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carni-val · 2 years

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How to Touch My Dead [Jax Teller]

Part 3: All the Things I Did (Just So I Could Call You Mine)

pairing: Jax Teller x Nicknamed!OFC [could be read as a reader insert]

summary: When Jax makes a grave mistake, it’s up to her to make things right.

warnings: Grief, angst, death, mourning

music: the scientist [coldplay]; come join the murder [the white buffalo]

Picture courtesy of @writer-wednesday

How to Touch My Dead Masterlist | Jax Teller Masterlist

“I didn’t mean to end up here, but I did. I sort of just slipped into the cracks, but I can’t stay here,” she shook her head. “If I stay, I’ll just end up going out the same way the girls did.”

This life had always been taxing on her, but she didn’t realize it until he was locked up in Stockton. Dodging death by a hair and watching others around her do the same, it all weighed on her heart and mind. Sleep was almost a stranger now; she had nightmares of drive-by the night of Half-Sack’s funeral for weeks.

Keeping a barrier between her and everybody else was exhausting too, especially when it came to him. She tried to maintain an air of professionalism with the club, but when people around them died, or got hurt, they clung to each other even tighter. They became a family to her, people she couldn’t deny because they never denied her. They welcomed her with arms open wide and kept their promise to protect her.

She fell into him when she got overwhelmed and just needed a comfortable place to rest her head. Overtime, it just got easier and easier to find her way into his arms.

When he wasn’t there, she found herself going over everything she’d witnessed; every time she’d almost been caught in the crosshairs and was left to wonder how she could ever go on like this.

His blonde eyebrows pulled together, his eyes gleaming with sympathy. He reached out and placed a hand against her cheek, providing her some silent comfort as he always did whenever she mentioned her friends. His elbow rested on the back of his couch as she let the weight of her head fall into his palm. He always held her weight effortlessly, and without complaint.

His affectionate gestures were always accompanied by silence. Neither of them were brave enough to breach the final barrier into romantic territory by saying anything out loud like that. She could sleep next to him in his bed, make him coffee the next morning, and go through the terror she went through today after learning about the trouble he’d found himself in, but she could never make it anymore explicit than that.

It had been years at this point but there was still an ache looming that reared its ugly head in times like these. Times where she’d almost lost him or almost lost her own life.

She would’ve mirrored the gesture, almost longed to feel the warmth of his cheek underneath her palm, but she couldn’t; not without hurting him at least. His face was spotted with bruises and an angry slash of red slanted across the bridge of his nose. His hair was cropped now which made the injuries all the more visible.

It was a close call today and he’d only just gotten out of prison. The Russians ambushed him and Opie when they went to check on their ammo with the Wahewa, ambushing the high of the happy homecoming that took place just a couple of days ago too.

Seeing the smile on his face as he emerged from the van in the parking lot the day he came home was contagious and she watched as his joy only multiplied once he saw Abel.

He was a ball of energy, barely sleeping the night before because he was so excited for his dad to come back home. She had to say, Abel was more affective than Aderall at keeping her up. She’d spent her nights in the Teller home while he was away, looking after Abel to give Gemma a break some nights. She had enough to keep her busy; there was always something or someone to look into for the club.

Staying at his house while he was locked up made her feel a bit better. Sleeping had gotten hard for a while after her friends passed away. She would stay up all night, sifting through different scenarios in which she could’ve prevented what happened to them, questioning if she was a coward for hiding within the club, and ultimately wondering when her day was coming.

She’d learned to distract herself from the thoughts, doing work for the club or trying to find work to do.

Sleep returned to her as she got more acquainted with the club, finding another family by a stroke of luck — not one that could ever compare to the one she found in her friends, but still, healing. His generosity and sincere concern for her was hard to resist, especially once he dropped the flirtatious facade.

Nasty thoughts returned when he was locked up in Stockton, fears of him not making it out of there and ending up alone again kept her up and staring at the ceiling. The moment she questioned how much longer she could survive in all of this, she’d get out of bed to check on Abel before finding herself in the living room in front of her laptop.

Abel took some time to warm up but once he did, she couldn’t deny the joy bursting in her heart when she saw his smile every morning. She was sure his father felt the same way as he rushed to greet him in the T-M parking lot.

It was hard to tell if she was overstepping a boundary or not — looking after Abel almost as if he was her own, but Opie had assured her that she wasn’t.

“I know he’s glad it’s you looking after Abel,” Opie told her. “You did everything you could to help get him back when Hayes took off with him — I don’t think he trusts anyone with Abel as much as he trusts you.”

The high was met with a disproportionate low when she heard Jax’s voice though the phone, explaining that the Russians were demanding their guns and holding him and Opie hostage until the Sons delivered.

Once he was back, he told her the Galindo Cartel showed up to get them out of trouble before the Sons brought them back home to safety. It was a risky game the club was playing; muling blow for Cartel and dealing guns to them, but he played along with it.

“I back Clay in the vote to mule drugs for the Cartel and he backs me when I leave SAMCRO,” he had told her as soon as they were alone. “There has to be more than this life for Abel.”

While his revelation took her by surprise, she agreed in a heartbeat. Imagining his bruises on Abel’s face made her stomach turn, and she never wanted to find him tangled in the revolving door in and out of prison.

When the pain of admitting that washed over his face, she remembered the photograph she found of him in the T-M garage. Him saddled up on his father’s powder blue bike with the same smile Abel wore now. The club was all he knew and being president was the bright future he was looking forward to — it was evident by the glow in his eyes in the photograph. To be just like dad was the goal, but it was weighing on him now. The truths that came to light were too heavy to ignore and they sat saddled on his shoulders.

She felt tension in her chest unfurl at his revelation, though she’d never name the feeling that sprouted afterwards as her hand found his warm one. He entangled their fingers instantly.

“What I’m saying is, if you’re getting out, I want out too,” she whispered now in the vicinity of his living room, paranoia creeping up her spine.

The weight of his stare was almost unbearable. She hadn’t spoken these words to anybody — barely to herself. She felt like a traitor for even feeling this way, as if she was turning her back on the people that took her in when she was at her lowest. Especially him. The person she’d grown the most attached to against her better judgement.

Today was proof of that, the way she’d paced around the clubhouse, waiting just a few feet away from the phone just in case it rang again; the way she would only sit down because Gemma grabbed onto her hand and forced her to, wrapping an arm around her for good measure. Gemma always kept a level-headed front in these situations; she used to be capable of the same thing, but not when it came to him.

The second she heard the car pull up in the lot, she rushed out, finding her place in his arms immediately. She inhaled the scent of his cologne and cigarettes that clung to his sweater, trying to distract herself from the bruises and blood on his face and the butterflies in her stomach as his strong arms held her close.

He looked at her now, eyes gentle and understanding. “Leaving with you was part of the plan,” he admitted quietly.

Her face heated up under his touch and she felt so relieved she could cry. Her heart beat reverberated throughout the emptiness of her body. Days like today cut her up and emptied her out for all she was worth, the shell of her being torn between relief at his words and a bitterness at a goodbye addressed to the club that was now inevitable.

Her knee was pressed against his thigh as they sat on the couch; simple touches that left her wanting more. The closer he leaned into her, the more she could smell his cologne and cigarette smoke embedded in his clothes and she wanted nothing more than to drown in the scent. Before she knew it, he was close enough that she could feel his breath on her upper lip.

The steady stream sent her heart hammering and her mouth went dry, but she welcomed him as his nose brushed against hers gently, being sure to not aggravate the injury there, before he let his forehead lean against hers. Her eyes closed, submerging herself in the bliss of his presence.

Her steady breath hitched in her throat when she felt his facial hair brush against her face. He’d never gotten that close before; she didn’t have a chance to open her eyes to see if it was a mistake before she felt his soft lips on hers and the prickling of his facial hair on the surrounding skin.

The kiss was gentle — a sharp contrast to when he first tried to do this — and only lasted a few seconds before he pulled away. Her mind scrambled to capture every single detail of how his lips felt pressed against hers. She opened her eyes, finding his as they looked down at her. His brows pulled together, jaw clenching as he held his breath. He stared at her, silently pleading that that was okay this time.

Neither of them said anything as he pulled away slightly. She wrapped her arms around his torso, her head finding his shoulder before he leaned back against the couch, securely tucking her into his arms.

“Do you remember when the club held a Mayhem vote for Clay?” Bobby asked her.

She nodded and looked to him, “You voted no and it didn’t go through.”

“And Jax was pissed.”

She remembered that too; she’d never seen him so angry. It wasn’t the usual loud and violent anger though, it was silent, contemplative, and secluded.

“He was gonna try and kill Clay given the chance — whether the club knew it or not. He tried to do it then and he tried to do it now. There was too much bad blood there and it wouldn’t have been over until one of them was dead.”

Her vision blurred with tears.

“You tried to protect him from becoming the person he hated and you tried to protect the club from losing anyone else; that was your job.” Bobby insisted.

Her mind reeled over the past couple of weeks and the long nights they spent together mapping out where Clay could be going, finding a place for Abel to stay, and speaking to DeMarco to get more time to deliver Clay.

“You were damned if you told the club and damned if you didn’t.”

She nodded reluctantly, finding no comfort in the sentiment although she knew it was true.

“And now it’s on you,” Bobby leaned in, “Before I tell you what I know about Clay, I need to know what you’re gonna do with him when you do find him.”

Her gaze fell to the carpet again as she wrung her hands. “I promised him I wouldn’t let this charter fold. If I don’t find Clay then DeMarco’s gonna take someone else out.”

Bobby stayed silent, waiting for her answer, silently hoping she’d make the right one.

“The club’s been tailing me ever since I left Charming,” she told him. “They finished half the job with him and they’re gonna finish it with me. I’m trying to keep my distance until I get to Clay. I’ll lead them to him and let them make the decision — about everything.”

Bobby inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to speak.

“It’s club business,” she cut him off before he could start. “What they wanna do with me and what they wanna do with Clay is up to them, or else I’m running for the rest of my life, and I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

She held his stare, seeing the pain in his eyes as clear as day before he let out a heavy sigh. The room was silent, the occasional raindrop pattering against the window behind them gently.

“I know you’ve got some ideas as to where he could be,” he finally said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

“Nothing solid,” she shrugged, “I checked all the airports but didn’t find anything on him.”

“What makes you think he’s trying to leave?” Bobby quizzed.

She looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you know?”

“I know Clay’s got a lot of shit, but he’s not a coward,” he sat up again, leaning in closer to her, “He wouldn’t abandon the club at a time like this. He’d stay and fight.”

“There’s not enough bodies-“

“Not yet,” he sighed. “Clay came by last night. He asked me if I’d scope out some of the guys around here that were willing to fight with SAMCRO when he got back to Charming. He’s looking for bodies and he’s looking for weapons.”

The revelation came thundering down on her. Rage and exhaustion mixed together to form a strange cocktail; one that almost convinced her to lay down and give up. Wait for the Sons to catch up to her and finish the job so she didn’t have to deal with any of this anymore.

“He’s going back to the Irish,” she surmised.

Upon Bobby’s nod, she let her heavy head fall into her hands.

She massaged her temples as his pleading voice rung out in her mind again: find him and make sure this charter doesn’t fold. Going back to the Irish ensured that all of his hard work would end up down the drain, that is, if the charter still stood after that.

Finding new business partners to make up for them pulling out of guns with the Irish was no easy feat — it was the last thing he had to do to get this charter straight, and he just barely made it happen.

If the Irish got back into business with the Sons, she was sure it’d be short-lived. They wouldn’t willingly do so if they didn’t have something else up their sleeve.

The charter’s demise was promised right now, but whether it’d be through the Irish or DeMarco and his crew was a new uncertainty she didn’t see coming.

“He’s bringing the Irish to him this time,” Bobby corrected.

Her thoughts stuttered, her head whipping towards Bobby. If Clay was gonna meet the Irish to get weapons, they had to do it at a familiar location to the both of them.

“Oswald’s warehouse,” she voiced.

Bobby nodded, confirming that she was right. “He’s gearing up to fight DeMarco’s crew.”

A newfound urgency sparked in her as she tugged the map out from her bag and spread it out on the table. She grabbed her pen from her bag and began tracing a trail from where she was to Oswald’s warehouse.

“Hold on,” Bobby cut her off.

She stopped, handing him the pen when he held out his hand for it. She watched as he created a new trail, heading east this time. He stained the roads on the map in red before drawing a circle at the end of the line. “You’ll get there faster this way,” he said, “Maybe even get there before Clay,” he handed her the pen back.

She scanned over the trail, studying it and getting a general idea of where she was going. Urgency wound her up and she was itching to get off the couch and back out on the road. Still, she could breathe a small sigh of relief, knowing she was close.

“Are you sure you don’t want anybody around here to check that out?” Bobby asked her, nodding towards her eye as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m sure,” she nodded, patting her bag as she stood on the porch, “Got all I need in here.”

He nodded silently, scanning over her, reluctant to let her leave.

“Thank you,” she told him earnestly. “He knew we could depend on you.”

Bobby’s smile gave way to the new pain that was festering in his chest, now that he knew, now that he was infected with the darkness. The bearded man held out his arms and she took a step forward, finding herself in his embrace. He held her tight, rubbing her back comfortingly like a parent would.

“I was always so glad he had you by his side,” he whispered to her. “You always had his best interests at heart.”

The lump in her throat returned and she had to pull away before she got swept up in another tide of emotion. She gave him a tight smile, begging her tears to hold off for a moment longer.

“Bye, Bobby,” the words came out in a whisper as her throat closed even more.

His smile was tainted with more sadness as another goodbye was happening right before him. “Bye, sweetheart.”

She turned on her heel to make her way back down to the car again, but stopped and looked back at him as he was still stood by the door, not moving an inch, “When the club comes by, let them know where I’m going.”

Bobby paused before nodding, allowing her to continue down the steps and towards the car.

“I’ve never seen him so angry,” she rubbed her forehead. “But I wasn’t doing it to make him angry-“

“I know,” Bobby nodded, rubbing a hand on her back as they sat at the bar in the clubhouse. “It’s just…” he trailed off with a heavy sigh, “…Look, I don’t know what happened, but…Jax always needs…somebody and the fact that that somebody is her doesn’t make it any easier.”

Bobby was perceptive — it was something she admired about him — but in times like these, she wished he just went on about his day like everyone else. But he could tell that something had gotten frayed between her and Jax. She told him all she could without mentioning the manuscript. He had pried a bit but it was hard not to spill your feelings to ears willing to listen.

When she felt like she was at a dead end, she found herself turning to Bobby. During her first few months here, she’d been stumbling around as she learned the dos and don’ts of being acquainted with the club, how to navigate Clay’s varying moods, and all the rules of the club — spoken and unspoken.

Juice was still navigating it all himself, Tig was usually too caught up with whatever Clay asked him to do, Opie was still on the sidelines as he toed his way back into the club, and she didn’t know the others well enough to ask them questions that seemed so simple. Jax was always busy with club stuff so she didn’t wanna bother him — already massively indebted to him — but in times like this, some of those unspoken rules pertained to him and him alone.

“I’m just trying to do right by him,” she dropped her hands and looked to Bobby, “Like he asked me to,” her voice was getting tight with frustration.

Bobby breathed out a small laugh, “When it comes to her, all of that goes out the window.”

She huffed out a breath, learning what everyone else knew: Tara was off-limits. The unspoken rule made her blood boil even more; she didn’t know if it was because he was making exceptions or trying to have it all when it clearly couldn’t go that way.

Her eyes narrowed before she shook her head. “Well, I can’t do that.”

It was a promise she made, not just to him but to herself. He’d done right by her when he could’ve easily left her for dead — the club got what they needed from her and her friends, so it would’ve been easy to throw her to the wolves.

When he showed her his father’s manuscript, he asked for her help, ways to turn the club legit so once he got into power, he could lead the club the way his father intended.

“So what does that mean for you?” Bobby asked. “If you can’t do both, does that mean you leave?”

Her breath hitched at the idea. It wasn’t an option; walking out on the Sons made her free game for anybody that had any sort of vendetta against her. She’d be back where she was all those months ago: fresh meat for the hungry wolves that no doubt circled around.

“I can still do work for the Sons,” she voiced, although she didn’t fully believe it. “But I don’t think I can help him anymore.”

“So tell him that,” Bobby insisted. “He’s gonna fight, and he’s gonna yell, and he’s gonna protect what’s his, but eventually it’ll seep in.”

She huffed out a sigh, never thinking that reporting the facts would ever get her into this kind of trouble.

“I didn’t know he told anyone,” Tara went pale, wringing her hands that were probably already accumulating sweat at a rapid pace.

She looked around the empty waiting room for a garbage can because from where she was sitting, Tara looked like she was about to throw up.

“I’m not gonna say anything,” she assured the doctor, knowing the repercussions of ratting would be worse. “But you shouldn’t have made him do that.”

Tara’s eyebrows pulled together and her eyes narrowed. Her frame tensed up defensively, “I didn’t make him do anything, Josh showed up and-”

“And you called him. You. Everyone around here knows he’d come running if you asked him to. And you did.”

“I didn’t know who else to call. If I hadn’t shot Josh, I would’ve called the police instead.”

“It was self-defence,” she replied, trying to keep her voice level, “The cops would’ve locked him up for everything he’d done to you.”

“Yeah, and then he would’ve gotten out and tried to do the same thing,” Tara’s tone turned sharp.

“I know,” she insisted, keeping her voice calm. “But that wasn’t the way to handle it.”

“Oh thank you, I didn’t realize that until now,” Tara scoffed, standing up.

She was quick to follow, standing in her way, not menacingly, but just enough to get her to listen.

“The next time will easier, and the time after that will be even easier,” she spoke lowly, gauging Tara’s tight jaw and challenging look in her eye. But she wasn’t here to fight. “The club doesn’t need a tyrant at the head of the table and you don’t need another tyrant for a boyfriend.”

The thought of mentioning JT’s manuscript crossed her mind, but she decided against it, unsure how deep Jax wanted to pull her into all of this, especially now considering what happened just last night.

He’d been late to Church that morning and nobody was able to get a hold of him. She’d called him multiple times but got no answer. When he finally showed up, he offered little explanation to the club. They let it slide, but she could see the tension wracking his body and how he was partially at the clubhouse and partially somewhere else.

When she got him alone, he bared it all to her. It was the first time he ever killed someone and he begged her not to say anything to anyone. Not just because it was a fed, but if word got to Clay about this, he’d keep putting a gun in Jax’s hand, perverting JT’s vision of the club in a new way with his own son following in his footsteps.

She figured keeping it between the three of them would be okay — it had to be now that she knew.

The doctor sighed heavily, letting her head fall into her hands. She let out a small sigh of relief, to watch her rigid demeanour soften and make way for the fear she was trying to hold back.

“I’m not saying all of this to scare you, but he loves you, Tara, and when a man like that loves you, it comes with responsibility.”

Bits and pieces of Tara and Jax’s history came to light once Tara came back to Charming, as it was preceded by their lingering, potent attraction to each other. The two were high school sweethearts until Tara’s mother died, and she packed up all her things and moved out of this “incestuous, backwards town” as Gemma claimed Tara put it; it made her wonder why Tara was back.

The question piqued suspicion in her, especially after learning about how dangerous Kohn proved himself to be, but she let it go, deciding it wasn’t any of her business. Looking out for Jax only went as far as club business and his place in the club. However, once Jax took care of Kohn, it became her business.

Jax and Tara weren’t in high school anymore and he wasn’t just a prospect, he was VP, determined to turn the club legit as he made his way up to president. This life was filled with people and situations that would tempt him to fall into the patterns of the club and if she was the only force swaying him the other way, she was gonna work like hell to make sure he stayed the course because she knew he was capable of delivering it with the right people around him. She gave them the benefit of the doubt — sure they could work, as long as she was one of those people.

There was a knock on the door of the secluded waiting room before it was being pushed open. Another woman wearing scrubs apologetically poked her head in through the crevice of the door, casting a quick, almost fearful glance in her direction.

“Sorry, Dr. Knowles,” she looked to Tara, “They’re ready for you in OR 1.”

“Okay,” Tara nodded, plastering on a smile. “I’ll be right there.”

The nurse nodded once, throwing another glance her way, before leaving the room and keeping the door slightly ajar.

She turned to Tara, “Go save some lives, doc,” she advised before making her way out of the waiting room.

“Why did you show me the manuscript in the first place?” was the first thing she asked as soon as he opened the door.

He sighed, frustration being muted by exhaustion.

They’d had their fight that morning so maybe showing up that night was a bit too soon, but she didn’t get to say her piece then.

He released his hold on the door, “Evie, I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“Tell me why,” she insisted.

He looked behind her, up and down the deserted road before reluctantly walking inside, silently telling her to follow him and shut the door behind her. She followed him in, closed the door despite the surprise that stunned her at the fact that he actually let her in. He looked so exhausted as he planted himself on his couch.

“If I’m here to help you with the club, then I can’t cater to you and uphold what you asked me to do at the same time,” she informed him, watching as he scrubbed a hand over his face before it settled over his mouth. “I can’t walk that line without tipping over onto one side.”

“You have to when it comes to Tara,” he spoke lowly, getting that primitively angry look in his eye.

“I can’t, especially not with Tara,” she insisted, “If you’re gonna turn the club legit once you get a hold of the gavel, everything you do leading up to that moment is gonna decide the type of man that sits in that chair.”

His jaw tightened as frustration multiplied within him. He wanted to say something, she could tell by the way he was looking at her. The anger was egging him on to have another outburst and to kick her out of his house and out of the protection of the club. But he stayed silent.

“And it’s gonna dictate the kind of man you are for Tara.” Though she tried to remain neutral, she could taste the vinegar in her words as she said them.

He stayed silent but his eyes fell from her.

“I’m just doing what you asked,” she reminded him, “But if that’s too much then I can step away from this and forget you ever told me anything. I'll pack my bags and leave.”

His eyes were back on her with a flash, eyebrows pulling together. “What are you talking about?”

“If we don’t straighten all of this out then I gotta hit the road-“

“You can still work for the club,” he stood up from his seat, “Just because this didn’t work out.”

“I can’t,” she shook her head, “I already got the president making it hard to do my job, I don’t need the VP doing the same.”

His look became cynical, “I wouldn’t get in your way.”

“You already have,” she pointed out.

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. She couldn’t look at him as she turned and walked past him towards the door.

For the sake of flicking out the butt of her cigarette, she rolled down the window despite the heavy rainfall happening outside. She rolled it back up as her foot pressed down even harder against the gas pedal, ramping up her speed. Seeing Clay’s face in her mind didn’t make her foot relent even an inch. The bone she had to pick with him was getting larger and larger, lodged between them at a jagged angle that was a pain in both of their sides from the moment they met.

“She can’t be trusted,” she overheard Clay insist to Jax in the Chapel.

“Yes she can,” he fought for her, “We could trust her and her friends before, so why not now?”

“We got bigger problems to deal with than the ones she caused for herself.”

“She can help us.”

Silence fell over the clubhouse and she felt Juice nudge her shoulder comfortingly. She looked to him to see him wearing a reassuring smile as he sat next to her on a barstool in the clubhouse. “I’m sure it’ll be okay,” he whispered to her.

She pushed out a smile in response. He was always optimistic in times like these, but she still hadn’t pieced together if he was trying to convince himself in the process too.

“I mean, if anyone here can handle Jax, it’s Clay,” he continued. “I mean it’s really impressive.”

Just as she saw Juice open his mouth to speak again, she beat him to it, “Thanks Juice,” she said, not wanting to strain him anymore for reassurance.

The way he was fidgeting with his hands as he spoke made her all the more nervous.

Juice smiled at her, silently apologizing and she returned it, silently accepting it before her eyes found the door of the Chapel again.

“We’ll have a vote,” Jax decided finally. “The club will vote on it and if it passes, she stays and helps us.”

“That’s good!” Juice beamed, trying to keep his voice down. “Everybody here already likes you; I know it’ll pass.”

She looked to him, finding him more sincere when he spoke this time and it stretched a small smile over her face. It was true, she’d gotten on well with a lot of the members here — the others like Piney, Clay, and Tig who stayed more to themselves had kept their distance were a bit harder to cozy up to.

“Fine,” Clay replied to Jax before she could speak. "But if it passes and that snake bites the hand that feeds her, know that the venom that seeps through this club is because of you.”

Any spark of joy she felt at Juice’s words died down, the smoke whisking away in the wind as soon as Clay ripped open the door. He began to stalk out of the clubhouse, but stuttered when he saw her. His stare was nothing short of cutting before he took in a deep breath and held it as he pushed on and made his way out to the lot.

Who knew the snake would be sitting at that very table. Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel impatiently, thinking about exactly what she would say to him when she did find him. Clay was a poison that infected two generations of Teller men and ultimately led to their demise. If there was poison circulating throughout the club, it came from his own fangs, but if he wanted her own personal brand of venom, she’d give it to him especially if it was the antidote to his own.

The needle in the speedometer perched straight up to 100 as she flew down the empty road. She glanced over to the map spread out on the seat beside her, checking the next turn she’d have to make.

Her head whipped forward to look out of the windshield suddenly as she heard a faint thrumming outside. She reached over and turned the radio off and rolled down her window, welcoming the heavy raindrops into the car once again to try and hear it better.

As soon as the sound became clear and she realized what was happening, she groaned, “No, no, no!” she slammed her hands against the wheel.

The sputtering of the engine continued and she pulled over to the side of the road. The low fuel signal flashed at her as it had been for the last few miles, taunting her now as if to say, I won.

Quiet engulfed the air once she turned the car off after it stalled. She sighed to release the breath she’d been holding and let the weight of her head fall forward until her forehead pressed against the steering wheel.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

After a few moments, she picked up her head and looked through the blurred windshield. The rain was coming down hard but she had no other choice but to move.

She inhaled deeply, the smell of the tobacco becoming more potent and calming her slightly. It wasn’t until now that she realized just how tired she was. She’d been up for more hours than she could count, and alert for all of them; high on pure adrenaline.

Seeing Bobby was the closest thing she had to a vacation during all of this. It was the closest she got to letting the grief in. She let bits of it seep into her and she let it out just as much; her body rejecting it. Another poison that just dominated her own.

She let herself be still and let the world be restless instead for a second as she latched onto the smell of the cigarettes; clinging onto them desperately.

Was this gonna be the rest of her life now? Grasping onto the sound of a motorcycle’s roaring engine as it passed by or taking in a deep breath of tobacco infused smoke each time a smoker passed her on the street? Was this how he existed now? In pieces; scattered around and only finding her if she was in the right place at the right time?

Tension itched at her muscles. The car was too silent. And she had to get moving.

Mechanically, she turned to the passenger seat and folded up the map that sat there. She put it into a pocket of her bag before turning to the dashboard and picking up the photograph and slipping it into another pocket. After ensuring the rest of the zippers were done up, she pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head and exited the car.

The unforgivable downpour drenched her in seconds; the wind accompanying the storm didn’t help either, redirecting almost every raindrop that would’ve surpassed her right into her face as she began walking along. She clutched onto the strap of her bag tightly, moving her feet as quickly as she could move them.

It had to have been twenty minutes later — ten if the car held out a little longer — that she saw a small plaza in the distance across the street from a gas station. She huffed out a cynical laugh at another taunt from the universe. She shook her head, quickening her steps to finally get out of this rain that she was sure soaked through her coat already.

She took a quick glance in the direction of the gas station then muttered out a curse. Of course there’d be no one there — not in the middle of this storm.

Looks like I’m walking.

The closer she got, the more shops she was able to make out in the plaza: a dollar store nestled between a restaurant and a clothing boutique. She found refuge in the former, huffing out a sigh when she was finally sheltered from the rain. Still, she kept her hood and glasses on, ensuring that nobody would be able to see her, even if it was by accident.

The small store was full of people, mostly huddled near the register, waiting to pay for their items. There were two employees at registers, and they were no match for the swarm of people ahead of them.

The warm shelter of the store made her walk slow down to a saunter as she took it all in. She looked up and down the aisles for an umbrella, deciding she’d need one if she was gonna continue on this journey. Getting picked up in this weather was a long shot; not only would it be hard for them to see her down on the road with her thumb hitched out, but she was sure they’d keep moving in hopes of getting to their destination faster.

She spent a little more time roaming around the aisles, stopping at some points and looking through different items in the store; even some toys she thought Abel would like.

Her heart softened at the thought of the boy. His bright smile flashed in her mind and she couldn’t bear to bring him any sort of pain that was inevitable with the situation at hand. Part of her hoped she didn’t make it to the farm. She couldn’t fathom breaking his heart so severely at such a young age. Would he see through her grief and spot the coward behind it all? The one who hid behind the bedroom door? The one who ran?

The thoughts drained her even more. She couldn’t bare to pass on the darkness — she’d passed on enough of it and still had a supply to last her a lifetime.

She pushed past it all and finally, at the end of the final aisle at the back of the store, she found an array of umbrellas hanging from a display. There were various colours — almost making up a rainbow — but she settled on the black one, needing to blend in as much as possible.

She was only a few steps down the aisle towards the cash register when a unified roar that rivalled the thunder outside got louder and louder the closer it got. She froze in her spot, watching the bikes roll up on the road ahead through the window.

She was cautious in taking a few steps into the aisle to get a closer look. She watched as two of them turned right into the parking lot of the gas station and the third turned left into the plaza.

The bike approached the window; the reaper standing out against the black bike before its engine cut off. It wasn’t until he dismounted that she recognized Chibs quickly approaching the entrance of the store. She stumbled back in the aisle, moving back the closer Chibs got to the door of the store.

She gasped a breath and held it, feeling it tighten her chest. She jolted when she stumbled into the shelf of toys, sending a few falling to the ground noisily. She grasped onto the umbrella tightly as she watched Chibs walk through the door, and that’s when she turned around and headed deeper into the back of the small store.

A door with a sign that said Employees Only was the only thing there and although it was padlocked, she tried her best to open it anyways, praying that some miracle would happen where the knob would release and twist all the way to allow her into a safe hiding place. She pushed her body weight against it, fighting against the locked door knob as much as it was fighting against her, silently pleading for it to open. She relented once her body hit the door for the fourth time.

Her mouth was running dry and her throat was constricting and all she could hear in her ears was her rapid pulse. Her legs trembled and she felt faint. She inhaled sharply through her nose, determined not to let that happen. As far as she was concerned, he wasn’t aware that she was here. She hadn’t heard their rumbling engines on her walk over here so she still had a chance to get away.

She stood next to a man in the aisle, letting his bigger frame shield hers as she watched Chibs’s form saunter towards another aisle on the other side of the store. She held her breath, watching him until he was out of view so she could keep heading on down the aisle and out of the store. She threw glances over her shoulders, ensuring he didn’t round the aisle and approach her from behind.

Once she was out of the aisle and into the swarm of people, she noticed the only way out of here was through the registers. She apologized quietly as she hid herself amongst the crowd, shouldering her way through as carefully as she could. She took on the glares her nestling brought her as she accidentally bumped into a person or two.

She scanned the area continuously, desperate to make sure that she saw him before he saw her. As she moved her way through the crowd, she ripped the tag off of the umbrella in her hand and shoved it into the deep pocket of her raincoat.

“Hey sweetheart,” she heard from behind her, a rough poke of a finger digging into her shoulder.

Her heart stuttered as she turned to the man who stood with a basket of items in his hand. With just one look at his tight features, she knew she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of this. She was just the target for his pent up anger at the circumstance he found himself in currently.

“The line starts back there,” he hitched a thumb over his shoulder.

She glanced over the crowd, making sure the man’s outburst hadn’t caught Chibs’s attention. She didn’t see him anywhere; not emerging from an aisle, not hiding in the crowd like she was. She still had the element of surprise — that is, if this guy didn’t blow it for her.

Noticing that she was still in the clear, she turned back around, ignoring the man as her attempts to get through the crowd were hastier.

“Jesus Christ, nobody’s got any fuckin’ patience anymore,” the man cursed. “Or the ability to move their asses and work!” his comment was directed towards the people behind the counter.

“Hey, can you shut the fuck up?” another woman in the crowd called to him.

The two got into an argument comprising of passive comments to one another as she threw another look over her shoulder. It was just in time to see Chibs emerging from one of the aisles empty handed. His head swept up and down the expanse of the store and she ducked out of view, as if she was trying to jump out of the crosshairs of a gun.

She turned back around and weaved her way through some more people, apologies flying out of her mouth absentmindedly, persuading — if not begging — those around her to keep quiet.

She tumbled through the walkway between registers and scurried towards the door, her quick pace halting as she got caught between a couple of older women who were tucking their receipts into their bags. She bit back a curse as she slowed her pace, following their lead.

She took one look to her right over to the gas station lot, finding Juice and Happy fuelling up their bikes. The rain had thinned out but there was still enough reason to pull out an umbrella.

Just have to stay calm, she reminded herself. Just pop open your umbrella and walk normally like everyone else is.

A gasp was pulled out of her when she heard someone behind her. She whipped her head around to find a father with his son who was already ripping a toy from out of its package. She sighed, turning her head forward as she walked in tandem with their speed.

A gust of wind preceded the amount of rain pelting down once the door was open and in the blink of an eye, she mirrored those around her as they propped up their own umbrellas. She winced at the sound the umbrella made once it opened, but she was quick to pull it over her head and tilt it so it kept her hidden from Juice and Happy who were still across the street.

She stayed close to the women who walked in front of her, keeping her head low, and making sure she was breathing. Her gaze latched onto the reaper on Chibs’s bike, the one that just took and took and took.

She held onto the handle of her umbrella with a death grip — one that got even tighter when a gust of wind passed through, threatening to rip the umbrella out of her hand and expose her. She listened closely, trying to pick out the sound of footsteps behind her or engines about to rev through the pattering of raindrops on the pavement or the conversation of the women in front of her.

She walked further until the gas station and the plaza were behind her. She watched the women in front of her veer left and down a road leading into a neighbourhood. She tensed again, almost curling in on herself but she kept walking until she found another crowd of people up ahead that were exiting a restaurant a few feet away. She caught up with them steadily, keeping a short distance between them as she continued to walk.

The company was short-lived and she found herself alone again, taking a few twists and turns throughout neighbourhoods while staying on track with the map to ensure Chibs, Juice, and Happy lost her for a bit if they did recognize her. That was the closest they’d gotten and she couldn’t afford for that to happen again until she found Clay.

When she ran out of people and neighbourhoods to hide amongst, she found herself huddled in a long stretch of tall trees that was far from the road.

The rain had returned to its heavy, unforgiving attack and was now accompanied with heavy wind that made her umbrella harder to control. She grasped the handle tightly with both hands, cursing when it flipped inside out at a particularly rough gust of wind.

She stopped and pointed the inverted umbrella towards the wind, impatiently waiting for it to snap back into place. The wind calmed slightly, giving no assistance to fix what it had broken.

“Come on,” she urged through gritted teeth. She shook the umbrella with a force that was almost violent — too excessive but it wasn’t enough to puff it back in to its natural shape.

“Fuckin’ cheap piece of shit,” she shook it some more before her hands raised the umbrella up over her head and slammed it into the ground with the same force that sudden anger slammed into her.

“Fuck this fucking shit!” her hoarse voice called out.

She called out more curses, louder and louder each time, hoping that if the club was close, they’d hear her and put her out of her misery.

Twisting her body, she flung the useless umbrella into the wind. It danced away gently, bouncing on the ground a couple of times before flying off further away.

The way it floated away, unscathed for the most part, only lit the fire under her even more — a blazing, fire cracking fury that even this downpour couldn’t put out. She grasped onto the strap of her bag and swung it deep into the ground. Mud stained the leather but the thump of her bag against the earth was satisfying — as if the anger in her was being expelled through this and back into the earth — so she did it again, and again, and again, monstrous cries leaving her in the process. She paid no mind to the damage she was doing to her laptop. It’d be no use to her anymore — wherever she ended up. She kept going, despite the ache in her arm. It wasn’t until she lost her footing and slipped that she stopped.

She abandoned the bag after she landed on her knees in the mud, letting the strap of it untangle from her tired fingers before they curled up into fists and began pounding on the ground, sending specks of mud flying and landing wherever they chose to — she didn’t care, she couldn’t. She was unrelenting, almost as if she was trying to reach into the centre of the earth — like it had the answers she was looking for.

She found herself gasping for breath when she pulled her fists back. Her sharp sob startled her as she caved in on herself. It wasn’t until she felt the way her stomach clenched with each sob that she realized she was crying. She keeled over, her hands, gentler now as they spread over the ground and planted themselves in the mud as the desperate need to curl up into a ball overtook her. The gluttonous being that grief was would just keep feeding and feeding until there was nothing left of her.

Her head bowed as she sobbed, fingers curling in the mud, grasping at the earth she walked on — the same one he’d be buried in for as long as she lived. It was the same earth but they’d still be too far from each other.

If only she was a mole in the ground.

To dig her way through the layers of the earth and find him again. To be by his side; to take her rightful place and just lie there with him.

The vastness of this woodsy area was large — the earth was even bigger. The thought made her head spin. A world full of people and not one could compare to his presence, dooming her to an eternity of suffering. If the club wanted to kill her, then they’ve already succeeded. All they could take now was the body she inhabited, and right now, it was the last place she wanted to be.

The last remnants of anger — her new protector — sent her fists into the ground again rhythmically, like a child throwing a tantrum, because it just wasn’t fair. The ground was still firm enough to send a shock of the impact up her arms, so she did it again, and again, and a third time before sadness came in, rubbing a comforting hand on her back and unravelling her fists.

She leaned back on her feet, her muddy hands resting on her legs now. Her chest deflated with a heavy exhale as she worked her way towards catching her breath.

She leaned her head back, the hood she was wearing sliding off and exposing her even more to the rain she’d been hiding from. She welcomed it now. The closest thing she’d ever get to his touch was in the way the mud curled into her fists and seeped through her fingers, and in the raindrops that fell from the sky above her.

For the first time in days, she let his name fall from her lips, first in a whisper, then in a whimper, then in a chant, as if it would bring him back.

The house was quiet as the two of them stood a few feet away from each other in her small kitchen. He hadn’t been here since last month, the both of them skirting around each other in the clubhouse, at the garage and wherever else they ran into each other. They ended on a low note, but didn’t let it resonate throughout the club. She was still there, helping, and remaining objective whenever she brought something to the club, but never getting close to her again as they once started out.

Word travelled fast though, and when she heard the news, she was sure that would come to an end. That’s why his presence on her doorstep that evening wasn’t completely surprising — like Bobby said: he’s gonna fight, and he’s gonna yell, and he’s gonna protect what’s his, but eventually it’ll seep in.

She decided to give him a chance; trying to make up for the damage she caused somehow, but also hoping — partially — that the last string tethering them together would be severed tonight.

His absence brought to light some less than favourable feelings she’d developed, and relief at Tara’s departure from Charming only confirmed them.

“I didn’t mean to make her leave,” she spoke quietly, breaking the delicate silence. “I was just trying to do what you asked me to.”

She wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself, hiding the pyjamas she was wearing underneath it. He’d been there for ten minutes but hadn’t made himself comfortable. She tried to help — offering coffee, water, but he declined them all silently with the shake of his head.

It was worrisome; maybe she overstepped a boundary that made an irreversible change. While Gemma subtly applauded her for it, she felt awful looking at how he almost curled in on himself when she saw him at the clubhouse.

“You didn’t,” he finally spoke. His eyes were low and voice grief-stricken. “She’s a runner,” his tone took a sharp edge and his lip curled in frustration.

He finally looked at her, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the counter across from the one she was leaning on.

“She was always half-in half-out with the club. Things got messy and she split — went back to Chicago,” he shrugged, trying to hide his hurt behind his seemingly impenetrable facade. “She just used me to do her dirty work,” he almost spat.

She felt the pain in his words and she took a cautious step closer. He didn’t show any opposition to her action, just watched her with big eyes, his jaw clenching every so often and eyebrows pulling together in a way that almost looked like he was pleading with her to make the pain stop.

When she was close enough, she placed a hand on his arm and she watched the rigidity in his body melt away; all the anger and all the fear of breaking down in front of her evaporated.

She trailed her hand up his arm to his shoulder, her other hand landing on the opposite one before he craned down and fell into her embrace. She sighed as she bared his weight, feeling his face burrow into her neck. Her hands rubbed up and down his back, palms running over the grooves of the patches on his kutte. He didn’t say a word, didn’t cry, or make a sound. He just held her and let himself be held for the first time in a long time.

What are you doing? the voice in her head got through to her.

She silenced it, burying her face into his shoulder, justifying it as just being there for her friend. She missed him and she couldn’t deny it anymore now that he was here. This month had been hell and she’d get a handle on all of this tomorrow, but tonight, she was just gonna be here for her friend.

A minute had passed and she pulled back half an inch, testing to see if he was ready to let go. His head still hung low, his face close to hers as he pulled back too. She continued to move back but his arms steeled around her, keeping her in place.

She barely had a second to understand what was happening before he let his lips collide into hers, his hand coming up to cup her cheek so he could hold her now. The kiss was sudden, desperate, and a silent plea for her.

The twinge of pain in her chest blossomed in the blink of an eye — it wasn’t for her, it was for somebody. She pulled back and ducked her head; self-preservation to ensure he didn’t do it again. The cool air around them found her cheek again when he pulled his hand away.

“No Jax…” she whispered breathlessly, her breath catching in her throat as a swarm of pain and betrayal — as foolish as that was — engulfed her.

She didn’t know exactly what she was saying no to — whether it was to him, what he just did, or how she reacted.

She cautiously looked up to find his chin jutted up, eyes plastered to her ceiling as he rubbed his lips together, almost savouring how steeply they crossed the line. His eyebrows were pulled together and she questioned whether he’d have broken down now if she wasn’t there.

But she knew him and she knew if she fell into bed with him, it’d do him more harm than good. She saw the way he was with women that hung around the club before Tara came back. There was a new one leaving his dorm almost every morning and she knew it was just to stop the bleeding. But she couldn’t be somebody to him. She could only be her.

The club’s future was at stake — and it was too much to be careless with.

She opened her mouth to say something — something to soften the blow — but he just rubbed her arm with his large, ringed hand before he turned and made his way out of her apartment, leaving her with the lingering, seering remnant of his touch.

#jax teller #jax teller imagine #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #writer wednesday

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gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

Lover’s Quarrel

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: You have the powers to resurrect if you’ve been murdered, and a jealous Steve Rogers indulges heavily in your abilities. He would not let you steal his best friend, that was for sure. So what, if your rivalry regularly caused fire and harm to public property? You just couldn’t let the other win.

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Smut, enemies to lovers, violence, killings and murders (but reader cannot die, it’s weird. She has some sorta powers that help her revive when she’s been murdered), language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Is this crack fic? Idk. Maybe?

The sixth time Steve killed you, you decided he needed to be dealt with in a similar way. It doesn’t matter that he cannot come back from the dead like you. He just needed to go. You were tired of him offing you every time he felt threatened by your existence. But this was the last straw. He had pushed you off the Quinjet while flying home from a mission and you’d fallen into the lake and drowned. You would NOT recommend dying that way.

Bucky had dragged out your dead body and watched over you as the blessing of the necromancer worked its magic over you and brought you back to the world of the living. The first words out of your mouth as you spewed out water were, “I am going to kill your best friend and you can’t be mad at me for that.”

Bucky, far too happy to have you back – poor guy still mourned every time you died – ignored your comment and pulled you into a hug. He’d never quiet gotten used to seeing you die. You patted his back, muttering a few there-there’s until he was calm enough to press quivering kisses on your head and temple.

“You need to stop dying.” He said into your hair, holding you close.

“I would not be dying if your best friend didn’t murder me every time! He is a menace, Buck!” You cried in exasperation. The said best friend was watching you from a few yards away, and he rolled his eyes as your words reached him. He scoffed loud enough for you to hear and you sharply turned your head to glare at him.

“You!” You shouted, quickly standing up and marching over to him. “You rascal!” And then you pried out your wet shoe from your feet and threw it at his stunned face. Unfortunately, it didn’t hit his face but smacked against his chest, leaving the wet print of your soles against his far too tight t-shirt. He gaped at you open mouthed before baring his teeth in warning.

“Oh god, every time you come alive again, you’re even more awful than before!” Steve shouted, and then just because he is fucking drama queen, he threw out his hands. You sneered before turning to look at Bucky meaningfully, the most obvious ‘see what a dick he is’ look on your face.

Bucky shuffled uneasily, caught between your quarrel once again. He came behind you and gave you his jacket to wear to shield you from the cold. And just like that, your anger melted a little. Somehow, with his steel blue eyes, Bucky Barnes could sooth every wound you’d ever had. Even those given to you by Steve Rogers.

“I am so sorry. I should have seen what he was about to do. I wouldn’t have ever let you fall had I known.” He apologized and you swore your heart physically quivered. You pulled Bucky into a hug, hiding your face in his chest, savoring his arms coming around you to hold you tighter. You could have stayed in his embrace forever, but it was an annoyed groan that ripped you both apart.

“Is there any way you can stay dead a little longer?” Steve asked, breaking your moment. “I mean, I’ve tired a bullet and knife and water and poison. What can I do that you’d be gone for just a little longer?”

He was worked up, a red flush creeping on his face and neck. Pacing, he was muttering, and you wondered for the millionth time how Bucky could be friends with him. He was just so extra! You wanted to tell him to shove a stick up his ass, along with the one already there when he turned swiftly like the wind and threw a dagger at you. A metal hand caught it before it could hit you and you were pulled into the warmth of Bucky’s body quickly.

“Steve! Cut it out.” Bucky yelled, glaring at Steve. “You will not kill her again. I don’t care if she can come back alive again. You won’t hurt her.”

With that, he dropped the dagger on the ground and walked away with you. Unable to resist, you looked over you shoulder and flipped Steve off. Fucker could kill you a hundred times and yet he would not be able to do anything. As far as you were concerned, Bucky was as much your best friend as his. And if Steve Rogers couldn’t control his jealousy without trying to behead you every time he felt you were stealing Bucky from him, you would just have to make his death look like an accident.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that you can’t kill him either?” Bucky said teasingly, his eyes soft and fond. “I need you both to survive.”

You groaned, bumping your shoulder in his and snuggling into him as a cold breeze hit your wet clothes. He could read you like an open book.

“You are no fun Barnes.”

There was rubble and fires and shrieks. Natasha was yelling in Russian as she ran about with a fire extinguisher and Clint crawled out of his vents to help Bruce out who was turning a dangerous shade of green. Tony was sitting in the ruins of his kitchen, his mouth half open as he spied on the ensuing battle in the middle of it.

Sam was using his shield to push Steve away who was shouting curses that had probably not been invented yet. Bucky was holding you back by your middle, yelling in your ear to calm the fuck down but all you could think of to do was smacking Steve’s face with that chair that was currently on fire. You suppose once everyone was calm, you’d feel guilty about your part in destroying the Avengers kitchen but right now that wasn’t important.

What was important was that Steve had tried to kill you. Again. He had actually thrown a fucking grenade at you. You barely had the time to kick it away where it exploded in the kitchen and then Steve was on you, calling you a bitch in all the 9 languages he knew.

“Calm the hell down, Steve!” Sam yelled, struggling to keep Steve at bay from you. You were glad to see that Steve’s nose was busted. That will teach the bastard to ‘look down his nose’ on you now.

“She pierced my ears! The fucking bitch pierced my goddamn ears!” Steve yelled. Even you had to admit, the golden hoops looked amazing dangling from his ears. Just perfect.

“You are lucky I didn’t stick a knitting needle in your eye Rogers!” You sassily replied, “The only reason you’re still in one piece is because I promised my best friend that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The muscles in Steve’s arms tensed and Sam groaned, barely keeping his own footing. A dark shadow seemed to have crawled over Steve’s face, turning the blues of his eyes an angry shade and had you been a weaker person, you would have trembled. This was the face of someone who had stood against armies alone and came out victorious. But for all you cared, he could kiss your ass.

“He is MY best friend. Mine. Not yours, not anyone else’s. Bucky Barnes is mine and I will kill you a thousand times until it sinks in your thick skull!” Steve growled. You scowled, a scathy remark bubbling on the tip of your tongue when you suddenly stopped. Why say when you can show? So, looking Steve directly in the eyes, you went limp in Bucky’s arms, turned around and cupped his face. And then you kissed his cheek.

Steve let out a strangled cry behind you, but you focused on Bucky who was blinking in disbelief at your audacity. And so, just for the heck of it, you kissed his other cheek. And then his forehead.

“Bucky Barnes, you are my best friend and always will be!” You said, hugging the life out of him. You heard Steve break away from Sam, heard Bucky yell out a curse and holding you protectively as his jealous pal came rushing to claim him. And all through that and the chaos that ensued later, you just smiled broadly.

Tony was giving a lecture, and he sucked. He gesticulated too much for your liking, and you really didn’t like how he kept emphasizing things by looking pointedly at you. It wasn’t even that much of a big deal, and even if it was, it was not your fault. Like every other time, the only person who could be held responsible was the blond super soldier sitting beside you, wearing the same shade of annoyance on his face as yours.

“I repeat” said Tony, his hair askew, “we do not use Friday to settle idiotic, absolutely ridiculous personal vendettas!”

“You have Friday tell you how pretty you look every day!” You countered and Tony slammed his hand on the table.

“Because I am!” He huffed. “You, on the other hand, stopped a mission in the middle to ask Friday who had a higher score! I mean, what the actual fuck? And what score?”

Steve had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. You however didn’t put up with any of that nonsense. It was his idea anyway, and you wouldn’t take the fall for him. Not when Tony looked murderous like this.

“Rogers bet me he’d take down more enemies than me. We only asked Friday to keep a count. I had literally nothing to do with it.”

Tony turned the ire of his glare at Steve who was too busy giving you a dirty look. He was just pissed you won, and that Bucky had spent the entire ride back tending to your wounds rather than Steve’s. It wasn’t your fault his jealous ass always threw a fit whenever he saw you and Bucky together.

“You said the team could use Friday as we saw fit.” Steve said, though he did look a little guilty. It wasn’t like him to lose command and control. Even when he’d been Captain America, he had never let anything rattle him. Not until you had come prancing in his life and stealing his best friend.

“I said the team could use Friday, not stop everything in the middle of a high risk mission to see who has a bigger dick.” Tony said, and then he just collapsed in his chair. Poor guy had been working too hard to carry the team forward, and in that moment, even you felt guilty. Your rivalry with Steve shouldn’t have to affect everyone else, not when they had been so welcoming and loving to you ever since you joined.

You walked over to Tony and dropped a kiss on his head, caressing his hair. “I am sorry Tones. You won’t have more trouble from me.”

Tony looked at you as if seeing an angel. He looked at you as if you were the solution to all his troubles. Despite every furniture of his you’d broken and set fire to, he was so grateful to have one sane voice between them. Cupping your hands, he looked imploringly at you and asked, “Really? You’re gonna stop fighting with Steve?”

At that, you solemnly nodded and patted his hand gently. Poor him and the poor team going through hell because you and Steve couldn’t settle your differences. It was obvious what had to be done.

“Of course I will” You said magnanimously, because of course you were the better of the two. “Steve just needs to find another best friend and there won’t be any reason to fight anymore.”

If any of them had been drinking water, they would have spit it out. Since they didn’t, they just kind of choked on their saliva and sputtered at you in absolute disbelief. Tony actually looked betrayed and Steve seemed to have licked a lemon, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“She” He said, voice thick with contempt, “needs to go away. We can launch her in outer space or somewhere from where she can never return. You know why? Because Bucky is my best friend. Since we were yay high!” And he raised his arms a foot off the ground to show just how high.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Rogers opened his mouth and any goodwill you had had went poof. So, you did the only reasonable thing any sane person would do right now and that was to flip him off and call him a pig. You knew he was inching to strangle you; you could see his fingers twitch. A part of you was anticipating it, for Bucky would never forgive him for killing you again. Just as he would have lunged at you, push Tony out of the way and did you away for good, Bucky burst into the room with the expression of a cantankerous 100 year old grandpa who had had enough with the world.

“For fucks sake! Just shut up you both!” He yelled and paced the room. His eyes were bloodshot and hair disheveled, a clear sign that your rivalry was taking a heavy toll on him. Steve opened his mouth to say something when Bucky raised a finger to shush him. “No no no! You listen to me you oblivious, utter moronic fucklets!”

Your mouth dropped open. Bucky never cursed at you. He had never called you a fucklet before.

“You two need to stop. You hear me? You need to STOP!” He raked a hand through his hair before kicking the ground in frustration. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep! I can’t fucking breathe without you both arguing over who is a better friend to me. So, here’s an idea. Instead of fucking me over in the middle of your sexual tension, why don’t you find a room and fuck each other? Because I tell you now, I cannot fucking take it!”

Silence sat pregnant in the room. You blinked at Bucky. Steve blinked at Bucky. Tony blinked at Bucky. And Bucky didn’t blink at all.

“That – uh – what?” You said, eloquent as ever. “That is so stupid.” And you laughed awkwardly.

Steve glanced at you and then stammered, “What? That – I haven’t – that has nothing to do with it. She and I – what?”

You both found each other’s eye, quickly looked away and just became silent. The tension in the air was suffocating you, and a terrible heat was settling in your stomach. Without another word, you walked out of the room, muttering about how ridiculous the whole idea was. The three men watched your exit, and a moment later, Steve left too, still very much in disbelief.

Tony and Bucky sighed, sitting across from each other and just taking in the fact that the elephant in the room had finally been address. A moment later, Tony began drumming on the desk, looking up at the ceiling.

“I couldn’t have put it any better myself.”

You felt antsy, as if staying one more moment in your room would drive you mad. You kept jerking your legs and arms, a weird restlessness in every action of yours. What the hell was Bucky saying? The sheer nerve to imply that you…you and Steve had some sort of feelings for each other. You hadn’t heard that kinda crap since you nursed your nephew who’d had diarrhea.

The only reason you and Steve fought was because you wanted Bucky. He was supposed to be your best friend, and clearly it was his inability to decide who he preferred more that had led you here. And to pretend, on top of that, that it was you who was at fault was just ridiculous. As if you’d touch Steve Rogers with a ten foot pole.

But…would you? You suppose he couldn’t be that bad to touch. He did have gorgeous eyes that got all dark and dilated when he fought with you. And his breath hitched when you got him mad and he bit his lip to stop from cursing you and he flushed a very becoming shade of red that started from his cheeks and disappeared down the neckline on his tight shirts that –

Holy fuck!

The realization rocked your world. What the hell? When you thought about it again, it seemed as if you’d just described Steve being aroused. Did you really fight him and got him mad to stimulate yourself? Oh god. Bucky was right. You wanted to fuck Steve.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. You quickly changed into your work out gear and rushed to the gym, intent on sweating out whatever feelings you might have for Steve. After all, nothing says fuck you like imagining someone’s face on a punching bag and just going to town on it. Thankfully, when you arrived the gym was empty.

You’d been working on your stretches for only a few minutes when your worst nightmare entered the gym. He probably had the same idea as you and froze the moment your eyes met. His blue eyes narrowed at you and you stood up straight. You hated Bucky for putting the thought in your head. Now all you could think of was tackling Steve to the ground and fucking him senseless. You still wanted to beat him, but in a very different way.

As Steve entered, his eyes fixed to your form, you decided it was time to leave. After that fiasco in front of Tony, you didn’t think yourself capable of talking to Steve. Staying alone with him was something you didn’t trust yourself with. So you picked up your bag and started for the door when his voice stopped you.

“Running away? Am I to believe that there is something that finally scares you?”

Anger, red hot anger simmered under your veins when you turned to face him again. He had a mocking smirk on his face that made you grit your teeth. His eyes, dark and challenging beckoned you to him, but they didn’t hold resentment there either. Something between you had changed today. The very air around you was different, thick with tension and apprehension that had your nerves tingling.

“Scared?” You scoffed, dropping your bag on the matted floor and walking until you stood right before him. He towered over you in height, but he’d never been able to actually look down at you. “Me, scared of you? You wish Rogers.”

One corner of his lips lifted up, and he put his hands on you. One hand hooked around your waist and pulled you closer, the other trailing a finger down the side of your face to your neck, following the path down your arm until his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Oh, I so do wish” He whispered and his lips met yours. You rose up on your toes, mashing your body against his and mapping the planes of his body with your palms. The smell of his sweat and soap surrounded you, your arms coming to hold him around the shoulders as he hitched you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

Like everything in your relationship, the kiss was explosive. You didn’t melt against each other like people do in books; you collided like two warring armies intent on conquering the other. You collided like night and day, basking your surroundings in the dawn and dusk of your lust. Steve took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, smiling as you shamelessly moaned.

“What do you say?” He asked, pushing you against the wall, his hardness digging between the heated center of your legs.

You pulled him closer, letting your lips trail over his jaw and neck before you branded him with a quick bite. “You’ve always been so aggressive Steve, let’s see you let loose some other way. I sure do hope you fuck better than you fight though, or I’ll just be disappointed.”

Steve growled, kissing you again as he ground his cock against you, trapping you between the wall and his hard body that prevented any escape. Your hands slipped under his t-shirt, meeting the firm muscles on his abdomen that rippled under you. He pulled back just enough to allow you to remove your clothes, his own being flung sideways without any care.

Even before, you’d never thought of Steve as anything but beautiful, but now, seeing him in all his glory, you could only look him up and down in appreciation. He was trembling slightly, as if holding himself back with effort, his eyes not leaving you for a second. You both looked at each other, naked and unashamed before frantically coming together. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your ass and thighs as his lips pulled at your breast.

Your fingers rolled his nipples softly until he moaned, and then you pinched them. He jerked under your touch, kicking the back of your knees so you collapsed down, and he covered your body with his. Anger, arousal, lust and longing, all emotions built together in a storm of incoherent desire that had you both rolling over each other, fighting for dominance and power. Steve pinned you down with effort, holding your wrists in one hand over your head as he gave a smug smile to you.

“Will you finally surrender today?” He asked, positioning his cock at your entrance that was drenched. You would have loved to taste him, to have him taste you, but as of now, all you wanted was for him to slide inside you. You hungered for him, burnt for his touch. For years you’d been left wanting, and now with the prize so near, you weren’t about to wait any longer.

“The only surrender today will be yours.” You whispered sweetly before slamming your head against his. Steve jerked hard in surprise, allowing you the opportunity to free your hands and roll over him. You sat on his pelvis proudly, his throbbing member right underneath you and as he blinked at you, stunned, you rose up over his tip and slowly sunk down.

Steve groaned as your wet channel fell like velvet heat along his shaft. You had never been so full before. He stretched your limits, as he had always done, and you decided you very much preferred rendering him speechless like this under you than your usual punches and throws. His hands dug into your waist, helping you bounce on his cock and you threw your head back at the feeling.

It was a beautiful ache, one that took your breath away. As you rolled your hips and clenched down there, Steve’s voice rose in appreciation and you grinned. You finally had the golden boy at your mercy. You fucked him, changing your pace to punish him, never letting him up. For every time he killed you, you bit on his lips and neck, marking him. It was punishment and cherishing, a culmination of feelings you didn’t understand.

“Touch me.” You brokenly said, and his fingers found your nub. The slapping of skin, the sounds of debauchery and the smell of sin filled the air. You leaned over him to meet his lips, the heat in your gut bubbling until you snapped and came atop him, falling blissfully. It was one moment of weakness and the world titled, Steve having finally pushing you on your back.

“You’ve always been strong, because I’d hate to break you when the fun has only just begun.” He said and thrust into you hard and fast. He was an animal in heat, a man possessed, and you didn’t mind one bit. You met his every thrust with a raise of your hips, you clawed at his back until he bled, your lips tasting of the salt of sweat and tears and desire. He brought you impossibly closer, looking right into your eyes as he took you.

For the life of you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t get enough of his grunts and moans, of the breathy whispers of your name that slipped between curses, of the way his lashes would flutter over the dark blues that kept your eyes captive. He had you completely in that moment, mind and body; and for some reason, his gaze felt infinitely more intimate than his cock that was currently spearing you open. You keened in pleasure, whimpering as he touched your overly sensitive clit and had you coming again.

A minute later, he twitched inside you, his warmth flooding your core and you sighed. You laid entangled and sweaty, both of you spent and tired and yet completely overtaken by the urge to be closer still. To think this is what you’d both missed for all these years.

“So, what do you say, still feeling aggressive?” Steve asked and you looked at him with a grin that you couldn’t have suppressed had you wanted to. Oh yes, some battles were never meant to end, but they sure could be altered to meet new demands.

“With you? Always.” You replied, kissing him deep until he couldn’t think of anything but you. “Just remember one thing.”

“Oh yeah, what?”

“I am still a better best friend to Bucky. I did fuck you to keep him happy after all.”

Steve frowned darkly and before you could blink, he was over you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I think this time I’d fuck some manners into you.”

“I think this time you should actually put your back into it. I did all the work before.” You taunted and he dived at you.

Meanwhile, in Tony Stark’s office

“Friday, what’s the score?” He asked smugly, offering Bucky the packet of blueberries. Bucky was sitting with his feet on the desk, a small smile on his face.

“I am afraid I am not at a liberty to say Boss.” Friday replied. If the AI could blush, she would.

“Seems like they are at an impasse.” Tony suggested, and Bucky shrugged, licking his lips.

“Well, some things never change.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #crack fic #i think lol

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blonde-in-charge · 3 years

Text

Wildcard (Steve) Chapter Two

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this adaptation of Wildcard for all my Steve readers. Please let me know if you enjoy it!

Summary: Steve Rodgers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson

Warnings: Mentions of blood/violence, Scars, Bed sharing

Words: 1.5k

Link to put yourself on the taglist

The elevator ride was silent on the way back to your floor. You were just so angry with yourself, you had no stamina when it came to your powers, even after training all day with Natasha and Tony. God forbid you joined in on missions, you would be killed on sight. You sighed loudly, your head was pounding. You checked your watch and realized it was past dinner time, fantastic. You couldn't wait to skip eating and go straight to bed. The elevator reached it destination and the doors slide open to reveal the floor you lived on to be completely dark and empty. You heard shuffling down the hallways and you had the urge to call out to Steve or Bucky. You remained silent and started to quietly make your way down the hallway. You heard shuffling and then felt a presence behind you. Before you knew what was happening, you had spun around to a looming figure over you and saw a glint of light in one of their hands. Knife.

It all happened so fast you barely registered that your body swung into action. You grabbed the assailant's arm and twisted the knife out of their hand before jumping up and wrapping your thighs around their neck. The man struggled clutching at your thighs, he slammed his back against the wall in an attempt to break your grip. Your head was pounding and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You used all the momentum you had to swing your body downwards with the man wrapped in between your legs to slam him into the ground. The assailant was unphased and finally managed to rip you off of his back and neck. You fell to the ground but scrambled to get up as quickly as possible. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see the outline of the man as he stalked around you. You turned and sprinted down the hallway into the living area and kitchen and heard the man follow close behind. You ran full speed at one of the support beams and kicked off of it to throw yourself at him. The man grabbed your throat out of mid air and threw you to the ground, knocking the air from your lungs. You were being held by your throat against the cold tile, you struggled with the man as he brought the knife to your throat. Clawing at his hand to try and release yourself, your vision started to fade to black. You haven't registered the elevator ding in the distance, or the heavy footsteps of someone running to you. The man above you disappeared as he was thrown off of you, you rolled over onto your side and sucked in a deep breath of fiery air. Your eyes had disappeared into flames that lit up the scene in front of you. Steve skillfully dodged every one of the assailants' advances on him, he drew back his arm and punched the man so hard he slammed into the wall behind him. You pushed yourself up off of the kitchen floor and walked to stand over the unconscious man. The generator kicked back on, making the lights flicker back to life. You let your eyes extinguish as you looked up at Steve, meeting his angry eyes that dissolved into concern as he took in your bruised figure. You sighed loudly and braced your hands against the island in the middle of the kitchen, you looked down over your appearance. Your old sweatshirt was torn down the right side exposing your burn scars from when you were captured. You heard more footsteps from down the hallway and you turned to meet Tony, Natasha, and Bucky, all three of them ran in ready to fight.

Bucky looked down at the man on the ground and then back at you, “What the hell happened here?”

You huffed out a laugh and threw your hands up, “Someone tried to murder me, you know casual life of an Avenger.” You walked over to the man on the floor and checked the pockets of his clothes, pulling out an identification card to a russian facility, HYDRA. You sucked in a breath and turned the card to show Steve, his eyes widened as you threw the card towards Bucky. You sighed and walked past them, “I’m going to bed.” You ignored the faint replies of your teammates as you walked towards your own bedroom. The door slid open and you took one step into your room before freezing. Your eyes scanned over your room, once neat and tidy, now looked as if a bomb had gone off. Your clothes scattered across the bed and floor, the sheets were ripped off of the mattress, files were scattered across your desk and floor. You backed out of the room silently and made your way down the hallway, and walked into the next bedroom. You entered the room, the smell of leather welcoming you. You opened the chest of drawers and pulled out an old grey tee shirt. You ripped the torn sweatshirt over your head and threw it to the side. You threw your sports bra aside and pulled the tee shirt over your head. You stepped out of the leggings and placed them in the hamper. You sat down in front of the desk, tracing the various marks of charcoal and paint. You reached out for the sketchbook, admiring the sketches of the city's skyline. You turned the page and stopped, your fingers grazing across the picture before you. It was a rough sketch of you sitting against the window in the living area, looking out into the street. You closed the book and sat back in the chair, tracing the initials S.R. on the front of the book. You stood from the chair and walked over to the large bed, burying yourself in the heavy comforter. You remained silent as you heard the door slide open and footsteps approach the bed. Steve peered over the mountain of blankets you were in and smiled slightly at you.

“Hey, kid. How are you feeling?” He pulled the blankets back to reveal your body as he started scanning you for injuries. His eyes fell on the deep purple bruise around your neck that was slowly fading as your body healed itself. You were sure your shoulder blades were bruised from being thrown against the wall and floor, but you ignored the discomfort. You grabbed for the covers remaining silent as you pulled them back up. Steve ran one hand through his blonde hair before continuing, “The man who broke in was a Hydra operative, he is in our custody and will be interrogated tomorrow. My guess is he was sent to find you or Buck, by the looks of your room, I think it's you.” You watched him pace as he spoke, you could tell he was nervous.

You never had to ask Steve to stay in his room anymore. Sometimes you would just come in, without saying a word and he knew you needed him. You hated to admit you were attached to Steve, he was the reason you haven't spun out of control. You watched Steve quietly as he undressed, getting ready for bed. You turned on your side towards the side of the bed Steve slept on. He circled the bed, “Friday, lights off please.”

“Goodnight, Captain.” The voice replied

The lights flicked off and Steve slid into bed, facing you. “Talk to me, I can’t read your mind in the dark.” The comment made you give out a sharp exhale that functioned as a laugh, Steve always seemed to know what you were thinking when he looked into your eyes. You had some sort of unspoken way of communication between the both of you.

You looked at Steve in the dark, “What if they are trying to take me back?” You voiced your fears out loud to the soldier, nothing really scared you anymore except the thought of being taken back to that god forsaken place.

Steve watched your outline in the dark, looking for the right words to say. He wanted to help you, tell you he would never let another soul lay another finger on you but he couldn't promise that. He reached out and pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I will do everything in my power to protect you.” You nodded at him silently and turned onto your back, “Please try and get some sleep, kid.”

You felt Steve shit over to you, he had flipped over on his stomach and moved close enough to where your sides were touching. He did this always for you, so you would feel grounded. You closed your eyes and tried to time your breathing with the soldier, counting each one.

Forever tags:

@pumpkenz

Wildcard Tags:

@lhiamelona-blog @buckyyyybaby

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #Steve Rogers x Female Reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #marvel imagine

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shinymooncolor · 4 years

Note

I love your sw chats! If you need prompts: something centered around Remus!

Thank you - I’m sorry in advance. This turned a little angsty. But we get happy again. Remus to the rescue - this team would not survive without him.

Characters and universe by @lumosinlove ❤️

My ever shining and supportive ra(e)s of sunshine @wxlfstxrx and @siriuslyqueer. This one is for you guysss.

Sweater weather chat #6

Kuny is hurt. Nado is scared. Kasey and Sergei plans a murder. Sirius is angry. Walker makes a burrito blanket. Remus is the best. Kris is a mom. Remus calls Nado Jackie. He’s the only one allowed to do that. Crouch Jr. is Russian (sue me). We all hate the 🐍

Wednesday 1.22 pm

Eliascookie: why are Nado and Kuny yelling again? They’ve been fighting all day.

Timmyforrealz: they’ve been arguing for TWO days about who’d be the wife in their weird bromance. Also - They’re both totally the wife. It’s weird.. 🤨🤨

Ollibear: well apparently some shop clerk thought they were a couple and nado is mortally offended that Kuny said they weren’t

Nadotheman: IT WAS THE WAY HE SAID IT. Like he wouldn’t be the luckiest fucker alive to land me.

KrisVolley: but you are both into women?

Nadotheman: I know. Still offensive to know you’re not your best mates first pick.

Blizzard: Well we all know that eventually, Kuny is going to marry some Russian model and nado is their live-in, grown-ass man child 😏

Prongstar: He’s probably going on the honeymoon too. It’s weird

Siriusly: are you ladies reaDy to get back home and have your pre game naps... We have a game tonight and I want to beat those snakes

Sergei_81: 💪🏻🤛🏼🦷😡

Blizzard: aye aye captain 😴🥱

RussianGod: hehe we kick ass today!!!

Prongstar: whoooop!!! Let’s end the snakes 🐍

Dumodad: go sleep my babies. We need to be on tonight.

—

Wednesday 8.33 pm

7 missed calls from Nado

Nado: Remus where are you? Can I come to the hospital

Nado: Remus please can I talk to him?

Nado: Remussss

Nado: Is he ok?

Nado: He was down re, for a long time.

Wednesday 9.02 pm

Remus: hey Jackie, he’s okay. It’s not a concussion. Please stop calling - I promise to keep you updated. They might let him come home tonight. He’ll be okay. Are you home? Is someone with you?

Nado: remus he was on the ice for a long time. Are you sure he’s okey? Why can’t I see him he needs me. He’s scared of needles and I know his ab negative!! Do they even have the right blood? I’m ab too I can help! Is someone talking to him? When they do the needle stuff just rub between his shoulders that calms him down and if he’s scared call him zhenya. That’s his Russian baby name!! It calms him. Remus please fix him.

Remus: these are some of the best sports doctors in the world, they know what they’re doing and they’re taking good care of Evgeni. Sergei is here, and he’s explaining everything to him in Russian ok? I’ll keep you updated! But I need to know if you’re alone? I think you should not be. Please take care of yourself ok?

——

Wednesday 9.13 pm

Kris: hey remus, I’m here. Nado is really freaking out. I drove him home but Olli and walker had to help me wrestle him into the car and into his house. Timmy is making us some food and Olli and Cap are trying to keep him from pulling out his hair. Is Kuny alright?

Remus: keep an eye on his hands, one of his ticks is scratching at his palms. They’ve scanned twice and it’s not a concussion. He’s got stitches both on his eyebrow and on his neck and he’s got to be out for a few days. I still don’t understand how he skated off. Tell Sirius to use his captain voice if needed.

Kris: yeah I’ve wrapped his hand up, they froze his knuckles at the rink but he’s kept fiddling with it. Walker rolled him into a burrito blanket and he’s quieted down a bit. But he’s not okay. Do you think Kuny can come home tonight?

Remus: I have to wait and hear, they said it’s depending on his x-ray - if it’s just a sprain in his hand he can come home so we’re just waiting. I’m glad no one here but Sergei understands Russian. I don’t think it’s very nice what he’s sayin.

Kris: fuck man. It was a bad hit. We’re rewatching. He was nowhere near the puck. Crouch and Nott fucking just came at him on purpose and if they don’t get a disciplinary I’m quitting the league. Cap crushed the remote... dirty snakes

Remus: I saw. It was a bad hit. I tried to get him on a stretcher but he insisted.

Wednesday 9.20 pm

Nado: he didn’t recognize me re... after he went down. He just looked at me and didn’t recognize me and I heard his head connect. His helmet was off before Nott threw him. How is he supposed to fight back when crouch swiped his leg?

Remus: I know. But even “just” hitting your head can cause some confusion and I promise you they scanned three times and he’s not got any concussion or bleeding. He’s tough ok? He’s asking if he can go home. Not very nicely might I add. And he flirted with a nurse. He’ll be ok.

Nado: but I heard it crunch. He was bleeding a lot. Is she cute?

Remus: I know, face cuts bleed a lot but he’s got quite a few stitches and he did well. He even got a lollipop and I’m pretty sure at least one phone number. Also Tall blonde with a nice smile.

Nado: is he coming home? Leave the nurse

Remus: I’ll let you know ok? Try and sleep! You’ll need it.

Wednesday 9.25 pm

Remus: hey kris. It sounds like they’re letting him come home. Sergei is going to drive us. Did you get Nado to go to bed? Also, I can stay over night. I think they both need a babysitter

Kris: I think we’re staying. Ava is with Anya and the kids and Olli is already crashed on the couch. Walker actually had to threaten Nado to stay in bed and he’s camped up next to him now. He’s not going anywhere. Timmy and I will crash in the guest room. Can Kuny sleep alone?

Remus: he’s on a lot of painkillers and he’s not entirely coherent. Sergei offered to stay with him to translate but I honestly think his English will come back once he’s slept and recovered a bit

Kris: their beds are like extra king size anyways. We can just make a sleep over in nado’s room. He’s gone and pulled down every blind and the house is dark. I’ve never seen him this stressed out.

Remus: yeha that might be best. Sergei says Kuny is asking for his brother. So I think it’s best for everyone. We’re leaving once Kuny gets his stuff back.

Wednesday 9.55 pm

Sirius <3: is he okay love? I drove here / do you need to stay or come home?

Remus ❤️: hey! He’ll be fine, not a concussion but he still hit his head prettt bad. I think they’ve set up a sleepover and he’s in good hands. I’ll be okay to go home.

Sirius <3: it was such a dirty hit. He was down for a long time. And that Pussy ref didn’t even call a major.

Remus ❤️: coach said he’s contesting it and demanding an inquiry. But it was bad. I wanted to punch his face in. Did you see crouch after? He was laughing.

Sirius <3: I know. I’ve never seen blizzard react like that. He actually tore Nott’s Jersey with his hands.

Remus ❤️: I know, let’s get Kuny to bed and we can go home. I need cuddles.

Sirius <3: me too. Re. Me too. It hurts every time. We would not function without you. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wednesday 10.33 pm

Siriusly: boys, Kuny is home. It’s not a concussion. He’s got a bad hit and stitches and he’s out for three days and a new scan. But he’s back home and sleeping now. I’m not sure how Walker or Nado can sleep with his snores. But he’s ok.

Prongstar: they made a sandwich?

Siriusly: I think kris called it a sleepover but yeah. I don’t think Nado would able to sleep otherwise and Kuny kept trashing until someone was on either side of him. It’s cute. I’ve got pictures.

Blizzard: open fucking season on Nott. Why the fuck did you pull me off @eliascookie? I wanted to punch his fucking disgusting face in. He deserved it!!! Kuny’s helmet was offf before they swiped his legs

DumoDad: kasey, you were right to fight him and he was over the line. But getting you suspended won’t help. We need to beat them through our game

Timmyforrealz: but it was a bullshit call?! I agree to open season on Nott and crouch. Fuck it all of those creeps. They could’ve ended his career ffs

Sunnysideup: I haven’t had a line brawl like that in years. Broke carrow’s nose. Felt good. I’m glad Kuny is ok.

Prongstar: I heard his head hit the ice. It was terrifying.

Bradygunz: how’s Nado handling this? I had to sit on him to hold him back from going after the ref.

KrisVolley: he’s asleep, I think. But it was a long evening. I know they’re not actually related but I swear they’re brothers somehow still.

Sergei_81: I want to kill crouch. He’s hurting on purpose

Sunnysideup: @sergei_81 did he actually say that or did I hear it wrong?

Sergei_81: he did. It was revenge

Siriusly: what??

Sergei_81: crouch was take off Olympic team for too much fight. Kuny got his a and this was revenge. He said so. He want Kuny out on purpose. He not like younger player get a.

Wednesday 10.55 pm

Remus: hi sergei, did you call Kuny’s parents? Did you get home okay?

Sergei: yes I call them. Tell what happneed. And I stay at house. Kuny needs me if he speak. I’m worried about Nado. He thinks his fault. He only pretend to sleep. Can u talk to him?

Remus: I’ll try. Thanks Sergei!

Wednesday 11.33 pm

Remus: hey Jackie, I know you’re not sleeping. I don’t want to call and disturb you but you can always talk to me, ok? It’s confidential as always and I’ve got your back alright. What happened today was not your fault.

Nado: I should’ve been out there with him. I could’ve helped him. Instead I was off somewhere in the other end he’s my line buddy and i failed him.

Remus: Nado you didn’t fail him. Did you see what sergei said? It was a planned hit. They wanted to take him out. It’s not your fault. Please promise me that you understand it’s not your fault.

Nado: he just looked at me. What if he doesn’t recognize me when he wakes up. Re he’s my best friend and I watched his head get smashed on the ice.

Remus: I know it’s hard. And it’s heartbreaking. But the doctor’s checked him ok? He asked for you - or well according to sergei he demanded to be sent home to his brother and cat. Alright, he knows you. Just let his head rest and recover and then you’ll be back to your antics in no time.

Nado: he’s snoring now. Guess something never changes.

Remus: get some sleep and tomorrow I’m gonna have a look at your hands ok?

Nado: thanks rem. Not sure what we’d do without you. ❤️

Remus: always, Jackie. You guys are my family as much as my actual family!

Nado: still gonna kill crouch and Nott. Not care about getting suspension.

Remus: I get it. I think you should see heather tomorrow.

Nado: can I just talk to you?

Remus: yeah, call me when you wake up ok? I don’t care how early. I’m not a professional though, Jackie.

—-

Thursday 8.22 am

Nado; he’s awake. Re. He remembers me. Thanks for fixing my best friend.

Remus: I’m glad to hear it, I’m coming over to check him ok? I’ll bring breakfast.

———-

#lumosinlove #sweaterweatheroc’s #sweaterweatherchats #sweaterweather #lumosinlove ocs #wolfstar #sweaterweatherchatnr6

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hoodedwing · 4 years

Text

Loyalty Killed Me

Summary: The Joker could finally do what he wanted to do, traumatize Nightwing

Characters: Nightwing. Harley Quinn. Joker. Mentions of Red Hood

Warnings: Just really sick ways of stitching people up. Blood. Depressive. Major character/s death mentions. Batman. Doctor Leslie Thompkins

Additional Notes: I know Joker cannot traumatize Grayson canon-wise? Please correct me if I’m wrong.

Word Count: 2,242 words

***

Time doesn't stop.

Time knows, in its hands. It plays around with the seconds. These seconds matter, someone dying, someone on the communicator whispering, ____ come get me. come get me, I can't go back.

Time doesn't freeze. Time does not have a cloak drapes around it in a timeless manner. Time does not walk in a regal manner and stroke your gaping wounds to cauterize them. Apply pressure because really, when did Time wait for you to stop the damned arterial spray? Have you seen first hand how much blood can spew, almost like a fountain from that serrated dagger?

Time has caught up with Dick Grayson, the Wonder Boy. The Nightwing Blüdhaven didn't deserve. The loving boyfriend/husband of Barbara Gordon. The first son of Bruce Wayne, Batman.

Batman. He doesn't know who's Batman. Not anymore.

3200..6400..12800..

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Remember, inhale slowly, inflate lungs. Let it circulate through. Let. Let it work.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters.

Pain.

Pain is relative. If you fuck with pain long enough, it won't fuck back with you. Pain spreads through him and he inhales deep, bigger breaths. Trying to drown out the searing ache. He succeeds, deceives his brain.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He knows how to lie, how to smile widely at the Blüdhaven precinct when shit goes down or still tell a joke or two when Damian is there.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He's a good man. Honest to goodness. He's fooled himself into thinking his left leg didn't feel on fire, he's successfully managed to stop gasping against the rattle of his chest, a rub or two might be the cause. Who knows?

BOY WONDER! SAD YOUR DEAREST BATMAN HASN'T COME TO SAVE YOU YET? WHY LOOK AT THAT.

Mistah J checks his watch and smiles, his crooked smile stares back at Richard.

Dick only looks away as the Joker's cold fingers run his slimy, skinny fingers along his body. He used to shiver under his touch in a bad way, he would gulp and squeeze his eyes shut, hunting for memories to dive into.

When he got Zitka. When his mother named him her Robin. When he went on patrol for the first time with the all mighty Batman. When he first met Jason. Then Tim. Then Damian. Then the nights they spent healing wounds, fighting together or just sleeping or Netflix.

Dick doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He doesn't even let out a humourless laugh or a quip. Dick clings onto a hope.

Batman. Come get me.

BOY WONDER IS STILL LIVING. WHY, THAT'S A JOY. COME OUT THERE LITTLE BLUE BIRD. YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN STAY IN THAT LITTLE BRAIN OF YOURS? WHEN YOU WAKE UP. THAT LEG WILL HURT. YOUR BLOOD WILL SPILL AGAIN ON THAT DARNED LITTLE CREST.

He doesn't care. The glorious speech does not make him flinch. He looks at the window, one thought crosses his cloudy vision.

Bruce (Dad), come get me.

LET'S HAVE SOME MORE FUN, SHALL WE. EVEN JAYBIRD PLAYED THIS GAME TOO. COME ON, HE HAD FUN. LET'S PLAY BLUE BIRD. BLUE JAY. HMM. I LIKE THAT.

Playtime.

Its always target practice. He would lie there and watch Harley swing her mallet here and there, sometimes too close to Dick and she would talk to him, so sweetly.

Aww, you wanna play too? Let's play together, shall we?

His face will clench up, his head will scream and suddenly everything is loud as Harley fires guns at targets and maybe shoot some arrows at Dick.

On lucky days, he's used as her gymnast prop.

I want to fly again. Batman I'm falling, please I'd like to fly again. My wings are clipping and I will rip. -

He falls asleep.

You can't call it sleeping. Dozing in and out of consciousness, he was neither awake or sleeping. A grey haze flittered across his vision. No sign of clarity. He still heard the rattle of his breath, the fire in his leg. The now warm abdomen.

He feels someone at his leg.

Harley Quinn was there, a sly smile as he feels a needle go in and out.

In and out. In and out.

In and out, in and out. You need to breathe Dick. In and out. In and out.

When he hears the door shut and a ricocheting silence, he peeks at his leg.

A sick suturing of his leg stabs with dental floss, a handiwork Harley was sure to boast later on. He doesn't care if it gets infected. What's the big deal? Batman will take care of it.

He turns over on his side to his communicator lay. The Nightwing emblem was shattered beyond measure. No matter, I can get a new one. The communication mattered.

He presses the distress signal again, again. Again. Bruce better get that flashing orange light and he should feel his bipolar touch in no time.

He tries to talk, voice hoarse from decreased usage and a rough sandpaper-like quality stuck to it.

"H..hello? Bruce. Dad. Please get me. I'm.. I'm waiting. Please."

He turns back in his side, curled up like an invited animal.

The rain pours, shadows keep coming in and out but none belong to his dad.

The boy asks the moon if Batman had lost his way. Asked if the moon could shine the light brighter at him so Dad can find him faster. He'll be okay, he'll be okay. Bruce might be lost, after all. There's a lot of streets and time isn't on anyone's side.

Two weeks go by.

Dick still finds himself bound by the ties and definitely no sign of the caped crusader.

Batman is surely coming.

That thought fades slowly, over the weeks. He's gotten more used to the Joker and the crowbar.

Is this how Jason felt, when he was in Hell?

Dick cannot remember. Dick only knows how the sound of metal and bones work, how the bullet will hit skin, pierce it through with frightening velocity and dull ache afterwards. The pool of blood will remind him that yes, I was shot.

A sick game of Russian Roulette. Instead of one bullet, there's multiple. A .44 magnum shouldn't hurt anymore. The revolver keeps spinning in his mind where acrobats should be. Where's Bruce. Where's dad. Am I forgotten?

Dick tried to remember how to breathe. Is it that hard? Just pulling in oxygen and letting the respiration mechanism do its work?

Distract thine self.

He tries to remember. Tries. He's trying. Nightwing has to do this. You need to at least remember your name. Your mother, your father. Dick. Dick.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful but I don't know what her hair colour is, sometimes it's blonde or chestnut and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters. Are they Jason? Tim? Da- I don't remember, I don't remember the tiny one. Is he even real? Your sisters too. Stephanie, Stephanie. I have one more, the sneaky one. She's fast but I don't know her name. I'd like to know her well too. Pity I. I don't know her name. I hope she knows my name. That way I can hear her voice and maybe figure out who is the charming one. I know she does ballet. I know she made brownies once with.. Who? I don't remember his name. The old man with cheery wrinkles and deep eyes. I don't know who he is too. Oh. Oh oh. Dick.

[DANGEROUS TO FALL ASLEEP, RICHARD JOHN 'DICK' GRAYSON. EYES. OPEN. EYES. OPEN. BREATHE. (MY LUNGS DON'T WORK)]

I'm begging someone, please. It doesn't have to be Bruce. Get the ballet girl to help me please, she fast and maybe I can ask her name while she gets me out of here.

Bruce never gives up.

You know that too, do you? He's spent 3 weeks finding his son. His beloved child.

Do you ever think how much Bruce's heart breaks over and over everyday?

"ALFRED?! CAN YOU GET JASON NOW, NOW, NOW?! I FIGURED HIS COORDINATES."

Bruce flips from the Batcomputer and grabs everything. A blind haste, he's never dressed so fast. His son. Oh my god, his son.

Jason is down there getting the Batmobile to rev up and they speed.

They speed.

Are they fast?

I guess. If you call 290 in 85 fast.

They run, Jason dashing first and his breath catches in his throat. A cold draught erupts inside of him. He snarls, Bruce turns as he digs through the alleyways. He finds what he knows lurks.

"The sick fucker is going to end Dick in the same fucking warehouse he ended me in. That big bitch.

Bruce puts one hand on his shoulder and squeezes. No time to panic, Dick is the one. is the unsaid message as Jason crashes through the window.

And even him, Red Hood. The one who sees and commits murder everyday, stops and hot anger sears through him.

Dick lies, barely 15 feet away, bound up and covered in his own blood, the ripped Nightwing suit from his recon mission. Bruce picks him up while Jason gladly punched (and secretly plugged a bullet) the fuck out of Mistah J and Harley.

They lie on unconscious, Jason evaluates the scenes, trying to suppress his screams at what they've done to Grayson.

Bruce picks up Dick like he's glass, he hurries to the Batmobile with Jason telling to prepare the Medbay.

"The Medbay.. I.. I don't think. Leslie. Leslie can."

Is all Bruce says and Jason revs up, driving the Batmobile way beyond the legal limit. Bruce doesn't give a flying banana about it. He'll pay the fine later.

Bruce looks down at his son, hoping he hasn't fallen asleep yet. Finally, finally Dick is in the arms of the crusader. Half his domino mask is ripped and Bruce tries to not break at the baby blues staring without any light-hearted gaze.

His heart still beats (A reminder he's alive and could've been more alive. Bruce failed him)

"LESLIE. DR THOMPKINS!"

Jason screeches across and marching in, earning angry stares from the other patients but it turns into gasps and horror when they see Batman carry a limp Nightwing barely clad in spandex anymore. Everyone bows out, knowing they were priority.

Something inside Dick broke.

He doesn't know what it is.

He'll live with it.

"Bruce, he's fallen into a coma."

Leslie says, solemn. Angry tears form in Jason's eye and he was about to fight Bruce, give him the tirade. Compare him to Nightwing.

The unspoken message rings loudly in Bruce's mind. He doesn't need Jason to say it.

You failed him too.

Jason is seething, anger. Sadness a d everything is violating him from inside.

If you were a minute later, he would've died. We would've been carrying his body to the grave. The Joker would still live. You see the problem? DO YOU NOT SEE THE FUCKING PROBLEM?

Bruce sits beside Dick, his pulse like a fluttering butterfly. He grasps his hand in Duck's fragile one and prays.

Prays that he wakes up.

Dick is on a life support machine now.

I guess the ventilator couldn't keep him up. All good boys do die. If not, maybe a part of them broke.

Dick is no exception.

Alfred squeezes Bruce's hand. Jason sits so quietly beside him alongside the rest of the family.

Its April 27th. Jason was taken this day.

They don't say a word, neither does Red Hood, he just wants the baby blue eyes to open again.

He cries.

Five months have gone by and he stirs slowly.

He's barely moving and Jason shoots up and looks, squeezes Dick's hand again.

Baby blues meet emerald green.

Jason dashes for Leslie. She comes and shoos everyone out.

Jason is fucking glad. Dick is alive.

Bruce is disappointed.

He cannot bring himself to meet Dick who's currently in the ward under observation. He's failed Dick. He knows it.

He enters, heavy hearted. Dick is smiling at everyone but Bruce can see it, the hard lines. The sunshine doesn't reach the baby blues. He thinks they've turned into aquamarine, a shade tad too dark. I guess, that's what trauma does to people.

Dick smiles at Bruce, he feels the tension and Dick pats the chair beside him where Jason was sleeping. Bruce softly sits, he has no heart to wake Jason up.

Dick is alive. Dick is alive.

Bruce places one hand on Grayson's one, it feels much more warmer and his pulse is beating normally.

And he breaks.

He cries, tears steaming down his cheeks. An ugly sound escapes his throat. Bruce gasps in air and exhales shakily. Dick watches, silent.

Is this how you felt when I was in Hell?

Dick doesn't touch Bruce, doesn't say its okay and I'm alive. He stares dead into Bruce.

I cannot forgive.

Dick sits quietly, he doesn't have to say it. Loyalty does kill you in the end if you step on all the wrong pieces of glass.

That's when you find yourself falling from the trapeze line, you find yourself swirling again in the memories you wish you could lock.

Loyalty in the end, is your demise.

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buccigang-headcanons · 4 years

Text

La Squadra Backstories!!!! Stream of consciousnesss style!

So literally I just sat down and wrote down exactly what I thought. I have not edited these at all lmaooo. But I made long drawn out backstories for our underrated assassins so enjoy!!

T/W + C/W - idk I talk about people dying in a lot of ways. Child abuse, drugs, severe illness, dead cats. This stuff is a mess I really didn’t censor it. But nothing is described in detail cuz I’m too lazy for that.

————

Prosciutto cuz he’s at the top of my mind. Mmkay he and Pesci are brothers but not by blood. Pro was an orphan, I still wanna make him Russian, and pesci’s extremely kind and gentle family adopted him when he was like 7. They were like literally a garden catalogue family. Perfection. The parents died when pro was like 15, Pesci was 13?? Idk the age difference I’m just making shit up now. And Pesci had no fucking idea what to do, they didn’t have any other family, and pro was like “I’m still basically a hardened criminal from living on the streets of russia most of my childhood, so joining the local mafia should be a piece of cake”. It was.

Risotto..... fuck it. Polpo is risottos dad. I’ve seen that so much and fuck it I’m here for it now. Idk how I feel about the whole Mariah from part 3 being his mom that seems too coincidental. But either way, he is half Spanish. I don’t think he’s ever been in touch with his Spanish roots at all, but that’s what he is. Polpo had too much fun on vacay in Spain. But it was a once night stand and polpo, a skinny king back in the mid 70s, fucked off to do mafia stuff and didn’t know about this kid. Risotto never knew his father. Time goes by, about the time he’s 10, rizzo’s mom moves to Italy to find the man she once loved. Since the 70s, she has been married and divorced 4 times, disowned by her entire family, and she speaks only of Polpo, the man who swept her off her feet and then disappeared into the night. Leaving only this child with his matching eyes. So they live in Italy, risotto is about 13 now and his mom has been searching seriously for polpo for about 3 years. One day, she gets too close, mafia takes her out. Risotto is all alone in a country he has lived in for less than 3 years. So he decides to take revenge against the mafia. He goes to hunt them down. (I’m too lazy to write out how. Gets a gun. Basically the scene in part 5 where the kid is like “you killed my father and now I’m gonna kill you!!” But he chickens out???) yeah except rizzo didn’t chicken out, he stood firm and killed 2 of them. The other 2 surrendered, and immediately asked rizzo to take polpos test. He did. And he unknowingly met his father, the man his mother had died looking for. He stared into his fathers eyes, black sclera reflecting each other, and passed his test with ease.

Wowwwwwwwww alrighty then that was something. Let’s shake out those jitters because fuck that was intense and let’s move onto some happy shit.

Melone!! Always a bottle of joy. He was a phenomenal student, a perfect child. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, perfect looks. Onlyyyy tiny thing is he murdered cats and buried their heads in the back yard. But that was his only flaw. Aaaaaaaand mayyybe trying to use his extensive knowledge of molecular biology and genetics (even at as young as 11) to asexually breed said cats.

But, apart from that, absolutely perfect specimen of a young boy. And he kept that up until college. Until the rape accusation. Melone had no interest in having sex with her, he swore under oath in open court, he only wanted to “extract her essence” in the hopes of making her amazing genetics stay pure for centuries.

Due to his previously amazing school record, he was allowed to plead not guilty by reason of insanity (because the justice system is bullshit) and was released to his parents. During this whole process, Melone’s mother had begun to grow suspicious of her son, wondering if there was something wrong with him. This led her to explore the crawl space under the garage, more commonly known as “Melone’s childhood laboratory”. The cat skulls alone were enough to set her off. They allowed him into their home long enough to fool the court, but parole officers don’t pay attention, and they kicked him to the curb a month later. Broke, alone, and with no real skills other than his genius mind and gorgeous body, he became a prostitute. It was only a few months before he wandered up to a gigantic white haired man with angry eyes and asked if he wanted a date. Instead of declining, our good ol rizzo just knocked him out cold and brought him home. The rest is history. Literally because I can’t think of what would happen between that and Melone joining the mafia. I assume he was just their house pet for a little while before he decided he wanted a stand too.

Oh good lord these are getting insane. Better keep going. Okay I have no idea what’s about to come out of my head for ghia but oh Lordy. Might as well start. Ghiaccio wasn’t always quite as angry, but it’s actually gonna be a sweet story. Kinda. He used to act perfect, even tho he always felt the anger inside. He was forced to bottle it up and put on a happy exterior always. His mother was Belgian. (From experience, Belgian mothers (Flemish in particular) will beat you until your ass is raw if you talk back). Italian father, they lived in italy. He had 4 sisters, he was the middle child of 5. Around high school, he started acting out. Of course this was due to all of his bottled up anger from the past 15 years. 4 shattered sinks, 16 holes in the drywall, and one classroom fire later, Ghiaccio was expelled from school. His parents were too busy brimming with joy about the success of all his sisters that they didn’t take much notice to him. “If you’re going to behave in such a manner you might as well leave” his mother said. She was past the point of caring enough to beat him. So he left. 16 and with no where to go, he wandered the streets. After a year or so, Ghia had gotten used to that life, and was angry at everyone, sometimes when he wasn’t even angry. Anger had become his coping mechanism. Screaming was easier than talking. Until one day, he screamed at a blonde man in an intersection. Prosciutto was driving back to the squads hang out, boxes of takeout in the back seat of the car. He had chosen to not stop at the red light, just for fun, and nearly ran into our blue haired teenager. Ghia proceeded to cuss him out for a good 4 minutes in the middle of this intersection before pro cut him off. “Get in the back. “ he said, with his own special brand of brotherly love. “I know how you can put that anger to good use”. Ghiaccio, having no real reason to object, got in the back seat. Prosciutto was silent the rest of the drive and Ghiaccio yelled about all the take out food, now splattered on the backs of the seats due to the sudden slam on the brakes.

Y’all I don’t even remember the other la squadra members. Let’s do sorbet/gelato because they have zero backstory or personality so I can just ramble. *Clears throat* let’s begin. These fuckers. Friends since birth. Grew up together, always really close. They were both dirt poor, but because the only school nearby was a decent public school, when were able to slightly experience middle class living. They liked it. They wanted to see upper class, and once they did, they wanted to be there. These two were money grubbing bffs, I’m talking josuke and okuyasu, but like waaaaay more intense and also violent. They both left home around 14, together of course. Gelatos father had left them a few years prior, and his family were on the brink of starvation. Figuring they didn’t need another mouth to feed (and completely abandoning his post as family patriarch lol) he left with sorbet, who’s family had all died in various ways over the years. Most recently, his older sister being taken by some illness that was probably easily treatable, but with no means for a doctor, she died in days. The boys left home and school, and made a living by pickpocketing tourists and occasionally launching into larger heists. They made a decent living for themselves, but eventually started spending their money on drugs. It’s was sorbet first, heroin was really good to him for awhile. Gelato was against it, knowing it was the reason sorbets family had been so poor to begin with. His father was an addict, and despite holding down a job fairly well, spent all his earnings on drugs. Eventually he became too dependent, lost his job, and OD’d. But around this same time, when the boys were 16/17, they were starting to realize their feelings for each other. Confused teenaged minds full of budding love led to Gelato giving in, and soon their days were filled with heroin fueled ecstatic sex. They lived like this for awhile, existing in half reality, until one day they chose to set their pickpocketing targets on a short man with close cropped gray hair. The plan was perfect, sorbet bumped into the man and gelato passed by to grab his wallet, and suddenly they were the size of mere ants. In an instant, they were returned to size, left to wonder if it was real or just a hallucination from long term drug use. But they didn’t run. Formaggio introduced himself, with a loose handshake and a pause to spit out some tobacco, and promptly invited them to a “party”. Although, Formaggio was honest in his promise, this party did have drugs.

Cheese boys turn!! Seriously who am I forgetting??? Illuso my mirror man! Am I forgetting someone else too?? Idk. But shut up Kel it’s cheese boys turn.

So. Formaggio. Probably the most chill childhood. Lower middle class, pretty average, but he was quite gifted with sports. Soccer was his main, and also a fantastic competitive swimmer. (Okay I have a separate hc that Bruno is really good at soccer so hol horse up a moment so I can imagine those 2 playing soccer together in friendly competition. In my lil au where Bruno is in la squadra because I say BruPro exes rights please and thanks.) but anyway, he got really good at soccer and was offered a scholarship to play at a fancy pants private high school when he was 14. Of course his parents made him go, this has been the family’s dream for years, and formaggio’s as well. So high school is amazing, he’s starting to attract attention from universities even tho he’s barely in grade 11 by this point. And it’s all really amazing until he realizes. This isn’t what he wants. And it’s just that. He doesn’t want to play soccer anymore, he doesn’t want to potentially be famous. He just wants to be a kid. So he leaves school, he leaves home, he wants to start over. And he wanders into a diner and sees this small group of weirdly dressed men. At this point, it’s rizzo, pro, Pesci, and ghia. And he’s staring at them because they’re dressed like circus clowns but their aura is so murderous. And then the one who looks like a giant pineapple starts staring back. Pesci gets up and walks over to Formaggio. “I know you! You’re that amazing kid soccer player!!” And he just goes on and on about shit he read in the news (70% of it was false) until pro comes over and yanks his idiot brother away. Pro starts asking Formaggio questions, thinking he could be a good target. Stupid little rich kid. But to prosciuttos surpise, Formaggio is just a down to earth kid with no more money to his name than he needs to pay for this meal. Prosciutto takes him home after that. He doesn’t really offer any explanation.

(The rambling at the beginning of this paragraph actually happened lol so I paused for like 4 hrs oops)

Alright we are back. Had to leave to go to therapy and then scream at my mother and cry to my boyfriend but we are ready to go! Illuso and I really hope he’s the last one and I’m not forgetting one. Illuso was raised in an orphanage from infancy. No idea who his parents could even be. Fun fact: one of the nuns at the orphanage (cuz it’s an orphanage in Italy in 1980, they’re catholic.) nicknamed him Illuso because he was always pointing at things that weren’t there. As a tiny baby and a child, he would always be looking at things no one else can see (yes illuso is a natural stand user fight me). The nuns called him illuso as an insult, hoping to shame him into stopping. He never did. When he outgrew the orphanage, he decided to join the priesthood. He was 19, a priest in training, when the mafia came to the orphanage. They were collecting, and illuso knew they didn’t have the money this month. He tried to talk the mobsters down, but that went about as well as planned. 4 bullets to the chest, 3 open heart surgeries, and half a dozen resuscitations later, Illuso was released from the hospital. The orphanage had been shut down, and no one knew what had happened to the children or the nuns. With no where to go, illuso knew of one place that could use talents like his. The talents of steadily stealing money from the starving children of the church for a decade. It was during polpos test that illuso’s stand manifested. Not due to the arrow, but to protect its user from the other stand. Illuso was able to avoid Black Sabbath by hiding in his newfound mirror world until it was time to return the lighter to polpo (kinda cowardly but whatever.) he was assigned to risottos group by chance and was the last to join excluding Melone. But they loved him as if they had found him themselves.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #la squadra #Melone #ghiaccio #Formaggio #illuso #sorbet #gelato #risotto Nero #prosciutto #Pesci #jojo part 5 #jjba

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ejzah · 4 years

Text

A/N: And we’re back once again with another chapter, based off of Deliverance. The drama continues.

***

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 18

“Hey Deeks, this is Kensi,” Kensi said, pausing to rub her lower lip. No one was in the bullpen, but she lowered her voice all the same. “Um, if you get this message, give me a call back.”

She’d never had to ask him to call her back before, but she wasn’t sure after last night. Despite claiming that he was fine, Deeks had remained quiet for the rest of the night.

Kensi knew she’d hurt him with her rebuff. She knew that she probably could have handled it better, but she hadn’t expected him to take it so hard. A little part of her was angry that he was. From the beginning, Kensi made it clear that she wanted their relationship to be out of the office and he’d agreed.

Mostly though, she was worried. They’d parted ways in the parking lot, even though it was still fairly early and they usually spent most evenings together. It felt strange to go home without him, especially without resolving their differences.

“I totally won,” Callen said, interrupting her contemplation as they came back from the gym. She grabbed a random stack of files and opened her laptop. Fortunately, they were to focused on their debate to notice her preoccupation.

“It wasn’t a fair throw. Eric distracted me,” Sam disagreed.

“You just don’t want to admit that I’m Champion of the World.”

“Damn right. I want a rematch.”

Deeks walked in then, his thumbs tucked in the pockets of his jeans. Kensi straightened, her attention laser focused on his every move. She saw his eyes flick her way before he looked away, and made a beeline for his desk.

Sam and Callen were still bickering and didn’t noticed the unusual tension between them. Or that Deeks was being uncharacteristically quiet.

Kensi tried to catch his eye again, but he purposely busied himself with logging into his laptop and fiddling with pens and paper until Callen turned to him, pulling him into his and Sam’s conversation.

“Deeks, you’re a lawyer,” he said unexpectedly. Deeks raised a wary eyebrow.

“Yes...”

“When playing for Champion of the World, would you say that a distraction is grounds for a free throw?” Deeks pursed his lips at Callen’s questions, his eyes narrowing consideringly.

“Is there anything in the rulebook?” he asked.

“We don’t have a rulebook,” Sam said, sounding annoyed.

“And therein lies your problem.” Deeks grinned. “Always have a rulebook.”

“The rules are verbal,” Callen explained, nodding in Sam’s directions. “Which you agreed upon.”

“Then that settles it,” Deeks decided. “Callen is officially the Champion of the World. Between the two of you.”

“Wait, you’re not implying that you could beat us, are you?” Sam asked incredulously.

“I played in high school and I was pretty good.”

“Oh, you’re on. I definitely am looking forward to whooping your ass.”

“I’m afraid any ass whooping will have to wait,” Eric interrupted, his expression grim. “Hetty just called. Branston Cole and his nurse were murdered.”

As they rushed upstairs, it didn’t escape Kensi’s notice that Deeks had successfully avoided speaking to her completely.

***

“You didn’t text me this morning,” Kensi said quietly as they drove to Cole’s nursing home.

“Yeah, I uh, I got busy,” he said, shaking his hair into his eyes. “Sorry.” He had been busy, but he’d let it consume him more than usual. He’d wanted and needed the distraction of work.

“I know you’re annoyed with me-“

“I’m not annoyed.”

“Ok, then hurt,” Kensi amended. He couldn’t deny than and chose to look out the window instead. Usually he preferred to approach issues head on rather than letting them fester, but this time he didn’t know if talking would help.

“I know we agreed to keep our relationship quiet, but it feels like we’re doing something wrong. And I hate that. I want to be able to go places without worrying that the wrong people will see us,” he explained. “I don’t like hiding.”

“You knew this wouldn’t be easy.”

“I did. But I didn’t realize it would be this hard.” He saw Kensi’s eyes flick his way before she focused on the road, her mouth set. “I didn’t think I’d care about you this much so quickly.”

Kensi made a noise at his quiet admission. It should have be a joyful moment, but all he felt was dread.

“So what are you saying?” Kensi asked in a small, tight voice that sounded nothing like her. He hesitated, unsure if he should keep his thoughts to himself. But he’d stayed up to the wee hours contemplating what he should do.

“I think I, we, should take some time to re-evaluate what we really want,” he said, glancing over at Kensi. She was looking forward, her jaw set.

“Fine,” she said tightly.

“Kens-“

“I think we should focus on the case now.” He sighed again, wondering how he had screwed everything up so completely in just a few hours.

***

“Go! Go!” Kensi shouted as she ran to the SUV and climbed in. He had no idea where he was supposed to go exactly, but Callen’s instructions had been to escape and evade.

He floored the gas pedal as one of the vehicles made a hasty turn and sped after them.

“You ok?” he asked Kensi, glancing at her briefly while he made a rushed and poorly executed turn from the wrong lane, nearly missing a taxi.

“I’m fine.” He made another hairpin turn and Kensi hastily put on her seatbelt. “Just don’t get us killed.”

“You’re lack of faith in me hurts,” he joked, smirking. For the first time that day, the tension between them was noticeably absent. It was just too bad that it took a car chase and possible death to do it.

The car chasing them swerved around, trying to cut him off, but Deeks managed force them into a parked garbage truck.

“Oh! That looked painful!” he said as Kensi stared at him in shock.

“Deeks! Look out!” she shouted as a second vehicle appeared in front of them out of nowhere. He just barely stopped in time to avoid crashing. Kensi yanked the glove compartment open and tossed her spare gun at him, climbing out of the SUV. Deeks got out on the other side, the gun weighing heavily in his hand. They used the doors as cover as three armed Russian men exited the other vehicle.

“Give us the book,” one of the men said unceremoniously. Deeks glanced at Kensi over the top of the SUV, wondering what her plan was. If it came down to a shoot-out, he wouldn’t be able to hold his own. And they both knew it.

“We don't have it.” Kensi told him.

“Purse.” She threw it across to the blonde Russian and he quickly dumped it out.

“Told you,” she said when only her personal items fell out.

“Then get in the car,” the first man said.

“Uh-uh,” Deeks said without even thinking. He saw Kensi’s head turn his way out of the corner of his eye before she caught herself. “She's not going anywhere.”

“Deeks.” Her voice was quiet enough that he didn’t think they could hear her, but Deeks definitely caught the note of warning.

He didn’t really care. He wasn’t about to let her go off with some guys who would kill her in the blink of an eye. Especially once they found out there wasn’t a stupid black book.

“Then four of us die, and one of us lives,” the first man said, not sounding overly concerned. That probably had something to do with them being outnumbered.

“He's got a point. All right. Take me.” Kensi did turn to him then, apparently astonished by his suggestion.

“Deeks.” There was a wealth of meaning in her voice and Deeks noticed the first gunman follow the exchange eagerly.

“She's just a cop. You know? She's not even an agent,” he said flippantly. “Tell you the truth, no one really even likes her that much. You know, too pretty for her own good. Kind of a snob.”

“Get in the car.” His heart hammered in his chest at the Russian’s instructions, his fingers sweaty as they clamped uselessly around Kensi’s gun.

“Kensi, don't move,” he ordered her, knowing deep down that she wouldn’t listen to him.

“Nice try, Deeks.” She lowered her weapon, disarmed, and tossed it in the passenger seat of the car.

“Kensi.” He was pleading with her not to go, even though he knew there was little choice. If she didn’t, they’d both be shot. He glanced at her and she managed a tiny smile.

“It's okay. You'll get me back,” she said, locking eyes with him. It was just for a moment, but the faith he saw there nearly made him gasp. What if he couldn’t?

She didn’t give him time to protest anymore, joining the Russians.

“Tell your superior, her life for the book,” the Russian said.

“I’ll figure out a way to get you back, Kensi,” he promised as they roughly shoved her into the vehicle. “Kensi!” One of the Russians shout out the tires in the SUV and he swore as they took off.

He felt nauseous and had to swallow harshly to stop himself from throwing up. Leaning against the now useless vehicle, he pulled out his phone with shaky fingers and dialed Eric’s direct line.

He didn’t even let Eric finished his greeting before he started speaking.

“Eric, I got a license plate for you. It's Nine-Queen-John-Item, Nine-Zero-Five.” His voice shook at the end and his knees felt ready to collapse. “They got her. I let them take Kensi.”

***

A/N: I think this is part 18, but I might be wrong.

#ncis la fanfiction #the agent and the lawyer #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #au #part 18 #ejzah fanfiction

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42wallaby-way-sydney · 7 years

Text

I really need to get back to writing my soulmate au

#not like anyone other than maybe for people are even reading it #its quite discouraging #hence why it hasnt been touched in forever yeet!#also ive been busy with work and life #ot4: russian roulette #mattimir #widow wives #exasperated redheads #raging russians #angry blonde murder russians #naïve heroes/petty betties #text post #im tired and rambling and re reading over what ive got written for the next chapter #and on the one hand im like 'ooh nice' on the other i want to just delete it lololol

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dark-and-kinky-hetalia-scenarios · 4 years

Text

Russian soldier x Romania

Chapter 2

~8 years later~

You and your sister had managed to avoid the orphanage and the police for several years now, you managed to get by and get enough food for both you and Sky, you survived by being a thief, and you had become very skilled at it the last eight years. In the start it was petty thievery, you stole from strangers as your sister distracted them. But now you were a fullflegde thief, breaking into people’s houses and selling the valuables on the black market or more so to shady pawn shop owners who don’t care where they get their merchandise from.

You had been looking at a house where five guys lived, you assumed they were either family or good friends, maybe a mix of both. You had been watching their routine closely and therefore you knew the best time to make your move. You sneaked over to the house when you knew they were all asleep, you took out your lock pick set and started picking the lock, after many years of training you found it to be easy. There was a little sound as the door got unlocked, you grinned and silently snuck inside.

What you didn’t know was the house was filled with magical traps, and since you were suppressing your magic, you couldn’t sense them.

You stepped into the room and then you felt something cold wrap around your leg and pull you into the air, you made a loud yelp in surprise as you were now hanging upside down from the ceiling.

There trap set off an alarm and the five men hurried downstair and found you hanging upside down from the ceiling

“Who are you, thief?!” a blond male yelled while pointing a rifle at you.

You panicked

“Don’t shoot! I uh I can explain!”

Another blond haired man stepped in front of the short blond man, he had weird spiky hair.

“Let’s not rush this, we don’t have to shoot this girl. I bet there’s an explanation for it all” the tall spiky haired man said in an attempt to calm the short and angry blond.

“Step aside, she’s a thief!” the short blond man shot back.

“Doesn’t mean you have to shoot me!” you tried to argue for the sake of not being shot by the angry midget, who was in fact not that short, but calling him a midget in your head made you feel slightly less frightened.

You didn’t notice that strange blond man with a curl looking at you, he could sense your magic running wild inside you, yet you somehow managed to suppress it. He used his magic to get you down on the ground, but he made sure you were stuck to the floor. The blond midget with the rifle look at you”

“Why are you here?” the blond midget asked, with a much calmer voice.

“I thought that was obvious… to steal, like all the other homeless kids” you were shitting your pants in fear of getting shot and possibly getting turned over to the police.

The blond man looked at your neck and saw your bloodline tattoo

“As I thought, a Midnight”

You vaguely remembered that name as being what your mother told you your last name was, but you didn’t remember its meaning

“Yes? what’s so wrong about that?”

The man looked puzzled at you before answering.

“Your bloodline is supposed to be dead”

Painful memories of your parents being brutally murdered and burned came pressing hard on your mind, you didn’t want to remember. You hid your pain behind some snark.

“Hey, it’s not like they haven’t tried. But we’re not dead, only our parents are”

“the two sisters…” the blond with the curl mumbled, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

You didn’t like that he knew about Sky, things were getting a little too close for comfort, you narrowed your eyes in paranoia.

“How do you know?”

The man was no longer lost in his thoughts. “Your family is a famous bloodline”

You growled and were panicking a little

“You sound like a stalker”

The man sighed and looked like a tired old man, even though he was clearly pretty young, of course not as young as you.

“I’m not a stalker, many in the magical world know about your bloodline”

Magical world? you thought to yourself, now you were starting to suspect the man was on drugs, there was no such thing as magic.

“You don’t believe me I see” the man said in a monotone voice which told you nothing of what he was thinking.

“I have no reason to, just like you have no reason to believe anything I say”

The man looked at you, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking

“If you don’t believe me, then there’s nothing holding you down”

You sent him a confused look, not understanding what he meant, although you did notice that you were still sitting on the ground.

“Try to get up from the floor” he urged you with his monotone voice.

You thought he was stupid, but as you tried to get up, you found that you were unable to move upwards, you just looked at the man with the curl. Confusion was painted on your face.

“Magic is holding you down” he said but you didn’t believe him

You growled “Why are you trying to convince some random thief that magic is real?”

The man sighed.

This was getting too weird for your taste.

The man walked away and took a book from a bookshelf, he went over to you and used magic to turn to a page. Now you were starting to wonder if you were the one on drugs.

“look at the page” the man urged you monotonously.

You rolled your eyes and looked at the page, it described the Midnight bloodline and a prophecy of two sisters, you thought it was creepy, why did this man have such a weird book and why was he showing it to you?

“Normal people don’t have books like this” you said, looking at him like he was some sort of weirdo stalker.

“explaining what we are would be unbelievable. But i can tell you, I’ve met a fair share of Midnights”

Now you were starting to be concerned for his well being, he couldn’t have met your ancestors. He sighed and did something that you couldn’t really make sense of, but you were suddenly free from the floor and you jumped up, though your legs were cramped.

“We’ll let her go” the man said, much to your surprise. The man with the rifle didn’t seem happy as he looked at you

“Fine, but don’t come back you thief”

You were relieved and did not notice the youngest of the five had snuck up close to you. The young man with violet eyes snapped your eyepatch off before you could react. Your blood red eye was revealed and you quickly grabbed the eyepatch from his hands. The blond man with the curl didn’t look surprised

“Blood red eye, I thought it was that”

But before he could say anymore, you had already bolted for the door and run off, far away from those weird people.

#russian soldier #hetalia #aph hetalia #aph nordics #APH Norway #APH Finland #APH Denmark #APH Sweden #APH Iceland #reader x romania #reader insert #reader

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dontcare77ghj · 5 years

Text

Sickness, Health & Injury

Natasha x reader x Bucky x Steve

Masterlist Sleep Series Masterlist Halloween/Supernatural Masterlist

Date night was always a hard thing to schedule with the four of you. There were so many things you had to factor in before you could plan a date night. Meetings, missions, training sessions, the odd PR job you had to do were some of the more common reasons as to why it was so hard t make a date night. But sometimes, it was the more unexpected, the more unplanned reasons as to why date night didn’t happen.

Sometimes it was injury and sickness to prevented you all from attending date night. But who needs date night, when you have three loving partners to be with you and stay with you during your times of need?

“It’s just a broken leg.” Bucky complained, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve lost another limb.”

“But what if you need something?” Steve asked the man, hands on his hips.

“What could I need? You’ll only be gone a couple hours; you think I’m going decide to bake a cake while you’re gone?” Bucky snorted to your amusement.

Tonight, the four of you were supposed to go out for a date the only problem was Bucky couldn’t come. He’d broken his leg the day before in a training with Sam gone wrong accident. Bruce had said he would he fine in six weeks, maybe less with his accelerated healing, but until then Bucky would be stuck in that heavy cast and with his crutches.

Despite not being able to come out tonight he still wanted the three of you to go out. You’d all been planning tonight for weeks and he saw no point in the three of you missing out on tonight just because he broke his leg.

“Steve, please. I’m not going to do anything risky. I’ll just order in and watch some movies, but you three are going out. None of you have gone out in months and you’re not losing this reservation. So, get dressed and go have fun.” Bucky told him, staring at the blonde. The two stared at each other neither of them willing to back down causing you and Nat to roll your eyes.

This happened so often at this point it, neither of you were that surprised. You and Natasha started getting ready for the date, knowing full well, that Bucky was going to win. He always did because Steve hated arguing with any of you.

“Okay fine.” Steve sighed, turning away from Bucky and towards the two of you who were mostly ready to go. “You two already knew he was going to win.” Steve stated, shaking his head slightly.

“Stevie, going into that even you knew he was going to win.” You told the man as Natasha helped zip your dress up.

“Go get dressed punk.” Bucky said with a smug grin. Steve sighed and moved into the closet as you and Natasha finished getting dressed. “You look gorgeous girls.” Bucky said sincerely.

“Thank you, James.” Natasha said, moving over to the bed and kissing the man.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay tonight?” You double checked, sitting next to him on the bed.

“I’m sure sweet cheeks.” He said, leaning over to kiss you on the cheek. “I’ll probably just end up sleeping, Bruce has me on some pretty strong painkillers.” He added with a little smirk.

“Well if we want to make it to dinner Steve better hurry up.” Natasha told the two of you before moving into the closet. “Steven move ass, let’s go.” She said, pulling the blonde out of the walk in.

“We’ll be back soon.” You promised, kissing Bucky. “Call if you need anything, love you.” You called, as Natasha grabbed your hand and started pulling you along too.

“Love you, have fun.” Bucky called, the three of you called back your love and with that you were gone for the night.

Okay, an hour and a half. Despite this restaurant being reviewed as one of the best in the city it certainly wasn’t. The food tasted like cardboard, the female waitress spent the whole time pushing her breasts out at Steve and the waiter spent the whole night staring at both Nat’s and your breasts. You couldn’t stand to be there any longer, so you left after the entrée and picked up a pizza on your way home.

“Buck, we’re back.” Steve called, taking the pizza into the kitchen as you and Nat took off your heels.

“Despite the fact I wanted to murder the little shit, I get why he was staring.” Natasha said, pushing you against the wall and teasingly kissing your shoulder. “You looked amazing tonight darling.”

“So, do you.” You murmured, running your fingers down her sides.

“Buck what the hell!?” Steve’s angry voice startled you both. Sharing a look, the two of you quickly moved into the bedroom to see an angry Steve glaring at a guilty looking Bucky who was standing on a chair.

“Do you want me to explain or no?” Bucky asked in a meek voice.

Steve shook his head slightly before moving over and helping Bucky off the chair. “Not really.” He sighed exasperatedly. Steve helped Bucky back to bed and you grabbed the pizza from the kitchen. The three of you spent the rest of date night in bed sharing a large meat lover, much better than that stuffy restaurant.

“Steve if you brew another cup of that foul tea, I’m going to throw up on you.” Natasha snapped, before throwing up again. You were in the bathroom with her holding her hair back as you had been all night. She’d been ill most of the night before and it had only gotten worse as the day went on.

“Maybe it was the chicken we had last night.” You suggested, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“No, if it were that you’d be throwing up too.” Bucky pointed out, coming into the bathroom. “It was probably the vodka she had when her stomach first started hurting.”

“That’s a real Russian remedy.” Natasha groaned, resting her head in her hand. “It’s most likely the foul tea Steve’s been brewing.”

“Wanda told me it would help clear the toxins out of you.” Steve defended himself, standing by the doorway.

“Oh, it’s clearing something out.” Natasha snarked before throwing up again.

“I called the paintball place.” Bucky told the two of you over Natasha throwing up. “They said they’ll be glad to take us next week.”

“Next week what are you talking about?” Natasha asked, being done for now. “We’re going paintballing tonight.”

“Honey, you’re far too sick to be going anywhere but bed right now.” Steve told her with a small frown.

“I’m fine, Stevie. I feel great, better than great. In fact, I think the tea did the trick.” Natasha said, attempting to stand up only to fall back down. “I take that back I want to be dead.” She groaned.

“Come on Tash.” You said, helping her stand. “Let’s get you back to bed.” Slowly you helped Natasha walk back to bed. She laid down on the top of the covers and immediately rolled onto her side.

“You three should have still gone out.” Natasha murmured as Bucky came in with the bucket. “I would’ve been fine on my own.”

“No chance, doll.” Steve said, standing next to you. “You’re far to sick to be left home alone.”

“What if you choked on your own vomit while we were gone?” Bucky asked, sitting on the end of the bed.

“Buck, what the hell?” You asked the man, wrinkling your nose in disgust. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well what if she did? It’s a thing that happens.” He defended himself. “Ask Steve he almost did back in the 30’s.”

“Don’t remind me.” Steve grumbled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Can we not talk about vomit?” Natasha begged. “I already want to be dead.”

“Sorry honey.” You said, looking at her sympathetically. You took a seat next to Bucky at the end of the bed and patted her ankle.

“I’ll get you some ginger ale to settle your stomach.” Steve told the red head before leaving the room. Natasha groaned and curled into a ball.

“He’s trying to poison me.” She complained.

“He’s not trying to poison you.” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. “He’s trying to help, I promise.”

“Poison, help, he could be doing both.” You teased. “If you’re asleep before he gets back you won’t have to drink anything.” You said to Natasha, who was already drifting. Natasha didn’t say anything just closed her eyes.

Steve came back in and smiled as he saw Natasha was asleep. He set the drink on the dresser and gestured for you both to follow him.

The three of you sat in the living room and watched a movie as Natasha slept peacefully in the next room.

“Ugh, my head hurts.” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Bucky turn the sun off.”

“Sweet cheeks, I can’t turn the sun off.” Bucky sighed, standing from the bed. “But I can do this.” He said. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

Slowly you moved your hands away from your face and let out a sigh of relief as you noticed the curtains had been closed tightly and the light ad been turned off.

“Thank you, Buck.” You whispered, turning onto your side. The two of you had been in a training session with Sam, everything had been going perfectly fine until Sam knocked you into the wall and you hit your head. You hit it hard. Bruce had checked you and said it was just a minor concussion.

But the symptoms hit you hard. You could barely stand let alone walk, your head was pounding, and any amount of light or noise made you want to cry. Natasha and Steve were out for the day, setting up for tonight’s date, but Bucky had really stepped up and tried to help you.

“Anything for you sweet cheeks.” Bucky whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss on your cheek. “Now sit up.” He told you, shifting you into a sitting position. “You can’t go to sleep.”

“But I’m so tired.” You whined, leaning your head into your hands.

“I know sweetheart.” Bucky said sympathetically, sitting next to you and resting your head on his shoulder. “But you can’t yet.”

You and Bucky sat together in a comforting silence with Bucky running his fingers gently through your hair and you absentmindedly drawing shapes on his arm.

“Are you two ready?” Steve called as the elevator dinged. You whimpered at the loud noise and buried your head further into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Steve, lower it.” Bucky snapped, before adding to you softly. “Sorry sweetheart.”

“Hey, what happened in here?” Steve asked quietly. You still hadn’t lifted your head off Bucky’s shoulder, but you knew he was standing in the doorway with Natasha probably not far behind him.

“Wilson threw her into a wall during training.” Bucky explained, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Banner says she’s got a concussion.”

“Oh, dragotsennyy.” Natasha cooed, her footsteps coming closer. “How are you feeling?” She asked, the bed dipping as she sat next to you.

“Like shit.” You whispered, lifting your head slightly to look at your girlfriend. “Bucky won’t let me sleep.” You complained.

“You’re not supposed to sleep.” Steve said, moving over to the bed. “You have to stay awake kitten.” He added, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You let out a sigh, a mix between content and annoyance, before looking up at the man and your other two partners.

“Give me a couple minutes and I’ll be ready to go out.” You said quietly and attempted to stand, only to be pushed back down by three sets of hands.

“Oh no.” Natasha scolded. “You’re not going anywhere; you have a concussion.”

“But it’s date night.” You protested. “And we’ve been planning this for weeks.”

“We can do it some other day.” Steve said, sitting next to Natasha. “You have a concussion Y/N, you need rest and to relax.”

“I’ll go make some coffee.” Bucky said, standing from the bed. “Be back in a minute.”

As Bucky left the room Steve and Natasha shifted on the bed so Natasha took Bucky’s place and Steve shuffled closer.

“I love you all, you know that right?” You murmured, laying your head on Natasha’s shoulder.

“We know.” Natasha assured, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “And we love you.” Steve uttered his agreeance and the three of you sat together until Bucky came back with a tray of coffees, and three became four.

“You two are mean.” Steve groaned, pouting at you and Bucky as you both continued laughing. “Stop laughing at me.”

“But honey, it’s kind of funny.” You giggled as Steve’s pout grew larger.

“What are you two laughing at?” Natasha asked, standing in the doorway with a smile as she looked at the three of you. The three of you must have looked a sight, Steve had a large pout and a red nose, Bucky and you both red faced from laughing so hard.

“Stevie.” Bucky chuckled, pulling you into his side. “He can’t go outside.”

“Fans mobbing you again, Steve?” Natasha asked, smirking at the blonde.

“No.” He grumbled, not looking at the woman. “Turns out the serum only got rid of most of my illnesses. I’ve got hay fever.”

“He took one step outside before and it was instant. Sneezing, red nose, watery eyes. It was really funny.” You giggled, smiling at the red head.

“It wasn’t.” Steve denied. “It’s irritating, I thought the serum was supposed to stop me getting sick.” He whined.

“Everyone gets hay fever, Steve.” Bucky said with a small smile.

“I’m not supposed to.” Steve said, shaking his head. “This sucks.”

“Not to make you feel any worse,” Natasha started. “But if you can’t go outside without becoming a snotty mess, how are you going to come on the date?”

“You’re going to have to leave me behind.” Steve sighed after thinking for a couple of minutes. “If I’m having an allergic reaction the whole time, I’m not going to be much fun on our date.”

“I can fix this.” You said, jumping up from the bed. “You three stay in here until I come back for you.” You told the three, kissing each of them before going to the door. “Oh, and, no peeking.” You added before shutting the door.

Moving around your floor quickly, you hastily grabbed what you needed. Throwing a blanket onto the floor near the window, you set an array of pillows on the blanket as well as the surrounding floor and grabbed a selection of food and drink from the kitchen.

After twenty minutes of setting up, you decided you were done and went back to the bedroom.

“Okay you three. You can come out now.” You told them, opening the door. Your partners moved to follow you as you started to explain. “Since Stevie can’t go outside without sneezing his brain out, I figured we could bring the outside to him.”

“This is fantastic, kitten.” Steve said, pulling you in by the waist to kiss you. “Thank you.”

The four of you sat down to your make shift picnic and enjoyed the lovely date with no sneezing, no injuries and no sickness.

Though your plans could sometimes fall through, you all managed to find a way to either fix it or just enjoy the time the three of you had together.

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers @skeletoresinthebasement

Show your feedback. Give it a like. Leave a comment. Share with your friends and reblog. Inbox/Message me any comments, ideas, pairings or if you’d like to be on the taglist.

Coming soon;

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Bucky x reader x Sam

Steve x reader x Natasha

Steve x reader x Sam x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Bucky x Clint

Steve x reader x Peggy

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notagamersdey · 3 years

Text

Freebird

By Tyler D. Ortiz

Rating: M

Word Count: 2k~

Warnings: Violence, insinuations of sexual assault, drug use/mention, murder, character death, bad language

Summary: Local superhero, Lady Griffin, attempts to save a group of hostages during a bank robbery.

~~~

“This is Veronica reporting live at the intersection of Flour and Junction where the domestic terrorist group ‘The Red Hests’ has taken Grand Central High Bank.” The news reporter presses her left index finger into her ear, “They are currently holding over 50 hostages of both visiting customers and employees. No one knows their demands yet, but people speculat - Wait. I’m getting reports that Lady Griffin is passing Grand Central High this moment-”

PHEWWWW!

The news reporter ducks, her hair flying to the left as Lady Griffin speeds by from above, “and there she is! WOW! Look at her go!” The news reporter turns back towards the camera, her hair sticking out in odd angles, “Well, she will no doubt take care of those criminals. Back to you, Jorge.”

Lady Griffin, with light brown wings between her shoulder blades, swoops above the bank building, landing onto the ledge. She jogs up to the rooftop door, pulling at her new uniform which was a bit tight.

“Grif’, stop messing with it, it’ll loosen up,” a voice, Ezra, told her through an earpiece.

“Did you have to get it super tight? I thought we weren’t doing the whole sexy thing,” her bright auburn hair falls against her shoulders as she skids to a stop, yanking the door off its hinges. She cringes slightly, placing it lightly against the wall, “remind me to come fix this later.”

There’s typing on the other end of the call, “Will do. And it’s not about your sex appeal, it's about being pragmatic. It’s light material, and the closer it is to your body, the less wind resistance you have. Don’t you have a college education?” Ezra teases.

Lady Griffin scoffs, “Yeah, in biology, not in astrophysics, or whatever you’re proficient in.” She goes through the door, peering over the staircase. It's a square spiral staircase going on round and round 8 times. The building was 8 stories, the first few filled with cubicles and offices, the rest were holding centers for money, computers, or basically anything else a bank would need to secure its finances. “Alright, Ez’, what are we looking at here?”

More typing, “You’ve got about 6 to 8 armed men on floors 1 to 7, the floor below you is currently under construction. The men rounding up every employee and customer to the middle of the floors. Elevators are down, and you’ve got one man at each stairway entrance.”

Lady Griffin grabs the railings to the staircase, “Any suggestions?”

“Eh. I say start with the bottom floor, you can prevent a shootout with the police, and they wouldn’t be able to get away.”

“Smart move.” She takes a slow deep breath and nose dives to the bottom floor. She moves quickly, expanding her wings to slow her fall. She lightly drops down in front of the door, looking through the tiny glass window. She notices one guy off to the left of the door. Another at the wall farthest from her. They both wore suits, pointing rifles to the ground.

“Hey, Ez’, what kind of rifles?”

“They are...” He pauses. She hears a chair roll away along with the rustling of papers, “PP-19 Vityaz’s. 9mm chamber, stamped steel, carries 30 round magazines. Both semi and automatic, typically used by Russian Special Forces, designed for covert-op. Usually equipped with a suppressor. I guess it makes sense. Cheap ammo, lighter than 5.45 plus a suppressor on this one is much more effective than-”

“Ezra, focus, you’re my eyes. Let me know if they call for reinforcements, I don’t want any surprises.” Lady Griffin, rolling her shoulders back, jumping a few times. Her wings ruffle and shake. She bends down, pulling her ankles up, stretching.

When she stands back up, she takes in air, focusing on her surroundings. She hears the men rounding up hostages the floors above her, she can hear the man breathing from the other side of the door. Heartbeats. Everywhere. She lets her breath out and breaks down the door. The door flies a few feet away, crashing onto the marble floor. The man next to the doorway is the first to react, bringing his rifle up to shoot at Lady Griffin, but she was too quick. She throws a front thrust at the man, sending him flying. The guy that was across the door shoots. Lady Griffin sprints towards him, ducking under the stream of bullets. She blitzes him, thrusting her wings out and back, creating a gust of wind to propel her at the assailant. She punches through his chest, sending him flying to the wall.

“Back up!” She turns to her left to see two more guys running at her. Both trained their guns at her, one holding a radio. Everything slows down again; she sees the sweat drip down both their brows, sees the horrendous, angry teeth from the one talking into the radio. She sees the slightest quiver of the gun. He’s weak. He’s not holding the gun right. “We need back up-” She swiftly rushes her wings forward, sending a powerful force of wind at the two. The guy holding the radio falls; however, his partner holds himself up against the impact.

“If you don’t stop now, I will put a bullet between those pretty green eyes, girl. Just accept it. Just take it,” he adjusts himself.

Ezra’s voice crackles against her ear, “Be careful, darling, you don’t want to hurt yourself.” Lady Griffin suddenly feels dazed. She shakes her head, trying to focus. She slightly relaxes her stance, wings back in their resting position. She places her hand behind her back, smirking at the man in front of her.

“You think you’re special? Just cause the Doc treats you well? You’re nothing, girl, only a mere spec within an indifferent universe.” He gives her a vile grin.

She bursts out laughing, hunching forward, her hand away from her back with a long piece of piano wire, “You think you’re so cool quoting Doctor Strange? You know the bad guys, like, disintegrate in the end, right?” She stands up straight, beginning to wrap the piano wire between her fists, leaving enough room for a head to fit between them, “No matter, I’m not going to go that easy on you.” She gives a wide grin and launches herself.

Meanwhile, up on the seventh floor of the bank, the leader of the Red Hests sits on an office chair, watching his associates continue to round up everyone on the floor. He smirks to himself with a lollipop sticking out of his mouth as he hears one of the women scream in fear.

“Shut up!” One of the men points the barrel at the woman’s face, “Shut up or I’ll hurt you. I’ll really fucking hurt you.”

The leader gets up off the chair, pulling out the lollipop as he walks towards the group. The men have surrounded the employees, all women, in the middle of the room. They sit on their knees, hands zip-tied to their back as the men stick thick duct tape onto their mouths, “Now, now, take it easy. You hurt them; they lose value. But then again...” He kneels in front of the woman who screamed, bringing the lollipop back between his lips, swirling his tongue thoughtfully, “This one doesn’t seem to be that valuable.” He extends his hand out, gesturing blindly behind him. The man closest to him takes out a large bowie knife from behind his back, handing it back to the leader. The women all yelp behind their tape at the sight of the knife, scurrying tightly together. The leader brings the knife up to the woman in front of him, placing the tip onto the tape, pushing forward slightly. The woman just weeps silently, trying her best to keep still.

As he begins to push the knife with vigor, the radio crackles, “Sir, Floor One, we need back up-” Static.

The leader stands up, swiftly grabbing the radio as he takes the lollipop out of his mouth, “Floor One? Come in Floor One.”

Another henchman picks up, “Floor Two Sir! She’s here at Floor-” Static.

The leader looks up at the rest of the men incredulously, “Strap them. We don’t have time.” The men move at tremendous speed, pulling out briefcases and attaching them to each woman’s chest. They all open each brief case at a time, revealing a timer connected to two blocks of C4.

The leader moves off to the side, attempting to warn the other floors, “get away from the doors! Be prepared for that wretched wench! She will come through the staircase, forget the hostages! Focus on the girl!”

“Sir! She’s got-” The sound of a window crashing bleeds through the radio, followed by gunshots and screaming.

“That was Floor Five!” The leader announces, “be ready before we hear from Floor Six!”

Lady Griffin finishes off Floor Six by throwing the last guy out the window. The women behind her gasp lightly. She smiles, turning around as she wipes her forehead sweat with the back of her hand, “Don’t worry, you guys are safe now.” She starts to cut the zip ties, “Do you all know if the leader is on the next floor?”

The women remain quiet until a little girl, with long black hair, and bangs raises her hand, “Yes, he’s there.” Lady Griffin looks up at her, then to the rest of the women. The rest of the women had either blonde or light brown hair, and none of the women resembled the girl in any way. She looked around. Floor Six was one of those floors with offices and cubicles; it was not the type for clients or customers to be wandering around in, let alone with a child.

“Hey, sweetie, is your mom around?” She kneels in front of the girl, holding onto her hands softly.

The little girl looks around, leaning in to whisper, “The bad man told me I wouldn’t see her again.”

Lady Griffin scrunches her eyebrows worriedly, “Did the bad man take her?” She lightly brushes the little girl's hair behind her ear.

She shakes her head, “He took me.”

Lady Griffin lets go of the little girl's hand, “Well, don’t worry. I will take you back. I just have to finish this.” She stands up and leaves for the next floor.

On the seventh floor, Lady Griffin bursts through the door. She is met with the same sight as the last few floors. Men surround the women at the center of the room. The leader, however, is off to the side, sucking on another lollipop. He begins to chuckle, clapping his hands at a slow pace.

“Magnificent. You are glorious creature. Exquisite. A terror to my business, no doubt, but exquisite!” He leisurely walks to only a few feet away from her, circling her like a tiger hunting its next victim. Her wings raise menacingly as the leader gets closer, “Hmmm. No doubt at all. You, Griffin, are a threat. You have a choice. You can either join the rest in the middle there,” she looks behind him, focusing on the bound women, “Or, you can die...”

The men surrounding the women raise their muzzles towards her. She looks between them all. Trying to find weaknesses. Guy on the left has a tremble in his right hand. Guy down the middle is shifting too much between his feet. Her eyes dart back to the leader. The leader...

“Grif’... You have to calm down, or he’s going to do something bad,” Ezra says.

“Shut up!” She pulls the earpiece out, throwing it at the first guy she can. She leaps forward, punching the left and right, taking each man she touched to the ground. The leader continues to circle the room, watching the scene before him with calculating eyes.

Lady Griffin grunts as she grabs the last henchman by the neck, pushing him up against the wall. She slams his head once, twice and then a third time. She doesn’t stop until he crumples to the floor with blood seeping out of his skull. She wipes her hands onto her uniform then scratches at her face. She quickly turns around, looking for the last assailant. He is smirking at her, “Wow, truly a beast. You really are an animal, Grif-”

“Don't call me that.”

“But I’m afraid, this is the end. As much of an asset as you are, you must go...” His hand disappears behind his back, but Lady Griffin pays no mind. She charges. For her, it’s slow. Her wings are spread out, casting a shadow over the leader's entire body. Her face is scrunched as she baring her teeth at him. Her arms are gunning for his neck. A smile creeps onto his face, contorting it to looks monstrous. He begins to pull out his hand from behind his back, revealing a small syringe. Her eyes return to his. His eyes are black. Her surroundings begin to fade. She blinks a few times. And suddenly pain.

…

A girl is naked, laying on her side on top of a raggedy air mattress in a small makeshift tent made from old windbreakers and newspapers. Her back, from the shoulder blades to the elbow, is covered in large tattoos of wings. Her wrists and ankles bruised and burned from pulling at the now loose plaited rope. A man is next to her, looking down at her with sad eyes. With gloved hands, he puts a few fingers onto her neck, looking for her pulse. Her heartbeat is erratic. Her breathing is slow with a high wheezing. He turns her onto her back, pulling a penlight from his back pocket, looking into her eyes. Extreme dilation. He sighs, bringing her to her side, patting her lightly.

“So?” A man asks at the entrance of the tent, his arms crossed, foot tapping, lollipop between his lips.

The man on the floor huffs, “I warned you. You gave her too much... We need to get her to a hospital, or she won’t make it.” He moves to pick her up when the man scoffs.

“Pff! Hospital?” The man takes the lollipop out, “What the hell do I pay you for if you need to go to a fucking hospital?”

“I don’t have anything that could treat this.”

“Don't give me excuses, Ezra, you’re costing me my best fucking asset here. People come from all over for ‘Lady Griffin’. I’ve got people booked all the way to tomorrow for her! Not to mention everyone in this God damn country is looking for her.”

Ezra looks at him incredulously, “So what’s it going to be? You let her die, and you lose even more money, or you take her to the hospital, and only lose a few thousand...”

The man laughs, “Yeah right... Cops will be all over that place the moment they take her blood.” He plops the lollipop back into his mouth, swirling it around with his tongue as he looks at the girl, “You know what, Doc, just let her croak. Pussy’s pussy, right? All the girls are fucked up anyway, so it's not like it'll make a difference. We will take her to the river after the last client leaves.” With that, the man walks away, leaving Ezra with the girl who was known as Lady Griffin.

Ezra sighs, annoyed, as he takes off his gloves, throwing them at the windbreaker wall across from him. She moans slightly, opening her eyes in a daze. He crosses his legs, staying by her side as he strokes lightly at her cheek, “I’m sorry, Darling, I tried. I really did.” She attempts to say something, but it comes out in a garbled mess, “Shh... Don’t worry... you don’t have to talk anymore, Grif’. You’re free.” Her eyes drift, her breathing fades. She dreamed that she was flying, until it faded into a starry oblivion. At last, she is free.

~~~

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-Dey

#my writing #short story #creative writing #short fiction #writing #super hero #super powers #tw sex assault #tw violence #tw murder #tw death #tw drug mention

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