#she came at me with a steel chair of words in a dream over it and i still cant stop thinking about them

[tarudce22]

What if I told you this is my OC that’s coming at me with a steel chair

[asnowdriftsomewhere]

Daylight pt4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Cassian x F!reader

AN: Thank you to everyone for reading this series and enjoying it! Part 1 now has over 100 notes, which makes me very happy! I hope you continue to like what i have to say!

Summary: Helion comes to check on you in the Night Court. You have feelings about it and Cassian is shirtless.

Warnings: talking about death and expectations and pressures

Word count: 1596

You sat perfectly still in the seat across from Rhysand. Everything in your body begged you to run, to flee this room where the walls pushed in. Suffocating you, trapping you. But your spin was a pillar of steel and your eyes belied none of your discomfort. As far as anyone in the room was concerned you were perfectly calm as you kept your gaze on the High Lord before you.

“Y/N?” The voice came from the seat next to you. A warm, familiar tone that once wrapped around your bones and soothed your anxious heart. Now it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and a muscle in your jaw tic.

“My research is slow moving,” you spoke to Rhysand, your fingers interlaced over your crossed knees, “but it is progressing.”

Violet eyes flicked from you to the male beside you and back again, “Do you require anything to aid you? The resources of the Night Court are at your disposal.”

“A most generous offer, High Lord-”

“Y/N-”

“Perhaps you can spare your Shadowsinger for a few questions,” you continued as if not hearing him speak. “I think he would have some most illuminating things to say.”

Rhysand nodded once, “When Azriel gets back from the continent, I'll send him to you.”

You bowed your head in thanks as you got to your feet, “Until then, I shall return to the library.” You started to leave but paused, “Males aren't allowed down there unless given permission, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Y/N-”

“Good to know,” you turned and left without another word to either male. The door slamming in your wake.

Rhysand turned to Helion, who slumped into his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he started, and the High Lord of Day let out a low groan. “You've certainly managed to piss her off. What did you do?”

“I brought her here,” Helion sighed as he stood to cross the room to the window. The golden rays of the sun seemed to shine even brighter in his presence. “The Grand Library was her home, and I sent her away.”

Rhysand hummed softly, “Why did you bring her here, old friend?”

Helion's amber eyes closed briefly, a shiver of what almost seemed like regret running through his powerful body, “Y/N had a sister. My father's chief advisor and a brilliant researcher. She died defending the library from being looted again just before Amarantha fell.”

“Ah.”

“Y/N hasn't been the same since,” he continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. “It's as if, because she survived, she feels she needs to live up to her sister's legacy. That she needs to be as good or better than her. But Y/N already was those things, just in a smaller way.”

Rhysand tipped his head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“Her sister made miracles, feats of magic that we never could have dreamed possible. Y/N…” he trailed off, turning back to the Night Lord. “Her research was about philosophy. The very concepts of Life and Death. She dove into the essence of Religion and Mythology and the laws of the universe itself. She sought answers to questions no one else in my court would have ever bothered with because they did not affect or change our day to day. And I believe she felt like she had the freedom to do so because her sister's accomplishments shielded her from the competition my father fostered among his Advisors.”

Rhysand steepled his fingers in front of him, “And with her sister dead, her own lack of answers is weighing on her.”

Helion nodded once, “She feels that if she can't provide results, then the wrong sister died.”

“Do you know what she's looking into now?”

“I don't,” he admitted with a sigh, “I've not been privy to her research since coming back from under the mountain. She hides it from everyone.”

Rhysand seemed to ponder something for a moment, “She asked Cassian if he's ever heard a swan song. Are you familiar with the concept?”

Helion turned back to him, “I am.”

“And now she's asking to speak with Azriel,” the corners of his mouth ticked down.

Helion raised an eyebrow, “What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking about death…” he trailed off before meeting his friend's amber gaze. “I'll need to speak to Clotho to verify but…” the two males fell into conversation quietly as Rhysand relayed his theory to Helion. Too engrossed in the debate to notice the slip of daylight that slithered under the door and into the hall.

***

You found yourself not in the library as you had intended after winnowing back to the House of Wind, but instead in the training right above it. You don't know why you ended up here. What force drew you to this place you'd not yet had need of in the two months since coming here. But once you were staring into the wide open sky above, you let out a scream that nearly shook the mountain before collapsing into the middle of the training pit.

Your breath was coming in shaky, uneven gasps as if your lungs were being held in a vice, so you buried your hands up to your wrists into the gravel. Focusing on the cool stones against your skin helped sooth and smother your roiling anger. The burning you felt in your soul dissipating into the mountain below until slowly your breathing evened out and your body stopped shaking.

Your rage was still there. It never left entirely. Like a ball of fire, it squatted in your chest, waiting to be unleashed. Some days, it was the only thing that got you out of bed. Others you had to lock yourself in your room to keep from lashing out indiscriminately. Regardless, it was always there, always prepared for however you would wield it.

“Are you okay?”

The voice came from behind you, and your head snapped up in response. Cassian stood at the edge of the pit. Shirtless and sweaty, he'd clearly been in the middle of training when you'd stomped through the space like a viper ready to strike.

He'd know better than to intercept you. A female with that look on her face was more dangerous than entire armies, and Cassian wasn't stupid enough to think his presence would improve the situation. Especially after he heard the scream that came out of your small frame. Pain and rage and sorrow- he knew that scream. Knew how deep the hurt had to run to be able to produce a cry like that. He'd heard every single one of his family members make that scream and knew what caused it. A wounding of the soul itself.

He'd been about to slip back into the House, intent on giving you your privacy when he saw you collapse into the training pit and bury your hands in the stones. It confused him enough that he lingered in the threshold and baffled him entirely as he WATCHED the anger leak out of your body.

Cassian approached then, not only to make sure you were okay but also because some central part of him wondered at what you had done. How you had leashed your rage.

“Are you okay?”

Your head snapped up to face him, your expression turning weary. He held up his hands to show you he had no weapons and your shoulders eased some.

“Why are you always sneaking up on me?” Your voice was heavy and held none of the bite he imagined you intended your words to carry.

“In my defense” he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, “I was here first this time. You just didn't see me.”

You let out a hard breath, eyes falling back to the stones, “Indeed.”

“Y/N,” he said your name so softly, so sweetly, something in your chest cracked in response, “Are you okay?”

You looked up at him again, your gaze crashing into his, and your vision blurred. “No,” you admitted, something straining in your voice, “But I will be. I must be.”

“What does that-”

“Thank you, General,” you silenced him as you stood up from the gravel. Wiping the dust from your hands as you did. “For caring enough to check, but please, let's not fool ourselves into thinking this is anything more than court politics.”

He frowned at that, “Court polit- Y/N-”

“I am a member of the Day Court, your High Lord's closest ally. I was sent here to be kept from breaking under the weight of my role,” you said simply, studying the dirt now crusted under your nails. “I know this, you know this. Your kindness, while appreciated, is not needed or wanted. I will fix myself. I will not break.”

Cassian was at a loss for words, “Y/N-”

“I will not break,” you said again, your eyes flicking to meet his, and he felt his world shift out from under him. He was not in Prythian. He was not in the Night Court or Velaris or standing atop the House of Wind. He was standing on a sunbeam, walking on the wind, fingers trailing through the clouds. And across from him, there you were. Glowing and graceful, a star made just for him.

Cassian blinked, and the vision was gone. He was back in the training pit, his gaze locked with yours. Only you were fading, like the edges of your body were fraying into the wind as you disappeared before his eyes. He blinked again, and you were gone.

Part 5

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 55

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

I think I fell asleep from exhaustion. I must have. I awoke on the oversized couch in the main living room covered with a pair of fleece blankets, stiff as a board. My neck hurt, my side ached and for just a second I had one of those, ‘where am I’ moments.

Was all of that a dream? No. It wasn't. The events of the weekend were a waking nightmare.

I sat up slowly and looked around. Another overcast day peered in through the window, extending its shades of gray through the castle walls. It's like the world knew of the tragedy that had just struck, and it set the stage accordingly.

“Joel?” I rose to my feet and set the blankets down before rounding into the kitchen. It was vacant. My eyes scanned the room wall-to-wall before I continued on into the billiards room and then finally into the small library.

There, in an oversized chair in the corner of the room, Dr. Miller sat slouched in a bathrobe with his eyes closed and a family photo album opened across his lap. On the small table beside him was a half-empty cup of black coffee.

I hurried to get close enough to him, eying the part of his chest that peaked out from the robe. When I witnessed his breaths heave in and out I could relax again. After the events of the night before I wasn't ruling anything out.

Before I could go to retrieve the blankets he had covered me with overnight on the couch, Dr. Miller’s eyes flickered open and he stood up abruptly, sending the picture book to the floor.

“Hey, it's me,” I assured him with my hands up, “Hey, I'm sorry. It's just me. I didn't know where you were and I found you here.”

Dr. Miller took a deep breath and slowly sat back down, reaching for the album as he did. He closed his eyes and put a hand over his chest.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” I said.

“You didn't. I..” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “I didn't know where I was for a second.”

When his eyes met mine I could see the dark circles beneath his eyes. It appeared as though he hadn't slept in weeks.

“I'm sorry, Joel.” I walked to him and ran a hand over the top of his head before kissing his forehead. “I'm so sorry.”

“I bet you're wishing you took Psychology with some other professor,” he joked without laughing.

“No.” The one word came out in a voice just barely above a whisper. I hugged him against my chest. “I would never wish for that.”

I parted from him and squatted down beside him. My hand rested on top of his on the arm of the chair. When he didn't say anything I spoke again.

“Did you get any sleep?”

Dr. Miller pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I don't know when I dozed off.”

My eyes landed on the cup of coffee for just a half-a-second. I wondered how many cups he’d had or if he made that one when he was on his last leg.

I squeezed his hand, causing his tired eyes to open once more. “Come on.” I gave a gentle tug now, “Let’s go upstairs.”

He didn’t argue. I don’t even think he had it in him to. Dr. Miller set the photo album in the chair and let me lead him out of the room.

“Do you want to bring that?” I asked, but he shook his head and made the trek with me through the house, up the stairs and finally into the comfort of the bedroom.

I shut the door and locked it. Despite being tucked away in the woods upon a hill behind steel gates, that last click of the lock sliding into place assured absolute seclusion. I, then, pulled the curtains to darken the room.

Dr. Miller cloaked the covers around him, not bothering to ditch the robe. He pulled the covers up toward his chin and glanced over his shoulder when I climbed in beside him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. The side of my face rested on his clothed back and I closed my eyes with an accompanied sigh.

I felt Dr. Miller pull his knees up toward his chest as he laid on his side. His icy foot grazed my calf when he moved and I pulled my body in tighter to his.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Dr. Miller mumbled.

“Only a matter of time until what?” I whispered.

“Until you decide to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” My fingers squeezed his and I arched my neck enough to leave a kiss just below his earlobe. “I’m here, Joel. For you. Always.” I nuzzled back down so my cheek rested between his shoulder blades. “Now, get some rest. You’ve been through so much.”

“So have you.”

“I know.” I inhaled and exhaled deeply. “We’ll have time to talk but for now let’s just give ourselves a break. We need it.”

“Mmm.”

Dr. Miller was asleep in less than a minute or two. He was snoring in less than five. I laid there awake for over an hour reliving the nightmare at the hotel, reliving Dr. Miller’s confession and thinking about the immediate future.

Classes were shut down, again, at Woodbridge. Both Dr. Miller and I were granted temporary leave from our respective jobs. I knew there would be time to talk, rehash and reflect. For just a moment I let my drift elsewhere - to happier thoughts; to the first time I met Dr. Miller.

“My name is Dr. Miller,” he had said, “If you didn’t know at least that much by now I’d have to wonder how the fuck you made it this far in your education.”

I smiled to myself. I remembered the first time he spoke and just as well, the first time he spoke to me. I remembered the first time our eyes met. Those were the fine details I wouldn’t trade for gold. Dr. Miller had a presence that oozed with more confidence than anyone I had ever met.

Who knew he was so broken inside. The thought filled my heart with a thousand somber arrows. He had lived with the guilt and the memory of killing a man who attacked his sister. He had lived with the deadly secret of Ace Deerfield. And now, there was this haunting, new chapter of his life.

I knew Dr. Miller had to endure everything from his past alone. The thought of him retreating to this isolated fortress all alone for years made my already-stinging eyes weld up with tears yet again.

Am I not cried out, yet? I wondered. Nope. I cried away every thought of my lonely lover sitting in this castle of blood money with nothing but his thoughts while using every ounce of charisma he had to get him by outside of the walls.

I cried. I cried some more. I cried until my eyes had had enough and my body was begging, ‘no more!’

I would never abandon him. I didn’t care what he did. I loved Dr. Miller in every sense of the word, and I knew why he did what he did. And that’s all that mattered - at least to me.

“You’ll never be alone, again,” I whispered in his ear, kissing the area just after several times in a row. I laid my head back down and let me final tears fall on the pillow. “I promise.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandojojo @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @smolbeanzzz @bandluvr97

[amywritesthings]

SILVER UNDERGROUND / deleted scene 04.

levi's pov #2. :: a deleted scene from flashback two. this is levi's pov of recruiting james to the gang.

happy silver underground friday! thank you for your patience as i write up ch20. i know many of you requested more levi pov content, so i give to you the initial recruitment (levi's version). this is unedited. 3.5k words / mentions of violence, angst, language, pining. :: please remember: this is additional deleted content, not tied to the current canon of the story.

Three years pass and she still won’t leave his goddamn brain.

The girl with the stale bread.

The girl with the kindness that’ll get her killed down here.

Maybe you're not even that kind — he’s seen how ferociously you take down kids double your size when he’s passing by with Furlan, keeping tabs that you’re still breathing week to week.

Not long after the one and only fight he’s had with you, Kenny disappeared. The son of bitch gave some shitty excuse — something about teaching him all he could — leaving Levi Ackerman in a deathly quiet room for the second time in his life.

Just happened to be alone this time, that’s all.

He almost came to you then, but thought better of it. Getting mixed up in that bitch’s affairs, the one you call Mother, wouldn’t do him any favors.

Maybe she’d up and ditch you the way Kenny ditched him.

Maybe fate would have it—

No.

Dreaming’s a waste of time.

He should keep his distance.

He should never try to speak to you—

“Hello?” 

Furlan waves a hand in front of his face, waking Levi from a dissociative state. His steel gray eyes flicker up to the other boy, expressionless.

“I’m listening,” he curtly replies.

“No you weren’t,” Furlan mumbles, before flopping down into a rickety wooden chair.

This house isn’t much, but it’s home. Better than living on the streets, that’s for damn sure. Somehow him and this kid made enough money to get by and then some — but that’s probably because they’ve found the literal Underground City jackpot.

Two idiot MPs from the surface.

Two sets of Omni-directional Mobility Gear.

(The steal would be much easier than others think. Making the story sound impossible meant other thugs in the area wouldn’t ever try their hand at it.)

Crime’s a hell of a lot easier when you can fly.

Only problem now is that the jobs — and subsequently the money — are harder to come by. Furlan’s insistent on expanding. Levi has no interest in banking on trust beyond Furlan.

Until that idea hit him like a static shock—

All when he realized you were still fighting.

Still, after all these years.

“If you’re still trying to convince me,” Levi boredly starts, “then I might have a name to throw in the ring.”

Furlan perks in his chair, scooting closer. “Well, damn, you coulda said it earlier.”

“I just think you won’t like who I suggest.”

“Huh? Why? One of our guys—”

“No,” Levi cuts off. “Not one of the shitheads we split scraps with. I’m talking about a third.”

“A third… in command?” Furlan slowly inquires. Levi nods once. “So who is it?”

“A girl I knew once,” the dark-haired boy suggests, arms crossed over her chest. When Furlan squints, he continues. “She’s in the fighting rings. Goes by James.”

“She’s a kid?”

“No. Knew her when she was, but now she’s in the adult circuits.”

“So how old is she?”

“Maybe fifteen? Fourteen?” Levi supplies. “Our age.”

“Huh.” Furlan pauses. “And you… think she’d be good? Like how good?’

“Probably the best option we have.”

“Levi Ackerman talking highly about someone else… now that doesn’t happen every day.”

Levi squints in annoyance. 

“Are you cool with me asking her, or not?”

Furlan makes a face. “Well— here’s the thing. If we just add her, chances are the guys we kinda fumble the numbers with will get jealous. We’d probably need to initiate her.”

Levi doesn’t mean to, but he glares right back. Furlan must realize right away that his partner is a fan of the idea — a reaction he’s never offered.

“Five people aren’t jumping her, Furlan,” Levi insists in a bite.

“I— three?”

Three.

He’s seen you take down people double your size and weight. He’s watched you put popular contenders on their backs in seconds. The kids they hire are just that — kids. 

As much as he doesn’t want to agree to it, there has to be a compromise.

You can handle five.

You can certainly handle three.

“Fine,” Levi murmurs. “Three. She has a fight tomorrow.”

“Damn, you’ve been scouting this one?”

Something like that.

.

.

.

.

.

And just as he suspected, you knock them square on their asses.

Truth be told, it’s an unfair fight.

Levi stakes his claim at the corner, in the shadows, and watches the beat down in real time. All goons looking to show off like they know what the hell they’re up against.

They don’t.

Levi does.

When you scramble down the alleyway to get to safety, he takes off into a casual stroll. Taps an unconscious moron or two in the head to make sure they’re seriously out.

(They’re out, alright. Like a snuffed light.)

And when Levi finally catches up to you, you’re swallowed whole by shadow. Your hands are assessing each part of your torso — smart — while your breath exits in a controlled wheeze.

He’s sorry.

He really is, for once.

“You look like shit,” he comments, watching you rip your gaze from your scratched hands towards his voice.

Like a feral, scared animal you watch him.

Blinking once. 

Blinking twice, three times, as if you’re trying to figure out who the hell he is.

Levi knows it’s not from the injuries. You were smart and protected your head as much as possible. He was banking on quick precision from your technique.

“Mind your fucking business,” you snap back at him, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from smiling ear to ear.

(So that’s what you sound like.)

“How bad did they get you?” he casually asks, stepping forward with a boot.

You blink several times once again.

Yeah, you recognize him.

Just like he recognizes you.

“Why do you care?” you hiss, pushing away from the brick wall.

Levi stops moving to give you space. “I don’t.”

(But, fuck, he does. He really does.)

Breathe through the pain all you want, he catches the way you wrap your arm around your abdomen as if he’s going to try and take you on at your weakest.

Maybe those bastards did get a good hit or two in.

“I guess the answer is bad enough.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sure.”

Except he doesn’t want to.

If you let him, then he’ll stay.

“You can leave, you know,” you tell him, and he draws in a slow inhale. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine so long as those shitheads don’t get up.”

Your head whips behind you to see the alley as if Levi’s spotted anyone. 

No, they’re not actually coming. 

In fact, you knocked them out so thoroughly that it’s a little bit funny.

Then you turn, and his stomach clenches. “I can’t believe you’re still alive.”

“I get that a—”

“Whoa.”

His heart seizes when you stumble. Immediately he shoots to the other end of the wall, ignoring the hand that shoots out to stop him.

“Hold on. What the hell are you doing?” Your nostrils flare. “I said I’m fine.”

Damn it, James. Don’t be proud right now.

“Yeah, and I”m six-foot fucking three.”

And he steps closer.

Closer.

Until the expanse of his chest hovers right at your palm.

Well — you aren’t trying to beat the shit out of him. That’s a plus.

You really do remember me, that sad sack of shit you were nice to.

“Roxy’s is close,” Levi slowly states, hoping you’ll connect what he’s thinking about. That you’ll get to where he’s trying to go with this before he has to spell it out.

“I know.”

“They have back rooms with supplies.”

“I know.”

“So why not go?” he grunts, very much over the bravado he’s very much guilty of himself. “C’mon, dumbass.”

You squeak, but it’s too late — Levi breaks that illusion of distance with a smack of your outstretched hand so he can get to the part he’s been agonizing over all day.

Helping you.

Because he sure as hell isn’t going to let you go through this alone.

(Not when he’s practiced this pitch for a week straight.)

You don’t push him away when he touches you. Hell, you just stare — Levi’s worried he has something in his goddamn teeth.

Then you ask. “Why?”

Surely you know.

Surely by now, you must know the why of this.

Because I owe you.

Because you have left my fucking brain since the day you asked my name.

Levi answers. “Because.”

Cautious with every step, Levi lets you call the pace. You’re surprisingly mobile all things considered, and he just acts as your anchor as you make your way through the winding rounds of the Underground City.

“You have a key?”

He has to force himself not to snort. “No.”

The staff at Roxy’s will forgive him.

Or not — he doesn’t give a shit.

Gingerly placing you against the wall, he musters up the energy to use the strength of his short but mighty legs. Levi kicks the wooden door with gusto, waiting a moment for the noise to dissipate, before grabbing you again to continue on.

Eventually he places you on a nearby chair and brushes off his hands, coated with sweat.

What the hell, Ackerman? Get your shit together. Now’s not the time to get nervous.

Especially over you.

God, not when he’s almost got you.

You’re too busy staring at the disjointed door to notice his expression soften when he’s staring at your face.

It’s so… pretty.

Why is it—

Wait.

“Oi.”

He snaps, and you blink and turn your chin back to him. All the air whooshes clear from his lungs. 

You’re worried. He can tell. 

“Eyes on me. They aren’t coming.”

“What makes you so sure?”

(God, he’s such an asshole.)

Choosing to ignore the question, Levi keeps himself busy by searching the cabinets in the room for the med packs he knows they keep here. Way too many wayward souls pass through. They always got some—

Ah.

There.

Turning on a heel, he eagerly brings the med kit and unfurls it, holding it to you.

You stare back, not moving.

(You don’t have a concussion, do you?!)

“What do you want me to—”

“Hold it, idiot,” he snips in his own minor panic. “I can’t do everything.”

Please let me fix my own mistakes, James.

Your hands uncurl like a clam, waiting for the med kit. Levi carefully places it in your hands and takes what he needs.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur. “Why are you doing this?”

Taking a cloth, he douses it with antiseptic and presses it ever so gently on your skin. 

You don’t even flinch.

“Levi.”

Time freezes.

His gray eyes meet yours, and suddenly he forgets to breathe.

You remember.

He never told you, but —

He’s pretty sure Kenny may have said it back at this godforsaken fucking bar.

Should he tell you he remembers you, too?

(You never told him your name. He’ll show all of his cards in one fell swoop.)

“Does it matter?” he gruffly responds, pressing the cloth to your cheek.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s harder to help than to ignore.”

“Kind of like giving bread to a strange kid, right?” 

Shit.

Levi blurts before he can take it back.

This wasn’t how he thought this would go.

Banter here and there, maybe, but—

“I don’t know,” you finally answer. “I’m not a saint for giving you food.”

Of course you’re not.

Saint James, the patron deity that hasn’t left his mind since.

Levi’s nostrils flare as he dips lower, too afraid to touch your torso. “I could have killed you — broken?”

“Bruised,” you reply. “I’ve felt broken before.”

“Positive?” 

“Yes. And I was trying to kill you back then, too. It wasn’t our fault.”

Were you?

Trying to kill him?

Makes sense, with how hard you went at him. It was the only match he felt nervous in.

“I wasn’t trying to,” Levi woefully answers.

“But you could have.”

His fingers pause for a fraction of a second. “Yeah,” he laments. “I could have.”

Just like tonight.

And just like every night after this, if you tell him yes to his bullshit plans.

“I thought maybe something happened to you,” you begin. “I never saw you on the circuit again, so I thought—”

“That was the first and only time I fought in that nasty shit.”

He pushes back his own fears and tips your chin upward. You easily obey.

“...so you weren't sold into it?”

Shit, was she? Too preoccupied by the feeling of how soft your skin is, Levi shakes his head.

“I was your only fight?”

“Technically,” he says.

“So then why were you—”

“Practice, in case I ever met someone who needed to kill me for quick cash.”

“That's a morbid reason. You were just a kid.”

“So were you, but for some reason you’re still in it.”

Gritting his teeth, he knows his temper is getting the best of him. It’s better to stay neutral in these types of talks but you… you’re so nonchalant about something so dire.

You could die.

Hell, he’s spent week after week hoping to hear your name so he’d hear you’re still alive.

Choosing to let that go, he drops his hands away from your face and flexes his fingers.

“Good news: you look like shit, but you’re not in deep shit. I can’t do anything about your ribs, but your face should be fine. You have a bad habit of leaning into your hits.”

It’s true. It’s like she likes getting hurt, as if it fuels her own rage.

A strategy, sure, but a shit one at that.

“Excuse me?” you growl. “What do you mean, I have a bad habit?”

Levi can’t help but give you a look. “Did those shitheads make you hard of hearing, too?”

“No, shithead," you mock right back and it’s actually… impressive. You keep up. It does something weird and unenjoyable to his stomach. “I don't lean into them."

“Yes, you do.”

“What, so you’ve watched my fights?”

Ah, shit.

Found out, yet again.

(Great job, Ackerman.)

“I watch fights. Not just yours,” Levi quickly retorts. “You're not special, so get your head out of your ass.”

“Oh fuck you, man.”

Damn, you really do speak his language.

Don’t smile, don’t smile, don’t—

And you don’t give up, either. “Leaning into them makes an opponent feel like they have the upper hand. Let them hit, then you strike.”

“It’s a shit strategy.”

“I’m smaller than a lot of my opponents.”

“So?"

“So? Coming out to a fight like you own the place puts a target on your back.”

Right.

Self-preservation, a tactic often used by the pimps who bring these poor kids to the rings. It’s a loophole to make sure your fighters don’t know their own worth so they can’t wail on you.

Kenny told him that.

Levi wishes he could have told her, too.

“Did your Mom teach you that?” he flatly responds.

Your nostrils flare. “Maybe she did, but your Dad sure as hell forgot to teach you manners.”

He snaps faster than he means to. “He wasn’t my father.” 

A beat passes, and his shoulders slump. 

“And you’re a better fighter than that,” he softens, exasperated. “Making yourself look weak is a shitty strategy for someone who can't land a punch, let alone someone who can. You take the punches because you damn well know you're better than every opponent they match you with. If you didn’t play the theatrics, then those idiots would all be dead in minutes.”

When you don’t spit in his face, he gently takes a step forward. Then another.

“I met you three years ago. I thought by now you would've found a way out." 

But you need help. 

This is his return payment. This is all he can offer in this shitstain of a city.

“Do you want out?” Your eyes widen, like he’s told you he’s secretly the king of the Walls. His tongue gently darts between his dried lips. “...if I had a way to get you out, would you take it?”

“...I don’t have a way out.”

“You do.”

“I don’t,” you croak, and it breaks his heart. “I’ve tried. You know people in the circuits—”

“You have a way out."

“Levi—”

“James.”

In defeat, he calls to you — your name, that name everyone else calls you.

All of his cards are on the table.

He can’t take this back. 

“This isn’t a charity hand out. We need a fighter.”

“Who the hell is we?”

“Furlan Church and myself.”

“Furlan fucking Church? That’s where you ended up after all this time, with that idiot?”

Levi blinks.

(Wait, what’s wrong with Furlan?)

Nevermind — he’ll ask later. He has a mission here.

“If you stay in the circuits, then you will die,” Levi finally states. “That bitch has been trying to put you in the ground for years. Do you really want her to win?”

Please say no.

Please listen to me.

Except you stagger backwards, and he’s terrified that somehow he’s botched this pitch. That somehow you wouldn’t be interested in a team—

“Wait — did you send those guys after me?”

Oh.

Shit.

“The three in the alleyway,” you continue. “They attacked me after the fight. It was really convenient of you to find me in the nick of time. So was that one of his initiation stunts?”

He wants to swear he was going to tell you, but that would sound like a cheap lie.

He wants to promise this wasn’t what he wanted, but that would sound like a patronizing lie.

“Dirty trick,” you growl and turn away, and worries seizes his heart.

“We need muscle for our next heist,” he quickly states, firming up his voice. “You would get a cut. You would have a permanent place to sleep. You would have routine meals, day and night."

You don’t turn to him. “I’d be selling myself for one contract to another.”

Levi shakes his head wildly, but you don’t see it. “You're free to leave whenever you want. If this doesn't work out in a week? Fine, then you can go. But if you do this, then you would never have to see that woman’s face again.”

“She’d find me.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he swears.

No, he wants to say. I’ll burn this city to the ground if she so much as tries it. I owe you.

“You would be protected with me.” 

But it isn’t just him.

You had a visceral reaction about Furlan. He has to be honest.

"With us."

Finally you turn back to him, and he’s woefully hopeful once more.

“Levi…”

The way you say his name…

Shit, he could hear you say his name like that every hour of every goddamn day if you’d just say yes to this deal he’s offering.

"You'll be paid,” he adds.

"I don't give a shit about pay,” you retort. “I have no money to my name as it is. Your... proposition just sounds too good to be true, that's all."

He needs more incentive.

He needs you to say yes.

"What do you need to be convinced?” he pleads, but it comes out monotone. “We sent our three best brawn and you cleared them in minutes. You can see why we'd want you."

"And if I say no?"

Fear seizes every cell of his body. You stare at him like he’s the enemy.

“Are you two going to keep sending people after me?”

(Would he finally stop searching for you?)

Swallowing, Levi knows he cannot keep you.

He barely knows you.

He just has a feeling he needs to.

“No,” he promises. “I'd let you live your life. This isn't an intimidation tactic. You would never hear from me again.”

And he means it.

He’ll give you anything for nothing.

It’s some kind of sickness he hasn’t quite recovered from since he was small.

Something about you has just infected his veins faster than the plague.

You turn your gaze to the door, and his face falls.

What can he do?

How can he convince you?

Your name exits his mouth in a fractured plea. “James—”

“I’m in.” 

Wait.

Did he hear that right?

You turn back to him with determination, chin lifted and shoulders squared. 

He can’t help but stare at you with a mixture of relief and admiration. 

Levi wonders if you notice. If you know, just how much you’ve been on his mind.

“I’m in,” you repeat. “I’ll go where you go.”

(And we'll never look back.)

[vodika-vibes]

Pen-Pals

Summary: When you're assigned a pen-pal for one of your classes, you expect to make a friend, at best. You definitely don't expect Tup to become something more to you.

Pairing: Sailor! Tup x Reader

Word Count: 4569

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: I am, like, 85% done with my Prince!Boba fic and decided to write this instead. Whoops.

Tagging: @the-bad-batch-baroness

Divider by saradika

“Alright everyone,” Your gaze drifts from your notebook up to the front of the classroom, where your teacher is trying to gather the attention of her class, “As you all know,” The teacher continues as soon as she has everyone’s attention, “I have been working to set up this pen-pal program with men on the front lines, as well as men on the naval ships-”

The room dissolves into groans and you roll your eyes, “Miss,” One of your classmates calls from the back of the room, “You’re a Rune teacher! Not a language teacher!”

The teacher slams her hand on the table, and the room falls silent immediately, “I already have pairings made up for all of you,” She says through ground teeth, “And you are going to write at least one letter.” She falls silent as she glares around the room, and then she’s all smiles again, “Now when I call your name, come up and get your assignment-”

After class ends, you leave campus quickly. The worst thing to do would be to remain and listen to the rest of your classmates bitch about this, admittedly weird, assignment. Why a Master Level magic teacher, who’s students were all adults, is creating a pen-pal program is beyond you…but grades are grades.

Plus, she gave you a stack of these really neat envelopes that will teleport the letter to the recipient the same day it’s sealed, and you really want to take a look at the runes that allow that to happen.

You push open the door to the store your grandparents own, and walk through the shop, into the back, and up the stairs. “I’m home!” You call as you open the door that leads to the house proper.

Your grandfather doesn’t look up from where he’s burning something into a piece of wood, “Welcome back,” He says, “How was class?”

“The teacher finally managed to make her pen-pal dreams come true,” You reply as you place your bag on a chair and walk over to the table, “What are you working on?”

“You tell me,” Your grandfather replies as he pushes the schematics over to you.

You turn the paper so you’re able to read it properly, your fingers lightly tracing over the written runes, “It looks like…hm…a warmer of some kind?” You asked.

“Very well done,” Your grandfather praises as he glances at you, “It’s a commission that came into the shop, they want a clothing warmer.”

“And you’re making it out of wood?” You ask doubtfully.

“Just the frame, kiddo. It’s going to be cast in steel when I finish this bit.” Your grandfather rolls his eyes, “You know your grandmother, she’s already got the forge fired up.”

“At least she loves her job,” You counter as you turn the schematics back towards your grandfather.

“True enough, she does love metalworking.” He beams at you, “So, who’s your pen-pal?”

“Dunno, I haven’t opened the envelope yet.” You reply as you grab a cookie out of the jar, and take a bite, “Unless you need me in the shop, I’ll probably head to my room and get started on that.”

“Such a diligent student,” Your grandfather teases, “We’re all set in the shop, for now. Killian actually showed up for his shift today.”

“You know you should fire him, right?” You say as you break off a piece of your cookie and toss it into your mouth.

“Ahh. I can’t do that. He’s Bernie’s son!”

“I didn’t know that leeches could look human,” You mutter under your breath.

Your grandfather points at you, “Behave.”

You hold up your hands, “Okay, okay.” You finish your cookie, “Since you don’t need me, I’ll just go to my room.” You grab your back and head out of the room, though you turn and start walking backwards so you can still see your grandfather, “I’m just saying, if I didn’t show up for work three times a week, I’d get fired.”

He shoots you a disappointed look, and you muffle a laugh as you turn and head down the hallway to your room. Though you do take a moment to open the door to the basement, where grandma’s forge is located. You don’t hear her hammering anything yet, “I’m home, grandma!”

“Hi, baby! Don’t come down here, there’s dust and smoke everywhere!” She calls the warning up the stairs.

“I can see it, Grandma. Have fun!” You hear the sound of delighted giggling, and you’re pretty sure you hear her crowing something about copper, but you decide that you do not want to get involved.

You very carefully shut the door to the forge, and watch as the fire suppressants flare to life down the hall and across the floor, and you shake your head and walk down to the end of the hall.

The house you share with your grandparents is a decently sized place, all things considered, even if it is oddly shaped. The fact that the only way to get to the basement is from the second floor, rather than the first floor, is odd. Though you don’t put it past your grandparents to have designed the house that way intentionally.

Your room is the smallest room in the house. 

It’s small enough that your grandfather had to make you a loft bed with a desk and a bookshelf built underneath, but you really don’t mind. The smaller room is easier to clean, and it means you never have to invite people over.

Useful, since you don’t actually have any friends.

You hang your bag on the hook on the bedroom door, and pull out your class books, the stack of envelopes your teacher gave you, and the simple envelope with your name on the front.

You sort everything, and then you sit at your desk and you slowly open the envelope. 

The first thing that slides out is a picture. A young man with dark skin, curly black hair pulled into a bun, and brown eyes is showcased in the picture. He has a tattoo of a teardrop under one of his eyes.

You set the picture to the side and pull out the slip of paper inside the envelope. It’s not even a full sheet of paper, it’s just a ribbon of paper with a few words written on it. His name is Tup Fett, he’s a few years older than you, and he’s stationed on the Resolute, a naval ship.

Well, you suppose. It’s something at least.

You open your desk and dig around for a moment, before you pull out a picture album and flip to the very end. You grab one of the most recent pictures of yourself (a professional picture you got made for your grandmother’s birthday a couple of months ago) and you slide it in the envelope that your teacher supplied you with.

And then you grab a blank piece of paper, from the stack of specialty stationary that your aunt gave you several years ago and you’ve never had any use to use, and then you just…stare.

What does one write to a pen-pal anyway?

You tap your pen against the paper for a moment, and then, when nothing comes to you, to start doodling flowers across the top and around the edges of the paper.

And then, once the paper had over two dozen intricately drawn roses, you started to write. 

Starting with an introduction and then an apology for all of the roses you drew on his letter. And once you started writing, you found that you couldn’t stop.

One page very quickly becomes three, and that’s when you decide to stop. You sign the letter, and then add a postscript saying that he doesn’t have to reply if he doesn’t want to.

And then you pull the picture back out of the envelope, and fold it in the letter, and, before you can start second guessing yourself, you shove the whole thing into the envelope, address the front, and seal it with a touch of magic.

Nothing happens for a moment, and then the envelope flashes twice, and vanishes.

************

When the men on the Resolute were told about the pen-pal program, Tup wasn’t convinced that it was a good idea. He’s still not convinced that it’s a good idea, but so many of his brothers are-

As a Private, Tup doesn’t expect to get a letter. Or to be lucky enough to get a pen-pal at all. After all, the Commanders and Captains and higher ranked brothers are sure to be chosen.

Which is totally fair. He does not begrudge his older brothers their ranks, he knows how hard they’ve worked to get to where they are, especially since some of the natborns they work with seem to think that there’s some favoritism going on.

Which is categorically ridiculous. Jango doesn’t play favorites. It’s why Cody works on a warship too. It’s why everyone except Fox works on a warship, and the only reason Fox doesn’t is because he’s in charge of the Mandalorian Guard. And the Police Force. And the Royal Guard.

Anyway, Tup is convinced that he’s not going to get a pen-pal, so he doesn’t even bother with considering it.

Which is why, when he steps into the room he shares with his batchmates, and he sees a letter on his bunk…he’s not really sure how to react.

He carefully picks it up and sees that it’s addressed to him, and so he just stares at it for almost 30 seconds. And then he lays down on his bunk and he slowly opens it.

Tup pulls out three sheets of paper, and his lips curl up into a smile, and that smile grows when the picture falls out of the letters. He picks it up and looks at it, at you, for a long moment. And then he turns the picture over and reads the information on the back.

Your name, the date it was taken, and a note in neat cursive, “I got professional pictures for Grandma for her birthday, but she only kept one, and gave the rest away. I did manage to save this one, though. So…here’s me.”

Tup flips the picture back over, and grins at the image of you. Cute. So very cute.

He sets the picture down on his chest, he’ll have to remember to beg Rex for some tape later so he can hang the picture on his bunk, and he opens the letter. Tup is more than a bit surprised when he sees all of the roses drawn on the first page.

And when the very first sentence is both an introduction and an apology for all of the flower doodles, he can’t help but release a quiet laugh, joy blossoming in his chest. 

Tup reads his letter three times before his older brother bursts into the room. “Tup!” Hardcase says, “Why did you skip dinner?”

“I was busy,” Tup replies as he sits up, and then he grins and holds up the letter, “I have a pen-pal.”

Hardcase blinks at Tup, twice, and then he lunges at him, “I want to read it!”

Tup swears loudly and twists, his feet catching Hardcase’s chest plate and pushing him back, “It’s not yours, dikut!” Hardcase lands with a loud crash, and the door to the room opens again.

“Tup? Hardcase?” Rex looks between the pair of them, “What are you doing?”

“Tup got a pen-pal and he won’t share.” Hardcase says from the floor, “Tell him he has to share.”

“That’s not at all how that works, Hardcase, and you know it.” Rex replies flatly, and then he glances at Tup and flashes a small smile, “I’m happy for you, vod. I have the envelopes in my office, you can get one in the morning.”

“Thanks, Rex.” Tup replies with a relieved sigh.

Rex just grins at him, and then he bends over and picks up a small square of paper, and his grin grows, as he looks at it. “She’s cute, Tup.” He offers the picture back to Tup, “I’ll go get some tape so you can hang the picture.”

Tup takes the picture and mutters something in response, before he hides the picture in his pocket.

“You’re not going to be able to hide it for long, vod.” Rex warns, “But I’ll make sure that no one tries to read your letters.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Tup replies easily. “They can get their own pen-pals if they want to read letters.”

Rex laughs, and claps Tup on the shoulder, “I’ll be sure to mention that. Come on. Let’s get you your envelope and some tape.”

“I thought you said I had to wait until the morning?” Tup asks.

“You’re not going to sleep, Tup.” Rex counters with a roll of his eyes, “You’re far too wired. Letting you write the letter now will at least keep you occupied until you do fall asleep.”

“...thank Rex.”

“This is the only time I’ll allow it, Tup.” Rex warns as he points at Tup.

“Yes sir.”

**************

When you wake the following morning, and carefully maneuver yourself down the ladder and onto the floor, you notice that there’s a letter sitting innocently on your desk.

You stare at the letter, pleasantly surprised.

You honestly didn’t expect a response at all, let alone one within 12 hours of the initial letter.

You yawn and sit down. You can hear your grandparents moving around down the hall, and you know that you really should save this to read later…but you have a few minutes, right?

You carefully open the envelope and settle back in your seat, and start to read.

Thank you for writing to me, sarad! I can honestly admit that I wasn’t expecting a pen-pal at all, especially not one who is so talented. I really liked the roses, so please don’t apologize for doodling!

It was also really interesting to hear about your class. I wasn’t aware that there were magic schools…but I suppose it does make sense. There’s not nearly enough wizards in the world for everyone to have an apprenticeship. I admit that I’m not sure what runes are used for, but you seem very passionate about them. Is that because of your grandparents? You mentioned them, and their shop, a lot.

I can’t tell you where I am right now, it’s not allowed, but I can tell you that we’re still several months away from returning to Mandalore. I miss solid ground…and my own room. More my own room than solid ground, if I’m going to be completely honest.

Sharing a room with 5 other men? Not fun. The fact that they’re my brothers somehow only makes it twice as bad and ten times more annoying.

Oh! The picture you sent me is currently hanging on the wall in my Berth. Not in my bunk, just…on the wall…next to the mirror. I’m so sorry, my brothers are idiots and they insisted. Hardcase made some paper flowers and taped them to the wall around your picture. I’m still not sure why.

It’s okay though, because Cap gave me permission to beat him around the training room in the morning.

I suppose I won’t be too hard on Hardcase. The splash of color is nice. If you wanted to send more pictures of anything, it would be nice. But please don’t feel like you have to.

Anyway, I have to wrap this up now. It’s late and I do have work I need to do in the morning.

Thank you again, Sarad, for writing to me. I hope you will again.

Yours, 

Tup

P.S. Hardcase says hi.

P.P.S. Dogma also says hi.

P.P.P.S Hardcase says that if you want to send some candy, that would be nice. He wants fruit flavored hard candy, I’m partial to peppermint, personally.

P.P.P.P.S. This is the last one, I swear. Hardcase swears that fruit candy is better, he’s wrong. I’m pretty sure he was dropped on his head as an infant.

By the time you reach the end of the letter, you’re giggling. Tup sounds so fun, and Sarad is a very nice nickname.

More pictures is definitely do-able, you have an entire box filled with random pictures you’ve taken over the last few years, though you’re not sure how to get candy to them.

Maybe if you put the candy in a box and then tape the letter to the top? You’ll ask grandpa, he’ll know.

“Angel!” You hear your grandfather call from the hallway, “Breakfast!”

“Coming!” You shout back. You carefully lay the letter in an empty box, planning on collecting as many letters as Tup decides to send you, and then you hurry out of your room. “Hey, grandpa! I have a rune question-”

The letter you eventually send back to Tup at the end of the day is attached to a box full of candy, cookies, and various pictures of places and people. You also added some stationary for Tup, and you’re pretty sure your grandparents added a few more pictures of you.

You eye your grandmother suspiciously for a moment, “Are you planning on adopting Tup, Grandma?”

“Hm? Oh, no dear. I’m in the process of planning your wedding to him.”

“...Grandma!”

“What?”

********

Tup blinks at the box sitting on his bunk.

He’s fairly certain that the pen-pal thing isn’t supposed to be a daily thing, but he’s not complaining. At all.

He grabs the box and sits on the floor as he carefully opens it. And then his jaw drops.

There’s a bunch of different types of candies, a container full of cookies, a sweater, and a box that, when he opens it, reveals an entire stack of pictures. Tup absently flips through the pictures, most are of various places around Mandalore. Though some are pictures of his Sarad through the years.

Tup pops a peppermint into his mouth, and carefully peels the envelope off the front of the box, and opens it.

Hey Tup!

I have to admit, having a letter to read as soon as I woke up this morning was a surprise. Though it was a pleasant surprise! I didn’t think that you would want to write back to a babbling college student. I’m glad that I was wrong!

It would be nice to be an apprentice to a proper wizard, but, well, only the wealthy or the lucky actually have that chance. And I’ve never been either, so I made due with what the college can offer me. Not that I’m much of a magic user, honestly. You’ll never catch me running around throwing fireballs or summoning lightning. I’ll stick with my safe, clean, runes.

You said you don’t know much about runes, but to keep this from becoming a lecture-Runes can be used for a lot of things, but mostly they’re useful. Like…I have runes sown into my boots so that they don’t get dirty, even if I jump in a mud puddle. And I have a locket my grandparents made me that acts as a rudimentary tracking charm. (I really need to get them to remove that, I’m not five anymore after all.)

And I do lean more to runes because of my grandparents. They raised me since I was four. My parents and older siblings decided to take a world tour…and just never came back. It doesn’t bother me as much as it bothers my grandparents, though. They feel like I should miss them, and I really don’t. How do you miss something you never had?

Anway.

What’s it like living on a ship? I imagine it’s cramped and you don’t have much space. At least you’re with family, I suppose. Though if I had to be in close quarters with any member of my family for a long period of time, I would commit murder, so it’s best that I’m not.

I don’t mind that my picture is hung up, your picture is hung up over my desk after all. But I did send some more pictures so maybe you can reclaim the picture of me and replace it with something a bit less…embarrassing? Though I think grandma snuck some more pictures of me in your care box.

I hope you like the sweater I got you. I wasn’t sure as to your size, so I got a size up from what I thought you might wear. And I know the Resolute’s color is blue, so I just grabbed that color, so you can wear it on shift, maybe? If you don’t like the color you can send it back, and I’ll get you a different one. Promise.

Anyway, my lunch break is almost over, so I had better go. I have to go scream at one of my grandfather’s employees…he showed up five hours late for his shift. Who does that??

XOXO

Sarad

P.S say hi to Hardcase and Dogma for me

P.P.S There is enough candy in the box for you and Hardcase, but please don’t feel like you have to share with him.

P.P.P.S Also, you’re both wrong. Chocolate is the superior candy, and I will fight you on this.

Tup grins at the letter and immediately pulls the sweater on. It’s a bit too big on him, but it’s warm and he loves it. He opens the box of pictures and starts going through them. All of the pictures with his Sarad in them get put to the side to get hung up in his bunk, while he leaves the others on the desk so the Berth can get properly decorated.

*************

It’s been almost a year since you first started writing to Tup, and you still hear from him almost daily. Of course, you’re just as guilty as he is of writing daily letters.

And sending gifts. So many gifts.

Though, in your defense, most of the things you’ve gifted him have been sketches and doodles. Though you did send him a new hair clip that your grandma made for his birthday.

He also got a cake, courtesy of your grandfather.

You spin your pen between your fingers as you stare at the almost finished letter.

Well, the letter is finished, technically you could send it as is, and it would be fine. After all, Tup would be docking soon…as in today, and you can finally see him face to face, but-

But.

You nervously gnaw on your lower lip and, before you can second guess yourself, you add a hastily scribbled postscript, and then you shove the letter into the envelope, and seal it.

The letter glows, and vanishes, and you stare at the spot for a moment. 

Well. It’s out of your hands now. Now all you can do is wait.

*************

Tup stares at the letter in his hands wide eyed. He wasn’t expecting another letter, not since he’s so close to returning home, to being able to see you in person.

But you sent a letter anyway, and while the majority of the letter is normal stuff, it’s the postscript that has him thrown for a loop.

I’m looking forward to meeting you in person. I’ll be there when the Resolute docks, Grandpa already said I can have the day off. So don’t worry about replying to this letter!

XOXO

Sarad

P.S. I love you

He reads the postscript over and over and over. There aren’t any more envelopes. He can’t reply to you, even though he wants nothing more than to send a reply, even if the reply is only four words.

He fights the urge to hunt Rex down and demand one more envelope, though he knows his older brother is absolutely not going to give him another envelope, even if there was another envelope. Which. There is not.

“You alright, vod?” Dogma asks, as he looks from Tup’s anxiously bouncing leg to the way he’s impatiently tapping a rhythm out on the paper in his hand.

“What? Yeah. Yes, everything’s fine. Great.”

“Right. You wanna try repeating that in a way that’s more believable?” Dogma asks dryly.

“...Sarad loves me.”

Dogma stares at him, silent, “Vod. You’ve been in love with her for six months. Why are you freaking out about this?”

“Because I want to tell her.”

“Great, you can tell her in person. In two hours.” Dogma replies.

“But-”

“No buts. Just relax, vod.”

The last two hours pass by in the blink of an eye, and Tup shifts nervously. This is the first time he's been able to meet you face to face, and he's nervous.

Only a little.

Because you're great! And you're so kind, and whenever he talks to you, or thinks about you, his stomach flips, and he feels like a cadet again.

But he's still nervous. He's not Rex or Jesse or Fives, all of whom ooze charm as easy as breathing. So there's always the chance that you'll see one of his brothers and choose one of them.

Regardless of what you had said in the letter.

And then the ship is docking, and he's disembarking and he sees you, and you're just as ethereal as your pictures showed-

And you see him, and your smile is blinding, and then you're in front of him, and your arms are around his neck, and he's stumbling backwards, and Rex has to catch him -

Tup can't help but laugh as he curls his arms around your waist, "Hi Sarad." He breathes out, and all of his nerves vanish as though they never existed to begin with.

“Hi,” You reply, your arms settling comfortably around his neck, “Did you get my letter?”

“I did,” Tup replies.

“And?” You ask, some anxiety passing through your gaze.

Tup grins at you and catches your lips with his own, one of his hands leaving your hip to cradle the back of your head as he deepens the kiss. He can hear his brothers wolf-whistling him, and he breaks the kiss, though he remains close enough to kiss you again, when he wants to, “Is that an answer?” He asks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

And your face is red, and your eyes are bright, “I’d like to hear the words anyway.” You whisper, uncaring of the audience…and you do have an audience.

His grin is boyish, and both of his hands move to cradle your face between his hands, “I,” He kisses your forehead, “Love,” he peppers light kisses across your cheeks, and nose, “You.” His lips catch yours in an even deeper kiss. “How’s that?”

You giggle and tilt your head slightly, “I think it’s perfect. A perfect confession for a perfect Tup.” At this point, the audience has moved away, with other couples reuniting across the docks.

He kisses you again and again, before he finally pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, “Remind me to write a letter to your old teacher for introducing us.”

“She’ll be unbearable, Tup.” You whisper up to him.

“We can allow it, for a little bit.” Tup whispers back.

“Grandma and Grandpa are dying to meet you, can you leave?”

“My shore leave officially started the moment I stepped off the ship. I would love to meet your family.” He ghosts his lips against yours, one more time, “Lead the way, Sarad.”

[y0ukn0wme]

Till War Do Us Part

Capitano x F!Reader (though anyone can read since I don't actually specify readers gender I think and idc who reads)

Warnings : Injured reader, blood, injury, mentions of war, angst, use of pet names, OOC Capitano?, (I think that's everything) Word Count : 864

A/N : This took longer than I thought lmao, I did look over and edit it but there still may be mistakes. I also feel as my writing wasn't as smooth as I wanted it to be. oh well. Enjoy.

Part 2

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 2000 years have passed since the last Archon War, which left devastating effects all across Teyvat and many Gods dead. The Tsaritsa, Cryo Archon of Snezhnaya has long awaited the day when she could finally burn away the old world. With the collection of all Gnosis from the other Archons in her hands, she quickly called to war with Celestia and the remaining Gods. Resulting in another Archon War.

With War, however, comes death, and with death comes soldiers but soldiers need guidance in the face of war. Which is where you step in, General to the 12th Company of the Snezhnayan Military and Wife to Capitano, one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. You have long since been a well-respected figure within your frigid and glacial homeland, even before you had married your husband who had his own reputation. Your wedding together, albeit short, was one of surprising love to the Soldiers, Harbingers, and the Tsaritsa herself.

While many saw you as a respected General who continually fought for the position you wanted and your husband as a cold and brutal man who had no ounce of love to give, somehow the two of you came together for the first time and fell in love at first sight.

Those days were full of love and warmth to you, never wanting to leave and hoping time would forever freeze. Often while you slept and day-dreamed you would be reminded of your husband as he held you close while you both laid on a long, red chaise lounge chair that sat near a large window that overlooked the wintery nights and snow-covered forest surrounding your home as the fireplace burned, keeping the both of you warm.

Yes, how warm it was in the room…

How warm…

Your eyes parted as you lay on the ground, the sky a dark grey from the war. Your unfocused eyes caught hold of a snowflake slowly floating down before it reached you, laying on your stomach. Straining your eyes to focus on it, you finally realised that it was not a snowflake but ash from the war. A sigh left your mouth as you remembered what had happened to you.

Your eyes drifted to your right side, making note that your left hand was holding it even if it proved to be useless. Your eyes widened a bit at just how much blood there was, you had lost an amount you couldn’t even fathom counting.

So you just laughed, till you began to cough up large amounts of blood, wincing from the pain. At this point, it was safe to say you were covered in your own blood. You were so sore, so tired, so cold…

So cold... Without him…

“Capitano…” You weakly whispered out as your eyes very slowly began to close on themselves.

Like on command, a hand laced in leather caressed your right cheek. “My Flame… worry no more, I am by your side once again.”

Your eyes drifted towards the familiar voice you knew and once they laid upon the face that was hidden behind the cool steel you often saw, tears pricked the corners of your eyes. A wave of warmth and ease washed over your body. You were no longer alone in the cold wasteland.

Capitano lowered himself, slightly lifting his helm before he placed a long, passionate kiss against your temple. “It was so cold without you..” You said with a meek voice. Your left hand that was holding your wound stalked up towards his face, landing on his helm. Blood smeared across the steel but your husband did not care for all that was on his mind was you.

“Speak no more, my flame. Conserve the little energy you still have left and let me take care of you.” Capitano shifted his arms beneath you slowly so he wasn’t too rough with moving you. Lifting you up in a bridal style that felt no different from lifting a feather, albeit he did have inhuman strength.

A few groans of pain left your mouth as he picked you up, trying not to worry him any more than you already had. You focused your attention back on him, trailing your hand down from his helm to his neck, your blood trailing behind.

“Leave me here my love.” You spoke softly as the colour from your face was draining quickly. “I will simply burden you.” Capitano held you closer, never taking his eyes off of you. “I would do anything for you, my dove. But leaving is something I am not capable of, for you are my wife, the one I love, and my equal.” 

The two of you turned away from the battlefield as he carried you away. His and your soldiers bending to their knees in respect and mourning for the two of you. They held that position until the flaky ash and hurling snow covered both of your figures. 

It was colder than ever that day, yet it felt so warm to be in his embrace. It was all you could think about even as your hand fell back down to your stomach.

Oh, how warm…

[sheerfreesia007]

Stupid Cupid #13

Title: Stupid Cupid #13

Fandom: Top Gun Maverick

Pairing: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Words: 1,668

Warnings: Fluff

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Prompt: Texting

Author Notes: 

Gif Credit: @notyoursbutlewis

The soft ding of his cellphone pulled Mickey out of his study session as he looked up from his handbook over to the phone laying face down on his desk. He put a bookmark in the handbook before getting up from his spot on his bed. Walking over to the desk he grabbed the phone and turned it over to see who had texted him. He smiled when he saw that it was from her.

Hey Handsome! Don’t forget to drink and take breaks while studying! Can’t wait to see you this weekend. <3

Mickey grinned as he read the words quickly before he caught himself reaching for the large steel water bottle that he had filled up earlier. He rolled his eyes at himself as he realized that all she had to do was send him a simple text and he was already doing whatever it was she wanted him to do. But then Mickey’s mind turned to the free weekend he had coming up and how he had plans to spend all of it with her.

Just then there was a knock at the door and Mickey looked up from his phone to see Payback holding onto the door as he peeked into the room. Payback’s eyes were on Mickey’s phone that he was still holding in his hand before he huffed out a breath at his back seater.

“She’s texting you during study time?” He asked sounding disappointed.

“Only to remind me to drink water and take breaks.” Mickey defended and Payback looked taken aback for a moment. “She knows how serious this is for me. She’s not bothering me.” 

“Alright but make sure you get back to studying man. Can’t afford to mess this up.” Payback reminded him and Mickey nodded his head easily as he texted out a simple response to her before setting the phone back down on the desk.

*-*-*-*

The next time he got a text it was after his exam and he had just joined the squad at the hangar while they waited for the last of the squad to finish their exam. The little ding that alerted him to a text from her made him grin softly as he fished his phone out of his pocket. A soft scoff from his right made Mickey shake his head as he looked down at the phone screen.

How do you feel? I bet you aced that exam! I’m so proud of you. Only three more days until I get to see you! <3

“Look at this fool and that smile.” Payback teased him and Mickey grinned as he looked up at his friend.

“Whatever man, she’s just checking up on me.” Mickey said in defense of you as he typed out a response to you about the exam.

“Keep your head in the game though man. Don’t let her become a distraction.” Payback warned him softly and Mickey frowned at his words wondering if you were starting to become a distraction for him. “That’s all I’m saying man, don't let her pull you away from what you want out of the Navy.”

Mickey looked down at the phone at your text message and wondered if Payback was right. But then another text from you came in and he knew without a doubt that Payback had it all wrong.

I am so proud of you and know you’re going to get everything that you dream of.

*-*-*-*

The steady beeping of the vitals monitor set Payback’s nerves on edge. He knew he should’ve listened to Fanboy when they were in training today but for some reason he hadn’t and it had cost Fanboy a trip to the medical wing. The doctor had told him that he’d be fine but they needed to keep him for observation since he had hit his head pretty hard on the console when Payback had tried to evade Fritz’ plane.

Gritting his teeth Payback sat in the chair next to the hospital bed watching over Fanboy as he rested peacefully. Just then a soft ding was heard and Payback sighed softly as he reached over to the table and picked up Fanboy’s cell phone. He had already let Fanboy’s family know that he was in a minor accident but that he’d be alright so he wondered who it was that was texting him.

Hey Handsome! How was training? Did you make sure that Payback was alright during training? I know you said he was nervous for this training session did it all go alright?

Staring down at the phone Payback had completely forgotten about you and notifying you about the accident. Looking up at Fanboy he was still sleeping peacefully in the bed and Payback wasn’t sure if he should wake him to respond to your text. He quickly typed out a response letting you know who he was and that Fanboy would be okay but he was in the medical wing for observation. He was surprised by your response.

I’m sorry there was an accident! Are you alright too? I hope you’re okay, I’m sure you both did your best during training and things just happen. Thank goodness you’re both alright though. Can you ask Mickey to call me when he gets out of the medical wing? I’m gonna be a nervous wreck until I can hear his voice again.

Payback sat there rereading your text message as he sat there realizing that maybe he had been wrong about you and your relationship with Fanboy. He typed out a response that it’d be the first thing he did when Fanboy woke up, you thanked him and the conversation ended there making Payback realize that you were someone so much more than a fling for Fanboy. He sighed as he sat back in the chair after setting the phone down, he had a new understanding of you now that he’d talked with you.

*-*-*-*

Mickey is anxious to be released from duty on base, it was the weekend and he was just shy of being able to spend two whole days with you uninterrupted. Finally when Maverick gave the order that they were free he shot up from his chair wincing as it scraped loudly against the floor. Payback chuckled softly next to him and Mickey snapped his head towards him to look at him while Payback held his hands up in faux surrender. Just then a ping came from his phone and Mickey grinned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and saw your text message.

Hey Handsome. I’m here at the Hard Deck. Waitin’ on you aviator. <3

The grin that formed on his face was almost blinding as he rushed out of the hangar and back to his dorm room where he quickly grabbed his duffel bag. The squad were all heading to the Hard Deck for drinks and he was going to catch a ride with them, but they were moving so slow. 

Mickey tried to be patient as he waited for the squad to finally get back to the dorms and waited another few minutes for them to freshen up and get everything they needed for a night out. Payback chuckled as he walked out of his dorm to find Mickey practically dancing with excited energy in the hallway.

“Calm down man. She ain’t gonna leave ya. I’m pretty sure she’s more excited than you are.” Payback said reassuringly to try and calm Mickey down but it didn’t work.

“Like she could be more excited than me right now.” Mickey scoffed and Payback burst out in laughter as Bob came walking up to the two of them.

“You alright there Fanboy?” he asked and Mickey just nodded his head quickly as his eyes darted behind him trying to see who was coming out next.

“He’s going off base to spend the weekend with his girl.” Payback told Bob who grinned shyly at Mickey and nodded his head.

“Understandable.” Bob said easily and Mickey huffed softly before nearly bouncing in place when he saw Phoenix step out swinging her keys around her index finger. She smiled at him before rolling her eyes at his antics.

“Alright c’mon you goons. Let’s get this one to the bar so that he can see his girl.” She teased Fanboy as she wrapped an arm around his neck and began leading the three of them out of the dorms to her car. While he waits anxiously in the back seat of the car Mickey tries to keep himself calm as the others get into the car and Phoenix begins to drive. He looks down at his phone and quickly sends you a text saying that they were on their way to the bar.

It didn’t take very long for Phoenix to turn down the road and Mickey began to get more excited as he spotted your car parked in the parking lot. He grinned widely as he saw you leaning against the side of your car waiting for him. You were dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a light colored flowy blouse with big sleeves. You looked stunning as a breeze came off the ocean and blew through the parking lot making your sleeves flutter in the breeze.

He doesn’t wait until Phoenix completely parks the car before he’s hopping out and rushing towards you with his duffle bag in his hand. Payback can see from the front seat of Phoenix’s car the beaming smile on your face as Fanboy swoops you up into his arms and holds you tight. Your laughter dances through the air as the three aviators sit and watch Fanboy greet you with the happiest grin on his face.

“Oh boy.” Bob says softly from the back seat as they all watch Fanboy kiss you as if his life depended on it as he lifted you up into the air making you laugh brightly at his antics.

“Boy’s in love, man.” Payback says softly and laughs while shaking his head.

[justmightyshadows]

Took me awhile but another chapter is ready!

Minthara leaned into the throne as if she’d sat there a million times. Her legs spread wide as she filled the space with her presence, sipping a glass of wine and looking out over the hall. The chairs and benches are strewn across it, the blood covering the walls leaves a haunting view of the lives lost but her eyes are drawn to a large steel door. The door where she entered as a guest, then as a disgraced warrior and finally as a conqueror. The door Muira came in to see her at her lowest point, her meager plea responded to by Umberlee’s spawn. She took a big swig from the goblet, savoring the taste of home that Muira had brought for her some days ago and let her head lean back against the cold stone of the throne. She heard soft footsteps approaching, the echoing clink of metal on stone sang of armor but she made no motion to open her eyes or greet her visitor. They could come to her today, whoever it was, she would not be moved from her seat.

The footsteps stopped in front of her and a pleasing voice spoke from the darkness “I saw you deal the final blow on Ketheric. An enemy destroyed and my ally freed, we make quite the team.” Minthara opened her eyes and gazed down at her, in her heavy fishscale armor, one hand on her hip and the other extended to hold up her trident, a stunning and impressive warrior. She seemed to be without injury and even had a look to her as if she could have battled on for many days, it set Minthara’s lust ablaze to see her so. Muira took off a glimmering helm and placed it on the ground. “Seeing you sitting there has stirred something in me, the throne has given me a view of my tomorrow. Would that you’d be in a throne in Selkarnath. A true lord though must have those who are loyal to them.” She made a show of taking off her gloves, tossed them to fall near the helm “Let me be your first, I have bent the knee for no one in my long life, but today I will bend it for you. Today, I will swear myself to you.” Minthara chuckled, blushed slightly. Muira was always getting under her skin, worming herself into Minthara’s flesh and sitting at her heart. It was too good to be true. “The battle haze has made you speak outside of yourself. Do not make me promises you do not plan to keep or you will know my fury” she joked a bit but felt herself hoping to see the action for herself.

“I do not speak without reason. I refuse to kneel unless moved to do so. You have earned my trust in action and word. By tongue and sword.” She put down the trident and shed her arm greaves and chest piece as she asked with batted brown eyes “May I approach you, my lord?”Minthara’s throat was dry and the wine had started to heat her body up as well, she squirmed on the throne but found herself wearing a smirk that gave aware her desire. “You may.” She managed to squeak out with a bit of feigned nonchalantness. Muira was before her quickly, falling to her knees as she slowly took off Minthara’s armor, undoing the puzzle of straps with ease - each newly exposed body part was kissed and caressed under her lord’s watchful eye. Minthara had not expected such a reception but did not find herself upset, on the contrary her dreams of late had often drifted to this demi-god worshipping her in such a way, her knees bruised from supplication - her mouth ajar begging for entrance. They had taken turns between sleep and meditation the previous night and she had watched with fervor at the shape of her lover’s body. Muira soon had her in her under tunic, she had not put on underwear hoping to feel the lust of battle over her fully. The cold stone of the throne aroused every inch of the exposed skin on her legs. “You return a conqueror my lord. What say you? What does such an act deserve? I can feel the heat of battle on you still. Let me give you release.” Minthara watched as skilled fingers worked their way up to her thighs, her waist to playfully pinch her erect nipples. She let out a quiet moan and answered “A true lord makes deals with their vassals. What do you offer me?” Muira let her tongue slide against the now exposed thighs “Devotion. Adoration. Power. ” Muira looked up with dark brown eyes “What do you offer me then - since we are striking a deal.” Minthara shivered as Muira grazed her inner thigh with sharp teeth. She did not wait for a reply as Minthara racked her head for the right response. Instead Muira pulled her forward on the throne and let her ass hang off the edge just a bit. Minthara pressed her feet into the arms of the throne and gave herself to the sensation of Muira’s tongue. She had started to caress the outer lips and work her way between the folds with in teasing motions. Muira sucked lightly on her clit before taking it gently between her teeth and looking up at her. This woman, she thought to herself, she will devour my body if I’m not careful. She gave a look of approval to Muira, begging even to keep going. She was answered with more adoration, this time the harsh sucks were accompanied with deep breaths of hot air across her. The hum of her voice as she moaned into the exhales vibrated her entire being. She was lost to the world when she heard a familiar patter of feet and rustling of clothes from behind the hallway door. Muira responded to her tensing lifting her to her feet quickly and standing in front of her - she threw on her tunic while they peered deeply into the darkness trying to find the source of the noise. They glanced at each other before Minthara allowed Muira to pick up their belongings and head out. “Let’s take this to the tent then my lord. I would hate to be stopped again.” Muira went to a side door towards camp and pushed against it gingerly. Minthara used her body as a shield to make her way out and deep into the shadows down the hall. Muira on the other hand took a glance behind the door to see their visitors.

Astarion stood against the wall his pants hanging around his ankles, his face a smug statue. He was proud of his conquest and Muira could see why, before him was Wyll his eyes closed as Astarion guided his mouth up and down his cock with rough motions. He jerked his head to tell Muira to leave as he pressed himself into the back of Wyll’s throat. “Don’t stop yet. I’ve barely begun.” He mewled. Muira returned to camp quickly and shed her clothing in the tent under Minthara’s watchful gaze, the hair had been trimmed down since their last encounter but she was sporting a new long scar on her leg. She straddled the drow quickly hoping not to lose the momentum of their embrace. She lifted Minthara’s hip taking in the supple feel of her skin, and rested her ass gracefully on her thigh then pressed forward, rubbing their wet cunts together. The sensation sent Minthara’s eyes backwards her clit was swollen from the feast Muira had before so she was sensitive to rubbing against her lover in such a way. She was already close to her climax when she looked up. Staring up into the concentrated face before her, her heart skipped as she heard a soft whisper. “I love you.” Minthara did not respond instead she reached out to assist, to show, she groped longingly for her lover’s wet warmth but was denied each time with a hard push. The thrusts continued in a rhythmic pattern as Minthara clenched harshly and felt her tensing muscles slide against Muira’s wetness. Muira only seemed more emboldened by the climax, she looked down longingly and whispered in soft tones only slightly audible over the sounds of their bodies slamming together “Tonight I will please my Lord, I will reward you, I will worship you, like only I can.”

The climaxes continued without Muira showing signs of wavering, each time Minthara felt her body lose itself she was sure that would be the last but Muira would continue, her brow furrowed and her body glistening from exertion. The motion never let up, her hips bucked and fell pressing their warmth together for what felt like eternity. The sweat between them became sticky from each passing orgasm. She couldn’t scream, could barely call out. Her legs were like two heavy pieces of stone tired from the onslaught of release.

She closed her eyes and accepted that she would be in an endless state of ecstasy when Muira pressed down into her hands and began to slam her hips forcefully, breathing heavily, she eased out Minthara’s name and looked deep into her eyes. “Minthara. I’m almost there. Please don’t stop me yet.” It would be impossible for this to be her only climax Minthara thought but held her breath as the hard thrusts slowed to ragged pushes her body tensing her legs pressed together and she gave a deep guttural groan of release. She lowered herself limply to Minthara’s side and smiled. Wiping the sweat soaked hair from Minthara’s face. “Am I worthy my lord? To lay by your side?” Minthara let out a harsh laugh and kissed her “You are the only one who is.” Her body felt cold with Muira released from her, she felt empty and even a bit of sadness began to take place at the thought that it was over. She nestled into her neck and pulled the thick blankets over her, she closed her eyes in the act of blinking and was immediately asleep, her body forcing her into a meditative trance before she could protest. Minthara awoke in Muira’s tent, her armor, cleaned and polished, sat in the corner. Her body was covered in a soft healing cream and fine silk bed clothes. There is a tray of fruits and mushrooms sitting near her and for a second she saw the fleeting back of Muira’s servant before she disappeared, in a flash of light.

Before she could investigate further, she noticed the sound of striking metal outside and rose to see Muira training with Lae’zel. They both are shirtless. Glistening bronze of her skin causes her heart to race, she notices the many eyes on Muira and smirks to herself - she knew the others lusted for something they would never have, something that was hers. The sound of their acts must have penetrated the entire camp last night. Muira’s eyes flickered in her direction between a large swing by Lae’zel. She dealt a quick blow to Lae’zel’s hand with a thunderous smack causing her to drop her weapon then pushed hard with her shoulder to knock her down, her trident came to rest at her sparring partners neck who gave a “Tchk” and raised her hand in defeat. She lifted her gently to her feet and laughed. “I will teach you that move later today, I see my love has awoken.” Minthara walked over to them with a swaggering confidence of a satisfied lover and noticed the whining cleric taking an interest in Lae’zels shape. “You have an admirer.” Minthara whispered gently coming to rest her head against Muira’s. “Enjoy your conquest, but beware one who was shown so much prejudice against you.” Lae’zel cast her eyes towards Shadowheart who tried to quickly duck into her tent. “I will leave you then. I have waited for her mind to be unclouded.”

She strutted toward Shadowheart’s tent and enters in a swish of fabric. “She’s still shirtless.” Muira chuckled. Her eyes turn to Minthara “You look well. A new day at your side” She brings Minthara’s hand to her lips and gives it a tender kiss. “I would hate to idle here any longer. I was told we have two new targets in baldurs gate. One that I hear you have intimate knowledge of, a past lover? Jealous, don’t be. But she likes the look of jealousy. Savors the question and the small bit of anger in Muiras words. She is desired.” If I was jealous it wouldn’t last for long. You will put your blade through her throat and quell any such fear. I will talk to dame Aylin on our way, once she has time to be with Isobel. Nothing could take her away at this point.” Muira said with a cool confidence but also a bit of warning. “Then we move onward.” Minthara replied - moving Muira’s hair from her face and leaving a soft kiss on her cheek.

[archangeltwins]

>:3

"Wakey wakey, now. There's a good girl. Welcome back to the land of the livin', sweetheart."

Dust particles created a haze in the afternoon sun, windows coated in a thick layer of grime. The air stuffy, heavy, all manner of insects enjoying the blistering temps. Katerina became vaguely aware her throat felt as though she'd swallowed sandpaper, head aching terribly. Fuck. Cracking an eye open, she closed it just as quick, sensitive to light.

If she ignored it, maybe it'd go away. Not him. Not him come to haunt her. This had to be a dream. A hallucination. A trick of the heat -- something other than reality.

"Dove, look at me," came the command, and with it, the faintest groan of a chair's springs lamenting lost weight. A lower timbre, a growl, the act waning. "I said, look. at. me."

No. She wouldn't. Pain radiated from her temple, echoing in a thousand directions. Everything was foggy. Jumbled. Brief flashes of the car's descent towards the news stand overlapped with gleaming silver.

Trying to get her tongue to work, heavy as it may be, she flinched when fingertips ghosted her jawline. Smoothing down wrinkles in cottony gauze. A strange gentleness, even if her wrists felt tied. Another part yearned to lean into the touch -- conditioned.

"Fuck. . .you. . .Thornhill."

Words came, but they were slurred, syllables trailing off. Nausea settled in her gut like a heavy stone. He was too close. He wasn't real. This wasn't happening. Multiple blinks cleared away wispy doubles of his signature build. Tall, broad in the shoulders and narrow-waisted. Suit undone partway up. Loafers gleaming in the sepia lowlight.

Fingers then dug into her chin, thumb and forefinger tight. Barcode-band tattoo in her peripheral on his inner wrist. His lips pursed, squared jaw set. Steel met ice. Heavyset brows lift, usually combed-over hair wild and messy. Like he'd been running his hands through.

"There's that whip-crack tongue. You're still spittin' fire, little missy. Been a hot minute hearin' my name fall from those pretty lips. Gave my boys quite the goose chase, finding shrapnel mixed with viscera. Your leftovers, I take." He purrs, breath cool on her face, smelling of artificial mint.

"But now, see, I've got you back."

[casspurrjoybell-26]

Made of Steele - Chapter 32

*Warning: Adult Content*

It's been over thirty minutes and there was no sign of Kit.

"He'll show up," I told my dad, for the third time, as Evan smiled reassuringly next to him.

'Where the hell was he?'

The moment five minutes past our meetup time, I couldn't help but wonder if he went back to England again without so much of a goodbye, that fear has been consuming me for thirty minutes now.

"Jamie, I'm sure he will," Evan says, as I look back at the door to the restaurant again.

'Come on Kitt, where are you?'

My cell-phone starts to ring in my pocket and before it becomes too loud I quickly answer it before looking at who was calling, putting the phone against my ear.

"Hello? This isn't a good timing..."

"T-This is Jamie, r-right?" a girl's voice asks, as I frown and lower the phone from my ear.

The caller ID was Kitt's number, so why was a girl phoning me?

"Why do you have Kit's phone?" I ask, as the girl on the other end of the phone sobs quietly.

"Y-You met me, It... It's Amber… C-Christopher…"

The line goes quiet as she takes a deep shaky breath.

"H-He's been stabbed, h-he's in emergency surgery, I know he was meant to meet you a-and I just thought you would like to k-know."

Before I could even open my mouth to speak, she hung up and ended the call, leaving me sitting there frozen as I stared at my empty place in front of me.

Kit got stabbed?

Emergency Surgery?

What, how, when and why?

There were a thousand things going through my head but the one that had me afraid the most was I didn't know if Kit was alive or dead and that scared the hell out of me.

"I.... I need to g-go."

I stumble up from my seat, my whole body feeling like it's shaking from the cold.

I couldn't lose him, not... not again.

"Jamie, everything will be alright," my dad's calm voice rings out.

"I'll find out what happened," my dad says, as I try to steady my breathing, my hands shaking profusely as my chest tightens as I stare at my dad talking to someone on the phone.

I watch as his eyes widen and then look down at me, I see his mouth moving but don't hear a word as I wait for something, anything that had to do with Kit and where he was.

"He's close and in surgery, his family is on the way," my dad said, as Evan and my dad collected their things.

That was all there was to say as I rose to my feet and collected my coat from my chair and then my phone from the table as I followed behind my dad and Evan as we left the restaurant.

My world was spinning out of control but the only thing that was keeping me from losing my mind was the image of Kit being okay.

Tonight was supposed to be a fresh start, with him meeting my family for the first time, us... becoming something real, something concrete and something not only I dreamt of in a dream.

Yet this was reality and not everything went as I wanted it to and now I might lose Kit forever because of something or something taking him from me.

I had to be strong, I had to be there for him, even if the news wasn't good, I wasn't going to leave him.

I wasn't going to be alone, come rise or fall, Kit was the only one for me and I wasn't going to let anything stop me from feeling how I felt when it came to him.

The car ride to the hospital didn't take much time but it felt like an eternity as I thought of nothing but him and what kind of person did this to him and why?

Kit was kind, gentle and did nothing to hurt anybody unless he couldn't help it, he was everything I wasn't, my ying to my yang and in the past I would've hated that but I saw it now.

Kit was everything to me and all it took for me to realize it was the fear of losing him forever.

I could not even remember the last time I cried in fear and hurt more than this very moment, not even when he left for England all those years ago or when my parents got divorced.

Nothing has struck me this deep but then again, Kit had a talent for unnerving me to the core.

We made it to the hospital and in a quick motion we found out where Kit was being operated on and where we could wait to hear about his condition.

As we entered the room, on the fourth floor, I saw the face of a girl I remembered as Amanda, only now she looked unrecognizable with tear stains on her face and her hair all over the place.

When our eyes met, more tears filled her eyes as she got up from her seat to come my way.

"T-Thank God you made it," is what she said, before she wrapped her arms around me, her tears and damp face soaking through my t-shirt.

"I-I'm so sorry, his doctor came out a-and I must have hung up on you but I'm so glad you found us," she said as she pulled back from me, wiping her eyes with her sleeved jumper.

"How is he?" I ask, not recognizing my own voice.

I saw the look on her face and braced for the worst but then she smiled weakly through her tear stained lips.

"He's going to be okay, y-you just missed his doctor b-but she said he's going to be fine but he lost too much blood so they got him hooked on all kinds of machines..."

I look at my dad and he nods his head once, then bends down to say something in Evan's ear before he excused himself from the room.

"Does anybody want something to drink?" Evan asked, as I shook my head whilst sitting down next to Amanda.

"Oh."

She smiled once she looked at Evan.

"S-Sorry I didn't see you... a drink would be lovely, t-thank you."

Evan smiles then excuses himself, leaving me alone with Amanda.

"Gosh, I must look crazy right now."

She laughs as fresh tears trail down her red cheeks.

"No, you... you look how I feel.,' I say quietly, making her turn her head to stare at me, as a smile slowly makes its way to her lips.

"I'm so glad it's you."

Is all she said before Evan comes back into the room, followed by my dad and a female doctor in a white coat.

Her eyes find Amanda's then land on mine as I stand up to shake her hand, her smiling face relaxing me somewhat, if not for the strange tension in my body.

"Christopher is doing just fine, he's out of surgery and is currently resting," she said, as I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"When can we see him?" I immediately asked, searching her eyes for the answer as she smiled.

"I'm afraid I can't say due to legal reasons, Christopher's family have requested all visitors to be family only."

"I'm very sorry," she finishes, then turns to shake my dads hand before she leaves the room.

As she leaves the room and before anyone would say anything to me, I run after her and catch her halfway down the hall, waiting for the elevator.

"Excuse me."

I caught her attention.

"I know I'm not family but..."

I take a deep calming breath and clench my hands tight at either side to steady my nerves.

"Kit... Christopher, can I at least be told when he wakes up?" I ask, watching as her face sinks slowly.

"Please, please can you just tell me when he wakes up, that's all," I plead, as she sighs, troubled by my ask.

"I'll... let you know."

She smiled, as the elevator dinged open.

"Thank you," I said and meant it as I watched the doors close in front of me.

I felt a weight drop from my shoulders and as I stood alone in the long empty hallway, I released a shaky breath as I leaned against a wall, taking another breath to calm myself once again.

'Yes... Thank you... Fuck.'

He's going to be alright, that was all that mattered and despite learning that, I couldn't control this urge to see it to believe it with my very own two eyes, just to see if it's true.

I wanted to see him, to tell him how I felt and how much fucking pain I'm in without him.

Well... there's always tomorrow and for that... I can breathe again.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 457, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, blood, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) neonatal death

WORDS: 1226

I hummed softly as I tossed laundry, sorted into delicates, into the washing machine, the appropriate things in lingerie bags- namely speaking, my bras and Baby Tommy’s dollie. I tossed a pod in with the load before shutting the door and swiftly programming a gentle wash cycle.

I grunted as I stuck my hand onto the right side of my lower abdomen, where shooting pain was rocketing from.

“Mommy?”

I looked up and smiled at Baby Tommy, who had abandoned his fascination with watching as his dollie was washed to focus on me.

“Mommy, ou huwt?” he asked me as he came up to me as I slid down onto the floor. “Need kissies?”

I opened my mouth to reassure him that everything was fine, only to have a hoarse scream of pain rip from my throat at the pain that began to rip through me.

Peter! I screamed, kicking myself for asking him to take everyone out for ice cream and a visit to the park while I knocked out the laundry.

Is this how I would die?

I faded in and out of an unconsciousness where I was wide awake and well aware of what all was happening as Baby Tommy took my phone from my bra and fiddled around on it for a minute before beginning to babble away.

“Mommy hurt! Baa bee Vii wet Mawie hurt!” he sobbed. “Hewlp!”

Okay sweetheart, what’s your name?

“Baa bee Tom Tom!” he sobbed, curling himself around his little sister. “Please hewlp!”

Alright sweetie, I’ve dispatched an ambulance crew to your address. How old are you?

“Won,” he whimpered as Daisy padded in with Mittens at her side.

You’re one year old? Oh my goodness, what a grown up you’re being! How old is your mommy?

“Old,” grumbled Baby Tommy, leaning up to poke at my cheek.

She’s old? Do you know the number?

“I won!” he repeated himself. “You be good now mommy!”

Can you tell me where your mommy is feeling ill?

“I don no!” he whined, pressing his hand to where Baby Violet Marie was twirling and punching.

PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH

“Baa bee Vii wet Mawie kick kick!” he announced as he pressed a sweet baby kiss to my tummy.

Is Baby Violet Marie in your mommy’s tummy?

“Yes,” he sobbed. “Pweaze huwwy!”

Alright love, the ambulance crew is a few minutes out. Is your front door unlocked?

“Yes,” he answered at once.

“Hello?” someone called out from the front door. “Ambulance!”

“Tank ou,” Baby Tommy said before pattering out into the dining room to show the paramedics where they were needed.

The last thing that I saw before I faded out was a black woman kneeling in front of me.

~xoXox~

The next time I woke up, my head felt fuzzy, almost as though I was in a dream. I moaned as I pried my eyes open- I was so thirsty.

“Sweetheart.”

A man jumped up from the tiny chair that he had been squeezed into, crossing over to sit on the side of the bed, his massive tattooed hand coming up to cradle at the side of my face.

“You gave me quite the scare,” he chuckled, pressing a whiskery kiss to my temple. “The doctor told me that you’d act loopy after the surgery. How are you doing?”

Who are you?

His mouth crinkled into a smiled as his hands went down to clasp my fingers into his, where I saw that the back of my hands were marked with the same heavily masculine tattoos that marked his.

“My name is Peter, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he pressed a tender kiss to my palm. “I’m your husband.”

My head hurts.

He just twisted around to grab a cup with a straw and held it up to my mouth, to which I practically guzzled the water down. Despite this man’s imposing features, I couldn’t help but feel safe and loved when he was near.

KICK KICK KICK PUNCH PUNCH KICK PUNCH PUNCH

My frown wrinkled as I looked down to my popped out tummy.

“Calm down there,” he rumbled, patting my tummy, where the little human inside my womb did as her daddy asked her to, and I could practically feel the baby pressing her hand up against her daddy’s.

What happened?

“Your appendix needed to be removed and was literally minutes away from rupturing by the time you went in for surgery,” he told me with a familiar gentleness in his green eyes. “Baby Tommy called 911 while I was out of the house with the other kids.”

Baby Tommy?

“Our son,” he told me. “He was honestly worked up into quite the fuss over you.”

How many kids do we have?

“Well…” he hummed. “Elizabeth is my daughter from another relationship. Katie is our adopted daughter. Elle and Jing are their look alike dolls. Baby Tommy is our son. Little girl was your surrogate daughter that you carried for a couple of friends of yours. Baby Violet Marie is due on November first in a few short months.”

Oh.

A memories floated into my heart- passion, and love and thrusting hips, and greedy kisses.

How big are you?

Peter looked away, a deep tinge on his face.

“Sweetheart, we can discuss that when you’re feeling better, yeah?” he asked me as a woman with glasses and wearing a white coat stepped into the room.

“Hey hey, Uncle Pete, Mary Claire,” she greeted us in a friendly chirp. “How are you doing?”

“She’s pretty much out of it,” Peter laughed. “She doesn’t believe me when I told her about the kids.”

“Ah.” She reached into her pocket before handing him a vial. “Her wedding ring. I practically had to bully it off from Doctor Charles.”

I poked at my tummy, suddenly realizing the tight, itchy feeling that was plaguing me.

Peter caught my hand, bring it up to his mouth to kiss my fingers.

“Nonono now sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Can you please refrain from picking at your battle scar? I don’t want it to get infected.”

Alright daddy.

I didn’t know why I called him that, but it suited him well enough, judging by the smile that cross over his face.

Daddy? How big is your dick?

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[theladyofbloodshed]

I don't know if you take requested but you write Nesta so well! Can you write a little fic of Nesta calling out Feyre for siding/choosing Rhys's friends/family over her friends/family (sisters and Lucien)?

This was fun to write 🤭 Nesta having balls of steel is always my favourite thing to write.

‘The Band of Exiles?’ Mor arched a brow, barely containing her mirth.

Feyre shucked out another laugh at Lucien’s expense. ‘It’s accurate, at least.’

Nesta glanced sidelong at Elain to see if those infamous mate instincts might come into play as the group chuckled over Lucien’s new found family in the mortal lands. None came. Elain remained fiddling with a bracelet, attention fixed on that instead.

‘Don’t you call yourselves the Court of Dreams?’

Mor bristled at once at Nesta’s words. Her brown eyes narrowed.

‘That’s different,’ Rhys said coldly.

Nesta smirked, giving a raise of her own brows to Mor. ‘Is it?’ For good measure, she let out a little chuckle. ‘I’m of the opinion that people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Especially when the most valuable male in Prythian lives in one.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Cassian’s temper had flared, of course, at the very notion that Nesta might value a male in this world. A male that was not him. She let the moment drag on, let Cassian’s worry wring out of him like a soaked rag.

‘I simply mean that when Lucien is able to move across courts, making friends wherever he goes, that it’s perhaps not wise to mock him. I rather think it is better to keep Lucien on side. His loyalty might match your own, Feyre.’

Nesta catalogued each of their faces; the two Illyrians, the high lord, his cousin, the high lady, her sister, and Amren. They surveyed her with cool disdain, except for Elain who pretended she wasn’t in the room. They were never keen to have their own lives inspected with the same scrutiny or mocking they gave to others.

‘Then again, Feyre, your loyalty moves with whichever wind is most favourable.’

Rhys pressed his palm on the top of Feyre’s hand, comforting or soothing, Nesta wasn’t sure.

‘Excuse me?’

High lady or not, she was still a younger sister and using that voice on Nesta would never sting. It lacked the authority to bring Nesta into line.

‘I mean that you treat Lucien like a second class citizen - as if he should be blessed to be in this city - when he was your first and only friend in Prythian.’

Colour dotted on Feyre’s cheeks. ‘And I should thank him for all the help he gave me with Tamlin?’

Nesta picked the skin around her nails. Nobody could ever accuse her of being hot-headed, no, Nesta was all ice, a sheet so thick that no temper would ever melt it.

‘You feigned a nightmare and put Lucien in harm’s way for your own agenda. That’s right, isn’t it?’

It was Cassian’s turn to redden. He’d boasted of Feyre’s execution of her plan to pull the rug out from beneath the Spring Court’s feet, not caring who came into danger. From the look Rhysand was shooting him across the table, Nesta supposed it wasn’t information that should have been shared.

‘He helped you travel through Prythian, did he not? Would you have made it to this city without Lucien sacrificing his position? Without him crossing a land that he is exiled from?’

Her sister struggled on speech, syllables catching on her tongue.

‘Feyre, the fact is, you never care who gets in your way, whether that’s Lucien or us, as long as you get your way.’

Rhys moved to speak, likely to defend his mate, but Feyre cut in quicker. Her grey eyes were wide with outrage and she’d sat upright in her chair.

‘When have I ever not considered you and Elain?’

Elain chose that moment of silence to gulp. The noise made Nesta’s lips quirk upwards.

‘Would you like it listed alphabetically or chronologically?’

‘Your sister kept you fed. She risked her life every day in that forest,’ Rhys snarled, power swirling around him.

‘Yes and she told a priestess everything about Elain and I. Practically gift-wrapped her sisters for Hybern. You dragged us into this world through your involvement with this court and your meddling in Spring. It is because of you that we went into the Cauldron.’ Nesta slammed a hand on the table so hard that a glass shook. ‘You choose this court above all else, these people who would never pick you over your mate. You see Elain and I - Lucien too - as pawns to be used. Do you think any of them would ever put you above Rhysand?’

Nesta wondered which one would lead the attack. Would Cassian quash his affections for her to serve his master? Or maybe it would be a knife in the dark from the shadow singer? Mor was sizing up the distance between them, bearing her teeth like a rabid animal.

‘You’re a real piece of work,’ Amren said, her voice as sharp as a blade’s edge.

‘Am I?’

Nesta sipped her wine, unbothered by the stares around the room.

‘I am loyal to this court,’ Feyre stated, voice staying strong, ‘and they are loyal to me.’

It was met with nods and Cassian reached out to brush a hand against Feyre’s.

‘Like you were loyal to Clare Beddor?’

All colour drained from Feyre’s face, Rhysand’s too. It was a guess, an educated guess. Clare’s house has burnt to the ground, but her body was never found in the ruin. Feyre had been unable to stomach the news when she’d returned from Prythian. Even now, whenever Elain had mentioned Clare with a wonder over what had happened to her, Feyre blanched. From the high lord’s reaction, Nesta knew he had a part in that poor girl’s murder.

‘Who is Clare Beddor?’ Azriel’s eyes glanced between his high lord and lady. A shadow danced through the room in an attempt to wheedle out the information.

Rhys kept his hand firmly on Feyre’s, willing her not to speak.

‘A girl from our village,’ Elain said quietly, lower lip pushing outwards. ‘Her family were killed. The house burnt to cinders. But they never found Clare. She was our age. One of our friends.’

Nesta held Rhysand’s stare. ‘And how did your friend die, Feyre?’

A heavy silence pushed against the walls. Nesta was spiteful and vicious, she knew it well enough. When it served their court, they relished it. On the receiving end, the Court of Dreamers squirmed with discomfort.

‘With friends like you, who needs enemies?

‘I want you out of this house,’ said Rhys with quiet authority.

Nesta tipped back her head with laughter. ‘Maybe I’ll join the Band of Exiles. I would love to see what stories they tell of you.’

[bullet-prooflove]

Nightmares (Antonio Dawson x Reader)

Your heart was pounding, you could feel it vibrating through your chest like a sledge hammer as you felt each and induvial beat. Your pulse was racing, you could feel the rush of blood throbbing in your ears.

A familiar voice penetrated that sound, jerking you awake and leaving you wide eyed and breathless.

Antonio was kneeling beside the couch, his face level with yours as he reviewed your weary features with concern. His warm hand came to cup the side of your face, his thumb ghosting over the blush of your cheek as he stared into your eyes.

“You’re ok.” He told you, his voice fierce as he spoke. “You’re safe.”

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. Your hand covering his as you inhaled deeply in an attempt to ground yourself back in the present.

    “You were having a nightmare.” He murmured, his dark eyes fixating on yours as he caressed your cheek soothingly. “A bad one.”

    “I was back in the warehouse.” You told him, the images from earlier in the day flicking through your mind like a stock of sombre snapshots. The agony in your ribs from the beating you had taken caused you to hiss with pain as you tried to shift into a more comfortable position. “I was looking for Sean but I couldn’t find him, I just kept hearing his voice in the distance...”

    “He’s in the hospital.” Antonio reminded you. “You saved his life, he’s gonna be ok.”

    The words penetrated your brain as you nodded your understanding, placing your hand over your heart so you could feel it’s rhythmic beat. You exhaled deeply trying to steady your nerves and steel yourself against the memories of the dream. You remembered finding Sean, you remembered slinging his arm around your shoulders as you tried to support his weight. You remembered everything that came after that, all the fighting, the blood, the fall down the stairs…

    “Text him.” Antonio uttered, reaching for your rose gold cell phone resting on the coffee table before handing it to you.

You sucked in a deep breath, cuddling into Antonio’s side as you unlocked your phone and typed out a message to your partner.

    You: I just wanted to check in on you.

    Sean Roman: The room’s stopped spinning which is a bonus because it means I can watch TV. Downside is this time of night there’s nothing good on.

    You: Disney Channel is showing all of the Star Wars movies, back to back.

    Sean Roman: You are such a nerd.

    You: Takes one to know one.

Sean Roman: What are you doing up anyway? It’s past twelve.

    You: Couldn’t sleep.

    Sean Roman: Nightmares? I have them too.

    You: Good to know, makes me feel like I’m not abnormal.

    Sean Roman: Not at all. Please tell me you’re not spending the night alone?

    You: I’m with Antonio. He’s the one that made me watch the Star Wars movies. I hope Kim’s with you!

    Sean Roman: Picture message attached.

    Sean Roman: I honestly don’t know how she’s managed to fall asleep in that chair.

You: You could at least share the bed!

    Sean Roman: I barely fit in this hospital bed as it is!

You set the phone back down upon the coffee table before curling up alongside Antonio and cuddling close. His lips brushed the side of your head as you settled down alongside him.

“Feel better?” he asked you, picking up the tartan blanket you had kicked to one end of the couch and tucking it neatly around the two of you.

    “Yes.” you answered before snuggling into Antonio’s loving form once more. “What movie are we on?”

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[duuhrayliegh]

Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

******************************

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

*********************************

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

******************

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

****************************

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

***************************

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

***********************

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words.  “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

*********************************

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. “You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

**************************************

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.” 

[elainevc]

please stay

fem!reader x levi

⚠️ Trigger Warnings ⚠️: Mentions of weight loss, low appetite, disease, illness, angst

Please take care of yourself if these things are triggering. Stories on the internet are not worth you risking your mental health <3

Levi watched as you scrubbed away at the window. He appreciated the times when you would stay longer to help him. You knew he was particular about his cleaning and felt the need to keep him company at least.

He liked that about you.

Your willingness to help those you cared about was admirable, especially coming from the stone cold captain.

Both of you felt the strange romantic tension, but you were comfortable the way things were, so why would you change it? He was mostly scared of your rejection if he confessed and decided to keep it to himself.

That was until you were sick one day.

Levi's not one to worry, and definitely not about someone he knows is strong. But you didn't join him for breakfast like usual and when he asked Hange, they said you were resting in your room.

She reassured him that you were just feeling a little under the weather and needed some time to relax and get better.

His anxiety was quenched, but only for a short amount of time because you didn't leave your room the next day, or the day after that. Before he realized, it had been weeks since you were bouncing around the halls, offering your assistance to anyone who needed it.

Even Erwin was starting to worry at your state.

Hange did their daily examination when they spoke carefully.

"Some of the cadets wanted to visit you today," her tone didn't have the normal chipperness that you'd grown so used to.

You were sat up on the edge of your bed in your bra and shorts. Hange looked at you and saw the bags under your eyes.

She glanced at your paling skin and chapped lips. Your hair was greasy and knotted and you were starting to smell a little ripe. She could tell you didn't give a damn about your appearance.

You strained a smile and replied, "they can if they want. I wouldn't mind some company, but I don't think they'd want to help me get from the bed and toilet every time I feel sick."

You laughed but there was no amusement behind it.

The days continued and these times were joined by Sasha who always brought a large tray of food--even though you always ate very little--or Connie and Jean doing your paperwork, at least what they can do, or Armin who always brings a book to read and a snuggly blanket.

These kids cared about you too much to let you spend your days alone.

Everyone visited you at some point with reassuring words and hugs. Everyone except Levi.

He was still trying to figure out what to say to you. He had no idea where the two of you stood but Hange encouraged him to speak to you one day after the examination.

They weren't the best at hiding their emotions and Levi could tell your condition was only getting worse.

The short captain entered the room to find you by yourself. The blankets were pulled up to your chin and sweat formed on your forehead.

You opened your eyes to find him standing there, and at first you thought it was a dream.

"Levi..."

"Hey brat," he said without the usual sass on the last word. He walked over and pulled the chair to your bedside. You moved to sit up so you could see his face better.

His cravat was slightly ruffled and uneven. Your hand moved on instinct to readjust it. The motion was slow and tedious. You knew how he liked his cravat and it was strange that he left his room with it in such a condition.

"Sorry, it was kind of tilted," you said as you leaned back. He eyes followed you with every movement. You rested your back to the headboard.

He grabbed your hand in his. You were surprised how warm his palms were wrapped around your cold hand. His eyes didn't meet yours as you watched him think silently.

"How are you feeling," he asked quietly.

"Eh, I still think I could kill more titans like this than you could."

He chuckled. The sound was like music to your ears. No, it was music to your ears. You could listen to that for years and never get tired of how easily it fell from his lips. You wished it was a happier sound, but it was genuine nonetheless.

"Yeah, I'm sure you could," he stated blandly, still avoiding your gaze.

You wanted to make him look at you. You wanted to get lost in his steel blue eyes once again. Every time you stayed after to help him clean, you loved seeing his eyes light up just a little at you. It wasn't something you could notice the first time, but it was something you looked forward to after the second.

"Levi, can you look at me please?"

Your voice cut through his heart. No, he didn't want to look at you.

He didn't want to see the life draining from your face and the same happy expression plastered over it. Even as you died silently in your bed you had a smile on.

It hurt him more than anything to see your cheeks cave into you, and your collar bones pushing onto your skin.

But you wanted to see him. You were asking for him to look at you, so he bit his tongue and did so.

Your smile immediately returned and your hand gripped his. He couldn't stop the tears from forming at his eyes. The first came down quick, then the second, then the third, and soon his face was drenched with his tears and the room was filled with his sobs.

You didn't know what to do. You'd never seen your fellow soldier break down like this and you were confused why it happened so suddenly.

"Um.. Levi? Are you o-okay?"

He put your hand to his chest. The salty tears didn't seem to be slowing down. You wanted to hug him but you were scared it wouldn't only make him cry harder.

His hands were grasping at yours. It felt like he was clinging to you for life. Dammit, what were you supposed to do?

You let him cry for a moment. He sniffled slightly and finally spoke him broken sobs.

"You can't- you can't leave me too," he choked out. "They're all gone and- and you're all that I have left. Please y/n... please just- just stay with me."

There was no hesitation when you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. He didn't stop as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You felt the tears on your skin and soaking into your shirt.

You put your hand on his head and softly ran your fingers through his hair.

Despite your weak form your grip on the man was still strong. He wanted to be in your arms for the rest of his life. He wanted to feel your heartbeat and pulse because that meant you were alive. It meant you were with him.

He hated seeing you like this. It reminded him too much of his mother and how she died.

She left him too early, and he wasn't going to let you leave him too. He held you close, and at some point Levi lost track of how long he'd been like this. You were going to stay.

Walls, he needed you to stay. And you didn't want to leave him either.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Hey! I have a request! We all need a little fluffy once in a while 😂 just a levi x reader but not as a couple, where the reader is getting married to another soldier (can be from the 104th or other, but the focus is levi and reader interaction) and she asks levi to walk her since she doesn't have a father and she sees him as a protective figure?

Thanks ♥️♥️♥️

Of course! I love this idea a lot btw :) I had too much fun writing this one tbh. 

I was listening to Work Song by Hozier and Pluto Projector by Rex Orange County while writing this if you wanna immerse yourself a little more <3

Summary: Your dad’s a dick but captain Levi saves the day. 

Word Count: 1.2K 

__

You wiped your clammy hands of the lace of your dress for the millionth time. Historia’s hands tugged at your hair as she braided it, you felt queasy. You’d waited for this day for so long, your whole life in fact. Not that marrying was your only aspiration in life, not by a long shot. But what little girl didn’t dream of walking down the aisle on her father’s arm, taking that leap with that one special person? Especially after all the shit that you’d been through, from fighting monsters, to overthrowing the government, saving the world that had forsaken your people. It was a whole ordeal, one that spared no time to chase romance or fairy tales. But at long last you’d found happiness, someone that understood your struggles, someone you could lean on in your weak moments. You weren’t nervous to marry Jean, he’d been nothing but perfect to you, a caring and intuitive lover. No you were nervous to see your father. He hadn’t been present in your life for sometime now, he was less than thrilled when you’d joined the military. He had wanted you to stay home and work for the family business as a bar maid, but you had bigger dreams. Your mother and siblings had arrived the day prior, but no sign of your father or even mention of him had been brought up. 

You winced when Historia tugged too hard on a strand of your hair to pull it into the half up style, something you hadn’t worn since you were young since you’d cut your hair shorter. 

“Sorry, I’m nearly finished.” She assured you as she spoke around the pins in her mouth. 

“It’s okay.” You said, this was far from the most painful experience that you’d had. A soft knock on the door made you tense up, hoping that it was your mother with news of your father. 

“Come in!” Historia said, not turning away from her work. The door creaked open and in wandered Mikasa, who was wearing her formal military attire. She closed the door softly behind herself, she came and sat beside you on a chair, following your gaze into the vanity. 

“You look stunning.” She complimented, grey eyes soft and almost proud. 

“Thank you.” You sighed as Historia finished your hair. 

“All done!” She said with a clap of her hands. 

“Thank you so much Historia.” You thanked her as you stood to  accept the hand held mirror she offered to you to examine her hard work. 

“It looks lovely, really it does.” You gushed as you studied the intricate braid that held the hair off your face. 

“It does” Mikasa assured Historia who smiled proudly, her hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s almost time.” Historia gushed, her eyes going to the small clock that ticked away on the wall. 

“Has my dad-” You started, but the look on Mikasa’s face told you all you needed to know. 

“Oh...” The disappointment was familiar yet crushing all the same. The girls gave you sympathetic looks as you inhaled a deep breath to steel yourself. Just like the rest of you life, you would be walking into this next chapter without him by your side. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just...walk down the aisle and.” Your voice caught in your throat, you hated this, hated that you’d gotten your hopes up. 

“You want me to get your mom?” Mikasa offered and you shook your head, you would do this alone. 

“I can ask...Hange to-” Historia started but trailed off, a new thought coming to her. 

“Or Levi?” She offered, her hand still grounding you to reality. Your eyebrow raised at the thought, it made sense. He had been with you since your cadet days, a constant figure in your life, in all of your lives. 

“Please, can you get him.” You managed to choke out, Mikasa stood quickly and stalked out, determination glued to her features. Historia engulfed you in a tight hug, which you eagerly returned as you waited for Levi. 

__ 

Mikasa returned to the large hall, filled with scouts and the few family members that still lived after the years. It was an intimate ceremony, with only the closest family and friends, so when Mikasa found Levi sitting next to Hange in the front row, she knelt down and whispered three simple words: “She needs you.” 

That was all she had to say for Levi to stand and stalk towards the back of the church, where you were getting ready. His head buzzed with all the possibilities, were you hurt? Having second thoughts? Mikasa watched him with a pleased expression before going to stand with the other bridesmaids at the front, Sasha shot her a confused expression but said nothing. 

Levi stopped outside of the dressing room, his hand raised to knock when the door flew open and there was Historia who looked relieved to see him. 

“Captain-” 

“Where is she?” He asked, his eyes looking past the small blonde to see you, wide eyed and lip quivering. Historia slid past him, as he entered the room, you looked beautiful, it seemed like just yesterday that you were a little brat, eager to serve your country. Now you were a woman, it was apparent now more than ever, with the stunning dress that fit you perfectly. 

“Captain-” You said, lifting your chin despite the pained look in your eyes. Something that Levi hated seeing on you or any of his other cadets. 

“What is it (Y/n)? What do you need?” He asked, crossing the room to stand in front of you. Your lips quivered and you brought a hand to cover your face as a small sob wracked your shoulders. 

“He didn’t come. My dad didn’t come.” Levi frowned at your words, he knew how it felt to lack a father figure all too well. Not knowing what to say, he simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He grabbed your wrist tenderly and pulled your hand from your face, wiping the tears off your rosy cheeks softly to not ruin your makeup. You sniffled and looked at him with watery eyes. 

“Lets go, he’s waiting for you.” Levi said, as he folded the fabric and pushed it back into his pocket. You nodded, a relieved smile gracing your lips. He held out his arm for you, his expression apathetic as always, but his grey eyes were soft and patient. You threaded your arm through his and squeezed, a silent thank you. He led you out of the room to the large hall, pausing at the door to give you one last look, you looked better. More like the determined and strong cadet that he had raised. 

“Ready?” He asked softly as the pianist began to play. You nodded and he reached behind you to put the veil over your face before the two of you walked slowly into the room. Gabi walked in front of you, throwing petals down before you as you walked down the aisle, Falco a few steps ahead of her with the rings. The two of you reached the stage, Levi stopped there and you found yourself missing his steady hold, but you turned and thanked him in a soft voice. His gave you one of his rare smiles as you unlinked your arms and took the next step in your life.