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cuquitalocita · 3 years

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a new addition- rowaelin

AN: okay, a bunch of you guys asked for a part two to this fic so here it is! it’s longer than i meant for it to be and it’s not my favorite but i hope you guys like it- by the way the name eliora is not mine originally- i can’t remember who used it but it was not me so feel free to tag people if you know :)

part one

“And then what?” Her voice was eager.

Aelin shrugged, her lips tilting up into a small smile as she gazed at the green eyes across from her. “Then he kissed me.” Being completely honest, Aelin could remember the kiss as if it was yesterday. Could still feel his hard body pressed against hers and the fading taste of alcohol on his lips.

“Bullshit,” a voice scoffed from behind her. Aelin whirled to face the matching turquoise eyes and she arched a brow, causing him to visibly swallow.

“Excuse you? As far as I recall, I don’t remember you being there.”

Her son shook his head, plopping down on the open area of the couch beside her and taking her feet into his lap. “I didn’t need to be,” he shrugged. “You and Dad tell the story often enough. Everyone knows that you-”

He was cut off as Eliora’s hand slapped over his mouth. “No spoiling, Sammy! I wanna hear the story!” Aelin laughed at her six-year-old and pulled her onto her lap, kissing her cheek as she did so. She gazed at Eliora for a moment; she truly was a beautiful child, even if Aelin was a little bias.

“That’s right, Eliora,” Aelin grinned at her daughter. “And what did we say about spoiling?”

“Don’t do it,” she replied definitively with a firm shake of her head. Aelin couldn’t help but squeeze Eliora a bit tighter as she opened her mouth to continue the story. Her mouth closed as another body entered the living room.

“What are we doing?” Nehemia asked, coming to sit by her twin on the couch. Shoulder to shoulder, Aelin’s eyes stared back at her. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Mama’s telling me a love story,” Eliora gushed to her sister, her green eyes alight with childlike excitement. “The greatest of all time!”

Nehemia gazed at Eliora with pure love, even as she leaned over to whisper something in her brother’s ear. Aelin was just able to hear, “She’s telling it again, huh?”

“I told you we should have gone to Aunt Lys’s house,” was her son’s muttered response. Nehemia snorted, leaning back over the couch until she was eye to eye with Eliora.

“Greatest of all time, huh? Must be a good one.” Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint Aelin could only credit to herself.

“It is,” Aelin finally cut in. “And if you would stop interrupting, I would be able to finish it.”

The sixteen year-olds rolled their eyes, gazing at one another in a silent language only they could understand. But Aelin didn’t need to hear their dialogue to understand that they had heard the story enough times. But Aelin couldn’t help it. She just loved telling it. Gazing at the sparkling emerald on her finger, Aelin didn’t think she would ever get sick of telling it.

“So, as I was saying.” She bounced Eliora playfully in her lap until she giggled. “He kissed me and-”

“Aelin Galathynius Whitethorn, you better not be telling my daughter that I kissed you at that party!” Aelin had been so absorbed in her kids that she had barely registered her hulking husband walking into the room. He stood at the door, arms crossed in front of his body as he glared at her, emerald eyes meeting turquoise in a clash of passion. Rowan was still in his work clothes, clearly having just arrived, and Aelin was really trying not to drool at how good he looked with his hair ruffled and his tie undone around his neck.

She threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh.

“Gods, what does a girl have to do to finish a story around here?”

The floor of their living room creaked as Rowan came to sit beside Aelin and Sam on the couch, his gaze never leaving hers. Rowan leaned forward, catching Aelin’s lips with his for a quick kiss before settling back down on the couch. Nehemia immediately rested her head on her father’s shoulder and was rewarded with a warm kiss to the top of her head.

Aelin gazed at them with fondness, love filling her heart. Until her husband’s gaze locked with her own once more, and Aelin smirked.

“You cannot keep telling people that,” Rowan shook his head before turning to their youngest, taking her from Aelin’s lap and shooting his wife an exasperated look. “Eliora, do you remember what Mama and I told you about lying?”

From across from her, Aelin watched Sam snort. He swallowed as his gaze met hers, smile dropping.

Eliora’s tiny eyebrows scrunched up at the top of her head, the look identical to one Aelin constantly saw on Rowan’s face. Finally, she shook her head, gazing up at her father. “It’s… wrong?”

“That’s right,” Rowan smiled down at her. “And we don’t do it. Even if Mama does.” He looked at the gape on his wife’s face before looking down at their daughter once more. “Especially if Mama does.” Aelin stuck her tongue out to her husband, who finally cracked a smile at her. This one sent warmth all the way down to her toes.

“Does this mean Mama can’t finish the story?” Eliora asked, her voice turning sad as she gazed between her family. Rowan laughed, bouncing her up and down before looking at the twins and back at Aelin, an unmistakable look of triumph in his eyes.

“Oh, no no no,” he replied, grinning. “Daddy’s here now. And I’m gonna tell you what really happened. I didn’t want to be at that party, to begin with...”

Aelin didn’t need him to, even if their kids did. She remembered everything about that night. Everything about the days and weeks following she didn’t think she would ever forget them until the day she died. It wasn’t every day you kissed the love of your life at a shitty fraternity rager.

Rowan sat in the kitchen nursing his long since warmed beer. Shitty rap music blared through the speakers around him and it was then that he decided he was better off going back to his dorms before he did something he would regret.

It had been an hour since the kiss. An hour until he had finally gotten to understand what the hype of kissing Aelin Galathynius was. She was a lot of things- but a bad kisser wasn’t one of them. Rowan had sworn to every god imaginable he could handle a kiss with the infuriating blonde. It was just a kiss, right? Just a game.

But her lips had touched his and Rowan knew something was very very different. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of lemon and verbatim out of his senses for the past hour and it was unlikely that he would stop imagining the kiss any time soon.

But it was just a kiss. He didn’t like Aelin Galathynius.

She was annoying, and loud, obnoxious, and rude, and she lived to annoy him.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking of her? Even before the party, after their failed project, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those damn turquoise eyes.

It wasn’t that he hated everything about her. No- he had noticed the kind voice she would take when talking to Lysandra’s little sister. And he would be a fool not to notice the special smile that lit up her face when she would play with her dog or talk about literature. No, he didn’t hate her. But whatever he did feel was proving to be extremely problematic. Because there was no way she felt the same way.

Yes- it was definitely time to go home.

Making his way out from behind the kitchen counter, Rowan made to leave the kitchen just as the door went flying open. The sound of laughter rang through the door and Rowan stared at the exact person he was hoping to be done with for the night.

“Not likely, Moonbeam,” she was saying with a shake of her head, even though a spark glimmered in her blue eyes. Rowan had to consciously check himself from staring for too long as Aelin realized who was standing in front of her.

Her hand flew to her chest with wide eyes. “Jesus, Rowan, you scared me!”

Rowan thought it was the first time she had ever said his name. He quite liked the sound of it from her lips.

He was staring again. Full-blown staring at the woman in front of him as he contemplated what to say or do. He was coming up blank. Every thought in his mind seemed to be screaming at him at once. Some saying to run- to flee and never come into contact with her again, others saying to grab her and kiss her. All of them agreed she looked breathtaking in front of him. Like a golden angle.

“Ditto, Galathynius,” he managed out, earning a frown from Aelin. The action brought his gaze to her lips and he quickly looked away. Aelin seemed to have changed as well. Gone was the snarky woman who had spilled her beer all over him, replaced with a beautiful woman who he might’ve been friends with in another life.

“Hey, can we-”

“You know you may want to switch to a different conditioner,” he cut her off, saying the first thing he could think of to leave the conversation. “Your hair’s a little dry.”

Aelin gaped at him, her once lidded eyes turning cold and hard as she scoffed, shoving past him further into the kitchen. “Charming as ever, Whitethorn,” she sniped. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Eliora clapped from her place on her father’s lap.

“It was true love’s kiss!” she cried, earning a laugh from her siblings and parents. It had definitely been something, that was for sure.

“I don’t know…” Aelin mused. “I thought true love’s kiss was reserved for princes, the bravest of them all.” Eliora frowned, as did the twins as their gazes switched to their father.

“I am brave!” Rowan squawked, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about, Aelin?”

“Why, my dear husband,” Aelin placed her hand on her chest, pretending to be affronted. “It seems you’ve forgotten what happened afterward.” Realization dawned on Rowan’s face before retreating back into a frown. He seemed to hold Eliora tighter as he glared at his wife.

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he muttered, voice low.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam interrupted his parents from his side of the couch. “What do you mean what happened afterward?” This was a part of the story that neither one of their teenagers had heard before. Whether they were too young to understand it, or it had never come up, the twins were now fully invested in the story.

“Yeah,” Nehemia joined in. “You guys got together after the kiss at the party. That was it, right?” At their parents’ silence, the twins looked at each other before bolting upright in their seats.

“Right?” they asked in unison.

Rowan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. It seemed it was time for a sequel to their family tale.

Rowan was sure there should be a ditch where his feet had paced through the grass in front of Aelin’s dorm. Cursing to whatever gods there were, Rowan forced his feet to stop moving. How was he supposed to apologize to Aelin if he couldn’t even stop pacing from the nervousness of just thinking about it?

It hadn’t taken long after Rowan had left the party for him to realize what an idiotic prick he had been. He had been tempted to drive over to her dorm right then and there and grovel for her forgiveness. But ultimately he had decided against it, choosing instead in favor of avoiding a hangover.

But he was sober now, and an apology was necessary. More than necessary.

He had apologized to people before. He had begged his professors for extensions and apologized after a falling out with an old friend. But he had never planned on asking out any of the people he had been apologizing to. Two days and Rowan had refused to talk about the kiss with anyone. To be honest, he had tried to forget about it himself.

But it seemed it was destined to never leave his mind for the rest of his existence. And as he played the kiss back in his mind, he couldn’t say he minded it. It had been a rude awakening to realize he may have had feelings for Aelin Galathynius. To go from loathing the girl in his chemistry class to suddenly picturing her face everywhere was a big change, and Rowan didn’t know what to do about it.

Rowan wasn’t stupid. Aelin Galathynius was a beautiful person. Gorgeous looks aside, the woman had a pure heart of fire and gold. Of course, he had noticed this in sullen silence, but that wasn’t the point. He could acknowledge her wicked intelligence and her need to fight for something that was important to her. And he knew that she loved unconditionally.

Whether he liked it or not, he had kissed Aelin back, and that had been all him.

He wanted to do it again.

“Fleetfoot, slow down! Hang on a second Lys- Fleetfoot, no!” Rowan whipped around as he heard Aelin’s voice come from behind him. Sure enough, the golden beauty walked along the sidewalk to her dorm, dog leash in hand.

She was dressed in a university sweatshirt and leggings that showed off the curve of her legs, so much so that Rowan was forced to look away. Her phone was between her ear and shoulder as she spoke with who Rowan assumed to be Lysandra. He held back a smile as the massive golden retriever yanked her along the road, apparently following a particularly interesting squirrel.

“I’m telling you, Lys,” she was saying as she came closer, clearly still not seeing him. “It’s not li-” Her feet came to a sudden stop and Rowan’s head snapped up to see her gaze was already on his, eyes wide. Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Rowan couldn’t find he had anything to say either. Her golden hair ran down her back and Rowan found himself fighting the urge to twirl a strand of it around his finger. She really was breathtaking.

“Lys, I’ll call you back,” she said, eyes not leaving his as she took the phone from her shoulder and ended the call. “Rowan? What are you doing here?”

It was his turn to struggle for words. How would he even bring it up? A week ago the two were on nothing more than insulting terms. She had infuriated him- had tried every nerve in his body and every bit of anger he had. But now…

Aelin’s brows were raised in anticipation. Are you going to answer?

Rowan coughed, finally thrown out of his reverie. Who was he kidding? Aelin didn’t want to go on a date with him? Aelin didn’t want to go anywhere with him. And he couldn’t blame her. Rowan had been nothing but a prick to her since the moment they had met, and it was truly coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Uh, Aedion told me he left something in Lys’s room.” The lie rolled off of his tongue easily enough, yet he hoped Aelin would be able to see through it. It seemed that she didn’t.

“Oh,” she said, understanding and almost shame clouding her words. “Right. What is it? Do you wanna come inside to find it?” Aelin’s dog sat obediently at her heels, looking between the two college kids in silent wonder.

Yeah, dude, Rowan wanted to say. I don’ know what’s happening either.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s Aedion’s problem. I just thought I could find it before class started but I think it’s too late. He’ll come around later for it.”

“Right,” Aelin said doubtfully, crossing her arms in front of her body and looking at him.

“Right,” Rowan repeated back to her, causing Aelin to raise another brow. He wanted to push it back down. “Well, I’m gonna go- get to… class. So- bye Aelin.” He was gone before she could say anything else, giving her his back and practically sprinting back toward his side of campus.

Rowan Whitethorn was an idiot. He knew it. But one look from Aelin and the cold fear that had rushed through his body had him wanting to curl up into a ball and never speak to her again. But he had to. Rowan would have to talk to her again if he was going to find out who was truly behind those stunning blue eyes.

But even at the thought of speaking to her again-

“Hold on, hold on, I know where this is going,” Nehemia interrupted her father before he could continue his sentence. “You avoided her didn’t you?” As Rowan’s cheeks flamed, Sam sat upright in his seat, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“No way. You avoided her?” Aelin cackled as Rowan grumbled something under his breath, earning herself another glare. Nonetheless, Aelin tucked herself under her husband’s arm, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He seemed to soften at the touch, green eyes meeting hers in a look so full of love Aelin thought she might explode.

“Well, what is it, old man?” Sam prompted. Rowan scowled at his son and daughter, both of who looked ready to pass out from restrained laughter.

“Only for a couple of weeks,” he muttered lowly.

“A COUPLE OF WEEKS?” Sam exploded, his laughter finally ringing out through the house as he fell back into the couch, holding his stomach. Nehemia glared at her brother and poked him in the stomach. It didn’t seem to matter as Sam sat up, still grinning. “And you call me a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out.”

“You are a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out,” Rowan shook his head, running a hand down his face. Nehemia nodded, offering her father a high five which he quickly returned. She was such a daddy’s girl.

“It’s true honey,” Aelin cut in, even as her son glared at her. “Dorian knows she likes you.”

“The world knows she likes him,” Nehemia said, exasperated. “Now get back to the story. Mom,” she turned to Aelin. “Did you know Dad was lying about having places to be?”

Aelin snorted, running her hand through the hair at the nape of Rowan’s neck which seemed to be even redder than it had been moments before. “Of course I did. His excuse was that he had to go to class. It was Sunday.”

It was Nehemia’s turn to crackle now and Rowan looked downright offended. It wasn’t often that his oldest daughter wasn’t on his side. Aelin leaned into Rowan’s shoulder, delight running through her body as he placed a chaste kiss on her temple.

“You’ll pay for this,” he mumbled into her hair.

Her eyes said it all. I’m looking forward to it, Buzzard.

“What happened? What happened?” Eliora’s voice dragged Aelin back to the present. She was sure her youngest had no idea what was going on at this point in the story, but Rowan continued nonetheless.

It was three weeks before he saw her again. Three weeks of avoided group hangouts and staying in his dorm room during parties. Three weeks of taking a longer route than normal to all of his classes, and three weeks of wishing he could speak to the girl he couldn’t get out of his head.

Rowan was sitting at a picnic table in the middle of one of the university quads, textbook open and highlighter in hand. He hadn’t actually understood any bit of what he had read, but at least it looked like he was doing something. And it seemed to be working pretty well for his other problem.

“Fleetfoot, get back here!” Or not.

Rowan tried not to draw attention to himself as Aelin ran past his table, after the massive bundle of golden fur that was running away from her. He watched as she chased her dog around the quad, finally giving up as she layed on the ground, arms splayed wide. It wasn’t long before Fleetfoot was back and licking her face.

He felt Aelin’s laugh all the way to his heart.

“Ten bucks says he grows a pair and asks her out.” Sam had long since abandoned his spot on the couch in favor of sitting on the ground to watch his father intently as he told the story. He had muttered the words to his sister, whose feet were right by his head. She too was looking at her father intently.

“Twenty says he keeps ignoring her until happenstance pushes them together.”

Rowan rolled his eyes at his children, even though the spark in his green eyes showed he was more than amused. “Your mother was right. It is impossible to finish a story in this house.”

“Gods,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my dad was such a pus-”

“Let’s see how fast I can ground you,” Rowan cut him off with a stern look to the child in his arms who seemed to be on the verge of sleep. Sam smiled sheepishly.

“My bad.”

“Will you shut up so he can finish the story?” Nehemia glared at her brother.

“Alright,” Aedion slammed his hand down on Rowan’s helmet, sending a large clattering sound through his head. Rowan scowled at his best friend, shoving him away. “What the fuck is going on between you and my cousin?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rowan turned back to his bag, shrugging off his helmet and shoving it into the massive pack before taking a sip of his water bottle, all while ignoring Aedion and those eyes that reminded him so much of the ones he truly wanted to see.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” Aedion snapped at him, forcing Rowan to face him. “The two of you have been skirting around each other for the past three weeks and Aelin won’t even come to parties with us anymore so what. Happened.”

Rowan stopped. Aelin hadn’t been going to parties? Had she been avoiding him as much as he had been avoiding her? He looked at his best friend and shrugged.

“We kissed. During spin the bottle.”

Aedion looked at him for what seemed like minutes before bursting into uncanny laughter.

“Damn,” he wheezed out. “That’s it? Well, it’s about time.”

“Excuse me?” Rowan growled, and Aedion stopped laughing.

“You know what I mean, man. It’s about time. All those years when you two would look at each other and glance away before the other noticed. Or when you defend each other when the

other isn’t there- yep, don’t think I didn’t notice that. I think we can all agree that it’s about time.”

Rowan shook his head, incredulous. Other people had noticed that?

“No, Aedion,” he sighed. “Aelin hates me. She wants nothing to do with me.” Aedion stared at him again before, shaking his head.

“Ro, man, you are such an idiot sometimes.”

“You know, Aedion. Saying cryptic shit and expecting other people to understand you doesn’t help anyone,” Rowan snapped, his patience thinning. Turning back to Aedion, he found his eyes glued on something behind him.

Rowan’s heart stopped. There was no way.

But sure enough, Rowan turned around to meet the gaze of a gaping Aelin Galathynius. She held a tennis ball in one hand and Fleetfoot circled the ground at her feet. Clearly, the dog had chased the ball into their field and her owner had eventually followed. At the worst timing imaginable.

“Aelin-” Rowan started, but she was already gone, whirling around and sprinting out of the stadium, the golden retriever at her heels. He didn’t think before following after her. “Aelin, wait!” he called after her, forcing his legs to go faster.

It turned out that Aelin Galathynius was quite fast when she wanted to be, and Rowan only caught up to her when she was standing in front of her dorm building. She didn’t need to turn around for Rowan to know she was fuming.

“Gods, what do you want, Rowan?” she glared at him, her voice ice. “Haven’t you already proven your point?” Rowan wanted to grab her and shake her.

“Proven my- what? Aelin I-”

“Look you made yourself very clear at the party, alright?” she snapped, turning away from him. But Rowan’s arm shot out, catching hers before she could leave and forcing her to look at him. “I get that Aedion can be nosy at times but you were so out of line, Whitethorn.”

The confused look on his face must have been painfully obvious. Aelin rolled her eyes. “Look, if it was just an act to shut Aedion up, I-”

Rowan kissed her.

This woman. This annoying, infuriating, intelligent, beautiful woman. She was absolutely astounding. And she thought he somehow hadn’t noticed that.

Rowan wanted to remember the feeling of her lips on his for the rest of his life. Wanted to bottle the sound of the small gasp she released before melting into the kiss. He wanted to mold their bodies together until there was no room left. Rowan wanted to feel her soft hair between his fingers and the feeling of her hands in his hair until the day he died. He never wanted to let her go.

This time when the two pulled back, Rowan kept her close to his body with an arm around her waist. Her arms were still around his neck and Aelin gazed at him through wide eyes. Before she could say anything, Rowan kissed her again, this time lingering. She kissed his smile with her own.

“It was never an act.”

“Well it seems to me that Fleetfoot is the true heroine of the story,” Nehemia grinned, petting the head of her own puppy that sat at her feet next to Sam. “Without her, you two would never have met again. Oh, and I won, by the way Sammy. Pay up.”

“That’s my girl,” Rowan grinned, pride shone over his face at his daughter’s antics regardless of her win being at his expense. Sam practically growled as he handed his sister a twenty-dollar bill.

“Oh, don’t be sad, Sammy,” Aelin comforted her son, holding her arms out until he rolled his eyes and walked over to give her a hug. “Ask out Asterin and your kids won’t do the same thing to you,” she whispered, earning a dark red blush on her son’s cheeks.

She shared a knowing look with Rowan, unable to resist reaching up and kissing his lips once more. Rowan returned it in kind, grinning when she nipped playfully at his bottom lip.

“Boo!” Nehemia called from her spot on the couch as Sam yelled, “Get a room!”

Aelin turned to Rowan once more, unsurprised to see his gaze already on her. “Remind me why we keep them?” Rowan’s laugh rang out loud as he pulled Aelin close to his body. Her head landed on his shoulder and she sighed in content.

“Because we’re cute,” Nehemia supplied. “At least, one of us is.” She gazed at her little sister who had long since fallen asleep on her father’s lap.

It seemed that their entire reason for telling the story had fallen asleep long before her father had finished telling it. There was no doubt that Eliora wouldn’t remember any bit of the story when she woke up.

“She’s too young to understand the story yet,” Nehemia said, brushing back a piece of her little sister’s hair with astounding gentleness.

“So what do we tell her when she’s old enough?” Aelin asked, cherishing the kiss that Rowan placed on her head and unable to contain the insurmountable love in her heart as her kids responded.

“Oh, Mom’s version, for sure. It’s way better.”

taglist:

@story-scribbler

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame

#aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #aelin #rowan #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin au #modern au #rowaelin fanfiction #tog #sjm #throne of glass

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differentlyweird · 2 years

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Updated Thoughts on The Vampire Diaries (Now that I’ve finished the show)

• Stefan and Caroline’s relationship grew on me, their love was so sweet and pure. I loved the callbacks to the high school days. I loved them more than Stelena

• Bonnie and Enzo surprised me the most, I was not expecting that but as we got to know more of their backstory and see how much they complemented each other they grew on me. They deserved better.

• Speaking of my beloved Bonnie Bennett, she proved to be THAT GIRL again and again. I just wished she didn’t have to go through so much pain. At least knowing that she’ll see Enzo again gave her the push to live the life she deserves. I hope she’s sitting on a beach somewhere happy

• Damon and Bonnie’s friendship warmed my heart and was so fun to see grow. Especially without Elena because it showed that she wasn’t what kept the others helping/saving Damon. They had their own relationship outside of Elena.

• I enjoyed the time jump into them after college, that doesn’t happen in a lot in teen shows. I feel like when a show ends with 18-year-old characters It feels like there are still a lot to be done. Almost like the happily ever after is going to be short-lived but that we’re never gonna get answers. So to see the show and when the characters are 26 years old makes it feel more final in a “ OK finally they get to have a real happy ending and live the rest of their lives in peace”

• I felt like Tyler‘s death was unnecessary and I know that Tyler and Matt get a lot of hate from the fandom but I don’t hate them. I feel like a lot of their anger was justified considering the fact that they were at the mercy of this supernatural world that took basically the only family they had left. In Matt’s case The love of his life too. I know they did some pretty shitty things but I don’t know I’m glad that on some level both of them found a way to move on and have peace.

• like I said in my previous post I’m not too crazy about Delena or Stelena but I’m glad Elena ended up with Damon. They went well together with who she was after she turned. I felt Stefan fit better with Caroline anyway.

• I will say the one thing that bothered me the most was that everyone lost their partners except Delena that didn’t seem fair at all.

• Katherine Pierce is THE BEST VILLAIN. That girl did not quit! Even in HELL, she put every other villain on the show to shame!

• Did not like the Alaric x Caroline story we got , it felt wrong in every way. The didn’t have romantic chemistry and HE WAS HER TEACHER. It was just weird

• With that being said watching them become a family and raising Josie and Lizzie was so heartwarming to watch and I loved that they both had a family again after losing the ones before

• I’m glad that everyone on some level, whether in life or death found a way to be happy and reunite/ remember each other and their loved ones. They all deserved that.

• I also love that Lexi was the one to greet Stefan in the afterlife seeing as she was his bestfriend

• Knowing that everyone will see each other again one day and be at peace with their loved ones, consoles me after everything.

I really loved this show and can’t wait to see what the Originals and Legacies has in store (no I haven’t gotten around to watching it yet)

#the vampire diaries #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore #elena gilbert #Elena Gilbert Salvatore #caroline forbes #caroline forbes salvatore #matt donovan #tyler lockwood #bonnie bennett #alaric saltzman #josie saltzman #lizzie saltzman #delena #stelena #benzo tvd #bonnie x enzo #the vampire diaries spoilers

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Barking Up The Wrong Tree

Ransom Drysdale One Shot

Summary: It’s the Annual Pre-Easter meal at the Thrombey’s and Ransom and you are in attendance. As usual, there’s fireworks, a lot of swearing and there’s only one way you know he can get rid of his frustrations…

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this was originally written last year for @jennmurawski13 who requested a smutty one shot with an Evans character of my choice for her birthday. It was coined from a Brainstorming sesh me and @icanfeelastormbrewing had for our intended Ransom x OFC series (we might get round to it in 2022…so by then you’ll have forgotten if we use it again.) FYI Eighteen year old Ransom is totally Bryce from Fierce People, you can’t convince me otherwise… I also very much now see this being the same Reader as in mine, @ohthankevans13 and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork’s Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale series.

Your brown leather, knee high Saint Laurent boots (a gift from the man whose lap you were curled up on) were on the floor by your feet leaving you in your grey, woollen over-knee socks. One of your boyfriend’s large hands was resting on your left shin, the other just at the top of your right thigh, almost on your ass cheek. You were well aware your black sweater dress was riding up so went to shift and shimmy it down a little, conscious that you were, after all, sat in the large drawing room at his grandfather’s house whilst the rest of his family milled around as the pre-Easter dinner, which always took place the weekend before the actual holiday, was being prepared.

“You okay?” Ransom looked up at you, noticing you shift on his lap and you smiled.

“Yeah, just don’t want to flash everyone too much if you get my drift.”

Ransom cocked an eyebrow at you, then peeked around the room, before he gave a snort as his eyes fell on his cousin Jacob who was watching the pair of you.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want Adolf junior getting a boner now would we?”

You gave a chuckle as you re-arranged your dress, making yourself more comfortable.

“He’s just a kid, Ran.” You soothed.

“He’s a deviant, Princess.” He replied, his voice quiet.

“So were you when I first met you.” You grinned, looking at him as you bent closer to whisper into his ear “Still are when the mood takes you.”

Ransom pulled back to look at you, his face inches from yours, his eyebrow raising slightly as that dirty smirk spread across his handsome face. “Stop it.” He warned, and you shrugged innocently, as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Come on son, put her down.” Richard’s voice rang across the room and instantly you felt Ransom’s entire demeanour change. Gone was the relaxed, jokey, happy Ran you knew and loved and in his place was Hugh Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire.

“Piss off, Father.” He shot back, his head moving back from yours, fixing his dad with a steely glare.

“Hey.” Richard glowered “Don’t speak to me like that…” he turned to Linda. “Did you hear that Linda?”

“Ransom…” Linda said lazily, not looking up from her phone. “Don’t speak to your father like that.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and you gently looked at him, shaking your head, silently telling him to stay calm. It was always the same with the Thrombey family gatherings. Ransom despised them for the simple fact that Harlan was the only one he had any time for, bar his mother on a good day, and you were inclined to feel the same way. It always ended in chaos, each individual nuclear sects within the extended family trying to get one up on the other, prove they were the best players in the game.

Frankly, they made the fucking Lannisters look normal.

All your friends were constantly asking you how you managed to stay tangled in this web of dysfunction, but the answer was right in front of you, his crystal blue eyes now narrowed as he shot a sarcastic reply back to his mother.

The simple truth was, you loved him and couldn’t walk away if you tried.

It hadn’t always been that way, mind. When your High School had been asked to submit nominations for the coveted position of Harlan Thrombey’s Summer research assistant, you’d been short listed along with 15 other candidates from the New England area. Each of you were asked to produce a five-thousand word thesis on a literary subject of your choice to be submitted for reading by Harlan. You’d been ecstatic when you received the call from his Publishing Company to say you’d made the final three and were requested to attend an interview.

You’d been and bought a new suit. Nothing fancy but decent enough quality. You made sure your hair was tamed, your make up was as on point as you could get it, and had driven the thirty minutes or so out to his mansion from the home you shared with your Nanna in Brookline, following the directions on your GPS to the area near Pierce Park where the Thrombey Mansion was located. You were greeted by his housekeeper and shown into the large office where the man himself was waiting. Harlan was nothing like you had expected him to be. He was eccentric, sure, but also dmaned good fun. He’d asked you a few questions about why you wanted the position “I’m going to major in English at college and I hope to work in publishing when I graduate, this would be an invaluable experience.” He had then discussed your paper with you and after a few more general questions he had reduced you almost to tears of laughter by telling you a about an incident when he had been at college and was almost caught climbing down the trellis of his girlfriend’s parent’s house following a late night rendezvous of the very naughty kind “Don’t think too badly of me, we ended up married for forty-seven years…”

Then, just as he was showing you out of his study a tall, well-built young man, your age you had correctly guessed, with a strong jaw, dark hair flicked to the left side of his forehead, and a pair of the bluest eyes you had ever seen, waltzed down the hallway. He was dressed in a pair of riding breeches, a polo shirt and wore a long pair of tan leather riding boots.

"Ransom?” Harlan looked at the young man “I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.”

“Yeah well, the fucking horse I should have been riding is lame.” Ransom shrugged “Which means I can’t ride, and I probably can’t compete this weekend.”

“Dressage?” you had asked, your mouth speaking well before your brain had engaged, for some reason thinking it was a good idea to comment. Ransom had looked at you with disdain, scanned you up and down and cocked his head to one side, his eyes cold as they locked onto yours.

“Polo.” He had answered, a sneer on his face “Do I look like a dressage rider to you? Mind you, from the state of your cheap high-street dress the nearest you’ve probably ever been to a horse is those shitty little trail rides they run at kids parties.”

“Ransom!” Harlan had snapped sternly “Enough!”

You felt the heat rise in your neck and cheeks, and you drew yourself up to your full height, folding your arms as you looked at the ass hole stood in front of you. One thing your Nanna had told you was that, despite your humble origins, you were as worthy as the next person, no matter how much money, status or self-importance they may have.

“My apologies. I always thought polo was played by arrogant, snobby, stuck up pricks.” You retorted as you made a show of looking him up and down in the same way he had done to you. “Actually, on second thoughts, I should have guessed.”

As soon as the words were out of your mind you let out an internal groan. Way to go, flush your chance of landing this summer internship down the fucking toilet by insulting Harlan’s grandson. Nevertheless, you held the gaze of the man in front of you who stared back, his expression and face utterly stoic bar the blink of surprise his eyes made.

You heard Harlan chuckle behind you and the old man dropped a hand to your shoulder. “Fran, could you see Miss Y/L/N to the door.”

Two days later Harlan had personally called you to offer you the position, and it had turned out to be everything you ever wanted, and more. Three weeks into your internship, to your utter surprise, Harlan confessed that he had been looking to fund a worthy, local candidate through college and as the successful applicant it was yours for the taking. Some strings had been pulled, and in the last week of September thanks to his generosity you started your English Major at Harvard.

And so did Ransom.

He pursued you with a dogged determination, seemingly viewing your indifference towards him and his advances as some kind of challenge. You weren’t fooling yourself, however. He was devastatingly handsome and your traitorous vagina and that part of your brain that controlled your libido harboured a deep desire to fuck his brains out, a desire you finally gave into at the end of your first year when, following your final exam, you got drunk and woke up the morning after in his bed.

It wasn’t all puppies and roses though. You were on and off more than his boxer shorts, as simply put, Ransom was a player. And it didn’t bother you to start with. He was a hook up, a way to relieve tension when you needed to, and he was a very handy person to know with his seemingly endless network of connections. But by the time you graduated you knew you were head over heels for him, and needed to break this seeming cycle of being in and out of his bed. So you turned down Harlan’s offer of a job at Blood Like Wine and were ready to move away from Boston after landing a job at a publishers in Manhattan…but then your nanna had been taken seriously ill and suffered a stroke meaning you had to stay.

As a result of her illness, your nanna was unable to live in your house in Brookline alone and so you were forced to sell it so she could afford to move into a supervised Retirement Village a five minute or so drive away. You were now jobless, drowning with the house-sale which would leave you homeless, and your emotions and been all over the place. You had no other family since your Grandfather had died at the start of your senior year so had no one to turn to.

Enter Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

You’d called him one evening, drunk and emotional and needing a release and he came over alright, but instead of fucking you into the mattress he made sure you drank water, ate something, and then got you into bed. The next morning, Harlan had shown up, telling you the job offer at his company was still open, and then to your utter surprise and initial horror he had offered to buy your nanna’s house, meaning you could remain there as a tenant. At first you had refused, insisting you weren’t a charity case but Harlan had simply waved your concerns away by insisting it was an investment. After a little discussion he agreed to allow you to pay rent which, all things considered, was a pittance in comparison to what other properties the same size in that area commanded but it was a rent nonetheless and made you feel better.

And you knew all of it had ben Ransom’s idea.

This was the side to Ransom he very rarely displayed to anyone. A softer side, a caring side, a gentle side. A side that held you as you cried at the thought that your nanna was growing old and may soon leave you behind, a side that made you a sandwich when you hadn’t eaten in days, a side that helped you pack up and move your Nana’s stuff to her new home, a side that turned up at 9pm with several tubs of ice cream and a bottle of wine after you’d messaged him earlier that afternoon to tell him what a shit day you were having when his Uncle Walt was being a dick at work.

The rest, they say is history. History which meant you were now curled up in his lap some eight or so years post that initial meeting in the hallway of this very house, listening to him bicker with his family, feeling his leg beginning to shake in that way it always did when he was agitated.

“Ran…” you said gently, squeezing his arm and you felt him take a deep breath and he looked at you, his mouth closing as you shook your head “Don’t.”

He turned away, looking to the other side of the room and his face glowered as he spotted Jacob once more had his eyes trained on your bare thigh. God the pubescent creep did his fucking head in, and if he stayed here he was going to end up putting the lanky streak of shit through the wall.

“Can we go?” Ransom looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“We’ve not even had dinner yet.”

“Please.”

That single word was enough to make you understand. It was a word he hadn’t learned until he’d met you, when he realised that his demands and arrogance got him nowhere with you. He still rarely used it mind, but when he did, you knew he was in desperate need of what he’d asked for.

“How about we take a walk?” You suggested “If you still wanna go after then we will”

He took a deep breath as he considered what you had said. Compromise was another word that hadn’t been in his vocabulary until you. His eyes locked onto yours and you looked at him, encouragingly and he took a deep breath, nodding.

“Okay.”

You uncurled yourself from his lap and stood up, him following so you could sit down and place you boots on.

“Are you leaving?” Linda asked, looking up for the first time.

“For a walk.” Ransom said simply, grabbing your hand and pretty much dragging you from the room. He didn’t say a word as he reached the coat stand and retrieved your lightweight Ted Baker belted mac, holding it out for you to slip your arms into, in a display of chivalry he reserved only for you. Once you’d done it up, he took your hand in his and you headed through the kitchen and outside into the reasonably mild April afternoon.

“Don’t let them get to you.” You said softly, leaning into him a little and he sighed, untangling his fingers from yours so he could drop his arm round your shoulders. He hated the fact his family could make him feel like this, like he wasn’t in control, like he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could quite happily go without seeing any of them, well, bar maybe his grandfather, but you had told him he would regret it if he pushed them away completely because you had always wished you’d had a large family unit like that. So, despite the fact he knew deep down that was a load of bullshit, he played the game. He attended the damned gatherings more for your benefit than any as you adored Harlan and seemed to get on fairly well with Joni, Meg and his mother. He hung onto a glimmer of hope that maybe one day it would all change and he’d feel part of it.

But it never did. And he never did.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence across the Mansion grounds, round the lake where Ransom stopped by the small pier, looking out over the water.

“You know my most vivid childhood memories are of this spot.” He mused, his gaze focussed over the lake “Grammy used to bring me down here to feed the ducks.”

“It’s beautiful down here.” You agreed, snuggling further under his arm. “Peaceful.”

“Yeah unlike that fucking house.”

You gave a chuckle, as his hand curled over your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing over the smooth material of your coat. He was agitated, you could tell, and there were very few ways in which he could calm down when he was like this. One was riding his beloved BB- a polo horse Harlan had bought him for his 21st, one was the pair of you curling up on the sofa with snacks and a good scotch or bourbon, getting drunk and watching Trashy Films, in particular horrors-you both loved to pick plot holes and insult the main characters, declaring the victim a dumb bitch for running up the stairs and not out of the door and the other, well…

You glanced around, checking you were alone before you pulled away from him, taking his hand and tugging on it slightly.

“What?” he asked looking down.

“Come on.” You gave his hand another pull.

“Y/N?” he questioned again, but followed nonetheless despite you not answering. You tugged him away from the lake, into the thin thicket of trees a little further round. You could still see the house here but you knew there was no way anyone from up there could see you.

“Seriously, Y/N what the fuck?” he groaned, as he stepped in the slightly squelchy mud “You’re gonna ruin my Gucci’s…” “Should have worn something a little more substantial then shouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were planning on going fucking hiking in the fucking woods.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.” You said, stopping in front of a large oak tree, looking up at him.

“Then what are we doing? Reconnecting with Mother Nature? Or are we on the hunt for Oberon, Titania and Puck?”

“Ooh, good Shakespeare reference.” You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes as you slid your hand up over his navy blue lightweight Barbour jacket which was done up to his sternum, leaving his plain white, Armani t-shirt slightly visible at the neckline. “Does that make us Lysander and Hermia?”

“You got a hidden suitor called Demetrius I don’t know about?” he arched an eyebrow, his hands falling to your hips.

“Nope, I’m all yours Tiger.”

The sound of your ridiculous nickname for him drew a large smile across his face and he shook his head, giving a genuine chuckle. Here, with you there were no annoying voices to listen to, no family politics, nothing to care about but the gentle brush of the wind as it blew through the canopy of trees above your heads and the faint sounds of birds as they went about their business and Ransom felt a sense of comfort. Because you were his rock. The one person that saw through his bull shit, the woman in his life that knew all his horrible personality traits as well as his slightly less horrible ones and loved him all the same. The girl that had rounded off his harsher edges no matter how much he protested to the contrary.

You were his better half for sure.

“Well that’s good, because I don’t like sharing.” Ransom smirked, dipping his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Don’t I know it.” You mused against his mouth. His fingers flexed on your sides, pulling you closer to him as he slid his tongue across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him control over the kiss, knowing that’s what he craved when he was like this. His lips were soft on yours, tongue domineering as he kissed you deeply, slowly. Eventually he pulled back, his nose bumping yours slightly as he gave a little chuckle.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from those shit heads in the house.” He said, his tone playful and you loved playful Ransom. Another side to him only you really got to see.

“Is it working?” You played along.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips pressing to yours again.

“Good. Now why don’t you let your inner deviant come out to play?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Princess.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he had pressed you into the harsh, earthy bark of the tree behind you, kissing you hard again, groaning as you palmed his crotch through his designer denims. He grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head before he did the same with the other one, easily holding both in place above you with one large hand, his other softly tracing up the outside of your thigh, fingers skating under your skirt.

“Is this why you wore this?” he smirked, toying with the material slightly. “So you could tempt me away for a fuck in the woods?”

It wasn’t, it was because it looked and felt good, but you decided to play along “Maybe. Was it a good choice?”

“Damned right it was…” he growled against your mouth, his long, soft fingers sliding your lace panties to the side. His index finger traced a path up your slit and you gasped at the feeling as he gently began to toy with you. Soft, teasing touches, his eyes never once leaving yours. That was one of his things, he liked to see your face, watch as your expressions changed as he undid you, fuelling his ego. Your hips gently started to move in time to his strokes as he played you, like an instrument from which he could always draw a tune. And in no time at all, he was listening to the music as you let out a soft keen, a purr almost as your head fell back against the tree, your mouth parting slightly.

“Like that?” he asked, and it was all you could do to nod, panting brokenly as the familiar feeing began to rise in the pit of your stomach, the fire growing hotter and hotter. “God you’re a fucking minx. Come on, cum on my fingers, you know you want to.” And you did, hard, your knees trembling, as you let out a loud cry of his name as the lights exploded in front of your eyes. Ransom pressed into you, his erection evident as it dug into your stomach, keeping you pinned between him and the tree as he coaxed you through your orgasm, before he moved his hands, allowing yours to drop to his shoulders as you held onto him tightly.

The clanging of a belt buckle, then the zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric broke through the post-orgasm haze as Ransom undid his flies, reaching into pull out his painfully hard cock. He gently pushed forward, sliding the tip against your folds, gathering your slick as you gave a moan, the feeling of him sliding against your clit sent lances of red, hot desire through your veins.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs as he pulled you off the ground and you hooked them round his slim waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. In a swift, fluid moment, no teasing, no gentle ease, he buried himself inside you with a deep thrust making you cry out as he filled you. His lips crashed onto yours as he drew back, then thrust back in hard, his cock dragging against your walls inside, hitting that spot that he knew would leave you seeing stars.

Yes, if there was one thing on this Earth Ransom knew he was good at, it was fucking you.

His lips traced a path from your mouth to your jawline, then to your neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to, his hips moving back and forth in a slow but deep pace which was torture, and you needed more.

“Ran, harder…” You groaned, digging your heels into his ass and he gave a dirty moan of his own as his hands held your hips.

“You’re such a needy little slut.” He smirked against your lips, not waiting for your reply as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth with a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of you again and again. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you kissed him, teeth clashing together as your back repeatedly brushed against the harsh, rough surface behind you as you clawed desperately at the material of his jacket.

It wasn’t long before you felt another orgasm brewing and your head fell forward, teeth nipping at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Your hands moved into his hair and you pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up you.

“Fuck, Y/N….” he groaned, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with a desire you would never tire of seeing. You pushed your hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and you let out an almost primal cry, the noise you made simply revving him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck Ran…” you moaned as your head rolled back against the tree, hands back on his shoulders, as once more that snake in your belly moved. Ransom felt the tell-tale flutter of your heat tightening round him and he continued his voracious pace, his eyes locked onto yours.

“You feel so fucking good…” he panted “So fuckin’ good Princess...”

His words made you moan again, and he pushed up once more, stilling slightly, grinding up against you as opposed to thrusting and a few rolls of his hips later you were done. The world faded around you as you came hard, with a loud scream before your head dropped to his shoulder, as you moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through your orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Y/N…I’m…fuck…” his words tumbled into your hair as his movements became desperate and he came a short while later with a loud yell. You felt him fill you up, as his hips stilled and he groaned, face buried into your neck, his chest heaving, sweat beaded both his brow and yours as he simply pressed into you, panting and shaking.

Neither of you had any idea how long you stayed like that, but eventually Ransom managed to gain enough control to pull his softening cock out of you and set you gently on your feet as he brushed the tendrils of your hair that had fallen over your face back with a tenderness he reserved only for you. He said nothing, simply looked at you, his lips gently greeting yours in a soft, loving kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones you had shared moments before. You smiled at him, unadulterated love in your eyes as you moved your hands to brush his hair back before you leaned up and kissed him again, your nose sliding against his.

“I adore you Hugh Ransom Drysdale. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t fucking call me Hugh.” He grumbled and you chuckled as he pulled you to him, nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. “But for the record, the feeling is mutual Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N.”

You gave a laugh and were about to reply when you felt his head snap up, and his entire body tense and he let out an angry cry causing you to jump.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! The perverted little shit!”

“Ran?” You saw his face contorted in anger as he pushed back from you, striding away from the tree, rearranging his jeans as he went before he broke into a sprint. You watched him go and then, to your horror, saw the retreating back of a smaller male running away from the thicket of trees on the curve of the bank to your left and you felt yourself grow cold.

Jacob.

How long he had been there Ransom had no idea but he chased the little fucker all the way to the house, yelling insults and threats as he burst into the kitchen. Ransom finally caught up with him just as he ran into the hall and grabbed the kid by the collar, spinning him round and pinning him to the wall, arm crossed over his windpipe. “Enjoy the show did we?!” He yelled, the noise drawing the rest of the family out from the sitting room into the tiled hallway. Walt started to shout angry threats about what he was going to do to Ransom if he didn’t take his hands off his son, which then sparked Richard to bite back at Walt saying if he touched Ransom he’d give him a damned good hiding. If Ransom hadn’t been so focussed on the dirt little bastard he had pinned to the wall he would have laughed because the idea of his dad fighting anyone was hilarious, he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“Give me your phone.” Ransom demanded.

“I didn’t…” “GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NOW YOU PERVERTED PRICK!” Ransom yelled, and reached into Jacob’s pocket, grabbing his hand where it was curled around the offending item, bending the boy’s fingers back. Jacob gave a yell, pulled his hand out of his trouser pocket and Ransom seized the phone, yanking it out, just as you walked into the hallway.

He looked at you, then to Jacob and saw you pale as the realisation washed over you that you’d not only been seen but recorded or snapped, by a twelve year old boy nonetheless.

“Unlock it.” Ransom demanded, thrusting it back at him.

“Now listen here…” Walt started until Harlan turned to him.

“Walt, shut up.” He barked, turning to Jacob “Unlock the phone, now Jake.”

Jacob sullenly took the phone from Ransom and did has he was told, Ransom snatching it back. He glanced down at the screen, flicking to the Gallery and let out an angry noise as he saw not only footage of you both in the woods but ten or so photos of your bare thigh and close ups where he had attempted to see up your skirt when you had been on his knee before. Thankfully from the snaps there wasn’t really anything visible, but still the fact he had even taken them in the first place made Ransom apoplectic with rage.

“You dirty little prick.” he mumbled, looking back up at him. Jacob visibly recoiled under Ransom’s glare.

“Ran?” You questioned as you gently touched his arm and he tilted the phone so you could see the screen and your eyes widened, your entire body growing warm as you saw the close up of your thigh on the screen.

“How the fuck dare you?” You exploded, glaring at Jacob.

“Can you explain what he has supposedly done?” Donna, Jacob’s mother spoke for the first time and you turned to face her, your pretty features contorted in rage.

“He’s…” You shook your head “Taken photos of me, before up my skirt.”

Noise erupted in the hallway, Joni and Meg screaming about you being violated, Richard and Linda yelling at Walt and Donna whilst Harlan shook his head, making a noise of disgust. Ransom ignored them all as he selected the photos and images, deleting them, and showing it to you.

“Gone, Princess.” He turned the screen off before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

“Look, he’s a teenage boy…” Donna was protesting “He’s a bit curious…”

“He’s a dirty bastard.” Richard snorted and the irony wasn’t lost on Ransom as he’d seen his father eyeing you up on more than one occasion. He looked at his dad, eyebrow raised as Jacob bit back at the dig.

“I’m a dirty bastard?” The pre-teen snapped, his eyes flicking from Richard to Ransom “I’m not the one that was having sex against a tree!”

Everyone paused and their heads turned to you and Ransom. You gave a groan, your hands sliding up to your face to hide your utter embarrassment, but besides you Ransom’s expression never changed because, well frankly, he couldn’t give two shits about everyone knowing what you had been up to.

“I’m a grown ass man.” He snarled “If I wanna fuck my girl outside on private property I will”

He held Jacob’s phone out to him, but as Jacob went to take it Ransom opened his hand, dropped it to the floor with a loud “oops” and stomped on it, the metal and glass crunching under the heel of his expensive, leather boots.

There was more yelling, and Ransom simply turned, taking your hand in his. “We’re leaving.”

This time you didn’t argue. The pair of you walked away, ignoring the screaming which grew fainter as you headed down towards the large front doors, only to hear Harlan calling after you. Ransom stopped, took a deep breath and tuned to face his grandfather.

“Y/N are you ok?”

“Of course she’s not.” Ransom snapped but you gently squeezed his hand, shaking his head.

“I’m okay Harlan, thank you. But I think its best we go before Ransom commits murder.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not far off killing the little turd myself.” Harlan shook his head, sighing. He then took a deep breath, looked at Ransom, and there was a flash of something which you knew only too well to be amusement in his eyes. “Which tree?”

Ransom frowned “What?”

“I asked which tree you two were doing the naughty against.”

You groaned as Ransom blinked and then shrugged “Just in the thicket to the south side of the lake, near the little jetty. Why?”

“Well, instead of barking up the wrong tree so to speak, next time stick to the North side.” Harlan grinned cheekily “It’s in the dip and no chance you can be spotted by anyone unless they’re a foot or so away.”

Ransom’s mouth curled up into a smirk as he looked at his grandfather then to you.

Meanwhile you simply wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

Harlan bid the two of you goodbye as you headed out to Ransom’s Beemer. He stopped just besides it, turning to you, his hands falling to your hips again. “Well, I don’t know about you, Sweetheart, but all that excitement has made me a bit hungry. Seeing as we’re not getting dinner here, how about I take you to Asta?”

Your face lit up at the mention of your favourite restaurant and you gave an eager nod before you frowned “Aren’t we a little underdressed? And it’s Saturday evening, we’ll never get in.”

“Baby girl, enough money can get us in anywhere, and you look fine.” He said, dropping a kiss to your lips before he grinned “You might wanna brush the twigs outta your hair though.”

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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beann-e · 3 years

Text

Arranged Marriages With Stoic Guys

female pronouns used for this one !

“ y/n you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to “

“ are you stupid of course I have to “ you snapped at your father who stood hovering over you a slight smirk on his face “ eh thought you’d want to hear what you wanna hear “

you scoffed trying to push his arm off your shoulders this was all stupid you didn’t want to do any of this

“ honestly i’m doing what’s best for you y/n you need this — we need this “ he sighed “ I mean don’t you want to help your family and yourself think about how well set up you’ll be “his eyes went stone on yours “ you need this “

you flinched at the way his sureness slipped into his tone there was no way you were gonna get out of this “ no you need this there is no we right now “

his face hardened as he held out his arm for you to grab “ shut up and grab my arm “

“ i’m not going out there with you “

“ yes “ his voice was threatening and quiet “ you are “

“ I said im no— “

“ look you’ve been weighing this family down for years yet, we’ve said nothing— and now you finally have the chance to help us — to show you belong in this world and you won’t ? are you serious “

His face flew up into a look of annoyance “ you have no other purpose than to help us that is why you were born to be shoved into a family rich enough to secure your own and your families needs and now you mean to tell me you don’t want to do what you were created for “

your mouth snapped shut at his claims

“ are you that disgusting that you can’t even help your family “

you felt your body go cold as he continued to press into you

“ you preach how we’re the bad people yet you do evil shit like this“

he scoffed looking down on you “ i feel nothing but pure disgust to even have to go out there and call you my daughter “

he shook his head in disappointment before putting his arm out for you to grab again “ grab it “ his voice raised “ and you better go out there and put on that glorious look of innocence his father liked “

you gulped as he directed you quickly out the doors and draped the piece of fabric that you wore on your head. Placing it over your eyes and walking you down the aisle that had been so beautifully decorated

you were suppose to be getting married today not that you wanted to but, you had to.

you were the only girl in a family full of knuckle headed boys who just weren’t smart enough for an arranged marriage.

This was your fourth time being close enough to being married off though you hated the other 2 there was one that stuck out to you and that was number three

Your third boyfriend was one your family never liked they saw him as disgusting, vile, and too dirty with his language.

To you he was caring and open and rarely ever talked too harshly to you as long as you managed to never piss him off. You were happy with him and he was the only one you could ever see yourself settling down with until he told you He would take care of you and only you.

That was the nail in the coffin when you brought him over to dinner one night and out of the blue he spoke loudly so everyone could hear him “ look — with this whole marriage thing when I do marry your shitty daughter “

his eyes coming over to look at you and sending a look of reassurance your way making sure you knew he didn’t mean it. Them falling back to look at everyone around the dinner table who moved comfortably in their seats not caring how he talked to you as long as they would get to live lavish

“ i’m not taking care of you guys “ he scooped up the leftover food on his plate “ i’m only going out of the way for her and her only — the rest of you are on your own “

he shoveled the food in his mouth speaking carefully and making sure to watch his words knowing how serious he had to be with them in order for him to be heard by your parents “ you guys are using her for money and I don’t like that i’m not taking care of shitty parents and two brothers who act like they can’t even tell me how to spell yen “

him laughing and turning to your eldest brother a small smile on his face “ hey jerk face “

“ uh huh “ your brothers body wiggled in excitement to be acknowledged “ what’s up “

“ spell yen for me real quick “

“ babe don—“

“ shutup needa prove a point for your asshole parents “

“ hmmm “ your brother thought out loud as your other one jumped in the conversation “ hey dude what’s yen anyways “

your boyfriends mouth flying open as he slammed his hand on the table “ actually scratch that — i’m gonna pay for them both to go to elementary school and be two tall ass bodyguards that talk and say dumb shit like this to scare the kids into learning “

he pushed himself out of his chair kissing you softly before leaving the room. The door slamming as your father followed him anger swirling off his body at not only your boyfriends attitude for not wanting to help them but for coming in his house and making a fool of his family

you never got any of what your third boyfriend promised because he never got the opportunity to come back and your father made sure to have you cut off all contact with him.

So lucky you

free wedding , new guy

“ smile “ you felt your face do what you were told immediately as your feet shuffled down the aisle anyone could tell this was painful or at least anyone who actually knew you and not the 100 paid citizens of japan who sat in your wedding chairs

The guy you were marrying is a hero so, you can see how easy this is for him to pay for. He had to keep this little ordeal in the papers but only so, his father could stay relevant or at least that’s how they explained it to you no one explained that this was your e—

“ y/n“ your fathers voice was sharp “ take his hand“ you blinked finally realizing you were at the end of the carefully laid out carpet “ pay attention don’t make us look stupid “

you smiled carefully at the male before you dragged your foot stepping up and using his outstretched hand across from you “ thank—thank you “

it was silent which you immediately understood you knew he felt no need to talk to you ‘ maybe he’s not that into talking in public maybe he’s a private kind of person ‘

yeah he was so private that he said nothing but his I do’s and his occasional mhmm’s when you tried to get to know him with this continuing all night you never got to. This was all set up between his father and your own. you and him had no knowledge you were getting married today from what your father told you

“ so how— how is hero work “ you questioned as you two sat in the busy hall waiting for the doors to open up to allow people outside into the courtyard for pictures “ I hear you are one — a hero I mean “

you looked up to him as he faced forward his mouth making no attempt to move “ what really no it’s that hard ? “ you looked off speaking to yourself “ wouldnt think hero work could ever be hard“

“ did i just witness you ask and answer your own question “

your body shook as you felt heat rise up in your body your temperature high hands starting to feel sweaty “ oh uh “

“ if we have to get you checked for mental health problems i’d like to do so early “ he never broke his gaze from in front of him even when the doors opened “ I do not want to wake up with a knife to my chest or walk in on you talking to your imaginary friend after work “

you face dropped you understanding you were getting no where in communication with this man. You grabbed his outstretched hand and let him weave you carefully through the many people you didn’t know finally he stopped only to grip your hand tightly “ don’t move and wait quietly please“

you nodded your head as you watched him talk to the photographer guessing they were discussing where you were gonna take your pictures

“ hello there y/n “ you heard a booming voice say turning around only to bump square into a hard chest

“ or should I say daughter in law “ his voice scared you it was something about the way he was so sure of himself something felt wrong here

“ oh um do I— I know you “

“ of course you do “ he pointed to your new husband smiling “ you married my son an hour ago “

you shook your head uncomfortable with being left alone with now not only one person you didn’t know but also two plus a room full of people you couldn’t even name “ excuse me if I seem a bit “

“— lost , ditzy, bimbo like “

“ w-what bimbo? excuse me “

“ it’s ok as long as your quirk is as good as your father tells me I am fine with your intelligence level not being up to par my son is fully equipped with the knowledge to take care of a woman and provide like a man should “

“ I-“ you thought for a moment deciding on if you should go all out on the male that stood before you retracting into yourself when you thought of your father

“ oh y/n i know — it’s the bimbo tendencies? yeah here i’ll make it easier for you is there something you wanted to say“

you flinched at the statement smiling and presenting yourself happily as he smirked down on you ‘ he knows what hes doing ‘

“ no no nothing at all “ you said feeling his large hand pat you on your back “ good girl— get over there my sons kinda dense when it comes to talking to people “

you smiled to hold all the hostility in your voice “ yes i’ve seen so much of his density in our one hour together I find myself wondering how he can provide for me without proper communication skills “

the males eyebrow raising at your ability to speak back to an elder “ hmm he suffers with interaction due to lack of affection— childhood trauma as people your age like to say “

his smile tight and not fully reaching his ears “ I do expect that you’ll show him the proper amount of affection no matter if you got dragged into this or not “

you turned on your heel leaving the annoyed male to his own thoughts your hands coming up to interlock over your new ‘husbands’ shoulders “ hi shoto “

he bristled at your touch his shoulder moving to drop your hands as he pretended to stretch his arm in a small circle side eyeing you carefully alerting you to not touch him without permission again before he turned back to the male in front of him voice low “ I do not understand why I cannot take the photos the way I want to “

“ your father sai— “

“ their my spouse ? “ he was direct with everything he said “ it’s my wedding “

you could feel the questioning in every word he said voice low almost threatening the male in front of you “are you going to believe a 90 year old geezer who just found out beating kids is wrong or are you going to believe your beloved pro hero ? “

you could hear the teasing he held at the very end that even made you want to move just as fast as the photographer in front of you and follow after him

“ how do you want to take the photos y/n “ Shotos eyes looked down on you expectedly as you shook your head in confusion ‘ how did I end up picking our poses he wanted to change the generic one that was preplanned‘

you looked into his face as his eyes morphed into a look you couldn’t quite figure out “ i’m guessing you did this for me ? “

he shook his head slightly “ oh so you thought I would want something different from the basic ph— ok um “ you smiled as you turned to the front “ can we just do a um — maybe a hug but he hugs my waist that’s always a pretty marriage picture “

you moved to look back at him as the photographer agreed shoto moving carefully to stand behind you and wrap his arms around your waist hesitantly “ you can — it’s ok “ you felt as his shaky arms snaked around and sat in the spot that you guided them to your arms moving over them as your hands tried to soothe his jumpy ones

“ hey calm down “ you laughed “ just a picture — not me waging war on you family “

he looked down on your smiling face his own going through so many emotions not able to tell which one he wanted to show “ at least not the rest of them — your father maybe “ he watched as you turned back around the camera clicking as a genuine look of interest for you passed over his face

“ do you guys want to take another one “

“ um I think we’re good he doesn’t um— he doesn’t seem like a photo- e guy and i’m not very photogenic “

the photographer shook his head in understanding letting out a sigh of relief that he held as you moved to walk off your husbands grip tightening on you “ hey I — you can let go now sh— “

“ do you remember earlier “ he questioned “ when I told you to stay put “

your body flamed as you knew you’d done something wrong immediately feeling like you should try to defend yourself

“ why did you walk off “ his eyebrows furrowed “ how — why did you disobey orders “

“ I just—- I didn’t — your father— he — he came up and he— “

“ either way you didn’t listen you moved from the spot I placed you in” his eyes were staring holes into yours daggers really “so no matter who spoke to you — you were in the wrong “

“ I — it’s my body I can move “

“ yes you can in the spot I placed you “

“ I don’t even know you I don’t have t— “

“ that’s how it works “ his voice roared looking to the ground eyebrows furrowed as he was trying so desperately to understand you “ that is how it works in a marriage you listen to me —when I tell you to do something you do it and when I tel— “

“ no it’s not what — I” your face made up in confusion “ who told you these things —- this is ? i’m not a kid I am your wife now—we’re on two equal playing fiel— “

“ no “ you gnawed at your lip as he waited for a rebuttal seeing as though you had been answering him back after everything he said standing up straighter when he seen your tightly closed mouth “ i’m done with this argument I was just curious of something and you answered it “ he unwrapped himself from your body and turned to leave tugging at his suit

you not knowing wether to follow him or leave him be choosing the first option when he turned over his shoulder and stopped his movement

voice coming out short you were so confused with your new ‘husbands’ behavior he expected almost everything from you as if you could read his mind without words “ sorry — sorry “

he shook his head in understanding as he went to get his car from the valet opening the door for you as he opened his own getting in and setting himself up properly for a nice drive

your back hitting the seat hard when he took off your mind racing thinking this may be punishment for your words and anger towards him earlier.

‘ maybe he’s gonna play fast and furious while i’m In the car to get me to shut up ‘

“ I do not intend to scare you if that is what you are thinking “

he looked into his side mirror as he got over into another lane “ but I do intend to build structure where I see there is none “

you knew you should be quiet right now is not the time to fight for your rights in this new relationship not when he was driving like he’d never heard of a car accident

“ and I am not sure about you but I do feel right now is the best time to set that in place seeing as though I don’t know you and I doubt you even want to know me “

he waited on your answer “ when I stop talking that signifies you may speak “

“ sorry yes— no I do want—want to know you “

“ that’s interesting “ he sat back in the drivers seat as he eyed the road carefully slowing down a bit when taking in your answer “ i’d like to think that we were both forced into this “

“ ye-“

“ but that is simply not true “

your eyes refused to blink “ neither of us were “ he slowed the car down even more as he pulled into an underground parking garage “ you were handpicked by myself because I was asked to find a spouse to spark some uproar in the headlines or else i’d lose my title of number three hero and I am not too keen on giving that up right now with my father being number four and only living to climb the ranks “

he turned his car off as he turned to you “ i do not want to give him that enjoyment— “ he sighed “ you are not necessarily wanted nor needed— the only thing I can ask of you is to uphold this facade out there and i will give you and your family— everything i originally signed to in the contract“

he opened his car door as he stood fixing his suit again “ in here — my house you either follow my set of rules or you will be asked to leave and id honestly hate to ask you to leave “

you heart fluttered so he was interested in you

“ because then i’d have to talk to the media and I do hate when they ask me questions they have the material to supply themselves an answer with “

you heard the slam of the car door as you got out yourself hearing the two beeps from his car when locking it following him up the stairs as your eyes blinked several times

no no

you followed him up the elevator images flashing In your mind as you looked to the buttons remembering the number all too clear as he stepped out and onto the floor opening the door to the pent house your sweaty hands fiddling with the bottom half of your dress

“ shoto”

“ todoroki inside please my love — also “ he moved to his kitchen stripping off his jacket “ baby goes for me —my love goes for you in or out I don’t care — but do not overuse it — you will only annoy me “

you smiled softly trying to rush to ask your overwhelming question that was buzzing around inyour mind “ baby do you um— by any chance do you happen to have a rooma — “

“ who the fuck left the door open “ you heard the voice your ears had missed so much your body wanting to drop to the floor after hearing it “ shitty icy hot always coming in places and just leaving shit open— it’s like you don’t even know privacy “

“ well that is true I have never been awarded such thing as privacy I was off throwing up on tile after a long hard restless day of beatings “

“tch always so quick to spill your shitty trauma — wheres the bitch you set yourself up to marry “ he scoffed as you heard him nearing the kitchen “ marry for hire I mean “

shoto nodded as if the male could see it closing his fridge making his way over to you pushing you to follow him towards the loud deep voice “ she’s here actually though she’s going to be busy in a moment — you’ll have some time to meet her afterwards I promise “

“ god — if it goes on all night I swear — still can’t believe you hired some weird bitch to marry you and the whor—holy fuck “

Your eyes rose to meet his as you saw the tall blond drop his grenades he held in his gloved hands the loud clang echoing throughout the house “ my god I do ask bakugou if we’re going to stay together due to the department , that you do watch how you mess up our house , you have free range to destroy anything you want inside your own room “

“ shut —shut the fuck up ice tray“ his eyes narrowed on yours as he pointed at you “ this is the — the bitch you went to marry today — the one you picked out “

“ yes — I — is there a problem “ shoto turned to look you up and down “ though I did suspect some mental health challenges earlier i’m sure you can’t notice them up front right “

bakugous body shivered as he took a step back from you his body prepared to run

“ bakugou i’ve never seen you this “ your grip tightened on your dress pulling it up in the back hand dipping low to grab at your cell phone knowing you would have to call for help if he decided to be the bakugou you knew and kill you your ears listening closely as shoto spoke “ this afraid it’s quite eventful “

“ you— you dumbass “ he kept his eyes on you “ get the fuck out this isn’t the place for you— go back to your run down shitty cottage or something “

shoto stood confused as bakugou ran to grab you his hand tight on your arm his body stopping eyes made up in sadness face dropping as he felt himself wanting to scream and cry all at the same time. Hand only gripping harder onto your figure

“ what is the meaning of this —- I find this disgustingly rude — bakugou “

he shook his head eyes dropping to the floor your heart breaking he won’t even look at you that’s how bad your father screwed things up for you

Him pushing you away from him and towards the door as he spoke low hurt and pain ripping through his voice “ she’s gotta go “ his body moving to walk away “ now “ he screamed “ unmarry her or some shit—I don’t wanna see that bitch when I come back out here “

“ katsu— “

“ don’t you dare say my name not like that not with tears in your fucking eyes and sounding all sad and shit the last time you said it was the best time dont make me forget that shit “

your body shook in fear as his eyes weighed heavy on you shotos voice pouring out “ god bakugou please what are you saying your just being a bit of an— excuse my language my love but an — asshole aren’t you ? “

his body stalling when he thought back to a few moments ago “ wait how — how do you know his name “

your heart broke as you looked between the two men.

Just your luck that you would have to choose between a man who would most likely give you nothing but pure gentle love and supply your family the same only for one small thing in return or one that you missed so much every night you went to sleep

then again you would have no choice but to be married to someone that you’d already signed away your life to in a binding contract that stated your family and yourself would be very well taken care of and who were you to choose love over protection ?

143 notes · View notes

warmau · 4 years

Text

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au jaemin i am once again late for his birthday but, happy birthday prince na! find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark

there’s a bright pink post-it note on your mailbox on the first day of summer. it says there’s a letter inside

you don’t understand who put it there and why

and of course there’s a letter inside, it’s your mailbox - what else should there be?

you open the letter as you’re sitting criss-cross on the edge of the lake, right in the patch of grass that’s tall enough to hide your figure when you lay down

it’s short and it isn’t signed by anyone

it just asks you to meet ‘him’ at the movie theater in town next week for the eight pm showing of some b-rate comedy film

you pop one of the strawberries you brought with you in your mouth as you try and figure out who ‘he’ is

he must know you somehow, if he doesn’t - that’s just creepy

you look at the handwriting

it’s neat, so you roll over on your stomach and make a little list to yourself

renjun? no, he’s spending this summer in paris

haechan? no, he’d never write a letter and not put his name on it

jeno? no, he’d never write a letter in the first place

jaemin? your hand hovers over the next strawberry and you rest your cheek against your palm

na jaemin? why would na jaemin ask you out to a movie date?

you only know each other through mutual friends

you’ve hung out with him once or twice

each time, barely sharing two or more words due to his popularity with just about everyone else in the room

and the fact that you weren’t much of a talker

and he wasn’t much of a listener

you shake your head, no - it’s definitely not na jaemin either.

when the day of the movie comes around, you pace around your room wondering if you should go or not

a part of your mind, logical and sound says of course not. this isn’t the 1940s who is writing letters to ask people on dates that is normal

why can’t they just send you a facebook message or a text

but the other part of your mind, curious says you have to - at least to see who this secret admirer is

you decide, at 7:45pm to throw caution to the wind - it is summer, and the movie theater will be crowded, if you need to make your escape you’ll be able to

there’s nothing to lose

you get there five minutes late and look around for anyone familiar, anyone at all

when you feel someone tap your shoulder

you turn and blink

“jaemin?”

“you got my letter!”

the movie isn’t good, you aren’t paying attention during most of it, just eating the popcorn jaemin bought and pretending you’re not sneaking peeks at him every five minutes mulling over the same thought

why did he ask me to go to the movies? does he want to be my friend? is this a date?

he turns, when the credits roll, and ask if you have to be home by a certain time

you shake your head, so he asks if you’ll come with him to the lake

you walk through the grassy patch where you’d read that letter he sent - there are some teenagers out and about, a family bbq somewhere nearby

so you two stroll till you’re at the edge of the quietest part of the lake and jaemin pulls something from his back pocket that he hands to you

it’s another letter

you start to open it and he makes a sound

in the dark summer night you don’t see his face go red

“don’t read it now-”

“why not? i want to.”

you state bluntly, pulling the folded paper from the envelope and fishing your phone out to use the flashlight

as you start to mouth the words outloud

jaemin shakes his head, turns and runs straight toward the lake

“jaemin!?”

you chase after him, stopping short of the water as he wades in till he’s hip deep

“jaemin?!?”

“it’s embarrassing, i said don’t read it now!”

“fine, fine i won’t - come out of the water!”

you and him walk down the road, his jeans sopping wet and a big smile on his face as you roll your eyes

“that was a dumb thing to do.”

“you were going to read my own letter out loud to me, what did you think i would do?”

you stop a street down from your house and suddenly, even with his wet jeans and that dumb grin on his face

you can’t help but be honest with yourself about jaemin - he’s handsome and he’s sweet

and this wasn’t weird at all

which makes it weird...........if that makes sense

“can i read it now?”

you ask and wave the letter with one hand, he says ok - in three seconds

when you want to ask what happens in three seconds, he’s already running down the block and away from you counting, 3, 2, 1 -

you sit on your bed, open the letter and read it outloud

i like you, i hope you’ll spend this summer with me. if you don’t believe that i like you, i can prove it. remember right after the fifth football game of the season, in haechan’s dorm, when he was tipsy and we had to hid when the ra came to check on us? you hide with me, under the bed. it was maybe two minutes. just us, alone, listening to haechan lie, trying not to laugh. you smelled like honey and strawberries. i wanted to kiss you under that bed, but i was scared you’d slap me and the ra would catch us. i mean actually that might not prove anything to you. but i like you. if you have nothing else to do, do you want to spend this summer with me?

you set the letter down and get up to grab your phone

you want to text jeno for jaemin’s number but you stop yourself

instead, the next morning you show up on your bike in front of his house

he’s in the yard doing some kind of chore and when he sees you he almost trips over the hose in his hand as he runs over

he’s going to say something, but you drop a letter in his hands and ride off before he can make a sound

when jaemin opens it

all it reads is

yes, i want to spend this summer with you.

and you do spend everyday of it together. sitting at the lake, trying to fish or listening to music or just watching the clouds go by

jaemin can talk for hours and usually chatty people rub you the wrong way, but his voice can almost lull you to sleep

and when it does, he pulls you into his chest and runs his fingers through your hair even though when you wake up he pretends he’s just counting passing butterflies

you visit him at his part-time job at the main street florist, where he does a lot of bouquet wrapping and flower decorating

he brings some of the unused flowers over to your room and teaches you how to weave them together or press them between the pages of your books

you see more shitty movies, you ride your bikes together, you ignore the jealous glares at the mall from other people who wish they were dating jaemin

and jaemin distracts you with silly jokes and general goofiness that you wouldn’t expect from someone so handsome

the first time he tries to kiss you, in your backyard while your parents are away

you mumble for him to stop because you’ve never done it before and he smiles and says ok

if you want him to stop, he’ll stop. he’ll wait forever if he has to.

you shake your head and explain no, it’s not that you want him to wait forever it’s that you don’t want him to be disappointed when you kiss back and sparks don’t fly or whatever it is that happens in love stories

he laughs, he says

don’t worry, the sparks fly for me when you’re just standing next to me. im sure kissing you will feel like the whole parade.

the line is corny and you push him a little, only to curl your hands around the fabric of his shirt and pull him in

his lips are soft and he mumbles again, that you smell and taste like strawberries

as the summer dwindles down you start to panic a little, because his letter had said

do you want to spend your summer with me

but now that it’s ending you are scared to ask if this will continue - or if jaemin will act like it never happened

on the last day of august, you are walking hand in hand with him from the mall and you stop and look up and jaemin waits

“are you going to leave me when fall comes?”

his smile falls a bit and his features grow serious

“no, are you going to leave me?”

“your letter just said you wanted me to spend this summer with you-”

“i meant this summer, the next, and the next, and the next - every summer. from now until forever.”

you try to hide your smile and you try again to tell him to stop being so romantic

but this time, you are the one who brought it up

you lean up and press your lips to his and jaemin whispers

“i mean it - forever.”

now, so many summers after that one - you come home and there’s a pink post it note on your mailbox

just like there is every first day of summer for the last decade

you open it and there’s a letter inside

meet me at the movies at 8pm?

you tuck the letter into your bag and trot up the stairs to your apartment, the doors open and you push through

jaemin is sitting at the tv and waves without looking when he hears the sound of the lock

you sit down beside him, his arm coming around you

“so what movie are we gonna see this year?”

“oh you know the usual, some bad comedy - but hey.”

he turns to you with the same gleaming smile he’s had since he was a young boy

“the popcorns on me.”

#jaemin scenarios #jaemin au #nct scenarios #nct au #nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #sfw #na jaemin #nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream imagines

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

Text

Danger Days - Chapter seventeen: “Falling into pieces”

Word count: 7,8K

Summary: Joey talks with Matthew for the first time ever since breaking up. Gerard opens up with Mikey about his true feelings for Joey.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mention of sexual assault.

A/N: Do you think Matthew is gonna be excited to be a dad?

Masterlist

Matthew kept asking his mom what time it was. He had been doing the same ever since he woke up around ten in the morning. He was anxious. His whole body hurt; he was suffering from several wounds, but still, what hurt him the most was not being able to talk to his girl.

- "Hey"- Paget whispered as she walked into the room with two cups of coffee- "Hello Marilyn, I brought you this."

- "Thank you, honey"- the two women hugged for a second, then the actress walked to her friend.

- "How do you feel?"

- "Like I was in a car crash, literally"- he answered and smiled- "I'm ok. My knee is still in place, which is amazing. I thought I was going to return to the crutches for another six months."

- "You are very lucky, your car is smashed... I can't believe you don't have a scratch."

- "I have many, many bruises, doesn't that count?"- Matthew whispered, still in pain.

- "I think it does"- his friend joked- "I got you these"- Paget opened a bag and put on the bed all the stuffed animals the young man had made- "I took all the stuff from your car, I had the feeling you might need these."

- "Thank you"- he softly smiled and looked at the handmade toys.

- "Everybody says hi"- Paget tried to take Matthew away from any sad thoughts he had- "Do you know when you will be discharged?"

- "No, the doctor said a couple more days."

- "Again, a car crash."

- "Yeah..."- Matthew smiled at his friend, and she smiled back- "Thank you for being here."

- "That's what friends do... hey, can I get you something to eat?"

- "I'm ok."

- "I'm not coming until tomorrow, so I'm gonna go get you some candy for later"- Paget turned around and left the room for a few minutes.

- "What time is it, mom?"

- "It's noon, baby"- she answered and walked to him, kissing his forehead- "Try to sleep a little more, I'll wake you up when she calls, ok?"- he nodded and closed his eyes. He really couldn't wait anymore.

Gerard looked at Joey warming up at the other side of the room, her eyes closed, her headphones on. He sighed, thinking she wasn't in love with him. She had never been. Not like he was, at least. She wasn't going to be his. Not without a fight. Could he win a battle against Matthew? He was a cheater, but Gerard was married. That made him a cheater too.

- "Hey!"- Mikey's hand smacking his arm took him from his thoughts- "Why are you staring at her?"

- "I was just... thinking about... nothing, I guess."

- "I'm starting to think maybe Frank is right"- and Gerard turned to his younger brother pretending to be insulted.

- "Don't be stupid."

- "Then stop drooling. You are not fooling anyone!"

- "Come on, kids! It's showtime!"- Jeffrey walked in clapping his hands- "Joey! You too!"- he yelled, and the girl took out her headphones.

- "What?"

- "Show, now! Come on!"

- "Sorry"- the girl smiled and sprinted over the band. Frank's arms locked around her as he stood in the hallway next to the stage and kissed her shoulder upon her Megadeth t-shirt.

- "Take care"- and the drummer rolled her eyes.

- "I'm gonna be sitting moving my arms. I don't see the danger."

- "I'm just saying"- she smiled, and she leaned to kiss his cheek.

- "You make it so hard to hate you, Jersey."

- "That's what my wife always says."

- "I love your wife so fucking much."

- "I love her too"- he chuckled- "Have you ever noticed our conversations always end up being weird?"- and she smiled.

- "That's 'cos you are so fucking weird, Frank"

Joey couldn't help but laugh in deep joy for a second. She loved her job and her bandmates. She was finally where she always wanted to get as a drummer. Her personal life was a mess, though. Was that the price to pay to be successful? Getting a shitty love life and a whole mess in your head?

- "I finally get what happened with Andy, in Devil Wears Prada... I hated that fucking movie, but shit, I feel just like her now."

The kids at that show were on fire, which helped the weary band perform better. It was getting harder and harder to keep on playing after all those months of touring. They all needed to get a few days off to sleep and do nothing. Traveling was exhausting. Joey had never thought about that until this leg of the tour.

- "Danke Germany!"- Gerard yelled, and the crowd yelled right away. Mikey turned his back to the kids and looked at Joey smiling. She looked happy when they were on stage. That's why he always kept an eye on her when they were performing.

- "Give me all your fucking money!"- Gerard shouted, announcing the next song- Well, are you ready, Ray?

- "Yeah!"

- "How about you, Frank?"- and Iero made the weirdest noises on the mic

- "How about you, Joey?"- and the girl widened her eyes smiling as Gerard stood in front of the drum, reaching out the mic to her.

- "Yeah!"- and Gerard grinned.

- "How about you, Mikey?"

- "Fucking ready!"

- "I think I'm alright! One, two, three, four!!"

It felt for a minute like she wasn't the supporting drummer but one of the band. And it felt incredible.

The hospital was busy. Nurses and doctors walked outside in the hallways. Matthew was trying to concentrate on anything, but he couldn't take his eyes off his phone. They had brought him lunch already, but he wasn't hungry- and Paget had left him an obscene amount of candy- so he left the tray untouched. He only had the jelly. And only because his mother forced him.

He was weary though, he felt hurt, physically beaten. He was taking it like a champ 'cos he didn't want to scare his mom, but in reality, he was shocked. He had never realized how short life could be. He had never had any kind of experience like this before, and this one showed him one thing: the important things in life are the simplest. The ones you take for granted.

- "What do I love the most in life? My family, watching my nephews grow up, my mom... Yami, my Yami's smile, her voice... everything about her"- Matthew's eyes were stuck in his cellphone's screen as he thought about everything that had happened in the last days- "If there is one thing I need every day for the rest of my life is having her next to me. I'm not gonna let her go, no matter what".

If he could travel in time and slap himself, he would. He would also kick himself in the nuts and never go to that party at all. But he couldn't. And he had to live with it. Somehow.

Joey yelled goodnight to her friends and ran out of the van to her room before anyone could say anything to her. On the ride back to the hotel, they had all been briefed about the next day. They were leaving at seven in the morning. They had to meet in the lobby. They had press and a radio interview in Copenhagen at one. And Joey had the chance to stay at the hotel and rest. Everybody told her to do so. And she didn't argue with that, she wanted to rest, and most of all, she didn't want to be at any interview or close to Gerard.

- "Goodnight, kids!"- she yelled and waved as she ran to the elevator. Gerard looked at her with a sorry glance, and his brother caught it right away.

- "Are you ok?"- Mikey asked and raised an eyebrow.

- "What? Yeah, I'm just tired"- the Way brothers looked at each other, both of them knowing the oldest was lying.

- "Sure... just don't let your exhaustion get in the way"- Mikey stated and walked away.

- "Wait, what the fuck?"- Gerard asked, making the, most likely, wrong decision to follow his younger brother.

- "Come on, Gerard! Stop denying it! You have a crush on her"- and Gerard groaned, exhausted from the same conversation. Mainly because he was running out of excuses to prove people wrong.

- "So do you! So does everybody! 'Cos you are all telling me the same shit over and over again when I don't!"- the brothers got into the elevator on their own and continued arguing.

- "I fucking know you! And I can't believe I didn't see it before! You are fucking drooling all the time! You look like a fucking teenager!"

- "Oh! shut up!"- Gerard frowned and crossed his arms on his chest- "I don't have a crush on her. I am a happily married man! Just because you have been obsessed with her ever since you met her doesn't mean so am I!" They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes until the door opened on their floor, and both stepped out of the elevator.

- "Have you tried to get anything with her?"- Mikey asked and followed his brother to his room.

- "I don't wanna talk about this"- Gerard simply answered.

- "Which means yes."

- "No, I haven't 'cos I don't like her! I have no feelings for her!"- stains of red hair dye were on Gerard's neck as he scratched it, tired of the conversation, and at the same time tired of denying the truth. One part of him wanted to tell his brother, to have someone to finally open up.

- "I don't want you to hurt her, Gerard."

- "Thank you for being concerned about her the most, instead of your brother"- Gerard snorted and opened his door, followed by his brother. He took out his shoes and laid on his bed like a dead man.

- "I care about her, and if you have feelings for her, you are fucked up!"

And suddenly, it was just too much for Gerard.

- "I know"- the singer whispered, and his brother's chest tightened at those words- "Do you think I want this? It's fucking agony! She stays as far away from me as possible, and she rejected me when I told her how I feel"- Gerard chuckled at his words- "Can you believe that? It's high school all over again! She keeps pushing me away each time I try to get closer to her, ever since the beginning."

Mikey widened his eyes, listening to his brother's confession, as he stood in front of him in shock.

- "You told her you like her?"

- "Yeah"- Gerard whispered and sighed, defeated. It was useless to deny the truth anymore- "I told her I loved her from day one."

- "Did you try to... kiss her?"

- "I succeeded, actually. After months of longing and thinking about it, I kissed her...."

- "What did she do?"- Mikey was whispering, not believing a word. Had Joey kissed his brother?

- "She stopped, told me to get away from her... and when I tried again, and she kissed me back. I thought, "Shit Gerard, you nailed it, she likes you too!" but then she called me Matthew"- Gerard's voice shook, and his brother looked at him, nearly shocked. Was he going to cry? Was he that affected by the drummer?

- "When did you..."

- "After the show in Valencia."

- "You sick bastard! She was drunk!!"- the youngest Way nearly yelled and kept walking across the room, brushing his hands against his face and making a serious effort not to hit his brother- "What the fuck Gerard?! She was intoxicated, and you tried to kiss her?"

- "I didn't try. I told you I succeeded! It was so good, it felt so fucking right"- the singer made a pause and wiped off the few tears that fell from his eyes.

- "I can't believe it! You abused her when she was drunk!" - but Gerard ignored the accusation and continued talking.

- "She wasn't drunk the first time, by the way"- and Mikey frowned.

- "You kissed her more than once!"

- "Yeah, that day you left me alone with her... it was so sweet, so tender..."

- "She was fucking depressed, crying, and affected by her boyfriend!! Gerard! What the fuck is your problem!! It's the sickest shit I've ever heard you do!"

- "Don't you think I feel like the shit too? I know I fucked it up! I just couldn't help it! I love her! I can't stand the fact she is suffering for an asshole who cheated on her! I need to fix her! I needed to..."- but Mikey didn't let him finish.

- "You are married. You don't have the moral to judge Gubler for cheating!"

- "I know"

- "And you love her? You are married! Don't you love Lynz anymore?"

- "I love her so much, Mikey! That's what's killing me too! 'Cos I love both of them! I wanna be with both! I need to have them both!"

- "Dude... that shit is sick!"- Mikey was shaken.

- "I know! That's the worst part. I know what I feel is wrong! I can't love Joey. I can't mess things with her 'cos she works with us and is fantastic as our drummer. But at the same time, it's like she is a magnet I can't keep away from! Like she is my earth, and I'm her moon, orbiting around her!"

Gerard sat down and started crying.

- "I don't know what's wrong with me! From day fucking one! I looked at her, and I knew she was going to be the end of me! And I've been dealing with this all along..."

Mikey had no idea what to do. He was in shock. Sure, he knew Gerard was weird around Joey, but he never thought it would be this bad. He always thought he didn't like her. And it turned out to be the complete opposite.

- "Until this morning, I was sure she was going to leave, not only for her stupid boyfriend but because of what happened..."

- "That's why she had been giving you the cold shoulder"- Mikey whispered, thinking out loud.

- "And I deserve it, I guess. I kissed her and told her I loved her... what the fuck is my problem?"

- "I don't know, but you really fucked it up"- Mikey nodded in silence at his statement and finally sat next to Gerard. His older brother brushed his hands against his face and wiped off the tears.

- "I feel I love her, you know? Like... a fucking piece of my heart I never knew was missing just appeared, and I need to keep her close, no matter what, 'cos if I don't, I'm gonna die."

- "Well, you are gonna have to learn to let that part go, 'cos there is no way, and I mean it, no way she is ever going to be with you."

Mikey was brutally honest, in part 'cos he was mad at Gerard, but mostly because he knew it was the truth. Joey wasn't in love with him. And even if she was, she would never let him leave his wife for her.

- "I know... and yet, I can't stop trying"- Gerard made a pause- "I hated you so bad for being so close to her... you are all so fucking close to her."

- "I always thought it was weird you were so distant."

- "I didn't know how to act around her. She smiles, and I have no fucking clue what to say."

- "You are fucked."

- "Yeah"- the two of them made a long pause.

- "You are gonna have to get rid of your feelings, Gerard."

- "I know... any clue how?"

- "No..."

- "And knowing right now she is talking to him, that shit kills me"- Mikey sighed. That was killing him too. But he didn't say a word.

The computer was on the bed. Joey sat in front of it, FaceTime was open, but she still couldn't find the guts to press "call." She just stared at the screen and sighed. She wanted to know about him, she was worried about his health after the accident. But she didn't know how to deal with it. With the whole "you broke my heart" part of the conversation.

- "Ok, let's do this. And you are not talking about any feeling, just about his health. It's gonna be a short call."

And not thinking about it again, she started the video call.

- "Hello baby!"- Marilyn's face filled the screen, and Joey's body shook with fear, anxiety, and excitement.

- "Hi! How are you?"

- "Great! How was the show?"

- "It was amazing! The kids were nuts today!"- and Joey yawned- "But I am dead, sorry. I just showered and put on my pajamas."

- "That's ok..."- there was a silence, Joey knew what was gonna happen, and she decided to treat it like a band-aid

- "And how's Matthew?"- she just ripped it off, pretending it didn't hurt

- "He is right here. He has been waiting for your call all day."

- "Mom!"- he whined, embarrassed. Joey had to bite her lips not to smile as she heard his voice somewhere near the phone. She felt her body shaking at that sound.

- "I'm gonna let you two kids talk. I'll be outside, bye honey!"

- "Bye Marilyn!"

Joey waved at the screen and noticed all the movements when the phone left the woman's hand. Two seconds later, Matthew's face filled the screen, and her heart stopped. He was bruised. He looked severely hurt. And yet, he had a massive smile on her lips as soon as he saw her.

His heart started beating so fast on his chest as soon as he laid eyes on her, he was sure one of the machines around him was going to start beeping. Neither of them said a word for a moment. They just stared.

- "FaceTiming him was a mistake. A normal call would have been so much better,"- Joey thought and took a deep breath before saying- "Hey, how do you feel?"

- "Good... I'm good. It looks worse than it is, maybe 'cos I get bruised a lot... 'cos I'm so white and... I'm a peach"- Matthew started rambling.

- "What happened?"- Joey stopped his rambling 'cos she knew he could go for hours.

- "A truck missed a red light and hit my car, but I'm ok, really... not even a broken bone."

- "What about your knee?"

- "It's still in place."

- "Now that's a miracle!"- Joey chuckled and regretted it right away, she was melting, and hearing Matthew's laughter like a cascade of joy didn't help either. Her heart kept racing, and her palms were sweating.

- "Yeah! I thought I was gonna have to spend another year in those crutches."

- "It's a good thing they are still in your closet."

- "A part of me knew I was stupid enough to injure myself again"- the actor smiled and shrugged. However, that movement hurt, and he involuntarily winced in pain.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah, I just... forgot that hurts"- Joey nodded and looked at him. She wanted to end that call before she would burst into tears, which was about to happen any second now.

He was the father of her child. They were having a baby together, and he had no idea. All the thoughts spinning around her head were too much. It scared her to think about how everything was going to be when it came to the moment to talk about it, and she was sure that the moment wasn't that one.

- "Well, you should rest. I just wanted to know if you were ok, and..."- the girl started saying, but Matthew stopped her.

- "Wait, no... don't hang up yet"- his voice was a plea, and desperation came from each word he spoke, even his eyes looked at her with sadness and longing- "Please talk to me."

- "We are talking. You are clearly in pain. Maybe you should rest."

- "Please, don't go. I needed to talk to you for so long."

- "No, Matthew."

- "I need you to listen. I need you to forgive me."

- "No, Matthew, I'm tired; I don't wanna do this, not now, not ever. I just called to know if you were ok. I can see you are not half as bad as I imagined, which makes me happy. But I don't wanna talk about us."

- "Fine, that's ok, we don't have to talk about us, let's talk about anything else."

- "Matthew"- Joey knew just talking to him about the weather was a threat. Why? 'Cos he was charming, and she loved him. She didn't want to forgive him, and seeing his face wasn't helping in keeping that resolution.

- "Please, tell me, how was your day?"- she sighed and looked away, locking her eyes in her nails- "How was the show?"

- "It was good"

- "When do you leave for Denmark?"

- "Tomorrow at seven."

- "It should be a long drive from Hamburg"- Matthew was honestly desperate to make conversation, and the subject made it obvious.

- "Jeffrey said four hours, time I plan to spend sleeping."

- "Are you doing any more press with the band?"- at that minute, anything that came through Gubler's head that could help him keep her in line was a good subject.

- "I hope not, at least not tomorrow"- Joey kept staring at her nails, avoiding his eyes. Matthew couldn't stop staring at her, sitting on her bed, in pajama, obviously exhausted but still talking to him. That was a good sign, right?

- "You looked gorgeous at the Valencia show"- he sort of whispered and saw her cheeks turning red of embarrassment- "I told you that was a great outfit."

- "Yeah... I remember"- she sighed and looked at him, raising an eyebrow- "So, did you actually watch it? I thought you would be working at the time."

- "I stopped everything and forced them to watch you play"- Joey chuckled at those words, and Matthew felt he was a tiny baby step closer to win her back- "I wasn't going to miss it. It was my chance to see you live, and you kicked ass." The girl felt the blush in her cheeks as she looked at her fingers again, playing with them on the blanket of the bed.

- "Thanks..."- Matthew stayed quiet for a moment, just looking at her.

- "You look so beautiful tonight"- but she raised her eyes and frowned

- "Don't"

- "Sorry"- he whispered and sighed- "So... Paget came to see me today"- that was the only thing that came to his mind

- "How is she?"

- "Good, she bought me so many candies I'm gonna have a sugar rush until Halloween"- and he chuckled.

- "I'm jealous. Mikey took away all my candy today."

- "Why?"- the boy frowned.

- "He said I can't have that much sugar"- and Joey bit her tongue. She couldn't eat that much sugar being pregnant. She was pregnant with Matthew's baby.

- "What is he? The sugar police?"- and the girl slightly smiled.

- "Yeah, I guess he is."

- "How is he?"

- "He hates you."

- "I guess everybody hates me, I hate me... mom hates me."

- "I surely doubt it."

- "Believe me, she does."

- "Anyway, we are not talking about that..."

- "Are we ever going to talk about that?"- and Joey knew the answer to that - "Yes, I guess we will... we have to talk, "But not about what you are thinking, cheater."

- "Good, great, yeah, awesome, we have to talk, I need to..."- but Joey stopped him again.

- "Not now, not today. When I come back to Los Angeles, we can meet, have a coffee and talk about it." Matthew nodded. He didn't have another choice but to agree with her terms. He wanted to talk to her, and he had to go along with her flow to win her back. Not along with his desires.

- "Do you want me to pick you from the airport?"

- "No thanks, I can take a cab."

- "You are gonna bring a million bags..."

- "I can handle it, don't worry"- her voice was so serious. Matthew knew he shouldn't insist.

- "Ok... how's your mom and dad?"

- "They are ok. They miss me."

- "I miss you too, so fucking much."

- "Ok, gonna hung up now."

- "I'm sorry, I just.... needed to see you."

- "And you saw me, and I wanted to know if you are ok, and now I know you are, so... I guess we are both..."- but no word came from Joey's lips for a second. She just zoned out, looking at Matthew- "I guess I should go, I have to get up real early, and I'm tired."

- "Of course, I don't wanna keep you up."

- "I'll call you when I get to Los Angeles."

- "Yes, please, let me know you are ok."

- "Do you know when you'll be discharged?"

- "In two days."

- "Good"- she nodded and bit her lips- "Ok, so, talk to you in a few days."

- "Yes... well... would it be ok if I called you sometime?"- she didn't know what to say- "Or text you, or something... just to make sure you are alright."

- "I'm alright."

- "I still get worried about you... traveling and all"- she looked at him, there was so much sorrow in his eyes, in his words.

- "You can text me if you want"- and a sigh of relief left his lips.

- "Thanks... now go to sleep."

- "Yeah, I will."

- "I love you"- he said, knowing those words might upset her, but he wasn't able to keep them in his chest any longer- "And I swear I'm gonna do whatever it takes to show you how sorry I am for fucking things up."

- "Bye, Matthew. Take care and say hello to your mom from me"- Joey ignored his last words and watched him for a few more seconds.

- "Talk to you later"- he murmured, fighting the tears that kept coming to his eyes

- "Bye"- Joey hung up and shut down the computer. In less than a second, she started crying, her heartbreaking and beating filled with love at the same time. Seeing him, hearing him. It was all too much.

- "How can I stop fucking loving you?! How on earth can you stop loving someone?!"

And as odd as it might be, Gerard was asking himself the very same question a few rooms away from her.

::: Denmark, March 15th, 2011 :::

Ray's arm felt numb underneath Joey's neck. But he didn't want to move it and wake her up. They were at the back of the bus, probably an hour away from Copenhagen. The girl had slept most of the trip after puking breakfast. The two of them had spent the whole journey there, with Mikey, mostly sleeping. They were all exhausted.

- "Hey guys!"- until Frank walked in and woke Mikey and Joey up- "Sorry, I didn't know you were sleeping"- he stood at the door with a sorry glance- "I wanted to ask you if you wanted to do the setlist now, 'cos we have been playing the same one for the last three shows, and it would be nice to make a few changes"- Ray nodded as Joey sat down, yawning.

- "Are we there yet?"

- "Not yet, Bug"- Ray smiled and moved his arm, feeling numbness and tingling- "Do you feel ok?"

- "Yeah, I'm hungry."

- "Here"- Mikey quickly grabbed a bag and gave her a cereal bar- "I got you healthy snacks when we stopped a while ago"- and he smiled, showing her a paper bag- "We've got everything you need to keep my nephew growing healthy."

- "Thanks"- she whispered, feeling awkward still just talking about her pregnancy like a common thing. She still didn't (or couldn't) believe she was pregnant.

- "So, setlist"- Frank sat next to his friends and started writing. They were halfway there when Iero turned to Joey and smiled- "Bug, pick a song"- and she frowned.

- "Why?"

- "We've been shitty friends. We never ask you what you wanna play."

- "That's 'cos I... you know, that's not my job, you are the band, you choose your songs."

- "And I choose you, like a Pokemon"- Frank grinned- "What would you like to play?"- Joey scratched her eyes and yawned again.

- "Vampires."

- "Done!"- and Frank wrote it down- "What else?"- the girl thought about it for a second

- "House of Wolves"- Ray smiled.

- "Loving your choices."

- "Thank you"- Joey finished her cereal bar and smiled- "Thank you, Mikey."

- "You are welcome, Bug"- a hum on the girl's phone caught her attention. It was a text from Matthew.

- "Hope you are having a nice trip"- and her heart raced, her cheek blushed, and her friends frowned.

- "Are you two in better terms?"- Ray asked, knowing neither Mikey nor Frank was going to ask without insulting Matthew.

- "Let's say I'm wrapping my mind around the fact I have to tell him he will be a father. I talked to him about his health, and that was it... nothing about us."

- "But he is texting you"- Mikey pointed out the obvious.

- "Yeah... but we are not back together. And I don't want to forgive him, so I'm ok"- the all nodded- "I just know I'm gonna have to deal with the whole baby thing with him, and I don't know if I wanna be mad at him the whole time"- they all nodded again- "I don't know what I'm doing"- she whispered.

- "If you want, we can say it's my baby"- Frank said with an honest smile- "I give them my last name. Matthew won't have a reason to be close to you, and everything will be awesome"- Joey chuckled at the idea.

- "You are so funny, Iero."

- "I wasn't joking. I can convince Jamia to go through the whole thing."

- "Shut up!"- Joey punched softly Frank's arm and smiled.

- "She wants to talk to you, by the way. Jamia"- the guitarist said and kept writing down in his notebook, avoiding making eye contact with the girl, just in case she would get upset.

- "That's cool."

- "I mean about your baby, in case you need any help... if you want to ask her things... she is there"- Frank finally looked at Joey and bit his lips- "I'm sorry I told her about that"- he made a pause, and Joey shook her head.

- "It's ok. I love Jamia... and I'm sure I'm gonna text her with a million questions in the next nine months, so... thanks"- the girl smiled and messed with Frank's hair. The four of them stayed quiet. Mikey was stuck at his book, Frank looked at the setlist and Ray at their schedule for the day.

- "Where's Gerard?"- Toro asked and looked around. Joey turned to the window, Mikey's eyes stuck at her. He was dying to talk to her about what had happened with his brother. He wanted to know her side of the story.

- "He is at his bunk"- Frank simply replied- "He has been there since we got into the bus."

- "Good, stay away from her,"- Mikey thought and went back to his book. Maybe his brother was doing the right thing for once.

It was three in the morning, and Matthew woke up for the hundredth time that night. It was hard to sleep at the hospital. There were many noises all night long, and nurses that came to put an eye on him. Just two more days, and he could go home. That idea made him happy. Six more days and Joey was going to be back in Los Angeles. The hum of his phone took him from his thoughts, and a smile lodged on his lips immediately.

- "Already in Denmark"- Joey had answered his earlier message.

- "How was the trip?"- he quickly typed and waited, staring at the screen. Joey looked at her phone and held her breath. She was lying on her bed, knowing she wasn't going to get any sleep. The tv was on, the sound in the background of her room made her feel a little less alone.

- "I slept most of the way"- she simply replied and closed her eyes. She felt like a schoolgirl talking with her crush. Decided to avoid her phone, the girl surfed channels for a while. But an incoming text took her complete attention. She wanted to read it so badly, but she didn't want to want to read it. If that made any sense at all.

- "I'm jealous. I can't sleep in this hospital,"- Matthew wrote and sighed. He looked around his room and his eyes laid on the stuffed animals still on the couch by his bed. The ones he had made for her. He just hoped she would like them.

- "Hospitals sucks,"- Matthew chuckled. He could almost listen to her voice saying that as he read it.

- "Food is the worst. I've been living on Paget's candies,"- but that message, Joey didn't reply. He waited for at least ten minutes, but no answer appeared on the screen. He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't want to push things too fast, but at the same time, he couldn't help it, he needed to talk to her for hours, like before.

Joey was curled in bed, surfing channels, her phone hidden underneath a pillow. She knew talking to Gubler was a bad idea 'cos she loved him. So instead, she hid her phone from her and glued her eyes to the screen. Bad luck for her, "The Aquatic Life with Steve Zissou" was on. It was like life wasn't helping her at all. Matthew was everywhere. Including the movie she watched.

- "I should go get something to eat,"- she typed, giving up at the temptation. Gubler opened his eyes. It took the girl over half an hour to reply.

- "With the guys?"- he wrote quickly

- "No, I'm alone today, they are doing their band shit"- she sat on the bed and put on her shoes- "Talk to you later"- and finished the conversation.

- "Take care,"- Matthew answered quickly. He smiled and closed his eyes, sighing- "Baby steps, Gubler. Baby steps."

- "What the fuck are you doing, asshole?!"- Joey slapped herself mentally- "Stop giving him hopes. You are not getting back together."

Mikey wasn't himself that day. He wasn't mentally there at any of the interviews. His brother was in love with Joey. The thought of Gerard trying to kiss her was hunting him. It was sick. And when she was drunk, when she was sad. He even felt guilty for leaving her with him. Like he was responsible for his mistake.

- "And why the fuck didn't she tell me?! This is huge?! Doesn't she trust me? Isn't this important? I thought we were brother and sister! This is something you share with your brother!"

- "Mikey?"- Frank moved his hand in front of the bassist's face and frowned- "Are you here?"

- "Sorry, I spaced out... what is it?"

- "The interview is over; we can go"- Mikey looked around. He was the only one still sitting at the radio studio.

- "Right."

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah."

- "You are quiet."

- "I don't usually talk a lot in interviews."

- "Touché"- Iero chuckled and tapped on his friend's back- "Tired?"

- "Weary"

- "Just a few more days, hang in there"- Mikey nodded and walked with his friend. Gerard looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He didn't reply, not even with a gesture. Mikey just continued walking. He knew what he had to do. He just found it weird.

- "Hey"- he whispered, making sure his brother wasn't going to overhear his conversation and held his cellphone close- "Are you feeling good?"

- "Yeah"- Joey rolled in bed and sighed- "I already had lunch half hour ago, and it's still in my stomach, so I guess I'm awesome"- Mikey smiled.

- "Were you sleeping?"

- "No, just rolling in bed and coloring mandalas from time to time, watching tv."

- "We are going to the hotel now."

- "Great! Are you gonna nap?"

- "I wanted to hang out with you."

- "Great! Bring candies."

- "I'll bring healthy snacks for my nephew"- Joey sighed at those words. She wasn't ready to start talking about her baby.

- "A tiny little Snicker, for Christ Sakes. For your niece."

- "I'll think about it."

Joey watched The Nightmare Before Christmas, trying to wrap her head around the fact she was going to have a baby. Sure, she always thought about it, but not at twenty-six. Yes, she wanted to have a baby with Matthew, but not under those circumstances.

- "I guess I'll have to make the best of it"- she sighed, rubbing her belly sweetly- "You are gonna have Halloween every day, I swear"- Joey whispered- "I'm gonna make sure you've got everything I never had. Your dad is gonna go nuts when we tell him... I still don't know what kind of nuts, but I guess we'll have to figure it out."

She made a pause, thinking about Matthew telling her he wanted to fill their house with babies. Maybe he was going to be excited after all. Maybe.

- "Your uncle Mikey is gonna spoil you, that I am sure about"- the knock on the door took Joey from her conversation with her belly. Mikey stood at the other side, smiling and holding a fun size Snicker bag.

- "I'm going to give you one every day. That's gonna be your only candy, ok?"

- "Thank you!!"- Joey walked in, jumping in excitement, making her friend chuckle. He was slightly mad at her, but still, he couldn't be mean to her- "How was work?"

- "Boring, I think I fell asleep during most of the interviews"- the girl chuckled and sat indian style on her bed- "I can see you are watching kids movies already"- the bassist raised an eyebrow staring at the screen.

- "I happen to love this movie... I'm a Halloween kind of girl."

- "Yeah, I know"- Mikey stood in front of Joey, chewing a Snicker.

- "Aren't you going to sit down and watch this masterpiece with me?"

- "I need to talk to you about something first."

- "Shoot"- but Way didn't know how to start that conversation. He thought about it the whole morning, but he still had no clue. So instead, he mumbled some unintelligible words- "What is it?"

- "I just..."

- "Is it because I've been wearing a lot of your hoodies? I'm sorry, the ones I brought are Matthew's, and I don't feel like wearing his clothes."

- "No Bug, it's not that."

- "'Cos I'm wearing Frank's too... which is pretty weird 'cos he is my size..."

- "No, Joey. It's not about that."

- "Then why are you so serious?"

- "'Cos you never told me you kissed my brother"- and Joey's face fell.

- "Did he tell you?"

- "Clearly... what the fuck?"

- "I don't know!!"

- "Why didn't you tell me?!"

- "'Cos if I never told anyone, I could pretend it never happened! And I wish that never happened!"

- "What the fuck was that about?!"

- "I don't know, I felt like the shit, he kissed me, I didn't stop him right away..."

- "Do you like him?"

- "No!"

- "Do you love him?"- Mikey was serious about his questions- "'Cos he is sure he loves you."

- "I don't love him, Mikey. We both know there is only one shitty person I love"- Joey laid back on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

- "Do you think I'm proud? I should have never done that! and I definitely shouldn't have let him get to the point he got"- Mikey frowned.

- "What?"

- "So he didn't tell you he wanted to fuck?"- the girl simply replied- "When I was drunk... we kissed, at a certain point we made out, but I wasn't very conscious of what he was doing... I just... in my intoxication... I thought he was Matthew."

- "What the fuck?"- Way wide opened his eyes and turned to his friend in shock.

- "Yeah, it was sick..."- she whispered, embarrassed.

- "Joey, that's abuse!"

- "What? no!"- the girl gasped.

- "Joey, my brother tried to abuse you"- Mikey yelled- "You were drunk!"

- "Yeah, but..."

- "You were nearly unconscious, and he tried to make out with you?"

- "No! No! I mean, a part of me knew what I was doing. I just... didn't know who I was doing it with."

Honestly, that didn't sound like an excellent explanation of the facts. Joey was in denial of how bad things had gotten with Gerard.

- "Bug, that's not right! He knew exactly what he was doing, and he shouldn't have done that to you if you were drunk!"- Mikey's words resonated in Joey's head.

- "He didn't try to rape me. I mean, he stopped when I realized he wasn't Matthew... and honestly, I'm not trying to defend him, but I was pretty disgusted by my actions right away!"

Joey stood up and looked at her friend right in the eyes. At that moment, she decided the best she could do was take the pushy scene from the story, when Gerard didn't want to let her go. It was better to forget that moment and pretended it never really happened.

- "The first time he kissed me, I thought making out with your brother was the perfect revenge against Matthew, mostly 'cos he was always saying Gerard had a thing for me"- the girl sighed and pouted at her friend- "Who was ever going to think he was right?"- Mikey wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of your head- "I just didn't know that one kiss made him think we could do it again when I was drunk."

- "Please don't do stupid shit like this again"- she nodded

- "Your shirt stinks"- she joked, making her best to stop the serious conversation 'cos she couldn't stand arguing with Mikey, and less talking about that subject.

- "Sorry, I ran out of clean clothing 'cos I've got a friend who keeps wearing everything I own"- he chuckled, and Joey smiled, letting him go slowly to go back to the bag of candies- "I said just one a day."

- "Can I get an extra one today? Please?"

- "No, you are grounded, 'cos you did something incredibly stupid"- they stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, until Mikey smiled- "Fine, but only today"- she girl smiled and landed a kiss on Mikey's cheek.

- "Thank you. Besides, Ray is the only one who can ground me around here."

- "Right"- Joey chewed her Snicker and laid back in bed, tapping the spot next to her- "There's still one more thing."

- "Oh shit! I don't want to have more serious conversations. We've had enough of those already."

- "He claims to love you"- Mikey just said, and Joey closed her eyes, wincing.

- "I know! And I find it as stupid as false! We've barely talked this whole time! He has no idea who I am, what I like, or anything! He is just talking with his cock!"

- "And what are you gonna do about it?"

- "Stay as far from him as possible"- Mikey laid next to Joey and held her hand- "Do you think the others suspect anything?"

- "Frank, for sure. He has been arguing about it for days now."

- "Shit!"

- "But hey, hey, don't worry"- Mikey tapped on Joey's hand- "It's gonna be ok."

- "Bróðir"- the girl made a pause and never unglued her eyes from the screen- "I'm gonna have to leave."

- "No!"- his voice sounded serious and certain- "You don't have to!"

- "I'm nothing but trouble! This tour is more a soap opera than a job at this point! Breaking up with Matthew and having all of you taking care of me, now I'm pregnant, your brother claims to love me." Joey turned to Mikey and cut him a shy smile. - "Face it, if you had hired a male drummer, you would have had a quiet tour. Nothing to worry about, not all this fucking drama to deal with."

- "If we had hired anyone else, I would have had a miserable tour"- Mikey simply replied and messed with Joey's hair as the two of them returned to watch the movie- "So stop saying nonsenses."

- "I'm so sorry..."

- "Knock it off"

- "And I don't want you to be mad at your brother."

- "I'm not mad"- Joey raised an eyebrow and looked at Mikey- "Fine, I hate him right now, 'cos he has been acting like a fucking crazy jerk, and honestly, he nearly abused you, Joey!"

- "Don't hate him... let's pretend none of that weird shit ever happened, which is what I'm planning to do."

- "Fine"

- "And don't get all weird."

- "Fine"- Mikey sounded a little annoyed.

- "And don't make a fuzz if I stay away from him."

- "I'll support you, I'll even stay away from him myself."

- "Don't. He is fucked up. Maybe if he opened up with you, it's because he needs company or someone to help him overcome this... madness."

Mikey turned to Joey again and sighed. He disagreed with her, and he was planning to stay away from his brother and keep him away from Joey as well.

- "And how was your talk with Matthew?"- Joey's heart raced just by hearing his name- "The red cheeks are giving you away."

- "It was... ok, I guess."

- "And now you are texting"- she sighed and huffed.

- "I'm gonna have a baby with him, Mikey. It's hard."

- "And you love him."

- "Not the point... and that's all I'm saying about that subject."

- "Ok"- Mikey wrapped an arm around Joey's neck, and she rested her head on him- "Let's watch the movie before we have to leave for the arena."

Mikey wasn't mad at Joey. He was scared she might consider leaving the band. He loved having her there. She was honestly his anxiety shield, and he couldn't deal with that tour without her. Not at the moment. He was alone. He felt alone, and she was the one with him always. Ray had Christa, Frank had Jamia, Gerard had Lynz (and it was now obvious: he also had a stalking problem).

Mikey had Joey. At least when they were on the road. Hiding in their friendship and brotherhood was the only way he could handle loneliness. Or to avoid it.

taglist @all-tings-diego @worryd0ll

Do you wanna talk about this story, or be added to the taglist? send me a message here

#gerard way #Mikey Way #Matthew Gray Gubler #Frank Iero #frank iero #ray toro #babymetaldoll writes #mgg fanfic #mcr fanfic

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anystalker707 · 7 months

Text

Playing with fire (afab version)

Pairing: Vinsmoke Niji x [gn, afab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Hate fucking + Semi-public Tags: Transmasc friendly / He's very vocal / Against a wall / Some insults, nothing serious [amab version]

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

“You are so useless, such a lowlife, that you don’t know how to act at parties. Ridiculous pirate.” Of course, he had to approach you with insults already, mouth twisted as he held a glass in hand.

Niji had a pattern whenever he approached you, including insulting the fact you were a pirate and/or anything you did, sometimes your appearance. It was like having an inverse Sanji around, which wasn’t exactly the best experience, but you couldn’t do a lot other than wait for your crew to get you after the Vinsmoke family managed to get their hands on you. Honestly, the Germa Kingdom was so boring and annoying. Death would’ve been more accessible.

Apparently, there was some gathering going on in that shitty castle, and you were obligated to be around—they knew you wouldn’t run away since you were in a place you knew nothing of, alone, but they still wanted to know where you were. You chose to sit on the sill of one of the many windows in the room, away from the attention of most of them. It felt like you were wasting time; you could be training with Zoro, cooking with Sanji, playing cards with Usopp and Chopper, but no, you were just sitting there and looking out the window of some ridiculous castle.

“I’m talking to you,” Niji reinforced as he stepped closer.

You were bored with it already, sighing as you looked up at him. “What do you want me to do? I don’t wanna argue, nor do I have the energy to prove you wrong.”

Niji’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could imagine him giving you a look of disdain from behind his pathetic glasses. Did he know he didn’t exude half of the power he thought he had? None of the three did, actually. You couldn’t believe you were caught by the goddamn Power Rangers.

“You’re truly stupid,” Niji muttered with a sigh. “With that bounty, being part of that crew, I thought you’d be better than that.”

“If I’m such a bad company, then maybe you should try keeping your distance from me,” you answered in the same beat, almost cutting him off. It surprised him, in a way he couldn’t even react in time. You snatched the glass from his hand and took a sip from the drink. At least it was good—maybe they spent their money on something worth it. They had some booze you’d like to share with Zoro if he were there.

“Who do you think you are?” Niji reached for the glass again, but you stood up and took a step back.

“Pirates will act like pirates,” you said, just to annoy him.

He growled as he stepped after you, stopping in frustration once you downed the rest of the drink. “You—”

“What will you do?” You raised your eyebrows, opening a window and tossing the glass out of it. His hand wrapped around your wrist tightly, but it didn’t even intimidate you. “Kill me? Yeah, you can’t. You gotta put up with me, at least until my crew is here, idiot. You must think you’re so cool with that damn stupid hair—”

“We can just find another way around the situation if you die,” Niji said as he cornered you. Maybe you wished you hadn’t chosen to sit in an empty part of the wide room, but you weren’t exactly opposed to a change in the boring routine there. “They won’t even know you’re dead until they get here.”

“And then what?” You raised your eyebrows. “You’ll get away by disappointing your father? I bet that stupid redhead would even tell him something like ‘I told you so’.”

Niji’s temper—or at least his behavior towards you—was a little more different from his siblings’. Reiju and Yonji didn’t seem particularly worried about you, but they didn’t do a lot when seeing you either; Yonji just made a comment trashing the Strawhats in general. Ichiji wasn’t nice, but he wasn’t responsive to your reactions; he decided that he was superior to you and just acted on it, not paying attention to ‘some pirate’. Niji, however, would attack you and get more intense when you responded, something almost childish, but that built a specific tension between you two. Was it just impulsive? Or did he enjoy it? You liked playing with it, either way. He wasn’t the priority to the others, at the moment, so he couldn’t actually harm you.

“You’re acting up a little too much for someone like you,” Niji muttered, but it was interrupted by a gasp when you stepped forward, bumping your chests together, and he was the one with his back against the wall instead.

A small chuckle escaped your lips. “You don’t know me. All you’ve seen is my bounty posters. When my crew gets here, if I get an actual opportunity to fight you…”

Niji scoffed. “I’d like to see it happen.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a small step back, but Niji immediately pushed you back by your shoulders, making you stumble back into one of the dark halls that connected to the main room. There was a turn before you were practically pinned to the wall again. It was relatively dark—the only light that came in was from outside a nearby wide window—and quiet, away from the main room. The whole attention was there and by the main halls, so it was practically deserted.

“Now what? What are you gonna do?” Niji asked before you could.

You clicked your tongue. “You’re so annoying!”

Niji started cursing as you tugged on his shirt to pull him away, resulting in the two of you pacing back and forth depending on how the strength imbalanced between you. It was a little annoying because he wasn’t doing anything other than pushing you around, so you decided to just let go instead of fighting against him.

Something incoherent came from Niji, breath hitching in his throat as he managed to pin you to the wall—it knocked the air out of you a little since your back hit the wall more force than you expected since you’d given up suddenly. When he pinned you to the wall, however, one of his legs slipped between yours.

…Were you imagining things? Maybe he didn’t notice, breathing fanning over your face as he still panted, smelling like the booze from earlier.

“Niji,” you muttered.

“What?” His voice was sharp. A little pathetic.

You pondered the results of what you wanted to say, silent for a moment, feeling his grip tightening on you. Well, there was nothing to lose with an idiot like that.

The way you shifted made Niji stiffen a little bit—his eyes probably widened behind his glasses. Your thigh was right between his legs, too, pressing right to his crotch, and now moving against it.

“If you wanted a fuck, you could’ve asked for one,” you said with a chuckle, observing him intently. It was a shame it was so dark, and you couldn’t see his face that much.

“Don’t you—” Niji fell silent as you moved your leg a bit, breath hitching in his throat and replacing his words with a whimper at how your thigh pressed harder against him this time. It was a two-edged sword, of course, since he had a leg right between yours as well.

“Shit,” you whispered. You hadn’t meant that to feel good for you as well.

On the other hand, Niji grinned at your reaction. He leaned in lightly, but your hand grasped around his neck to hold him a safe distance away from you as you glared at him. It probably didn’t have as much power as you intended it to have, given the darkness, but it still was something.

“How about I ask you for one now, hm?” Niji whispered, breath hot against the side of your face as he tugged on your shirt a little. You still held his neck, tightening your grip a little—did he whimper because of the discomfort or because of enjoyment? Fuck. Things weren’t supposed to go that way nor make you feel that way.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Niji grinned more. “That’s the fun.”

There was barely time to react before his lips were pressed to yours. The kiss was a little forceful and harsh, but it wasn’t bad. Groans escaped your throat with how much teeth he added, biting and tugging on your lips with his teeth as if insisting a reaction out of you.

“Goddammit,” you whispered, tightening your grip around his neck until he gasped again, so you could finally keep up with the kiss. You tried to keep it a little superficial, threatening to let your nails sink into his neck whenever he started deepening the kiss or nibbling on your lips again. He became more vocal with it, whimpering a lot more, even moaning when your leg moved between his again. Was he needy?

You slowly allowed Niji to kiss you, but not on the lips. His mouth pressed to your neck, kissing and sucking on the skin. “Fuck,” you whispered, grinding against him again, but it was actually in encouragement this time.

Niji’s hands found the hem of your pants, letting his fingers run along it until finding the buttons, which he quickly started undoing.

“Go on,” you encouraged him with a whisper, running your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, ruining the styling. Before you could notice, Niji’s hands slipped inside your underwear, rough fingers quickly slipping between your wet folds until he found your clit while his other hand held on to your hip for support. “Ah, there,” you moaned into his ear, grip tight around his shirt as you pushed your hips into his hand.

Soft moans continued spilling from your lips as Niji touched you while you moved to unbutton his pants, this time. He gladly let you do so, gasping when your hand wrapped around his cock, your thumb spreading the pre-cum across his tip. Niji was quite vocal. There was a pattern.

Something thick hung in the air with the silence before you started taking off your pants and underwear, kicking off one of your shoes in the process; Niji helped you almost automatically. He lifted you against the wall as if you weighted nothing, hands under your thighs to help you, moving to grip on your ass once you held firmly onto him.

Niji’s hair brushed against your face when he rested his face against your shoulder while he pushed in, making both of you moan as his cock finally entered you. The stretch gave you a burning sensation at first, with a little discomfort of the new intrusion, but it was something that quickly melted away once he started fucking into you. It was easy, with how wet you were, making it feel so good.

The fingers that sank into your ass felt good, too, digging into the flesh as Niji’s hips moved against yours. He moved to rest his head on your shoulder again, but you stopped him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“That ridiculous hair of yours,” you muttered through moans.

“Ridiculous?” Niji scoffed, giving you a harsher thrust—was that an attempt of intimidation? The way you tugged on his hair worked much better. He whimpered, holding you tighter as he kept fucking you in a nice rhythm.

“That’s better,” you muttered to him, groaning as he managed to reach a nice angle. “Mm, fuck,” you whispered, giving his hair a tug again, just for the sake of it. Just as the last time, Niji whimpered, moaning as his hips gained a more frantic pace.

“You’re loud,” you muttered to him, words slipping between heavy breaths. “Shut the fuck up, unless you want anyone to catch you. What if one of your brothers happened to run into us, hm? Seeing you bang some pirate you guys captured,” you breathed into his ear.

Somehow, your words only made Niji more vocal. He held you tighter, fucking harsher into you, making your gummy walls pull his cock deeper inside you, practically milking him. You let out a throaty moan, but it didn’t compare to him. If you two get caught, the trouble would be his, either way. Loser.

“You’re good,” you whispered into his ear, “but you know who’s better? Sanji fucks me so good. Always makes me cum so good.”

Niji hissed, pace faltering. “Shut up,” he said, voice shaky and stuttering. “I just—” He moaned when you tugged on his hair again.

“You never stop being pathetic,” you muttered, voice tight with the moans. You weren’t going to be as vocal as usual; you weren’t stroking his ego.

Both of you stopped talking, letting that relative silence permeate the next minutes as something ticked. The growing warmth in your lower stomach was the same that Niji felt, growing closer with each thrust. One of his hand slowly let go of you, only pulling away completely when he was sure you wouldn’t fall, and the sudden touch on your clit made you gasp, arching your back.

Niji’s fingers rubbed circles into your clit, pressing to it just the right way as he kept fucking into you. It was a trigger, making your climax march closer a lot faster than you predicted, soon hitting you as his fingers still messily worked on your clit. He breathed out moans as you came, clenching around him until you were throbbing, back arching while you still tugged on his hair. He ended up cumming as well, releasing deep inside you, keeping thrusting and coating his cum all over your walls.

That felt too good. Better than it was supposed to, making your mind blank until Niji’s motions edged overstimulation.

Eventually, your motions stilled, both of you just standing there, holding on to each other.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I’ve had better.”

“Fuck you.” Niji clicked his tongue.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

#one piece #op #niji vinsmoke #x female reader #x reader #gender neutral #niji x reader #one piece x reader #fan fic #fan fiction #imagine #oneshot #sanji vinsmoke

89 notes · View notes

hercleverboy · 4 years

Text

unrequited

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ the reader is in love with spencer. he’s not in love her.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ none

word count ↠ 3.4K

“I loved you as Icarus loved the sun- too close, too much.” — David Jones

It was a cold evening in late September when Y/N told Spencer Reid how she felt. How over the time they’d been friends since she joined the BAU, she’d fallen harder and harder for him, with every smile and every laugh, she loved Spencer just that little bit more.

The team knew, of course. They were profilers for goodness sake. In fact, the only member of the team who seemed oblivious to her affections was the man who was the subject of them. With a final push from her best friend Garcia, Y/N had finally decided that night would be the night she told him, confessed that she wanted him and only him for the rest of her days. She hyped herself up, boosted her confidence, told herself that he probably liked her too, right? She was excited to be with him, to live all the dreams she’d had of their life together. Soon, it wasn’t going to just be a crush, they’d be together.

but nothing’s ever that simple, is it?

It was foolish of her, she supposed. To think for even a second that he would want her like she wanted him. She knew the moment the words left her lips and were met with complete silence that he didn’t feel that way. She could see it in the way his face dropped, how mouth opening and closing as he searched for something to say.

“I’m in love with you, Spencer.”

say something, anything, don’t make me feel stupid, but please say something-

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

oh god no, oh god, he doesn’t feel the same, you idiot, how could he? you’re you, you’re his-

“I don’t feel that way about you. You’re my best friend, and I love you, just not in that way.”

you’re his best friend.

Y/N felt her heart break.

“Oh. Okay.”

That was all she could manage. Her head raced and her chest burned, it burned her like a raging fire within her about to explode-

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn’t know you felt that way. I’m sorry if I ever said anything that made you think otherwise I-”

“No, god no Spence. This is my fault. I um- I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

just apologise Y/N, you’re sorry. you’ve ruined everything.

“Y/N I don’t want things to change between us.” There were tears in his eyes and she wondered why he was the one crying.

“They won’t, I promise. I’m just gonna need some time, okay?” She asked, moving away from him, putting some space between them seemed like a good idea.

“Time? What? Please, I don’t want to lose you.” He spluttered, and Y/N wanted to shout but she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, not at him. It wasn’t his fault.

“You’re not losing me. I swear it. But I need a few days, maybe even weeks to figure things out. Then I’ll be back and better than ever. Okay?” She didn’t even believe the words as they left her lips. Perhaps if she said them enough she’d start to believe them.

He nodded.

She wiped her tears and gave him a smile, one that she hoped convinced him she was okay, like her throat wasn’t screaming at her, like her heart didn’t feel like it was burning, like she didn’t feel like she was going to throw up.

“Well, I’m going to go but I’ll see you later okay.” She hated how hard she was trying to make it seem like she was fine. Like his rejection hadn’t killed her inside.

She left swiftly, and only when she was sat in her car did she let it hit her. She sobbed her heart out, wondering what was wrong with her. Why the only guy she wanted, didn’t want her. She pulled herself together long enough to drive home.

When she stepped over the threshold of her apartment she let everything out again, sliding down against her front door as soon as it shut behind her. She brought her knees up to her chest and sobbed into them.

She’d never felt a pain like this before.

It hurt so fucking bad.

After what felt like hours, she took some deep breaths, wiping her cheeks and pulling out her phone and calling Hotch.

“Hotchner.”

“Hi Hotch, it’s Y/N I’m just calling to ask if I can take some days off.”

“Can I ask why?”

The question made her feel like breaking down all over again. Apart from Spencer, Penelope and Derek, Hotch was surprisingly one of the people in the team she was closest to. He saw her almost like a daughter.

“Y/N? I know I’m your boss, but you’re like family. You can tell me.” His voice was stern as always, but she knew the caring undertone there was behind it.

And so she did. She let out a heart-wrenching cry, “I told Spencer how I feel. He doesn’t feel the same.” She whimpered out, still trying to hold it together but everything just hurt so badly. “I just need a few days or maybe even weeks to figure out everything. But I promise when I get back I’ll be ready to work, better than ever. I just can’t work alongside him whilst it’s still so fresh.”

“I completely understand Y/N. Take as much time as you need. You’ll have your place on the team when you’re ready to come back. And as for Spencer, it’s really his loss.”

“Thank you Hotch. I’ll check in with you in a few days.” She finished, hanging up the call.

And that was that.

What followed was 3 weeks of Y/N moping around her apartment.

The first week she was sad.

She spent it crying into pints of various flavours of ice cream as she watched shitty romantic films on Netflix. She decided she just needed to let herself feel it. She couldn’t push away the pain. She had to let herself feel angry and upset in order to get through her emotions and come out stronger.

Spencer didn’t love her, at least not in the way she wanted him to. She was going to have to deal with that.

Penelope visited, and they’d sit together as Y/N explained her upset and Penelope held her as she cried. Derek visited too, and at first he was angry at Spencer for hurting her, but Y/N assured him it was okay, that she’d get over it. Hotch called every day to check up on her, like the fatherly figure he was, just to double check she was doing okay. Spencer tried to contact her, but she didn’t answer. Not to be petty, but she was trying to forget that she was so very in love with him, and texting him would only make that worse.

The second week, she was angry.

She tried numerous hobbies to deflect her pain. Anytime she thought of Spencer, she would bake a batch of cookies or a cake, and get Penelope to take them in for the team next time she visited her.

Many times during the second week, she had wrecked her apartment in her anger. She would go through spouts of pure rage where she threw some things and shattered others. (Honestly she had to fork out a lot of money on new glasses and mugs because she kept throwing them at walls.)

She wasn’t angry at Spencer. Okay, she was a little bit, but not really. It wasn’t his fault. You don’t choose who you fall in love with, after all. She was angry at herself for falling for someone who would obviously never want her.

how could you have been so stupid?

She was angry that no one seemed to want her. That’s all she wanted, love and affection and she couldn’t seem to get it. No matter how hard she tried.

Finally, with the third week came acceptance.

She was beginning to get over Spencer Reid. It would be a long and hard journey, but she was strong, she could do it. The thought of him rejecting her love still hurt, but it no longer burned her. She could handle being his best friend, she could handle working alongside him.

She was ready to face the world, and him.

When she stepped through the doors of the bullpen, after nearly a month of absence, she was met with a chorus of happy gasps and cheers.

“There she is! Hey Pretty Girl.” Derek, who’d become like a brother to her was the first to speak as he came up, wrapping his arms around her in a brotherly hug, lifting her off the ground. “You feeling better?” He murmured.

“Yes, I am, Thank you D.” She smiled, using the nickname she’d given him a few weeks after she started.

“Oh! My turn!” Penelope smiled, hugging Y/N as soon as Derek released her.

“Pen! I saw you like two days ago.” Y/N laughed.

“And that was two days too many, my love.”

She also got hugs from Rossi, JJ and Emily, who had all missed her bright laughter and happy energy around the office and on cases.

“Y/N.” Hotch’s voice made her turn around to face him, and he wore a rare smile on his lips. “Glad to see you’re back. You ready to work?” He asked, bringing her in for a short hug.

“Yes sir.” She said sarcastically with a laugh, before she turned to the last person anxiously waiting to greet her.

“Hey, Spence.” She smiled, and it was genuine. She felt good.

“Hi, Y/N. I missed you.” He had missed her. Terribly.

“I missed you too. Come here.” She smiled, opening her arms. He seemed surprised she wanted to hug him, but she really did. To prove there was no bad blood between them. To prove she really was moving on, and doing a damn good job of it. When he didn’t move, she threw her arms around him, smiling. And he hugged her back. He felt guilty, of course. Any member of the team could tell you he spent three weeks on edge, the guilt swallowing him whole. When she didn’t answer his texts it only got worse. It took Derek reminding him that she was in love with him, and that he’d really hurt her by rejecting her. That it was going to take her time and that she needed the separation to heal herself and her heart.

When she pulled back, she still had a smile on her lips, and Spencer didn’t need to be a profiler to know it was a real one.

“Let’s catch some bad guys, yeah?” She smirked.

Y/N kept her earlier promise to Spencer. They really were fine. Their relationship hadn’t changed at all. They still ate takeout and watched Doctor Who together on Saturday nights when they weren’t away on a case. They sat opposite to one another on the jet like they used to, Spencer trying to teach Y/N how to play chess but failing, because she wasn’t quite grasping the concept yet but she’d get there with his help. They still played around in the bullpen on boring, rainy paperwork days. Either teasing Derek or seeing how long they could get up to no good before Hotch told them off. (Well, he’d tell them off but you could see the small smile on his lips.)

They laughed and joked just like before and everything was great.

Some days when Y/N got home, she would let herself feel a little upset, but those days were few and far between.

and then finally, after six hard months, Y/N could confidently say she was over Spencer Reid.

The team had been away for a week on a gruelling case, and on the jet home Rossi decided that the next night, they would have a dinner party at his house, just as a well done to the team for the good work. Hotch agreed it was a good idea, and so the next night, 7pm sharp, everyone began showing up to Rossi’s for a night of dancing, drinking and laughing with their little family.

Y/N arrived a little later, apologising for being late and greeting everyone with hugs.

“My lovely you look absolutely stunning!” Penelope, who had already had one too many fruity cocktails, gasped as she hugged her.

Y/N blushed and thanked her. She was wearing a peach coloured midi dress, that complimented her figure beautifully. She paired that with peach pink heels that matched the dress. It wasn’t much but she did look stunning.

Or so Spencer thought.

Why did he think that? She was his best friend. But he couldn’t deny she looked absolutely gorgeous.

Little did she know, but over the last two weeks Spencer had started to feel something more for Y/N. He hadn’t really figured it out how or even why yet.

She moved to greet him last, wrapping her arms around him with a giggle. “Hey Spence.”

“Hey. You look uh- you look beautiful.” He smiled, and she smiled too as she pulled back.

“Oh well Thankyou, Dr. You don’t look too shabby yourself.” She teased, before moving off to speak to Derek.

Spencer found himself watching her as she walked. He noticed how when she laughed, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. How her smile seemed to brighten the room. How she was so effortlessly beautiful and he didn’t know how he’d never seen her like that before.

What had changed?

Later they were all sat around the dinner table, finishing up the gorgeous main meal rossi had cooked for them. They were all chatting amongst themselves. Derek, Emily and Y/N were deep in conversation on their end of the table with Spencer sat next to Y/N, not really listening as Derek told them about his most recent sexual encounter.

“Gross, Derek. Don’t you want to find yourself a nice girl?” Y/N asked in a teasing manner.

“Alright Pretty Girl, how about you? You got anyone you want to tell us about?”

Y/N looked down as a blush tinted her cheeks.

Emily gasped. “That means yes!”

Derek held his hand out for a fist bump. “My girl! She’s finally got herself a man!”

That caught Spencer’s attention.

Y/N rolled her eyes and fist bumped him with a small smile. “He’s not my man. At least not yet anyway. His name’s Jasper. We’ve been on a few dates, but I really like him. And I think it could go somewhere.” Emily and Derek cheered for her, and playfully toasted their drinks to her and Jasper.

Spencer, however, felt an odd feeling burn in the pit of his stomach at the mention of this Jasper guy being ‘her man’. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t jealousy but as the night wore on it became blatantly obvious that that’s exactly what it was.

“You didn’t mention Jasper to me.” Spencer said as they gently swayed together. Everyone had been dancing. Y/N had danced with Derek as well has Hotch, and now danced slowly with her best friend.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just really new and I didn’t want to jinx anything.” She smiled up at him, and his grip tightened on her waist slightly. “I just- I really like this guy. He likes all the same stuff as me, and we get along really well.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore about him, thanks.” Spencer spat coldly, taking Y/N by surprise.

“Woah, what was that?” She asked, pulling back slightly to look at him.

“You’ve been talking about him all night. I was just saying you should give it a rest okay? I don’t care about this Jasper guy.” He snarled, ripping himself away from her and leaving the garden, going inside the house.

Derek looked at her in confusion from across the patio and she shrugged, mouthing that she’d go after him and see what was wrong.

She found him out on a balcony connected to one of the bedrooms.

“Spence?” She asked quietly. “What’s going on with you?”

He looked back at her and scoffed, shaking his head. She frowned. “Come on, you’re my best friend. You can tell me.”

“I don’t want to hear about how some guy has you, when I want you to be mine.” He mumbled, and Y/N struggled to hear him.

“I don’t understand, Spence?” She asked, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder.

He took a deep breath. “I love you.”

She giggled. “Oh, I love you too, Spence. But seriously, what’s up?”

He shook his head again, more determinedly. “No you don’t understand. I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Her hand dropped from his shoulder. “You’re what?”

“I’m in love with you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out but I finally did.” He smiled, expecting her to be relieved. Didn’t she love him too?

“Spencer I don’t-“ She tried to figure out what to say. “I don’t feel that way about you anymore.”

“What? You don’t just fall out of love with people that quickly, Y/N!” He was angry, and that made anger rise in Y/N too. What right did he have to be angry?

“I had no choice but to! What was I supposed to do? My best friend who I’d loved for years rejected me. I had to work alongside you Spence, I couldn’t risk losing my job over it. So I dealt with the pain of you breaking my heart.”

Spencer seemed to be understanding now. “Y/N I-“

“No, Spencer! I spent 3 weeks absolutely fucking heartbroken over you. I cried to Penelope and Derek more times than I could count. I got angry and I broke glasses and dishes. I looked myself in the mirror nearly every day and asked myself why I wasn’t good enough for you. But then you know what? I picked myself up. I fixed the heart that you broke, and I am so incredibly proud of myself. So you, Spencer Reid, have no right to stand there and tell me you love me after what I went through six months ago.” She was furious, how dare he? just when her life was getting good, when she’d met a nice guy that she really liked, Spencer had to ruin everything. All her hard work, everything she’d put into fixing herself seemed to start to crack.

“Y/N I’m sorry but I had to tell you how I felt, I can’t live without you knowing I love yo-“

“Shut up!” She yelled. “Don’t say it, please don’t say it.” She cried.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“You’re selfish, Spencer! You know that? You’re the most selfish man I’ve ever met. How could you do this to me?” She asked, exasperated.

He couldn’t seem to find an appropriate answer.

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” She shook her head and quickly left the balcony, rushing out the room and down the stairs with tears in her eyes as Spencer called after her desperately.

Her teary eyes met Derek’s as she reached the bottom step, and he was immediately at her side, holding her into him as she cried.

“I have to get out of here, Derek. I’ll tell you everything, just, take me home please?” She asked and he nodded. Just as Spencer came down the staircase after her, calling out her name again.

Derek looked between Y/N in his arms, and Spencer who stood at the bottom of the staircase with tears in his own eyes. It didn’t take a profiler to figure out something bad had gone down.

“Y/N please-“ Spencer tried, moving towards her but Derek held his hand out as a signal for him to stop.

“Stay there, Reid. Haven’t you done enough?” He spat, venom in his words.

Spencer was easily one of Derek’s best friends on the team. But he very quickly grew very protective of Y/N, taking a sort of elderly brother role to her. He knew what she’d been through to pick herself up after Spencer, and he’d had to watch as the woman he considered a sister tore herself apart for three weeks. and so god help him If whatever had just happened between them led to her hard work being ruined. He’d rip that kid a new one.

Spencer watched as Derek comforted Y/N, leading her outside to the car. As the doors closed behind them, the team gathered around behind Spencer, asking him what had happened. But all he could do was stare after her helplessly, tears trembling down his own cheeks.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader #criminal minds #bau x reader #criminal minds x reader

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Eight

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

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

Part 8 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

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

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; extreme canon violence (gun violence, hand-to-hand, baton use, knives); strong language; mentions of drug smuggling, drugs, and human smuggling; mentions of blood and blood loss; major/minor character death (not the mains, don’t worry!); angst; gunshot wounds; heavy alcohol consumption

Word Count: 14,600+

A/N: Listen... you know damn well I had to put some American Pie lyrics in this. The reader’s and Jackeline’s relationship is not modeled after Nat and Yelena lol it was literally the biggest coincidence.

MedBay - The New Compound, 2024, 1:52 pm

“He did what?”

Bruce smiles sheepishly as he lugs Steve’s practically lifeless body onto one of those beige medical beds. Dr. Cho is pacing calmly around the room, getting her instruments cleaned and ready. She tries to ignore the way you’re crowding her, inspecting everything she touches and in turn is going to end up touching Steve.

“He took a bullet for someone.”

“And where is that someone?” you bite. You immediately want to apologize to Bruce for your tone but you’re distracted by the tiny groans of pain coming from the pale super soldier beside you. You have to look away to avoid whimpering yourself, but you can’t exactly make yourself deaf. “Don’t tell me he took a bullet for you.”

Bruce rolls his eyes and steps to the side as Dr. Cho begins cutting away Steve’s pants. “Everyone else is on vacation. He has no one here to take a bullet for besides. It was a shitty liquor store robbery and Steve was, of course, being a hero.”

“Where’s he hit?” you ask, heading over to grab a pair of gloves yourself. No one questions it.

“Femoral artery. Seems like he was plugging his own wound until he could get help.”

Dr. Cho is right. There’s a massive gash in his thigh that’s leaking excessively and the skin surrounding the wound is raised like Steve’s own fingers had plunged so deeply it left an imprint. Not only that, but his hand is covered in his blood. So is Bruce’s, you realize, because he had tried to plug the artery as well.

“How is he not dead yet?” Dr. Cho more mutters to herself than to you guys. Steve’s head is lolling to the side and his lips are an awful shade of white. His eyes are fluttering open and closed… open… closed… and he’s still mumbling random phrases. There’s a rough tug at the bottom of your stomach that pulls and pulls and there’s a weird urge to crawl onto the table to keep Steve warm.

“He needs blood,” you say, even though all parties in the room know that as fact.

Bruce, however, winces. “Sam’s not even in the state right now and I don’t think we have enough time to fly him-”

“Is he Sam’s blood type? What’s his blood type? Why can’t Bucky do it? Bucky’s in Brooklyn, he can be here in five minutes if he runs.”

Bruce starts rummaging through the upper level shelves and freezer cabinets. “Can’t mix the serums. We’ve tried.” He finally finds the blood bags, pulling them all out and spreading them across the clean tables. “It’s - shit - do we not have?”

Dr. Cho is now covered in blood, working as fast as she can to close the wound. “What’s his blood type?”

Bruce repeats it out loud and watches as Dr. Cho’s face falls. “I ran out yesterday. The blood drive isn’t until this weekend. I had a patient come in yesterday, I - I ran out yesterday.”

They seem to be having their own conversation with their eyes and are too focused on each other to see you already stripping your long-sleeve shirt and wrapping that horrible blue rubber band around your upper arm. “Me. Take mine.”

Bruce immediately shakes his head, stuttering as he tries to remove the rubber band. “Nu-uh, I don’t know if you know this but you’re human. I need two bags, three tops. I can’t just take it all from you right now!”

“Then get me some cookies and a juice box. I don’t care how much you have to take to make him speak a coherent sentence. Do me.”

Bruce hesitates but he rushes to the cabinets for the needles, vials, tubes, whatever - “No, do it direct.”

Your words startle the two doctors but they don’t question it. They hook you up and poke the needle in the first vein they find, attaching the tube instead of a single vial and direct it to Steve.

“You sure your blood matches?”

You give Bruce a pointed look as if that isn’t something written on your dog tags or on your weekly personal reports.

In the end, you’re told that you gave him the equivalent of two pints of blood. Not that you were awake for the second anyway but you vaguely remember Steve’s voice ringing in your ears. You’re not awake as he regains consciousness or to witness his very confused glare at seeing you in the bed next to him.

He swears he heard small mumblings… ‘If you die because of some highway robbery, Rogers --- I’m never gonna fucking stop bullying your grave --- haunt it’.... ‘Stay --- with me, please’.... ‘---supposed to apologize first’....

He tests the waters, mumbling a name he only says with annoyance nowadays. But now, it’s gently said. Soft, a whisper that sounds like a fractured hymn.

Present Day, 2025, 12:05 pm

There isn’t a set emotion in the world that seems appropriate. What are people supposed to feel when they’re singled out and chosen to suffer a life of pain? Self-hate? Pity for themselves? Anger? Sadness? Remorse? Nothing?

You really don’t know what you’re feeling. In the middle of rubbing vaseline on your newly acquired cuts and scrapes and bandaging yourself up, biting on a belt as Bucky set your shoulder back in place, and lying with Steve discussing everything and nothing all night after your promise - well, what the hell are you supposed to feel? As inevitable as it was considering he had ordered you shot before, the one feeling you know you feel is betrayed. Because even though Ernesto has proven himself evil time and time again, to his own flesh and blood, there was still a small part in your heart that didn’t think any parent truly wanted to inflict pain on their children. And your heart keeps proving itself wrong again and again.

“You just... jumped out of the car?”

Ramirez’s voice snaps you from your inner thoughts. He was let out of custody this morning. He’s currently filling in anyone who asks about the shipment, about Ernesto’s future plans, about the role he thought he had.

“Against my better judgment, but yeah.”

He chuckles and grins like he’s a kid hearing the best story ever told. “That’s what superheroes do. At least, what I’ve seen in the movies. John Wick, Bond, esos tipos.”

“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, Omar,” there’s a teasing tone, “but I’m a fucking Avenger.”

That makes him laugh louder and in turn pulls one from you. “Ya se, ya se. I’ve known you since you were born. It’s weird hearing stories about you saving the world and jumping from bombed cars.”

“Mm, wait until you hear about that time I went into space and landed on another planet. Or time traveled. Take your pick.”

He’s stunned into silence and after a few more praises, he lets you return to typing out your report. There are plenty of other agents around for him to busy himself with. The base is tiny and not at all what you expected, but it’s secure enough to fit Torres, Sam, Bucky, and about fifteen other agents as they prepare for tonight. The plan you and Steve outlined was simple: attend the wedding, butter everyone up, send Steve away to help Ernesto retrieve and move the shipment, Scott and Sam will infiltrate, Bucky would be on standby to help you fight, and the rest of the team at base will begin arrests and sweeps. If everything goes according to plan, at least.

It’s easy to speak negatively about these things - there really were only two ways this could go.

You finish your report and go to stand, only realizing a minute later walking through the base that Ramirez is following you. You send him a funny look over your shoulder and he returns with a small smile of his own.

“Tengo preguntas!”

You stop and let him catch up. “Hmm?”

“Okay,” he starts, motioning his hands wordlessly until he could form them. “Are you and the Captain actually... juntos? Or just Avenger partners?”

“That’s personal, Omar,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “But I guess? That’s weird discussing with you.”

He nods in agreement. “It’s okay, I was just curious. So, him being mad was just an act? He doesn’t really hurt and threaten you, no?” He’s treading lightly, but you can already see the cartel mind turning. He would order Steve’s execution if he had to, even if he believed it to be morally wrong in some situations.

“Never. It was just an act for Ernesto.”

“Ah, Dios. Thank goodness.”

“Yeah, keep your men in line. It’s fine.”

He chuckles at that. “And the other Avengers?”

“They’re my family, Omar,” you grin wide, waking slower for the old man to keep up. “They would never hurt me.”

“That’s good, but not what I was asking.”

“Oh?”

“What are they like?”

Handing your report to one of the agents at a handful of monitors, you laugh loudly. “Do you want to meet them officially?”

“Aye, I know my daughters would like that...”

You raise an eyebrow.

“But I would like to meet them, too.”

“That’s what I thought. C’mon.”

The rest of the team are all relaxing and discussing the past days events in the lounge area, which is really just a glorified break room. Bucky’s still in his morning sweats same as Scott, Torres is already suited up, and both Sam and Steve are wearing their Avenger gear (minus Sam’s wings and Steve’s battered shield). Steve is the first one to notice you enter and he instantly gets up from his chair to greet you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Gross,” Bucky mumbles.

“You’ve been trying to get me a girl for over ninety years, Buck. And now that I’ve finally got someone who likes me back, you bully me for it?”

“Who’s bullin’? I said the same thing when Agent Carter smooched you in the weapon’s room and you thought you were alone.”

You pat Steve’s shoulder. “Think about it, Rogers. When Bucky settles down with someone, you have free reign.”

Steve pulls a thin smile and glances back at Bucky. “I’ll make them hate you.”

“Love and hate are the same thing, pal. It worked out for you two.”

“Okay, we’re done. Everyone, Omar wanted to formally introduce himself.”

Ramirez gives a shy wave. Torres returns it. It’s kind of hilarious to witness. Here you all are, Avengers and some standing over six feet with one of the most wanted drug lords in the world, and the all mighty drug lord is shy.

“I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” You notice how when Ramirez speaks to strangers or those he deems good people on his side, his accent is a little thicker. It’s like he wants to speak only in Spanish other than the Spanglish you were all accustomed to. “But it really is an honor to meet you all.”

Scott is the first to stand and shake his hand. “Sorry I pointed my gun at you, man. Habit.”

Ramirez chuckles, “Sorry I broke into your room.”

Steve interjects, “Thank you, though. For telling us what more we’re fighting for.”

Ramirez nods, a solemn look spreading over his face. “The minute I found out, I didn’t know who to tell. I’m lucky you were never truly on his side.”

“And what will you do after all this is over?” Bucky stands. “How do we know we can truly trust you?”

Ramirez sneaks a glance at you and you raise your hands. “Hey, I’ve got the same questions as him.”

Ramirez must know he isn’t getting out of this one because he answers quickly. “Drugs have a market where people choose. I just meet supply and demand protocols. I don’t do the unnecessary violence or blackmail. There is no need to. People will always want drugs.”

There’s a round of agreement throughout the small room. Ramirez continues, “But smuggling humans? There is no choice, nothing moral about it, it’s evil.”

“But people get addicted to drugs. They die from them everyday,” Sam argues.

“I produce and deal what you American’s call weed. Ernesto does the big stuff, as does White. I’m,” he laughs a little. “I’m their weed guy.”

“That is true,” you confirm. You’ve moved and packaged Ramirez’s product before. “Literally just weed.”

Everyone seems deep in thought, like their processing Ramirez’s words and the weight behind them. Ramirez ran with the big boys and was the biggest distributor of marijuana in Mexico and America alike, but he never messed with any other product. Besides producing, selling, and smuggling illegal weed, his only other crimes included conspiring with Ernesto on how to get the product over state lines.

“Okay,” Steve starts. “So how is tonight gonna work? We have to discuss that.”

Ramirez bows his head. “You’ve allowed me safety, you’ve listened to me speak, and you’re saving both my life and my daughter’s. If you must arrest me, then you arrest me.”

“The minute you’re transferred to a prison with less security, Ernesto’s men will get you,” you reason, already shaking your head no.

Ramirez gives a nonchalant shrug, “But you’ll get him and White. That’s all that matters.”

You look over to Steve for some other ideas, but like you he doesn’t have any. No one seems to have any.

Torres matches his shrug and his voice is small as he speaks, almost like his next idea is insane. “We can always put him in the Raft.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide.

“That’s where all the enhanced humans go, no?” Ramirez is stunned. “Do I count?”

“We’ve got no idea,” Steve rubs at his chin, looking at you for confirmation he knows you don’t have. “But it’s an idea.”

The plan is no longer singular. Fury had sent his best field agents for the job, the ones with the best aim, the ones with great strategic planning. Although you and Steve were still in charge, it was no longer just your mission. Your mission was to arrest the big three, big four when including Seda. That was it.

The plan goes like this: half the team will be focused on the venue itself, hidden in the shadows and monitoring the big three as well as your mics, and will aid you in the physical fight and arrests. Some are on the ground while others in the sky. Afterwards, they’ll sweep the estate and collect stolen property or priceless artworks. The other half is split into two, where one of those halves will be spread out for miles to capture anyone that might slip through, like guests who were on the most wanted list or guests that have helped Ernesto in the past. The other part of that half will intercept the shipment (once Steve radios in the location), save the hostages, and shut down the routes.

They instruct Ramirez to call Ernesto and to ask him if there’s a vegetarian menu offered. Ernesto responds with only a muttered groan and in a wild turn of events, asks if Ramirez can call you to make sure you arrive earlier than expected to make sure Jackeline walks down that aisle. He’s completely serious. Not only does Ramirez play along, but Ernesto doesn’t give any indication that he knows about the car bomb. So the team makes a judgement call: this was only Seda’s doing.

Ramirez is then told that the Raft is not an option; both the US and Mexican government want him and the only reason he hasn’t been arrested is because he still has many cards to play. The more he helps, the less time he’ll get.

One thing is known: this is the biggest mission anybody has been on in over two years.

Bucky remembers things in bits and pieces. Sometimes he’ll be minding his own business, enjoying this new world and the countless amenities it offers, and remember exactly where he was on the hottest day of the year in 1936. He remembers the blistering heat, boiling his once pale skin and giving him that beautiful olive he was now known for. He remembers the way his tongue dried almost instantly the moment he stepped outside and how he asked his next door neighbor, Ms. Kranshall, for a cup of water before work. He remembers her massive square glasses and how they nudged the tip of her nose as she nodded sweetly at him. He remembers her high but smoky voice and the way she patted his shoulder as he drank the cup down.

The first time he remembered Natalia was around the same time he remembered Steve. He sees a flash of ember in strands, speed almost matching his, and he sees those panicked green eyes he was once all too familiar with.

She was twelve when he first met her, forced to throw her around like a ragdoll until her ribs were bruised and her spirit broken. He went again and again, and when he wasn’t forced he would teach her how to fight properly and how to shield her most vulnerable areas. Scared as she was, she never showed it in those private moments, and decided to follow his lead in most things. And she learned to be fierce, no matter how hard he hit, and he still remembers the look in her eyes and the pull of her young face as they yanked him away for cryo before he could congratulate her on winning her first fight.

The first time he remembered you was when you leapt onto T’Challa’s back as the chase neared, tackling the young prince become king, and watched with sad eyes as both him and Steve climbed onto the jet for Siberia. He remembers your clumsy punches when you fought him with half his brain and how he kicked you so hard you flew. He also remembers how when you took that kick for Steve, the sound of his wail almost deafened the soldier.

Everytime he remembers something, a memory, no matter how strangled it may arise, the twinge in his chest is good. He’s remembering. He’s James Buchanan Barnes.

He feels that same twinge when a face full of freckles greets him at the entrance, documents raised above her head in a show of selfish glee, and a pep in her step that tells him she remembers him too.

“Sergeant Barnes!” Maribel gives a toothy grin. “Never thought I’d see you again!”

Bucky tilts his chin up and rests the tip of tongue between his incisors. “What? Hydra wasn’t enough for you, you gotta infiltrate the Mexican cartel, too?”

She scoffs playfully, “Other way ‘round.”

He snatches the documents from her hand and leads her inside. “I hope you got something here. Steve put a lotta faith in you.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Y/N does. That’s enough for me.”

Rolling her eyes, she snatches the documents back to turn the pages herself. “Follow me. We need to chat in private.”

“Shouldn’t we get-”

“I’d rather you know, and you tell them later. No audience.”

This causes Bucky to tense. He follows her in further and closes the door behind them both.

The left side of her face had less freckles back in 2012, he remembers, and now she’s covered in them.

Bucky remembers things slowly, but he remembers them.

It’s cold outside, air bruising your skin, and there are hundreds of goosebumps now erupting. You joke with yourself that in the end, you’ll most likely have to ask Steve for his jacket and ruin your overall look but hey, you’ll be warm. The wedding doesn’t start until five in the evening and it’s one’oclock right now, and there are white clouds in the sky instead of gray and the songs of some desperate birds searching for their lunch near your ears. It at least drowns out the constant noise of the agents hammering away at each other and preparing for tonight.

It makes your stomach roll: these agents are putting their lives at risk because of you.

You stepped through the discarded papers and tried not to leave your footprint anywhere important. His office was empty, left in a state of purgatory, and his lamp was still on. It’s like he stepped out for a minute.

You picked everything up: pens, computers, books, chairs. Under everything, there was dust.

He really did die.

As much as you wanted to step on his remains and spit on him, you couldn’t. The gash in your heart was still open and bleeding for everyone else and there was no room left for anger. You were indifferent, for lack of a better word. Frustrated?

A paper crumbles outside his office. No one had followed you in - a week after the snap and every single person on earth was still searching for loved ones or running from something - so no, no one else was supposed to be here. Mexico had been hit hard, it’s government shattered, and every cartel was picking up pieces or tearing the world further apart. There was no line anymore.

You twisted around and aimed your gun at the door, immediately lowering it when you saw Natasha raise her hands. She had this embarrassed smile on her face like she knew she had been caught.

“I meant to say hi over your mic. But you turned it off.”

You sighed deeply and dramatically shrugged your shoulders. “Well, I’m here. Guess who’s not.”

Natasha only nods and steps further into the room. She looks over the same things you did. “He’s gone? Good, good riddance.”

“But his death means nothing if trillions of others died also. It’s so fucking typical of him. If he’s going down, he takes everyone else with him.”

“He didn’t take them, Y/N.”

“I want to be happy,” you spit out through clenched teeth. “I want to feel relief. The fucking bastard is finally gone and I can’t even enjoy it properly.”

Natasha takes one more look at the hallway before letting her guard down almost completely. She envelopes you in a hug, squeezing tighter each time your breath hitches. “Hey, listen to me.”

“He’s gone.”

“I know,” Natasha’s voice is low and reminds you of the gentle hum of record static. “He’s gone and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“But everyone-”

“No,” she pulls away and places both her palms over your neck. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

It takes a while before you’re nodding along, repeating her words gently.

“You’re more than the pain he inflicted. You’re more than his name or crimes. You’re worth more than his impact ten times over. He can’t hurt you anymore. I know everyone’s gone, and we’re going to fight like hell to bring them back, but in this little moment, this little thread you can pull - pull it all out - he can’t hurt you anymore.”

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would you do without Natasha?

The grass beneath your bare feet calms you down. It’s tendrils are a little ticklish and there are droplets of silver morning water fog melting as they touch your skin. Focusing on the feeling isn’t enough to get you out of your own head and for a wild second, you think the God of Thunder is going to come up behind you and hold your hand. It’s peaceful out here, but what you wouldn’t give to see him again.

The day before Steve and Carol returned the stones, he had been here. He did as he promised: the second the flood of happiness extinguished like a Christmas candle, he found you settled in the mass of pillows with only instrumental music playing. He left for two cups of tea, sat in silence with you as you both drank, and whispered a strangled ‘I’m sorry’ as if you weren’t meant to hear it. Apologizing for someone who did come back, and you for someone who didn’t.

‘You know I don’t regret what we did. We brought everyone back.’

‘Don’t try and justify your sadness. Not at all, not with me.’ His voice was stern and his eyes serious.

‘I’m sorry he didn’t come back.’

His eyes had closed, as if he was expecting that apology, and he looked out the window where the sun was just barely rising, shining on him and him alone. ‘I’m sorry, too.’

There are footsteps, though. Heavy ones, footsteps that announce his upcoming presence on purpose so as to not startle anymore. Bucky was too generous for his own good.

“Had a visitor.”

You remain silent as Bucky sits next to you, looking up from his spot and expecting you to sit as well. “There’s water on the grass.”

“There’s water in the air in this godforsaken state, now sit down.” A push of laughter escapes your lungs but you follow his instructions anyway.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, admiring the way the pine trees bend slightly with the gusts of wind and how the birds have changed their pitch. You expect Bucky to speak first so you occupy that time by playing with the strands of wet grass.

“In 1997, I was taken out of cryo for a mission.”

You wince on accident. This wasn’t how you expected the conversation to start.

Bucky continues, “There was this man south of the border.” He points south to prove his point. “Hydra wanted to take him out because he was interfering with the drug routes they were monitoring.”

“Hydra controlled drug routes?”

“Hydra had their heads in plenty of places. They didn’t control them, but they did monitor them.”

You shake your head in understanding. “And this man?”

Bucky sighs heavily. His eyes are focused on the gentle yellows behind the trees instead of you. “He was told to take out another man traveling through and out one of these drug routes. He made a different call.”

“Who was your visitor?”

“Maribel.”

“Wha-?” You go to stand but Bucky gently pushes your left shoulder back down. “Why are you telling me this and not her?”

“She wanted me to tell you. And I guess, in turn, you tell Steve and the rest of the team.”

“Bucky,” your voice trembles on accident. “Tell me.”

“The man I was ordered to take out was Maribel’s brother.” He chuckles at your frantic shuffling and pushes you down again. He continues, “Hey, it’s okay. She never knew him and she doesn’t hate me for what I was.”

You don’t really believe him. But his face isn’t telling you otherwise. You're stuck between wanting to dig for more information and giving him a giant bear hug. “Did you… succeed?”

“The soldier ever rarely lost.”

Your face contorts. “Bucky…”

“He disobeyed orders, Hydra didn’t like that since it disrupted the drug routes, and so I was sent to help. Hydra didn’t seem to care about the man he let go, though.” Bucky shrugs and starts playing with the grass behind your hand. “The thing was, Maribel’s brother had been doing this a long time. Ernesto was on Hydra’s radar but in a good way. Maribel’s brother was also given very specific orders from one other person - their mother.”

The story pieces are all discarded haphazardly, pieces that are from different boxes and don’t seem to entangle properly.

“She told him to let the man go. Because this man was an American, and killing an American on Mexican soil was something that was impossible to hide from the claws of the law. So, this American made it back on US soil safely and was never heard from again. Until 1998, when he tried to re-enter Mexico under a false name but with one purpose. To see his newborn baby girl.”

The yellow behind the pine trees fades into orange.

“Are you saying-?”

“Maribel’s mother kept everything your mother left her when she tried to cross the border herself. Your real birth certificate, her real birth certificate, you.”

Bucky looks over finally, sad smile and all. “Maribel thinks, and now I think, that Ernesto isn’t your real father.”

There are so many questions formulating at the base of your skull that you don’t really take the time to absorb the news. “What did she bring you? What was in those papers?”

Bucky seems startled that your reaction wasn’t one of shock. “Like I said, Maribel’s mother kept a lotta things.” He pauses momentarily before speaking again. “Blood results was one of them. Still trying to authenticate them. The American was a doctor, after all.”

“A doctor,” you whisper.

“A doctor. He changed his name but he’s alive. Maribel’s checked.”

“Why would she tell me this now? Why now just hours before the wedding? Isn’t that why you guys didn’t tell me about what was really in the shipment?”

Bucky winces and his expression tells you he’s sorry.

You continue, “Why now? Why does it even matter anymore?”

He inspects you quickly, scanning your features for any signs of discomfort. “You’re okay? I thought this would surprise you more.”

The chuckle you release is dry, kind of harsh. “It actually answers a fuckload of questions. Like, number one, why he fucking hates me.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “You think he knows?”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s a super fucking asshole instead of just a fucking asshole.”

Bucky pauses again and smiles up at the sky. The clouds are white and extra large today, and he suddenly remembers the taste of that mini popcorn he had bought and shared with his little sister Becca… Becks… while watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves at the theater. The salt and butter had stuck to Becca’s fingers and she had wiped them on Bucky’s sweater. He remembers scolding her for that but giving her a napkin in between his giggle fit. He feels the same swell in the meat of his heart listening to you. “We don’t deserve you. You’re like the moon. Always there, shaping yourself into what that person needs, crater after crater beat into you and yet, you move the tides.”

The little snort that leaves your nose hurts a little. “That’s pretty damn poetic for this moment of ‘you’re not the father!’”

Bucky bites his lip and smiles toward the yellow and orange hues. “Like the moon.”

The hotel had replaced the door, no questions asked. The reason Sam decided to bust open the door instead of using the very functional key you had given Torres? No one knows. But the poor receptionist was told that you couldn’t possibly change rooms because this was top secret business and you absolutely wanted to slap Scott upside the head for worrying her. So they fixed the bolts and gave you all new keys.

Didn’t matter much anyway since you weren’t sleeping here tonight. You had already packed and made the beds.

You lay your dress and Steve’s dress attire on the respective beds. The dress sent over was a backless red silk, spaghetti strapped and slit on the left side - you’ve wanted to wear it since it arrived when Scott did.

Steve knocked before entering the room. You almost laughed at the gentlemanly aspect of it. “Thought for sure they’d have kept you for another hour at least.”

“I gotta change sometime. That your dress?” Steve shrugs off his uniform and climbs on top of his freshly made bed.

“That’s my dress. Sort of skimpy for a wedding, no?” You hold it up to show him the front and back.

“Does ‘skimpy’ mean bad?”

“Means slutty.”

He gives you this disappointed look, like he’s judging your vocabulary. “I wouldn’t use that word. So no.”

You silently apologize and move the dress over to the end of your bed. Everyone else was also getting ready for tonight. Agents were posing as local police, many infiltrated the wait staff, suits were being double-checked for any malfunctions. There was so much going on, but all was relaxed in your room. Steve smiles at you from his bed, head resting in his palm as he leans up to stare at you. It’s impossible not to blush under his stare, so you move to climb into his bed. You lay down with your feet to his head, the sides of your hips pressing together; just two upside down puzzle pieces. He chuckles and goes to lay on his back, right arm coming up to lay rested on top of your right thigh.

“All this week I thought I wasn’t ready.” You’ve had no more nightmares. “But I am. I’m ready to end this.”

He runs his fingers delicately along your thigh. “I’m ready to help.” He sighs deeply and cranes his neck to try and meet your gaze. “We’ll make sure they get maximum time.”

“You know that’s not our call.”

“Still.”

You rest for another few minutes, gentle touches calming you. His body is so warm, emitting sweet thoughts like the beginning of spring heat, and it’s impossible not to curl up into it. Steve breaks the comfortable silence, “What are you thinking about?”

You suck in a breath and tell him the truth. “That in the matter of like… five days, you and I are basically lovers now.”

“Lovers?”

“Lovers.”

He laughs out loud and goes to sit up. “I intend on taking you out when we get back home.”

Lifting your head, you rest on your elbows and grin at him. “Oh? And where are you planning on taking me?”

He thinks for a second before pressing his lips together and giving up. “I have to ask Peter or Wanda. I have no idea where you go during the day to eat.”

You laugh, “Seriously? I could’ve sworn you tagged along once or twice.”

“Nope. I always refused.”

You frown slightly, “Riiight.” Not wanting to rehash the reasons why, you try to soften any wrong feelings about what that implies. “I’m sure you’ve been, though. I take Bucky places, too. Ask him.”

“Mmm, I have my pride. Can’t have Bucky thinkin’ he knows more about my girl than I do.”

You smile largely now and hope no lipstick rubbed off on your teeth. “Your girl?”

Steve averts his eyes like he’s just now asking for your name and if you’d like to go dancing. There’s a beautiful scarlet glow painting his pale cheeks. “Like I said, I’m taking you out and asking properly.”

“We’ve already surpassed third base. I remember it vividly.”

His smile falls comically and he turns to grab a throw pillow to smack you with it a couple times. “Crude! Crude as always. Goddamn.”

“I’m sorry! Hey, I’m sorry!”

He stops his attack and pulls you into his chest. He warms your back instantly. “So, you’ll let me take you out?”

“I really, really like french fries,” you hum lightly and tilt your head back to lean into his shoulder.

“That narrows it down, thanks.”

You chuckle due to his sarcastic tone. He rubs his hands up and down your arms. An idea formulates while in the warmth of his body. “You know what I really want to do after we finish with this?”

“What’s that?”

You tell him honestly. “Rent a cabin. Spend a Christmas there, maybe. Catch some fuckin’ fish. Experience the snow properly.”

His eyebrows furrow like he’s dissecting such a claim. “I… wasn’t expecting that.”

You shrug, “Sounds cool though, right?”

“Got room for one more?” He looks down to meet your gaze and there’s a glint of hope shimmering in the blue of his eyes.

“Nat… Natasha.”

Natasha took in a sharp exhale as she lifted her head from the desk, left cheek numb and pink. Steve shot her a funny grin and continued shaking her shoulder until she fully opened her eyes. She slaps his hand away with a huff of laughter.

“Come here to do your laundry? You know, there’s only so many times I can help prevent shrinking shirts.”

Steve scoffs, “I used to do laundry by hand. I can figure out a few buttons.”

“You would think.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bumps her shoulder with the palm of hand before speed-walking into the kitchen. “It’s one of those days.” He opens the high cabinets and pulls a few vodka bottles.

Natasha pushes down whatever was starting to eat at her. She calms her deep breaths and rises from her chair. No words needed to be exchanged. She makes her way over to pull two glasses from the same high cabinets.

Steve watches her a little hesitantly, but she has that lopsided smile that pinches through only one cheek and her eyes are the slightest bit swollen from her power nap, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. She tilts her head to the other side of the kitchen, that lopsided grin gracing her bare feet. Steve fumbles through a few cleaning supplies and some plastic bags before he finds the bottle.

“I hid it after… after Thor had that meltdown a year ago.”

Now, he was second guessing. It was a small bottle, only half left, but half a bottle of Asgardian liquor was enough to knock the God on his knees. For Steve, a few sips would do the same. But he needed it, he needed it, god help him. It’s been four years, he needs it. “Be my designated driver?”

“How about you spend the night? Y/N wanted to start a new show anyway.”

“I’ll be passed the fuck out during the opening credits.”

“But you’ll be here.”

Steve sighs and pops open the bottle. Natasha puts her hand up to stop him from pouring, “Check under that sink again.”

His eyebrows pinch together but he does as instructed. More cleaning products… more cleaning products. He tilts his head to look at the corners and there it was: a small, pink paper airplane taped mid-flight. Steve hunched his shoulders to grab it and crawled out carefully. “You know, you’re not supposed to tell me where you hide them.”

“Well, I felt bad! I’ve found like fifteen of your blue ones and how many do you have of mine?”

“That’s besides the point-”

“Say it. You’ve found six.”

His cheeks turn hot. “I’m not here all the time.”

“Excuses.”

“I leave mine in good spots. You probably got better eyes or something.”

Natasha laughs, loud and from her chest. “Sure. But hey - I’ll promise you somethin’.”

Steve pours the Asgardian liquor into his glass and straight vodka into Natasha’s. “What do you have in mind?”

“You find more than me by the end of this year, and I’ll take that vacation.”

Steve takes his first sip and tries not to pull a hard face. “You’re on. But what if you win?”

Natasha raises her glass and clinks it with his. He wants to apologize for forgetting to toast but her eyes are playful and forgiving. “You come with me. I’m not the only one who needs it.”

“So, I win regardless?”

She takes a sip and pulls a funny face. “Easiest battle, don’t ya think?”

They’re off their right minds twenty minutes into drinking and the common area is chaos. Pillows are thrown, the TV somehow ends up with dozens of fingerprints, and they’ve broken a couple flower pots. The cushions of the couch know Natasha’s bare feet and Steve’s boots; the walls fail to constrict their loud singing; Rhodey has already snuck past them to get himself a snack undetected.

‘And so I cry sometimes when I’m lyin’ in bed, just to get it all out what’s in my head!’

‘Hit the high note, Rogers!’

‘When you do, I will!... I scream from the top of my lungs-’

‘What’s goin’ on? And I say, ‘hey!’ ‘hey!’ I say ‘hey!’ What’s goin’ on?’

Steve’s still clear-headed enough to twirl Natasha around. She’s flexible enough to climb onto his shoulders.

‘I pray every single day - for a revolution!’

She’s starting to slur her words and Steve wonders if that blond streak in her hair was there last week.

‘The story of my life! I take her home,

I drive all night to keep her warm and time,

Is frozen!

The story of my life, I give her hope,

I spend her love until she’s broke inside!

The story of my life.’

She can longer feel her toes but seeing Steve let go makes her so incredibly happy and breaks her heart. I needed this too, she thinks.

‘So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singin', "This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die!”’

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would Steve do without Natasha?

“You wanna come?”

“Sure. I’ll cut down the trees for wood. Have a real fireplace.” He’s serious, you realize. Like, really truly serious.

Your heart swells with excitement and some other feeling you can’t quite place. But it’s good, like really good. The sigh you release is full of sweet wonder. “A real Christmas tree.”

Steve tightens his grip around your arms. “December’s right around the corner. Trees should be ready and standing tall.”

It’s almost too much to imagine. You have the sudden urge to talk specifics, to plan out this vacation. A beautiful, rustic cabin with only a coffee maker brought from the outside century, knitted quilts, real snow, Steve’s body heat, Christmas lights… inviting Sam, Scott, Wanda, Peter, and Bucky down for Christmas dinner and presents. A whole sleepover filled with ghost stories, candle burning, board games, Christmas movies. You’re up and tucking your knees under yourself to look down at Steve in an instant. “You’d throw on that checkered shirt, grow out your beard even more, and chop down a few trees for me? With me?”

“There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be,” Steve says, eyes crinkling. For a second, he’s worried you’ll realize that he’s quoted your letter. But that same moment, you’re giggling with excitement over your future plans.

“Well, we lasted a week here without killing each other. The holidays always hold a few surprises.”

Steve picks up another pillow.

Business is not conducted during the church service. It feels normal, with half the guests attending the service and watching the happy couple exchange vows, while the other half only arrives for the party.

Jackeline’s dress is modern with a mix of vintage - simple, with long sleeves of lace and fabric that isn’t entirely white but with hints of beige; the dress dips lower in the back than it does in the front, and it’s tight near the waist but loose as it drapes down her long legs. Her hair is left loose and her make-up is heavy, and she illuminates under the sun rays that burst through stained cathedral glass. You don’t even pay mind to Ernesto and Seda seated in the aisle in front of you - not when Jackeline looks the way she does.

As the service ends, Steve tells you to wait until most of the guests exit. The priest eyes him warily, inspecting his young face and build and obvious persona. He says nothing, but he places a gentle hand over the cross on his chest as he follows the guests out. Steve stands, and out of respect dips his fingers into the holy water provided near the heavy wooden doors. He signs the father, the son, and the holy ghost and dips his fingers in again to sign the same on you. With a silent thank you and tender wipe to your forehead, you don’t question it. He’s not Catholic, or at least you don’t think, but you know he does it for what’s to come. No matter your beliefs, he just wants something, someone, to protect you. You turn back to the cathedral and grip the door as you bend down to one knee and tip your head.

Everything is grander, that’s for sure. The decorations are tripled; the violet lights are reflecting like diamonds off every marble and glass surface; the chandelier’s are no longer gold sculptures but diamond; the clay flowers hanging from the ceiling yesterday are now a part of the centerpieces, squeezed in with the largest bouquet of roses and violets; the live bands (because of course there are two) are each still setting up as everyone is getting seated; and there are about fifty round tables circling the large dance floor. There’s still a nice view of the lake and the pine trees ahead, and the tarp was abandoned as there was no rain in the forecast. All in all, and there were a thousand other things you could focus on but didn’t have the energy to, everything was beautifully put together.

Jackeline wasn’t lying when she said half of Mexico was attending. Besides family, there were celebrities in attendance, famous musicians who were simply guests and not performing, family of some of the other biggest drug lords from both countries (minus Europe), and a couple politicians who dipped before the new couple even walked through the doors after seeing Steve. But Steve worked his magic like he had yesterday and had everyone eating out of the palm of hand in pure amazement. He even had a famous actress hanging off his shoulder in under three minutes. Walking away to go congratulate Jackeline, Steve doesn’t miss the quick, sarcastic flick of your middle finger aimed in his direction.

“You’d tell me if you needed my help, right?” Jackeline asks after a while, bottom lip dripping champagne. She wipes it gingerly, careful not to smudge her pink lipstick.

“I would if there was anything wrong,” you respond truthfully. She pauses to swallow her sip and squints. She follows your gaze to Steve, whose right arm is being tugged by a girl who looks about twelve with five multi-colored bows trailing down her french braid, and who is also trying hard not to blush at the very attractive actress he can’t seem to get rid of.

“You’re going to stop him, aren’t you?”

You glance to your left, but it isn’t really a question. Jackeline knows. “Yeah.”

She nods and tilts her chin up, eyes still on Steve. “Make him watch as you burn it down.” You know she’s referring to Ernesto. She continues, “Every last bit of it.”

Smiling down at your feet, you raise your glass at nothing in particular. Just to salute the night air and whoever is watching. A few seconds pass as you both watch the guests enjoy the music and appetizers. Jackeline shuffles in her heels but she doesn’t seem to want to leave your side just yet. “You run, you understand?”

She’s only momentarily startled by your words. “Okay.”

“I never meant to leave you here, Jackie. I just had to find a way out first.”

“You found a loophole,” she chuckles, but the next moment she’s serious. “There is no way out.”

“Might not be,” you admit, downing your glass in one shot. “But I know this. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You don’t exchange more than a few words with Steve before he’s called by Ernesto’s men and motioned toward those massive dry lava rock doors; doors that don’t muffle sound but are strong enough to withstand a bullet wound. You watch him leave with them, and he shoots you a smile over his shoulder to simply look at you. Your eyes swell only slightly, burning the corners and blurring everything. He’s bright and brilliant, walking head first into Hell and shining like the bolts of Zeus.

Steve has faced giants before, from all backgrounds and all worlds. He has blocked their punches, taken near mortal injuries; stared them in the face with every ounce of anger and determination his cells could produce. There was always this whispered voice in his head that warned him of the last day he would pick up that shield. In 1945, the voice was loud and raging as he drove that nosediving plane into the Arctic. Over the last few years, however, the voice had quieted and let Steve ponder his fate himself. Steve swears the voice, or rather his own conscience, is getting tired.

He listens intently, responding only when spoken to, and prays his mic is picking up every bit of this conversation. Ernesto commanded the room as he screamed orders in both English and Spanish. His men fell in line; some as determined as the old man, some quiet, some bothered. Didn’t matter what the orders were. Steve noticed the few who would glance at one another and speak their distaste with their wandering eyes. And when Ernesto would speak directly to Steve, the same men would pinch their lips into a thin line and glare.

The shipment had arrived mid-conversation and as men were sent out to do their jobs, Ernesto kept Steve behind. I need you to stay with me until the shipment is secure and can be moved - you’re my bodyguard, Ernesto had told him, confident and only slightly bending his back in discomfort from the weight of the day. Steve agrees, and hears Bucky mention how they have eyes on the shipment from the sky.

Steve stays by Ernesto’s side even when Ramirez is called in. He’s prepared for a bloodbath, for two big men to cement their graves in this tiny office, but it doesn’t happen. Or at least, it doesn’t happen yet. Ernesto regards Ramirez as an old friend and finally trusts him enough to tell him what the shipment contained. Steve isn’t surprised, however, when Ernesto takes nasty satisfaction at Ramirez’s horrified expression. Because even though Ramirez had already known, the confirmation adds a multitude of terror. Steve can feel his palms sweating.

As expected, Ernesto tells Ramirez that he plans to use his lands for his gain. The safe thing to do would have been to agree, to nod along, and to live in the knowledge that the shipment most likely wouldn’t head out. But Ramirez, for some reason Steve can’t fathom, stands up and says no.

Steve understands now; the odd shaking of your shoulders even when your face was completely blank and emotions calm. He watches the beads of sweat drip from Ernesto’s forehead onto the tip of his nose; he watches the way his chest heaves as his voice becomes louder; he watches until he can’t take anymore and he enlarges the shield with Scott’s tech and tells Ernesto to move away from the other man. Steve understands now - the man really is scary, even if he wants to admit it or not.

“You really are a phenomenal actor.”

Swaying slowly, you try not to step on Seda’s feet as he guides you across the dance floor. The music is calmer than it was five minutes ago, the guests are enjoying dinner and conversing, and Steve had told you fifteen minutes ago that he would be right back. Ernesto had sent you a malicious wink, but you knew better. Steve’s name was written in blue and Ernesto’s real target had to be you.

“Acting with what? Acting that I enjoy this dance? Acting like I respect you?” Your upper lip twitches into a teasing smile. “Or acting like I don’t know it was you who planted that bomb?”

He matches your smile, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes. His grip around your waist tightens. “Acting like you’re really on our side.”

Lowering your voice just a fraction, you lean in, top of your head level with his chin. “I’m on Ernesto’s side. You almost had me and my Captain blown up.”

His left hand is settled on your shoulder and he uses the opportunity to dig his nails in. All around him, his men are watching. “How did you get away?”

You give a dry laugh. “You think that was my first bomb? It was childsplay.”

Seda scoffs, “You speak of this Avenger business like I don’t know who you are. You’re still that scared little girl who hid in her room when alien’s fell from the sky.”

“I may be. But there’s a difference between you and I. I actually stared them in this face and won.”

“The second time, maybe”

Sticks and stones, but goddamn did those words always hurt. Blame goes a long way but you and your team are used to keeping it close to home. “Why do you want me dead?”

His scowl deepens and the wrinkles by his eyes crinkle over each other as he squints down at you. “The Avengers are not secretly on our side. Tony Stark never was but Ernesto loves to tell people otherwise. Same about your Captain. You’ve been playing us for years.”

“What evidence do you even have? For years, we’ve done nothing but clear the roads for you,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

He unwraps his arm from around your waist and sets both hands around your upper arms. He’s pressing down as hard as he can but still loose enough not to draw unwanted attention. He breathes a sharp exhale, and the puff of air hits your cheeks. “I don’t know what happened to my men after you got what you deserved. They were good men and just like that, erased.” He smirks. “I know you had something to do with it.”

A guest with bright red hair laughs loudly to your side as she is twirled around by her partner. It’s not as vibrant as you’re used to, but you still imagine that lopsided smile you hadn’t seen in forever. “Does it matter? You know what they did, so why is my hypothetical revenge chastised?”

“Tell me right now that none of your Avenger friends did your dirty work. Tell me your Captain’s hands are clean.”

“I promise you, my Captain is clean.” Seda doesn’t show any signs of believing you. Still, your mouth twitches into a mocking smirk. “But our once mutual friends Tony and Natalia tell another story.”

“Am I supposed to believe that two people who are dead are responsible for this? Ironic,” he grits his teeth.

You repeat, clear and true. “My Captain is clean.”

He fakes a tiny gag but you know he means his disgust. “You turned over so quickly for him. For the heroes who destroyed the world. Pathetic.”

“You really need to stop underestimating me,” you practically order, voice full of warning and annoyance.

Seda continues, “Following orders from a fascist. Following orders from a country that only does harm.”

He turns you around as the dance instructs, a half-hearted waltz that didn’t have a beginning, middle, or end. You take that second to scan your surroundings and weigh your options. “I agree about the country part. But I don’t follow orders from the country, I follow them from my Captain.”

You’re facing him again and in those hellish eyes you see truth. “No, he’s a symbol of everything we hate. Of everything we need to destroy.”

“Touch Steve and I’ll blind you.”

His feet stop mid-step, as do yours. His eyes widen only a little, but it’s all the ammunition he needs. “I knew it.”

It’s barely a whisper, a tickle from a single strand of hair, but you catch it. No longer keeping it a secret, or rather a secret you didn’t care that you let slip, Seda now knows it was all a lie. All this time you had never referred to Steve as anything other than your Captain.

You feel the blunt head of a .22 press against your abdomen as Seda laughs, “You never could get a mission right.”

Twisting his arm and knocking the gun from his loose grip with your wrist was easy. So was catching the gun mid-air and elbowing him in the ribs. Seda falls to the floor in a state of shock, instinctively gripping his chest. You aim the gun at him and like you’ve seen in the movies, place the tip of your heel just below where his belly button would be. He releases a sharp breath and his eyes are challenging, practically begging you to dig deeper and get on with it.

You can hear the screaming and frantic murmuring from the guests surrounding you and the leveling of guns from Seda’s men. But you’re focused on the man trying so hard not to quiver beneath you, his nasty grin spreading wider.

“You’re alone,” he bites. “Your Steve is helping Ernesto right now, no? You’re alone.”

Your grin forms slowly, and you’re counting down the seconds you have until his men start firing, but you lean your upper body down slightly to make sure he hears you. “That’s never been a problem before. Don’t you remember?” You click back the safety as discreetly as possible. “I was trained by the Black Widow herself.”

You quickly raise the gun to shoot the closest of Seda’s men in between his collarbones, effectively starting the bloodshed. You jump out the way in a flash, rolling across the floor and behind a table. Tipping the table over is easy and it seems like a smart idea at first, until you realize the tables are all glass. The tablecloth had covered that detail, which sucks like hell, because now the bullets are shattering through and you’re forced to kick yourself away and run behind the pillars instead. The heels are kicked off at the same time you’re fishing underneath your dress.

A stray bullet hits the pillar’s side making you squeal. It makes you work faster, though.

Once you find the secure nano-tech ‘button’ (as Scott liked to call it), you strip as quickly as you can and slap the button on your bare shoulder. The nano-tech spirals and threads into itself as intricately as frost spreads on a window, shielding you in both metal and kevlar.

When a storm of bullets hits the pillar and cracks the marble, you’re forced to crouch and hope Seda’s .22 and the myriad of weapons you’re now equipped with are enough. Before your thoughts can creep into a ‘last man standing’ mode, a roar of wind sweeps across the estate and between the cracked pillars, causing your loose hair to slap your face and blind you for only a second. Quickly putting your hair up and pulling the metal batons from the back of your suit, you’re met with the best sight - one that was a little late, in your opinion.

“Kind of you to show up!”

Sam ignores your quip as he flies into three men at once, feet first with his wings extended with the might of a guardian angel. He immediately shields runaway guests who were caught in the middle. He takes the ones on his left, you take the ones on his right.

You let them swing first. They’re fast and pulling their punches and are clearly aiming for the end result of sticking you to the ground. But you’re quicker and deflect the punches. You manage to deliver a solid punch upward to crack the nose of one. As he reaches up as instinct, his ribs are open season.

He falls out cold easily after your batons do their damage and the next man isn’t nearly as fast as the first. He doesn’t move enough to his right to avoid the harsh kick to his sternum. Each ambitious kick to the chest seems to demolish the man’s protective wall he’s trying desperately to keep intact, but once you give your legs a break and switch back to the batons, he doesn’t stand a chance. There are bullets raining across the venue, but Sam is shielding you and deflecting them elsewhere. It allows you the freedom to rip into whoever you think deserves it.

You’ve got two men on your tail and after knocking their weapons from their hands, it seems like a fairer fight. The first doesn’t step back far enough to avoid your roundhouse kick and he falls hard on his ass, gasping for a lick of air. The second is closer, however, and manages to wrap you in a chokehold. Releasing yourself to fall deadweight for only a second, gravity tricks him and you use the momentum to kick up and fly over his shoulders. It’s hard to do without a wall to propel yourself off of. But your abs and thighs are clenched and you don’t quite think you’ll actually end up on this guy’s shoulders but you do. You don’t dwell on that moment of personal pride, though. Tightening your thighs, you use your upper body weight to lean downward and wring his neck. Once he’s down, you sweep your leg around across the floor to trip the other man who was just barely standing back up. With the .22, you fire point blank.

Detaching yourself from the gore has never been much of a challenge. Eyes rolling back and clouding, limbs dangling limp after having just been full of life, bodies thumping against the floor after eating your bullets - you don’t so much as grit your teeth anymore.

Sam is dealing with his own mess closer to where that poor cake is now destroyed, vanilla filling exposed and now two stories instead of four. The other cakes are no better. Sam pulls the trigger once more at someone charging at him and he averts his eyes. Sam, however, clenches his jaw.

“Where’s Seda?” you shout, firing at men who are jumping out from behind tables but giving away their location before they even surprise you.

“Lost him. I think he’s heading over to Steve!”

You look over the room and pray everyone got out safely. There are no civilians lying in their own puddle of blood, no guests begging for help, but you can never know for sure. “We need more hands. Where the hell are Scott and Bucky?”

A storm of bullets starts crashing into the tables and pillars beside you. Trying to duck doesn’t work and you’re grazed in the left arm. Sam tackles you behind the stage, wings extending further and out bending around you.

“I’ve been shot!”

Sam can’t help the laugh that erupts from his throat because of your dramatic tone. “You’ve been grazed. The nano-tech has already rebuilt itself.”

“I don’t care, I hate being shot. It’s not nice. I’ve been hit.”

“Dramatic.”

“Y/N?” a harsh whisper sounds from under the stage tables. Watching your eyes bulge paints a mournful expression on Jackeline’s face. Julian is right beside her, pistol out but not shooting. You wonder if he knows you’re the invader.

“What in the hell are you still doing in here? I told you to run!”

“I’m sorry,” Jackeline squeals as bullets continue firing. “Everyone crowded. I was scared so I just got down.”

“Sam.”

Sam nods, already reading your mind. You had to find Steve; you couldn’t stay here. But there’s bullets still blazing in your direction and you find yourself hopping on your ass slightly each time a bullet connects to the ground beside you. The nano-tech does great in deflecting the lead but it really isn’t an invitation to get shot more times. The graze on your arm is already starting to burn.

“Sam is going to guide you both out of here, alright? Julian, cover her. Sam will cover you.”

There’s a war going on behind Julian’s eyes. His face does a thousand things at once as he hears your orders and the scream of guns combined, but he nods. He grips Jackeline’s waist and pulls her in close, but before they can begin crawling Jackeline turns back to you.

“Mátalo. Okay? Para nosotras dos.” She’s got this fierce determination in her eyes and her accent is as thick as can be.

“Okay.”

Sam relays his location over his mic and who he has behind his wings, but before he can safely guide the married couple down the stage, a new wave of men enter and open fire. Sam’s wings can only take so much, and even though they’re vibranium, his suit is not. Ducking behind the table and reloading your gun, you then lift your head over to view the scene. It’s a mess and you could surely take them down hand-to-hand if you were close enough, but you’re stranded with your batons and seven bullets and a world of automatic machinery pointed at you.

The storm of bullets pauses and every single person looks up to the sky. You thank the Gods for no rain today because the absence of a tarp allows for the quinjet to settle over the chaos and create a much needed distraction. Sam takes his leave, wings still wrapped around your sister, and you do the same. Running from behind the stage with batons lit up and tazed, you knock out the closest men. They fall in a strangle of electricity, vibrating and convulsing as each shock travels through their veins, ultimately paralyzing them for however long it turns out to be. This gains the attention of almost everyone else but before they can train their weapons back toward you, the back of the quinjet opens. There were a few tables still standing and it seemed the super soldier liked them better than the flat floor.

The glass shatters from the impact of Bucky’s weight, glasses of champagne and plates with unfinished meals folding onto the shards. He’s dressed in his tactical gear and a dark navy blue jacket without a trusty sleeve. Even if the arm was covered and his hair was long rather than the short length it was now, the men would certainly know who just fell from the sky. Almost immediately, the men scatter. Bucky takes them down one by one, shot after shot, and decides to use his knives for the ones who don’t run. It’s tricky, but he manages to lodge his knives in the base of the spines of those who later changed their minds.

He catches your eye after you manage to snap the neck of one of the runners. He tilts his head toward the left and watches you run to give Steve the backup he needs.

The mansion seems longer, wider, just generally bigger as you rush through the rooms and halls to get to Steve. The stuffed exotic animals follow your gaze and you can’t ignore them for long. There are men following you and men leaving Ernesto. You duck behind the standing polar bear and wait until the footsteps sound farther. Checking the amount of bullets in your gun, just in case, you finally flick the safety off and run.

There’s really only one thing of importance floating around the padded confines of your skull - get Steve out. Another thing you two had in common: both sacrificial idiots. But there wasn’t any way that you would give up the chance to save his life, as he would yours. Didn’t matter if the man you were protecting him from was your father or not. It hadn’t really settled, hadn’t truly digested, and you didn’t think it ever would. Because for years, this man was your father. He was the only man with that title. He wasn’t fatherly, far from it, but he had the label and that’s what you were going to focus on. It made no difference.

You push the office door open and start stuttering over your words. You want to ask what happened, why there’s so much blood, whose blood it is, but all that comes is a fractured series of what the hell’s? The last syllables push through with necessary force, hardly intelligible, but exhaled at last.

Ernesto is kneeling with his head hanging low and his hands behind his back, defeated. But it isn’t Steve who’s holding a gun to the back of his head - it’s Seda.

No, Steve is in the corner clutching at his right hip and gritting his teeth, a wild look on his face that tells you he too was blindsided. He’s hurt. He’s gasping and wincing at the slightest of movements and it ignites the flame you’ll use to burn this world to the ground. It’s splitting your fucking ribs apart.

“Don’t move!” Seda yells, gun still locked on Ernesto’s head but eyes on you. “Put the gun down.”

“Seda-”

“Put the fucking gun down!”

Biting your tongue, you flip the gun in your hand so it’s facing downward and move to gently place it on the table. Flicking your eyes to where Steve is, you get your answer as to why he’s been so easily shot. His massive body and shield are draped over Ramirez, who is also disarmed and pissed.

The self-righteous idiot, you think, he’s always gotta save the little guy.

“We’re gonna talk about this like the gods we are, yeah?”

Your face pulls awkwardly, “Seda, what is happening?”

“Don’t act like you’ve been on this asshole’s side the entire time now,” Seda bites, shoving the head of the gun harshly into the base of Ernesto’s neck. “Go on, tell him.”

“The shipment was intercepted,” you tell him. But you’re not just telling Seda, no, it’s the first Steve is hearing the good news and it allows him to feel a bit of relief. “You’ve both lost.”

“What have you done?” Ernesto screams, cheeks vibrating and face red with anger. He pays no mind to the gun and dares to glare at you. “Tell me!”

The top of your lip greets a run of tears and snot and it isn’t until then that you realize your hands are shaking mid-air and your throat is closing. “My mission.”

Blood or not, this man had the power to tie your thoughts into knots. He only had this power at precious moments and sadly, this was turning out to be one of them.

Seda bites out a laugh - it’s wet and bloody and scares you half to Hell. “I’m not the only one here who wants to kill you. But I’m going to beat her to it. She brought you back, I can’t have that.”

“No!” You curse inwardly at your involuntary hiccup. “We’re not here to kill you!”

“Oh?” Seda raises the gun at you. “What’s the endgame? Que mas necesitas?”

“I don’t need anything. The shipment is intercepted. The estate is on lockdown. Your routes are down. You’re cornered. It’s over.” You let your shoulders drag just a little. “For both of you.”

Surprisingly, Seda doesn’t pull the trigger when Ernesto charges toward you. He doesn’t pull it when Ernesto wraps his hands around your throat, either.

It’s instinct for you to hold out your hand to stop Steve from doing what he does best. He’s already halfway up and wincing with each push to help you, to rip Ernesto from your capable body, but Seda clicks the gun in his direction. Steve watches the way your arm extends, all five fingers spread in a hopeless plea of ‘don’t you sacrifice yourself for me, don’t you dare’.

“I have done nothing but help you! I put food on the table and clothes on your worthless back! You spent my money!” Ernesto’s eyes are practically bulging and his thumbs are almost crushing your windpipe, but his placement is off. You can still breathe air, no matter how bruising his grip may be. “This is how you treat me? I should have killed you all those years ago. I should have ripped you limb by limb until your cries bled!”

“Please,” you whimper out, hand still extended toward Steve and the other attempting to push Ernesto by the chest.

“Please? Please? Te voy a matar aquí, ahora, porque siempre te lo mereciste!”

You let out a strangled scream and are about to fight back. To save yourself and to end Steve’s suffering of watching you suffer, of watching his newfound hope dwindle right before him, when a gunshot erupts. Everyone screams, ears ringing, and there’s blood splattered all over your cheeks and neck, spots and leaks that trail down into the collar of your bodysuit. A heavy weight lands on you and knocks you back into the shelves. You hold Ernesto’s now limp body as best you can, knees locking painfully. There’s a massive hole where the top of his head should be and for the first time in years, you have to look away to keep from throwing up.

“Dejalo.”

You open and close your mouth but regret it when the taste of copper lands on your tongue. You follow Seda’s order and drop Ernesto to your feet, the thud sending a shiver up every single one of your vertebrae.

“Por qué hiciste eso?” you ask him, voice small. You choke on another hiccup.

“Don’t lie to me and say you weren’t going to do it yourself.”

You look over at Steve. His eyes are just as wide as yours and the same red specks, now turning brown, are tainting the flush pink skin of his beautiful neck.

“No,” you whisper. Steve hears your lost accent returning and it clutches at his heart.

“It was for the best.” Seda marches over to grab Ramirez by the tie, ripping him up from the ground and pointing the gun to his head. Steve lunges forward and Seda fires another bullet into the same hip.

“No!” Your throat is raw, scratched, and Steve hits the floor in another heap of muffled groans. Seda returns the aim on Ramirez.

“Imagine my surprise when I saw this one confronting Ernesto with your Captain. Imagine my fucking surprise when I tried to find all our passports, all our files, and nothing was here! Imagine my surprise when I saw that fucking idiot White being taken away by one of your agents!”

“Seda, please.” You were never much of a negotiator. It was always go in and let the others do the talking. Steve was the talker, he was the negotiator, but he was out of his element. He was always the enemy to Seda. He could never convince him otherwise.

“You’ve given me new purpose,” Seda grins and Ramirez is rather calm in his arms, like he accepts this. “Look at the crime scene. I’m using the gun Ramirez got from your team. My men are still loyal.”

He pauses and smiles with all teeth, blood in between most of them. “You shot Ernesto. You shot your Captain. You shot Omar.”

The frightened look on your face seems to fuel him even more. He continues, “We’ll never stop hunting you.”

“Try it,” Steve manages, standing up again and vaguely registering the flash of light to his right. His shield is no longer there. “You’ll have to kill me to win. You’ll have to kill all of us to win. Me, Y/N, Omar, Sam.” He breathes in deep but smiles. “The Winter Soldier.”

You swear Seda’s face pales but his grip around Ramirez’s waist only tightens. “Easy.”

“It won’t be,” you finally say, voice no longer wavering. There’s no plausible way Seda could win. But one thing is fact: whether they’re Seda’s or Ernesto’s men, they’ll never stop hunting you now. “You lost, Seda.”

All stills but there are shouts and the ring of gunshots still echoing near the lake.

“No,” Seda looks to you and to Ernesto’s body. “I didn’t.”

He aims the gun at you and fires.

Steve’s wail is grease to the fire in your soul and you accept whatever pain might hit. There’s space and then there isn’t. There’s emptiness and then there’s a space being filled by that horrid but lifesaving shield. There’s no one and then there’s Scott, blown up to his regular size with shield in hand and in front of you. The bullet bounces off the shield easily and hits the wall. You’re pushed into motion and in about two seconds, you’ve grabbed your gun again and do not hesitate to fire. The bullet hits Seda in his exposed chest and Ramirez fumbles to get the gun from him. Seda hits the floor and no one else follows.

The shot hits its target perfectly. Seda doesn’t so much as stutter.

“God,” Scott grumbles, eyes trying to focus on anything other than the pools of blood. “Was I late?”

You don’t pay any mind to Scott and rush over to Steve, where he’s barely holding himself up with his hip tilted on the edge of the desk. “Steve? Steve. Did he hit anything important?”

“Besides the fuckin’ meat of my stomach?”

There isn’t a way to see beneath the kevlar, but your fingers have a mind of their own as they try to dig in. “You know what I mean.”

Steve huffs a laugh and gently slaps your fingers away. “No, but motherfuck me Christ, I get shot way too much and it hurts no less.”

“Was the shield not enough? You had to sacrifice your one-hundred year old hips? Are you hit anywhere else?”

“I was caught off guard. What about you? I heard over the mics that you were shot and-”

“Are you two done?” Scott interrupts, clearing his throat awkwardly but half a mind still paying attention to his own mic.

It’s like you’re snapped back to reality. There’s not only Steve but others, alive and dead, and the smell of copper is all too familiar. “Sorry, I’m still in shock. I don’t really know how to proceed from here.”

“Y/N-” Scott tries, but you resume.

“We were supposed to arrest them. Just arrest them.”

“Okay, I think we should get you outta here,” Steve acts like he’s the one guiding you, but his weight is falling. You faintly register a phone ringing in the room but Steve, ever so persistent, is still acting like he is holding you up. He lunges forward with a sharp wince, and your hand immediately goes to his hip.

“Captain.”

Ramirez lowers his phone, call ended, and he wears an expression Steve recognizes immediately. It’s an expression that looks all too similar to Dugan’s when he relayed the news of enemy forces breaching their base. “...How many?”

“They’ve already sent the news to their men in Mexico.”

“Have they shut down the border?”

“It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“They don’t know two of their men are dead, so we can-“

Scott shakes his head, shield still in hand with specks of blood drying on the blue stripe. “They know White was arrested. That’s all they need. They’ll assume the rest, the worst.”

You sigh, “Seda was right.”

Scott literally pouts and he looks like he wants to wrap you in his arms. “No, don’t send yourself there.”

Steve, however, agrees with you. “If they know about White, then they know about Omar. Seda had time to tell his men.”

“Then we make sure he’s arrested and taken to a secure facility. We can keep an eye-” Scott starts, but you shut him down quickly.

“He’s wanted by the US government, not the Avengers. We can only transport him. We can’t guarantee his safety.”

Ramirez gives a small smile. “Mija, voy estar bien. No te preocupes.”

“I don’t know.”

Scott looks between the three of you. He places the shield against the wall near the door. He raises his eyebrows at Steve and looks to his wounds, but Steve waves him off. Reluctantly, Scott nods. “I’m gonna go check on Sam.”

There’s a pool of blood near your boots. You don’t want to know if it’s from the dead or from Steve.

“Doll, what are you thinking?”

He can’t hurt you anymore. “That I need you to go, too.”

Steve forgets about the pain in his hip and focuses solely on you. “What?”

“Go. If there’s one more thing you can do for me and my reckless family, go check on Sam.”

“You know I can’t leave you here alone with him.”

Your voice is steady and calm and it’s scaring Steve. It’s scaring him. “I promised myself that you wouldn’t be hurt by this mission. I stand by it.”

“I promise, Captain, I have no resentment. Whatever she does, I will follow,” Ramirez speaks, and Steve doesn’t even pay him a glance.

“I can’t just go.”

“Steve,” you interlock your fingers behind his neck. “Please. Listen to me.” He looks so confused, a million questions flying through his mind and almost escaping those sweet pink lips. Fierce, you whisper for only him. “He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

He relishes the feeling of your soft hands behind his neck. They’re bloody, but yours. His neck is bloody, but you don’t seem to care. “Two minutes.”

“Two minutes,” you confirm.

He pulls from your hold and turns to leave. He picks up the shield. Before he leaves, he grips the doorway and looks over his shoulder, eyebrows pinched and jaw tense. “Two minutes, I swear to Almighty Christ, Y/N. I’m coming back for you.”

You smirk, the dim light from the office lamps creating nothing short of a sparkle in your eyes. “I don’t expect anything less, Rogers.”

Steve hesitates for a moment and then he walks away. Once his footsteps are no longer heard, you turn back to Ramirez. There’s a voice in your head telling you this was a bad idea and that you were an idiot to have your back turned on him for so long, but Ramirez is simply leaning on one of the chairs and grimacing at the bloody scene before him.

“Remember when Ernesto bought you that car when you were thirteen? And then another when your brother crashed it?”

Your nose pinches, “I don’t feel like reminiscing when he’s lying right there.”

“Do you remember what you told me when he bought you that second car? The sports one?”

You sigh. Ramirez was clearly going to continue speaking. “‘No lo quiero. Soy una niña. Get rid of it.’”

“And I did.”

“You did.”

He smiles, and for the first time you notice all the gray hair dusting his head, the most by his temples. There's a limp in his step too but you can’t remember if he had before or after the wedding. “I’ll get rid of this.”

“What?” you blink, unsure if you heard him right.

“I’m already a traitor. If I spin this, you can continue the mission. You can arrest even more of his men. They’ll come after me instead of you.”

It’s what he’s been trained to do. It’s what he’s done since he transported his first shipment. It’s what he’s done time and time again for Ernesto, for Seda, for some of his own careless men. He’s numb to it, just as you were a few days ago, but now you can’t stop thinking about the aftermath. Where would he put their bodies? Would they be buried here or back in Mexico? Would people really care if Ernesto was dead? They didn’t seem to care when he was snapped out of existence. But Ramirez has this sag in his shoulders that tells you he’s already calculating the best way to wrap the bodies and how deep he plans on sending them… or burning them. Burning them was always easier.

“They’ll come after your family. Your daughters.”

He shakes his head, “I’ve ensured their safety. They’re safe.”

Against your better judgement, you tap your mic discreetly and turn it off. “I can’t let you take one for the team.”

He chuckles, “I’m a part of your team? I’m an Avenger?”

You can’t help but laugh with him. It’s not a light moment, but it’s a moment nonetheless. “Sure, Omar. But we don’t trade lives.”

“I had this coming.”

“No, you didn’t. You don’t.” Straining your ears and shutting your eyes, you mumble a quick prayer in hope that this plan of yours worked. You pass Ramirez your own gun and speak low. “Go.”

He’s shocked and he stutters. “Que haces? Que esta pasando?”

“There’s no one on the east side right now. All the guests were moved to the front. It’s clear. But not for long.” Pushing him to the door, you make sure he’s not leaving any bloody footprints behind. He’s clear. “Go.”

“This will kill us both.”

“But it will give us a head start.”

“No puedo hacer eso! No quiero hacer eso.”

“Omar, they’re not going to protect you once you’re charged. I can’t protect you then. So I need you to go.” You reach into your suit and pluck that random Roman coin you had stolen just a few days earlier. It was a token of good luck but you didn’t need it anymore. You avoid looking at the carving for fear that the likeness to Steve will make you change your mind. You place it in Ramirez’s hand and clench his fist shut. “If there’s one thing you can do for my stupid, anti-hero mentality, go.”

“Que hago con esto?”

“No me llamas. But let me find this.”

He looks at you with pity. It’s so much pity and understanding for your situation that you have to look away. “I owe you my life.”

Eyesight now on the wall over his shoulder, you offer him a thin smile. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

He stumbles at first, unsure if this is really happening, and finally passes by. “Y/N.”

You figure it’d be pretty rude not to answer. You turn slowly. He continues, face somber and head shaking with so much pity. “The amount of Hell that’s coming...”

It’s funny, really. You shoot him that famous smile you were known for. It tricks him like it’s supposed to. “I’m already going to Hell for the lives I’ve taken and the crimes I’ve committed. But the journey to my fate has been worth it.”

The estate is being swept as quickly as possible. There are agents dressing wounds, reading rights, snapping photos, on the phone, etc. It’s organized chaos and there’s so much happening but it’s never impossible to catch Steve’s side profile in a crowd. His nose is pinched up and he’s dealing with his wounds himself. No one is even looking at him.

Speed walking to him, you hook your arm in his and turn him around. He’s too tall, and your toes strain as you rise on them, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway. He returns the gesture and squeezes you as hard as you’re squeezing him. After a few seconds, he whispers quietly.

“Where’d Ramirez go?”

If he saw your eyes, he would know you were lying. You keep your arms in place. “He got away.”

He tries to push you away but fails. “Y/N.”

“He got away,” you repeat. Slowly, regretfully, you pull back. “We should go.”

There’s a horrible crease in between his eyebrows and he knows he’s caught you in a lie, but he also knows that if there was one thing he knew most about you, it was that you were just as stubborn as he was. Quick with wit, always asking to be punched, and stubborn to the point it made strangers worry. So he doesn’t question it, and turns with you in the direction of the jet. “Maribel has the safehouse set up. Montana.”

“You sure you can make it to the jet? Should I get Bucky to come with us?”

The quinjet is empty except for a few supplies, a medical bag, and Friday. There are only two seats and by the way Steve’s bending over to show his true pain, you’d be flying it. Once you land, you can fish out those bullets.

“No one else.” Steve bites. He can’t risk anyone else - hell, he doesn’t even want to risk you. “I’ll protect you.”

You board the jet and watch as the trees sway in rhythm to the movements of everyone doing their job. It’s dark, and you push the fact that you’re so horribly night blind to the back of your skull, and it’s starting to eat away at you that the mission didn’t really go as planned. No one seems to notice yet that you never brought them the two main players they were hoping for. It only makes you close the quinjet faster. You sit Steve down in one of the seats and kneel before him. “And I you.”

If anyone asked, Steve would lie and say he was tearing up because of the bullets piercing his skin in half. To protect and be protected.

“Let’s go.”

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