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writingfics-passingtime · 3 years

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Playing the Part

~8300 words of steamy Loki tickle fluff

PG13 for this one, kids. Lots of making out.

CW: some swearing, suggestive humour, mentions of murder/death, alcohol consumption

Every job has its ups and downs, and every employee their good days and not-so-good days. You’d hardly classify yourself as an employee because you didn’t get a paycheque, your entire occupation was a hazard unto itself, human-resources was punching it out on the sparring mat and your boss was either a 100-year-old super soldier or an eccentric billionaire, depending on the day and who was wearing what suit.

Wait… should I be getting paid for this?

Looking around your room that you paid no rent on, in a multi-billion dollar superhero compound, you decided that wasn’t a question you were ever going to ask. The question of the hour was which dress would best conceal your thigh-holstered gun.

Today, your job entailed one of those tasks that could be fun if you decided it would be, or hell if you had a bad attitude about it. You prided yourself on always being up for any mission, so that answered that question, though infiltrating some black-tie gala undercover was never as exciting as fighting alien forces.

You gave up feeling guilty about being a little excited when Earth faced threats long ago; no one had to know that impending planetary destruction was your favourite kind of mission to help out on.

Selecting a red strapless dress from the middle of your mission closet (which was differentiated because most of these dresses were bulletproof) you slipped it on over your underwear and thigh holster. A knock came at your door as you were reaching behind yourself to zip it up.

“Come in!”

“Agent, we- oh… Oh.” Loki’s featured turned from surprised to playfully smug in a matter of seconds.

“Can you get this zipper?” You winced at the stuck metal. He nodded and approached, you turned and held the fabric up. Before he even made it halfway to you he gave a brief wave of his hand and used his magic to unstick the zipper, bringing it to the top.

“Thanks,” you smiled, familiar with that particular kind of help from Loki. “Can you see my gun?” You did a little spin and he shook his head. “Great. You look nice," you commented, gesturing to his impeccable black suit.

“As do you.”

“Ready?”

”I suppose there are worse charades to play on a Saturday evening. Ones that don’t include fine wine and the prospect of a tussle with a Midgardian security man.”

You shot him a look as you two walked towards the garage together. “You said no Midgardian wine could be classed as fine.”

“Save for one region in Italy, I’ve discovered.” Loki shrugged, tightening the fastener on his cuff link.

You gave him a mock look of shock. “Are you telling me… you were wrong?“

“Smugness is not becoming, Agent,” Loki playfully warned.

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes. “Looks like I’m spending too much time with you.”

You bickered and bantered good-naturedly as you entered the garage, which was more like a hangar but only for cars. This mission would be you, Loki, Natasha, Sam and, strangely enough, Tony wanted to drive the van. He gave some excuse about wanting to test some new equipment and spend time with his team. Though you knew it was because Pepper wanted him to attend her aunt’s seventieth birthday, and Tony had a long-standing feud with that particular aunt ever since she went on a forty-five minute tirade about how much she hated Led Zeppelin. You weren’t sure if it was the sentiment behind it, or the fact that she could talk for forty-five minutes straight without the awareness to stop. Either way, Tony was on the job tonight.

“Black Widow is already onsite,“ Tony handed you three some photos as you entered and took your seats. “Your names are on the door, fake ones obviously, here they are.” Tony pulled up some information on the screens and then commanded the self-driving van to go with a few taps at a holographic control centre.

You went over the plan, the objective, who to avoid at all costs, where the gun was supposedly hidden. There was a gun used in a murder of a journalist - the employee of an old friend of Tony's, a young guy working on an exposé of a filthy-rich family dynasty in New York City. The journalist was sure the McDane family money came from arms dealing, but he was found dead just a few short months after he started investigating. The following week, Charles, the charming and likeable newly-married eldest son of the family, announced his run for mayor.

Whether Charlie McDane ordered the murder, or if he didn't even know it happened, Tony's source said this family kept trophies of their victories and the murder weapon would most definitely still be in the house.

On the face of it, it was an unusual assignment for the Avengers. If you didn't think that hard about it, you could have just sent Nat in alone. However, the McDane family was even more powerful than they loved to show on the surface, and this wouldn't be a simple theft. Hence, a small team was going in to avenge the fallen journalist.

Natasha had been planted on the inside, posing as an event manager for a soirée the family was hosting to celebrate Charlie’s birthday and, since he’d invited everyone in the political and social scene, it was the perfect chance to enter the mansion; there’s no way he’d know who each and every person was and should be.

As you walked down the road with your arm slotted through Loki's, you eyed the metal detectors at the front entrance. You gripped his arm and slid your hand into the pocket of your dress, but the pocket was hollow and only existed as easy way to grab your gun. Wordlessly, you passed it to Loki and he concealed it with his magic in the exact same way you planned to smuggle the murder weapon out later that evening.

Maybe it was Loki's elegance or your years of training that started when you were very young, but the way you two could instinctively weave around each other's thoughts, ideas and actions without so much as a glance was something special you didn't take for granted. You both had keen senses, but there was some kind of unexplainable energy that made them align perfectly.

You never let your mind wander on nights like these. On missions. Perhaps if you were less professional you'd take a moment to fantasise about what it would actually be like to go to a party with Loki. If the way he led you through the room with a gentle hand at your waist was more than a ploy to look like an adoring couple, or if he knew your favourite wine because he cared, instead of just having heard you order it a million times before.

He kept things light with jokes and little jabs, never once crossing a boundary when fake-flirting with you, but it wasn't lost on you that it was unusual to have this kind of working relationship that had all of the chemistry with none of the awkwardness. It was almost as if it was second nature now for him to pull you a little closer when you were in a nice dress, considering you'd only worn them in front of him on missions. And so he did pull you closer as you approached the bouncer to give your names.

You spied Nat at the front, leaning around a security guard's shoulder to point to something on his list. She always played her parts so well. She stole a glance at you and Loki through her fake glasses and that was it. No indication she knew you, no special treatment, no way she'd do anything to blow this. She walked up the outdoor staircase as you gave your aliased names to the guard and flashed fake drivers licenses that were pretty much real, considering the government had created them.

Loki declined the arrival champagne for the both of you, immediately leading you to the bar. You looked at him as if to remind him that you weren't here to drink, and his subtle smirk replied that he didn't care. He ordered two glasses of a merlot from the one region in Italy that'd won his respect, passing the glass to you once it was laid on the bar.

"To the finer things," he cheers'ed your glass and you scoffed with a laugh, taking a sip of the wine. The rich flavour burst through your mouth. It was dark and deep, spiced with... with... "Cedar," he offered, reading the analysis on your face. "Rosewood, cedar and some sort of stone-fruit."

"Nectarine."

He smiled and took another sip. "We don't have that on Asgard."

"This wine is good," you nodded as you two turned and deconstructed the room and all of its guests.

It made you kind of sick seeing all of these wealthy people in one place pretending to give a damn about Charlie McDane's birthday. It's not that you liked the guy, not at all, it just felt weird to know that every person in here was the exact kind of person you hunted down. Power-hungry. This mansion may as well be a lion's den. But full of naïve lions, who had no idea two apex predators just walked in.

Just when you started wondering how many people in your line of sight had also committed murder to protect their wealth and power, you saw Natasha give a subtle signal of which way the room with the safe was. Loki saw it too.

It was upstairs, but there wasn't much cover to get upstairs. The great foyer's ceiling was three stories up, the two floors above the ground floor you were on had square balconies that let the people upstairs peer downwards into the masses. Nat's fingers adjusting her hair told you that the room was on the second floor. Thankfully, there were guests on the second floor. Under the guise of admiration for the architecture and a desire to explore the great house, you pointed out works of art to Loki as you ascended the stairs together. When you walked past Natasha she smiled politely, like a good host, and asked if you were enjoying the wine.

"It's most divine. Though, I believe my beloved may be in search of a room to powder her nose."

You would have rolled your eyes at his usual choice of asking for information if you weren't aware that security's eyes were everywhere. Even on the event manager.

"You might find what you need up the stairs, down the first hall, third door on your right."

The way her hands were motioning didn't match her hushed description, so you followed the instructions in her voice instead of the way her hands were telling you.

You allowed Loki to lead you upstairs, down the first hall. When you two were certain there were no eyes, he concealed you two with his magic. The hallway was darkened. He pressed his hand against the lock and unfastened it with an unseen pure magic and you two slipped inside. It was a large office with grand mahogany furniture, decorated exactly as you'd expect Old Money Americans to decorate their office. Right down to the bear head above the fireplace and the first edition novels sitting proudly on the shelf, probably unread by their owners. That also made you a little sick: great words sitting unread as trophies.

Scanning the room for any obvious signs of the safe, your eyes settled on a panel in the wood on the side of the desk. There was a slightly smaller gap in the wood on one side, indicating hinges. You held your hands up to Loki and he conjured thin gloves to grace your fingers, then you pressed gently on the wood to engage the latch. The panel swung open to reveal the safe. Shifting out of the way, Loki took your place and placed a gloved hand on the dial. In less than three seconds, it spun rapidly in each direction before clicking open.

"We should really consider robbing banks," you whispered as the black metal door swung open and you were met with stacks of paper and envelopes.

"Need I remind you I am a Prince? If it's gold you want, darling, say the word."

"Eh," you shrugged, feeling around for the gun. "I meant more for the thrills."

Loki chuckled as your fingers found a familiar-feeling package. You pulled the envelope out and peered inside before showing Loki the sight of a small pistol. He nodded and took it from you carefully, then concealed it in some unknown magical space close to him.

You closed the safe carefully and then your gloves disappeared. Moving quietly back to the door, you listened for several moments to make sure no one was coming. Then, you both slid out and began walking down the hall like a loving couple.

Suddenly, a guard appeared at the end of the hallway. Thinking fast, you opened the closest door to you and pushed Loki inside. There was a shout you vaguely heard before you shut and locked the door again.

"Shit," you hissed. You were in someone's bedroom. Or maybe it was a guest room, considering how clean and un-lived-in it looked. There was a fireplace, like in the office, and a large four-poster bed against one wall. In the middle of the room were two plush couches that faced each other and were side-on to the door. You two walked over to them to get the vantage of being in the centre of the room and quickly searched for an exit.

"I'll cast an illusion," Loki whispered, ready to wave his hands and make it look as if you two weren't here.

"No!" You whispered, eyes wide. "They already saw us come in here. If we disappear, they'll know something's up and lock the place down."

"Then what do you propose?" He held his hands out, annoyingly unbothered by the prospect of blowing a mission. The doorknob twisted and you both snapped your heads towards it, then back at each other.

"Sit," you hissed and shoved him back onto the sofa right behind him. He stumbled and fell with a small indignant noise of surprise. You heard the tinkling of keys and your heart beat in your chest.

"Agent?"

Knowing the security team was about to enter, you acted fast. "I'll never hear the end of this," you mumbled before sliding forward to straddle his lap. His eyebrows shot up his forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and looked at him with nervous urgency. "Kiss me."

Loki didn't question it, and he certainly didn't need to be told twice. His hands found their place. One at the small of your back, one firmly gripping the hair at the nape of your neck. Then, he pulled you in for a fiery kiss.

You barely heard the door open as you lost yourself in the strength of his hold, the steady and eager grasp with which he held you. His hands found their places as if they'd been there a thousand times before, as if he knew exactly how you'd feel the safest, feel the most desired. You pulled him deeper by the back of his neck and could have sworn he made a small noise of satisfaction.

Oh no.

He kept kissing you, you kept kissing him, even after the head of the security team had cleared his throat a number of times. As much as you knew you'd already sold it, and boy you sold it well, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Were all Asgardians this good at kissing, or was it just Loki?

Oh. No.

"HEY!"

The sudden loud command pulled you away and, much to your internal mortification, you didn't need to feign how flustered you were.

"O-oh my," you squeaked and looked up at the man, blushing profusely.

Okay, the squeak was fake, but it felt almost real.

You stayed put where you were straddling Loki's lap and grimaced when you saw Natasha, still in character, entering the room. "What's going on, I need you downstairs to- oh!" She looked a little taken aback by your position atop the prince who, you were fuming to see from the corner of your eye, had the audacity to be smirking.

"My apologies," Loki drawled in his growly regal voice, trailing his hands around to your sides. "I simply couldn't control myself, seeing my queen in this dress..." He punctuated it with an "Mmph" and a firm squeeze at your hips. You flinched and squirmed a bit under the ticklish touch, trying to keep your composure but letting a small giggle slip out. Then, catching the pleased and mischievous glint in his eye, you dug your nails into the back of his shoulder to warn him off trying that again.

"This room's off limits," the guard tilted his head towards the door and you made to move your way off of Loki's lap. Instead, with his incredible strength, he stood with his hands still at your hips, lifting you to your feet before turning and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He looked the guard up and down, "Of course, good sir." You bit your lip and blushed, cowering in Loki's hold as you exited the room together. Nat smirked at you and winked before proceeding to fall back into character and tell the guards there was a belligerent drunk man downstairs needing to be kicked out. That man would be Wilson, who was playing his part as tipsy distraction.

Loki led you down the hall and you rounded a corner, then you broke off from him and held a hand to your chest. "That was too close," you breathed deeply once, then met his eye. You glared when he saw him smirking at you.

"Do I have lipstick on my face?" He asked, feigning worry.

"Oh, shut up," you swatted his shoulder. "I did what I had to do."

"I never knew you had the passion in you, Agent," Loki smirked again. You glared once more and peeked around the corner, only to jump and hold in a yelp as Loki's pinching fingers found your hip. "I also never knew you were so ticklish."

"That's not something people advertise- cut it ouhout!" You swatted his hand and squirmed away from him as he prodded his fingers into your side. "We have the gun, let's get out of here."

"Tsk, you're no fun," Loki scoffed.

You exited the party and made your way down the block towards the van, knowing that Nat's glasses had broadcast at least the last part of your little tussle with Loki. Steeling yourself as you gripped the handle, you reminded yourself that you were a professional, and this was sometimes a hazard of the job. You needed to play it cool when the eventual teasing came.

"Hey, lovebirds," Tony quipped the second he saw your faces.

"Hey," you chuckled, stepping inside and removing your heels the second you found your seat. "We got it."

"Here," Loki closed the door behind him and pulled the enveloped gun from the magical space he'd hidden it. "So you saw the Agent's display of passion, did you?"

"You wound me, Loki," you deadpanned. "I thought we had a mutual connection."

Perhaps those words were a mistake considering all the truth behind them. However, all the best lies were founded on truth, and for now you needed to convince everyone in the van that you weren't totally freaking out because you'd felt the most passionate attraction you'd had in years with a former villain. I mean... how predictable.

Loki looked at you suspiciously as he took his seat, but something in his gaze told you he wasn't going to prod deeper on this. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone.

Nat and Sam joined the fray five minutes later and you all got a move-on back to the Compound. Nat poked more fun at the position she'd found you two in, and you laughed good-naturedly at all their jokes. Loki was uncharacteristically silent, and seemed to always be looking at you when you laughed and instinctively checked to see if he was laughing too.

The jokes shifted to Sam and the wine he spilled down his shirt, then the conversation shifted to the next steps of what to do with the gun, then you all arrived back.

Tony got to work dismantling his rig, declining your help, and so you took your field weapons over to the cabinet to put them back in their places. As you were unclipping the magazine from your pistol, you felt a presence behind the door. You peered around to see Loki.

"What's up?" You raised your eyebrows and snapped the case shut, then closed the door.

He looked at you meaningfully, quizzically, but didn't say anything.

"Okay..." you chuckled uncomfortably and put the latch on the door in place. "I'm going to shower."

You made to walk past him but he grabbed your upper arm, stopping you by his side. Facing different ways, he leaned in a little closer and spoke quietly. "I can spot a lie from lightyears away."

Turning to look at him, you'd probably have been caught off-guard by how close his face was if it hadn't been for the events of earlier. You shrugged, pulling your arm from his grasp. "I didn't lie."

He scoffed and also turned to look at you, eyes flitting once down to your lips, then back up to pierce your gaze with his. "You know what I meant."

You were proud of how composed you kept yourself when you shrugged again and kept walking, swallowing hard.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Never one to waste water, you took an uncharacteristically long shower. Haphazardly smearing face wash over your skin to scrub the makeup off, scrub away the flustered energy. But no amount of scrubbing could help you forget the feeling of his kiss, and shampooing the hairspray from your head only made you remember the feeling of his fingers in your hair.

You reminded yourself that it had been a very long time since you'd kissed someone. You were probably just desperate, definitely a little touch-starved in general, so the fact that it was Loki didn't matter as much as the fact that it had happened.

That's what you told yourself over and over as you threw on sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved shirt. It was cold and the marble floors could be unforgiving, so you thought it best to go for fluffy socks, but then pulled some slippered boots over the top. You didn't bother brushing your wet hair, letting it fall where it wanted as you made your way to the kitchen.

"That smells good," you commented as Nat pulled some dish out of the oven.

"Mmm," she agreed with an excited smile. "Nico is my favourite," she admitted slyly, referring to one of the chefs Pepper would call in to prepare a bunch of heatable meals during busy periods. Delivery app drivers would probably cancel the order if you tried, thinking it must be a joke that a super solider was asking for a Big Mac to be delivered to the Avengers Compound. Besides, by the time it was scanned and made sure to not contain a deadly poison, it would be cold and stale. "There's enough for you too," Nat said, pulling out another plate and serving you a steaming slice of vegetarian lasagne.

"Thanks," you smiled, still a little distracted. Of course, with someone as perceptive as Nat, that wouldn't be allowed to slip by.

She leaned against the counter and poked at her meal, not meeting your eye to keep it less direct. "You alright?"

"Hmm?" You looked up, and so did she, then you looked back down to your food and shrugged. It was no use lying to her. "I think I'm lonely," you laughed humourlessly, nervously, sadly.

"The kiss got to you," she said knowingly, placing her fork down to give you her full attention. You didn't return the favour, nervous about what you'd say if you were really talking about this. Which, as long as you were here eating dinner, you weren't really talking about it.

"It's not like I haven't kissed a fellow Agent before to keep cover," you sighed a little, shaking your head. "It's just been a while, I guess, since I've had... anything... or, someone."

"I get that," she nodded, picking up her fork again. You two ate in silence for several moments. "This is really good," she declared through an extra-large mouthful. You chuckled and nodded, swallowing another bite. After several more moments, she said quietly, "It's okay if you felt something."

That made you choke a bit. Noticeably, unfortunately. You shook your head, but didn't deny it. "No. It's not okay."

"Why not?" She asked as if you were crazy.

"It's not okay," you repeated firmly, stabbing your fork again at the lasagna. "It's not."

Before she could attempt to pry for more information, Thor and Loki entered the kitchen together. Great.

"Good evening," Thor beamed a toothless smile.

"There's more in the fridge if you're hungry," you looked up at them in an attempt to not seem as regressed in on yourself as you felt. Thor looked at your plate and nodded in approval, opening the fridge. Then you looked at Loki, fully expecting to see some kind of calculating stare as before, but his expression was soft. He looked you over, probably noticing your out-of-character hunched posture and the way your head hung a little lower than usual, and he gave you a look that was subtly laced with sympathy.

Now that made your blood boil. Who was he to feel sorry for you?

He seemed to notice the way your jaw clenched under his gaze, and opened his mouth to say something but Thor spoke first.

"There's a film Stark wants us all to watch this evening."

Nat chuckled, finishing off her dinner. "You say that like he's showing us training videos. He's just trying to bond the team over some cheesy nineties movie." She looked at you and nodded to your clothes. "You look ready for a movie night."

Before you could explain that you'd rather go to bed, Thor beamed again. "Excellent, then! We'll all be there."

Thor was always kind to you, so you didn't want to disappoint him over something so inconsequential. You smiled warmly at him and nodded. "I'm gonna go claim a good spot," you excused yourself, aware it was almost time for it to start. You quickly did your dishes and left the kitchen, making sure to get a seat on a large armchair so you made it clear you'd rather have some personal space right now, even though it was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Maybe it would be good for you though, to remember that you were alone for a reason. That this life you chose wasn't kind too love.

Gods, love. Why did you think of that word, of all the ones out there. You were spiralling. Sentiment, you corrected yourself with a swift reprimand. Sentiment, loneliness, desperation.

You busied yourself chatting to Wanda as people filtered in, taking note of how she seamlessly wove herself in and around Vision as they sat on a two-seater next to you. Determined not to look at or think of Loki or romance or kissing or anything like that, you trained your eyes on the screen as the movie started.

But you spiralled.

There were these two main characters in the movie with this undeniable bickering co-worker chemistry that reminded you of Loki, the jokes he’d whisper into your ear during meetings, the harmless mischief he’d pull to make you laugh, the way his hand felt at your lower back- NO. You couldn’t think about that.

Wanda and Vision were in your line of sight from the corner of your eye and you saw her fingers lace through his, you then saw him place a silent kiss on the crown of her head. Biting down on your tongue, you remembered Nat and Bruce, Pepper and Tony, Thor and Jane, Clint and Laura. All those people who seemed to find love, even temporary love, in the midst of all this madness.

So maybe it wasn’t this life. Maybe it was just… you.

Biting your tongue a little harder, you reminded yourself how powerless you were compared to all these super-people. Sure, many of them were human like you, but all the other humans seemed to have someone who loved them.

It felt hopeless, knowing the only person in this room who you wanted close was so extraordinarily out of your league. He was a god. You were a human. Your life was a flicker compared to his, of course he’d never waste time indulging the likes of you.

But it felt real.

Halfway through the movie you decided you couldn’t sit there and see these buddy-cop characters fall in love. You couldn’t watch Wanda and Vision so enamoured with each other. What you needed was to hit something hard, and then go to sleep. So you excused yourself without a word or a glance at anyone. It was late, anyway. You weren’t even the first one to leave.

A turn of a black-haired form told you that Loki noticed you leaving, but the lack of footsteps behind you as you walked down the silent hall told you that he hadn’t followed you.

Slipping into your room and then into some workout clothes, you jammed your headphones into your ears and put on some classical music; you weren't sure you could stand to hear any words right now. You laced your shoes a little tighter than normal and practically sprinted to the gym, very unwilling to have anyone notice you were gone and decide to come check on you.

Hitting the bag felt good. It was the perfect consolation prize for what you'd actually prefer right now, but with every crushing of your knuckles against the thick canvas you found it easier to forget how it felt to have your fingers looped through his hair. The sweat dripping down your face replaced the feeling of his breath against your skin when you'd broken the kiss, and the aching in your obliques from your tensing and turning to hit the bag took the place of any memory of his hands at your waist. The aching was here, and he was almost gone.

After a half-hour of interval sprints, it was just past midnight and you were exhausted. Not knowing how you felt about no one coming to check on you, you traipsed back to your room in silence. The faint echoing of your footsteps through the hallways made you quiet yourself further, stepping as lightly as you could to prove to yourself that you were still a good spy. Good spies don't get caught up with feelings. Your footsteps fell, dead quiet, and you regained some confidence.

Your muscles stung the next morning but in a delightful way. You'd treated yourself to another hot shower when you got back to your room, so this morning it would probably be best to have an icy one.

As the cold water hit your skin, you felt okay again. The boxing and running last night had really shaken everything out of you, only the smallest lingering of lonely desire remained and it could easily be ignored. Of course, that was easy to say. The second you walked into the kitchen to see that Loki had heard you coming and poured you a coffee you felt a tug at your chest.

His hands closed around the mug to pass it to you and you remembered how his fingers had closed around your waist. He smiled good morning and you remembered how his lips felt against yours. Holding it all in, you smiled and took the coffee, then proceeded to have a short conversation with him like a normal person would. He made jokes about last night, but not about that, and you chuckled at them. After perhaps too short a time for how long you usually chatted, you excused yourself to go do some paperwork. You caught the way his brow furrowed a little, but he didn't question you.

The next few days were more or less like this. You'd try to engage with Loki normally but spiral a little more, convincing yourself that the more you continued like you always had, the more normal things would be again. But he was just so... beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful and now you couldn't help but notice.

One evening, nearly a week after you'd kissed, you were having a bit of a vulnerable day and you walked into the kitchen for some ice cream. Loki had just finished cleaning up after his dinner and turned to say hello, but you couldn't do it. You just turned and walked right back out again. He called after you but you didn't stop. It's not like you were going to cry in front of him, but you just couldn't do this right now.

Seeking refuge in your bedroom, you shut the door and slid down to the floor with your back against it. An immediate soft knock frustrated you, especially knowing who it probably was. You sighed and stood.

“Hey,” you greeted Loki with a nod when you opened the door, immediately turning away to make it look like you were about to do something else. “What’s up?”

Loki stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, which made you stop and give him your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied.

He squinted for the faintest second and smiled a little sadly. “Light years,” he reminded you how he could spot a lie without harshly calling you out. It pained you that he didn’t. That his lack of sarcasm indicated that he saw you as a bit fragile right now.

You sighed a little and ducked your head to the side, conceding the point. “I’m a little haywire,” you admitted. “I think I need to get some stress out and go to sleep.”

”What troubles you?”

Ah. What a question.

You didn’t want to shut him out, but you certainly didn’t know how to explain that one simple kiss undercover had brought a massive crashing wave of insecurity and anxiety that made you feel completely unlovable. Or... maybe you could just say that?

You were silent for so long that Loki spoke again.

“I’d like to offer my apologies,” he said very diplomatically. “If I overstepped the bounds of our relationship.”

“I’m the one that made you kiss me,” you winced. “I should be apologising.”

”I didn’t mean that,” Loki shook his head. “I meant after, when we returned. When I cornered you.”

You had to laugh. “You didn’t corner me, Loki. I appreciate you wanting to make me feel better but you have nothing to apologise for.”

”Very well. But you didn’t make me,” he replied firmly.

“I know, I know…” you rolled your eyes. “A god submits to no one, I just meant that I put you in a situation that I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I’m paying the price.”

That last part came out a little faster than you’d intended it to. In fact, you didn’t really mean to say that last part out loud at all. Or maybe you did. What a perfect Freudian Slip. Quickly collecting yourself, you spotted your headphones and went to pick them up but noticed that Loki was taking slow steps towards you.

”Paying the price?” He asked carefully. You stopped and folded your arms, shrugging.

“People poke fun, you know.” You bit your tongue. Then, you saw him smirk a little. Ah. Lightyears.

“I thought we had a mutual connection,“ he raised his eyebrows, teasing you with your joke from That Night. You gave him a firm stare, but couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t that far away now.

“Loki, that was-“

“A thinly veiled truth,” he interjected, leaving no room for debate. He also left very little room between the two of you. You opened your mouth to respond, seemed to not be able to, and he smirked at your speechlessness.

"Y-you can't." You shook your head. "There's no way."

"There's no way, what?" A smiled tugged at his lips at the way your eyes widened when he took a strand of your hair and wrapped it once around his finger.

"... Mutual?"

“Now that we won’t be interrupted…” he brought his hand up next to his face, flourished it, and you heard your door’s lock click shut. You held your breath as a mischievous grin graced his lips.

Oh gods, you were looking at his lips. You couldn't seem to look away.

He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Might we finish what we started?”

With the smallest nod of your head, he immediately ducked his head to press his lips against yours. Your small noise of surprise made him pull away for a second and grin, before he playfully growled and lifted you from the ground. His eyes stayed trained on yours as he walked a few steps and firmly shoved your back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his hand found that place at the back of your neck, and this time, you kissed him. Eagerly, hungrily, feeling so overwhelmingly euphoric that this was even happening.

It had to be a dream, you thought as his lips trailed along your jawline, his hot breath hit your neck and his strong unwavering arms kept you above the ground and level with his gaze. He kissed you not just like a god or a great lover - he kissed you like he wanted you. Like he‘d also been waiting to do this for an unspeakable amount of time. It felt like relief.

Pulling you both back from the wall, Loki's lips didn’t relent as your fingers tangled once again in his hair. He walked backwards and found his seat on the end of your bed, sitting with you in his lap as he had at the party.

“Gods, you enrapture me,“ he pulled away, a little breathless. He grinned and his eyes were hazy. He looked at you intensely before looking back at your lips, subconsciously slipping out his tongue to wet his own. Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You could have melted into his touch. In fact, you were fairly certain you just might.

He leaned back and you both fell onto the bed, you on top of him. You laughed at the sudden impact and you pulled away for a few seconds to catch your breath. You looked at his adoring gaze and blushed. “I never thought someone like you could want someone like me.”

He furrowed his brow, unsure if you were about to reference his nefarious past.

”You’re so… mighty. You’re a Prince, a god, you’re wickedly smart and powerful and… and I’m just a human.”

“Watch your tongue,” Loki scolded somewhat seriously and held you a little tighter. “Don’t speak of yourself as if you’re insignificant.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, giving him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do, I’m wickedly smart,” he smirked and you playfully swatted at his chest. He smiled contentedly and ran his hands firmly down your sides to settle at your hips. It was an innocent romantic gesture, one to position you for further making-out with Loki, but your eyes widened at the memory of his discovery the previous weekend and the assumption that the God of Mischief was about to turn the tables.

Unluckily for you, your flustered expression rendered it a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“Loki…” You warned as you saw the glint in his eye.

“That’s right…” His smirk widened to a devilish grin.

”How about you keep kissing me, huh?” You laughed nervously and leaned in closer. Loki laughed and nodded, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of your neck as you pressed your lips to his. Once your arms were around his neck, he deepened the kiss and rolled over, putting you underneath him. Still on the edge of the bed, your feet barely skimmed the floor. Then, he suddenly became the classic Loki you knew.

“Mmmhmhm!” You whined and giggled a little into the kiss as the fingers belonging to his arm around your waist started ever so gently scratching at your side. “Mmnnoho!” You broke away and gave him a pouting look. He lifted his head and smirked.

Gods. He’d never looked so unspeakably hot.

Messy curls framing his face, that look he gave you that said You’re In Trouble in his distinct Loki way, mixed with the desire in his piercing blue eyes; you’d gladly endure his torture if it meant he looked at you like that.

But maybe that’s because you had no idea what was coming.

“Darling,” he cocked his head and kissed your cheek before kissing just below your ear. “I am the God of Mischief….“ he kissed your neck in a way that you were sure was intended to tickle. You giggled and bit your lip. “And now that I've got my hands on you, you simply cannot expect me to not exploit this little weakness to its fullest extent.”

“L-Loki!” You blushed at the very real threat and he chuckled.

“How about you guide me, hmm? Where should I start?”

“I’m not playing this game,” you laughed nervously, squirming a bit underneath him and resting your hands on his shoulders to push away the ticklish kisses.

“Aw, come now,” he lifted his head and that same beautiful smirk made your heart beat quick. His hand behind your neck slid down under your shoulder blade until it sat at your upper ribs. You stole a glance down to where it may be, even though you couldn’t see it. He cocked his head again. “No? Alright, I’ll choose.” With a wink his thumb slipped around the side and up into the hollow under your arm.

“LOKI!” You gasped, clamped your arm down from instinct and immediately started squirming and giggling, even though his thumb wasn’t even moving. He grinned again and kissed your lips once more.

“You've been down all week, love. Let's have a bit of fun,” he whispered, then sprang his hand at your waist into action, scratching and grabbing at the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You gasped again and started laughing softly, then squeaked when his thumb started wiggling into the hollow under your arm.

"NOHOHO!" You shut your eyes and then squealed loudly when his fingers underneath you began clawing into the back of your uppermost ribs. Damnit, you thought he may start easy on you, not go for three different places at once. You were already in a desperate cackle, bubbling incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as you writhed underneath his amused self.

"I'm honestly delighted you're so ticklish," Loki teased with a chuckle. "It's adorable, really. So professional all the time, yet..." He finished his sentence by intensifying his touch and speed at all three sites of attack, drawing a small shriek from your laughing lips and a jolt from your body. "Has it always been this easy to undo you?"

“OHMYGOHOD!” You shrieked, throwing your head against the bed and trying to buck your upper body against him to no avail. He paused his torture and kissed you deeply again, lips curled into a smile as he pressed his lips to yours. You shook your head and broke away, still laughing. “Youhou’re ridiculous! We were hahaving such a nice moment and y-you ruined ihit,” you whimpered. He kissed to again to silence your complaints.

“What did you expect?”

“I-I expected a nice romantic moment!” You laughed and brought both arms between you and him to shove at his shoulders. “Now,” you gave him a stern look. “Do you want to tickle me, or kiss me? You can only choose one.”

He scoffed. “I don’t do ultimatums, darling.”

“You do now.”

“Bold.“ He stuck his tongue against his cheek then ducked his head to the side in consideration. He then looked at your face, which you’d been attempting to hold in some semblance of a firm glare. He lowered his lips to your ear and you heard him chuckle once. “Far too bold for someone so ticklish.”

He whipped his arms out from under you and pressed his weight down again, trapping your arms between your bodies as he clawed into the front and sides of your lowest ribs.

“NOHOAHAH!” You immediately fell into desperate belly-laughter as his fingers drilled and clawed into the spaces between your bones. Your feet kicked helplessly, merely grazing the ground as laughter kept spilling from you. “NOHO! NO! LOKIHI I CAHAN’T!” He shifted his hands further up your ribcage and snuck his fingers around to dig in at the back and, after one more shriek, your laughter went silent. It was trapped in your chest as his squeezing and vibrating fingers found every sensitive space on your ribs that made you want to melt into a little puddle. You were gasping for air by the time he halted his attack, squeaking and wheezing as you tried to regain your breath.

It was torture, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask you if it was worth enduring to have him this close. If he could spot a lie from lightyears away, how much easier could he spot it when he was close enough for you to see the flecks of green in his eyes.

”You’re… you’re gonna kill me,” you hiccoughed. He smirked and leaned in for another kiss. “Nuh-uh,” you pulled your finger up as much as you could from where your arms were trapped. “You made your choice.”

He grinned and slid his hands down your sides with a wink, "Oh? Then I'll gladly continue."

"W-w-wait! I dihidn't th-WAHAIT!"

His thumbs drilled relentlessly into your hips as Loki joined in with your loud laughter. You finally managed to wiggle your arms out from where they were trapped at your chest, shooting them down to grab at his fingers. Your feet having no traction and his near entire weight pressing you to the bed made it impossible to buck or lift any part of your torso, so you were completely trapped with nowhere to go as he gripped and grabbed at the skin of your hips, kneading at the pressure points that made you squeak and squirm beneath him.

When he tired of your fingers trying to grab his, he did a devilish swift lift of his own body and slotted his hands between the two of you, settling them palms-down over the majority of your belly. You made a huge gasping noise and started frantically giggling and squealing even before he'd moved his hands. You shook your head and begged for him to kiss you instead, nervous high-pitched giggles interlacing your words.

"N-noho, Loki just kihiss me, kiss me plehease! PLEASE!" You squeaked, cupping his cheeks and gently pulling him towards you. He chuckled and grinned, gently digging a few fingers in just once. You thrashed and renewed your struggling and squealing efforts. "Dohon't you DAHARE! I won't kiss you agahain if you do this!" You threatened. He cocked his head and leaned in a little closer to look deep into your eyes. Then, he grinned and whispered:

"Lightyears."

You thought for certain you'd pass out from laughter when Loki's fingers sprang into action and rippled against your hypersensitive stomach. You laughed loudly, completely powerless to stop his fingers from digging in wherever they pleased. After not much time at all, your laughter went silent and you weakly batted at his shoulders, sides, face, anything your hands could find for themselves since your eyes were shut so tight. Any words your brain even began to think of forming got lost as laughter ripped through your chest from the electric intensity of his fingers against your body.

When your hands finally found both sides of his face, you used all the energy you had left to press your laughing lips against his and, finally, he relented. You fell back with a loud gasp as he retracted his hands with an amused chuckle and took his weight mostly off you, propping himself up with a hand planted either side of your head.

"Alright there, darling?" He teased as you coughed weakly and wiped the tears of mirth from your cheeks. You gave him a scowl, but he found it adorable.

"Thihis isn't fair," you crossed your arms defiantly.

"No?" He smirked. "Pray tell, my love. What isn't fair?"

Oh. My love. His love.

That took any breath you'd managed to get back in your lungs.

"Y-you... you..." But your words were lost in the bliss of being his. He seemed to quickly understand how his words touched your heart, and it softened his teasing demeanour, and softened his smirk into a smile. "You found my worst spots so soon," you managed to murmur through rosy cheeks.

"Was only a matter of time."

"But now you have the upper hand."

"Dear heart, this isn't a struggle for power," he laughed heartily. "I do not seek to rule over you. Anything you ask of me, anything in the Nine Realms, I will give to you."

"Tell me where you're ticklish."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before falling down beside you. He hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you as close as you could be.

"Anything but that."

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki tickle fluff #ler!loki #ticklish!reader #marvel tickle #marvel fluff #marvel reader insert

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zemodaddy · 3 years

Text

Hey so i finally completed the first chapter of the zemo x reader fanfic. Make sure to read the authors note at the end and i hope you enjoy.!

Synopsis:

Y/n is an ex-avenger who, after the blip was forced to work for the US government. You trained to be an assassin/spy and your gifts of wielding flames made you invaluable. When you were assigned to follow Bucky you find him helping Helmut Zemo escape from his prison cell. What is he up to? Should you stop him?

Warnings: violence, lots of swearing, angst, fluff and in later chapters extreme acts of hatred towards John Walker :)

Shades of Him

They replaced him. They replaced him with a random guy and stuck Steve’s shield on him. You were staring at the TV in disbelief. You thought of Steve like a brother and he definitely wouldn’t have wanted this.

After the blip you had no job, the avengers pretty much all separated and that left you without anything to do, and that meant no income and no income meant no home or food. You couldn’t exactly find a normal job because most people were afraid of you. A trained assassin and spy who could wield flames wasn’t really considered normal. That left you with no choice but to accept the deal the US government offered you. Do their dirty work and you wont end up homeless.

Your newest mission was to track Bucky to make sure he followed the rules set upon him for his pardon. You are close to him, like you were close to Steve. Hiding the fact that you were following him everywhere he went was kind of hard but you managed. You had to manage.

So finding him and Sam visiting a German prison kind of surprised you. Had this got to do with his therapy? Surely not. They left around an hour later and from then nothing more suspicious happened. A quick google search and a deep dive into some public records showed that a high security prisoner resided at this prison. Not just anyone. Zemo.

Interesting you thought. Later that night you followed Bucky and Sam to an old garage. You waited outside for 5 minutes before entering, trying to keep to the shadows of the room. The two men seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion. “You want Zemo to help us?” Sam looks exasperated. Bucky looks a bit apprehensive as he says “Look let me walk you through a hypothetical, can I do that?” He begins to explain an elaborate escape plan for Zemo. Your mind was wizzing with thoughts as you tried to figure out your next move. He really isn’t in the right headspace, same old Bucky, you roll your eyes. “What are you guys doing?” You step out of the darkness. The two seemed to jump out of their skin, clearly not expecting you to be there.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Bucky asks. They both looked so shocked by your sudden appearance that you had to suppress a laugh. “I was following you.” He doesn’t look happy. “YOU WERE FOLLOWING ME?” He raises his voice. You weren’t scared because you knew he loved you really. Keeping the same tone as him you shout back “YES AND YOU’RE HELPING A CRIMINAL” “I SAID HYPOTHETICALLY DIDN’T I”. Sam looks like he could start laughing any moment. You weren’t even sure if you should laugh or arrest them. Suddenly your phone buzzes. “Then please explain to me why I just got a message saying that ZEMO HAS ESCAPED FROM PRISON?” Sam looks mad now. “You’re kidding me Bucky” he says. “Look we don’t have any other leads, we were at a dead end.”

You knew that the two were looking for information on the new super soldiers serum. “He blew up the UN, he killed king T’Chaka!” Before Bucky could reply to Sams argument, the sound of a door shutting sounds through the garage and guess who walks in. Helmut fucking Zemo. Your hand flies immediately to the dagger on the side of your thigh. “Woah woah woah” Sam starts walking towards him as Bucky tries to hold him back. Too bad he didn’t see you slip past them and push Zemo against the wall with said dagger against his throat. “Your going back to prison” you pass him a sickly sweet smile. He looked surprised by you holding him against that wall but didn’t fight back. Not with the blade in your hand starting to heat up against his skin. “y/n let him go” Bucky looks frustrated.

“He can lead us closer to the serum, just let him breath for a second” Zemo did start to look a little breathless. Good, he should be scared of you. Reluctantly you let him go. He starts to talk “if I may”. At the same time the three of you go “NO”. He looked a little displeased by the response but didn’t have any other option but to oblige. “Apologies”. After further debating and a lot of disagreements you and Sam finally agree to trust Zemo.. for the time being anyways. “Alright Zemo, where do we start”

You mentally set a reminder to always have an eye on Zemo, how could you not with a guy like him. He seemed to be sending you anxious glances in return, which to be fair you did nearly choke him to death. He leads you to a large warehouse containing numerous cars of different ages, sizes and colours. Probably stolen you think. After grabbing a case full with clothes for zemo you all head to an airstrip. In the middle of which was a private jet. You look at it in awe. “So you were rich all this time?” Sam asks. “I’m a baron Sam, my family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country”. Shit. Those cars weren’t stolen then..

The mention of his country makes you think back to that battle against ultron. You were very tempted to leave the avengers after nearly wiping out the entirety of a population of a country. But they convinced you to stay, where else could you have gone anyway? You think a little longer about the aftermath, when you helped after the battle with the injured, and loved ones finding their dead. It was one of the saddest moment of your life, until the blip. No one else helped from the avengers, they didn’t even visit the memorial..

“Y/n you coming?” Sam was saying from the top of the stairs. Lost in thought you were stood in front of the plane. Maybe I should stop getting distracted you thought. Entering the jet the seats on the right were already occupied by Sam and Bucky, leaving the only other seat opposite Zemo free. Great. As a gentle reminder you check your dagger on your thigh, almost like a warning that if he tries anything he’ll know what’s coming. Zemo swallows looking where it would be and ask his butler person for a drink. Was that his butler or the pilot? Rich people problems you thought. The plane sets off and you look out of the window daydreaming a little.

The other three talk lightly until the mention of Buckys list, which ends in zemo being choked yet again. You smile a little, enjoying the mini acts of revenge for the people he’s hurt and killed. You feel a bit sleepy but then they start to discuss where you were going. “Do we want to live in a world full of people like the red skull” Zemo shakes his head lightly “that’s why we’re going to Madripoor”. Confused, Bucky explains the place’s history in the Indonesian archipelago. “It’s kept its lawless ways but we cannot go in as our selves” Zemo says. Uh oh that can’t be good.

You were right. Zemo had handed you a bag full of clothes and a pair of heels. You stared at yourself in the full length mirror that resided in the toilets. “You have got to be kidding me” you say aloud. Your were wearing a dark purple silky dress that reached only just halfway down your thigh. It exposed most of your arms, shoulders and a lot of your chest. Thankfully there was a black leather jacket in the bag too, however on the shoulders sat a blanket of fur, similarly to Zemos coat that he took from the warehouse. Your heels were also purple. You thank the lord you took the time to train in heels too because you never know when the situation arises when you happen to find yourself in those monstrous shoes.

“This” you point at yourself “is not happening”. “Ah my baroness has arrived” Zemo says, amusement glinting in his eyes. You glared at the word ‘baroness’. “Here put this on darling, to finish it off”. He holds what seems to be a lipstick in his hand. You already knew what shade it was before taking it from him. “Do you have some thing for purple or is that just me?” Sam and Bucky both laughed.

You had to admit, the dress didn’t look bad, in fact it looked expensive. To say you were uncomfortable was an understatement, not necessarily for what you were wearing, but for the hand now draped around your waist. Zemos hand. He said that no matter what, you couldn’t break character. Bucky was playing the role as the winter soldier; you felt bad for him, the memories this must bring up. You can’t even begin to imagine. Sam however, wore an extravagant and abstract red suit that kind of looked like a dress. It was funny to see his reaction to which he comments that he looked like a “pimp”.

A car pulls up beside you and you all pile in. Of course you were sat next to zemo in the back. After around five minutes you arrive in lowtown. A place where you could apparently find a gall called Selby. That hand snaked back around you as you intermingle with the crowded streets. The high density of the crowd forced you even closer to Zemos side leaving practically no space between you now. You could feel his warm body against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down on you. His eyes seem to be softer now than they were before and he gives you a quick kiss on the temple as if to reassure you that you’re safe. You tried to keep yourself from shaking him off of you but as you carried on walking, you got used to him a bit more. Sam and Bucky followed the two of you, both with grim faces.

Finally, you come to a bar, most people around you watching carefully as you all enter. Zemo orders the both of you a shot and Sam gets his usual. This turned out to be something containing whatever the barman cutout of a snake. The sight of it made your stomach drop, and to your astonishment, Sam actually drank it. He looked like he wanted to be sick but, no matter what he had to stay in character. Bucky gave a slight nod, he didn’t get a drink, not as the winter soldier.

You had let it be known of who you wanted to see and as you waited a man came up behind Zemo and you. He immediately guided you away from this man so he was in front of you and Zemo in front of the man. He knew you could hold your own, you had made that clear already, but he wanted to protect you. For the act of course. “You ain’t welcome here” the man stated, placing a hand roughly on zemos shoulder as he turned to face him. “I have no business with the powerbroker, but if he insists he can either talk to me” Zemo points at Bucky. His hand then slipped to yours, holding it tightly. “Or bring Selby for a chat”. The man looks displeased and walks away. You had many things you wanted to say to Zemo at this moment, but sticking to your character was more important. As he continued to grip your hand, other men started to menacingly prowl towards you all. Zemo gave Bucky the order to attack and so he did. A fight quickly broke out between them all but Bucky was far too strong for them all. This ended in Bucky holding one of the guys that remained standing against the bar table. Finally someone called to say selby was ready to see your group. This was going to be interesting.

Notes

Okay i left this on a little bit of a cliffhanger but the next chapter should be out in a day or so. This is my first fanfic i have published so I’m interested to see what everyone thinks. If there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes then umm you didn’t see anything. I hope you enjoyed!

@killsandthrills @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @arianalilyblack @your-pixels-are-showing @kenna-1904

#mcu #helmut zemo #sugar daddy zemo #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #daniel brühl #marvel #tfatws

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Ch.4

In Which: exposition for exposition's sake exists, and Vlad looks way more suspcious than he ought

| AO3 | Prologue | 3 | [4] | 5

VLADIMIR MASTERS. Human male in his mid-forties, and most notably the founder and CEO of VladCo, a billion-dollar industry that mostly specializes in manufacturing weapons and technology. Graduated summa cum laude from the University of Wisconsin despite having to drop out due to a lab accident in his second year, landing him in the hospital. Despite being based primarily in Wisconsin, he made an unexpected move to Amity Park Illinois shortly after reuniting with his college friends Drs. Madeline and Jack Fenton.

Not even a year later, Masters ran for mayor of Amity Park and won the election by a landslide. Suspicious, considering Masters being an unknown and the former mayor Montez being quite popular. It’s during Masters’ tenure in office that reports of ghost attacks to the Justice League steadily died down.

“Why?” Damian asked.

Barbara shrugged, pulling up a few files on the screen. “I originally had a theory that related to VladCo’s buyout of Axion Labs—a technological research and manufacturing company that’s mostly local to Amity—being a factor. Within the last couple of years, they had been experimenting with highly volatile chemicals with hallucinogenic properties. Amity had always been known for being extremely superstitious with its ghosts, and if Axion Labs had somehow accidentally released that chemical into the city, well…” She leaned back into her chair, hand twisting in the air. “You could bet how that ended up. The hysteria around ghosts only grew worse in the last two years, with suspected sightings from once every few weeks to multiple in a single day. Early attempts to capture sightings were unsuccessful, and soon enough Amity Park was just written off.”

Much like the mass hysteria surrounding the urban legend of the kuchisake-onna in Japan in the late 1970s, Bruce thought. He pulled up some news footage from Amity Park dated a few years back of citizens being interviewed about their ghostly encounters. Beside these videos were a few photos taken by a shaky camera, showing bright blurs of light streaking across the sky or vaguely humanoid shapes rising from the ground.

“So VladCo., bought out Axion Labs, improved its security, and slowly helped detoxify the town?” Damian shifted his weight onto his other leg and crossed his arms.

“That’s what I thought, but—”

“But the ghosts ended up being real.” Bruce pulled up a video of a field reporter-slash-weatherman taking cover as a figure dropped from the sky, breaking through the walls of a building. The figure—features distorted by an eerie glow—shot out of the rubble just in time before a green blast hit it.

Oracle enlarged other news footage with a few taps on her keyboard. Beings zooming through the air. Massive plants erupting from the ground. Technology coming to life. Each video more worrying than the last, and most showing some footage of a figure bathed in a white glow. “I’d be hard pressed to call any of these faked.”

It begged the question as to how Amity Park survived this long unscathed. Since, if he remembered correctly, even the Dark Leaguers tended to avoid Amity Park like the plague. “They have their own heroes, then?”

“Think along the lines of vigilantes with unofficial support.” A few more files popped up on screen. One showcased a female in a full-length black and red body suit on top of a hover board. The other was a male; young, perhaps a teenager, with white hair and a black and white suit. Hazmat? “The Red Huntress and the Phantom of Amity Park.”

“Partners?”

“More like enemies working on the same turf. Sources place Phantom as appearing first, though it seems Red Huntress has more government support in the end despite there being no official statement. They seem to be the most effective ghost hunters in town, though far from the only ones. The Fentons of Fenton Works are also acting as ghost hunters, though their track record of success leans more towards their anti-ghost tech than any hunting. The town’s even attracted visitors from the Ghost Investigation Ward; a side branch of Cadmus though a now defunct organization.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Damian said. “If anything, this should be more than enough reason for a League intervention. Why the Justice League didn’t come sooner is the real question here.”

Bruce’s lips thinned. “That’s because we were warned off it.”

“What?”

While there was no rule against heroes entering another hero’s city, there were certain unspoken rules that demanded that JL members avoid claimed cities or stay just outside of city lines until given permission to enter. Some were especially strict about it such as Batman’s ‘no metas or outsiders’ rule. Others were more lenient, simply requesting a warning before entering.

Amity Park, despite having no listed heroes in the database, was marked with heavy ‘Do Not Interact’ warnings for humans and metas alike.

“Justice League Dark said that under no circumstances should the League interfere in Amity. The situation was never explicitly laid out for us except to say that everything was being handled.”

“Oh yeah,” Oracle chimed. “Constantine even had it bolded, underlined, italicized, and in all caps. The occult community was very clear about everyone staying away—and apparently this decision had support from Amity Park too.” She pulled up another document. “That’s probably what led to the decline in their ghost reports, actually. Amity’s claims were considered bogus and brushed aside. No one outside their town—not even their sister town of Elmerton—believed them, so they simply stopped asking for help.”

Strangely, it reminded Bruce of Gotham. Both cities existed in its own isolated sphere, unwilling to let any outsiders interfere in its business.

“It’s safe to assume, then, that whatever Ra’s al Ghul wants with Amity, it has to do with these ghosts. Do we have anyway to contact the town’s vigilantes?”

Oracle shook her head. “Ghost attacks within the past few months have slowly died down along with sightings of Phantom and Red Huntress. Your best bet is asking Masters directly.”

Damian glowered. “Masters blatantly sent out an invitation for Batman to my father. How do we know that Masters hasn’t somehow found our secret identities?”

“Unlikely,” Bruce said. “Vlad Masters, despite his wealth, has done well to keep a low profile. He’s met Bruce Wayne a total of three times within the last decade and Batman not at all.” That, and with the kind of spyware Batman has, he’d be able to tell when, where, and who was trying to dig deep into Batman’s past. Masters hadn’t even registered as a ping.

“Besides, there’s always a few rumors of Wayne Enterprise’s involvement with Batman. All this tech has to come from somewhere, no?”

“How long is Masters staying in Gotham?”

“Umm…” Oracle leaned forward in her chain and flipped through a half-dozen windows. “Going by his reservations at the Gotham Royal Hotel, he’s leaving tomorrow.”

Bruce pivoted on his heel, heading deeper into the Cave. “We better make this count, then.”

------

According to Oracle’s intel, Vlad Masters was staying at one of the executive suites in the Gotham Royal Hotel. A titanic structure with forty-eight floors, two towers, and the gothic aesthetic that never seemed to leave Gotham’s architecture.

Scaling the building as well as entering the suite proved no challenge for Batman and Robin. But upon entrance, it was abundantly clear that the room was vacant.

“Are you sure you guys are in the right room?” Bruce could hear the clicking of Oracle’s keys through their comms. “Masters had reserved the suite on the west tower.”

“Yes we’re in the correct room, Gordon,” Robin hissed.

“Codenames only, Robin.”

Robin clicked his tongue, sweeping the common room for any hidden bugs or cameras as Batman scouted out the rest of the room. The bed was made to hotel standard and the bathroom towels all completely replaced. There were no clothes in the hotel closet or dresser.

The only thing left that indicated occupancy of the room was an unmarked manila envelope unsubtly tucked within a pillowcase.

Robin tensed at the sight of it. “A detonator of some sort?”

Batman rotated the package, holding it up to his scanner. “Doesn’t seem to be. Regardless, it might be better to take it back to the Batcave and locate Masters ag—” The envelope started ringing. A standard ringtone found in most phones. Quickly, but carefully, Batman opened the manila envelope and dumped its contents onto the bed. A ringing burner phone and a flash drive came tumbling out.

Batman threw the flash drive at Robin before answering the phone, holding it up against his ear but saying nothing.

Silence. Then, Masters’ voice filtered in through the phone with a strange echo-like quality. “Good evening, Batman! I’m so glad my invitation managed to get passed along.”

Batman growled into the speaker, “What do you want, Masters?” He signaled Robin to do another sweep of the room for any signs of Masters they might have missed.

“I sincerely apologize for not being there to meet you myself; incredibly rude of me, I know. But it cannot be helped, the shadows are growing ever bolder.”

“So, you are aware then, of the League of Assassins’ presence in Amity Park?”

“A league of assassins? What a terrifying notion that is.” Batman frowned. It was unlikely that they had misread his words at the gala, so why was he acting unaware now? Could he be watched? “Why such a group would appear in my little town, I wouldn’t even dare to guess.”

Robin came back into the room and signaled back ‘negative.’

“Why did you call for us, Mayor Masters?”

“Do you know what is so very tragic, Batman?”

“This is strange,” Oracle said. “I can’t pick up his signal. He’s not appearing on any of my cameras, either.”

“When someone so young dies much to soon.” A pause. “Could you even imagine such a thing? A parent burying their own child.”

Batman could. He had no need to even imagine it because he lived it.

“Some very close friends of mine have been weighed down by the shadows of death and I require help in providing them the closure they need.”

“Are the Fentons the targets, then?”

Masters paused. Then let out a breathy laugh over the phone. “Oh, if only it were that simple.”

“So a different target.”

“Everything you need to know is in the flash drive I’ve enclosed in that envelope Whether you take up the case is entirely up to you—though I do hope you take it. Regardless, if he is not returned soon then I assure you that a disaster unlike any you have seen before will arrive.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat, Masters?”

“No,” He laughed. “That was no threat. That was promise.”

The phone line disconnected just as Oracle exclaimed that she finally found Masters boarding his flight back to Amity Pak.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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muchadoaboutbucky · 3 years

Text

all the time in the world | oneshot

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x Native American!Reader WORD COUNT: 3,954 WARNINGS: slow burn, eventual smut, fluff, minor injury NOTE: Imagine if Bucky hadn’t been injured in Civil War and went on the run with everyone else. The reader’s face claim is Crystle Lightning. I also used Sebastian’s “Destroyer” look for inspiration as well. Enjoy!

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I do not consent to minors (17-) reading my work.

It’s been six months since Siberia. Six long, rough months of dodging the government and living off the grid. No phones, no computers, no connection to the outside world other than the daily newspapers you manage to pick up.

Living in close quarters isn’t the easiest. The jet doesn’t have the best sleeping quarters, just five open bunks on the lower level. The other two have become storage, a cluttered mess of papers and empty weapons boxes and ammunition that has yet to be organized.

It doesn’t help that you and Bucky have become a little more than friends.

He’s become different since you went on the run. He’s quiet, broody, and absolutely merciless when it comes to getting a mission done. To say the sight of the former assassin taking down the bad guys with nothing but a couple weapons and his bare metal hand doesn’t get you all kinds of riled up.

The five of you have just finished up a weekend in Portugal. A weapons bust had gone almost perfectly to plan, with the small exception of you getting a bullet graze on your thigh from one of the barely-alive arms dealers on your way out the door. You’d hit the ground hard, and before you could say anything or make a move to recover, Bucky scooped you off the ground and took the fire escape all the way up to the roof and into the jet without a second glance back.

Fortunately the medical bay’s been fully restocked, and Nat quickly gets you on the examining table while Sam takes off, the jet’s cloaking technology vanishing instantly into the dark three-am sky.

“Suit off,” Nat directs, reaching into one of the storage cupboards for a prepped cleaning kit. You strip out of your suit, wincing as the fabric grazes your wound. Natasha bends to examine the wound, gently pressing along the edges with a gloved finger.

“No stitches, please,” you mutter.

“Nope, you won’t need those.” Nat grabs an antiseptic wipe. “Just some bandages and you’ll need to take it easy for a couple days.”

You grumble. “Gross.”

“Could be worse.” Nat dabs the antiseptic wipe along the thin red line of your injury, and you wince, trying not to jerk away. “So… you and Barnes, huh?”

You frown, glancing down at the shimmer of her red hair. “What?”

She chuckles. “He carried you outta there like his ass was on fire. You two’ve been dancing around each other for a couple months.”

Your cheeks flush hot. “We just… it’s complicated.”

“How complicated can it be?” She smiles. “Two people like each other, they go out on a couple dates, maybe they fall in love.”

“It’s not like we have a lot in common,” you explain. “It’s just fooling around, right now, at least.”

If ‘fooling around’ counts as the time he pinned you up against the side of the jet and kissed the shit out of you with his thigh between your legs… or the time he’d waited for everyone else to be occupied with organizing the weapons closet before tugging your panties aside and sliding two fingers deep inside—

“You don’t have to bond over all the bad stuff.” She tosses the wipe into the trash and peels the wrapping off a patch of gauze. “Maybe you have small similarities. Maybe you both like chocolate, maybe you used to go to the same park as kids. It’s the little things.”

As slick and smart as she is, Natasha has no idea about the dirty things you and Bucky have done in the dark.

“I’m just not sure it would work.” You peer down when she lays a pair of large Band-Aids over the patch of gauze. “He’s a little more rough around the edges than I am, he’s still adjusting to this whole modern-life thing, I’m not sure saying ‘hey, you wanna be my boyfriend’ in the middle of it would be smart.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Oh please, he knows what he wants, he’s just afraid to ask for it. Men are like that.”

The privacy curtain slides back, and you and Natasha look up so fast you both nearly get whiplash. Bucky’s standing there, eyes wide as he takes in the full sight of you sitting on the table, clothed only in a plain black bra and panties.

“Oh.” He swallows, and his cheeks flush bright red. “Never mind, I was just—”

Natasha grins. “Barnes, if you have something to say—”

The curtain swishes shut, and the heavy tread of his boots fades away. You giggle, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He’s never seen you this degree of undressed before, much less seen a naked woman in the last several decades.

“Teach him how to knock,” Natasha jokes, sweeping the used kit into the trash and tugging her gloves off. “I’ll grab you some clothes, we don’t need all the men stroking out from seeing a pair of boobs.”

***

You emerge from the medical room dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a tee shirt. Steve and Sam are settled comfortably in the pilots’ seats, and Natasha herself has changed into flannel pants and a one of the tee shirts she’s stolen from Sam.

Bucky’s nowhere to be found.

“We’ll find somewhere to land in a couple hours,” Steve says, glancing back at you. “How’s your leg, kid?”

“Hurts, but I’ve had worse.” You offer a smile before turning to Nat. “Where’s Bucky?” you ask her silently.

“Downstairs,” she replies, the corner of her mouth turning up into a little smirk. “Alone.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks burning as you head to the descending ladder for the lower level. Bucky’s sitting on the floor, earphones on, eyes closed. He somehow hears you approach, because he opens his eyes and reaches up to pull the scuffed headphones off and pause the old cassette player clutched in his left hand.

You’re so used to him being big and strong and dominant. Now he just seems… weary. A side you don’t see very often.

“Hi.” You slide down to sit next to him. “It’s late, Nat and I are going to bed, you should wash up and get some rest.”

“I’m not tired,” he replies softly.

“Are you worried about walkin’ in on me half naked?” you ask, reaching up to run your fingers through the longer hair at the top of his head. Since almost shaving it off, it’s grown back, and he almost looks like he used to back in his time.

His cheeks flush. “You were a little more than half naked.”

“It’s not a problem, I didn’t mind.” You rest your head on his shoulder. “You look exhausted, you should really get some rest.”

“I’m not tired.” Bucky sets the cassette player and headphones on the floor next to him. “Been trying to get some alone time with you for a long time, and tonight when you went down… I just got a lot of ‘what if’s’ goin’ on in my head.”

You hum. “I’m fine. My leg hurts and Nat’s gonna kill me if I don’t take it easy, but—”

“I wanna take you somewhere.” He turns to face you. “I hate dancin’ around like this, and I get that it’s risky for us to be… involved, or whatever we’re trying to be, but…” he swipes his tongue over his lower lip, “I think we deserve one night where we aren’t gonna be sleeping in these stupid bunks. Just you and me.”

You wrap your fingers through his warm metal ones. “We do have that tent in the storage cupboard… we could make a camping night of it?”

He sighs. “I want a real bed. In a real… house, or hotel, or whatever, but I wanna be alone with you. We deserve that, we’ve been playing back and forth for the last six months and I’m tired of it.”

Smiling, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “What else do you want?”

He lets out a soft breath before tipping his head back against the wall. “I wanna make love to you, and I can’t do that in a stupid little bunk where three other people can see us.”

You stifle a flustered giggle in his chest. “We can still fool around, Bucky.”

He grunts, dissatisfied. “Can’t you pretend your leg is worse than it is and they can drop us off somewhere?”

“I don’t know, they’ve seen me walking just fine.”

“You could be in shock and not know how bad it is.”

“Bucky.” You slide onto his lap and cup his face. “I’ve been in shock before, several times, and I’m not in shock.”

He smiles lazily, skimming his hands up your sides. “Really? You look a little cold.”

“Because we’re at fifteen-thousand feet,” you kiss him softly, wincing when your bandage pulls, “and Sam’s slacking on fixing the temperature regulator.”

“Maybe I should take you somewhere with a fireplace.” He peers at you through the dim light. “I could do a lot with that.”

“Oh yeah?” You run a finger over his cheek. “Like what?”

He grins wolfishly. “Put some blankets out in front of the fire… get you all warm and toasty before I make love to you.”

You bite your lip, shifting on his lap. “Bucky…”

“Hmm?”

“Hearing you talk about making love to me isn’t making the fact that I really want that right now any better.”

He chuckles. “I can be quick, you know that.”

“I’m not having our first time on the jet floor.” You stand up, pulling on his metal arm. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

He stands obediently, eyes raking up your bare thighs and the bandage on as he rises. “You know, you look really hot with a bandage on your thigh.”

“Oh, so you’re glad I got shot?”

“I didn’t say that.” He wraps his arms around your waist. “I mean I like seein’ you with things on your thighs. Holsters… those thigh-high socks you wore a month ago, that made me…” he shivers and digs his fingers into your hips.

“Freak,” you giggle. “Bucky, if you don’ let me go...”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.” You slip a teasing finger into his belt.

He grins, slowly backing you up until your shoulders press against the steel wall. In a playful attempt to duck away, you try to slip just to his left, and warm metal wraps around your arm, pinning you firmly in place.

“Hold on,” he mutters, “you think you can just do that and walk away?”

You let out a long, soft moan when he presses his lips to yours, stepping up so close you can feel the firm heat of his body. Your fingers twist in his shirt, and he slots a knee between your thighs, careful to avoid your injured one as flesh fingers twist into your hair. He hums when you give an instinctual push of your hips against the rough fabric of his pants, and you

“Better rest up, then, honey.”

You giggle when he lands a firm swat on your ass and scamper up the ladder, heaving yourself onto the upper level with Bucky close behind you. The grin on Bucky’s face earns you a quizzical look from Sam, but you roll your eyes and head down to your bunk, making sure that nobody can see before stretching up on your toes and giving Bucky a goodnight kiss.

***

The jolt of the jet landing just over four hours later wakes you. You sit up, almost banging your head on the top of your bunk, and curse Sam for winning Rock Paper Scissors for the top one. You emerge blearily, shoving your privacy curtain aside with a grimace as a ray of sunlight smacks you in the face.

“Ow,” you mutter as Sam drops down from the bunk above you, “what time is it?”

“It’s late morning,” Steve replies, emerging from the cockpit. “We’re in Austria. Found us a place to lay low for a couple days. We’re gonna have to do a little bit of hiking and wear disguises when we check in, but the jet’s on stealth mode. Town’s about a twenty-minute walk away.”

Town. Thank God.

The four of you stumble around, stuffing things into your bags and checking your nanomasks before stepping off the jet. It’s a brisk morning, and you tug a jacket over your shoulders as you take in your surroundings.

Steve’s touched down in a large field of flowers. The jet’s invisible to your eye when the hatch closes, and you set off to the East, keeping your heads low as you head into a more-populated area and onto busy streets. There’s a market across from the closest hotel, and you make a note to sneak out and get some of the pretty fruits and breads on display.

When you get up to the counter, Steve shoves a wad of cash from his duffel bag at the attendant and asks for two rooms, which you get with a three-night guarantee.

“Okay,” Sam murmurs once you’re in the elevator heading up to your floor, “who shares with who? I’m not havin’ Barnes hogging all the covers again.”

“Mmm, you won’t.” Natasha slips you a sly look. “Barnes and Y/N together, I’ll share with Steve, so you, Sam, can have all the covers you want.”

You cast a quick glance at Bucky and find his cheeks stained bright pink. “That’s fine,” you cover when he fails to respond, “we’re gonna get some rest anyway.”

Nat smirks when the elevator doors slide open, and you roll your eyes before accepting the key card Steve offers you. “Sure, sure,” she replies, “make sure it’s a good rest.”

You give her a playful glare as she follows Steve and Sam into their room and closes the door, leaving you and Bucky to slip into your room across the hall with burning faces.

It’s definitely not the biggest—or best—room that you’ve ever stayed in, but it’ll do the trick. The bed is king-sized, with several lumpy-looking pillows stacked on a thin white comforter. You set your bag down on the floor and toe off your boots, stretching your arms over your head while Bucky goes to inspect the bathroom.

“It’s not bad,” he calls out, “just a shower stall, no tub.”

“That’s good enough for me.” You tug a fresh set of clothes out of your duffel and snag your almost-empty toiletries from the front pocket. “You wanna go first, or…”

“Nah, you.” He runs a hand up your back and leans in to press his lips against yours. “I’m gonna try and get some shut-eye. I never sleep well on the jet.”

You hum against his mouth, grateful for the sudden solitude. “I’ll be out in fifteen. Knock if you need anything, ‘kay?”

He smiles and slumps down on the bed, watching you slip into the bathroom and leave the door slightly ajar.

The water pressure isn’t too bad. It’s been a few days since you’ve been able to properly clean up, and your hair gets washed thoroughly, pits get shaved, well… everything that isn’t permanently done gets shaved, and you emerge from the steam-filled shower dressed in panties and a tee shirt, towel held to the now-exposed wound on your thigh. Bucky’s stretched out on the bed, a pillow tucked under his head, eyes closed. The medical kit’s in his bag, and you tug it free and watch one crystal-blue eye open as you perch on the edge of the bed.

“How’s that?” His eyes rake over the bare skin of your thigh as you pull it away to inspect the slowly-scabbing graze.

“Healing.” You gently poke at the angry bruise along the side and wince. “I still need to bandage it.”

Bucky sighs, watching you tug out a roll of gauze and tape. “Want some help with that?”

You smile gladly in return. “Please?”

“You got it.” He slides off the bed and reaches for the paper-wrapped supplies. Nimble fingers tear open the packets, and you lean back as he kneels on the carpet, flesh hand gently splayed out against your knee as he gently lowers a folded strip of cause to cover the exposed flesh. Medical tape snaps off between his teeth, and you watch him lay four strips, one on each side until he’s satisfied that your injury is sufficiently protected.

“Thanks.” You reach over and rub the top of his head. “So walking in on me in just my bra and panties didn’t… that didn’t bother you?”

He chuckles. “No, it didn’t bother me. Just surprised me.”

You giggle. “Really? ‘Cause you looked like a total virgin.”

“Shush.” He kisses your knee and gazes up at you, eyes wide and almost deceivingly innocent. “Not a virgin, honey, just… you look hot in that suit, and seeing you out of it was… a shock. Good shock.”

***

The rest of the day passes slowly, with you and Bucky dozing in and out of naps until Sam knocks on the door, asking if Bucky wants to go to the market outside. You watch him leave, donning his nanomask and swiping a couple bills from the plastic bag he keeps in his duffel before slipping out the door.

He’s back in an hour, carrying a large paper bag full of what looks like bread and fruit and all kinds of goodies. You eat slowly, sneaking kisses between bites of fresh, juicy watermelon for a mock-dessert.

Around six, Natasha comes by, inviting you to the other room for a much better dinner of pizza and drinks… which, as it turns out, hasn’t even been delivered yet. You and Bucky spend the first ten minutes enduring innuendo from Natasha, which Steve is quick to defend, although he snorts at one comment about peaches that makes Bucky choke on his bottle of ale.

The pizza finally arrives, three boxes to cater to two supersoldier appetites, and you’re able to unwind, laughing and joking and teasing each other until it’s late and Sam starts to yawn incessantly. You and Bucky make an excuse for being tired as well, and Natasha watches you leave with a glimmer in her eye as the door swings shut.

The moment you and Bucky are safely tucked in the seclusion of your room, he pulls you into his arms and plants a warm, sweet kiss on your lips.

“Baby,” he breathes, “we only got three nights here and I… I wanna take you, tonight…”

You giggle. “Bucky, we’re not in your time anymore. You can tell me what you want.”

He swallows, metal fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt. “I wanna make love with you.”

You roll your eyes and wind your arms around his neck. “Is that all?”

He grumbles. “Baby, you’re making it harder than it needs to be.”

“Sorry.” You stretch up on your toes and kiss him again, hips rubbing deliciously against his. “Only thing I need to be hard is this… and looks like you’re way ‘head of me.”

Bucky groans, breaking away to tug your shirt over your head. “If you keep doing that, you’re not gonna feel it for a while.”

You bite your lip, watching him strip his own shirt and toss it to the ground. Before you can do anything else, he lifts you up, careful to avoid your injured thigh, and lays you out on the bed, reaching for your pajama shorts and tugging them down to leave you in just a plain pair of panties.

Now he’s nervous, you can see it in his eyes. He’s had you open before, got his fingers wet inside your pussy, and kissed the shit out of you until you could barely breathe, but he’s never had you completely naked and exposed.

“Hey.” You reach for his hand, guiding it to the little blue bow between your hips. “It’s okay, baby.”

He chuckles, easing his fingers beneath the elastic and watching with held breath as he teases them down, letting them fall off the edge of the bed with a soft pat. His palms smooth down the insides of your thighs, spreading you open, and when he trails the pad of his thumb over your clit and you press your hips up to get closer, he lets out a strangled groan and curls over you, completely helpless.

Your hands push at his sweats, and you giggle when he clumsily kicks them down over his feet, leaving himself completely bare for you as well. When your fingers drift to wrap around his thick, heavy shaft, he stops, gritting his teeth against the side of your neck.

“Baby…” he clears his throat, raising his head to look at you. “We’re not movin’ too fast, right?”

“Don’t get soft on me,” you reply, “we’re good, Bucky, I’m happy, I wanna feel you…”

He nods, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Good, it’s just… it’s been a long time and—”

“Shhh.” You rub your hands over his hips. “I don’t care, I just want you.”

Bucky’s eyes darken, and he reaches down to grab himself, experimentally running the swollen tip of his cock through yout pussy until he finds your opening, and you grab on tight, a cry of pleasure dying in your throat as he pumps his hips forward and sinks in.

“Ahh, fuck—” he grunts quietly against your lips when your nails dig into his ass, “baby…”

You can’t even find the words to reply. He’s so deep, thick and hot and pulsing inside where your body grips him tight. All you can do is give a little tug, trying to urge him on, and he gives you what you want without question.

All sense of awkwardness or anxiety melts away as he props himself up on both arms, watching your body roll and move under his as he searches a rhythm, inexperience getting the better of him when his hips stutter and slide. He finds it, a steady, rough beat back and forth that makes your clit rub against the skin above his cock and high-pitched sighs and whimpers to rattle in your throat.

“C’mere,” he pants, hooking his flesh arm under your shoulders to keep you close, and you brace yourself as his thrusts grow hard enough for your bodies to slap together. It’s been so long since you’ve been able to feel this good that when his lips find one nipple and latch on, your body decides to follow its own path.

All it takes for you to cum is a few quick rolls of your clit under your fingers, and Bucky lets out a choked gasp when he feels the rapid contractions, burying his face in the crook of your neck and matching your moans with his own, panting harder and louder as he stutters, pushes in as far and hard as he can, and cums with a growl that resonates deep in your soul as you wrap your legs tight around his waist.

You come back to reality slowly, sweaty bodies sticking as he drops down over you, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips.

“That was fast,” he murmurs, “sorry, baby, I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay.” You run your fingers through his hair. “It’s been a long time for me too, it was… that was good.”

“Good.” He chuckles and pulls away, watching the first dribble of white slide from your core. “We got three more days to make it longer, huh?”

“Yeah.” You reach for his hand, fingers intertwining with his. “Right now, we have all the time in the world.”

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daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

Sorry, I’m Married

word count?: 3.5k

warnings: canon-typical violence, i don’t describe it graphically tho, just a minor skirmish. happy ending :)

requested? no

ship: dousy/daisy johnson x daniel sousa & dad!coulson

hey guys! i wrote this on a whim after hanging out in a dousy group. i was inspired by the chat at the end of the fic. as always, thank you for reading!! and drink some water ;) fic under the cut!

Neon lights reflected off rough concrete walls as Daisy’s combat boots walked down the steps to the underground club. Light up signs glowed and glittery heels flashed as crowds of people surged and stepped on the technicolour dance floor. The sequins of her dress reflected spotlights that roved the entry area. There were booths with cushy red banquettes lining the walls near the bar, giving college girls a place to rest their feet and hotshot businessmen a table to sip beer. Currently, the club was full, young men and women crowding the bar and dance floor. Decades night, Daisy deduced, as most of the inhabitants were wearing flashy dresses or denim bell bottoms. Deke would’ve loved this, she thought. I wonder how Deke is doing…

Daisy’s mind drifted as the light up jukebox in the corner switched songs. She didn’t spot the target anywhere, so she pushed in a quarter, chose her favourite 80s hit, and watched as the jukebox queued her song. The vibrations of the speakers were reverberating through her, pumping her adrenaline up. Good, more energy for a fight if I need it.

Three leather stools were open at the bar—one by itself, and two side by side. She nodded at the bartender and sat in the single empty seat. Her comms crackled in her right ear, reminding her of why she was here in the first place.

“Dais, can you hear me?” She located where Coulson was speaking across the room, sitting in a wooden booth near the side exit. He casually leaned back and sipped his drink.

“Loud and clear,” Daisy mumbled.

“New intel from HQ just came in. The weapons the target is dealing? Alien tech.”

“Great, she said sarcastically,” said Daisy, clearly annoyed.

Coulson laughed. “On your 3.”

Daisy rested her elbow forward on the bartop, scanning the selection of alcohols as a premise to look down the row of people to her right. She noticed two young lads dressed in all black suits, carrying briefcases. There was no way these guys were in charge of the illegal operation. Well, at least they won’t be a problem if it comes down to a fight, she thought.

As Daisy’s eyes roamed the club, she locked eyes with a muscular, bodyguard-type with a small, raised scar over his eye. She smiled then turned around. She recognized the uniform he was wearing as standard bouncer garb, but his side-piece was not. CF380, Princetown standard issue. Daisy signaled his presence to Coulson.

“These guys? Again?”

Princetown was a group of rich, privileged sons of international diplomats and of heads of large corporations. They slipped through the FBI’s fingers like sand. Now, they had alien tech. No diplomatic immunity would allow them to get out of an arrest now.

Coulson nodded behind her. She subtly turned her head and glanced in that direction. Wearing an overly expensive silk suit and holding a glass of champagne, stood Luca Casagrande. Son of the Italian Minister of foreign affairs. Notorious for his parties, wealth, and lack of self-control. He winked at a blonde waitress who slipped him a piece of paper, which was very obviously not a bill. Daisy rolled her eyes. Criminals these days are so stupid, she thought.

Coulson bit back a laugh at Daisy’s reaction. “Alright, Daisy, you’re up.”

“Remind me again why I was chosen for this part of the mission?” she murmured while sipping her drink to hide her words.

“Because, you’re good at it.” Coulson went quiet for a second then added, “And I'm not Casagrande’s type.”

Daisy flashed her eyes in Coulson’s direction, frustrated. She mentally went over the calming exercises May taught her. Deep breath, exhale. Let’s do this.

Daisy slid off the barstool, and approached Casagrande slowly. He only looked her direction when she sidled up next to him.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing out here all by yourself?” A smooth, accented voice inquired.

Daisy bottled up a sarcastic remark and stocked it on the shelf for later use. Only Daniel is allowed to call her sweetheart.

“Well, I was hoping,” she blinked up at him, batting her eyelashes. “to find some product. Heard you had all the good stuff. I'm lucky I even caught you here, considering your reputation.”

“Geez. Laying it on a little thick aren’t we?” Coulson couldn’t help it. The snort Daisy covered up as a cough was too hilarious.

Luca smiled. It was charming, but unsettling. “Oh? And what reputation would that be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Daisy countered. She looked around before continuing, “Look, I've got pressure on me to deliver. I’d appreciate it if we talked business before pleasure.”

“Hard to get.” Luca’s eyes sparkled. “Alright. Let’s talk business.”

He leaned over the bar and signaled the bartender to bring him two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. Once a glass was in his hand, he gestured to Daisy’s. “You don’t drink?”

“Not when I'm on the clock. My employers frown upon it.”

Casagrande nodded. “I see. So, what type of product were you looking for?”

“Anything I can sell. Uncle Sam called and said they need a next gen advantage for soldiers. Weapons, maybe?” She ran a finger down the lapel of his suit. “They pay generously.”

“You work for the US military.”

“We have a... mutual understanding.” Daisy flashed a brilliant smile. It was kind of fun playing an undercover persona.

Luca studied her face. “I don’t get details?”

Daisy scoffed, “Of course not. Son of a foreign diplomat, it’s a risk the US can’t take. If other countries found out…”

“Yes, I understand," He responded carefully.

“And I understand that you also do some dirty business with governments.”

A menacing half-smile rose on his face. “Only the beautiful ones.”

Looking up into his eyes, Daisy felt the same disgust that had been worn by everyone at the mission briefing. Au contraire, Luca seemed to find Daisy extremely attractive.

“Why don’t we—”

“No.” Daisy internally cringed, but on the outside she seemed relaxed and blasé. She risked a glance at Coulson, to see his reaction. His entire body was rigid. She didn’t blame him. Hearing some douchebag proposition your daughter...yulgh. She wished Daniel was here to watch her back, too... this guy was getting under her skin. Everything about Casagrande pushed her buttons.

“No?”

“No,” Daisy affirmed, tilting her head. “Business first. We can talk about any other deals after.”

“But there is a possibility?” He cheekily remarked.

Not a chance in hell, Daisy thought. “Maybe. But for now, I need to move product ASAP.”

Luca mulled thos over and sipped the burning whiskey. “I may have some contacts that could help you. In return, what will you give me?”

Though the question was innocent, his intentions were obvious. That was exactly what she wanted.

“Depends on how good the product is.” She stepped a little closer “It’s a little crowded in here, don’t ya think?”

He pushed off the bar, inches from her. He smelled like overly expensive cologne, and not the good kind. “I'm meeting some business associates out back in a few minutes. We’ll make a deal after that.”

“Would they happen to have anything I could—”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I do business privately.”

Daisy faked a sweet smile and resisted the urge to punch him.

Luca took two steps toward the back door, then turned around and strutted back. He tilted his head towards her. “A good luck ki—?”

BRing. BRing. Bzzzzz.

Best. Timing. Ever. Daisy shot Luca an apologetic look before picking up.

“Hello? Oh, Dad! One sec.” Daisy took the phone off her ear, and whispered to Luca, “It’s my Dad. He’s in the hospital. Doesn’t know what my real job is.”

She brought the phone back up to her ear as Luca irritatedly glanced around.

“Dad? Yeah... No, I'm fine, how are you feeling?... That’s great, Dad.” She winked at Luca and held up a finger. Daisy was glad he didn’t notice Coulson over her shoulder, also on the phone.

“I'm with some friends…” Luca raised his eyebrows. “Luca Casagrande... He does business with my marketing firm.”

Daisy waved Luca away after noticing him checking his Rolex twice in ten seconds. He nodded and headed out back. She made sure he was out of earshot before alerting Coulson.

“Coulson, he’s headed out.”

“Yup, QJ-6 is on the way. I’ll stay to watch his lackeys.”

Daisy gave the bartender a tip and walked towards the back door, grabbing her gauntlets from behind the bar. He dipped his chin and continued wiping down the counter.

As she walked into the chilly night air, Daisy was greeted with silence. Droplets of water dripped onto the leather of her boots from the rooftop. The concrete crunched in the darkness of the alley. Light from the streetlamps was scarce, melding shadowy corners with the dim alleyway.. Daisy could hear faint music through the brick walls of the club. A smirk formed on her face as her pick from the jukebox played. Walking towards the street, she checked behind the moldy trash bins for a sign that Casagrande was hiding. The opening guitar grew louder as the safety of a gun clicked off behind her.

“So,” Daisy raised her hands up. It was a trap. “what happened to your business associates?”

Luca chuckled behind her.

“You’re not stupid. You can figure it out.”

Daisy slowly turned around to face him.

“You bluffed to see if I would follow you.” She wasn’t surprised. She had counted on this. “You’re a decent liar.”

“So are you.” Luca lowered the gun a bit. “Who are you? CIA?”

“That’s classified.”

Luca laughed, haphazardly slinging the pistol to the side in a grand gesture. “Of course it is.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that the government and I have a mutual understanding.”

“But that isn’t the whole truth, is it?”

Daisy smirked. “Of course not.”

Technically, this was true. Her status as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was protected knowledge, no one but people inside her agency and a handful high-ranking world intelligence officers were aware.

Daisy decided he might as well know who she was. He was going to be locked up in a max-security cell pretty soon, anyway.

He fell against the wall as Daisy hit him with a small quake, just enough to get her point across. His expression was one of pure shock.

“You- Y- You’re…”

“Mar—”

“Daisy, what’s going on?” Coulson must have felt the vibrations. She didn’t think she had hit Luca that hard. Daisy could hear the quinjet approaching, the comforting vibrations of the engine helping to calm her nerves. She stepped toward Luca.

“You have two options: come peacefully with me, or I call the cavalry to take you in by force.”

Luca stayed on the ground, silent. He reminded Daisy of a pouting toddler.

This toddler had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Coulson’s voice came through her ear. “Daisy, do you ha—”

Daisy’s blood ran cold as she received static from the other line.

“Coulson? Coulson?!”

Wide brown eyes turned to watch Casagrande’s smirk grow.

“Problem?" He said smugly.

Daisy quickly knocked him out with the mini-ICER she kept inside her boot and ran back inside. Opening the solid metal door to the inside of the club, she registered the panicked screams from the main room. As she hurtled through the plain hallway towards the crowds, she wished she had a way to tell the backup team that they were flying into trouble. He must’ve known we’d be here. How did he know we’d be here?

The walls were a blur as the confusion and fear from the civilians in the club became palpable. The door squeaked on its hinges as Daisy threw it open. She didn’t see Coulson anywhere. Actually, she couldn’t see anything at all. An EMP. Cool. Fun. Alright. That’s fine.

It’s all fine.

Wandering the crowds, Daisy tried to find a way to contact the team. Surely they had a landline in here?

The bartender pulled her aside as she passed him. He silently pointed to the jukebox. It was the only thing still on and functioning. Of course, Daisy didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before!

She walked to the jukebox and searched the sides for a dial, a button, something... Aha! She unlatched the panel and bent down to dial Piper’s number. She pressed the call button while her vision grew blurry. Her eyelids drooped. A sluggish head turn towards the dance floor gave a view of unconscious bodies asleep next to each other. Daisy tried to stand, to walk to the nearest victim of the sleeping gas. A burning zap that seemed to travel through her veins rendered her unconscious. I have to find Coulson…

Daisy knew she probably shouldn’t have left Casagrande in the alley by himself. She was playing right into his hand.

Coulson was more important.

Coulson. What would he do?

Daisy slowly tried to open her eyes. She felt like she had a hangover. The light was dim, the floor beneath her cold as ice. Her hearing slowly came back as she took in her surroundings. A pair of black dress shoes blurred into her frame of vision.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Coulson’s voice flooded her with relief.

“What happened? Where…?”

Coulson helped her sit up against a rough stone wall. “I have no clue. Best guess? An Italian castle.”

Daisy was suddenly very awake. “We��re in Italy?”

“Hey, I said best guess.” Coulson pointed his fingers to the ceiling. “I heard footsteps up there earlier.”

Daisy just nodded. Last time she was in Italy, she had a hell of a lot better time. For starters, no one zapped her with— wait, what was she hit with?

“What was that weapon I was hit with? It felt like it was melting my insides.” The thought scared her. The only other time she had felt that type of pain was when... she didn’t like to think about it.

“You know the alien tech that Casagrande was running?” Daisy nodded. “Yeah, it was that.”

A loud groan solidified Daisy’s frustration. Her eyes closed while she tried to concentrate. She tried to feel any vibrations near her, to soak up anything that could signal where they were. Instead of feeling the vibrations of a mountain or a plane, she felt footsteps. Coming closer, closer... Daisy opened her eyes.

Luca entered the chilly cell through the thick steel door. She would have quaked him back about a hundred feet if it weren’t for Coulson’s hand on her arm.

“You two seem comfortable. Can I get you a drink? Water? Coffee?” His smile was smug and irritating.

Coulson replied before Daisy could. “No, we’re good thanks. How about instead, you give us some answers. Starting with: where are we, and who’s your source?” His voice got harder and colder as he went on. Luca acted unfazed.

“No. You are insurance. You have physical evidence of my illegal trades. I was going to leave you on the curb, but then this guy,” Luca pointed over his shoulder at a soldier then slapped the short lad on the back. Daisy recognized him as one the short lads with briefcases at the bar. “This guy had to go and shoot you with the Widow’s Bite!”

Coulson's eyes grew wide in recognition. Daisy could connect the dots herself.

“You stole Black Widow’s weapons?” They said in unison. Coulson and Daisy looked at each other and fell silent. By Daisy’s profile, if they kept acting surprised and in awe, he would keep giving them answers.

“Yes, I did. Amazing right?” Luca stared off into the distance. “Last month I hired a thief to get into the Avenger’s Compound. She got a copy of Stark’s old hard drive, picked up some old relics, modified them with alien metal stolen from Hydra. But every time I tried to open it, it would corrupt my servers. I took the damn thing to every hacker I knew, now they all want to kill me because I crashed their servers. Some of them used to be part of the Rising Tide, when they were still young and hotheaded. They told me about a hacker named Skye. She disappeared, never heard from again. She has no information on her. She has no records. Not even in the top intelligence departments of America. She doesn’t exist.

“But Daisy Johnson does. Daisy Johnson, a hacker who rose in Skye’s place. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“And you need us to get to her,” Coulson finished. “I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re expendable. You’re better off throwing us in the ocean than you are waiting for her to come.”

Luca seemed to be seriously considering this. Then he nodded. You’re right, I need to up the ante. Raise the stakes a little.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he turned on heel and swaggered down the hallway. “Bring them.”

Two soldiers came in to get Daisy and Coulson. They reached down to grab Daisy, and she swiftly brought her head forward to hit theirs. Stunned, the soldier took a step back, giving Daisy time to stand up before she gave a hard kick to his stomach. The other soldier was similarly impaired, having taken a startlingly strong punch to the jaw from Coulson. The crack! of the bone echoed off the stone walls. Daisy quaked them against the wall for good measure, realizing they hadn’t taken her gauntlets. Coulson was waiting by the door.

“Let’s go.”

They ran through the halls, following where they thought Casagrande might have gone, stopping in several rooms on the way to hide from Casagrande’s soldiers. They ran into him at the front of what was, indeed, a stone castle. He stood on the uneven steps gazing out at rolling hills and cottony clouds hung high above a choppy lake. The wind blew hard, just enough to make you wish for a sweater from someone warm and comforting. It was all quite picturesque.

Except for the criminal standing in front of them.

“Congrats, you escaped! I’m so glad.” Luca smiled and opened up his arms.

“Somehow this guy still sounds smug. We just escaped from his prison and this guy still thinks he’s won.” Coulson turned to Daisy.

Daisy shook her head and shouted, “Hey, Luca! The fight’s not finished yet!”

“Really, sweetheart? Because it looks to m—”

He was interrupted by a violent quake in his direction. She strided over to where he was struggling to get up.

“It looks like what? I can’t hear you.” Daisy rested her hands on her hips.

“It looks as if you are lost. Even if you escape, you have no way to get home,” he wheezed.

Daisy rolled her eyes. Coulson walked up behind her, squatting down beside Luca and using a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

“We’re resourceful. And while we were hiding from guards in some of your fancy tech rooms, we found an old sat phone. They’re easy enough to use, all we had to do was phone a friend and tell them exactly where we are,” Coulson explained.

“Ah, but you don’t know where we are, sweetheart.” His rebuttal was pointed at Daisy. She decided it was her turn to prove him wrong.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You counted on us not being able to crack your hard drive’s encryption and get past your feeble firewalls. That took less than five minutes. The only remotely hard part about hacking you to find our coordinates was trying to read everything in Italian.” Daisy laughed.

Luca tried the wiggle away from them. “If you have my hard drive, then you know there isn’t anything of importance on there.”

As she pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her boot, Daisy exchanged a look with Coulson.

“You’re right, there isn’t anything of value on that hard drive,” she said. “There are about 100 other files I downloaded from your personal computer that do have important intel, though.”

Coulson pulled a face and sucked in a breath. “Yikes.”

“So, I guess if you’re arresting me, there isn’t any chance we could ever do business, if you know what I mean?”

Daisy mentally pulled that bottle off the shelf and dusted off her sarcastic remark.

“Sorry, I’m married.”

Daisy locked the cuffs into place and stood Casagrande up. Two quinjets touched down thirty minutes later, one with a team of agents to search the castle, and one to take Daisy and Coulson home. Agent Piper met Daisy on the ramp of QJ-6, something metallic and glittery in her hand.

“Thanks for holding onto it.” Daisy hugged Piper before taking her ring back.

“No problem. Wouldn’t want this rock to get lost in the field!” she laughed.

Daisy slipped the smooth metal on her finger and sagged into the jump seat next to Coulson. She rested her head on his shoulder, softly gazing at her hand.

“I can’t wait to be home with Daniel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: heeeey! this fic was inspired by @starkmaiden ‘s post in a dousy group i’m in. thank you!! if you have a request, question for me, or want to be added to my taglist go visit my ask box! i love each and every one of you :)

#daisy johnson x daniel sousa #dousy #timequake #dad!coulson #quakersquares #marvel fic #ashby's fics #agents of shield #aos writer #phil coulson #skye #fluff #happy ending #angst

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angelofthebau · 3 years

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Your Majesty [Part One of Three]

Aaron Hotchner x Female OC/Reader

Word Count: 3204

This town is full of gangs, it always has been, but one woman is in charge of them all. When the BAU team are called onto a dangerous poisoning case, the PD captain tries to reject their help. But the team aren’t leaving, and they’re going to be dragged into a bizarre town with a interesting queen who seems to have taken a shine to the BAU Chief.

Angel Note: I already began this story using smaller parts, but the second part somehow got deleted (thanks Tumblr). So I’ve rewrote it. I am still taking my Tumblr break, but this was a request that I really wanted to do.

Jet briefings were always the worst. They meant that time was of the essence, an unsub desperately unravelling further at each moment, but the case that the BAU were about to be thrown into was far more complex and dark than they could have initially thought. True, it was already dark enough - as Penelope Garcia explained over the video feed from back in her ‘cave’ in Quantico - three children and two teenagers dying of mysterious causes, all in quick succession, with no link between them available to see at the local PD’s surface view.

‘Eight year old Susanna Rose, six year old Jaxon King, eleven year old Jessica Baker, sixteen year old Michael Barren and nineteen year old Austin Rivers. All lived in different parts of town, Susanna and Jaxon went to the same school, Jessica went to a different school just outside of town. Austin worked at a gas station and she still lived with her parents, and Michael was in high-school with no job,’

Going back and forth over the case file, agents Prentiss, Jareau, Rossi, Morgan, Hotchner and Dr Reid threw around possible links and early theories. The possibility of an unknown disease was thrown out by the local PD, due to none of the family members from the victims’ households becoming sick. An interesting toxicology report on Susanna, Jaxon and Jessica found an unusual concoction of substances within their system. The ME was still finishing their report on Austin and Michael, but they were betting the same mixture would show up too. A lethal, rare compound of chemicals that created havoc on the human nervous system and causing the body to attack itself, eventually shutting down completely. A poison.

“We’re landing,” Hotch interrupted the conversation, hushing it to a silence as the plane descended.

“Detective Mills, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” Mills greeted the two agents with an outstretched hand as they walked into the precinct. He was met with a firm handshake from the BAU chief.

From the back of the precinct, Captain Halloway happened to glance up from the case file, catching the end of Mills’ handshake with a stranger. A suit. Tailored. Serious. FEDs.

“SSA Hotchner and Jareau,” Hotch spoke lowly, accepting the formality. “The rest of my team are with the ME and the latest victims’ family,”

“Mills,” Halloway bellowed, striding over to his detective and the two FEDs, a scornful look plastered on his features.

Mills flinched as the Captain stopped beside him, facing the agents.

“Captain Halloway,” He introduced himself. “I’m sorry, Agents. We have this case handled,” Halloway spoke sternly, before turning towards Mills. “What did I tell you about calling the god-damned FBI?”

Mills’ mouth fluttered open and closed, like a fish, as Halloway stared him down.

“Sir, with due respect, this case is incredibly time-sensitive and my team has agreed to be at your disposal,” Hotch interrupted, sensing the tension.

“This is still your case, we are just here as a resource to stop more people from being killed,” Jareau soothed.

“No-one else is going to be killed, agents. Apologies for your wasted journey, but things are under control here,”

“Captain, how can you be sure that you have this handled?” Hotch questioned, his arms crossed against his chest, his face smouldering.

“Agents, you don’t know this town. I can assure you, this is being taken care of,”

“Why is there information missing from your case file? Surely, if this case is being taken care of, then you have a suspect, or a lead, or something more than what’s in this file,”

JJ held up the dull, thin file. Halloway took a sharp intake of breath, staring up at the ceiling to compose himself for a second.

“Please, Agents. Go home,” He mumbled, trying to sound as authoritative as possible, but he knew he was in a difficult territory. The FEDs would never back off from a case like this and the precinct truly had no leads or suspects as such. Halloway had a secret weapon as such - not enlisted by him, but someone that he knew would put an end to the killings. Someone who was better at catching a killer in this town than the cops were.

JJ and Hotch stood still, showing no signs of moving at all, and bore a glare into Halloway.

Halloway shot a scowl towards Mills. Mills shrank into himself further.

“Do you want to start a fight with the Queen?” Halloway spat at Mills.

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“So, what’s with the Queen business?” Rossi asked as soon as he entered the conference room that Halloway had reluctantly given the BAU, Prentiss following behind. Morgan and Reid were already in the room, relaying information from the ME report to Hotch and JJ.

Hotch looked up from his casefile.

“Something’s not right about the case,”

“Mills clammed up as soon as Halloway got close to him. Something’s happening, but we’re not sure what yet,” JJ added.

“Corrupt cop maybe?” Prentiss offered, but Hotch shook his head.

“He’s allowing us to stay on the case. Why would a corrupt cop do that?”

“To avoid suspicion?”

“But who’s the Queen?”

Halloway opened the conference room door, just catching Reid’s question as he entered. The agents became silent, watching his every move. He exhaled loudly, shutting the door behind him. He drew the blinds in the conference room and flicked on the huge screen at the back of the room, remote in hand.

“This town is gang territory. It has been for years, most of our cases were rival gangs fighting over turf. Usually open shut investigations, until five years ago,” He began. He pressed a button on the remote, illuminating the screen with three group photographs, with each photograph titled by gang name.

“There are more gangs, but these three are the main groups that run in this town. Caana, Arc and Silver. Caana…”

Halloway clicked the button again, showing a collage of photos of at least twelve different people, some mugshots - some candid.

“They’re the oldest. Dating back to before this town was really a town. Drug smugglers mostly, forever thinking they’re a cartel but they’re just drinkers and fighters now, with the occasional pill selling,”

He switched the screen again, showing another collage. Only five people, all candid shots.

“Arc are clever bastards. Own half of the town, cooked their books, ran an on-ground black market operation. We’ve always been two steps behind them, and they’re in and out of the town regularly,”

“Past tense?” Reid wrinkled his nose. Halloway nodded.

“They’ve never been tied to any of our old cases themselves, but Arc get the blame for most of Caana’s fighting with…”

The next screen was a huge collage, over thirty different people. Only one mugshot.

“Silver. Silver are the worst. These guys are into everything. Half of them came from The Silk Road collapse, huge dark net presence. We suspect some hitmen run with them too,”

“Why was the government never notified of these gangs?” Morgan asked, chewing on the end of his pen. Halloway shook his head.

“Five years ago, our cases slowed. Calls about Caana’s bar-fights stopped. Arc’s name stopped being mentioned. Most of the members of Silver seemed to drop from the face of the earth. The black market stopped - everything just seemed to halt. We found out that there was a hierarchy controlling all three of these gangs, keeping them out of trouble with the law and calming down their rivalries. The gangs started keeping to themselves, Arc even improved the community significantly. We knew they wouldn’t just stop their activities, another group had to be controlling them and covering them all up. But the town became more peaceful and we hadn’t had a homicide case hit our desks until now,”

“So which group was overseeing them all?” Hotch asked.

“Not a group. One woman,”

“The Queen?”

“A few gang members from Caana mentioned ‘Queen’ if we ever spoke to them. It was always ‘Queen will handle it’ or ‘Queen will punish’. Almost biblical, in a sense,”

Halloway clicked to the final slide. There was only one photo, it was candid but the woman’s features were clear enough.

“Elizabeth Tatiana Leighton. Known as Tate Leighton. We ran into her three years ago…I ran into her three years ago. She’s the Queen. She runs all three gangs. She stopped the rivalries, she oversees every single thing that the gangs do. I have no idea what she holds over them, she has no one else by her side, but she controls every member. She’s ruthless,” Halloway paused to look at the photograph, a ghost of a smile flickering in his face. “But, in a way, she’s on our side. The activity from the gangs went cold years ago, no-one knows what they’re doing now or if they’re even operating anything anymore. There’s only been one altercation since she took control. From what I heard, the members involved in the feud were scared onto the straight and narrow by her,”

“So you can’t track anything to her?” Prentiss asked. She was almost in awe of Tate.

“No. A note was on my desk a few days ago, just before the first body was found,”

Whilst Halloway dug into his pocket, searching for the note, Hotch stared at the screen. He memorized Tate’s face, noticing the youth in her features. She must have been only twenty-something. He wondered how she got into this business, and how she controlled so many people.

“It is under my control. Accept my grave condolences to the families of the victims. I do not tolerate killing of innocents, especially children. I am taking care of this. Do not follow this up. I will give you my word when everything is clear. I will pay for the victims to be remembered. Signed, Majesty,” Halloway read. The team were stunned silent for a moment.

“So, we have a young woman in control of three dangerous gangs. She has morals and a rule-book,” Rossi commented.

“The issue is, we can’t leave this case alone,” Morgan sighed.

“Why not?” Halloway asked in worry.

“I have a feeling that this woman is going to take an eye for an eye to whoever is responsible for this,”

Mills bounded into the room. He stopped for a brief second, lingering beside the door as he noticed Tate’s photo on the board, before quickly snapping out his gaze.

“There’s a call about another body,” Mills burst out. Halloway nodded to the team as they all stood up from the chairs.

“I won’t lie, I’m uncomfortable, but I’m glad to have you here,” Halloway muttered to the room. The agents shot a glance at him, before leaving the conference room.

Tate was the first to find the body. She hadn’t heard from Olen in a few hours and now his body lay on the beach, next to Caana’s old smuggling cove, unused as a passage for the last decade, in bad shape. She kept her distance from the body, but spent a minute in silence. Olen was a good man. She respected him immensely - he was intelligent and cunning, but understood Tate’s viewpoint in life and supported her from the moment she took over the lowers.

When Deacon had come to her only a couple of hours ago with news of an FBI presence, Tate had already set a plan in motion. Her most trusted lowers were assigned to tail the agents, ordered to stay in pairs for their own safety. She only wanted to know what they agents knew, purely to aid her own investigation. Before Deacon had left to begin his assignment, he’d handed her a file, filled with pictures and information on the FBI agents working on the case. She’d spent a good half hour memorising their names, their faces, their accomplishments - trying to find any weaknesses to play with in case the agents turned on her.

In a way, she wished that she could share information with the law. The poison was called Keltrox, which Silver had acquired from a known gang contact. They’d given it to Tate in order for her to analyse it and create a cure. With the business that her lowers got up to, they pissed a lot of people off - Keltrox was a hot new thing on the market, according to Silver, with a high chance that someone seeking revenge on one of her lowers would use it.

Sadly, knowing where the Keltrox came from couldn’t narrow Tate’s search, as any of the gang members could have gotten their greasy hands on it - not just Silver. Hell, maybe even the drunkest in Caana had a stash somewhere.

Tate’s blood began to boil the longer she stared at Olen’s lifeless body. The kill felt personal, as if Tate had been poisoned herself. Innocent people dead, and now one of her most loyal lowers. It was a message, and Tate could hear it loud and clear.

The agents hadn’t been to the beach according to her hourly reports. Olen wouldn’t have been at the beach unless he had good reason to slip away from his assignment. The killer had to be one of the most trustworthy lowers to pull something like this. Her most loyal lowers knew that Tate would be at the beach, in this very spot, if she was unable to be found anywhere else. It was the beach that she washed up on years ago, on a tiny lifeboat she’d managed to get onto when Alzena began to fail and wreck. The moment that she’d found the freedom that she’d been looking for was completely within this spot - now, there was Olen’s corpse.

His eyes were still open. She badly wanted to close them, to sprinkle sand over them, to keep his vision away from what would happen now. But even Tate knew that the FBI would find something more within Olen’s corpse, and her compulsion would ruin that chance. She didn’t want to lead them down the wrong path.

“The call said the body was next to Caana’s cove, it should be just over this hill,”

Halloway’s voice sent Tate running into a dip in the rocks of the cove, poking her head above to see two agents accompanying Halloway towards Olen’s body. She ducked back down as they drew closer to her, cursing her sandy footprints that she’d left behind. After a few seconds, she ducked her head back up, recognizing the agents as Prentiss and Hotchner. They talked for a little while, their conversation indistinguishable to Tate, until Prentiss left the beach with Halloway. Hotchner stayed, seemingly staring at the ground until his face turned towards Tate’s direction.

He’d clocked the footsteps.

He raised his head, locking eyes with Tate immediately. His hand automatically grabbed onto his gun holster, but Tate stood up fully, hands above her head. Hotch relaxed his grip.

“Tate Leighton,” He addressed her, but Tate shook her head.

“Close his eyes please, Agent Hotchner,”

Hotch stared at her for a brief moment, then silently leaned towards the body, gently brushing Olen’s eyes closed. Within those seconds that he turned away, Tate had taken off, vanishing as he turned back to look at her.

He stayed on the beach for a minute or so, dissecting his encounter with the Queen herself. She looked even younger than she did in the photo that Halloway had shown him. She knew his name. They were being watched.

What he never expected was her empathy. They painted her to be ruthless and uncaring, almost numb. He didn’t believe that her request to him was a plan to get away, but instead a compulsion of emotion, compassion.

He made his way back towards the car, meeting up with Prentiss and Halloway.

“Did you find anything else?” Prentiss asked, opening the back car door.

“Tate Leighton,” Hotch spoke lowly, settling himself into the driver’s seat of the SUV.

“The Queen was there?” Halloway burst out.

“She was there before us, there were footprints from the body to where she was hiding,”

“Is she a suspect?” Prentiss asked, and Hotch shook his head as he started the car engine.

“I don’t think so. She asked me to close the victim’s eyes, and then she left.”

“Huh,” Prentiss thought aloud.

“She knew my name. She’s watching us,”

Hotch began to drive back to the precinct. At a red light, just before the turn for the precinct, he glanced out of his window. Tate stood there on the sidewalk, watching him.

“Thank you.” She mouthed to him.

As quickly as she appeared, Tate left, losing herself in the small straggle of people on the sidewalk, making her way back to the beach. She called her lowers, checking on their status. They’d heard the news about Olen by now, but were sticking to their assignments. Deacon and Clarke followed the agents to the beach, seeing Olen’s body, and they’d noticed her on the sidewalk, but said nothing about her encounter with Agent Hotchner. It wasn’t their place to ask her. Deacon was slightly worried about what he’d seen, though. He didn’t like his Queen getting involved with law enforcement, let alone the FBI. What he’d seen on the sidewalk - the way she’d gone back to the car to say thank you to Agent Hotchner...it made him feel a little sick.

Meanwhile, back at the precinct, the team felt like they were hitting dead end after dead end. Sadly, Tate’s work meant that most of the gang’s activities were covered up to the maximum, even Garcia was having a hard time finding out any recent information, and Tate was a ghost in the system. No information could be found on her regarding the last ten years, almost like she vanished during her teens, only to resurface on the beach following a shipwreck five years later, somehow becoming the leader of three gangs in a small, dangerous town. Hotch’s mind replayed Tate’s behaviour over and over again, trying to dissect it further than he already had, but he never found anything new.

“That’s weird,” Garcia’s voice interrupted Hotch’s thoughts and the team’s conversation over the phone speaker.

“Whatcha got, baby girl?” Morgan answered.

“When I was digging into the Queen, one of the things I found was that the boat that she was on when she was at sea was called Alzena - you know, before it was hit by a bad sea storm and she ended up sailing on the lifeboat,”

“And?”

“Now, here’s the thing, I was tracking packages into the town to see if anything suspicious had been reported and nothing had - however, there was a package that was sent about a month ago and the address it was sent to was an abandoned building, so it was sent to the posting office because it couldn’t be delivered. No-one went to pick it up from the office and that package was reported missing four days ago by staff,”

“That could have been the poison,” Prentiss said, looking to the team.

“Guys, the name on the package was Alzena Smith,”

Prentiss shot a look at Hotch.

“We need to bring in Tate Leighton,” He declared, rising from the chair to find Halloway.

♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔

Angel List:

@aaronhotchnerr

@psych0crybaby

@mortallythoughtfulgurl

@arganfics

@rachelxwayne

@ellvswriting-deactivated2021010

@pumpkin-goob

@xessx

@fuxking-insxne

@ptrs-prkrs

@passionatelyacademic

@averyhotchner

@rousethemouse

@whoreforhotch

@baumarvel

@iconicc

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obsidianfr3sk · 3 years

Text

five valentine’s day that went wrong and one that (almost) didn’t

@queercreators event 02: romance — [ five valentine’s day that went wrong and one the (almost) didn’t ] [ “Five Things” Fic ] “

dedicated to my dear Reneweys [ @nodrianbcyes @honey-hippie-harper @healing-winston-pratt @alecjamesartino @bluenoctuary-art @everyone-has-a-nightmare ] ♡

Summary: They always managed to ruin their Valentine's Days one way or another, but it didn't matter. Because there was no way they could ruin what the two of them had.Boy, he would like to see someone try.

AO3

Well, hello there!!! It’s been a while since the last time I posted something x’d I know I always say the same thing but it’s true skjdfhkjdfs I started this fic during the first week of febreary when I had this shot of adrenaline and started to do a lot of creative stuff, and originally I wanted to post this during Valentine’s Day, but... the shot of adrenaline passed x’d and let me to deal with this alone.

As you can see for the description, this a “Five Thing” fic. At first I wanted to post each chapter seperately, but idk, it seem a little bit... weird x’d so, here in Tumblr, the six chapters are all in one post. If you don’t like the format, but want to read the fic, you can find it on AO3! Don’t forget to leave kudos and a comment if you liked it:’)

Now... I’m not used to write happy sttuf in general x’d AND I’M LESS USED TO WRITE HAPPY STUFF ABOUT HUGH AND SIMON BECAUSE SKJDFHKJDSF the angst, dudes:))) but I think I did. Like... I actually wrote a fluffy fic:’) I’m so proud of myself dkjfhkfdshjk

Tag list: @the-lady-with-the-pen @chiyuki-hiro @all-weather-is-bad @styeenza

First try

Year 2

It was the second Valentine's Day after the beginning of the Age of Anarchy, and the capacity that the human being had to adapt themselves to the most terrible of conditions never ceased to amaze him. The economy had collapsed, the government had fallen, his school was practically one of the last ones still in open, and there was a “fucking junkie” ruling the city...

But the world celebrated Valentine's Day anyway.

Or at least in his class did.

The teacher had brought a bunch of cardboard boxes, that looked like she had fought with some tramps to get them (which she probably did, they were too many boxes for one person to generate) (unless she was a crazy person who collected boxes). She gave one to each one of her students, took out the last bottles of paint, pieces of colored cardboard, and rusty scissors, and then told them that today they were going to learn how to make a mailbox.

At first, Hugh had no idea what turning a box into a mailbox had to do with the curriculum the school was supposed to follow. It's not like people sent a lot of letters anyway. But when the girls got excited, he remembered that February 14 was something like an important date. And then, he remembered an activity that they did during his first year, when everyone decorated a box for their classmates to put letters and sweets in it.

First year… And now he was in his third year.

Time flies by.

After telling them which parts to cut into (Hugh had to share his scissors with other three classmates because there weren't enough for everyone), she invited them to pick the decorations they wanted to put on their mailboxes. The girls pounced on the pink, red, and even white paint, while most of the boys laughed, saying it was a stupid activity and they didn't want to do it. Hugh felt the urge to agree, but he didn't

He had already tried to make them like him. It hadn't worked for him.

So he grabbed a bottle of navy blue paint, some cartoon bear stickers, some notebook paper, and a bitten pencil. That would be enough to make his mailbox and his cards.

After a while, he started to have a good time. Crafts had never been his strong suit, but he was proud of how it ended up looking. One couldn’t tell his mailbox used to be a cereal box because the paint he used was so dark, that it only needed two coats of it and it dried much faster than Abernathy’s, who had practically finished the pink paint trying to hide the face of that missing child in the milk carton box the teacher gave to her. Hugh realized that she was holding her tears back, and as the good classmate that he was, he told her not to worry, that the missing child could be decoration if she painted him a mustache or something, and it would look very funny. Abernathy, far from finding it funny, acted super offended, assuring she had never met a child as rude and insensitive as Hugh Everhart, and she ran out of the classroom, hiding her face in her hands and screaming like a baby.

Unfortunately, the rest of his class agreed with her, and when it came time to deliver the cards, Hugh did not receive a single one. Although he doubted it had anything to do with that missing boy thing.

They wouldn't have given him anything anyway.

He wasn't sure if they knew he was a prodigy. Maybe they had noticed that it wasn't normal that Hugh had practically broken a chair in two when he placed his backpack on it to get something out, or that he had left the PE teacher unconscious when he accidentally threw a ball at his face while they were playing soccer. The teachers, if they noticed, didn't say anything. After all, that school was supposed to be only for normal kids.

Not prodigies.

But children could be very insightful. Most likely, they did notice and therefore did not want to be associate with him.

Or maybe—

Maybe they just didn't want to hang out with Hugh, because of… that.

Because he was Hugh.

He decided to wait for everyone else to leave before starting to cry (or before breaking another chair, whichever came first). Or at least that was what he was about to do when he heard that someone had come up with the same idea as him and started crying first.

Simon Westwood had never been too talkative. Even before his older sister and mother died, he liked to sit at the last table, not speaking to anyone, and some older kids were constantly picking on him, without any teacher trying to do anything to stop them.

Not that Hugh was paying much attention to him or something.

The teacher practically ran to see what was going on with Simon Westwood, asking him what happened and why hadn’t he finished decorating his mailbox. Simon Westwood tried to explain it to her, but he was mumbling his words so neither the teacher nor Hugh could understand what he was saying.

Hugh didn’t get mad with him though. His mom had died. His sister died too, a couple of weeks later. He wouldn’t be in the mood for doing cheesy crafts if the same had happened to him. But the teacher wasn’t as benevolent as him, and started to say things like she was trying really hard to bring joy to her students, and that she was sure that if he tried a little bit harder, he would be able to enjoy Valentine’s Day, like the rest of them.

“Let’s see what nice things your classmates have said about you,” she exclaimed. But that only made Simon Westwood start crying again.

No one had given him a card.

Like… no one.

And Hugh was listening to all of this conversation, just sitting there, trying to stay as stiff as he could so they wouldn’t notice he was there (as if he weren’t literally right in front of them). Seeing Simon cried like that made him think that maybe he was just acting though when the other kids laugh at him because of his looks, his ratty old clothes (older and rattier than theirs), or just—

His mind exploded.

He suddenly understood why the other kids didn't like Simon Westwood. It was before he was him.

Just like how they didn’t like Hugh Everhart because he was Hugh Everhart.

When the teacher went out of the classroom with Simon, saying something about calling his dad (although he knew they wouldn’t be able to do that, since no one had a functioning phone those days), he took one of the cards he did for his classmates, cards that he never gave to them, and put one inside Simon Westwood’s mailbox/cereal box. He had left his backpack and his things there. When he came back to take them home, he would see the card too.

A voice in his head told him to get out of there before he came back, but another one told him to stay. Maybe Simon Westwood and he could be friends. Maybe he would understand what it felt like to be hated just for the way you were born. Maybe he was a prodigy too.

Or maybe he wasn’t.

He couldn’t take that chance.

So Hugh went home, but promised Simon Westwood (and himself) he would keep an eye on him.

After all, friends were there to have each other’s back.

Because they were friends, even if Simon didn't know it yet.

Second try

Year 9

They were friends.

He had never seen Hugh before meeting him on that alley where Simon got his powers. Like— he had seen him because he was in the same class as him, but he hadn't really seen him. During his childhood years, Simon was more focused on other things. Like being a little depressed and anxious ball with skinny legs and skinny arms, for example.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t depressed or anxious now. Nor it was he had gotten super muscular all of the sudden, like Hugh (he had always been bigger than the other kids, but he practically turned twelve and already looked like a teenager, except for the voice and the face).

But at that moment, he wasn’t depressed or anxious. He felt weirdly at peace.

He and Hugh were walking down the street, thinking about which store were they going to rob that day to get dinner for them and their families, when Simon noticed a couple holding hands in front of an abandoned café. She had dark hair and he had blue eyes, which looked at his girlfriend as if she was the Virgin Mary or something. Then, she kissed him and gave him a small blue flower and a heart-shaped card. The guy looked so moved by the gesture that he kissed her on the lips again, with so much more passion than before.

Simon looked away before they realized he was looking at them, not only because he didn’t want to come off as creepy, but also because he knew how awkward he would feel if they started to make out or something.

“Love is in the air,” Hugh sang.

Simon chuckled. “You noticed them too?”

“I noticed them when she gave him the flower,” he told him. “I had never seen a girl giving flowers to a guy before.”

“Times have changed, I guess. That’s why they don’t feel uncomfortable giving such public displays of affection. Kids in our day weren’t like that.”

“I know, right?” said Hugh continuing with the joke. “They are so perverted. There are children present, for God’s sake.”

Simon chuckled again and Hugh stopped to tie his shoe. While he was there, Simon noticed he was throwing glances at them.

“You know, giving them the death stare isn’t gonna prevent them from being in love,” Simon told him.

“I can try,” Hugh joked. Then, he shook his head. “It’s not that. I just—”

He waited for him a couple of seconds before asking, “Just what?”

He finally answered, “Someday we’ll have something like that.”

Simon frowned. “Huh?”

“You know,” Hugh mumbled. “We’ll have girlfriends and— and all of that.”

“Oh!” Simon exclaimed. “Yeah, someday, yeah.”

But before Simon could keep talking about it (or just develop some opinion on the topic) Hugh shrugged and urged him to keep walking. “I guess. I didn’t even remember today was Valentine’s Day though. They were my reminder—” he turned around and waved at them “—Thank you, exhibitionists, you reminded me what day is it!”

Now, Hugh probably didn’t mean for them to hear him say that. Simon knew him well enough to know Hugh thought he wasn’t being loud, but the thing was… Hugh was always loud. He could be “whispering” and the whole neighborhood would hear him ask Simon if he knew how bars with strippers worked because he did know, and wanted to brag about it. Then, Simon would feel embarrassed, because, in fact, he didn’t know how bars with strippers work.

Simon immediately turned around and realized the girl was looking at them with an expression he couldn’t read. He turned invisible and pushed Hugh inside of an alley, hoping those trashcans hid them well enough in case the guy turned out to be a freaking animal and wanted to kick their flat asses for calling them exhibitionists.

Simon felt the anxiety kicking in, when Hugh started laughing so loud, that said anxiety turn into the need of punching him really hard on the arm.

So he did it. Multiple times.

“Dude, dude, shut the fuck up, dude,” Simon said keeping his voice low (because he could keep his voice down, unlike others), “that guy’s gonna kick our asses, for real. Dudeeee—”

But his voice kinda cracked when he said that “Dudeee—” and that made Hugh laugh even more, so Simon kept punching him, using a vocabulary that would make the most dangerous of gangster blush. And he probably would have kept hitting him, if the anxiety of being discovered hadn't been overshadowed by how weird it made him feel to see his best friend laugh.

When Hugh laughed, his cheeks would turn red and his eyes would water. They could be in the most embarrassing situation ever, one where no one was laughing, and if he found it funny, he was going to do it, because he wasn't going to be able to help it. And it wasn't like Simon would stop him, either. Not at all. He liked it when he laughed.

Even though he ended up making him laugh too. Like at that moment.

Most of the garbage ended up in the drains, the sidewalk, or anywhere else except where it belonged, the trash can. Generally, Hugh always refused when someone hinted at sitting on the floor, precisely for that reason. However, on that occasion, the two were sitting in that stinking alley, throwing pebbles at each other, playing with some bottle caps they found on the ground, and arguing about who would win a bare-handed fight, Wonder Man or Phantom Feline.

They decided it was time to go home when a cat-sized rat appeared out of nowhere, and the two of them came out screaming like idiots, even faster than they would have run if that guy with the girlfriend would have chased them. They ran until they reached Simon's house, all sweaty and tired, their hands on their bent knees and breathing heavily.

Then Hugh laughed again. And his cheeks were flushed again, and his eyes were watery again, and he made Simon laugh again until Mr. Westwood came home from work and told him to go inside, that it was too late to be outside.

Once he was locked in his room, with his younger sister playing in the living room and his father in the kitchen, the image of that guy kissing his girlfriend did not make him feel anything. So, he tried to imagine kissing a lot of girls that he considered a thousand times more attractive, but just when it seemed that the idea was beginning to be something desirable, Hugh came back, with his laugh, his screams, and his eyes, like one of those freaking trains that he dreamed of having the opportunity to stop one day and that never missed a single chance to tell Simon all about it.

The truth was that Simon did believe that Hugh might be able to stop a train with his bare hands, but he doubted he would be able to stop the train of thought that Simon hopped on whenever he thought of him. And he was so ashamed to know that not even the strongest prodigy on the planet was capable of doing that, that he decided to take those memories from the collar of the old blue hoodie that each one of them wore and bury them alive in the backyard of his memory.

Forever and ever.

Thrid try

Year 12

Two months ago, after their first date, Simon told Hugh he would never plan another important date, forever and ever. But now, Simon had let him plan their first Valentine's Day together without putting any objections, proving that he trusted him. And he was happy for him; Simon had always had problems when it came to trusting other people. It was nice to see the other grow to become a better person.

And it was even nicer when you were no longer only friends, but a couple.

So yeah, he wanted to make Valentine's Day special. It was kind of a big deal.

Georgia and Tamaya brainstormed with him places he could take Simon to. They all agreed that it had to be a place safe enough and that it wouldn't put them in a situation where they had to reveal their powers, and by consequence, their secret identities. But then, everything started going downhill, especially because Georgia had some very odd ideas (like something about flowers, a choreographed dance, and poetry) and Tamaya was as romantic as a rock (“Just don't end up nearly killing yourself in front of him, that should be enough.”)

It was February 13th, and Hugh was on his cot, a bit angry at Georgia and Tamaya, not only because they couldn't help him on such an important mission as they promised, but also because they blamed him for their failure, telling him that he "had no imagination" and that he "thought with his dick", just because he thought all their ideas were horrible.

Maybe he should have phrased that better...

Simon and Evander slept on the bunk bed Simon used to share with his younger sister. Simon was taking a shower, so he was all alone with Evander and Kasumi, who sometimes went there to visit her best friend, even if Tamaya told her not to do it because it smelled horrible in there and she would bring the odor to the girl’s bedroom (Hugh thought the room didn't smell bad at all, and if it did, it was because Evander acted like he was living in the street yesterday and had no sense of personal hygiene). But Kasumi didn’t seem to mind, and she spent most of her afternoons cuddling with Evander on the top bunk, while she read an old book and Evander read one of Simon’s comics (because Hugh would join the Anarchists before letting Evander touch his comics).

They started whispering at each other about who knows what, and even though he kind of wanted to know what they were talking about, he was just too tired, so he decided to put a pillow on his face and try to fall asleep. But then, he heard, quite clearly, that they said his name.

And he couldn’t let slip that.

He pulled the pillow off his face, and said, “What are you saying about me?”

They both peered over the edge of the bunk. “We were talking about how you're not good at romance,” Evander replied.

The audacity of that b— boy.

“You are eleven years old," he told him. “What are you going to know about romance?”

“No more than you,” Kasumi acknowledged, very solemnly.

Hugh made his “See?” face and he looked away.

Then, Evander asked, “Why don’t you take him to Cosmopolis Park?”

Oh, stars. He couldn’t be serious.

Cosmopolis Park.

A freaking theme park.

Evander was eleven, all right. His idea of a date was probably something out of a princess movie he and Kasumi watched from time to time (sometimes Tamaya joined them too and she always acted like she was just watching it to make fun of it, even though everyone in the house knew she had a weird soft spot for cheesy princess movies). But Hugh was technically an adult now. He should know better, and knowing better was not taking your boyfriend to a theme park for Valentine’s Day. That wasn’t very romantic.

“What a stupid idea.”

Kasumi got red all of the sudden. For the look at Evander’s face, Hugh knew he had fucked up even before she said, “It was my idea…”

“Oh— no, Zoomie, I… what I meant was that—”

“Don’t fix it, bro,” Evander interrupted him. “You’re gonna make me want to punch you more.”

He wasn’t afraid of Evander punching him because he couldn’t compare a kid’s strength to his, but he obeyed him and mumbled a small, “Sorry.”

The “sorry” was for Kasumi though, not for Evander. If Kasumi hadn’t been there, he probably would have told Evander something like “Oh, yeah? You’re gonna punch me, little punk? Come on, punch me, don’t be a pussy” (and then Georgia would have stormed into the room, telling him not to use the word “pussy”, and they would have pointed at each other saying “He started it!”)

After giving him a goodnight kiss, Kasumi got off Evander’s bed, with the book under her arm. Before leaving the room, she knelt beside Hugh to kiss him goodnight, as to show his comment didn’t cause her to feel any kind of resentment towards him.

Because of course it didn’t. Kasumi was like that.

“I was just saying— Valentine’s Day is also a day to be with friends,” she whispered. “And you and Simon are not only boyfriends but also... you know, friends. I bet that wherever you take him, it'd be magical for both of you. Because you find magic in each other's company, even before you knew you were in love. So... why not?”

She turned off the lights on her way out.

He never thought Kasumi’s tendency to romanticize everything was odd or weird. It was something that he expected from a teenage girl, especially one who has such a vivid imagination. But he also never expected that imagination would help him in some way. And he never expected for her to say the exact words he wanted to hear, even before he knew he wanted to hear them.

She was so wise.

Cosmopolis Park didn’t sound like a bad idea anymore when Simon entered just after Kasumi, wearing his pajamas, and asked him with a teasing voice, “So… where are you gonna take me tomorrow?”

Hugh didn’t know if Evander was already asleep, so he just smiled at him and told him it was a surprise. Simon rolled his eyes and gave him a soft kiss on the nose before getting into his own bed.

It was his way of telling him he trusted him. And relationships were supposed to be built upon trust. He didn't need anyone to tell him that.

As far as he knew, Simon hadn't been to Cosmopolis Park in years, probably before the Age of Anarchy began. It was no secret that the park was currently full of gangs and drug addicts but it was still a relatively peaceful place. At least peaceful enough that the park was full of families, groups of friends, and tons of couples.

Although there weren’t any couples...

Well, there weren’t any couples like them.

He wondered if Simon noticed that small detail too, but when he turned to ask him that, he knew it would be better if he just kept his comments to himself. Because he wasn't an expert reading other people's emotions, but Simon...

Simon looked so happy at the moment.

The two walked side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other's, but their hands tucked deep into their pockets. Hugh was trying to keep his eyes fixed forward to avoid bumping into anyone, but the small chuckles Simon let out every time he saw something that surprised him, made said task impossible. Suddenly, he no longer wanted to avoid the embarrassment that would cause him to bother someone by bumping into them; he wanted to look at him.

He wanted to look at him trying to hide his laughter by covering his mouth with his hand, as if he wanted to suppress some kind of dark feeling, without realizing that his joy was so full of light that it was practically impossible. He wanted to continue to see how his dark eyes, with very long lashes and deep bags under the eyes, perfectly captured the lights of the Ferris wheel and the food trucks. He wanted to see the tiny smile he had the entire time they were at the park because even if Simon didn't smile like that very often, when he did, Hugh felt as if he was witnessing the most wonderful of miracles.

Hugh took his hands out of his pocket, and when he turned his attention back to Simon, he was looking at him too. They stopped in their tracks, not caring that people passed around them, sometimes unintentionally pushing them a bit or stepping on their shoelaces.

Hugh took a step forward and Simon did too.

Then Simon pulled a hand out of his grey jacket's pocket, making him wonder if he was dreaming or if it was really going to happen.

Hugh held his breath and felt the blood rush to his face, along with the overwhelming feeling that everyone around him was staring at them, with the newly acquired gift of recognizing those two faces that always hid behind pair of colorful masks and now were gazing at each other with true devotion. He desperately wanted to know what was going through their heads, he wanted to know if they still considered them worthy of their admiration and respect, and he wanted to know if he had been right when he assured Simon that, someday, the two of them would hold each other in public without thinking it twice.

But then, just as Simon's fingers brushed his cheek, his attention was completely diverted to someone behind Hugh.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked awkwardly.

Hugh turned to see who his boyfriend was talking to. He was a slightly older man, juggling three balls and standing on the table of his own stand. He was smiling at Simon and he had a mustache that quite frankly made him look like a ridiculous comic villain.

“Yes, you!” and he threw a ball at Simon.

Simon covered his face with his hands, but Hugh caught the ball before it hit him.

Who did this guys think he was?

The guy, far from mocking Simon's reaction, seemed intrigued. “Do you want to win a prize, big guy?” he asked Hugh.

Hugh was ready to say no to him in the kindest way he could, when the guy pulled out a laundry basket, like the one Georgia put on his head every Sunday, saying "Laundry time!" in a voice so high that made birds explode.

“You just have to throw that ball you have in your hand—” he raised the basket “—here. And you can win a prize.”

He finally gave him a chance to reply. “No, thank you, we’re fine.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets again and told Simon to keep going. But the guy did not give up.

“I see,” he crooned from afar. “Your dad didn't play ball with you and that's why you don't think you're capable of throwing it correctly. It’s fine.”

Simon put his hand to his mouth as if thinking "Oh, stars, he did not."

And Hugh looked at him as if thinking "Oh, but he did."

If that guy knew who he was talking to, he would probably think it twice before making comments to strangers mocking their lack of a father figure.

So he turned abruptly and threw the ball into the basket.

If Hugh had been a little calmer, he probably would have been able to remember that, before leaving the house, Tamaya had told him that theme parks were full of games that had the sole purpose of scamming people and that one of them was that game in particular. The balls bounced so much that even if they made contact with the bottom of the basket they would jump back to whoever threw it, making them technically lose.

He would also have listened to himself, to Hugh, who told him that it would be best to turn around and get on with their lives, and not to Captain Chromium, who was determined to win that freaking game because he won every single game the world put in his way.

After three balls, the guy turned to Simon, extended his hand at him, and told him, “It's fifteen dollars.”

That was enough to make him lose his mind. Hugh told him that it was not worth arguing with him, but Captain Chromium did not tolerate that people tried to take advantage of him, and he spent about ten minutes screaming with the mustachioed man, until Simon panicked (or lost his mind), grabbed one of the balls and threw it right in the man’s eye.

Then, he did take Hugh by the hand.

But just to be sure they both got out of there before someone tried to stop them.

They ended the evening at a hamburger stand several blocks away from Cosmopolis Park (because obviously, they weren't going to stay there after the show they had put on). They did not have enough money to buy two sodas, but they bought a strawberry juice carton to share and sat on the sidewalk to eat their hamburgers of doubtful provenance, ranting against the man, against the park, and, especially, against those damn balls.

“I can't believe there are people like him breathing the same oxygen I breathe,” Simon commented, before taking a bite out of his burger ravenously. “He had no right to make that joke.”

But Hugh was so distracted by how attractive Simon looked when he bit his hamburger like that all he could say was:

“If my dad knew I couldn't win that stupid game, he would abandon me again.”

Simon frowned a little bit, repeating the sentence in his head until he finally understood the joke, and laughed so hard he began to choke with his food. Hugh started to panic and told Simon he would give him five back blows like he read he should do when someone started to choke. That was enough for Simon to spit his food on a napkin. Both were so grossed out by it, that they started laughing again. Simon hid his face on Hugh's shoulder, practically using his fit of laughter as an excuse to snuggle against him, and Hugh used his own angriness as an excuse to stay right there, telling the entire world to go to hell, and willing to keep doing it forever, just as long as the conversation didn't end and they had to go home.

Georgia and Tamaya would kill them. It was already late at night.

Fourth try

Year 17

It was already late night when they arrived at the motel.

Simon had stayed invisible the entire time they were at the reception like he always did when they had one of those more… private nights out. Hugh was the one who was in charge of booking the room because Simon got too anxious anyway at the mere idea of having to interact with one of the receptionists.

It was one thing for his entire family (or the Council, as they had been calling themselves lately, as a joke) to know that tonight he was going to have sex. Strangers knowing it was a completely different thing.

He still wasn't quite sure which one was more embarrassing, but yeah. It was different.

He only became visible again when Hugh closed the door behind him.

Simon looked at the huge sports bag that Hugh carried with him. “What you got there?”

“Nothing important,” he assured with a shrug. He was smiling like he was a kid getting a bunch of presents at Christmas, and Simon was extremely happy too, so, without asking any more questions, he kissed him on the lips and went to the bathroom to give both of them time to get ready.

Not that they hadn't done that before. They didn't like having such intimate moments in the house. And even if they had wanted to, it was practically impossible to have even a minute of privacy there. The last time he had slept in a room by himself had probably been… never. And the number of occasions someone had opened the bathroom door while he was there were more than he could count. The door lock had been broken for a few weeks but nobody knew how to solve the problem because they had no idea how doors worked. Georgia had tried to implement a serious policy of knocking before entering any room with the door closed, but the only one who paid attention to her was Adrian because the rest of them were simply too used to walk around the house as if they were in their own houses. (That they were their house, but it was more Simon's house than theirs.)

In fact, it was the first time in forever that he was in a bathroom and he didn't have to put his hand on the door, to stop whoever tried to open the door before they ended up seeing him in the most vulnerable of positions, so Simon took off his T-shirt, his jeans, and sat on the toilet, wearing his underwear and his jacket, trying to enjoy his first moment of privacy in a long time.

At least until his legs started to feel cold and Hugh told him that he could go out now.

When he came out of the room, Hugh, who was lying on the bed, widened his eyes. Simon was already ready to hear a flattering comment, but instead, he frowned and asked, “Are you going to leave your socks on?”

Simon looked at his feet automatically. He had indeed left his socks on.

He didn't see anything wrong with it.

“The carpet is filthy,” he replied. “I don't want to get fungus or something like that.”

Hugh found no fault with his logic. “Okay, but take them off when you get on the bed,” he asked.

Then Simon realized that Hugh, not only never stopped doing that ridiculous pose that pretended to be sexy throughout the entire conversation, but he also had thrown out the (probably dirty) bedsheets from the motel bed and put instead one of the blankets they took out of the closet to cover themselves during winter.

So that's what he carried in his sports backpack.

Hugh seemed to realize that Simon was looking at the blanket and not at him, because he immediately said, “Oh, I hate motel bedsheets.”

Simon couldn't help but laugh. “You hate them?”

Hugh finally stopped doing that ridiculous pose and sat down. “You just never know who sleep in them before us, Simon,” he replied, “and you never know when was the last time they washed them. Maybe they— ” he pointed to the pile of blankets thrown away “—are covered on the… bodily fluids of twenty other people, and you want me to lie on them? Is that how you want us to make love? Like animals?”

Simon kept laughing, but Hugh wasn’t laughing. “Simon, stop it!” he exclaimed. “A new class of bacteria could be there, ‘cause— oh, I am convinced that those things have a new kind of bacteria no one has discovered yet, and— ”

And he went silent when Simon put his hands on his shoulders, still with a smile on his lips.

“What?”

“Hugh, have I ever told you I think you're really sexy when you out crazy me?” Simon asked, running his fingers through his hair.

Hugh stood still, looking directly into his eyes. “No, I think you haven’t.”

Simon shrugged. “Well— I think you're really, really, sexy when you out crazy me.”

“Well, I think… I think—“

Hugh could no longer continue his sentence. Even though Simon wasn't doing anything to stop him from speaking.

He was literally just standing in front of him, one knee leaning on the mattress and one hand on Hugh's head.

“You think?” he asked him. “That’s new.”

“Simon, wait, I'm trying to seduce you,” Hugh said.

Simon took a step back, pointing to the bathroom door. “I think I’d wait over there.”

“No, wait—” he gently grabbed his wrist before he could move further away “—I’m starting to… Let me think of something.”

Simon chuckled. He put his knee on the mattress again and Hugh grabbed him around his waist, pulling him close to him and resting his head on his chest, while Simon rested his chin on his head. He had just taken a bath when they came out of the house, so Hugh’s hair smelled of him and lemon zest because they have been using dish soap as shampoo the last week.

That was the kind of privacy that they sometimes lacked at home. He was no longer talking about sex. Simon craved to have him like this, so close to him. Both in their underwear, both in a practically unknown place, and both completely vulnerable, but together. Feeling at home, even if technically they weren't.

Because Hugh was his home.

He was sure he saw him that way too.

Simon was so focused on trying to capture that moment in his memory so that he could repeat it over and over again for the rest of his life, that he was totally thrown when Hugh blurted out:

“I think you have a nice dick, dude.”

Simon broke the hug ... “What?”

Hugh’s cheeks turned even redder. “Tell me I didn't say that.”

He put a hand up to try to hide his laughter. “No, I think you did.”

He still couldn’t believe that was Hugh’s best try to seduce him. And apparently, Hugh couldn't believe it either.

“Then— forget about it,” he stammered. “Let's all of us forget about it.”

Simon realized that he tried to grab him by the waist again, but he moved away just in time, pretending to be extremely offended. “So I don't have a nice dick.”

“Let's just stop saying the word dick, please.”

“You started it.”

“I PANICKED, ALL RIGHT?”

“PANICKING IS MY JOB!”

“I’M TAKING YOUR JOB THEN. AND I’M GONNA STEAL YOUR BOYFRIEND TOO IF YOU KEEP LAUGHING!”

Simon didn't try to pretend that he wasn't laughing, because he was more than aware that it was already too obvious at this point.

So he decided it was better to play along.

“No, don't take my boyfriend!” he exclaimed dramatically, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Take me instead.”

Hugh took him by the waist and pulled him close. Simon didn't try to walk away this time. “Deal.”

But when Simon was about to start kissing him, he diverted his attention from Hugh for a split second, making him realize the curtains were wide open. “Oh, shoot, wait— the curtains.”

Luckily he hadn’t taken off his socks yet.

With quick steps, he headed to the window. He put a hand on each curtain and was about to close it completely when the lights of a car approaching from the end of the street caught his attention. It was a yellow sports car that looked more like a ripe banana than a vehicle.

Shit.

It stopped a few feet past the motel they were at. Out of it came a short man, with scars on his face and thin hair, and a tall blonde woman in a yellow dress, very inappropriate for the occasion. Not because it was provocative thought. It’s just that no one would wear such an expensive-looking dress in such a dangerous neighborhood unless they wanted to be robbed.

Or that they had enough status not to be.

Simon turned to see Hugh. “Hey—” Hugh looked up slightly. “—Come here.”

Hugh obeyed, a little bit confused, after putting his socks on (obviously). Simon had closed the curtains just enough for them not to be noticed but also not so much that they couldn’t see what was happening on the street.

Hugh gasped. “Are those—“

Simon swallowed hard. “Cyanide and Queen Bee in person.”

“What are they doing here?”

Simon had as much an idea of what Queen Bee and Cyanide were doing there as Hugh had, but he responded with the first thing that came to his mind anyway.

“Probably celebrating Valentine's Day,” he replied. “What a shitty place to take your girlfriend during Valentine’s Day though.”

At least take her to a motel. Like I did with Hugh.

“Do you think Queen Bee and Cyanide are together?” Hugh asked Simon.

Simon shrugged. “I don't know, but I know Queen Bee has a thing for Ace Anarchy.”

He had the slight hope that Hugh would take the bait and give him a chance to discuss his theories about Queen Bee's fixation with Ace Anarchy (which he always talked about with Tamaya), but Hugh, despite being very nosy, just kept quiet, watching Queen Bee and Cyanide argue outside the car.

How could that woman walk in such big heels?

“Or maybe Cyanide is the one who has a thing for Ace Anarchy,” Hugh blurted out suddenly.

Simon turned to see him. “Wait, really?”

“Don't be so heteronormative, Simon,” he scolded him. “Plus, I've never been in the cathedral, but I bet that when you enter there, it reeks homosexuality.”

“Dude—”

“I just know.”

And they kept watching.

There was something very personal about seeing two people arguing from a distance, like old ladies peering out of their home windows whenever the neighbors had a particularly loud fight. Simon almost considered it romantic.

Then, Queen Bee tried to turn around to turn her back on Cyanide, but something went wrong with her heel and she went face first towards the sidewalk, letting out a scream that could make someone think she was being murdered, and causing Cyanide (and the two of them) to laugh out loud.

How could that woman walk with those heels? Well, apparently, she couldn't.

The tension he felt when Cyanide interrupted his laughter and turned around as if he knew someone was watching them, made him remember that they were not gossiping old ladies peeking out of the window of their house and that those two were not some neighbors having a little fight. No, they were Dread Warden and Captain Chromium, stuffed into a hotel room like they were fugitives from the law or something, and those two little people in the middle of the street were two of the most feared and powerful villains in the world.

There was nothing romantic about that.

So Simon immediately closed the curtains.

But now neither of them was in the mood to have sex anymore, really.

“We should do something.”

“I'm on it.”

Hugh was already crouched slightly by the bedside, pulling his unmistakable superhero suits out of his sports bag.

Simon was so puzzled that he couldn't even stop to enjoy the… image that Hugh was inadvertently giving him by bending down like that.

“Wait, did you actually bring our supersuits to our date?” he asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied without looking up.

Who knows what kind of demon got into Simon at the time, but a not very family-friendly thought crossed his mind, and that thought was the one that made him ask, “Why?”

Hugh, completely unaware of what he was thinking, handed Simon his clothes and dropped the two pairs of boots on the floor as he sat in the bed.

Only the stars knew how he had managed to fit a blanket, their shoes, and their suits in that sports backpack.

“Because I thought something like this was gonna happen,” he explained while putting on his leggings. “You know, crime doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day the same way we do.”

Oh.

The little not very family-friendly thought hadn't been right then.

Simon felt a bit sick admitting that he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

“Oh. I thought...”

Hugh looked at him, intrigued, and a second later, he understood what Simon was thinking. “Oh, stars, no. I was not thinking about that.”

“All right then.”

Now it was Hugh's turn to watch him change. Simon knew that was what he was doing.

Because he knew his look better than he knew anyone else's.

When he was fully dressed, Simon reached out to reach for his shoes, and Hugh put his own hand over his', to get his attention.

He already had the mask on, but he could see that he had turned red. If Simon had been white too, he probably would be redder than him.

He swallowed. “Unless— unless you're into it?”

Simon swallowed too. But he didn’t plan to answer him right now.

It had been hard enough to put on their suits. They didn’t need to start taking them off.

So he pulled his hand away and started putting on his shoes.

“Hugh, the villains—” he reminded him.

“Right, right.” Hugh brushed off his knees. “The villains. That’s important.”

After making sure the door had the lock on (and that said lock worked), they turned off the lights, Simon turned invisible, and Hugh climbed onto the roof, pushing himself off the window frame as fast as possible so that Queen Bee and Cyanide, who were turning their backs on them, standing in front of the door of an apparently abandoned building as if waiting for someone, did not see him. Afterward, Simon followed him, assuring him that he could climb on his own.

The two remained hiding behind the building's water tank. Well, Hugh was behind the building's water tank, and Simon was in plain sight, invisible, with his hood on and his cape fluttering behind him, making him feel…

He wanted to say that it made him feel heroic, but the truth was that Simon also felt very sexy when he got into this mysterious and threatening mode.

Simon turned his hand visible and pointed at them as if to say "Are we going or what?"

Hugh turned to see them with a frown, analyzing the situation. But when Simon was about to ask him what they were waiting for, Hugh turned to see him, with the same smile he had on his face when he was about to let the world know the coolest plan of all the plans, completely ignorant that in reality, it was the dumbest thing he had ever came up with.

“Wait, I have an idea.”

And in that situation, Simon had to take the role of being the one to tell him that his idea was bullshit and that it wasn't going to work, but he used to listen to his idea before expressing his comments about it. Not only because he didn't like talking without knowing all the facts first, but because may he could go to Tamaya the next day and tell her what had happened in the last episode of Hugh Had an Idea And It Went Wrong.

(They also enjoy episodes of Evander Acted Like An Animal Again and Queen, Realize That Junkie Doesn’t Care About You, Please.)

“Do you remember that song Evander used to sing to us?” he asked him.

Oh, Simon remembered it and cringed every time he thought about it.

But the cringe wasn't enough to stop him from singing the song.

“The Warden and the Captain are sitting in a tree—”

Hugh cringed too. “That one, yes. Stars, I hate it so much—” and he pointed to Queen Bee and Cyanide “—Let's make them hate it too. ”

Simon seriously tried to take his role as the voice of reason in that situation. He let his imagination (or rather, his anxiety) run wild, making him imagine the thousand and one scenarios in which that specific fight could turn out worse than they usually did if Hugh made that comment. Queen Bee would probably call Hugh a "lesbian" (“You have a lesbian haircut, honeybun, accept it”), Cyanide would go crazy trying to find Dread Warden to melt his skin slowly and painfully, everyone would wish death upon everyone, and the only reason the fight would end would be because either Cyanide would finally manage to injure Simon or because Queen Bee’s stilettos would break.

He didn't see how teasing them with an attack worthy of elementary school kids would make the situation worst.

Besides… it was going to be hilarious to see that.

He didn't see why he couldn't co-star in Hugh Had Idea and It Went Wrong.

“I'm in,” he replied, trying not to raise his voice too much. “I'm super in.”

Hugh rose his hand and Simon high-fived him quietly. But Hugh seized the opportunity to take his hand, running his finger across his knuckles. “Okay, but you sing the spelling part, because—”

“You don't know how to spell,” Simon interrupted.

Hugh let go of his hand. “Well, when you said it in that tone, it sounds a little mean.”

Simon rolled his eyes and took his hand again. Then the logical part of his brain (yes, the same one that always insisted on being the voice of reason in situations like that) began to yell at him that he should convince Hugh to let Cyanide and Queen Bee did whatever they wanted, while the two of them did whatever they wanted.

But that the logical part of him had no voice in that situation because the logical part of his brain was not the part that loved Hugh. After all, there was nothing logical in loving the way he made a kind of mini-horn with both hands, took a deep breath, and yelled with all his might:

“CYANIDE AND THE QUEEN BEE SITTING IN A TREE—”

Fifth try

Year 20

K-i-s-s-i-n-g.

That was what he wanted to be doing. He wanted to be kissing Simon. He wanted to be with him, walking in the park and watching life go by in front of them. The birds singing from the trees, the children chasing each other, and the wind ruffling their hair. The day was going to be so perfect that he was going to be able to ignore homeless people getting high on corners or young people dealing drugs (that should be) illegal, focusing all his attention on Simon and how happy he felt that this time, everything he was going well.

He didn't want to be crammed into the living room with the rest of his family, listening to the thunder and the rain crashing down on the ceiling.

But apparently, that's what he was doing.

Tamaya was sitting on the floor, covering herself with her wings. Simon had sat on the other end of the three-seater couch, looking out the living room window with a thoughtful expression, worthy of a character in a Shakespearean play or something. Evander was leaning over him and had Kasumi on his lap. She was watching him play (or rather trying to play) a Tetris game that he had on his phone, putting her icy feet on Hugh's arm, probably without realizing it, and Hugh was on the other end of the couch, first starting at Simon, thinking of how handsome he looked when he was thinking, and then at Georgie. She had been smart enough to sit on the reclining sofa, which gave her the space she needed to cuddle with an inconsolable six-year-old Adrian.

“The storm will end soon,” she was telling him. “The storm will end soon.”

But that was not enough to comfort Adrian. His mother had already been telling him for about an hour that “the storm will end soon”, but the storm just ... did not end. And each time they heard a new thunder, Adrian let out a howl and clung to his mother with more force, asking her to please not go away.

Everyone knew that when Adrian asked Georgie not to go away, he was actually asking everyone not to go away. If any of them left the room, he would probably lose his mind.

He felt the urge to tell him that she wasn't going anywhere. That wasn’t very Georgie. Georgie didn't leave people who needed her like that, scared, crying, and begging her to stay. So since Georgie didn't do it, neither did the others.

It is not like they could have gone anywhere though.

Georgie realized that Simon hadn't stopped staring out the window.

“I'm sorry you couldn't do anything special this Valentine’s Day,” she whispered. Simon blinked as if he were waking up from a dream. “What did you have planned for this evening?”

Simon turned to see him, disappointed. Hugh decided to answer for him.

“We were going to have a picnic at the park,” he replied.

Georgie blurted out something that sounded like “Awww”, and Evander scoffed.

“That’s gay.” Hugh put his arm behind Kasumi and smacked Evander on the back of his head. “BRO, YOU LITERALLY MADE LOSE ME.”

Tamaya laughed and Kasumi shook her head. “I want to play too—” she tried to take the cellphone and Evander pressed it closer to his chest “—Vandy.”

Georgie intervened (without letting go of Adrian). “Vandy, give Kasumi the phone. It’s her turn. And then it's mine.”

But Evander didn’t want to.

“But it only has ten percent of battery left,” he exclaimed.

“Perfect, it's more than enough for Tamaya, Kasumi, Simon, Hugh, and I to get a turn too.”

“Hugh punched me! He does not deserves a turn.”

“I didn't punch him,” Hugh said. “I just hit him very slightly.”

“My brain almost felt out of my head.”

“Do you still have a brain?” Tamaya asked. Hugh high-fived her. “I've been thinking about that joke for weeks, dude.”

“Evander Wade, share the phone,” Georgia said. “I'm no longer asking.”

“No! It's my phone.”

Desperate, Tamaya reached out to take Evander's cell phone, and he stood up so fast that Kasumi ended up falling on Tamaya.

“MOTHERFU—”

A thunder. Again.

Adrian started crying. Again.

And they all went silent. Again.

Hugh took advantage of the fact that Evander got out of the coach to move closer to Simon. Evander didn't say anything to him because he was too busy handing the cell phone to Tamaya, who then gave it to Kasumi. Kasumi refused to sit down with Evander again and stayed on the floor with Tamaya (although resting her head on his knees, as if they were a pillow).

Simon rested his head on Hugh's shoulder.

“Next year will be better,” he whispered in his ear. Simon didn't answer him; he only put his hand on the window, leaving the trace of his fingers on it. “Are you all right?”

Simon put his hand on Hugh’s waist and pulled him closer to him, closing his eyes for a while. “I'm tired…”

“Rest then.”

After all…

Hugh was tried too.

There had never been a day when they didn't have to face a new threat. It seemed that the Anarchists, instead of getting weaker, were getting stronger. Even with the many new allies the Renegades had, no one seemed to have a second of the day to rest. Adrian got more and more nervous when they went out as days passed by, and it was becoming more difficult to calm down him during his tantrums. Even he, who was a child, could feel the tension in the city.

But precisely because of that, because he was a child, he could not understand the enormous responsibility that the Renegades had on his shoulders and that they could not stay with him, no matter how much they wanted to.

Maybe that was why no one had tried to leave the room. It was their way of telling Adrian that they were still there for him.

He was about to fall asleep when Simon pulled him away. His first instinct was to pull him closer, but as soon as he realized that Simon was just standing up, he let go of him.

Suddenly, he looked happier. Much happier than anyone else in that room.

Everyone noticed that change.

“Are you still too tired to celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

Even Hugh didn't understand what he meant.

Evander turned to see Georgie. “Georgie, you told them no hanky-panky in the house.”

“Vandy—” Kasumi intervened.

“Zoomie.”

“Don't say hanky-panky.”

“Yeah, you sound like a grandma,” Tamaya told him slightly punching him on the leg.

Hugh shushed them. “Shhh, guys, let Si talk.”

“No, go on, guys—” Simon told them “—Let us show you.”

And he held out his hand.

Obviously, Hugh accepted it.

He had no idea what Simon was planning to do, but he wasn't too tired not to celebrate Valentine's.

He was never too tired of him.

Adrian immediately reacted to this. “Hey, no, don't go...” he cried, stretching his little arms towards them.

Luckily, Simon looked like he already had that covered.

“We're not going anywhere, Adrian,” Simon assured him. “You are coming with us.”

Adrian and Georgie's eyes widened at the same time.

“Me?” Adrian asked pointing to himself.

“You,” Simon replied, confidently. “But it's a very special mission,” he added in a lower voice, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can't tell anyone.”

Adrian rubbed his eyes and Georgie looked up at the ceiling as if she were making sure a new leak hadn't magically appeared. Tamaya, on the contrary, didn't understand, and she stared at the scene, very intrigued by Simon's plan too. Luckily, Georgie noticed it, and with a frantic movement of her hand, told her to stop staring. Hugh made the same move, but this time, directed at Kasumi and Evander.

When Adrian opened his eyes again, everyone but the two of them was pretending they weren't listening to the conversation.

“What mission is it?” Adrian asked in a thin voice.

“Look, we can't go out to celebrate Valentine's Day,” Simon explained, “but what we can do is bring Valentine's Day here with us.”

Adrian looked puzzled.

“Hey, but you're going to need a superhero name to be able to participate in the mission,” Hugh commented, trying to get Adrian more interested. “Do you have any ideas?”

Simon scratched his beard, thinking. “Hmm, very good question, my dear Captain,” he commented. “Maybe—”

“Oh, I know what superhero name I'll have,” Adrian exclaimed, grabbing Simon by the cheeks. “Hey, your beard feels funny.”

Simon grabbed him by the cheeks too. “What’s your superhero name, then?”

Adrian whispered it in his ear and Simon's face lit up. “It's a perfect name, Adrian.”

Adrian shushed him. “Shh, don't say my real name! I have to use my superhero name, remember? It's a mission.”

Evander scoffed again and Kasumi shushed him immediately.

“And can he tell me your superhero name?” Hugh asked Adrian.

Adrian stopped to think about it. “Yes, why not?” he finally replied.

Then, Simon stood slightly on tiptoe to reach him and whispered in his ear the most perfect superhero name he had ever heard.

Sketch.

Hugh took Adrian by surprise when he graved him and carried him in his arms, making him gasp in shock and excitement. Even Georgie started to laugh out loud at her son's reaction.

“Ready for the mission, Sketch?” he asked him making his voice lower than it actually was.

Adrian gave a military salute. “I was born ready, Captain!” he exclaimed, moving his feet in the air.

Georgie stood up too. “Where you taking my son, guys?” she asked dramatically.

Hugh placed Adrian on his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, mom,” Adrian told her, “I’ll be fine. I need to accomplish this mission.”

Georgie pretended to start sobbing. “No, but you don't have to, son of mine, you're too young!”

“Listen to your mother, kid,” Tamaya intervened. “Stay with us, stay safe with your family—“ and she passed her wings over Kasumi's shoulders.

“Tamaya has two wings,” Kasumi pointed out. “And they're warm.”

“Really?” Evander asked.

But Tamaya’s face changed immediately. “It's not for you, it's for Adrian.”

“GO WITH THEM, LITTLE SKETCH, GO!” Evander yelled standing up on the sofa. “GO SAVE VALENTINE’S DAY!”

That was enough for Adrian. He kissed his mother on the cheek and told her that he would be back soon. Then the three of them began their journey to the kitchen while the others stayed in the living room.

Simon pulled out a bag of bread from the refrigerator and asked Hugh to pass him the peanut and hazelnut butter jars from the cupboard. Adrian took it upon himself to count the remaining loaves of bread and separate them into pairs, spreading them on the table. Simon encouraged him to count how many pairs there were and Hugh had no problem helping him when he got stuck at number five. Then Simon toasted them on the stove, and he allowed Adrian to pile them up like a tower on a red ceramic plate.

When it was time to make the sandwiches, Simon and Hugh sat at different ends of the table, each holding a butter knife. Simon would spread peanut butter on one of the loaves, Hugh would spread hazelnut on the other, and Adrian would gather them together and wrap them the best he could in a napkin, before putting them in a makeshift basket that Kasumi had made long ago.

“Mommy, no!” yelled Adrian when Georgie dared to enter the kitchen. “It's a secret mission!”

“Don’t worry, don’t mind me,” she told them pretending not to notice what they were doing. “I'm just gonna prepare myself some strawberry milk.”

As soon as Adrian looked away, Georgie winked at Hugh. And Hugh winked back.

“I think we're done with this mission now,” he replied using that ridiculously deep voice again. “You have to break the news to the rest of the team, Sketch.”

Adrian jumped out of his chair and practically ran into the living room, holding the basket with sandwiches in his hand.

The three of them had been so into their mission, they didn't realize that the others had put several blankets on the floor and Tamaya was cursing under her breath for being unable to use a lighter to turn on the candles. Kasumi approached Adrian, with a VHS in each of her hands, asking him which movie he would like to see, and Evander came over too, but to try and tell Adrian to pick the action movie, not the romance movie the girls wanted to see.

Simon seemed like he wanted to join the conversation too, but Hugh thought he had done enough. And he meant it in a good way. So he took him by the hand and they lied down on the couch, not caring that perhaps one of the others wanted to sit on it.

Adrian had already chosen the movie (he chose the period drama over the action movie, thankfully) when Georgie walked into the living room with a stack of plastic cups under her arm and a jug half full of strawberry milk, carrying it as it were a trophy. During her birthday, everyone in the house had raised money to buy her a huge pot of strawberry milk powder, which they made her promise that she would not share.

Some promises could not be kept.

The adults got two sandwiches each, but Adrian had practically all of the strawberry milk. Throughout the movie, Kasumi was sighing and muttering how much she wanted to wear a dress like the one the main character wore in the movie during that elegant dinner. From to time, Tamaya frowned and muttered something about how problematic she found a line or scene. Georgie braided their hair and when she finished, she would undo the braid and start over, laughing out loud at Evander's comments about how horrible the romantic interest looked and that he did not understand how that was the ideal of beauty that women had. Adrian fell asleep in Simon's arms about halfway through, and about that exact time, Hugh began to notice that Simon was starting to have a hard time trying to stay awake.

He looked adorable when he was thinking, but he liked it even more how he looked when he was falling asleep.

He kissed the back of his head. “Are you tired?”

He nodded slightly. “Yes… but never of you.”

Hugh kissed him again. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“What thing?”

Georgie turned around for a second and realized that Adrian had fallen asleep. She stopped braiding Evander’s short hair (for some reason, Evander had let her braid his hair) and sat on the recliner chair, hugging Adrian like a stuffed animal.

She winked at him once more. And Hugh winked back, one more time.

“Nothing— ” he laid himself more comfortably on the couch and allowed Simon to get on top of him, resting his head on his chest. “—Sleep for a while.”

Simon made no further objection. “You too.”

Hugh did not fall asleep. In fact, he stayed awake for the three hours the movie lasted, even though by the time the credits started, Tamaya was snoring and Kasumi and Evander were under her wings, rolled up, and cuddled up to her. Georgie ended up falling asleep on the couch, covered in the same blanket Simon used to cover himself a few hours ago.

When the clock told him it was 7 PM, Hugh knew it was time for them to go patrol. However, the rain had gotten even worse, and Simon...

Simon looked so peaceful.

He hadn't realized how deep the bags under his eyes had gotten, nor that his face hadn't looked as relaxed as it looked right now for weeks, because he frowned most of the time. He hadn't held him that close either or had the opportunity to give him as many kisses as he had been doing in that time. Not because he didn't want to, it was just ... well, they had been busy trying not to die.

How tiring it was to try not to die.

He knew Simon was tired because, again, he was tired too, and he bet that the rest of their family felt the same as them. But Simon was the only one who had overcome his tiredness and his moodiness to just... make them forget their sorrows for a moment.

He was like that.

Hugh gave him one more kiss on the cheek.

Thank you.

If Simon had been awake, he would have asked him "Thanks for what?"

And Hugh would have answered him, "For just being you."

Someday they would get their happy ending. But for the moment, all he wanted was to be crammed into the living room with the rest of his family, listening to the thunder and the rain crashing down on the ceiling.

He doubted that happiness would ever end.

Sixth (but not last) try

Two years after the Day of Triumph.

Just over a year ago, Simon had been on the roof of the same building he was currently in. Of course, it looked very different from how it looked now. It didn’t have any windows, no furniture, and, obviously, no electricity. It was the vile shell of what had once been one of the most beautiful skyscrapers in the city. Simon was thinking about that when he realized that he did not have a single memory of having seen that place when it was in its maximum splendor and that the only proof he had of it was the stories of those adults who arrived before him.

That sooner or later, he would become one of those adults. Those who told stories of the past to the generations that came after them.

He thought of Adrian. He thought that there would come a time when he would be curious to know certain things that happened and would ask questions that Simon would not be too sure how to answer. Not precisely because he didn't want to or because he thought he wasn't ready to hear the truth; he just didn’t know those truths at all.

Why did people change for the worst? How did the world use to be when prodigies weren’t divided by heroes or villains?

What happened to Lady Indomitable?

How did the world use to be before she was gone?

Then Simon, with tears in his eyes, looked up at the crescent moon and the six stars lined up in such a way that they seemed to form a smile. He hadn’t seen anyone in his family smile for… a very long time.

Because when Georgia Rawles left, she took with her their capacity to smile.

Yet, at that moment, Simon could feel her. He could feel her when he was crying, asking her to please fly again and to help him get down from that skyscraper. He felt her hugging him, keeping him from falling to his knees and cutting his skin with the shattered glass that was on the floor. She promised him that she would never give up on him and assured him that every time he saw the sky, he would find those six stars forming that smile, which from that moment on, would be hers.

Simon didn't want her to make promises, but… it was Georgie. His Georgie. The Georgie who made pinky promises even though she was about to turn thirty because you were never too old for pinky promises. The Georgie who always protected him and never gave up on him, even though there were times when Simon thought she should.

So since she was his Georgie, Simon accepted the promise. As she turned around and rose again to the sky, he wondered what would happen when the city was so full of light, that the stars (Georgie’s smile) faded away and everyone, including them, forgot about them (about her).

But, after all this time, Simon was looking at the stars, on the roof of that same skyscraper that had now been turned into a fancy restaurant, holding Hugh's hand across the table, and noticing that Georgie was still smiling at him from above.

As it always should be.

“Did you ever expect things to turn out like this when you were little?”

He turned to see Hugh again. “What things?”

But Hugh kept staring at the stars. Simon didn't care. He liked to think that the sparkle in his blue eyes was due to them. “Us.”

Simon shook his head, “No,” he answered when he remembered Hugh couldn’t look at him. “Did you?”

Finally, Hugh saw him again. “I think that when I was little, I didn’t know one could be as happy as I am with you right now.”

Simon rolled his eyes.

“I'm serious,” Hugh insisted, taking him just a little tighter by the hand. “I'm so glad we finally made it out.”

Simon leaned forward slightly. “We really did, huh?”

Then, Hugh gently pulled him closer to him, making their foreheads bump and closing his eyes. “And I'm so glad that now, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, to us, and to what we have.”

Simon closed his eyes too. He would have liked to promise Hugh that it would be like that. That this new chapter of their lives, the chapter of getting married, having kids, and rebuilding a city together, was would turn out as well as the last one, when they fought crime, defeated the bad guys, and held hands only when they were not wearing the armors that protected them from the outside world.

But he could not promise that. And anyways, Hugh was not very fond of promises. He said they were very easy to break.

So he grabbed his chin and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before saying, “It's getting late. We should ask for the check.”

Hugh nodded and called a waiter. He noticed that Simon was reaching into his pocket and quickly told him not to do it, that he got it. Simon knew there was nothing he could do to make him change his mind, so he instead just asked if he could get a slice of chocolate cake to go. Adrian would love to have chocolate cake for breakfast.

The waiter returned a few moments later with the bill (and Adrian’s chocolate cake). Simon almost winced when he saw the amount of money they had spent on a meal that hadn’t been that good in the first place (although he did not know if it was because of the lack of ingredients or because gourmet food kind of sucked). However, Hugh didn't seem at all concerned and reached into his pockets to get his wallet.

Suddenly, he leaned his elbows on the table. “Simon.”

Simon leaned his elbows on the table too. “Yes?”

“Have I mentioned you look very handsome tonight?”

He tried to remember. “No,” he replied. “But thank you for noticing. I even took a shower.”

“Wow,” Hugh exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. “Feeling fancy today.”

“I do feel fancy today,” Simon replied, adjusting the jacket he had put on over his pink button-up shirt at the last moment because Hugh had told him that the restaurant had a pretty rigid dress code.

Simon almost didn’t put on the jacket out of pure spite. In fact, he spent all the way ranting about how it was stupid to have such a specific dress code in a place like Gatlon City, and that he bet that the owners of that restaurant, who now were acting like total snobs, had spent most of their lives wearing only a t-shirt and old jeans, like the rest of them.

Hugh, who had been wearing the jacket from the beginning (a blue one), was quiet, listening carefully to what Simon was saying until he blurted out:

“We can do something else if you want to.”

He didn't say it in an “I’m hurt by your comment” tone. Instead, he said it the same way he would tell him that they could watch another movie or that they could get take out instead of cooking dinner. He said it as if the reservation he made was not at stake, or as if he hadn’t been sending him hints of wanting to go to that specific restaurant since New Year.

Simon knew that if he had said yes, Hugh would have taken him wherever he wanted. However, Simon also knew that it didn't matter where they went. They had spent Valentine's in an alley, at a fair, fighting villains, and in a house too small for seven people. And in all those places, he had a great time.

Surely that place was… snobbish, but he could have a great time there too.

After all, they were together.

He was sure Hugh knew that too.

Hugh nodded, agreeing with him. He hardly ever agreed with someone other than himself anymore.

“Is this your strange way of making me say you look good too?” he asked him then.

And Hugh’s smile grew bigger. “Simon Westwood, you are the love of my life,” he replied taking his hand, “and this is my strange way of telling you I forgot my wallet at home.”

Simon laughed so loudly that the other customers turned to see him. But he couldn't care less. He kind of wanted them to saw them. He wanted them to notice how much he was laughing and he wanted them to see him kiss Hugh as he reached for his pockets…

Oh, no.

“Hugh.”

He tensed. “Yes, dear husband of mine who’s going to pay for this dinner?”

“You look good too.”

That was enough for Hugh to realize that Simon had also left his wallet at the house.

The two remained serious for a long time. But then, Simon could see how Hugh's brain clicked in a very strange way, which made him see this whole situation as the funniest thing that had ever happen to him.

He kissed him once more.

They always managed to ruin their Valentine's Days one way or another, but it didn't matter. Because there was no way they could ruin what the two of them had.

Boy, he would like to see someone try.

#queercreators #queercreators02 #renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #hugh everhart #simon westwood #humon #obsi's writs

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prettyguardiankore-blog · 3 years

Text

Love in Literacy ch5 (Levi x Reader)

(sorry i haven't been updating this much, with how forgetful i am, and the fact that i took a short writing break, it just happened like that :) as always, the fully updated chapters are on my ao3!)

CHAPTER 5

THREE WEEKS AGO

Upon first meeting her, Levi didn’t care for her. The artificial smile she plastered on her face left a sour taste in his mouth. It reminded him of the smiles that the corrupt government officials held themselves to, waltzing into the Underground from their mansions on the surface, preaching of equity for the lower class, all while simultaneously draining their pockets with the outrageously high prices they charged for essential items. It was irksome. For this reason, while she talked, he zoned out, only refocusing when she addressed him directly. Otherwise, he feared he might get snappy, which would only earn him a lecture from Furlan later. Thankfully, the interview went by rather quickly, until eventually the librarian snapped her notebook shut, and shot them another polite smile.

“That's it for the questioning, only one thing before I let you guys go, I’m going to need a print of your signatures.” she said, as she scurried back over to the front of her long….and incredibly messy desk. How disgusting. He could see the thin layer of dust that covered its surface from where he stood. He scrunched his nose slightly in distaste as he fought the urge to shove her out of the way and begin to clean it from the inside out himself. Another reason he was wary of her.

Soon, the librarian had pulled out three blank sheets of paper and pens, and handed them out amongst them. As she did, Levi silently thanked himself for learning, at the very least, how to print his signature… but he knew the same couldn’t be said for others. His eyes flicked over to Isabel, who was staring intently at the paper, with a dumb expression on her face. He grimaced. She really did wear her heart on her sleeve. Is she going to say something?

He watched as Isabel took a shaky breath and took a large step forward toward the librarian, who looked like she was just preparing to occupy herself with another task. She stretched her fingers out to give the librarian a small tap on the shoulder to capture her attention. She turned back with a puzzled look on her face.

“Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry, I don't really know how to write a signature.” Isabel grumbled.

Levi expected her to give Isabel a pitying smile, and patronizingly apologize to her, for even thinking that Underground thugs would be literate. Since they'd gotten here, the biases that people held for those who resided in the Underground had become evident in the way that they were spoken down to, but she didn’t. She looked at her, processing her words for a moment, before offering her a small smile.

“That's perfectly fine, you can always just do some sort of figure, or if you’d like I can teach you a simple one for your name. ”

Levi could see the tension releasing from Isabel's posture. She was probably expecting the same as he had been.

“...Really?”

“Of course! I’ll show you right now.”

Levi shot Furlan with a questioning look.

Do you think this is going to take a while?

Furlan responded with a small shrug.

I dunno.

Levi sighed, and turned his head back to Isabel's situation.

The librarian's eyes brightened as she grabbed Isabel's hand and tugged her over to the tables, pulling up two chairs for them to sit, with Levi and Furlan still waiting at the desk.

“Some people when signing documents, will only use their first name, their last, or both, some will even abbreviate. A lot of them honestly look like random scribbles...hmm...how about we write yours as ‘Isa Magnol?”

“O-okay!”

“Okay! I’ll write it down right now, and you can practice it every now and then, until you get it.” She said, as she grabbed her pen, and began slowly moving it across the paper. After she was done, she turned back to Isabel.

“Well? What do you think of it?”

”It’s really pretty...but it looks kinda complicated, will I really be able to do this?”

“Of course you can! You seem very capable! Here, give me a moment.”

She moved behind Isabel's seat, leaning over her to grab her hand. Levi noticed Isabel tense at the touch, but relaxed when she remembered she meant her no harm.

“I’m going to show you the motions of it, and then with that, you’ll be able to try it on your own.” she said, quietly.

He felt himself soften at the sight. He knew Isabel wasn't used to this type of gentle treatment, it wasn't something that he or Furlan were capable of providing for her, and it certainly wasn't something she had received before she had tumbled onto their doorstep, all battered up. He sometimes felt guilt for not being able to provide her the life that a young girl should be living, although she didn’t seem to mind. They had a good dynamic among the three of them, but as a result of their harsh environment, it lacked a certain tenderness. The librarian's expression was different now. During the interview, it seemed like she was putting up an artificial persona for them, which had been annoying him more than it probably should’ve, but the way she spoke to Isabel now seemed genuine. He internally reprimanded himself for judging her so harshly initially. She looked down at the paper with intense focus as she wrote the name down. When she was done, she straightened back up, gazing down at the paper with pride.

“How nice!”

Isabel beamed at her compliment.

“Okay Isabel, you keep the first piece of paper so that you have something to reference when you practice, and I’ll take this one as your official signature." she said, pulling up the paper from the table.

Suddenly, as if she had just remembered they existed, her head snapped back to their direction. Levi flinched slightly, and snapped his head to the side. He hadn't realized he'd been staring. He looked up to Furlan. He looked absolutely smitten, gazing at her as she made her way back to them. Good grief. She let out a pensive chuckle.

“I’m sorry, I got a little distracted, didn't I? ...If you guys have completed your signatures I can take them right now.” she said, reaching her hands out towards their papers.

Levi quickly handed his paper over, but as she moved over to Furlan, he quickly shoved his own behind his back. Levi raised an eyebrow at him. What is he doing?

“Excuse me!”

“Yes?”

“Well, as it turns out, I was actually having some trouble with my signature as well. ” He said sheepishly. Levi could see his face going a light shade of red. He gave him a hard stare. He knew Furlan was perfectly literate, so why was he lying to her?

“...Oh? With what part specifically?” she asked, with a bemused look. Furlan's face was beet red now.

“W-well... I was thinking it would be useful to me if you ‘Showed me the motions of it’ like you did with Isabel th-” In an instant the situation became clear. What an idiot. Was this his way of flirting with her? How annoying. He wasn't going to let him waste their time. He raised his arm up, and quickly jabbed him in the gut with his elbow. Furlan doubled over. Levi's eyes widened slightly, it seemed he'd unintentionally put too much force into his hit. Well, whatever. Furlan was a big boy.

“We don’t have any more time to dilly dally around here, we should’ve left ten minutes ago” he said flatly. “Just give her what you have.”

Furlan sighed, and shot him a stink eye. Levi knew he'd be receiving an earful from him later, but he didn't care. He watched as Furlan defeatedly handed the sheet over to her. She gave him a small, awkward smile before walking back to her desk, and filing her papers away. She turned back to them.

“And with that, you guys are all done here.”

“Thank ya! I’ll try to come here when I can to say hi!” Isabel piped, practically vibrating with excitement. She'd really taken a liking to her. The librarian gave her a soft smile.

“I look forward to that very much." she beamed. She paused for a moment, before turning back to where he and Furlan stood.

"The nurses office should be two doors down, on the right side of this hallway, you can’t miss it.” she directed.

He gave her a curt nod, and began heading back through the large wooden doors, and the others followed suit behind him. As soon as he entered the hall, he could feel an angry pair of eyes boring through the back of his head. He turned around to face Furlan.

"If you're going to say something, then just say it."

"She was really cute! Why'd you have to go and do that!? I looked like a fool." He complained, running his hand through his hair. Isabel snickered under her breath, and Furlan shot his head to her direction.

"Don't laugh!"

"It's kinda funny isn't it? You don't have a chance with her anyways." she jeered. Levi sighed.

"You were wasting time. We came here for Erwin and those documents, not to get girlfriends. I was just trying to stay on track." Levi, said unbothered.

"I can multitask." Furlan responded, plainly. Levi rolled his eyes.

"Well whatever, you can always come back. We have shit to do now."

Isabel let out a sharp cackle. Furlan sighed defeatedly, but didn't object. With that, the three of them continued down the hall, to the nurses office.

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THE PRESENT

“Are you going to go now?” Furlan whispered, leaning down slightly. The two of them hovered in front of their barrack door. It was pitch dark...It had to be at least two am. A cool breeze of air ruffled their hair, the only thing to be heard was the soft howling of the wind. Levi gave him a hard stare.

“We only have two more days before our first expedition, and our client's deadline falls shortly after. We can’t afford to waste time, we have to make the most of every second we have from here on out.” Levi responded dully, running his fingers through the bottom of his leather satchel, feeling around for something.

He sighed. Ideally, they would find the documents they needed before the expedition, and be back on their way to meet their client by Tuesday morning. Although Levi was confident in the abilities of Isabel and Furlan, the small knot in his stomach only became more prominent as the day of the expedition drew near. No matter the circumstances, he didn’t like the idea of throwing their lives in needless jeopardy. He felt his hand wrap around a small wooden box, and immediately drew his hand from the bag. His lockpicking kit. He opened it, carefully examining its contents. It looked like everything was in place. He looked back to Furlan.

“Erwin left for a meeting in Mitras a couple of hours ago and most likely won't return until morning. I’m going to go and look in his office. You and Isabel will go look in Shadis’s office.” He said. Levi noticed Furlan shift pensively where he stood in the dark, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you sure you don’t want me and Isabel to stand lookout for you? This all goes down the drain if we end up getting caught, and you know that.” he pushed. It certainly was a valid point, but Levi wasn't going to change his mind. Tonight was an indispensable opportunity that he wasn't going to pass up.

“No, we need to do this tonight, and since Shadis is actually in headquarters, it makes more sense that you take Isabel so that she can stand lookout for you while you go in.”

“I suppose that’s true enough...” he said quietly, chewing his bottom lip. He let out a small exhale, “...Okay, fine, I’ll go fetch Isabel now.” His confidence seemed to be slowly but surely returning to him, which was a relief. Furlan worked most effectively when he was self assured.

Levi reached his hand up and placed it firmly on Furlan’s shoulder.

“I’ll meet you back here in an hour.” Levi instructed.

Despite the sheet of darkness covering them, Levi could still spot the smug smile Furlan was shooting him. There he is. The corners of his lips upturned ever so slightly in response. Furlan pulled back, stretching his arms behind him.

“Of course, just don’t take too long.” He teased, as he began to walk away, waving a hand back at Levi.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Levi muttered, as he made his way in the opposite direction, and to his Captain’s office.

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Levi faced no issue getting into the castle, the guards were criminally incompetent at their jobs, prattling away with each other, paying little to no attention to the task at hand. He'd managed to slip past their post, and into the castle, far too easily. After that, the long halls were completely empty. They've put far too much faith in their Royal Guard, he mused. Still, he stuck close to the walls. As he made his way through, he soon found himself passing the library doors. His eyes trailed down to the bottom of the door, he could see a faint yellow glow emitting from the thin crack. He slowed his steady pace.

Is she in there?

He blinked.

...Why do you care.

Levi let out a small huff as he continued to the end of the corridor, and slowly pushed the large wooden doors open. They let out a long shaky creak, despite his efforts. This should be it. His eyes darted left and right between the various doors, until they landed on the second to last door, on the left wall. There it is. As he walked over, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his lockpicking kit. He kneeled down and began his work, all while keeping a small focus on his peripherals. Shortly, he heard a small click from the knob, so he lifted himself up, and slid in.

The Captain's office was just about what you’d expect it to look like. It appeared to be a bit smaller than the other rooms...or perhaps that was due to the copious amount of books lining the walls. And it didn't stop there. His long desk was covered in them, too. Although, despite the clutter, it was still tidy, which Levi could appreciate, it made the task at hand a lot easier. Aside from the books, the desk was seemingly bare, except for a small stack of papers, and a black pen placed next to it. Levi took a couple steps forward, and reached up, picking a random book off the shelf. He flipped lazily through the pages. He wasn’t going to bother to try reading them closely right now, but he was curious of its contents. As he scanned the pages, he saw that there were a lot of dates written in, which lead him to believe that it was a history book. He gingerly closed it, and put it back in its place, before picking another one from the opposite shelf. Same deal. So our great Captain is a history nut, huh?

📷

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Fuck.

Levi ran his hand through his hair. His hour was almost up, and he hadn’t found shit. He had practically turned the room upside down. He’d checked under the carpets, all of the cabinets, the backs of furniture. He’d even checked the drawers for false bottoms, but to no avail. It simply wasn’t in there, which meant unless Furlan for some reason found them in Shadis’s office, that Erwin most likely kept it on his person. If that was the case, that meant the situation was more complicated than anticipated. The theft and the assassination would have to occur at the same time. Levi sighed, and slumped into the Captain’s large velvet chair, closing his eyes for a couple seconds. He opened them back up, staring at the ceiling. A wave of disappointment washed over him. It wasn’t in there. I should just leave then. He heaved himself up from the chair, and placed himself in the center of the room. He began scrutinizing every inch of the office, searching for any remaining signs that someone had broken in. Once he was satisfied, he headed back to the door. He opened it slightly, putting his ear up to the small crack he had created, listening for anyone. When he heard nothing, he began to silently slink back to exit the castle. Once again, he passed through the halls with no issue, and once again, he found himself wanting to check inside the library, an urge that he quickly shoved back down to wherever it came from.

He picked up his pace, towards the last hallway. When he arrived, he placed his ear against the door. He could hear the two guards still chattering away. The guards didn’t stand directly in front of the door, rather, they stood at the bottom of the short staircase that led up to it. There was a thin floor space along the stone walls that Levi could walk through, so as long as Levi didn’t make a single sound as he crept through the door, he could make his escape scot-free. He took a deep breath, before opening the door, creating just enough space to peer through. There were two of them, the one on the right was a bit stockier, with spiky blonde hair, hardly being contained by his cap. He was doing most of the talking, he had a loud, abrasive voice, like a foghorn. The one on the left was lankier, with a shaved head, his contribution the conversation was goofy, nasally laughs. They were still in position, gabbing away. His eyes moved down to their hands. The one on the right held a bottle, which appeared to be nearly empty. Even better. With a bit more confidence, Levi pushed the door further, and began moving through. He kept his eyes locked on the two buffoons, who still made no note of his presence. Soon he was completely outside. He ducked down, and began creeping along the walls back to his room.

“Have you seen that librarian around lately?”

Levi halted. The tall one let out an exasperated groan.

“No, I haven’t, it’s a real shame, she’s a cutie, huh? I was planning on askin’ her out.”

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“I think I have a good chance, the last time I saw her, she was practically throwing herself at me.” He bragged. The smaller one let out a harsh cackle.

“Yeah right!”

“No, no, I’m serious! She kept shooting me this flirty smile while we talked.”

”Whatever.”

“I'm serious! The next time I see her, I’m gonna ask her out! And she will say yes.”

“Well...wanna bet some cash on it?”

"You're on!"

Levi suddenly remembered a past conversation he’d had with her.

Oh? And what is?

I don't know... stocky men?

Levi glanced back at the man. He definitely wasn’t pretty to look at. Was she actually interested in him? She really did have poor taste then… but something about what he said didn’t sound right, a flirty smile? That woman glued a polite smile onto her face whenever she spoke to anyone. That’s probably what it was, and he misinterpreted her motives. That sounded right. He continued along the wall, and then stopped. Why was he trying so hard to rationalize the situation? So what if she was flirting with some guard, he wasn't her dad. He shook his head, and did his best to ignore the feeling of relief he’d felt when he’d come to his conclusion, as he snuck back to his room.

Soon, he was out of the castle grounds. He now walked back through the barren training fields. It was still dark, and wispy grey clouds covered the sky, blocking any light the moon would have provided him. The only sound was the soft rhythmic thumping of his own boots hitting the ground. It would be a ten minute walk until he was back in the barracks. He grimaced at the thought of the harsh training he'd be subjected to later in the morning, running on, if he was lucky, an hour of sleep. Suddenly, his head jolted up as he heard a crash in the sky. He furrowed his brow. Thunder? Soon after, it began sprinkling, but unfortunately it didn’t last long, the light shower had quickly turned into a full on downpour. Levi groaned. Just my luck. He thought, glaring up at the gloomy sky, as if he could intimidate the rain into submission with his stare. He quickened his pace, and the barracks were soon in sight, when he heard something. It was difficult to see through the heavy rain, but he squinted his eyes, and made out the figure of… a woman. He stopped in his tracks. Who was it? Well, whoever it was, they were looking straight at him, and it seemed like they’d recognized him. Levi sighed, and began walking towards them. They’d already seen him, so instead of trying to hide, he began to fabricate a story to feed them as to why he was out in the dead of night. He settled on telling them that he was trying to fit some extra 3DMG training into his schedule. It might be unbelievable, but they couldn't prove otherwise. As he moved closer, her identity became more apparent. The delicate features of her face, the way her hair was put in place, the shape of her body… his eyes unwittingly lingered on the way her corset framed her figure.

“Levi? What are you doing out so late?” she asked, wide eyed.

His eyes shot back up to her face.

“I could ask you the same.”

She let out a high pitched giggle, quickly bringing her hands up to cover her face. He cocked an eyebrow. This was unlike her. Something's off. She was disoriented. She wore an empty-headed grin on her face, that lacked the usual stiffness her smiles usually held. She put her hands down, lazily giving him a dismissive wave.

“I suppose you could,” she mused, “I-I was just headed-” She lost her balance, and staggered forward slightly. His hands instinctively shot out to catch her, but she caught herself before he needed to. As she did, a light but apparent scent filled Levi’s nose, and the situation became clear to him. She was wasted. He couldn’t hide the disdain on his face, but she didn’t seem to notice. He hated alcohol, and everything that came with it. Or maybe he just hated drunkards. Nonetheless, the situation was less than ideal. She let out another giggle.

“I was just headed back to my room, I decided to go out tonight.” She said, matter of factly. He clicked his tongue. It would be a hefty task, considering her condition.

“You can’t even walk in a straight line”

“I-I don’t need to walk in a straight line to get to my room! There’s lots of t-twists and turns to get there.” She lifted her pointer fingers up and began revolving them around sporadically, motioning these ‘twists and turns.’ She looked up at the sky. Her smile weakened. Levi watched her intently as he saw her eyes shift into something more sorrowful.

“It’s raining,” she noted, softly. Levi groaned. She was really out of it.

“It has been, for the last ten minutes.” She gave him a serious look.

“I really hate the rain, yknow.” Levi shook his head, she was sputtering nonsense.

“Where’s your room?”

Her eyes slowly moved over to the castle as she lifted her hand, and waved it in its vague direction.

“There.”

“I’ll walk you. It’d be irritating to wake up and find you passed out on the ground.”

“How fun! I was just thinking that I could use s-some company!” He shot her a look of annoyance.

“I'm just taking you to your room.”

“Well whatever, it’s better than that fake Marla.” she grumbled.

Levi rolled his eyes. Fake Marla? He had no idea what she was talking about, but he decided not to ask about it. He wasn't eager to subject himself to her drunken rambling. If he recalled correctly, Marla was that soldier girl that had died that day… How close were they? So she was drinking to forget, then? He sighed and stepped over to her.

"Put your arm over me."

"W-why? I can walk."

"I have places to be, I don't have time to be waiting around for you, stumbling about."

"Rude." She pouted, but she obliged, throwing her arm over his shoulder. Levi leaned down and reached his arm over to her waist, pulling her closer. He adjusted slightly, preparing to walk, when he halted. He had initiated all of this, offering to walk her to her room, giving her his shoulder to lean on, pulling her close...wasn't he being far too friendly? Did he have ulterior motives that he was unaware of? He glanced back at her. Her face was close, her eyelids drooped slightly. No, he was just doing this because she was moments away from blacking out. The heat of her body against his became very obvious. He shifted, and for the first time in a very long time he could feel his face flush ever so slightly from embarrassment. He cleared his throat, and began walking forward.

"This way right?" He asked, nodding to the front of the castle. She shook her head.

"No, go right."

"The entrance to the castle is that way." he said, frowning.

"I-I know, but sometimes there's a guard there that I really don't like…” she leaned in even closer, bringing her voice down, “So lets go my secret way." she whispered, with a grave expression on her face.

God, she was talking like a seven year old. He marveled in the fact that she was only a couple years younger than him.

"What does he look like?"

"Huh?"

"The guard."

"O-oh, ehhhh well he's blonde, kind of tall…." So it was him.

"Sounds like he's your type." he said, dully. She shot him a look of disgust.

"I still have standards." She sneered back.

Levi scoffed, but her response had made him smile a bit. He returned his focus to the task at hand.

"So where is this 'secret way' you're blubbering about?"

"Just keep goin' this way."

Levi continued walking to the right, which seemed to lead to the back of the castle. As far as Levi knew, there were no entrances that way, just some shrubbery. I hope she's not making this shit up. Once they'd arrived, it was just as Levi had remembered, no entrance. He groaned.

"Are you seriously so shitfaced that you're actually making things up?" He demanded. She pushed herself away from him, taking a short moment to regain her balance, and glared back at him.

"Stop being so impatient! God, you really are like a baby! So temperamental!" She began to walk over to the garden. She glowered back at him.

"Give me a moment!" She shouted over her shoulder.

Levi scowled back at her. He wasn't used to people speaking to him like that, but seeing as she was barely conscious, he decided to let it slide tonight. Levi watched as she kneeled down, clasping her fingers tightly around the round bottom of the ceramic pot that held a tall, bushy shrub, and with a small grunt, lifted it up, away from the wall. Levi's eyes shot back up to the wall, and he could now see some wood peeking through the leaves. A door? She continued with the two following pots, until a small, wooden door was completely revealed. She shot him a knowing smirk, and he rolled his eyes. She reached into her pocket, pulling out an old, janky key, and shoved it in, and with a small click, the door popped open.

"Told you so."

"Whatever."

They entered the narrow doorway, and she closed the door softly behind her. Levi walked over and placed himself under her arm again, and hoisted himself up, and they began walking down the silent hallway. She had been extremely chatty the way there, but she was now eerily quiet, only telling him which turns to take every now and then. Levi thought he would've been grateful for some peace, but now that she wasn't jabbering away, things that he'd been able to ignore earlier became impossible in the stillness of the old castle. The way she smelled like roses, the way her waist felt under his hand…

“Levi?”

“What.”

“Why are you doing all this?”

Thankfully, he’d asked himself this question earlier, so he was able to answer without missing a beat.

“It just seemed like the decent thing to do.”

“But you didn’t have to go through all this trouble… you could’ve just had the guards escort me.”

“It’s not that much work. Think of it as payment for my reading lessons.”

She hummed in response. He glanced back at her. She looked like she wanted to press him further, but was stopping herself. Maybe she's sobering up??

“You smell really good.” she said softly.

Nevermind.

There was that bothersome heat in his face again. He swallowed.

“Didn't take you for a pervert.” he retorted, as if he hadn’t been thinking the exact same thing earlier. She snickered.

“Whatever- Oh! Here it is! My room.” she piped, jumping up a bit, causing Levi to sway to the left. Thank God. Another second with her and his brain would've went into overdrive. He released her, and she lurched forward, shooting her hands up to catch herself on the door, which miraculously she was able to pull off without eating shit. Levi clicked his tongue. It seemed like he was going to have to babysit her. He grabbed her arm, pulled her back, and pushed the door open. He was absolutely disgusted with the sight before him. Loose papers, dirty clothes, and books strewn all over the floor. His eyes moved up to the bed. Same deal. Covered in papers, some empty teacups, and other random items. He shot her a dirty look.

“What the hell is this pigsty? How the fuck do you live like this.”

“As long as no one else sees it, what’s the big deal? It’s my room anyways.” she grumbled. He clicked his tongue. It seemed that she was really going to make this whole thing complicated, every step of the way.

“Gross. Stay here.”

He walked over to the bed, and began cleaning it off. He placed all the papers in a neat pile on her desk, carefully stacked the ceramic cups, and settled on putting all the other various items on a pile on the floor. He began shaking out the bed sheets, which, to his grave disappointment, had crumbs. Repulsive. He walked back over, navigating his way through the maze that was her floor.

“Come on.” he instructed, reaching out his arm for balance. She clasped onto it tightly, slowly making her way to the bed, and throwing herself on it. Letting out a blissful sigh, she rolled over to her stomach, closing her eyes. Levi awkwardly stood at the foot of the bed, gazing down at her. He quickly averted his gaze. He felt like he was doing something wrong.

“I’m going to leave now.” he said.

“Mhm” She was already half asleep.

Levi nodded, and began exiting the room.

Fuck.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"What the hell are you talking about?" Furlan shouted.

Levi squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. They'd failed retrieving the documents before the expedition, and the nerves that were chewing Levi up from the inside were now spilling out. He didn't want Isabel and Furlan to go on the expedition. He was capable of doing it all himself, going on the expedition, killing Erwin, and retrieving the documents.

After he'd returned to his barrack from the librarian's room, he'd stayed up. That woman still mourned the death of her partner that had died a year ago. Her sorrowful face as she gazed up to the rainy clouds flashed through his mind. He didn't want Isabel and Furlan to become memories for him to grieve over, while he got drunk at some dirty bar. They meant too much to him. Like she'd said, it was a very real possibility that they would all die out there, at the very least, he wanted to lower the chances to only one of them dying. He looked back to Isabel and Furlan's pained, confused faces with cold eyes.

"We haven't even seen a real titan yet, and it'll be our first time outside the walls. It may take all we've got just to make it back alive. But if I'm by myself, I'll manage somehow."

"Why would you say that bro-" Isabel began, desperately, before she was cut off by Furlan, who shot his hand up. Her mouth clamped shut. Furlan's demeanor shifted into a more stoic one. Levi could tell he was trying to understand why he was dropping this on them so suddenly.

"So what you're saying is," he started, in a low voice." That we can't handle the expedition, right?"

"That's right, in my opinion."

Isabel jumped down from the crate she was sitting on, and began stomping over to him, until she was just inches away from his face. Her fierce green eyes bore into him.

"How can you say that?! We won't know until we try! What's the matter... this isn't like you at all!" she cried out. Levi scowled, snapping his head away from them. He rubbed his temples. Why were they making this so difficult? He was just looking out for them.

"If you wont stay behind, then this conversation is over!" he shouted, angrily, "We'll wait for another opportunity." he said, with finality. He stormed off, with no destination in mind. He couldn't meet their eyes. He could hear Isabel calling out for him as he walked away, but he ignored her, continuing on.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

After Levi had stormed off, he considered going back to his barrack to sleep, but he didn't want to deal with other people. After wandering around the castle for about fifteen minutes, he'd come across a tall set of stairs, and decided to go up. He'd soon found himself at the top of a tower, the vast night stretched out before him. He gazed back up, thoughtfully. Wispy clouds covered any light the stars are moon would've given him. Just like the Underground. He slowly stepped forward, and sat himself at the wall's edge, staring up at the grey sky. It's all the same. He shut his eyes, trying to escape the situation he faced, just for a short moment. Why were they pushing so strongly against his attempts to keep them safe? Were they that opposed to his care? He sighed. He'd come up here to clear his head, yet here he was, getting himself even more mixed up than before. He closed his eyes again, when he heard the door click open. His head jolted in its direction, and he saw Isabel's head pop through, and Furlan's followed. They walked over to him. They still looked angry, rightfully so. He tore his eyes away from theirs. He couldn't bear to look at them right now.

PLAY THIS.

"Bro!" Isabel called.

"Levi, we need to talk. We can't agree with you going off on your own." said Furlan. Isabel nodded her head furiously in agreement.

"You said that we'd all take the first step outside the walls together, are you really going to go back on your word?" She asked woundedly. Levi turned from them, and back to face the sky.

"It's all the same...Above, Underground, when the clouds cover the moon and stars, it looks exactly like the Underground, even up here," he said, softly. Isabel looked at him with utter confusion. He couldn't blame her. He didn't know what he was rambling on about either. A short silence filled the air.

"...If you're only referring to the color of the sky, I suppose you're right...B-but this is completely different!" Isabel exclaimed, eyes bright, "Unlike the Underground, we know there's no roof! It just goes on!" She turned to Furlan.

"Right?" Furlan nodded at her and smiled back at Levi.

"That right, this sky is endless. You can't even compare the two!" He said, with a small laugh. "That would just be silly!" Levi looked back at them in wonder. Suddenly Isabel's eyes widened, and she started jumping up and down excitedly.

"Hey, hey look" Isabel yelled, frantically pointing up to the sky, "The clouds moved! The moon is so bright!" She ran over and plopped down next to Levi. Furlan carefully seated himself on the opposite side, warily eyeing the edge.

Levi's eye followed her finger. He could see it, gleaming brightly through the clouds. Its soft glow washed over him. His eyes widened.

"You can't ignore the difference anymore now, huh?" She said, cheekily.

He turned to Isabel, and then to Furlan. How could they be so hopeful? How could they march aimlessly into the future, without knowing what it held? Were they just that different from him?

...

What did that make of him, then?

"Levi." Furlan said, turning to face him "You need to believe in us."

"Yeah!" Isabel chirped.

Levi looked up to the illuminating sky, and the two equally illuminating people seated next to him. For once, he decided to give in.

"Okay."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083745

#levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi attack on titan #levi #attack on titan #aot hange #hange zoë #hange zoe #aot #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #angst #slow burn

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Four)

TW for James having a panic attack, but it’s over quick.

MASTERLIST HERE

***************

“Where did we land with age groups for James?” Tony propped his chin up in his hands and stared moodily at the bright green smoothie Dum-E had placed on the desk. “My original thought was mid thirties but I bet if he shaved the beard he’d be baby faced.”

“I have set search parameters to any male between the ages of twenty-five to thirty-five who would have served in the Armed Forces in any capacity within the last ten years.” JARVIS replied.

“What do the numbers look like?”

“There are approximately 2 million members of the Armed Forces at any given time, with close to one-point-two million of those members being male, and of those male soldiers--”

“Okay I get it.” Tony waved his hand wearily. “I get it. There’s a lot. How many pictures did we get through last night before shutting down?”

“Almost ten thousand.”

“So I’m about two weeks out from running him against every face out there that could be him? We’re doing enlistment photos, right? The Black Ops teams won’t be anywhere in any roster after they switch squads and um--” he rubbed at his forehead and looked longingly at the espresso machine in the corner. “--anybody that SHIELD grabbed out of there won’t be on any traditional database other than the initial enlistment photos.”

“Yes sir, I am checking enlistment photos for matches with no less than fifty potential nodal points in case James has undergone any face altering surgeries or injuries.”

“Okay. Thanks J.” Tony made up his mind about his morning drink and carried the smoothie over to the espresso machine, fired it up and poured two shots of straight coffee into the green, turning it a murky, caffeine juiced brown. “Mmm. Breakfast of champions. J turn on the news?”

“Perhaps you let the caffeine settle in your system before you watch the news sir, I’m not sure Ms. Potts would appreciate another window broken because a reporter made you angry.”

“The reporter said I had hair plugs, and that was worth a broken window.” Tony gagged over the first swallow of coffee-green smoothie. “So long as they don’t make assumptions about my real hair, we should be fine.”

“If you say so, sir.”

“--Billionaire Tony Stark disrespected the Senate to the point of being cursed at by the decorated Senator Stern, accounts from within the room detail Mr. Stark as being belligerent and almost catty with his replies--”

Tony inhaled sharply and forced back another swallow so he could keep listening.

“--Tony Stark has so little respect for America and our history that he is willing to make jokes about slavery and indentured servitude being the same as the Department of Defense asking him to share his technology. We have to ask ourselves, will he apply the same bottom level amount of respect to making sure it really is America’s interests being protected when he suits up?”

“-- All I’m saying is, the guy is clearly over compensating. What, he turned forty and had a mid life crisis that’s being acted out via terrorism? Are we going to forgive this little serial killer gap year when he comes back to his senses and stops interfering with on going military missions because he likes his missiles better?”

“I think calling me a serial killer is a little harsh.” Tony gulped back the last of the concoction and tossed the cup towards the sink. “Don’t you think, J? I mean, serial killer? Really? Terrorism? Did they use those words to describe Obadiah or the Ten Rings when they held me?”

“--Lawmakers in Washington have been silent about the footage shown to be one of Hammer Tech’s alleged attempts at recreating the Iron Man armor, an attempt that apparently led to the horrifying death of one of the stunt pilots though Justin Hammer remains adamant the man died of other non related causes--”

“-- I don’t understand how a billionaire ended up just creating an actual weapon of mass destruction in his basement. Why isn’t the government paying better attention to him? When soldiers come home from overseas with symptoms of PTSD half the time they can’t even get a job, but he comes back after a three month stint in the sand and we are supposed to look the other way while he messes with technology so advanced we have no hope of countering it? What happens when Tony Stark finally snaps and decides the United States is the enemy--”

“Fuck, shut it off.” Tony’s knuckles went white against the steel table. “Shut it off J, you were right, listening to the news is a terrible idea.”

“A migraine already, sir?”

“Are we calling panic attacks migraines now?” Tony leaned forward to put his forehead on the cool steel and hissed out a breath as the pressure built behind his temples. “Christ.”

“Stress increases the rate of toxins in your bloodstream, sir.”

“Yeah, J. I’m real aware of that, thank you.” He felt around in the drawer for the blood monitor and jammed the needle into his finger probably harder than necessary, needing the jolt of pain to bring his mind back from spiraling.

They were calling him a damn terrorist? A serial killer? What the fuck, what the fuck, he was trying to save the world goddammit and they were going to call him--

*Beep*. 22%.

“Twenty-two percent.” Well that didn’t make the edging panic attack or migraine any better and Tony swept the monitor back into the drawer and slammed it shut. “Damn it.”

“Sir, should I call Ms. Potts? Your vitals are spiking and you are breathing at an alarming speed, perhaps we should--”

“Don’t call Pep.” Tony shook his head, rubbing his forehead on the front of the desk. “I’m fine, just need a minute. Just need um-- okay. Run some more simulations for me for a replacement, lets try hybridizing the elements that had a less than immediately lethal reaction and see if they can counteract each other’s side effects.”

“The side effect of death, sir?”

“God, I wish I hadn’t designed you to have quite this much sarcasm.”

“I was created with an allowance to emulate the behavior of those around me, and since you are the only one consistently around me, perhaps the sarcasm you so blatantly disrespect is a reflection of your own.”

“You are the most ridiculous AI in the world.” The easy exchange lessened the steel bands at Tony’s heart, gave him the strength to lift his head even if it was to glare balefully at the ceiling. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, sir. James is on his way down to the lab as we speak.”

“Right. Right, James.” Tony glanced down at his shirt and the circle of blue showing beneath the fabric and decided against pulling on his hoodie. “Normal lock down protocol please. And I need more light over the chair in the center.”

“Yes sir.”

JARVIS went quiet when the lab doors swished open, and Tony gave himself a half second to appreciate just how good James looked filling out the dark green t-shirt before meeting the soldier’s eyes and offering him a smile.

“Hey good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Better than I slept the last couple hundred nights.” James smiled right back, then glanced down at the glow of the arc reactor beneath Tony’s shirt. “That what you’re always pressing at?”

“Uh-” Tony stopped halfway to covering the reactor with his hand. “Yes? Didn’t realize I did it enough for people to notice though.”

“Most people probably don’t.” James’s mouth twisted self consciously. Most people probably didn’t notice every single thing about every single thing, like how Tony’s hair was mushed on one side because he’d been resting leaning into that hand, or the speck of dried blood on his fingertip, or the strain in his voice that sounded like he was ready to give up.

Yeah, most people probably don't notice things like that at all.

But James did.

“I thought I’d get up close and personal with you today.” Tony wasn't necessarily uncomfortable under James’s scrutiny-- there was no judgment or disgust in the pale eyes, just curiosity and awareness-- but he still cleared his throat and tried for levity as he motioned to James’s left arm. “I already have a working prosthesis for you but it will take some measuring and adjustments, I need to know some weights and balance factors to make sure it fits you just as well as your right arm.”

“You can do all that?”

“James, I can make this thing so great that your right arm will feel like the bad one.” Tony joked and was rewarded with another one of those sort of astonishing smiles. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty much the best there ever was at exactly this.”

“Don’t mean to brag, huh?” the crooked smile grew just a little bit more, and Tony bit at the inside of his cheek to temper his own answering grin. “Yeah, alright. Where do we start?”

“We start by getting mostly naked, I’ll need your shirt off to get the right measurements in.” Tony kicked his feet out and sent his seat rolling towards the center of the room where the medical chair was set up. “I promise this thing is more comfortable than it looks, I’ve posted up on it a few times. I can get you a blanket if you want, it can get cold in the lab and the whole ‘people poking at your injury’ can give a guy the shakes, trust me I know. If you’d like, I can--”

Tony paused mid ramble when he realized James hadn’t moved from exactly that spot by the door. “James? Alright?”

“I can’t sit there.” The tone was barely a whisper but James’s mouth opened like he was trying to scream as he backpedaled from the chair, right hand first out stretched like he wanted to ward the chair off, then clutching at his left shoulder as he stumbled away. “I can’t sit there. No no no, can’t do that, don’t make me do that--”

“Oh shit.” Tony was arguably the least observant person in the world when it came to relationships and social cues, but he could spot a panic attack a mile away and James was headed for a bad one.

“Hey whoops, I’ve got you.” Tony got to James’s side a split second before the soldier hit the wall and slid down to crumple on the floor. “I’ve got you, take it easy. J? Lights?”

The lights in the lab dimmed appropriately and Tony went to his knees next to James, hands hovering awkwardly over his frame, not sure if touching the soldier was the best course of action or not. “Can I-- James, can I touch you? Is that okay?”

“Don’t touch me.” the words were wretched, desperate and hoarse and terrified and Tony jerked away, fell onto his butt and scrambled back as James tried to curl into a ball and hide.

“Don’t touch me.” the soldier muttered, and Tony put one hand over his heart, the other over his mouth as he watched James fall apart.

Don’t touch me.

****************

James came back to himself minutes-- hours?-- later and the first thing he saw when he pried his eyes open again was Tony sat several feet away apparently content to work on his tablet right there on the floor, close enough for James to see, far enough away to not set him off again.

“How--” James’s mouth was dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and head pounding. “Tony--”

“Welcome back.” James was so sure Tony should be afraid of him right now, he was so sure the beautiful brunette should have put more distance between them and maybe even called somebody to-- to what? To sedate him?

“Dum-E has some water for you.” Tony wasn’t afraid or trying to get any more distance, but his smile was cautious as he inclined his head towards the little robot stretching its arm out to hand James a water bottle. “I also have some truly terrible smoothies if you need something chlorophyll filled to get you back on track.”

“Tony.” James tipped his head back and drained the water bottle, crumpled it in his fist and tried to calm the impulse to jump when the robot beeped and bumped another one at his shoulder. “How um-- how long was I out?”

“Long enough for me to get a few things done, not so long that my tuchus went numb on the floor.” Tony kept working and James appreciated the lack of attention, the moment to get his breathing under control again. “First time in a long time I’ve been on the watching side of that sort of thing. You alright?”

“I--”

“I don’t mean alright like, are you feeling better cos I know you aren’t.” Tony finally put the tablet away and for the first time in forever was grateful for his own recently increasing anxiety because pre-Afghanistan him never would have known how to handle this exact moment. Post Afghanistan him was practically a professional at catastrophic meltdowns in the privacy of his lab, so even though James’s panic attack had pushed Tony alarmingly close to one of his own, he still folded his legs, rested hands palm up on his knees and practiced his breathing--

--and smiled just a little bit when James automatically and probably unknowingly copied the posture.

“The chair’s gone.” he said after another minute of silence, and James’s shoulders slumped forward in unrealized relief. “I should have asked if something like that would make you nervous.”

“How would you know?” James thunked his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I didn’t even know. Can’t expect you to.”

“Medical trauma.” Tony plinked at the arc reactor casing. “Pepper had to put this one in my chest in that same chair. Makes me nervous looking at it too, but in my mind it's a necessary evil. Not necessary for you. We’ll figure out something else.”

Thank you. The words stuck on James’s throat, bitter and acrid. He felt weak, felt pathetic, felt like he needed to break out of the glass walls and shiny tables and bright lights and run, felt like he needed to lurch forward and wrap his arm around Tony and cry out frustration and fear he didn’t even understand.

Thank you. He felt weak.

Thank you. Christ, he felt weak. “Um Tony--”

“Still don’t want to be touched?” Tony tried for casual, hoping James was still too far lost in his own panic attack to see the way Tony’s fingers had lost their relaxed pose and were clenching nervously. Despite what Pepper and the entire world seemed to think, Tony wasn’t touch averse he was touch desperate and seeing someone break down the same way he’d done so many times alone was killing him.

“God.” James choked out, screwed his eyes tighter shut and admitted to the deepest quietest need in his very soul. “Tony please--”

“Yeah, I’ve got you.” Tony was at his side in an instant, pushing their foreheads together and breathing out shakily when James gripped into his side, putting a hand on either side of James’s face and scratching lightly through the stubble partly because the texture grounded him, partly because James groaned in relief and leaned further into him. “There we go. Better?”

“So much better.”

So much better to be breathing in sync with someone instead of cowering in a corner of the shelter and trying to disappear as the other residents either jeered at his unexplained fear or avoided him all together. So much better to have Tony’s warmth and the oddly comforting blue light over his heart instead of darkness and cold and stars bursting behind his eyes as James dug the heels of his palms into his skull to try and shut it all out.

So much better to feel Tony’s fingers at his face and in his hair and then hesitantly at his left shoulder and James shifted so Tony was pressing harder against it, holding his breath until Tony didn’t flinch away and he finally felt a little bit seen.

“I’ve got you.”

Thank you.

I’m sorry.

“...thank you.”

*************

“See look at this, the couch works just as well as the chair.” Tony kept his tone purposefully light as he gathered up a few tools and moved back towards where James was sat on the sofa. “More comfortable too, if we’re being honest. My only requirement for this thing was that I could sleep on it in any position and not wake up with a sore back and honestly, it’s paid for itself in spades by now.”

It had been two more water bottles and a long time of just sitting next to each other before James had pulled himself together to stand with an embarrassed, “Thanks for sitting with me.” and a half joking answer from Tony, “I’ve sat next to at least ten thousand people in my life and I’m not lying when I say you’re the only one I didn’t want to throw shrimp cocktails at.”

“Don’t know what shrimp cocktails are.” James had said and Tony shrugged, “Eh, you’re not missing anything.”

Now it was the couch and half of one the monstrously colored smoothies Tony was always sipping from and James was feeling as close to balanced as he’d been in weeks. He could see the knowing in Tony’s dark eyes, the understanding that shouldn’t be so much comforting as it was heart breaking because he knew it meant Tony had been exactly here over and over and over.

“Thank you.” he said again, and Tony looked up from organizing tools with a half smile that only reinforced everything James already knew.

They weren’t so different.

“You alright with giving me a strip tease?” Tony waggled his eyebrows teasingly. “Lose the shirt, soldier.”

“Only if you throw a dollar at me.” James retorted in a rare moment of ‘I understood that reference’ and Tony laughed out loud and started patting at his pockets. It was an attempt at normal, and attempt to move past what happened and James appreciated it clear down to his bones. “You know what, you’re rich, make it a twenty. I’ll make it good for you.”

Tony laughed even harder, eyes lighting in surprise and pleasure at the flirting, and he folded a bill up into a sharp triangle before flicking it at James’s face. “Lose the clothes, hot stuff.”

The shirt came up and off with one quick jerk and the muscle in Tony’s jaw ticked when he saw the extent of the damage up close and under bright lights. The brief amazing moment in the hotel where James had only worn a towel had shown Tony the scars too, but to be honest he hadn’t really been looking at James’s shoulder at that particular moment.

Now though, it was all he could see. Mangled and white lines spider-webbing up around and to the side of James’s neck, the bulk of something not natural stretching at the collabone, visibly strained muscles leading to James’s chest, a shadow beneath unnaturally pale skin that spoke of reconstruction and surgery. Age darkened steel grew from James’s left pectoral like a virus, splicing with the skin and reforming his entire left shoulder before ending abruptly in a stump.

Christ.

“God, what did they do to you?” Tony blurted, eyes wide with horror and fingers almost trembling as he pushed at the solid plate beneath James’s chest. “How bad was the damage that they had to completely rebuild you?”

Too late, he realized the question was insensitive and nosy and probably the last thing James ever wanted to talk about. “Shit, sorry. That’s none of my business.”

The laughter about money and strip teases seemed years away when Tony’s exploring found where the metal in James’s body melded to his sternum, and he swallowed hard, suddenly dry throat clicking with the effort. “Jesus, James. Never mind, let’s just-- okay. The uh-- the construction is impressive. Heavy, though. If I thought you could handle the surgery I’d try and replace at least the outlying pieces with something lighter. But the good news is-”

Tony was rambling, pushing words out of his mouth so he wouldn’t gag when his fingers slid from inorganic plates into the almost shocking give of James’s body as he passed from left to right.

“--the good news is, and I’ll have to take some scans to confirm, but it looks like I can basically just snap another limb on here for you, connect any frequencies to make sure it moves when you want it to. We can even paint it whatever color you want. Right now the piece is red and gold but we can strip it down to silver or give you something that matches the color of your skin or even airbrush some ink onto it so it looks like a full sleeve of tattoos or--”

“I don’t remember what happened.” James cut in, inhaling slow and exhaling all in a rush. “I don’t know when it was or how they rebuilt me or whether or not I ever had a fake arm at all. Don’t know why they rebuilt me.”

“Maybe that’s a blessing.” Tony said tightly. “Maybe you don’t need to remember. Where did we land on tattoos? I think it could be neat, we could look up anything you might enjoy and put it on there, I’ve never used JARVIS for that particular job but it could be fun--”

“Do you remember what happened to you?”

Tony faltered. “Yeah. Yeah I sure do. In full technicolor horror film vision.” he grabbed a couple electrodes and raised his eyebrows, waiting for a nod of permission from James before he set them on his chest. “I’d give anything to not remember. Fuck learning all those life lessons, I’d rather not have the panic attacks and night mares and inability to listen to the news without falling to pieces.”

A beat of silence, and he grimaced. “Sorry again. Remember when I said I’m nosy? I also lack any form of subtlety or tact.”

“It’s fine.” James said softly, just like he’d told Pepper. “Tony it’s-- you’re fine.”

“Thanks.”

They went quiet as Tony hooked up a few more wires and then JARVIS took over, blue lines scanning James’s upper body first up and down and then side to side, lingering over the mess at his left shoulder.

Tony watched with hands clasped, chewing at the inside of his cheek when James closed his eyes and tensed up over the beeping on the machines.

“You know.” Talking wasn’t necessary, it was just a way to hopefully take James’s mind off whatever was making him go so stiff. “Considering all the hardware in you, I’m surprised you don’t have more scars. The ones here at your shoulders are expected, but even they aren’t as bad as I would think. I’ve seen plastic surgery post-op pictures that look worse. You healed way faster from these than most people would.”

“Huh.” James clenched his hand into the couch when the machine whirred at his left. “Maybe all the scars are on the inside.”

And maybe some of us are so scarred up inside they spilled to the outside and we’re just all the way ruined, Tony thought, thinking of the patchwork black scars at his arc reactor and the way they matched the way his heart felt most days.

“What uh--”James motioned to Tony’s reactor. “What happened to you?”

“My company used to make weapons.” Tony had said the words so many times they didn’t even feel weird anymore. “I was on a product demonstration over seas when our convoy was attacked. I took a load of shrapnel to the chest.”

“Product demonstration.” James repeated, mulling it over in his mind. “Weapons test, you mean. Detonatin’ bombs out there in the desert.”

“You remember seeing stuff like that before?”

“Nah, I just--” there was that little bit of accent that came through when James was stressed, a hard Eastern European edge mixed with the oddest sound of something Brooklyn. “-- I just know.”

“Right. Well, yeah that’s exactly what I was doing.” Tony leaned back to read the data output from JARVIS’s scans. “And not shockingly at all, someone took offense and saw a chance to really mess things up on my side. Bombs. Shrapnel. Now I’ve got an electromagnet in my chest to keep the pieces from my heart.”

“They can’t just operate?”

“Not without killing me and if I’m going to die before the age of ninety, I want it to be on my terms.” Tony didn’t quite manage to hide the bitterness in his voice, or the fear that flickered in his eyes, but just like James had appreciated Tony not mentioning the panic attack, Tony appreciated James noticing but ignoring his scared.

“Does it hurt?” James asked, and Tony had never admitted to anyone what he was about to admit--

“Every fucking time I breathe.”

“Is living worth all that pain?”

Tony’s head snapped up, but James wasn’t looking at him, the soldier was staring at his own twisted flesh in the reflection of the screen, the scribble of scars and under-skin alien tech and ugliness. “Is it worth it?”

“...most days I don’t know yet.”

“Yeah.” James felt gingerly over where his skin met metal. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

***************

The monitor in the drawer read 22%, just like it had before James came downstairs, just like it would when Tony finally gave up working and tried to get some sleep.

“The stress and emotions of the last several days has most likely escalated the amount of toxins.” JARVIS said into the late night quiet. “The ideal situation would be for you to go lie on a beach somewhere, sir.”

“Are you telling me I should retire, J?”

“I’m telling you to trade in the Iron Man suit for a hammock.”

“I think you’ve been talking to Rhodey too much. Is he still coming by tomorrow to see me?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Nothing like a visit from the world’s cutest platypus to cheer everyone up.” Tony tossed the monitor back in the drawer without checking his blood a second time, and shut everything down except the constantly running facial recognition software. “Night, J.”

“Good night, sir.”

… the lab had only been dark for fifteen minutes when Dum-E stirred from his charging station and whirred towards the far corner of the room where Tony tossed his no-longer-needed’s or something that would be trash after the parts were stripped.

Crammed in there was the medical chair that had frightened the new person in the lab, and that had worried Tony, so Dum-E reached out a claw and hooked it around the leg of the chair, tugging and pulling and straining until it untangled from the rest and rolled free behind him.

On the other side of the lab was a trash compactor and the robot whirred his way right over, right up to the front and let out a series of loud beeps towards the ceiling.

JARVIS ran everything in the lab, everything in the house actually, and once the AI tracked the movement of Dum-E and the intended target, the doors to the compactor slid open seamlessly to allow the robot to push the chair inside, then closed again and the rumble of machinery shook the lab floor as the chair was ground to pieces.

“Good job, Dum-E.”

The robot only beeped, waved his arm a few times, and went right back to his charging post, knowing deep in his circuitry he’d done the right thing.

No more worried Tony. No more frightened other person.

The right thing.

******************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

**Author’s note: The panic attack wasn’t actually planned for this chapter, but as I was writing I kept thinking about just how similar James and Tony are, and I wanted a moment where the two of them connected with the sort of awful intimacy that trauma survivors have. When you are this lost, even finding another lost person feels like a step forward.

*******************

@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @rilee16 @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @yobucky @tonystarkisanangel @glitternotgold73

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @bibbarnes

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Lecture (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Lecture Rating: Explicit Length: 3300 Warnings: Smut (thigh riding, teasing, partially clothed sex) Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set September 1996. This situation he lectures on is a real scandal during the 90s. Dates are slightly fudged for the sake of the story, but it largely came out between 1995 and 1998.

Summary: Javier has to take Josie to work with him.

Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

“JoJo, just sit here and draw for me. Okay?” Javier urged as he grabbed the box of crayons out of his briefcase, sitting them on the floor beside the stack of perforated paper he’d stolen from the staff print room.

Josie stuck out her bottom lip, “Daddy, hold me.” She held her arms up in the air.

Javier fretted, looking between Josie and his wristwatch. It was less than five minutes before his early students were going to start arriving. There was no way he was going to make it through a three-hour lecture with her if she was already refusing to color.

“Alright, princesa.” Javier sighed, leaning down to pick her up, holding her at his hip as he used his free hand to sort through his projector slides.

“I like your tie, daddy.” Josie said as she curled her fingers around it.

He glanced downwards, “You and mommy got it for me.”

“I know.” Josie said rather proudly, before dramatically pitching to the side so she could try to grab one of his projector slides.

“If I’m going to hold you, you can’t be grabbing things, sweetheart.” Javier caught her hand and shook his head. “Otherwise you’ve got to color.”

“I don’t wanna color.”

He sighed. “You didn’t want to nap, either.” Javier glanced up as the door at the back of the classroom opened, the first of his students starting to mill in. Shit.

“Do we have a guest lecturer today?” Tony questioned as he took his seat in the second row, throwing his bag down in the seat beside him.

Javier chuckled. “She’s an expert in the field.”

Monica sat down in the front row, pulling up the desk from the side of the seat and putting her textbook on it. “Ah, is this the infamous Josie?”

“She is indeed.” Javier bounced her on his hip, earning him a giggle from her as she clung to his suit jacket. “Her daycare was closed for a teacher workday.” He explained, “And she’s in meetings all day at the P.D.” He glanced at his watch again. “With any hope she’ll be able to swing by in an hour or so.”

“You mean your daughter isn’t teaching us about declassified government documents?” Tony questioned, snapping his fingers with a look of disappointment. “Sounded like a good time if you ask me.”

“Gu’berment.” Josie tried, scrunching up her nose as she reached for the projector slides again.

“Josie.”

“Daddy.”

Tony and Monica both laughed.

“Since you two are here early, you get to pass these out when your classmates get here.” Javier said, laying two manila envelopes down on the table beside the projector. “Try to make it even.”

Monica slid out of her seat, leaving the desk up as she walked towards the table. She waved to Josie as she bent over backwards against Javier’s arm. “Casefiles?” She questioned as she pulled out the copies, thumbing through them curiously. She walked back to her desk with the other envelope, tossing it back to Tony.

“One half of the class will be going through the declassified files that came out last summer.” Javier explained, prying his tie out of Josie’s hands. “The other half will be reading The Baltimore Sun exposé and subsequent interviews with the 316 MI Bn members.”

“Holy shit.” Tony swore as he read through one of the interviews, glancing up and catching Javier’s disapproving look. Looking between the student and Josie. “Sorry.” He laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “This is intense.”

Monica frowned as she flipped through the declassified files. “The CIA were torturing prisoners with the Honduran Army?”

“I always thought the CIA were the good guys.” Tony quipped.

Javier shrugged, “There are no good guys in the U.S. government. The sooner you realize that, the better.” Josie started squirming and he sat down the slide sheets he was sorting through so he could toss her up into the air. He caught her and she squealed with delight.

He sat her back down on the floor, kneeling down to be her height. “I really need you to sit and color for a little while. Okay? I’ll get you ice cream later if you’re good for me.” Javier brushed his fingers over her curly hair, tilting his head to the side with a convincing look.

“Okay daddy.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, before toddling over to the crayons on paper. She plopped down, trying to peel the hole-punched sides off.

“What was that about all government agents being bad?” Tony questioned, giving Javier an amused look as he started passing out the copies as more students started to arrive.

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, “My statement stands.” He flipped the switch on the side of the podium that dimmed the lights, before he moved to turn the projector on. He situated the first slide on the glass lens.

“I didn’t know it was Take Your Child to Work Day” Sneered one of the students, George, as he sat down in the front row.

“Ah, perfect.” Javier said with a smirk. “I hope you brought the assigned reading, George. I’ll be needing a volunteer to read through the first three pages of the coursebook.”

George looked panicked. “It’s my dorm.” He looked to his left towards Monica who had the coursebook sitting on top of her desk.

Monica looked between Javier and George with a frown.

“I guess that’s a lesson for you, isn’t it?” Javier said pointedly. “If you have nothing to contribute to class, keep your mouth shut.”

Several students snickered as George sank down into his seat humiliated.

Javier did a mental count of the classroom, accounting for each student before he started speaking again. “As you may have noticed, you’ve each been assigned a portion of relevant documents about the Honduran Torture scandal that has been on the news recently. This is still an ongoing investigation. In fact, there are rumors that the DoD will be releasing the CIA Interrogation Manual to the American people. As you’ll read in the Sun article, these manuals—”

“Daddy.” Josie urged in her unconvincing whisper. “Daddy!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, but controlled himself as he crouched down beside her. “What did we talk about?”

“Mommy’s here.”

Javier stood back up, brows furrowed as he peered out into the classroom. With the projector on, they were mostly shrouded in darkness — and he couldn’t make her out among the heads. Besides, it was still too early for her to be there.

“Where was I?” Javier loosened his tie, before swapping out slides. “The situation is currently under review by the Inspector General and there is mounting pressure in the Clinton administration to fully declassify the documents relevant to the actions taken in Honduras. If you’re with me again next semester, I intend to spend a portion of the semester reviewing the forthcoming releases. In the hands of half of you are the investigative interviews from an intrepid team of reports with the Baltimore Sun. Several members of the 316 battalion came forward, exposing the existence of the secret Honduran military unit, which had been under the instruction of the CIA officials who were based out of Honduras. This came on the heels of the Honduran government’s attempts to right the human rights violations they were under fire for.”

“Professor—”

Javier’s brows shot up as he scanned for the owner of that voice. Apparently, Josie hadn’t been mistaken in her assertion. “Yes?”

“Would you agree that the CIA makes a habit of inserting themselves into situations they shouldn’t be involved in to begin with?”

“I believe that both personally and professionally. “Javier answered, before clicking the button on the side of his podium, “Class, I would like to introduce you to my significantly better half.” He gestured towards her, beaming with pride as she stood up and acknowledged their applause.

“Sorry for the interruption. I wrapped things up early and thought I’d make it in before class started.”

“Mommy!” Josie went running up the ramp towards her, wrapping her arms around her legs.

She picked her up, settling her onto her hip. “Here, let me just get her stuff and—”

“Stay.” Javier urged, “I know you have your opinions about the CIA.”

She rolled her eyes. “My biggest gripe with them in Colombia was when they repeatedly released memorandums endorsing Gaviria’s campaign, only to turn around and use that alliance to gather intelligence on them.”

“Not to mention they undermined numerous efforts in Colombia.”

She arched a brow at him, before looking towards the class. “He’s still jealous because the CIA picks up the tab on dates.”

Several students laughed, but some seemed hesitant to feed into the banter.

“Did you date someone from the CIA?” Tony questioned.

“Yep.” She let the ‘p’ pop past her lips as she gave Javier a teasing grin. “Am I derailing your class?”

“You’re more than welcome to.”

George cleared his throat, “I don’t know about everyone else, but I paid for a class taught by Javier Peña. Not some chick and a baby.”

She snorted. “Who knew you were teaching the next generation of Chrises.” She snapped her fingers, getting his attention. “What’s your name?”

He kicked back in his seat and grinned smuggly. “George Sullivan. Remember that name.”

“Oh, you’re George.” She pursed her lips and nodded, looking towards Javier then. “You should probably remember to cite your sources in the next paper you turn in. Unless you’re not interested in getting a good grade.”

“Twice in one day.” Monica quipped, shaking her head. “When are you going to learn, George?”

“Glutton for punishment.” George accepted with a shrug.

“If he says another word about my family, he’s getting an automatic fail.” Javier gritted out as he looked towards her then. “Seriously, stay. You might have some insights on the situation. “

“Sure.” She nodded, sitting Josie back down on the floor, before sitting down beside her. “Why don’t you keep coloring this pretty picture?”

Javier flicked the light off again, adjusting the slides. “ As I was saying, the United States has made a habit of directly or indirectly contributing to human rights violations and concealing the evidence.”

———

“I could listen to you lecture for hours,” You mused as you took a sip of your beer, watching Javier as he brooded over a stack of short answer essays. Josie had fallen asleep in his arms during the middle of the lecture and he’d decided that spending the last hour of the class making his students write about governmental overreach abroad was the best answer.

He had completely underestimated how much chicken scratch he would wind up having to read. “I can’t make heads or tails of this.” Javier huffed, passing the page to you.

You sat your beer aside, brows furrowed as you read over the page. “After years of reading Steve’s handwriting, I believe this paper is arguing for the US to intercede more often…” You glanced at him. “It’s signed, ‘this is satire, don’t kill me professor’.” You glanced at him. “This would be Tony Dean. No surprise there.”

“Smart kid and smart ass.” He rolled his eyes, taking the paper back from you. “Did you say something?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “I was alluding to the fact that you’re really sexy when you’re teaching.”

His brows rose upwards as he looked towards you then. “You should come to more lectures.”

“I might.” You smirked. “In the right mood, I might be able to come at your lectures.”

“Baby.” He gave you a scandalized look.

“You’re going to sit there and tell me you wouldn’t enjoy finding out that you got me off with your voice alone, Javier?” You gave him a pointed look, which worked because he shrugged. “That’s what I thought.”

You reached over and took the papers out of his hands, leaning forward to sit them on the coffee table. “These can wait.”

“You’re gonna help grade them.” He warned you as he unbuttoned his sleeves, rolling the cuffs up to his elbows.

“I was going to anyways.” You countered with a grin, grabbing at the front of his shirt as you leaned in to kiss him. “And Josie falling asleep on your chest? If we didn’t already have a child, it would’ve made me want to have one with you.” It was easy to jest about it, despite how badly you wanted another one with him.

Javier cradled the back of your head as he kissed you again, his mouth slanting hungrily over yours as he guided you backwards onto the sofa. He pressed his knee between your thighs as he draped himself over you.

You combed your fingers through his hair, your fingers sliding down to curl around the back of his neck as you arched up against him. “I can see why your students love you.” You teased, dragging your teeth over his bottom lip with just enough pressure to make him hiss.

“And why’s that?” Javier questioned, peppering kisses along your jawline and down your throat.

“Well,” You started as you worked loose the buttons of his shirt, dragging your fingertips over his newly bared skin. “You’re intelligent.” You circled your thumb around his nipple before trailing your fingers down his ribs. “And hot. Which should be a crime.” You tilted your head and kissed the underside of his jaw. “And you care about what you're teaching.”

Javier chuckled lowly as he leaned down to kiss you again, his tongue sweeping out to find yours. You moaned, your own tongue slipping out to slide against his own. You ran your hand down his back, bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

You rocked your hips, grinding against the press of his knee between your thighs. “Javi.” You breathed out as he drew back from the kiss, looming above you with a look in his eyes that stoked the fire in your belly. “What?”

“Can I try something?”

“Always.” You nodded, lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. “Am I going to enjoy myself?”

“I think so.” Javier leaned down to kiss you, a brief brush of his lips that left you wanting more. He ran his hands over your arms, drawing them upwards above your head. He gathered them in one hand, keeping them pinned to the sofa.

“So far, I’m feeling like I’m going to enjoy this.” You teased as you rolled your hips, pressing yourself against his thigh. You attempted to twist your hands out of his grasp, but he had a tight grip on your wrists. “What are you planning here, Javi?”

He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip as his dark gaze raked over you. “You should come to more of my lectures, baby.” Javier said in a lower tone, pressing his knee more securely against you.

You swallowed thickly, staring up at him. “Yeah? You don’t think I’d be distracting?” You ran your foot up the back of his leg, lifting your hips up off the sofa.

“You’re always distracting.” He told you as he leaned down and brushed his lips down the center of your throat. His breath hot against your skin. “Tell me what got you going today.”

You exhaled shakily, “You were very passionate in your delivery. Not just because you have a vested interest in hating the CIA, but because you care.” You told him, grinding against his thigh as you spoke. “And your voice…”

“Tell me.” He whispered, lips close to your ear as you turned your head, your cheek pressed against the sofa.

“There’s an authority to your tone. No room for questioning about the facts.” You tried to free your wrists, desperately wanting to touch him. But his grip remained firm. “It’s the same voice I used to love when you’d brief us on our plans at the DEA.”

That caught his interest.

“Did you ever think about those briefings, baby?” He shifted his knee, giving you just enough friction to make you moan. “You did, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” You admitted, arching your back as you rocked against him. “Javi, I’m so close.” You told him, you could feel your release — it was like you were balancing on a cord that was about to snap.

Javier kept his lips close to your ear, his voice low and gruff as he spoke. “I want you to come for me, baby. Right like this.”

You let out a frustrated sound. “And I want your cock.” You turned your head, catching his lips in a needy kiss before he had a chance to pull away. “Don’t tease.” You gritted out as he started to shift his knee back on the sofa so you couldn’t reach it.

Javier released his hold on your wrists, his hands moving down to grip your hips as he sat back on the sofa and pulled you into his lap. “Does it feel like I’m teasing?” He questioned, rolling his hips beneath you.

“No.” You rasped out, curling your fingers around the back of his neck as you kissed him, an edge of desperation to the kiss. “Please.”

“Fuck.” He grunted out as you moved against him, grinding down against his cock.

You let out a ragged breath as you pressed your forehead against his. “You’re too dressed.” You complained, gripping at the fabric of his shirt as you leaned back, rocking your hips downwards.

“So are you.” He shot back, hooking his fingers in the fabric of your sleep shorts, tugging at them before letting the fabric snap back against you.

You shifted back on his legs, reaching down to unbuckle his belt, sliding it through the belt loops and tossing it aside. You cupped him through his trousers, squeezing his erection lightly before you worked his trousers open and reached inside to free him from his boxers.

Once your sleep shorts were discarded, neither of you even bothered with your underwear. Javier pulled you back onto his lap, fingers twisting the crotch of your underwear aside as you lowered yourself onto his cock. You clenched down around him as you settled atop him, your hands curling around his shoulders.

“Hi.” You whispered as you tilted your head, your lips barely brushing against his.

Javier grabbed at your ass, holding onto you tightly as he rocked his hips beneath you. “Hi.” He smirked, licking his lips. “I wish I could grade papers just like… this.” He pointedly thrust upwards, making you gasp.

You ran your hands over his chest, “Bet you wouldn’t get anything done.” You taunted him, clenching tight around him again. “How could you?”

“Fuck.” He squeezed your hips tightly as you both started to move. “You feel so good, baby.” Javier drawled out, his teeth scraping along your jawline. “Are you going to come for me?”

“Yes!” You gasped out, feeling those beginning flutters start to overtake you. Javier reached downwards, his fingers seeking out that little bundle of nerves just above where he was buried within you. It was like white hot pleasure cresting through you as you came apart for him.

Javier groaned as he kept thrusting into you, your cunt clenching around his cock as he pressed into you again and again until his own release took hold. You moaned, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as you felt him spill into you. There was still a part of you that wished that this could be the time.

You had both given up on trying, hoping that it would just happen naturally. Even though hope was wavering with each passing day. But every time you still caught yourself silently wishing that this would be the time.

“I love you.” You whispered, curling your arms around him as you pressed close to his chest.

Javier slid his hand up your back as he held you tight. “I love you too.” He kissed your shoulder, his mustache tickling your skin. “I don’t think I’m gonna get grading done tonight.”

You laughed, nuzzling his neck. “Tomorrow.”

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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mshermia · 3 years

Text

Occupational Hazard - Webpril 04: Stuck Under A Building

summary: Peter helps out Doctor Strange. As they chase down Karl Mordo, Peter gets lost in one of the portal.

Or: Tony is furious with Strange for losing his kid and furious with his kid for getting lost.

read on AO3

###

Magic sucked.

Peter was 100% clear on that now. No matter how cool it had seemed before, he'd been wrong. Now, he knew better. Magic sucked, especially when the other side could do magic too.

"Shit," he panted, dodging an explosion on his side, bricks catapulted in his very direction before he spun around, shooting a couple of webs up to the ceiling. "Doctor Wizard? A little help?" he called out a bit louder.

Orange sparks opened up a portal in the very direction he was swinging, transporting him right to a spot behind the evil wizard dude. With as much momentum as Peter could generate, he shot towards the guy, feet first, and hit him squarely between the shoulders.

With a grunt, Voldemort crashed to the ground.

Not that that was his name, but Peter had no idea what the dude was called. His nose looked too normal for it to actually be Voldemort, plus Voldemort was a fictional character, but then, until not too recently, Peter had thought that magic wasn't real either and now look at him. He was practically jumping from one continent to the next as their chase of the evil wizard dude took them through portal after portal.

"On your right," Strange called out.

Just in time, Peter did a backflip, effectively avoiding a magical rope that had been heading for him. His feet had barely touched the ground when he fired another series of webs to catch the evil bastard. Just like before, he aimed for the portal that Strange had opened up for him to jump through, but unlike last time, he didn't end up jumping the main dude. What had looked like the dude suddenly shifted, Peter's senses screaming at him.

In a last-minute effort, Peter balled himself up, shooting a string of webs to his left trying to pull himself away from the blast.

Tony's feet landed on the sidewalk with a heavy clunk, splitting the stone plate underneath him in two, but he didn't give a fuck. He didn't give a fuck about the people who had pulled out their cell phones and filmed his landing either. With fast long strides, Tony pushed himself to hurry up the stairs of 177A Bleeker Street.

"Subtle as always," Strange mumbled under his breath as Tony pushed the doors open to his study.

"If you know what's good for you, you better not try to fuck with me right now, Strange," Tony growled. "Where the fuck is my Spider-kid?"

Strange was staring at a glowing ball of orange energy, hovering in the middle of the room. It was turning quickly, his eyes darting back and forth across the surface. "I told you. That's what I'm trying to figure out."

Tony's hands were pressed flat against his thighs to keep them from shaking. "I tweaked every system to find the suit but it's dead. None of the trackers, nothing works. I didn't even get a beacon."

"Yeah, I thought as much," Strange mumbled. "The spell acts like an electromagnetic pulse, resulting in a complete failure of any electronic appliances in its immediate vicinity."

"I know what an EPM is, jackass," Tony hissed. "What I want to know is where Peter is!"

"Well, if you'd let me work—"

"Just give me an estimate where I should be looking," Tony interjected.

Strange shook his head. "I can't. He can be anywhere."

Tony's stomach turned. He had to hold onto the table in front of him, feeling a little faint. "A-anywhere? How do you not know where he is?!"

"I can't control Mordo, Stark. That was the whole point of the mission."

With three long steps, Tony was next Strange. His hands tangled in his wizard tunic, Tony pushed him to the side, away from the spinning ball, shaking him. "And you think you could pull my kid in there?"

Before Tony knew what was happening, he was halfway across the room. Strange's rug was wrapped around his middle, pinning him against the wall.

"If you want me to find him, you'll have to let me work."

His tone was calm, lecturing. It made Tony's blood boil.

"Just..." Strange blew out a sigh. "Whatever you can think of to pin down Peter's location or... I guess any tech he has on him. Anything to narrow it down on your end. Do that."

As the rug let go of him, Tony's anger was quickly fading, replaced by dread. "What... what happened out there?"

"Mordo tricked him. He pulled open a portal that Peter must have thought was mine." Strange shook his head. "Peter was too fast. I couldn't stop him in time before the portal closed and the spell Mordo threw after him, it would have decimated anything in close proximity."

A cold chill went down Tony's back, threatening to bring him to his knees. "He's still... he's still here, right," Tony breathed.

Strange pursed his lips. "I think so but we need to find him, Tony," he pressed out. "We need to find him fast."

His mind was racing, hands shaking, as Tony sat on the thick carpet of the Sanctum floor. He had detached the control unit from his prosthetic arm and placed it in front of him on the ground. With the trackers of the suit silent, there was only one thing that might lead them to the kid. The signature vibration of the nanites Peter's suit was made of.

In 2024, Tony was not the only one who worked with nanobots, not anymore, but it was the only way he might be able to limit the scope of the search. Reading out their radiation, then eliminating everything that couldn't be Peter.

"872 locations detected, boss."

"Alright," Tony mumbled. "Let's start with the obvious ones."

He was quick to cross off every one of his own and SI's locations and research facilities. Then followed competing tech companies, car manufacturers, larger government facilities for technology and space, universities, and military facilities.

"Alright, girl, let's..." Tony he heart stuttered in his chest. There were still so many locations left. There was no way to eliminate enough of them. No way to know which one of them was Peter. There had to be something he could do to distinguish the amount of— Tony froze. He was such an idiot. "FRIDAY, calculate the exact signal strength that the amount of nanites stored in Peter's housing units would emanate. Reckon in buffered transmission."

His heart was racing as he watched the numbers roll on the projection until FRIDAY's process reached 100%, rendering every highlighted location on the map red, with four exception.

"Strange!"

He was by Tony's side before Tony had even made it back to his feet. "Brazil, Mexico, China, and—" Strange hesitated, gritting his teeth. "Fucking asshole," he mumbled. "Be ready, Stark. There'll be debris."

With a circular gesture of his hand, Strange opened a portal right in the middle of the room. Just in time, Tony had engaged the nanites on his arm as pieces of brick and concrete came crumbling through the portal onto the carpet.

"Shit," Tony cursed.

Quickly, he directed nanites to catch the falling bricks, then stabilize the pile that threatened to crumble even further into itself. His own hands were shaking, trying to hold up piece of wall.

"Pete," Tony yelled. "Peter!"

Strange's hands were gesturing wildly, swiping away the remnants of the fallen building, replacing them with orange glowing barriers on both sides and above him. Finally, among all the grey powder of crushed cement and stone, Tony saw something flash that resembled the blue and red of Peter's suit.

"He's right there!" Tony wanted to scream it but his voice broke.

Peter didn't move at all. He was hardly distinguishable from his surroundings. His face was covered in a thick coat of grey, dark lines running from his eyes along his face down to his neck, smudge trails of tears or... Tony pressed his lips shut, to keep the sob to himself. Tears of blood.

With practiced precision, Strange opened another portal. It moved with his hands, covering Peter entirely till he was simply gone.

The breath in Tony's throat threatened to choke him. "What... Where—"

Just as quickly, Strange had moved back into the room, debris, and bricks collapsing behind him. The portal hadn't even closed, allowing dust and pieces of the building to crumble further onto the carpet when Strange opened a second portal.

"The Compound," he said calmly. "Go on."

There was something warm on his face. Warm light. It didn't quite feel like home, but it felt like comfort. His mind felt a bit fuzzy but that was okay. Things around him were soft and cushy. Safe.

"Come on, sleepyhead. Come on back to me."

A chill went down his back, tingling along his arms into the very tip of his fingers. He knew that voice. That voice was home.

"Petey-pie, I waited long enough. I can see your face twitching."

He did? Peter tried to think, tried to remember what was going on, but then cringed at the throbbing pain in his skull. It was like someone had spent a night tap-dancing on his forehead. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, a little at first, then a bit more. The very first thing he saw was Tony, sitting in a chair just next to his bed.

"Impeccable timing as always, kid." He leaned closer, his warm hand squeezing Peter's lower arm. "Pepper just made May get something to eat. She will be pissed."

Peter frowned. A blinding pain pierced his head at the motion. His hand shot up, pressing against his head, hoping that might stop the throbbing pain.

"You... you told May?" That wasn't their deal. The deal was not to worry May unless absolutely necessary.

"As opposed to what, hide you for a week?" Tony took a hold of his wrist and dragged it away from his forehead. Instead, he placed his own fingers on Peter's temple and rubbed soft circles into his skin.

Peter groaned at the sensation of the pain dispersing before he remembered what Tony had just said.

"A week?" He tried to get some weight on his arms, to sit up but everything was a little numb and there was something on his chest weighing him down.

"Hey, take it easy..." Tony's hand moved to his shoulder, pushing him back into the bed. "Here, drink some of that."

He angled a straw at Peter's mouth, but as his lips closed around it, Peter flinched back, then prodded the spot with his tongue. There was a large split on his lower lip.

"Yeah, you got banged up pretty good out there. Careful now." Tony moved the water a little closer, mindful to angle the straw away from Peter's injury. "There you go..."

Tony's own lips were pressed flat, non of the signature sparkle in his eyes.

"I've been here a week?"

"No..." Tony's features softened just slightly, one hand moving Peter's hair out of his face so he could place a hand on his forehead. "You'll need some time to heal though."

Peter grunted at that.

"How's the pain?"

The question was friendly enough but he knew Tony. He had probably been sitting there, thinking of what to ask Peter for a long time. Likely all night and most of the day.

"How much pain meds did they already give me?"

One of Tony's eyebrows twitched. "I asked you first."

They had given him a lot then. Possibly more than Tony left was good for him. Maybe that's why he had slept so long.

"I'm good," Peter mumbled. "Maybe... a 5..."

Tony's mouth twitched before he pressed his lips together a little firmer.

"Or maybe... maybe a 4?" Peter added hastily.

Irritation non-withstanding, the lines on Tony's face went a little softer. "I didn't ask you what you think I want to hear, buddy."

"I'm good. I'm fine," Peter mumbled again.

To prove his point, he tried to shuffle up the bed a bit once again, tried to sit up, but something was wearing him down. This time, he had the presence of mind to check and found a curled-up Morgan Stark lying on top of his covers. Like a reflex, his hand shot towards her, the brown hair silky soft under his fingers.

"She assured May that she's going to make sure you're fine while she gets something to eat."

"How long... how long was I out for?"

"Well, it's almost 5 pm now, so that'd be about 15 hours."

Slowly, he took his eyes off Morgan and turned them on Tony instead. "What... what happened?"

The crease between Tony's eyebrows deepened. "How much do you remember?"

In thought, Peter bit his lip, then flinched as the cut right in the middle of it split open once again, filling with mouth with the taste of iron.

"Jeezes, kid... Can you please just—" Tony pressed his lips shut with a huff, his tone far from relaxed. "Here, take this."

He pressed a tissue into Peter's hand, eyes never straying from his face. Peter didn't bother to hide his discomfort this time, dabbing at his lip, trying to remember.

"Strange need help and..." Memories flash in front of his eyes. Portals. The evil wizard. Then everything went black. "Strange... he okay?"

Tony's eyes hardened pressing his hand and tissue back against his Peter's. "Alright, I want you to forget that you ever even heard that name."

"Come on..." he mumbled.

"I mean it. This... all this magical bullshit. This is not for you. Not your pay grade. Next time the wizard comes knocking, you punch him in the face."

"Tony... don't be like that." Peter's other hand was still in Morgan's hair, absentmindedly, coming through it, as he stared into space, wrecking his mind for what had gone wrong. "We were chasing this evil dude and we did the thing we did when... you know..." Peter swallowed hard. "With the Guardians. So I was jumping him, trying to pin the evil wizard guy and web him up and but then..." Peter stopped himself just in time before he bit down on his lip again. "Something happened... I don't..."

"Well, the evil dude can do portals too."

"Oh..." Peter blinked a few times, not sure what to make of it.

"So you jumped through one of his instead of Strange's, then he sent some kind of detonation spell after you, closed the portal, and left you there."

"Oh," Peter said again.

Tony crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, oh..."

"Where was I?"

"Harlem."

Peter gave his head a tiny shake. "Harlem?"

"Yeah. Harlem." Tony's fingers drummed against the bed frame. "Apparently, the asshole sent you to a basement of a block the city has started demolishing this week."

"Oh..." A sudden snort rolled off his tongue, much to Tony's clear annoyance. "Sorry, it's just... Mount Morris Park, right? The Historic District? I was there, last week at a protest with MJ. Should have made more signs maybe?"

The expression on Tony's face looked pained, obviously not appreciating the irony. "Well, I guess You-Know-Who knew about it too."

Peter's lips stretched into a smile, that made his lip sting. "It's fine, Tony. You can say his name."

With a shake of his head, Tony rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Either way, the spell he sent after you blasted out enough of the interior that it knocked you out, it seems, and buried you there. We're lucky we found you when we did." Tony rubbed a hand across his face. "Buried under a building. Again. Only you..."

"Come on, like you never had a building drop on you. It's more of an occupational hazard..." Peter cringed at the mix of horror and despair on his face. "I'm sorry, Tony..."

Those were the magic words and they worked, 87,5% of the time, this time included.

With a sigh, Tony bent forward and pressed a kiss into his hair. "You better save those 'sorry's for your aunt, buddy."

Peter groaned. "Maybe we could just pretend I died or something?"

Tony's eyes gleamed dangerously.

"Or..." Peter quickly added, cheeks heating up. He tried to think but with no luck.

"If you want to be all grown up and jump into trouble like that, you'll have to be grown up enough to stick it out at home, Pete." Tony ruffled his hair, eyes flickering up to the ceiling. "FRI, let May know he's up and talking."

Silently resigning to his fate, Peter handed over the blood soak tissue for Tony to bin, bracing himself for the agony of pampering, kisses, and scolding he would be in for for the foreseeable future.

#webpril 2021 day 4 #hurt/comfort #peter parker fic #tony stark lives #tony stark fanfiction #irondad #IRON DAD AND SPIDER SON #iron dad fic #webpril #webpril 2021 #stephen strange #doctor strange #stuck under a building

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fanaticfangirl001 · 3 years

Text

Like Real People Do Ch 6: The Stain

Taglist: @p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922,

Author’s note: Considering Sam’s TT, it’s very common in the South to give relatives nicknames, especially in the African American community(Just in case anyone was confused during the episode)

Winnie flops down on the couch and sighs.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Sam, this whole thing is fucked up.” Winnie rubs her temples.

“Well once this is all over, I’ll leave you and Buck alone.”

“No reason to. He hates me.”

“Huh?”

“ At Sharon’s place. I confronted him and he brushed me off. I mean it was stupid to think that.”

“Wait, you think Buck hates you because he wouldn’t open up to you.”

“Exactly, we’ve talked about stuff before.”

“Stuff like feelings?”

“No. I’m pretty sure we’re just going to stuff those down and then one day, we die.”

“That’s not healthy.”

“Did you imagine us to have a healthy way of coping with our shit?”

“No, but once everything is over, try therapy.”

“I’d screw it up.”

“There’s nothing to screw up.”

“I’d screw up the therapist. There’s a lot, Sam, none of it is great.”

Zemo walks out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and Bucky walks through the front door.

“Well the Wakandans are here. They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“Were you followed?”

“No.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Winnie sits up from the couch.

“Because I know when I’m being followed.”

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.”

“Hey, you shut it. No one’s defending you.You killed Nagel”

“Don’t put too much stock in it.” Winnie warns. “You mean to an end.”

“You’d be bored without me.” Zemo says to Winnie then adds “ Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened.”

“There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot a man.”

“Point blank.” Winnie adds.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

“What? What’s the damage?”

“Eleven injured, three dead. They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.”

“She’s getting worse.”

“Take it from the man that bombed the UN to know what worse is.” Winnie muses.

“I accept the assistance but I can handle these two.” Zemo pours himself a cup of tea. “I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?”

“She’s just a kid.”

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there. You’re clouded by it.”

“Sam, she is a kid, but she’s making some adult moves.” Winnie adds. “But she has done more for the displaced than the GRC ever did.”

“She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped association that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.”

“You’re talking about our friends.”

“The avengers, not the nazis.”

“So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.”

“It would have to be in some neutral location. I don’t want any surprise attacks. Sam, you’d be the best choice.”

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her.Or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.”

“Touche. But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

“One of a kind, a good man trained to be a soldier.”

“Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.”

“And you’ll give up your tour guide.”

“Yes.”

“From my understanding Donya is like a pillar of the community, right? So when I was a kid my TT passed away.”

“Your TT?”

“Yeah, my TT, yeah.”

“Who is your TT?”

“Fine, when I was a kid,my aunt passed away, and the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long. Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya.”

“We’re not crashing a memorial.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Your TT would be proud of you.” Zemo tosses a piece of candy towards Sam “ Turkish Delight.”

He gestures towards Winnie.

“No thank you. I’ve read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, too many times to be taken in by perfume candy.”

“Shame what’s become of this place. When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties.I know nothing of the politics of the time, of course.But I remember it being beautiful.”

“I’ll play you a song from the smallest violin, later, what we need is information.” Winnie says from behind him.

“I’m gonna take a look upstairs.See what you can find down here. Keep an eye on him.”Sam says leaving the group.

“I’ll stay out of your way.”

Winnie looks around seeing small groups of children playing. She softly smiles.

“You like children?” Zemo asks softly.

“Yeah so.”

“Follow my lead.”

Winnie rolls her eyes but takes Zemo’s outstretched hand.

“Baa baa black sheep have you any wool.”

Winnie sings with him.

“Yes sir, yes,sir, three bags full. One for my master, One for the dame.” Zemo pulls out a bag of the same candy he had offered them, Turkish Delight.

“One for the little girl who lives down the lane.” He sets up a table and pours out the candy.

“Turkish Delight. It was always my son’s favorite.”

Winnie kneels down so she’s at the kids level.

“My old friend Donya passed away. Did you know her?”

“Yes.”

“I would like to pay my last respects. Do you know where her funeral will be?”

Zemo motions for the child to whisper to him the location. She whispers then turns towards him again.

“Is there something else?” He asks.

“Your wife is pretty.” She points towards Winnie.

Winnie smiles, keeping up the appearance.

Sam comes down and stands by Bucky.

“It’s starting to feel like a dead end.”

“The hell are they doing?”

“Do you see these men there?” Zemo asks the child softly.

“Zemo, darling.” Winnie adds putting a hand on his shoulder.

“They are very bad, not to be trusted.” Zemo adds to the children. “Donya is our little secret, okay.”

Zemo and Winnie walk back to the two.

“Cute kids.”

“Ass.”

“Darling, there’s children present.”

“I don’t like them, together.” Bucky breaks the silence.

“I know Buck. I know.”

“Well I got nothing. No one is talking about Donya.”

“Yeah, it’s because Karli is the only one fighting for them.”

Winnie turns to Zemo.

“And she’s not wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“For five years,people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together. It was the entire world coming together. And then boom. Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them at least Karli is doing something.”

“You really think her ends justify her means. Then she’s no different than him, or anybody else we’ve fought.

“She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.”

Zemo is making cherry blossom tea and brings it over.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?”

“The funeral is this afternoon.”

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute.In fact they are probably lurking outside right now.Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me, once we get to Karli. I prefer to keep my leverage.”

Bucky stands up and walks over to him. He grabs the tea pot and throws it against the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage.”

“Take it easy, don’t engage him. He’s just going to extort you and do that stupid little head tilt thing.”

Zemo straightens.

“Let me make a call.”

“Do you want some cherry blossom tea?

“No you go ahead.”

Zemo turns towards Winnie.

“Uh sure, I’d love some.”

Once Bucky leaves the room Winnie looks at Zemo.

“It’s rude to stare.”

“Infuriating Bucky isn’t going to help you in the long run.”

“You care a lot for him. Pity.”

“Why?”

“Because he will always throw himself into the fight. He will never settle down, or help himself, because not so deep down, he knows he’ll never lose the Winter Soldier side. You saw how easily he went back into it.He believes that he’s not worth the effort.What is that they say about old habits. Ah, they die hard.”

“Pissing me off isn’t helpful to you, either.”

“Why does the truth anger you so?”

“Because I believe that Buck is stronger than everything he’s been through.”

“You have great expectations for James.”

“I do.”

“You think he is worth the effort.”

“Yes.”

“So tell him.”

“Why would I trust you? Two seconds ago you were being a dick. Now I’m supposed to take your relationship advice.”

“So you do want a relationship with him.”

“I’m not talking to you, anymore.”

“How sweet the silence will be.” Zemo gives her a cup of tea.

“Fuck you.”

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” John and Lemar jog up to where the four are.

“What happened to tracking John?” Sam asks Winnie.

“Someone must have disabled it, it was working before.”

“Ah! How’d you find us now?”

“Come on. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

“No more keeping us in the dark.”

“It was nice while it lasted.” Winnie adds to Sam.

“And you..” John walks up to Winnie,” Stop messing with my suit and my shield.”

“Doesn’t feel too good to get tracked by your own stuff, huh.”

“You are interfering with the United States Government.”

“What are you gonna do, kill me.”

“Don’t.” Bucky grabs Winnie’s arm and pulls her back.

“You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.”

“This better be an unbelievable explanation.”

“Take it easy before it gets weird.”

“Too late.”

“I know where Karli is.”

“Well, where?” John stops Zemo with a hand on his chest.

“All we know is, it’s a memorial. So we’re going to intercept her there.”

“I still don’t like the idea that we’re crashing a memorial.” Winnie adds.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties.” Lemar adds.

“Which means we need discretion, you two aren’t exactly subtle.” Winnie gestures between John and Lemar.

“All right, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.” John says.

“Did he not hear me?” Winnie asks outloud.

“I want to talk to her alone.” Sam nods at Winnie.

“I’m not losing her again.”

“You won’t, if you let Sam talk to her. This is his bread and butter.”

“Look the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. Now is the best time to reason with her.”

“No wait stop! Hold on! I think we’re way past reasoning with her,unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.”

“So did Zemo, and he’s here.”

“Winifred, if you really lov…” Zemo starts and is muffled by Winnie’s hand.

“Sam if you walk in there cold, she could kill you.” Lemar reasons with Sam.

“If I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die.”

“You’ll let him do this. You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone.”

“He’s dealt with worse, and he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay. This is in my wheelhouse, like Winnie said.”

“I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this a bad idea.”

“Wait John, if he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Lemar reasons with John.

“We’ll deal with you later.” John says to Zemo.

“I’m sure it will come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.”

Zemo leads the way to the small girl he was talking to earlier.

“Hello my friend.” Zemo gives her money,” This is for your family. Can you show us the way?”

The child motions for Zemo and the group to follow her.

“What the hell?”

“Language.” Winnie warns. “ Come on John, there’s a kid.”

The child leads them to the building.

“Karli is in there.”

“All right.” Sam goes in alone.

Zemo is handcuffed to a pipe.

“Hey, you got ten minutes.

“Really?”

“Then we’re doing things my way.”

“Aggressive.” Zemo comments. “ But I get it.”

“John, you okay?” Winnie asks as she watches him begin to pace.

“No, I’m not okay. I wasn’t expecting to see Sam and Bucky, two avengers, an ex member of Shield, and a terrorist that bombed the UN.”

“Okay, and neither did I when Bucky and I came out here. But we’ve done a pretty good job so far.”

“A pretty good job? Really?”

“Yeah, actually with less resources than you have.”

John waits and readjusts his cowl across his nose.

“John.”

��Whatever it is Winnie, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not trying to antagonize you, but you really don’t seem okay. Take a few breaths. Sam’s a good man and he knows how these things go.”

Bucky looks up watching Winnie.

“I also know that you want to be a good man. You want to be the best Captain America, you can. And to do that you need a clear head, and some good people around, and a big ass heart.”

“A big ass heart isn’t going to help.”

“I think it helped Steve.”

“Well I’m not Steve.”

“I know. No one is asking you to be Steve, John.”

“She’s right.” Zemo adds.

“Good call, the terrorist agrees with you, Winnie.”

“I’m trying to genuinely help you. Don’t be a dick.”

“You could have helped more by joining us. That tracker you put on my shield is still being dissected. Your modifications on old shield tech is incredible.”

“Governments have agendas and blind spots. I’m not getting back in just to be told it’s happening again.”

“So what’s next then, for you?” John asks.

“I don’t know, but I’m sticking with Sam and Buck until the end of the line.”

“Don’t ever say that again!” Bucky snaps.

Winnie recoils hurt from his words and the silence grows.

She looks over when John begins pacing and talking to himself.

“Nope No, this is a bad plan.”

“It hasn’t been ten minutes. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m going in.” John walks up to Bucky. He stops John.

“This is all real easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

“Lemar.” Winnie nudges him and gestures to John,” Has he always been this intense?”

“He’s got a lot on his plate.”

“Lemar no bullshitting me, is John okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be okay.”

“Care to make a wager?”

“Sure. what’s the bet?”

“If John snaps,you owe me, Bucky and Sam:Juicy Lucys, fries and malts once we’re stateside.”

“If he doesn’t, you owe us a steak dinner. The works.”

“Deal.” Winnie puts out her hand for Lemar.

“Deal.” Lemar shakes her hand.

“What about me?” Zemo asks.

“Malts aren’t for terrorists.” Winnie answers.

“Neither are steak dinners.”

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.” John calls out.

“This is what that was.”

“No, wait.”

“Tricking me until help came.”

“We had enough time to talk.”

“Nazi”

“Why don’t you.”

Karli shoves John and the shield against the table.

Winnie helps John back up, he shoves off of her.

Bucky goes after Karli as does Lamar.

Sam helps Winnie up and the two run through trying to find Karli.

“Shit.”

“I lost her.”

“So did we, and John’s a dick.”

“This place is a maze.”

“Pretty smart move though. We need to find Karli before John or Zemo do.”

Zemo finds Karli and shoots at her following her through the pipe room. He shoots twice more. To avoid him, Karli vaults over a table, her pouch of the serum vials falling to the floor with her. The blue vials litter the floor. Karli starts to crawl towards it but Zemo shoots once more. She finds cover behind the table.

“Is this what I think it is.” Zemo asks. He picks one up.

“No no no.” Karli starts.

He throws it to the ground, the glass vial shattering. Zemo stomps on them. Karli runs out seeing that Zemo is busy. The shield flies out of the air and knocks him out.

Sam, Bucky and Winnie run in to see John.

“You found Zemo, good.” Winnie says.

“What did we miss?”

Back in Zemo’s home he rests on the couch with a wash cloth on his head.

“Anything new from Sharon.”

“No, just keep an eye on John.”

“Were you ever offered it?” Zemo asks Sam.

“What?”

“The serum.”

“No.”

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

“No.”

“No hesitation. That’s impressive.”

“Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?”

“And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky.”

“He never chose anything.” Winnie asks.

Sam takes Zemo’s silence for a chance to continue.

“Blood isn’t always the solution.”

Bucky comes back in.

“Somethings not right about Walker.”

“Clocked that a mile away. I made a bet with Lemar.”

“ What kind of bet?”

“I think John is unstable. He’s gonna snap at someone. And when he does we get cheeseburgers and malts.”

“You can’t make a bet like that. It’s wrong.”

“Lemar knows John better than I do. And he has faith in John. That should make us feel a little better.”

“What does he get if John doesn’t crack?”

“Him and John get a steak dinner.”

“Steak dinner vs cheese burgers, the classic American battle.” Zemo adds.

“Well get ready to eat a burger, Sam, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

“I didn’t give it.”

“Well Steve definitely didn't.”

“All right. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over.”

“Hey, slow your roll.”

“Shield or no shield, the only thing here you’re running is your mouth. Now I have Katli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re going to need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.”

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, huh. Should I put down the shield, make it fair?”

“Malts here we come.” Winnie adds sending a smirk over to Lemar.

John puts down the shield and a woman dressed in crimson, and gold armor throws a spear.

“Woah.” Winnie looks from the woman, to Sam, to Bucky as if to ask if they saw that too.

More women in armor with spears come into the room.

“Are they the Dora Milaje?” Winnie asks Bucky.

He nods.

The lead woman speaks to Bucky in a language Winnie has never heard before. Even she knew that whatever they were here for wouldn’t end well for Zemo.

“Release him to us now.” The woman says.

“Hi, John Walker, Captain America.” John introduces himself. “Well let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this though huh. “

“Now he wants peace.” Winnie mocks.

“Not the time.” Sam says shaking his head. “John, take it easy, You might want to fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.”

“They don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.”

“Okay. Look I think we got off on the wrong foot.” John claps her on the shoulder.

The woman looks at John’s arm and then him. She hits him with a spear multiple times then kicks him away, hitting the spear in the wall and back to the ground. He uses the shield to deflect a spear aiming for him and continues fighting the women.

Zemo continues drinking his cocktail.

“We should do something.”

“Yeah.” Winnie pulls out a bag of popcorn from her backpack. She offers some to Sam. He takes a handful.

“Looking strong, John.”

“Bucky.” Sam warns.

“So the Dora Milaje is the Wakandan army?” Winnie asks the two guys as they watch the fight.

Bucky nods.

“The spears look beautifully made.”

“Ayo.” Bucky grabs the spear in the hands of one woman. “ Let’s talk about this.”

Sam and Bucky enter the struggle.

“ Guys!” Winnie yells.

“We’re a little busy!” Sam yells back to Winnie.

Winnie chases Zemo, but he gets the door and locks it.

“You’re a rat! You know that!” Winnie is banging on the door trying to break it.

Ayo taps Bucky’s arm in a few places and it falls off. She walks off towards where Zemo locked the door.

“He’s gone. Leave it.” She tells another warrior holding the shield.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asks.

“No.” Bucky puts back on his arm and rotates it. The vibranium shifts and hums as it moves back to place.

“You all right, man.” Lemar asks helping John up.

“They weren’t even super soldiers.” John gets up.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

“I can, come on.”

“She said what? Hold on Hold on, I know. Listen pack an overnight bag and take the boys.”

“What happened?”

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Sam turns back to his phone,”Okay. Go somewhere safe. Only pay in cash. All right? Let me know when you get there.”

“Damn.” Winnie’s expression grows serious. “ She can’t keep this up.”

“I know. I love you. I’ll never let anything happen to these boys.Okay, bye.”

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number. She said just me and Winnie.”

“Me?” Winnie asks. “ Why?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Karli!” Sam yells out.

Winnie walks with him, rocket boots and other weapons up her sleeves ready.

Bucky follows.

“You called my sister.That’s how we’re gonna play this.”

“I would never hurt her. I wanted to understand you better. I see you two didn’t come alone.”

“You have to end this now.”

“Karli there’s nothing good that can come from this. Just stop this from escalating. Just stop.” Winnie says.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“Sam, you’re just a tool in the regimes. I want to destroy. You’re not hiding behind a shield. If I were to kill you it’d be meaningless. I was going to ask you to join me.And you, Winnie, you’re not a tool, you’re a free agent. You could join us. I saw the gadgets the first time we fought. Also you were the closest to downloading all of our mugshots before we started erasing our trail. We could use you.”

“I can’t do that Karli.” Winnie shakes her head.

“Hey Sam,” Sharon’s voice says through Sam’s gear. “ Looks like new Cap is moving. Looks like he found them or maybe they found him.”

“It’s Walker.”

Sam and Bucky jump down colliding with Karli.

“ I’ll send you the location. Go!”

Bucky runs off in search of John.

Winnie kicks on her rocket boots and takes a running leap off the building following Sam.

Sam comes in through the ceiling, Winnie follows through the large hole.

He and Winnie watch as John bends a metal pipe.

“What’d you do?

“They’ve got Lemar.”

Sam and Winnie follow John.

Two super soldiers drop down from the ceiling. One takes on Sam, the other John.

John tosses the shield and hits one in the back and Sam lets his wings take the action.

“What’s with all the knives?”

“Guns are hard to get in Europe. Knives are stylish.” Winnie shoots one in the leg.

Bucky runs in and catches a knife.

Sam now has two super soldiers on him.

Bucky punches one

“You’re welcome.”

An electrified whip hits the other one and knocks them out.

“Sup.” Winnie nods.

Karli, armed with a knife, sees her moment to kill John. She takes it and then is grappled by Lemar dropping her to the ground. They get up and Karli punches him into a pillar in the middle of the room.

John goes over to Lemar.

“Hey. Hey. Hey.” John pats his face. “Lemar. Lemar. Lemar.”

“Shit.” Winnie says softly.

The Flag smashers and Karli flee.

Sam, Bucky, Winnie run after Karlie.

John jumps out of a window and slams onto the street below.

“Where is she?!?” John yells running after the one of the flag smashers.

John knocks the man down beside cement stairs and hits him with the shield. People begin to watch.

“It wasn’t me.” The man pleads. “It wasn’t me!”

John lifts his shield and brings it down several times. Onlookers take videos and scream.

Winnie leans her head on Bucky’s shoulder closing her eyes, away from what just took place in broad daylight, in front of people.

“He snapped.” Winnie whispers with tears in her eyes.

#bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes #tfatws

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readingbatfamficsat3am · 3 years

Text

Universe Jumping

Rose stood outside the building. The black pant suit she wore was uncomfortable over her body armor and hidden weapons - knives, shuriken, her twin blades and even a small hand gun strapped to the inside of her thigh. Rachel was waiting on a rooftop nearby, they had agreed that her magic wasn’t necessary for this mission. It was a simple infiltrate and rescue type thing and S.H.I.E.L.D, for all their bedazzle and secrecy, weren’t anything Rose couldn’t deal with by herself.

Rachel had stolen a security card for her the previous day, while Rose had been in the abandoned building across the street, trying to figure out the layout of the S.H.I.E.L.D base. Rachel was lucky that her magic allowed her to shape shift, it would have been very difficult to go unnoticed with her dark purple hair, grey skin and red headstone that glowed every once in a while. She had taken the liberty of turning Rose’s silver hair brown and temporarily healing her eye, which was very much appreciated.

Rose thought back to the conversation she’d had with the demon not ten minutes ago and smiled softly to herself.

“Be careful in there.” Rachel had said, “I know you are very much capable of defending yourself but I worry sometimes. Just go in, get Jason, try to avoid people like Romanoff the best you can and I’ll see you out here in half an hour.”

Rose remembered smiling then too, “I love that you worry about me, even though it’s rather unnecessary. It’s cute,” she had tapped Rachel’s nose and leaned in to give her a kiss, “I swear on Gar’s love for stupid video games that I will get in and out with minimal trouble but I can’t promise that I won’t accidentally kill someone on the way.”

Rachel had shrugged and grinned, “Good enough for me, now go and rescue that idiot before he makes an even bigger problem than jumping across multiverses. Does he know how exhausting it is to open portals across multiverses, if he’s not dead already I’ll probably kill him myself.”

“I better go. I’ll let you know if I run into any trouble and need some help.” She had said, though she highly doubted that even if she did run into Romanoff she would have a problem.

Now, Rose glanced once up at Rachel before walking down the busy shop street in her impractical yet doable 3 inch heels towards the S.H.I.E.L.D building that despite appearing to be just another corporate company, it screamed shady government division to Rose. It just had that look about it.

Without her eye-patch -- which she strangely missed -- people barely gave her a second glance. Most of the agents around her were also in black suits, some even had shades which in her opinion was way too on the nose. Trust Jason to end up in a place like this.

She hadn’t seen him in over five years, not since before he died. Rose had broken up with him about two months before his death, and had been devastated to hear what had happened to him. Now she had heard that he had come back to life eight months later and had told no one, but reappeared five years later with a vengeance and a smoking addiction that were both likely to kill him.

He’d even developed a habit for murder, even worse than Rose’s -- which was hard to do if she was being honest.

She reached the check-in point at the end of the room and gave the woman sitting behind the desk an easy smile. Rose’s father had drilled that smile into her, make people feel at ease, make them trust you with a few nice words and stab them through the back afterwards.

The woman took the security card from her and scanned it through the system -- Samantha Marshall, 24 years old, Clearance Level 5, whatever that meant. Rose was going to break into anything, as long as she got what she wanted. There were no problems and Rose quickly took the card back before moving through the turnstile and heading towards the elevator.

“Any problems?” Rachel asked, with what seemed like boredom laced through her tone. Despite her worry earlier on she trusted Rose to be able to take care of herself on missions like these.

She tapped at the earpiece before replying, “Nope, for top secret security logistics division it’s surprisingly lax on security. We should probably stay off comms though, it might look suspicious if I look like I'm talking to myself. Thanks for checking in.”

Rachel gave her a quick, “No problem” before turning off the comms. Just then, the elevator opened and three agents stepped out and Rose stepped in. She didn’t actually know where in the building Jason was, she was actually planning on torturing the information out of someone in the back of a supply closet. It wasn’t one of her greatest plans but it was far from being one of her worst. At least if anything went wrong, there was a demon sorceress capable of destroying the universe outside.

Just as the doors were about to close, another woman stepped inside. They gave each other a quick nod before they both turned to face the closed doors. Rose recognised the woman as Melinda May from her brief hacking trip through S.H.I.E.L.D’s systems. May was almost as skilled as Natasha Romanoff and had developed a nickname in The Cavalry. She smiled to herself, and decided to have a little fun and take advantage of being in a universe where no one had ever heard of her.

“I hear they call you The Cavalry around here.” She got barely a nod in response, but she could tell by May’s subtle change in body language that Rose was irritating her. “I’d say i’m a fan of your work but I didn’t know you existed until two days ago. Besides there are cooler nicknames to have.”

She could hear May’s slight intake of breath and almost grinned. Rose liked fucking with people like May, they had a tough exterior that’s usually enough to get people running in fear, but had certain topics or issues that caused that exterior to crack when poked at.

“Do you have any suggestions for a ‘cooler’ nickname then?” May’s tone was flawless, no trace of any annoyance or irritation to be found.

“A few, none that you’d be interested in.” Rose turned to grin at her. Finally the doors opened allowing Rose to step onto the floor and to say without turning back, “It was nice meeting you May.”

As she made her way through the building she glanced at the various agents passing by her in the halls, trying to find one likely to give her the information she needed. Rose found them in Jonathan Clarke. Dabbing a bit of chloroform onto a handkerchief she pulled her pocket, she waited in a corner for Mr Clarke to walk by. She didn’t have to wait long, he only managed to struggle for a few seconds before the knock out drug took affect. The hardest part of the whole thing was dragging him into a nearby closet without making a mess.

“Hey, Rae. I was wondering if you could let up on the magic? I was hoping to do the rest of this as myself.”

She didn’t get a reply but a quick glance at her shoulder saw that her hair had returned to its silver and Rose assumed that her eye-patch had returned. She ripped off the pant suit, her ‘Ravager’ outfit underneath. The guy was starting to wake up so she pulled out a few of her knives and got to work.

*********

He lasted longer than she’d expected but not long enough that it was difficult -- or fun. Rose left him in supply closet to bleed out but left the door open so that if he was lucky someone found him before he died. She ignored the fact that there were security cameras at every turn. No one here could stop her unless they had a rocket launcher on hand.

There was already blood on her face when the first agent tried to take her down. There was some in her hair by the time she was finished with him. Five more came running at her. A flick of Rose’s wrist brought three of them down with knives in their chests. Whipping out a blade she blocked a bullet to her left and slit a throat on her right before stabbing the agent who had dared to try shoot her.

Alarms blared around her and lights flared, illuminating the rooms and halls in a red hue. It seemed fitting for the state of affairs Rose was currently dealing with. She reached the stairwell and began climbing. The agent had told her Jason was on the 7th floor so Rose cut her way through S.H.I.E.L.D agents until she reached that floor.

There was a small army of agents waiting when she finally opened the door to the 7th floor. Rose just managed to duck behind a desk before they opened fire. She took a deep breath. She really hated doing this, even though the bullets wouldn’t kill her they still hurt like a bitch. She grit her teeth and jumped back out into the fray. Two bullets pierced her shoulder and Rose let out one quiet cry of pain before whipping out five shuriken, each one finding their targets in five agents. Her twin blades cut through the remaining agents easily. Her clothes, hair and armor was soaked with blood, some of it was her own.

Two more agents shot at her from behind and her back arched in pain before she turned to face them and got three more bullets in the chest. Rose let out a cry of anger and ran at them. Sliding onto the floor, Rose kicked at Agent 1’s leg, hard enough to break bone. In the same moment, she swept Agent 2 off their feet and brought a sword straight through his chest until it hit the floor boards underneath.

She quickly jumped to her feet, glanced around at the blood covered room and grinned. Agent 2 let out a scream when she pulled her sword from his chest and Agent 1 -- who was the agent with the best chance of living as he only had a broken leg -- practically pissed his pants when she licked one of her knives clean.

Five minutes later -- god this building was huge -- she was striding down the final hallway towards her friend. Rose kicked in the door, and found Jason sitting in a chair across from Phil Coulson, Clint Barton and Natasha fucking Romanoff. He was in a complete state of calm, at least until she came charging through the door, then he had turned pale.

Romanoff had pulled out a gun and was about to pull the trigger when Jason stood up, “Stop, stop! She’s a friend. Besides, bullets would do nothing.” The assassin turned S.H.I.E.L.D agent gave both of them a strange look before standing down. Coulson and Barton had stood up by then, but Rose didn’t care. She only saw Jason.

“Is it really you?” She whispered, tears in her eyes. Jason only nodded. Then he pulled her into a hug, ignoring her blood stained attire. Rose allowed herself one moment to appreciate that he was here before she pulled back and punched him across the face. She was pretty sure she heard a crack. Romanoff had her gun up again and Barton leaped across the desk to tackle her. Rose quickly put him in a headlock and faced Romanoff to tell her to put the gun down when Jason stood up again and stood between them.

“Rose, Natasha stop please.”

Rose growled at him before releasing Barton. “You’re such a piece of shit Jason. We mourned for you. Dick had a mental fucking breakdown. And you were alive the last five years?” She was yelling now, poking at his chest, getting blood all over his $5000 suit. “I get the whole revenge crusade. Trust me I get it but the Titans were your family. I was your family in a way and you not only died, but you came back to life and decided not to tell anyone for five motherfucking years. Then when we finally realize it’s you, you decide to start universe jumping?” Coulson, Barton and Romanoff all looked utterly confused by Rose’s speech but said nothing. “Oh, by the way there are about fifty agents outside dying. You might want to take care of that.”

Jason looked horrified at that, “You killed the agents outside?” She rolled her eyes, “It’s not any worse than anything you’ve ever done, so cut the hypocritical bullshit. Besides I thought you were being held hostage.”

Coulson pulled out his phone and Rose assumed he was getting medics to the agents outside but he didn’t leave the room. Instead he turned to Jason, “Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on.”

Jason let out a sigh, “Coulson, Clint, Natasha meet Rose. She’s an...old friend.”

Rose scoffed, “Old friend doesn’t even begin to cover it.” She turned to face them. “Jason and I are from another universe, another multiverse, where I am the daughter of one of the world’s most dangerous assassins and Jason is the adopted son of Batman, the one who died five years ago but came back to life God knows how and became a crime lord and a serial killer. No judgement on the serial killer thing, I’m not much better.”

No one said anything so Rose continued on, turning back to Jason, “By the way Rachel is waiting outside and preparing to skin you alive. Do you have any idea how much it drains her to open portals across multiverses?”

Jason had the sense to look guilty, “Shit, on a scale of 1-10 how mad is she? Like will she do that creepy thing with her eyes or will she summon a demon monster to torture me.”

Barton interrupted Rose before she got a chance to answer, “What the fuck is going on? Coulson why haven’t we taken her into custody? She just killed thirty people and…”

“Shit. Thirty died. I am so sorry about that,” Rose interrupted. “Just give me a sec and I’ll fix all this.” Natasha -- who haden’t spoken up until then -- said, “How are you going to fix the murders of thirty people?”

Rose ignored her and turned her comms back on, “Hey babe.” Jason looked at her then, she waved him off. “Yeah im fine. Guess what, Jason actually isn’t being held hostage and I just killed thirty of his friends so I was wondering of you could do some of your wiggly woos with your fingers?” She didn’t get a reply but a large purple circle suddenly appeared at the wall and Rachel stepped through it, still in her casual wear of a crop top with jeans and sunglasses.

Romanoff must have an itchy trigger finger because the second Rachel stepped into the room shots were fired, which she stopped with a lazy hand raised. Rose however pulled out her sword and glared at the assassin, “Don’t you dare shoot at my girlfriend again.”

Rachel put a hand on her shoulder, whispering that she was fine. Jason was trying not to stare them. He was clearly startled at their whole relationship and he was probably scared of getting flayed by Rachel in the middle of Phil Coulson’s office

#marvel #dc #ravager #raven teen titans #rachel roth #phil coulson #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #jason todd #red hood #fanfic #crossover

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izzyrenee13 · 3 years

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MORPHO CLINT BARTON X OC

Chapter One

November 9, 2006; 7:15AM

I woke up to my dad shaking my bed.

“WAKE UP. WAKE UP. YOU’RE AN ADULT NOW.” Now I understand not everyone has Tony Stark waking them up on their 18th birthday, and most people would be ecstatic, but to me it’s just annoying.

I open my eyes and give the man a death glare, slowly turning into a smile when I realize what he means. Today’s my eighteenth birthday, meaning I have meetings all day with people my father knows and want to wish me a happy birthday, then a huge celebration tonight with everyone my father could possibly know and invite. It’s how Tony Stark did things.

12:25 PM

I finally got a break from meeting after meeting, which is basically about my father introducing me to Stark Industry clients so I can help run the family business. I decided to go down the street to my favorite small diner and grab some lunch.

I had just ordered my usual cheeseburger with tater tots and a large vanilla shake when I noticed a large figure sit down across from me. I looked up and noticed it was the one and only Nicholas Joseph Fury.

I put the newspaper I was reading, got up and gave him a small side hug “Uncle Nick! I’m so excited you came all the way to New York to see me.”

He smiled, hugged me back, “Well, I did have to come see you on your eighteenth birthday, you know I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I circled back around the table to sit down. “I also have a, what you call, job offer? Proposition?”

The waiter came back with my food, and I started eating. I knew exactly what Nick wanted, and I knew my answer already. “I’ll do it, but you have to tell my father.” He stole one of my fries, “also, you cannot exploit my abnormalities to the world, especially not the government other than the security panel. You know what will happen if you do. A rogue Stark is not something you want.”

“Of course, Elizabeth.” He stole another one of my fries and continued, “You’ll be training with one of my best agents. He might go a little hard on you at first, but be nice, he just got divorced, he’s going through it.”

“I’ll be nice, but tell me, why did you not wait until the meeting we have scheduled in,” I checked my watch, “30 minutes, to ask me?”

“Tony was going to be there. I knew it would be easier to ask you alone, but work out fine details with Tony,” he started to explain as I finished my food, “like, for the first six weeks, I’d want you at the Triskelion, training with Agent Barton, rooming and occasionally training with Agent Romanoff, all while we monitor your skills and powers.”

“Wait, I’m only comfortable with you, Barton and Romanoff monitoring my abnormalities,” I started to get a little panicked, “so please tell me it’ll be one of you, you preferably.”

“Of course, It’ll be all three of us, so you’ll be safe.” He calmed me down.

I checked my watch and realized it was time to head back to Stark Industries for my second round of birthday meetings. I have a feeling most 18-year-olds don’t celebrate this way.

1:00 PM

I arrived in the meeting room about five minutes ago, and was just making small talk with my father when Nick Fury walked into Meeting Room B.

“My favorite buyer!” My dad greeted him with his signature smirk. Fury nodded and mumbled a greeting, I felt the tension thicken in the room as soon as Nick put the file on the table, “No. She’s not doing it.”

“She already said yes, Stark,” he looked at my father, who was now gaping at me. “I just wanted you to be here to discuss the finer details, like living arrangements, pay, and monitoring her powers.”

“I’d like to speak for myself, if that’s okay,” I started. “Dad, I know you aren’t going to be happy, but I’ve made my decision, I’m going to work for SHIELD. I want to do something good with whatever is wrong with me. I want to fight for the innocent. I want to use my abnormalities for something that won’t make me feel like there’s something wrong with me. I know you wanted me to work at Stark Industries, and I’ll stop by to help out every now and then. I’ll still be your little girl, but I have to grow up.” I started to get overly emotional, which was ever good, as my hands started to glow and my brown eyes turned blue.

“Okay, okay. I understand, I just wish YOU would have told me, not Fury.”

After a long meeting, and cancelling my other meetings, we finally figured out everything we needed to. I was to move into the SHIELD apartments, but would still have a home with my dad, pay was figured out. It was exhausting, two men with the biggest egos I’ve ever seen, fighting over MY life. Once we were finished it was time to relax and go get ready for the night’s activities.

4:00 PM

I was in my suite, packing up what I’d need for the next six weeks, as I was leaving right after the party with Agent Barton. I mainly packed workout attire, as Fury said that I’d only get every other Sunday off from training. I packed a couple of my business-type dresses for any formal meetings I’m bound to have to attend.

After I was done packing, I started to get ready for the party. I chose one of my more simple cocktail dresses, it was a dark purple, hugged my upper body until it got to my waist, then flowed into a gorgeous skirt with a slit up to my thigh. I paired it with some black strappy heels that weren’t too high, my gun in a thigh holster, which of course was on the hidden thigh, and the necklace Pepper gave me this morning at breakfast. As for my makeup, I did a smoky eye with red lipstick and minimal face makeup.

5:10 PM

Now that I was fashionably late to my own birthday party, I made a beeline to the bar and asked the bartender for a virgin pina colada, which is just pineapple juice and coconut syrup, but it was still yummy. I don’t like to drink, it impairs your thinking, and growing up a Stark, the 16 years of self defense and combat classes taught me to never impair my thinking.

I looked around the room and spotted Agent Coulson, my father, Nick Fury, and another man in the corner talking. I made my way over to them, “Sorry for interrupting, but I wanted to make sure Dad knew I was here.”

“Ah, my lovely daughter finally decided to join us!” I could tell my dad was already tipsy, “You know Phil and Nick, have you met Clint?” I looked at the undeniably gorgeous man with the trio and shook my head.

“I don’t think I have,” I turned to him and stuck out my hand, “Elizabeth Maria Stark, but please call me Liza.”

He took my hand and shook it, a smirk appearing on his face. “Clinton Francis Barton, call me Clint.”

“We’re gonna leave you two to chat, I have to make rounds and these two,” Dad patted Nick and Phil on the back, “owe me a drink.” With that the three of them walked away.

“So you’re Agent Barton,” I turned and looked out over the party from the balcony we were on. “You’re my trainer, and hopefully future friend?” I knew he was 15 years older than me, but I also knew having friends in SHIELD was going to be needed.

“That I am, and why does it have to be future?” He questioned.

“Oh it doesn’t, I just thought--” I got flustered and looked at him.

“I’m teasing you, Liza. Of course I’ll be your friend, being a new agent recruit is not easy, and it’s always easier if you have someone to trust.” He smiled and took a drink of what I assumed to be whiskey.

“Gosh, I’m sorry I’m so awkward. I haven’t had much social interaction outside of business meetings and combat training my whole life, with the overprotective father and all.” As I said that, something seemed to peak his interest.

“Combat training? Why would you do that?” He asked, and I could tell he wasn’t trying to get intel on the new girl, but was genuinely curious.

“My dad always told me it was for my best interest. Which, now, I understand why,” I took a drink of my drink and moved to sit down on the couch we were in front of. “My father is Tony Stark, the world’s leading weapons dealer. I grew up going to weapons conventions, expos and meetings with sketchy people. I had to know how to fight, shoot, and control my abnormalities.”

Clint sat across from me and interrupted me, “Abnormalities?”

“Yeah, so I have these--uh--powers I guess. I can shapeshift, teleport, cast illusions, do some healing and some other basic stuff,” I started explaining, my voice barely above a whisper. Clint looked shocked to say the least, yet I continued, “I’ll show them all to you soon, in training. But like I was saying, if people found out I could do these things, I’d be taken, experimented on, and the sorts. The only people who know about these things now are my father, you, Fury, Coulson and Pepper. So I have skills, and training me won’t be hard, I promise”

After that conversation Clint and I played 21 questions, just to get to know each other. By the end of the night, we were basically best friends. It was weird, as people who weren’t open books, we sure opened up to each other quickly. It was almost like there was some sort of soul connection there, but I’d be too terrified to act on it, if I ever caught feelings because--well this man was 15 years older than me, and a Level 7 agent, and my mentor basically.

I just pushed that thought out of my head, for the years to come, and went on with my night, ending it in my new room as a SHIELD agent.

------------------------------------------------

MASTER LIST

A/N: Hey guys. I'm cross posting this fic on wattpad and (maybe) AO3. Please comment, request one-shots, interact with me in any way.

Permanent Taglist: @hawkeyesbabe

#clint barton #tony stark #natasha romanov #pepper potts #avengers #iron man #the avengers #hawkeye #hawkeye x oc #clint barton x oc #fanfiction #fanfic

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

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Sunshine City: One

A/N: Thank you to everyone who liked the prologue. You’re all very, very kind. I hope you continue to like this story. SO! Fun fact, my computer glitched and deleted this chapter and the next chapter for Blood in the Rivers AND the next chapter for my Din fic over on Ao3. Yeah. It was a good time.

Pairing: (Eventual) Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 3.4k

New York glittered when the sun hit it just right. Light bounced from one skyscraper to the next and made the mess of glass and metal and stone shine like a puddle of diamonds. Of course, that was only true if you were sixty stories up.

It had been three years since she’d joined Statesmen. Three years of being shot at by cartoon-like henchmen and nearly poisoned by a man who definitely twirled his mustache. It had been a wild ride. She’d swapped her usual glock for suitcases that fired missiles, her usual pant suit for a pair of jeans and a blazer, and her name for a stupid code word. Their given names didn’t exist anymore, really. She wasn’t even sure she’d answer to it if she heard it on the street.

She was Capri Sun—the sugar filled silver pouch juice that American kids slurped up like it was crack on a hot summer day. And she would only admit on threat of death that she enjoyed the juice drink, too. A sinking feeling had her thinking Champagne knew about her proclivity for the childhood juice. The code-name in and of itself denoted her status as a field agent and her lack of presence at the “high table” where everyone had taken their monikers from alcohol. The paperwork of being higher-ranking put her off ever trying to achieve it. But yes, Capri-Sun. Most called her ‘Cap’ for short.

But some…

“Sunny!”

She turned away from her window to face Agent Whiskey, her boss and general terror of her existence. “Yes, boss.” It wasn’t even surprising that he’d let himself in to her office. That had stopped being a shock about two months into her new employment.

He sauntered up to her, hips cocked to the side as he stopped. His ridiculous Stetson was still on his head and he looked out her window, too. “Still enjoying the view?”

“It never gets old.” She stepped away from the window and his side and settled into her high-backed chair behind her desk. “What do you need?” He chuckled and dragged his fingers across her desk as he made his way toward one of the chairs on the other side. His legs were spread and she absolutely did not look below the belt of his too-tight jeans. Nope. Absolutely not. “I sent in my report for that Milan job. Did you have questions?”

His large hand scrubbed at his jaw before he leaned forward. “You’ve been with Statesmen for three years, Sunny.”

“Yes, I can read a calendar.”

His smile grew. “Then you know what today is.”

“Friday.”

“And?” He tilted his head to the side, dark eyes sparkling.

“And I’m leaving the office in 42 minutes.”

His smile fell the slightest bit. “Three years is a long time for a Statesmen, Sunny. Let me and the rest of the crew take you out for a few drinks to celebrate.”

She looked at him, watching his smile fade just a bit more with each passing second, before answering. “No.”

“Well, why not? You never come out with us.”

“I don’t drink, boss. You should know that with how many times I’ve told everyone in this building.” She leaned back in her chair, gut twisting. “But thank you for the offer.”

His smile was still present as he slapped his knees before rising to his feet. “You know, one day, I’m going to get you to have some fun with the rest of us.”

“Okay, boss,” she said to his retreating back, tone bordering on placating.

“I mean it!” He shouted over his shoulder. “You need to let loose, Sunny!” Whiskey stopped and turned just on the other side of her doorway. “And I’d love to see it happen.” He then walked away, tight jeans and all.

It was only when she heard the elevator doors close did she let out her breath, long and slow.

Agent Whiskey was the terror of her life, that was true. He was gorgeous and kind and flirty—and a good boss to boot. But he also fucked anything with tits and had no qualms about it. More than once, she’d caught him with his tongue down some mark’s throat when she was supposed to be keeping an eye out for any henchmen—or nosey husbands. He obviously knew what he was doing. The dazed, hungry look that his conquests always sported after spending an ounce of time with him was one hell of an indicator.

It would be a lie to say that she hadn’t thought about how it would feel for him to kiss her, to hold her, to fuck her. But she’d seen firsthand what workplace romances, especially in a field as volatile as international espionage, could reap.

She also knew of Whiskey’s tragedy. Ginger Ale had softly whispered it when she had seen the moon-eyes Sunny had made at her boss when he wasn’t looking.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Cap.”

And that had been it, really.

She could keep him at a distance and still do her job. She could be a professional. She’d been trained to suppress her emotions to manipulate others and complete missions. This would be the same. She was here to help save the world from the shadows—not fuck her boss. The feelings would fade, right?

Well, it had been two and a half years since she’d noticed how his eyes sparkle and she still hadn’t fully recovered.

Her overall-prickly disposition hadn’t changed. That was just who she was. And she wasn’t sure if she would be able to change it even if she wanted to—she just hated how Whiskey seemed to see it as a challenge. She also hated that Whiskey continually rejected Ginger Ale as a possible member of the “high table” of the agency. She was strong, capable, and smart as hell. Ginger deserved to be sitting at the table as much as any other stupid-Stetson-wearing man.

She turned in her chair and looked out over the city again. Watched it sparkle. Yes. It was a beautiful view.

The door to her apartment squeaked when she opened it and the happy tap-tap-tap of paws against her wood flooring had a smile pushing at her lips. Her corgi, Bela, trotted into view. When he spotted her, he bounded over to her and stood on his hind legs and pressed his front paws against her jeans in welcome. She scooped him up into her arms and pressed a kiss to his one remaining ear, a sign of his puppyhood as a stray. “Hi, baby,” she murmured into his fur. She carried him into the kitchen and set him on the counter and he promptly sat down and waited for what he knew was coming. She pulled his bowl from the cabinet and his bag of food, too. The kibbles rang out as they hit the ceramic and his little stump of a tail wagged happily as she pushed the bowl in front of him. He ate as she put a bowl of veggie fried rice into the microwave for a few minutes. When it was finished, she hopped up on the counter and ate next to Bela.

“Long day?” She asked through bites of food.

Bela snorted at her before returning to his dinner.

“Yeah, me too.”

A knock at her door made her frown for the umpteenth time that day and she slid off the counter and set her fork in the sink before tossing the empty paper bowl into the trash on the way to the door. She peered through the peephole before swinging the door open.

“Pushing your luck today, boss.” She stepped back and let him in. “You know I’m a stickler for my weekends.” Especially when she’d just come back from a week-long stint in a different country.

He walked in and looked around just as he’d done every other time he’d invited himself over. “There’s a dog on your counter, Sunny.”

“He likes to feel tall when he’s eating.” She pushed the door closed and crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you need?”

“Champ called.”

Y/N groaned. “I just got back.”

“Well, that’s the beauty of it: your bags are already packed.” He smiled. “And I’m coming with you.”

She resisted the urge to sigh. “Where to now, boss?”

His smile widened. “Vegas.”

Las Vegas did not glitter like New York did. It was a buzz of neon lights in an array of harsh colors. And it smelled like stale beer cooked into the asphalt.

They landed a little before ten that night and the city was still very-much alive. She’d lost count of how many people she’d shoved out of her way on the walk from the hotel’s parking lot to the front entrance and she’d batted away more people handing out flyers for hookers than she wanted to admit.

She hated this city.

Homegrown terrorism was the New York office’s specialty and the group they were tracking had their fingers in lots of pots; drug trafficking, assassinations, kidnappings, and plots to use nuclear waste to create dirty bombs. They’d already tested one bomb off the coast of South Carolina. It had been a dud, thankfully, but still did enough for Statesmen to take notice. The goal of the terrorist group was to create a new world order with women firmly at the bottom.

The mission was supposed to be fairly simple—simple for a Statesmen, anyway. They needed to stop the group from obtaining any of the nuclear waste the US government had stored outside the city limits. There had been a tip that a sale was going to happen the next night between the terrorists and the suppliers and the goal, overall, was to get both groups off the streets. By any means necessary.

She and Whiskey were booked into a hotel suite across the street from where the targets were staying and had settled in for a bit of surveillance. The gadgets Statesmen had created were so much better than she could have ever dreamed of using in the CIA. Even something as benign as binoculars had been developed into something she had only seen in sci-fi movies—and she would never cease to be amazed by it—quietly, of course.

“Well, they look the type,” she muttered as she looked at the targets through the binoculars—three white guys with stained white t-shirts. One of them even had “Cool story, girl. Go make me a sandwich” written across his chest. She handed Whiskey the binoculars with a shake of her head.

He looked through them and chuckled. “Oh yeah.” He set the binoculars down and turned to her. “Is that what the kids call a ‘neckbeard’?”

She choked on her spit and earned a thump on the back from her boss. “Um, yes. Those are neckbeards.” She cleared her throat. “Are you trying to learn new slang?”

“World’s changing, Sunny. I should at least try to keep up.”

The familiar compulsion to smile pulled at her lips but she snuffed it out, as she always did with Whiskey. She wanted to smile with him, laugh with him. Wanted to talk with him about what he’d seen out in the field and through the years at Statesmen. But she was sure it would only lead to more conflicted feelings about the man. So, she bottled it away.

Whiskey yawned.

“I’ll take the first shift. Get some sleep.” She pulled the binoculars out of his grip.

“That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, Sunny.”

“Good thing you don’t have to be a gentleman with me—” She quickly froze, hearing how those words sounded. “I mean. You’re my boss. J-just go get some sleep, boss.” He chuckled as he looked at her, the familiar low sound making her stomach twist and the familiar butterflies rage.

“You sure?” He asked and rose from his seat near the window. The artificial light bleeding into their room bathed him in blue, making him look like some old-time movie star. His smile was soft but she could see the tiredness ringing his eyes. It was the one thing he’d never been able to hide.

“Yeah. Our intel said they shouldn’t be trying to make the purchase until tomorrow anyway. Just don’t snore and I won’t have to kill you.”

“Fine, Sunny. You win this round. Wake me three hours.” He smiled again as she nodded and his fingers curled around her shoulder and squeezed in thanks before he walked toward the separate bedroom their suite provided and closed the door behind him.

She looked at the door for a moment and then turned and raised the binoculars again.

A few minutes trickled by and she could hear him snoring through the door. She almost smiled.

Hours ticked by. The targets were getting blown and doing blow. Classy. Her watch beeped as it reached 3AM and she mulled over just letting Whiskey sleep for the night. She slept on the plane but knew he didn’t—he never did on commercial flights. But she knew she needed to get at least a few hours of sleep if she wanted to be productive tomorrow so she tip-toed over to the bedroom and opened the door. A sliver of light creeped through the room to show Whiskey sprawled across the bed in just a t-shirt and boxers. The rest of his clothing was neatly folded on the bedside table. His face was scrunched into scowl and he turned one way and then the other as the sheets were gripped tight in his fists.

“No…” He muttered through clenched teeth. “No!”

Nightmares were not anything new for her or any other professional in their field. The horrors of their job are bound to leave a mark no matter how well a mission is done and lives are saved. Maybe it would be kinder to wake him…

Slowly, she reached out and grasped his wrist and shook it a bit.

He didn’t move.

She shook him a bit more but then gave up and grimaced, thinking of what she should try next. A traitorous memory of her mother waking her up by gently brushing the backs of her fingers against her cheek came to mind and her own-tired brain thought she might as well try it. She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her fingers against his cheek with a quiet, “Whiskey.”

The speed in which his eyes opened and he sat up and wrapped his hands around her throat as he pinned her to the mattress would have been impressive she didn’t feel her air being cut off in the perfect stranglehold. The mint from his toothpaste and the last traces of his expensive cologne brushed against her nose. His eyes were hard but unfocused as he stared at her. And she would blame the shiver that racked her spine on fear and not on the tight coiling in her belly. Maybe this job had actually messed her brain up. But being strangled wasn’t exactly a new sensation and the man strangling her was still her boss.

“Whiskey.” The name was pushed out against his grip, rasping in her throat. She raised her hands and gently held his face. It was a common technique to give the other person a grounding sensation, to continue to wake them up as their mind waffled between their nightmare and reality. “It’s just me, boss.” His tired eyes focused and he immediately dropped his hold, sitting upright with his knees still bracketing her thighs. Her hands dropped from his face, the scruff of his unshaved face catching against her palms.

“Jesus, Sun. I’m so sorry.” He lumbered off her as she sat up and curled into himself, pressing the heel of his palm against his brow. “Fuck.” He turned toward her and brushed her hair away from her neck with shaking fingers. His hands were warm and the pads of his fingers trailed against her neck and the simple touches stole the breath from her lungs for the second time that night. All of her training, all of her careful interactions, and planning to keep him at arm’s length evaporated as he traced touched her so gently. Whiskey’s touch was soft and deliberate, almost reverent as he brushed against her pulse point, feeling it steadily beat. And that seemed to not be enough for him because his touch slipped away before he gently grasped at the back of her neck and dragged her close, pressing his forehead against hers.

She had dreamed of holding him close like this, close and soft and unburdened by the woes of the world. But there was still a dull throbbing around her neck. And she knew the terrors that plagued his resting mind—they were the same as hers. An ache that settled in her bones when she realized that this was too close. Too close to the pipedream she’d concocted like a lovesick teenager. Too close to something she would never have. But she couldn’t pull out of his hold. “I caught you off guard during a mission. My fault.”

He nudged his nose against hers and her entire chest seemed to clench. His eyes closed and an unsteady breath brushed against her lips. Whiskey held her there for a little while and she felt his heartrate start to slow. And that was when she pulled back.

His dark eyes were unreadable and he turned to throw his legs over the edge of the bed. It was almost ridiculous how cold she felt when he stood. “It’s okay, boss. Really.”

He huffed as he pulled on his jeans. “It’s not fine. It’s… It just isn’t okay.”

While it was impressive to see him wiggle into his tight jeans and she definitely filed the image away for later, she couldn’t help but notice how his shoulders remained slumped. The usually vivacious Whiskey was refusing to meet her eye.

“I’ll wake you up around seven.”

Before she could stop herself, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Whiskey. Look at me.”

It took him a moment, but he did.

“I’m fine. Everything is okay.”

He pulled out of her grasp only to grab her hand and press a kiss against her palm.

“You’re too good to me, Sunny.” He squeezed her hand again before letting it drop. “Get some sleep.” He left the room without a glance back and the door clicked softly in its frame.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself. “Fuck.” She pulled off her shoes and jeans and angrily settled into the bed he’d just vacated. Why had she gone and tried to comfort him? He was her boss. Just her boss. She repeated it over and over again to try to tell herself that it was true.

But the pillow smelled like him.

The buy was supposed to happen at a club inside The Mirage. She’d slipped into a slinky dress and heels and stashed her gun and small knife on her thighs with Statesmen-issued garters and fixed her hair and makeup to blend in with the crowd she knew would be filling the dance floor. She looked good, she knew she did. And that was the reason behind the slight spring in her step as she exited the bathroom. Whiskey had pulled on yet-another pair of dark wash jeans and a dark blue button-down that stretched across his chest in an almost obscene sort of way and she had to actively fight to not swallow hard.

“You look like a glass of water on a summer day, Sunny.”

“That’s probably the most coherent metaphor you’ve ever come up with, boss. I actually understood that one.”

He smiled and grabbed for his Stetson before she slapped his hand.

“We’re in Vegas. No Stetson.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t move for it again. “Fine, fine.”

She grabbed the binoculars off the table and looked out toward the targets’ room across the street to make sure they hadn’t left just yet. What she saw made her pause. She lowered the binoculars and turned toward her boss.

“What is it?” All traces of his smile faded from his face and he took the binoculars from her loosening grasp.

She watched him look through the binoculars and frown before he turned to her. His mouth opened and closed without a sound coming out. So, she said it: “They’re turning blue.”

A/N: So, please let me know what you think!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @spookyold-saintjm @honestlystop @paryl @fioccodineveautunnale

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels #kingsman: the golden circle

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