#Sam sitting awake at night after his wall is broken

[quietwingsinthesky]

oh oh true form hallucifer is going to haunt me for a while…

[delaber]

Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that. 

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

[destielomegaversebigbang]

Red-Collared Omega

Posting September 2, 2024

Fic by SamandDean76

Art by TwinOne

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Castiel had been sold by those who were supposed to protect him, the proceeds used to pay off his parents’ debts. But he was up for sale once more, after a thorough inspection by a doctor revealed that the Alpha who purchased him had been swindled, as Castiel was a broken Omega. Ordered not to say a word, he sits on the porch and waits for fate to guide him to where he is needed most.

Dean had gone off to war and served his country valiantly. But the nightmare hadn’t ended when he was rescued from the camp where he had been held by brutal monsters. Dean came back to the world broken, and took refuge on his little farm, where he stayed hidden with the help of his brother Sam, and his Omega, Gabriel. The mated couple try everything to heal Dean, but what the Alpha needs more than anything else is an Omega of his own. But what self-respecting Omega would even want him?

Castiel is rescued by Sam and taken to a home unlike any he has ever known. Filled with love, kindness, and an Alpha he can’t stop thinking about. One that society has deemed irreparable, but Castiel refuses to give up on Dean. And decides that fate will help them to find their happy ending.

Tags: Alpha Dean, Omega Castiel, Alpha Sam, Omega Gabriel, Background Sabriel, War Veteran Dean, Caretaker Castiel, PTSD, Erectile Dysfunction, Mating Bites, Collars, Knotting, Blow Jobs, Thin Walls Lead To Overhearing Intimate Acts, Bees, Arts & Crafts, Broken Dean, Castiel Heals Him, Sam & Gabriels’ Relationship Is Used By Castiel To Understand A Healthy Relationship, Past Abusive Sex Is Remembered, Non-Graphic Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Top Dean, Bottom Castiel, Mute Dean – Gets Better, Panic Attacks, True Mates, MPreg, Deliveries Are Not Described, Like Magic – Children Just Appear

Excerpt below the cut

Castiel would try to stay awake for the next part, his favorite part, but also, hands down, the most frustrating part of his day. When Dean would wake from his restive slumber on the couch and follow the scent of the Omega until he was standing next to the bed, following his instinctual urges. Castiel would wake to find himself being stripped of his sleep attire, and then he was held tight against the Alpha of his dreams. Soft kisses being pressed to the back of his shoulders, a hot tongue swiping over his mating gland which left Castiel baring his neck, while he prayed that tonight would be the night.

But the mating bite was never given, and they would simply spend the night together, snuggled close as their legs tangled, and Castiel’s own arms lay upon the ones that were wrapped around his slender waist. Dean leaving with the first rays of the sun spilling into the room every morning, which resulted in Castiel wrapping his arms tighter around himself and pondering what he needed to do to convince the Alpha that they should take whatever it was that they had between them to the next level.

Castiel could understand, he really could. One doesn’t simply get over trauma in the blink of an eye and given what had come to pass on that first morning, Dean still clearly had a way to go until he was the picture of perfect mental health. The fact that he didn’t speak when he was a very well-read individual was concerning. The Alpha would sometimes bring a book to the clearing, reading a chapter or two with Castiel tucked into his side. All of the words were there, lurking just under the surface, but not daring to come out.

[onomatopoetic101999]

Chapter Five: Icarian

Chapter Five B: Introspection

Ignis Fatuus Masterlist

------

Icarian: relating to or characteristic of Icarus, especially in being excessively ambitious

------

That next evening finds you creeping forward in a crouch, digipicking the locked door the scanner was pointing to the night before. It's a difficult nut to crack, but you figure it out in a matter of seconds. When the door silently swings open, Sam sighs behind you.

"I will never get over smart you are."

You glance back to smile at him before rolling through the door, staying as silent as possible. You take out your scanner again and shift your stance, trying to find the direction of the frequency disturbances. It leads you deeper into the forbidden hall, and you thank your lucky stars that the walkways don't seem to be patrolled.

Now that you were closer to the Artifact, the readings were becoming more consistent. It only takes you a few minutes to find the entrance to a cave, although it's blocked with yet another locked door. You look back at Sam, who nods at you.

After you successfully hack it, the door swings open in a similar way to the previous one. This time, however, the other side is crawling with Paradiso guards.

You're glad you had the forethought to bring your chameleon pack, it's tech turning you invisible when you're still. It's painstakingly slow, but you manage to successfully sneak past every guard until your deep in the mine.

You don't even need your scanner at this point, being able to follow how gravity shifts in response to the Artifact's power. It sits before you buried deep in the rock of the wall. You're surprised the Paradiso leadership hasn't started a viewing for it yet, but then you note how recently the rocks have been broken. The Artifact couldn't have been unearthed more than a day ago.

You double check for more guards in the surrounding area before standing, using your cutter to release the Artifact from its prison in the wall. You make sure Sam is prepared to defend you once you're incapacitated, and then reach out and grab the Artifact.

The familiar series of images and sounds overwhelm your senses, making you entirely unaware of reality for a few dangerous seconds.

When you come to, Sam is standing by the door, gun trained on it in case any guards notice the change in gravity. When he sees that you're awake, he runs over to help you up before you both head back out of the cave.

You make it as far as the empty hallways when a Starborn appears in front of you. He opens fire, and while you kill him quickly, the sounds of the fight draw the guards out.

You hear a loud, "Hey! Stop right there!" behind you, and you try not to panic. Fighting Starborn was one thing, but the sheer number of guards was overwhelming, not to mention the fact they were completely innocent. You needed to find somewhere to hide, and fast.

Sam grabs your hand and begins to sprint, turning every other corner, trying to lose the guards behind you. You make it out of the restricted section of the basement, but you can hear them continuing to give chase.

You make a left at the end of the hall and are met with your worst nightmare: a dead end. The night club of the retreat stands before you both, and you try not to hyperventilate at what that means. This was the only entrance. You were trapped. Sam skids to a stop when you get inside and turns to you.

"Okay, there's gotta be a way out of this..."

You look back to where you came, hearing the guards' steps coming ever closer under the bass of the music, and bite your lip anxiously. It was dark, maybe you could just start dancing...?

Suddenly, Sam's hand leaves yours and he rests his palms on your hips, guiding you quickly but gently backwards towards the nearest wall. When your back hits it, he grasps your chin and tilts it up, making your eyes shift from where they're scanning the entrance to the club to meeting his. They're lidded, pupils larger than normal, and his thumb reaches up to tug under your bottom lip, releasing it from where you've been biting it.

"Now Darlin', I'm gonna need you to trust me for the next few seconds. Do you trust me?" His voice is deeper, raspier than it usually is.

You nod without hesitation, confused, but too caught up in worry to notice him leaning down to you. At your confirmation, his tongue peeks out to sweep across his lips, he takes a deep, steadying breath, and the hand still on your hip slides around to the small of your back, pulling you up against him.

"Good,"

As you faintly hear one of the guards shout, "they went this way!" outside, Sam presses his lips to yours.

The second your lips touch, a realization hits you like lightning, any thought of guards or Artifacts or Starborn vanishing. Oh. Oh. You are in love with Sam Coe.

As he uses your gasp as an opportunity, brushing his tongue against yours while his fingers tighten on your chin, you think back to every interaction you've had with him with a new light. Every smile, every wink, every teasing "Darlin',"... how had you been so blind? You hadn't been flustered just because he was hot; you're entirely, unchangeably in love with him. You're in love with Sam Coe, he is kissing you, and you are doing nothing about it!

You lean into him and wrap your arms around his neck. This is what had been bothering you! You hadn't wanted to pretend because you'd wanted it to be real. He smiles against your mouth. You take solace in the fact that, based on his kiss, he feels the same way. You decide to talk about it later. For right now...

You sink a hand into his hair, and Sam growls. The hand on your chin slides down to just under your jaw, which he tilts up with his thumb as he starts to press open mouth kisses along your neck, beard scratching gently the whole way down. He wedges one of his knees between your thighs, and he hikes up one of yours to rest on his hip. He mouths at your collar bone for a moment before dragging his lips back up to just below your ear, pressing kisses there too.

By now your breathing is nearly frantic, your chest rising and falling against Sam's at a rapid pace. You let out a surprised gasp when he nips at your jaw, and you feel him smirk against your cheek. You breathe out a laugh in response.

How have you survived so long without this? Every sense is consumed by him, to the point where you think if someone asked you a question, you're pretty sure Sam's name would be the only thing coming out of your mouth. His lips are against your neck, the strands of his hair weaved between your fingers, the smell of sandalwood and leather in your nose; he breathes out a quiet sigh of your name, and the neon lights of the club blur as your eyes close involuntarily. Sam, Sam, Sam...

You're so wrapped up in him, in the realization, in this, that it isn't until his other hand grabs one of yours and brings it to the holster on his belt that you fully understand what his motivation is. Your eyes shoot open and you grasp the handle of the gun with shaking fingers. How could you be so naive? Sam didn't mean any of this. He hadn't been sincere this entire mission, remember? You finally understand what you've been feeling, and none of this is...

He sucks a mark onto the point where your neck and jaw meet, and you scan the entrance to the club, trying to keep the tears you feel rising up at bay. This isn't real.

The guards enter in a rush and your fingers tighten on the gun and in Sam's hair. He hums against your skin in response. They take a few steps in, scanning the area, before turning and leaving. The hand on the outside of your knee skims higher, tightening as Sam keeps mouthing along your neck. This isn't real!

You grab his shoulders and shove, pushing him a few inches away from you. He lets go of you immediately and almost stumbles, glancing behind him to check that the guards are gone before turning back to you.

"Darlin', are you o-"

"Don't! Don't call me that. Just-"

You lean heavily against the wall and throw a hand up to stop him when he opens his mouth to speak again.

He's still much too close. Mouth wet and swollen from so many kisses and chest heaving from the loss of breath. He's so... beautiful. Every exhale still brushes air across your face, and you close your eyes to hide the fact that you're two seconds from crying.

"I need to get some air. Do not follow me."

His hands raise to try and comfort you, and you back away from him, all but running out of the club and down the hall again. When you find a bathroom, you bolt inside, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

None of that had been real. You're in love with Sam, he just gave you the best kiss of your life, and he hadn't meant a single second of it.

You bury your head in your arms where they rest on your bent knees. A sob heaves out of your mouth. None of that was real...

------

Chapter Five B: Introspection

[jupiterwrites99]

You're On Your Own, Kid

Chapter 6

Sage had called Josh under the supervision of Sam and Paul. The two men have conjured up a lie about her whereabouts for the past five years and how she was currently with her grandma's old friend Sue Clearwater.

Sage had argued that she didn’t even like Sue after she had locked her in the room when she had first arrived. The men were quick to remind her that it was just a lie and she didn’t actually have to live with Sue. It seemed like lying came easy to them, making her wary about what lies she's been told.

Josh had swiftly bought the lie after a few questions, one of which he wondered why she hadn’t called sooner. He had said she was more than welcome to live with him back in North Bend, the old room he had for her at his house from the countless times he had babysat her as a kid was still set up. Sam had shook his head no when she hesitated on answering her uncle, and with a frown, she declined his offer. With the promise to visit her soon, and to call more often, they hung up and the tears were quick to fill Sage's eyes. She stormed off to her room, slamming the door shut as Paul called after her and allowed herself to cry until exhaustion took over just as the forecasted storm had begun. The storm hadn’t let up as she was woken up by a loud crack of thunder. Sage would never admit it out loud out of sheer embarrassment, but she was utterly terrified of thunder. She had been since she was a kid, turning into a wolf only made her hearing more sensitive to the sound. It was loud and unnerving, never knowing when it was going to boom through the house.

She sat up and checked her surroundings, spotting Paul in the recliner he had made himself at home in most nights and sighed in relief.

Scrambling out of the bed as another loud crack of thunder went off, she shook Paul awake. She had two reasons, one, he always made her feel safe, and two, he looked like a giant sitting in a garden gnomes chair. It was odd, and she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

“What's wrong?” He asked, immediate concern taking over his features. She grabbed his hand wordlessly, heaving him up out of the small lazyboy. “Sage?”

“We can share.” She looked up at him to clarify, “The bed.”

Paul shook his head no, “It’s yours.”

Sage rolled her eyes, before getting into the bed, she liked the side next to the wall. Just in case. It's not like it's the first time they’ve shared a bed, he crossed the territory first and she was okay with it.

More importantly, her wolf was okay with it.

“I'm telling you, we can share.” She said adamantly, leaving no room for an argument from him as she waited for him.

“Okay,” He said hesitantly, before kicking off his shoes and getting into the small bed. It just barely fit the two of them, and was much smaller than the one he owned. She turned to face him as he settled on his side, concern still evident on his sharp features.

The lie Paul had made up with Sam made it seem like she was never going to be allowed to leave La Push, at least not with saying goodbye to Paul like she had promised him. Sage couldn’t help the sad look that formed on her face as tears brimmed her waterlines. La Push was not as safe as they had made it seem, she knew that. The scent at the grocery store he had taken her to had proved it and she knew why leaving him here would hurt less than if she were to stay.

“You’re okay.” He hushed her. Paul pulled her close, any sense of boundary he had created when he had climbed into her bed now broken. Her body instantly curled into his own, his warmth like a safety blanket.

“Paul?”

“Mhm?” He hummed.

Whispering as low as she could, Sage admitted, “I don’t like thunderstorms.”

“You’re safe with me.” Paul responded quietly, pressing his lips to her hairline comfortingly.

Sage believed him.

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

Sage was awoken to the smell of cinnamon, a familiar smell that she remembered from her grandma's house. Every Sunday she would wake up to fresh baked cinnamon rolls before being ushered off to what ever pack me was being held that day. Her grandparents were an integral part of the pack and made sure to drag her along to all the boring events, hoping it would make her more devoted. Sage couldn't have cared less. Though the smell of cinnamon made her giddy for the first time since arriving in La Push, and she was keen to see what Emily had made.

“No,” Paul said, one of his hands gripping her waist tightly as she moved to get out of bed.

Turning in his arms to face him, she giggled, “I’m hungry.”

“Five more minutes,” He grumbled tiredly.

She shook her head with a sigh, “But it smells so good.”

His arms tightened around her, hugging her to his chest before freeing her completely, “Go eat, little wolf.”

Paul's five minutes turned to twenty before he wandered into the kitchen, still looking exhausted. She tried not to frown, wondering if he stayed up during the storm to make sure she was alright.

“Hi,” Sage said brightly at the kitchen table eating breakfast as Paul joined them.

“Morning,” He smiled down at her, before pulling out the seat next to her and sitting down, “Storms over?”

“For now.” Sam chimed in, his face stern as he looked at Paul. The look made her slightly uneasy.

Though Paul was unfazed as he turned towards Sage, “Hey, so, I’ve got to go to work today, but Emilys got my number if you need me, alright?”

Sage furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, “Patrol?”

“No, a regular person's job that actually pays money.” He teased her. She looked over his appearance, his hair wet, a solid black fitted tee and jeans. It didn't look like he was going to work.

“Paul,” Emily chastised with the shake of her head as she sat at the table next to Sam.

“I had a job.” She remembered out loud. Going to work was the only human interaction she was allowed to have, her old alpha was strict. Though Sage enjoyed the normalcy of her coworkers lives, she almost envied them. Though she enjoys the company of her wolf too.

Paul smirked before taking a bite of his toast, “Oh, yeah?”

She nodded, “At a vets office.”

“At sixteen?”

“Yeah, they had a little daycare so I just got to play with the dogs for a few hours afterschool.” She explained, stabbing her fork into her eggs before adding somberly,“I wanted to be a vet.”

“You still can.” He rubbed her back soothingly, as if he could sense her changing mood.

“Paul, can I speak to you outside before you head out?” Sam asked, though it didn’t exactly sound like a request.

“I’ll see you later, Sage.” He smiled down at her, his hand grazing her cheek gently before heading off after Sam.

Sage smiled down at her plate as Emily let out a knowing chuckle.

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

It wasn’t long after Paul left that other pack members began to show up, and it was only then that she realised why Emily had cooked so much food. Though she noticed Leah's arrival, she didn’t pass the threshold. She made her way to the back of the cottage without ever stepping foot inside. Grabbing a cinnamon muffin, Sage made her way out to see her.

“Hey,” Sage said gently, gaining Leah's attention, “I got this for you.”

Leah grabbed the muffin from her, with a hint of a smile on her face, “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hang out?” The shyness in Sage's voice was evident and she was thankful Leah agreed, because as much as she liked hanging out with Paul, She missed some of her old friends.

They had gone on a hike to get away from everyone and conversation came easy between the two she wolfs, Leah even opened up about the drama between her and Sam. Which explained why she was so distant all the time.

Leah had left her midwalk to go on her rounds, and as she made her way back down the path they had travelled, Sage could hear voices growing louder and angrier. One voice peaked her interest as she grew closer.

“Touch me again and you’ll regret it,” Sage heard Paul bark out.

The idea of someone hitting Paul sent a ripple of rage through her, and before Sage could stop it, she had phased. The only thing on her wolf's mind was protecting Paul. Racing in the direction of her mate's voice, red clouding her vision. Sage broke through the tree line, frantic eyes searching for the familiar man. A growl ripped through her throat at the sight of him having a standoff with an unknown face though something about him was familiar.

Both men looked in her direction as she approached slowly. Paul's eyes widened in recognition as she glowered at him.

“Sage,” Paul kneeled before her with his palms upturned, “You’re okay. What happened?”

She let him pet her, leaning into his touch before she circled around him to stand in front, hunching and growling at the other boy. She didn’t recognize him and instantly thought of him as a threat, not only to herself, but to Paul and Leah.

“That’s cute, kid.” The unfamiliar man chuckled, “I’m not scared of you.”

The young wolf took a step closer, baring her teeth. He should be scared of her, especially if he wanted to hurt Paul.

“Hey, “ She heard Paul's voice, and the feeling of his fingers in her fur, looking at him, she softened her gaze, “Packmates, remember?”

She let out a huff, not her pack. She doesn’t have a pack! She wanted to shout at him.

Sage let out one more warning growl in the direction of the man she didn’t recognize before she took off into the woods, ignoring the shouts of her name.

[corrupt-touch]

Lullaby

Suptober 2022, Day 2: Pillow Talk

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: E Word Count: 2381

Tags: Human Castiel, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Sexual Content, The Finale Doesn't Exist, Dean Helps Castiel Feel What it's like to be human

When Castiel closes his eyes all he can smell, all he can hear, is death. He remembers it all. The relentless screams. The voices of the damned and the lost. He remembers praying to fall asleep forever. Praying to fall asleep just to escape. He remembers the shadow of the Empty, engulfing him in black ooze and dragging him away. He remembers the way the vast darkness taunted him, I know who you love, I’ve always known who you love, I’ve always known your true happiness, I’ve always known I’d be the one to take it away.

And he remembers Dean Winchester, broken and bloody, pulling him out of nothingness. Telling him, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, over and over. The rest of it, the ride back to the Bunker in the back of the Impala, graceless and barely alive, is a blur.

The past two days back on Earth are a blur. Everything is the same as it was the night he left, the night he finally confessed everything to Dean. But everything is different. His body is sore and bruised. The scars across his arms and his face, the ones left behind from the void that tried to entrap him forever as Dean struggled against everything to bring him back to this world, aren’t healing the way they would have, before all this. His head is pounding, the pain trailing down behind his eyes, and the pills Dean had given him aren’t working, at least not yet. And he wants to succumb to the exhaustion he feels, but he knows, once he closes his eyes, once he falls asleep, the nightmares will creep back into his brain.

Dean’s bed is softer, warmer, than Castiel had ever imagined it would be. He’d imagined it so many times, the nights when he would sit alone, awake, in the Bunker, while Sam and Dean slept. He had imagined what it would be like, to feel Dean’s body against his, to know that Dean belonged to him, and he belonged to Dean. But now, Dean knows everything, knows how Castiel really feels, and they haven’t spoken a word about it since they’d gotten back here.

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Instead, Dean is asking him if he needs anything every five minutes. Making him toast and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and saying that now, since Castiel needs to eat, they can go to that diner on the corner of Walnut and Grove, go get the best apple pie in all of Lebanon. And Dean is sitting in the corner of his bedroom, on a chair he’d moved in from the other room, his face illuminated only by the screen of his phone. “It will be okay, Cas. I’m right here, man. Just close your eyes and you’ll fall asleep eventually. If something happens—another nightmare—I’m here.”

“Do the nightmares ever stop?” Castiel rolls onto his back, focusing up on the ceiling.

“For me they never have. But, you know, maybe you’ll be a better human than me. Maybe they’ll stop for you.” Dean rests his head against the wall behind him. He knows, he’s avoiding what he needs to say, what he needs to do, but he’s afraid that if he tells Castiel how he feels, if he tells Castiel anything at all, the Empty might steal him away again. And Dean he’s had to survive losing Castiel too many times, he knows the next time will be the end of him.

“This is what you do? What humans do? You just lay here, alone with your thoughts, hoping that at any moment you’ll just be unconscious?” Castiel runs his fingers along the t-shirt he’s wearing. It’s Dean’s, Dean had given it to him to wear after he’d tried to wash the unrelenting stench of the Empty off him.

“Something like that, yeah,” Dean says. “Being human—it sucks. And I’m not sorry that I saved you, but I’m sorry that you lost all your grace when I pulled you out. I am, I’m sorry.” Dean wants to apologize, for ruining Castiel, like he ruins everything he touches.

“It’s not that bad.” Castiel turns his head toward Dean. “It’s just—different.”

“Not that bad? Why would you want to be a miserable, shitting, human being?” Dean drops his phone down onto the ground. “Why would you want to be like me?”

“You know what I told you—” Castiel’s eyes meet Dean’s, but Dean turns his gaze down to the ground. “Every single word of it was true. I meant what I said, every word of it.”

Dean swallows down the anxiety that’s collecting in his throat. He pulls himself up from the chair, and he stands over his bed, over Castiel, in the faded light streaming in from under the door. And he doesn’t know exactly how to put the things he feels right now into words, he doesn’t know how to tell Castiel he’s felt the same way for as long as he can remember, so he lays down next to Castiel, his head on the edge of the pillow, inches from Castiel.

“What are you doing?” Castiel’s legs slip away from Dean’s along the mattress. He wants this, wants this more than anything, but he doesn’t understand if this is what he thinks it is.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe something I should have done a long time ago.” Dean can feel the warmth from Castiel’s body, and it makes him feel like maybe, this is all he needs now. “Why is this not so bad, Cas?”

“Being human?” Castiel can feel Dean’s fingers brush against his spine, and it does something to him he’s felt before, but never this much, never to the point where he feels like he’s on the brink of losing control. “Because—there’s feelings, that are more intense than I could feel before. Food—it just tasted like molecules. But now I can actually enjoy it. There’s—I don’t know, desire?”

“You couldn’t feel that before, as an angel?” Dean slides closer, until his face is almost against Castiel’s on the pillow.

“I could—I did, all the time. It’s just—stronger now, I guess. I used to be able to tell myself I couldn’t, shouldn’t want that with anyone—because of what I was. But now, I feel like I wouldn’t be able to say no, I wouldn’t be able to convince myself not to,” Castiel says. “And I guess—I did experience that—sex—once before, as a human, but, you know, that didn’t end so well when she killed me.”

“WI guess that’s the good part of being human. The sex, I mean, not the getting killed.” Dean’s hand is on Castiel’s arm now, moving down, to his wrist, to his hands. “That minute you let yourself go, with the right person, and your bodies are all tangled up and sweaty together and you reach that point at the same time.” Dean stops, lets himself laugh. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. These weeks, spent trying to get Castiel back, trying spell after spell, until one of them broke through, until one of them let Dean crawl into the Empty, have been sleepless, overwhelming. “I guess what I’m saying is, you’re right, there are good things about being human.”

“Yes. You’re okay with this? Being here with me—in your bed—like this?” Castiel’s body, one that feels almost new and unknown to him, leans back against Dean almost instinctively, because it feels right this way, it feels like it’s supposed to be this way. “I can leave if you aren’t.”

“What? No—you’re always fucking leaving me. I’m not letting you go anywhere.” Dean’s fingertips trail along the edges of Castiel’s t-shirt, moving underneath the cotton. “I can help you be human, or feel human, or whatever. If that’s what you need.”

Castiel closes his eyes against the feeling of Dean’s hands touching him in a way they’d never touched him before. “Just tell me what it feels like to finally get something you’ve wanted for so long—to finally have what you know you needed. Tell me what it feels like to be happy, without the threat of death hanging over that happiness.”

Dean is quiet, listening to the sound of Castiel breathing, of Castiel’s heart beating faster as Dean leans over him, their lips nearly touching as Dean says, “It feels confusing—because I can’t believe this is really happening. And it’s terrifying, too, because I feel like what I’ve wanted has been ripped away from me so many times—and I’m so fucking worried it will happen again.” He pauses, lets his hand slip across Castiel’s until their fingers are entwined, and he’s holding Castiel down on the mattress. “But it also feels like maybe something has changed, like maybe I don’t always have to be the one to sacrifice everything anymore. It feels like this—” He kisses Castiel, his lips hesitant, nervous.

But this, this kiss, feels like nothing Castiel has ever felt before. Dean’s mouth is soft and consuming, and the weight of his body against Castiel lets Castiel sink further down into the bed, and, normally, having someone so close to him, would make every single one of Castiel’s nerves on edge, would make Castiel feel like he was committing some violation of Heaven. But now, his fingers run along Dean’s back, as Dean kisses his neck and his chin. “Tell me what it feels like to let yourself go with someone you want more than anything,” Castiel mumbles.

“Are you asking me to tell you what it feels like to come as a human?” Dean tries not to smile, as he pulls at the collar on Castiel’s shirt.

“Yes, tell me what that feels like, to do that, with someone who wants to be with you.” The only time Castiel has ever felt that release, was with someone who was manipulating him, betraying him, and all he wants, is to know what it would feel like, if it was all real. And he doesn’t understand why Dean is doing this right now, or if this is what Dean really wants, but all he knows, is that this human body is pleading, yearning for anything Dean will give him.

“I don’t really know how to describe it,” Dean says, pulling himself up over Castiel. “It’s like this feeling that builds up inside you, when you’re getting right to the edge, when you’re almost there. But sometimes, it feels too good, you don’t want it to end—and you have to try to make it stop, think about something else--but then, you just can’t. And, when it happens, you sort of don’t think—sometimes you say things you maybe shouldn’t, because the words just kind of spill out. When it's over, I don’t know, that’s usually the part where for me—they leave me, or I leave them.”

“Do you feel regret after it?” Castiel’s focus is on Dean, the rest of the room could disappear and he probably wouldn’t even know.

“Probably not if it’s the right person.” Dean lifts Castiel’s shirt from his stomach to his chest, and over his head. Castiel lifts himself off the bed just enough to accommodate Dean, to let Dean move his hands down his now-bare back, to let Dean’s mouth move across his throat and his chest. “I don’t know, Cas—all this talk—why don’t I just show you, and you tell me how it feels?”

“Dean—you don’t have to—”

“I want to. I want to.” Dean rests his chin on Castiel’s stomach. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you get that I feel the same way you do? Now just stop talking and let me do this for you.”

Dean’s mouth moves down Castiel’s stomach, and Dean’s teeth pull at the elastic of Castiel’s boxer shorts, his fingers and his mouth running down Castiel’s body as he pulls the material lower and lower, down to Castiel’s knees. Castiel groans from the feeling of Dean’s lips slowly moving over him, as Dean’s tongue circles along the tip of where Castiel is hard, aching.

“You should have asked for this a long time ago, I would have given it to you,” Dean says, taking him into his mouth. Just the sound of Dean, sucking, almost gagging, as his lips tighten, is enough to make Castiel want to beg for this to never end Then Dean stops, his mouth hanging open around Castiel as he speaks, “Tell me what it feels like when I do this,” before he lets his lips close again, as his tongue rolls along Castiel.

Castiel gasps into the air, runs his fingers along Dean’s hair, pulling at Dean’s scalp. “This feels—like—nothing ever felt when I was an angel, like nothing I could even imagine feeling now as a human—this feels like this—like you’re all I need to survive anymore.” And his eyes meet Dean’s from across his body, and the way Dean looks right now, devouring him is enough to bring Castiel right to the brink.

And he tries to think of something else, like Dean told him, he tries to remember the feeling of being lost in the Empty, the sounds and the smells of decay, the cries of condemned angels and demons. But, now, none of that even matters, it’s all background noise, fading into the way Dean’s face is buried in between is legs. When he comes, he mumbles, Dean, Dean, gripping the back of Dean’s head, holding him like he can never let go, and then pulling Dean back up, along his body.

He kisses Dean, longer and harder, than maybe anyone has ever kissed anyone, and he can taste himself all over the inside of Dean’s mouth.

“So did I describe it right?” Dean lays down on the pillow.

“No—it was much better than you described.” Castiel runs his fingers along Dean’s cheek.

“Do you regret it?” Dean stretches his arm across Castiel, bringing him closer.

“No, not at all,” Castiel says. “I guess you’re just the right person.” “Yeah,” Dean stretches his leg across Castiel’s, the denim rubbing along Castiel’s bare skin. “I guess you’re the right person for me too.”

[ohbuckie]

b!bucky drabble about the day or so after the breakup??? from his perspective just dealing with the aftermath if that makes sense bc i love to make men suffer <3

OKAYY

bassist!bucky x fem!reader

wc: 988

warnings: suicide mention, angst, drug mention

He’s lost today. His nose is stuffed, his eyes are puffy, his head is pounding.

Steve wakes him up. “Advil?” He holds a couple in his outstretched right hand, and a bottle of water in his left.

Bucky takes them from him, nodding. He swallows the pills dry, but sips from the water bottle anyway. Gulps, rather.

“How are you feeling?” His friend asks.

“Like somebody is sitting on my chest and holding a pillow against my face.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“Feel like sight-seeing today?”

Amsterdam is a beautiful city. They have two days before their next show to explore. Bucky was excited to hold your hand and pull you around the cobblestone roads into cafés and gift shops.

“No. Feel like fucking killing myself today.”

“Not funny.”

“Wasn’t kidding.”

“Call your mom.” Steve suggests. Bucky never lets him in until after his mom has already broken down his first wall.

“I don’t want to talk to her.”

“You need to.”

“What’s she gonna say? That I’m stupid? I already know that.”

“You need to.” He repeats again.

Bucky glares at him. “Fine. Get out. I’ll call her.”

“You don’t get to snort a line beforehand.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you. Where is it? In your bag?”

“No, in a balloon up my ass.” He sits up for the first time today and closes his eyes while his head rushes.

“You’re a dick. Call your mom.”

“I will.” He says, sincerely this time.

Steve finally leaves him alone, closing the door behind himself to give Bucky the privacy that he needs.

It’s a little past noon in Holland, which means six o’clock in the morning in New York. His mom will be awake, so he swallows his pride and calls her.

“Hello, James.” He can hear her smiling.

“Hi.” He can’t even fake enthusiasm. He can already feel his throat tightening like he’s about to cry.

“What’s wrong?”

She can always tell.

“She left me.” His voice cracks.

“What?”

“She left me. Y/N. She flew back home. She’s moving out. She dumped me.” He takes a shaky breath and lets his eyes well up with tears that silently fall down his cheeks. He wishes you were here to rub his back and kiss his head.

“Why?”

He knows that what she really wants to ask is, “What did you do?”

“Because I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole, Bucky-”

“I am. It was my fault. I just don’t know what to do now. I can’t stay here. I can’t go on stage. I need to come home, mama.”

“No, James, you can’t come home. It’s only a couple more weeks and you’ll be back. If you come home you’ll shut everyone out. You can’t do that. You need to stay, sweetie.”

“I can’t do it.”

He’s really crying now, sniffling and wiping his eyes, hoping the rest of the band can’t hear how pathetic he sounds.

“You can. You need to. You’ve done much harder things.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“This feels so big right now, Bucky, but you just need time.”

“I don’t want time, I want my girlfriend back.”

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry this is happening. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just…I need to go. Eat some breakfast or something. I just have to go.”

“Be safe. If you need help, get help. Your friends would do anything for you.”

“I know.”

He knows that she’s worried he’ll hurt himself, but he doesn’t promise that he won’t.

“I love you. I don’t know what I would do without you. Call me if you need anything. Doesn’t matter what time it is, okay?”

“Okay. I love you too, mom. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

He can’t stand. Well, physically, he can, but mentally, he doesn’t have the willpower. He lays back down and pulls his blanket above his shoulders, turning on his side so that his back faces the curtain that separates him from the hallway.

He thinks of just two nights ago, when you slept beside him in this bed, wearing his hoodie and snoring lightly against his chest.

Somebody opens the door to the cabin in which the bunks are. “I made breakfast, if you want some. Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast.” It’s Sam.

“No, thanks.”

“You should put something in your stomach.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I’ll save you some.”

“Thank you.”

The door doesn’t close, though. Instead, somebody pulls his curtain to the side, revealing his state of agony to the world. Well, to the center aisle, at least.

“Scoot over.” Natasha insists.

“Nat-”

“Now.”

He sighs and makes room for her, letting her crawl under his blanket, where he lays in just his boxers. He can’t be fucked to put on clothes today. It’s a miracle that he’s speaking to anyone at all.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“Can I hug you?”

He nods, and she wraps her arms around him, pulling his head against her chest. He just closes his eyes, sniffling and trying his hardest not to cry, like he’d planned on doing when he laid back down.

“You can cry, Bucky. It’s okay.” She says softly, gently holding the back of his head and resting her chin on top of it.

“I don’t know what to do.” He sobs.

“I know. Don’t even think about it, okay? Just feel sorry for yourself today. It’s okay to do that. This fucking sucks.”

He sniffles. “I just want her to come back. I wish I could take back the last, like, two months and do them over again. I feel like such a prick.”

She sighs. “I know you do. But you want her to be happy, right? She needs to go find somebody that makes her really happy.”

He takes a breath in an effort to collect himself. “I just wish she was happy with me.”

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part fifteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption

word count: 1.7k

series masterlist

Don’t tell Sam. Sam. SAM.

“Shit.”

You had to fix this in a matter of seconds. Should you slap him? Act like nothing happened? Pretend you were drunker than you actually were and play dumb?

“Wait, you’re not Sam?” you squinted your eyes like you were trying to see who was in front of you, acting like you were too drunk to remember who you were with. “Oh my god.”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Tom tried. 

“I-” you didn’t know how to respond. “Why did you do that?”

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t know, it didn’t mean anything!” You’d be lying if you told yourself that didn’t sting a little. If he didn’t have any sort of feelings for you, why would he kiss you? “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Please don’t tell my brother.”

“You want me to lie to my boyfriend?”

“I mean, is it lying if you just don’t mention it?”

“It’s a lie of omission- are you really going to debate me about philosophy right now?”

“Then yes, I do want you to lie to your boyfriend because if he finds out he’ll never speak to me again.”

“You realize what kind of position that puts me in?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”

You couldn’t even think straight. Feelings of confusion, panic, anger, and regret fought for control of your conscience. “What if someone had seen us? Taken a picture of us? You’re a public fucking figure, Tom. That could’ve put your career at risk.” “Don’t you think I know that?” he growled. “I don’t need you to lecture me on how stupid it was.”

“You’re an asshole,” you scoffed.

“I know.”

You stood from the table to leave, hoping he wouldn’t follow you, but he called after you, your name echoing in your ears like a warning. Reluctantly, you turned back to face him with a bitter taste on your tongue.

“You won’t tell him, right?”

You stared him down for a moment, watching nerves etch themselves onto his features before answering. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

It was a promise you didn’t want to make, but you felt like you had no other choice. You hadn’t just broken the ‘no flirting’ rule, you’d blown straight past it into completely uncharted territory. And technically Tom had been the one to initiate, you hadn’t kissed him back, but you couldn’t say you hadn’t felt something when he did. 

You had never lied to Sam before- at least not on this scale. You felt sick to your stomach, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. 

You almost didn’t want to go back to your room. You urged the elevator to go as slow as possible as you checked your appearance in the reflective wall. The tarnished gold was smudged with handprints, but you were still able to make out your ruined lipstick. You weren’t sure it had been messed up sometime during dinner, or if it was Tom’s doing but you couldn’t take a chance. You used your thumb to wipe away the evidence as the intercom on the elevator let out a ding to let you know you’d reached your floor.

With a shaky breath you pushed yourself into the hallway and forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other to walk to your room. You didn’t have a key, so you had to knock. You half-hoped Sam was already asleep, even if it meant you’d have to spend the night in the hallway. 

But as luck would have it he was still up and he opened the door seconds later. He was definitely out of it, blinking at you to put you in focus. 

“There you are,” he said tiredly, rubbing one of his eyes with his hand. “I was wondering when you’d come up.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you up,” you apologized as you breezed past him into the room. 

“Nah, I was just messing around.”

A lie, you knew, but you let it slide knowing you were keeping a much bigger secret. He was already dressed for bed in his boxers and one of your t-shirts and his hair was wet from a shower. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing your anxious energy.

You nodded. “I had too much to drink.”

“Ah, me too, I think. Come take a shower. It’ll help.” 

You took his advice and tried to sober up in the shower, letting the cold water run over your bare skin until you were shivering. When it didn’t make you feel any better you turned off the faucet completely and dried off, wrapping a towel around your body and sitting on the edge of the tub. 

“Y/n?” came Sam’s muffled voice from the other side of the door. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You sighed. Why did he have to know you better than you knew yourself? You pushed yourself up from the tub and opened the door. 

“I had like three more shots after you left,” you mumbled.

The color drained from his face as he took in this additional information and he frowned. “Jesus, I thought I was drunk. Do you feel sick?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay, well let’s go to bed,” he urged. His accent was always thicker when he was drunk, and in a funny way it sounded like home, like all of those Friday nights back on campus. 

Sam gave you space to change into your clothes for bed and crawled under the covers to wait for you. You dressed yourself, hung your towel in the bathroom, and shut off the main light before feeling your way through the darkness over to the bed. 

You managed to get your drunk ass in bed without tripping which you considered to be a miracle. Sam slung his arm across your stomach as soon as you settled on the mattress and pulled you against his hip. You tensed underneath his touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

You couldn’t relax no matter how hard you tried, and sleep taunted you for hours, hovering just out of your reach. 

Sam’s alarm woke you from restless dreaming some hours later, when the sun had barely brushed the horizon. 

You groaned and rolled over onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow. Your head was pounding and you didn’t even want to think about facing Tom. The simple motion of rolling over had made you nauseous and you knew that standing up was going to be a whole nother ordeal. 

“Come on, love,” Sam said, nudging you with his knee. He was already sitting up, rolling the tension out of his neck from a night on the stiff mattress. “We gotta be downstairs in a few minutes.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you felt pathetic. You didn’t have the strength to be around Tom today, especially with Sam right there.

“Don’t feel good,” you moaned.

“We’re all hungover,” Sam sighed. “We’re not even doing that much walking today.”

You turned your head enough for him to see the tears running down your cheeks and he pursed his lips, expression turning worried. 

“Oh.”

“Can you make something up?” you pleaded. 

He nodded. “I’ll tell them you have a fever or something.”

You swallowed your shame and squeezed your eyes shut, whispering thanks into his shirt. Sam kissed your forehead and then got up. You vaguely heard him moving around the room getting ready, but drifted in and out of sleep as he did. 

Once he was dressed he softly told you goodbye, that he hoped you felt better, and that he’d bring you back some food later on. 

The door clicked shut and you let your guilt continue eating you alive. 

You wondered how Tom would react when Sam told his family you weren’t feeling well, if his face would give anything away. He was an actor, he should be able to handle it. But you also wondered what he was feeling, if he felt as guilty as you did- or even more so. Or maybe he wouldn’t even care. You never knew when it came to him.

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on a pillow, using the free time to respond to some messages from friends and family. It was the middle of the night back in the States, but at least they’d wake up knowing you weren’t dead. To be fair, everyone knew your communication skills weren’t the best so they probably weren’t expecting anything from you anyway, but you still wanted to put in the effort. 

The rest of the day passed by quicker than you would’ve liked. You spent it in bed, tossing and turning as you desperately tried to fall back asleep. You kept pushing the blankets off of you, then burying yourself beneath them again, flipping between hot and cold. Maybe you really did have a fever. Your clothes were suffocating you so you ended up stripping and dropping them on the floor by the bed. 

By the mercy of some higher power you were able to nap for a couple of hours scattered throughout the afternoon, but by dinner time you were wide awake again and passed the time by watching Avatar: The Last Airbender in Italian on the hotel tv. 

It was playing an earlier episode, the one where the gaang visited Kyoshi Island. You couldn’t understand any of the dialogue, obviously, but you still found comfort in the familiar scenes. 

There was a knock on the door suddenly, startling you out of your focus. You jerked your head towards the sound and scrambled from the bed. You slipped back into your t-shirt, but didn’t bother putting on pants before opening the door because you figured it was just Sam. And it was. He looked exhausted, but in the best kind of way and was holding a styrofoam container of food that was presumably for you.

“Forgot the key,” he said sheepishly, offering you the food. You smiled and took it from him, stepping aside to let him in. 

He didn’t take your cue, instead he stayed where he was standing in the doorway awkwardly. It was then that you realized he wasn’t alone, that his older brother had been standing behind him the entire time.

Sam offered no explanation, only shrugged like he didn’t know why he was there either.

“Tom?” you asked, awaiting an explanation for yourself.

“Can we talk?” 

ik tags haven’t been working idk why i’m sorry!!! but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[dodo-begone]

New Normal

Pairing: Yandere!Tubbo x Reader (with some Ranboo)

Request: we need more yandere tubbo i absolutely love the way you wrote him shdhhfjd........ maybe a short fic or some headcanons elaborating on "waking up in the mansion one day"? maybe the reader gets more afraid than going along with it .. I'd love to see ranboos aspect regarding tubbos behavior as well 👀

Word count: 2.3 k

Warning: yandere, kidnapping, drugging

A/n: This is all platonic. Nothing romantic. Also this was meant to be short not this long oh lord.

The night had been unforgiving to you as of late. Every night you felt like you were being watched over. It was so weird. It didn’t matter if the windows were open or not. Or even if they had blinds over them. Your paranoia was being fed by every noise emanating from the darkness. Now you weren’t afraid of the dark, never had been. But now, oh god the dark was terrifying. The unknown of the dark scared you. Anything could be hiding in there. And with this new “admirer” of yours, your newfound fear of the shadows was being fed a damn feast. The last straw for you was when you came home one night and saw your window broken and front door open. It spooked you too much; what if they were still inside? You couldn’t risk that.

That’s how you found yourself in Tubbo’s house, on his couch, hunched over and shaking over a cup of tea. You don’t remember why you came here, in all honesty. There were so many other people you could have chosen that were more than capable of protecting you. There was Sam, Bad, Sapnap, even Technoblade. Yet you still went to Tubbo. He was a comforting presence for you. And you just really wanted some comfort for this new fear of yours. Is this what I child felt when they were scared of the dark and needed a flashlight? God now you feel so bad for making fun of little kids for needing those.

“Hey are you okay,” a hand just fucking attacks your shoulder and you wip around. Oh god what if the guy got you now- wait it’s just Tubbo. Wow you overreacted there. Your swift actions shocked Tubbo, making him take a few steps away from you. He held his hands up in the air; an attempt to show he meant no harm to you. But you were just relieved at the sight of Tubbo.

“I don’t know,” a lump was forming in your throat. The tea isn't helping at all. You were so upset that you couldn’t even tell what flavor it was. Nor did you ask Tubbo, but that didn’t matter. Only distractions mattered now; a way to get your mind off of the paranoid thoughts. “I think I am”. Your grip on the cup tightened. Some of that was you trying to ground yourself, but another part of it was just tension. It was becoming harder to breathe and you had no idea why. There wasn’t a reason. Start breathing normally again- uh what was that breathing exercise?

Tubbo came around the couch and sat by your side. “Hey, can you look at me really quick?” He grabbed your hands and you looked at him. Somehow looking into his eyes made it harder to breathe. “Okay now repeat after me- wait not repeat. Uh, do what I do. Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to reply before he started. “Okay take a deep breath with me. In through the mouth for five and out the nose for four. In for five, out for four.” A small pattern formed from the mantra. Something about the exercise was extremely comforting, but you were never sure on what it was. Well you knew it had to do with slowing your breathing and helping you focus, but you felt like there was something else to it. There had to be something else to it. Why else would it be able to calm you so well right now?

It took a while, but you finally calmed down. Well, “calmed down” being a relative term. You were tired and numb inside. Your attention was completely focused on the flames in the hearth. They were mesmerizing. Happily dancing away, illuminating the room.

You hadn’t realized what was happening. All you remember is looking at Tubbo and then everything just became blurry. The sting of tears stung your eyes. Oh, you were about to cry again. That’s so annoying, stupid. You had just calmed down and yet you’re still crying. Craving human contact must be a symptom of sadness or some shit because you looked at Tubbo for comfort. And he gave you exactly that; opening his arms to give you a hug. Without a second thought, you essentially flew into his arms. He accepted you immediately and held you close. The tears that had once been contained by a damn once again ran free. Slowly you grew tired. Oh how you despised the act of crying and how it drained you so. A little nap wouldn’t hurt.

__________________________________ The sunbeams were attacking you and it hurt so much. So bright, demanding. You didn’t want to get up. Sleepiness still held you captive, flowed through your body like the very blood you had. Yet the light was relentless, attacking your closed eyes through it’s armor. A valiant effort was made to stay asleep and keep the sunlight out of your eyes. But it was futile. Rolling over did nothing but illicit noise and made you mildly uncomfortable. When you finally gave in, you just stared blankly at the wall.

For a wall, it was pretty. Kinda. It was plain but a stylish kind of plain. A timeless look. It took ages to finally muster the energy to even sit up, but you still did. The view changed yet it didn’t at the same time. It was pretty empty in the room. Three doorways, two next to each other on your right and one on your left, a bed, some curtains, a small nightstand, and a bookshelf. Other than that, there was a ton of open space.

Once you regained some more consciousness, you slipped out of bed. There was a jingle, but you didn’t really pay attention to it. You definitely heard it, you just thought something fell on the floor. Whatever it was could wait. The unexplored room was just waiting for exploration, though you could have easily explored it from your bed because of how empty it was. When you got to one of the doors, you slowly opened it to reveal a closet. It was absolutely filled with clothes you liked. Or some you were missing. Didn’t you own that shirt at home? And that one too? Huh, what a coincidence. Pretty cool.

Not even two steps away from the closet was another door, which you also slowly opened. Didn’t want to hit anyone. Through that door was a bathroom. It was pretty big and pretty. Very shiny and clean. There were some care products in there, some shampoo and conditioner. But you stopped yourself from looking too much. You didn’t want to snoop. It was rather rude to do.

Grogley you turn toward the last mystery door. It was all the way on the other side of the room. Man you weren’t awake enough for this. Yawning, you start your way to the other doorway. That must be the way back to the rest of the mansion. Sadly you didn’t get far. Not even halfway there before you were stopped. More accurately tripped. Something made your foot slip from underneath, making you fall onto your stomach. Everything ached, but your ankle felt weird. It was a different pain. When you tried to pull it closer to examine it, something stopped it and the sound of metal hitting itself rang across the room. You nearly give yourself whiplash from how quickly you turn your head.

A metal cuff clung onto your ankle which in turn was connected to a tense chain. At the other end of the chain was one of the bedposts. Specifically the one closest to the closet and bathroom. That’s odd. Okay now what’s going on here? Oh did Tubbo do this to make you feel more secure? Well it was and wasn’t working all at the same time. Because who puts an ankle chain on somebody?

A knock interrupted your thoughts. From your spot on the floor, you whipped your head back around to the last mystery door. You stayed quiet, wondering if you were just imagining noises. But another knock soon came. It was undeniable, very pronounced and purposeful. Whoever was out there- what could they be here for. Panic started to overtake you again, but the sound of Tubbo’s voice coming from the other side of the door caught your attention.

“Can I come in,” Tubbo announces his presence again with another round of knocks. With the amount of noise you made, you were pretty sure he knew you were awake. But you still replied to him.

“Yeah you can.”

Not even a second after you reply, the door slowly opens and Tubbo peaks his head in. He seemed to have woken up with some bedhead, which made him look boyish. A little careless for physical appearances, which can be an endearing feature. Tubbo gave the room a sweeping look, checking for something. What exactly, you couldn’t tell. But apparently he was satisfied because he opened the doorway entirely. You swiftly stood up, getting as close to the door as you could.

On the other side of the door was Tubbo in some pajamas. He looked a little sleepy, but his happiness shone through it. You smiled at the sight of him, happy that someone came to get you out.

“Good morning, Tubbo!” You gave a toothy grin and spread your arms to emphasize your joy. “Sleep well?”

“Good morning!.” He gave you a toothy smile in return, but it looked odd. Like it was forced, nervous even. But you must’ve just been looking too far into it. “I slept pretty good. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept like a fucking rock,” you reply with a little laughter. “Honestly? Best sleep of the month, man. Really needed it. Thanks for letting me bunk at your place last night.”

“Not a problem at all,” his smile soon became more natural, much bigger. “I really enjoyed having you over”. It seemed like he was going to say something else, but stopped himself. The nervous look reappeared on his face, and you gave the most reassuring look you could. “So about you moving in-”

“Oh yeah that,” your smile disappeared as quickly as it came. “I can’t just do that Tubbo. I just can’t.” Tubbo seemed saddened by your response. “It’s not like I don’t want to live with you,” you explained. “I’d love to live with you and Ranboo, but I have other responsibilities. Things that have to be done very far from the mansion. Seriously, I’d love to stay.”

“Then stay.” It was a simple statement on his part. You thought it was a little banter.

“I’d stay if I could Tubbo. But I gotta go.”

“You can’t go.”

“Yes I can, Tubbo. Now can you please unchain me, I gotta go.” You lift your ankle and shake it along with the chain for emphasis.

But Tubbo doesn’t even give it a look before answering. “You can’t leave.”

His actions are words are a bit worrying now, huh. This is just a silly prank. Any second now he’ll say it’s a joke and release you. Yeah, any moment now.

That moment never comes though.

“Come on now,” Tubbo starts to lead you back to the bed. “Get back in bed. You still look tired.”

“I’m not tired Tubbo,” your voice hardens to emphasise the fact that you really don’t need this shit right now. “Look I’m completely fine and I have to go. This joke isn’t funny anymore. Just unlock the fucking cuff and I’ll be on my way.”

You two stop at the bed and he gently ushers you in. Climbing on the bed to give you a hug. Struggling against him does no good. If anything, it just makes things worse. He just tightens his grip like a damn python. Wtf why is this kid so strong and clingy? This definitely isn’t a good combo.

“Look you aren’t fine. See?” He emphasizes his point by hugging you tighter. Which you don’t like and groan in protest. “You need to rest. It’s fine. You’re home.”

Internally you start to panic. Yo, hold up, what the hell is he talking about? You know damn well you ain’t home or agreed to stay here. So what does he think he’s doing?

There’s a cough from the doorway, and both you and Tubbo’s attention is diverted to the newcomer. At the threshold of the room is Ranboo. A platter loaded with food held between his hands. He looks awkward standing there. And you don’t blame him because you felt awkward just being in the hug. You couldn’t even imagine the embarrassment you’d get from walking in on this shit. When your eyes meet, he gives you a small, unsure smile.

Movement behind Ranboo catches your attention. You look behind Ranboo’s legs to see Micheal clinging onto Ranboo’s pants. He looked so happy. Well, happy being debatable and interpretive. He looked normal but he was making his little happy noises. Micheal bounded over to you, stretching his arms out while making the most adorable little oink noises. You look between Tubbo and Ranboo for any sign. Literally anything for them. But Tubbo just encourages you. So you pick up Micheal and hold him close to your chest.

Tubbo gives a cheer of joy while Ranboo joins in, though a little less enthusiastic. Still the fact he sounded genuinely happy about this situation was worrying. Especially since he knew what was going on. Knew how wrong it all was. Micheal had no idea. Happily oinking way in your lap and messing with your hands. Suddenly two sets of arms entangle themselves around you; pulling themselves toward you for a hug.

Looking down at Micheal, you now question if the backstory you were told about him was true. Was he actually found wandering around? Or was he kidnapped, just like you?

[dragon-kazansky]

Two broken pieces | Helmut Zemo

Requested by @lieutenantn

Falling in love with someone so quickly was suppose to be a troupe only used in stories. Real life wasn't suppose to work that way, at least you never believed it to. Though, there is a saying, 'when you know you know,' which you could apply here.

You knew. From the moment his eyes locked with yours, you knew something was going to happen.

You had his back, he had yours.

You stood up for him when Sam and Bucky scolded him in the garage, playing it off by telling them there was no need for arguing. You grabbed Bucky one the plane when Zemo overstepped his boundaries. He thanked you when Bucky backed off. You just nodded at him. He turned the conversation to you, wanting to know more.

You could see the way Sam and Bucky were looking at you, but despite that, you talked to him. You were attracted to him, to his very being.

He made your heart race just by looking at you.

When things got hot in Madripoor, Zemo had reached for your hand and pulled you away from the gunfire. His hand in yours felt so right, so perfect.

He only let go when you both rejoined with the others. It was after that when things seemed to fall into place.

You were always glancing at one another, sharing secret smiles, having little conversations with each other. He caught you alone at Sharon's place, asking about your wellbeing. It had been an eventful night.

In the club, he stayed within your line of sight the entire time. You kept glancing at one another. You would smile and look away.

How could such little things hold so much power over you?

It wasn't until you were alone in your room that night that you thought about it. You lay awake thinking.

What was happening? Why was Zemo affecting you so much? When was the last time someone had made you this happy just with their presence?

You can't possibly let this become anything more than fleeting glances and sweet conversation. Besides, Zemo was only going to go straight back to prison once this was over.

He deserved better than you, a broken soul drifting through life.

Zemo was very much in the same mindset. He stood near the window, whiskey in his hand. He was looking out over the night fallen city.

He was thinking of you.

You had certainly made things interesting since his escape. You would smile and talk to him. You defended him. He could still feel the ghost of a touch of your hand in his. The way your hand fit in his, he missed it.

He was also broken. You could do so much better than him, but that didn't stop these feelings from forming. They were barely a bud, but they were there.

On the plane to Riga, he brought you something to eat. Zemo sat across from you. You thanked him softly.

He was admiring you.

You could feel a blush coming on as you felt his eyes on you. You picked at your food.

"You don't have to eat it," he tells you, voice smooth and deep. He could read you the dictionary and you would listen to every word.

"I want it."

You nibble at it. He let's out a small breath of a chuckle. The tension was thick, but not uncomfortable. It was just that neither one of you knew what to do. You were so drawn to one another, but neither one of you would push past the wall you had built.

You couldn't fall in love with him.

He couldn't fall for you.

He had a job to do. He had to see it through. It was his priority. He hadn't come here to fall in love with someone he barely knew.

"You should rest. We have quite a ways to go." He hets up to leave, but you grab his sleeve gently, tugging at it.

"Don't go."

He looks down at your hand, then your eyes. He sits back down and you don't miss the way his tongue pokes out to lick along his lower lip ever so quickly.

He stays as you finish eating. He stays while you drift to sleep. He is there when you wake.

You try to ignore the growing feeling in your gut as you walk alongside him. His fingers lightly brush against your hand as he takes you up to the safe-house. You want to hold it, feel it, but that would be crossing the line.

You didn't deserve someone so... brilliant.

You shy away from him once you get inside. A distance forms between you both from there on. Zemo keeps seeking your gaze, but you refuse to meet it. His heart aches for your attention, but he doesn't get it.

You're sheltering yourself from him. If you push him away, maybe these feelings will dissolve and you won't have to worry over how much it will hurt to see him go when he is inevitably arrested.

He hates it. He just doesn't bring it to voice.

The funeral. Walker handcuffs him to a boiler, impatiently waiting for Sam to talk to Karli. Zemo could care less about Walker's unimportant chatter. His eyes on you. You're sitting on the ground near by, eyes watching Walker's pacing feet.

He wants to call your name. He wants those eyes up on him.

Bucky goes after Walker when his patience runs out. No doubt a fight will break out. You are quickly on your feet and watch them go through the door. Before you can follow them, Zemo calls your name.

You stop and look over your shoulder at him.

"Be careful."

You nod and leave. Those 2 seconds of eye contact were enough for now.

Zemo is hurt. Walker had the audacity to gut him in the head with the shield. That would bloody hurt.

You're kneeling beside him as he recovers on the sofa. You're committing his features to memory. Any moment the Dora Milaje will come for him and take him away.

He stirs.

You sit up.

He removes the towel from his face and his eyes meet yours. His whole body relaxes. You're here looking over him. Anyone would tell you he didn't deserve your concern, but he was glad. More so.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

Careful hands rise to his head. The feeling of your fingers checking for any sign of a wound made him shiver. Your gentle touch attending to him, what did he do to deserve that.

Zemo was a broken tainted man.

You were a broken tainted soul.

The only thing that would make of you whole was each other, but you refused to acknowledge it. The answers to all your prayers was sitting right in front of you.

Zemo grasped your wrist softly. He lowers your hand and holds it. You meet his eyes, silently asking what he was doing.

He wants to say something, but Walker arrives. The tension shatters and you both stand up.

"He's going back to prison," Walker says, pointing at Zemo.

You find yourself standing in front of him, almost protecting him. Zemo saw.

The Dora Milaje arrive. Walker tries to reason with them, but it only results in a fight. It's not until Sam and Bucky get involved that you feel a hand on your wrist. You're being pulled into the bathroom by Zemo.

When the door shuts he turns to you and doesn't give you a second to say anything. Hands on either side of your face, he kisses you. It's the most hungry, greedy kiss, he can manage.

"I'm tired of pretending," he says, pulling away. He moves to pull up the grate on the floor.

"Zemo?"

"I didn't come here to fall in love with you. I had no intention of opening my heart to anyone ever again, but here you are. I can't think of anything else, not even my mission, while you refuse to look at me." He sits with his legs dangling down the hole. He turns and looks up at you, hand out.

You stare at it.

"You've fallen in love with?"

"Yes."

"I thought... I thought this was one sided."

He smiles.

"How could anyone not fall for you. We must go now."

"Where?"

"Anywhere. If I stay, they will arrest me. If we go, I can say goodbye to my family properly and whisk you off anywhere you want to go."

You look at his hand again.

"You can do so much better than me, Zemo."

"No. No, I cannot. You're the best there is."

You glance at the door. You can still hear them fighting. You look back at Zemo, the way he is looking at you. You know what you want and you give for it. Your hand in his.

You leave.

There's no looking back now.

As he leads you through the tunnels, he says something that hits you strongly.

"We shall be broken together, because together we are whole."

You have no intention of letting go of him. Zemo came into your life a criminal who wanted super soldiers dead. Now, he stays as the man who will love you completely and utterly with his whole being.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406

[bubblegumbeech]

My first Phic Phight fic!

For @ecto-american’s prompt

His name was Danny.

That was the first thing he knew for sure was true, when he had first woken up it was what everyone called him, and it fit just fine, wasn’t something off or uncomfortable so he let it settle over him before he tried to speak.

His voice didn’t come at first, and it hurt to try so the nurses made him promise to take it easy for now, to sit back and listen. So he did.

He listened as the people around him spoke at length about how much they missed him, about how they couldn’t wait to get him home again, about how glad they were he’d survived.

The loudest and most talkative of the people that visited him and called him Danny, was a large man in an orange jumpsuit that went on long enthusiastic tangents that Danny had long stopped paying attention to. He was almost always with a smaller, authoritative woman named Maddie, who insisted He call her Mom. They told him they were his parents.

They told him they loved him.

And then they told him everything else.

The first time Danny remembered something it was with excitement, he was still in the hospital room and between the visits from the men in the starched white suits, his parents, and the doctor, he had been wrestling with the feeling that something was missing.

It had only been when Maddie had finally taken off the hood and goggles of her jumpsuit had Danny gotten a flash of familiar red hair and asked, “where’s Jazz?”

His heart buzzed at the question, sure, so sure that it would get answered, that he had remembered something.

But both Jack and Maddie had just looked at him, disappointed, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask again.

Eventually, once the doctor declared him competent and unlikely to slip back into his coma, his parents had taken him home.

There were streamers all over the house and a giant party banner that read “Welcome Back” in thick black lettering and Danny forced out a small smile as he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Maddie walked up behind him and he flinched, his body acting before his brain could catch up.

She had frowned at his reaction, and when Danny, stuttering, tried to apologize she said it was okay, and with a tightlipped smile, she pulled him into a hug.

He forced himself to relax, frustrated with himself. This was his mother, there was no reason for his instincts to be so afraid. Jack had joined the hug and eventually Danny found himself relaxing for real, sure maybe getting his memories back was a slow uphill climb, but at least he wouldn’t do it alone.

Eventually his parents let him go and told him he was free to walk around the house and reacquaint himself with it. His room was the first door on the left upstairs, the bathroom was down the hall and the basement, apparently, was off limits.

So Danny went upstairs into his room. It looked something like a teenager’s room he supposed. There were the posters hung haphazardly on the walls and they were torn at the corners as if someone had ripped them all off the walls before hastily taping them back up. The bed was made too, and there was a lot less dust than he was expecting after being gone for a whole month.

In fact, it looked like he’d cleaned and organized the whole room before he’d fallen into his coma and Danny didn’t know why, but that thought set him on edge. Maybe he was just an organized person?

It was just… he didn’t feel very organized.

He kept looking around. There was that feeling that something was missing, something important to him, and he walked over to the nightstand by his bed. Placing a hand on the polished wood Danny fought the flash of a model spaceship that appeared in his memories. It wasn’t here though and Danny frowned. Was that something else he’d thrown away and simply forgotten?

Shaking his head Danny headed back downstairs, maybe he should just ask Jack, er, his dad? He should really get used to calling them mom and dad. But before he headed down he went to the room across from his and knocked.

Maybe he was being foolish, but he had expected someone to answer, had a name even come to mind. When no answer came he opened the door himself only to find a storage room, nothing but shelves and boxes and Danny scolded himself for the painful ache he felt in his heart.

It was another week before Danny had another memory, and just like the last two, it didn’t fit quite right. Like a piece from another puzzle jammed where it shouldn’t fit. So he’d asked Maddie.

“Sam?” she’d said, a carefully blank look on her face, “Oh! I remember Sam, she was an old friend of yours you used to talk about her all the time. Shame she moved away.”

And just like that, he’d had his answer as ill fitting as it was. Sam was a girl he knew that moved away, the memory he’d had, of her crying face screaming at him to stay awake just stay awake damnit, was probably from a long time ago. The pain he felt in his chest -just to the right of his heart- at the thought of her not being near and that he’d probably never see her again? That was nothing important.

It was another couple of weeks of sleeping in that house, waking up and going downstairs to eat with his parents, to chat about memories he didn’t have and tell stories he never resonated with, before he woke up screaming for the first time.

Maddie had instantly run into his room, Jack not far behind and Danny scrambled away from them both. His mind filled with images of painful green light and the ominous glint of red goggles twisting his reflection in their lenses as they looked down on him.

His parents had pushed past the barrier of pillows and blankets he’d made and pulled him into their arms, rocking him and shushing him until eventually he’d tired himself out from crying and fallen asleep again. The nightmares returned.

Eventually Danny stopped asking questions about his memories.

Either they were incomplete, fragments of something real that had been twisted in time, or they were wrong entirely, figments of his own active imagination. He’d never had a sister, they insisted. It was his mother, Maddie that had stayed up late some nights to help him with his homework and bake him safe, edible cookies as a reward. Tucker was a kid he knew at school, yes, but he’d moved away years ago and they hadn’t spoken in person since.

He had blue eyes, when he looked in the mirror, not green.

It was frustrating, being unable to trust himself- his own memories. If it was anything more than broken, incomplete fragments he’d have argued, insisted they were real.

But then again, he also had memories of Maddie leaning over him, scalpel in hand to cut away at his flesh. And he knew that couldn’t be true; the woman that smiled every time he came downstairs, called him sweetie and kissed him on his forehead every night, wasn’t the monster in his dreams. She couldn’t be.

So he ignored them.

He ignored the moments of instinct when Maddie or Jack went for a hug or a kiss and he flinched, ready for an attack. He ignored how he never seemed able to give a straight answer when they asked about his day, even if he hadn’t done anything interesting at all. And he ignored his nightmares, stuffing towels under his doorframe to muffle the sounds of his screams. There was no reason to keep waking up his parents like that.

But no matter how much he ignored, he compartmentalized, or he forced himself to smile, to hug back, and to spend time bonding with his parents, he never felt safe. Maddie insisted that he was, of course she did, this was his home. But even as he smiled and agreed and let her hug him again, he wanted to leave.

This time his dream wasn’t a nightmare. No scary, well lit labs with beakers and glowing buttons, or disgusting, painful flowers shoved into his mouth. Instead there was the ticking of clocks, rhythmic and constant. A gloved hand gently soothed his hair back, and Danny’s fear seemed so far away.

It was the first full night of sleep he’d had since he’d gotten “home”.

That morning he’d asked for an analogue clock. His parents had been confused, but they acquiesced easily and took him to the store to pick one out. The one he’d ended up choosing was a large ornate antique with little clockwork gears and a loud tick. He was excited to put it up in his room, right above his bed.

He slept better after that, and some of the tension that had been building in the house eased.

His dreams were still mostly nightmares, attacks by inhuman ghostly figures were the most prominent. But they didn’t leave the same bitter aftertaste, fear and uncertainty as the ones with the table, the scalpel, and the round, red goggles.

But now they were interspersed with better ones, fuzzy hugs and fields of blinding white, sitting in a garden pruning flowers as a soft, familiar voice gave him instructions, playing video games as the player character, confident and excited with a familiar presence at his back. And his favorite ones, the ones in the clock tower with the hooded figure and his soft smiles. The ones where he felt safest.

The ones that couldn’t be real, not if what his parents told him was true.

The next time they went out as a family after that Danny had wanted to go to a garden, and while at first Maddie was hesitant, Jack had insisted the great outdoors were perfect for helping him recover properly. Danny had been thrilled and hugged both of them in thanks, their answering smiles were soft and Danny had the thought that it had been some time since he’d seen those smiles reach their eyes.

Danny had a video game he apparently liked to play called Doom, and he was pretty good at it, judging by the level of his character. When he tried to message either of the two friends he had on his contact list though, the game glitched and his info got deleted. Frustrated he tried to reboot the system but the game itself had somehow gotten corrupted and there was no hope in recovery.

Just another thing that was apparently important to him that he’d destroyed or couldn’t find.

The worst was the time he woke with Maddie sitting next to him in his bed, she had a troubled look on her face and he didn’t know what it was he’d done wrong. Had he screamed in his sleep without knowing it?

“Danny honey,” she had said, looking over to him but not meeting his eyes, “do you remember what you dreamed about?”

He’d answered no, he hadn’t, which was mostly true. The only thing he really remembered about his dream was the feeling of safety and the ticking of a clock.

It took a month for Danny’s parents to feel comfortable leaving him alone in the house in order to go to work. He watched them walk out the door, fending off forehead kisses and muttered reassurances that they’d be home soon to check on him and that he should call if he needed anything, anything at all.

Once the door clicked shut however, the smile dropped off of Danny’s face and he set his eyes on the one thing he’d wanted… no, needed to do since he had that first nightmare.

He went to the basement.

The feeling of going down the stairs stumbled over a vague, blurry memory and Danny felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. This was just to be sure, just to prove to himself that all those dreams, all those nightmares he’d been having since his parents brought him home, were just that, nightmares.

He opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, confused when there was no lock, no resistance at all. Hadn’t they said he was banned from being down here? Why wouldn’t they lock it? Even Bluebeard locked the door his wife wasn’t supposed to enter.

The basement was…

A basement.

There were no spooky ominous beakers of strange and unrecognizable fluids, no haphazard lab equipment lying around without safety devices, nothing sterile or blinking and there was certainly no large metal table to strap someone down on.

It was just a normal basement with boxes and a desk, some chairs, a couple of old pieces of random furniture and Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. This meant that Maddie was right, they really were just nightmares, probably some subconscious latent fear of going home with strangers that he couldn’t remember. That was all.

So why did he feel disappointed?

The next week was full of Danny waiting for his parents to leave before exploring the house more thoroughly. More than once he’d gotten caught in a half remembered routine that didn’t actually fit with his surroundings. Like bracing for a fight every time he opened the fridge, or expecting another flight of stairs after the second floor. Once he’d even risked going outside for a walk, trying to find his school based on half remembered directions that only served to get him lost.

It was a new routine that Danny found himself thankful for.

Not that he didn’t love his parents, he did! But for some reason, when they were gone, and it was just him with his space posters and his ornate ticking clock, and the piles of modified schoolwork that was supposed to help him when it was time to reintegrate into school, he felt a lot more relaxed. More carefree.

That was why, when he’d found the picture, it had felt like his world had crashed around him.

His parents had come home to find him sitting in the middle of the basement, tears long dried, and with the picture clutched tight in his hands, crumpled now with how long it had been.

“You lied to me.” he accused once they were within earshot. He didn’t have the energy to speak much louder than a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence nonetheless.

“Danny-boy we can explain-”

“No!” Danny shouted, getting to his feet, “You lied to me .”

Jack flinched back and Maddie stepped in front of him, protective, as if somehow, out of the three of them Danny might be the threat. He growled.

“I trusted you to tell me the truth, I trusted you with my memories, memories that were lost to me . I had a sister! You had a daughter . She existed, she was real, she’s in this photo! Smiling! ” Danny couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, it was all too much. To know that the girl in his shattered memories, the one with the soft hugs and the floral scents, that baked him cookies and held him when he cried at night, was real. And that she was gone, erased by the people he was supposed to be able to trust.

He moved to storm past them, to go upstairs or maybe even outside and look up at the sky and try to make something of the twisting, knotted mess that was his emotions, his mind, his everything right now. But Maddie grabbed his arm before he could, tears spilling from her eyes.

“We didn’t want to hurt you Danny.” she said, voice soft and broken, “we didn’t want to give and then take away.”

She pulled him into a hug and Danny didn’t bother to struggle or try and break out of it, just let her cry into his shoulder as he stood there, waiting for his own tears to dry.

The next day Jack and Maddie left for work with more reluctance, neither one willing to leave Danny on his own again. But worry didn’t pay the bills and whatever it was they were doing at their job, it was clearly important. That was something Danny was starting to remember, all the things that were more important than him.

Danny went to the library this time, determined to start figuring things out on his own. His parents had said that his sister, Jazz, had died in the accident that had put him in a coma. They said they didn’t want to hurt him, or risk him not wanting to recover his memories if they were painful and that grief was difficult to deal with even without the head trauma and emotional conflict.

His parents said a lot of things, Danny was starting to realize. And almost none of it could be trusted to be true.

The first thing he did was look for a death certificate for his sister, Jazz Fenton. After hours of searching, reading every single name that existed in every obituary for this town in the entire month when his parents claimed the accident had happened.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

So next he looked up phone records. Any Tuckers or Samanthas he could find, but he couldn’t remember their last names at all, just what they looked like.

How they had been crying over him.

He didn’t know if he believed that they’d just moved away. Then again, it was becoming increasingly clear that he didn’t know what to believe, if he believed anything at all. By the time he’d gotten home it was late, and his parents were already there.

At first they didn’t believe he was just at the library “trying to catch up on stuff” but they calmed back down once he’d shown them his library card and snapped that if he couldn’t even do that much why did they bother bringing him back from the hospital at all.

Dinner had been a quiet affair.

It took another week of library visits and recurring nightmares of dissection tables and glowing ghostly figures that attacked him before Danny gave up on finding out anything about Sam or Tucker. But he still didn’t stop searching for Jazz.

There was something almost obsessive about his search for her, he just couldn’t let it go. He had to know where she was, and if his parents, against all odds, hadn’t lied to him about that ... Well that was something he’d have to come to terms with when he came to it, not before.

He started scouring the Internet for her name desperate to find something, anything on her. And eventually he did.

There was an old article, from at least half a decade ago, that had her picture under the title “Four Teens go Missing in wake of Fenton Investigation”.

Next to her were two equally familiar pictures. Sam and Tucker… and then Danny himself.

Scrolling, desperate to find something, anything to add up the memories he was getting into a clear picture, he began to read the article.

In wake of the Investigation into the Fenton‘s possible abuse, Danny Fenton (15), his sister Jazz Fenton (17), and two friends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley (15), have seemingly disappeared.

The discovery came shortly after Jack and Madeline Fenton were released on parol and allowed to return home to spend time with their children since no physical proof could be found of any alleged wrongdoings.

What could have caused their disappearances remains a mystery. The prevailing theory is that they were involved in a cult that may have demonized the Fenton parents due to their controversial occupation as “ghost hunters”. Another popular theory is that the children fled the results of the case, afraid of the alleged illegal experimentation. Other theories include kidnapping, witness protection, the possibility of murder, and tying up loose ends.

Will we ever discover the truth? It remains to be seen.

Ghost hunters …

Danny felt his stomach drop, a wave of nausea rolled through him and he had to fight off the urge to relive his lunch.

Experimentation?

Nightmares and half remembered memories started clicking into place, finally , and Danny couldn’t stand it. Why were the only answers that made sense the ones that hurt the worst?

Would it have been better if he’d just let it go? If his memories never returned at all? If he just kept living, eating homemade cookies and flinching from hugs until eventually the itch underneath his skin dulled and he could just be happy as he was.

He closed the tab.

There was no one home when he got there, and it gave him the chance to pack what little belongings he had that held any meaning to him at all. The motions were familiar and he had the faintest feeling he had done exactly this before.

Maybe he had.

He’d made it out the front door by the time his parents pulled into the drive.

There was the urge to run, to go back inside and hide and pretend he hadn’t been doing exactly what they caught him doing. But he was tired. He was so tired of feeling wrong and scared and uncertain and never knowing why.

So he held his head up as they got into the car and approached them with their hands raised, cautiously, like he was a wild animal they were afraid of spooking.

Was that what they thought he was?

“Danny, we can talk about this,” Maddie said, beseeching.

He met her eyes with his own. “Will you promise not to lie anymore? I don’t even know how old I am-”

“You’re fifteen son-” Jack interrupted, lying again.

“I was fifteen five years ago!” Danny yelled, his hand tightening into a fist, “I found the article! I read about the case! Five years ago.”

“Danno…”

Oh, he was crying. It was novel almost, Danny had thought he was too tired to cry, that there wasn’t anything more that could hurt him enough to create such a response and he didn’t quite know how to react to it.

He raised his hands awkwardly to scrub the tears away and stepped back, frightened, when Maddie tried to move closer to comfort him.

“Stay back! Stay back…” he looked at his hands, they were young hands, his reflection too, hadn’t changed from the picture in the article at all. Experiments. “What did you do to me?”

“It was an accident.” Jack said, before Maddie stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“We didn’t know Danny. How could we have?” She said, keeping her distance, cautious. “We tried to fix it-”

“Fix what? ” He hissed, “you haven’t told me what happened! You haven’t told me anything!”

“You!” Maddie finally snapped, tears falling heavy down her cheeks. “We were trying to fix you… but it wasn’t working and you just kept getting sicker… weaker… we had to stop.”

It was too much for her, and she turned away, leaning into Jack’s large frame as he comforted her. “We didn’t want to lose you, Danny.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You already did.”

Danny left his parents there, crying on the driveway of a house that could never have been a home. He had a clock tower to find.

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver  - 16

So, here we are with part 16. Be prepared for the olympics of fussing. Our bird boy goes all out to fuss and take care of his girl. And Aelin fusses about him too because Rowan is not well either.

CW: light mention of alcoholism, death, hurt/comfort and some light smut.

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

Rowan’s phone had pinged with a message and like a desperate man he had grabbed it from his pocket and stopped in his tracks and his heart raced.

It was a text from Aelin.

I am sorry.

That’s all she had said. What did she mean by that? Was she okay? Was she sorry because she had left? Or worse done something insane?

His brain was in overload on his way back to his office, all sorts of thoughts rushing all together, including some very dark ones. She could never… she would never do that.

He looked at the time on the message and saw it had just been sent so he tried his luck and phoned her. His heart loosened a notch when the phone rang.

Please… please answer me.

“Hi.”

Gods, she sounded terrible. He could tell just by one word.

“Aelin… are you okay?”

Silence.

“Please, where are you? We are all worried sick.”

She told him an address.

“I will be there soon. I am coming.”

“Ok,” was all she managed and as soon as he closed the call she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, maybe with him at her side she would get better.

Rowan called Aedion straight away “I am going to her. I will keep you posted.”

“Wait, I want to come as well.”

“No,” said Rowan quite sternly “It’s best if I go alone. I am not sure she is okay and two people might be too much.”

The man on the other side of the phone sighed “I understand. Just… just look after her, please.”

“Always.” Said Rowan, realising the weight of his words.

On his way out of the office he met Gavriel and explained him what happened and that he had to go and had no idea when he was coming back. He was glad he had met Gavriel instead of Lorcan. The man would have given him so much grief for putting her again in front of his career, but he could not care less. Aelin was not okay and finding her was all he cared about. His job was, again, at the bottom of his priorities in that moment.

“Go, look after her and don’t worry about work.” The man patted Rowan on the shoulder.

“Thank you.”

He walked quickly out of the base, fearing someone else might stop him. Got to his car and drove home. He got changed out of his uniform, packed some clothes, he had no idea how long he would be there, she might not be ready yet to go back home and he was not leaving her alone again. 

Once he was done he got back to the car, entered the location in the sat nav and started driving. She had gone deep in the Staghorms mountains. She had hidden away properly. No one would have thought of that.

The drive had been nerve-racking and the trip seemed endless. The mountains were getting closer but not fast enough and he was already one the verge of the speed limit. He needed to be with her quickly. The voice over the phone was still haunting him. It was lifeless and flat and it had terrified him. 

Please be safe, he kept repeating in his head, please be safe, please.

It was finally two hours later when he spotted the signs for the holiday park she had mentioned. She had told him cottage 21. He followed the signs on the path and eventually spotted it and her car outside. He took a deep breath, parked the car and grabbed his stuff. The few steps to the door felt endless, then he gathered his resolve and knocked at the door. 

A minute passed and finally the door opened and he almost gasped at the image in front of him. She looked like a wreck, dark shadows under her eyes, now devoid of their usual light. She had a blanket wrapped around her and it looked as if she could barely stand. 

How could have he missed how bad she was? He should have pushed to stay at home a little longer and go and see someone as soon as he noticed the first signs of ptsd. He was an idiot.

Aelin looked up at him, then her face broke and burst into tears and leaned against his chest. Rowan’s arms went quickly around her body and held her tight “I am here,” he whispered to her while kissing her head “I got you.” He stepped inside, without ever letting go of her, dumped his bag on the floor and closed the door. Then he lifted her in his arms and walked to the bed and deposited her down.

He toed off his shoes and joined her. Aelin nested in his arms, letting him envelope her fiercely. She grabbed his t-shirt and cried.

“Let it go. Let it all out.”

And she did and he let her, whispering only I love you from time to time.

Eventually she fell asleep in his arms but never said a word. She would talk when she felt like. He was definitely not going to push her. Slowly and carefully he disentangled himself from her and went to his next mission. The cottage had a kitchen and he doubted she had used it. There were a few dishes in the sink that he washed and stowed away. Then he opened the fridge and noticed a couple of ready meals and nothing else. He knew she could not cook. 

Rowan sighed. He really had to teach her. He grabbed his phone and searched for a place where to buy groceries in the area. Once he found it he scribbled down a note to her just in case she woke up and found him gone.

Rowan came back thirty minutes later and found Aelin still asleep. Good.

He went to the kitchen and unpacked all the food he had bought. She needed some sustenance and he was planning to bring her back to her former self and food was the way to start. He knew she had not cooked for herself and probably survived on junk food. 

A sound came from the bedroom and he went to have a look and found her awake and sitting in bed.

She was staring at him in disbelief “You are really here?” Her voice still haunted.

He took a step to her “Yes, I am here,” and sat down beside her, caressing her face gently. She leaned into the gesture “I thought it was a dream.”

A gentle kiss on her lips “I am really here.”

Aelin bowed her head “I am sorry I—” he stopped her.

“Shhhh. It’s okay.” Another caress “I am making lunch. We eat first, then if you feel like, we can talk.”

He stood again and walked to the kitchen and Aelin, still wrapped in her blanket, padded behind him. 

Seeing her that broken hurt him deeply. She walked to his side and hugged him at his waist, leaning her face on his arm. He let her and went back to cooking without moving her. It felt as if she was craving contact with him and he was not going to deny that to her, no matter how awkward it made cooking.

“It smells lovely.”

“Better than those ready made meals.” He gave her a smile and her head went back to his arm.

With his free hand he grabbed a piece of the carrots he was slicing and passed it her.

“It’s a vegetable.” She complained.

“Yes, and you need it. Your body needs it.” He pushed and Aelin finally took it.

“So bossy.”

He stooped down and kissed her and gave her a slice of chicken and she took that as well and more eagerly “Thank you for cooking for me.”

“It’s fine. If I don’t do it you will just keep eating those horrible meals.”

She snuggled closer “but they are easy to make.”

“I know, but now you have me and cooking for you makes me happy.” And he looked down in her blue eyes and sadness hit him again. He could not stand seeing her so broken. 

“Do I?”

“What?”

“Have you?” She asked him, staring in his pine green eyes.

“Yes,” he said softly kissing her lips “To whatever end, remember?”

Aelin nodded and dried her eyes with the back of her hand “Come on grampa, this lady here is starving.” And she gave him a very faint smile. It was a start. She was trying and for now it was enough. It would take time and he’d at her side during her recovery.

Once he was done they sat at the table and ate in silence.

“Is Aedion mad at me?” She asked timidly while eating his amazing meal. She had not realised how hungry she was until she had Rowan’s food in front of her.

“Worried, mostly.”

“I didn’t mean—” but he stopped her again.

“Eat, relax, then we can talk all you want.”

Once they were done, Rowan washed all the dishes and Aelin helped him to dry them and put them away, making small talk.

Dishes all clean and tucked away, Aelin took his hand and guided him to the bed. He sat down with his back against the board and she snuggled against him. She finally abandoned the blanket and let his arms do the job.

“I am sorry I left,” she started “I was…” she took a deep breath. Where to begin? How could she even begin explain to him how she had felt? “I was happy to go to back to work. It felt good, I was ready, but there was, deep down in me, a lingering fear and I ignored it.” He let her talk and she tried to gather her thoughts “Once I was at the station it became too much. The interactions but worst of all, the memories. I had a panic attack before getting to the station. Then I had one in my office and freaked out after the guys left. The look on their faces, the sadness reminded me that I almost died. The bells almost rang for me this time.” His arms tightened “every time I wake up from a nightmare all I can feel are my lungs and skin burning and the feeling of suffocating. And I burn. Every time I burn.” She gently touched her injured arm “when they left for the call the sirens brought me back to that night and in a moment I was in that hangar again. Stuck. Lost. Burning.” Aelin paused but Rowan never interrupted her. “I was not okay. I knew it. You told me over and over again to go and speak to someone but I didn’t want to admit that I needed help.” He felt her shaking “I put up walls as I did when Sam died and I left. I thought that being alone was going to help but it got worse. I felt lonely and lost like the night of the fire when I got trapped.” She felt his lips on her head “I wanted to call you but after the way I left I could not face you. I was terrified you’d be mad at me and leave me because you had realised I was too much bother and I was not worth the trouble.”

“Never.” He finally whispered “I went insane because I had no way to be with you and help you.”

“I hurt everyone.”

His finger lifted her chin “you did not. We all care about you. We were just worried.”

“I can’t go back yet. I just can’t.” Her face again hiding in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay,” he told her and kissed her nose “we’ll go back when you feel ready.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“No chance I am leaving here on your own while you are like this. No. My job, everything else can wait and if Lorcan suspends me again, who cares.”

“You are risking to ruin your career to look after me. Lorcan made that quite clear.” She looked up in his eyes and they were full of sadness.

He loosened a breath and leaned his head against the back of the bed “I already neglected one woman because of my job. I didn’t realise how much until I found out the divorce papers. It’s not happening a second time.”

“But—” he shut her up with a kiss.

“I am struggling at work at the moment with Fuzzy’s death and all that is going on I…” he paused “I have my own ghosts and I know how you feel just now.”

Aelin’s mind travelled back to the day she had watched him fly and Lorcan had mentioned about the fact that Rowan needed that day because the student’s death had reminded him of his dark moment “Tell me,” she whispered to him, caressing his face. He had listened to her, now it was her turn. 

“It was my first year as instructor. I had this amazing group of students. They were all very eager to impress. There was one of them “Carrot” who was a bit on the shy side. He was skilled. He was good, but always felt less skilled than the rest of the class. He would never give himself enough credit of how good he was. So I had a chat with him. I told him I believed in him and that I wanted him to believe in his skills a bit more.” He caressed her head in an absent minded motion “I pushed him to dare a bit more. Not much, as long as he was comfortable, but I told him I knew he had skills and I wanted him to be a bit less other people’s shadow for once.” Rowan’s hand tightened on her back “One day during practice I put him in charge of his group. I wanted him to have more confidence. And boy was he good. He was one of those pilots who had a knack for flying. I was proud of him. Then it all happened in front of me in a matter of seconds. He was busy giving orders to his team that he flew through someone else’s wake and lost control of the plane. I tried to help him recover as much as I could but the plane started spinning and soon got into a graveyard spiral. He probably lost consciousness and he crashed on the runaway in a ball of fire.” He finished his tale and was silent for a moment “he reminded me so much of Fuzzy. They were both similar and shy boys with great talent. Carrot’s death destroyed me. I went into my own personal graveyard spiral. I was put on leave and I started drinking heavily. It was a bit before I met Lyria. I was alone and I just hid at home denying my pain and staying away from my squadron mates. I pushed everyone away. Gavriel in the end was the one who helped me to find my way back, after he found me on the floor of my own house verging on alcoholic coma. I know how you feel right now. It took me a while to find the courage to go back, to fly again. I knew it was not my fault but I kept thinking that I was the one who pushed him.”

She turned to him and kissed him “we have in common more than I thought.”

“We can both hide away for a while. I know it’s the coward way but I don’t care just now.”

Rowan nodded “let’s take a week to ourselves.”

Her hand sneaked under his t-shirt and touched skin “I like your plan, captain.”

Rowan shuffled away and got off the bed “let me make a couple of phone calls,” he leaned forward for a kiss.

Rowan returned ten minutes later and found Aelin reading a book. She still looked haunted but the decision of staying at the cottage for another week had removed a bit of the harsh lines in her face. He realised that probably they both needed that break. Lorcan had been strangely quite okay with him taking time off and for a second he thought he heard misheard him. But no, apparently he had his CO’s blessing.

He had also phoned Aedion and given him an update on Aelin. Told him that she was having a hard time but that he was going to help her and that they would stay away for a week. The man had eventually relaxed.

“All okay?” She asked him when he got back from his phone calls.

“All fine. I also called Aedion and told him I got you. He was very relieved.”

She cuddled back into him once he sat back on the bed “he was trying to help so much, but I didn’t want to worry him. He fusses about me just as bad as you do.”

“He cares about you, madly.”

“I know. We grew up together and he always protected me. He has always been at my side and I owe him so much.”

“I can take you out hiking, if you want. I think fresh air and nature will do you good.”

She looked at him in surprise “really?”

He nodded tenderly “I know a few paths around here. Easy stuff since we don’t have the proper gear.”

“Yes,” she said happily and for a brief instant her smile was back and Rowan realised he’d do anything to see that. He’d move the world to see her smiling and happy. He didn’t want to see ever again the shell of a woman he had seen that morning.

“Good, but today you rest. You’ll have another decent meal tonight and hopefully an easy night.”

“As long as we cuddle….”

Rowan snorted “as if I could stop you. You always end up asleep on top of me and I have all your hair in my mouth. Hurricane.” And he flipped her nose and she loved when he did that. It was such a silly gesture but it was the affection behind it.

“What?” He asked her at her curious expression.

“I just…. I just can’t believe sometimes that you are the same guy that could barely laugh at my jokes when we met all these months ago. I mean my bra joke was epic and you ignored it.”

Rowan pulled her closer in for a deep kiss “I did not. They day I went to get you clothes I opened your underwear drawer by mistake and saw a bra. You have no idea of the thoughts that crossed my mind.” He squeezed tenderly “and I had no idea I was capable of falling so quickly and so hard for someone. It was the way you stood up to me the day of the fire. You left me speechless and no woman before managed to do that.”

“Not even Lyria?”

He shook his head “some friends introduced us and played a bit of matchmaking. I liked her, she was nice, but it was a slow burn. She was very quiet and to be honest she was the complete opposite of you. She loved gardening, cooking, baking and absolutely no love for adventure.”

“Sam and I met on a call. When Dorian became chief, Sam got promoted. I saw him other times we had worked on calls together, but there was so much to do that we never interacted. Then one evening we had this horrendous fire, once he made captain, and we worked together with the two squads. Next time we had both a day off he invited me for coffee. We hit it off straight away. He was the sweetest man ever. He was kind and funny. Sometimes when we were on the job he used to make dirty jokes to make me laugh.”

“He sounded like a great guy.”

“I miss him so much.” She confessed quietly “and I think all my problems right now are also bringing back memories of his death.”

Rowan brushed a rebel strand of hair from her face “how did it happen?”

“An explosion in a warehouse. He was near it. He just…” a sob escaped her and she quickly placed a hand on her mouth “he was near it. He burned. His burns were too severe and he did not survive. I didn’t get to see him one last time. When we arrived, Thomas stopped me before I could see his him. But when I saw the body covered by the white sheet I knew it was him. His right hand had come free and I spotted the ring I gave him and that he wore on his thumb.”

Rowan’s arms brushed her back. That could have been her, a part of him kept telling him. But he pushed the anguish away.

Aelin took a deep breath and brushed her tears away “I think it’s enough dark stories for one day.”

He smiled at her “I agree.”

“Fancy watching stupid tv shows and make fun of them?”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“It’s fun.” She grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels “look,” she pointed to the tv “it looks like it’s pilots. Wanna see if it’s correct? I like watching shows with firefighters and spot the mistakes.”

“Your idea of fun is weird.”

Rowan sat comfortably against the head of the bed and Aelin took her place between his legs. She pulled her blanket to her and his arms wrapped around her waist.

“The whole point of the game is to be loud when you see mistakes.” She explained him.

“Oh well, what he just did? It breaks so many rules I can’t even start.”

Aelin’s hands went on his on her tummy.

“What an idiot. He just let himself and his wingman completely exposed. If we did that during training we would get sent back to flight school.”

She felt like laughing.

“Go on, buzzard. That’s the spirit.”

“Ok, if you do that in real life you are an idiot. They are clearly flying at high altitudes and you do not remove the mask. No matter how much you want to celebrate winning the dogfight. If for any reason the cockpit loses pressure you don’t have much left.”

“Ro, we are only half an hour in. This movie sucks.”

He shrugged “the planes are quite awesome though. I think they are a mix of different real ones.”

“Ok, the actor is definitely not my type but I must admit that those jump suit of yours make you all so much sexier.”

Rowan roared with laughter then went back watching the movie but not following the plot. His hands had started tracing lines up and down Aelin’s arms, she pushed her back deeper against his chest and his chin went on her shoulder.

He was enjoying this. It felt natural to have her in his arms and cuddle and make fun of stupid movies. She looked a bit better and he also noticed a very faint smile and he called it progress compared to what he saw in the morning. 

“Ok, the love interest has appeared. I bet they are having sex within twenty minutes.”

Rowan pointed at one character “he is going to die. I have a feeling. His callsign is flapjack.”

Aelin patted his hand “what about storm trooper?”

“Oh no, he is the villain. The antagonist. He will be humiliated at the end of the movie but he will not die.”

“It’s because they are the best pilots?”

“Actually they are terrible. Both of them. In real life they would not last five minutes.”

They watched the movie in silence for a while until Aelin felt Rowan tense all of a sudden. Then in the movie the afterburners of one of the pilots stopped working and he lost control.

Rowan stood quickly and left the house.

“Shit.” Apparently she was not the only one suffering. How could she have missed how bad it was for him as well? She had been so centred on herself that she had forgotten about him. Gods she was the worst girlfriend ever. He had been thoughtful and caring all while he was struggling as well.

She ran outside and found him sitting on the grass in front of the cottage, his head on his knees and his arms at its side. 

“Ro,” she kneeled at his side and brushed his hair “I am sorry. I am so, so, so sorry.” She felt tears sting her eyes.

He pulled her to him “why are you apologising?”

“I was so selfish. I was so wrapped up in my own mess that I forgot that you were going through some tough shit as well. I am the worst girlfriend ever.”

He leaned forward and kissed her “I love that.”

“What?”

“You calling yourself my girlfriend. I really love the sound of it.”

“Ro, are you okay?”

“I will be fine.” He brushed her off and then grabbed her and pulled her on the grass with him pulling her body on top of his.

Aelin stared in his eyes and still saw pain in them. He was not fine. Not even remotely, but he was being tough for her. He was pushing his pain away to be strong for her. They had to be strong for each other. 

She caressed his face and then kissed his nose “you can talk to me too, you know? It’s not just my walls that are bad. Yours too. I am here for you. We can take care of each other. Be a little braver day by day, together.”

“Kiss me.” Was all he said and she did. Avidly and deeply and he opened for her and she teased his lower lip with her teeth and his hands sneaked along her sides. Aelin straddled him properly and felt the bulge under his shorts. She kept kissing him and their tongues met. Her hands fisted in his hair and the moan that left her was a clear direction of where her thoughts had wandered. He rolled her over and pushed her off him. Aelin was about to protest but Rowan lifted her in his arms and ran back into the cottage.

She pulled him on top of her all the while grabbing his t-shirt to get it off him. They undressed each other in a frenzy of need and when Rowan was finally naked as well, Aelin grabbed him and pulled him on top of her. She needed him badly and had no time for foreplay. Not the first time around. 

From the way he positioned himself on top of her she knew he was feeling the same. 

“I need you…” she whispered in his ear and those words were Rowan’s undoing.

It had started to get dark when Aelin and Rowan finally lay exhausted in each other’s arms. The first time had been intense and mostly a way for both of them to forget in each other arms. The second one had lasted a bit longer and it was less a way of escaping and more one to find each other again. The third time had been the complete opposite. It had been long and sweet. Whispering sweet nothings to one another, taking their time to explore their bodies and drag the sweet apex from the other.

Rowan was staring at the ceiling while Aelin was sprawled on his naked chest.

“At least we know that in bed we are pretty epic. I am wiped. I mean, happy, very satisfied but wiped.”

She heard him chuckle gently, his hand travelled down and his fingers twinned with hers. The hand went to his mouth and he kissed it “I am exhausted too, but very, very satisfied.”

Her stomach grumbled and Rowan laughed “and that’s my clue.” He moved from underneath her and got off the bed and walked to the kitchen stark naked.

Aelin turned on her side and pillowed her head on her arm, staring at him wearing the apron but leaving his backside exposed. The scene was ridiculous.

“Sexy.”

He wiggled his backside and Aelin giggled. The man was perfect. His body was muscular and thanks to his strict diet and exercise regime he didn’t have a gram of fat on him.

“How hungry are you? Back to your normal levels?”

“Almost.”

He smiled, that was a great sign. Her appetite was coming back “I’ll make a bit more just in case you are still hungry after the first portion.”

While he cooked she stared at him in her cozy spot in bed under the blankets. She had spent four full days in bed and she had come to hate it, but now that he was with her it was perfect. Also, his scent of pine and snow was everywhere and she felt at home.

“Don’t fall asleep or you will miss dinner.”

“I can’t. If I sleep I will miss the beautiful view in front of me.”

He clenched his butt in response and Aelin laughed. It was a silly thing but it made her feel light hearted.

Once he was done cooking he walked to the bed with two bed trays and gave one to Aelin, then went back to get the food.

“Here we go, milady,” he gave her the food and got back to get his, then got rid of the apron and joined her in bed.

She turned her head to him “thank you for dinner,”

He just kissed her “eat.”

Once finished eating, Aelin stood and cleared all the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, then got back to him. He had the tv back on and was watching a cartoon.

She laughed. She really did not paint him like the type of guy to watch cartoons.

“What?”

“You are watching cartoons.”

He patted her side of the bed inviting her to join him again “they are fun.”

She curled against him and eventually they both fell asleep.

***

As usual Rowan was the first one up.

Aelin was curled at his chest and he was glad she had managed to sleep all through the night without any nightmares. He gently kissed her head and got off the bed. He went to his bag and grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and got dressed to go out for a run. 

Although it was full on spring, the air in the mountains was much cooler so he wore a hoodie as well. He got out of the cottage and took a moment to breath in the fresh air. The location was super peaceful and he realised he hadn’t done that in a very long time. He hadn’t slow down in what felt like forever. 

Another full breath and he left. He knew Aelin would be asleep still for a while if she had gone back to her standards. He had left her a note just in case. Behind their house there was a path leading into the woods and he took that setting himself up for a challenge. Off track running was far more challenging than on the pavement. But he welcomed it. Welcomed the opportunity to switch off his brain for a while. The path started to rise slightly as he got deeper in the woods. He could hear a river so he followed it. He spotted berries along the path and thought about coming back and pick them and make Aelin a nice cake with them. He continued along the river for a couple of kilometres until the roaring sound of the water increased and he noticed a gigantic waterfall, opening up in a pool at the bottom of it. The water was crystal clear and he was positive Aelin would love that. He could take her along that path. It was easy enough and she should manage it. 

Rowan sat along the path and stared at the scene for a while, then decided to climb down to water level. 

Once down he crouched and took a sip of the water and it was refreshing. He wetted his hair and face and climbed back up and slowly made his way back to the cottage. 

Half an hour later he was back at the cottage. Tired but he felt recharged at the same time. The run had been good.

Back in the house, Aelin was still asleep and he laughed but did not wake her up. She needed it pretty badly. So sneakily he padded to the bathroom and went for a much needed shower letting the warm water soothe the ache in his muscles. He chuckled when he realised that without Aelin to keep him company, his showers reverted back to the military efficiency of a run against time to finish before the hot water ran out. He grabbed a towel from the rack, patted his hair dry and then donned it around his waist. 

Still in a towel he walked to the kitchen and made breakfast and at the smell of food he heard Aelin wake up. 

“I smell food,” she said from the bedroom. A moment later she was behind him, wearing only the t-shirt she used as pyjama. Her arms around his waist “you were not in bed.”

“I went for a run.” He replied while concentrating on cooking “French toast is fine?”

“Aye, aye captain.”

“I found a nice easy path that we can walk along today.”

“Good, but I am mad at you.” She told him while caressing his naked back.

“Why?”

“You took a shower without me.”

Rowan chuckled “you were sleeping.”

“So, so rude.”

“Menace, sit down and grab some coffee.” He ordered her. 

Aelin gave him a mocking salute and filled two cups with coffee and took her place at the table.

“Did you had a nice sleep?” He asked worried. She had been quiet all night and that had been a good sign but she still didn’t look okay.

“I did, actually. I had no bad dreams or anything. I think it was you presence at my side. I felt safe in your arms.”

He gave her a big smile “do you feel up for a walk?”

Aelin nodded eagerly while taking a bite of her food “I need fresh air. I have been cooped up in here for too long.”

“Good, then finish your food.”

An hour later they were outside in front of the cottage.

Aelin had a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a hoodie. Rowan had convinced to wear something warm. He loved to fuss.

He had the same attire and also a backpack filled with water bottles, lunch he had prepared and packed for both and for some reason unbeknownst to Aelin two towels as well. 

“Do you need all that stuff in you backpack? We are just going for a walk, not a mission on top of the Staghorns.”

“Always,” he said, walking in front of her “you do not go out on a walk in the woods without food, water and basic first aid supplies.”

He slowed down and got to her side and grabbed her hand “we have to do survival training while we are at flight school,” he told her “we had to learn to survive in the wilderness in different types on environments and also in a very cold climate. Also how to survive in an enemy zone and what to do if we get captured.”

She looked at him stunned and a part of her ignored the last words. Captured meant to be in enemy hands and possibly torture. For a brief second she felt sick at the image of him in an enemy cell being beaten up. Quickly she brushed the bad thoughts away. 

“It’s in case we suffer a malfunction and we are forced to land. We need to be prepared for anything and to know how to make it out alive.” He had continued while she zoned out.

“So if we get lost in the woods you would know how to keep us alive?”

He nodded. 

“Damn, you are more useful than I thought.”

Rowan roared with laughter.

Then they reached the area with all the berries and stopped Aelin and he walked to one of the bushes. He grabbed a plastic container from his backpack and started picking berries.

“What are you doing?”

“They are berries, I saw them during my run. I will make a cake.”

Aelin walked to him and he offered her a blueberry “Are you sure they are edible?”

He rolled his eyes “yes, Fireheart.”

He opened his palm to her and offered her a few more. They tasted delicious.

Rowan went deeper into the bushes but Aelin did not follow. She sat on the side of the path and waited for him to come back.

He did so twenty minutes later with an air of satisfaction on his face. In his hands she noticed the container full of different berries and in his other hand a smaller one “this one is for snacking.” And he passed her the smaller container.

Aelin then noticed his legs covered in cuts “your legs.”

“Ah it’s nothing, the bushes have thorns. There’s a river appearing quite soon I’ll wash there.”

The path wound among the trees and they slowly walked enjoying the fresh air and the peace “it smells like you.”

Rowan looked at her with curiosity.

“You smell of pine and snow and right now we are surrounded by pine trees and it just smells like you.”

He gave her a gentle kiss and they kept walking until he heard the sound of the river and he knew the surprise would come soon enough.

“It’s so beautiful out here.” Rowan turned to her and saw her serene face and he relaxed. The walk had been a good idea.

“Come on. We are not there yet.”

She skipped a few steps in front of him and his heart melted. She looked as carefree as when he met her but a part of him was wondering if that was a mask she was putting on for him.

She peeked beyond the trees and saw the river flow down in the valley “can we go down?”

He took her hand again “be patient.”

She huffed a puff and kept walking at his side and Rowan could tell she was getting restless.

“Fine,” he yielded. “There is a majestic waterfall down the road. Race me to it?”

She gave him the most amazing grin “you betcha. See you there, grampa.” And she sprinted, leaving him behind. 

Rowan raced after her and not long after he had caught up to her, most likely thanks to his long legs. He had also a backpack but that did not stop him from taking over and eventually reaching the waterfall before her.

She arrived a couple of seconds later and bent over, hands on her knees “you…” she was breathless “have long legs. Not…” another breath “fair.”

He chuckled and helped her up “look,” he said pointing at the waterfall.

Aelin followed his finger and gasped amazed. The waterfall was tall and fierce. The spray created a beautiful rainbow and at the bottom there was a pool of the most crystal clear water she had ever seen.

“Let’s go down.” She grabbed his hand and pulled.

Carefully they made their way down and as soon as they were at water level, Aelin ran to the pool and went on her knees to play with the water. It was chilli but so gorgeous. She tasted a palmful and it was super refreshing. Rowan joined a minute later and sat beside her “what do you think?”

Aelin stared at the gigantic waterfall “so stunning.” Then she stood and started peeling off her clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“There is no way I am not taking a swim in this paradise. We did it in Doranelle and this is so much better.”

“It was also much warmer.”

“Up to the challenge, captain?” Aelin was now towering over him completely naked, her long blond hair unbound.

Rowan stood in silence and undressed in front of her, meeting her wanton smile.

“Come,” she said to him offering him her hand.

Step by step they entered the water which was not as cold as Rowan expected. The pool was exposed to the sun and quite shallow, allowing the water to warm up a bit.

They walked to the centre and then he sat down on the bed and wiggled a finger to Aelin. She joined him and straddled him “you brought the towels. You knew this would happen.” Her hands brushed his hair and angled his neck so he was looking up at her.

“I saw the pool this morning and I thought at how naughty we could be in it.”

“I like the way your mind works.” She kissed him and pushed her naked body closer to his. She stood on her knees and she felt his hands grab her buttocks. One of his fingers traced lazy circles around her core teasing her. Aelin lowered herself down to him, grinding against his finger.

His free hand went around her neck and pulled her mouth close to his “I need you… to touch you, to kiss you… to be inside you…” his voice rough with desire.

“Then go ahead, captain. Fuck me senseless.”

Rowan stood in a swift motion and lifted her in his arms, her legs wrapped around him. He moved toward the waterfall to one side with less water and walked under the water and behind it and Aelin noticed a small cave.

“Privacy,” he told her once through and moved against the rock wall, pinning her body against it.

“Now, where were we?” His breath tickled her neck and she felt his tongue tracing the length of it. With one arm he held her up whilst the other slithered down along her thigh, between her legs were the proof of her desire was there for him to feel. The tip of a finger found its way inside her and Aelin closed her eyes and once the whole finger eased into her a moan left her lips. His head tipped down and took one of her hardened peaks in his mouth. Aelin’s back arched and her lower abdomen felt the proof of his growing desire. Aelin moved against his hand and he responded by adding a second finger and curling them inside her reaching that hidden spot.

“Fuck.” His thumb brushed her clit and Aelin was glad she was in his arms because she doubted she’d be able to stand. His free hand grabbed her leg “both of them around my waist,” he told her against her mouth.

“Please…” she told him her hands on his back, pulling his body closer.

His fingers left her and for a moment she missed their presence inside her. His hands went to her hips and angled her and she felt his tip nudge at her entrance. A moment later he eased fully into her and stilled for a few seconds letting her enjoy the feeling of him filling her. Gently he pulled out and slammed into her straight away, Aelin’s nails leaving half-moon marks on his back.

“You feel sooo…” another thrust “perfect. So bloody perfect.” She angled her hips sightly and at the next thrust she screamed in pleasure. They kept the rhythm steady until she felt her body ready to tip over the edge. Her muscles tightening around him. He groaned and his lips kissed her hard.

“Aelin—” her orgasm swept over her like a river that had broke its banks, powerful and strong. She felt him pick up his speed prolonging her high until he joined her as well in blissful oblivion and eventually relaxed spent against her.

Aelin turned her head and kissed the corner of his mouth “I scratched your back,” she added apologetically, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

“For this?” He kissed her, never putting her down “totally worth it.” 

He moved away from the wall and started walking back to the pool and both sat back in the water.

Aelin pulled away from him and swam in the crystal waters while he sat with his back against the edge of the pool and looked at her.

She stood in provocation “seen anything you like, captain?”

“Go back swimming, menace.”

Aelin laughed and splashed him playfully then went back to enjoying the water.

Rowan on the other hand, left and went to the bank and started drying himself up and getting dressed again.

“Spoilsport.” She shouted at him when she saw him leave the pool.

“You should get out too, you don’t want to get too cold. The sun is moving and the pool is going into the shadows, it will get cold soon.” He pulled out her towel and opened up for her “come on,”

She stood and went to him. Rowan enveloped her in the big towel and then used his one to brush her hair dry as much as he could. Once she had clothes on as well he moved them to a patch in the sun and they sat back down “Sit here, it’s sunny and it will help you dry your hair.”

She obeyed him and then saw Rowan open his backpack and pulling out all of his stuff. He had water bottles, a thermos with coffee, the tub with the berries and two tubs with their lunches inside.

She always felt spoiled by the care he showed to her. She had to find a way to repay him.

“Eat.”

It was much later in the afternoon when they finally got back to the cottage. After the pool and the waterfall they had continued along the path and deeper into the woods and they did a super long circular walk that in the end brought them at the entrance of the holiday park.

“I am exhausted,” she complained sitting on the bed. Rowan stopped in front of her and kissed her nose “you have freckles and your face is nice and red, you have some colour on you.”

Not like the shell of a woman he had seen the day before with pale lips and dead eyes.

She extended her arms to him “kiss,” she begged but he walked away grinning without her seeing him.

“Whitethorn,” she barked.

He turned and gave her a chaste peck on the lips but her hands grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer.

“Thank you.”

“For the kiss?”

She shook her head “for being here. For not giving up on me. For finding me.”

He kissed her softly “I will always find you.”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp​

@jlinez​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@courtofjurdan​

@whimsicallyreading​

@tillyrubes10​

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

    Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week. 

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him. 

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years. 

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether. 

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary. 

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve. 

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you. 

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation. 

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently. 

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory. 

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.  

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read. 

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now. 

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?” 

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind. 

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will. 

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?” 

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.  

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply. 

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time. 

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him? 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.” 

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face. 

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away. 

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

     You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang. 

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame. 

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty. 

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound. 

Steve really wasn’t here. 

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief. 

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy. 

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call. 

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself. 

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later. 

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready. 

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

      Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice. 

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him. 

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations? 

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong. 

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends. 

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

    Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health. 

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday. 

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky. 

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner. 

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course. 

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast. 

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk. 

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option. 

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you. 

“I will.” 

     The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat. 

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him. 

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute. 

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions. 

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you. 

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul. 

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres. 

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor. 

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield. 

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags. 

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later. 

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking. 

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another. 

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts. 

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here. 

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission. 

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case. 

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011. 

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy. 

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling. 

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was. 

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans. 

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache. 

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look. 

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin. 

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath. 

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly. 

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile. 

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret. 

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth. 

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown. 

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed. 

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in. 

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered. 

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes. 

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation.  And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.  

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers. 

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all. 

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades. 

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.  

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

      “There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find. 

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made. 

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner. 

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance. 

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself - 

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris. 

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again. 

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains. 

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself. 

     At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen. 

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain. 

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected. 

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?” 

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively. 

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement. 

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved. 

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side. 

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere. 

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size. 

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself. 

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms. 

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug. 

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel. 

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. 

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter. 

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on. 

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas. 

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief. 

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple. 

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple. 

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

     It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen. 

Yes, that would have been great. 

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether. 

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands. 

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting. 

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.” 

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell. 

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious. 

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have. 

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted. 

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down. 

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted. 

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

     It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them. 

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called. 

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop. 

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.  

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards. 

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing. 

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway. 

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’. 

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him. 

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words. 

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it. 

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs. 

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could. 

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. 

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?” 

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.” 

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned. 

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question. 

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.” 

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list. 

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink.  “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle. 

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky. 

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry. 

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.” 

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission. 

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call. 

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.” 

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe. 

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked. 

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway. 

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through. 

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve. 

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

     It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count. 

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret. 

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success. 

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right. 

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better. 

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner. 

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch. 

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult. 

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner. 

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush. 

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen. 

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda. 

     Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone. 

It was now or never. 

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table.  “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing. 

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin. 

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen. 

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether. 

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles. 

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -” 

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm. 

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.” 

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him. 

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss. 

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss. 

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last. 

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck. 

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him. 

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying. 

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had. 

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer. 

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it. 

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”  

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders. 

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well. 

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed. 

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you.  He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself. 

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning. 

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him. 

“You gonna let me?”

 And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra.  You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had. 

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically. 

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear. 

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it. 

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely. 

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in. 

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air. 

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass. 

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined. 

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth. 

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story. 

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound. 

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited. 

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea. 

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet. 

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now. 

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry. 

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements. 

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat. 

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself. 

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you. 

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss. 

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it. 

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor. 

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it. 

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed. 

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed. 

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring. 

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown. 

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae. 

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised. 

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again. 

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom. 

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time. 

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to. 

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn���t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t. 

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could. 

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow. 

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched. 

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again. 

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply. 

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really. 

You thought the same about him. 

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again. 

     Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up. 

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less. 

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along. 

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again. 

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

~

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​ 

[tiptapricot]

tipstie PLEASE tell me about tlb turning human/ human AU

Absolutely my dudes 👁👁 (this is also all hcs about how vampire rules work so just go with it)

So for me a human TLB AU isn’t one where they die and turn human, it’s one where Max is killed after being found out one way or another before any altercation with the boys happens, and they revert back to humans as a result

The reason this happens is because all the boys were sired by Max, and while they are technically full vampires, they aren’t independent vampires

Sires act as a sort of guardian to the vampires they turn, watching over them and guiding them until they believe they’re ready to take care of themselves

This is why they have a certain level of control, influence, and power over the vampires they turn, they have a bond

When sires think the vampires they’ve turned are ready to make it on their own, they sever that bond with a ritual that relinquishes complete autonomy to their vampires

But Max never did this

He wanted a family, and families have to stick together, so until his death he still clung to that small sliver of control over the boys, and that last step to complete and independent vampirism remained incomplete

And so, when Max is killed, there’s a sort of backlash, a glitch

The bond is broken, but broken wrong, and the small piece of the boys that’s still human, the piece that still remains deep down, starts clawing it’s way out

It hits Marko first, since was turned most recently, chills and fever and body wracking pain, like his body is eating itself from the inside out

It’s nothing like any of them have ever seen or heard of before, and they don’t know what to do but sit with him and try to lessen the fever

Paul follows a few hours later, exactly the same, and Dwayne helps David carry the two of them a little over halfway to the Emerson house before he collapses too

David gets them the rest of the way there, feeling worse and worse the longer he goes

He knocks on the door and Michael opens it, and David only manages a raspy “Need your help, Michael,” before he’s pitching forward into his arms

The next week or so is a blur

Michael convinces Lucy and Grandpa to help, and for Sam to keep the Frogs away while they figure out what’s going on

Star calls that night, and says she and Laddie were out when they felt themselves change back, and that she didn’t wait to find out why

She caught a bus to her cousin’s place in LA and took Laddie with her, but wanted to make sure Michael was ok

He says he’s fine, and promises to call again with more details, since “it’s a little hard to explain right now” and they hang up with plans to talk that weekend

Meanwhile the boys are going in and out of feverish half awake states, never lucid enough to do anything except drink water and groan. The Emersons take care of them in shifts, and Michael helps Grandpa research what might be happening to them. They don’t find a lot

Marko is the first to come out of it, after about three days

He’s groggy and confused, waking up to Lucy wiping his forehead with a damp towel

She gives him something to drink and helps him sit up, but there’s something... wrong

There’s a weight in his chest, a thrumming, heavy heartbeat, expanding lungs, heat

He’s breathing again, he’s alive again

He’s human

Paul wakes up in the middle of that night, to Michael in the room this time. After getting the general “you’re human but we don’t know why” pitch, he’s taken to a guest bedroom where he finds Marko curled up on the bed. He slides in behind him and pulls him close, and he knows Marko isn’t asleep because he can feel him shaking

Marko’s always been good at crying quietly

Paul’s pretty personable as they wait for David and Dwayne to wake up. He talks with the family and reads comics on the living room couch, and fetches food and stuff for Marko, who’s basically refusing to leave the guest room

Being back in a human body is bringing back too many memories for him of the shitty life he escaped from, and he’s having a hard time dealing with it

But Paul is there, and the Emersons are alright, and he’s eventually able to be coaxed out to have an actual meals with the family, and that’s nice too

Dwayne wakes up the Saturday after the boys first arrive, in one of the rare times no one was in the room to keep an eye on him and David

He interrupts breakfast by barreling into the living room looking extremely lost and worried, and shakily rushes over to pull Paul and Marko into a hug when he sees them staring wide eyed at him from the table

“Couldn’t hear you...” he mumbles into Marko’s hair. “Can’t hear either of you anymore...”

Lucy has him join them at the table and gets him his own plate of food, and they explain what they know. It still isn’t a lot, but it does give him a reason as to why the mental link the boys had is gone

The following days are strangely quiet. Michael and Lucy help the boys adjust, reminding them to eat and helping them when they forget they don’t have super strength or magic healing

The boys start talking more too, mostly out of necessity since they can’t communicate mentally anymore (which Marko thinks is extremely annoying) but also because life in the Emerson house is... surprisingly comfortable

Michael explains the whole thing to Star over the phone, and after a moment she laughs

“Maybe they needed this,” she tells him, “maybe this is good.”

A week and a half after the boys arrive, two things happen: David finally wakes up, and the Frogs find out who the mysterious house guests Sammy’s been keeping them away from are

David comes to in a dim room, with Michael dozing against the wall

He grunts and pushes himself up, and only just registers the heat of his own blood and the scratch of breathing in the back of his throat when there’s a commotion from somewhere outside

Michael wakes up with a slight flinch, rubbing a hand over his face, and makes eye contact with David right as the door slams open and Dwayne, Marko, and Paul come rushing in, followed quickly by the Frog brothers and a frantic Sam

It takes a bit of explaining, but they eventually come to an understanding

The Frogs are still a bit hesitant to believe the boys are human, but it’s not like real vampires could walk in the sunlight or show up in the hall mirror, so that’s good enough for them

The boys continue living with the Emersons after that

They find ways to help out here and there, with cleaning or dinner or dishes or farm work

Sleep schedules become basically non existent as well, and it’s a common occurrence to find at least one person up at all hours of the night

Each of the boys has... a moment or two, where it really settles in that they’re human again

For Marko, it’s when he pokes himself while trying to resew one of his patches. He hisses when he pricks his thumb, and when the blood beads up on the pad of his finger he just... stares at it. It doesn’t heal right away, and he can’t even smell it. He sucks on it to try and make it go away, and tasting blood again, when it no longer has the same rush or necessity, makes him cringe. He puts a band aid on it, and doesn’t mention it to anyone.

For Paul, it’s when he goes to a concert on the beach. He manages to get lost in the music, in the crowd, in the loud drums and the guitar riffs and the warm press of bodies and the intoxicating energy, and he doesn’t, not once, think about sinking his teeth into anyone around him. He only realizes about halfway through the second song that he’s actually hearing the music, too, instead of it just being the background noise for a cacophony of heartbeats. He goes home that night drunk on sound and life, and doesn’t know if he’s ever been happier in his life.

For Dwayne, it’s when he has his first cup of hot chocolate after turning back. It’s at the beginning of winter, and everyone is crammed together on the couch to break in the TV that Sam finally convinced Grandpa and Lucy to get. Michael and Sam are bickering about what movie to watch, Paul and Marko are having an animated conversation with the Frogs from their place on the floor, and Lucy and grandpa are laughing about something in the kitchen. They come out a bit later with snacks and drinks, and Dwayne is handed a big mug of cocoa with a heaping helping of whipped cream and marshmallows. He takes a sip without really thinking, and then stops. There’s a moment, when he just feels the warmth spread through his chest and belly, and then all at once it’s like he’s hit with this wave of emotions he can’t quite place, familiarity and relief and joy, and there are tears mixing with his whipped cream mustache. The movie is good, but the cocoa is definitely better.

For David, the first time is when he goes outside after waking up. He’d seen the sunlight through the windows, and knew it didn’t hurt him anymore, but feeling it, actually smelling the fresh air and hearing the birds and cicadas and feeling a warm breeze... it’s a little overwhelming. Michael finds him sitting on the back porch wiping at his eyes, and joins him

The second time is when he notices that his roots are showing, that his hair is growing again. Any cutting or dying was effectively permanent when he was a vampire, since their hair didn’t grow, but now... Getting a reminder that his body is living and changing again is strange. He decides to let it grow out a bit, just to see where it goes

The boys are very touchy with everyone. They were already before they turned back, but now that cuddles involve body heat, they happen much more often

So do visits to the mall, oddly enough. Lucy takes them once to get them some new clothes, and they have way too much fun popping in and out of different shops and all trying to fit in the photo booth at once. They may, technically, get banned from a few stores for causing too much of a ruckus, but that doesn’t stop them from coming back

Dwayne and David both get really into cooking, and Paul and Marko experiment a lot with mixing different things to “remember what tastes good” again. Usually doesn’t have the best outcomes, but they’re definitely adventurous

David forgets he has to sleep sometimes, but he’ll be out like a rock if anyone pulls him into bed or lets him lean on them while watching TV

Overall, adjusting is strange for all of them, but there’s a goodness to it too. Even when things are hard they figure them out eventually, and no matter what they always have each other

It feels like a new life, a new start, where they can finally get things right

Headcanons masterpost

[love4buckybarnes]

BEST SLEEP

Summary: You have a not so great past. Being tortured and injected with a special serum created by a mad Scientist, you gained powers. You help Sam and Bucky one day, in return Bucky lets you stay with him. You and Bucky start developing feelings for each other. One night you have a nightmare and Bucky is there to help you.

Bucky Barnes x Ready. No warnings, some fluff. at the end. Told in 2nd POV.

A/N: This is my first story on here so hope you all enjoy. All my stories will be Bucky Barnes only, featuring some other characters. You can request stuff. I write smuts, imagines, etc. Most of my stories will take place after Endgame and TFAWS, but you may request at any point in time after Bucky is introduced.

She jolted awake in a cold sweat, gasping for air. Y/N’s eyelids peeled open to darkness. A faint blue hue gleamed from the window, illuminating the room. She shut her eyes for a second, only to have the nightmare that woke her from her slumber to flash back. Sighing, she tore the sheets from her sticky body. She tried swallowing, to dampen her parched throat only to feel a lump.

The cool water from the bathroom faucet soothed her throat. Y/N’s heart was still racing and she struggled to control her breathing. She gripped the porcelain sink in her hands tightly, her knuckles turning white. An anxious feeling boiled in her stomach. Forgetting her own strength, the sink crumbled into pieces. She cursed in frustration as she punched the wall, leaving a significant dent.

Y/N stood up and let out a surprised loud shriek, whirling around. She had not noticed the dark silhouette she knew as the Winter Soldier was standing behind her.

🔹🔹🔹🔹 backstory blurb 🔹🔹🔹🔹

Y/N has been living with Bucky Barnes for a couple of months. Before she met him, she was sold by her family for money to a scientist who performed experiments on her. He created his own serum to try to create new superheroes. She was one of many of his test subjects. Eventually, she had escaped thanks to her newfound powers. Because she had no one to go to, she was on her own.

One day, she happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson were fighting a group of bad guys. One of the evil men shoved an SUV off the bridge. The poor civilian tried to jump out to avoid from drowning. He held on for dear life to the car. Not being able to stand there watching this man die and do nothing, Y/N jumped into action. Using her super strength, she pulled the automobile from falling along with the man.

It impressed Bucky and Sam. They heard Y/N’s story. In return for her help, Bucky offered her a place to stay in his spare room at his apartment here in Brooklyn, until she could get back on her feet.

Since living together, they grew close and formed a bond, hanging out and talking. They shared similar past. They both secretly had crushes on each other. Y/N couldn’t lie, she found Bucky to be attractive. And he found her attractive as well.

🔹🔹🔹🔹back to present🔹🔹🔹🔹

Concern etched on Bucky’s face as he took in the scene in front of him. “Still having a hard time, huh?” His tone is soft and velvety.

“Yeah,” she replied, not meeting his eyes. She struggled with dealing with her emotions sometimes. They would bottle up inside her and explode. Her nightmares weren’t often. When she had them, she would wake up gasping for air as if she was being choked in her sleep. Him on the other hand, she would hear his blood-curdling screams echo through the apartment. Most nights instead of sleeping, she would find him on the couch watching TV to keep himself awake.

His eyes traveled down to her legs. “You’re bleeding,” he said, a hint of worry lacing his voice. Bucky walked over to her, standing close. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and she could smell the faint scent of the body wash he uses. His human hand took her wrist and tugged gently to signal to follow.

Bucky hoisted her on to his bathroom counter with ease. He pulled out what he needed from the cabinet. “This is gonna sting. Hold on to me. I really don’t want a broken sink too,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. Without warning, he pressed a cotton pad soaked with rubbing alcohol on her wounds.

Y/N gritted her teeth, letting out hisses and profanities. She dug her nails into his metal arm. He mumbled apologizes. After he was done, he took a further look at the cuts, making sure she didn’t need stitches and patched them up with bandages.

“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked. His amazing blue eyes that held reassurance met hers.

“I just had a nightmare,” she admitted. “Couldn’t contain my emotions like always.”

If at all possible, his eyes softened even more. Bucky understood. He also had nightmares. He’s pretty sure she had heard him some nights.

Ever since that day they met, he felt drawn to her. A bit cliché, but it was true. He admired how courageous she was, how she’s been through a lot, but still saved the civilian from dying. She showed the world that she was brave and a hero, despite what she had endured.

Truth to be told, he also had a major crush on Y/N. He was completely smitten. Anytime she was around him, he couldn’t stop the giddy feeling. He wanted so badly to do something about it. Even though Bucky had strong feelings for her, he doubted she felt the same way.

“I know how that is. I’m right down the hall, or you can find me in the living room.” He hinted she could come to him whenever.

Y/N nodded and hopped off the counter. “Well, thanks for patching me up. I should try to sleep.” She made it to her room.

Bucky mustered up some courage. Before she could step any further, she felt a cold sensation on her shoulder.

He turned her around with his metal arm. “You can sleep on my bed. Besides, we’ll have to share a bathroom until yours gets fixed.” He guided her back to his room and grabbed a pillow.

“It’s your bed, I’ll take the floor,” she insisted.

Bucky shook his head. “Nope. You’re not sleeping on the floor, love.” The nickname of many, he called her always sends a warm feeling through her.

Y/N decided to be brave, not wanting to miss this opportunity. “Or we could share the bed.” She slides in and beckons him to join her.

He didn’t need to be told twice and followed her. Being the gentleman and didn’t want to intrude, he stayed on his side. “Sleep, doll. I’ll be right here.”

Y/N eventually fell asleep laying on her back, while Bucky laid there awake. Light snores left her mouth. Those lips that Bucky wanted to feel so badly on his own. He turned his head to watch her. Her eyes fluttered in her sleep. She then rolled over to her side suddenly and without realizing it, wrapped her arm around his waist, snuggling in close.

Bucky’s breath hitched and froze in surprise. At first he tensed up. He then relaxed under her touch, wrapping his own around her, bringing her further towards him. Without knowing it, he too was pulled into a deep slumber.

The sun blared through the window. Y/N groaned, covering her eyes. She slowly blinked them open. At first, she was confused about where she was, but heard soft snoring next to her and remembered. She realized that at some point in her sleep, she cuddled up to him. Embarrassed, she tried to sit up only for the surrounding arm to tighten, pulling her back.

She looked up at his face. He stirred in his sleep, blinking his eyes opened. “Mornin’ darling.” His voice was raspy from just waking up. “Any dreams?” He didn’t want to let go, not yet.

“No, not all. How about you?” she asked.

“I didn’t have any either. That was the best sleep I’ve ever had in a long time.” Bucky turned over to look at her. “Maybe this is the cure.” He was enjoying this, being so close to Y/N. He could get used to it. Not only that, but he wanted it to last forever.

Y/N shifted her head to peak at the clock on the nightstand. She jerked straight up, causing Bucky to jump up too. “Jeez Bucky. It’s three in the afternoon.”

“Well, it seems like we both needed the sleep,” he shrugged. “Should have sleep-overs more often.” She hummed in agreement.

“Thanks by the way.” He cocked his head to the side, silently asking why she’s thanking him. “For, you know, helping me last night.”

“No need to thank me, doll. I’m here for you anytime.” Here goes nothing, Bucky thought. “Truth is, I care a lot about you and I like you, like a lot.”

Y/N couldn’t believe her ears as she looked at him in those blue eyes. “I feel the same way, Bucky,” she confessed.

Bucky’s mouth was on hers when the words left her mouth. His lips were just like how she has imagined. Smooth with a bit of roughness. They molded against hers perfectly as she moved hers in sync. He placed his hand on both sides of her face, caressing her skin with the most gentle touch.

He can’t believe it either. Her lips are like pillows, soft and silky. He pulled away, making her whine, resting his forehead against hers. “We should get up. Don’t worry, we can do more of that later.” He looked at her, giving her a wink.

Y/N grinned like a ray of sunshine. “I’d like that.” His own grin matched hers at her words.

[loving-all-for-loki]

Chapter 5: Dangers of love

Loki x reader, Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3273

Warnings: graphic description of injury, swearing

Tag List: @caffeineoverloadandstudying @zizzlekwum @magicalpieex @lokiyoulittle @daddysfavoritesexkitten @buckylokisimp

A/N: Okay, so I got a little carried away with this chapter because things are heated! We got some Bucky vs Loki conflict as well as hurt Bucky. It’s time to spice some things up in this love story.

“We need you! Bucky got hurt and may not live! We need you to save him!”

Panic begins to set in as you scramble to get off of Loki. You run towards Sam who’s eyes still dart between you and Loki who is laying on the floor, face covered in a disappointed appearance. Sam grabs your hand and pulls you toward the Quinjet, running as fast as you can.

Loki lays on the ground and watches you run off with Sam. The feeling of your body on top of him lingers and his eyes miss the sight of you. He knows Bucky is hurt and your job is to heal, but he can’t help but feel jealous. You at their beckoning call. Pulling you away from him. He wanted to keep you there on top of him… forever, but Bucky once again steals you from him. Loki finds his way to his bedroom, saddened by your sudden absence and filing his time with something else.

You and Sam rush in the Quinjet as the door starts to close. You sit down and stare at the floor, dreading the sight that is about to be in front of you, as Sam rushes to get some basic gear to cover you. He straps on a helmet and a bullet proof vest to you in a frantic manner, struggling to clasp the buckles. His hands are shaking, so you place yours on his, forcing him to look at you. You give him a look of comfort, yet control. His anxiety melts at the calm fear in your eyes, knowing you’re just as scared but determined.

After 1 agonizing hour, you land in some unknown desert country filled by tents and soldiers. Sam grabs your wrist and starts sprinting to a broken and abandoned building surrounded by American soldiers. Steve stands at the door waiting for you. Stress blows off of him as he sees Sam dragging you behind him. 

“Hurry, he’s barely holding on!” Steve yells.

The three of you enter the building and rush to the second floor where Natasha is leaning over Bucky, putting pressure on the wound. 

“Two bullets below the heart and one to the left. They barely missed, but he’s bleeding out like a bitch. There was also a large boulder on him so I’m sure there’s internal damage,” she informs.

You drop to your knees and lean over Bucky. He looks up to you, face full of pain and desperation. Even in his own demise, he gives you a smile and warm eyes. You shake your head at him, You’re not supposed to die you idiot, you thought. Taking Natasha’s hands, you force her to push on his bullet wound harder, implying she isn’t putting enough pressure on it. Steve and Sam stand behind you panicking, but informing the rest of the team through the intercom. 

“Yeah, she’s here… I’m not sure… let’s hope,” Steve mutters.

-

Earlier…

Bullets are flying through the air as Bucky attempts to run around. Their camp was attacked late last night when no one was prepared and the battle has been going on for hours. No one was sure where it came from at first, all that they did know is that they’re surrounded and out manned.

Steve and Bucky started running first, trying to get to the general and end things, but as buildings started to fall down, things got harder. Soldiers were getting trampled, crushed, hit. Rocks were flying everywhere within the rubble falling.

Bucky loses track of Steve, the two getting split up somewhere about ten minutes ago. Leaning against a large chunk of wall, Bucky sits and regains his breath. He looks over the wall seeing that no one is near him. After all of this fighting, Bucky prays they’ll be taken home finally, knowing the opposing enemy is almost out of tricks considering they did a surprise attack.

He can’t wait to get home. He can’t wait to feel you jump in his arms, lay on him as you read, lean your head on his shoulder when you can’t stay awake during a movie. Two weeks is too long to go without you after spending every day together for a while. He started getting antsy to see her three days ago. Knowing he can’t stay in his location forever, Bucky starts to get up and dash.

“Bucky, look up.” Steve says over the head set.

Bucky looks in front of him to see Steve hiding behind one of their trucks looking over by him.

“To the left, there are three soldiers, go the opposite direction and they won’t see you at all.”

Bucky nods to him and takes a deep breath. Turning to his right, Bucky stands and starts to sprint. Gunshots go off and completely drown out Steve yelling “to my left, not yours!”. He barely takes a step before feeling an awful pain in his shoulder. 

In slow motion, Bucky feels himself slip and get pushed down by an invisible force. Another burst of pain hits below the first one and one to his other shoulder. His vision goes blurry as he falls, his back slamming into little rocks and pebbles. Hitting his head on the ground, everything goes dark.

Steve watches as his best friend gets shot three times. Fear settles in as he sprints over to Bucky, but the enemy sees him running. Quickly, they shoot the corner of the building next to them, sending shards down around Bucky’ unconscious body. Steve stops and blocks his face from the oncoming rubble, panicking about losing Bucky in the dust.

“Everyone, Bucky’s down! I need back up!” The dust settles and Steve sprints to Bucky and looks down, “Wake up, Buck. Come on.”

Steve takes Bucky by his shoulders before realizing the bullet holes beneath his thumbs. He wildly lets go of Bucky as he stares at the open wound. Blood gushes out of Bucky as he lies in the sand. 

Next thing Steve knows, there are S.H.I.E.L.D agents surrounding him with their shields and Natasha is joining him on the ground. Natasha carefully picks up Bucky’s shoulders as Steve grabs his ankles. They attempt to drag him to the building when they notice opposing men in the main floor.

“Someone clear the building for us! We need to get him to safety!” Steve yells over the intercoms.

“I got you.”

Tony flies over in his suit, shooting down the men in the building and around the perimeters as Steve and Natasha drag Bucky inside. 

“We’ve got him secured, but we need someone quick before we lose him!”

“Steve, doesn’t Y/N have healing powers?” Tony inquires.

“Holy crap, yes. Sam! Get to the Quinjet fast, we need Y/N!” 

“Copy that.”

Sam sprints to the Quinjet with adrenaline bouncing through his veins. 

“I need someone to watch the building as we wait,” Steve orders, “Nat, put pressure on the wounds, I’m going out to defend for a moment.”

“Will do.”

Steve rushes out of the building to find the agents from earlier setting up a temporary barricade. Thor runs over out of breath and covers for them. Steve watches Sam running back, praying that he can get there in time with Y/N to help Bucky, but for now they have to keep fighting.

-

Steve watches as you stare at Bucky, praying that you know what you are doing. He can see the panic in your eyes as you look down at Bucky. He knows that fear. It’s doubt. It’s the same doubt he felt when he was first in charge of a mission. The tears start coming in your eyes as you look up to Steve.

“You’ve got this,” he comforts, “I know you do.”

You look over to Natasha and nod for her to let go of the wounds. She quickly pushes herself away as you take control. Putting pressure onto the wounds, you close your eyes and focus. You feel the powers surging through your body and pouring into Bucky.

Steve and Natasha stare at you in awe. Light emerges from your body, surrounding you and Bucky, but not blinding them. You look so graceful as you pour your heart and soul into him. The blood starts clotting as it comes out before it stops all together, but as it stops, they watch as the light from you slowly flickers. You start to wobble over his body, looking more tired as you go on.

“Is it working?” Sam asks.

“I think so, but somethings wrong.” Steve answers.

Steve rushes to your side, holding you up from the back as you start to fall over. You start to get light headed as you pour all of your energy into Bucky. Opening your eyes for one second, you see the wounds not closing up between your fingers. They’re too deep for you to comfortably heal. 

You take your hands off of Bucky for a second to lean back. Steve catches you as your arms barely keep your body up as Natasha rushes over back by Bucky, applying pressure again but not as much.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks.

You lift your hand to shake it, signaling you're fine before holding up your index to signal that you need one moment. Steve holds you tight, almost laying you across his lap. He looks over to Sam who’s staring at you. 

“It’s like she ran out of energy,” Steve comments.

“It might be too much for her. I think we have to pull back and go home.”

“Sam, you know how much I love Bucky, but we’re so close to finishing this.”

“I can contact Fury or Coulson and see if we can get sent back, the rest of the soldiers can stay here and fight until called.”

“Then do it.”

Sam furiously runs back to the Quinjet to get a better signal, hoping they’ll be able to take Bucky back home. Steve looks down at your tired body sprawled across him. You start to waken a little bit more, looking over to Bucky in determination.

“Wait, Y/N. Do you think it’s a good idea to-”

You ignore Steve as you push Natasha off of Bucky. You get up on your knees before taking Bucky again and emptying all your energy. The brightest light Steve and Nat have ever seen comes out of nowhere, shining from your body. 

People describe a terrifying event that their “soul had left their body”, but you literally feel every fiber in your body get drained. You lose breath, surrendering everything you have in you. Bucky starts to stir, coughing as he gains consciousness. Steve rushes to his side and holds his head up. Shielding his eyes, Steve sees your eyes go completely white, glowing as if the sun had entered you. Your face has gone blank as you black out, losing yourself in healing Bucky.

Nat runs to your side as the light disappears at once. You fall over as she catches you, trying to keep you from hitting your head on the ground. There’s silence in the building as Nat and Steve attempt to get both you and Bucky up before Sam stumbles in.

“We can go back! What happene-”

“No time to explain,” Steve interrupts, “Avengers, fall back. We’re heading home immediately.”

The Avengers sprint back to the Quinjet. Sam carries you as Steve carries the limping Bucky back, setting you both down on the floor. Clint and Wanda run inside as see you and Bucky swapped appearances. Wanda starts asking a million questions that Nat tries to answer as they take off.

“Steve,” Bucky coughs, “what’s going on?” “We’re heading back to the compound. You were injured severely and Y/N saved your life.”

“But I thought she was back at the-”

“Sam got her after you got shot. She did everything she could.”

Steve nods over in your direction. Bucky looks over to see you passed out on the ground, Natasha and Sam tending to you. He starts to panic at the sight of your paralyzed body lays next to him.

“Bucky, you have to hold still. Your wounds are still-”

“No, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Bucky, calm down!”

Bucky whips his head to look at Steve who’s frantically trying to keep him on the ground in a sederatary fashion. 

“I can’t Steve. Is she alive?”

“She’s fine. You need to worry about yourself. She’s tired.”

“You promise?”

Bucky searches for an answer in Steve's eyes, but he knows Steve can’t promise that. No one really knows if you’re okay. There’s a tense silence throughout the quinjet as it flies home.

Loki hears the engine of the quinjet as it lands. He rushes off the couch to stand at the tower’s bridge doors, watching it land. As the door opens, he hurriedly walks onto the bridge looking around each Avenger as they walk out to see you. Steve and Tony stop when they see the writings on Loki’s body, recognizing your handwriting from the notes on Bucky’s arms.

“What the-” Tony mutters.

“Where is she?” Loki asks worriedly.

Sam steps off the quinjet carrying your body bridal style. Loki rushes to him as the other Avengers stare at him in awe. Laying his hand on your forehead, Loki reads your brain to find you asleep. He forces you awake with his magic, having awakened in Sam’s arms. You look up to see Sam holding you and Loki next to you. Reaching out, Loki takes your limp body from Sam, carrying you to the med bay as the Avengers follow behind. Bucky watches as he leans on Steve’s shoulders, anger rising in his body from seeing Loki’s appearance and behavior towards you. Everyone glances at one another in disbelief of the sight in front of them.

You don’t remember falling asleep again, but you wake up in a bed in the med bay. Loki sits on a chair next to you asleep. By the looks of it, he hasn’t been able to sleep in a while. His hair is all distressed and there are bags forming under his eyes. You try to sit up before you feel a pounding headache start.

Loki wakes at the sound of you rustling around in the bed. He sees you gripping your forehead in pain.

“You’re awake. Careful, your body may still be weak,” he warns.

You smile at him for being so kind to you. Loki reaches for  a water bottle sitting on the stand beside your bed and a small container of pills. 

“Take these. I was told they would help.”

He hands you the little bottle of Advil and the water. You timidly take them from him and take one pill. Your hands are still shaking from how tired you are. Loki gives you a gentle smile, but you can see the sadness behind it. Your state of being concerns him, seeing how exhausted you are. “Are you feeling okay?”

You nod weakly with a smile, trying to comfort him, but you know until you have complete strength, nothing will make him feel better. The two of you sit silently for a moment before Loki gasps and pats down his pockets.

“I forgot… I have your pen.”

He hands you the ball point pen you use to write on him, which makes you smile. Why does he have this on him? You think.

“Just in case you need to tell me something you can’t sign.”

You look at him confused.

“I can read minds.”

All of the thoughts you’ve had about him run into his head. You freak out internally, wondering what all he had read.

“Don’t worry, I don’t read it often. In fact, this is the first time I’ve read your mind.”

He leans forward and sets his leg on your bed, pulling up on his pants to reveal his ankle.

Good.

Loki chuckles at you. He likes being able to talk to you, even if it’s through pen and skin. 

The Avengers sit outside your room, listening to Loki talk to you. They give each other quizzical looks as they hear Loki laugh.

“Do you think he’s torturing her?” Tony asks.

“Oh stop. Did you see the way he was covered in writing? They clearly bonded while we were done,” Nat points out.

“Oh they did more than bond.

Everyone looks at Sam, confused about his comment.

“When I came to get Y/N, I found her on top of Loki on the ground. She was laying on top of him and leaning over his face. It looked like they were about to make out or something.”

Bucky is fueled with rage at Sam’s description. Steve looks over to his friend to see Bucky’s hands in the tightest first he’s seen in a while. There is nothing but anger seeping through his eyes, jealous of the way Sam talks of the two. Bucky storms off towards the hallways before slamming his door closed. The team looks over to Steve worried, knowing Bucky has feelings for you.

Is Bucky okay?

“Yes, he is.” Loki’s heart drops. Even in your own pain and healing, you worry about Bucky. He forgot about your attachment to the solider due to his own growing feelings for you. “He’s alive and doing well, thanks to you. You’re a good person.”

It’s the right thing to do. I don’t like it when my friends die.

A little flutter of hope flickers in Loki’s mind when you refer to Busy as a friend. He knows that you have more of a relationship with Bucky than the others, but ‘friend’ gived him hope.

“Most people don’t like it when friends die, but I won’t lie dear, I’m surprised you consider him a friend.”

He knows what he’s doing by starting this conversation, but better to have his feelings squashed now then later when he’s ever more attached to you.

What do you mean?

“It just seems like you and him have a special bond.”

Like a dating bond?

“I suppose you could say that.”

No, we’re just friends. Besides, I like you.

Loki meets your eyes to see nothing but warmth and comfort. 

“I like you, too. You’re much more enjoyable than the others.”

-

The next day comes and you’ve gained more energy, enough to get out of bed. Feeling the cold floor on your feet for the first time sparks new joy and hope. You grab onto Loki’s arm, who hasn’t left the med bay since he brought you there. Slowly, the two of you shuffle out of the room and into the elevator. 

As the elevator opens us, the Avengers laying in the main room turn to see you weakly walking, clinging on to Loki as you move. He looks down at you with a proud smile across his face. Bucky watches from the kitchen with jealousy in his eyes. Steve gives him a warning look, not daring him to do anything. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Steve says sympathetically, “Are you feeling better?”

You nod with a smile which brings a smile to everyone’s face, except Bucky’s. When you spot him to your left, you notice the cold stoic face he gives you and the way he stares at Loki, his eyes burning holes at the writing on his fair skin.

“I’m taking her to my room so she can rest more,” Loki informs.

No one misses the way he says ‘my room’ and not ‘your room’ and they definitely don’t miss the way your hand slides from his biceps down his arm to tangle into his hand.