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borggolf · 5 months

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My Golf 2022-23 Catch-Up

[Skunk on the 1st tee box - an omen? Glen Erin]

I received zeros and zeros of messages asking why I didn’t write up a golf blog last year. In lieu of answering that question, I’m just going to combine last year’s golf season with this year’s. The catch will be remembering all that happened just by looking at the scores, but here goes nothing.

[A disturbing number of geese on the 13th tee box, Majestic Oaks]

My golf game in 2021 featured my best calculated handicap, but the index began creeping up toward the end of the year. That trend continued into 2022 despite starting out with a few decent rounds at Hawk’s View and Grand Geneva; I had six terrible scores in a row in the spring (including a couple triple digit scores), spiking my handicap from 11 to 19. It took me until August to bring it back down to 13.

[Sandhill Cranes and assorted waterfowl, 6th hole Hawk's View]

My worst round of the year came in mid-September when we decided to take advantage of a coupon for The Bull at Pinehurst Farms. Located near Sheboygan Falls, this course is notorious for being possibly the toughest in the state. If you don’t come with your A game, you’re going to walk away hurting…and I definitely did not have my A game that day. I managed 13 penalties and didn’t card a single par for a score of 113.

[Oscar's approach shot on hole 17, The Bull at Pinehurst Farms]

My best round of 2022 was just 3 weeks later at Glen Erin in Janesville. It was the first time I’d ever finished 9 holes under par (two birdies, six pars, one bogey), then I scored a 44 on the back nine (which is still pretty good for me as I’ve never scored better than 41 on the back nine at Glen Erin). Shooting a 78 anywhere is impressive but Glen Erin isn’t exactly an easy course.

[Hole 15, Lake Arrowhead - The Lakes Course]

Another first for me was going on not one but two multi-day out of town golf trips. In late June my golf buddies and I stayed in Wisconsin Rapids and played all 36 holes at Lake Arrowhead on Saturday, then Sunday we drove to the Dells to play Wild Rock. The Lake Arrowhead courses were pretty nice (maybe a little overpriced due to their proximity to the Sand Valley resort), but Wild Rock was instantly my favorite course I’ve ever played. The views, valleys, and challenge made it worth the $100 price.

[Hole 6, Wild Rock]

In August we went up to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for our 2nd golf trip. Along the way we stopped outside of Green Bay to play a round at Royal St. Patrick’s, where I lost at least 4 balls in the drink. Then we played the two flagship courses at the Island Resort Casino; Sage Run and Sweetgrass. I’d been wanting to play these courses since hearing about them during commercial breaks of Brewers games. Sage Run was the tougher of the two courses, but I loved it almost as much as Wild Rock. Before heading home, we played a round at Timberstone in Iron Mountain. This was another gorgeous course with big elevation changes but more of a northwoods feel. My scores weren’t very good that weekend, but it was a great time at some great courses.

[Hole 18, Timberstone at Pine Mountain Resort]

I was able to try out 15 courses I hadn’t played before 2022. Aside from the 7 played during those two trips, I played Hayward Golf Club (very nice, but not quite Big Fish), Oshkosh Country Club (nice, but maybe not worth the long drive), Washington County (a very impressive links course; definitely want to go back), Currie Park in Milwaukee (while I was waiting for the dealership to fix my car), The Bull (hopefully never again), and three Illinois courses: Renwood (a fun course I’d play again), Bittersweet (very nice but tougher), and a Thanksgiving weekend round on the north course at Eagle Ridge in Gurnee.

[Hole 8, the north course at Eagle Ridge Resort & Spa]

For the first time in seven years, I joined a simulator league in the offseason. I was playing twice a week; at Brighton Dale in Kenosha County and the Wisconsin Indoor Golf Center in Waukesha. While it can be rightfully argued that it’s not very realistic, I felt like I was able to tweak a few things in my drives, fairway woods, and even my short game after playing 29 simulated 18 hole rounds over the winter. When March 2023 arrived, I wasn’t rusty at all.

[Hole 10, Foothills Golf Club]

My golf buddy Oscar talked me into taking a trip to Arizona in March. There we played four rounds: Foothills, Ocotillo, Devil’s Claw at Whirlwind Resort, and Dinosaur Mountain at Gold Canyon (see more pictures of these courses near the end of the blog). Foothills was nothing to write home about and was overpriced, as Ocotillo was much nicer and cheaper…but it didn’t really feel like Arizona as there were many lakes surrounding the course. Devil’s Claw was very expensive but I enjoyed the course a lot and shot very well. Dinosaur Mountain was also very expensive and I shot like complete trash, but it was the most picturesque course I’d ever played (being that it was on the side of a mountain). I really enjoyed the experience of golfing great courses in early March when there was still snow on the ground in Wisconsin, but the greens fees for the 4 rounds alone totaled nearly $800.

[Hole 9 & clubhouse, blue course, Ocotillo]

After a few more simulator rounds back home, I hit the ground running with very good scores on Wisconsin courses in April. Late in the month I had a work trip to Las Vegas, where I made time to get in one round at Siena Golf Club (see pictures near the end of the blog). I took advantage of other for-work travel by playing White Deer Run and Pine Meadow in Mundelein IL, Wild Ridge in Eau Claire and Trapper’s Turn in the Dells when I had to make road trips to Minneapolis, and I was invited to play in a company scramble at Irish Waters outside of Green Bay. I also played a Cincinnati municipal course, Glenview, when I was there on vacation meeting up with co-workers.

[Hole 1, Wild Ridge]

My golf buddies and I once again made trips to Lake Arrowhead and the U.P. This time after we played 36 at Lake Arrowhead, we played Christmas Mountain in the Dells. It was a pretty fun course at a good price, but we all agreed that it was no Wild Rock. On our way up to Michigan we stopped at Thornberry Creek, the official golf course of the Green Bay Packers. I thought it was great and I’d love to play it again. I carded a terrible round at Sweetgrass the next day, but played Timberstone much better than I did the previous year.

[Hole 17, Timberstone at Pine Mountain Resort]

Other first-time courses for me this year that I haven’t mentioned: Lakewoods Forest Ridges near Namakagen Lake was very picturesque with big elevation changes. Autumn Ridge near Manitowoc had some good elevation changes as well, and I was very close to an ace on the last par 3 (hit the flag stick on a bounce). I finally played Evansville and Kettle Moraine, neither of which were bad but I really wasn’t impressed. I played the par 3 course Creekview (seen along I-90 north of Edgerton) and it was a typical par 3 nine; great for beginners but I didn’t care for it. Finally, I played a November round at Steeple Chase in Mundelein with Oscar, and that course impressed me. Very well maintained course despite it being very late in the year.

[Hole 13, Forest Ridges at Lakewoods Resort]

Unlike most years, I kept my handicap fairly level throughout 2023. I was able to get it just under 12 at one point, but it never went much higher than 14. I only had two triple-digit rounds all year, and two rounds under 80. I played fewer 18-hole rounds in 2022 (90) than I did this year (98), and I spent WAY more money on golf rounds this year ($5360) than in 2022 ($3650). That doesn’t include the $850 I spent on the simulators, or the $800+ I spent on club upgrades (Callaway Rouge ST Max driver, 5w, 5h). Not to mention I burn through over 120 balls a year, which likely costs me another $300-400.

[Jeff lining up his approach shot on hole 18, Sweetgrass]

It was a very expensive year for me, but I may have enjoyed the game more than ever. Consistency is getting better, and I'm no longer afraid to shell out more money for nicer courses. I don't think I will be making another early spring golf trip in 2024, but we are planning another Lake Arrowhead trip as well as a stay at the Gull Lake View Golf Resort near Kalamazoo, MI.

[Eric, getting tired of waiting for slow golfers. Hole 6, Sweetgrass]

[Sunrise at Ocotillo]

[Hole 2, The Devil's Claw at Whirlwind Golf Club]

[Dinosaur Mountain at Gold Canyon Golf Resort & Spa]

[Hole 1, Dinosaur Mountain at Gold Canyon Golf Resort & Spa]

[Hole 2, Dinosaur Mountain at Gold Canyon Golf Resort & Spa]

[Hole 4, Dinosaur Mountain at Gold Canyon Golf Resort & Spa]

[Hole 7, Siena Golf Club]

[Hole 12, Siena Golf Club]

[Hole 17, Siena Golf Club]

[Hole 18, Siena Golf Club]

[Hole 14, Naga-Waukee War Memorial Golf Course]

[3rd green, Hawk's View]

[Lake Como, seen from hole 17 tee box, Hawk's View]

[Final round of 2023, hole 2, Majestic Oaks at Lake Lawn Resort, Christmas Eve]

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auburnaudry · 3 years

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Surprises make everything better! -Brock Boeser

A/N: This is my favorite writing so far so I hope you like it as much as I do. I actually enjoy writing now so if anyone has any request let me know and I will try my best! Or if you wanna talk about/have questions about any of my writing let me know I would love to chat about it.

Side note: I’m really sorry, I have zero idea how to give credit to the creator of a GIF so if anyone knows how to do that and can help me figure it out that would be much appreciated? Thank ya <3

Summary: Brock canceled your original plans for the summer and you are really upset about it! To make you feel better he sends a surprise to you apartment.

Word count: 1552 words

“Hey bubs” you answered the FaceTime call coming in from your boyfriend. You were sitting on your bed with your laptop open besides you, scrolling through tiktok on your phone before Brock had called.

“Hey, what are you up to?” From the looks of it, Brock was currently in his car driving somewhere.

“I’m suppose to be in class right now but I can’t focus so it’s kinda just playing as background noise at the moment. Whata bout you? Where are you going?” Since your school work is online this semester you find it increasingly difficult to pay attention to your classes and often find yourself FaceTimeing Brock during them.

“Baby your suppose to be paying attention.” He chuckled giving you a look “Anyway, I’m on my way home from practice but I really missed you and wanted to hear your voice” he wasn’t always open about his feelings while you were away at school so hearing him say that made your heart ache a little.

“Awe, I miss you more Brocky. Only a couple more weeks till we get to see each other.” Since the Canucks didn’t find themselves in a playoff spot this season, Brock was going to be done with hockey around the same time your finals were starting.

“Actually baby I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” His expression changed from happy to serious. “I actually think I’m gonna head straight to Minnesota when the season ends. It’s way too complicated to figure out what I’m going to do with the dogs and I’m also really sick of all the traveling” you were really caught off guard by his words because just last week he was so excited to come and see you.

The original plan was that Brock was going to fly out to NYC, after his season ended, to finally see you and keep you company during finals week. And after, he was going to help you pack up your apartment and drive with you back to your family’s home in Connecticut. Then you would spend a month hanging out with all your friends and family, before flying back to Minnesota for the rest of the summer to do the same with his loved ones.

“Oh” was all you could manage. You were kinda hurt that he didn’t want to put in the extra effort to come and see you, after not being able to see each other in person for almost 4 months.

“I’m sorry bubs, it’s just a lot, but after your finals you can fly straight out to Minnesota, it’ll only be one extra week” now he was starting to irritate you.

“But I wanted us to have time to spend with my family because we always see yo-.... you know what never mind it’s all good” you were trying your best not to sound bitter and to see his side of things but you just couldn’t. “I actually have to go this class is important and I should probably be paying attention, I’ll call you later.”

“Y/n please don’t go, we should talk about this.” Brock tried

“No it’s fine I’m not upset. I’ll talk to you later.” You tried to convince him.

“Alright, I love you please call me later.” He pleaded

“K bye.” And with that you hung up. It was actually the first time you hung up without saying you loved him back. You obviously still loved him but you were so upset with him, the words just couldn’t come out. Now you felt guilty about it, what if something happened and the last thing you said to him was ‘k bye’. Before you could get lost in your thoughts though, a text came through.

Brockstar 💫:

You didn’t say it back 😔

Y/n/n 🍑:

I love you

Brockstar 💫:

Do you mean it? 🤔

Y/n/n 🍑:

More than anything

Brockstar 💫:

Good cause same.

You were happy he noticed and wasn’t afraid to say something to you about it. It made you feel like your love was wanted and needed. But even with that, you were still very upset with him.

...

Y/n/n 🍑:

Have a safe flight buddy, I love you 💕

Brockstar 💫:

Call me buddy one more time...

Y/n/n 🍑:

Or what?... buddy

Brockstar 💫:

😐 you are impossible

Love you I’ll text you when I land... Good luck on your final today your gonna crush it I know you got big brains

Y/n/n 🍑:

Thanks buddy

Brockstar 💫:

Uggggg 🙄

Today Brock was flying back to Minnesota and you were starting you rigorous final schedule. Although you were still a little sad that he wasn’t coming to see you, you understood that he just wanted to get home after the season, so you were trying not to hold it against him too much.

You continued on with your day, continuing to prepare for your final that started at 1:00pm. You were definitely ready to get it over with. This one was the toughest of your finals and you were glad it was your first.

1:00pm came faster than expected and before you knew it your were starting your final. It was actually going a lot better than expected and you were on track to finish an hour early, not taking up the full 4 hours.

When you finally finished, you took a giant breathe of relief. You sat down on your couch and thought about what you wanted to eat for dinner that night, you had skipped lunch so you were starving.

You were soon pulled from your thoughts by a knocking on your apartment door. You went to look through the peep hole and saw a man walking away. You waited until he was most of the way down your hall to open the door and peek out. There was a beautiful edible arrangement sitting on the ground with a note attached.

You quickly picked it up and brought it into your apartment, closing the door behind you. You placed it on your kitchen island and took your phone out to take a picture before digging in. You grab the note first and read it out loud to yourself.

I’m sorry I’m the worst boyfriend on planet earth, so I hope this makes up for it or at least makes you feel a little better. I know it’s your favorite so if you don’t feel better, than I know I really messed up this time.

Hopefully still the love of your life,

Brock

Y/n/n 🍑:

You will obviously always be the love of my life no matter what you do.... thanks babe it actually did make me feel better

Brockstar 💫:

Shit it came already? I didn’t want it to get there till after your final! I’m sorry if you were interrupted😬

Y/n/n 🍑:

I finished my final an hour early! It came at the perfect time.

Brockstar 💫:

Ok good 😅

Y/n/n 🍑:

Thanks bubs I love you 💕

Brockstar 💫:

Love you too

You started to pick at the basket but had to stop yourself so you wouldn’t over eat before dinner. While trying to figure out what you were in the mood for you heard another knock at your door.

You rolled your eyes because this was the second time you were interrupted while trying to figure out what you were going to eat for dinner. Before you got to the door the person knocked again so you forewent looking out the peephole and just swung the door opened, slightly agitated but the impatience of whoever was at your door.

When the door fully opened you were met with Brock standing in front of you with all his luggage and holding your favorite flowers.

“Hi!” He smiled as the words left his mouth. You automatically started sobbing because you were so happy to see him. You put your arms around his neck locking him into a hug, accidentally smushing the flowers a little in the process.

“What are you doing here?” You cried into his neck.

“You didn’t actually think I would fuck up our entire summer plans did you?” He chuckled as he placed the flowers on top of his suit case so he could properly hug you back.

“Uggggg why would you do that to me? I was so sad.” You said still gripping him as hard as you could, afraid to let go.

“I’m sorry baby, I thought a surprise would be more fun.” You giggled into his neck.

“Yeah so much fun” you said sarcastically “I’m just glad you’re here.” You said pulling away to give him a kiss.

“Me too” after pecking his lips another time, you helped him bring his bags inside. You didn’t have plans for the night but you were starving so he suggested getting takeout and bringing it back to the apartment.

You agreed because you were drained from your exam and weren’t in the mood to dress up and go out. You also wanted to spend as much time in Brocks arms as humanly possible and being in the privacy of your apartment would allow for that.

You spent the rest of your night between the sheets making up for the 4 months you lost. You still couldn’t believe that he was actually with you in your apartment but you cherished every moment of it.

#brock boeser #brock boeser fic #brock boeser x reader #vancouver canucks imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl players #brock boeser imagine

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

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Jealousy [Lelouch x Reader]

Summary: You love Zero, Lelouch loves you. Lelouch is Zero, and you are none the wiser.

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Date: August 10, 2014

-----

“S-sir?

A meek voice echoed through the storage room, seeking the leader of the black knights.

Lelouch blinked from behind his mask and looked away from some paperwork, wondering who had confronted him. Could it possibly be...? Yes. Of course it was.

There you stood, fiddling with your hair and cheeks tinged pink, avoiding eye contact with your leader. Yes, as much as Lelouch had tried to convince you otherwise, you had become a member of the Black Knights. ‘The problem is that Lelouch had tried to tell her, and not “Zero”’ Lelouch thought, aggravated. Lelouch recalled a particularly bad day in school; his identity was almost revealed by a mere cat, and after he had expended his energy into chasing the rotten animal, he nearly fell off of the school roof. So when you told him about your intention to join the Black Knights, he was anything but happy. Perhaps he had taken it a tad too far, because he could still remember how bitterly you had reacted after he told you to “get a hold of yourself;” that “a dangerous job like being a Black Knight was not meant for delusional fangirls like yourself.” Looking back now, he wished he had just taken his anger elsewhere. “What do you know about me, Lelouch?” You snarled, stepping away from him. “Just because you knew me since childhood doesn't mean that you can judge my feelings toward Zero! You have no right to call me delusional-” “-Yes I do!” Lelouch narrowed his violet eyes, glaring a hole into your skull, “How can you say you love him if you've never even met him before? You’re risking your life for someone who will reject your feelings!” He watched as you froze and cast your eyes downward, red flooded your cheeks. “Yeah, Lelouch, is that what you think? That he's going to reject my feelings?” You ask, looking up at him, eyes shining with sorrow. “Well, that’s alright. He wouldn’t be the first time I was rejected, right?” Lelouch’s eyes widened slightly in disbelief; were you still hung up about that? "I'll be going now." You say, turning away from him. He wanted to reach out and stop you, but he didn't. He couldn't. He could lead an army and take down several nightmares with a single command, but he didn’t have the fortitude to stop a girl from leaving a room. Pathetic. Footsteps. Door. "Click." Then silence. Lelouch heaved a small sigh behind his mask and turned his body to face you. "What is it, soldier?" You winced at his words and shifted uncomfortably, pink turning to red on your cheeks "W-well, sir, I've been wondering about something..." Lelouch's purple eyes watched your face turn varying shades of red, scowling. Why didn't you act this way around him at school? Why did you blush and fidget in front of him now, when he was under a different name and a different life? Was the normal Lelouch missing something?! No… You had done this, but not anymore. Lelouch was touched. You had fallen for him twice, if that wasn’t love, then he didn’t know what was. Regrettably, he couldn’t accept your feelings, especially not here- not with this side of him. "Uhm..." You diverted your gaze from him, instead deciding to stare at an empty crate. "I've been wondering why you call me 'soldier' all the time, sir." Lelouch raised an eyebrow, which you couldn't see, of course. "Are implying that you not one of my loyal soldiers?" You quickly scrambled to defend yourself, "N-no sir! It's just that... That you call the other Black Knights by their real names, and- and-" You bit your lip and looked down at your shoes, feeling quite stupid for bringing up such a mundane question. "I'm sorry, sir. Never mind." Your cheeks were lit aflame. You were talking to Zero one-on-one at last, but you had only made a fool of yourself. Why would he call you soldier? Because you were a soldier, of course! Such idiotic questions... What kind of answer were you anticipating? "And you?" You blinked stupidly, taken by surprise. "Huh? Me?" Zero continued, standing up and leaning against a large crate next to him. "Why do you call me 'sir,' and not Zero?" He recalled how you said Zero's name in his presence at school. You spoke it with awe, respect, and sometimes, to his chagrin: love. The name "Zero" never failed to pull compliments and praises from your lips- and although Lelouch should have been feeling pretty darn good about that- dammit all! That was not how it was supposed to be! You were supposed to love him, Lelouch! Not his alter-ego! He watched as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, tempting him to claim those lips as his. How long has he been waiting for a kiss from you? A week? A month? A year? Goodness, who knew? He lost count a long time ago. Ever since he had declinced your romantic advancements in school, he found himself getting interested in you as well- a bit more than he was comfortable with. However, as anyone who was rejected would do, you were slowly getting over Lelouch. Unfortunately for the boy, your confesion had only ignited his interest in you- and it was swallowing him whole. What had caused your fondness of him? Why would you approach him about such a trivial topic? You couldn’t have found out about his true identity, right? At first, it was just these factual questions; nothing that would harm anyone. But in due time, he began wondering how you would react in certain situations. What would she do if I told her that I liked her as well? How would she react if I hugged her? Held her hand? Kissed her? Soon, he found himself thinking of you whenever he was able to; whether it be in class, while doing his homework, or during Student Council meetings. His curiosity had developed into a near obsession- or dare he say, an attraction. Lelouch had managed to suppress thoughts of you while he was with the Black Knights, and thank goodness for that. He couldn’t imagine the chaos that would ensue if you managed to worm your way into his mind, then. But now… There you stood, twiddling your fingers and chewing your goddamn lip in front of him. Lelouch couldn’t deny it. He wanted you, and he always got what he wanted… Just not like this. He didn’t want it like this. He couldn’t have you interferring with his plans to destroy Britannia, and he definitely didn’t want you to love Zero. In order to prevent any kind of intimacy between you and his alter-ego, he began referring to you as “soldier” instead of by your name. But damn it all to hell if it worked, because it didn’t. Each time he called you “soldier”and you called him “sir,” the tension between you two would double, and triple, and exponentially rise, driving him to the brink of absolute madness. You distanced yourself from Lelouch at school, and he knew that you were trying your best not to make things awkward between the two of you- he knew that you were trying to move on, but the more you pulled away from him, the less he wanted to let go. What was there to move on from, if he loved you back? Before he had a chance to recalculate his relationship with you, you had managed to slip out of his grasp… And right back in. Unbeknownst to you, you had fallen head-over heels for the same person twice. But this time, oh, this time, it was so much stronger. Your feelings of love, admiration and respect had mixed into one unidentifiable goop of emotion that was directed toward the leader of the Black Knights. And as if the world wasn't enough of a paradox, Lelouch found himself jealous of… Himself. His geass couldn’t help him here. He had sat down one day, completely weighed down by your flurry of emotions as well as his own. He was desperate for the tensions between you two to stop, and although he was ashamed of it now, he had written out a list of commands he could use to make you love him, and not Zero. Of course, it was in vain. He was Zero, and Zero was him. They were one and the same person, no matter how much Lelouch wished it wasn’t true. A single command would either make you hate Lelouch and Zero, or worse- love both at the same time. In the past month, Lelouch’s jumbled thoughts brewed faster and faster inside of his mind, whipping up into a horrible storm, and he had no one else to blame but you. What in the hell had you done to him? “That-” You say, yanking him out of his exasperating thoughts, “That would be inappropriate.” Lelouch took a moment to recollect his thoughts. Oh, right. He had asked you a question. “Tell me,” He said, his voice coming out raspily from behind his mask, “What makes you think that calling me ‘Zero’ would be inappropriate?” “W-well,” You stuttered, “I’ve only known you for a year, sir.” “A lot of things aren’t necessarily appropriate, are they?” Lelouch asked, ignoring your answer, “Because of their morals, humans cage themselves into a dead end. Wouldn't it be easier to forget them all and break free?” Break free… “I guess so…” You mumble, looking at your shoes modestly. “_______,” Lelouch tasted your name on his tongue, enjoying the sweet, yet acerbic taste it left in his mouth, “You say you’ve known me, Zero, for a year, correct?” You answered, surprised that he even knew your name. “Yes, sir- Erm, Zero…” You blushed upon saying the name, much to Lelouch’s distaste. He ignored it. That’s all that he could do, for now. Suddenly, you heard a loud “BAM!” The sound was harsh, and it grated upon your ears, echoing within the closed space that both Zero and you had occupied. You flinched and closed your eyes, preparing for the worst. When nothing came, you pried your eyes open, stunned to see one of Zero’s arms against the wall next to you, caging your body with his. With his other hand, he calmly pressed a button on the side of his mask. You stood, bewildered and astonished as you heard the whirring of gears, signalling the retraction of the back of his mask. “Z-Zero- what are you-!” “Humor me, _______.” He cut you off, “Is one year enough time to fall in love?” Because I've known you my whole life... “O-one year… One year can do a lot…” You gulped, watching as Zero adjusted his mask to show his mouth. “Then, hell.” He whispered, leaning into your lips, “I must be completely infatuated.”

#code geass #fanfiction #lelouch x reader #code geass x reader #old content

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

hey, lovely, can you do #135 from the 390 prompt list for Agent Whiskey, if it sparks anything please

Prompt Used: “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me to death.”

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: language

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A small huff left your lips as you tried to open the front door, shifting the bags of take out to one shoulder. After a few moments of struggle, you finally managed to open the door to your apartment but found it surprisingly dark and empty. Odd. Jack should have been home by now; he’d said he was going to leave the office early today to be home in time for dinner.

“Jack?” you decided to and see if he was home - maybe he’d just forgotten to turn the lights or had just gotten home himself. Shuffling into the kitchen, you flicked on the light and set the bags on the counter. Taking out the containers one by one, you hummed under your breath and tired to decide what drink would go best with the Chinese. Perhaps it didn’t need to be anything fancy, so you grabbed a couple of bottles of beer and set them on the counter, “Jack? Baby? Are you home?”

When you still didn’t hear a response, you trapezed to the bedroom, turning on the hall light, stopping short of the bedroom when you realized it was all dark. He wasn’t home after all. Very odd. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you scrolled through your notifications to make sure you hadn’t missed anything from Jack. But there was nothing. Zero, zilch, nada.

Pulling up his contact information, you quickly dialed his number and impatiently waited while it rang. And it rang, and rang, and rang, before going to voicemail.

“Hey, Jack,” you tried to keep your voice as pointedly neutral as possible, “it’s just me. I thought you were going to be home early tonight? I-I got...all of our favorites for dinner. Maybe I...maybe I had the wrong day? Anyways, it’s been a bit since I’ve heard from you, so just let me know you’re okay or when you’re coming home. I love you.”

Ending the call, you frowned before heading back into the kitchen. You’d wait for him for now. Hopefully he was coming home soon and this was all some sort of misunderstanding. Grabbing your beer, you headed into the living room and pulled up Netflix, deciding to watch something while you waited.

And you waited. And waited. And waited.

»»————-　♡　————-««

But he never came. And he never called. And he never texted. He had gone radio silent.

At first you had been frustrated. Annoyed and upset, but then you became worried. It wasn’t like him to just disappear. Never.

So you kept trying to contact him to no avail. You’d called and gone to Statesmen headquarters to try and get some answers but no one was willing to give you any information. It seemed like they were all clamming up and refusing to help you. It was so odd...you’d never once experienced any sort of push back from them. None of his other friends or any of your friends had any information to provide either. It seems like a weird fever dream, but the fact that you continually woke up to an empty bed reminded you that it was all very well.

After a few days of the odd silence, you’d exhausted every resource you could think of. There was nothing else you could think of doing and it was driving you crazy. It was like Jack Daniels had just up and disappeared. But you knew he wasn’t dead - you knew that for a fact because you’d kept checking the news for any deaths and online obituaries. He was gone without a trace.

But why was the real question. Why? Why? Why?

You hadn’t had any sort of fight or argument or anything of the sort, there was nothing to suggest why he would suddenly leave. The only other tangible thought you had was that for some reason it was for your safety...but even that seemed like a stretch. He wasn’t taking on any work that proved extremely dangerous anymore, and things had been quiet. None of it made a lick of sense.

After almost two weeks, you weren’t sure if you were angry behind measure or desperately worried. At this point you just wanted answers, some sort of sign that Jack was alright.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were sitting in the kitchen, in the very early morning hours when you should have been asleep, drinking coffee that was too dark and strong to be good. But it was the only thing keeping you company besides the agony of your loneliness. You picked up your phone and started scrolling through your social media aimlessly, but for whatever reason, you decided to try and call Jack one more time. You were positive that it was just going to go to voicemail, but you knew that you had nothing to lose at this point.

So you listened to it ring and ring but then to your surprise and shock...the call was answered.

“Hello?” he sounded tired, like you’d woken him up and he hadn’t even checked the caller ID. Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized that this was the first time you’d heard his voice in weeks; this was your sign that he was alive. Your surprise left you in stunned silence for a few moments too long, “hello? Who’s there?”

“J-Jack,” his name was but a mere whisper off of your lips as you tried to keep it together. You didn’t want to scare him and have him end the call then and there, but you needed to talk to him, “i-it’s me!”

"Oh," it was a sudden realization on his end as the line went silent for a few moments...clearly he hadn't meant to pick up this call. Your heart plummeted into your stomach as your brain tried to rationalize what was happening...normally he would have been overjoyed and excited to hear your voice, "hi."

"Jack," you let out a sigh of relief just knowing he was alive, "i-its been two weeks. I was worried sick, baby. You're alive, I'm so glad to your hear your voice."

"I'm fine," you could hear him rustling around before letting out a long sigh, "I'm...yeah."

"What the fuck happened?" there was a note of irritation in your voice as you realized that he didn't seem to want to explain his sudden absence, "I was waiting for you, that night we were going to get Chinese, and you...you never came home. I called and called and I searched everywhere for you. Where the hell have you been? I-is it work? Will you be home soon?"

There was nothing but jilted, stoic silence on the other end of the line. It was cold, hurtful, and every moment felt like it was a knife twisting in your heart.

"Jack?" you felt like banging your head on the table as you willed him to say something...anything, "Jack, please say something. I think you owe me at least an apology for up and leaving! I was worried sick, day and night!"

"Its not work," his voice was cold and steeled, "I'm...I'm not coming back, I'm sorry. You're right - I should at least have told you I was leaving so you wouldn't worry."

"What do you mean you're not coming back?" your throat constricted and suddenly your heart was pounding loudly in your ears. You couldn't have heard him right...right?

"I am...I'm not coming home," he repeated and this time it resonated in your soul, "I'm sorry...I can't come back."

"What the fuck?" your eyes stung with tears as you blinked back stinging, "you're just gone, no note, nothing. I felt like I've been losing my mind for the past two weeks and all you're telling me is that you're not coming back? What happened - what changed? Did I do something?"

"I know you're angry and you have every right to be. I should have...I should have said something and not just left you in the dark," he admitted with a heavy sigh as you scoffed, "but I'm sorry...I just can't come back. I don't expect you to forgive me or for you to understand."

"We've together for two years, Jack! Two years!"

"I know that," tears spilled down your cheeks as you tried to keep your lips from trembling, "and I'm sorry it ended this way."

"What ended? Why? How...it was just a normal day and then...you never came back," you didn't bother to hide your tears as your hands shook, "you just never came home. You left me...you left me do easily, without a word or anything."

"I'm sorry-"

"You're sorry?" your hurt and upset had quickly turned to anger and irritation, "you're sorry!? I came home and expected to find my boyfriend and instead I got nothing! Absolutely nothing for two weeks and now you're sorry? That's rich, Jack. Why?"

"Please don't be upset..."

"I think I have every right to be upset," you whispered gently, "you just left me. I love you, we've been together for two years and you don't want me to be upset? I have every right to be upset! You owe me an explanation!"

"I left," he stated as you snorted, "and I didn't do it in the best way at all. For that I am sorry. But you have to understand I have my reasons."

"What reason could you possibly have for just leaving me?" you wanted to scream and cry, buy the worst of all was that you still just wanted...him, "why would you just leave me? Am I not enough?"

"No," he stated firmly, "no, you are more than enough. It's...me. I think...I know I'm in love with you and that scares me to death."

"You...love me but you left," you repeated back to him, "you love me but you're scared. So instead of talking to me about it...you just left."

"You know what happened to the last person I loved," he reminded you of the young wife and unborn child he'd lost. But that had been a long time ago and while you knew that the wound would never fully heal, you'd expected a little more faith in your relationship by now, "she was taken from me - everything was. I can't let that happen again."

"Jack, I know that was a lot to deal with," your voice lowered and softened as you ran a hand over your tired face, "but that was years ago and it's going to happen again. You can't just shut everyone you love or might love out. It's not fair to them or you."

"I would never forgive myself if something happened to you on account of me," that night of defiant determination crept back into his voice, "the only way to fully ensure your safety is to leave. I didn't do it in the best way, but it is the only. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

"Me too," you agreed, "I'm sorry you didn't feel like you could talk to me about all of this and tell me what you were feeling. I love you, Jack and nothing is going to change that. I wish you'd trust enough in your heart to come back to me."

"I'm sorry," for the first time it sounded genuine and like he actually meant it, "I do love you. But I don't trust myself...or anyone else not to prey on that fear. This is what's best. I'm sorry but I can't come back."

"Jack," you grew panicked, "please don't do this, please don't go. We can make make work-"

"I'm sorry," he insisted but you were still left incredulous, "but this is goodbye."

"Jack, don't..." the called ended and left you with silence. You stared at your phone before slowly setting it down and burying your face in your arms. Jack was a stubborn man and you knew that there was no changing his mind. Your whole life had just been changed and determined by one simple, horrible decision. Maybe...maybe one day he'd come to his senses...maybe.

"Goodbye, Jack."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#agent whiskey #agent Whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader

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buckyswinterbaby · 3 years

Text

Rule Number Four — Oneshot **

Pairing: softdom!Bucky Barnes x reader

Synopsis: Bucky returns home early from a mission to find the reader in a compromising position. Rules are broken and new ones are made.

Warnings: language, smut (18+), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), fluffy ending, softdom!Bucky, daddy kink (not ddlg), reader is submissive, nipple play, orgasm denial, metal arm kink, fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation and a size kink (if you squint), aftercare, established relationship, masturbation.

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Word Count: 2,291

Note: Here’s my first attempt at actually posting an “x reader” or smut fic so please be gentle with her. This was based on a post I saw a bit ago about submissives masturbating while wearing their dom’s hoodie, so I thought I’d give it a go. I hope you guys enjoy!

You had become his wife nearly three months ago and this was the longest stretch you had been apart since.

Even before marriage, the two of you were practically inseparable. You were often found curled on his inviting lap with two arms circled around you, one flesh and one metal, holding you tightly to his chest. To say you had missed the comfort of his warm embrace would be the understatement of the year. It was more like you had been lost without it.

His arms were far from the only thing you missed about your soldier. Before his departure, Bucky had listed off a few rules to follow in his absence. Possibly enjoying your long standing dominant and submissive dynamic a bit more than he was willing let on in that moment.

Rule one: No touching yourself without permission. Cruel but simple enough.

Rule two: No orgasms. Bucky knew you too well to believe you wouldn’t find a loophole that didn’t involve dipping those delicate fingers between your folds.

Rule three, possibly the worst of the set, which was likely his intention: Nipple play, at least once a day. He wanted your delicious buds oversensitive and aching by the time he found his way home to you. While your cunt was left thoroughly neglected and needing his touch.

It was that one rule, one single command that had you breaking all the rest. You had held out for nearly his entire time away, only crumbling when you went to fulfill the rule one last time, the anticipation of his return clouding your senses.

You had intended to do as he said. You laid yourself out on the large bed that had felt overwhelmingly cold and lonely without him, clothed in nothing but his oversized sweatshirt that adorned the S.H.I.E.L.D logo on the front. Perhaps that was your first mistake, opting to forgo the panties you had been wearing the entire day. Leaving your dripping core exposed to the night air with your husband still, as you believed, across the world and unable to claim it.

Your delicate fingers traced the familiar path up the length of your torso, trailing along the valley between your soft breasts that Bucky so often spent his time worshiping. The hem of the sweatshirt rode up more and more as your hand made its way up. A flame flickered in the pit of your belly as you found your hardening nipples, the cool metal of your wedding ring ghosting over. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine it was Bucky’s hand in place of your’s. The cold and unyielding vibranium working your body into fits of pleasure.

It was that thought that had your other hand trailing down instead of up, finding its way to the apex of your thighs. One finger wouldn’t hurt, you surmised. Though that one quickly led to two with a thumb working furiously on your throbbing clit.

Bucky heard your soft moans before he even approached the door, a wide grin spreading across his face. He was home hours earlier than anticipated, a fact he was suddenly so very grateful for. After another moment of listening, he heard the gentle string of gasps you would always release in pleasure, an undeniable sign that your orgasm was quickly approaching.

His interest was thoroughly peaked as he quietly slipped his way into the barely lit bedroom, drinking in the sight of you spread out before him like a man dying of dehydration.

“Y/n,” he called out, alerting you to his presence. Bucky licked his lips as he zeroed in on your now stilled hand, fingers slick and deep within you.

You knew better than to remove them, he’d tell you if that was what he wanted. Your breasts heaved as you breathed out, waiting for him to say something or act, you’d take anything over the silence that now hung in the air between you.

In two steps, Bucky crossed the distance and now stood at the foot of the bed. “I gave you three rules, doll, just three. Thought I’d be nice and make em’ simple for you. Seems you can’t even do that right, can you?”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you called out, your voice sounding more like a pathetic whimper than actual words. You tried to go on and explain how you had tried to be good but Bucky quickly cut you off. You honestly couldn’t remember even making the decision to ignore the rule.

“Don’t bother trying to apologize now.” His metal hand trailed up your thigh as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Slowly making his way up until he swatted your hand away, not failing to notice how visibly damp the sleeve of the hoodie now was. “You’ve made your bed, baby girl. I think it’s about time you had to lay in it.”

Your walls clenched down, now feeling empty without anything inside. That feeling didn’t last long as Bucky dipped a metal finger between your lips, gathering the arousal you had so eagerly coaxed out only minutes before. He didn’t waste another moment before pushing in two thick fingers, quickly setting a punishing pace as they curled around to rub your g-spot with each pump.

Your back arched off the bed as he drove you to the brink of release in what seemed like a matter of seconds, skilled hands doing what took you at least a few minutes. It was easy to get lost in these moments with the man you loved and trusted without question. Never hesitating to give over control to your husband as you let yourself fall further into the pleasure he was providing. And boy were you truly lost, at least until the pleasure stopped as his fingers stilled inside you, continuing to ever so gently rub that special spot he could find all too easily.

You looked over at him in surprise as your building orgasm quickly dissipated. “Bucky?”

“Patience. You’ve got a few questions to answer first.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at your huff of annoyance. “Was this the first time you broke rule number one while I was gone? You better be honest with me.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to form an understandable sentence as his thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles against your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily against his ministrations, he didn't seem angry, though.

“Did you break number two?” he questioned, his free hand roaming up to tease your sensitive nipples, purposefully giving the right one more attention than the other just to drive you nuts.

It took a few more seconds for you to compose yourself enough to speak. “I didn’t,” you moaned out, throwing your head back after a particularly hard pinch to the right nipple.

“Not for a lack of trying, it seems.”

A dark blush crept onto your already flushed cheeks. “I wanted to, daddy. I needed to. I followed rule three the entire time and I just couldn’t take it anymore.” You knew Bucky’s dominant side loved a lusty confession. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t trying to butter him up into finally allowing your release. If you only knew how much you’d end up regretting that wish.

“I left you alone too long, didn’t I? Your greedy little pussy isn’t used to not getting what she wants. And I think I know just the punishment to remind you that when you cum, how much you cum isn’t your decision.” You nearly came around his fingers then and there, which likely wouldn’t do much to fix your predicament besides providing momentary relief. “So you’ll get your orgasm, baby. Then you’ll take every other one I can give you and you’ll say thank you for being so generous. Scream it, even. Loud enough that Steve feels like he needs to go to confession.”

Your breath got caught in your throat at his words, goosebumps rising up behind the path of his flesh hand as it found its way to rest on your lower stomach. “How many?” You recognized that you should likely be afraid of his answer, but honestly nothing could prepare you for the reality.

Bucky seemed to debate the question for a moment before meeting your gaze, giving you the playful smirk you had fallen in love with some five odd years ago. “I dunno,” he admitted. “I haven’t decided yet. You’ll know when I’m done with you.”

His thrusts had been relentless for what seemed like hours, maybe it actually had been that long, you honestly couldn’t keep track. Orgasms blurred together as he used his super soldier endurance and sex drive to deliver the punishment he promised and then some.

Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him closer to your sweat covered body as he continued to rut up against your abused sex, riding you through your most recent release.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes from how sensitive you had become, the multiple orgams and brutal pace allowing you no mercy. His thumb swept away a fallen tear before it could run down your cheek, his swollen lips capturing your’s in a far more passionate and intimate kiss than the others you had received throughout the night. Everything seemed to soften after that, besides his cock, of course. His thrusts slowed to a steady but more gentle rhythm as he recognized you were nearing your limit, but also not quite there yet.

Bucky spared a glance at where you bodies were connected, momentarily becoming captivated by the sight. His eyes returned to your’s, pupils still dark and blown, yet they seemed to be more passionate than ravenous now.

“One more, baby, can you do that for me? Give me one more and you can rest.”

You nodded while letting out a string of deep moans, desperately bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts in chase of your final orgasm. It didn’t take long for you to feel the familiar pressure building in your belly, raising you higher and higher in bliss. Words were far beyond you now, only a breathy string of his name escaping your parted lips as you buried your head in the space where his neck connected to his shoulder.

His thrusts grew sloppy as he attempted to hold out until you came crashing around him. His left arm was resting beside your head, holding his large frame up above your’s as not to crush your smaller body beneath him. Metal fingers found their way into the locks of your hair spread out on the pillows. Gentle tugs forced your head up, your eyes meeting his piercing blue ones.

“I want to watch you when you cum.”

Your eyes never left his as he brought you to the rising crescendo that would bring the night to its end. The unyielding intensity and intimacy of the moment had you feeling small but so very safe underneath him. Bucky was home and he was in control, you didn’t have to worry about a thing. You came undone around his cock once again, your tight walls pulling him across the finish line with you. A few more lazy thrusts followed as he painted your pulsing heat, gently pulling out once he was spent.

Bucky moved to lay down beside you, taking a moment to catch his breath before moving to check on you.

His nose brushed against the rim of your ear as he leaned over to place a kiss on your flushed cheek. He whispered soothing words against your skin as you came down, knowing you needed the reassurances and affection after a rough session. “You did so good, took everything just like I told you to. You’re too good to me.” Calloused hands that had spent so many years committing unspeakable acts now gently smoothed down your wild hair. “How about we get you cleaned up, okay?”

He waited for you to nod before moving you into his arms, carrying your spent body to the bathroom so you could take care of your needs while he ran a bath.

Once he knew the water was just how you like it, he moved into the tub, helping you position yourself between his legs with your back against his toned chest. Your head rested back against his shoulder as he moved the soapy loofah across your arms. It took a few more minutes, but slowly Bucky noticed that you were coming out of the headspace you always seemed to slip into when you truly relinquished control to him.

“Was I too rough?” His question broke the comfortable silence you both had fallen into since entering the attached bathroom.

A soft smile graced your lips in response, your heart swelling at his concern just as much as it had on your very first night together. You raised a hand up to rest on his cheek, pulling him down into a gentle and loving kiss. “You were perfect. If that’s what happens every time I misbehave while you’re away, I might just make a habit out of it.”

A chuckle rumbled from deep in Bucky’s chest as he shook his head in amusement. “Doll, you say that like you aren’t already the biggest pain in my ass since the day I met Steve.”

You didn’t hesitate to send a playful jab between his ribs in protest. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Barnes, I am a delight. The light of your damn life, even.”

An adoring smile made its way onto his features as he captured your lips in a brief kiss again. “Now that...that’s something we can agree on. Rule number four is that you never forget it.”

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #marvel smut #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier #x reader #reader insert

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.19)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Nineteen) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 3,883 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Eighteen || Part Twenty || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Staring into the bathroom mirror, you wiped underneath your eyes at where your mascara had started to run. You were heartbroken and confused. What had you done wrong to make them want to give you away? You had been imagining then that Tony was becoming softer towards you and you had slowly started responding in like. It had been foolish of you to think you could find some sense of happiness living there, as if either of them actually cared. Tony had been acting weird as of late now that you thought about it more and Steve had stayed away. Like they had been planning to separate from you. And Tony fucking you last night… like it was the last hoorah before sending you off. And he could not be here to do it himself as Steve said. That made you more furious than anything else.

You should not be surprised; Johns lost their interest eventually. But you had let yourself be lulled into a false sense of security. You had told Tatiana yourself that they were just like all the others when you had been first whisked away to stay in the apartment. When had you let them wear down your wall?

“Stupid,” you whispered to yourself.

And now you found yourself stuck on a ship with another man who you had no idea what his real temperament was. You were starting all over again, stranded.

Your mind went to your apartment, all your things… Luna. You closed your eyes, trying not to think of everything that Steve had made you leave you behind this morning. It was too much, you needed to focus. Survive here and find out how that was going to be possible to do.

Since you had left your purse in Steve’s car – your ID and everything, fuck – you had left your makeup behind. You had essentially ruined your mascara, but your eyeliner still looked decent. You touched up your eyes with toilet paper before taking a few deep breaths.

A knock came at the door and you took a couple more moments to look at yourself before you tore yourself away from the counter.

<><><>

You were hunkered down in the speedboat, shaking still. It had stopped moving but you were not making any effort to move. Steve was talking to you, but you did not want to look at him, let alone focus on what he was saying. Your arm hurt where you had cut it and blood was running down your arm. Your opposite hand came to the blood, running your fingers over it before holding it out, staring down at it. It was deep red, wet.

Steve’s hands were at the necklace at your throat, and he unclasped it, taking it from you. “Here, Buck. Take that back to the office. It should be recorded. The evidence we need if anything comes up.”

“It was,” you heard Sam confirm.

Steve got up from beside you and moved around, coming to the other side where your injury was.

You felt a sharp sting and hissed, snapping out of your haze to jerk away from him. You took in his appearance; he was bloody, his hair disheveled. You had never seen him not looking pristine except for after the two of you had rolled around in the bed. He was wearing a dark suit, an actual stealth suit. You remembered you had seen him on the yacht, beating the shit out of some of the guys. He had been wearing it then.

Steve held tight and said, “Stay still, Y/N. I’m cleaning it!” Eyes moving down, you saw he was wiping at your cut with hydrogen peroxide. No wonder it was stinging. “I don’t think you need stitches which is a good thing. Did you get hurt anywhere else?”

Anywhere else? Of course you had! You wanted to scratch his face.

“You left me!” you said loudly, finally finding your voice. “You sold me!”

“Good to know that you can still talk. I thought we’d lost you there for a moment. But they’re dead, Perez included. Don’t worry about it,” Steve told you as he moved to grab gauze. He said firmly, “No one is coming for you. I wasn’t leaving you there permanently.”

He held it there before placing a large bandage wrap around your arm, securing it.

“Come on, we have to get out of here,” he told you, standing up.

The two other men, including the one who had flown you off the boat – Sam? You recognized him from the press – were standing up in the boat, keeping an eye out. Steve tapped you to move and you glowered up at him.

“You can rot for all I care!” you snarled at him.

Steve rolled his eyes before swooping down and picking you up in a fluid motion. He slung you over his shoulder and you shouted in protest, hitting his back as he climbed out of the speedboat.

“Take it down the coast and leave it where we agreed,” he ordered the other two.

“You got it,” Sam said in response as you continuously hit Steve’s back.

“Y/N, you’re going to make yourself bleed more,” Steve said sounding annoyed as he started walking up the dock. You stared back at where they were in the boat, pulling back away. You hit him again and he ordered roughly, “I said stop it! You’re going to injure your arm more!”

You heard the sound of his car alarm beeping and he opened the door before placing you down. He held you firmly in place and said threateningly, “You’re going to sit in the car and we are going to go back to the apartment. Is that clear?” Your lips curled and his fingers dug into your shoulders. “Y/N.”

The apartment. Like you wanted to go back there. But at least you could have privacy there and lock him out. You just needed to endure a car ride with him. You got into the car, throwing your seatbelt on angrily as Steve closed the door and came around the other side.

The first part of the ride was silent, you staring at the window, trying to will yourself not to cry as the shock wore off and the impending feeling of helplessness came over you about the whole thing. You had not had any control over any part of that situation, tossed back and forth like a rag doll and kept in the dark apparently if what Steve said was true about not meaning to leave you there for real.

Where was your purse? You thought suddenly.

You looked around before turning to look into the backseat, spotting it on the ground next to the briefcase he had taken. Steve noticed you looking at it and he finally spoke.

“Think about the money you got today. That put a huge dent in what you owe. Huge dent.”

Turning a hateful eye at him, you scowled. That is what he wanted you to think about? Money? And acting as if you had earned it knowingly?

“Stop talking to me,” you snapped, scooting further away from him, up against your door. You turned away from him as far as you could to put your back to him.

“That’s what would be the smart thing to do, Y/N,” Steve continued on. “Focus on that goal of yours to pay it off.”

Tears welled up and you told him, sniveling, “I don’t care about that! How… how could you think about that right now?” Steve started to speak but you unwound yourself, throwing your hands out. “No! You used me! You threw me to the wolves! I could’ve been hurt! Did you even stop to think about that?”

“You were helping out SHIELD,” Steve said as if that was supposed to mean anything.

“Then use a fucking SHIELD agent!” you exclaimed, your voice strangled.

“I couldn’t. There were none that would not rouse suspicion. You have been seen with me and Tony. They know you’re the real deal.”

“You could have at least, I don’t know, fucking told me!”

“It needed to seem authentic.”

You stared at him, aghast. You gasped, “Authentic? You needed my fear to be authentic?” Steve said nothing and your vision blurred with angry tears. “Well, I’m glad you got what you fucking needed! Good for you!”

Turning away from him again, you clenched your jaw so tightly you thought your teeth would crack. You just wanted to get away from him.

<><><>

Over his Bluetooth, Tony saw that Daryl was calling him and he immediately picked up. “Daryl?”

Daryl said, “She’s back. So just giving you a call like you asked.”

“Is Steve with her?” Tony asked him, switching lanes, needing to turn around and head back the opposite way on the highway.

“Yeah, they’re getting into the elevator,” Daryl answered before he added, “I don’t know what happened, but she looks terrible.”

Tony demanded, “How do you mean terrible?” Under his breath he hissed, “Move, you piece of shit!” at this car that was going far too slow for his liking.

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m talking to some fucking jerk off who doesn’t know how to drive. How do you mean she looks terrible?” The worst was coming to his mind, thinking of how she looked after that asshole ex of her had had his way with her.

“Definitely been crying. She’s got a bandage on her arm. She’s keeping her distance from Mr. Rogers. Should I follow them up?”

Shaking his head as he took a left off the highway to head back to the onramp going east, Tony said firmly, “No. I’m on my way. Let me know if he leaves.”

“Sir?” Daryl asked, confused.

“Let me know if Steve leaves,” Tony repeated. “And if he does, ask him where he’s going. If you can catch him.”

Daryl sounded concerned when he said, “Okay… you got it.”

“Great,” Tony said curtly before hanging up the call, and merging onto the highway, squeaking his way into the left lane, cutting someone off, who honked. He paid them no mind as he cut someone else off in the right lane, weaving his way through the slower drivers.

<><><>

Y/N had stormed down the hallway without words, only a choked sob leaving her throat. She went into the bedroom, slamming the door closed, and he heard the lock fall into place. Steve sighed heavily, stopping in the hall himself, debating about trying to get her to open the door. But, he had tried to talk to her in the car and she was not interested. Give her space, that is what his gut told him. At that though, he turned on his heel, walking back towards the front door.

Steve beckoned Terrence from down the hall and when he approached, Steve said, “Stay in here. She’s in the bedroom, doors locked. Make sure she doesn’t do anything reckless. And don’t take any drinks from her.”

“Learned my lesson last time. And what do you mean by reckless?”

“Anything past chugging down some shots if she comes out here,” Steve told him, adjusting his watch on his wrist. He shook his arm out and said, “Tony will be here soon, I’m sure. And then he can take over for you. I just don’t want her being left alone right now in the state she’s in. Make sure to check in on her every once in awhile until Tony gets here though. Knock on the door, make sure you get a verbal confirmation.”

“If she’s sleeping…?”

“I think she’s too rattled to sleep, Terrence. But doors are easily replaced if you feel the need to kick the handle in if she’s not responding.”

Terrence shrugged, “Alright.”

“Thanks,” Steve said before reaching for his keys and swiping them off the counter. “I’m counting on you.”

On his way out of the lobby, Daryl approached him. “Is everything okay?”

“It’ll be fine. Y/N just had a rough go and she just needs some space to come down,” Steve answered.

“You’re leaving her though? Where are you going?”

Steve eyed him and said, “Yeah… I’m leaving. Terrence has it handled. He’s keeping an eye on her.” He saw the look on Daryl’s face and Steve snorted. “I told him to not take any drinks. The man learned his lesson. Anyways, Y/N is pouting in her bedroom and I don’t think she’s going to come out for a while. So, he’s got it under control. I need to go back and finish the debriefing for the mission. Get yourself something to eat, you look jittery.”

With that, he left Daryl standing there.

<><><>

“He’s gone,” Daryl said, meeting Tony’s stride when Tony came into the lobby, practically speed walking.

Tony swore under his breath before asking, “Did you talk to him?”

Daryl nodded, “Yeah, for a moment. He said Y/N’s pouting in the bedroom, Terrence is in the apartment to keep an eye out. And he said something about having to go debrief the mission?” Tony stopped at the mention of that on a dime, stopping to face Daryl. Daryl looked back at him nervously at the murderous look on Tony’s face. “He didn’t say anything past that.”

Letting out an angry growl, Tony shook his head before exhaling sharply, “Thank you. That helps.”

Tony entered the apartment, finding Terrence sitting at the dining table, messing around on his phone. He looked up, hearing Tony enter, and said, “I checked on her a few minutes ago like Mr. Rogers asked me to continue doing. She’s still hysterical as all hell, but she responded.”

Furious, Tony shook his head, snarling, “What the hell did he do?” Terrence looked confused by the question and Tony purposely ignored it, not wanting to deal with all the bullshit going on between him and Steve at present.

Tony tried to open the bedroom door, but it was locked. For the umpteenth time today, he sighed angrily and said through the door, “Y/N. Open the door.”

“No!” she shouted out back at him.

He had been here before and this time Steve was not here to stop him from entering the bedroom. Although, this time he was going to have tact about it. He went back down the hall to the kitchen and grabbed a butterknife from the silverware. He was worried and he was not about to just leave her in there by herself. He unlocked the door with ease, much to Y/N’s fury.

“Stay out!” she snapped at him, sitting up, the blankets falling to her waist. She looked a sight, her makeup having left black underneath her eyes, trails running down her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy and red.

Tony ignored what she said, coming into the room, and closing the door behind him.

<><><>

Of course Tony knew how to pick a lock. That was preschool shit to him. And of course he was not listening to you; when did either of them ever? The sight of him infuriated you.

“I told you to leave me alone!” you snarled as he came over to the bed. He was approaching with caution. He sat on the edge of the bed and that was still way too close. “Tony, get out!”

Tony’s eyes fell to the bandage on your arm, and he started to reach for it. You were gone in the blink of an eye, startling him in the process. You did not want him touching any part of you.

“Don’t touch me!” you sneered at him, pulling away from him, wrapped up in the sheets. They prevented you from moving any further and you sat defensively, hands planted by your hips.

Tony held up his hands, keeping his distance. He sunk back down to sit more on the opposite side of the large bed. He was keeping his eyes trained on you, like he was afraid you were going to lunge either at him or away.

“What happened?” he asked evenly.

You let out a bark of a laugh. What was he playing at? “Are you serious right now? What do you think happened? You two and your stupid little plan! You left me! You let him take me because you… you’re a fucking coward!”

He looked at a loss. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Shut up!” you snapped back at him, furious he was trying to act oblivious and wash his hands of it. “I’m tired of playing games with you two! When are you going to let me go?” Tears welled up at that, all over again. You were tired of crying over men. Especially men who had no regard for your well being.

Tony ticked his jaw, studying your face. Your chest was heaving with your anger; you were sure you looked rabid, like a cornered animal. And that is how you felt, truly. He scooted an inch towards you, and you leaned back causing him to still his movement again, an angry sigh leaving his lips.

He fought to keep his voice calm and even as he said, “Y/N. I really, really have no idea what you are talking about. And I would like you to explain it to me. Where did Steve take you?”

You searched his face accusingly, trying to find the crack in his façade of innocence. But you were met with the worry in his eyes, despite his tranquil tone, and you realized that maybe he was being serious. He seemed to really not know what had transpired. Still, you kept a wall up, thinking perhaps he was putting up a good front; they had both ruined your trust at this point. You would tell him what happened, play his game, but you were going to be watching him like a hawk.

Wiping at your eyes, you spat, “The docks. He sold me!”

“Excuse me?” Tony asked, unable to hide the venom behind his voice.

“But he wasn’t really selling me, turns out. Spoiler alert.” You gave a humorless laugh, wiping at more tears that had started to spill over. “He came here and made me get dressed up and rushed me out the door. Saying he had to go to a meeting. When we got there, he was selling me to this guy and getting money for a shipment. He… he left me there! With all these men I didn’t know. And he said you knew and you both were tired of me, that I wasn’t new anymore.” You were watching Tony grow more and more furious, like he was bursting at the seams. And it only encouraged you to go on.

“The guy who bought me, Perez, I don’t know. He was trying to be accommodating but I hated him, I could already tell. He wasn’t kind, he was donning a mask. I know men well enough to pick up on that. I… fuck,” you said, tearfully. Tony was keeping his distance still, listening with rapt attention. You shook your head, “I was sitting next to him and he was touching me. And all of a sudden, there were just b-bullets flying. I got thrown to the ground and my arm caught on the corner of the table. It was loud and I didn’t know what was going on. Then S-Sam? I think that’s his name. The one with the wings. One of your Avengers.”

Recognition flashed across Tony’s face you saw at the name and description.

“He grabbed me and took off from the boat. I hate heights. I hate them. And he dropped me back on this boat that was just floating out in the water before leaving me there by myself. There was a lot of shit going on on the yacht that I could see from where I was.” You sighed shakily. “I don’t know. They came back eventually. Steve, Sam, and that metal armed guy. They were covered in blood. And it’s… I was back in the car…” You were starting to lose steam at all the explosion of emotion you had been emanating and reliving the chaos. “Steve told me… told me that I had made money to go towards my debt to you guys. And I should be happy about that. But he didn’t tell me anything! I thought… I thought he was leaving me there. And that I had done s-something wrong!”

You caught Tony’s eyes again. He was staring at you, flabbergasted, his lips parted in shock. His head shook ever so slightly, and you crumbled then, seeing the stricken look on his face at what you were telling him. Like it was all new to him and he was horrified. He had not betrayed you like Steve had said. Your bottom lip warbled, and you threw yourself across the bed at him and he caught you clumsily. Your fingers dug into his back and you broke down into sobs into his shoulder.

Tony’s arms came around you, his grip tight, one hand at the back of your head.

“I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong!” you wailed, it muffled into his collar.

You stayed embraced, Tony’s hand at your back rubbing. He kissed the side of your head and said quietly, “You didn’t do anything wrong, love.” And that only made you cry more. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know. I… I don’t know what he was thinking.”

He really had not known. Steve had lied to you about that too. He had snuck in and taken you away with Tony was not here. You could not help but to think about how it would have been different if he had been here. You probably would not have gone at all. Your fingers dug in again into Tony’s back.

When your cries began to subside as your energy began to wane, Tony started to pull away and you looked up at him worriedly, “Don’t leave!”

“I’m not going to. I’m just gonna go out to the kitchen. You… would you like to rest?” You sniffled, your brow stitched. “Tylenol PM, love. I think sleep will do you well. I promise I won’t leave while you sleep. But I think it’ll help. What do you think?” You whimpered quietly and he said reassuringly, “It’ll help.”

Forcing yourself to nod, you let him pull away. You grabbed your blankets, holding them tight as he walked out of the room, silence filling the space where he had been.

When he came back, he held out the pills and the glass of water to you. You took the pills from him and swallowed them readily. He was right, sleep would do you well. You just wanted to escape whatever you were feeling right now. The water went down too and you handed him back the cup. You watched him place it on the nightstand on the other side of the bed, anxiously waiting for him to come back.

Tony kicked his shoes off and pulled off his suit jacket, tossing it on the end of the bed.

You curled up next to him the moment he was there and focused on your breathing. You were trying to keep the anxiousness back at bay, just willing sleep to overcome and do it soon.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark tony stark #dark marvel #mob tony stark #mob steve rogers #my shit

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celiastjms · 3 years

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Okay, here it goes. Episode Four of Scenes from a Marriage and it’s been less than 24hrs and I have rewatched the episode what, five times? Some scenes I’ve rewatched more than that :’) and I just??? That fucking show, these fucking characters??? Spoilers ahead, behold! — and this is long, I apologize in advance!!!!

One of the two major takeaways from the episode is that they are BOTH so incredibly awful to and for each other, and that they bring out the FUCKING WORST in each other. The sadest part is that they cannot be with but also not without one another even if it means hurting each other. And — and this is absolutely fucking tragic, the other major takeaway is that they STILL haven’t learned to communicate with each other. It’s been ( roughly ) FOUR FUCKING YEARS!!! ( In the first episode Mira is not yet 40, so she’s still 39 and now she is 43 and a half so give or take four years have passed since the first episode ) And yet all they kept constantly doing throught the episode was to ACCUSE the OTHER of not listening and not being able to communicate. Like they BOTH are aware of the issue but neither attempts to work through it??

Wow, just wow.

Those two are just, I don’t even have the words???

Like, where the fuck do I even start???

Mira already dragged her feet about the divorce in Episode Three, she wasn’t willing and ready then and maybe she hadn’t noticed the why yet but she wasn’t ready for a divorce then and she sure as hell isn’t ready now, even if she struggles to admit that out loud once prompted by Jonathan.

Again, Jonathan’s calculating and cold side jumped out. Like the scene, with them on the couch?? With Mira asking if he would be able to marry her again and then getting all quiet after her “ We’re fucked ”, like Jonathan KNEW that she still wanted him, he knew that when he invited her into his arms and she happily curled against him and he knew that when he started touching her. He was the initiator and he went quite aggressive about it ( which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, pretty sure it came as a welcome surprise to Mira though ), he knew she wanted him and he very much wanted her.

Mira asking him to stay after, to not immediately go, showing herself vulnerable and at the same time content in his arms, man that was a glimpse into their sex-life during their marriage ( that gets expanded later on but more on that in a second ). She knew he’d rush to get up, NOT because he regrets what they did but because he feels the need to clean himself — now I don’t know if this is rooted in his religious upbringing and something he simply cannot shake or if it’s something else but either way it must be a fucking awful feeling to have your partner rush to clean himself after you just had sex. No doubt humiliating too in a way, so no wonder she asked him to stay and I wonder how often she had done that before, you know to have that kind of soft intimacy?

Their marriage was broken in so many ways & aspects. I know we only got to see the tip of the iceberg but holy fuck.

Mira telling him she got fired, or, asked to resign and going back to explain that it was bound to happen after she didn’t take the promotion and Jonathan getting defensive IMMEDIATELY, to the point where she HAS TO tell him she isn’t blaming him and that this isn’t what it is about is such a perfect example of them STILL not having learned to communicate with each other. I have no fucking clue how they got through the settlement conversations if all they do is either hear what they want to hear or only hear half of what the other says and then interprete it in a completely different direction because they didn’t listen to the rest. Like, it has been ( give or take ) FOUR FUCKING YEARS and they still haven’t learned to communicate.

No wonder they never fucking sorted through any issue they had prior to Mira cheating on him and leaving him since they just don’t know how to fucking communicate.

Okay back to Mira telling Jonathan she has lost her job. It fucking sucks. I can see where she is coming from, she gave them their all, she put her marriage on the line, the relationship with her daughter and how did they thank her for it? By asking her to resign when she no longer gave them their all but took time to work on her relationships and spend time with her daughter.

It’s a bit of a tragedy, that she wanted it all and for a split second she had it, only for her to lose it all in the end. Losing her job drives the point home that she has officially lost everything. I mean, sure, Mira escaped from her marriage into her career, because in her career she didn’t feel the need to make herself small in an effort not to emasculate anyone, which is how she felt in her relationship with Jonathan and while losing the life she had with Jonathan was bearable, at first at least, she still had her job, she still had the security of that. The knowledge that she was good at what she did and needed there, but now she has lost that too and is watching her life spinning out of control. ( She’ll probs get a nice settlement and will still be well off but still, it stings ) It takes her a little while to admit but she felt like she was being replaced by someone younger, by someone more fun which is why she takes such offense later when Jonathan mentions that they’re older ( we’ll get to that ).

That no doubt hits hard and Jonathan takes THAT FUCKING MOMENT to tell her, no less than thirty minutes after they had sex, that he no longer feels anything for her? That he no longer cares? ( And later he even expects her to be happy for him? What the fuck man?? ) Like don’t get me wrong I understand where he comes from, because it is no doubt liberating to him to have reached that point — BUT fucking her to try and prove to himself he is okay without her? C’mon that’s a low fucking blow and to rub it in her face when she’s already on the ground isn’t much better.

I mean sure she asked, but what the fuck man?

It’s no fucking wonder that she lashes out. She’s hurt. He hurt her so she tries to hurt him in return. They truly do bring out the worst in each other. Also, I absolutely love that she calls him out, that she asks if he only fucked her to prove to himself he doesn’t love her anymore and the hilarious part is that Jonathan doesn’t even acknowledge it because he knows that she has a point.

She isn’t wrong when she calls him a narcissist and says he doesn’t give a fuck about how, what he says makes her feel. At the same time, I love that Jonathan has reached a point where he can meet Mira as an EQUAL — bc they both are fucking egocentric narcissists but also, because that is what she needs. Someone who is her equal, which I think Poli in many ways is, the fact that they’re fighting and going to couples counseling at least speaks for him being able to call her out on her BS which for the longest time Jonathan wasn’t able to ( but Poli isn’t Jonathan and he isn’t who Mira wants, yes yes we’ll get to that ) which is what I think he aims for when he tells her he has detached himself from her enough to still be able to enjoy her and her company but to no longer be as emotionally dependent as he once was. He just choses the wrong fucking moment??

It’s a given that Mira lashed out and tried to hurt him and she hit a fucking nerve, Jonathan wouldn’t have gone off the way he did, if she didn’t. I mean it fucking stings to be told that she wasn’t sexually fulfilled — as if he wouldn’t know that already since she cheated BUT STILL and that she felt the need to hide a part of herself and instead of acknowledging that and listening to what she says — or to communicate, how he chides her what, five minutes earlier? He goes on and talks right over her, aiming for the same topic but from a completely different angle.

They can’t fucking communicate.

And man, despite everything, Mira STILL can’t bring herself to sign the papers even though he told her pretty much directly that he no longer wants her?? It’s tragic that she realized now, where Jonathan is done, or claims to be at least, that she isn’t.

She NEVER was fully available to Poli, no matter how hard he tried and how much he wanted to have a relationship, a family with her because she was still too hung up on Jonathan, because she couldn’t let him go, because even though she cannot be with him, she cannot be without him. The worst part is that she realized that she rather holds on to Jonathan than to try and build a family with Poli when she went to couples counseling with him. When she did with Poli what Jonathan asked her to do before she grabbed her things and ran.

And all that Jonathan WANTS to hear is that because she got dumped ( and lost her job ) she comes back running to him. Which is not the fucking case, she says that Poli took longer to accept that the relationship was over. If anything, Mira left him and she left him because she rather gives up on a future with Poli than giving on Jonathan. And it’s sad that, she is honest and vulnerable in that moment because she truly opens up and reveals something of herself and all he chooses to hear ( which is understandable considering where they stand BUT STILL ) is that she got dumped and chooses to come running back to him when she has wanted to come back to him this entire time but she’d been too blind to see it or acknowledge it— even though IT WAS OBVIOUS as fuck. I mean she even tells him that she has zero desire for a fresh start, that she wants what she used to have and I don’t think she would want her job back and would want to live in the marriage the way they did before she cheated but she wants back what she and Jonathan once had, because she still loves him and she knows he still loves her.

Jonathan pushing Mira right after they had sex to sign the settlement drives home the point that he is seemingly done. You know, one last fuck, a nice dinner and that’s it. When in truth he pushes her to sign the papers because he tries to convince HIMSELF that it’s for the better. I mean he tells her he is ready to tear the settlement up instead of signing them, but at the same time he knows they need to sign it because at the point they’re at right now, they would no doubt destroy each other would they go back to each other.

What I thought was interesint, was that he signed the papers only after Mira did, which I thought the entire time he had already done and that he was only waiting for her to do the same. Funny, that he pushed her to do something he hadn’t done himself yet, right? Looks like Mira isn’t the only one still hung up on what they once had.

And god, when he tells her he wants another child and that he is thinking about doing it without the attachment of a relationship and Mira asks if he thought that she might want to give him another child?? Like?? Girl why would he? Why would he even consider you? I understand fully why he didn’t but I get too why she asked because SHE IS still very much hung up on Jonathan, she had just made that much clear with telling him she chose him over Poli and the fact that she is ready, in a heartbeat, to give him another child, which is what she had denied Poli just underlines that??

And then she takes offense when he points out that they aren’t young anymore because she takes it as an insult ( considering the day she had I understand that though ) and because the concept of HIM having a child WITHOUT HER whether or not a romantic relationship is involved is one she doesn’t like one fucking bit, which is why she lashes out the way she does.

They bring out the absolute fucking worst in each other and yet they can’t get away from one another. Can’t be without each other.

I’m not saying that they’re prone to violence, but Jonathan had manhandled her before, when he wouldn’t let her pack her own suit case and pushed her away. They truly bring out the worst in each other. Neither Mira’s nor Jonathan’s actions here are excusable. They BOTH are just fucking awful and they reach their breaking point in that moment. And it’s awful and it’s painful, and they still love one another, which is the worst fucking part.

Like when Jonathan leaves, he for a moment looks ready to turn around and go back, to not have things end that way. Even now, even after that, they still cannot let go of each other. They can’t with and they can’t without each other.

Jessica and Oscar delivered again. I have no fucking words. Their skill and talent is unmatched. That last scene broke me and knowing it was them without a stunt coordinator hits even harder because they just fucking went for it?? And delivered this?? My heart is still bleeding.

HONESTLY, there is so much more that I could say but this already got super long hdhfjdkskdhf ( I’m sorry!! ) I’ll probs make another post soon because I got so many thoughts BUT STILL. What the fuck was that episode??? It feels so final?? So, well and truly over that I have absolutely no fucking clue what to expect from the next and actual final episode?? I just know that I need it NOW even though I’m terrified as fuck.

#scenes from a marriage spoiler #scenes from a marriage #sfam #jessica chastain #oscar isaac #ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴀʏ — sfam meta #ɪ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴍᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀɪsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ᴅɪsᴀsᴛᴇʀ ʟᴇsʙɪᴀɴ — out #I'm sorry this got so fucking long #hence the read more fhgjfjks

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hxlyhead-harpies · 3 years

Text

You Weren’t Mine To Lose

Pairing: Hermione x reader

Summary: The reader loves Hermione and Hermione loves Ron

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1.3k

A/n: i wrote this for @teheharrypotter ‘s 2 weeks of angst!!! i hope you like it!! i also used some prompts from a request because i felt like it fit

The moment that Lavender jumped into his arms and kissed him, you saw Hermione’s heart break. Her eyes immediately filled with tears and she pushed through the crowd, desperate to rip herself away from the tortuous sight. You exchanged a knowing look with Harry before you ran after her, desperate to comfort your best friend.

You knew how much she liked Ron, her having told you late one night at Grimmauld Place. Her confession had stung of course. You had been half in love with Hermione since your fourth year when you had zipped up her Yule Ball dress for her. She made your heart flutter with her brilliant smiles and enthusiastic intelligence. But despite this you pushed it away, not wanting to risk ruining what you already had. And it was clear that Hermione would never like you. Her heart already belonged to Ron.

When you found her in an empty classroom with tears running down her face your knees nearly buckled underneath you. Seeing her so broken made your heart ache more than you could say.

“Oh ‘Mione,” you breathed, causing her to wipe her eyes and look up.

“I’m fine,” she tried to assure you as you sat beside her on the floor. You just pulled her into a hug, leading her head to rest against your chest.

“I know you, Hermione, you’re not fine,” you said. “He’s an idiot.” Hermione let out a strangled laugh.

“No, I’m the idiot. I somehow got it into my head that he possibly liked me. I feel like a fool,” she murmured with a sniffle. You leaned back so you could look at her fully, your hand cupping her cheek.

“If anyone here is a fool it’s him. He has no idea what he’s missing out on,” you said. Hermione averted her eyes.

“You’re unbelievably smart, the brightest witch of our age. You’re kind and your brave. Not to mention that you’re gorgeous,” you assured her. Hermione finally looked into your eyes, her lips parting slightly.

“I’m not gorgeous. At least not like Lavender. My hair is too frizzy and my eyebrows are too thick-” she rambled on.

“Hermione no,” you interrupted. “You are gorgeous. Your eyes are the prettiest shade of amber that I’ve ever seen and I’m beyond envious of your eyelashes.” Hermione’s cheeks began to heat up under your palm.

“And you have amazing cheekbones”- you moved your thumb to trace across them- “and the most adorable freckles across your nose. And you have this dimple on your left side that drives me absolutely mad,” you whispered. Her eyes had gone wide as you spoke and traced your finger across her features.

“Do you mean that?” she asked softly. Your gaze snapped back to hers as if you had been knocked out of a trance. You realized quickly what you had admitted and you began to tilt away.

“I- um… sorry,” you sputtered. Before you could lean too far back Hermione lunged forward, firmly pressing her lips against yours.

Her lips were soft and tasted sweet, just as you had always imagined. You wasted no time leaning closer, grabbing her waist and deepening the kiss. Soon her hands were in your hair.

The moment was broken when Lavender and Ron stumbled into the room, the former giggling erratically. You and Hermione broke apart quickly to meet the eyes of the others. Lavender was shocked as she gripped Ron’s hand, a slightly apologetic look in her eyes. Ron however looked tense. His lips were drawn into a hard line and his eyes were swimming with an emotion you easily recognized. It was a feeling you had felt every time that Hermione had mentioned the boy’s name: jealousy.

“I think this room is occupied,” Lavender said nervously, trying to tug Ron out of the room. Ron scoffed.

“Clearly,” he spat out before storming out with Lavender. You stole a quick glance at Hermione. You didn’t know what you expected her to be feeling but when you looked at her your stomach dropped. She was smirking slightly with a triumphant look in her eyes. As if she had just beaten Ron at some sort of game.

For weeks after that you found yourself holding hands with Hermione in the halls or stealing kisses before classes. It felt like a dream. Her hand fit into yours perfectly and every kiss was as perfect as the first. But before long you realized that these interactions only happened in the presence of a certain someone.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Hermione was slightly taking advantage of your affection for her. You didn’t doubt that she wanted to kiss you, but it seemed more like she needed someone and you just happened to be there. It stung unbelievably badly, the realization that your feelings were still mostly one sided, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put a stop to it. You basked in her affection too much to care about your own self-destruction.

You sat in the Library with Hermione, a book of charms in front of you. But you paid no mind to the book, only paying attention to how Hermione scrunched up her nose as she read. It was a beautiful sight, truly.

The sound of a familiar giggle caught your attention and you turned to see Lavender and Ron stumble into the library. Hermione’s head shot up and once she caught sight of Ron she reached for your hand across the table. Ron’s eyes zeroed in on your intertwined fingers and you watched as Hermione seemed to send him a boastful smirk that made your stomach churn. Ron clenched his jaw and looked away. Hermione stared back down at her book with a self-satisfied look on her face and you felt as if you might be sick.

You snatched your hand away as if her touch was burning you. Hermione glanced at you with a curious expression as you shoved your books away.

“Where are you going?” she asked with furrowed brows.

“Away from you,” you spat before sprinting out of the library.

You heard Hermione follow after you as you sped off onto the grounds. You desperately wished that she would leave you alone but it seemed that she was determined to corner you somewhere.

“What is the matter with you?” she questioned as you came to a halt near Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. You violently spun around to face her, tears stinging behind your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore!” you exclaimed. Hermione froze and blinked rapidly as she tried to understand what you meant. “This!” you yelled, motioning between the two of you. She stepped forward but you flinched.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione whispered. You scoffed and shook your head.

“I can’t keep following you around like a lost puppy while you just try to make Ron jealous,” you huffed, causing Hermione to look away in shame.

“I- I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Hermione said.

“What did you think was going to happen? Playing with my feelings like this?” you questioned harshly. Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

“I didn’t realize that you actually liked me,” she tried to explain.

“How can someone so smart be so daft,” you spat, “how could you not see that I’m impossibly in love with you and have been for some time?” Hermione stilled, the reality of your words sinking in.

“You love me?” she whispered softly. You nodded and looked away.

“And do you want to know the most horrible part? The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you,” you admitted with your voice full of venom. Hermione gaped at you, clearly unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry,” she finally settled upon, not looking you in the eye. You stared at the girl who had stolen your heart and simultaneously smashed it, taking in every strand of her hair and freckle on her cheeks. You feared this would be the last time you ever got a good look at her.

“You should be.”

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

tag list: @theweasleysredhair @spn-marvel-nerd @gloryekaterina @mytreec @levylovegood @inglourious-imagines @whatwoulddracodo @pattinsons-films @liilyevanss @kashishwrites @wonderful-writer @accio-prozac @sarcasticallywitty15 @lawsandother @teheharrypotter @hannolannno @flowercrownchic @chaoticgirl04 @kiwi-sloan @miss-fuck-the-world @durmstrange @aspiringsloth20 @breadqueen95 @ellyseveronica @layaa-layaaa @ultrabuzzlightyear

#hermione granger #hermione x reader #hermione x y/n #hermione x you #nina’s two weeks of angst

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monaisme · 3 years

Text

The Battle

No one had seen Peter staggering through the portal. For what they were walking into, Peter could only guess that whoever was on the other side of things was focussing more on the masses and not on some kid from Queens in a spider-suit.

His eyes widened as he tried to take in the destruction before him. Dr. Strange had said that it had been five years and that they all had to go fight; that this was a battle for the very universe.

Peter had almost thought he was joking-- and then he saw this.

The sky was grey with smoke and fires still burned in the rubble that had once been the compound. Peter was sure he recognized the Asgardian symbol still etched into the grass next to what was left of the long drive that wound its way up to the now decimated building. The labs, the training rooms—his bedroom for all those weekends with Mr. Stark… everything was gone.

He choked back his panic.

Peter had tried to explain to the wizard what was happening before they’d even left Titan, but the abrupt, “Not now, Peter. We have to go,” followed by their arrival? Yeah, he’d never gotten the chance.

And now?

Now he was going to die. He was certain of it.

A wave of nausea washed over him and Peter tried not to visibly hunch over from the pain of his body cramping. Beads of sweat dotted his brow and he’d only walked a matter of feet-- granted, it was from one planet to another, but those portals were closed now and that wasn’t the point. It was happening to him again, and someone needed to know that he couldn’t use his—

“AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!”

The hush that had fallen upon their arrival was broken by Captain America’s battle cry, and the multitude of people, aliens, and allies were suddenly surging forward in an attack like nothing Peter could ever have imagined.

He did his best to keep up. Peter was an Avenger too, after all, though he wasn’t quite sure how effective he’d be with the asthma that was now acting up with vengeance. Already he was sure it would kill him before any of Thanos’s minions could.

He felt his muscles straining—maybe even rippling as he pushed himself onward, weaving through the clusters of fighting, trying to find some way to help. A tripping up here or the retrieval of a weapon there was all he could manage but he was grateful that he could at least do that.

He paused, doubled over and trying to catch his breath. He tried squinting through the chaos as he gasped-- hoped he’d see Iron Man red through the insanity—and then he did!

Iron Man was there, firing repulsor blast after repulsor blast at the enemy and for a brief second, Peter was reminded of why Mr. Stark was his favourite Avenger. Then a mammoth of an alien came up from behind, throwing his mentor to the ground and preparing to strike him down.

Peter moved without a thought. He ignored the ache in his lungs and the pain that was amplifying through his body again as he threw his arm out and thwipped at the creature’s ankles. Peter jerked at the taut webbing with everything he could muster to no avail. He was too weak. His only hope had been...

It took a step closer, lifting its weapon to aim and then... well, it tried.

Even with the explosions and blasts around them, Peter could feel the earth beneath him shudder at the impact of its body falling to the ground and he struggled to stay upright. It looked at the bindings around its ankles, seemingly confused by what could have confined it... not that it mattered. The big-small guy from Berlin was suddenly stepping over him and crushing their enemy.

If he hadn’t been so shocked by how that had played out, it might have been one of the coolest things Peter had ever seen.

He took a second to take in the scene, the people around him, and then Mr. Stark. Air not moving through lungs right be damned, there he was, and Peter could finally get the help that he needed. “Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what’s going on,” He paused to try and catch his breath. “You remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? Well,” he fought to hide the wheeze. “I woke up and you were gone but Dr. Strange was there, right?” Peter’s head was spinning, but he needed to get all of this out so that Mr. Stark understood. “He was like, it’s been five years. C’mon, they need us and he started doing the yellow sparkling thing he does all the time and, oh.” Mr. Stark rushed forward and grasped his shoulders. “What are you doing?” He didn’t understand.

And his mentor, the man he’d secretly thought of as a father-figure for months—or was it really years?—pulled him into a hug.

“Oh, this is nice.” Peter melted in the embrace, feeling safer than he could remember in a long time.

Their reunion didn’t last long enough. Peter pulled back a little and opened his mouth to tell Mr. Stark what was going on when the battle encroached again and the two were separated.

It was a blur. Mr. Stark went left and Peter went right—he’d lost sight of the Iron Man suit within seconds, and still no one knew. And then, if things hadn’t already been crazy enough, the Black Panther and that Squidward guy were in a battle for that damned gauntlet... and Peter was there in the thick of it.

Searing pain shot through his legs and spine so he crouched down, trying to relieve even a fraction of it, then the ground rose up beneath him. He’d barely managed to keep his balance when the Black Panther tossed the gauntlet at Peter directly and continued on with his fight.

He couldn’t hide the shock on his face. He’d caught it and even managed to keep hold of it while the earth below him dropped, leaving him winded and spread eagle on the ground. “Aw, shit,” he coughed out as he tried to catch his breath again. He just couldn’t catch a break.

And then he noticed the silence, again.

Every eye was on him.

In a burst of genius, Peter webbed the gauntlet to his chest and shouted out, “Activate Instant Kill!” Karen complied and within a blink, his red-lensed mask was back in place and six vibranium legs extended from their hiding place. Peter uttered thanks for Mr. Stark and his ability to create something so ridiculously intuitive. The legs brought him back up to standing, but he staggered as he tried to find his footing. The suit had been incredible to use on Titan, but that was before his powers had—

The crowd of enemies swarmed.

He hadn’t moved quickly enough. His reflexes were fighting with his new limitations, leaving him with exactly zero ability to fight back against the dogpile currently punching and kicking on top of him. He felt a couple of his ribs break and he collapsed from the sheer weight on top of him as he curled around their prize. It hurt so much more for his body’s rebellion. His six legs slashed and stabbed at his attackers giving him a hell’s chance of trying to claw his way out. “Help.” Peter choked out, “Somebody help.”

He could barely hear Captain America over his comms, “Hey, Queens! Heads up!” Like a man drowning at sea, he raised his hand up above the fray and webbed hold of Thor’s hammer handle as it flew past.

He couldn’t be sure if he heard or felt the pop of his shoulder dislocating as the hammer’s momentum pulled him from the fray. All he knew was that it hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. It took everything he had left—and it didn’t feel like much—to not release. Instead, Peter grabbed onto his web with his good hand, brushed against the gauntlet still attached to him, and prayed that his strength would hold long enough to get him far enough away.

A blast from a ship overhead messed that plan up right away as it sliced through the webbing and he plummeted to the ground. He was sure he was going to die in that very moment and closed his eyes, bracing himself for an impact that never came. Someone in an Iron Man-like suit caught him by his dislocated arm and flung Peter back up into the air.

He was sure he’d screamed, even as his vision whited out from the pain, and he was sure he was airborne, even as his head had barely cleared and the wind whipped past him. That he’d landed on something that was rising and dropping in a rhythm unlike anything he could place was confusing, even as his mind began to muddle—though he thought that might be because of the fever.

Dammit! The fever had been the worst last time.

He worked to focus on his surroundings—couldn’t, and then he was falling again.

No one caught him this time.

He came to with a start and a laser focus. The earth around him was exploding and it didn’t matter that he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t see and that his muscles were screaming out in agony and that his nerves were on fire and that he was so damned hot—all that mattered was that he do his part, ‘cuz Spider-Man was an Avenger. He couldn’t move though, it was too much for all of the weapon fire, save for closing his eyes, curling himself protectively around that damned gauntlet and waiting for the end.

Please, let this end.

And then it did.

If Peter had known to open his eyes, he’d have seen a bright light streaking through the clouds and then cut straight through the ship that had been raining down hellfire, even with his poor vision. He’d have seen the ship darken and then tilt, even as it floated above the battlefield, then crash into the hoards of Thanos’s alien soldiers, decimating their numbers. He’d have seen the streak of light slow, and then descend to exactly where he lay.

But he kept his eyes closed, hoped it would make him invisible...

Someone tapped on his shoulder.

He gasped at the shock of the touch and his eyes flew open, though he had to blink a few times to clear his vision. The dirt and dust were still settling and the grit was irritating his eyes something awful. But then he could see—crouching on the ground before him, a woman, all glow and smile.

He could have wept with relief. An ally.

He staggered as he climbed to his feet. Black spots danced before his eyes, but he fought against them, tried to take a deep breath, and then fought again the pain of his transformation and battle injuries. “Hi,” he rasped out. “Peter Parker.”

Her smile disappeared and her brow furrowed in concern. “Hey, Peter Parker. You got something for me?”

His ears started ringing then, and the earth tipped just a little to the left. He couldn’t understand, “What?”

He thought she was looking at him a little weird, which was okay, ‘cuz Peter was a little weird, but then she stepped towards him, cautious. “Peter? Can I have the gauntlet now?”

His eyelids fluttered and he could see the blackness edging in at the corner of his vision, but he knew he had to fight it. She needed something from him and it was... was...

“Peter?”

He swayed.

“Peter, I’m gonna lay you down, buddy. Okay?”

He nodded dumbly.

She placed a hand on his good shoulder for comfort, he thought, but then she was laying him down in the dirt.”

“Stark!” He heard her bark out to no one. “Something’s wrong with your kid. Get to my position now!”

He closed his eyes as the woman stood up and starting firing at something over wherever because it didn’t matter anymore. He was just gonna rest for a minute and closed his eyes and—his head lolled to the side.

“Peter!” A hand tapped against his cheek. “This is not the time for checkin’ out, kiddo. Wakey, wakey!” The hand tapped again.

“Stark, I need to get the gauntlet over to the quantum tunnel.” Weapons fire blasted over him. “Is there any way you can get that thing off of him for me?” More blasting. “I didn’t want to damage him or the suit anymore, in case...”

The tapping turned to light slaps and Peter tried to swat it away. “Nghhh.” He turned his head away.

“Hey! Peter! C’mon, kid. I need you to listen to me.”

Mr. Stark?

“We need you to switch your web settings to the solvent. I don’t know if it’s your suit or mine, but a suit is damaged and FRIDAY can’t connect to get Karen to make the switch.” He slapped again. “Pete, we need the gauntlet and can’t get it off without burning you. Are you hearing me?”

More shots and then an explosion off in the distance.

Mr. Stark muttered a “shit.” The slaps started to hurt. “We gotta do this now, kiddo. Please wake up.”

It was like he was just waiting for someone to ask nicely. His eyes widened and he gulped in air like he’d been underwater. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. “Wha’s goin’ on?” He asked, using the last of that breath.

“Thank goodness! Pete, your web solvent. Activate it. We need to get the gauntlet off of you and away, okay? Can you do that, buddy?”

Peter looked at Mr. Stark, who’d definitely been hurt since they’d last seen each other, and then at the woman standing as protector over them. He thought he understood, nodded a yes to Mr. Stark, and then whispered, “Karen, web solvent.” He knew that the change had happened. Karen never let him down—and then he moved his arm to spray and release... or tried.

Mr. Stark saw what he was doing and saw what the problem was right away. “Kid, the shooter’s damaged. You’ll need to use your other...” Mr. Stark must’ve finally noticed his other arm—and the obvious malformation at Peter’s still dislocated shoulder. “Oh. Shit.”

Even for the everything going on inside of and around him, Peter’s brain cleared enough to mutter, “Just move it and double tap.”

Another explosion, this one closer than the last one, went off and the woman looked at Mr. Stark, announced that she’d be right back, and flew off into the chaos.

It was just the two of them.

Mr. Stark looked lost as he shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, kid, but we don’t have time...” He gripped Peter’s limp arm and closed his eyes, like he was praying. “I’m so sorry for this.”

“I’s okay, Mr. Stark,” he coughed out. “Fix it later, ‘kay?”

Mr. Stark teared up a little, then nodded. “Yeah, kid. We’ll definitely be fixing this.” He lifted Peter’s arm and manoeuvred it so he could access the webshooters. He looked back into Peter’s eyes and said, “I’ll be quick.”

And with a nod from Peter, Mr. Stark pressed down on the webshooter and covered the gauntlet—finally releasing it from its webbed confines.

The world spun as Peter grunted through the pain of having his arm manipulated. The grunting led to coughing and, as Tony lifted the gauntlet off of Peter’s chest, the coughing became uncontrollable and turned into choking.

“Is he okay?”

The woman had returned.

“I’ve got him. Just deal with that,” Mr. Stark commanded as he handed her the gauntlet and the woman flew off.

If Peter never saw it again...

He suddenly gagged as he struggled to find a rhythm, but he couldn’t. The gagging turned to dry heaving and he could barely inhale. Peter started to panic.

Mr. Stark was right beside, but moved—shifting Peter onto his side and ignoring the lighting pain in his arm altogether as he moved him into the recovery position.

His throat tightened and then his body purged. Bile and Titan’s dust filled his throat and mouth as he tried to expel it, but he was so weak and so tired...

A hand slammed against his back, “Get it out, Peter. C’mon! Out!”

It helped, as he tried to empty himself of that other planet, and Peter thought that maybe he’d be okay until—

Muscles rippled once more and his entire body burned from the inside, out. His senses amplified it all as he could hear everything from the cries of people dying on the battlefield to crackling of flames still not burned out. Beyond the vomit and Mr. Stark’s blood, the smell of dust and ash filled his nose and he choked again as the wind sandblasted his face.

He tried to cry out.

Mr. Stark pressed firm against his back, “I’ve got you, Peter. I’m here.” He whispered, and he leaned over the boy to sweep the vomit from his mouth. “We’ll fix this, kid. I promise.”

And Peter was just grateful that he wasn’t going to die alone.

The fight was dizzying in its intensity, so he closed his eyes to the onslaught of visual stimuli. His timing was impeccable, as a flash of light bright enough to burn through Peter’s eyelids burst out from somewhere—Peter couldn’t focus on it for the pain of the overload. He writhed as though tortured.

And then the wind caught again—this time it carried with it a different ash, one he’d smelled on Titan and that he couldn’t bear to smell again. He clawed at the ground, tried to get away from the inevitable... tried to get away from the hurt and darkness and moaning and wailing and emptiness...

And then Peter finally succumbed to the nothing.

* * * * * *

“—eter! Wake up! C’mon, ki—“

* * * * * *

“—incredible! His DNA is literally rewriting its—“

* * * * * *

“The overload must have been just—“

* * * * * *

“Hey, Peter Parker, you’re pretty badass considering—“

* * * * * *

“—on his side! Bruce, grab the compresses again, now! Dammit, he’s seiz—“

* * * * * *

“—May. I know. I wish you could be here, too, but as soon as he wakes up we’ll give you a call and set up a video chat, okay?” A pause. “Yes, May, I’ll tell him that you love him.” A snort laugh. “Yes, May. I’ll give him a big kiss and tell him that he’s grounded.” Another pause. “I know, May. Do you need anything? I can have—“

* * * * * *

“—eter? Hey, kid, are you coming back to us now? I’ve waited a long time to see you, bud, and you’re making me nuts here. I can’t do another five, ‘kay?”

* * * * * *

“—don’t wake him up, Pepper. I’m telling you. Dr. Cho did some tests and it looks like he’s coming back to us. We just need him to—I don’t know? Finish cooking?”

Ms. Potts snorted. “Cute, Tony. I’m just worried that you aren’t getting the rest that you need and with everything going on now—“

“Hey, hey, hey! You know you don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine—and tired is like a perpetual state of being for me—even now that I’ve been domesticated.”

Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts laughed quietly, and then Peter was sure he could hear the sound of kissing. He groaned. Seriously? He was dying and his mentor was making out with his fiancée?

“Peter?”

He inhaled deep, trying to wake up a little more before answering, and noticed the mask on his face. He tried to bring his hand up to remove it but it caught on a—a sling? “Wha-?”

A hand pressed his arm back to his chest and adjusted the mask. “Try to be still. And no touching that, too, Pete. Dr. Cho says you need this for a little bit longer, okay?”

“Mis-er Stark?” He finally managed to open his eyes and tried to understand the monitors and equipment in the low-lit room. “Wha’ happened?” He pushed out.

“We had another go at Thanos, Roo, and this time, we won.” Mr. Stark replied, but he looked so sad—

“Mis-er Stark?” Peter remembered the battle, remembered seeing Mr. Stark bruised and bleeding. “Are you o—“ Peter’s words cut off as a jolt of pain lanced through legs and he almost cried out. He caught himself though, and tried to keep going.

Mr. Stark stopped him. “Hey, I’m okay—just worried about you right now.” He ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, pressed his hand against his still fevered forehead, “I am so sorry that you have to go through this again, Spider-Man.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that, so he shrugged, wincing as he jostled his still bad shoulder. “It’s okay.” He mumbled. “Couldn’t be helped...”

Mr. Stark’s sadness morphed to tortured. “No, I guess it couldn’t... I’m still so sorry.”

Peter could feel the exhaustion trying to claim him again, but he was missing something. “Uhhh- is somethin’ else goin’ on?” He looked between Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts, who had stepped back a few steps to give the two heroes a moment alone.

“Everything is fine, Peter.” Ms. Potts piped in, looking far less melancholy than Mr. Stark. “Tony is just upset that you’re having such a rough time of it, but all’s right in the end and...” she looked at her watch as she dragged out her answer then looked at Mr. Stark, “I believe we’ve probably delayed telling Dr. Cho that you’re awake long enough, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to inform one of the nurses.” She smiled at the boy in the bed, rubbed at his calf affectionately as she walked by the bed, and then stepped out of the room.

It was getting difficult to keep his eyes open. “Mis-er Stark?”

The man leaned forward and pressed a tender, paternal kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Why don’t you rest for now, sweetheart. I’ll tell Dr. Cho that you fell back to sleep and we’ll talk when you’re more awake, okay?”

The smile Peter offered up was kind of goofy. “Okay—but...” Peter looked around the room. “Can you stay with me?”

Mr. Stark knew how much Peter hated the med bay— always stayed, “You know I will, Petey. I’ll always be there for you.”

Peter muttered a quick, “Thanks,” and closed his eyes.

If he’d been more alert, he would have noted the underlying tone that Mr. Stark had used... would have realized that the man was making a promise bigger than an evening.

But he didn’t, and it didn’t take long for the boy to give in to his exhaustion. He’d slept through the last stretch of his transformation the first time—and this time seemed no different, save for the injuries he’d suffered, and even they’d heal soon enough.

And as he slept, he missed the prayer that Mr. Stark offered to whatever deity would listen—that Peter would know just how much he meant it. He would be there for him, no matter what.

#fanfiction #Irondad and Spiderson #Avengers: Endgame #Non-compliant #ao3fic #OBlossom

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karliahs · 3 years

Note

It’s been months since he was this close to anyone. It might have even been Jon the last time, too; helping him walk down in the tunnels. How did they get from there to here? How-

“Tim?” Jon asks softly, pulling back to look him in the face, and it’s the loss of that warmth and pressure that makes Tim realise he’s started breathing in great, shuddering gasps. He screws his eyes shut and Jon reverses their positions, pulling Tim into his chest with unpracticed but fervent hands. His T-shirt is soft against Tim’s face; he hadn’t thought Jon would own anything so soft.

Tim’s throat is burning, but as long as he keeps his eyes screwed shut then he isn’t crying. He isn’t crying on Jonathan Sims the night before they both-

“It’s alright, Tim,” Jon says, searching for words of comfort he only half believes himself. “It’s - whatever happens tomorrow, it can’t - we’re safe here.”

Tim laughs bitterly. “Nothing’s fucking safe.”

Jon seems unable to decide between rubbing soothingly at his back and just holding on as tight as he can. Tim shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be giving into this. But there's a reason he lost so much time when he should have been searching for the thing that killed his brother. The Institute was full of potential answers, but it was also full of bright, lovely distractions. He's buried in the arms of one of them.

Tim didn't used to think of that as weakness - but he didn't used to think there were worms that burrowed through your flesh, or creatures that took every true memory of your friend without you ever noticing, or monsters that played with skin, played with the fabric of who you were, because it was fun.

Tim doesn't know fucking anything, and maybe he never did, and now all that's left is to-

"What can I do, Tim?" Jon asks, and he sounds so honestly lost.

"Turn back time," Tim murmurs into his shirt. "Don't let go," he adds a moment later.

“I won’t, I won’t.” Jon clutches him impossibly closer. Tim’s world narrows down into warmth and pressure. “Tim, we don’t - we don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

The gentle vibration of his words is almost enough to distract Tim from the words themselves. He turns his head so he can speak un-muffled, and immediately misses the comfort of being closed in. “I do, Jon. I can’t…” Tim fumbles for the right words, wondering faintly if this is how Jon feels all the time, struggling to give voice to the unspeakable. “The worst thing in all of this, the worst thing would be if they hurt someone again while I’m just standing there."

Still not crying, not as long as his eyes are tight shut. He feels Jon hesitate, then push forward anyway. "Even if...Tim, even if you had moved, what could you have done?"

Tim squeezes hard at Jon's side and isn't sure if he means it as a warning or a plea.

"I'd never have met you," Jon says, so soft Tim isn't sure if he was meant to hear it.

"Was just thinking before,” Tim replies, because he’s fucked up enough that he might as well keep going, “I wish I'd met you somewhere normal."

Jon’s hands still, and for a moment the rise and fall of his chest does too. It’s the closest thing to absolution Tim’s ever offered. He’s glad he can’t see Jon’s face, can’t see whatever shock or gratitude is playing out there. At some point, he made himself into someone who no one expects to be kind. He wonders, vaguely, whether it counts as forgiveness, to want someone to spend what might be their last night on earth forgiven.

from: enemy of my enemy, aka jon and tim sit in various rooms and talk: the fic

thank you for asking!!! here we go:

It’s been months since he was this close to anyone. It might have even been Jon the last time, too; helping him walk down in the tunnels. How did they get from there to here? How-

do you ever just think about how fast things went wrong for the s1 crew...they were friends just a few months ago!! a few weeks in between no current supernatural experiences -> trying to survive supernatural experiences together by physically holding each other up -> complete alienation. some experiences just defy comprehension, emotionally speaking, even when you can see every step that led from there to here

i also like to make myself sad by thinking about the practical day to day aspects of everyone in the archives being alienated from everyone else. like...when were either of them last touched (non-violently)

so much has changed but they've circled back around to each other

'person starts crying without noticing until someone points it out' is a trope i generally try to stay away from partly because i just can't imagine that ever happening to me and therefore it doesn't ping my realism senses, but i get one (1) because it is undeniably juicy

this fic is very zeroed in on tim's perspective in terms of small sensory experiences, for a few reasons - drive home emotions, portray dissociation, and because i like writing about how it actually feels to be in a romantic gesture, to make it more real than just like...an image of people holding each other

small detail that jives with bigger points - jon's shirt unexpectedly soft, jon's surprising ability to still provide him with gentleness and comfort

i think jon here has no idea what to do but has been given permission to touch so is living his best tactile life with this inexpert hugging and is hoping that does something

Tim’s throat is burning, but as long as he keeps his eyes screwed shut then he isn’t crying. He isn’t crying on Jonathan Sims the night before they both-

“It’s alright, Tim,” Jon says, searching for words of comfort he only half believes himself. “It’s - whatever happens tomorrow, it can’t - we’re safe here.”

Tim laughs bitterly. “Nothing’s fucking safe.”

tim spends a lot of this fic having his inner-monologue cut off to try and show as well as tell that he's struggling to stay present

that 'both-' hurts me, honestly. hurts more than it actually being spelled out, i think. write to upset yourself, maybe you will upset others in the process

half is a word i absolutely overuse in writing but cannot stop. no one ever does something all the way, they are half- believing, wondering, worrying, etc.

i'm never 100% sure if i'm accurately capturing the way that jon speaks in canon but i did always like and want to emulate the fact that he speaks kind of hesitantly, trips over his own words, etc

again, jon does not know what to do so he is just trying. just trying to do any kind of soothing hand thing

i thought quite a lot about reconciling the seemingly happy-go-lucky tim that gets presented to us early on vs learning why he came to the institute in the first place. tim here is framing that as a failing because he's miserable and traumatised and guilt-ridden, but i think at least part of it was actual healing. he was taking time and enjoying the people around him and trying to make the best of things, until it all went wrong

related, the self-recrimination of tim hating himself for not having seen any of this coming, even though they were not predictable events...very human nature after you have been through something terrible. how dare i have not anticipated every trouble that ever befell me

'played with skin, played with the fabric of who you were' - a lot of this story was me just enjoying the themes of stranger-horror. i love the terror of knowing there are creatures who can change aspects of you that should be unchangeable, physically in skin and otherwise in terms of identity and memory. love applying that to jon and tim, who have been fundamentally changed against their will by trauma and their roles in a story neither of them wanted. skin as metaphor for identity, and learning that people can take away your skin is then utterly terrifying to someone who already feels like his identity is being forcibly eroded. and then that shared terror brings them back together, just a little

Tim doesn't know fucking anything, and maybe he never did, and now all that's left is to-

"What can I do, Tim?" Jon asks, and he sounds so honestly lost.

"Turn back time," Tim murmurs into his shirt. "Don't let go," he adds a moment later.

this fic...is so sad. why did i write this. why am i being attacked by my past self and their awful words on this day

explicit admission that tim wants/needs jon here...even a chapter ago he was like yeah i'm going to america with jon bc i am regrettably relying on him as my reality-anchor, nothing emotional here

“I won’t, I won’t.” Jon clutches him impossibly closer. Tim’s world narrows down into warmth and pressure. “Tim, we don’t - we don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

Still not crying, not as long as his eyes are tight shut. He feels Jon hesitate, then push forward anyway. "Even if...Tim, even if you had moved, what could you have done?"

Tim squeezes hard at Jon's side and isn't sure if he means it as a warning or a plea.

warmth, pressure, vibration...continuing to be fascinated by the little tactile details of what it feels like to be close to someone

emotional logic is so powerful. tim moving most likely would have either made no difference to the outcome or worsened it (because both him and danny would have died) but of course for tim standing still while someone he loves was destroyed counts for everything about who he is. sometimes blame feels better than helplessness, which mirrors what happens with his friendship with jon - is it scarier if they are all helpless, or if this one guy is The Enemy

‘give voice to the unspeakable’ sometimes i like poetic descriptions of jon’s role as archivist

"I'd never have met you," Jon says, so soft Tim isn't sure if he was meant to hear it.

"Was just thinking before,” Tim replies, because he’s fucked up enough that he might as well keep going, “I wish I'd met you somewhere normal."

tim views talking with and connecting to people as fucking up. how much of that is even slightly shrouded in logic and how much is just - tim is depressed and deep in self-loathing, somewhere still at the core of him tim loves people and making connections, so of course doing the thing he wants to do is wrong

‘At some point, he made himself into someone who no one expects to be kind.’ tim has this thought once and then worries at it like a sore tooth because his default state is hopeless fury with himself, with everyone. i also think this demonstrates how new information/realisations often can’t help you out of a bad mental state on its own, because it’s all too easy to slot it into your existing thought patterns. pushing everyone away was making tim worse - he starts to feel like that was a mistake, but it just becomes more self-recrimination

forgiveness is one of those words that seems to encompass so many different concepts that i find it hard to know exactly what it’s meant by saying you forgive someone. specifying what’s meant by this little shard of maybe-forgiveness makes it mean more, at least to me

may i reiterate: :(

#jontim #asks #give-me-a-minute-to-think #talking #tma /#long post #ps to the other person who sent me an ask for this meme: thank you!!! it'll be friday probs before i can answer

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storysofmyown · 3 years

Note

can u do a hc on how the brothers n u would b in quarantine? ik there would b no quarantine in devildom but yk dhsjsjjs-

Of course! And as someone who has been in quarantine since almost February, this was a little too real XD

Lucifer:

Oh? There's a quarantine? Time to be productive!

He goes full mother mode and starts cleaning the whole house while also making the brothers clean their rooms and help him up.

He doesn't use the "does this spark joy?" Methods, nah, he uses the "if it's on the ground it's getting thrown out"

That's how Levi almost lost one of figurines. Poor boy dove on the floor to save it a still has the scrap

Besides cleaning, Lucifer also spent most of his time doing the paperwork he would usually do at night.

This man went in strong and finished all the paperwork in 2 weeks and so...he was forced to spend time with his brothers.

Worst/best months of his life. He has never been so close with his brothers...and he absolutely hates it-

On the bright side, he has discovered new ways to punish his brothers in different, inventive ways. (RIP Mammon)

Mammon:

While some may think he would be from the ones that have the hardest time, he actually suffered from it the first few weeks and then he just...grew uses to it?

Tho, Lucifer did give him a hard time with his room. Was his floor always this color? Or did it change when you mopped it?

Also, how the hell was there loose change in his room?! How the hell did he not know about it!?

After that he offered to help clean the others room just so he could snatch any loose change they had.

Tho, the part that most bothered him of being quarantined was not being able to go out and go to casinos or get to his usual schemes

But then, he found a couple of online games that fueled his addiction to gamble

"I mean! It's a gambling game, with all the real life stuff...but get this! You don't actually have to spend or lose any money! Isn't that great?!"

"You do realize that also means you don't make any money...right?"

"...what-"

Leviathan:

This boy didn't even know there was a quarantine the whole time.

He thought it was weird how everyone was always home all of a sudden but he had many events, games, animes and mangas to care for to ask his brothers why they were at the house all the time.

This whole thing did make him grow closer to his brothers tho. Since, he is basically the king of isolation (Elsa who? Nah, Levi) all the others kept constantly bugging him and asking him for recommendations of games and even shows to watch.

He has like 70 new records on his games and didn't even bat an eye when Lucifer told him they would be taking online classes. His response was just “Nice, less people!”

Which got a whine out of Asmo who is so touch starved

The day Lucifer announced the quarantine was over everyone was happy except for Levi who just ???

“There was a quarantine going on?”

“You are a useless otaku, you know that-”

“SHUT UP MAMMON”

Satan:

This man went into quarantine with a whole ass library worth of unread books and he came out being able to recite them like old poetry, learned 6 languages (without including morse code), is basically a chef at this point, has a whole ass youtube channel to debunking stupid theories he saw on the internet and knows how to play violin, piano, and the flute.

He wasted zero seconds being stuck in that house. He used them all to gain knowledge.

He even started to read some mangas from levi just because he had read ALL of his books at least twice and he wouldnt be getting any new because he couldn't leave to go to the library.

Tho, his and Lucifer’s relationship got better...and worse at the same time.

The two spent so much time stranded with one another they are physically sick of seeing the others face. Satan literally put a spell on Lucifer so that he wouldn't be able to see him for a whole day. He was grounded an entire month.

Being grounded from the stuff he liked to do ended up making him have to play along with his brothers ideas. Which only gave Lucifer more headache. Satan 1 - Lucifer 0.

Asmo:

“DEAR LORD THIS TORTURE!”

“It hasn't even been 3 days-”

“AND YET I HAVE LOST SUBS, BEEL! This is all because the lightning in this house is LESS than ideal for my beautiful skin!”

This poor demon has never been as touch starved as he is during the whole process.

He is constantly whining about how he just wants to be hugged and held. It makes all the brothers sick of hi by the third day. Tho, he does manage to get some hugs a day from them! Even from Levi the reclusive.

Also, you KNOW this man made himself an only fans account.

He got so fucking popular on it even Diavolo heard of it...which obviously meant Lucifer found out and close the account.

“Eeeeeh?! But what about my fans?! They cant possibly survive this quarantine without my precious face!”

“I’m sure they will manage.”

“You are so mean! Where am i going to get from the attention and compliments I deserve?”

“You literally compliment yourself every 2 seconds in front of the mirror.”

“It’s not the same, Belphegor!”

Also, this boy did so many g=face masks and shit he basically came out shinning-

Beel:

This poor boy gets in trouble so much. But he cant help himself! he gets hungry and being able to just...get up and go into the kitchen is a possibility he is not about to throw away!

Like! How is he supposed to resist?!

Besides! It was Lucifer’s fault for buying a month worth of groceries knowing Beel would be around. They didn't last an hour.

On the other hand, has actually been working out quite a lot.

And! Boy even managed to convince Levi to work out with him as well!

Granted, Leviathan didn't make it 10 minutes in, but it was fun for Beel to instruct his brother! : D

Beel actually would be one of the less that suffered during the whole time. Yes he missed going out and tasting new restaurants. But he loves his family and enjoys spending time with them quite a bit!

Belphegor:

He literally slept trough the whole thing.

The day it started he looked at Lucifer and went “Welp, i’m going to hibernate. Wake me up when its over.”

Lucifer only rolled his eyes...but almost a week later he realized that Belphegor was being serious about not waking up at all-

So, Beel was instructed to wake him up.

He was in a bad mood for being woken up, and groggy the rest of the day. But after that, he started to spend a lot of time with both Asmodeus and Leviathan playing games.

He even managed to win against Levi once!

Also, Belphegor spent the whole time procrastinating on doing any chores Lucifer gave him. Clean his room? Good luck waking him up. Do the laundry? Awe, too bad Beel ate the detergent. Help Satan on the kitchen? He almost burned Mammon in the process because he feel asleep watching over boiling water.

Bonus on one of my Mc’s just because I can

During this whole thing I can see my Mc, Amaria,driving Satan crazy! She wouldn't leave his side at all XD. She would also be constantly helping Mammon, Belphie, and Satan on their pranks on Lucifer

Hope y’all enjoyed those little headcanons! I dont know if this is exactly what you wanted but I had fun with it! Stay safe people!

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

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Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you. You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you –, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

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S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

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eyeofthedrgn · 3 years

Text

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 8

Catch up here >> AHBS Masterlist

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1739

Notes: This chapter is slightly graphic on the physical abuse. It's only like two lines, but I wanted to make it known.

Chapter 8 - Sorry for Now

After a while you may forget

But just in case the memories cross your mind

You couldn't know this when I left

Under the fire of your angry eyes

I never wanted to say goodbye

Four months, thirteen days, and ten hours, not that he was counting, since he left. Since the dark haired boy had walked away, leaving Rowan standing on the sidewalk. Since his mind spiraled out of control, and it felt like part of him died.

Rowan had been seeing a therapist for the last three months. It had helped, somewhat. At least he could function as a relatively normal human being again, when he was around people anyway. Most of the time. He almost didn't graduate. Thankfully, his mom, his friend group, and his therapist had helped him get through it.

But all in all, Rowan felt empty. Somehow his heart was broken. He hadn't realized someone could get so attached to someone so fast even though they never really talked or hung out. Maybe it was because they shared such vulnerabilities with each other that day in the park or there really was such a thing as a soulmate and his just left him. Either way, he was broken inside. Yet, he still went to parties with his friends, hung out, but he wasn't always present. Everyone noticed the vacant stares, but they usually left it alone. They all knew the general gist of what happened that day, but they could never understand the emotional gravity well that that day had caused. No one knew that Rowan had fallen for the other boy.

Except the ever observant Elide. She noticed everything. The way Rowan spoke about Lorcan, the way his eyes lit up when he saw the other boy walking down the hall, and the small looks they both shared on cast signing day.

But nobody had seen Lorcan after he had walked away. He never came back to school. No one knew what to think. Most assumed they moved again and they left it at that. Rowan assumed the worst after seeing Lorcan's bruises and him basically saying this was a usual occurrence.

Rowan was brought back to the present when a beach ball hit him in the head. He was sitting on the edge of Aelin's pool, sulking, feet dangling in the water. Aelin was throwing one of her parties, it was nearly the end of summer and soon most of them would head off to college. The noises from his friends finally filtering back into his head, it was suddenly too loud, too bright, and too hot. He ran a hand down his face.

Fenrys had been the beach ball throwing culprit, Rowan just glared at him.

"Come on, Ro. Try and have some fun?" Fen had swam over to Rowan and crossed his arms over the edge of the pool. The roguish blond just wanted him to be happy.

“I’m sorry.” He said that a lot now. Fenrys just raised an eyebrow at the boy… man.

He was eighteen now and he wasn't that scrawny, nerdy looking boy anymore. Rowan supposed that was one good thing that came out of Lorcan leaving, he got addicted to working out. There was a punching bag set up in the garage with some weights. He was fit now, muscles defined, but not bulky.

Elide walked up and mussed up his hair. "Come help me get some drinks." She didn't leave any room for argument.

In the kitchen, Elide just leaned forward on the island and looked at Rowan.

"I thought we were getting drinks."

"Yeah, we will. But-"

"But what?" He really didn't mean to say that with such an attitude, but he was hot and emotionally exhausted. Honestly, he just wanted to go home.

Elide was on her phone, waiting for him to chill. Taking a deep breath he said, "I'm sorry. What did you want to talk about?" Rowan was trying, he really was. She just slid her phone over the counter towards him. He furrowed his brows as he looked at the article on the screen.

Consultants for Erawan Enterprises arrested on counts of fraud, child abuse, human trafficking, and other illicit activities

"What's this?" He had no idea what this was about. Why would he care about Erawan Enterprises?

He picked up the phone and kept reading since Elide clearly wasn’t going to answer. It was short and there was a photo of a devastatingly beautiful woman with dark as night hair, that reminded him of Lorcan, and alabaster skin in handcuffs being pushed into a cop car and a very angry man shoved against the hood of the same car.

Maeve Valgerian and James Perrington were arrested Wednesday night. After some anonymous tips to the Morath Police.

"Who are these people?" Rowan didn't understand.

"Pretty sure she's Lorcan's aunt."

Oh.

Rowan had searched for Lorcan online after he disappeared, but there was literally nothing. Absolutely zero results. It was like he was a ghost.

They were consultants for Erawan Enterprises and moved all over the world for the very powerful man. Erawan Enterprises is under investigation for fraud, money laundering, and human trafficking.

After Valgerian and Perrington were arrested, MPD searched their residence and found incriminating evidence against them.

There was also a teenager held captive in the basement. They were taken to the nearest hospital with severely critical injuries. The name and gender of this individual will not be released for their safety.

The article was published nearly two months ago.

Human trafficking…

Held captive...

Severely critical injuries...

"Please, don't break my phone." He was squeezing the device and didn't realize it. Quickly handing it back to her, his hand went straight to his hair.

“Are you sure this is his aunt?”

“Well, not 100%, but they have physical similarities and their hair…” she trailed off. “And Lorcan had mentioned his aunt’s boyfriend living with them one day in class.”

"Fuck!" He felt like he wanted to rip his hair out.

"Ro." Elide's voice was quiet.

"FUCK!"

After a couple deep breaths, he ran his hands down his face, and then turned to face his friend. "Is he dead?" His voice cracked.

"I don't know. All of the other articles I could find are just about them and Erawan Enterprises. No mentions of Lorcan. Anywhere. It's like he doesn't exist."

Elide pulled him into a hug and he broke.

---

Lorcan had been through shit show after shit show since he left the Whitethorn house. As soon as he returned to the apartment, it was packed up into a moving van and they were gone.

They were in Fenharrow for a couple months. Maeve didn't enroll him in school. He was locked in the basement of the small house they rented, it felt like he had gone crazy. He hadn't seen the sun until they moved again. His skin turned a sickly gray. By the time they moved again, he could feel every one of his ribs, and his hips stuck out, his fingers overlapping when wrapped around his wrist.

Next move was to Morath. Lorcan didn't know if he would survive. He didn’t have a good feeling about this place. The basement became his home yet again. It was filthy. There were thick iron hooks in opposite walls and chains hanging from them. This was where he was going to die. He closed his eyes as Perrington latched the shackles around his wrists.

---

One day, Lorcan heard sirens intermittently. He kept passing out. He wasn't even sure he was hearing sirens or if it was just a ringing in his ears. They were always ringing nowadays. A punch to his face made his vision flicker. Blood and saliva leaked from his mouth as his head rolled down to his chest.

The ringing in his ears got louder. There definitely weren't sirens. No one was going to save him. He was going to die here. He knew it. It was what he deserved. The bastard born half-breed that no one cared about, left to die in his own filth in a disgusting basement. The world slowly faded to black.

---

Beep.

He was in Hel. He had to be.

Beep.

The incessant beeping was there to drive him insane. And the smell of bleach was there to make him sick.

Beep.

---

Lorcan startled awake. How could he be awake? He was supposed to be dead. Right?

The nightmare he was having felt so real. Probably because he had lived it before. He assumed that was just what Hel was supposed to be, reliving the worst parts of your life.

But instead, he was in a bed, a hospital bed. Why did they save him? Lorcan wasn't worth saving. Yet, here he was covered in wires, tubes, a needle stuck in his hand, a device on his finger. It was dark outside and the lights were dim in the room.

Deciding he wasn’t actually dead, he took stock of his body, he was certain he had some broken ribs, but nothing else seemed to be broken which was surprising. He was definitely sore and stiff. And exhausted. So exhausted.

---

After… Lorcan didn't know how long he was discharged. He had put on some weight, though not a lot. The staff made sure he ate. They were all nice and cared for him. But now, he stood outside the main entrance of the hospital in some scrubs they gave him. Now, he had nothing. Nobody. He may as well have been lost at sea.

Why had they saved him? He still couldn’t figure that out.

Somehow, he managed to find the small house that he had been stuck in for who knows how long. There was police tape over the door. The door was open.

He pushed through the tape. The house was a mess. It seemed the cops had ransacked the place. But he finally found his things, they were strewn about the floor. Thank Hellas, his journal was still there. After changing, he packed up his books and journal, some clothes, and a few other other necessities.

He needed money or something he could sell. Maeve's jewelry would help. He could pawn it.

Lorcan asked the pawnshop owner for directions to the bus station, and then he set out to see if there was still one person who cared about him. Hopefully this wasn’t a bad idea.

____

Thanks for reading. Things will get better, I promise! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Edit- oops! I forgot to actually put in tags... My bad. Sorry!

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

#rowcan #rowan x lorcan #rowan whitethorn #rowcan fanfic #lorcan salvaterre #linkin park #heavy battle symphony #crackship #throne of glass

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.11)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Eleven) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 4,360 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior

Part Ten || Part Twelve || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“I… just got involved with some guys and it got… weird,” you told your friend, Asa. You were playing with your pasta, moving it around your plate with your fork. The two of you were having lunch at one of the cheaper Italian restaurants near your grandparent’s house in their suburb. But it was damn good food; you had filled up on soup and calamari before your main course had even arrived.

“’Some guys’?” Asa pressed.

You met her eyes and said, “I got involved with a lot of guys if we wanna be accurate. Too many. But yeah, there are two specifically that I am—WAS seeing. Exclusively.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to be embarrassed about that. Fuck, I would do it if given the opportunity. You know I would. You were making bank,” Asa told you and you cracked a smile at her support. She took a bite of her food and pointed her fork at you, “Okay but… two? Exclusive? Did they know about each other?”

“Yeah… they did,” you admitted. “It was part of the deal.”

“Hmm,” Asa murmured. “You were getting dicked twice over and I can’t even find one.” You laughed, picking up a forkful of pasta and taking a bite. It was too good; you ignored your full feeling. “But, weird how?”

“One of their wives walked in on me fucking them – in my apartment, that they paid for, by the way – and punched me,” you told her bluntly. Asa rose her brows, stalling her chewing. She swallowed slowly and you muttered, “Yeah.”

“Oh, that kind of weird. I’m totally familiar with that. You know, in those situations, what I would normally do….” she trailed off because she started to laugh and you followed her lead, feeling the tension slowly leaving you. She reached across the table and grasped your hand. “I’m sorry. Is that what…” she gestured at your face and you nodded. She breathed in relief. “Not that it’s any better but when you said you got involved with two guys, I was thinking… you know, the worst. But fuck. You getting socked because they were cheating? That’s some bullshit.”

Another mouthful and you mumbled, “That’s what I thought. And they were acting like I was overreacting by being upset about it.”

“Are you kidding?”

“I wish I was.” You shifted in your seat and sighed heavily. “I… never mind.”

“What?” Asa pressed.

“I just think they were… using me as a replacement for their own marriages.”

“Well, yeah…” Asa said slowly.

“You don’t get it,” you exasperated, and she closed her mouth, paying attention. You shrugged sharply, “I mean, they would come over and do things with me. Like… cuddling on the couch, napping together on the couch. Watching TV shows. Buying pets together. Just talk to me as I cooked dinner. It was… intimate. Like something they were missing from their relationship that wasn’t just sex. Does that make sense?”

“I mean… yes?” Asa answered. “Look, that happens all the time. People catch feelings. Even when you’re not supposed to.”

“This was a definite not supposed to.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Catch feelings?”

You shoved a forkful of food in your mouth, staring down at your plate.

“So, you did. And you only left cause the wife?” Asa asked seriously.

“Look, I don’t like that I like them,” you said meeting her eyes again and she cocked her head curiously. “They’re not the type of men to ‘catch feelings’ for. And there’s a lot of… complications to them having those feelings of attachment to me. They’re not nobodies. Celebrity status if we are going to be frank and that status gives them a lot of power. They might not have hit me but they sure as hell locked me in that apartment because they know no one can stop them from doing it.”

Asa was staring at you from across the table in shock.

“So, I don’t like that I started to like them because they were nice a lot of the time and did me… a lot of favors for my betterment. But I wanted to get away from the situation after that last fucking issue because they obviously have a lot of problems going on at home. I didn’t want to get drug into it any further.”

Silence fell between the two of you for a few moments before Asa told you gently, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I’ll get over it. We are going out for drinks tonight, so I’ll be able to drown my feelings in that rum.”

Asa laughed and said, “Always the rum.”

<><><>

“She’s not in there,” Daryl said coming back to the SUV, climbing back into the passenger seat in the front. Tony, Steve, and a handful of other men were in the back of the SUV, Terrence driving. “I circled the house and could not see her in any of the windows. So, I went to the front door and her grandma answered and I asked her about Y/N, telling her I was looking for her because we were supposed to meet up tonight. The old woman is way too trusting. She told me she was down at this bar called Unicorn?”

Steve pulled his phone out, googling it.

“Looks like it’s two stories. That should be a fun hunt.”

Tony and Steve had both refrained from texting her or calling. That was not their style. If she ran off and was not contacting them, then that was only compounding on top of the transgression. There was no way they were going to reach out and try to build a bridge; she had already burned it. If she called or texted, of course they would answer. But that was on her. She was the one that had made the stupid decision to leave them, and she was going to pay for it in full.

<><><>

“Would you look at that,” Terrence chuckled.

The group of six men had found a booth against the wall on the first floor. The place was packed, the line to the bar ridiculously long but they were not there for drinks. They were there to collect their prize.

“What?” Tony asked, sighing. He was already annoyed to high heaven about having to be in this dive of a club.

“She’s right there,” Terrence said which caught everyone’s attention immediately.

Terrence pointed Y/N out, waiting in line at the bar with another woman, almost to the front. Fishnets underneath high-rise shorts barely covering her ass, a black plain top, and thigh high black boots.

A guy came up behind her, much to everyone else’s annoyance in line and wound his arm up before smacking her ass super hard. As she jolted forward, Tony was already halfway out of his seat, Steve’s hand shooting out to stop him.

Y/N whipped around and glared before her grimace fell recognizing him and the guy burst out laughing. She slapped him in the chest and started laughing too. She leaned forward and took the straws from his drink into her mouth, sucking.

“Must know him…” Daryl said.

They got to the front and Y/N and the other girl leaned on the bar, smiling flirtatiously at the bartender. The friend ordered and the bartender cocked his eyebrow. She said something else, and he looked at the guy behind them, who waved. The bartender nodded before going to line up six shot glasses.

The friend handed over her cash and they picked up the shots between themselves, the guy having finished his drink, leaving it on the counter which the bartender took. They made their way back through the crowd towards the stairs to the bottom floor.

“Guess we are moving,” Steve told Tony. He looked at the other four and said, “You lot stay here up here.”

<><><>

Dragging Mia back from the pinball machine and a guy she had been flirting with, you sat her at the table. She whined the whole time and you told her after the shots she could go back but she needed to take the drinks with you guys because you had been gone for so long. She scolded you for guilt tripping her.

Plopping down in your seat, your eyes happened to scan the bar. Your breath froze seeing Tony and Steve staring at you from across the room, sitting along the wall on a couple of stools. If looks could kill, you would be stabbed on the spot. Even in the moving lights you could see the anger painted on their expressions.

They had not tried to contact you at all. You had taken that as a sign as they had accepted you backing out of the relationship. But they had traveled here, tracked you down. That sent the complete opposite message of accepting it.

Forcing yourself to look away back at the table, your friend Mia shoved one of the shot glasses to you. You tried to keep your breath steady, trying to not look worried.

“Here we go, Y/N,” Asa told you, winking from across the table as she held up her shot glass. “Down the hatch goes third. And fourth for me and Joel. But third for you two.”

“Yeah, we are not idiots. We pace ourselves,” Mia retorted. “Plus there’s a dude over there and I wanna be sober enough to possibly get some tonight.”

You were definitely going to need this shot after having seen them and knowing you were definitely in some deep, deep shit. Maybe you should have gotten a second shot. Hindsight was 20/20.

The four of you took the single shots, before Joel and Asa took their second ones. Joel’s eyes closed and he breathed deeply. “That was rough.”

“Maybe you should’ve spaced them out?” Asa teased, completely unbothered by hers.

“Fuck off,” Joel laughed, taking a swig of his water.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you told them over the music.

“Oh, me too!” Asa said, hopping up before you could stop her.

Your mouth fell open, trying to protest but she was already gesturing for you to take her hand. You shot a look over at Tony and Steve, seeing they were still very much keeping a glare pointed at you.

She yanked you up from the table, you stumbling in your boots. She held you around the waist, shimmying with you away from the table to the beat of the music – a song you actually liked, “No Other Way” by SHAED–, laughing joyfully as she held you close.

“Let’s go make some friends in the bathroom!” she exclaimed.

That caught you off guard and you actually laughed. “Isn’t that how it always is?”

You hoped to god that Tony and Steve did not approach your friends at the table or think that you were trying to escape out a back door or something. You worried there were other men there – actually, you knew they had other men there. They would not be here alone. You shot another look over your shoulder as Asa danced with you, catching their gaze again before you disappeared into the crowd towards the bathrooms.

You went first to the stalls, pretending to go so you were able to ditch her. Feeling guilty, you left the bathroom, pushing your way through the crowd.

They were still waiting at the table, their eyes fixed on you as you approached.

You stood in front of them, throwing your hands out, and you asked afraid, “What are you doing here? I left the key. I didn’t take anything.”

Steve cocked his head and turned his gaze to Tony, who had not taken his eyes off of you. More burning into you now than before at what you had said.

Tony blinked, finally looking away from you to look at Steve, giving a light laugh. A laugh laced with contempt at that.

“’Didn’t take anything’,” Steve repeated, matching Tony’s humorless chuckle.

You did not like the way they were toying with you. Forcibly, you told them, “I didn’t. I swear.”

Steve’s arm lashed out, his hand wrapping around your wrist in the blink of an eye, yanking you to him. You were pressed in between his legs and he made sure to squeeze to keep you in place. His expression was murderous.

“Y/N… you are an asset. So, you did take something. An unbelievably valuable thing.” You tried to pry your arm away from him and he only squeezed harder, and you gasped. He was far too strong, his grip crushing.

“I know we didn’t tell you because it seemed… irrelevant?” Steve said, searching for the right word. “But, sweetheart, you belong to us. Just like you belonged to Tatiana.”

“I…” you stammered, confused.

“We bought out your contract. Actually, paid her even more than what was owed. And along with other things, you now have all that indebted to us. So, when I say that you are an asset, you understand what I mean now, correct?”

You felt sick, your gaze falling. You had gone to Tatiana thinking that she was releasing you from the contract when she let you run off. Or what you thought was letting you run off… that she had forgiven your debt. But that was not the case at all. You had fucked up without even knowing it. You had crossed them, and it was not a surprise they had come to get you on top of everything else you had explained to Asa earlier this same day.

Steve grasped you underneath your chin to force you to look up at him. His tone was firm, low, “What’s going to happen is you’re going to go and collect your clothes because I’m guessing there’s some cute shorts and bras in there that I like seeing you in considering the amount of clothes you took with you when you stole away.” His fingers dug in and you winced at that, his eyes flashing at the mention of you leaving again. “I know you got scared but that doesn’t excuse what you did. You have a mountain to climb to be in our good graces again but trust me, the reward will be more than enough if you show some good behavior up front by not putting up a fight. Your grandpa’s medicine can be paid for.” You stared at him in shock, and he chuckled, “Yeah, we looked into that ailment. Tony can get that pretty fucking easily. What a happy coincidence, isn’t it?”

That was digging a bigger debt to them, but it was for your grandpa. And it was not like you could run away from this.

Thickly, you told him, “I understand.”

Steve let go of your chin and his thighs loosened on you. “Go say goodbye to your friends.”

<><><>

“I can do it by myself,” you said from in between the two of them when they pulled into the driveway.

You already spotted your grandma sitting on the front porch on her swing seat. It was already eleven o’clock but she was a night owl, especially loving sitting outside and reading her books after your grandpa had gone to bed. You sorrowfully thought that you wished you had spent more time reading to him this afternoon since you were going to avoid waking him up now to say goodbye.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes,” Steve told you stiffly.

You bit your cheeks to hold back an argument, regretting yet another thing, wishing that you had not gone out tonight. But the scene at the club could have happened here and maybe that should be silver lining. Having time alone to pack up and say goodbye to your grandma was better than the alternative.

She noticed you walking up the stairs and she put her book down. “You’re back early.” You could not help but snort and she smiled in return. “I wasn’t expecting you back until probably early morning. If you are anything like I was in my youth and I know you are.” She furrowed her brow and asked, “Where’s your purse?”

You had left it in the car. Sighing, you stopped in front of her. “I gotta pack my stuff up and go.”

“Wait, why?” she asked hurt.

You sat down on the seat next to her and said, “Something came up.”

“Y/N, you’ve only been home for a couple days,” she protested. “We haven’t seen you in so long.”

Grasping her hand, you said, “I… it’s important. Not that you guys aren’t, of course. But it’s urgent. It’s something with work.”

“What could be so pressing there?” she asked you confused. She looked back at the SUV in the driveway, narrowing her eyes seeing Terrence and Daryl in the front seats. “Who are they?”

“Um, they work for my bosses,” you said in explanation. “They’re going to drive me.”

She cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You get to have drivers…? What kind of restaurant owners have drivers on hand?”

You heard car doors close, and you looked up alarm. That was nowhere near even three minutes. You got up quickly and moved towards the stairs to try to stop them from coming up the sidewalk to the porch. Steve and Tony were coming up the cement and you stopped in the center of the walkway defensively.

“That wasn’t—” you started to say but Tony cut in forcibly.

“Just wanted to make sure it didn’t take longer than fifteen because it looked like things were going to get dragged out. Why don’t you walk back with us and introduce us to your grandma before you go inside and get your things?”

He was not asking. Sucking your teeth, you turned around pissed off. You had wanted to do it alone and not have them involved.

She was watching you curiously from the other end of the porch as you walked back up with the two of them. You made to go towards the door, but Tony reached out, grasping your arm tightly, in warning. You stopped and turned towards her by the screen door. You just wanted to get this over with and get out of here without them talking to her.

“My friends are gonna help me pack, grandma.”

“Grandma…?” Steve asked expectantly.

“Margaret.”

“Pleased to meet you, Margaret,” Steve said politely. He walked over to her, holding out his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

Tony did the same, introducing himself. She was looking up at them in awe.

“Wait…” your grandma said, looking between the two of them. “You… you’re Avengers.”

“Sure are,” Tony beamed before he walked back over towards you by the door. He gave you a little nudge towards the door and you took a step before you heard the excitement in your grandma’s voice.

“Iron Man and Captain America. Oh, no wonder the two of you have drivers!”

She had paid very close attention to them after the attack in NYC since you had been there when it happened, and she had been terrified for you. She had become a fan that they had saved the city and essentially you as a byproduct.

“She works for us,” Steve told her, flashing his million-dollar smile.

“Oh?” your grandma asked confused, shooting you a look past him. You had told her you were waitressing, and she was no doubt wondering how that fit into working for them. “Do you own the restaurant then?”

Steve looked over his shoulder at you, a cruel glint in his eye. “A restaurant?”

“Yes. Where she’s waitressing,” your grandma continued. “She said it is a high-end place on the upper east side. Not that I know what that means. I have no knowledge of the city but I’m assuming it’s an affluent neighborhood?”

Steve licked his lips, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you. You gave him a pleading look to just go with it, to just lie. Yes, he owned a restaurant. Just say it.

“You wanna tell her what you really do for a living?” Steve challenged much to your horror.

They wanted to humiliate you. And you thought dreadfully, to the point that you might possibly never be able to face coming back here again to look your grandma in the face.

“No,” you snapped instantly.

Steve turned fully towards you, looking dangerous all of a sudden. Just like he had the first day in the apartment when you had told him to fuck off. He stalked up to you, glowering down at you, his back to your grandma.

“You wanna rephrase that?” he breathed lightly, knowing she would not be able to hear him.

You felt anxiety flooding in your chest. “Don’t…” you warbled.

“Own it. Say it, Y/N.”

Tony was at your back, Steve in front, holding you in place. You were not going to escape this.

“I’m your whore,” you rasped in a voice barely above a whisper, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Now, now, watch your language in front of your grandmother,” Tony scolded in a murmur from behind you. “We have nicer words than that don’t we?”

You cleared your throat and said louder so she could actually hear, “I’m your… assistant.” Steve cocked his head, his eyes narrowing threateningly. He was not going to let this go and you wanted to sock him in the face. Your voice shaking, you said, “Fine. Courtesan. I am your courtesan.”

“Hmm, yeah that’s a good word for it,” Tony praised you quietly.

Steve looked satisfied and shrugged, “I don’t know what was so hard about saying that.” He turned back to your grandma, shrugging again.

Your cheeks burned with shame at your grandma’s expression when you stole a look. Her whole demeanor had changed seeing how theirs had when you told them no and learning what you actually did, hearing it from your own lips. Your eyes were watering then, wanting to crawl into a hole and just die from the embarrassment.

“I don’t like when people lie and especially to their elders in their family. It’s quite rude,” Steve explained to your grandma, who was blanched now, all wonderstruck she had had for him a moment before gone. “Speaking of rude, I do apologize for the short visit and I have to admit that is our fault. We have a trip planned and it was supposed to be a surprise for Y/N but she left before we could go on it, let alone tell her about it. And we do need to be hitting the road.”

Tony added, “I need to use the restroom before we go. May I, Margaret?”

Swallowing sharply, your grandma said weakly, “Yes, of course. Go ahead.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” Tony told her. To you, he asked, “You can show me where it’s at, right?” You nodded and he gestured for you to start walking. Steve told the two of you he would be in the car. Tony nodded in acknowledgment and as he passed, he asked your grandma, “Do you want me to grab you anything to drink while we are inside?”

“Oh, no. I’m quite alright.”

Following behind you closely, Tony kept at your back you walked through the house. Tears spilled over, devastated that they had not just stayed in the car. And thinking now your grandma probably despised you. You wanted to turn around and slap Tony across the face just like his wife had done.

You stopped outside the bathroom, wiping sloppily at your cheeks to get the tears off, and told him, “It’s there.”

“Where are you going to be, love?” he asked, taking in your face, seeing the tears. You pointed at the guest bedroom and he said, “Stay in there until I’m done. Don’t go anywhere.”

Tearfully, you turned back towards the guest bedroom and went to work gathering up your clothes you had tossed around the chair your suitcase was sitting in front of.

Tony took your suitcase from you and walked out of the house. “I’ll take this to the car. Goodnight, Margaret.”

She said nothing, watching you coming up to her timidly.

“Why?” was the first thing she rasped out to you.

“I…” you said, stammering. Your lip warbled and you gave a shuddered breath trying to keep control. “It started as protection as first… from an abusive ex.”

“Doesn’t look like much of an upgrade,” she said sadly, her eyes glossy now too seeing how distraught you were.

“I know it doesn’t look like it. But it is. Trust me,” you said, a few tears escaping, and you wiped at them. “Seriously… trust me on that.” You exhaled sharply and shook your hands, trying to shake off the emotions. “I’m gonna be fine. I promise. I’m sorry I lied to you. Really.”

She did not say anything for a few moments before she asked quietly, “They are very powerful, aren’t they? I mean, they are superheroes.”

“Yes.”

“Seems that quote about Lincoln was right. About testing a man’s character by giving him power. Apparently it’s for the ages.”

You choked out a laugh, caught off guard by her quip. She was still as sharp as she always was; able to read a situation for what it was. She knew how big the power imbalance was between you and them. Essentially anyone and them.

She reached out, holding your hand, holding it tightly. “I’m not mad at you for lying. And I’m happy you came back home for the time you did. You can always call me. Do you understand that?” You nodded and she let your hand go. “Go. I’ll tell your grandpa there was an emergency.”

“Thank you. I love you,” you told her leaning down to give her a tight hug. You did not want to let go.

“I love you too,” she told you, giving you an extra tight squeeze in return.

Pulling away, you turned away from her, not wanting to look back afraid that you would just run back to the chair and curl up there. You instead stared ahead at the SUV to where the door was waiting open for you to hand yourself back over.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #dark marvel fic #my shit

99 notes · View notes

wyofabdoms · 3 years

Text

Undercover I Do - Chapter 5

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, hospitalization, blood and injury, swearing, awkward Javi, unrequited feels, mentions of sex toys, feelings, pining,

Word Count: 3132

Notes: You're released from the hospital, and Javi sets up house. While doing so, he stumbles across a couple of things that make him feel all kinds of ways!

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You were released from the hospital two days later under the stipulation that you were to rest and were not to return to any kind of active field duty until fully cleared by the doctor and his medical team. Over the course of those two days, some of your memories had seeped back in, like figures appearing through thick fog and slowly taking form and shape. But, it seemed to you, not any of the really important ones were returning. You remembered now some specific events from the last two years of your time as an agent: big busts you had made, critical incidents that had ended badly for your agency, colleagues that had been lost in the line of duty. You had been able to recall many details of your work against the worst of the drug cartels in Colombia from the last two years and even further back...but most memories of things from the past three or four weeks were still a grey void with nothing in them, not even shadows to hint at memories waiting there in the fog.

You were rarely alone at the hospital: if Dixon was not sitting at your bedside, then Javi was there in her place. Between the two of them, you had managed to scrape together some large pieces that were missing about your relationships: you had worked with Dixon earlier in your career in San Diego and when she had risen in ranks and earned a seat down here in the thick of things, she had brought you along with her. You had the feeling that she viewed you as a bit of a protege and you felt confident that the memories you had of her support and backing of you were true. Memories about your relationship with Javi proved to be a bit more difficult to get confirmation on. While both Dixon and Javi were very willing to discuss and confirm anything you asked about your mentor, when you inquired or asked for clarification on your history with your husband, both agents seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering you. Dixon was more guarded than Javi and the older woman would often change the subject as quickly as she could when you asked her about your husband. You got a distinct sense that she did not approve of your marriage to the man you had been partnered with during your time here.

You remembered that was how you had met Javi; you had been assigned as his partner. You remembered the earliest days of working with him: how he had flirted with you and you had rebuffed him, how there had been moments when your partnership had skated the line of something more. But it was only the older memories that seemed to come clearly to you...the closer to present day you came, the emptier your memories became. You had tried to remember when exactly your relationship with Javi had made the jump from work partner to life partner. When and how had the two of you told each other how you felt? And you had zero memories of a proposal, a wedding....no memories at all of how it felt to touch and be touched by the handsome man who spent hours sitting in comfortable silence next to your bed. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him questions about those things...not yet.

Surprisingly, Dixon was the one who escorted you when you were released. After the older woman saw you carefully buckled into the passenger seat of the car, you inquired as to why Javi wasn’t the one driving you home. Dixon’s eye flickered behind her dark sunglasses, and she mumbled something about him getting your apartment ready for you. She assured you that he would be waiting at your home when you got there.

Your home. For a moment, your stomach sank, thinking about how you would be going back to a place that was foreign to you but was supposed to be a safe haven, a refuge, the home you shared with a husband you were supposed to be in love with. Would you remember any of it? Would anything that you found there help jog anything loose in your memory?

You could only hope.

***

“Fuck!”

Javi growled as he struggled to keep a box from teetering off the pile of other boxes that it was precariously stacked on. His hands were full of his clothes on hangers, halfway between the box he had just removed them from and the clothing pole in the closet. He had been struggling most of the morning with lugging half of his possessions down the two flights of stairs of their shared apartment building and trying to make it appear as though he had lived in this apartment for longer than a few hours. Both he and Dixon had agreed it would be best for her to return to familiar surroundings...but they still needed to keep up the premise that the two of you shared a life together.

Javi had never given much thought to domesticity. The closest he had ever come was Lorraine...and the brief moment of introspection he had had when he had seen her those several years ago at that wedding. Thoughts had crossed his mind then: what would it be like to have a wife, to wear a ring on his finger, to have promised himself to someone forever? To have a future that was shared with another person? To make important decisions with another person and not just on your own? To have 2.5 kids and a house? But he hadn’t spent too much time dwelling on it simply because none of that was really who Javi was, was completely unimaginable to him. He had never once really thought that sort of life would ever be one he would want, much less be able to live. And, quite honestly, he wasn’t all that sure that that kind of life was one that he deserved.

Now, it seemed, life was playing a little gag on him: turns out maybe there WAS a way for him to see if married life was for him...although he did hate the fact that his partner had had to be injured in the process.

One thing he was certain of at the moment, though: if getting married and divvying up and combining possessions was as big a pain in the ass for real as it was for this farce?...Well, that was a strike against matrimony in his opinion.

At first he had merely grabbed a small duffle bag full of items; things he thought he might leave at a woman’s house if he was spending the night or a weekend: a change of clothes, toiletries, firearm. But when he had let himself into her apartment two floors below his in their building, it had struck him that that wasn’t going to be good enough.

Her apartment was lived in. Unlike his own, which he realized now seemed a little sterile and cold, her’s was warm and (though not a word he often used in his vocabulary) cozy. She had artwork on the walls, shelves full of books from all different genres...even a few board games and some well-worn records on the record player stand. He spotted a rolled up yoga mat under a bench beneath the window and a couple of handwritten recipes and smiling photos tucked under bright magnets on the refrigerator. Her bedroom smelled of lavender and soft vanilla; the bed was neatly made (again, unlike his own) and dirty clothes resided in a hamper rather than tossed carelessly into a corner. The spare room that served as an office housed neatly organized work related content and photo albums of people from home, holiday decorations stashed under the guest bed; her closet had her clothes neatly organized (by color, who knew!?). He had quickly come to the conclusion that he might need to put a bit more effort into this charade.

So he had proceeded to spend the next several hours being swept into a whirlwind of imagining what a shared space would look like if the two of them were actually married. He had started with the few books he had in his own apartment; a few biographies, some car magazines and a ratty copy of “The Art of War” and “The Hobbit”. He had jammed them onto the neat bookshelves in her living room before returning quickly with some of his own records: some Cumbia records and an Eagles album, which he shuffled in with her own Steely Dan, Creedence Clearwater and Three Dog Night.

He didn’t have much to contribute to the kitchen besides a few bottles of whiskey and a bottle of tequila next to her own bottles of red wine. He had pulled a photo taken when he graduated from high school from his wallet and placed it on the fridge next to one of her with her huge family. He paused a moment to assess the contrast in the two pictures: her in the midst of her five older brothers and parents, all wearing matching Christmas sweaters...him standing bashfully and stiffly next to his dad, who grinned proudly at the camera, one arm awkwardly slung over a teenage Javi’s shoulder. The bathroom didn’t take long, either. He added his razor, a bottle of Old Spice, and his toothbrush and comb; he glanced into the medicine cabinet as he placed his deodorant there and eyed what looked suspiciously like a package of prescription birth control...his mind started to wander and he slammed the cabinet door shut, heading back upstairs to his apartment for another load.

He had strong-armed his clothes still on the hangers into some file boxes to make them easier to carry down the stairs, then had hauled shoes, underthings, suits, jeans, and (what he had not really realized until this moment) a ridiculous amount of the same style shirt in different colors downstairs and was now trying to wedge them into one half of her closet, trying to make it look like they had been there for a while and doing his best to not become buried by the haphazardly stacked boxes. Once the last set of shoes was stuffed into the closet next to a pair of sky high red heels he had never seen her wear before, (he was CERTAIN he would have remembered those) he opened the dresser to shove his socks and underwear into a drawer and gulped. Staring back at him was a drawer full of his partner’s bras and panties.

For a moment he felt like a creep pawing through her underwear drawer, but he steeled himself and carefully nudged the sensible pieces of cotton material to one side of the drawer. As the material shifted, he spotted a brief flash of red lace and something that could be black and leather, but he refused to investigate any further; he could feel his face flushing and his heart pounding harder. He dumped his own underwear into the drawer and shoved it closed, sighing with relief and opening the next one; socks wouldn’t cause his mind to wander into dangerous territory nearly as badly! He carefully shoved the rolls of clothing to the side to make room for his own once again and felt his hand hit something. His breath hitched as he uncovered what was very obviously a vibrator. Next to it was a tube of lube and a small box about the size of a deck of cards. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from carefully tilting open the lid of the box...Javi was quite educated when it came to knowing his way around a woman, but he was clueless as to the purpose or use of the two small colored balls nestled into the velvet inside of the box...although he was pretty sure he at least knew where they were supposed to go.

His mind clouded with images of his partner stretched out on the bed behind him, bringing herself to orgasm using these items and he felt himself harden in his jeans. He let out a puff of air and carefully nudged the items to the other side of the drawer, reburying them beneath the socks as they had been before. He piled in his own footwear, then shakily closed the drawer, still trying to blink away the images playing out in his mind. He wondered what her face would look like as she came apart. What did she sound like? Did she cry out when she reached her peak? What would his name sound like tumbling from her lips in the middle of her climax, what would she taste like…?

He stormed out of the bedroom, furious at himself for going down that path. He felt like a pervert, getting so turned on after snooping through her personal effects. He was angry at Dixon for insisting that they do this; but he was frustrated at himself, more. He shouldn’t be going through her things like this. He splashed some cold water on his face from the kitchen sink and trudged back up to his own apartment, pacing for a while once he got there, trying to both ease his erection as well as determine what else he should bring with him back to her apartment. His eyes settled on the shoulder case that had been retrieved from the house that had been used in the undercover operation. He pulled out the two framed photographs that had been next to “their” bed; the photos that she had referenced when she had first woken up. He stared at them, thinking that if he hadn’t been present at the time they had been taken, he would have believed they were real, too...that they were actual photographs of two people madly in love with each other.

Maybe…

No. He stuck both pictures under his arms, grabbed another box filled with work files, tossed his favorite ashtray and lighter in the box along with one or two small tchotkes, a couple of coasters and a small plastic plant from the window sill, and made one more trip down the stairs. He dispersed the items randomly throughout her apartment, thinking to himself that it at least gave a more unified image of two different people existing within the same space.

He hauled the box of paperwork into her second bedroom converted into an office space and plopped it down on the desk, taking one or two folders and strewing them about the top of the desk, again in stark contrast to her own organized, neat piles. It started to reflect their separate desks at work now, which he found convincing. He sat in the desk chair for a minute and quickly shuffled through the small desk drawers, double checking for anything glaring that might be difficult to explain. As he opened the bottom drawer, his eye caught a blue leather bound notebook. Flipping through it, he saw pages and pages of writing in his partner’s familiar handwriting. As he thumbed through, he was startled to spot his name on one page. He carefully flipped back, scanning the writing and was surprised to find that it actually appeared quite often. He turned a page and began reading from the beginning:

“Everything sometimes feels so incredibly heavy here. The job, the humidity, the pressure of being a woman in this man’s arena. I hate it! I hate that I have to be strong all the damn time. I hate that it feels like I can’t seek the same comforts as other women...even if I have insisted that it be this way. I’m so grateful and proud of myself...most of the time...like 95.5% of the time. The other times, I just wish I could let myself cry when something heartbreaking happens. When someone says something scathing that hurts my feelings at work. When I watch Javi go off to sleep with yet another woman.

Javi. That feels so heavy all of the time, too. I can’t seem to ever level myself out when it comes to him. Some days he drives me absolutely insane and I want nothing more than to bash his face in with a paperweight. Other days, I just want him to put his arms around me and hold me. Not do anything or say anything, just hold me tight…because he is, truthfully, the only single person that I trust.

And yet, am I fooling myself in saying that...in saying that I trust him? Because do I really? If I really trusted him, why don’t I just go to him? He only lives two floors up. Why can’t I knock on his door and fling myself into his arms and kiss him and feel what it’s like to press my body against his? Why can’t I bring myself to do that? Well...probably because I don’t really ACTUALLY trust him...not with that part of myself. Javi is the man I want having my back in a shootout...but is he the man I want to be next to me every night when I fall asleep and every morning when I wake up? I dream about him sometimes...about him being in my bed with me, but we’re usually not sleeping...we’re doing everything but. I dream about it and then I wake up feeling empty because he’s not there, because it wasn’t real. The emptiness is heavy, too...”

Javi clapped the journal shut, feeling his stomach churn. He shouldn’t have read that and guilt thrummed through him. These were her private thoughts; never meant for anyone else but her to read. Once again he felt like an intruder and he loathed himself...Dixon...that asshole Ortiz...for putting both of them in this situation. He dragged a hand over his face, growling low in his throat. He looked down at the box at his feet, still open with a few files and the two photographs staring back up at him. He reached in and took out one framed picture, sitting it upright on the desk: the “engagement” photo. He took the “wedding” picture out and then tossed the journal into the box, carrying both items from the home office. He carefully set up the photo on a bookshelf in the living room, then put the lid back on the box and headed back up the stairs to drop the box off in his apartment and lock up. Before he left, though, he made sure to slip the freshly cleaned gold band onto his left ring finger.

His wife would be coming home any minute now.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

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