Adrien smiles and begins to talk about his latest adventure.

Moments later, Alfred returns with dinner solidifying tonight’s adventure.

Much, much later…

Damian and his brothers came out of their stupor of last night’s event. “Wait then who was vandalizing Mari’s store and image?” Tim asks before pressing a cup of coffee to his lips.

Before any of them to grab their devices to hunt down the real culprit, Marinette walks into the living room. “It was an old employee of mine. He only did it because someone—by the name of Lie-la—offer him some big money. He never received it so he came clean.”

Marinette then picks up the keys from the decorative bowl and leaves her place.

The three older brothers turn to their youngest, “You better not divorce her.” They all state at the same time. Damian only nods, agreeing with his brothers for once in his life.

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #daminette #ml crossover #dc crossover

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Note

"I'm scared of what you're becoming" with Javier from the prompt list

Summary: "I'm scared of what you're becoming." Based off the prompt list I reblogged. Reader find out that Javier is trading information with the Don Berna and things don't quite go as planned.

Warning/Content: Threatening, talking of killing, arguing, cursing, angst, Javier gets a little rough with the reader but mostly Javier wanting his girl to be safe.

Paring: Javier Peña/female reader {No use of Y/N}

A/N: My first Javier request, I'm exited ! 🥰 But this is short but hopefully you enjoy it!!

Javier's mouth purses while his eyes are all expressive; shock and confusion. How did she find him? His body warms in anger knowing she had to follow him, stupid girl, now involving herself in something he wanted her miles away from.

She's pushed to the floor on her knees, hands bound behind her. She's cursing at them, threatening to rib their hands off if they push her one more time. While she might not be as strong, Javier has no doubt she won't. Don Berna looks over at his men as they press the barrel of the gun to her head, while her spanish is horrible, Javier understood every word. "We caught her snooping outside boss, want us to shoot her?"

Don Berna nods, muttering something about taking her out back but Javi clears his throat, "That won't be necessary, she's mine."

"Yours?" Berna questions, lips meeting the rim of the mug. "Your what? I thought this was only between us."

"She's just mine." Javi snaps, "She must have followed me, let her go I'll handle it."

"I'm right fucking here you dumb perra." Javi rolls his eyes, finger pointing at her in warning. "You shutup."

"I don't know about this." Berna mumbles, "She has to die, she could have heard us."

"You shoot her and there's no where you can hide from me, let me handle this." Javi threatens, hands slam on the table to show how serious he was. Berna let's out a small 'mmmhm'.

"Fine but one slip up I'll kill you both Agent Peña." Javi's fingers shake with anger, lips show no emotion as he stands abruptly. His girl stands with his support, guiding her out of the cafe with bound hands.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Javier? Tell me you're not as stupid as I think." Her words make him huff as he reaches his car, using his keys to break the confines but just as quickly hands meet his chest and push him away.

"Stop." It's a warning, jaw clenches as traps her between his car, arms extending on each side of her head.

"Why did you fucking follow me? You crossed the line. Mind your fucking business." Anger creases her forehead, mouth dropping open while eyesbrows raise in astonishment.

"You've been acting to different, I was worried. I thought you were cheating on me but no you're the one leaking the information to the Los Pepes. What the fucking is wrong with you Javier?" Javier presses closer until their chest flush against each other, he could practical feel the heat radiating off of her, shaking in anger. "You're the mole."

"And you just put a target on your back." Javi's hand squeezes the bridge of his nose, a headache forming at her words. "You're lucky if you live until next week, chica tonta." Dumb girl

Her lips form a scowl, knowing enough Spanish to decipher the words. She uses the opportunity to slip past him as walking away as quickly as she can but doesn't get too far, Javi's finger catch her elbow, a little more roughly than any of them would like but it's a warning. "Where do you think you're going? Didn't you just hear me? They want to kill you!"

"Who are you?" Her words make him stop and think for a minute, "My Javi would never ever stoop this low, working with criminals! Does Steve know? I sit next to you two all day and didn't hear a word of this!"

Javier's heart pounds inside his chest, "No, he doesn't. They want to Pablo, and I want him dead, this is the only way."

"By letting Los Pepes kill all this men? We are officers, we are supposed to save people not kill them despite their crimes." Her eyes don't leave his, emotion swelling inside them in the form of tears. She feels betrayed, cheated by her own boyfriend.

"As long as he dies I don't care." The words make her sick, nose drawn up and wrinkled. She couldn't take this, heart aching inside her chest.

"I'm scared of what you're becoming." Eyes squeeze shut as tears slip past long lashes, a small sob leaving lips.

"Hermosa." The words fall as a whimper from his mouth, he presses his nose to the crown of her head, skimming her hair line as he presses a kiss against her forehead. "We have to get out of here it's not a good neighborhood. It's late."

"I'm not your Hermosa!" Words sting but he doesn't dare let go. "I would rather take my chances then be with you. You're just like them."

"Stop." He literally begs, breath caught in his throat as eyes skim her face. Without a doubt she disgusted, the snarled lips, raised eyebrows say it all.

"Get the fuck off me Javier!" She screams but his hand covers her mouth quickly, not wanting to draw anymore attention then they already currently are.

"Get in the car." He's flushing against her roughly, "Get into the fucking are before someone shoots us."

With one last push she's freed, reluctantly pulling the passenger door open and slamming it shut once inside. Javier follows suit, fingers clutching the steering wheel so tight that knuckles turn white under the pressure.

"You can't go home, they will look for you there." She doesn't say a word, forehead pressing against the glass, breath fogging the window.

"Mía." Mine. The words fall breathlessly at her small sob, catching the tears with shaky fingers as they fall. His hand meets her knee, rubbing the rough material of her jeans, which was once comforting makes her sick. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry you had to think I was with someone else."

It's believable, before her he would sleep with a new woman every night, but that wasn't even the worst of it. He was more distant, never there with her but angry, always angry.

"Bring me to Mike and Connie's."

"Sweetheart, come home with me. We can talk." Javier didn't like the feeling that made his chest heavy, tears cape his own eyes at her words. It felt like an ending.

"I can't even look at you." Fingers push away his own from her knee. "I feel sick."

That was one thing Javier could agree on as he let out a heavy breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment at the consequences of how own actions. Heart sinking at the though of loosing her, she's slipping through his fingers and fast.

#javier pena imagine #javier pena x reader #javi pena x reader #narcos imagine

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deiliamedlini · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

This is a piece of a long oneshot I was working on that I actually just went back to so I could change the era this took place in to use for something else! So this is is the modern meeting of small-town Link and big-city-moving-to-small-town-for-work Zelda.

I might still go back to this one specifically, especially since most of this info can’t transfer to the earlier era I’m changing it to. I also haven’t edited it, since I’m just in the process of hijacking bits and pieces, so please excuse my dear Aunt Sally. No, wait... that’s not writing...

~~~~

“I just can’t believe they sent me here,” Zelda said into her phone. It was tucked between her cheek and her shoulder as she drove down a dirt road. On one side, there was farmland: an extensive few acres of it, from what she could tell. On her other side, trees.

Zelda loved trees. She did! They were a big part of her job, and she had nothing against them. But goddess above, she’d never seen so many trees in her life. Glancing at the clock, she realized that she’d been surrounded by trees for nearly an hour now, overwhelmed by the sight.

A city girl through and through, her entire life had been spent in the bustle of Castle Town: the largest, busiest, most innovative and thriving city in all of Hyrule. She’d gone to the best schools there, and worked at an exclusive corporation.

But they needed her to go somewhere else.

For the sake of the research, she reminded herself as she tried to focus on the phone and not all the trees. Or the mountains that replaced skyscrapers and castles. Or the farms that replaced parks and streets.

On the other end of the receiver were two voices. One was Midna, Zelda’s best friend. The other was Tetra, her older sister. The three of them together were incredibly close, and Midna had even offered to uproot her own life to join Zelda on this rural adventure. But Zelda had told her to hold down the fort; this move wasn’t permanent, and she’d be joining Midna back in their three-bedroom apartment that they all had shared in the heart of Castle Town.

“Are you almost there?” Midna asked, loudly typing something into her computer.

“She’s got to be,” Tetra muttered.

“I think I am.” Zelda looked around, but there were only… more trees. Shocker. “If the moving truck could find this place, then so can I.”

“Does she start work tomorrow?” Tetra asked, clearly directed at Midna.

“No,” Zelda answered for her. “I start Monday. They’re going to send me all the information ‘once I get settled.’”

“At least you know how much they value you,” Midna tried, but it was clearly a forced compliment and a poor attempt to make Zelda feel any better about taking this position. But really, when her boss asked her to take on a special assignment, one that paid double her old salary, she couldn’t resist, no matter how uprooted her life became.

“I know, but it’s—”

Suddenly, there was more than just trees.

A goat stepped into the road, much faster than Zelda ever thought goat could move. She dropped the phone, let out a high-pitched noise of absolute panic, and swerved around the goat. But she swerved off the dirt path, heard a thud, felt the car shake, and immediately slammed the breaks, rearing forward into the steering wheel.

“Sweet Goddess Hylia and all things holy!” she hissed, breathing heavily. Her chest hurt where she’d bounced into the wheel, but it hadn’t nearly been hard enough to cause the airbags to deploy.

Quickly putting the car in park, she shakily unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped outside, shaking out her hands and letting out some nerves before reaching into the car to grab the fallen phone.

“I’m okay,” she said quickly, brushing her hair from her face. “I almost hit a goat.”

“Goddess!” they both breathed. “We thought you were dead! My heart, Zelda!”

“I know, I’m sorry! Look, I hit something. I don’t see any dead animals in the road, but I’m going to hang up so I can look. I’ll call you later.”

The three of them were notorious for never saying ‘goodbye’ on the phone. Really, they didn’t do it in real life either. Even when Zelda left, the last thing Tetra had said was ‘I’ll come up to visit real soon’, and Midna had said, ‘find me a hottie, or some other excuse to move up there with you.’

So, Zelda hung up with just a promise to call them back, and she hurried down the road to where she’d heard the thud.

It didn’t take much investigating to figure out what had happened: there was a broken fence, splintered and thrown wildly around the area after her apparent impact with it, and a frayed rope on the ground. And a sign that said “fence broken”. Helpful.

Zelda glanced back at the goat, unmoved by anything that had just occurred. It was meandering through the road, boredly exploring an area that it didn’t seem interested in. Perhaps the trees felt familiar to it.

Zelda groaned and took a picture of the fence before trying to get the internet on her phone so she could look up the local police number to report that she’d damaged property.

No internet connection.

“Great,” she muttered, turning to take a picture of the goat before it could move. Then, she headed back to her car, just to make sure there was no innocent animal underneath. She flipped the flashlight on and ducked down.

Zelda groaned, but not because there was a dead animal. No, it wasn’t an animal that was dead; it was her tire. There was a giant piece of the broken fence impaled into the rubber, and thanks to her rolling a few feet away, it was in there good.

“Of course. Of course!” Zelda yelled into the abyss, not even earning a curious glance from the goat.

Grabbing her phone, she was blinded by the light she’d left on and turned it around so she could look up the tow company immediately but was met by the same message. No internet connection.

Rolling her eyes, she scrolled to Midna’s name and pressed call.

Silence. Not even ringing.

Zelda checked the corner of the screen, struck first by her red battery life, and second by the device bars desperately looking for a connection.

“I was just talking to them!” she yelled at the phone, as if it cared that she’d had service moments ago. It gave her the urge to throw the phone, but she wasn’t that angry yet.

Instead, she turned her camera on, took a picture of her impaled tire in case the insurance company would need it, and then took several pictures of the goat just for fun, praying that it didn’t charge at her or whatever goats did.

She continued observing the goat without anything else to do until a car headed down the road. She stood and began to wave her arms wildly, but the car drove right past her.

“Jerk,” she muttered, pushing her hair back and returning to sit. But it wasn’t long until a pickup truck slowed down before she could even get back out of the car. She breathed a sigh of relief when they stopped and rolled down the window.

“Everything alright, Miss?”

“Not really,” she sighed, looking at her car sympathetically. She gestured to her tire.

“Got a spare? I got a jack if you need it.”

His voice was accented with the local dialect, which made her feel a little at ease. At least this was someone who’s likely be familiar with the area and could tell her how far away she was.

She had to admit, she’d spoken to one of her coworkers on the phone and had also become enamored with her accent, though it wasn’t from around here either. Zelda had a feeling she was just a sucker for anything that wasn’t the harsh poshness of the Castle Town accent, where every letter pronounced, every syllable attempting to be heard. It was a hard accent, and a cold one. The ones around here was warm and inviting.

Of course, it would make her stick out anytime she opened her mouth, which she didn’t really want.

Castle Town was posh, for sure. A town for the rich and the well-off, or those in school or at work. So Zelda knew a thing or two about stranger danger, and the deeply rooted nerves she felt when she saw the man unbuckle his seatbelt from her peripheral vision bubbled up. She had an escape route planned: toward the broken fence. She wasn’t being kidnapped on her first day in town. But he didn’t get out. He just leaned across the seat to the open window.

Finally, she looked at him, and her breath caught. Well, he certainty matched his voice. Something tired and alert all at once. His blonde hair was long and tied back into a ponytail, falling out in the front so his bangs messily framed his face, bringing her attention to his piercing blue eyes.

Oh yeah, this was the kind of guy they warned you about in Castle Town. Too pretty for their own good. She’d have talked to him in a crowded bar for sure. But out here…?

She glanced back at her car, breaking her distracted trance, trying to remember what he’d asked. “Oh, uh, no. I took everything out of the car to fit my things. I figured I’d take my chances for not getting a flat, but surprise, surprise, a goat wants me dead.”

“Where you going? I can give you a lift if you want. You can get Daruk out here tomorrow morning to tow it wherever you need to go.”

“Oh,” she breathed. Don’t get into a car with someone you just met unless someone knows who they are or where you’re going. “Yeah, I was actually just going to ask if I could borrow your phone? Mine isn’t getting service. I can just call my tow company that I’m enrolled with.”

He nodded and reached across his passenger seat before handing her a phone out the window. She half expected it to be something old and rustic, like this whole place, but it was new and modern and almost exactly like hers. She’d just assumed the small town didn’t have the newest phones. What a stupid assumption.

“Mind if I just look up their number first?” she asked before randomly clicking around on a strange man’s phone.

“Go for it.”

She did and listened to all the automated options. The man was bobbing his head to some music she couldn’t hear. A car came down the road, stopping and honking, despite the fact that they could clearly go around him.

The man rolled his eyes and backed into the breakdown lane behind Zelda’s car, though she was thankful he still didn’t get out

It was only when Zelda’s eyes widened in either shock or horror at whatever she’d heard over the phone that he leaned his head back out the window curiously.

She walked up to him and handed the phone back. “Thanks.”

“So?”

“Three hours to get out here.” Zelda’s misery was palpable.

“Where are you going, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Some little village called Ordon”

He smirked and leaned back in his seat. “I’m headed there as well. Want a ride? We can get Daruk out here sooner to just tow your car in if he knows he’ll just be headed back into town. It’s not far.”

“Oh, I don’t know… not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t know you.”

He reached his hand out the window. “Link. I live in Ordon. Work too. Nice to meet you”

“Zelda,” she said, taking his hand.

“Here,” he said, pulling out his wallet and handing her a business card. “So you don’t think I’m lying. But I do have to get to work at some point, so if you want that ride…”

“I just don’t want you to be a kidnapping murderer and kill me, you know?”

He grinned, suppressing a chuckle.

Zelda crossed her arms. “Don’t laugh at my potential murder.”

Gesturing to his phone still in her hand. “You can keep that with you the whole ride so you can call the cops on me if you think I’m kidnapping you.”

Toying with the phone, she took another look at her car. “Okay. Just let me grab my bag.”

#wip wednesday #link #zelda #zelink #legend of zelda #modern au #flat tire trope #goat #and by goat I don't mean greatest of all time but literally a goat

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch16: Till The End Of The Line

Summary: The launch is growing ever nearer and in a desperate attempt to stop it before it is too late, the renegade group are intercepted by the Winter Soldier. When he is unmasked, Steve finds himself face to face with someone he presumed dead a LONG time ago, his childhood friend, Bucky Barnes. Only Bucky has no idea who he is…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Violence, bad language words, and some angst.

A/N: Another wonderful edit from @angrybirdcr

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 15

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“HYDRA doesn’t like leaks,” Sitwell continued to talk and try to plead his case as they drove down the freeway, heading back towards the Triskellion.

“So why don’t you try sticking a cork in it,” Sam finally snapped.

“Insight’s launching in sixteen hours, we’re cutting it a little bit close here.” Nat stuck her head between the two front seats from where she was sat in the middle of the back row.

“We can use him to bypass the DNA scans.” Steve informed her, clearly having already thought it through. “That way we can access the Helicarriers directly.” "What?! Are you crazy?! That is a terrible, terrible idea-” Sitwell began to protest but was cut off, his screams dying as he was pulled out of the car and thrown into oncoming traffic just as a sixteen-wheeler was going past. Katie let out a scream at the same time as Sam yelled out a loud curse, as a bullet ripped into the seat inches from Katie’s leg.

“Move!” Natasha yelled at Steve as she clambered through the middle of the two seat and onto his lap pulling him down away from the next bullet which was meant for him. As they all looked up, heavy footsteps pounding on the roof, in a bout of quick thinking, Steve pulled on the handbrake and the person on the roof dropped down onto the street. All four of them in the car watched as he rolled and rolled and used his metal arm to slow his momentum before standing up. He was tall, well built, long dark hair whipping around his masked face.

“It’s him.” Natasha’s voice was nothing but a whisper. “The Winter Soldier.”

Katie aimed her gun through the windscreen, taking aim, when they were violently hit from behind causing Katie’s usual dead shot to ricochet off the side of the man’s arm instead of his head. The car behind pushed them closer and closer to him until he was able to leap back onto the roof as Nat searched for her gun and Katie aimed hers upwards. Suddenly, a metal hand smashed through the windshield and pulled out the steering wheel from Sam’s hand.

“Shit!” Sam yelled. Natasha, after having found her gun, started shooting through the room but the Winter Soldier jumped onto the jeep behind their car that had started erratically pushing theirs along the road.

“Katie…!” Steve yelled, gesturing for her to climb into the front. “Hang on!”

She scrambled over the central gap between the front seats as Steve broke open the door with his shield pushed up against it, holding onto them all as best he could as the car began to flip. They dropped from the car onto the door as well as the shield and slid roughly along the street. Sam lost his grip and slipped away but luckily he only tumbled a few metres away mostly unharmed.

The three of them that remained hanging onto the shield quickly stood once they had come to a complete stop, the jeep that had caused the crash stopping as well, men all fully armed climbing out and one of them handing the Winter Soldier a grenade launcher, which he immediately used. Steve pushed Katie and Natasha out of the way and took the full force of the grenade with his shield which sent him flying over the bridge, just as the Winter Soldier reloaded and began firing at the rest of them.

They quickly dove for cover behind a car and together moved along the bridge, car by car, Natasha and Katie shooting back at the soldiers with their hand guns. Katie tossed one of her spare pistols to Sam who caught it, and started firing as well. This was working at keeping the advancing HYDRA operatives at bay reasonably well, until they were forced to the edge of the bridge and the Winter Soldier shot another grenade at them.

There was nothing for it, they had to jump. Nat had her anchor so she leapt off, grabbing Katie’s hand as she shot up at the concrete of the bridge. They landed a bit heavier than normal, Katie rolling a few feet over the concrete but she was soon back on her feet and running behind Natasha under the bridge. Nat skidded to a halt as they reached the other end, the shadow of the Winter Soldier visible on the ground in front of them. They shared a quick glance and with a nod they split up, Katie veering left, Natasha veering right.

With a deep breath, Katie stepped out from the shelter of the bridge, took aim and shot her gun up at the Soldier and she saw his head jerk back, and then he removed his glasses. She had hit where she had aimed but it hadn’t done as much damage as she had hoped. Ducking back under the bridge she carried on running and at this point she could hear machine gun fireand paused as she turned to see the fire trained onto a bus. Steve emerged from the end of it, rolling and picking up his shield and adding to the fray, Sam was firing at hostiles as well from his vantage point above.

“Go, I got this…”He yelled and Steve set off running once more.

Katie turned and looked across the way, the Winter Soldier was stalking between abandoned vehicles, presumably looking for them. She shadowed him, remaining a good distance away, as he rolled something under a car. Next thing she knew, there was an explosion and Nat had vaulted onto his back, attempting to tackle him that way. Katie sprinted towards her, and then slid across the floor, kicking at the back of his knee, making him stumble slightly but nothing more. She jumped up just as he flipped Natasha over onto her back and aimed a shot at him causing him to leap off somewhere to his right. Katie spun round, her gun aimed ready, looking for him but he was nowhere to be seen.

She started to sprint over towards Natasha, yelling at the screaming members of the public to get out of the way as she went, when she felt a searing pain in her shoulder. She gave a scream, stumbled, and dropped to her knees putting a hand to the wound. She backed up against a car, breathing hard looking around again when a thump from behind her had her turning to see that the Winter Soldier had hopped onto the hood of the car behind the one she was leaning on, gun aimed straight at her head.

Steve had heard that scream and he spun round to see Katie was pressed up against a car, her hand on her left shoulder, her eyes fearful. As he turned to sprint towards her, the Winter Soldier hopped up onto the car behind, taking aim with his gun. In desperation, Steve launched his shield with a loud grunt and it knocked the metal armed man off the car. With practiced ease the assassin landed on his feet and made to shoot again but Steve was right there, on him, launching a knee to his chest. The Winter Soldier stumbled slightly, before he cocked his head to one side, threw his gun away and advanced on Steve. The two began to fight, furiously, Steve blocking the swipes the assassin took at him with a dagger, slamming him into cars with his shield.

Toe to toe they went, the fight was furious. Each landing blows which would under normal circumstances dispatch an opponent with ease, but here, they were equally matched. The man was just as strong as Steve and The Captain realised that whoever he was, he had to be enhanced.

As the fight was raging between the two men, Natasha reached Katie’s side and dropped to her knees, ripping off her jacket and covered Katie’s wound with it in an attempt to stem the blood flow. "Alright, c'mon.” She coaxed, wrapping her arm over her shoulders. “Get up.”

She helped Katie to her feet, and the injured woman looked back in time to see the Winter Soldier launch himself at Steve. Steve managed to grab him under his chin, propelling him straight over the top of him in a huge arc, causing his mask to clatter to the ground right before the dark haired man landed gracefully on his feet. Steve stood up, waiting to see the face of the man who was causing them so much goddamned trouble, but when the guy turned round, he felt his heart stop.

Katie frowned as she saw Steve stood stock still, staring at the now unmasked Winter Soldier who looked oddly familiar. It took her a moment, but then she realised, he was familiar because she’d seen him before. His hair was longer, and he looked a little more ragged round the edges, but it was him.

Steve took a deep breath, his heart stopping as he looked into the man’s grey eyes.

“Bucky?” He gasped, frowning.

“Who the hell’s Bucky?” The man said. Steve paused, it sounded like him. It looked like him. It was him, but in the same way it wasn’t.

What had Hydra done?

Bucky seemed to be thinking about something, before he shook his head slightly and aimed at Steve with his last remaining gun, but before he could shoot, Sam swooped down, his wings once again attached to his back, and kicked him away but he didn’t stay down for long.

Katie looked around, and noticed that there was an RPG on the floor, she nodded towards it and Natasha picked it up, and aimed a well fired grenade over Steve’s head, forcing him to duck. It exploded where the Winter Soldier had stood, bringing the fight to an end.

Steve turned and looked as Katie stumbled and slumped against the van, struggling to stay on her feet. It was then that black MPVs and jeeps surrounded them, and the former STRIKE teams piled out.

“Drop the Shield, Captain! Get down on your knees! Get on your knees! Now! Get down! Get down!” Rumlow shouted out the orders. Steve did as he was told and placed his shield on the ground while holding his hands up defensively, not once taking his eyes off Katie, as she screamed in pain as a hand sharply grabbed her shoulder, pressing down on the injury. She was hauled forwards, stumbling, her hands roughly snapped in cuffs in front of her.

Steve started to struggle but a gun was pressed into the back of his head causing him to stop. He didn’t listen to what they were saying, he was too busy trying to make sure Katie was okay, and then there was Bucky. As he stood up and was shoved forward, he was directed towards an SUV, followed by Nat and Sam. He turned to see Katie fall as she was shoved forwards before being wrenched roughly back to her feet by Rumlow who grabbed her hair harshly, forcing her head back. He grinned as he leant down, his mouth inches from her ear.

“Of all the times I dreamed of getting you in handcuffs…” He laughed, loud enough for Steve to hear. The soldier let out a growl in his throat as Katie bared her teeth at Rumlow.

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“Maybe I will, not like you can do anything about it, not now.”

“I warned you what would happen if you touched my girl again.” Steve snarled as with a huge wrench he snapped the cuffs that were pinning his arms behind his back and kicked out at the soldier that was stood at the side of the SUV. He advanced towards Rumlow, who almost lazily pulled a pistol from his belt and held the barrel against Katie’s head.

“One more move Rogers and I’ll blow her pretty little head off.”

Steve stopped dead, swallowing, his eyes blazing as he looked at Katie, her face was contorted in pain from the shot in her shoulder. She fixed her eyes on his, gave a slight shake of her head, and Steve took a deep breath and looked back at Rumlow.

“In the van.” Rumlow instructed.

And Steve knew he had no choice. With a last look at his girl he turned, bowing his head slightly, swallowing down the feelings of fear and inadequacy that were washing over him. Once inside, a pair of masked agents shoved him down, one giving him a harsh dig to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him as they clamped his feet in strong shackles to the side of the van, locking his hands together in equally strong restraints in his lap.

Rumlow just laughed and threw Katie into the SUV, unceremoniously. She staggered to a seat as the doors swung shut behind them and the van started up, beginning to move only moments later.

Steve’s heart was in his mouth as he saw the extent to which his girl was hurt, the left side of her denim jacket was soaked with blood. She lay her head back against the seat and took a deep breath letting out a moan.

“Baby.” Steve spoke, making sure his voice was calm “Come on, talk to me, sweetheart.”

“You know,” she opened one eye. “I’m going to get one of my childhood friends shoot you, see how you like it.”

Steve took a deep breath, glad she was still able to make jokes, but also comforted by the fact she’d recognised Bucky too, and he wasn’t going totally crazy.

“Childhood friend?” Sam frowned. “You mean that dude, Robocop? You know him?”

“Bucky.” Katie whispered, looking at Sam “Steve’s Riley…”

“He was my best friend. One of the Commandos during the War.” Steve took a deep breath, looking at his feet.

“What?” Natasha questioned. “I mean, are you sure?”

“It was him.” Steve assured her. “And he looked right at me like he didn’t even know me.”

“How is that even possible?” Sam asked in disbelief. “That was like, seventy years ago.”

“Zola,” Steve immediately answered. “Bucky’s unit was captured back in Forty-Three’. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and…”

“None of that’s your fault, Steve,” Katie sighed gently as she grit her teeth through the pain in her shoulder. She was starting to feel a little light headed.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” Steve swallowed, before he heard Katie taking a deep breath through her nose, and suddenly, he was jerked back to the here and now. His girl needed help.

“We need a doctor here!” Sam’s voice sounded out, beating him to it as she once again rest her head back against the seat, her eyes fluttering shut.

“I think I need to sleep.” She muttered, softly and Steve instantly leaned forward, speaking in his Captain’s voice in a hope it would jerk her out of it.

“Stay awake. Eyes on me, Doll”

“If we don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out here in the truck…” Sam cut off and Steve turned to see why, watching with an open mouth when he saw the guard on the left whip out an electric rod, before flipping it and electrocuting the other guard before kicking and knocking them unconscious.

"That thing was squeezing my brain.” Maria Hill complained as she pried the helmet off.

“Nice of you to show up.” Katie groaned, “I only called you like what, twelve hours ago.”

“Who’s this guy?” Hill asked, ignoring Katie and nodding to Sam.

"Sam Wilson.” Steve quickly introduced him, happy to see a friendly face. “Sam this is Maria. She’s on our side.” He added and Sam nods accepting Steve’s word as Hill took out a set of keys and began to unlock their restraints.

Steve was by Katie’s side as soon as he was free. Taking the keys off Maria he undid her cuffs and as soon as they were off, she moved, crying out in pain.

“It’s okay.” Steve soothed her, as the truck stopped. “We’ll get you fixed up, Honey, I promise.”

“We gotta’ get moving, Cap.” Hill shuffled to the middle of the van. “Stand back”

What the device was, Steve had no idea, but he didn’t care. It blazed through the SUV floor with ease and he turned to see Katie had now passed out. Giving a groan of frustration, he gently picked her up, and Maria dropped herself out of the SUV, then Natasha, then Sam who Steve passed his girl to gently. Once they were free they dodged down an alley and into another waiting SUV. Sam gently placed Katie on one of the seats, Hill passing Steve a spare jacket so that he could place it over the wound, applying pressure.

“We need to lay her flat.” Sam instructed, as the SUV sped forward. “It’ll help stop the flow.”

With Sam’s, help Natasha managed to manoeuvre Katie so she was lay with her head on Steve’s lap. She murmured something and with his spare hand he gently carded his fingers through her hair, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

“We’re not far out Cap.” Maria looked at him “Bout twenty mins or so. I’ll call ahead to medical, make sure they’re prepped”

He nodded and leaned back, lost in his thoughts. Bucky, Katie, Bucky, Katie… like a mantra it kept repeating in his head. Sam and Natasha were busy asking Maria questions, and he vaguely caught her answers-there was a secret SHIELD base outside town, no HYDRA didn’t know, yes she was sure, yes she knew about insight and yes it needed to be stopped.

After what felt like the longest twenty minutes of Steve’s life, they drew up to a stop outside what looked like a huge dam of sorts built into the side of a hill, and Steve stood, easily picking Katie up into his arms, following Maria’s direction. They entered the large concrete doors into a brightly lit corridor and Maria shouted to someone who was running towards them dressed in a white coat.

“GSW. She’s lost at least a pint!”

“Maybe two,” Sam added.

At that, Steve felt Katie stir in his arms and he glanced down to see her blinking, her eyes screwed against the light.

“Where…” She grimaced slightly at the pain both in her head and her shoulder. Fuck, she had no idea where she was or what had happened, other than she had clearly passed out.

“We’re safe.” Steve pressed his lips to her forehead, relieved to hear her voice even if she did sound like she was in agony.

“Let me take her.” The doctor ran forward, gesturing with his hands.

“No,” Steve shook his head firmly, his grip on Katie tightening slightly. “Show me where to put her.”

“They’ll want to see him first” Maria looked at the doctor who nodded and gestured for Steve to follow him.

“Who?” Katie asked, blinking.

No one answered and they were led to a room at the back of the facility where Hill pushed aside the plastic divider to where a very much alive Nick Fury was sat up in a bed.

Steve felt his mouth drop open as Fury remarked. “About damn time.”

The doctor came in behind them and gestured for Steve to place Katie into a seat so he could start working on her wound. He did so gently, his hand sliding into her hair once more as he placed a kiss onto the crown of her head, not moving far from her, his hand gently resting on her good shoulder.

“I’m sorry, but this is gonna sting a bit Miss Stark.” The doctor apologised in advance, and she nodded, hissing as he injected the local anaesthetic into the wound, and her spare hand reached up to grip Steve’s.

“You okay?” He crouched down beside her and she turned to look at him.

“Marvellous.” She sassed. “This is the best day of my life.”

Steve chuckled, as long as she was being snarky she was okay. “You’ll be fine, won’t she doc?”

The doctor nodded. “I know it doesn’t feel like it but this is quite superficial.” He held up the bullet he had removed. “It hasn’t gone in too deep. You’ve just lost a fair bit of blood but I’m not too concerned about you, unlike him”

He gestured at Fury and Katie turned to look at him as Steve stood up doing the same.

“Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, and one hell of a headache.” Fury spoke.

“Don’t forget your collapsed lung,” The Doctor added.

“Let’s not forget that.” Fury chuckled. “Otherwise, I’m good.”

“They cut you open,” Natasha spoke to Fury. Her voice not accusing but hurt, “Your heart stopped.”

“Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn’t work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”

“Okay, you’re done.” The doctor gently gave Katie’s good shoulder a squeeze as he stood. Steve turned back to see Katie was now plugged up to a bag of blood. “Bit of rest and I’ll check your levels later.”

“Thanks…” She nodded, turning back to Fury.

“Any attempt on the Director’s life had to look successful.” Hill informed as Steve eyed her, remembering how defeated she had looked at the hospital when they announced Fury’s ‘death’. Either she hadn’t known at the time, or she was a damn good actor.

“Can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides, I wasn’t sure who to trust.” The Director admitted.

*******

“This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize. He said peace wasn’t an achievement, it was a responsibility,” Fury scoffed while throwing a picture of Alexander Pierce to the middle of the table they were all sat round once they had all finished telling each other what had happened at the various stages of the day. “See, its stuff like this that gives me trust issues.”

“We have to stop the launch,” declared Steve.

“I don’t think the Council’s accepting my calls anymore.” Fury added with a huff of a laugh, even though there was nothing funny about the situation at all.

“So what do we do?” Katie cut in.“How do we stop it?”

Hill glanced at Fury before she leaned forward in her seat to grab the case which had been sitting on the table. She clicked the locks, opened up the top and spun it round to show them what was inside- three equally sized data chips.

“Once the helicarriers reach three thousand feet, they’ll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized,” Agent Hill explained, opening up a laptop. She turned it around to allow them to see a simulated concept video of what she was saying. “We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own. One or two won’t cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this to work, because if even one of those ships remains operational, a whole lot of people are gonna die.”

“We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA. We have to get past them, insert these server blades. And maybe, just maybe we can salvage what’s left-” Fury started but he was cut off by Steve who harshly interrupted.

“We’re not salvaging anything.” He shook his head slowly, and he meant it. “We’re not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We’re taking down SHIELD”

“SHIELD had nothing to do with this.” Fury tried to defend his organization but there was a derisive snort which cut him short. Everyone turned in the direction from which it had been issued.

“Sorry, did I do that out loud?” Katie sat up slightly.

“You gave me this mission.” Steve turned back to Fury, shaking his head “This is how it ends. SHIELD’s been compromised. You said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.“

"Why do you think we’re meeting in this cave? I noticed,” Fury waved around him as if it was somehow enough.

“How many paid the price before you did?” Steve snapped, voice still hard, as his mind turned to Bucky.

“Look, I didn’t know about Barnes.” Fury sighed sitting back in his seat.

“Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalised that, too?” Steve’s tone was icy. He knew the director hadn’t been involved in whatever HYDRA had done but he couldn’t help but feel angry. He took a deep breath and when he spoke again his voice was softer but still as stern “SHIELD, Hydra…” He shook his head gently, “it all goes.”

“He’s right,” Hill finally spoke, sadness tinged her voice.

Director Fury looked at every single person in the room. He made specific eye contact with Katie who raised her eyebrows, defiantly. Natasha didn’t react at all, which in itself was enough. Then finally he looked to Sam, clearly curious as to what he thought about the whole thing.

“Don’t look at me. I do what he does, just slower,” Sam vouched. Steve couldn’t help but smirk slightly.

“Well…” Fury leaned back and let out a sigh as he looked Steve in the eye. “It looks like you’re giving the orders now, Captain.”

Whilst Steve was glad, he took no pleasure in what they were about to do. SHIELD along with Katie had been his anchor after waking up and bringing the security agency to its knees made him quite sad, especially after Peggy, Howard and Chester had been its founders. Nevertheless, it was the right thing to do, and for the next few hours formed the bones of a plan, in which each person had a different role to play.

“We’re going to have to come up with another way to disable the encryption.” Nat looked at Fury as he took a sip from a bottle of water. “Pierce will have erased all of your clearance from the Triskelion system”

“Not all of it.” Hill gave a wry smile

“What do you mean?” Katie frowned, taking the chocolate bar Steve handed to her with a smile. The Doctor was happy with her blood levels but told her to keep her sugar and energy levels high, so Steve was ensuring she ate enough by consistently passing her snacks from the pile that Hill had dumped in the middle of the table.

Fury looked at her, then to Hill, before he reached up and flipped up his eyepatch revealing his badly scarred right eye.

“I build safety switches into most things these days.” He said dryly. “There’s a scan of this eye hidden on an old inactive database one from the Nineties.”

“So if we can access that database remotely and reactivate it, then bingo.” Katie grinned, swallowing her bite of the Snickers she was chewing.

“We don’t have the capacity to do that, not from here.” Natasha sighed.

“Yes we do.” Katie looked at her as she shifted and pulled her StarkPhone from where she’d hidden it down her bra right before they’d been captured.

Steve arched an eyebrow at her, and she merely shrugged as he smiled at her resourcefulness before drawing himself up to full height.

“We only have…“ He checked the clock on the wall. "Six hours until the launch.” Steve nodded at the people who were watching him from their spots at the table. “Everyone, I suggest we get to it.”

There was a flurry of movement accompanied with the scraping of chairs as people pushed themselves away from the table, ready to put their wheels of the plan into motion.

****

“Hey JARVIS…” Katie said as she accessed the AI on one of the laptops

“Miss Stark…” JARVIS greeted.

“I got another favour to ask. I need access to one of SHIELD’s old databases from 1995.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“Dare say you can, but don’t expect me to answer”

“It might take me a little while.”

“Fast as you can J.” Katie replied simply. “We’re up against it here.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to contact Mr Stark?”

“No, I don’t”

It took thirty minutes. Thanking JARVIS, Katie started to scroll through the database to get the name she wanted. She quickly scanned the information. Fury had hidden an alternative retina scan under the name Carol Danvers. She had no idea if that was a significant name to him or just something random, but she didn’t really care. Once she located the name, she let out a low whistle and smiled before she hit a few more buttons as Fury had instructed her and bingo, it was once more live. Her job done, she took a deep breath before standing up, closing the laptop and heading off to find Steve.

The soldier was outside, desperate for some fresh air, lost in his thoughts. To learn that Bucky had survived the fall made him feel sick, because he hadn’t gone back for him. He’d left him to the clutches of HYDRA, who had brainwashed him into becoming their assassin. He ran his hand over his tired face and leaned against the railing, watching as the first tendrils of daylight broke over the horizon.

As always he was aware of her presence before she spoke, so he wasn’t surprised when Katie asked if he was okay, and turned to face her, letting out a sight.

“Not really.” He replied, always honest to a fault where she was involved.

“You know, this is the right thing to do.” She slid between him and the barricade of the bridge so that her lower back was pressed against the rails.

“I know.” Both his hands dropped to her hips, his eyes scanning to the injury to her shoulder. “Sweetheart, I really wish you’d sit this one out”

“I can’t sit it out Steve. You know that. This is personal for me too. Besides,” she gave a small smile as she shrugged. “You need me. You need us all.”

He understood. And there was no point trying to make her stay behind, she was probably the only person on the planet that could rival him for stubbornness, well apart from maybe her brother that is. And she was right, he did need her.

“He’s going to be there.” She watched him carefully.

“I know.”

“Whoever he used to be, the guy he is now, I don’t think he’s the kind you can save, Steve. He’s the kind we need to stop.”

“I have to try” Steve looked at her, pleading with her to understand. “I can’t just give up on him.”

She did understand, she understood perfectly well, and could only imagine what he was feeling at seeing his best friend, the man he had known all through his childhood, manipulated in such a way.

“We can never give up on those we care about, we can only try our best.” She reached up to gently brush her hand against his cheek. “Just…remember that he’s not the same person he was seventy years ago.“

He raised his eyebrows up slightly. "Neither am I.” He responded matter of factly. She held eye contact with him for a moment, but she knew there was no point in trying to convince him otherwise; Bucky was his best friend. He loved him and wasn’t about to let HYDRA take him away again.

“I know.” She gave him a small smile, just before he pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back, eagerly, the kiss grew deeper and his hands crept from her hips up to her hair, pulling her closer as he pressed against her, trapping her completely against the barrier.

Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled away laying his forehead against hers

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” She pecked his lips again before Steve pulled back and looked over her shoulder at the rising sun. Reluctantly, he took a slight step back.

“Tell the rest of ‘em to suit up, it’s time.”

In the meantime, he had his own suit to get. One which he’d been wearing the last time he took those fuckers down. And he was hoping, albeit probably in vain, that if he did encounter the Winter Soldier, it would jolt Buck’s memory about who he was.

“You gonna wear that?” She asked, gesturing to his chinos and jacket, her eyebrow raised.

Steve looked at her with a smirk. “If you’re gonna’ win a war, you’ve gotta wear a uniform.” He dropped a kiss to her head and took off at a run.

Katie smiled as she watched him knowing exactly where he was going.

*****

“Comms on six.” Hill informed as Steve, Sam and Katie jumped down from the SUV on the side of the Potomac to the Triskelion, not far from where the control operations were. Katie was holding the case that contained her suit in her right hand. She’d confessed to Sam that she’d only flown in it a few times, but Sam wasn’t too concerned and neither was Steve. Sam had promised to fly with her in tandem, and Steve trusted the man completely despite only having known him a number of days.

“Rogers, Hill.” Fury spoke in their ears “I’ll open our lines up as soon as it is safe to do so.” He paused. “Good luck.” They silently and quickly made their way down the side of the Potomac. The first task was to disrupt the coms and security surrounding the Launch Bunker so that no one would know they were arriving. A simple EMP did that.

And then, just as Steve was about to kick the door in to the main room, it opened.

The techy on the other side simply stared as he was confronted with the four of them. His eyes flickered first to Steve, then to the Katie and Mara who had their guns trained on him.

"Excuse us.” Steve shot the tech a pointed look. He immediately held his hands up and stepped aside to let them enter with a nervous, slightly scared look on his face.

They stepped inside, looking around at the remaining eight or so people in the bunker, all of whom immediately raised their hands.

“You got exactly ten seconds to get the hell outta here.” Sam looked around. They didn’t need telling twice, several of them tripping over in their scramble to the door.

“Bit dramatic don’t you think?” Katie teased, as Sam shrugged, a grin spreading across his face as she dropped her case to the floor. Steve gently pushed past her towards the desk.

“Which one is it?” Steve was looking for the coms button which would project his voice around the Triskellion. Maria pointed to one of the buttons and mics on the desk in front of her, where she was sat, tapping at the computer.

Steve looked at Katie and licked his lips, somewhat nervously. He had given speeches before, but none like this.

“If there’s anyone that can make people understand it’s you.” Katie encouraged, and he nodded, taking a deep breath, before pushing the button, his voice suddenly amplifying as it filled every speaker in the building.

“Attention, all SHIELD agents. This is Steve Rogers. You’ve heard a lot about me over the last few days, some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it’s time you know the truth. SHIELD is not what we thought it was, it’s been taken over by Hydra. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crew are Hydra as well. I don’t know how many more, but I know they’re in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want: absolute control. They shot Nick Fury and it won’t end there.” he took a pause before he continued “If you launch those Helicarriers today, Hydra will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them. I know I’m asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high, it always has been, and it’s a price I’m willing to pay. And if I’m the only one, then so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not,”

He finished and took a deep breath as Katie smiled at him and Sam looked up.

“Did you write that down first, or was it off the top of your head?” He quipped.

Steve looked at him, trying to keep his face straight, before he turned to Maria who smiled, nodding at the screen.

“Alright, I’m in.” She reached into the briefcase and handed each of them one of the new targeting chips. “Get in, switch them over, get out.”

They all nodded and Katie bent over, pressing her fingers onto the security pad on the case containing her suit. As it sprang open she stepped forward, the metal pieces connecting and flowing over her body, the dark navy and silver suit forming around her before the face plate slid down.

“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” Sam muttered, and Steve smiled. He’d only seen her in it once before when she had been running a test flight. Katie turned to Sam and although he couldn’t see her face, Steve knew from her tone she was grinning.

“You aint seen nothing yet, Sammy.”

The three of them made their way around the banks of the river towards the triskelion, Sam and Steve running, Katie flying behind them at a low height. Suddenly, feeling the vibrations under his feet, Steve skidded to a halt, Sam doing the same. Katie landed behind them, and looked down.

“What’s that?” She frowned as the floor vibrated below them. ”JARVIS, gimme a scan.”

“Below the Potomac river is a hangar.” JARVIS said, his voice sounding in Steve’s ear too. “And it looks like the doors are activated.” No sooner had he finished than Maria’s voice came over the coms “They’re initiating the launch”

“Clearly your speech rattled them enough to bring it forward.” Katie muttered as the three of them headed to where the ground was opening.

“Hey Cap, how do we know the good guys from the bad guys?” Sam questioned as he ran.

"If they’re shooting at you they’re bad.” Steve answered a little flippantly. With a roll of his eyes, Sam extended his wings and flew off after the highest Hellicarrier, while Steve jumped down onto the launching bay beginning to fight, Katie flying behind him, doing her best to clear out as many agents as she could

“Hey, Cap, I found those bad guys you were talking about,” Sam suddenly reported.

“You alright?” Katie asked.

“Not dead yet,” Sam answered

Together Katie and Steve fought their way across the bay, Katie clearing as much of a path for Steve as possible, before she spiralled through the air and up towards the one she had been designated. Dodging fire easily as she went thanks to JARVIS’ evasion techniques, she landed with a clang on the deck.

“I’m in.” She spoke, before a barrage of bullets ricocheted off her back. She turned, cocked her head to one side before she smirked.

“Nice try.” She smirked, firing up her palm pads and sending a huge beam their way, before shooting upwards once more towards the central control column.

“Falcon, status?” Maria demanded.

“Engaging.” Sam reported, before a moment later “Alright, I’m in…oh,shit!” he cursed.

"Eight minutes,” Maria warned

“Working on it.” Steve’s reply was punctuated by a grunt.

When Katie’s carrier was clear, which didn’t take too long as there were nowhere near as many agents on this than there seemed to have been on the other, she landed by the control panel and stepped out of her suit, chip in hand. Punching in the code Maria had given them, she swapped out the targeting disk and grinned as he pushed everything back into place.

“Alpha locked,” She reported, stepping back into her suit.

“Falcon, where are you now?” Maria asked anxiously.

“I had to take a detour!” Sam’s voice was loud. Katie took off, bursting through one of the glass windows of the Alpha carrier to see Sam spiralling through the air, being shot at by HYDRA missiles. She surged forward, shooting randomly, turning their attention to her as she twirled down towards the glass dome surrounding the next helicarrier before at the last moment pulling into a vertical climb upwards, meaning the beams hit the glass creating an entrance for Sam.

“Oh, honey you fly better than me!” Sam happily exclaimed and Katie chuckled as he dropped into the hole. A moment or two later he spoke again “Bravo locked,” and he shot back out into the bright sky.

“Alright, that’s two down. How’s it coming, Cap?” Maria questioned

“Still working on it!” Steve repeated. And he was. He had no idea how he managed to end up on the damned carrier with the most agents on it but they just kept coming and coming, like a never ending swarm of ants. He kicked out, taking another one down with a huge roundhouse kick and felt a bite of frustration as Hill urged him on.

“Better step it up Cap.” She said, then there was the sound of two gun shots before she spoke again “6 minutes”

It was then that Steve realised he was blocked in. Agents behind him and a Quinjet was aiming at him from ahead. He had no alternative but to dive off the edge of the hellicarrier.

“Hey, Sam, Sweetheart…I’m gonna need a ride,” Steve spoke easily as he fell through the air.

“Roger! Let me know when you’re ready!” Sam answered easily.

“I just did!” His voice remarkably calm for a man who was currently freefalling at a fast pace. Suddenly his arms were tugging upwards, and he was deposited back on the tarmac, Katie and Sam landing besides him.

“You know, you’re a lot heavier than you look.” Sam grunted and Katie laughed, firing at an agent that was to her left.

“Yeah, well, I had a big breakfast.” Steve responded cheekily.

Sam was about to respond when suddenly a blur of black and silver flew out from behind a crate and tackled Steve off the edge of the helicarrier.

“Steve!” Katie yelled, immediately launching to go after him but something grabbed at her foot, crunching down.

“I’m okay!” he informed her, as she kicked out wildly at whatever it was that was currently wrecking her boot.

“Right thruster is compromised.” JARVIS informed her, as the pressure was suddenly released and she looped in the air, trying to gain her balance with only one functioning boot. As she spun to look at her assailant she caught a glimpse of a metal arm grabbing at Sam’s wings, throwing him backwards.

Sam managed to stop his backwards momentum and started to shoot at him in response. Katie joined in with her repulsors and one of the weapon guns from her shoulder, the two of them forcing the Winter Solider to retreat.

“Steve?” She yelled into her comms, flying off the side unsteadily with the one boot working “JARVIS run scan!” “Captain Rogers is there by the port side”

To her relief she saw his heat signature pulling himself up at the side of the carrier. She turned, expecting to see Sam behind her but instead she saw the Winter Soldier charging forward and kicking him off the Helicarrier. Sam began to plummet, one of his wings not working so Katie dove after him, grabbed his arm and managed to land the pair of them, albeit rather un gracefully, on the roof of the Triskelion.

“Thanks” He mumbled dusting himself down off as Katie retracted her face plate

“Steve, are you okay?”

“I’m alright. I’m still on the helicarrier.” Steve responded. “Where are you?”

“Triskellion roof.” She spoke.

“I’m grounded, the suit’s down. Sorry, Cap.” Sam sighed.

“Katie?”

“One of my thrusters is out.” She sighed, “I’m running on half capacity, but I can get up to you if I need to.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it. I’ll call if I need you.”

“Half capacity?” Sam looked at her.

“Have to channel double the power to the non-fucked boot!” She shrugged, standing on one leg to show him the now mangled piece of metal. “That or I fall. Problem is it means that the power to everything else gets compromised.” “Huh.” “Tony’s working on it.” She muttered as they looked up at the three hellicarriers, her eyes falling on the one Steve was currently on. “He’s gonna come face to face with him…”

“Maybe he can make him remember who he was.” “You don’t believe that any more than I do.” Katie observed, glancing at the Sam. He shrugged.

“Falcon, Nova…” Hill called through the comms.

“Yeah?” Katie paused, talking as she still remained with her eyes locked on Sam’s.

“Rumlow’s headed for the council.”

“I’m on it.” Sam responded, unzipping his vest and nodding to Katie. “You stay here, he might need you.”

Katie nodded, glancing back up at the sky before she wheeled round.

“Sam?” She called after him. He turned to her, jogging backward “Give Rumlow a kick in the balls for me, really hard.” Sam saluted, grinning, before he turned on his heels.

Katie’s attention turned once more to the ship above them, and after a while she realised that it had been really quiet on Steve’s end.

“Steve?” But there was no reply, nothing but static.

“I can’t reach him.” Hill sighed. “And Charlie is still not locked. We’re running out of time.“

"I’m on it.” Katie responded, taking off in the direction of the carrier.

“40% power.“ JARVIS instructed.

“Thanks J, can you run a heat scan, locate Captain Rogers.”

“Located… he is in the central area, near the control room…” JARVIS showed her the thermal image of two men going toe to toe, her stomach sinking. She surged forwards and flew through the glass of the control room just as Steve and the Winter Soldier fell over the edge of the platform they were fighting on.

They both landed hard but the Winter Soldier got up first, standing over Steve, metal arm gearing up to deliver another blow, but as he went to connect with Steve’s face, Katie blasted at him, landing in between him and Steve, sending him sprawling backwards.

“Katie…” Steve scrambled to his feet.

“Get to the control panel.” She yelled as the Winter Soldier came charging back at her “We don’t have much time!” As the metal armed assassin lunged at her she shot upwards, flipping in the air and sailing behind him, firing at his back. He flew forward but jumped immediately to his feet and spun, firing his gun at her, the bullets bouncing off her suit. They continued this twisted dance until she got a little too close, and his metal arm gripped tight around her left gauntlet, the squeal of metal on metal rang out as he began to crush down with his fingers.

“JARVIS… full power!” Katie yelled. “But Miss Stark…”

“Do it!” She fired the suped-up repulsor beams and the blast caused the winter soldier to fall hard backwards. As she wound up for another shot, she had just sent it his way only to see him pick up Steve’s shield using it to block her ray. It rebounded it straight at her, hitting the suit square in the chest and sending her straight through the glass windows of the carrier into the sky.

It took her a while to right herself, but eventually she flew back inside just as the solider stabbed Steve in the shoulder. Steve yelled, and head butted the man three times, which forced him to let go. As Steve turned to pull the knife from his shoulder Bucky made a grab for the targeting chip and Katie fired at him again, knocking him into one of the metal beams at the back of the carrier, his head making a horrible noise as it connected before he fell face down. Steve wasted no chance in grabbing the discarded chip and heading up to the control panel as she stood between him and the Winter Soldier.

“Systems are seriously compromised…” JARVIS told her. “If you continue using your repulsors the way you are, I fear you won’t have enough power to make it down…” “We’ll worry about that later J.” Katie mumbled, looked up as she watched Steve

“One minute.” Maria Hill spoke and she had barely finished when Katie heard the sound of a gunshot. She turned to see The Winter Soldier getting to his feet looking dazed but his metal arm held his gun aimed up at the control panel where Steve was still climbing. Before she could stop him, he shot again and Steve let out a yell, gripping at his thigh.

“Thirty seconds!” Maria said urgently.

As the assassin position himself and steadied his gun to take aim again, Katie flew forward, knocking into him just as he fired. He on his back as Katie stood over him, one foot on his chest, in a last ditch attempt to buy Steve a bit more time. He grabbed at the leg of her suit, pulling it from under her and she crashed to the floor, the man’s metal armed rained blow after blow down on her suit, the glass eye holes cracking.

“Suit integrity is at 50% and falling.” JARVIS urged and she did the only thing she could do. She fired her thruster causing her to shoot out from under his hold, colliding with a steel piece of the structure which send her ricocheting once more out of the side of the hellicarrier.

“Charlie locked.” She heard Steve’s strained voice as she continued to fall through the air, struggling to fire her boot back up again.

“Okay, get out of there.” Maria spoke as Katie continued to plummet, JARVIS also speaking to her saying he was trying to stabilise her tumbling.

“Fire now.” Steve demanded.

“NO!” Katie yelled as her boot suddenly kicked to life about twelve feet above the Potomac. She could hear Maria trying to argue too. But Steve wasn’t having any of it.

“Do it now.” Steve yelled.

Maria’s sigh was heavy on the coms link but she did as she was told pushing the button that started the helicarriers firing at one another. The ships began to tear each other apart and as more shots hit the one that they were on the inside began to break apart.

“Steve… STEVE!” Katie yelled hovering unsteadily, only being able to use the one thruster. She instructed JARVIS to channel more power into it to keep her upright and then Sam’s frantic voice sounded in her ear.

“Please tell me there’s someone in the air!”

“Sam! Where are you?” Nat’s voice sounded and Katie took a deep breath.

“Forty first floor!” He yelled as he got closer to the window. “Northwest corner!”

“Stay where you are!” Nat instructed as Katie shot up to find him, her boot stuttering as she went.

“Not an option!”

Her scanners picked him up and Katie spotted the helicopter Fury was flying a few floors below where it was supposed to be. She flew as fast as she could to grab Sam as he jumped out of the window of the collapsing building, catching him and tossing him into the helicopter flying in herself.

“Forty first floor!” Sam yelled as Katie retracted her helmet. “Forty first!”

“It’s not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!” Fury yelled back.

“Hill, where’s Steve?” Natasha asked. “You got a location on Rogers?”

“He was on Charlie…” Katie swallowed. “The one that hit the building…”

*****

On the carrier Steve had tried to make Bucky remember, just one final time. It didn’t work. The man with Bucky’s face tackled him to the floor and he landed on his back against a fallen bar, head dangling off the edge. He was anchored by the assassin’s legs around his waist and the tight hold he had of his uniform with his flesh hand. The man looked at him, hatred etched in every line on his face and it broke Steve’s heart. What had HYDRA done to him to make him this way? They had turned his friend, his brother, against him and there was nothing he could do but try and remind him of his life before.

Then came the blows from the metal arm, raining down on his face.

With every punch that landed, along with the agony, memories flashed across Steve’s line of sight – some of them to do with Bucky, bailing him out of a fight in an alley behind a movie theatre. Punch. A Thanksgiving with the Barnes family. Punch. Games of cards in the army camp. Punch. But the ones that came more vividly were of his girl. The way her face scrunched up when she laughed. Punch. The dress she wore on their first date. Punch. The way they lay tangled up with one another after making love, her hand threading through his hair. Punch. The way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention - like he was the best thing that ever happened to her.

He loved her. He loved her so much it hurt.

“You’re my mission!” Bucky screamed out. Steve’s vision was blurry, his face was throbbing in pain; he was beaten, he knew that. But if this was it, the last moment he had, then he wanted Bucky to know how much he meant to him.

“Then finish it.” Steve gasped out, pausing in an effort to get his breath back. “Cause I’m with you, till the end of the line.”

He could’ve sworn he saw something in the man’s face shift. His eyes became wider, like he was panicking at the phrase. The metal fist was raised up high, but didn’t move from its position. Bucky’s chest rose and fell rapidly as his eyes softened, just slightly, and the metal arm lowered out of the wind-up. But before he could do anything else, a massive piece of steel from the helicarrier broke off. It crashed against the beam that Steve was up against. And then he was falling, as Bucky managed to hang on to the beam with his metal arm, a sick, twisted reversal of the incident seventy years ago when Steve had watched as Bucky fell into the snowy canyon below.

Steve plunged into the icy water of the Potomac, the light gradually growing darker, and darker as he sank further into the depth. It was a peaceful way to die, he supposed, after the brutality of the fight. And as his vision went, the last thing he saw was his girl’s face and the fact he was leaving her behind broke him just that little bit more.

I love you. Doll, I love you.

*****

Katie engaged her helmet again and took off from the helicopter, flying alongside it for a short while as it circled the outside of the hellicarrier.

“JARVIS, you got anything?” She asked, making her way shakily forward, but as she spoke her scanners locked onto Steve, where he was lay on the floor of the carrier, the Winter Soldier raining blows upon blows down at him, and he wasn’t fighting back.

“What have we got left in the tank?” She asked desperately.

“25% power.”

“Put everything we have into my thrusters.”

“Miss Stark…”

“Just do it, J!” She yelled.

She felt the power surge as she shot upwards but as she went, her scanners trained on them both, Steve was hit by something falling from above and was sent crashing down through the floor of the carrier and then her repulsors cut out and once more she was falling.

“Emergency back-up power…” JARVIS spoke as her suit fired up again, giving her just enough time to level out before she went head first into the Potomac. She weaved her way through the falling debris under the surface avoiding it before she shot upwards again, but there was no sign of Steve or the Winter Soldier.

“Miss Stark you need to land. I can only sustain you for another sixty seconds.”

“Yeah I know.” Her voice cracked slightly “But I have to find Steve.” In desperation she circled around the river, “Any sign?” She asked into the coms.

“Nothing.” Hill sighed. “The suit he has on doesn’t have a tracker!”

“Come on.” Katie mumbled, hovering in mid-air, her suit stuttering slightly. “JARVIS hit the scans again.”

“Running…” He muttered and she watched before the display locked onto him. He was quarter of a mile or so out from the Triskellion…and the Winter Soldier was pulling him out of the water onto the river bank.

With her last bit of remaining power she flew to them, landing behind the Winter Soldier. He immediately spun round but this time Katie saw fear in his eyes. They weren’t steely or dead like they had been before, instead they sparkled with emotion. For that reason she took a deep breath and stepped out of her suit, hands held up in a conciliatory manner.

“Bucky.” She spoke gently, glancing behind him to where Steve lay motionless on the bank. She bit back the panic in her throat at the site of him hurt and unconscious before she focussed on the man in front of her.

“Who are you?” Bucky’s voice was deep and he looked at her, but he wasn’t attacking. Taking a shaky breath Katie took one step forward and he instantly grew defensive so she stopped, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, my name’s Katie. I’m Steve’s girlfriend. You know Steve, right?”

His chest heaved, his eyes widened and for a split second she thought he was going to come towards her. Instead he stood to the side letting her get a full view of her man before nodding towards her.

“Get help.” He spoke gruffly before turning and running.

“I’ve got him.” Katie spoke into her coms as she scrambled over to Steve, stumbling as she ran. “South West bank, clearing in the trees. Look for the flare.”

At that she shouted to JARVIS. “Supernova Protocol…” before she dropped to her knees next to Steve, hearing her suit shoot upwards before it exploded with a bang. Her heart stopped for a second as she looked down at her man, letting out a sob as she noticed his chest was rising and falling slowly, the only sign he was alive. His face was badly beaten, his right eye almost completely closed. There was the knife wound on his shoulder, several deep cuts to his face, but it was the gunshot wound to the middle of his abdomen that worried her most. It was bleeding heavily. She pressed one hand to the wound to stem, her other stroking his battered face…

*****

Steve realised he wasn’t dead. He felt like it, god the pain, but there was a familiar voice, a familiar touch, one heavy on his abdomen, the other stroking his sore, battered face.

“Shh…its’ okay”

It was her. He tried to speak but she shushed him.

“Baby I’m here.”

“Katie…” He opened his eyes, looking at her. Those beautiful green eyes looked back at him and he realised then, he wasn’t ready to go. He didn’t want to go, not when she was still here. The thought of leaving her behind, when they had so much to look forward to, a future together, made him start to panic. “I…”

“Shhhhh.” Katie soothed him, her hand gently brushing his sodden hair back off his face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

He believed her.

Man he was so tired, and the pain.

And then his eyes shut.

******

Katie sat back, her hand still pressed to the wound and she glanced across the Potomac. Pieces of the helicarriers were still falling, splashing into the river, the groans and grinding of metal cut through the air as she sat still.

She had no idea how long she waited, it can’t have actually been that long, but it felt like ages as she simply sat, her hand clamped over Steve’s abdomen, listening to the sirens ringing loud through the air as emergency responders got closer.

In an odd way, it was all proof they had won. But at what cost?

Then, she heard footsteps behind her and instantly wheeled to see Fury stood barking orders to four men following him with a stretcher, but she couldn’t really hear him. She stood up, moved back, in somewhat of a daze, to allow the medics access to Steve, but once he was loaded onto the gurney she moved back to his side, taking his hand.

They emerged from the bank and another medic made to drop a blanket round her, but she shrugged him off, her hand still round Steve’s until she had to let go as they loaded him into the ambulance which was parked in the clearing near the chopper.

“He’s gonna be fine.” Sam noddedd as he appeared besides her, dropping an arm round her shoulders as she watched them anchor the stretcher in place. The paramedic inside the ambulance gestured to her, and she climbed in without so much as a glance back.

**** Chapter 17

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled man #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfic #the winter soldier #captain america #chris evans #chris evans characters

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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years

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Hi, how are you sweetheart?

I was wondering if I could request a dean x reader one shot where she gets injured on a hunt and hides it from dean because they had a small fight earlier but then she collapses and he's freaking out and panicking?? Thank you!! I can't wait to read more from you

Hey, I’m doing great, thank for asking. And thanks for asking for this. It was honestly a lot of fun to write. Thank you once again.

Dean Winchester: Panic (Request)

Word Count: 2.3k

“Oh shit!” I said clutching onto my ribs. Dean turned around eyeing me down. “What’s wrong, Y/n?” Dean asked me. “Nothing, just thought of something. Something that we could have done differently.” I spoke.

It was hard to even talk to Dean. This idea that we’d be able to stay around each other. Ya, see we had a small tiny fight. At least that’s what I'd call it. Dean on the other hand would call it a huge mistake on my part. “Dean, let it go. I said I was sorry.” I spoke. “Well fuck your sorry. It doesn’t make up for the fact, that I told you to stay behind. Not even listen to simple instruction.” Dean said

Now here Dean and I stood, at the start of another fight for our lives. Dean and I were trying to hunt down this ghost. She’d had been terrorizing young couples. Something about how her husband had left her for another women, a younger woman.

When we finally got into town our heated argument, had somewhat simmered down. The aggravation of having to go on a hunt with Dean was already enough. Not to mention the extreme tension between the two of us.

Parking, Dean got out of the Impala ending for the front desk building. His door slamming behind him, “Stay here and get your bags from the back.” He said walking off. “Sure, will asshole” I whispered more to myself than to Dean.

A few minute later Dean came walking back to the Impala, throwing me a side glance before grabbing his own bag from the back. “Here’s a key to motel room.” He said as we walked to the motel room door.

Something about staying in a motel was natural, and at the same time incredible disgusting. Dean unlocked the door, walking in front of me. He set his bag down on the table and I placed mine on the second twin sized bed.

“I’m going out to the bar.” Dean said rushing out before I had even sat down. “See Ya, Dean” I said as the motel door slammed against its frame. “I guess I’ll just do the damn research by myself then.” I said to myself.

I pulled my laptop out and dragged myself to the table. I picked up Dean bag and tossed it to the floor. Getting to work, I tried to find any connection between the people that had died and the ghost. A simple salt and burn situation.

Finding out where this Winiferd was an older woman and her husband had left her for a younger woman. Winiferd had died of heart break, so she was causing the same thing in her victims. Both of them having their hearts implode.

So much anger, and all we had to do was burn her and we’d be done. Get home and away from each other. Writing down all the really important information, I had found where her ex-husband was living, and then her final place of resting.

Finally, being done with most of research, Dean came tumbling through the door. With a red head chick on his side, they were laughing and nibbling at each other. Her hands grabbing at his cloths. “Um, Excuse me Dean.” I said tired of watching this horrible scene.

“DEAN.” I yelled finally catching both his and the chick's attention. “What do you want? Y/n?” He asked. I got up from the table, and looked over at the girl. “You need to go. Have a nice night.” I said pushing her out the door locking it before she could get back in.

“What the fuck Y/n!” Dean said walking over to the twin sized mattress. “I... Dean. We are on a hunt. You wanna go have fun with chick then you should have stayed home. But let’s at least try to be adult and do our fucking job.” I said walking over to my laptop.

“Whatever you say, Y/n” Dean said before kicking off his boots, and laying down in the bed. Within seconds Dean was out, like nothing of what I had said really made its way into his brain. The next morning was hard, Dean’s hangover, and my urge to slap him across the face.

“We need...” I went to say before Dean interrupted me “Quiet, you’re so loud.” “You’ve got ten minutes to get ready we need to finish this case.” I said slamming the bathroom. I pulled out my more FBI looking clothing and got dressed. I was hoping that when I walked out of the bathroom Dean would be at least half-way dressed in his suit.

My heels clicking on the titled floor. Dean turned and looked at me. His suit was on, so goal one was done. I grabbed my notebook and walked out with Dean hot on my tail. ‘Dean, we need to go to this address.” I said handing him the paper.

“Okay Y/n” He said, turning the engine on. And pulling out of the parking spot. The drive was quiet, the radio’s volume low. “Why’d you push that chick out last night?” Dean asked me.

Barely taking his attention off the road. “Do you honestly want that answer?” I asked him. ” Don’t answer a question with another question. And yes, I'd like the answer.” Dean said his knuckles going a little white around the steering wheel. I looked up at him and said “Because you were being a dick to me. I was just being a cockblock.”

‘Sure, that’s fine. He doesn’t need to know that every time he talks to another chick, or they quaking over him. That a string of jealousy comes ringing through my body.’ He didn’t say anything back, no quick retore, no ‘cockblock my ass I think not’ nothing it was odd, but I didn’t read much into it after that.

“Y/n? Earth to Y/n.” Dean said bringing me out of my sad thought. “Huh?” I spoke. Looking back over at him. “We are here. What ‘s your plan?” Dean said, turning off the engine. “That we are here looking into the recent killings of those few couples. See what his reaction is, and see if he knows any of them.” I said opening my passenger door.

This interrogation went pretty smoothly, Dean let me do most of the talking. Seeing as he was still heavily hung over. “Thank you, sir for your time. Have a good rest of your day.” I said the Winiferd’s ex-husband.

“So, tell me more about this Winiferd ghost lady we’ve got on our hands Y/n.” Dean said as he back-out of the man driveway. “So unlike Winiferd's ex forgot to mention was that he was cheating while married to her. They hadn’t just gotten a divorce for no reason. And he was cheating no less a younger version of her pretty much.” I said looking down at my phone.

“Okay, cool. Where is she buried?” Dean asked me. “Not that far from the motel we are staying at.” I answered it was odd, the way he had almost forgotten our small fight from last night. Knowing better then to push it I changed the subject quickly “How about we get some dinner food, and late we can go do this salt and burn, Go home afterwards.” I said looking over at Dean to see if I could read his facial expressions.

“Mention of food that’s definitely a yes from me.” Dean said, pushing a little harder on the gas pedal. Another spot that wasn't that far from the motel. Rolling into another parking spot, Dean jumped out of the Impala the mention of food was enough to throw the hangover out the window.

Sitting down in the booth that Dean had gotten. The waitress came over, asking for our orders. Her eyes lingering on Dean broad shoulders and of course Dean had on his signature smirk. Winking at her before she left the table.

Dean and I talked about our plan for the salt and burn. Why I don’t know, but the thought of him flirting with that damn waitress was hard to shallow. Of course, once I had gotten over it, here she came with Dean and I plates of food. Her gaze fixed on Dean yet again. She placed my plate down pretty much throwing it on to the table, and lightly placed Dean’s down.

Her hand lingering on his plate, trying to graze her hand over him. “Thank you... Sarah.” I said forcing the high tension to break. Dean had pretty much eaten all of his food before I had even gotten a few good bites in.

“Dean, do you want some pie?” I asked as I pushed my plate to the side, “What type of question is that? Of course, I want pie.” Leaving the booth for only a few minutes I asking an older lady for few slices of the apple pie that they had on display.

When I came back to the table that Sarah was hunched over, her tits pretty much shoved in his face. Going to touch his face. “Babe, I got your pie.” I said plopping down to the booth cushion. Dean gave me an odd look only for a second before noticing the pie in front of me.

“Let’s go and eat this at home.” I said, and Dean followed me out the door. Dean throw a twenty bill on the table for the bill. “Thanks, the Sarah girl was pushing hard.” Dean said when we got into the car. “We can bring the pie to the motel and change and got do that whole salt and burn thing.” Dean said driving back to the motel.

We quickly changed into more comfortable clothing. I was wearing a stolen flannel that was probably Deans, a pair of dark blue jean, and my more comfortable boots. Dean had sported a dark flannel, light washed jeans, and his boots. Jumping back into the impala, I directed him to the cemetery.

Getting out of the car, I had got a bad feeling. The feeling like we were being watched. Dean grabbed the necessary things out of the back of the impala and we walked until we found her cemetery. “Dean.” I said nudging his arm “What Y/n?” “I have a bad feeling.” I said staying closer to Dean than usual.

I stood there as Dean dug her grave, Dean handed me the flashlight “You man the flashlight, Y/n.” He said grabbing my wrist and pointing it in the direction he needed. After what seemed like an hour, Dean had finally reached her casket. “Nice okay. Give me a hand.” He said I reached down and he grabbed onto my hand.

“Dean, do you feel like someone is watching us?" I asked when he made it up to the surface. “No, I don’t why do you?” He asked, “Honestly Dean I don’t know. I'm starting to freak out here dean.” I said the anxiety getting to me.

Dean por the rest of the gasoline on the open casket and went to get a match when a hard force throws me up against a nearby tree. “Dean, can you hurr..” I said before the Winifred showed herself. Her hands came closer to my chest. “De... Please.” I said the last rush of air falling of my lungs.

Her hands were around my heart and then just has fast as she had appeared she was lit up in a thin line of fire. My heart beating a little bit stronger, and a strong ping of pain rang through my body. My body rushed down to the ground and Dean ran over.

His hands rushing to my face “Y/n are you okay?” He asked concern washing over his face. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.” As I got up, I winched “Oh shit” said clutching onto my ribs. Dean turned around eyeing me down. “What’s wrong, Y/n?” Dean asked me. “Nothing, just thought of something. Something that we could have done differently.” I spoke.

As we walked to the car, it got worse. My vision falling dizzy. Everything around me looked like it was spinning. Before I could make it to the impala my vision went black, and I was out.

Deans POV:

I turned around for a second, to put the things in the back. And there Y/n was walking pretty okay, before and now she’s on the floor. Eye’s closed and clutching her ribs. “Y/n!” I said rushing over to her. “Y/n. Are you okay?” I said as I lifted her head off the ground. “Y/n... Oh shit. She told me that she was okay.” Well, it’s not like she can predicate that she’ll fall down and blackout. I need to call Sam.

He’ll know what I have to do, I think. I pulled my phone out and rang for Sam. After a few rings Sam picked up “Sammy I need your help!” I said the words sort of rushing out of my mouth. “Dean... Dean I need you to slow down. What’s going on?” Sam asked me.

“Sam, we had finished the hunt and then all the sudden Y/n just collapsed and now she isn’t waking up. She’s breathing but her eyes are closed. Sam what do I do? Sammy we... I need your help.” I said my panic starting to get the best of me.

“Dean, just breathe. And listen to me. I’ll speak slowly.” Sam said trying to explain how I should get her in the impala. “Be careful and make sure not to knock her head on the car, have her head higher than the rest of her body. Also grab a blanket from the back and drape that over her. And then get home as quickly as possible.” Sam said.

“Don’t forget the motel either. Grab her stuff along with yours. Then come home. I get a better feel for how she is when you are home.” Sam said. “Sam, I’m freaking out here. I’ve been such a dick to her. And she takes it. I don’t want... I don’t want that to be the...” “Dean Stop and do what I said. Stop thinking like that.” Sam interrupted me.

I turned around in the impala and looked over at Y/n. “I’ve got you kid.” I said.

Completed: 02/20/2021

#anon request #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean x reader #feminine #dean x female!reader #fem reader #fem #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #deangirl

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something-fanfiction-ie · 4 years

Text

Guardian Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse of kidnapping. Again, details of murder/crime scenes, curse words.

A/N: Hello, hello, hello! So, again, I find myself having to cut this in half. I originally planned on the team getting to you at this point in the story but I got a little carried away. I’ve been thinking about this series so much that it’s ridiculous. Low-key wish I’d been able to direct a CM episode like this. The things I could do with a camera... solely focused on Matthew for a 45 minute episode. Heh. Anyways, remember to like, comment, reblog, send me asks, and basically do the job of producing serotonin for me like my brain is supposed to do naturally. Thank you so much for sticking around and I’ll be sure to get the next part out to you ASAP!

___

[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three ]

It was hours later before Spencer felt the incessant buzzing of his phone against his thigh.

Immediately annoyed and already tired of the day, he didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID before sending it straight to voicemail. Blindly, he rummaged around in the bottom of his satchel for his keys. Spots danced across the back of his left eyelid as he tried to rub the exhaustion away.

Everything about today had been awful. From finding out the girl of his dreams, who he had only known for three weeks, mind you, could be a serial killer to the fact that, without you, nothing made any sense in this case. Even if you weren’t the unsub, you were an integral piece to finding out who was.

After you had left the office earlier this afternoon, Spencer had made it his mission to investigate every other person connected to you. He’d even gone so far as to track down your father to the other side of the globe, having somehow made his way to Europe in order to stay out of you and your mother’s lives.

Try as he might, every possible lead led to a brick wall spray painted to say, ‘She’s the killer.’ Having spent most of the day trying to convince himself that you were the unsub, he was tired of fighting his instincts for fear of compromising himself. Something wasn’t right in this investigation and he just couldn’t figure out what it was.

When his phone started to buzz again as he pushed the key into the key hole, he couldn’t help the sudden surge of anger that seemed to take over his body. Hastily yanking one hand from the door, he reaches into his pocket and presses the answering button.

“Hello, this is Dr. Reid.” His tone is harsh and mechanically echoes back into his ear. Whoever is on the other side of the line is quiet for one second, then two. For five seconds no one responds and Spencer has the time to balance the phone between his cheek and his shoulder so that he could go about removing his bag and shuffling into his car.

“You really thought it was her, didn’t you, Dr. Reid?” Although the natural pitch of the voice suggests a woman, or maybe even a young boy, there is an underlying tone that suggests that it’s a man. Spencer is frozen in place, his bag sitting in the passenger seat of his car, one hand on the inside of the door and the other on the steering wheel.

Slowly, he reaches up to relieve his shoulder from the duty of holding his phone, his long fingers curling around the device. His eyes squinted, the way they usually did when he was thinking. With his other hand, nervously, he reaches up to push away a curl that has escaped from behind his ear.

“Who is this?” He regrets the question the moment it falls from his lips. Someone who has gone the painstaking lengths that this man has gone through to keep himself out of the investigation would not simply reveal his identity when no one even had a suspicion of him.

“Wrong question, Doctor. Try again.” Swallowing past the lump that has started to form in his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action, Spencer stretches back across the driver seat of his car to grab his bag. The leather strap digs into the palm of his hand and he drags it toward him, feeling like he was stuck on rewind as he goes about undoing everything he’d just done.

“What do you want?” The click of the door lock is the only sound for three seconds before the man responds again, a sadistic excitement escalating the pitch of his voice.

“Out of life? From a specific restaurant? Be specific in your questioning, Doctor.” He laughs a little breathlessly. In the moments where he doesn’t talk, Spencer strains to hear anything that could help him, but he can’t even hear the guy breathe let alone identify background noise.

“What is your purpose in calling me?” Getting back into the building is a hassle while on the phone, but he manages it nonetheless. There would be no sleeping tonight after a call like this. The elevator button glows a pale yellow as Spencer stabs it with one of his long fingers. For now they are steady, his hands that is, but the full effect of what is happening and what it means hasn’t actually hit him full force yet.

“To inform you of two things; the first being that you are wrong. I killed all those people and I killed them because of you.” The breath in his throat hitches. All of his worst dreams and nightmares have come crawling out of the woodworking and across his skin like thousands of tiny spiders.

“The second being that I’ll be hanging out with our mutual friend for a while, so you may not see her for a little bit.” There is a creaking of a door before he hears you. Your voice is already hoarse from screaming and the sound of restraints clacking against a concrete flooring puts the picture of you in a dungeon deep into his head.

“Spencer?! Spencer his name i-” The sound of a hand making contact with skin makes Spencer’ blood boil with rage.

Curling into the corner of the elevator, hunching his shoulders into himself and covering an ear with the palm of his opposite hand, Spencer speaks slowly and deliberately into the speaker.

“Do not touch her.” The man on the line chuckles, reaching out to run a finger along the edge of your jawline. You snatch your head away, your slapped cheek already turning pink, and push back against the wall.

“I’m afraid it’s already too late for that. Happy hunting.” The doors of the elevator open as soon as the line goes dead. Everything in Spencer kicks into overdrive, his mind flying so fast that he could barely manage to keep up with it himself.

Hotch, ready to leave for the day, stands in the opening. The tired look in eyes only grows when he sees the young profiler standing in his way, his face drained of blood and his phone still desperately clutched to his ear.

“What’s happened?”

Not so far away, the door to the empty, concrete basement shuts you in by yourself. Around your ankle is a handcuff attached to a car chain that is anchored to the floor. If you crawl to it, dragging your injured leg behind you, you can see the shoddy soldering done to create this makeshift dungeon.

In the corner is a mattress with a thin cotton blanket probably from dollar general or somewhere equally as cheap. A lamp sits beside it, the wooden bottom nailed into the floor to keep you from using it as a weapon. The only other thing is a wooden chair that is planced just below a high rectangle window. A couple of desperate shakes against the leg confirms that it is also nailed to the floor.

With nothing of use, save maybe the blanket, you go about taking a collection of your injuries.

The top of your head is leaking a steady stream of blood that drips down the side of your face and sticks your hair to your cheek. The sight of so much blood coming from your head is alarming at first, but just as quickly as you started to panic, you remember that head wounds can bleed quite a lot. No matter how small.

On the opposite side as your head injury is a deep cut on your cheekbone. It has stopped bleeding, dry blood clogged around the torn skin and flaking along your cheek when you run your finger over it.

Your thigh is a different issue all together, the knife wound throbbing with pain no matter how you shift or apply pressure. You’ve coated your hands in gloves made of your own blood trying to staunch the bleeding, hissing and whimpering the whole time.

All three injuries had happened in a matter of minutes, starting with the knife to your thigh.

You drove for an hour and a half toward nowhere in particular, only pulling off the road when the gun jammed into your neck and Harvey snapped at you from the back.

“Turn right on the dirt road.” The tiny car bumped and bounced around the dirt and gravel, driving straight for another fifteen minutes. You were surrounded by nothing but trees and hills and although you’d been familiar with the area where you’d pulled off the road, you weren’t sure where you were.

When the gun jammed back into your neck and Harvey screamed for you to stop, you slammed so hard on the brakes that he rocked forward and hit his head on the back of the passenger seat. The crunch of his breaking nose was sickening to your ears, but the bite of the seat belt digging into your collarbone and neck was enough to keep you from vomiting.

“You bitch!” He cried, the hand not holding a gun to your neck flew up to catch the blood that fell from his nose. Despite his attempts, a drop or two still managed to fall to the floor and soak into the fabric. His DNA would be on this car, you could only hope that he was in some sort of system. Even now, after everything you’d been through today, you still trusted the team of FBI Agents to find you before it was too late.

The safety on the gun made a clicking noise, your entire body freezing in place as you looked at everything around you. You were in a big dirt field, trees surrounding a patch of land that may have once been the grounds for a home. Now, only your car, a red SUV, and red soil were the only things there to see.

Harvey moved around in the back seat, you could see him in your rear view mirror as he pulled tissues from his pocket and shoved them into his broken nose. When he was finished he pulled out a pocket knife. His eyes were two beady slits of black as he met your gaze in the mirror.

“We’re going to get out of this car, and get into that car right over there. I’ll get in the driver’s seat, and you get in the trunk. Understood?” Sweat slicked your hair to your temples as you shook your head, your grip on the steering wheel so tight that your fingertips had started to tingle.

“You aren’t a good shot, Harvey. The moment we get out of this car, I’ll run.” The knife in his hand popped to attention at your words, gleaming in the sunlight. Somehow, it was only four o’clock in the afternoon and you had already been through hell.

“You won’t be able to.” He said, his hand shooting forward and sinking into your leg. Through the shock of it all, you’d barely felt it even after he pulled the bloody knife back and flipped it shut. You gaped at the wound, watching as the blood seeped out, soaked into your pants, and smeared onto the leather covering of your seat.

The back door opened, the car still alive and thrumming underneath you as he hurried over to your side of the car. You didn’t think, you just acted, throwing the car out of park and letting the adrenaline pumping through your veins mask the pain it caused you to slam on the gas.

Maybe you would have made it, drove out of here and been able to make it to a hospital before you bled out in your own car, but it had been raining nearly nonstop for three weeks and your car was not made to go fast in mud. Your tires spun long enough for Harvey to throw your door open and slam the butt of his gun into your head, causing your face to slam into the steering wheel and render you unconscious.

By the time you came back to yourself, Harvey had been carrying you down the steps and into a basement or cellar of some kind. You had no idea where you were or how long you had been out, only that your entire body was sore and cold.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good. I wanted to apologize about earlier, you just made me a little angry. But we’re better now. I even took those bloody clothes off you. I’ve got your room made up for you and if you’re good, I might let you talk to a friend of ours.” His tone is cheerful, his dark eyes complimenting the dark bags underneath them.

Harvey had been in several of your classes when you went to Georgetown, a friendly face amongst all the older kids who used to sneer at you when you tried to do anything. You wouldn’t actually say you were friends, just two people who were kind to each other. Later, once you parted ways after graduation, he became the personal assistant of your agent. He told you he was just trying to make ends meet while he was going back to school for his masters. It was such a surprise to see you again!

Then last month he quit after the death of his mother, thanking your agent for the experience and moving back to whatever town it was he used to lived in that you never bothered to ask about. Agents have multiple clients, yours was no exception, so you thought nothing of the change in personal assistants based solely on the fact that you barely noticed. Her life didn’t revolve around you and yours didn’t revolve around her.

But now, locked in a basement wearing nothing but your underwear and a tank top, blood soaking through a bandage around your thigh, with the really cute man you’d based a character on believing that you were a serial killer, you wish you’d noticed him more.

...

Garcia was the one to suggest looking at the security footage of the parking lot. She’d been clacking away on her tablet and trying to not seem disappointed about being dragged back to the BAU so quickly, when someone asked where you would have gone from here.

“What if he took her from here?” Everyone had looked at her with varying degrees of peculiar looks. Someone being kidnapped from the parking lot of a building full of FBI Agents? It would be comical if kidnappings weren’t a serious issue. Ironic. That’s the word Penelope was looking for. It was ironic.

“I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look at the security footage but her lawyer walked her to her car, it was broad daylight. What are the-” Prentiss’ mouth snaps shut and her lips purse just a little when Penelope brings up the video on the big screen.

Just thirty minutes before you walk outside, a small and stocky figure jimmies open your back door and slides in. He must slide to the passenger side of the backseat because he disappears from view. While he isn’t dressed in an extremely unusual manner, the hat and the black hoodie he is wearing help to hide his identity from the camera hanging over him.

Fast forward thirty minutes and all eyes trained to you as you drop your keys and bend to pick them up. Guilt hits every single member on the team, Spencer probably more than the rest, when they watch your head drop into your hands once you’re in the confines of your car.

An arm extends across the backseat, coming into view of the camera as the unsub presses a gun into your neck. In a matter of fourty-five seconds, you start the car and pull out of the parking spot.

“So we can rule out Jeremy.” Spencer says plainly, shuffling the papers in front of him as he thinks. Across the table Hotch nods his head in agreement. Jeremy was tall, maybe an inch shorter than Spencer, and he while he had an athletic build it was more lean muscle than the wide and stocky build the unsub had.

Penelope is quick to gather her things and head for her office, already planning on trying to follow your path through traffic cameras. It would be a grueling process, but it was the least she could do after digging through your life to, unintentionally, frame you for eight murders you didn’t commit.

“We interviewed everyone she has a connection to, in state or not. She’s an extremely low-risk victim, her circles don’t run that big.” Morgan has his own tablet pulled into his lap and he tilts his chair this way and that. A coin weaves in and out of his fingers and his forehead wrinkles as he goes over the list in his mind.

“Then we’ve already talked to our unsub, we just have to figure out which one it was.”

The first names to go are those out of state; your mother, your father, your best friend, and a handful of people you were connected to through the publishing firm. While the remaining names are few in numbers, it still puts Spencer on edge. They didn’t have the kind of time to be wasting energy of persons of interest, they needed one name identifying their unsub.

Nevertheless, the names are split amongst the group of profilers who work tirelessly through the night. The sun soon rises and glares through the window of the BAU conference room, putting Spencer Reid right into it’s spotlight.

There are bags under his eyes, eyes that take longer to open every time he blinks. He’s read the same paragraph eight different times, his cheek perched against the heel of his palm and his elbow propped on the tabletop. When he pushes back from the table, taking the file with him as he tries to walk away the exhaustion, it isn’t for the first time that night.

All he can think about is that final look you gave him as you walked out the door. It was a look of complete and utter betrayal, like you’d been trying to convince yourself that he was somehow oblivious in your being accused of the murders and seeing him there had been a punch of truth in the gut. He’d gone forward when you stumbled, reflexively reaching out to steady you on your feet before his mind could process the action.

Spencer has been doing that since he met you, trying to protect you like he was a giant ball of bubble wrap around you. He’d done it that day in the bookstore, throwing all precautions to the wind when he held the back of your head to keep you from hitting that bookshelf. He’s done it several times at a coffee shop you both enjoy visiting on his days off, physically maneuvering your body when he realizes that your current trajectory will cause you to ram your hip into a table corner.

One time, he’d been walking with you across the street when a man on a bicycle had come flying out of nowhere. You’d been just a step in front of him, your head tilted over your shoulder and your hands flying around with animation as you told him a story. Truly, he wasn’t sure how he knew to reach out and grab your shoulders, you have a way of telling stories that makes the entire world fall away. Yet, as if he was Spider-Man or something, every cell in his body suddenly cried out and he didn’t hesitate in pulling you back.

The force Spencer used to pull your body into his chest had sent you both tumbling to the sidewalk behind you.

“Are you okay?” You’d said, turning so that you were hovering over him with the sun framing you like a halo around your head. Surely you could feel the rapid escalation of his heartbeat with the way you tenderly place one of your small hands over his chest.

In the end he had to pull you to the side of the busy street to put a band-aid on your elbow where it had hit the concrete. It had been in the bottom of your bag and it had Scooby-Doo on it.

Despite his eidetic memory, some moments always manage to fade a little more than others. Some moments stick out more, like when you had reached out to smooth a stray curl away from his face. Your fingers were featherlight against his temple, your head tilted just a little to the side, and a soft smile stretched your lips.

“You’re my guardian angel.”

Some guardian angel he was, accusing you of murder on eight accounts and then letting you be kidnapped by someone who had no qualms about slapping you. God only knows what else he was comfortable with.

“I’ve got a lead!” Garcia burst into the room, her chest heaving as she sent videos and pictures to the screen for everyone to see. Spencer couldn’t see her face as she bent over her tablet, punching in information and instructions, but he nearly peppered it with kisses when she started to explain what they were all seeing.

“I managed to track (Y/N) to a little town about and hour and a half away when she, probably on purpose, ran a red light just in front of a gas station.” The video of your car creeping through a four-way traffic light until it turned red and captured you on camera was time stamped for yesterday afternoon around four o’clock.

“If you look closely, she turns onto a dirt road just a few seconds later,” Sure enough, every eye in the room watches as your car disappears behind a cluster of trees across from the BP on the left side of the video. “Satellite pictures show that little dirt road leads to one house that burned down a year ago.”

Mouths open, cogs turns, but Penelope Garcia once again proves her intelligence when she merely waves one hand in their direction and uses the other hand to pull up several documents and articles.

“Don’t sweat it. There’s no connection at all. Belonged to a Martin and Elisa Lewis back in the fifties before it was abandoned in the seventies. It was a local haunt where teenagers went to smoke, get drunk, have parties, and do the crazy and reckless things teenagers love to do. One of these reckless things led to a fire and burned the place down. But what’s important is what leaves this place fourty-eight minutes and twenty seconds after (Y/N)’s car enters.”

The video jumps forward in time, resuming as a red SUV pulls off the road and comes back for the stoplight. They can’t manage to get a license plate, the car being recently purchased by the unsub and the paper temporary being stuck to the inside of a tinted window, and they don’t manage to get a good image of the unsub driving. It feels, for a quarter of a second, as if there is no lead at all, until Spencer jumps to his feet.

“We need to see if her car is still there.”

The hour and a half drive takes fifty minutes with their lights on, mud kicking up beneath their tires as they pull into the empty lot. Your car sits abandoned in the middle, your back tires sunk into a pile of mud. The mass collection of blood on your driver’s seat makes Spencer nauseas. Rossi gives him a reassuring pat on the back.

It does nothing for Spencer’s nerves. He is truly the worst guardian angel ever.

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