#border tee

[warehouse-staff-blog]

New arrival & Restock：Lot 4107 パネルボーダーT ＆Lot 4108 半袖4インチボーダーT. Lot 4601 "PLAIN",Lot 5234 PILE SOCKS(LONG),Lot 5239 PILE SOCKS(SHORT) & Lot 5235 SLUB RIB ZOKKI SOCKS.

こんにちは 名古屋店 コジャです。

今年のボーダーTEE、一部入荷しております。

WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 4107 パネルボーダーT ＼11.550-(with tax)

170cm,65kg SIZE:38（NON WASH）

. . .

WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 4108 半袖4インチボーダーT ＼9.9000-(with tax)

. . .

ポケットやボタンの付かない無地も入荷しております。

WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 4601 無地 ＼6.820-(with tax)

. . .

また、定番ポケTEEにWAREHOUSEのソックスもRe Stock。

・WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 5234 PILE SOCKS(LONG) ＼2.750-(with tax)

・WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 5239 PILE SOCKS(SHORT) ＼2.420-(with tax)

・WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 5235 SLUB RIB ZOKKI SOCKS ＼2.750-(with tax)

. . .

WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 4601 ポケットT ＼7.150-(with tax)

. . .

Tシャツの入荷で賑わっており、これでようやく折り返し地点。

今後も新作プリントTEEは予定しておりますのでお楽しみに。 ボリュームある内容ですがプリントによってストックは尽きてきておりますよ。

欠品も多数御座いますが是非店頭に足を運んで御覧頂ければと思います。

では失礼致します。

-----------------------------------------------------

☞ [営業時間のお知らせ]

平素よりウエアハウス直営店をご利用頂き有難う御座います。 ウエアハウス直営店では営業を下記の通り変更しております。

《2025.7.22.現在の営業時間》

◎東京店　【営業時間：平日 12時～19時　土日祝 12時～19時】無休 ◎阪急メンズ東京店 【営業時間：平日 12時～20時　土日祝 11時～20時】無休 ◎名古屋店【営業時間： 平日 12時～19時　土日祝 12時～19時】水曜定休 ◎大阪店　【営業時間： 平日 12時～19時　土日祝 12時～19時】 無休 ◎福岡店　【営業時間： 平日 12時～19時　土日祝 12時～19時】 無休 ◎札幌店　【営業時間： 11時～20時】  木曜定休

今後の営業時間等の変更につきましては改めて当ブログにてお知らせ致します。 お客様におかれましてはご不便をお掛けいたしますが御ご理解の程、宜しくお願い申し上げます。

.

☞ 『WAREHOUSE直営店の LINE公式アカウント開設』

WAREHOUSE&CO.直営店からのお得な情報や、エリア限定のクーポンなどを配布しています。

LINE公式アカウント開設にあたり、 2019年3月26日（火）以降、提供しておりましたスマートフォンアプリはご利用できなくなっております。 お手数をおかけしますが、今後はLINEアカウントのご利用をお願いします。

ご利用されるエリアのアカウントを「友だち登録」して下さい。 ※WAREHOUSE名古屋店をご利用頂いているお客様は【WAREHOUSE　EAST】をご登録下さい。

※直営店のご利用がなければ【WESTエリア】をご登録下さい。

.

☞[リペアに関して]

弊社直営店で行っておりますジーンズ等のリペアの受付を休止させて頂いております。 ※ご郵送に関しても同様に休止させて頂いております。再開の日程は未定です。

ご迷惑お掛け致しますが、ご理解下さいます様お願い致します。 ※弊社製品であればボトムスの裾上げは無料にてお受けしております。お預かり期間は各店舗により異なりますのでお問合せ下さい。

.

☞WAREHOUSE公式インスタグラム

☞WAREHOUSE経年変化研究室

☞“Warehousestaff”でTwitterもしております。

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

WAREHOUSE名古屋店

〒460-0011 愛知県名古屋市中区大��3-13-18

TEL：052-261-7889

《2025.7.22.現在の営業時間》

【営業時間：平日 12時～19時、土日祝 12時～19時】水曜定休

[ahiijny]

tee

[mars-elly]

Today’s mission, Acquire Shawarma, was a success 👍

(And I would drive two hours there and two hours back for it again)

[badrcputation]

"Roll cake, can you woo me in italian? I think you sound very sexy when speaking in your native language~"

— He thinks for a moment and contemplates on what exactly to say...

"Secondo tutte le leggi note dell'aviazione, non c'è modo che un'ape possa volare. Le sue ali sono troppo piccole per sollevare il suo corpicino grassoccio da terra. L'ape, ovviamente, vola comunque perché alle api non importa cosa gli umani ritengano impossibile."

[kathegoose]

the pharaoh (/ij) cursed me and made me have a mad cramp after drawing mimic OUCH!!!!!!!!!!!1 save me save me funny mimic drawing that is like almost babygirl pose but not quite

[vampfucker666]

oh fuckkkk when i get my shelf built ill finally have room for all these stupid ass picture frames I bought to put jojo pictures in. thank GOD

[northern-passage]

over the last 24 hours Tom Homan has flip-flopped on what exactly is going to happen this upcoming week in the US, but we know he has threatened a “big raid across the country” and Chicago seems to be the first target with leaked plans for tuesday, January 21st, 2025. if you are here and live in a sanctuary city, brace for ICE raids to begin this week. if you're able, you can request or print your own red cards (available in multiple languages) from the Immigrant Legal Resource Center and offer them to people within your community.

if you see ICE, let people know. shout "ICE" and "LA MIGRA." do not open your door for ICE.

You have constitutional rights:

- DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR if an immigration agent is knocking on the door. / NO ABRA LA PUERTA si un agente de inmigración está tocando la puerta. - DO NOT ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS from an immigration agent if they try to talk to you. You have the right to remain silent. / NO CONTESTE NINGUNA PREGUNTA de un agente de inmigración si el trata de hablar con usted. Usted tiene el derecho de mantenerse callado. - DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING without first speaking to a lawyer. You have the right to speak with a lawyer. If you are outside of your home, ask the agent if you are free to leave and if they say yes, leave calmly. / NO FIRME NADA sin antes hablar con un abogado. Usted tiene el derecho de hablar con un abogado. Si usted está afuera de su casa, pregunte al agente si es libre para irse y si dice que sí, váyase con tranquilidad. - GIVE THIS CARD TO THE AGENT. If you are inside of your home, show the card through the window or slide it under the door. / ENTREGUE ESTA TARJETA AL AGENTE. Si usted está dentro de su casa, muestre la tarjeta por la ventana o pásela debajo de la puerta. I do not wish to speak with you, answer your questions, or sign or hand you any documents based on my 5th Amendment rights under the United States Constitution. I do not give you permission to enter my home based on my 4th Amendment rights under the United States Constitution unless you have a warrant to enter, signed by a judge or magistrate with my name on it that you slide under the door. I do not give you permission to search any of my belongings based on my 4th Amendment rights. I choose to exercise my constitutional rights.

What to do if you are detained - National Immigration Law Center

there's also the ICE Detainer FAQ and the ICE Raids Toolkit from Immigrant Defense Project. and you can also get information on DACA, various resources for preparedness, and flyers at united we dream:

this one is Chicago specific but another organization that is helping people prepare:

[hearts4hughes]

Can you write more bsf!rafe getting surprised by readers actions please

warnings: mdni, unprotected sex, creampie

you say you’re going to the bathroom like it’s normal. like you’re not leaving him sprawled across your bed with cheetos on his chest and your netflix queue open to something embarrassing you’d never let anyone else see. “pause it,” you say, casual. “just—hold on.”

rafe doesn’t look up. he grunts, half-watching the screen and half-scrolling through your phone like it belongs to him. (you’d tossed it at him earlier so he could queue up a playlist. he never gave it back. now he’s reading your texts like he pays the bill.)

you leave, tip-toe into the bathroom. before you click the door shut, you glance back at him. he’s still laying down, eye furrowed at whatever message he’s reading. you bite your lip to surpress a giggle. he’s so clueless.

the lock clicks. rafe doesn’t think much of it. he scratches his stomach, licks orange powder from his knuckle, then flicks through your photos just to piss you off. he’s known you forever—since braces and bad bangs and the time you tried to kiss him in sixth grade and immediately regretted it. you’re his best friend. his shadow. his favorite person. you don’t get under his skin anymore.

that’s what he tells himself when the door creaks open and you step out like a secret. no sweatshirt. no oversized tee. no fuzzy pajama pants that drag on the carpet and make him think vaguely about tracing the curve of your calf just to see how fast you’d slap his hand away. it’s just you, standing there like something divine in in baby blue lace.

fuck.

he blinks once—slowly. doesn’t speak and doesn’t breathe. he doesn’t do anything except stare at the legs he’s absolutely not supposed to be staring at. “what?” you say, tone lilting, innocent, like this is something you do all the time. like it’s not the cruelest thing you’ve ever done to him.

“you’re-” he starts, then cuts himself off, jaw ticking as he looks away like the sight of you burns. “what the hell are you doing?” but his voice comes out rough and he’s already shifting his pants. you smile in reply.

“well, i got this at the mall yesterday.” you say it like this is normal. “and i think it’s really cute!” you blush, spinning around. as you move, the sheer babydoll dress lifts, exposing your matching thong. he chokes on his spit. as you hear his coughing, you halt with a frown. “do you not like it?” your lip quivers, voice all faux innocence.

he shakes his head and sputters out an incoherent sound. “n-no,” cough, “definitely not.” he tugs at the neckline of his shirt. suddenly the room is too hot and his pants are too tight. your lips curve upwards and you begin to move towards him. your hips sway with each step. as you get closer, rafe can see completely through the lingerie. your bra is just see-through enough that he can see your perky nipples. “jesus.”

the word falls out of him like a confession. and he means it—like he’s seen god and she’s wearing baby blue with a smirk that could ruin lives. you stop right in front of him. no more teasing steps, no more playful spin. just you, barefoot between his knees, and rafe’s hands still clenched in his lap like if he so much as twitches, you’ll vanish. but you don’t. you just look down at him with those wide, deliberate eyes, like you’re watching him crack from the inside.

“can i sit?” you ask, so fucking polite it borders on obscene. he nods—once and jerky. his brain’s short-circuiting and when you climb into his lap, straddling him with slow, deliberate movements, something in him snaps. he grabs your hips like he’s starving, like you didn’t just upend his entire world with a pair of lace panties and a smile. his mouth brushes your collarbone first. he’s tentative, like he doesn’t know where to start. but you thread your fingers into his hair and tug, just enough, and that’s all the permission he needs.

then he’s everywhere. his hands are at your waist, then your thighs, then hiking the flimsy fabric up so he can palm your ass with both hands. he’s kissing down your chest, mouth hot and open and hungry, teeth scraping the swell of your breast through the lace. you moan—quiet, breathless—and his hips jerk up into yours like instinct.

“this what you wanted?” he growls, voice gone low and filthy as he presses himself against the wet spot already blooming in your thong. “parade around in that fuckin’ thing until i break?” you nod, too breathless to tease, and he groans like it hurts. “then take it off,” he says. “or i will.”

you reach back, unclasp the bra slow enough to make him swear under his breath, and when it falls away, rafe loses whatever scraps of patience he had left. his mouth is on your chest, sucking, biting, hands gripping too tight like he still doesn’t believe this is real. his cock’s rock hard beneath you, straining against his sweatpants, and the friction’s making your legs tremble.

“need you,” you whisper, almost a plea, grinding down until he groans against your skin. he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, jaw clenched like he’s trying not to ruin you.

“condom’s in my wallet,” he mutters, already reaching blindly for the jeans he abandoned on the floor.

“rafe,” you breathe, hand cupping his cheek, “you can fuck me raw.” he stills. stares at you like you’ve set the room on fire. then something clicks. something dark and possessive and dangerous in his gaze.

“you sure?”

“positive.” that’s all it takes. his boxers are shoved down, yours are peeled off, and then he’s pushing inside. you knew he was big when you gave him head a little bit ago, but he feels even bigger inside of you. the stretch burns but it’s good, so good, and rafe’s watching you the whole time like you’re something holy.

“jesus christ,” he hisses as you squeeze around him, fingers digging into your hips. “so fuckin’ tight.” you rock against him, bodies pressed so close it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. your nails scratch down his back, his name falling from your lips in breathless whimpers, and he fucks you like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin. desperate. worshipful. “you feel—fuck, you feel insane,” he groans. “like you were made for me.”

he snaps his hips up, deep and fast, and your head falls back with a moan. “tell me you’re mine,” he says, voice wrecked. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you pant, barely able to speak. “i’ve always been yours.” the way he growls in that low and possessive and starved way nearly tips you over the edge.

“cum for me,” he whispers, lips against your throat. “c’mon, pretty girl. i wanna feel you fall apart.”

you do. you shatter around him, gasping his name like a prayer, and he fucks you through it. moaning into your mouth as he follows, coming deep and hard and shaking beneath you. after, it’s quiet. the kind of quiet that crackles in the dark. rafe holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. like if he lets go, this’ll all fade into smoke.

but you just press a kiss to his jaw and smile against his skin. “guess i’m really yours now, huh?”

he laughs, breathless and wrecked, nose buried in your hair. “baby,” he mutters, “you’ve always been.”

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @restinpaece @illumoria @meetmeintheemeraldpool @miaaaoa @imtalkinnonsense @strawberrymilk99 @angel06babysworld @rafesteddy @drewrry @urcoolgf @thegirlnextdoorssister @sydneysslove @dsfault @missabsey @ivysturnss @kisses4rafey @katiebby04 @kelbrave @bebebambs @leviathan0000 @yolgart @jkmylove97 @blushhbambi @lightreadingty

[queen-of-diamonds-xo]

Hey my darling. Hope you're doing well xx

Please disregard this if you're no longer taking requests.

However, could I please request an Oscar fic? The first time he calls reader "baby" he sees their reaction and how much they love it (think butterflies and major grinning) and makes it a habbit to use baby as a go to nickname for reader.

Love your work darling. Speak soon

🇦🇺💜 anon xx

Unexpected Pet Name (OP81)

Oscar Piastri x Reader {major fluff!}

A/N: OMG hi anon! I absolutely loved this idea, i hope i did it justice.

P.s i love you 🫶🇦🇺

Masterlist

🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍

.

it was early when Oscar finally made it home. Bordering delirium as he approaches the thirty-sixth hour of being awake.

Race weekends were always brutal, and without you by his side (a luxury he has come to depend on it seems) he just couldn’t sleep.

His heavy footsteps shuffled through the entryway, each muscle twisting and tightening as he walked. His shoulder screamed as his backpack and duffel bag thump to the ground.

Oscar breathes deep, the welcoming smells of home flooding his senses. A satisfying crack of his back as he stretched high. Eyes closed as he settled into the quiet, a small smile forming on his lips.

The golden rays of sunrise threatened to breach the curtains as Oscar quietly opened the door to your shared bedroom. Leaning heavy on the wooden door frame as his strained eyes fell on you, for the first time in forever it seemed.

Your body curled deep in the mattress. The large comforter of your king bed swallows your relaxed frame. Oscar counted six pillows on the bed, with a further three lying forgotten on the floor. Your hair lay tucked under the hood of your his hoodie.

Oscar felt his cheats tighten, blinking away a stinging tear. His watch announced with a splitting beat that his heart rate had spiked past resting. His fingers twitch at his sides as he fights to hold himself in place.

You just looked so peaceful. Like an angel he compared silently.

He stood like that for a moment, slightly creeping himself out as he watched you sleep. The steady rise and fall of your body with each breath. The slight twitch in your face muscles as you dream.

His stare breaking only to look up, thanking whatever god or dead guy who was watching over him. A silent prey of ‘what did i do to deserve such a wonder?’

He made his way silently around the bed, coming to sit by your side. His large hand reaching out for your cheek, the rough skin of his fingers sinking into the warmth.

He cursed silently as your eyes flutter open, a deep breath escaping you. Your hand coming to rest atop his as you blinked up at him.

Oscar swears he felt his mind fuzz to a stop as a crooked smile stretched onto your face. Your voice thick with sleep as you whisper

“Your home.”

You scanned his face, your sleep heavy eyes burning deep. He looked tired, a little worn. His eyes squinted and a smile that didn't quite reach to where it should. A dark shadow staining under each blood shot eye.

You sat up slow, maneuvering on the bed to give Oscar more space. You raise the blanket as Oscar slips under the sheets. One arm slipping under your head, the other winding itself around your waist. Coming to rest heavily as Oscar’s body relaxes into the mattress.

You two lay in silence for a moment, holding each other close as you both revel in each others presence. Your fingers tracing slow, delicate patterns over the decal of his McLaren tee, exploring the heated skin of his neck.

He spoke first, his voice gone gruff with fatigue. Hooded eyes trailing your face

”I missed you so much baby, never gonna let you go again.”

You felt your skin flush, attempting to hide your heating cheeks and quickly forming smile in the crook of his neck.

Oscar wasn’t one for pet names, at least in the six months you have been dating he hasn’t been.

But the way it rolled off his tongue, his accent thickened by sleep. You felt your tummy tightened, swallowing back an embarrassing giggle as your toes wiggled. And his voice, god his voice. Strung out from post race celebrations, gravely and torn. Laced with a thick layer of exhaustion, dropping lower with each word.

you had tried to hide it, your body betraying you as your muscles tensed. Wriggling against your boyfriend like a content worm.

Never would you think Oscar would call you that.

And you definitely didn't expect the effects of it.

But the thing about Oscar, he didn't miss anything when it comes to you. He could read you like an open book, you had even gone as far as accusing him of being a mind reader. He knew your every tell, and you sometimes hated that.

His body protested as he pulled you away from him, straining at your fleeting attempt to stay in place. He held you at an arm's distance, a glint now shining in his eyes. His hair falling onto the pillow as he tilted his head, studying your reaction to his words. A devilish grin slowly creeping onto his face.

You had gone red, your skin emanating a new kind of heat. Your eyes cast down, refusing to meet him. You lip pulled hard between your teeth as you desperately bite back a grin.

”what’s wrong, baby? Your looking a little flustered over there.”

Oscar captures your wrist, blocking your bashful attempt to strike his cheats. A laugh bubbling at your actions. His blunt call out of your behaviour had a new wave of butterflies straining your insides. Your smile now shining bright as you met his eyes, the deep brown orbs swirling with adoration and love.

Putting you out of your misery he pulls you close. Entwining your body once more, his larger frame holding you flush.

Your name quickly fell out of Oscar’s vocabulary.

The new nicknames taking its place over the course of a short nap. Oscar couldn’t help it. He was floored with your reaction, and would do anything to keep that glowing smile on your face. A perminate red tinge flushing your heated skin.

🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍

Tags list

@wherethezoes-at @fangirlmusicbiashoe @landosbabe4

(If you would like to be added please comment on my master list and let me know!)

[sortagaysortahigh]

Garden | Joaquin Torres

A/N: Heyyyy yall guess who's finally back because a hispanic man had me barking at my TV again?! That's right, oh so secksi big lexi is here with a novel of a fic. Also big shoutout and thank you to my lover @love-chx for beta-ing this and just being a thirsty freak with me over this man. I wouldn't have finished this fic without u bb <3 Anyways if yall wanna thirst ab this man with me my inbox is always open to fellow whores like myself. Also CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS BOOM SHAKA LAKA YES GOD!!! This is also canon-divergent with a few small CABNW references, also this is named after Garden by SZA tee hee

Summary: Y/n Y/l/n and Joaquin Torres had spent their entire childhood together, but growing up meant growing apart, and when travesty after travesty struck the world, their paths couldn't have been more polarized. But sometimes paths are meant to be crossed again, and there's always a chance for change

Warnings: angst, THIRD PERSON POV, use of Y/N, forced super soldier serum injections (scene not depicted), mentions of murder, mentions of war crimes (not explicitly stated), readers kind of a bitch ngl, cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of burns/Joaquin literally being shot out of the sky, SMUT: hair pulling, minor neck grabbing/choking, spitting, hickies, bruises, kissing (with tongue omg), oral (m receiving + a lil ball worship if you squint), handjobs, unprotected P in V, creampie, swallowing, handj*bs, dirty talk, lowkey sub!joaquin dom!reader vibes

Word Count: 20.8k

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader (reader has vague descriptions regarding having long-ish hair, but it's typically described to be braided/blown out/wavy post-braids, Joaquin does in fact stare at the reader's ass, but all booties matter purr, reader's great grandparents are also immigrants, non specified)

(Given the opportunity I'd kiss him on the mouth) AS ALWAYS MINORS DNI!!!

Miami, circa 2005-2006

Summers in Miami were anything but forgiving, filled with the kind of heat that made people question their own sanity, in combination with high levels of humidity that left an almost sticky film on one’s skin. It was like hell sometimes.

Hurricane season was always rough too, storms that would rock through cities and towns along the coast.

The nicer neighborhoods always seemed better off after the Hurricanes, meanwhile smaller, poverty stricken areas were always left in the dust to fend for themselves. Sure the city and counties had done their best, but power outages lasted days, sometimes weeks, and entire businesses would be destroyed, and communities were left to rebuild things together.

That same sense of community is what had brought Y/n Y/l/n and Joaquin Torres together. He moved to Miami from Mexico a little over a year ago, coming to the United States in May of 2005 with his grandmother and mother. They’d left in hopes of finding something better for him, chasing the American Dream like many migrants south of the border often did.

It wasn’t an easy process, but with family and an established sense of structure in Miami, it made the process a bit smoother for the family.

The y/l/n family had been living in Miami for decades, having genuine roots and history in the neighborhood, they had always been strong community leaders. Constantly volunteering to help at the schools, preparing meals for their neighbors, hosting several block parties and barbecues throughout the summers, and most notably, always lending a helping hand when it came to anyone’s children.

They embodied the saying ‘it takes a village’. 

When the Torres family moved to the neighborhood, y/n’s mother was the first to introduce herself to them, offering to send her eldest sons over to help them move in, and even inviting them over for dinner ten minutes into meeting them.

That single action led Joaquin Torres to Y/n Y/l/n two days following his move, and it led to the both of them being inseparable for years, a friendship that started with her shoving him into the asphalt when he’d clearly cheated at street hockey then proceeded to lie about it.

She was the one to knock him down, and she was also the one to help him up and drag him up the street to her house, mumbling about how she was sorry for shoving him, and muttering to herself about him being a ‘wimp’ for ending up with bloody scrapes along his legs.

He also had watched her mother lecture her about how it was wrong of her to push him, and the moment he’d laughed, her mother started lecturing him. The concern laced harsh words easily flowing from the older woman’s mouth had his eyes wide, she’d even managed to throw a few Spanish words in the mix.

Sure he knew that she spoke Spanish, but he didn’t quite understand where her family was from. That was also another conversation her mother had with him a few months later when he’d pestered Y/n about why her family spoke Spanish if they didn’t exactly look hispanic. 

They’d been in Miami for generations, it made perfect sense that they’d known Spanish. 

She had also yelled at him, but to be completely honest, she wasn’t exactly the sweetest girl on the planet.

As a six year old, she was mean. Meaner than most, yet somehow she possessed her mother’s caring spirit, which led to her showing anyone she cared for the epitome of tough love.

The summer of 2006, the both of them had spent most of their time outside together, walking through the neighborhood, talking about anything and everything that would interest two seven year olds. She’d pestered him about his hair, stating that he needed a haircut because he looked like her Tia’s new puppy (the woman had been gifted a white fluffy terrier by her most recent boyfriend), and he’d responded by saying she looked like a tree from ‘Horton Hears a Who’ due to her large frizzy hair. 

Humidity was not a friend to either of them.

They’d also made a friendship pact that summer, they’d seen it in some random movie that his Abuela had rented from the local Blockbuster, and had decided that since they were already good friends, they’d both slice their palms with one of her dad’s razors, then shake.

Except they both ended up with deep cuts and had to be taken to the emergency room, where they had to foolishly explain that they’d not only schemed to steal her father’s razor, but had also gone through the process of cleaning it with a random bottle of isopropyl alcohol before slicing their palms to imitate a blood pact from a movie that they were probably too young to be watching.

Both of their mother’s yelled at them that night, at the same time. Then her father yelled at them both.

When they thought they were done being lectured, his Abuela yelled at them in Spanish.

That Summer they’d also gone to the beach with their families together, and her father had buried them both in the sand, leading to a photo of their heads and portions of their upper bodies sticking out while they both glared at the camera. 

When school had started back up, they were in the same class, which meant they’d caused quite the ruckus together, either laughing too loudly, talking way too much, or throwing things at one another. It was worse when their teacher tried to separate them, leading them to throw crumpled up paper balls at one another followed by miniature paper airplanes.

He’d also gotten into his first real fight with another boy two months into the school year, he’d called her names, pulled on one of her braids, and usually she would’ve responded, but her mother had recently told her that she needed to stop acting out in school.

So, like the good best friend he was, Joaquin didn’t hesitate to punch the other boy in the face at recess when he’d caught the kid pestering her. That decision also led to her high fiving him, and the both of them getting sent home and placed on a two day suspension.

Summer of 2017

The end of high school is a major milestone for many. Getting the opportunity to not only graduate, but graduate with honors was something that Y/n and Joaquin had worked incredibly hard to achieve, sure the both of them did run into several hiccups along the way, mainly surrounding Y/n’s need to get into fights and Joaquin’s need to constantly and consistently defend her. WAIT DONT FOCUS ON THAT HAHA I WASNT SURE IF THE COMMA WENT THERE

Most thought the two would’ve been together by now, having been friends for nearly ten years, not only friends, but the best of friends and practically inseparable, and yet they’d never crossed the line between friendship and something more. It wasn’t something that they’d planned on doing either.

Anytime their parents would talk about it, the both of them would swiftly deny the suggestion, looks of disgust on their faces as they looked at one another, then back at their families. It wasn’t until prom night that they’d both even considered seeing one another romantically.

They hadn’t acted on it, nor had they ever shared the thought with each other.

They’d gone together, mostly because his girlfriend had broken up with him at the last minute, or rather, y/n had forced her to break up with him after finding out that Julia had been cheating on him for a few weeks. She’d also threatened to ‘knock her front teeth in’ if she refused to do so. She’d also made sure that Joaquin knew that his now ex-girlfriend had been cheating on him, showing him a series of screenshots that a mutual friend had sent her.

When he showed up at her house in an all black tux, she’d been caught off guard. It was rare that Joaquin was dressed up, so rare that she almost didn’t recognize him, brows knit together as she stared at him from the front porch of her family’s home. 

She thought that he actually looked handsome. Sure, she’d always known that Joaquin wasn’t ugly, that much was obvious, but she’d never really given it a second thought. Not even when all of her friends would rant and rave about how ‘hot’ he was, or how he was super attractive and she was an idiot for not ‘jumping his bones’. 

He’d been growing his hair out a bit. It was slightly slicked back, but the curls along the back of his head were still defined. He held a corsage in his hand, the vibrant red roses sat in a sealed clear plastic box, and it matched the rose pin to his suit.

He’d been staring at her, his lips slightly parted, brows raised. At that exact moment he finally understood what all of his friends had said about her. The guys had always given him shit, saying that he was an absolute idiot for ignoring what was right in front of him. Some guys on the team had even asked him for his approval to ask her out; he’d always shrugged them off and said something along  the lines of ‘go for it, but good luck’.

She’d never really given anyone a chance, sure there were a few guys here and there, and that douchebag lifeguard last summer, but outside of that, Y/n rejected pretty much everyone.

It got to the point where their mothers had asked if she was gay, which was an incredibly uncomfortable conversation, to say the least.

He was still staring, he knew she’d be wearing black, which had made coordinating with her at the last minute a lot easier since he already had a black suit. But he didn’t know that she’d be wearing a satin black dress with a neckline that plunged enough to make him blush, the fabric itself hugging all of her curves, and her hair that was typically braided, was now blown out and framing her face perfectly.

He dropped the corsage, then scrambled to pick it back up.

Things had gone back to normal the second she’d mocked him for dropping it; they’d both snapped out of their own trances, and had taken a myriad of photos. Then they’d been off.

The dance was fine, it wasn’t spectacular, but it was fun enough. They’d jumped up and down and screamed random party songs together, laughing with one another and their shared friends.

Then the slow songs started, and at first she’d decided to sit things out while he spoke with one of his friends, but after a few minutes, he had asked her to dance.

The moment their eyes met during the slow dance was the moment they’d both been dreading their entire lives. They’d realized that maybe everyone else was right about them, and maybe they’d just been too stupid to notice.

But they’d brushed it off when the song changed, awkwardly laughing together while nodding their heads, ignoring the fact that a few seconds ago they were a little too close with his forehead resting against hers and their lips millimeters apart.

Both of them had internally vowed to never speak of that night again.

Then graduation happened. After getting their diplomas, they’d posed for more photos, laughed with one another, and ended up taking one of their favorite pictures together. Joaquin’s hand was around her waist as they both held up a singular middle finger while making a similar face—one eye shut with their tongue out. 

She’d gotten into Florida State University, and Joaquin decided to go to the Air Force. Of course Joaquin applied to college, but he wasn’t like Y/n, he hadn’t received a multitude of scholarships with different choices and the last thing he wanted to do was take out a series of loans that would leave him in thousands in debt, especially considering he’d wanted to do his best to avoid putting any other financial pressure on his family.

They’d spent most of that summer together, both with the knowledge that it’d truly be their last real summer together, at home, with one another.

He was set to go to basic training the same day that she’d be moving into her dorm.

So the night before they’d gone to the beach together, both sitting side by side on the sand, watching the sunset.

“Quino, things are gonna be different now, aren’t they?” she leaned into him, her head against his shoulder while she gazed forward. Meanwhile he’d gone from looking at the skyline, to looking down at her as he nodded his head.

“We can’t exactly be kids forever, Sunshine.”

he scoffed, lifting her head to look at him, eyes trailing along his features as if she was trying to commit this moment to memory, taking in every single detail as if she’d be able to remember this in fifteen years.

“We’re eighteen, it’s not like we have to have it all figured out y’know. We could pack everything up and run away.” 

He smiled, laughing at her while rolling his eyes slightly.

“Yeah, but we’d have to flee the country. I signed a contract with the Air Force. Maybe we run off to somewhere small, off grid.” 

She nodded along, elbowing him slightly, while holding back her smile. 

They both knew that wasn’t possible. It really was time to grow up, time to part ways, at least temporarily.

“You still gonna write to me?” 

He nodded his head at that. “Why wouldn’t I? Who’s gonna laugh at me suffering through basic training? Besides, y’know I write killer letters.” 

She shook her head at that, shoving some sand in his direction.“You have shit grammar, Quino.” 

He smiled at her, shrugging. “So? You still know what I mean!” 

She laughed again, now standing up and brushing her thighs off before giving him an expectant look. Joaquin nodded along as he got up off the sand, then she kicked off her shoes, and grabbed his hand, already running towards the water.

“Hell no! That water’s freezing!” 

She glanced over her shoulder at him. In that moment, at the sight of the golden hue reflecting against her skin, and the outline of the orange, purple, and pink skyline surrounding her figure like an aura from the heavens, he realized that he might’ve been in love with her. 

It was truly a terrible moment to realize that.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby. C’mon, it’s our last real night as teenagers. Embrace it you doofus!”

Then she was pulling him along again, and somewhere along the way, he’d managed to kick his shoes off and toss his phone in a pile with their shared belongings before getting pulled into the water. 

They’d stayed out until two in the morning that night, and on their walk back through the neighborhood together, she wrapped her pinky around his as they moved in sync, trudging through the long sidewalks in their damp clothes together, knowing that in a few hours he’d be setting course to the airport then he’d be en route to San Antonio.

Meanwhile, she’d be starting the seven hour road trip to Florida State University with her parents while her dad towed a mini U-haul trailer on the back of his truck.

He always walked her to her door, even though they only lived a few houses apart and his house was the first they’d passed. She stood on the small front porch, key in the door as she faced away from him. A singular sniffle was what made him realize she’d been crying. 

“Hey, hey, Sunshine look at me.” 

She shook her head, looking down at the dimly lit door knob illuminated by the old porch light. The bulb nearly dead at this rate. Her father always said he’d get around to changing it, but it had been sitting the same way for the entire summer.

He was quick to move behind her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her waist as he slowly turned her to face him. She tried to shove him off, but his grip was firm, and he’d managed to spin her toward him despite her resistance

“Things are gonna be fine. I’ll write to you, you’ll write to me. We’ll still be friends, still get to come home to the same neighborhood with our families, alright? Still gonna be best friends���” He raised his palm, showing the near identical scar that they’d both shared “—see? Friends for life, made a shitty blood pact and everything.”

She nodded at him, sniffling before pulling him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss you, you idiot.” he laughed at her, easily hugging her back, slightly squeezing as he nodded. 

“I’ll miss you too, Sunshine. Don’t forget about me when you’re over there in enemy territory, got it?” 

She laughed, shoving him away, shaking her head as she rolled her eyes.“I would’ve picked Miami if they’d given me more money. I guess the Seminoles just got better funding, huh?” she teased him, sniffling again as she smiled, the both of them still holding onto each other, as they held eye contact.

Then, they were both leaning in, and slowly but surely, their lips were millimeters apart again—just like prom night.

The door opening had them pulling apart harshly, practically tripping over one another as her father stared at them through the screen door, blinking several times, brows knit together as he unlocked the door.

“I don’t know what the hell you two are doing out here, but finish your goodbyes, and Joaquin, go the hell home. I’ll miss you kid.” 

He nodded at her father, laughing at his somewhat stern tone before facing her again. Then Joaquin raised both brows, tilting his head before lifting up a singular pinky.“Promise me you’ll write?” 

She smiled, nodding at that before locking her pinky with his. “Promise me you’ll respond when you’re not busy getting your ass kicked?” 

He nodded.

Then Joaquin said goodbye to her father and made his way down the porch steps, walking along the sidewalk.Glancing back, he to offer another wave before making his way back to his house.

The next morning, they’d both gone their separate ways, one to college, the other to the Air Force.

Washington D.C. 2027, Six Weeks Prior

The interrogation room was cold, colder than it should’ve been for the middle of the summer in Washington D.C. of all places. Hell, half of the city didn’t have working air conditioners, but it made sense that a police precinct less than twenty minutes from the Capitol building would have an air conditioning system that actually worked.

That’s how it was now;where there was money, there were luxuries.

Y/n sat in the uncomfortable metal chair situated in the middle of the room, hands cuffed to the  large metallic table in front of her with her ankles stuck to the legs of the chair. They’d known she would be able to break free at any second, but she wasn’t an animal, or some monster, and she wouldn’t be portrayed as such.

A criminal? Yes. But a monster? Never.

She was wearing a black leather jacket, and clearly it wasn’t warm enough, because she’d had goosebumps along her skin, and her nose burned at the feeling of the cold air. Then again, anything cold had a tendency to bother her, side effects of the bootleg black market serum that’d been forcefully injected into her somewhere between Europe and Madripoor.

Everything from that period was a bit fuzzy.

They’d had her in this room for nearly two hours. For the first twenty minutes, they’d tried to question her, and she simply ignored them or answered them solely in Spanish. When they’d found someone who did speak Spanish fluently, she started speaking French.

Then everyone had left, leaving her like an animal in a zoo exhibit, the bright fluorescent lights shining down on her while they watched from behind the one-way mirror. Three cameras in the room, all with a flashing red light, letting her know that they’d been recording the entire time. 

She was a few minutes away from breaking out of the cuffs and throwing them at one of the cameras, but then the door opened. She scoffed at the sight of Sam Wilson: the new Captain America.f she was honest, she liked the guy and she hadn’t heard anything negative about him…well,  from anyone who actually had any sense.

The negatives were usually from racist morons, but Sam Wilson was a great Captain America.. He fit the morals and values, and from what she’d heard, he was genuinely a good person, and those were very rare these days.

She would’ve been perfectly fine if it was just Sam, but when his new protege walked in behind him, she couldn’t hold back the scoff of annoyance.

It’d been years since she’d actually seen him in person.

She’d unconsciously squeezed her right hand, the same hand that a thin horizontal scar sat on— the same scar that he had on his right hand.

Sam’s gaze was focused on the file in hand so he’d missed the glare that she was shooting at Joaquin, and his sudden stiff demeanor. They’d both sat across from her, and the sounds of metal scraping against the tiled floors made her cringe. Then, Sam tossed the file on the table, the papers sliding out of the manilla folder and towards her.

Different criminal charges, alleged photographs of her at global crime scenes, a series of witness descriptions—anything and everything that could possibly incriminate her, outside of genuine substantial evidence.

“Didn’t know Captain America did jail calls, thought that was reserved for the Raft.” 

Sam shook his head at that, raising a single brow as he looked at her.

He knew she hadn’t even hit thirty yet. The girl was still young, and from her records, she’d had so much potential, potential to do good. Yet here she was. Not only did she graduate with honors from Florida State University, she was a Stark scholar her freshman year, having interned directly for Tony at one point, president of several campus organizations, had not only a full ride to the university, but was also given several merit based scholarships during her time there, had significant research that was involved in several scientific journal publications, and she had even been an intern for the department of defense.

He also knew that the world wasn’t the best place following the Snap in 2018; it impacted everyone drastically. Some vouched that it was a great time, but a lot of people had suffered, and the world was left to grieve and mourn for five years.

“Well, now you do know that. Care to share how you’re involved with Serpent?” 

She rolled her eyes at that, shaking her head and letting out a sigh. “I’m not.” 

Sam raised a brow, opening the file and pointing at not one, but two images of Y/N very clearly speaking with one of Serpent’s main shot callers, Sidewinder himself. “Then explain your relation to Sidewinder”

“That’s not me in the photo.” She blinked several times, clearly bored of the conversation.

Joaquin just stared in silence, it was probably the most quiet he’d been in years, staring at his childhood best friend turned wanted criminal. He never understood what happened to her. They’d kept in touch when he’d gone to boot camp, and even after that, when she was in college and he was getting his deployment orders, she always wrote to him.

They’d written to one another, even after the Blip.

He knew her family had been blipped away, and he also knew that was a major turning point for her. She’d spent most of her time on her studies, overworking herself to the point of exhaustion, distracting herself from the truth.

Two years into the Blip they lost contact. He knew she was still in school, but he was stationed overseas, and the time zones, plus the stress of life had gotten to them both.

He tried to find her again when he was stateside, tried to got to the neighborhood, only to find new families living in the house that had been in her family for decades. He’d also found out that the county government had forcefully repossessed the house. They’d gone to court over it and she’d lost.

All he’d known was that she did end up graduating, and as a last ditch effort, she invited him to her graduation. She’d written to him a lot, but turns out most of those letters had gotten lost along the way. The Blip had left several economic issues, and had impacted a multitude of different industries, which accounted for the loss of most of her letters. The ones he’d finally gotten from her were all stacked up, scattered thoughts throughout three years—references to things he didn’t really get, random bits and pieces from stories he’d assumed he would never get to read, and most importantly, the invitation to her graduation.

Typically he would’ve been able to request time for that andhe wished he got the letter on time, wished that he would’ve been able to go to Florida State (although begrudgingly) and watch his best friend cross the stage and get her degree, especially considering he’d be one of the few people there for her after what happened to her family.

Seeing her was like seeing a ghost, except now he was seeing the ghost of who she was, of who she could’ve been. The woman across from him wasn’t the same girl that he’d seen all those years ago.

It’d been almost nine years. Nine years since he’d properly gotten to see her. He still remembers the way her voice sounded that night, the last night they were genuinely together. 

“Stop staring, Torres” 

His eyes widened at the sound of her voice, or rather, the sound of his name leaving her lips, because it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his first name, or one of the several different nicknames she’d granted him over the years; there was no friendly tone, just venom.

He blinked a few times, brows knit together as he glanced at Sam, who was already looking at him with a curious expression.Sam looked between the both of them, glancing between the woman across from them, then back to Joaquin.

“Wait a goddamn minute, you two know each other?!” 

She scoffed at that, shaking her head. 

“Not anymore.” 

It was cold. Deep down, she knew that the response hurt Joaquin, but when she needed him, he wasn’t there. She hadn’t heard back from him in years. All she could do was sit and bury herself into her academics, striving to be the best of the best in hopes of becoming something or make her family proud.

She remembered the heartbreak she’d felt each time she hadn’t gotten a letter back. Then she sent him her graduation date, an invitation, and had even included a ticket.

He didn’t show up. 

She was alone in the world, left with no family, and she was hurt. Her home was gone, her family was missing, disappearing for what could’ve been forever, and she had nothing but a college degree and the few bins of stuff she’d had left.

The Blip had led to several criminal organizations skyrocketing, and it just so happened that Florida was home to a few of them, organizations that were using illegal alien technology to create weapons of destruction, organizations that had focuses in overthrowing minor governments, organizations that went hand in hand with any and all underground and black market affairs. 

So she’d taken advantage of that, used her brains to actually prove herself, and once they’d found a good use for her, she was helping engineer weapons. Thenshe was helping with mass production on a global front and she’d spent time traveling, doing illegal arms deals, and even wooing other crime bosses. 

That’s how she ended up tied in with Serpent, it wasn’t exactly difficult to hack into their secure systems, nor was it hard to convince them that they needed her, villains without real weapons couldn’t actually do much. Things had gone pretty smoothly until she’d been practically kidnapped, taken to a remote space, and used as a test subject for a new brand of super soldier serum following the arrest of the Flag Smashers.

She wasn’t proud of her actions following the injection, she knew she had blood on her hands, but it wasn’t her fault, not when they’d treated her like a lab rat.

“Okay, we’ll talk about whatever history you two have later. Right now, you need to come clean about your involvement with Serpent, or you’re looking at thirty years in the Raft.” 

She simply shrugged again, raising a brow before glancing down at the photos again. It was very apparent that it was her, and she had been mid argument with Sidewinder, who she should’ve just killed—another regret truly.

Then she lifted her wrists, and the cuffs snapped as if they’d been made of paper.

“That answer your question, Cap?” 

His eyes widened t, glancing from her wrists to the broken steel on the table. Sam watched as she pulled the documents closer, raising a single brow at the different photos and angles from the conversation.

“So it’s true then, they’re still experimenting on people?” 

Sshe laughed at that, nodding her head.

“Sure are, now can we get to the Raft already?, Pretty sure I can break out.-Ddefinitely not as secure as some would believe. I’ll take that sentence now.” She looked at the one way mirror, snapping her fingers a few times, as if she was summoning the cops to arrest her yet again.

“You’re not going to the Raft Sun- Uh- Y/l/n.” 

Sshe glanced back at Joaquin now, shaking her head at him. Any semblance of a smirk had left her face, now it was as if she’d been devoid of any emotion.

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” She clenched her jaw, looking away from him and towards Sam. 

“I can help you. I know you’ve got a plethora of connections in the realm of illegal arms dealing, not to mention you’ve also been the brains behind a lot of the weapons that we’ve found, confiscated, and examined. I like your signature that you leave on them, too.” 

She smirked at that, nodding her head, then sifted through the photos, finding the close up of one of the larger automatic rifles she’d built, except this one relied solely on Chitauri energy-based ammunition. It didn’t need bullets, and she’d engraved the outline of a small bird onto the handle. 

“What can I say? It’s part of the brand. Now, I don’t need help Cap, what I need is to get the hell out of the U.S.” 

He nodded his head at that, pulling some folder papers out of his jacket pocket. Unfolding them, he slid the documents across the table.

“Here are my terms. I can get you a presidential pardon for your crimes, a pardon that would allow you to be back in the states without hiding out. A pardon that would get you a fresh start. But you’re gonna need to start being honest here.” 

Her brows were knit together as she slowly grasped the papers, eyes scanning along the different legal terms as she flipped through the pages.

It was clear that she had to cooperate with Sam if she wanted the pardon. It guaranteed that she’d no longer be deemed as a war criminal ora domestic terrorist. That would also ensure that she’d be able to go back home, to see her family, to be someone else, to be anyone but the person she’d become. 

“If I agree to this, you promise my family’s gonna be alright?” She looked up at Sam. 

 In that moment, he could see through her walls. He could see a scared girl that had lost everyone to the Blip, a girl that had fallen into this lifestyle because it was her only real choice. 

Sam nodded at her, handing her a pen. “If you sign them now, you have my word.” 

She took the pen slowly, jaw clenched as she stared at the pages. It was almost too good to be true. However, a clause that stated any divergence from the very clearly outlined plan, which included court mandated therapy sessions, would result in her imprisonment, bringing her back to reality.

“What the hell do you need from me anyways? I’m not some hero, I don’t even think I count as a good person anymore. Don’t you have more happy and hopeful people like him to recruit?” She motioned towards Joaquin without even looking at him.

Joaquin was dealing with his own inner turmoil, there were so many things he wanted to say to her, so many things that he hadn’t gotten the chance to express. He’d waited years to see her again, and now, even if she was a bit rough around the edges, he felt almost happy to see her and know that she was alright—even if she was a wanted criminal.

But he was disappointed that she’d managed to become what she was now.

“Well, truthfully, you’re smart. Smarter than most. And with your network, we could do a lot of good, starting stateside, and moving from there. Besides, not everyone that does good has to be a hero. Just like not everyone who’s done bad shit, is a bad person.” 

She nodded slowly, then glanced back at the files.

“Sidewinder has a bounty on his head.Some big crime boss in Madripoor is pissed that Serpent didn’t deliver on their end of a large weapons deal a few months back. It was supposed to be some covert scam. They’d get the wired funds, stay stateside, or really anywhere other than Madripoor—y’know places that have real laws, and they’d be able to avoid the consequences.”

She sighed, glancing at the photo. “Tried to get me to speed a few manufacturing processes up.ell, no first he practically threatened me. but y'know the whole serum thing kinda reduces any real threat at this rate. Told me that if I helped him out, I’d get seven million.”

Sam nodded at the information. “Did you take the deal?” 

She simply shrugged then shook her head.“And have a ten million dollar bounty on my head? Hell no. I told him I was out of the business.Besides, can’t really have any high paying deals with shady government officials if I’m legally not supposed to be seen within the United States, or any U.S. territories.” 

Then she signed the contract, putting the pen on top of the indented papers and slide them back to Sam. She still avoided Joaquin’s stare, she had nothing positive to say to him, and the last thing she wanted to hear was a lecture about the person she’d become from the one person that had abandoned her.

Maybe if she wasn’t aware that he didn’t blip, then maybe she wouldn’t have held the grudge. But one of the last letters she’d gotten from him was after the Blip, so she knew he was okay, she knew he was alive.

“Welcome to the team, kid.” Sam placed his right hand out, and she easily grasped it, shaking on the deal.

Baltimore MD, 2027 Five Weeks Prior

If there was a word that could fully describe the relationship between the two former best friends, it would be strained, but that was a severe understatement. Over the past week they’d been staying in the same house in the suburbs of Baltimore county. Sam had stated that Y/n needed to be under constant supervision, mainly because part of him was still a bit weary with her.

He hadn’t given her a reason not to trust her, not yet at least. But with a criminal record as substantial as hers, within the short time span of about four years, she was definitely someone to keep an eye on. 

It wasn’t the first time Sam had opted to help in the rehabilitation of a criminal. To be fair, he’d placed a lot of hope in several different people, and most of the time, they truly did change. There were people like Karli Morgenthau, the former leader of the Flag Smashers that had been victim to the circumstance of the Blip, followed by the reversal of it all.She was willing to do better, willing to change, but it was too late for her.

Sam wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he held a lot of regret whenever he thought of the girl, even if it was several years ago. Some deaths weren’t easily let go of, especially those that could’ve been prevented. 

Maybe that was why he’d had so much faith in Y/n, he knew she wasn’t always the way she is now, that much was confirmed by the long winded rant that Joaquin had gone on the second they were out of the precinct.He’d spoken for what felt like hours about his former childhood best friend, and at some point, Sam had started tuning him out.

Of course Sam was going to be there to support Joaquin, who was clearly in love with his former friend, but at some point in time, he naturally tuned out the constant chatter. 

Things hadn’t gone smoothly whatsoever at the house, mainly because when Joaquin had tried to speak with her, she’d quite literally thrown a pan at him, slammed several doors in his face, sprayed him with a water hose, and had even opted to fully abandon her meals just to get away from him. She did eventually come back and clean up after herself, but at the moment, she wanted nothing to do with him.

When he tried to sit with her in silence, she’d roll her eyes and storm off. 

She hadn’t said a single word to him, and he was still doing his best to make amends with her, even though he really didn’t know what he had to make up for.

Today was no different, she’d ignored him and acted as if he didn’t exist, any time he’d enter a shared common space, she’d leave. It didn’t matter if she was in the middle of doing something, she’d find a way to leave as swiftly as possible.

Joaquin was over it, completely and utterly over it.

But before he could attempt to be confrontational and most likely get his ass kicked, there were several knocks at the front door, and of course, he was the one to open it.

In the doorway stood Dr. Christina Raynor, the same therapist that had worked with Bucky Barnes following his presidential pardon journey. It had taken several phone calls, and a lot of flaunting the title of Captain America for Sam to actually get her to do house calls for Y/n. It wasn’t exactly easy, and he didn’t trust that she’d be able to go to her appointments on a consistent basis. 

So he brought the appointments to her.

“Ah, Captain Torres. You’re not the person I’m here for, but a lovely surprise nonetheless.” She motioned for him to step aside, and when he did, she entered the home.

She’d taken a few minutes to look around. It wasn’t the fanciest of homes, but it was a nice house to live in, with three bedrooms total, a few bathrooms, and two floors, not including the basement. The place was small, but it didn’t feel small, it was nice, cozy even. 

It made sense why Sam chose a place like this for her. 

“So where is she? I’m sure she’s well aware of our appointment today.” Joaquin’s brows knit together. Truthfully, he wasn’t even aware of the appointment. Then again, it’s not like Y/n had said a single word to him over the past seven days. If her nonverbal communication said anything, it was that she didn’t want a single thing to do with him.

“Uh, upstairs, probably. We don’t really talk much.” 

She slowly nodded her head at him.“And why is that? Sam said the two of you knew each other well.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, glancing towards the staircase, then back at Dr. Raynor.

“Well, we did.We grew up together in Miami, but then she went to college and I enlisted, and then the Blip happened, and it’s been a while. So, we know each other, but I don’t think well would be the right way to describe it.”

She observed him as if she was taking note of everything he’d been saying. It gave Joaquin a minor spark of anxiety, but he chose to ignore it, closing the front door, then proceeding to guide her in the direction of the room that Y/n had occupied.

He knocked on the door several times, and the silence that followed was mildly concerning.

“Hello, it’s Dr. Raynor, here for our three o’ clock appointment.” 

The door opened, and at the sight of Joaquin, she rolled her eyes, but then she glanced at Dr. Raynor.  The older woman stared directly at her, so Y/n stepped to the side, motioning for her to come in before slamming the door in Joaquin’s face. 

“So, Joaquin tells me that you two grew up together. I think for today’s sessions, we should start there.” Y/n blinked a few times, watching as Dr. Raynor moved towards the windows, pulling one of the few chairs in the room with her, leaving it closest to the window, then took another and left it across the room.She took a seat at the one furthest from the window, opting to cross one leg over the other. 

Y/n was hesitant as she sat down, arms crossed in front of her chest, a look of irritation on her features.“We grew up together. A lot of people grow up together, what's the big deal?” The negativity in her tone was unmistakable, that in combination with her clenched jaw, stiff posture, and now shaking leg, emphasized not only the anger in her words, but the stress in her body.

“Well, Sam tells me that you’ve pretty recently started going downhill, sorry, not really a better way to say that. Don’t worry I won’t make you make amends with the people you’ve wronged and go through some long winded process to make things better. Truthfully, most of the time, you can’t make things from the past better, but you can work on the future. But, that does rely on looking back a bit, pinpointing the start of all of this.”

She groaned, shaking her head.“I know how it all started, I don’t need a shrink to psychoanalyze me and tell me when I turned into a shitty person.” 

Dr. Raynor nodded, watching as Y/n glanced outside, her gaze focused on the neighborhood around them.“Okay, so tell me about that then.” 

She thought the girl would fight, but she didn't; she just took a deep breath and nodded her head.

Joaquin stood outside of the room, hesitating as he debated leaving or eavesdropping, he knew it was wrong of him to stay, but he also wanted to know what went wrong, what caused all of this. More importantly, he wanted to know how to fix it. 

But he knew this wasn’t the right way to fix things, so he headed down the hall, opting to go back downstairs and get back to work. He had a few systems that needed some adjustments, so he’d occupy himself with that for now.

Her eyes traced the skyline, taking in the angular tilts of every rooftop against the soft blue hues of the sky. She hated talking about the Blip, she hated even thinking about it. There wasn’t a time that she’d ever felt so lost and so alone.

“After the Blip, I mean, to be fair I was okayish the first year, but my family was blipped away, and with my shit luck, all of my friends were also blipped away. Well, except for Torres, but at that point he’d already been deployed. We still talked for a while at least, he wrote me and I wrote him, then maybe two years in, he uh, he stopped writing Or maybe he didn’t, but I stopped getting them.” 

She blinked a few times, trying to ignore the burn of tears welling in her eyes as she avoided Dr. Raynor’s gaze.

“I dunno, I was just alone. I did keep writing though, and I drowned myself in my academics. I interned for all of the big major hard hitters, I had merit scholarships that I was positive I didn’t really deserve because someone more capable was most likely blipped away. But y’know, it was a good distraction.”

She paused again, this time wiping a few tears away, Dr. Raynor took minimal notes, mostly on her mannerisms rather than her history.

“Then I graduated, and no one was there, and I went back home, and no one was there either, then the county took my family’s house. I went to court, but I was poor and I couldn’t afford a good lawyer, so they won. They won and they took my family’s house.” 

Raynor nodded her head, raising a single brow at the very clear emotion. Prior to this, based on her file, the few interrogation tapes she’d viewed, and what she’d gathered from Sam, the girl in front of her wasn’t very emotional. She was meticulous, logical, and a complete smart ass.

This was a good sign.

“Tell me about the house.” 

She nodded, eyes still focused outside.“My great grandfather had purchased the land when they migrated over, it took him decades to buy it. He’d worked for twenty years before he was able to afford it. Even back then, when inflation wasn’t kicking everyone’s ass, it was still hard for an immigrant to get something as solid as land. Over the years my family has always lived in that house. It’s been passed down through the generations. Or at least, it was until they took it from us.”

She let out a deep breath, wiping away a few more tears.

“I grew up there y’know, my brothers are all older than me by at least eight years, then I met Quino, and we spent years causing a ruckus there. I don’t think I really have a singular bad memory being there, from being home.”

She sighed, running a hand along her face for a moment before turning to face Dr. Raynor.

“My parents got the house back, and this time I had the money, sure it was dirty money, but I got them the lawyer after the blip, I couldn’t even go see them physically, I’d already had too many warrants in the U.S., but I made sure we had what was ours again.”

Dr. Raynor nodded her head, glancing down at her watch for a moment.

“I want you to tell me about your family.” 

The two spent the next thirty minutes speaking about Y/n’s family, starting from her grandparents who were both deceased, to her parents, to her siblings that she hadn’t spoken to in years. She’d even mentioned Joaquin’s family, stating that they weren’t blood relatives, but they were still family nonetheless.

That’s also how Dr. Raynor found out that Joaquin’s mother had been Blipped away.

By the time that the session was over, Y/n had cried more than she’d cried in the past three years, and she actually felt a little better about the world, maybe therapy wasn’t just some ‘mumbo jumbo’ that they tried to force onto people. Then again, it could’ve also been the simple act of having the opportunity to actually speak with someone about her issues that had made her feel better.

She was quick to walk Dr. Raynor out, but when heading downstairs, she realized that Joaquin was no longer alone.Based on the loud voices and laughter, Sam was also present, along with someone else.

Sam rounded the corner, a wide smile on his face as he said his hellos to Dr. Raynor, shaking her hand for a moment before glancing at Y/n, taking in her bloodshot eyes

“Session go well then?”

“As well as pouring my heart and soul out to a complete stranger can go.”

Washington D.C., 2027, Four Weeks Prior

“Sam this is stupid, I’m not gonna waltz into the White House and ask for a damn expedite on a pardon from the Hulk Hunter of all people!” 

He shushed her, making eye contact through the rear view mirror as he drove. She sighed, brows knit together, frustration evident in her features.

It was bad enough he had her wearing business professional attire. There was nothing that she hated more than dressing up, especially in blazers and button ups, not to mention the obnoxious pencil skirt that he insisted she wear. This had to have been her own personal hell.

Maybe that was it, she’d died and was forced to live in this lifetime as a karmic cycle.

Then, to make matters worse, Joaquin was currently sitting in the front seat of the SUV, doing his best not to look back at her, knowing she’d probably find something to throw at him, or worse, she’d curse at him again.

Over the past few days she’d moved on from giving him the complete silent treatment, which might’ve been nice if she wasn’t verbally assaulting him any chance she’d get. It made sense that she would want to push him away, but being cursed out constantly was the last thing he needed.

Joaquin was getting tired of it. 

He was beyond frustrated with her, especially given the fact that Sam had practically dropped him off with her and stated that he was the best bet for ‘fixing her’ as if she needed to be fixed. What she needed was a hug, or maybe a xanax, he had no idea, but Joaquin knew the last thing she needed was him.

Sure they’d grown up together, but they were drastically different at this point.

“Well, you can’t start on a new foot if you’re dragging a ball and chain the size of Australia with you everywhere you go.” 

Y/n knew that Sam had a point, but she didn’t want to accept that.She was looking down at her hands, her left thumb nervously running along the thin scar decorating her right palm.“I didn’t even do anything that bad.” 

Sam laughed at that, shaking his head.“Yes, because contributing to several global wars by distributing biomechanical alien tech based weapons isn’t anything bad. Not to mention working with several major underground crime families.” 

She shushed him, kneeing his chair like an angry little kid on a long car ride.

“To be fair, at least you didn’t really kill anyone.” 

She rolled her eyes at Joaquin’s input, glaring at him from her seat.

“Also, not technically true, Joaquin.” Sam nodded as he spoke, finally making it through the plethora of security gates and guards, being able to actually park the car in the underground garage that was typically utilized for staff-only vehicles. 

Y/n was relatively silent as she got out of the car, adjusting her skirt uncomfortably before following Sam’s lead, rolling her eyes at Joaquin when he walked beside her.

When they were younger, they always walked together, and she remembered the way that she’d gravitate towards Joaquin, linking her pinky with his, especially when she was nervous about something. She felt as if she was fighting that part of herself, doing her best to ignore what was probably her inner child—or at least that’s what Dr. Raynor described it as.

He chose the worst time to extend an olive branch, she flinched the second his hand brushed against hers. At first she assumed it was an accident, but the second time she took a few steps away from him, putting some distance between them both.

She hated being patted down, but , it was part of the process, and as the security did so all she could do was roll her eyes and hold her arms up. 

Sam gave her a pointed look when they stood in front of the oval office doors.

“It’s now or never kid, time to right your wrongs.ell, at least start righting your wrongs.”

She nodded slowly, running her thumb along the scar on her palm again as she followed Sam and Joaquin inside.

Truthfully, the entire time that President Ross spoke, she simply nodded her head, offering faint and forced smiles, doing her best not to have a fully fledged panic attack. She could practically feel the anxiety thrumming through her heart, and it was getting harder to breathe, she needed to relax, needed to calm down.

Then the President shook her hand and she had no idea what he was saying, she just nodded her head at him, eyes a bit glossy as she fought the nervous tears.

Joaquin noticed it first, he could see how stiff she was. It wasn’t normal, or at least, it wasn’t what he was now used to. She looked almost afraid, or maybe it was panic. Then he noticed her rubbing her palm, and he knew it was panic, she’d always done that, it started when they were kids, and now it was resurfacing.

He excused himself, and in the process, also excused her, a single hand on her lower back, guiding her with him as they stepped out of the office, leaving Sam and President Ross to speak with one another. 

She didn’t have the energy to curse at him, she needed some air.

Joaquin guided her movements, taking her to one of the smaller more secluded gardens outside, a place that most of the public wasn’t allowed.

“Sunshine, you need to breathe.” 

She nodded her head at him, vision a bit hazy as she tried to focus on breathing. She hadn’t realized that her panicking had gotten this bad, the anxiety practically surging through her, she was too busy overthinking about everything she’d done over the past four years, trying to piece together the fuzzy pieces, trying to remember who she really was.

It was clear that just talking to her wasn’t helping, so he stepped forward, gently placing one hand on the side of her face, practically caressing her warm skin as he held eye contact with her.

“I need you to breathe. You’re okay, everythings okay. Ross approved the pardon, you just need to follow through with Dr. Raynor. You’ll be alright, Sunshine”. He spoke slowly and quietly, and for the first time in a long time, he felt as if he was really seeing her.“Take a deep breath. Exactly, in and out—just like that.” 

She nodded along, following his lead until she finally felt like her heart wasn’t going to beat out of her own chest. 

There was something calming about Joaquin, and maybe if she’d genuinely let him in again, she would know that it was just his presence overall that calmed her down. 

But it was never that easy.

Then she was shoving him away from her, blinking a few times when she finally realized how close they were.

She let out a cynical laugh, shaking her head at him. “Can’t you just leave me the hell alone?!” He stared for a moment, face void of any emotion for a few seconds.

“What the hell is your problem, Sunshine! I mean come on, I’ve been trying to talk to you for two weeks.I haven’t seen you in almost ten years at this point, and God, I’m so tired of this weird silent treatment, oh lets be mean as hell to Joaquin fiasco. I just want to be there for you!” his voice was getting louder as he ranted to her. 

“Seriously?!” she raised both brows at his outburst, rolling her eyes.

When she tried to walk away, he stepped in front of her, blocking her way, knowing she couldn’t exactly shove him. They were at the White House for her presidential pardon, any and everything that she did could easily get it ripped away from her.

“Stop calling me that! It’s not my freaking name!” Her voice was loud as she yelled at him, swatting his extended arm away from her, he rolled his eyes, letting out a deep sigh, shaking his head.

“I don’t give a shit if it’s your name, I’ve always called you Sunshine! What the hell is so different now?!” 

She let out another cynical laugh at that, fighting the urge to shove him away from her.

“Everything is different Torres! Every single fucking thing is different! You’re arguing with me in a garden outside of the damn White House where I have to get a fucking presidential pardon because I’m a god damn criminal. But you…Torres, you’re a freakin Avenger! We’ve never been more different!” Her voice cracked as she yelled back at him, her eyes burned as she felt them start to water, and she did her best to make sure she wouldn’t shed a single tear around him.

“It doesn’t have to be! You don’t have to be like that anymore! It’s a fresh start for a reason! You’re so god damn stubborn that you refuse to see yourself as anything but what you’ve been over the past few years. Newsflash,Sunshine, the Blip wasn’t good to all of us.It brought out the worst in a lot of people! You don’t have to be that same person anymore!” 

She shook her head at that.“What the hell would you know about what happened to me? You weren’t even there. Do you know how many times I wrote to you?! How many days I stayed up hoping that maybe I’d hear back from the one person I knew was still around?” Her voice cracked again as she spoke, her bottom lip quivering by the time she’d finished shouting at him. Her heart was practically pounding and her ears were ringing, her skin was flushed and all she could focus on was trying not to cry, trying to hold it all in.

She hated crying.

Once the first tear fell, it was as if the floodgates had been unleashed. She couldn’t hold it in, but she wouldn’t allow herself to break down, not like this. So she turned on her heel, hands clenched in fists as she started walking down the stone path, steadying her breath as she shook her head.

But his voice had her stopping in her tracks, still turned away from him. 

“You think I didn’t write you? Do you know the kind of shit I had to see when I was overseas, the shit I wished I had someone to talk to about?! I never stopped writing to you! Then I waited and waited for your letters! They were the only thing that got me through in the beginning, you were the only one.” 

He was exhausted, he’d been exhausted for years. Sure he’d found productive distractions, he’d even found parts of himself he’d thought he lost after the Blip. But there was always something missing, and that something had been her. She’d always been there, she was one of the largest constants in his life, then suddenly, things got hard, and she’d been gone.

She wasn’t the only one who had felt loss, that had felt that sense of loneliness.

But he didn’t know how to say that, he didn’t know how to let her know that he’d been hurting too, that the hurt hadn’t just gone away. But it wasn’t numbing, not like it had been that first year they’d lost contact. He’d managed to stay busy, working his ass off in the Air Force, using his own skill set, and expanding on it. 

He’d spent years drowning himself in work, sure he still had family back home, but it wasn’t easy going home, it wasn’t feasible for the most part. He’d been overseas for years, and in all of that time, he’d hardly gotten to speak to any of his family or friends. But he did his best to not let that loneliness overcome him.

So he’d done his best to show his superiors that he wasn’t just intelligent and athletic, but also diligent, committed, and useful.

That’s how he’d ended up meeting Sam that day in Tunisia, after years of climbing the ranks. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much that she wouldn’t hear.

His voice cracked as he spoke “You act like I forgot you, I’ve never forgotten you, Sunshine.” 

She shook her head at that. Looking down at the ground, feeling the tears falling faster.“I don’t wanna hear that from you. Now leave me the hell alone Torres”

Then she walked away, heels clicking against the pavement as she walked through the lush space, shaking her head while wiping away her tears.

Baltimore M.D., Three Weeks Prior

“I’m not avoiding the question!” Y/n shook her head, jaw clenched as she stared at Dr. Raynor. They were currently sitting in the living room of the house that Sam had called her ‘new temporary home’. 

She was seated on the large burnt orange sofa in the middle of the room, one leg crossed on the oversized cushion she sat on, the other extended in front of her, foot resting on the edge of the small glass coffee table in the room. She held a throw pillow in her lap, glaring at Dr. Raynor who sat across from her, except in the room itself, she was technically diagonal as the recliner she sat in was angled away.

Of course the small brown leather bound notebook was still in her hand alongside a black ink pen that she jotted down notes with.

The woman sighed, adjusting her glasses as she glanced back down at the notebook, clearly making a note of Y/n’s defensive behavior.

“Yes, yes you are avoiding the question, It was a simple ask, what do you think your genuine purpose is? I’m not asking for an essay, most people have some kind of answer, some would say to work, others would say to help, I’ve even had clients say their last purpose is to make amends. If you don’t have an answer—then that itself is an answer as well. But you? You’ve completely disregarded the question”.

Y/n sighed, shaking her head again as she glanced down at her hands, the skin around her cuticles were peeling, some of it red, some of it scabbed, from her constant need to pick or fidget. 

The question was simple in thought. Dr. Raynor had asked the question ten minutes ago, and for the past ten minutes, Y/n had done her best to avoid it, opting to bring up random thoughts, extend on previous things, and ask her therapist questions instead. 

She knew for a fact she’d been avoiding the doctor’s question. 

Mainly because she’d always thought her purpose would be to do something good, something great even. To find the next biggest scientific discovery, to use her smarts for the benefit of helpful research, to engineer something substantial, to expand upon biomedical sciences and studies. 

Instead she was technically an ex-arms dealer, the engineer behind a series of potentially country-ending-weapons and machinery, a contributor to several global wars, and a literal felon with a criminal record. Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t leave the jurisdiction of the State of Maryland or Washington D.C. without pre-approved supervision.

She used to believe that maybe, on the simplest level, her purpose was to help those in need. To help those who were sick, those who were wounded, those injured in wars, but instead, she was part of the reason for those injuries in wars.

“Okay, so I don’t have an answer then.” 

Dr. Raynor shook her head “now you’re just lying to me, y’know for a global criminal considered a national threat, you’re a horrible liar” she took a note of that as well.

Y/n sighed, looking up at Dr. Raynor then back down at her hands, specifically at her right palm, running her left thumb over it again. Tracing the scar, back and forth, several times over. 

The only reason they’d had today’s therapy session in the living room was because Joaquin had been called into work late last night, some local mission that Sam needed intelligence backup on. It worked out perfectly, she’d finally gotten a day of peace and quiet.

That and her usual therapy session didn’t need to be in the mess that was her room, and Dr. Raynor wouldn’t be able to jot down any notes about the disastrous state that the bedroom was in.

“Fine. When I was a kid, I wanted to help people. Do something good y’know, my mom always said with as smart as I was, I’d be able to find the cure to the most untreatable diseases. I uh, I remember when Quin—Torres, uh yeah, Torres, would tell me that I’d be able to make a real difference for people like us y’know, people who grew up in poor areas with shit access to things like health care and real genuine medical treatments. But it all seems so far-fetched now.”

She took a deep breath after that, finally looking over at Dr. Raynor, who’s brows were knit together as she listened, then she took another note, it was short, and quick.

“You do know that you still have time to do that, right? In a world like this, where aliens, gods, and superheros are all real, there’s really no such thing as an aspiration that’s far-fetched,”

“That’s what Quino used to say to me, said we could be anything since aliens were real,” she smiled, shaking her head while looking down at her palms again.

“Tell me about your friendship with Joaquin.” 

She coughed at first, slightly taken aback before shaking her head at Dr. Raynor. 

“I’m being serious, I’d like to know more about your past, and he seems to be a consistent figure” 

She sighed, nodding her head “I dunno, like I said before, we grew up together, we were best friends for years, our families are friends, they always told us we’d get married someday, that way our families could just be one big family y’know. We were close for a long time, he was my closest confidant.”

The session ended shortly after that, mainly because time had run out, and Y/n had nothing to really respond with, sure the words of encouragement were nice, and even if they made complete sense from a logical perspective, morally, Y/n didn’t think she really deserved a second chance.

Maybe that was why this entire predicament was so difficult. It was hard to adjust, hard to accept that Sam Wilson had really given her a second chance, that maybe she’d actually be able to do some good and be able to actually help people instead of hurt them.

She’d sat in the living room once Dr. Raynor had left, opting to use one of the large throw blankets on the couch, covering herself to get comfortable, eventually opting to lay down, TV now on as she mindlessly scrolled through the channels, well at least, things were mindless until Y/n caught the local News.

Then her eyes widened as she sat up swiftly, a recorded footage feed showing Captain America and the Falcon mid air, both fighting what looked to be missiles over the Indian Ocean. She wasn’t even sure if they were actually fighting, it looked more like they were trying to lure them away, and at first they’d been doing a great job.

Then Joaquin had been hit, and not only had he been hit, he’d crash landed into the Indian Ocean. Based on the timestamps on the footage, that had happened almost four hours ago.

It was like she was on autopilot, immediately standing up, eyes wide as she rushed to gather her things and put on whatever clothes she could quickly find. Sam had mentioned that if anything ever happened, they’d be rushed to the hospital at the air force base twenty minutes outside of Washington D.C., so what did Y/n decide to do? 

Steal Joaquin’s keys and drive herself to that hospital.

It didn’t help that she’d been questioned at the security gate, and then they’d also tried arresting her, which did lead to a very unnecessary fight, but she defended herself by stating they’d triggered her fight or flight response by putting their hands on her first and practically ripping her out of the car that was registered in Joaquin’s name.

To be fair, she’d even told them that they’d been living together, and that he should’ve been flown in by then, or at the very least, he’d be arriving shortly. She had also tried showing them the paperwork that Sam had provided to her, all of it had been filed electronically, notarized, and in the legal sense, it was concrete proof that she was no longer a wanted criminal.

Technically, she wasn’t exactly a regular civilian either. There was some subclass that she’d fallen under after being experimented on, and then, of course, being a former enemy of the state wasn’t the best title for someone actively trying to get onto a military base, especially when they had zero military clearance or involvement.

It had taken two additional hours for her to actually get to the hospital on base, and the only reason they hadn’t fully arrested her was because Sam had managed to find her. 

The walk to the hospital, and through the halls was quiet. Sure there was the general noise and ambiance of a hospital, plus the stench of alcohol and antiseptics, and the ongoing background chatter between staff and patients, plus the beeping of different machines, but between Y/n and Sam, they were silent.

Sam felt guilty, guilty for it all, as if it was his fault that this had happened.The past twenty four hours had been miserable, everything that could’ve gone wrong, had gone wrong. He’d even gotten guidance from Bucky Barnes of all people, sure he loved Buck, but at the same time, getting guidance from one of the least level-headed people he knew was tragic.

Now he had to deal with Y/n, who he practically ripped away from several military police after she’d taken down two of their guards after claiming that they’d hit her first. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be shocked if they had acted with aggression towards the girl, her record was beyond worrisome and she did have several red flags that equated to violent tendencies.

But he also knew that she was worried, the concern was practically oozing off of her. 

She acted as if she hated Joaquin, but Sam knew that she was just hurt, and it was the kind of hurt that would take time to heal. It wasn’t exactly easy for her to go back to normal, especially when the past five years have been anything but normal.

They walked side by side, neither wanting to be the first to speak, at least until they’d reached the door to the room he was currently admitted into. It was a recovery room, he’d just gotten out of surgery about half an hour ago, his entire right shoulder had been burned and partially broken, not to mention the bits and pieces of metal that had pierced through his skin from his suit, wings, and the shrapnel from the missile. 

With the blinds to Joaquin’s room being open, Y/n could see him lying in the hospital bed, elevated, from where she stood.  His upper body had been bandaged, but she could see bits and pieces of his burnt skin along his jawline and his neck. 

He even had a few cuts and scrapes on his face, but they weren’t major, not like the burns, breaks, and fractures. 

It broke her heart to see him like that.

“Y’know, he really needs you right now. He’s probably needed you for a long time. Same way you’ve needed him.” 

She nodded her head at Sam, jaw clenched and brows knit together, as she blinked rapidly, trying to force the tears away at the sight of Joaquin unconscious in the hospital bed.

“I can’t do this Sam.” With that she’d walked off in the opposite direction, wiping her tears away as fast as possible, but it was no use, they’d kept falling.

Washington D.C. Air Force Base, Two Weeks Prior

To say that it was easy getting Y/n on and off base over the time span of a week would’ve been a bold faced lie, Sam had to pull several strings for it to happen, especially considering her not so subtle fight with several members of their military police unit. It would’ve been easier if she hadn't won the fight by a landslide. He had to pull the Captain America card several times, and even stated that he was taking her under his wing.

Once she was officially allowed on base, and considering that’s also where his main headquarters was based out of, it was much easier for her to have somewhere to be while Joaquin was in the hospital on the opposite end of the Air Force campus. She hadn’t gone to see him again, instead she’d spent her time bothering Sam, hacking into random systems, and going through their records.

She’d even managed to pull the records on the super soldier serum that she’d been injected with, she found out its origins, even found records of illegal tests, experiments, and medical data from overseas that had been discovered through a series of raids and top secret missions.

Every single day Sam would ask if she wanted to go see him, he’d try to convince her, and she’d always decline. He’d even mentioned that Joaquin had asked for her a few times. 

Although he wasn’t fully conscious. 

So she’d decided that maybe it was time to go see him, she couldn’t hide from seeing him forever.Sure she was mean to him, and she did push him away, but she’d never ever wished harm onto him, and she never would. At one point in time he’d meant the world to her, and if Dr. Raynor was right about anything, she was right about the fact that Y/n needed to work on opening up to people again, and letting them in.

So she left Sam’s office space and made her way to the hospital, glaring at a few officers that had given her questioning looks. By the time she’d made it to the hospital she was nervous, so nervous that she couldn’t bring herself to go into his room, she’d managed to get directions to his floor and now she was standing outside of the door, arms crossed as she tried to give herself a mental pep talk.

Then her soul had practically left her body the second an older woman spoke to her.

“Going inside sweetheart? You’ve been out here for about twenty two minutes now.” 

Y/n slowly shook her head at the older nurse, taking note of her badge that read ‘Shirley ICU RN’. Her hair was fully grey and pulled up into a ponytail, she couldn’t have been taller than Joaquin’s abuela—the woman standing at a whopping 5’1—and she was full of life.

“Uh no, I don’t think he’d want me in there with him, not the person I am today at least.” 

She shook her head at that, raising a single brow.“I think it sounds like you don’t want to be in there because of the person you are today, y’know, I saw the way you looked at him when you’d first came last week. I don’t know your history with Captain Torres, but I know he means a lot to you. Remember sweetheart, holding grudges only does harm in the end, it’s easier to forgive and keep moving forward.”

With that she reassuringly patted Y/n’s forearm, offered another smile, then made her way down the hall towards another room.

When Sam had gone looking for Y/n to ask if she was going to come see Joaquin today, she wasn’t there, and naturally he , but after about fifteen minutes he’d found the note that she left on his desk that read ‘Going to go see him’.

That’s how he found her sitting in the uncomfortably stiff cushioned chair beside his hospital bed, tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes, looking right at Joaquin as she held his right hand with her own, or rather she held onto his right hand even though his stayed open.

She hadn’t noticed Sam at first, too busy sniffling as her eyes kept retracing the burns along his shoulder and neck, the previous dressing had been removed, the nurses stating that it would be good for the burn to ‘breathe’—whatever the hell that meant. Sam had also watched as she reached over with her left hand, slightly brushing the loose curls along his hairline back.

He was typically very put together, his hair never really fell out of place, and Y/n knew that, he’d always been particular about how he liked his hair.

She shook her head at him, eyes tracing each and every ridge, line, and curve of his face. 

“You’re such an asshole,” she’d mumbled, looking at him.

“Glad you finally gave him a visit.” 

Her eyes widened as she sat up, left hand instantly moving away from Joaquin, but she’d instinctively squeezed his right/ The moment she was about to respond to Sam with a witty remark, Joaquin had squeezed her hand.

Sam caught the movement too, his eyes widening as he approached the bed, now standing at the foot of it as he glanced at Joaquin, who’s features were slowly but surely moving, brows knit together, his eyes squeezed shut even harder, then he slowly opened them, blinking a few times, struggling to adjust to the bright fluorescent lights in combination with the sun shining in from outside.

“S-sunshine?” his voice was hoarse, throat dry, and he was confused as he started to process everything around him.

“Glad to see you’re finally waking up, kid” 

He slowly nodded his head, easily seeing Sam in front of him, however he didn’t register Y/n next to him, not until he went to move his hand and realized someone was holding it, then he shifted his head a bit, rolling it to the side, a little groggy still as his vision focused on the woman beside him.

He could feel her squeezing his hand, and he let out a slight laugh. Although it didn’t really sound like a laugh, more like a dry breathy cough.

Then one of the nurses walked into the room, she was an older woman who had taken the time to speak with Y/n before she’d gone into the hospital room, giving her a few pieces of helpful advice about actually being there for someone. 

The nurse smiled at the sight of Joaquin waking up, and she approached the bed with a small cup of water, taking the time to raise his bed, letting him sit up a bit more before helping him with the water.

The entire time Y/n didn’t let go of his hand, and he’d made the effort to hold onto hers as well.

“It’s good you’re awake Captain Torres, we were getting a bit worried about our resident hero.” 

He nodded his head groggily, smiling slightly.

Her assessment took about ten minutes, she’d asked him several questions to see what he remembered to judge his cognitive function, and she’d also asked him to move certain body parts of his, which he could mostly do. It was a bit uncomfortable, but it showed that while he was injured, it wasn’t anything debilitating.

Everyone was quiet as she took his vitals, making several notes before letting them know that she’d let his care team know that he was awake.

He finally looked over at Y/n again, a small smile on his face “Sunshine, how long was I out?” His voice was still hoarse, but it sounded a bit better, as if he was getting used to talking again.

“Consistently? A week, but they said you were in and out for the first week.” 

He nodded his head at that before looking over at Sam. “Did I at least look cool in the air?” 

She lightly slapped him on his side, meanwhile Sam shook his head, hands in his pockets with a small smile on his face.

“Yes, you looked cool in the air. Now I’m gonna give you two some time.I’ll be back in a bit, I’m sure you have a lot to talk about." With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Joaquin took a deep breath, now looking over at her again, meanwhile she did her best to avoid his stare, gaze moving around the room, taking in the small details that she truly didn’t care for such as the small crack in the drywall above the door, the several wires behind the bed, all tangled as they connected the medical machinery to the bed, a power source, and most importantly Joaquin.

She’d even realized that the table on the opposite side of him didn’t match the table closest to her, it was clearly the older version of the side table.

“Have you been crying?” 

She rolled her eyes at him, silently nodding her head 

“Why?” 

That had her looking at him as if he had three heads, eyes squinted as she craned her neck back a bit.“Why have I been crying? I dunno because I had to watch you get shot out of the air by a goddamn missile then crash land into the ocean? Plus you’ve been hospitalized for two weeks, one of which involved a medically induced coma?!” 

He slowly nodded his head, squeezing her hand again.

“I thought you hated me.” 

She took a deep breath at that, jaw clenched as she shook her head.“No you moron, I don’t hate you, I just—I dunno okay Dr. Raynor has had me thinking and I guess talking to Nurse Shirley and just—just-fuck shut up!” 

He nodded his head slowly at her frustration, he was still a little groggy, and it was clear that whatever pain medications they had him on were strong.

He looked down at himself, doing his best to see his lower chest and lower body, noticing the few wires and patches under his hospital gown, and he’d even been able to see the burn along his chest, it was clear he’d screwed up going after that missile, he just wanted to impress Sam. Hell, he wanted to impress the entire world.

“I missed you, y’know.”

She shook her head at his words, bottom lip quivering.“Of course you did” 

He nodded at that, now looking at her again, and this time, she couldn’t help but get closer, leaning into his space as she brushed his curls away from his face, doing her best to fix his hair. He smiled at her look of focus, the same concentrated look that she’d had since they were kids.

Her brows were furrowed and it was clear that she’d been biting her tongue slightly with her teeth, lips barely spread as she focused on what she was doing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to your graduation, I didn’t get the letter on time.”

His voice was quiet, and that was what finally broke her, the tears were flowing along her cheeks while she looked at him, shaking her head as she nodded.

“I’m sorry I held it against you, but Jesus, I’ve never felt more alone, I didn’t have anyone. Then I needed you and you just, you weren’t there—and it hurt so fucking bad.” 

He nodded at that, a singular tear of his own sliding down his face. “It was hard, wasn’t it?” 

She nodded at his question, sniffling, squeezing his hand a little tighter.Harder than anything I’ve ever experienced. I guess that's why it was so easy to fall into shitty habits and routines.” 

He nodded at that, eyes trailing along her figure, taking in her disheveled state. She’d been stressed, that much was obvious.“Yeah, you’ve got quite the rap sheet now.” He was teasing her, and for a second, things felt normal, it felt like they were seventeen in Miami again, going back and forth with each other while sitting outside on the hood of her dad’s truck. 

“What can I say, being a criminal mastermind was quite the regrettable career choice out of college.” 

He raises both brows.“I’d say so, too.” 

And in that moment, they’d both realized that she was still close to him, she could’ve moved at any point in time, but she didn’t. His eyes took in the details of her face, slowly but surely taking note of everything that had changed about her over the years, there wasn’t much, truthfully she looked almost the same, just a little older now.

The same way that he’d grown up, so had she.

Then he was leaning forward, ignoring the radiating pain from his shoulder and his ribcage, slowly lifting his left hand until it was resting against her face.

Neither of them had moved away.

Her gaze had shifted from his eyes to his lips, back and forth, and she wasn’t sure if it was the overwhelming emotions rushing through her, or the close proximity of Joaquin, or maybe even a mixture of both, but she’d been the one to lean closer, connecting their lips.

The kiss was soft and careful, just as it was sweet and gentle. 

He smiled against her lips, they moved slowly in sync with one another, and she squeezed his right hand again, her left hand now finding its way to his jaw as she kissed him.

Once they’d finally pulled apart she rested her forehead against his.“Promise me you won’t get shot out of the fucking sky again” 

He laughed. “Only if you promise me you won’t go back to being a war criminal.” 

She rolled her eyes, giving him one last quick peck before standing up fully. “I mean, I guess I could give Sam’s plan a shot.”

Washington D.C. Air Force Base, Present Day

Joaquin’s major rehabilitation plan involved a multitude of physical therapy, specialist visits, and most importantly, he had to stay on base. Meaning, he couldn’t leave the Air Force base unless it was on a work related trip that didn’t involve being the Falcon.

Even after sustaining his injuries the doctors were a bit shocked that he was up and moving around so quickly, it’d been about two weeks since his accident, and one week since he’d been fully awake and functional. They tried to get him to stay in the hospital, stating that they would be able to move him to a more comfortable room, but he swiftly declined, stating that if he had to be on base, he’d prefer to be in his office space, considering it also had a somewhat private attached living quarters.

It wasn’t the biggest living area, it was practically the size of a studio apartment, but it was enough for him to actually have his own space. Well, almost his own space.

Instead of him being Y/n’s babysitter, she was his. 

Sam had advised her that he trusted her enough at this point to make sure Joaquin was alright, it also helped that the two of them were on a genuine speaking basis again, and following their kiss two weeks ago, they’d been friends again.

They truly were the epitome of old friends that could catch up in the time span of an hour, it was as if nothing had changed, as if they hadn’t gone nine years without seeing one another. 

The day that he’d woken up, following their kiss, they’d talked for hours about anything and everything. She’d told him about the less than legal activities that she’d been involved in, even did her best to describe her stint in Madripoor before and after being injected with the serum. That was something that did worry Joaquin, especially considering she couldn’t really piece those memories all the way together.

But she’d reassured him that there were no lasting harmful side effects of the serum, her body had adjusted to it, and now it was just a part of her whether she liked it or not.

He’d told her about his different missions, even let her know about the day that he’d met Sam, which she did tease him about, knowing that the Falcon was his childhood hero. 

Then he was moved into the lackluster studio space attached to his shared office with Sam, and Y/n had spent two days cleaning and organizing it, the first day was about cleaning, the second she’d been driving to Baltimore to get their things, then she’d practically bullied some of the men that typically worked under Joaquin into helping her move things.

Sure she could’ve done it on her own, but everything was bulky all together and it would’ve taken more than one trip.

Joaquin still hadn’t fully processed that Y/n was fully back in his life again, she’d apologized profusely for the way she’d been treating him, he knew that she was hurting, he also knew that she wasn’t the best when it came to coping with her emotions. 

He’d forgiven her a week into having her back in his life.

But she didn’t need to know that, nor did she need to know that she had him wrapped around her finger. He’d do anything and everything for her. 

He’d always been that way when it came to her.

What he hadn’t expected was the immediate resurgence of the feelings that he’d harbored for her when they were younger, the same feelings that he’d tried to rationalize the day he’d left for bootcamp. He was never able to truly define them, he couldn’t exactly let himself fully accept and acknowledge that he’d been in love with his childhood best friend.

Not now and not then, well maybe now. Things were different, they were adults now, adults who would most likely be spending a lot more time together for a while, plus she wasn’t on the run and he wasn’t somewhere overseas.

They were currently in the main office, Y/n was busy researching super soldier serum, she’d found herself heavily invested in this over the past few weeks, and in her downtime she’d take advantage of the various softwares and technologies they had. 

It was a good distraction.

She was currently reviewing the various interrogation tapes and video diaries from one of the last few hydra bases that had managed to survive well into the blip. It was remote, somewhere in the middle of Russia’s countryside, and the diaries documented failed experiments, potential recreations of the Red Skull, and even notes on how to adjust and ‘train’ soldiers like The Winter Soldier himself.

She stood in front of one of the large table-top touch screen monitors, gaze focused on different feeds, manuscripts, and translations.

Meanwhile Joaquin was seated on the large sectional, his feet propped up on the small coffee table in front of him while his laptop was in his lap where he was supposed to be doing some work and reviewing some encrypted data that Sam had sent over.

However, his gaze was held on Y/n, more specifically, on her lower half. It was hot outside, so she’d been wearing shorts a lot more often, however these shorts-if one could even call them that, were so short that anytime she bent forward he could see the bottom of her ass, and it had him biting his bottom lip while blushing. 

Not to mention they weren’t exactly fitted shorts, but they weren’t overly loose, and he was positive they were made of something soft like cotton based on the way the fabric sat. Then she’d shift and he’d see the way her thighs and ass would slightly jiggle, and at this rate, he was losing his internal battle.

They hadn’t even spoken about the kiss, maybe it was a one time thing, or maybe it was a pity kiss on her behalf. He tried to blame it on the emotions of the moment, but truly, he’d wanted to kiss her for a long time. 

Then she dropped her notebook, mumbling a quick ‘shit’ before stepping to the side, now fully bending over, back arched while she reached to grab the notebook that had slid between the desk itself and one of Sam’s large filing cabinets. 

The entire time she was mumbling curse words and his jaw was practically on the floor. The way he was looking at her was down right perverted, his entire face was on fire at this rate and he was positive he was sweating.

But he couldn’t tear his gaze away as he traced his eyes over the span of her legs, then towards her ass, and now her legs were somewhat spread and the thin little shorts she had on were riding up, meanwhile the more she moved, the more the fat of her ass moved, and the more she spread her legs, the more prevalent the outline of her cunt between her thighs became.

The fact that she had on thin little red panties wasn’t helping either, his brain was short circuiting.

Then she’d grabbed the notebook, standing back up and doing a small victory cheer, except when she turned around to check on Joaquin, his gaze was on the laptop screen in front of him and he would’ve looked normal if he hadn’t been so red and flushed.

It was somewhat concerning, especially because she’d been so involved in her own research and task at hand, that she hadn’t realized he’d been staring at her. So, she placed her notebook on the table in front of her then waltzed right towards him.

He was praying she didn’t catch him staring, and he was also angling his laptop to hide his very evident ‘issue’ that had occurred because of his staring.

“Torres, are you okay?” she blinked a few times, now looking down at him, moving while very clearly examining him. 

He nodded his head and did his best to act nonchalant, pretending to type something, meanwhile he had a small sticky note open on his laptop and was typing random letters into it. 

But then she got closer, shutting his laptop to gather his full attention, her brows were knit together, her eyes quickly scanning his figure over and over again, double checking that she hadn’t missed anything or that something wasn’t wrong. 

Then to make matters worse, she was even closer now, one of her legs brushing against his while she propped herself up with her other knee on the sofa cushion beside him, now leaning into his space, before placing the back of her hand on his forehead, then his cheek.

“Why the hell are you burning up?! Do I need to call one of the nurses?!” 

He shook his head, gently swatting her hands away while avoiding her gaze“I-I’m uh fine. Trust me I’m just a little hot—it’s fine” she squinted her eyes at him, not buying his horrible lie.

“Tell me the truth, are you feeling okay?” Then she grabbed his chin, slowly tilting his head towards her, both of her brows now raised as she looked at him with an expectant look on her face.

The motion shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. It also didn’t help that he was already turned on.

“I’m fine, I promise, just hot ‘s all” 

She nodded.“Okay, you want me to turn the air on?” 

He shook his head at her.

“But you said you’re hot Torres” 

He groaned, nodding his head while grasping her wrist, pulling her hand away from his face slowly and carefully.“I’m fine, it’s probably a side effect from the pain meds or something.” 

She raised a single brow at that, now finally catching him in his lies. “You’re not taking any pain meds, you literally argued with me about it yesterday because you said you’re not gonna risk getting reliant on narcotics, and heat flashes sure as hell are not a side effect of ibuprofen.”

The way that she was concerned about him was also turning him on, it was so nurturing and sweet, but also a little mean, and honestly, this was the worst time for him to be acting like some kind of horny teenager. He’d always known Y/n was attractive, but this was absolutely insane to him.

It could’ve also been the fact that she was so comfortable around him too, prior to this current living arrangement, she’d never worn anything like that in the other house, not for the almost month that they’d lived together. Now she was walking around in little shorts, and he couldn’t even think about the top that she’d worn last night.

She’d been sleeping on the sectional, stating that she wasn’t going to just start sharing a bed with him, and then she’d told him that she’d slept in way worse places than their expensive ‘cloud of a sofa’ when he tried to protest.

But it made sense to go to sleep comfortably, however, he hadn’t expected for her to walk into the room and give him his antibiotics for the shrapnel wounds wearing a little pair of shorts and a fitted, cropped tank top with nothing under. He’d very clearly seen the outline of her breasts, alongside her nipples poking through the thin fabric, and he did his best not to watch the way her chest bounced as she walked. 

Maybe he was acting like this because he hadn’t had sex in a while, but sex wasn’t ever a huge priority for him, sure he slept with people from time to time, but he didn’t go out of his way to seek out people to sleep with.

The last time he’d thought about Y/n like this was when they were nineteen and he’d actually managed to come home to visit for the winter holidays. She’d shown up to his family’s annual christmas party in a fitted off the shoulder red dress with a white faux fur neckline and a similar trim at the bottom of the dress.

Everyone from the neighborhood had been invited, plus his extended family, and their friends. It was always a huge deal for everyone to come together around the holidays, but what he hadn’t expected was for her to show up like a Christmas vixen.

What had gotten to him though, was when she’d bent over to grab something from the oven for his abuela, and he’d been flashed her barely-covered ass, only adorned in what he assumed was a thin black thong.

He’d also made a scene out of it, rushing behind her to pull her dress down some before harshly whispering to her that she needed to ‘put her ass away’, which led to her shooting up, nearly dropping the hot pan in her hands while she whispered that she’d forgotten to put on her shorts because she was rushing out of the house.

After that, he made sure to walk her back to her house so she could change, then they walked back together. But that night, all he could think about was how she looked bent over in her skimpy panties and her little dress, and it was sending his mind into overdrive.

“Hello, earth to Joaquin?!” She snapped her fingers a few times in front of his face, and he’d blinked and finally realized that she’d been talking to him the entire time. But now he was stuck on the sound of his name from her lips.

“What’d you say?” 

She rolled her eyes, arms crossed in front of her chest.“I said earth to Torres, I’ve been talking to you for like five minutes and you’ve been zoned out thinking about whatever the fuck.” 

He slowly nodded, brows now knit together as he stared at her before shaking his head.“No, you didn’t call me Torres.” 

She sighed, hands now on her hips, irritation evident on her features.“Okay, big deal, I called you your name, I’m trying to make sure you’re okay and you’re over here in la la land! I should kick your ass!” 

He shook his head at that, now leaning back into the couch, except usually when he’d relax, he’d move his laptop, but he made no effort to do so, so mindlessly Y/n reached forward to grab it, then he surged forward too, grasping it and holding it in place with a panicked expression.

He’d also lightly shoved her back, making her laugh as she tried to regain her footing, however she hadn’t processed that she’d still been leaning into the sofa, so when he’d pushed her, she’d started falling backwards in a fit of giggles—but instead of catching herself, she simply grasped his left arm and had managed to pull him down with her.

Both of them were now lying on the ground or rather, she was on the ground while he was above her. They were laughing at one another, except Joaquin had barely managed to balance himself on his left arm, and it was a bit wobbly, which had them even closer than before. 

Then they both suddenly got quiet, now realizing how close they’d actually been.

His gaze was glued to her lips, meanwhile her eyes were trailing his features again, then she paused on his lips, and truthfully, neither of them were sure who’d made the first move, but their lips were connected again, except this kiss wasn’t slow, soft, or sweet.

It wasn’t anything like the kiss they’d shared a few days ago.

This kiss was fueled by frustration from both ends, as if they’d been pouring years of emotion back into one another. One of her hands was now in his hair, lightly tugging at the strands while her other hand slowly slid beneath his shirt, fingers gently running along the warm ridges of skin.

They were both fighting for control, it was clear that Joaquin wanted to win, however, the second she pulled his hair with a bit more force, he groaned against her lips, and his arm wobbled.

That had her pulling back, brows knit together as she caught her breath, looking from his kiss swollen lips to his eyes, then towards his left arm. She’d then realized that his right hand had been lightly caressing her jaw, however the position looked uncomfortable for him, and she knew he was straining too hard.

“Get up.” 

He blinked a few times, caught off guard by the sudden demand, then she was shoving him, making sure it wasn’t too hard. He could feel her hesitating when her hand was closer to his right shoulder.

He slowly nodded, listening to her.

“Did I do something wrong?” 

She shook her head, now standing up before giving him an expectant look, so he slowly got off of the ground, and he also made sure to check that his laptop that had hit the floor was alright—it was okay enough.

Then she pushed him back onto the couch.

“Y’know you really shouldn’t be over extending yourself, Torres.” 

He nodded his head, watching as she easily straddled his lap—then both of their eyes widened the second she was properly situated against him. There were a few moments of silence before Y/n started laughing again.

“You’re seriously hard right now? Wait,is that why you were being so weird?!”

He groaned again, this time covering his face with his hands feeling overly embarrassed as if she wasn’t the one on his lap right now. It also didn’t help that with each movement, it was as if she was slowly grinding against him and he wanted nothing more than to moan.

She was still giggling, shaking her head while she gently pried his hands from his face.

“Oh c’mon Torres, it’s only natural, don’t be shy about it,” she smirked, her teasing tone had him nodding his head, then she leaned closer to him, trailing a few open mouthed kisses along his jaw, then moving towards the left side of his neck, lightly nipping at his skin, tongue trailing over the marks she’d left behind.

Meanwhile she slowly moved her hips against him, letting out a few gasps, enjoying the friction against her core. His hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin while he leaned his head back and a bit to the side, giving her more room. 

Her hands were shifting his shirt up, nails lightly tracing along his abdomen, the feeling making his mind fuzzy.

“Take it off, Torres.” 

He blinked a few times, nodding his head at her words as he scrambled to pull his shirt off, tossing it to the side somewhere, then her lips were back on him, but each time he tried to lean forward-she’d push him back against the cushions. 

Then her lips were back on him, except now she was slowly moving lower and lower, leaving a trail of minor bite marks and bruises along his skin before she was situated between his legs, now on her knees looking up at him. He hadn’t even realized that she’d been on the ground, his eyes had been shut while he leaned back, enjoying the feeling of her lips and teeth against his skin.

He’d been dreaming about this moment for years.

Seeing her looking up at him from between his legs had his mind short circuiting, then she started undoing his belt while still holding eye contact with him.

Truthfully, it was a feat in and of itself, she’d been nervous, but she was doing her best to play it off. Once she managed to undo his belt, she raised a single brow at him, as if asking for his permission, which had him practically whimpering as he nodded his head.

His eyes were slightly hooded, lips parted while he tried to steady his breathing, and he’d kept running his left hand through his hair. 

By the time that she’d undid his jeans and slid her hand into his pants, he was already biting down on his lip, chest rapidly rising and falling at the feeling of her hand against him, the only thing stopping her from actually touching him had been the thin layer of fabric separating the both of them.

She’d been palming him over his briefs, a smirk on her face at his quiet moans.

Then she tugged on his jeans a bit more and pulled his cock out, her eyes widening at the size of it, he was bigger than she’d expected, and he was certainly thicker than she’d thought. But it almost made sense, Joaquin had never really been scrawny, he’d always been broad, but now he’d filled out a lot more, the years in the Air Force had been good to his physique.

“Shit you don’t have to—” 

She cut him off, shushing him as she scooted a bit closer, now leaning over him as she slowly spit onto the tip of his cock before spreading it around with her thumb. “Let me take care of you Joaquin.” 

He nodded his head, her voice so soft and sweet, his heart was practically hammering out of his chest. 

“O-okay—” then he moaned, it wasn’t a quiet moan either, it was loud and throaty. She’d wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock, tongue swirling around the thick mushroom tip, then she pulled back, tracing her tongue along the weeping slit, the pleasure made him shudder.

She wrapped her right hand around his thick shaft, slowly raising it up and down, spitting on his cock again, using it as a lubricant to keep her motions fluid. 

“You’re always saving everyone, always being the hero, taking care of everything else. Can I take care of you this time?” 

He nodded his head, his entire body was on fire, it was as if he’d been possessed, maybe she was possessing him, maybe she was actually a witch and this is how’d she’d kill him.

Or maybe, just maybe, the love that he’d thought he’d been over, the love that he’d felt for her was making things one hundred times more intense.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby.” 

He whimpered, brows knit together as he looked down at her.“Yes-please-do it-do anything you want to me-fuck ‘m all yours, promise” 

That made her heart flutter.

Then she was taking him into her mouth again, inch by inch, and when she’d finally gagged on him, he let out another guttural moan, struggling to keep his hands still, then she’d looked back up at him and he felt like he was about to pass out.

She took her time with him, slowly bobbing her head along his cock, letting her spit trail along his thick shaft, some of it even dribbling down her chin while she used her right hand on what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. 

He finally placed his hand in her hair, it was a bit frizzy and wavy from being in braids and he’d gathered what he could, holding it in a ponytail, keeping it out of her face while she focused on sucking his cock. She’d even hollowed her cheeks, moving herself a bit faster, taking a little more of him down her throat.

This was downright sinful.

His ears were practically ringing as he fought the urge to buck his hips into her mouth, but the faster she moved her head, the closer he was to cumming.

Then she pulled back, a string of spit connecting her lips to the tip of his cock, he blinked a few times, heavy breaths leaving his lips when he watched her smirk, then she was leaning down, her tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock for a few seconds before she’d moved lower-that has his eyes widening.

She didn’t hesitate to trail her tongue along his balls, then she’d taken them in her mouth and he’d pulled her hair so hard it stung, but she’d just moaned, moving back up to his dick again, tongue back along the shaft before she wrapped her lips around the tip, tongue swirling around it again.

Meanwhile both of her hands were pumping and slightly twisting along his shaft, he’d bucked his hips a few times but she’d ignored it, watching as he writhed above her.

“Fuck-baby I’m gonna cum-fuck-you gotta stop before I cum-” he was borderline whining, voice a bit higher as he tried to catch his breath and tried to hold back, then she moved again.

“I want you to cum, so cum Joaquin” she’d practically demanded it, and that sent him over the edge, as her hands moved, he was cumming, thick spurts of cum shooting from his cock, trailing along her fingers, then she’d pulled the head back into her mouth, swallowing the rest of it before moving back, licking along her fingers before using her thumb to slowly drag the mixture of spit and cum along her chin into her mouth, dragging it against her bottom lip.

He thought she was done, he was already getting soft, but clearly she was a fan of torturing him.

She’d brought the sensitive tip of his cock back into her mouth, sucking on it as she stared at him, moaning around it for a few seconds, as if she was milking him dry.

The overstimulation made his eyes water as he shook his head at her.

“Baby, fuck-give me a minute-please-oh-” he whimpered when she took more of him into her mouth, lightly running her teeth along the sides of his cock before pulling away, letting him go with a ‘pop’. Then she kissed his tip, and out of everything she’d just done to him, that was downright filthy.

“You gonna let me keep goin’ Quino?” his jaw dropped at the nickname, watching as she stood up, easily slipping her shorts off, then straddled his lap again, leaving just enough room between them for her to spit on his cock and go back to fisting it. 

To say he was overly sensitive was an understatement, however that hadn’t stopped him from getting hard, not when she was on his lap making him pant like a dog. 

“Don’t call me that right now.” 

She laughed at his strained voice, leaning a little closer to him, resting her forehead against his as she kept her motions up.“Why not, Quino?” 

He moaned, shaking his head.“F-fuck, you know why.” 

She shrugged at that, moving back a little bit, she looked at him as if she was on death row and he was her last meal. “No I don’t Quino, you gonna tell me why I can’t call you that?, I’ve always called you that.” Her tone was mocking and degrading, he shook his head again, now bucking his hips into her hand, watching her bite her bottom lip, he was hard again, his head was spinning, his heart was racing, and he was five second away from telling her he’d been in love with her his entire life.

He moaned, using his left hand to grab her neck, pulling her into a kiss, practically slamming his lips into hers. 

She was surprised by the motion, especially considering she could still taste him on her tongue. 

Joaquin didn’t care about that, he was practically drowning in her. The kiss was rough, it was all teeth and tongue, the both of them swallowing one another’s moans as she ground herself against one of his thighs while slowly and lazily playing with his cock.

He pulled away first “I need to be inside of you-” and as he tried to push her off, attempting to switch positions, she used her enhanced strength to push him back into his spot while shaking her head.

“You're still hurt, or did cumming make you forget that?” 

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sunshine” 

She shushed him again, giving him a pointed look.“No, your shoulders still hurt, you have a long recovery, no way in hell you’re about to make things worse because you want to have sex.” 

He groaned, nose scrunched with his eyebrows furrowed.“So we’re not having sex anymore?” he sounded unsure of himself, and that made her laugh again, shaking her head, their previously heated exchange now filled with a combination of their laughter. She smiled at him, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Do you trust me, Quino?” 

He groaned at the nickname, nodding his head, trying to ignore the butterflies he was feeling in his abdomen. He felt like he did the last night they’d spent together after high school, he was undoubtedly in love with her, and that love was all consuming. 

“That’s not my name.” 

She shushed him, moving her body forward now, easily sliding her panties to the side before slowly gliding his cock against her sopping cunt, practically coating him in her essence, teasing him.

“Yes it is, or would you prefer Joaquin?” She leaned closer to him, lips brushing against the shell of his ear “You want me to call you Joaquin when you’re inside of me? Tell you how good you feel against my tight little cunt, huh Joaquin?” 

He moaned again, eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of her lining his tip up with her entrance, then she was sliding down,taking all of him.

She moaned at the stretch, resting her head against his shoulder as she took him inch by inch until she was stuffed to the hilt, clenching around his thick cock,whimpering at the burning stretch.

“‘S so fuckin big-feels so fuckin good” 

He nodded at that, his hands now holding onto her waist, fingers digging into her skin hard enough to bruise trying to keep his composure. Then she’d fluttered around him over and over again while slowly grinding herself against him-enjoying the feeling of being so full.

“Should’ve done this a long time ago-shouldn’t have let you go so easy.” Her words were quiet as she finally started moving, bringing her body upwards, then slowly back down, setting a slow pace-rambling against the crook of his neck. 

“Missed you so much, Quino” 

He moaned, nodding his head as she moved against him, hands now moving, pulling her even closer to him.“I-oh shit-missed you too-S-sunshine.” He was stuttering at this point, head thrown back as she bounced on his cock, she was gradually building her pace, doing her best to keep things gentle, to make sure he’d be okay.

She kissed along his throat again, except this time, she moved, shifting towards his right side, peppering soft open mouthed kisses along his scarred skin, the doctors had said the burns were pretty superficial around his neck and shoulders, he’d scar, but it wasn’t as major as his other injuries.

If this wasn’t genuine love, he had no idea what love was supposed to feel like.

She was moving faster now, her moans a little louder against his skin, it was as if the only sounds in the room were their shared breathy moans, the sloshing sound of her cunt, and the sound of their skin. 

Then she reached between her thighs, fingers easily finding her clit as she kissed him again, it was difficult to focus on kissing him, their lips were moving, but it was sloppy, they’d been moaning against one another while she bounced a bit faster.

He used his left hand to move hers out of the way, two fingers now focused on rubbing fast half-circles against her swollen bud-earning several high pitched whimpers as she kept her movements up, cunt clenching around his cock as she lost her rhythm.

“I’m gonna cum-fuck Quino I’m gonna cum.” She was whimpering, her forehead resting against one of his shoulders again as she grasped onto his forearms.

“Just like that, you’re doing so good-so good for me baby.”

She nodded her head, feeling herself getting closer and closer to the edge.

Meanwhile he was doing everything in his power not to cum again, his mind was hazy and his only real goal was to make her cum first, he knew she was close, so he started bucking his hips up into her-knowing she wouldn’t argue with him right now-not when she was like this.

That sent her over the edge, moaning out a string of expletives and his name, alongside a few jumbled words, begging him to cum again.

“W-where?” 

She whimpered again, hips still moving slowly, “Inside-fuck need it inside, Quino.”

That pushed him over, and in his own orgasmic haze he hadn’t realized what he’d been moaning.

“Fuck-fuck-so perfect-shit I love you-oh god love you so much” 

The both of them sat in a comfortable silence as they came down from their highs, then she slowly started sliding off of him, wincing at the soreness of her cunt, followed by the feeling of his cum leaking out of her.

She slowly stood up, and instead of saying anything, she simply gave him an expectant look, that look resulted in the both of them being in the shower together, she was washing his hair for him, the intimacy of it all made her heart flutter even if he was complaining that she was doing it wrong.

“How the hell do you wash hair wrong, Quino? I have more hair than you, I think I know what I’m doing” her response was a bit snappy, however the few giggles that left her lips after reassured him that she wasn’t mad at him, besides he wasn’t even supposed to be lifting his shoulders too much, she was doing him a favor.

“Okay, there, now rinse it pretty boy.”He nodded at that, looking back over his shoulder, smiling at her.

When he was done rinsing his hair, he’d volunteered to wash her back, it made both of them laugh, however as she stood in front of him, he took the time to glide his fingers along the deep indented scars in her skin, brows furrowed as he realized this was what she had left to show fro everything she’d been put through for years.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

She shook her head at that. “Don’t be, you should see the other guys,” she laughed softly, rolling her shoulders back when his touch tickled her, a smile on her face.

She turned to face him now, and they held eye contact for a few moments, as if they’d been taking one another in for the first time in a long time.“Is what you said true?” 

He blinked a few times, caught off guard by the question—trying to rack his brain to figure out what she was referring to. 

Then she raised a single brow “You don’t remember do you? Y’know it’s very in character for you to confess your love to me while literally cumming inside of me, then forgetting that you said something so major.”

His eyes widened, practically popping out of his skull.“Well- I uh, y’know we’ve known each other for a long time, and uh-well I guess old feelings uh y’know resurfaced when we were, well doing that-” 

She cut him off with a smile “Doing that huh? We’re literally butt ass naked in a shower together and you can’t say having sex? Really Quino?” 

He scoffed.“Stop making fun of me when I’m trying to explain myself to you!” 

She laughed at him, a little louder than she meant to, then she tried to hold it in, biting her bottom lip, the same way she always had when they were younger.“Okay-sheesh-sorry lover boy-go on and tell me how much you love me.” She was teasing him now, and he couldn’t help but shake his head at that, droplets of water splashing her from the motion.

Then he got closer, wrapping his arms around her waist as he looked at her, their faces only a few inches apart at this rate, the water bouncing against their skin as he pulled them closer to the shower head.“You got me okay, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, you totally broke my heart when you were all cold to me for a month even if we hadn’t seen each other in years, you’ve always been the one for me, Sunshine, even if you are a reformed war criminal.” 

Her jaw dropped at his jokes, shoving him.“You asshole!” she couldn’t hold in her fit of giggles. “Is now a bad time to say that I wanted to kiss you on prom night?” he shook his head.

“No, because I wanted to kiss you too—but we can make up for lost time. Besides Sam said I need a long term babysitter. Okay, now it’s your turn to say you love me, too.” 

She laughed again, smiling at him as she held eye contact, then she kissed him, it was practically a peck.“I guess I love you too, you loser. Although it did take you crash landing into the ocean for me to realize that. Now can we please get out of the shower before I prune up like a raisin?” 

He raised a brow before reaching back to turn off the showerhead. “You do know that prunes and raisins are two different dried fruits right?”

-

Thanks for reading secksies <3

[warehouse-staff-blog]

Lot 4050 半袖2インチボーダーT & Lot 4089 半袖3×2インチボーダーT & Lot 4093 パネルボーダーT

こんにちは 名古屋店 コジャです。

ボーダーTEEの新作が届いて今季のボーダーが出揃いましたよ。

WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 4050 半袖2インチボーダーT ＼10.120-(with tax)

先に7分袖が届いていて、 そちらでも御案内しました定番ボーダーTEEの半袖です。

ガシっとした生地感がお好きな方にもオススメですよ。

173cm,60kg SIZE:40(NON WASH)

. . .

WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 4089 半袖3×2インチボーダーT ＼9.460-(with tax)

こちらもここ数年、 ピッチ幅や配色を変えてリリースしているボーダーTEE。

今季の色の組み合わせも最高ですねー。

個人的にはこれっ。

もしも自分がボーダーをプロデュースするなら、 この配色に行き着かないであろう色使いにやられました。

173cm,60kg SIZE:40(NON WASH)

. . .

WAREHOUSE & CO. Lot 4093 パネルボーダーT ＼9.350-(with tax)

そして、 今年のパネルボーダーTEEがこちら。

YELLOWではなくGOLDという色味も最高ながら、 デザイン性の高いパネルボーダーにハマる方も多いのではないでしょうか？

かくいう私も、 昨年のパネルボーダーが大のお気に入りで。

今季ならBLACK×GOLDに一票ですかねぇ。

173cm,60kg SIZE:L(NON WASH)

. . .

Tシャツが盛り盛り入荷していますが、 入荷して時間が経過している物はゴリゴリ減ってきています。

来店して「めっちゃ減ってるやん！」という実情に驚くかも。。。

SOLD OUTも多数出てきていますが、 是非店頭で御覧になって下さいね。では失礼いたします。

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《2024.5.28.現在の営業時間》

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WAREHOUSE&CO.直営店からのお得な情報や、エリア限定のクーポンなどを配布しています。

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☞[リペアに関して]

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ご迷惑お掛け致しますが、ご理解下さいます様お願い致します。 ※弊社製品であればボトムスの裾上げは無料にてお受けしております。お預かり期間は各店舗により異なりますのでお問合せ下さい。

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☞“Warehousestaff”でTwitterもしております。

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

WAREHOUSE名古屋店

〒460-0011 愛知県名古屋市中区大須3-13-18

TEL：052-261-7889

《2024.5.28.現在の営業時間》

【営業時間：平日 12時～19時、土日祝 12時～19時

[dismalflo]

Hi lovely!

I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x male reader? Gn is also fine. Where the reader and boys all move in together? And it’s just them getting used to all living together? Only if it’s okay with you.

Thank you for considering this 💗✨

hi darling, thank you for requesting! i went with gn!reader <3

poly!marauders x reader your first morning living together ✩ 933 words

cw: fluff

There’s a warm weight draped across your waist, and for a moment, you're unsure what’s dragged you from sleep. Exhaustion had claimed you quickly last night, the weight of hauling box after box, reshuffling the fragments of a life into unfamiliar corners. You’d assumed it had worn everyone out just the same.

That assumption falters when you crack your eyes open to the empty space beside you – James’s space – cold and untouched.

You blink against the light filtering through half-drawn curtains, the faintest rustle of movement slipping in from the living room. Muffled voices follow. James’ low, chipper cadence carries easily, punctuated by Remus’ quieter, more deliberate tone. They’re talking, laughing, the occasional scrape of cardboard and the thump of furniture filling the morning air.

You shift slightly beneath the blanket, the sheets rumpled and warm around you. Just as you begin to push yourself upright, an arm tightens around your waist. A low, gravelly groan huffs against the back of your neck.

“Don’t.” Sirius mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

You pause, a smile already tugging at your lips as you turn in his hold. His bleary eyes blink up at you through a curtain of dark, sleep-mussed hair. One side of his face is squished into the pillow, the other half haloed in soft morning light. His arm remains tight around your waist, fingers flexing slightly as if to anchor you there.

“I was just going to see what they’re–”

“No,” Sirius interrupts with a groan that borders on a whine.

You laugh quietly, lifting a hand to brush the hair from his face. Your fingertips trace lightly along his cheekbone, down the rough stubble of his jaw. He leans into your touch with a pleased hum, eyes fluttering shut again.

Letting your fingers linger and brush down the slope of his neck you trace the soft curve of his collarbone where his shirt – your shirt, technically – hangs loose. It’s an old tee you’d lost months ago to the black hole that is Sirius’ wardrobe, and now it’s stretched and worn soft from constant wear. On him, it looks absurdly good.

He sighs like he can feel your thoughts drifting toward practicality, and without opening his eyes, he mumbles, “Move, and I swear I’ll start something neither of us have the energy to finish.”

You snort, ducking your face into the crook of his neck to hide the flush of warmth spreading up your cheeks. 

“That’s the least effective threat you’ve ever made.”

“Promise, not a threat.” He corrects with a lazy smirk, his mouth twitching into something fond. “You should really learn the difference.”

Before you can respond, the bedroom door creaks open, and a familiar voice cuts in.

“Thought I heard you two whispering in here.”

James is grinning, shirtless, sweat dotting his temples like he’s been up for hours. He’s holding two mismatched mugs. “Brought you coffee. Because I’m perfect.”

Sirius perks up at the sight of him, pulling himself away from your shoulder and grinning wolfishly up at James.

“Perfect is right.” He winks.

James steps fully into the room, the soft scrape of his bare feet against the hardwood barely audible. He holds out one of the mugs, his warm hand extending it toward you. Steam curls lazily upward from the mug, the rich, comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee teasing at your senses.

“For you,” James says, settling beside Sirius with an ease that makes your chest tighten. His shoulder brushes against Sirius’, a quiet confirmation of their shared joy. Sirius leans into the contact, his lips brushing James’ temple in a fleeting kiss.

James chuckles, nudging Sirius with his elbow. “Rem made it, so you’re safe,” he adds with mock solemnity, his voice warm and affectionate.

You take the mug from him with a grateful smile, the bitterness of the coffee waking your senses more than the soft chatter around you. This perfect morning – this perfect moment – is the beginning of something new. The boxes, the exhaustion, the sweat, all of it fades away.

The door creaks again, and Remus steps into the frame, hair tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep but fond. 

“Are you planning on getting up today?” he asks, voice playful.

You shake your head, muffling your answer against Sirius’ shoulder. “Not anytime soon.”

Remus grins and, without hesitation, slides onto the bed beside you. The space between the four of you shrinks as he folds into your side, settling easily. His fingers find yours beneath the blanket, lacing together without a second thought.

Sirius stretches out, arm draping over you to pull Remus closer, and James props himself up on his elbow, his gaze sweeping over the three of you like he’s memorising all he can.

“Can we just unpack tomorrow instead?” you ask, half-joking, half-hoping for an answer that allows you to stay here.

Remus chuckles, low and soft, the sound rumbling through his chest. His fingers squeeze yours gently, his thumb stroking over your hand absentmindedly. There’s a tenderness in the way he shifts, a quiet affection that fills the space between you all.

“I don’t think so,” he says, sounding almost disappointed with his answer. “We’ve got work to do.”

Sirius hums in agreement, though his voice is slow and warm. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think he’s right.” He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you, contradicting his words.

 No one shifts an inch and no boxes get unpacked until far later in the day.

masterlist <3

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-eight —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.4k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

France feels just as haunted by ghosts, the kind that cling to silence.

The next morning, you follow the road south near the Belgium border under a punishing sun and suffocating humidity. Sweat pools under your clothes as you leave the coastline behind, passing overgrown rose bushes and grand estates crumbling to rotted beams. Without the raft or truck, supplies rest on everyone's backs, lighter now with all the food you’ve already gone through—a stark reminder that you’ll need more soon.

You were the last to wake, stirred from a deep sleep by the sounds of bags being packed. It shouldn’t be surprising—you’d slept well after two orgasms. It’s a miracle the night’s events didn’t spill into your dreams, but now, in the daylight, keeping them at bay is harder. Thankfully, Kyle and the two kids create a buffer as you all follow Price’s lead. Their presence helps keep your eyes from drifting to him. You force your gaze on the passing signs, making a mental game out of trying to pick up on some French. It's distracting enough. So far you've gathered that sortie means exit and allez means something like go. 

The first break comes when your shoulders burn from the weight of the backpack, the straps biting into your skin. You slip it off with a groan, sinking to the ground, and nurse the canteen of water. Just enough to wet your throat and keep the dizziness at bay—rationing is a habit.

Price's plan echoes in your head: Méteren by nightfall. That’s ten hours of walking, minimum. Your toes throb at the thought, each step promising fresh blisters, but you force yourself to focus. The faster you reach Switzerland, the safer you’ll all be. If the place they heard of is actually waiting there.

"Hey. Do you want this?"

Blue lowers beside you, offering a near-empty jar of peanut butter she was snacking on.

"Not much left but it's really good," she shrugs. 

"I'll finish it off, thanks."

The salty taste is not exactly refreshing, but you choke it down anyway, the boost of protein more of a necessity than a pleasure. Blue pulls at the grass beside you, her gaze drifting to Ari, who’s sharing food with Kyle. You try not to look, but your eyes flick to Ghost anyway.

The mask is still on, as always. Why is he obsessed with it, even after you just saw him naked? Despite its presence, you can still see the furrow between his brows as he pores over the map with Price. Sweat rings the collar of his black tee, and his biceps flex as he gestures down the road. You’re definitely checking him out when he catches your eye mid-conversation, adjusting his mask, and without missing a beat, you turn your attention back to Blue.

She is staring at you, her brow furrowed.

You instinctively touch your neck, your thoughts racing to the bruise hidden beneath your hair. 

“Do you think he likes him?” she asks abruptly.

You blink. “What?”

“Ghost,” she whispers, leaning closer. “Do you think he likes Ari?”

Relief floods you. “Oh. I mean, sure. He's a good kid.”

“He’s not a kid,” she corrects with a huff. “He’s thirteen.”

“That’s still a kid, Blue.”

She rolls her eyes but hesitates before adding quietly, “He kissed me.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “What?”

“Shh! Keep your voice down. And don’t tell Ghost.” She pinches your arm, her cheeks reddening.

“I won’t,” you assure her. “But… when? How?”

“The other night, when we kept watch. Just on my cheek, but still.” She pulls her knees to her chest. “He's cute. I think I like him, but… what if he doesn’t actually like me? What if he just sees me as a kid?”

Her uncertainty tugs at something deep in you. “Have you talked to him about it?”

She shakes her head, looking horrified. “No way. What if he doesn't feel the same? It could get weird.”

“Then kill him,” you deadpan. At her glare, your lips twitch. “Fine, I’ll kill him.”

She snorts despite herself. “Be serious.”

“Okay, how about this—just ask him, ‘Why did you kiss my cheek?’ Keep it simple.”

Blue considers this, her expression softening. “I could do that. But it has to be when Ghost isn’t around. Which is almost never.”

You're telling me. You pick at your nails, avoiding her trusting gaze as your chest tightens. 

The sound of Price's boots back on the gravel ends the break.

Even after the brief rest, your limbs drag with exhaustion for the next few hours, but the extra calories push you forward. You make it to Méteren before nightfall. As the guys pitch tents, you rip off your socks to survey the damage. Open blisters stare back at you. With only so much gauze in your kit, you've been hesitant, but you cut a conservative strand and wrap up your heels. 

Behind a bush, you change from your sweaty clothes and hope there is freshwater somewhere to wash them in the morning. You dab a rag with a bit of water from the canteen and scrub the biggest offenders; armpits, between your legs, the back of your neck. Changing into a clean shirt, the sound of them unpacking the sleeping bags beckons your heavy shoulders and sore legs. You head back to the tents, ready for sleep, when you overhear Ghost volunteer for first watch.

"Twix will help me."

You hope the surprise isn't visible on your face as you nearly drop your backpack, swinging your gaze at him.

"I will?"

"It's been a few days since you've taken watch."

Your lips roll together then flatten, shoving down the blush that crawls your neck at the thought of being alone with him. Kyle looks like he is ready to take your place, but you nod in resignation, clear your throat, and finish tugging on the zipper over your clothes. "Yeah, of course. I'll help."

The others disappear into the tents, and you turn to sit on a fallen log, bow in hand. But before you can settle, you feel his presence—a shift in the air just behind you, then the solid pressure of his hand curling around your forearm. Without a word, he guides you forward, pulling you with an ease that leaves no room for hesitation. Your body moves instinctively as he leads you out of earshot of the tents, behind an abandoned car. It is now you realize he's changed into a black hoodie and shedded the tactical vest. He leans his rifle against the side of the car and looks down at you, saying nothing for a few seconds.

"Did you take away my chance to sleep and pull me over here just to stare at me?" you whisper, arms crossing against the gentle breeze that has cooled with the fallen sun.

He exhales through his nose before responding. "About yesterday."

You blink at him, hoping you don't fail at hiding how even the mere mention sets your nerves alight. "What about it?"

The way his eyes move slowly over your face suggests he is searching for the words. Finally, he says flatly, "It was just fucking. A distraction."

"A distraction," you repeat slowly under your breath. The bluntness hits you harder than expected. You bite the corner of your cheek, a bit too hard, and you narrow your eyes. "You really think I don't already know that?"

His broad shoulders roll back in a shrug and his tone shifts far too casual for your liking. "I just didn't want you getting the wrong idea."

The wrong idea. You rip your gaze away, scraping your fingertips into your arm, before looking back at him with a forced shrug of your own. "I can handle fucking, Simon. Like I said, I'm a big girl."

There is an audible inhale, then a low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he leans in, his darkened eyes locking onto yours. He cages you in with his arms, the familiar heat radiating from his touch and already making your brain fuzzy. His hand slides to the back of your neck, guiding you onto your toes as he tears off the mask and lays it on the hood of the car. The glimpse of his strong jaw and the flick of his tongue wetting his lips sends a shiver through you despite the lingering irritation at his words. 

"Yes. You are," he murmurs, his voice rough and low, before capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that feels like the deep, soothing release of sinking into warm water after aching for relief.

You could kiss him for hours, you quickly realize, pleasantly fascinated by how hot and demanding his tongue feels against your mouth. He tastes like how he smells. Pine and salt. You submit to the pace of his lips, every graze of his teeth making your heart thicken. You move your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp, pulling him closer.

"There's something I need," he mumbles, voice etched with a tremble of impatience, and his fingers clench your shirt. With his other hand, he blindly reaches for the car door and forces the rusted thing open with a few tugs. 

"What do you need?" you breathe out, secretly thrilled that he wants you, again, even when it's been only twenty-four hours since he last had you. The mutual desire erodes the fatigue in your limbs and awakens your arousal. 

Without an answer, he spins your bodies, easing into the passenger seat, then pulls you in with him, closing the door with a soft click. The position is awkward at best—your head bumps into the roof, one knee wedged painfully into the center console from the lack of space. The car smells like stale leather and dust, but thankfully not like rot. It's far from enticing, but none of that matters when he forces the seat to recline, creating just enough room for you to lay on top of him.

You can feel him, hot and straining within his jeans, as you kiss him again and begin to move your hips instinctively. It is a thrilling notion, that you have made him hard so quickly, and you wonder if he ever touched himself like you did, stroking his cock with a callused hand that he imagined as you. The image of it, in combination with the friction on your pussy, has you greedily reaching to undo his belt buckle. 

He breaks from your lips with a grunt and grabs your wrist. "Not that."

Huh?

You don't have the chance to question him before the notch in his throat bobs, and he begins unzipping your jeans, instead. "My face. Sit on it." 

The blush on your cheeks is hidden in the car's small, dark space. His half-lidded gaze lifts to yours, and you nod absently before helping him push your pants and underwear to your ankles, shifting awkwardly to discard them to the floor. His hand immediately moves between your bodies, his fingers brushing against your wetness with a sharp inhale. It should make you embarrassed, but it doesn’t—not with the way he watches you, his other hand peeling off your shirt, the whites of his eyes flashing over your naked body with such unabashed hunger that you realize it must’ve been simmering in him for as long as it has in you.

Again, you're the only one undressed. His hands knead the plush of your ass, the massage to your sore glutes drawing a moan from you. He pushes you up his chest and you move your knees, until his face is level with your cunt, nose caressing your throbbing clit. You have to grip the headrest of the backseat to keep yourself steady, neck craned. His palms cup the backs of your thighs, keeping them apart. 

He's already put his mouth on you, but for some reason, this time feels more vulnerable. You become unconsciously alert of the fact you are not the girl you used to be, the one who shaved every inch of her body before going on a date, and scrubbed her skin with perfumed body wash. You have been sweating all day in the French humidity, and not a single part of you is hairless. When he attempts to pull you to his mouth, you resist with a wiggle of your hips.

"You don't—we don't have to do this, you know. I mean, I haven't shaved in years and—"

He bites your thigh. "Stop talking."

"Ghost, I'm disgusting."

His brows furrow, confused, before he exhales a soft laugh, breath fanning your cunt. "I don't care."

You writhe. "No, seriously—"

"I'm a big boy, Twix," he throws back you.

His tone is final, and with that, he ignores your protests and tightens his hands on you, pulling you to sit on his jaw. His tongue licks a bold stripe from hole to clit, then back down to your hole, where he swirls it a few times before pushing in. Your mouth hangs open in a silent surrender. It is you at his mercy now. His mouth feels even hotter on your cunt for some reason, causing your head to lull forward because of the ceiling, hair dangling. 

Your nails scrape into the leather. His tongue fucks you, nursing the sore flesh that his cock had stretched. He pushes you down with more force, and meets the juncture of your thighs with an arch of his neck, pressing his face deeper. There is a small worry that he might not be able to breathe, but it is erased when his tongue visits your clit with a heady groan, the vibrations of his vocal chords making your muscles flinch. He circles it with a light pressure. You reach down to grip his hair, silently demanding more. He listens, pressing his tongue harder.

"Fucking... yeah, like that."

One of his hands glides up your stomach and squeezes your breast. He keeps sucking, toiling with your puckered nipple at a similar pace. Despite the uncomfortable position, your hips buck and thrash. Your hand slaps against the window as he makes a sloppy mess out of you. The overgrown stubble on his jaw scrapes between your tightened thighs and the sting adds to the overwhelming sensations. You attempt to lift off, seeking a break, but he growls and strikes your ass, forcing you back down.

He licks at you expertly, as if having figured you out in just a few minutes. You screw your eyes shut, a small but swift orgasm rolling through you when you hear him slurp at your folds. He gathers it with a sweep of his tongue, humming. The aftermath leaves your trembling, breath jagged, as a larger one grows towards release.

"Been thinking about that all day," he whispers against you, continuing his ministrations. "Got another one for me?"

His tone feels mocking and desperate at once. Your nails press painfully into the condensation-painted glass. Your other hand fists back in his hair, curling and uncurling, but there is no point in trying to fight it, not when he parts your cunt with his fingers so he can lick more of it. You cum again, harder, almost convulsing as your head bangs upward. It feels never-ending, your moans uncontrollable. He laps you through it, even more relentless, drawing the pleasure for a near-minute, until your lungs can hardly function and you feel like you might collapse.

Your body is pliant and jelly-like when it finally fades. He takes hold of your waist to keep you upright, and pulls his mouth away with a dribble of leakage down his chin. Already, you know it will be impossible to forget that sight, his eyes dazed as if he is the one who just came twice. 

His touch turns somewhat tender when he helps you back down to his lap. He doesn't bother wiping the obscenity from his mouth when he kisses the corner of your lips, firmly, then helps you slip back into your clothes since your brain doesn't seem to have full control over your limbs yet. It's when you place a hand on his thigh to shimmy on your jeans that you feel a distinguishable wet spot.

He finished, too.

The discovery makes your chest swell, and you nibble at your lip as you finish changing. 

"Thanks," you whisper to him. 

He doesn't say anything. He keeps the seat reclined and allows you to lay limp against him, feeling the uneven pace of his heart that matches your own. Clearly, he is a man of his word. This will not be a one time thing, even if it is just fucking. You sigh in sheer exhaustion from the day's activities, unable to ignore the weight in your eyelids as you inhale the residual musk in the air between your bodies. His chest feels firm and warm, a decent place to rest your head, and you think you feel a touch caress your hair. 

You are supposed to be staying up to keep watch, but he doesn't seem ready to move you. Somewhere between wondering how long you can keep this hidden from Blue, and dreading how far you will have to walk again tomorrow, you drift to sleep.

When morning arrives, you are not curled up in a car, but tucked in a sleeping bag. 

Ghost must've put you here, but you have no recollection of it, squinting your eyes against the harsh incoming of sunlight through the nylon walls. Nereida is in the bag beside you, not Blue, which offers a thread of relief. You carefully extricate yourself without waking her and join an awakened Price and Kyle for breakfast.

This morning feels slower than the last. Satisfied with the distance covered yesterday, Price is content with just making it to a town called Englos today. Then, you can focus on finding food and water during the evening. 

Your energy is replenished with tomato soup and stale crackers. Blue sits with Ari to eat, and you casually glance at her, but she gives you a subtle shake of her head. No, she hasn't talked to him yet. You offer a small, forced smile and look away.

The day's journey begins after what you would guess is around 8 am. As you walk, you redo your braids, tucking the strands into place so they don't stick to your forehead. Kyle falls in step beside you in comfortable silence, while Ghost moves to the front of the group. He treats you exactly as before—offering only the rare glance of acknowledgment. As if you hadn't just sat on his face last night. As if he hadn't ate you out like you were a source of sustenance.

Though, you’re grateful for his distance. It makes it easier to stay discreet. If he were to look at you too long, you might give yourself away.

It's just fucking.

Nothing but small towns and sprawling fields surrounds you. You pick up a few more words of French and think back to how your parents took you here, but never to the countryside. It's beautiful. Picturesque, even, except for the occasional skeleton tucked between ambery stalks of wheat. You pass through a place called Bailleul, where the remaining buildings remind you of England, when you spot black graffiti inked on a small clock tower.

N'allez pas à Fleurbaix.

"Allez means go," you murmur, stepping over some broken glass. "So what does n'allez pas mean..."

"Picking up a new language?"

You swing your head at Kyle, blinking, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction. 

"Yeah. I thought it might come in handy when chatting with the thriving local population."

He shakes his head in amusement. "Have you been here before?"

"When I was a kid. Once to Paris, and once to a ski resort."

"Ah. So you were one of those kids."

You frown. "What kids?"

"The kids who had money to go skiing."

You shrug, thinking back. "I mean, we weren't rich by any means. Just comfortable."

He nods, the companionable silence resuming as you replay the graffitied words in your head. N'allez pas must mean do not go. Do not go to Fleurbaix. You are about to ask Kyle if that is where you are headed when he speaks first.

"Are we good, Twix?"

His question throws you off guard. You make eye contact and he raises an expectant brow as if he is referring to something...

Right. He kissed you. It feels like forever ago since it happened, but it was only a week maybe. The memory almost makes you cringe, especially in comparison to what you've done with Ghost the past two days.

"Yeah," you dismiss breathily. "Yeah, of course. We're good."

He seems genuinely relieved by your answer, smiling with a sliver of teeth. "Good. I'm glad. I was an idiot and not in the right headspace. But still, I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable. I've been trying to give you space."

"It's fine, honestly," you tell him. "We are all under a lot of stress."

He releases a breath, then brushes a shoulder against yours. "So we're friends, you and I? Or something like that."

You nod with a little laugh, shifting the backpack. "Something like that. By the way, do you know if we are going by a place called—"

"Gaz. Come here for a moment," Ghost calls.

His tone is abrupt, causing everyone to halt. Without question, Kyle jogs over, his boots scraping against the gravel as he moves toward Ghost, who is crouched on one knee, fingers brushing over the matted grass at the side of the road. You squint, trying to figure out what’s caught their attention, and step closer to get a better look.

"A lot of them," Kyle says quietly, his palm pressing gently into the flattened vegetation. Now, you can see it—clear signs of something recently passing through. The ground is torn up, the plants bent and trampled. "It can't have been long ago," he adds, frowning as he observes the damage.

Ghost doesn't look up as he responds. "A horde went through here. Maybe in the last day." He inhales the humid breeze, and shifts his gaze toward Price. "I can smell them from the east."

"We could run right into them if we keep following the D231," Price mutters, drumming his fingers on the rear of his gun. He glances at the nearest road signs, then unfolds the map. "We could shift west for a few kilometers, through Fleurbaix, then cut back toward Englos."

"I just saw something that warned against going to Fleurbaix," you speak up.

Ghost's brow rises. You ignore the nerves that prickle your cheeks beneath his stare. 

"I mean, there are signs saying keep out of everywhere by now," Kyle reasons. "That's probably from the start of the infection."

"It's either Fleurbaix, or risk a run in with the horde," Ghost says.

You nod, more so to yourself, and murmur under your breath. "Fleurbaix it is, then."

Bailleul fades at your backs as you keep moving.

The scent of Greys lingers in the shifting air, but it is difficult to detect amid the strong aroma of flowers that pop up in every shade, replacing the fields of wheat. Roses, violets, and some yellow one you don't recognize ornate the rolling hills for as far as you can see. The buildings turn more upright, strong stone that has yet to falter from neglect. You keep reading the signs, even though you don't have the map to refer to, and your spine tightens when you read Fleurbaix: 1 km. 

You unsling your bow without thinking, tapping your nails against the wood.

The road becomes a bit windier as it cuts through some small farms. You even spot a few cows roaming the overgrown pastures which Blue seems curious by. You notice more painted words on the sides of the homes: Nous devons expier nos péchés. It repeats a few times, but you fail to translate it. The only part that clicks is nous, which you think means we.

We something... something...

After crossing a small bridge over a dried creek bed, you excuse yourself to relieve your bladder.

"Keep going, I'll catch up."

You step over what looks like a metal dog chain left on the road and situate yourself between a tree and old BMW. Squatting burns your thighs, and reminds you of your dried cum on them that you've tried, yet failed, to completely wipe off. You clench your teeth as you pee, when there is a sudden sound behind you that makes you flinch, and you quickly zip back up before whirling around. A rat—your shoulders sink. It sits up on its hind legs and stares at you with beady eyes.

"I guess I'm just jumpy sometimes, little guy," you whisper, leaning in. "You would be, too, if you've had to deal with what I have." The rat doesn’t blink. "Right. Well, I’m sure Ghost would think this is incredibly sexy—me having a talk with a rodent."

You sigh, watching him scurry away, but then another rat darts over your boot. You jerk back, gaze following its direction to an old building—a schoolhouse or chapel, judging by the circular stained-glass window below the roof. Beautiful shrubs lines the sides, seemingly well-kept. The door hangs ajar, with more vermin pouring out in an endless line.

"Jesus. Quite a lot of friends you have, huh?"

You glance down the road. The others are still close but walking ahead. You should catch up. It's not safe alone. But against your better judgment, you step toward the door, pushing it open. Rats scatter underfoot as a thick, rancid smell hits you. Death—fresh and cloying, even more so than the flowers.

Blood streaks the stone floor inside, pooling where vermin feast. Splintered pews lead to an altar. You freeze. Lying there ceremoniously is what's left of a body, hardly recognizable—ribs torn through flesh, a dangling optic nerve, a mangled groin. A plethora of bite marks cleave through the remains. Bile rises in your throat as the sound of gnawing echoes through against the sun-lit walls.

But what truly grips you is the writing, in blood, draped over a small cross.

Nous devons expier nos péchés.

You whip around and run, the door closing heavily behind you.

"Simon!" His name claws up your throat.

[tangledinlove]

— right by my violets

luke castellan x fem reader / cw suggestive content

title from n side by steve lacy. loosely related to the killerverse so its only semi canon and u don’t have to read the series to understand ! i’ll call this ch 8.5

Your favorite time to jumpscare Luke is when he’s just come fresh from a shower right after training.

He always smells like that tropical shampoo he likes and never fails to collapse in his bed face down, perfect for scaring him so hard he jumps.

You throw yourself into the space next to him, and the bed nearly collapses under you.

Luke groans, his face pressed firmly into his pillow. “Ow, killer.”

“I didn’t even jump on top of you this time!”

You try not to be too upset at how unsurprised he was at your jumpscare — you’ll have to start finding other ways to scare him — while your eager hands reach to pull back his top sheet.

You freeze in place when the sheet makes it below his shoulders.

“Luke?”

He grunts in response.

“Why are you naked?”

His startled laugh is muffled by his pillow. “‘m not. Now lay down and quit it.”

Your greedy eyes eat up the sight of his bare back, but you don’t let his nice skin get to you that easy. “I’m not lying down with you if you’re naked, you perv.”

He catches you by the fabric of your shirt when you slide away from his tickling fingers.

“I’m wearing shorts.” Luke rolls onto his back before he nudges down the sheet around his waist. Black fabric you recognize as an old pair of basketball shorts peek out from underneath.

You very respectfully do not let your eyes linger for too long when you take a seat next to him. He laughs anyway. “Sorry, babe. I know how upset you get when my clothes are on.”

You run your thumb over his waistband. “I’m devastated.”

Luke likes to act cocky like this, but you press the back of your hand against his face and feel how flushed he is. You smile a little evilly when you kiss his cheek.

You rest your head against the junction between his shoulder and upper arm, a spot he always insists you lay on even when his arm goes numb after an hour. He wastes no time linking one of your hands with one of his.

“Your farmer’s tan is starting,” you point out, letting your free hand travel up and down his chest. The skin of his torso and upper arms, spots usually covered by his camp tee, are just a few shades lighter than the rest of his lower arms. He feels very soft. “I think that means you should start training without a shirt on.”

“I’m sure everyone would love that.”

You trace a vein that goes down his arm before you wrap your hand around the skin of his opposite bicep. “I sure would.”

He sighs a little while he shifts to get more comfortable, probably sore from throwing around his sword all afternoon. “Don’t worry. You’re wearing my last clean shirt, so I guess it means I’ll have to.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You’re such a boy, hero. Is that why you’re half naked right now? You didn’t do your laundry?”

He groans when he presses half of his face into your hair, like the thought of washing his clothes is enough to make him sick. “I’ve been busy.”

Too busy. He’s been putting in extra work lately.

“I know. It feels like you like Claudia more than me.”

Claudia’s the old training dummy that was retired to the back of the storage closet. Luke unearthed her a few weeks ago and hung her back up next to the new ones, giving her a second chance at life. She was already battered and falling apart before, so Luke’s new training regimen means she’s bordering on decomposing.

Luke cracks your knuckles with his hand, and you do the same for him, pressing down on his fingers until you hear the snapping sound. “I care about you both equally, sweetheart.”

You try reaching behind his head to smother him with his pillow, but he yanks it out of your hands so he can chuck it across the room instead. Without any other viable weapon, you throw your leg over his side and reach for his neck.

Play-fighting with Luke is funny because you both are perfectly aware of how strong the other is. He’s watched you decapitate a line of Telekhines with one blow and you’ve watched him wake up to kill an Empousai before going back to the nap he’d been having.

But the second you’re messing around like this, it’s like the two of you have never seen a day of fighting in your lives. You press against Luke’s arms with the same strength you’d use to open a bag of chips, and he pushes back with the same effort.

“I hope you and Claudia will be happy, then,” you say, squealing in fear when he sits straight up. “Won’t be able to force her to give you massages, though.”

Luke stands up and you tighten your legs around his waist so he has to carry you around. Your arms go around his neck because he’s too tired to support you with anything other than a lazy arm under you, and he taps along your back as he moves closer to the door.

A shiver goes down your neck when he catches your earlobe with his teeth like the weirdo he is. “Don’t tell her. But you’ll always be my favorite.”

“Thanks, I guess.” It feels like your external body temperature has jumped a few degrees since Luke is so warm. He makes his way over to the en suite bathroom and flicks the light on, and you realize boredly that he’s getting ready for bed.

Before you can start complaining, he sets you down on the counter so you can talk his ear off. Luke is very focused during his nighttime routine, his brow knit while he washes his face thoroughly and tries to keep track of how long he’s been brushing his teeth for.

You entertain him with the story of how one of your younger sisters is trying and failing to let this Hephaestus kid know she likes him. He squeezes your thigh intermittently, and you let the point of your foot nudge his side while your legs swing.

He spits into the sink and then runs the water. “Halle actually tripped into his arms like that?”

You nod morosely. “Faked slipping and everything. It felt like something you would do, it was that bad.”

He looks so offended at your comment you can’t help but smile.

“I’m not that bad,” he defends, choking on his own laugh when you squint in disbelief.

“Luke, you pretended to get a concussion during volleyball so you could sit out with me.”

He shoots his hand under the spout to try and flick water at you, but it ends up being more like having a hose shot at your face. Cold water drips down your chin and onto your shirt, making dark spots in the green fabric.

You look up at him. He’s giving you a wide eyed look, his hands up like he’s facing a feral animal. “Wait, wait, wait—”

The two of you wrestle for the handle of the sink.

You win, though.

Luke ends up having to wipe water from his eyes and use his towel to dry off his chest, which is now dripping with water. “I deserved that.”

You kiss his cheek when he steps between your legs. “Thank you for admitting it.”

He plants one on your lips, too. He tastes minty, so you kiss him again, a little bit difficult now with the way he’s smiling.

“You ate my gum?” he asks.

“No,” you lie, shifting forward off the counter so your chests are pressed together. Your noses bump when you tilt your head for him.

“I hope you enjoyed it.”

“There were only two left.” Your eyes cross as you try and stare into his despite how close your faces are. “And those sticks are small, Luke.”

He’s still smiling, but his eyes have trailed down to your lips now. “Kiss me again and I won’t be upset.”

You give him a peck before sitting back.

Luke frowns, his brows knitting so deeply it’s like his face is going to wrinkle in on itself. “That doesn’t count. I didn’t even feel it.”

You give him another brief kiss along his jaw. “Find me a dry t-shirt and I’ll give you a real one.”

You’re surprised you aren’t physically blown away from how fast he leaves the room.

The sound of him tearing through his dresser is loud. He trips over something during his search, mumbling stuff under his breath as you hear him unzip something.

“And it better be clean, Luke!”

It takes him a few minutes to come back to the bathroom, his face flushed and chest heaving.

The shirt he presents you with is ugly and old.

“Holy shit, dude. Did you find this in a museum?”

You remember making these a few summers ago before a bunch of you and Luke’s friends left for the school year. The shirt’s been through the wash too much and the marker has faded, but the front and back are littered with Luke’s failed tie-dye job and the names of old friends. You find your name written in block letters along the neckline.

“Nope.” He shakes his head a beat later while he catches his breath. “Found it stuffed under your clothes in your drawer.”

Luke’s dedicated a section of his dresser to you, and it's always full of your stuff. You slide your hands down his arms and give him a look.

“Why’d you go through all my clean clothes just to give me your old shirt?”

He’s grinning, trying to lean in already. “You’re not allowed to wear your own clothes here. It’s not right.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, but you’re very quick to let him splay his hand across your back.

He pinches the wet shirt off of your skin. “D’you want me to help you take this off?”

Freak.

You let him do it anyway.

He’s basically giggling the entire time, the process taking so much longer because he’s trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling while also working your new shirt back on. The second your head pops through the neckline, he’s crowding you into the counter again.

He leans in so close that your mouth parts on instinct. “So, when do I get that kiss that you—”

You give it to him, and he shuts up quick.

You think it’s sweet how he always kisses you like he’s never done it before — starved of the taste of you and the feel of you under his hands.

Luke’s hands stray to the sliver of skin at your midriff. His fingers are calloused but never harsh — he squeezes your sides, and he has to kiss you hard so you stop smiling.

His left hand follows your spine up under your shirt and lands on your opposite shoulder, holding you so close to him there’s no room to move away.

“Luke,” you complain. You wish he were standing closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah.” His hands scoop under your thighs and he lifts you off the counter again. “We gotta work on your patience, babe.”

You flick off the bathroom light for him while he takes you over to the chair by his bed. It’s old and small and definitely not made to fit two people, but he collapses into it anyway, and you follow with no other choice.

The two of you kiss slow and sweet — the kind you think are your favorite.

Sometimes, your kisses are the opposite. They can be sweltering and quick, ones that are just out of sight and ones that happen only when you manage to sneak away from your cabins for long enough.

You can’t quite tell how long you and Luke sit in his chair for. But it’s long enough for your hearts to start beating in sync and long enough for your legs to grow tired from the stupid chair.

Luke’s lips are red and a little swollen, though he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He doesn’t let you get more than an inch away before he’s dragging your lower lip between his teeth and pulling you back in.

You tell yourself you’re going to pull away at least ten different times, but then you feel his hand inching interestingly high and then he sucks a mark underneath your shirt where your name is written and then you feel limp and then you don’t pull away anymore.

“Hi,” he says, when you drag him off you so you can take oxygen into your lungs again. He has to look up at you since you’re kneeling over him. “Catching your breath?”

And trying not to pass out, you think.

You swipe your wrist over your lips, which are a little bit slick with spit. “Yeah. Hold me?”

“No,” Luke deadpans, though he’s already encouraging you to sit down on him to shift your weight off your knees. He brushes hair from your face when you tuck yourself against him. “Wanna sleep now?”

You’re a little lightheaded, but you don’t want to sleep. Your eyes slide closed involuntarily when you feel his chest rise and fall against yours. You smile because you can feel the heat emanating off his skin. “Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Luke laughs while he fusses with the way your shirt sits on your shoulders. His fingers trace over where your name is inked on the fabric. “You going to give me more than one word answers?”

Your mouth runs a little dry when you remember he doesn’t have a shirt on. You poke at him and the little bit of sunburn on his shoulders you know will turn into a tan soon. “No.”

His mouth pulls up at the sides. “Okay.”

You groan when he throws you over his shoulder and gets up from his uncomfortable little chair. Luke spins you around a bit, giving you a 360 degree view of his room before he tosses you onto the bed. He yawns but doesn’t lay down, just smiles down at you.

“What’re you doing?” you ask. You hook your leg around his so you can drag him closer, and he just grins, amused.

“Nothing much.”

The bed shifts when he settles over you, one of his knees between your legs and the other digging into the space next to your left thigh.

Words die out quickly — mostly because you’re busy slipping your tongue into Luke’s mouth. But the coherent thoughts only leave your head when he takes your waist in one hand and reminds you just how much he likes you too.

[raewritesfiction]

Backseat Heat [Daryl Dixon]

A/N: thank you @dixondisease for tagging me in this idea! I hope you like what I’ve done with it!

Plot: Daryl and female reader have fun in the back of a broken down car that Daryl is trying to fix up. Semi-established situationship - they meet up for stress relief but they aren’t an item.

Pairing: F!Reader X Daryl Dixon

Warnings: Smut - fingering, oral (M receiving), unsafe sex (use a condom!!

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @jaseminedenisephotography @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikkikrash @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @differentcatcat @madsadgenius @sycochick @rossieburrow @kcthescreamqueen @phoenix-is-closer-to-the-edge @charlottewatkinsblog @​atyourmomshouse01

—

You’d been watching Daryl from your spot under a large tree for a while now; the sun was hot in the sky as he worked relentlessly on a car that had been brought back to the prison. Rick wanted it fixed as soon as possible and so Daryl had been devoting his time to sorting it out. Things seemed to be going well so far but you could tell by Daryl’s strong language that the engine just wasn’t doing what he wanted or needed.

Daryl kicked a bench as the car, once again, didn’t start. You didn’t know cars well enough to be able to figure out what was wrong with it but you knew the sweaty, dirty covered man was getting to the end of his rope.

Looking around, you note that there’s few people outside right now and you get up, heading over to the makeshift garage where Daryl grumbled angrily about the “fuckin piece of junk”.

You don’t speak but instead just run your hands around his waist from behind. Daryl doesn’t jump and turns his head with a smirk “wha’ you think you’re doin’ woman?” You smile “you looked stressed… can’t be having that.”

Daryl huffs and shakes his head a little before sighing “dunno wha’s fuckin’ wrong with this thing.. replaced ever’thin with what we can find that works an’ still nothin’..”

You nod against the back of his shoulder and listen as he lists off everything he’s replaced or fixed, as if he’s trying to figure out if there’s something he’s missed but at the end of it he turns in your arms, pins you against the side of the rusty vehicle and kisses you passionately.

“Maybe some stress relief will help clear my head..” he smirks and opens the back door for you to get in, then climbs in after you.

The man kisses you like nobody has ever kissed you before; he knows how to take your breath away and get you worked up without putting his hands anywhere south of the border and this time is no different to the last or the first.

Everyone in the prison knew you two were hooking up as often as possible, but nobody said anything because they were probably hooking up with each other too. You find comfort anyway and anywhere you can in this apocalypse. You were surprised when Merle bit his tongue and didn’t say anything after he had walked in on Daryl railing you in the library - you and Daryl were expecting the worst from him but he’d never said anything to you and if he’d said anything to Daryl it was in private.

Daryl’s hands were up under your tee, groping over your skin and leaving oily marks when someone started yelling his name from outside.

“For fuck…” Daryl grumbles and looks out the broken window to see Andrew calling for him. “I’ll be right back… stay here…”

You huff and nod as Daryl clambers out the car and calls over “Wussup?”

You listen from the back seat as Andrew starts going off about how his small group are being treated by some of Rick’s group, you hear him ask Daryl to talk to his friend about it and see if he can sort it out. There’s other stuff that seems less important and you can tell by Daryl’s short replies that he just wants Andrew to leave so he gives the answers the man wants to hear and assures him when he sees Rick he’ll talk to him and no it’s absolutely unfair, we’re all in the same position and yes of course we’re a team now and we need to be able to trust one another.

It seems to take forever before Andrew walks off, happy with his discussion outcome. As soon as he’s out of sight Daryl crawls back into the back seat and kisses you again. You don’t care about what Andrew wanted so you don’t ask.

“I’m really not finished with you yet..” Daryl grins and quickly unbuttons your pants, pushing them down your legs while his hand slips between your legs to tease over your already soaking core.

The way he kissed and touched you was the biggest turn on you’d ever had and he loved to tease you about it.

“Already so wet… just from kissin’?” He sucks on your neck as his fingers work over you. “You always been this easy to work up?”

You swallow thickly and shake your head, “only by you..” Daryl chuckles low and pushes two fingers inside you, curling them as he thrusts into you. You rock and lift your hips to his fingers as he speeds them up the sound of your arousal fills the car making Daryl growl low. It never took him long to get you where you needed to be and as his thumb barely brushes your clit you arch and grip his biceps as you cum on his fingers, letting out a silent scream of pleasure.

“Good girl..” he whispers and watches you “you gon’ be a real good girl and take care of me?”

You nod and kiss him as you both awkwardly switch positions in the small space afforded to you. Your hands quickly unzip his pants and pull the material down, Daryl’s semi hard cock already straining against his boxers.

“If i’dda known this would happen… I wouldn’ta worn any..” he grins as you pull them down to free his length.

You waste no time and easily take him in your mouth; Daryl was still insanely proud that he had been the one to teach you how to give head and enjoyed praising how much of a fast learner you are.

You bob your head and swirl your tongue around his cock as you suck him fully, your hand massaging his balls firmly as you work on him. Daryl’s breathing is rough as you tease the head of his cock with your tongue.

“Woman…. Not yet! Stop…!” He gasps and pants as you pull away. “Get on me…”

You move and crawl over him, positioning yourself over his member and guiding him inside you. You both let out moans and start moving to one another causing the car to rock and creak. Daryl wraps an arm around you and helps you move your hips to him, his other hand moves to the back of your hair and tugs lightly as he kisses you.

Moans are swallowed as you speed up your hips, switching up your technique to keep him guessing as to what would come next.

“Woman I swear t’ god…” he grunts and moves his feet so he can thrust up into you. As his hips piston you can only hold onto him and whine his name close to his ear. Your eyes shut tightly and the way he pants, grunts, moans and whispers in your ear makes everything all too much.

“You gonna cum? You gonna cum that fast? You want it so bad you can’t hold back?”

You call out against his neck, your hips grinding down onto him as the waves of pleasure wash over you.

“I’m close..” Daryl grunts “move….”

You climb off him and lean down, taking him in your mouth again and sucking hard. His hips buck up into you and the hand in your hair grips tighter, holding your head in place as he grunts roughly with his release - his head falls back against the seat rest and he groans as he relaxes.

Daryl watches you swallow his load and smirks as you wipe the corners of your mouth. “Thassa good girl…”

You wink and both of you redress before climbing out the car and looking around; if anyone had seen or heard they hadn’t come looking.

Daryl looks at the driver’s seat and slides in, trying the ignition again and sitting surprised as it starts on the first try.

“Maybe it needed a good bang..” you remark, making Daryl huff out a laugh.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

My Type

~ a blurb I came up with at 3:33 am

TW: suggestive fluff & not exactly a blurb

₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ✳︎ 𓏸 ˙₊ ❊ 𓈒 𓇬 ⁺ ⋆ . ₊

Hard Knocks, the show surround your favorite team that has either become the bane of your existence or an absolute treasure. Either way, one clip of your personal friend, Joe Burrow, driving a golf cart has yet to leave your mind.

The golf cart itself wasn’t special. Nor were the practice outfits of the four players riding in it. It was just Joe. And the way he drove it.

It was carefree, fluid, and almost too much. Not too much for him, obviously; you haven’t seen anything that’s been proven to be too much for him. It was too much for you.

He just looked so soft. Warm Bengals beanie atop his blonde curls with only the pink-tinted flesh of his earlobe poking out. His strong arms covered a black long-sleeved tee. It was cute.

What wasn't cute was the way his thick thighs filled his grey pants to the point that you could see each muscle in his long legs. Or his defined jawline and cold-flushed cheeks that sit on the border between just hot and ridiculously hot.

You'd never felt this way about the quarterback. In the years of knowing him and being friends, it never crossed your mind that Joey Burrow was seductively handsome. He'd always been handsome but like a picture-perfect handsome. You could tell why he was a heartthrob; you just never felt the intense heart-pumping yourself.

Then you watched him lick his lips while reversing a golf cart, slide his left hand into his pocket, and drive off with one hand on the wheel.

One simple act after another, but done in a sequence with all the additional factors to create a moment that had you dumbstruck.

Dumbstruck and questioning every interaction you'd had with him as you watched the 12-second clip over and over and over again. One video cannot change how you see someone you've known for years with such ease.

And you were right. It wasn't just the Hard Knocks clip; it was the many saved videos of him mic'ed up on your phone, the overwatched and much-appreciated clip of his 47-yard rushing touchdown, the infamous Body Armour ads, the Bose ads, the Alo clip of him just running that take up space on your iPhone 14 Pro and show no sign of being deleted.

You thought you were in the clear because you never saved the videos or edits of him being outwardly seductive and hot. No photos of him shirtless or with sweat dripping down his beefy body as he works out. No, you started away from them, always at arm's length with items of temptation.

Or were you?

"What are you watching?" His deep timbre causes you to throw your phone in the most guilty manner. You both watch wide-eyed as it bounces on the carpet until it's thankfully faced down in the middle of his living room.

Joe turns to you, his face growing red as he holds back his laugh. "Was it really that bad?" He asks, releasing his giggles hostage.

Instead of responding, his cute chuckles fill your ears and warm your heart, making it thump just a little bit harder. Because since when was his laugh so cute?

The sound of your name flowing off his pink, pouty lips and the way your heart skips a beat brings you back to the present.

"Huh?"

"Huh? That's all you can say?" He smirks, looks down at the phone, then at you, then back to the phone.

The next thing you know, you're both diving for the phone. It's almost comedic how panicked your face looks compared to him as he swipes your phone and turns it over like buried treasure. All the dramatics just to see his face fall because you have auto-lock on, which is the biggest feeling of relief off your shoulders.

"I was so close." He sighs.

"Sorry, Joey Wheels, you just weren't fast enough." You chuckled taking the phone from his outreached hand.

He chuckles lightly, "You know, I am gonna figure out exactly what had you so awestruck." As another stroke of luck, his phone starts ringing. "Just not today."

~ Night of Broncos @ Bengals Game ~

You were stressed but relieved following the aftermath of what that game did to you. Especially being at the stadium, it was like every minute that passed would end you. You like being kept on your toes, but not that much. As soon as the game was over and you could relax, you got a simple text from Joe.

MVP: stick around, let me drive you home

It was innocent; it wouldn't be the first time he's given you a ride home after a game, and it probably wouldn't be the last. You always preferred public transport because of how close you live to the city, so his offer was out of pure generosity.

But why did such a simple text reignite that same anxiety and tension as you had during the game?

Was it because of these confused feelings you've kept in for a week?

Or the potential conversations that could be had over the 10-minute ride?

Then you thought back to his pregame fit and visibly shivered, but it had nothing to do with the slight chill in the stadium.

Joe walked into the stadium in an all-black outfit: simple black jeans, black sneakers, a brown and black checkered bottega jacket, and one of his signature black shades. He looked the most fuckable, you have ever seen him- and this was after his slim shady tank top look.

Now you're imagining sitting next to him in his sleek Porsche, his jacket unzipped to the middle of his chest, definitely exposing his sexy-ass idea not to wear a shirt underneath it. But that's not even the worst part; you can keep yourself calm enough by just not making eye contact.

No, the worst part is now, his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the shades sit on his head, and his fucking hand is inches away from your thigh.

Your exposed thigh, because after hearing how nice the weather would be for the game, you decided to put on some heavily distressed black skinny jeans. His fingers are practically causing their own electrical current as they graze your soft brown skin. And to top it off, he's wearing his signature smirk.

Because he always knows exactly what he's doing and how to get a reaction out of you.

"Out with it, Bur- His hand slips, and he grasps your thigh during a sharp break at a red light, then he looks over at you.

"Sorry about that," He smiles, lying through his perfectly pearly teeth. "Didn't want anything to happen to you, pretty girl."

You stared at him in pure disbelief. “You did that on purpose.”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because you know something.” He looks away, but you catch the light chuckle he lets out. “I don’t appreciate you torturing me just because you don’t feel the same way.”

“I never-

“You didn’t have to, just-

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. Here you are, sitting at a red light, surrounded by the oddly quiet city, with Joe’s pillowy soft lips melting against your own.

When he breaks away, the light is green but the only thing moving is his hand against your cheek.

“I do feel the same way. I always have. It’s you who’s been taking over a year to figure it out.” He says softly brushing his thumb over your lips.

You lean in almost closing the distance between you. “I really like you, Joe.”

The light turns red again, effectively blending with the bright blush across his face. “Thank god, cause I’ve been dressing like a complete slut to games trying to get your attention. I was debating just showing up to your place just sweaty and shirtless.”

The car turns into a bubble of laughter as you lean back against the window trying to clam yourself down with the coolness from the outside. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride. You’re watching the city lights pass by while he drives safely down the streets, slow enough because he knows how much you love the view and so he can unashamedly glimpse over at your beauty.

Minutes later you’re walking hand in hand up to your apartment. “You know…” You bite back a smirk as you reach the door.

“What?” He raises a brow, pulling your hand to his lips.

The simple act warms your skin in a way he wouldn’t be able to notice unless you were grinning like a fool. Which you were.

You can’t help but giggle your next words out. “Your plan of showing up sweaty and shirtless would’ve worked too.”

He lightly scoffs with a timid smile on his face. “Same goes for you, princess. If I had known me driving one handed turned you on so much… well you wouldn’t have thrown your phone across the room a few weeks back.” He smirks cupping your jaw and placing a light kiss on your forehead.

“You’re such a tease.”

He chuckles darkly, tilting your head and leaning down until you’re sharing one breath. “That’s the whole point, sweetheart.”

⤜♡→

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