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lorewriter · 2 months

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Warning ⚠️: content is 18+ minors DNI.

Fanfic Need To Know: ShigaDabiHawks. Smut fic. 5k. Unusual ABO Dynamics.

Note: this has not been beta read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Fire, Ash and Angels.

“New Omega laws have been put in place as of today. This is for the good of all classes, so make sure to properly follow them or submit to the consequences. The laws are as follows; 1. Omegas must be accompanied by their mate be it Alpha or Beta. 2. Omega’s are no longer permitted to leave their family homes until they are mated. 3. Omegas must go through each heat, suppressants are no longer legal for Omegas to use although they will still be available to Alphas. Finally 4. Abortion is now banned for Omegas under penalty of death. Abortion clinics will now only be available to alpha and beta women.” *click*

Smoke filled the room as blue flames licked at the seams of the scars running all along Dabi’s body. Rage overtook him as yet more restrictions were set by society for him and his fellow Omega. He’d been having a halfway decent day with some strong painkillers he’d acquired earlier that day. After taking a couple he’d decided to lounge on his couch and watch some tv while waiting for them to kick in. Lotta good that did as his quirk reacted to his inner rage causing him to burn through the couple of pills he’d taken just twenty minutes prior.

Suddenly a knock could be heard coming from the small window in his bedroom. Getting up, he made his way into said room only to find red eyes glaring at him through long white hair. Opening the window he moved aside to let the other in, knowing the other was probably just as angry as he was.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” A raspy voice half shouted. Causing Dabi to slightly flinch at the sudden noise before settling in his anger once more.

Shigaraki Tomura was a semi-famous streamer and unknown leader to a group of omega and omega supporters whose goal was to ultimately take down the government, and to change the sexist laws that had been in place for generations. He’d started this underground group when he’d turned 15 and now at age 20 was being searched for by the police and pro heros alike. No one had ever come close to finding him though, thanks to some underground heros secretly being Omegas despite it being illegal for Omegas to become pro heroes in the first place.

“Every time I feel like we’ve taken a step forward, they push us back by ten. It’s infuriating.” The white haired omega seethed, plopping down on the couch Dabi had previously been occupying.

Dabi had no words as he looked at his childhood friend and mate seething on the couch with notes of distress leaking from the sent patch he kept on his neck and wrists. Deciding words wouldn’t be enough right now, Dabi made his way over to the other crouching down to come face to face with his increasingly distressed boyfriend. Moving slowly, he pulled off the others patch before slotting his wrist against the others neck in an attempt to calm him down just a little. Letting out a small gasp, Tomura’s body immediately relaxed as his partner's scent slid over him like a blanket. Campfire and Cigarette smoke. An unusual scent for an Omega but it wasn’t like his was much better, with it being metallic with a hint of vanilla.

Both scents were frowned upon by society, deeming them both as either bland or not soft enough for normal Omega standards. They didn’t care though as they were already breaking society's rules by simply being together. An Omega being mated to another Omega just simply wasn’t allowed and the only reason it wasn’t made a law yet was due to people already beating and raping any Omega that dared to love one of their own.

Both understood the risk but like with most other laws and restrictions in their world they decided to say fuck it. They’d started dating officially at age 15 but had been helping each other through heats since they were both 13. Heats came once every month and became more and more hormonal as the person grew into adulthood. Since they were childhood friends, their cycles had synced up due to the shared pheromones between them.

At age 15 they met Keigo, a young alpha who after showing his hatred for the system and the people who had basically enslaved him, had become quite close to the two. Going so far as to look after them whenever they needed it. At age eighteen they invited Keigo, now known by his hero name Hawks, to share a heat with them.

They’d both talked about it extensively before offering, having the other already know that they were mates long before. Keigo had agreed but not before another long conversation about boundaries and what this would mean for the three's relationship going forward.

They’d all agreed on some set boundaries along with just starting out as heat partners for the time being. The first time they were all together was a bit awkward but quickly smoothed out as Keigo got to know just how the two usually handled their time of the month. Overall it had been an experience they’d all wanted to repeat.

A phone ringing was what startled the two out of their moment, as Dabi shifted away to let the other grab said phone. Glancing down, the ID read pretty bird. Clicking on the green answer button and setting it to the speaker, the two only needed to wait a moment before a semi- loud voice rang through the phone. “Are you both ok?” Came hawks' winded voice, clearly flying while calling them. “Yeah we’re both ok, Kei. I just arrived at Dabi’s, come over?” Came Shigaraki’s softer tone, having calmed down from his mate's scent.

“Sure, be there in five. Oh and don’t go out Mura, I know you like to sneak out but the heros have been getting closer to you. Time to lay low, ok?” Hawks replied, wind causing the call to glitch a few times.

“Sure pretty bird, just don’t get caught coming here. And stay fucking safe.”

“Sure Mura, be there soon.”

With that the call ended. Taking this as an opportunity, Dabi picked up his mate to carry him to his bed. They’d agreed that a few days before their heat was set to start they’d stay together until it ended. Dabi had wanted to move in completely together, but both Keigo and Tomura had refused, saying it would be too dangerous at the time. With Hawks being the number three hero and Tomura running his underground network, they couldn’t risk all being in the same place permanently. Not to mention his job. Dabi was known by most as an un-classed assassin that would work for any mafia that he shared mutual goals with.

They nicknamed him Kitsune. A trickster who moved with the grace of a fox, causing chaos and death wherever he went. The real reason he joined mafia groups was to rescue trapped omegas, as many as he could. Many thought he was a beta, some thought he was an alpha. But no one had ever suspected him of being what he actually was, an Omega. The omega’s he set free were set up in safe houses that Tomura’s network setup. They’d had this plan since they were thirteen. And finally it was doing some good.

Once Hawks and a few other underground heros had joined it’d become a bit easier, making it to where they could get out more Omegas at a time. They were happy with what they had accomplished so far, but they still had work to do. They wouldn’t stop until all omegas were free.

It seemed like forever before a soft knocking sound could be heard coming from the window. Dabi hadn’t bothered to pull the shade down after Tomura came in so they could both see hawks sitting on the fire escape waiting to be let in. Pushing himself up, the black haired Omega made his way to the window, letting the blonde inside much like he’d done earlier with Tomura.

Once fully in, Keigo immediately latched onto Dabi, moving to remove his own scent patch in order to mix scents with the other. It only took a moment before the scent of oranges and sandalwood filled the room causing both Omegas to unconsciously relax around who they deemed a safe alpha.

“Are you both ok? I can’t believe they set these new fucking laws, and what about the mission coming up? If Omegas can’t be out alone… we don’t have enough patches for everyone-” Keigo’s spiraling was cut off as Dabi clasped his hands around the alpha’s face, kissing him to shut him up. The kiss itself only lasted a couple of seconds before Dabi was pulling back once more to reassure the younger. “We’re going to work around this. I agree this is a setback but that’s never stopped us before.” Dabi encouraged, putting his wrist against the blonde's neck in order to scent him.

“He’s right, Kei. This is only a setback, we‘ll work through this like we’ve done every time before.” Tomura called from his place on the bed, gesturing for the older to come over.

Upon reaching the bed, Keigo was immediately pulled down to lay across the white haired man’s chest, positioned in a way that would allow Tomura to pet his hair and snuggle him at the same time. It was three days until all three’s heats and rut would begin but both Omegas always got extremely clingy and touchy in the following days. No sex was allowed until their shared cycles began due to just how agitated their genitals would be by the end of it.

With Dabi joining them, they shifted in a way to where Keigo was on top of both of them covering what was left with his wings. It was true that Tomura and Dabi got clingy but it was almost overshadowed by Keigo’s need to protect and cover them from the view of anyone outside their group.

It was an instinct all Alpha’s had, hiding their vulnerable mates from view in order to properly take care of them and keep them safe. Adding on Keigo’s bird traits only caused this instinct to heighten, meaning that when he did go into a rut, the windows and doors needed to be blocked before he could calm down.

Keigo cooed softly as a warm hand started preening his wings, while another slightly cooler hand carded through his hair. Keigo couldn’t be more happy with the relationship he had with the two Omegas. He’d fallen head over heels for the two when they’d first met at age 15.

It was during one of his missions for the commission that was ‘off the books.’ He’d been tailing a big ceo alpha one night when suddenly the man turned into an alleyway off to the side. Following quickly, Keigo stopped at the mouth of the alley only to be surprised at what he saw.

The man had apparently taken an interest in a tall black haired man, which with further inspection turned out to be an omega. An omega who currently was going into heat by the scent of things. Waiting a little longer, Keigo saw that the alpha had cornered the omega against a wall and was practically shoving his head into the other's neck. He could hear the black haired man curse at him while trying to shove him away, but it was to no avail.

The man at that point had started to growl, and get really physical. He’d gotten the Omega’s pants undone by the time he’d made up his mind to blow his cover and intervene when out of the darkness came a loud hiss. The distinct hiss of an angry omega. Suddenly the alpha was being thrown into the other side of the ally with what looked to be a white blur moving quickly after him. All that came from the man was a cut off scream before he seemed to melt into- what was that? Dust? Ash?

Well it didn’t really matter as he was quite dead now. Glancing back to the omega in heat he saw a slightly shorter white haired man reach out, redoing the other's pants before readjusting them to where the taller was leaning on the shorter.

Deciding that he couldn’t just leave them there, he slowly made his way into the alleyway. Immediately he was hit with the scent of distress. The minute he was noticed, a sharp hiss could be heard coming from the white haired omega. Small whines and whimpers could be heard coming from the other as he was clearly in pain and scared due to his vulnerable state. He was only a few feet away when he stopped, putting his hands up to show he wasn’t a threat.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I just wanted to make sure you both were ok.” Keigo spoke, using a softer tone to try and further show he wasn’t going to do anything.

“Fuck off, we don’t need your help.” The white haired omega spat, adjusting to the black haired omega to be further hidden by him.

“I’m sorry, I know the last thing you want is help from an alpha but I really don’t think you’ll be able to carry your friend alone.” Keigo tried again, moving down onto one knee so he wasn’t looming over where they were slouched on the ground.

Just as the white haired omega was about to respond, a loud howl could be heard coming from the black haired omega. “Shit, he’s dropped fully.” The white haired omega hissed, moving his wrist to slot itself against the other's neck.

“You don’t have much time, all alpha’s within a five mile radius would have just heard that howl. They’ll come here and I don’t think you’ll be able to fight them all off on your own.” Keigo reasoned, becoming a little more desperate as his senses threatened to take control.

“Fine. But if you try anything, and I mean anything, I’ll kill you faster than you can even blink.” The omega relented, adding on a threat for good measure. Finally having the go ahead, Keigo moved to take the black haired omega into his arms. “Where does he live? Is it far?” Keigo asked, looking towards the entrance of the alley to make sure no one was coming in.

“He lives about three blocks from here, I’ll lead you there but you’ll need to leave immediately after.” The white haired omega spoke, getting up from where he’d previously been huddled on the ground.

“Of course.” Was all he could respond, feeling the waves of pheromones coming off the omega in his arms. It took all his strength to resist his instinct, and even then that didn’t stop the canines in his mouth to enlarge or himself to get hard.

The walk to the omegas house was one of the most difficult things he’d done but he knew it’d be worth it in the end if it kept both of them safe. After all, what kind of a hero was he going to become if he couldn’t help a couple of omegas in a predicament.

Reaching what looked to be an old apartment building with a fence wrapped around it, Keigo noted a sign which stated omegas only. It was common for older buildings to be set as omega only buildings as most newer buildings were made to accommodate alphas and betas. Keigo thought it was stupid but knew that while he was under the commission there wasn’t much he could do.

Making his way up creaky stairs, the white haired omega finally stopped at a door with black lines spray painted on the outside. Ah so that’s what the black haired omega was. Within omega only spaces, there were at least two to three omegas that stood out as a sort of protector over all the other omegas that resided in said space. Given the way the white haired omega fought, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was also deemed as a protector.

“I can take him from here.” The white haired man spoke, already grabbing the black haired man into his arms. “Ah, sure.” Was all he could get out before a door was promptly slammed in his face.

Just as he was about to leave, the door swung open once more, revealing the heat ridden omega from before. “Fuck! Dabi no!” The white haired omega shouted, running to grab the other to take him back inside. Dabi had apparently had other plans as he dodged the white haired omegas grabs and barreled his way into Keigo’s stomach, causing both of them to tumble to the floor.

“Fuck you smell so good.” Dabi slurred from his place on top of Keigo. “Ahh umm thanks? Could you get off me?” Keigo heaved out, trying to resist the pull of an omega in heat.

“Dabi! Get over here now!” Tomura snarled out, using a tone somewhere between an omega and alpha. In very rare cases, there were omegas born with the ability to command fellow omegas and sometimes even alphas, using a tone close to an alphas. It was so rare that Keigo had never met anyone who could do this until now, which was why he was confused as to why he’d immediately felt an intense urge to submit.

Immediately he was snatched from his thoughts as the sound of an omega whining could be heard coming from right above him. Within moments, Dabi was up and off his lap to obey what the white haired omega had commanded. “Mm sorry Tomura.” Dabi softly called, collapsing into the others arms. Sighing, Tomura looked over to where the blonde was still on the floor.

“Sorry about that. Oh and thank you for not trying anything. If you’d like, we can treat you to some coffee as a thank you. My name is Shigaraki Tomura, this clingy idiot is Dabi.” Shigaraki offered, moving Dabi’s head so it rested against his scent gland.

“Umm sure… uhh Takami Keigo is my name.” Was all he could get out, feeling the beginning signs of a pre rut coming on.

“Right, well Takami. Come to this apartment in three weeks.” With that Shigaraki closed the door once more, locking it so the other would have a harder time getting out.

They’d met for coffee like promised and got to know each other a bit better, Keigo decided he really liked both of them, but wouldn’t realize just how much until two years later.

Three days passed in a haze as the trio’s heats and ruts drew closer, it was on the third night that Dabi’s heat hit first. “Mmph, fuck. Mura, wake up. Dabs heat has started.” Keigo’s groggy voice called out. Feeling Dabi, who had ended up between them, rut against his thigh. Whines and whimpers could be heard coming from the black haired omega as he ground down against the blonde's thigh with increasing speed. “Kei… hurts.” Dabi just about sobbed, trying to get as much friction as he could.

“Shh shh, I know I’ve got you baby.” Keigo responded, shifting so that Dabi had more access to his thigh. Slick ran down his leg as the only thing between them was the thin fabric of his boxers. Tomura, who had woken up just moments before, snapped to attention at the sound of his mate whimpering. Moving to wrap his arms around the black haired man, Tomura could feel himself slipping into his heat as well.

Omegas aren’t supposed to mate with omegas, so not much is known when it comes to an omega pairing. And due to a lack of information, it came as a surprise when Tomura’s features started to change to something more alpha like after their first shared heat. His teeth grew a bit larger, not as large as an alphas, but still larger than an omega’s normal size. His build changed slightly, causing him to be a bit broader, while his heat scent took on a bit of a musk that usually only alpha’s had. The final change was the most surprising, as a medium sized knot grew at the base of his dick.

Neither were complaining at the changes and Keigo never felt challenged by the omega so it ended up being a pleasant change all around.

Just as Keigo noticed Tomura’s scent change, Dabi bit his shoulder, causing him to moan as the omega came on his thigh. At that point he knew it wouldn’t take much more for him to slip into his rut, he was just glad they had remembered to stalk up as the week ahead would be tough.

It was about two hours in when Tomura decided to switch things up. Keigo who had been switching between fucking both of them needed a break. So with a growl that had Keigo backing off, Tomura moved to take care of his whining mate who had just slipped back into his heat-addled brain after a brief reprieve. Moving in between the other omegas thighs, Tomura tapped the others lips in a silent order to open up. Obeying with a small whine, Tomura was able to get his fingers wet before immediately using them to slick up his cock.

It didn’t take much to slide in as Dabi was already stretched wide after Keigo had had his turn. Setting a slow pace, Tomura took the opportunity to mouth at the black haired omega’s neck and down to his chest. Keigo who had seemingly been forgotten off to the side was slowly stroking himself, watching his two omegas make love. “Tomura move, come on I need it please.” Dabi begged, causing the white haired man to growl with a snap of his hips.

“Alpha.” Tomura called, gaining the blonde’s attention instantly. “Be a good boy and get your ass ready for me, I think it’s about time you get some attention.” Tomura purred, lacing a hint of a command under it. Immediately Keigo moved to follow the others request, knowing that if he didn’t Tomura would most likely not allow him to cum again for the rest of the night. It was only recently that Tomura had asked if he could top when they fucked and Keigo had ended up stumbling over his words in his haste to agree. All his life Keigo had been taught to only submit to his handlers, which he never wanted to do. But when he thought about submitting of his own free will, he found that he actually liked the idea. And who better to submit to than Tomura.

He was torn once more from his inner thoughts as Tomura began to speak again. This time it wasn’t directed at him but the words themselves were enough to have him grabbing the bottle of synthetic slick from the nightstand that sat beside the bed.

“That’s it Dabi, you’re doing so well taking my cock. You feel so good. Mm fuck baby.” Tomura’s raspy voice purred, moving to the other‘s scent gland in order to coax more of the sweet scent out.

“Please Tomura, please please please. I need it.” Dabi wailed, as smoke started to seep through his seams.

“Need what, firefly?” Tomura questioned, deciding to tease the other a bit.

“Need to… need to cum please Tomu.. wanna cum.” Dabi slurred out.

Moving Dabi’s legs for a better angle, Tomura decided it was time to give in to what the lover wanted.

“Alright firefly, you’ve been so good for me. You may cum. Come on love, show me how beautiful you can be and cum for me.” Tomura commanded, speeding up his thrusts while aiming directly for the other’s prostate. “Mmm fuck!” Dabi moaned as he came, spurts of clear liquid hitting both his and Tomura’s stomachs. Tomura finished soon after, biting down on the others scent gland as his knot swelled and popped.

“Fuck that was hot.” Came Keigo’s hazy voice.

Looking over, Tomura noted that the alpha had obeyed him and had already gotten two fingers inside himself. “Add another.” He lightly commanded, loving the way Keigo’s eyes glossed over as he moved to obey. His knot wasn’t completely like an Alpha’s knot so it didn’t take as long to come down, allowing him to slowly remove his softening dick from Dabi’s well used ass. Grabbing a plug from the top drawer of the nightstand, Tomura moved to fill Dabi up once more, knowing that he would need a bit more time to focus on his alpha. After he was finished, he moved onto his back so that he could watch his partner open himself up.

Keigo whined as his dick felt like it was about to explode, but didn’t dare touch it, knowing Tomura hadn’t given him permission to yet. He could feel as red eyes cased his entire body, a sense of hunger that showed itself through the others scent, becoming more like a rut scent than a heat scent. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention as Tomura moved to sit behind him.

A single gloved hand moved to encircle his torso as the other one started straightening his feathers. A moan ripped out of him at the contact as his partners lips moved against his ear.

“I’m gonna need you to be a bit more submissive than this, Kei. After all, I don’t want you to turn this around on me halfway through, so why don’t you be a good boy and cum for me.” Tomura purred, knowing that overstimulation was the best way to keep Keigo under him.

“Y-yes s-sir.” Keigo moaned, moving his fingers to start directly hitting his prostate. It didn’t take much more for to Keigo cry out, squirting a large amount of seman onto the bed in front of him before collapsing back into Tomura’s chest, cooing and chirping as he did.

“Good boy, such a good boy. That was so good, baby. You did so well for me.” Tomura praised, knowing that both Dabi and Keigo had praise kinks.

“Alright pretty bird, I want you on your stomach.” Tomura directed, moving the blonde to lay on the bed, a pillow being placed under his hips for comfort. Unlike with Dabi who didn’t get overstimulated no matter what they did during his heat, Keigo got overstimulated rather quickly. Causing Tomura to have to take care of both of them throughout their shared time. It wasn’t until near the end of their cycles that Dabi became coherent enough to take care of Tomura in return.

Moving to massage the base of Keigo’s wings, Tomura took the opportunity to just gaze at the beautiful alpha under him. He’d never felt this way for an alpha before but knew at this point he wouldn’t be able to let Keigo go. He could see that Dabi felt the same and wasn’t oblivious to the way Keigo stared at them both over the past few years.

“Tomu, please. I’ve been so patient.” Keigo begged, more bird noices encompassing his pleas as he did.

“Alright, angel. I’ve got you.” Tomura soothed, using some of his own slick to make entering easier.

Keigo was tighter than Dabi so it made it a bit harder to go in all at once, so Tomura took it slow, easing his way past the ring of his hole. Both men moaned as Tomura bottomed out. Waiting for Keigo to adjust, Tomura focused his attention on the alpha’s nipples, tugging and pinching them as he slowly started to ease his cock out. Finally to the tip, Tomura asked if Keigo was ready to which he got an enthusiastic chirp and yes from the alpha.

With that, Tomura slammed back in. Setting a brutal pace as he knew the alpha liked things a bit rough. Moans and whines could be heard coming from Keigo as he scrambled to latch onto the pillow he was strewn across. It took only a moment for Tomura to find the alpha’s prostate and a few seconds to shift and aim for it with each thrust. Keigo’s wings flared, sharpening and un-sharpening as his talons tore through the bed sheets. “How are you feeling angel? Are you still with me?” Tomura asked, moving to flip the other onto his back.

“Mhhmmm” was all he got in return before a wave of bird noises made their way out of the alpha’s mouth.

“Good boy, angel. So good for me.” Tomura purred, licking and sucking his scent gland as he did. With a few more well aimed thrusts and whines coming from the alpha, Tomura could tell that Keigo was getting close. Moving his hand to wrap around the others quickly swelling cock, Tomura squeezed right as the knot formed, causing the blonde to practically scream as his prostate was hit and his knot finally popped. Large amounts of cum covered both of them as Keigo finally came down, spurts of semen still coming out in waves.

With a few more thrusts, Tomura grunted as his own knot swelled and popped in the alpha’s ass.

Collapsing onto the alpha, Tomura took the chance to finally breathe, knowing that Dabi would be waking up soon from his passed out state.

Four days later, with three left to go saw Dabi finally snapping from his complete heat addled brain allowing Tomura to sink into his own. For the next three days, both Dabi and Keigo took turns making Tomura cum as much as he made them. Overall it was a tiring experience for all of them but they couldn’t be more happy.

Extra: The Talk

It was two weeks after the trios heats and rut ended that Dabi and Tomura sat Keigo down to have another talk about their relationship.

“So… you guys wanna mate me?” Keigo asked, voice small as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yeah. Is that ok? Do you want that with us?” Dabi asked, suddenly sounding a bit more nervous than when they’d started.

“Of course!“ Keigo half shouted, a huge smile spreading across his face as tears welled at the corners of his eyes.

“Well that’s good, I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.” Tomura spoke, relief filling his tone.

“So.. when?” Keigo asked, looking between the two for an answer.

“Next heat. We’d like to be able to mate you as soon as possible. But Keigo, you know this’ll put you in danger right? The commission doesn’t take kindly to an alpha with more than one bonded.” Dabi warned, concern overtaking his features.

“I know Dabs, it’ll be ok. I’ll cover up the marks and use more scent blockers. I hate this, and I hope we can change things soon but for now just having you both is enough for me.” Keigo responded, smiling a genuine smile that he didn’t often get to show.

Just as Tomura was about to speak again he was interrupted by a text chiming on his phone.

Taking his phone out, a frown shadowed his face causing his partners to become more alert.

“It’s from Rain. Aizawa’s been taken by the commission.” Tomura hissed, getting up to get ready to leave.

“Fuck.” Dabi swore moving to follow his mate.

Keigo took a moment to marvel at the power his to be mates exuded as he got up from his own seat. He almost felt bad for the commission. Almost. After all, the commission had no idea what hell they were bringing down on themselves.

End

If you liked the story please check out my ao3. I have other works in progress and if you’d like to leave a comment I am more happy to read your thoughts on the fic.

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ananxiousgenz · 1 month

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SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 15

wow. wowie wow wow. this section got me up to a little over 19,500 K. that's fucking INSANE homie!!!

this section took me a while to work out bc i knew what points i wanted to hit but not the order I wanted to do them in, so I had to break some stuff apart and rearrange it. hopefully this makes sense? this sections got a weird energy to it and i'm not sure why. but we are in the home stretch of this fic guys!!!! maybe like 3 or 4 more chapters max and then it is FINISHED, which is so crazy to me

alsoooo enjoy some bonus content!! aka me singing a lil bit of epic iii in honor of this absolutely insane milestone

HEY GANG IT'S FRESH FOOD: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @waters-and-the-wilde @gwenlena

@demonic-panini @the-private-eye @one-joe-spoopy

Voices singing in harmonies, orbiting in perfect rhythm, chasing like the sun and moon across the sky, echoed in the deafening silence of Hadestown.

The workers had stopped showing up a few days ago. Wouldn’t pick up their pickaxes or lay a hand on their wheelbarrows. Slowly, the factories ground to a halt. The furnaces died down. The wall stopped being built. And for the first time in a long, long time, the workers didn’t care.

They took beatings from the executives with a smile and a song on their lips, a song that spoke of unity in the face of loss with a melody that grew like creeping thyme through the town. It had been a while since Peter had heard Juno’s voice, but he knew. Even from this distance, he knew it was him. His strong, clear voice helixing through the air with another voice that he assumed must have been Ben’s. And the world stopped its ceaseless grind and listened.

And from his gilded cage in Slip’s office, Peter watched with no small amount of pride as his beloved husband brought the hell of Hadestown to a screeching halt.

Slip stormed back and forth in his office. Nureyev had been up here for…. Well, he wasn’t quite sure, but his best guess was a week. Slip had taken him up here after his executives had beaten Juno and left him for dead. Something about how he didn’t want him associating with those kinds of people anymore.

Nureyev knew that was bullshit. There was something else at play here, something he saw as clearly as if the sun were shining down through the rock overhead.

Slip was afraid of Juno.

He could see it with every furious step and angry huff. An undercurrent of fear laced his every move. Juno had crossed some sort of line, broken some sort of spell that Slip was afraid might never be put back into place. He was getting more erratic and scattered as the days went by. And for some reason that Nureyev couldn’t quite explain, a well of dread was beginning to bubble up in the pit of his stomach.

After all, it’s the scared animals that are the most dangerous.

“Godsdammit all, why won’t they work anymore?” Slip snarled, steps heavy but quick as he paced across the room.

Nureyev turned his gaze coolly away from the window. “Don’t know. Maybe they realized the lies and bullshit you’ve been feeding them!”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll leave you right where I left your precious husband.”

“Oh, I don’t know, he seems to be doing quite well for himself so far, considering he’s brought your whole town to a standstill.”

Slip stopped pacing like a frustrated predator and stared at Nureyev. Nureyev wasn’t scared. He’d already lost so much to this man he could barely remember. What was losing a little more? He stared right back, almost daring Slip to make a move.

“What else did you expect, Slip? You lie to these people for years, force them to work for nothing, keep them away from their homes and families, and expect they’ll be happy? That they’ll listen when you speak? That they’ll care about you and your opinions?” His motions were jerky with a deep set anger and hurt that was starting to burn hotter than the heart of the Hadestown furnaces.

Slip’s jaw was beginning to tremble, but in rage or fear or pain, Nureyev couldn’t tell.

Go on. Tell him. Tell him what he needs to hear.

“How long did you think they’d put up with this before they turned on you? How long do you think they’d wait for you to change?”

How long did he think you’d wait for him, little songbird?

“They’ll put up with it for as long as I am in charge of this town.”

Nureyev sighed deeply. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What is there to get, Petya? That these people don’t comprehend the logic of a business?”

Slip threw his arms open wide. Even now, even with all his power and might and control, he still looked like what he had been the last time Peter had ever really known him: a small, scared kid.

“They’re going to destroy everything I’ve ever worked for. Everything I ever built for you. And all because of that husband of yours and his fucking music.”

“Everything you built….for me?”

Slip sighed, and his expression softened slightly. “Of course. I made this town for you. I was going to show you all of its wonders. But you never came to find me, like you said you would. Remember?”

Peter couldn’t. Not at first, anyway. But slowly and surely, a memory began to creep back into his consciousness.

He was young. Couldn’t have been more than 12 or 13. The last of summer was still in the air. Slip had just finished telling him the old Story of Hades and Persephone, a story the two of them shared like their stolen food and blankets. Peter had cracked some kind of joke, something about the two gods in the story being a perfect pair because one could kill you and the other could dispose of your remains, and he and Slip were howling with laughter.

When the laughing had died down, Slip turned to Peter, suddenly serious. “Petya, can you promise me something?”

“Of course, my love, anything.”

“If one of us dies before the other… can we send a message to them from Hades? So the one that’s still living knows to go get them?”

“Slip, don’t talk like that. No one is going to die!”

“I know, I know, but…. Just in case, you know? If I die, I’ll send you a sign. A huge sign. I’ll…. I’ll get rid of the spring altogether! I’ll keep Persephone locked up in the underworld until you come to find me!”

That sent them both into another peal of unstoppable laughter.

And then the memory faded away, and Nureyev was left standing in the office, facing a man he had known so well decades ago, but didn’t know anymore.

“I should have brought you down here sooner, you know,” Slip said, chewing on his lip. “I thought, if I can take Persephone’s reincarnation and keep him down here, and change the world above, he will notice and come for me. Surely, if I just hold out a little longer, if I just let the winter go a little longer, let him starve a little longer, he’ll remember the promise he made to me. He’ll come to find me. But no.

“Instead, you moved on. Grew up. Got a respectable job. Even got married! All while you left me to fester down here. But it’s okay, my love. I don’t blame you. No. It’s all that Juno Steel’s fault.”

Nureyev suddenly realized his mouth and throat had gone bone dry, and a slightly manic gleam had entered Slip’s eyes.

“He stole you away from me. He’s what’s keeping us apart. You know, I should have killed him when I had the chance. Maybe I can still kill him now. You wouldn’t happen to know which of my workers he’s associating with, would you, Petya, dear? Maybe I could hurt them too.”

Peter’s whole body went rigid with fear.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He could barely make his hands shape the words. The sudden adrenaline rush made him shiver. He could barely imagine the pain Juno felt when he woke up and discovered his lover was gone. He couldn’t imagine having to go through the same pain.

Slip just looked back at him, face calm and still and eyes shining as he slid into the chair behind his desk, and Nureyev knew. If he made one false move, Juno would suffer the consequences. He swallowed hard.

An executive rapped on the door. “The leader is here to discuss negotiations, my associate.”

Slip’s eyes never left Nureyev’s face. “Of course. Bring them in. You might want to stay for this, Petya. I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.”

Nureyev didn’t move a muscle.

A moment later, Juno stumbled through the door, an executive hot on his heels, and Peter couldn’t decide if he should let out the breath he was holding or grab his lover by the shoulders and sprint out of the room. Maybe both.

Once Juno regained his balance, he glanced around the room until his eye rested on Peter, and a soft, relieved smile inched onto his face.

“Hey, babe, what’s going on? Where have you been?” he said gently, taking a few steps in Peter’s direction.

Peter wanted so badly to run to him, to kiss him, to leave town and never look back. But Slip’s threat had been genuine. He knew that. He stayed where he was, silently willing Juno to read the room and get the hell out.

“Mr. Steel. I will kindly ask you to keep your conversation directed to me, seeing as I am your host here.”

The smile fell from Juno’s face, and a mix of determination, fear, and hope appeared in its place. Simultaneously, a wave of dread crashed over Peter like a tsunami. Gods above, he wanted to throw up.

Juno bowed his head slightly in a greeting. “Slip.”

Slip bowed his head in response. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“What the hell do you mean by shutting down my whole town, Mr. Steel? I knew you were a troublesome one, but I never knew you had the guts to take it this far.”

“Oh, this isn’t my doing. It’s theirs,” Juno said simply, pointing out the window to the gathered crowd of workers partying in the street. “They decided they’ve had enough of being treated this way, so they decided to stop showing up. I had almost nothing to do with it.”

Slip leaned forward over his desk. “But you are the one who taught them that song, right?”

“And what if I am?”

“That still makes you an accomplice. You gave them the song that they unified around, and that would be considered a crime down here. And now that I’ve got you in my office, right in front of me, well…. I suppose it only makes sense that I punish you. I suppose you’ve been told how we punish those who step out of line down here?”

Juno’s jaw was set. He nodded. Peter wanted to scream.

Slip stood. “Very well then. Do you have any last words before we dispose of you?”

And suddenly, Juno looked very calm. Calm and careful, but still living up to his last name, with features set like quenched metal.

It took a moment, but Peter realized knew that look. He knew it very well. He knew it from all the nights of playing cards with Buddy or figuring out how to stack a new shipment of crates or watching him discover a new piece of the never ending puzzle that was his song.

That look meant that Juno had a plan.

The smallest spark of hope ignited in Peter’s gut.

And then Juno opened his mouth, and began to sing the song of spring.

#slip..... he's an evil little boy here #i'm so sorry for that #that's just how the words came out of my fingers #anyway #i hope y'all enjoy <3 #i love you guys!!!!!#tpp #the penumbra podcast #tpp hadestown au #song for a caged lovebird

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mickimomo · 1 year

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Praise (Part 1)

Since I'm on an Oni × Namora high, I figured I'd dabble a bit more with their interactions. (I'm slowly getting back into writing fics after my brain break. 🫣)

I think between the two, Namora has a praise k×nk. 😳 and I think Oni plays it tf up before Bast allows them to be together.

Why? I just feel like Namora doesn't get her flowers. And I'm sure she may feel like her cousin and Attuma probably dismiss her from time to time, despite their respect for her and her advice. As we saw at the end of the movie, Namor was pretty much sold on the idea of being an ally to Wakanda. He kinda soothed her worries, but she didn't seem super convinced im the end.

Oni on the other hand- as a proud member of the 'I Worship My Wife' Committee gives Namora the entire world and then some. And it would start small, but eventually bloom into something other people begin to take note of.

This is what I'm imagining:

Sparring had always been Oni and Namora's way of blowing off steam when things got too tense.

Even when they were mad at each other, they'd take it to the training rooms or forest.

It never really mattered where.

It only required privacy, two training staffs, and each other.

Namora remembered the first time they fought.

She was shocked to find herself bested by the priestess. She was even annoyed when Oni had chosen to sit beside her and talk to her.

She couldn't wrap her head around why the woman was so determined to know her after playing dirty.

But she was intrigued to see her leave for the infirmary to hunt down her enemy.

It was a clever idea.

The second time they sparred had resulted in an honorable defeat. She could even recall the panic she felt when she landed a blow to the priestess' nose. Oni was determined to finish the fight and was even kind enough to assure her that everything was fine.

Watching her move around with a bloody veil and laying under her in defeat had been surprisingly erotic.

During every fight she'd always tell her how good she was doing.

But this was different.

There was something else there as she helped her up.

Something clicked in her and she could only pray something clicked in Oni too.

After that, she'd visit her and hang out with her a lot after that.

Always helping around, listening to her worries, making sure she was taken care of, gifting jewelry, flowers, blades, and the most beautiful of gowns.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that she was courting the priestess, but she'd deny it over and over- no matter who asked.

She knew she couldn't have her.

Oni was vowed to Bast.

She was not allowed intimacy or even a partner.

But she could have gifts, and Namora was determined to give her the world and all the planets that circled the sun to make her happy.

Oni, on the other hand, wasn't a fool.

From the moment she had kicked her butt, she was interested.

Namora was playing with fire and couldn't even smell the smoke.

Where Namora was doing her best to prevent any vow breaking, Oni was looking for loopholes.

Anything to make the warrior squirm, flustered, and breathless in her presence.

She would accept everything with kind words and gentle touches.

Holding on until she was sure Namora was extremely aware of it.

Doing suggestive actions and feigning innocence.

But nothing quite got to Namora like praise and bluntness.

The priestess could recall the first time she realized it.

"You made this?" She held up a small white dagger that had a pearlescent sheen to it.

"Yes. I wanted you to have a pretty one."

"Are you saying my other one is ugly?"

"It has seen better days. Even the handle is falling apart."

Oni laughed softly as she inspected how sharp it was with her thumb. "You did a phenomenal job shaping it. It's sharp too." She twirled the small blade before sliding it back into its sleeve. "Thank you for giving me such a beautiful gift. I'll be sure to use it all the time from here on out."

Namora's face burned. "You are welcome."

Oni smiled behind her veil as she gently touched her shoulder. "You're so thoughtful. The fact that you saw something I needed and got a replacement really means a lot to me. I really can't believe you aren't married." She let out a small huff. "You'd be an amazing wife."

Namora's blush darkened in hue at her praises. "I've been told I'm intimidating." She looked away. "My rest face isn't the friendliest."

Oni gently turned her head back to her and looked her over. "I think you're beautiful, Namora. Your headdress reminds me of a roaring flame, and you wear these colors well." She stepped closer. "Fire is scary to those who do not understand it, so don't take their fear to heart."

Namora stared at her with wide eyes before the priestess dropped her hand. "Thanks again for the gift, Namora." She raised the sleeved dagger and wiggled it. "Don't lose your spark. I think it's hot."

Namora watched the priestess walk away with her heart pounding in her ears.

Was she flirting with her?

Was that a pun?

That was just kindness, right?

She swallowed hard before turning around and walking away.

She needed to put together another gift to get more praise.

Fast.

Okay. This is going to have to be in parts- because I don't think you guys want a ten page essay going down your timeline. 🫣 What happened to the read more line!?!?

#oni #oni daughter of zuri #onimora #namora x oc #namora #namora of talokan #black panther oc #oc x canon #gxg #fxf #is this flirting or chaos #namora is in shambles #oni is a menace to her future wife #the sun and the sky au

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bigfootsmom · 1 year

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ooooo “ropes” or “smells like teen spirit” for the wip game 👀

okay these are two VERY different fics lmao. Ropes is a good ol' fashioned pwp with Eddie tying Buck up and worshipping his body:

Smooth, pale skin is illuminated by the soft afternoon light, making Buck look like he’s glowing. Eddie’s own personal angel carved from the purest of marble. He’s here, kneeling next to Eddie’s bed, awaiting his next command.

Eddie hadn’t told Buck to strip, but he has anyways — miles of skin on display, making Eddie’s mouth water, yearning to lay sucking kisses all over it. He wants to mark Buck up, paint loving bruises all across his ivory skin like it’s his canvas.

Quietly, Eddie crosses to the nightstand and places the plate along with the water bottles down on it. He’s unwilling to break the pretty picture in front of him.

Shifting on his knees, Buck casts his gaze up to Eddie, catching his eyes with his own. Eddie feels seen right through to his soul, completely entranced by the burning blue in front of him, alight with a fire that can only be quenched by the man in front of him. Buck’s stare sinks a hook in right behind Eddie’s navel and drags him forward.

There’s still smudges of soot on Buck’s face from their shift and the smell of smoke wafts into the air as Eddie cards his fingers through dirty curls.

“Such a good boy for me, baby,” Eddie croons, continuing to pet Buck’s curls.

Smells like teen spirit is my beloved teen buddie meets in high school au that is this vast universe in my head and i have no idea if i'll ever be able to put it into words :( but it's teen runaway buck gets adopted by bathena and meets mad at the world eddie who's living with abuela because el paso is slowly killing him:

It’s been a little over a month since Eddie moved to LA, and he still feels like he’s finding his footing. A part of him wonders if he’ll ever find it. Despite how much Abuela has been reassuring him that he’ll find his stride, that LA will be good for him — Eddie has his doubts. But he’s still trying. Eddie isn’t really sure he knows how not to try. Especially not when Abuela looks at him with such warmth in her eyes, such hope that Eddie will figure it out.

So that’s what he’s doing. Figuring it out. At a house party.

Wrinkling his nose, Eddie shifts his feet over the floorboards, feeling the way the soles of his boots stick to whatever mystery substance has been spilled all over the ground. He’s starting to regret coming. Well, he regretted saying yes almost immediately after his coworker had invited him, but he doesn’t know anyone yet and a party feels like a good place to meet people.

Eddie is starting to question his logic. With bored eyes, he watches as another tipsy couple stumbles past him, lips locked together, not even pausing as they nearly knock his drink from his hand.

#mwah mwah thank you for the ask!!#sorry it's a long answer lol #wip game #ask game #molly got mail #molly writes #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fic #911 fox #devirnis

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diaryofomellas · 1 year

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Manuscript Tag

Thank you @late-to-the-fandom for the tag. I love this one!

Tagging: @thereeness (feel free to use your non-wow fics if you want) 🥺👉👈

Your words are wind, night, grasp, burst, blush

My words were Rough, Remove, Rebuild, Release, Reach

Rough - originally from An Arrow in her Quiver but since the rewrite it’s been moved to Playing with Fire

Her hand hovered next to his face for a moment, aching, itching to touch him. The muscles on his jaw rolled and tightened, lips pressing into the thinnest line. Disappointed, Omellas let her hand drop, not daring to reach out any further. But then he grabbed her wrist to guide her hand back up. Slowly. Reluctant. When he pressed her burning palm to his cold cheek, Omellas wondered if he could hear the thumping of blood racing through her veins. Her thumb brushed back and forth to soothe him, undisturbed by the scraping of the rough beard against her skin. Nathanos did not allow such intimate gestures often, and she would never to be the first to pull away.

Remove - From What am I to You

The cold of her leather armour was soothing on his skin, but he wanted more of her. Blindly, refusing to break the kiss, Garrosh removed her cloak and threw it aside carelessly. He fumbled with her pauldrons for a moment before a deep growl started growing in his throat when his thick fingers struggled with the tiny clasps.

Rebuild - From Arrow in her Quiver

"We all suffered terrible losses." She made her voice crack at the end of the sentence, followed by the distinct swallowing of grief. "We had to work together to defeat a common enemy, and Lady Sylvanas feels that this alliance should be kept alive. Our people need peace, to heal and rebuild. There's no reason why we can't share this world." Anduin stared, our eyes glued together, drinking in every word to sate his palpable thirst for peace. "But if you do not wish me to stay, just say the words, and I'll be gone."

Release - From Playing with Fire

She released the arrow, watching only long enough to make sure the blue-haired night elf fell before moving on to another target

Time stopped when she saw him. Sitting on his majestic white horse, distinctive lion helmet in his left hand. Imposing and splendid in his freshly bloodied armour. Anduin raised his eyes from the dead elf to her killer as if he knew who he’d find. Ignoring the sudden tightness in her chest, Omellas held his gaze firmly, and pulled another arrow from her quiver.

Reach - from The Death of All Things

“I know what you’re planning and I don’t like it,” Anya said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Someone has to take down that thing before it reaches us.”

There it was. Again, the urge to protect. The absolute need to take matters into her own hands so others wouldn't suffer.

Anya made sure the second end of the bandage was secure and then threw her hands in the air with frustration. “You were the one who said you didn’t want any martyrs, remember? They’re your words!”

#tag game #my fic #omellas bloodforged #nathanos blightcaller #anduin wrynn #garrosh hellscream #anya #forgot this in the drafts...

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taomyou · 6 months

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The Romance of Reimbursements - Chapter 15

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: COMPLETED Summary: There’s a guy you see every Friday on bus 143, and you think he’s pretty hot. It wouldn’t hurt to tell your best friend about him, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and you fall in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to fold as many paper stars as your heart desires. Word Count: 6.2k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking (A/N: this fic is entirely available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead!) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

miss me?

“Congratulations!”

Just before everyone can set off their confetti poppers, the elevator opens to reveal Eren instead of the intended Petra and Oluo.

“Where are they?” You shout after him. Eren rushes over to your, Mikasa, and Armin’s spot in the huddle of people crowded in front of the elevator, and the three of you frantically shove party favors into his hands before demanding an answer again. The people around you all silence themselves to hear him speak.

“Oluo’s in the bathroom shitting his brains out! Petra said he forgot his lactose tolerance pills at home!” He groans, dramatically gagging as he rushes to put on his party hat.

A chorus of “ew”s and other disgusted sounds fill the room, and it’s a lot noisier than it would've been if it was just a normal office birthday party.

Everyone from the finance department snuck down during their lunch break for “a meeting,” and both departments worked together to get the party ready. Erwin promised everyone that because it was the first time that two people in the firm were getting married, he’d make sure that everyone’s paperwork for the day was cut down.

You’re not really sure how he has the jurisdiction to do that for the finance department, but he’s been gone on meetings with Nile a lot lately, so you assume that he got the green light from him.

While you all were doing this, Petra and Oluo were blissfully having lunch on their own up on the finance floor.

Well, as blissfully as they could’ve, consider what Oluo’s busy doing in the bathroom right now.

“How much longer do we have?” Someone shouts.

“She said she’d come down in five minutes, with or without him!” Eren shouts back.

“Well, we need both of them, so somebody go get him out of the bathroom!” Someone else prompts. You watch as a few guys start to go over to the elevator, but Erwin’s voice booms through the space to stop them.

“Calm down, everyone! I’m sure they’ll both be here!”

“And if they aren’t?!”

There’s a silence before Erwin sighs, and he steps out to approach the elevator, taking off his comically tight party hat. “I’ll go, then.”

Cheers and applause fill the air, hurting your ears, but you join in nonetheless and shout your thanks to Erwin. The elevator beeps again, telling him that the next lift is available.

Erwin’s just about to step in, but before he can, he pauses.

He stands in place for a second and claps loudly, seemingly to himself.

“Congratulations!” He shouts, completely unprompted.

Nobody can see over his tall frame at what’s there, but when he finally moves out of the way, there’s both Petra and Oluo standing in the elevator. Everyone cheers again, shouting their own congratulations to the couple and setting off their party poppers, and the space fills again with even more noise. They both look confused, but they eventually smile and start laughing. The elevator door is about to close in on them, but Erwin quickly moves back over to stop the shutting mechanism, and he ushers them out to start celebrating.

There’s a crowd of people that rush to talk to them first, so you move to go get the gifts from your office to bring for them. Armin follows closely behind you to help, and you thank him once you’re in the quiet room and he can hear you properly.

“What’d you end up getting for them?” He asks.

You motion him to come over and help you lift the first wrapped box. After you’ve both got it comfortably in your hands, you answer. “I picked out an espresso machine with some guy from finance, but I don’t know what other people got. Erwin wrapped everything, and he just dropped all these off here in the morning.”

You and Armin wobble out of your office and out onto the main floor, and everyone moves out of the way when they see you both struggling with it. Other people follow suit and go into your office to get the rest of the presents, and soon enough, everything’s out in the open on a lone table somebody stole from a nearby conference room.

The couple is eager to rip into the presents, as is everyone else to watch them do it, and it isn’t long before they’re whining about how expensive everything is and how they didn’t need any gifts. When you whisper to Petra that the company paid for it, she pauses before smiling again, and her and Oluo disperse to go and talk to people in the office.

You slip away to go and start passing out some of the treats you brought from home for the occasion, and people flock to you like pigeons to a slice of bread. There’s still plenty left after everyone’s grabbed something, but you still stay at your self-designated spot because you’re too lazy to maneuver your way through the crowd again.

You watch from a distance as Petra plows through all the formalities from other coworkers in the office before coming to you with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey, you!” She greets, going for a hug. “Are you sure nobody actually paid for the gifts?”

You accept her hug with open arms and a laugh, patting her hair. “Yes, yes, we all used a company credit card when we went shopping.”

She pulls away from you, looking at your face to make sure you aren’t lying, before hugging you again and childishly rocking back-and-forth.

“Ooh, still, you guys didn’t have to do all this! It’s already been 2 months since the engagement, I thought everyone just forgot!”

You shake your head with a smile. “We just didn’t have time, you know how it is.”

The two of you stay and talk, as you haven't had the chance to catch up until now. You don't have much to tell her, but she has plenty of stories about her and Oluo to tell you. Neither of you let go of the other, but that works out anyway because nobody tries to pull her away to pester her about wedding plans.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask! How’s your boyfriend doing?”

At that, you can only look back at her in confusion.

“What boyfriend?”

“You know, that one guy you went out with on Valentine’s Day,” she teases, going to push back a strand of hair away from your face. “I saw him in the lobby when I was leaving a while ago, but I forgot to ask you about him.”

Is she talking about Levi?

“How do you even know he was there for me?”

“I was walking to my car with Erwin, and he stopped us to ask if you were still working. Erwin told him he could come up to the office, but he said he was fine waiting in the lobby for you to finish.”

It’s no surprise that he was waiting for you—you already knew that, and you already gave your adequate thanks (at least, you hope you did).

"Petra, he's not my boyfriend," you deadpan.

She groans, pulling away to pinch your cheek. "Are you sure? Don't you at least like him?"

"Yes, Petra, I'm sure he isn't my boyfriend," you tell her, now rubbing at your cheek. This time, though, you're not sure how to answer the second question.

You're not stupid. Far from it, actually. Even you know that there's something off about your feelings for Levi.

You know you're attracted to him, that much isn't something you can really deny anymore.

Saying that you just don't know him well enough isn't exactly right either.

You'd like to think you're good friends now, and the feeling of closeness that just inherently comes along with that is definitely there.

But you still aren't sure about anything beyond that. Maybe it's because of your inexperience, maybe it's because of your consistent lack of attention to it, maybe it's something you have no idea about.

What you do know is that you can keep ignoring it, so you’re going to do that instead of giving it any thought at all.

Still, you want to ask Petra for help in figuring it out at some point, but now isn't the time, so you'll settle for telling her that you don't feel any particular way about him. Thankfully, she switches gears to talk about something else, and you're granted yet another escape from your feelings, no matter how real they may be.

✰

"Hey, sweetheart! Why'd you call? Need something?"

"Hi! Hey, do you think you could take Levi out tonight? Get him out of the house?"

"Sure! Why, need the place to yourself?"

Isabel's phone is on speaker, so both of them can hear what's being said. Isabel hesitates and takes a second to look over at Furlan, who zips his mouth.

"Yeah, I was gonna bring a hook-up over, and Levi doesn't like him coming over when he's home."

Furlan silently screams at Isabel, who can only do her best to swat him away without letting his presence be known to the other end of the line.

"Ooh, you fox, hooking up on a Monday! Yeah, I can take him off your hands. Me and Astraea were thinking about trying this new restaurant downtown, so I'll just take him and Erwin with us."

Furlan and her both look to each other in a panic.

"No! Don't do that!"

"Huh? Why not?"

"Uh," another pause, "Levi's on a diet, he can't eat out right now."

"Girl, we both know he needs to eat as much as he can to grow nice and tall, his ass is not on a diet."

Furlan's unable to contain his laughter, and the sound gets Hange's attention again.

"Hey! Is that Furlan?"

Isabel groans into the line, the jig now up, and she collapses forward onto the table. "Yes."

"What's going on? Are you guys scheming something?"

The plan was to get you and Isabel alone at the house so that she could ask you questions about Levi to try and get more information about the note out of you, but that won’t exactly work if Hange’s in on it. Isabel has a big mouth, but Hange’s is even bigger, and there’s no way they’d let Isabel and Furlan get away with a scheme unless they also had something to do with it.

Hange assumes the silence is enough of an answer. “You totally are!”

“...Maybe.”

“Count me in! What’s the plan?”

Well, better to have three masterminds at work than two. Maybe Hange can rope in Erwin too, might as well get the whole crew together to pull this off.

The two housemates share another look before looking back down at Isabel’s phone, Furlan tapping it back to life. “Got any ideas? Our’s probably isn’t any good.”

“Boy, have I got ideas! Are you guys free on Friday?”

✰

You stretch up from your seat, yawning. The stack of paperwork still at your desk stares back at you, taunting you meanly, and you have to press the palms of your hands into your eyes to keep from falling asleep.

Shame on you for believing for even a second that paperwork would be easier this week after Erwin’s firm-wide Monday sweep.

Mikasa frowns at you from her spot on the floor, having been assigned filing duty today. “Do you need some help? I can stay late today to finish filing.”

You sigh before reaching over to the top piece of the stack. “You shouldn’t stay, Eren told me earlier that you guys were going on a date today.”

“But aren’t you gonna miss the bus?”

You check your phone for the time: 2:03 PM. “I mean, I have an hour, and it doesn’t really matter as long as I text Levi—” you stop yourself. You probably shouldn’t tell Levi you’re staying late, you’d feel bad if he had to wait for you again (you also don’t need any rumors going around the office about you having a significant other). You can give him his tea next week anyway, or you might run into him again between now and next Friday. “As long as I get out of the office by, like, 8.”

Mikasa’s probably too tired to catch your mistake, and you’re grateful that she doesn’t.

“I can still stay a while, Eren probably won’t be done by the time we have to go anyway.”

“You kids are young, don’t sell your soul to the 9-to-5 lifestyle just yet.”

She rolls her eyes before turning back to the filing cabinet. “We already work in this hellhole, there’s no saving us now.”

“It isn’t so bad. We have a lot of random office parties to look forward to.”

“Aren’t those even more work for you to plan?”

Before you can answer, you get a phone call.

Huh, you probably forgot to silence your phone earlier. Good thing it didn’t go off while you were meeting with any clients earlier. You check the screen to see that it’s Hange calling, and you smile to yourself as you accept it. Mikasa hears you take the call and just busies herself with the filing to give you your privacy. You also turn your chair so that you're facing the window and away from your desk.

“What’s up? You never call me when I’m at work.”

“Hey girl! You free tonight?”

“Uh,” you turn your head to look back at the paperwork. “Probably not, I’m stuck at work.”

“Ugh, forget about work for once! Can’t you do it over the weekend?”

You roll your eyes, leaning back into your chair. “You know I hate doing that shit over the weekend.”

“Just this once? Please? Isabel failed one of her finals and she’s really bummed out about it, so I was thinking we could do something to cheer her up.”

Your stomach drops.

Isabel’s in her last year, and you can’t imagine having the pressure of having to sort out a failed final right before graduation. You remember Levi telling you that Isabel was taking the MCAT at the end of the month too, so she’s probably stressed as all hell right now, even without the failed test.

You don’t really see Isabel around too often, only ever really whenever you’re over at her, Levi, and Furlan’s place, but you still feel for her. She’s so sweet and welcoming—how could you not?

“Hello?”

“What time were you thinking?”

You hear Hange hum over the phone.

Weird, you normally wouldn’t be able to pick up on that when you’re on the phone with them.

Oh well, they’re probably just on speaker because their hands are busy.

“How’s 6? I was thinking we could get dinner and drinks?”

You pull your phone away from your ear to check the time again: 2:12 PM.

Yeah, you can take your paperwork home just this once. It’s pretty standard practice for everyone at the firm anyway, you just avoid it like the plague because you don’t want to get into the habit. Maybe you’ll take up Mikasa’s offer if Eren really is also staying late, but you definitely will still be staying at the office until the very last second so you won’t have too much to do over the weekend.

“That works.”

“I can pick you up from work! You’re dressed super hot, right?”

You deadpan. “If you want to call my work clothes ‘super hot,’ then be my guest.”

“Hey, business attire is super hot!”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you need me to make reservations?”

“Nope, I got it all under control! I’ll come get you at 5:30 or something!”

“Sounds good. Do you think we could stop somewhere and get something for Isabel, too? Maybe that’d help her feel better.”

“Uh, ” there’s an awkward pause before they resume. “Isabel’s not really big on gifts, so we can just take care of the bill for her.”

“I already assumed that I was the one paying,” you joke. “But sure, that’s fine too. See you later, then?”

“Yup!”

“Bye, Hange.”

“Buh-bye!”

They hang up, and you sigh as you turn your chair back towards your desk.

“Are you sure you’re fine staying back? Do you wanna go check with Eren to make sure it’s okay?”

She nods before getting up, stretching her arms as she comes back to her usual work spot at your desk. “He can wait, you take better care of me anyway.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your boyfriend, Mikasa,” you tease. “Let me know if you need any help with any of the documents, yeah?”

“I’m the one that’s supposed to be helping you,” she mumbles her breath.

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re right, my bad.”

Before you pocket your phone, you pull up Levi’s contact.

You - 2:20 PM

hi! no need to wait up for me, i’m not taking the bus today

You’re not exactly happy with the wording of the message, but you hit send anyway.

Isabel probably hasn’t told anyone other than Hange that she failed her final, so you don’t want to accidentally let on that there’s something going on if you say anything about the dinner plans to Levi.

You hope Levi wasn’t looking too forward to the tea, but you know you’ll find a way to make it up to him anyway. It’s not like these weekly run-ins are anything special to him… they might be to you, but there’s no way Levi braves himself through the entire workweek just to talk to you for 30 minutes every Friday.

You make sure to silence your phone before putting it away in your briefcase so that it can’t distract you, and you exchange it for your laptop to check for anything you might need to tend to.

You’re grateful for Mikasa’s help because by 4:12, you’re completely done with the paperwork. Thankfully, Eren’s still occupied with his own work right now, so while Mikasa waits for him, you help her finish up with filing everything and getting it ready for the next workweek.

Once you’re finished with everything, you and her head over to the breakroom to grab some water, but before you can get there, Erwin stops you.

“Going home soon?” He asks the both of you.

“Yeah,” Mikasa answers curtly. She slips away to head to the breakroom on her own, and you curse her for leaving you to deal with Erwin alone.

You love the guy, you really do, but right now, you want to indulge yourself for a few seconds before you have to go get shit-faced with your neighbor and a wallowing college student.

“Yeah, I’m headed out soon.”

Instead of asking any questions like you expect him to, he just smiles and nods. “Have fun, alright?”

…Weird, but okay.

You nod to him in return, and he just walks away. When you get to the breakroom, you see that Eren’s also there, just slumped over in a chair in front of his laptop.

“Still working on something?” You ask.

“Nah, just checking my emails before I leave,” he says. “I got a job offer.”

“Are you planning to take it?” Mikasa asks, moving to stand behind him.

You think that she’s going to give him a shoulder rub or something, but she instead forces Eren to sit up straighter and lightly knocks the back of his head. He doesn’t seem all that fazed by it, which is a bit odd, but you suppose that that’s just their way of being lovey-dovey.

“It isn’t my first choice,” he grumbles. “Ideally, we all stay here.”

“About that, have you heard any news about who’s getting hired?” Mikasa asks you.

You go over to the fridge to grab waters for yourself and Mikasa, and you hand one to her as you take your own seat near them. “Not really, but I didn’t know I was staying until a week before graduation, so I wouldn’t count on knowing anything until then.”

“Do you think what I heard from Nile was right? That we could all stay?”

You take a second to open your water bottle and take a sip before answering. “I’m sure you’ll all get hired if the company can afford it.”

Eren sighs before closing his laptop and putting down his head on top of it. “I hope you’re right, I hate job hunting.”

You resign yourself to go get your briefcase and personal items from your office, and you wait for Mikasa to get her things too before locking the door and going over to the elevator. Eren ends up on the same lift down, and the three of you just bitch about work until it’s time for you to go your separate directions.

When you reach the lobby, you don’t have time to reach for your phone before you see Hange pull up. You quickly say goodbye to the receptionist, and you rush out to get to their car before they can get ticketed.

You see Isabel in the passenger seat, so you slip quietly into the backseat. “Thanks for coming to get me,” you greet. You take a second to put your seatbelt on properly and get your briefcase safely put down next to you.

The two of them are oddly quiet, but you just attribute that to Isabel feeling down. “Where are we headed?” You ask.

Hange looks back at you at the cost of accidentally swerving into the wrong lane. “There’s this diner I used to go to a lot during undergrad, I don’t think either of you guys have ever been there.”

Isabel turns back in her seat to look at you too, and she sends you a sad wave. “Thanks for coming, we know you’re busy.”

You frown. “Don’t worry about me, I ended up finishing up with work before I left. Are you doing okay?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! I just need to get drunk enough to forget, and then I’ll deal with the repercussions later.”

Hange makes a sharp turn, and you and Isabel both go to grip the grab handles at your seats.

“That’s not very responsible, but I feel you. And Hange, I fucking swear, you’re driving like you’re already drunk! Just fucking pull over and switch with me!”

✰

The rest of the ride is peaceful enough, especially now that Hange isn’t the one driving, and you reach the diner soon enough. You’re tired of reading words at this point, so you and Isabel both just follow Hange inside without reading the name of the diner.

It is pretty crowded, though, which is a good enough indicator that the food is good, and that's enough for you. Based on the events of the earlier parts of the night, you won’t be drinking anyway, so it won’t matter if the alcohol is terrible.

As long as Isabel feels better, you're fine being designated driver.

Hange shamelessly plows through the people crowding the waiting area and marches right on up to the hostess stand. You can’t hear what they tell the hostess over the chatter that fills the space, but she eventually leads the three of you to a booth with six menus already placed down. You move awkwardly to sit down next to Isabel, but she shoos you away to sit on the other side while Hange slips past you.

“You hate me, don’t you?”

Isabel groans. “No, I don’t! There’s just one cocktail menu at our table, and you’re not drinking!”

“Who said I wasn’t drinking?”

“We’ll crash!”

“As if we weren’t already going to with you driving sober earlier, Hange.” You go to pick up a menu for yourself. “Why are there six menus here? I thought it was only the three of us tonight.”

Quite unceremoniously, a very familiar voice cuts in.

“What are these fuckers doing here?”

You look over to see Levi, Furlan, and Erwin. You turn back to look at Hange and Isabel, both of whom have big grins on their faces.

“There’s your answer!” Hange cheers.

Well, the more the merrier.

They motion for everyone to get into their seats, and Levi ends up sliding in next to you.

You greet Levi with a bump to his left shoulder. “Miss me?” You tease.

He grumbles as he goes to grab his menu. “No.”

You laugh before going back to decide on your own meal for the evening, as does everyone else. A waitress comes soon enough to take everyone’s drink orders first, and it turns out that Levi’s the boys’ designated driver and he can’t drink either. Levi also not-so subtly tells you that the tea at this particular diner is “glorified piss” so neither of you order any, instead getting waters while the rest of the table gets whatever drinks they’re in the mood for. The waitress also takes all of your food orders before leaving for the kitchen.

When the waitress comes back a few minutes later with everyone’s drinks, she also brings everyone napkins, so while the others talk amongst themselves to get settled in, you take the napkins for yourself to start tearing at. You feel Levi’s gaze on you, and you turn slightly so that you’re facing him.

“Wanna learn how to make one?” You ask.

He shrugs, but he also turns to you.

You roll your eyes before you hand him the thin strip you’ve already torn off. He holds it awkwardly between his fingers as you carefully tear off another piece for yourself, and you reorient yourself so that he can follow along with what you’re doing.

“Pinch it between your fingers, like this,” you tell him. He follows along closely, eyes flickering back and forth between his paper and yours. You give a nod of approval once he’s gotten the first part down.

“Mhm, then you lift this part here and tuck it in.” You have to repeat the motion a few times for him to understand what you mean, but he eventually gets it and gets the knot cleanly started. “And then you press it flat.”

He sighs and puts his right elbow on the table. “So you have to do all this just to fucking smash it?”

“Trust the process, loser.” You show him very slowly how to press down on the looped part of the strip of paper. He doesn’t quite get it, but after you reposition his fingers so that he can do it properly, he has it just fine.

This time, there’s no sparks for you to ignore. Instead, his hands just feel warm—comfortable, even—against yours.

“Now what? This looks nothing like a star,” he complains.

“You’ve seen me make these, like, a million times before, is none of this familiar to you?”

He flips you off underneath the table with his left hand. “Fuck off, you fold it so fucking fast that I can’t even tell what’s happening when you do it.”

Your smile at the hidden compliment while you shake your head. “Yeah, yeah, I know I’m just that good.”

You do the subsequent folds along with him, stopping after each one, before you both have thick pentagon-shaped pieces of paper between your fingers. “You tuck in this little piece at the end, yeah?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Where do I tuck it in?”

You tilt your head to properly see where he’s meant to do it. “There,” you point. You accidentally lean your head on his shoulder, but neither of you make any mention of it as he goes to follow your direction.

“Then you pinch the corners, like this.” You go to pinch the first edge of your star, and you wait for Levi to do the same. He’s hesitant to go through with it, though, so you reposition his fingers again so that he can feel a bit more comfortable doing it.

After he goes to pinch it, you can see his expression brighten just a tiny bit when the form puffs up, finally starting to look like a star.

“Good job,” you praise. “Think you can do the other sides on your own?”

“Fuck no.”

You laugh before showing him the same process four more times, and soon enough, he has a pretty paper star in the palm of his hand that matches yours.

“See! Look how pretty it is.”

He scoffs. “You practically made it for me.”

“It’s still yours!”

He hums to himself as he rocks it back-and-forth in his hand. “Wanna trade?”

You frown. “You don’t like the one you made?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t.”

“Sure then. Jokes on you, yours is cuter anyway.”

He rolls his eyes before holding out a palm to you, and you do the same for him to drop his star in. You bring it up closer to your face so you can look at it before carefully putting it into your pocket.

You go to start tearing more pieces for yourself to fold, but this time, Levi only watches.

Everyone around you feels drowned out, as loud and drunk they are, but you still glow inside when you take brief glances at your friends around the table and see them having fun.

None of them seem to be that bothered with talking to neither you nor Levi right now, Hange and Isabel enamored in their own conversation about science (or something or other) and Erwin and Furlan talking about Gundam builds.

As you fold the stars up, you hand them to Levi who continues to roll them between his fingers.

The food comes after a decently short wait, considering how many people are in the diner, and soon enough, everyone’s laughter fills the small bubble that is your booth. Of course the people around you are also rowdy, but it seems like you can’t be bothered with them while you’re busy cracking jokes with people at the table. Hange and Erwin naturally lead the conversation, having the dominant personalities that they do, but everyone still participates to whichever degree they’re comfortable with in the moment.

The drinks do little to their behavior, probably because they all act drunk when they’re sober anyway (except for Erwin, who’s alcohol tolerance is apparently higher than even Levi’s), but the liquid courage is useful for the childish game of “two truths, one lie” that gets started after everyone’s finished eating. It starts with you telling them that you’ve broken a bone and that you know how to play the violin, but the drunk people at the table take it a bit further by bringing up past sexual escapades and embarrassing childhood stories.

Nevermind that, though, because it’s all still lively and fun, and you barely have a second to breathe before someone says something that has you on the floor. Levi obviously doesn’t partake to the same level that everyone else does, but you swear you’ve caught him at least chuckling at some of the things said throughout the evening.

Nobody makes any mention of Isabel and her schoolwork, but you’re more thankful than confused because it’d probably be hard for her to be reminded of that in the middle of the fun.

When it comes time to pay, everyone except for Isabel gives their cards to Erwin, who’s the closest to the waitress when she comes back, and he has her pick from the five cards in his hand.

All of you, Levi included, cheer when she chooses Erwin’s credit card, and he just laughs along with the rest of you when she comes back shortly after with the customer copy to sign.

When you go to reach for your phone to check the time, you realize that your phone is still in Hange’s car.

Well, your tea for Levi is in there too, so you might as well just get it for him now.

“Hey, Hange?”

They look up at you, wiping at the fog building on their glasses. “Yeah?”

“Can I get something from your car? It’ll only take a second.”

“Oh, sure. Here,” they toss you their keys. “Take Levi with you!”

You and Levi exchange confused expressions with one another, but after Erwin gets out of the way, Levi does follow you out to the car.

He leans on the hood as you go to the backseat to fish out your phone and the tea from your briefcase. After you make sure that the door is locked, you move over to the front of the car and hold out the tea to him.

“If you thought I forgot, I didn’t,” you tell him with a smile.

He takes it from you, squinting to see the label under the dim street lighting. “I’ve never seen this brand before, is it foreign?”

You nod. “I found it when I went shopping for my friend’s engagement gifts, I thought you’d like it.”

He nods, turning the box to read the lettering. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to be heading back inside anytime soon, so you go to stand on the parking bump and balance yourself on it. Thank goodness you wore flats today.

The quiet is a nice break from the noise of the diner, and it feels like you’re back in that bubble from earlier, where Levi’s hands felt more warm than they were electric.

“I lied.”

Slightly startled by the sudden break of silence, you look over at him, careful to keep yourself grounded so you don’t lose your balance. “About what?”

He keeps his eyes down, still looking at the box of tea. “When you asked if I missed you today.”

You feel a small hiccup in your chest. “Really?"

“Yeah, I wanted to complain about this client I had on Tuesday.”

You roll your eyes before hopping off the parking bump and joining Levi at his space on the car. You lean on it as well, though careful to avoid getting your clothes dirty, before you clear your throat and look up at the streetlamp above you.

“Wanna tell me about it now?” You look back inside, and even though you can barely see your friends, they look like they’re making their own fun. “They can survive a few minutes without us.”

He doesn’t answer at first, but after he walks over to put the tea down on the curb, he comes back to his spot next to you. “Yes, please.”

✰

“What do you guys think they’re talking about?” Isabel asks the others at the table. Both her and Hange have effectively propped themselves up higher on their side of the booth so that they can get a better look outside at you and Levi.

“Obviously they’re confessing to each other!” Hange drunkenly cheers.

“I hate to be the voice of reason, but they aren’t even facing each other,” Erwin muses.

“It’s so fucking dark, where are they?” Furlan whines. Erwin chuckles before leaning in closer to the him, pointing in some vague direction. Furlan just pretends to see it and nods so that nobody at the table can make fun of him, but he’s fine trusting the other three to make the right observations.

“Okay, Erwin, what do you think they're talking about if they’re not expressing their undying love for each other?”

“Probably something boring, like work.”

“You and her have the same job, don’t you?” Isabel asks.

Erwin shrugs. “More or less.”

“Oh, and good job on your final, Isabel! I knew you’d kill it!” Furlan cheers.

Everyone joins in on the praise and brings their glasses up to clink against the others.

“Yeah, girl! You’re an academic weapon, or whatever the fuck kids your age call smart people!”

“Thanks, guys!” Isabel beams. She awkwardly gets up to look outside again, but you and Levi still are standing apart from each other. “Even if they aren’t doing anything crazy out there, we all saw them earlier, right? Like, we didn’t even have to make them sit next to each other.”

Everyone at the table collectively nods.

“Maybe it isn’t worth it to keep pushing them together,” Erwin suggests. “They seem to be getting along just fine.”

“Oh, please, they’re both idiots, they need all the help they can get,” Hange chirps. “Besides, aren’t you the biggest schemer of us all?”

Erwin can only grin as he goes to take another sip of his drink. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

Laughter bubbles up from everyone, forcing the booth next to them to shush the group. None of them really pay any mind to it, but when they see you and Levi coming back into the diner, they all shush one another with mischievous smiles on their faces.

“Shut up, guys, they’re coming back!”

Levi deadpans at the group, and he uses a small metal box to knock Furlan on the head for the statement. “Are you guys done killing your brain cells yet? It’s late, you need to get to bed.”

“We’re adults, why are you giving us a bedtime?” Isabel whines.

“Really? You all act like fucking five-year-olds, I never would’ve guessed.”

Erwin laughs at his friend before getting up and putting a hand on his shoulder. Levi, of course, swats it away, but Erwin takes it in stride. “He’s right, we’ve all had a long week, let’s start heading home.”

The group splits into two again once everyone’s up and ready to leave, but this time, the four friends fall behind a bit to watch the pair of sober drivers that talk quietly amongst each other as they lead the way back to the parking lot.

✰

Next Chapter

#attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #tao.levi #levi aot #levi ackerman #the romance of reimbursements #levi #fanfiction

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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years

Text

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

#I don't actually know how to tag this #representation #maybe?#C needs help feeding the dinosaurs #because this is very much about being a fandom old #probably also #driveby meta attack #because that's where I keep my impromptu rambles #CR spoilers #technically I guess?#there's one line that references the finale #fandom history

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devilishly-delightful · 2 years

Text

Devilishly Delightful Plans

Cw: Yandere Themes, Temporary Character Death

If I need to mark anything else let me know since this is a first fic in years...

The finals at RAD has finally past, and unfortunately for everyone that meant MC’s time in Devildom is almost up. Meaning in a weeks time they would have to go back to the human world and everyone was unsure if they’d ever see them again. So a Devious plan is hatched on how to keep them here...

It was another morning waking up after the Finals, However you get ready for another day at RAD. To enjoy the last few days here in Devildom with everyone before heading back up to the human world. However a plan is made to keep you here with them since they don't wanna lose you ever. The Demon Brothers and the Demon Lord have tried their best to corrupt you. However that did not work they now had to try drastic measures before you’d leave.

As the days approach to the end of the count down each Demon tries to rub their sin off on you.

Mammon tried to pull you to a bunch of casinos,Claiming you where his lucky charm. Trying and failing to get you excited about money. Which back fired on him making him lose money.

Levi Offering you to play games with him, Slowly slipping into game rooms to show of character customization's to make you Envious of everyone else's items. But you just enjoyed spending time with him and didn't rally care about other people.

Satan did give it a shot but honestly couldn't get any anger out of you and spent time calming him down by watching cat videos with him.

Asmo spent time trying to get you to lust after different forbidden things.People or items it did not work. Even when he broke down in tears after trying to just charm you one last time and even that didn’t work.

Beel and Belphie both tried to get you to over eat and sleep together as a pair.Each encouraging their Sin and the others twin.Unfortunately the other brothers started to get more desperate accidentally ruining their attempt when you felt overwhelmed and Went back to you’re room to breath while they where at each others throats.

Having had enough of the brothers antics,you texted the duo at the castle asking to take a break from the chaos. Diavolo and Barbtatos Agreed having you come over. You headed on over to the castle to have tea with the two.You made it there safely and sat down to enjoy some tea.

“So MC, I was wondering if we could chat about your time here in Devildom, So we can improve your stay here.” Diavolo asks putting down the tea cup after having a sip.

“I mean, My stay here was pretty good everyone was extremely kind to me.But may I ask what you mean by improving my stay? I’m supposed to go home in two days...” You say a little confused.

Diavolo sighs. “Did they not really tell you MC? You’re to stay here. We can’t lose our best exchange student...”

You stand up to argue but slump back down into your seat right away. Dizziness overtakes your vision.

“I’m sorry MC but this is the only way we can get you to stay here.We’re going to need you to take a small little nap and everything will be OK when you wake back up.”

Eyes blurring to black you let out a whimper as a burning pain overtook you.

Waking up you felt yourself chained. Pulling at the chains you felt a flutter of wings behind you. Confused you looked behind you only to panic. Angel wings take up your eyes. You move they move and you panic even more. Your snapped out of it when the Dungeon door opened to reveal the brothers and the Castle duo.

“MC its ok, there was a miscalculation but don’t worry we can fix it. We’re just going to need you to be a bit prideful of your new wings so you can just exchange those out for a nice charcoal pair.” Lucifer finally speaking out.

You only pull against your chains even more.

“If you don’t think pride is up your alley don’t worry MC I’m sure one of the brothers can help show you a way to becoming a powerful demon.” Diavolo pats your hair as the brothers approach. Only for you to back yourself up against the wall like a cornered animal.

You closed your eyes.

#obey me fanfic #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me poly #I'm sorry this is my first fic in forever please be nice #I think i may just do head canons #I'm still unsure

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somnambulants · 3 years

Note

i love your writing!! could you maybe do something with exes to lovers with nat?

word count: 3.9K notes: thanks for the request! i’m glad you like my writing! i also may...have started thinking about writing a second part because im super attached to this fic. let me know if thats something you guys would be interested in!

“Barton, you’re such a –“

Your world stops turning at the sound of that voice, everything else becoming static. It doesn’t matter that you’re standing in a room full of people that you’re supposed to be impressing.

It’s been over ten years since you’d last heard that voice.

Vaguely, you know that Captain America is speaking to you but the only thing you can pay attention to is her.

You turn slowly, and the second you lay eyes on her you know for sure.

It’s definitely her.

You see it the second she spots you too.

In all the time you’d known her, she’d always been so much more proficient at hiding things than you but you still see the way her eyes widen as she takes you in and the way her face shifts into something that resembles shock before she manages to mask it.

“Nat!”

You startle a little, having now somehow completely forgotten that Captain America was next to you and that you were in the middle of a tour of your new workplace the second you’d landed eyes on her.

Oh god.Your new workplace.

Your new workplace that was also clearly her workplace.

As she approaches, you futilely look for every possible way you can escape. “This is Y/N. Fury’s informant while Agent Emery is on reconnaissance. Y/N this is Natasha Romanoff.”

Natasha? Romanoff? Absurdly, you have the sudden urge to laugh.

She really couldn’t have come up with a better name after fleeing the country all those years ago? It’s a surprise to you that you hadn’t heard about her sooner with that alias.

Pushing that thought away and hoping that your face shows the professionalism you’re trying to convey, you straighten your spine and clear your throat. “Nice to meet you.”

Captain America’s eyes flick between the both of you. Maybe you’re not doing as good a job as you’d thought.

Natalia-Natasha takes the hand you extend to her and shakes it. “Likewise,” she says, and you hate the way your body still reacts to her voice all these years later; hate the way her touch still makes you feel.

Even more so, you hate that you don’t know what it is you’re feeling more of as you look into her eyes: fury or heartbreak.

She makes a flimsy –well flimsy to you – excuse and leaves the conversation after that. You watch her walk away, clenching the hand she’d touched into a fist as you resist the urge to put it through the wall next to you.

Somehow you think you’d have a hard time explaining it to the man still standing next to you, who is now watching you with a thoughtfully puzzled but not suspicious expression.

Not yet, anyway.

Your dreams that night are fitful and full of her. The first time you’d met, you’d been nothing more than children.

There are no children in red room though. Only fighters and a fighter, she definitely was.

You? Not so much. You’d never been designed to last more than a day in that place and you wouldn’t have, if not for her.

Natalia throws you back against the mat, again and then again and again. Each time you stand up with more difficulty until eventually, she throws you down so hard your vision blurs for a second.

You never had a chance against her, something you knew before you even stepped foot into the room and you know they must have known that too when they set you up against the most experienced fighter here.

It’s abundantly clear you’ve been set up to fail.

The next time she hits you, your legs give out beneath you and you can’t bring yourself to get up this time, even though you know what’s going to happen to you if you don’t.

You know how this works.

Bracing yourself for impact, you close your eyes and wait. It’s pathetic. You know.

The final blow never comes. When you finally crack open an eye, you find Natalia, arms crossed, just gazing down at you.

It might have been your imagination but her eyes don’t seem quite as hard as they had been before.

She extends a hand after a second of her just watching you and you watching her. A little part of you is convinced it’s a trick; that the second you take her hand, you’re going to fail whatever test this is.

Still, against your better judgement you take her hand and, rather than the macabre images playing out in your mind, instead she actually helps you stand, surprisingly gentle as she does so.

She gives you a second to reorient yourself and then her whole demeanour changes, turning cold and stiff as she crouches down back into a fighting position.

“Try again.”

Just as abruptly, you’re thrown into another and another. Quick flashes of the past that still haunt you.

Natalia taking you on your first mission.

Natalia holding your hand as you cried over the body of the first man you’d killed.

Natalia lying beside you on your mattress, running her hands through your hair gently when your nightmares became so bad you’d go days without sleeping.

Years and years of training. Years of bruises and broken bones. Mission after mission. Somehow, it’s all maybe not-quite worth it but it almost is – almost – because of her.

When you kiss her for the first time, you think that might be the first time either of you has had any control over what you do with your bodies.

You can't remember a time where you'd had something you'd ever wanted and you wanted her so badly.

You can’t get enough of it. Or her.

And then, one day, you wake up and she’s just... gone.

The next morning, feeling irritable and exhausted from your disturbed sleep, you walk into the avengers training room and find the one person you’d been hoping wouldn’t be there.

Of course, your mind spitefully whispers because of course it wasn’t enough for the universe to thrust her back into your life but it had to throw her in your face too.

When you enter, she has her back to you but you know she knows you’re there by the way her back stiffens slightly.

You watch as she stands up straighter at the words you throw at her back, unable to help yourself: “What is this? Babysitting duty? I think we’re passed that, aren’t we?”

She turns to you. “I usually come here early,” is all she says. She doesn’t respond to the bite in your voice.

You make a non-committal sound and then just decide to ignore her, stomping past her to make your way to the far corner of the room. You work by yourself in peace for about ten minutes before you hear the sound of footsteps and all of a sudden she’s in front of you.

“I need a partner,” she says.

You have the urge to laugh in her face, before it strikes you how cathartic it would be to punch her right now, no matter how childish it might be, so you stand, letting the weight you’d been holding drop back to the floor with a loud thud, and follow her across the room.

You both crouch down in anticipation and you take a second to really look at her.

Her expression is unreadable. The pang you feel when you realise that surprises you.

There had been a time when you’d known her like the back of your hand and now she's nothing more than a stranger standing in front of you.

It hurts a lot more than you’d thought it would.

This continues for weeks. You don’t know why you let it happen but you do. You get up early; you go to the gym; you spar with her and then you fulfil the duties you’d been hired to do.

It’s almost easy to slip back into that headspace of your whole life revolving around her. Because it does. All you do is think about her when you’re not around her.

Over those weeks, you still barely speak a word to her because at least if you don’t speak, you have some kind of power.

To your surprise, she lets you ignore her, lets you pretend you don’t hear her whenever she speaks and you resent her a little more for that. You’d rather she hated you as much as you want to hate her.

It would make it all so much easier.

Eventually, though, you break.

You’re not strong enough to ignore your desire to know everything; to know how she’d ended up here. And why she’d clearly cared enough to stick around and try and save the entire world when you, a single person, hadn’t even been worth enough for her to stay.

“Why,” you pant, mid spar one morning. She’s kicking your ass, as usual. “Why here? Why the avengers?”

You’d sworn to yourself you’d never ask her this question but the yearning to know has been burning inside you since you’d walked into this building over a month ago now.

Equally as breathless, Natasha drops the careful façade she’d had up and looks at you with those eyes; the ones that could have made you do anything at one point in time. You’re not convinced they still couldn’t. “I wanted to do better… be better than what we were…. Isn’t that why you’re here, too?”

That answer hurts you more than any of the hits she’s landed on you this morning. And there’s been a lot. She’s still the superior fighter, even if she had left so long before you.

God, those words hurt to hear. Especially to have you lumped in with the clearly bad part of her life, whether it was her intention or not.

Maybe that’s why you say what you say next. Maybe there’s a little part of you wishes this whole situation would hurt her as much as it hurts you.

“How… uncharacteristic of you,” you ignore the last part of her sentence because honestly: you don’t know why you’re here. You feel like you’ve been lost and drifting your whole life and the only thing that had ever made sense to you was her.

You know your bitterness has bled into your voice with your words but you don’t make any effort to mask it. And if you can hear it, she definitely can too.

In the blink of an eye, she stops sparring with you, straightening up quicker than even you can catch. You let out a breathless huff of air as she grabs the front of your shirt pulling it so you’re forced forward until you’re almost nose to nose with her.

You hate that for a split second, before you can control yourself, you lean in slightly. As much as your mind can’t stand her, your body has no such feelings and it still wants her. You know you have no hope of hiding it from her so you don’t even bother.

“You don’t know me,” she says. The words come out of her mouth fiercely but the look in her eyes is soft, beseeching, like she wants you to hear her. “I'm not that person anymore.”

Like it matters.

It’s like you’re suspended in time for a second, and all you can think of as you look into her eyes is of the woman you knew.

You hate that you still miss her.

There’s a flicker of something in her eyes that you want to believe mirrors the torrent of emotions currently taking over you – the sadness, the anger, the grief – but you know better than to have hope when it comes to her.

You know all too well how it ends. And you’ve had enough of false hope.

Typically, in a fight, you know Natasha would come out on top – has every time -- but she’s never had your anger directed at her the way it is now and she isn’t expecting the way you’re practically vibrating with it as you shove her away, so hard that she stumbles backwards, only just managing to stay on her feet.

“Clearly,” you spit at her as you straighten up, and start walking towards the exit.

You know she’s still just standing there in the same spot. You can feel her eyes on you.“Yeah, run away,” she mutters under her breath.

It’s the first time she’s shown you the attitude you’d been giving her for weeks and her reaction is justified, you can admit it, but you don’t care.

You spin around, fury overtaking you as you advance on her until you’re pinning her against the wall behind her. “Sorry,” you hiss, glaring into her eyes. “I forgot you’re the only one who can do that.”

“That was different.”

You laugh. It’s not a nice one. It sounds like an injured animal trying to claw it’s way out of your throat.

“Why? Because it was you doing it? Excuse me for not being —“

All of a sudden, she’s kissing you. Or you’re kissing her.

Either way, you’re kissing and you don’t know how exactly it happened but you know that you can’t get enough of her; can’t get her close enough even though there’s no longer even an inch of space between you.

She flips your positions, tugging you closer, and you’re abruptly bathed in cool air as she rips your shirt off you, shoving you against the wall.

Your heart picks up rapidly as she kneels in front of you, easing the rest of your clothes off in one fluid moment.

“I hate you. So much,” you tell her as you step out of your pants and it’s not convincing even to you. Still, you repeat it again and again as she kisses down your body – so tenderly and gently that your voice starts to wobble.

You hate it. You hate her.

She looks up at you from in between your legs, now on her knees. It’s such a vulnerable position that you find you can’t look at her and you have to close your eyes. Natasha digs her nails into your thighs as she forces them apart.

“Look at me,” she demands. Her grip tightens until you obey; you know you’re going have crescent shaped bruises tomorrow. Her gaze is soft and tender and just all consuming. You know there’s no coming back from it. You’d never had a chance, even back when you didn’t mind not having one. “Don’t look away.”

You don’t, not even when she finally, finally, touches you and your head falls back against the wall.

You hold her gaze the entire time knowing how incredibly stupid this is and not caring at all about how much you’ll regret it later when you’re thinking straight.

And regret it, you do.

You stop working out early. You walk the other way in the halls if you see her. You know people are catching on that something is going on between the both of you; have caught multiple avengers giving you quizzical looks whenever you’re in the same room and it makes you feel even worse than before.

You channel all that regret into something more meaningful and commit to doing a damn good job at what you were actually here for. And you do. You can admit you do a fantastic job.

Every time you hand a report in or come back from a mission, you swear see a glimmer of approval in Fury’s eyes. Something you’d heard was notoriously hard to come by.

You must have done something really shitty in a past life though because after weeks of throwing yourself into your temporary duties, you walk into your temporarily office and are immediately flagged down by Fury, who debriefs you on the details of a mission he’s sending you on.

You’re thrilled for about three seconds until you see the name of the person you’re going with.

Agent Natasha Romanoff.

Fury is looking at you with a scrutinising expression when you look up from the file. Every time he looks at you it’s like he can see inside your soul. “Is that a problem?”

You grit your teeth and force yourself to smile. “Of course not, sir.”

It is a problem. A big problem, in fact.

You don’t speak to her on the flight there. Even though it’s only the two of you confined in the aircraft. You don’t even so much let yourself look at her. You can feel her looking at you multiple times, though, even though she’s piloting and should only be looking at the course in front of you.

There are no words exchanged between you all day beyond the times you absolutely have to speak.

At least not until you reach the tiny hotel room you’d been given.

The second the door closes behind you both, she turns to you and opens her mouth and maybe it’s cowardly but you cut her off before she even start speaking.

“I’m going to have a shower,” you say and flee the room with your entire carry-on, worried that if you pause to sift through your things, she’ll keep talking.

Still in the same spot, the look on Natasha’s face when you emerge from the bathroom is full of clear exhaustion. You hate the way it makes you feel. Empty. Sad. It’s exhausting for you trying to convince yourself you hate her.

“I’m sorry I left,” she says and you freeze. “I wanted to come back. Find you. I just didn’t know - i didn’t know if you even wanted me to.”

You’ve wanted to hear those words for so long. Now you have you don’t know what to do. “Why did you leave?”

She hesitates. The look in her eyes tells you you’re not going to get a full answer. That as open as she’s trying to be, you still don’t get to know why she abandoned you. “It’s a long story.”

The evasion stings. “An apology means nothing if you won’t tell me why.”

It’s an unfair thing to say. You know that but you don’t really feel like being fair right now.

You chance a look up when she doesn’t respond and find her looking down at the floor. It makes you wonder what — or who — she must still be protecting by not telling you.

It becomes apparent that she’s not going to say anything else after the silence between you drags on long enough that the tension in the air becomes almost unbearable.

You don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing the tears in your eyes so you flick the light off and turn the lamp on your shared nightstand off, throwing the both of you into immediate darkness. It’s definitely too early to be sleeping but you don’t care.

Eventually, after laying there rigidly for what feels like hours and listening to the sounds of Natasha tossing and turning in the other bed, you finally fall asleep and are immediately thrown into dream after dream that quickly turn into fitful nightmares.

Nightmares that may be more aptly called memories. After one particularly bad one that thrusts you back into consciousness, you bolt upwards, still half asleep.

You only narrowly manage to avoid bumping straight into Natasha, who’s hovering above you, because of her hand on your shoulder holding you in place.

You flinch away from her instinctively and she backs up to give you a little space.

The only sound in the room is your heavy and desperate gasping for air. Natasha, now perched on the very edge of the bed, bites her lip, looking at you as if she knows exactly what you’d been dreaming about.

She probably does. It doesn’t take a genius to guess.

“Are you –"

“I’m fine,” you say flatly. You stare up at the ceiling, absently counting the tiles as you try to slow your breathing.

You’re hyperventilating, you know it, you just can’t get yourself to stop. You’re also sweating, it’s disgusting. You can feel how all of your clothes are stuck to you. Your hair flattened to your neck.

If you hadn’t been dealing with this for so long, you’re pretty sure that you’d think you were having a heart attack instead of a panic attack.

But you have. Been dealing with it. It’s just something you’ve come to expect now. You just never thought she’d be here to witness it.

All of a sudden, as you’re still trying to calm your breathing, the bed dips below you.

Your eyes fly open in shock to find Natasha sliding onto the mattress beside you, still on top of the covers.

Gingerly, she rests her head on the pillow next to your head and fixes her gaze on the ceiling.

It’s slight but her hand brushes against your own a few minutes later.

You suck in a breath between your teeth, but despite yourself, you let her move closer, until she’s so close you’re almost touching, and you can hear her quiet breathing.

Against your better judgement, you let your eyes slip closed again. Seeming to understand you’re not going to push her away, Natasha shifts closer, until you’re both shoulder to shoulder, the way she used to lay next to you when you had bad dreams when you were kids.

She grabs your hand, and slowly, hesitantly, she moves it to her chest where you can feel her heart thrumming rapidly under your fingertips. Surprisingly, it still works; you breathe in and out, in out in out, in time with her heartbeat.

You must at some point fall asleep because all of a sudden you can hear birds chirping outside the window and the sounds of people outside in the street.

When you open your eyes, you expect to find the spot next to you empty and the covers unruffled, as if she’d never been there at all but to your shock she’s still there beside you, awake and on top of the covers.

The circles under her eyes make you think she must not have slept at all.

You slide out of the bed and head towards the bathroom without saying a word, where you turn the shower on and just sit under the spray for what must be at least an hour, letting the water run over you and trying not to think.

This time when you return, she’s gone.

The rest of the mission goes smoothly. If nothing else, you both work well together as a team. You can still read her movements like a book, and she knows to anticipate what you’re doing before you even know yourself.

The days go fine. The nights not so much. You don’t speak about it but every night you’re woken up by the same dreams and every night you wake up to find her kneeling beside you.

If you were stronger willed, you would’ve shoved her away the first time, but you can’t bring yourself to. Maybe it’s a little selfish but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

The last night of the mission is when you finally break, though. Something shifts in the air when you wake yourself up gasping and meet her eyes. The same eyes that had been blank and lifeless in your dream.

You know she feels the shift as well by the way she’s looking at you, cautiously hopeful.

You don’t say anything though and neither does she. You just lay there, side by side, and watch each other carefully for what could be seconds, or it could be hours.

Her eyes are begging wordlessly: Truce?

Despite yourself, as you gaze back at her, you find yourself giving in. For tonight at least.

Truce.

#natasha romanoff x reader

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ssscentral · 3 years

Text

Appetite | for Eva

Summary: Jungkook visits you at work - and it seems he can neither keep his eyes nor his hands off of you.

pairing: Jungkook x female reader

rating: 18+

genre: established relationship; smut, pwp

warnings: explicit sexual content; soft dom!jk, handjob, fingering, making out, kinda public sex? they do it in a washroom of a café whoop, swearing, rough sex, unprotected sex (you know how it is, guys), ass grabbing, a little praising, squirting, marking/biting, jk has a big d*ck, i think that’s it?

wc: 2.4k

member: Rid || @taegularities

a/n: fiiiirst of all, thank you so much for beta’ing, @birbdae!! appreciate you lots! and second of all - this fic is a birthday gift for the beautiful, adorable, wonderful @aroseforyoongi!! you have such a big place in my heart, and i truly hope you enjoy the coming year to the fullest! all the best to you, honey - i love you so, so much! 💞 also, sorry for the bias-wrecking again, you did this to yourself... plus, i know you’re a sucker for soft dom!jk-smut, so here it gooooes!

“Anything else I can bring you?”

Your sweet voice shakes Jungkook awake. Until this moment, he’d been lost in fantasies about you - his mind reminds him that you are soft, warm; your skin smooth. In his head, you smell like vanilla and affection, a scent he has even dreamed of multiple times.

He can’t quite say why he’s relishing in what his thoughts throw at him when you’re right here in front of his eyes, towering over him with a teapot and a gorgeous smile plastered on your face. The way the apron hugs your waist drives him crazy, and he licks his lips suggestively as he eyes you from top to bottom.

Registering his gaze, you roll your eyes, shifting your weight onto your left leg as you ask, “I said: anything else I can bring you?”

Jungkook clicks his tongue and his fingers reach out to trace the skin of your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Come on, babe. Do you have to be so formal?”

“I’m at work, and that douchebag,” you say, your head nodding to the man near the counter, “observes me all the time.”

“So what? I’m your boyfriend. And you look delicious.”

You roll your eyes anew, but this time with a smile on your face, your red lips twitching as you remove his hand from your limb. You shake your head before you start to move away, ready to serve another customer before you whisper, “My break is soon. Stay here.”

At your tone, Jungkook’s pants tighten, and he crosses his legs before you can see, shifting his attention to the neatly organized lunch in front of him. He has to admit, the way you get work done, is admirable - this café is cute to begin with, but having you place the croissants, flowers and tea on the tables the way you do, is incredibly pleasing to the eye.

And this is exactly what he watches you do for the remaining twenty-five minutes. He never fails to notice how you move your hips, your sweet, little skirt always sliding up your thighs a little when you bow down to pour tea into your customers’ cups. His chest burns with impatience, his fingers drumming on the table - until he finally sees you walk away, slowly removing your apron as your eyes meet his for a split second.

Taking this as his cue, he immediately stands up, rushing back to where he knows you will be; and you haven’t gone far yet when he reaches you and grabs your arm from behind, pulling you into the washroom. You gasp at the sudden movement - but he doesn’t give you much more time to react as he locks the door behind you, pushing you against the door and crashing his lips onto yours.

You immediately react to his touch, eyes closing while you grab his hair. You let him press himself into you, his neediness obvious in the way his hands settle on your ass right away.

Jungkook parts from you, panting against your lips as he says, “You’re driving me insane in this fucking skirt of yours.”

In between heated kisses, his fingers find the hem of your skirt and abruptly slide it down as he presses himself harder into you.

“All I could think of the whole time,” he breathes against your skin, leaving a wet trail with his tongue, “was your sweet, little pussy on my dick.”

“You know my break only lasts thirty minutes, right?”

“Baby, this is more than enough time.”

He pulls down your shirt in a haze, revealing your breasts before he starts sucking on the swell of them hard, making sure to leave beautiful, purple marks on your flesh. Throughout the whole afternoon, his hunger for you had increased at a rapid pace, and he desperately needs to still it right fucking now.

And when his fingertips find your clothed core, he starts rubbing circles against your clit, hissing at the hot wetness that soaks through your lace panties.

“Fuck, so wet, Y/N,” he mutters, biting his lower lip when he sees the gorgeous expression on your face. “My god- I want to be inside you so bad.”

“Well, what’s stopping you?” you ask, throwing your head back, well aware that you will spend five minutes later to fix your hair for the second part of the shift.

“You’re right.” His voice is hazy, quiet, playful and seductive. “Nothing’s stopping me. Especially not you.”

You grin with closed eyes when he pushes your panties down, now running up and down your wet folds - so teasingly slow and yet so deliciously satisfying. In all honesty, you can’t say what drove him up the wall today so much. Usually, he finds it easy to stay patient. You’ve noticed that on multiple occasions, and him edging you for an hour sometimes is not the sole proof for your assumption.

But today, he is out of control. And he doesn’t wait long until he slides two of his fingers into you, eliciting a moan out of you that is loud enough for people outside to hear if they happen to walk by the door.

“Shh,” he orders, biting into your lip, “can’t have anyone hear us, right?”

You nod slowly, your mouth falling open wider when he reaches the perfect, sweet spot, curling his fingers inside you as his other hand grabs your hair. He pulls your head to the side before he attacks your neck with harsh kisses, his tongue swirling and licking your skin so intensely that it has your head spinning.

“No… marks,” you manage as you grip his shoulders hard, most likely leaving crescent-shaped marks even through the fabric of his shirt.

You feel him smirk against your skin - nothing you say will affect him. He likes it when everyone can see that you belong to someone, to him. He loves how you look strolling around like that, shyly showing the world that no one can claim you, because you’re his already.

As Jungkook bites into your neck, you trap your lower lip between your teeth, trying so hard not to scream out as your hands fumble with his belt. Soon enough, you slide his pants down along with his underwear until his cock springs out. He aids you, pulling his clothing down to his knees as he gasps into your flesh when you wrap your fingers around his thick, smooth length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Let me fuck you,” he pants, his breathing becoming laboured, chest heaving hard as he takes in your blissed out state. He’s doing that. You’re losing your mind because of him; and this mere fact fogs his head, his cock twitching in your fist as he groans.

“No one’s stopping you. Especially not me,” you say while your hand moves around his shaft faster, your thumb collecting his pre-cum before you circle his head.

Still pumping his fingers into you at a faster pace, he drowns in the squelching sound that your pussy is providing him with, and the sensation of his digits moving in and out so easily has his cock harden impossibly until he falters.

He pulls out his fingers before he brings them to his lips; watching you intently, he licks them clean of your juices, his eyes rolling back as you feel his cock poke your stomach. You’re helplessly pinned against the door, your legs already shivering from his previous ministrations. And when you let out an involuntarily moan, his eyes snap open, fingers coming down to settle behind your knees as he pulls you up.

You react immediately, wrapping your legs around his waist as he interlocks your lips again. He kisses you hungrily, hard, his tongue seeking yours. Supported by his body and the door, you’re floating in the air, moving your hips impatiently against him to signal what you want.

“Needy much?” he inquires with a grin, grabbing his cock to rub it slowly against your folds. He applies slight pressure - but not enough to slide in.

“Shut up,” you command, your forehead coming down to rest on his shoulder. “Don’t be so cocky.”

He laughs quietly, putting a hand on your jaw and pushing his cock inside with the other. Going in inch by inch, you both groan at the same time, your sounds muffled right on time when you bite into his shoulder.

“Fuck, always so tight,” he states as he bottoms out. His hands squeeze your ass, nails digging into it hard while he waits for you to adjust.

“And you’re always so big. So thick, too, shit,” you mewl, drawing a sharp breath when you feel him move just a little.

Jungkook still waits for you to talk, to give him a sign that you’re ready. When you finally inhale and nod, telling him he can start, his grip on you becomes tighter. And right as you exhale, he pulls back, thrusting into you just once, hard, robbing all the air from your lungs.

“Kook, oh god,” you cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck as you feel his lips and warm breath brush your neck.

He repeats his movements once more before he steadily, graciously increases his pace. His teeth catch your earlobe, nibbling at it while thrusting into you simultaneously; your sounds spur him on further, and soon, he’s hitting spots of you that have you keening.

Jungkook definitely knows your body - he knows just how he has to fuck you to make you feel good, has learned which patches of skin to kiss to put you in a haze. Now that he has figured out how to please you into oblivion, he can’t get enough of your taste and touch, longing for your body and your love every waking second.

“You feel so fucking good,” he tells you, placing his hand under your chin to pull your head back. You look at him through half-lidded eyes, lips parted and breathing heavily. “And you look even better.”

“Baby, you-”

He chuckles at your stuttering, coming close until his lips are only inches away from yours, whispering, “What? Say it. Tell me how good I make you feel. Say my name, baby.”

“So good, Jungkook, so, so fucking goo-”

A sharp, hard thrust interrupts your sentence and your thoughts, and soon enough, he’s pounding into you, having your eyes sting at the intensity and from the pleasure. With every move he makes, your moans become louder, shaky breaths forcing him to stay focused without losing control entirely. But not long after, you hear footsteps outside the door, having Jungkook halt his movements suddenly.

His gaze shifts to the handle of the door, his ears listening carefully before your pussy clenches once around him. You feel his throbbing dick twitch inside you and Jungkook’s lips part, eyes suddenly shooting to meet yours again as he brings his hand up to cover your mouth.

“Be quiet now,” he orders again, continuing the movement of his hips as he pulls out his cock almost entirely before he slides in again. Your aching walls suck in him so desperately that he can’t help but fuck into you roughly again.

He clenches his jaw as he fights the urge to growl out loud, your muffled moans and closed eyes only making it harder. The wet sounds of your pussy become almost unbearable at some point, and he buries his face in your neck again to calm himself down.

To no avail - you feel too good around him, too tight, soaked and warm. He removes his hand to kiss you again, his soft lips moving against yours as he swallows your every sound. Grabbing your ass again, he pushes you against him, fucking so roughly into you by now, his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit, that you feel your high near. The intensity of the moment, mixed with the knowledge that you’re in a public place and not alone on your bed, leaves you utterly excited.

“Fuck, I’m - I’m cumming, I-” you say as you pull away from his lips, his mouth ghosting over your cheek instead and fingers having somehow found their way to your clit, rubbing in an insane pace.

“Yes, god, yes. Cum around my cock, babygirl.” His relentless pounding and his words soon throw you over the edge, having you fall and fall for an infinite amount of time until you land on a pillowy soft ground, your sight so blurry that you feel like you’re seeing stars. And when you clench around him, he looks down to see his dick and balls getting soaked, your juices running down his sex driving him half insane. “Holy fuck, Y/N.”

“Jungkook-”

“Holy shit. Did you just fucking squirt? Oh my god,” he says with a light laugh, fucking you through your high until his thighs start to tremble just like yours are, “oh my fucking god.”

And then, he finally lets go, too, ropes of cum shooting into you repeatedly as he finishes, leaving breathless kisses on your cheek and temple. You feel like you’re outside of your body - your spirit feels so feather-light that you don’t register anything but his fingers stroking your skin, pulling you back to him.

“Baby,” he cooes - and when you open your eyes to smile back at him, you catch him gaze at you fondly, full of love. You wipe away the sweat glistening on his forehead, and he presses his lips onto yours for one chaste kiss before he says, “I love you, my sweet girl.”

“I love you, too, my needy darling,” you answer, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.

You feel him softening inside you, and he doesn’t pull out for now; only stares at you in admiration, worshipping every single inch of your face and every piece of your being. But then, a playful smirk takes the place of the gentle expression, and he wiggles his eyebrows.

“What?” Your voice is somehow hoarse, and you clear your throat before you ask again, “What is it?”

“I made you squirt,” he declares, letting out a proud chuckle. That’s when you feel yourself still leaking, tilting your head to look down.

“Your legs. They’re so- get some paper tissues and clean up that mess,” you say, attempting to push him away - but he holds you tight in his grip, still pinned against the wall.

“Just a little longer,” Jungkook whispers, peppering your face with slow, loving kisses, his hand brushing your ass gently. “Want to look at you a little more.”

You laugh at his sweet words, pulling him closer into your embrace. “My hopeless, horny romantic.”

“Ah, my birthday girl. I can’t wait to go home with you,” he mutters into your hair, wrapping his arms around you.

You’ve never wished your day at work to end as much as you do now.

If you enjoyed the fic, consider liking, reblogging or sending an ask! We love to hear from you! 💕

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Deep End - Six

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 4.6K

A/n: Okie dokie! I’ve got an epilogue planned but I like this. The epilogue will explain shit better but I've known that this would be the end since pretty much the beginning LMAO

Deep End Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

When Steve hears you stop struggling, stop fighting and stop crying, he’s nervous.

It’s been a while since he locked you up there, and he really should check on you soon, if only to make sure the baby’s okay after that stunt you pulled.

He pushes the door to the bedroom open, eyeing your figure carefully.

You look like you’re asleep. If he wasn't so attuned to your body, your heart and your breathing, he wouldn’t have noticed something’s wrong.

Your heart is beating rapidly, far faster than normal. And it’s weaker than usual.

Your breathing is shallow and strained, and your face is lacking its usual healthy glow.

He rushes to your side, tearing the rope from your wrists and touching your face carefully.

Your skin is hot to the touch, and he feels fear settle in his gut.

He doesn’t know what to do, how to help. He’s never really had to help you like this, the doctor’s always been nearby.

He grabs his phone, calling the doctor and pacing nervously.

“Sh-she’s burning up and her breathing is shallow.”

Steve's stomach drops as he listens to the doctor’s instructions, answers his questions and comes to the realization of why you’re like this.

He rolls you onto your left side, tears welling up in his eyes at how unresponsive you are.

The doctor hangs up after telling the super soldier that he’ll be there soon.

His heart is in his throat as he tries to undo the damage of his punishment, putting the evidence back in the box and kicking the rope under the bed.

You’re still unresponsive, heart weak, but your breath sounds a little less strained.

Monster. That’s what you called him. What Natasha called him and what Bucky’s asset called him.

Maybe you’re right.

But he wants you. He needs you. Giving you up would be giving up a piece of his soul and he’s not ready to do that yet.

~*~

The doctor informs him that both you and the baby are okay, but being on your back for so long was compressing a major vein supplying your baby with oxygenated blood. If he’d gotten there any later it might’ve been too late.

With strict instructions to keep you on your left side and make sure you stay hydrated, the doctor takes his leave.

He stays by your side, holding your hand tightly in both of his as he really comes to terms with the fact that it was entirely his fault. He almost killed you and your baby to prove a stupid point. To discourage you from doing the very same thing.

His heart is heavy in his chest as he listens to your heartbeat get stronger, to the baby’s heartbeat continue fluttering like a hummingbird’s.

Those two sounds bring him peace, if only temporarily.

Shattering his peace is the sound of the front door opening, followed by tiny little footsteps clomping up the stairs.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

Sarah.

Steve shoves himself to his feet and quickly leaves the room just as his daughter tries to enter.

“Sarah, mommy’s sleeping.” She frowns up at him and shakes her little blonde head.

“I need to talk to mommy!”

She walks around his legs only for him to scoop her up in his arms.

“She’s sleeping right now, honey.”

Sarah shakes her head angrily, beating her tiny fists against his shoulders.

“Let me go! I want mommy! Mommy!! Put me down!” She starts shrieking. Full-on screaming bloody murder right in his ear, and he loses his grip on the wriggling child.

She slides out of his arms and runs into the bedroom, climbing onto the bed and shaking your shoulder.

“Mommy?” She’s got little tears on her face, and they don’t cease when you don’t wake up.

“Why won’t mommy wake up?!” She looks up at Steve with terror written on her face and it shatters his heart in his chest.

“Sarah, mommy’s sick, okay? I had the doctor come over and he said that she needs to rest and when she wakes up we’re gonna need to make sure she’s got plenty of water, okay?”

Sarah’s big blue eyes are filled with tears and she shakes her head.

“I want mommy!”

She clings to your torso, crying against your shoulder in fear.

“Sarah, honey, mommy’s gonna be okay. You just gotta give her some space, okay? How about I set up a movie for you?” Sarah sniffles and slowly pulls away from you, looking at her father and shaking her head again.

“I want mommy! I hate you!”

Steve then realizes just how crucial you are. How important you are, not only to him but to his daughter as well.

Losing you would hurt so many people.

“Honey, you gotta give mommy and I some space, okay?”

He picks up the five-year-old, despite her quite literally kicking and screaming, and sets her down outside the bedroom.

He shuts the door quickly and locks it even faster.

Sarah stands outside, wailing her head off and pounding on the door with her tiny little fists.

She cries for you, over and over again, and it breaks Steve’s heart.

He’s brought back to what you said about him. About how this isn’t love.

He sits down at your side again, trying desperately to drown out the sound of his daughter crying outside as his thoughts overwhelm him.

He hasn’t been the nicest to you, that he’ll openly admit, and he makes mistakes probably more often than he doesn’t. But he loves you. He needs you.

Tears well up in his eyes and he lets out a shuddering breath.

He’ll make this right. He has to. Sarah deserves a mother, so does your unborn baby. And -though he may not deserve you- he needs you. The monster will be hard to fight, but losing you will be harder.

The damage he’s done might be irreversible, but he’s gonna do what he can to make things right, to give you a better life.

You don’t wake up for a few hours, but when you do you’re confused.

Your back aches and you feel a little dizzy as you remember what happened, how you got here.

Steve watches as you regain consciousness, confusion pulling your brows together before you slowly open your eyes.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles soothingly.

You look up at him then drop your gaze to your belly, bringing your free hand down to rub it gently.

“Am I... are we okay?” He nods gently, tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). I was... I don’t know, trying to teach you a lesson. And all that did was hurt you. Hurt the baby. I wanted to show you that trying to hurt yourself and hurt the baby wouldn’t fly, but I ended up doing far more damage.”

You swallow hard and struggle to push yourself into a seated position, wincing at the throb in your head.

“The doctor said that you shouldn’t move too much, and try to stay on your left side when you sleep. I-I didn't know that sleeping on your back was bad.”

You take a deep breath and look up at him, waiting for the anger to take hold in his eyes but it never does.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. For scaring you and not trusting you. I... I lost you for so many years and now I have you back and... I don’t wanna lose you again. But everything I do to try and keep you close, make you mine... all it does is push you further away and I’m sorry.”

His apology takes you by surprise, and you eye him skeptically.

How are you supposed to know if he’s telling the truth?

He drags one of his hands down his face and for a moment you can truly see just how old Steve Rogers is.

The exhaustion of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders finally shows in the lines near his eyes, the bags beneath them. But what really displays his age is his eyes. They’re so full of trauma and pain and weariness.

For the first time since waking up from the ice, Steve Rogers looks his age.

“I-I’m sorry, too,” you whisper, surprising him.

“I didn’t... I wasn’t thinking. I just... I wanted to punish you for what happened to Natasha. What you did. I wanted you to hurt but I just ended up hurting myself in the process.” You look down at your hands, trying to figure out how you want to phrase what you have to say.

“People argue, Steve. But what you do... it’s beyond that. We’re not... there are so many things wrong with what’s happening between us, what’s happened already, but I can’t leave. Sarah’s too attached and all I want for my little girl is to have a happy life. To have the happiness that was torn from me.”

Guilt settles on his chest, but he lets you continue speaking.

“I want my daughter to have a good life. I don’t want her to be afraid of-of people. The way I am. She loves you, and I know... I think you love her. You haven’t hurt her yet, and I hope it stays that way because at the rate we’re going, I'm not sure how much longer I’ll be able to do this.”

The pure fatigue on your face is more than enough explanation, but the idea of losing you is too much for him to bear.

“No, don’t say that. I’m gonna get better, okay? We-we were happy once. And we can do it again. I’ll be gentle and patient. I just... I need you, (Y/n). I need you a lot and the fact that you have such a tight hold over my every thought makes me angry. But I’m not gonna take it out on you anymore, okay?”

You let out a deep breath and eye him carefully.

“You’ve said that before.”

He thinks back to the time you spent in that cabin in the woods, where you turned his friends against him.

He has said that before, and look at where he is now.

“This time it’ll be different.”

You don’t have the energy to fight him. So if he’s gonna try, fine.

“Where’s Sarah?” You ask, hoping she’s still safely out with Morgan.

Steve’s face falls again and he stands up and opens the door to your bedroom.

Sarah sits crumpled in a ball, her cheeks covered in tears.

“Mommy!” She all but screams the word, launching to her feet.

Steve tries to take her hand but she yanks it away from him, shooting him a glare then running to the bed and climbing up beside you.

Your heart breaks when you see how sad she looks, and you hug her to your chest.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay.” She sniffles and climbs onto your lap, climbing to you like her life depends on it.

You wonder what happened while you were unconscious, what Steve did to upset her so much, and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

You look at the man, your thoughts written plainly across your face, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No. I just told her she couldn’t come in. Not ‘till you woke up. She uh... she stayed right outside the door.”

You soothe your daughter, rocking her as much as you can manage with the pain rolling down your spine.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You hold her close to you, trying to calm her down while Steve looks on helplessly.

Although his daughter loves him, loves being here with him, nothing can compare to the bond that the two of you have.

The monster in him hates it. Hates that he’s not as close to his own daughter, blames you for it. But he pushes that part of himself down.

He made a promise. And this time he’s not gonna break it.

"Are you sure you’re okay with it?” He asks for the thousandth time.

You only shrug, fixing your hair in the mirror as the doorbell rings.

“It’s a little too late now, Steve. Besides, I don’t really care. Sarah’s gonna have fun and that’s all that matters.”

Your daughter took a few days to warm up to Steve again, but now that she has he’s not gonna risk anything changing that.

He takes one last look at you, at how pretty you look in your blue sundress, then leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“I love you, (Y/n). I can send them away.”

You take a deep breath and shake your head.

“Sarah’s excited. Besides, I wanna know what we’re having.”

You plaster on a forced smile and it breaks his heart, but he turns and heads downstairs to greet the guests.

Ever since you got hurt, he’s been nicer. Far gentler than he's ever been with you, and you’re not complaining.

Steve has the potential to be a good person, that much is obvious, but he chooses not to.

He hasn’t hurt you again, or even yelled at you. No, he’s been patient and understanding and it’s such a sharp contrast from who he was before.

You can hear him greeting the guests warmly, chatting on and on about this and that and whatever else.

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you leave the faux safety of the bedroom and head down the stairs, smiling at your guests.

People that you’ve never seen before are in your house. Well, that’s not true. You’ve seen them on TV.

The Avengers are in your living room and kitchen, talking softly amongst themselves.

In the presence of these superheroes, you feel small. Weak. And you can’t fight the urge to find Steve as anxiety crawls up your spine.

He’s in the kitchen, talking animatedly with Tony Stark and Sam Wilson. Iron Man and Falcon.

He looks so at ease, his face split open with a laidback grin.

Sam’s eyes find yours and he says something to Steve, making the blond turn to you with a soft smile.

He waves you over and you obey, one hand resting delicately on your bump.

“Sam, Tony, this is my (Y/n). (Y/n), Sam and Tony.” You nod politely at them, sliding your clammy hand into Steve's nervously.

You haven’t been around this many people in a very long time.

“It’s nice to finally meet the woman who’s got Captain America so hooked! All he does is talk about you,” Sam says, a grin on his face.

You smile at him, looking up at Steve.

He nods encouragingly, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles to try and ease your anxiety.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you. About both of you.” Tony smiles looking down as someone tugs on his pant leg.

“Can I have a sleepover at Sarah’s house?!” Morgan asks excitedly, her little face full of glee.

“You’re gonna need to go ask your mother. You know she makes all the decisions.”

Tony’s gaze lifts to yours when his daughter runs to find her mom.

“Is it alright if she sleeps over tonight?”

Steve nods then looks at you.

“You alright with that?”

You’re not sure if it’s a real choice or a test, but you don’t want to find out.

“Of course. She’s always welcome here.”

Tony nods with a smile, then resumes whatever conversation they were having before you showed up.

You tune out what they’re saying, carefully rubbing over your stomach and poking at your baby whenever they decide to kick you.

“(Y/n)? Did you wanna help me set the food up outside?” Pepper’s voice breaks you from your trance, her hand coming to rest softly on your shoulder.

You look up at Steve, silently asking for permission, but he just leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips and lets go of your hand.

You follow Pepper, setting up the table in the backyard silently for a while before she clears her throat.

“How are you feeling, (Y/n)? Sarah told us you were sick.”

You swallow hard and give her a tight smile.

“I’m feeling better. Tired all the time but this little devil is to blame for that.” You poke your belly only to be met with another kick.

Pepper nods, smiling at you.

“Are you excited?”

That question throws you for a loop.

Are you? Are you excited to have another baby?

You’re excited for Sarah to have a sibling. Excited to get to hold your baby and love your baby. But the reason why you’re having the baby in the first place? The father of your baby? No.

“Yeah, I am. A little nervous, too.”

She sits down by your garden, patting the seat next to her.

“You look tired, (Y/n). More tired than a mother should be. You’re wearing yourself thin.” You keep your lips sealed, not wanting to say anything that might make Steve mad.

She sighs and sets a gentle hand on your knee.

“I don’t know what your... relationship is with Steve, but I know you’re unhappy. He’s a good guy, deep down. But you need to take care of yourself, okay? Don’t work yourself to the breaking point because it’ll be even harder to build yourself back up. Especially with a brand new baby.”

You let out a shuddering breath and nod.

“It’s just hard. I’m trying but... it’s hard.”

As you talk softly with Pepper, Steve observes the two of you.

You look so sad, so defeated. He hates that he made you look like that.

“She’s unhappy, Steve.”

He turns to the voice, eyebrows raising.

“Wanda. I didn’t know if you’d make it.” He pulls her into a hug. “I heard about what happened in Westview... Wanda, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She sighs, pulling away with a sad smile.

“No. But I will be.” Her eyes travel back over to you for a moment, feeling the pain and the sorrow in your soul.

“Do you think she’ll ever be happy here? With me?” Wanda sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and closing her eyes, feeling your thoughts, your energy.

“It’s hard to tell. Right now she’s so... numb. Nothing but sadness and... hopelessness. Her spirit is crushed, Steve.” She reopens her eyes and turns to the blond.

“You can’t keep her here like this. It’s only a matter of time before she gets fed up and tries to do something drastic. Again.”

Steve knows. He fucking knows that. But he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do to lift your spirits.

He's given you more freedom, let you make more decisions for yourself. He’s been gentler with you, hasn't forced himself on you.

Not forcing himself on you isn’t something to gloat about, but given the history between the two of you, it’s something fairly major.

He just wants to keep you in his life. He needs to keep you in his life.

He turns to the young woman beside him, a thought bubbling into his mind.

“Could you... do something to make her happy? Make her enjoy her life here? Make her love me again?”

Wanda’s mouth curves down as she looks at you, watches you play with your daughter and Morgan.

“Steve, it’s not right.”

The blond lets out a pained breath, shaking his head desperately.

“I just want happiness, Wanda. Don’t I deserve it? Haven’t I suffered enough to deserve a happy ending?”

Wanda’s eyes glow red with sorrow as she’s reminded of her own happy ending that she had to give up.

She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze, dropping her gaze for a moment before looking over at his desperate blue eyes.

“We don’t always get what we deserve. It’s hard and it hurts, but we can't control everything. And at some point, we need to let go. No matter how hard it is or how much it hurts. We can’t hurt other people because of what we think we deserve.”

They both look back over to you, your own eyes already on the pair, but dropping as soon as you see them turn to you.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t do that.”

Tears stab at his eyes and he huffs out a breath through his nose, turning on his heel and walking away from the party, from his friends.

His abrupt departure catches the attention of a few people, yourself included. Before you can get up and see what’s going on, Bucky’s on his feet and heading into the house.

The woman Steve was talking to makes her way over to you, smiling gently.

“Hi (Y/n). I’m Wanda.” You smile at her, eyes darting towards where Steve disappeared from then back to her.

Bucky re-emerges only a few moments later, shaking his head at Natasha when she gives him a quizzical look.

You turn to Wanda with a strained smile.

“Could you just watch Sarah for a minute? And make sure she has something to eat? The foods ready.” She nods, watching with sad eyes as you walk back into the house to see what’s wrong with Steve.

“Steve?” You call softly, looking around for him only to find him sitting on the couch in the living room, his face in his hands.

“Why can’t I have what I want?” His question catches you off guard and you move to stand in front of him.

He shakes his head sadly, pulling his hands off of his face to grab yours, holding them tightly.

His lips brush over your knuckles gently, before he presses the back of your hands against his forehead, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“This isn’t right.”

Your heart races in your chest, stomach tying in knots as you try to figure out what he’s talking about.

“What are you talking about? Is everything okay? Did... did I do something wrong?” Maybe you shouldn’t have talked to Pepper earlier. Maybe you should’ve just stayed quiet and smiled.

“I can’t keep you here.”

One sentence. Five words. Sixteen letters.

That’s all it takes to have your heart stuttering.

“What... what do you mean you can’t keep me here?” You try your hardest not to let your hopes get too high. Maybe he’s going to kill you. Maybe that’s what it is. It’s certainly something more up his alley than... the alternative.

He slowly raises his head, teary red eyes staring up into yours.

“You know what I mean.”

You shake your head, needing to hear him say it himself.

“What are you saying, Steve?”

He lets out a heavy sigh and closes his eyes, the words hurting him but he needs to say them.

“You're free to go. You and Sarah.”

The breath gets knocked from your lungs, eyes wide as tears start to blossom. This is a trap. A test. It has to be. There’s no way...

“You’re letting us go?” You ask softly.

He sighs again, nodding as tears find their way down his cheeks.

“Yeah... I guess I am.”

You’re silent, staring at him and waiting for him to tell you it’s a joke, to punish you. But he doesn’t. No, instead he lets go of one of your hands and stands up, his chest almost brushing yours.

“You said I don’t love you... but I do. I love you. Or maybe I love the idea of you, I don’t know. But either way... I hate how sad you are. How sad and afraid I make you. You're free to go wherever you want.”

You’re practically hyperventilating.

After all this time, you never truly thought he’d ever let you go. That he’d have even a shred of decency left inside him.

He cups your hands together and carefully places something inside them, then turns and walks to the front door, grabbing his keys and leaving the house.

You stand silently, staring at the object in your hands until standing becomes too hard and you think you may throw up.

Then you sit down, silent tears trekking down your cheeks.

“(Y/n)?” You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on the couch, staring at your hands, but Natasha’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“(Y/n), are you okay? Where’s Steve?”

You stare up at her then look back down at the tiny, life-changing object in your hands.

“He let us go,” you whisper, your glossy eyes raising to hers again.

She looks half as shocked as you feel.

“What?”

You sniffle then wipe the tears off of your cheeks.

“He’s letting us go,” you repeat, pushing yourself to your feet and holding your bump.

“Really?” You nod, eyes finding the backyard through the kitchen window.

Sarah and Morgan are playing outside with Sam and Wanda.

“What are you gonna do?”

Your heart is so full of confusion, full of pain and hurt.

“I’m gonna go cut the cake, then have a talk with Sarah.” She nods, a small smile on her face.

She heads back outside and you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down before you go out and face Steve’s friends.

You toy with the dainty thing he dropped in your hands before nodding to yourself.

This is what’s right. It’s the right choice for both of you.

You entertain his guests for a few more hours, not wanting to clue them into anything in case they disagree with your decision, with Steve’s.

Only after the presents are given and the cake is almost completely devoured do they finally start to leave.

Wanda helps you tidy up the backyard, writing her phone number down with a soft smile and a whispered ‘if you ever need a friend’.

Everyone bids you goodbye until only Bucky and Nat are left, the metal-armed soldier staring intently at your left hand before a smile spreads across his face.

He surprises you, pulling you into a gentle hug and nodding his head.

“Congratulations, (Y/n).” You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but for some reason, you don’t think it has anything to do with the baby shower.

They leave too, and then you’re virtually alone, Sarah and Morgan asleep upstairs.

After cleaning up every last inch of the house, you head upstairs to go to sleep.

Steve isn’t home until after midnight, long after he lets his tears run dry and his heart stop shattering. It just aches now. Hurts.

He let you go. He really did it.

Deep down he knew this would be the outcome. Either this or your death, but he never wanted to accept it. Refused to admit it to himself.

But seeing Wanda... after all that she’s been through... and she’s still standing strong.

He takes his shoes off and drops his keys on the kitchen counter, freezing in his tracks when he sees the covered plate of cake with his name written on it.

The batter is blue.

A boy.

He’s gonna have a son.

A son that he’ll never get to meet. He’s given you freedom, and he doubts you’ll let him be a part of your child’s life after all that he’s put you through.

He slowly makes his way upstairs, his heart hurting when he sees no sign of your things in the pristine house.

When he pushes open the bedroom door he freezes in his tracks.

There you are, sleeping in his bed. No bags are packed, nothing is out of place, and the dainty diamond ring sits on your finger.

You’ve made your choice, he realizes, his heart jumping for joy in his chest.

He sheds his clothes then climbs into bed with you, wrapping you up in his arms and sighing heavily.

Maybe Wanda was wrong.

Maybe he’ll get his happy ending after all.

#dark!steve #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x you #steve x reader dark fic #stucky x reader dark fic #Steve rogers x reader dark fic #Steve Rogers x reader #dark!Steve Rogers x reader #Steve X reader dark fic #dark fic #dark au #Steve X reader dark au

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therenlover · 3 years

Text

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @dazzlingseb, @avgravy , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader

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spaceskam · 2 years

Text

we’re connected by the sun

here is my fic for @rnmbb ! and the ao3 link is here

very very special thanks to @im-the-punk-who and @manesalex who created art for this piece and @malexlove4 who did a wonderful job as my beta! (links to gifsets here: im-the-punk-who 1, im-the-punk-who 2, manesalex )

“Alright. Have a safe trip.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Alex ended the call with a sigh, his employer's name blinking off his screen a few seconds later. His eyes drifted out the window to the world passing by. He couldn’t actually remember which city or state he was in anymore. Everything was a massive blur. All he knew was that this break he was taking was more than needed. The simple fact of him being on a train at all was a relief.

A small duffle bag that only held a few pairs of clothes, his computer and hard drive, chargers, and a toothbrush was between his feet. He didn’t need much else, not when he didn’t know what his plan was. Alex had traveled a lot for work, being all over the US with little left to see, and nothing had quite felt like a good fit. He was hoping that a non-work venture could possibly lead him somewhere he wanted to go. Somewhere he didn’t feel like such an ugly duckling.

Though, he was beginning to think he was running out of places.

Alex rested his head back, still watching the world rush. Trees and streets and cars. Everything and nothing all at once. At one point in his life, this had been fun and exciting. He craved that feeling again more than anything.

Perhaps he thought too soon, though, because there was a loud thud, and then the train jolted and started to skid to a stop, the lights flickering before they went out. The other people in the train car murmured their confusion, faint swear words making their way into the air. It was definitely something more exciting than the average train ride.

“Fuck me,” Alex breathed. Of course, it would stop. Why wouldn’t it?

It was dark outside and had been relatively dark in the train car before, but now it was pitch black, and he could hardly see his hands in front of him. Alex took a slow, controlled breath. He was never a fan of the dark.

A few breaths in, a body fell into the empty seat beside him with a begrudging sigh. Alex looked in its direction, focusing as hard as he could to make his eyes adjust to the darkness. Slowly, the faint moon in the sky came to his aid, and he could make out curly hair and eyes that were looking right at him.

“Sorry,” the man said, a voice that Alex knew down to his core, “Couldn’t see shit, and I didn’t wanna get lost trying to get back to my seat.”

Alex started breathing deeply for a completely different reason.

“That’s fine,” he said, “It’s an empty seat.”

A smooth smile slid onto that face he hadn’t seen in far too long, features more evened out and chiseled than he remembered, all lit up by the moonlight that rushed in to help him see. That face. That voice. That smile. That man.

But, whether it be because of the lighting or because of the obvious, there didn’t seem to be any recognition on his part.

“You sure?”

And Alex didn’t want to make it weird.

“Uh.” Alex cleared his throat. “I’m Alex. And, uh, I don’t mind the company.”

“Michael,” he said, the full confirmation making Alex feel like the wind had been knocked out of him, “And that’s nice to hear. Me neither.”

Michael Guerin.

One, two, three, four.

Michael opened his eyes slowly, still breathing in and out at four counts each to make sure he didn’t throw a massive tantrum and lose his entire mind. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and his nails were digging into his palm. The pain of it helped a little bit.

Alex pulled bags out of the bed of his truck, his biceps flexing against his shirt as he lifted it. It was something so familiar, something that used to make Michael giddy with attraction, but now it just made his throat feel tight and his eyes burn. It was unfair how something so innocent and warm now felt cruel.

“You really doing this, Manes?” Michael asked, watching him hoist the bigger duffle bag over his shoulder. The veins in his forearm popped out to add to the cruelty.

“Going to college?” Alex scoffed, “Yeah, Guerin. I am.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

And it wasn’t. Part of him always knew Alex was going to college, that seemed like a given. Alex was smart and had a whole life ahead of him. Maybe Alex hadn’t talked about it and never really gave Michael a fair warning about when and where, but he couldn’t say it was a full surprise. Michael had been offered a line of scholarships he waited too long to take, and Alex was smarter than that. He knew, logically, at the end of the summer that things would change.

He just didn’t expect it to go like this.

Michael held out his hand, and Alex reluctantly handed over his other bag. His face was even, unbothered, but two and a half months studying Alex like he was going to be taking an AP final on him had resulted in Michael knowing he was just doing that to not betray his own emotions. It was better this way, Michael told himself, because if Alex had been visibly upset, Michael wouldn’t have been able to hold it together.

It was strange. He wasn’t used to feeling so out of place speaking to Alex. It had always been natural from their very first encounter, but now the conversation wasn’t as easy. He didn’t know what was the right or wrong thing to say. He didn’t even know if him saying the right or wrong thing had got him here in the first place.

It didn’t matter. Alex was leaving. Michael wasn’t. End of story.

The two of them walked into the train station in relative silence, navigating the weirdly busy area until they got his ticket and got to Alex’s platform. And then they waited for the train to come as if it was just that simple to separate.

Except Michael couldn't stop staring at him.

“I don’t have a phone,” Michael said, a last-ditch effort at trying to get Alex to show that he wanted to keep him, “So you can’t call me.”

“I wasn’t going to try.”

Michael breathed in his words a verbal gut punch. His throat tightened more, and his eyebrows pulled together, his body trying its damnedest not to cry over this. He knew Alex was just being like this because he had to. Because this‒they‒weren’t supposed to happen. Alex’s plans were made before Michael, they wouldn’t change with him here. Alex made that very clear.

“Alex…” Michael said because he couldn’t help himself. Alex was right there. How could he?

“Michael,” Alex said evenly, “This isn’t about you.”

Michael breathed and nodded once. He could accept that, he thought. And even if he felt like he couldn’t, he didn’t really have a choice. He had to accept it no matter what.

“Yeah. I know.”

Michael stared at him, and Alex stared back. Neither of them turned away or broke eye contact. It was agonizing, honestly, but Michael watched him and tried to memorize every part of his face. He already had it memorized, honestly. A little extra couldn’t hurt.

However, that spell was broken when he felt that prickliness at the back of his neck, and he couldn’t help but look around to make sure no one was staring. Michael wasn’t quite sure he cared. No one was looking. Still, when he looked back at Alex, he’d been looking around too. No one was giving them the time of day, and it still felt like a thousand eyes were on them.

And perhaps that’s why they’d ended up here in the first place.

The train pulled up, and Michael swallowed, his heart jumping in his throat. This was it. All these days spent attached at the hip had led up to this. The moment where Alex leaves. The moment where it’s over.

People started to board the train.

Michael didn’t want to regret this, didn’t want to have any negative feelings around helping Alex. But also, he hated that he did this to himself. Why’d he come here? Why’d he bring him? Why did he think this was a good fucking idea?

Alex gave a curt nod‒a nod like they hadn’t spent just three nights ago pressed together and shared breaths‒and turned to walk towards the train. It wasn’t fair. They didn’t know each other long enough, and yet Michael felt like he was losing someone he loved.

Ah. He loved him. Great.

Alex took a breath that raised his shoulders and went to take a step, went to leave forever. But then he turned around again, and before Michael could ask what was wrong, he was kissing him.

They’d never kissed in public before, never even a peck. And this was more than that. This was Alex’s hand on the back of his neck and his other on his chest. This was Alex’s soft lips parts and kissing deeper. This was tasting salty tears in the mix and trying to pretend they weren’t there.“I just… needed a reminder of what to look for,” Alex whispered into his mouth just seconds before he pulled away for good, quickly heading to the train before Michael could offer a reply.

Michael stood there, his chest aching and his eyes burning as he searched the windows for any sign of Alex just one last time. He apparently sat on the other side of the train, though, because Michael never saw him.

It was awful. He could still taste him. He reached up to touch his lips.

“I love you too, Alex.”

“I think if you told me a decade ago, I’d basically be a fucking marketing rep. I’d cry.”

Alex’s cheeks hurt as he continued to smile, watching Michael in the darkness. It was more than he’d smiled in months. Small talk was boring, but somehow Michael made it interesting as they talked about what they did for a living.

“I can’t honestly picture you doing marketing, no offense.”

“Okay, well, it’s not really marketing. I go around to different companies, sit in on business meetings, and show them how to do their jobs. I’ve spoken at a couple of conferences here and there,” Michael said. Alex didn’t mean to, but he knew he was beaming with pride. His Michael all grown up and successful. “Look, my job title doesn’t say marketing rep, so I refuse to call myself that.”

“Fair enough,” Alex laughed, “I guess that just means you’re really good at your job.”

Michael shrugged, licking his lips. “I guess. I don’t know, I went to school for robotics, so I don’t really know how I ended up here.”

“You did, really? Robotics?” Alex asked, perhaps sounding a little too eager. The Michael he remembered would’ve preferred to do literally anything except go to school. He had no plans to. But he still went. He still blossomed just like Alex knew he could.

That felt so nice.

“It was kinda out of spite, really. I wanted to prove I wasn’t just a deadbeat, so I was originally just going to a tech school. One of the professors that taught night classes there saw potential in me, I guess. Started challenging me. He’s the reason I took that step to enroll in a full-blown university and get a master’s degree, and he helped me every step of the way. I still talk to him. It really just takes one person to change your life, you know?” Michael explained.

Alex nodded, warmth spreading through him. That’s all he ever wanted for Michael, for someone to actually see him and go out of their way to help him. It was something he wasn’t ever able to do for him, and none of the teachers in high school were either.

“Yeah, I totally believe that. Just one teacher to make you think you’re worth it,” Alex agreed, “That’s great. And traveling for work really isn’t that bad, honestly. It’s the best part of my job. It helps it not feel like it’s a big rut even though it totally is.”

“Aw, come on, you’re not in a rut, are you?” Michael asked. He was basically fully facing him, turned sideways in his seat to give him all of his attention. Alex was basking in it. Some little part of him was giddy that he was able to garner Michael’s attention like this twice without Michael even knowing that it’s him.

“Feels like it.”

“Well, what do you do? I’ve been too busy talking about myself this whole time,” Michael said. He was so different. Alex barely knew what to do with it.

He wanted it anyway.

“Not too much different from you, I guess,” Alex said, “I work for a cybersecurity software developer, and I go around and basically play IT all around the country for businesses. Install our software, show them how to work it.”

“How have we never met before?” Michael asked, tilting his head. Alex bit the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should make a joke about knowing him biblically.

“Guess fate wanted to wait until a train was going to shut down,” Alex said. Michael snorted, his knee knocking into Alex’s. It felt so good.

“Guess so,” Michael said, “So when you go on your business trips, how many people do you have to lie to and say you’re married, so they leave you alone?”

A smile broke out on Alex’s face, “I try to just avoid talking at all unless it’s work-related. No drinks or anything.”

“Ah, shit, I guess I gotta try that. You know how hard it is to say no to a drink, though?” Michael asked. Alex shrugged, still smiling at him. He wished the lights were still on, wished he could see his face in the light. He wanted desperately to see all the features the darkness hid--all the parts of him that showed that he was grown now and not the 18-year-old boy he left at the train station.

Alex sure as hell was no longer that 18-year-old boy that left him.

“It’s a necessary burden,” Alex sympathized. Michael huffed a laugh.

“So, where are you headed to or coming back from now?” he asked. Alex’s mood slowly dropped to the fucking floor all over again.

“Uh,” Alex sighed, “Nowhere. I’m… on a break. Trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. Thinking about requesting a transfer.”

“A transfer? Would that really matter since you’d basically just be doing the same thing, traveling either way?” Michael pointed out.

Alex took a deep breath as he looked at him, really looking at the honesty written all over his face. Michael had always worn his heart on his sleeve, his emotions on his face. Alex had never ever been able to read it fluently, always second-guessing himself. Now it was no different.

“I’m thinking about quitting altogether and becoming my own boss,” Alex said, “I don’t hate the traveling or the workload. I hate feeling like I don’t belong.”

“Ah, yeah, I get that. Always feel like you’re one step away from getting fired even though you know you’re good at your job. Or like everyone around you only pretends to tolerate you. It sucks,” Michael said. Alex watched him, thought about how they were when they were younger. How Alex had always felt this way and found refuge in Michael. He couldn’t imagine Michael feeling that way too. He was so likable. “But, you know, it’s not true. People do like you. It’s all in your head.”

“Does it matter if I don’t feel like it?” Alex responded.

Michael smiled that small secret one that went straight to Alex’s gut. It was so reminiscent of laying in the bed of his truck in the middle of nowhere, naked and sweaty and whispering about the future.

“You’re not wrong,” Michael said, “What kind of work would you do on your own?”

“I don’t know. I have some ideas, but none of them are fully formed. I don’t have the time to,” Alex said honestly, “Kinda why I’m taking a break. Maybe something will make sense.”

“Yeah, I think you can do it. You look like the kinda guy who can pull that off,” Michael said, leaving no room to mistake the way he looked him up and down even in the darkness. Alex found himself letting out a soft laugh somehow.

“Well, thanks for being supportive,” Alex said, teasing and hoping that was the right thing to say. Michael smiled.

“No problem. You’re a smart guy. You could probably do anything. I’ll even put in a good word for you wherever I go.”

Alex licked his lips, nodding his head at the sincerity in Michael’s voice. It was probably a lacking response, but his heart was in his throat, and he couldn’t get over this. He and Michael hadn’t had much time together when they were young, fighting the inevitable clock that hung over their heads.

The blind support had him nauseous with familiarity.

Alex was quiet.

Michael supposed it wasn’t too unusual. Alex went through phases. Sometimes he was sad and quiet. Michael just had to find some way to cheer him up.

“Hey,” Michael whispered, reaching over to press a kiss to the back of his shoulder. He was warm to kiss as always. Michael liked the idea of kissing him forever, wherever he was allowed to kiss. “You feeling okay?”

Alex hummed in response, not a yes or a no. Warm, though. Michael kissed his shoulder again and rubbed his hand over his shoulder.

“Let's do something fun then,” Michael whispered, kissing the back of his neck. His hand slid down to his chest, his thumb grazing his nipple. Alex shrugged his shoulder, though, so Michael moved his hand back to neutral ground. “We can do anything you want. We can go TP Homophobic Nick’s house. Graffiti Racist Kevin’s. Be delinquent like we’re supposed to.”

“You’re not a delinquent,” Alex murmured, which was something better than silence.

“Okay then. We can, like, go skinny dipping in the Evans’ pool. They won’t know. Family vacation thing. Or, I don’t know, we don’t have to leave. I’ll let you paint my nails or something. Anything you want to do,” Michael suggested, dragging his nose behind Alex’s ear. He was soft to touch everywhere.

Alex didn’t respond, still curled up in on himself. It was hard to even gauge exactly what exactly was causing this. As much as Michael adored Alex, he did have a laundry list of things that could’ve put him in such a mood, including just waking up feeling bad. And Michael understood even if it made him feel useless.

To try his best at making it feel normal for Alex’s sake and his own, Michael kept up the light touching. He stroked his shoulders and down his arms and kissed the back of his head. He kept it chaste and without presumption, just wanting to make sure Alex knew this didn’t change his feelings about him. That, at the very least, felt important. Especially more so than his own feelings.

“How late can you stay out tonight? Or, like, is it possible you can get away with staying out all night?” Michael asked softly after a while, the silence itching at him when he had so much pent-up energy. He liked laying with Alex, but sometimes he needed to do something to get the energy out, even if it was just talking. He barely expected Alex to answer. “Because I’ve been crashing in the Evans’ pool house while they’re gone, and you’re welcome to join me. I kinda wanna love the idea of, like, playing house with you. We can share the bed and brush our teeth together. I can make you dinner, breakf—”

“I’m going to college in Massachusetts. We need to break up,” Alex said, monotone. End of sentence. No arguments.

Michael stopped breathing, freezing with his hands still on Alex’s body and still curled around him. His ears were ringing, and his brain scrambled to piece together what the hell he was talking about. Breaking up. College. Breaking up. Massachusetts. Breaking up.

“Are you serious?” Michael whispered, still wrapped around him because what.

“Yeah, I am.”

Michael finally pulled away, quickly sitting up and scrambling to get to the other side of the truck as he tried to wrap his head around this. They were so good. Things between them were so fucking good. Why now? Why?

“Alex,” Michael said, watching him sit up slowly like there was a weight strapped to his back. He looked defeated and detached. He didn’t want to do this anymore than Michael didn’t. “You don’t want this.”

“I want to go to college. I want to experience getting away from this place without being tied to it,” Alex said stubbornly, eyes avoiding Michael completely.

“I don’t want to be here either. I’m not tying you here,” Michael argued. Alex was silent. “Unless it’s me you don’t want to be tied to.”

“That’s not it, and you know it,” Alex sighed, seemingly too tired to even have this conversation despite the fact that he was the one that started this shit in the first place, “But it can’t work when I’m halfway across the country.”

“Why not?” Michael asked.

Alex took a deep breath, “You know why. This wasn’t ever going to last anyway.”

“Said fucking who?”

“Michael,” Alex said, tilting his head back, “Stop making this difficult.”

“Sorry if I’m a little upset, I’m being broken up pretty fucking spontaneously,” Michael scoffed, clenching and unclenching his fists in a failed attempt to regulate himself, “Did you just decide to do this, like, twenty minutes ago? Because you seemed totally fine when I picked you up this morning.”

“I didn’t know what I was going to do,” Alex admitted, drawing his legs up to his chest, “But I got a letter in the mail about orientation last night, and it kinda became clear that I had to make a choice when it came to us. And... and when I saw you this morning, I wanted to think we could pull it off.”

“Because we can.”

“But then I realized how hard it would be to be away from you,” Alex said, finally looking up at him and meeting his eyes, “Sometimes I want to be so close to you that even when you’re literally holding me, it doesn’t feel close enough. And I know you. You need that level of affection too. I think it would be bad for us both if we tried. It’s best if we just… quit cold turkey.”

Michael let out a breathy laugh in disbelief.

“So basically, we can’t be together because I want you too bad?” Michael asked, “Do you not understand how completely ridiculous that sounds?”

They were silent for a long stretch of time, the wind the only thing making noise around them. A chill went down Michael’s spine, but he didn’t know if it was the fault of the wind or if it was because he was used to having Alex’s body heat pressed up against him.

“Can you take me home?” Alex asked.

Michael nodded, hopping out of the truck and wiping his eyes just to make sure. He wasn’t crying. Somehow that in itself wasn’t even a surprise.

They both got into the cab of the truck in silence, neither of them crying as they came to terms with what was just decided.

Alex laughed.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he laughed, much less this hard, but something about Michael’s presence had him laughing at anything that could even be mistaken for funny. It helped that Michael seemed to be reacting the same way, giggly and happy. The sound of it was intoxicating in and of itself.

“And so, so, like, uh... Fuck, sorry,” Michael said, laughing and shaking his head like he was 18 and stumbling over his words because he got excited. Alex’s heart was thudding in his chest. It was unreal. “So basically, my sister calls me up, and she’s, like, sweet-talking me immediately, which is always a bad sign. She’s all ‘I need a maid of honor’ this and ‘if only I had someone to throw me a bachelorette party. And, look, I love her, but I’ll never get why she called me instead of our literal brother who is down the street, not across the country 85% of the year.”

“Means she trusts you, which is a good thing,” Alex said, still smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. Michael was talking about Isobel and Max Evans, though that took Alex an embarrassing amount of time into the conversation to figure out. They were super close when they were in high school, and that clearly hadn’t changed.

Alex was happy for him.

“I mean, I appreciate it, but I should not have been the person because it was easily the most stressful thing I’ve ever done,” Michael scoffed, laughter still in his throat, “Anyway--fuck, I’m ruining this entire story.”

“No, you’re not, go on,” Alex prodded, nudging him with his elbow. Maybe he shouldn’t have touched him when they were supposed to be strangers.

He didn’t regret it one bit.

“Okay, okay,” Michael said, smiling as he nudged him right back. This was so much better than work. “Anyway, I obviously agreed because I hate myself and love her. She legit has me planning this thing with her over video chat half the time because I travel so much for work, and I’m spending my free time calling venues and shit. Anyway, time comes for her bachelorette party, and I plan something nice and modest because we’re adults, and I also know her, and she likes to pretend she’s classy even though she still steals my clothes.”

“And, let me guess, it did not go that way,” Alex said. Michael tilted his head, his eyebrows raising just a little bit, and he was apparently a lot closer than Alex realized.

“How’d you know?” Michael said. A rush went through Alex, old memories of laying in the bed of his truck and talking close and teasing before kissing until he couldn’t breathe flushing through him. Chills covered his skin.

“Lucky guess.”

“Yeah, very,” Michael said, eyes searching Alex’s face for a moment before he slipped back into his story, “And, anyway, we go to this restaurant, and it was nice, and she got expensive wine, and afterward she was like ‘what next?’ and silly me thought a nice dinner was enough. I was wrong. So, after that, she took over her own bachelorette party, and next thing I knew, we were at a strip club.”

“Oh no,” Alex said, huffing a laugh at the idea of Max Evans in a strip club. Michael, he could see, especially this version of him who was all refined and grown. Even Isobel seemed to make sense. But Max Evans seemed like he would be miserable.

“Not even a club with male strippers--honestly, that would’ve been less awkward than her dragging her brothers into a club where we had to buy her dances with topless women,” Michael said. Alex folded his lips in, holding back a smile. “I have never been so uncomfortable in my life.”

“You honestly think it would’ve been better with a male stripper?” Alex asked. Michael scoffed.

“Yeah, because at least then I could laugh at Max!”

“Jesus,” Alex huffed, not really able to imagine the Isobel Evans from high school being a slightly unhinged big sister. But the way Michael spoke made it believable anyway.

“I know! And Max texts me after like ‘so that was weird, right’ like yes it was weird, what the fuck,” Michael said.

“Yeah, my brothers are like that too. I swear it’s like sharing a conversation with two toddlers and a brick wall sometimes,” Alex said. Michael nodded, licking his lips. There was too much smiling happening between them. It was overwhelming. “I don’t really have any fun stories to share.”

“I’m sure you do,” Michael insisted, nudging his knee into Alex’s thigh. He didn’t pull away. “Come on. Where’s the place you’ve been the most tempted to move to in all your traveling?”

“Um,” Alex breathed, eyes flicking to where they were touching and then back to his face, “I honestly don’t know. Once I went to this really, really small town in Arkansas that was right off a mountain, and I would go hiking in my downtime while I was there. And there was a lot of downtime. The internet connection was so shitty that there were multiple days where I had to quit altogether. That was fun.”

“So, you like hiking?” Michael asked, almost like it was important information that he was taking specific note of. Alex breathed in, his heart thudding in his chest at the attention.

“I like… exploring, I guess. I found this cave when I was up there, it was probably dangerous to even go in there, but I did anyway.”

“Ooh, a daredevil.”

“Shut up,” Alex laughed. Michael pressed his knee into his thigh with a little bit of force before letting up, making Alex lightheaded in the process. “But, I don’t know, it was nice to go somewhere quiet again. And I pretty much went the whole trip without seeing anyone I wasn’t there to work with. It was seriously a vacant town which should’ve been isolating, but honestly, it was freeing. Not for forever, but for a moment.”

“You should go back there, then. To clear your head,” Michael suggested. Alex thought about it and nodded, staring at him as he did so.

Somehow, the conversation lapsed into a moment of silence, no laughter, just quiet between them. The longer his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the more Alex was faced with just how gorgeous this man had become. And their legs were touching. How could he not stare?

“Sorry for the delay.”

Michael’s head snapped towards the voice at the front of the train car. Alex had to put a little more effort into taking his eyes off him, but he eventually saw the man with the flashlight that was speaking.

“The area we’re going through had a widespread power outage, and we’re having some issues with our backup batteries,” the man said, “But we should have everything up and running sooner rather than later.”

“Ten bucks says that it was user error,” Michael whispered, leaning to reach Alex’s ear like they were teenagers again. Chills covered Alex’s skin at the familiarity of it all, but he managed to keep his composure. Somehow.

“No comment,” Alex responded. There was no missing the smile that took over Michael’s face.

The flashlight guy made his trek through the train car to get to the next one, and there was a moment of silence. Too long. Long enough that Michael nearly choked on his own laughter, turning his head towards Alex.

“Sorry,” he said, “Got too quiet.”

“You’re good,” Alex said, laughing with him. He was close and warm, and he could feel the way Michael’s body shook when he laughed. Alex wanted more.

For the first time in a long time, Alex didn’t care if they were being the loudest in the room.

“Alex. Aleeex.”

Michael watched for any sign of awareness in Alex’s face, but he still seemed dead asleep. It was the first time they’d ever shared a bed, and as much as Michael completely understood Alex’s desire to sleep, he was too excited to sleep. He wanted to talk to Alex and to really make the most of their time in this hotel room where they didn’t have to stress about anything.

Carefully, Michael bit the shell of Alex’s ear, flicking his tongue against his earring just because he knew it would annoy him. Alex always found it gross and would laugh through his lecture about how piercings have dead skin build-up no matter how often you clean them. Michael didn’t really care as long as it was Alex’s dead skin build-up. Despite that, Alex still didn’t react.

“Since when have you ever slept this hard? Are you faking it?” he asked softly. Alex didn’t seem to be.

Michael blew into his ear for extra measure.

Alex flinched at that, his hand going up to cover his ear as he groaned. Michael grinned, albeit selfishly, and tugged him closer, so his back was flush against him. Alex made another noise, this one not out of annoyance. Michael was in love with him.

“Hey,” Michael whispered, kissing the back of his neck before leaning over him a bit to kiss his cheek and then his lips. Alex reciprocated, slow and lethargic, before blowing in Michael’s face like he was a cat that got too close to his food. Michael snorted and settled back behind him.

“Go to sleep.”

“No, you wake up,” Michael said. Alex shook his head and turned his face into the pillows.

Michael found that he was smiling nonetheless and rested his face on the back of Alex’s neck, his hand gliding up and down his body. He was so warm and comfortable. It was a little wild to think how just earlier that day, Alex had been too nervous to hold his hand even though they weren’t in Roswell, and now they were here, laying with each other without shame or hesitation or fear. It was still a work in progress, but this made up for every setback.

“I want to spend time with you,” Michael murmured, breathing him in.

“We have two whole more days,” Alex said in response.

“Exactly, only two more days. Why should we spend any of it sleeping?”

Alex didn’t dignify that with a response, which he couldn’t actually argue with.

The thing is, all of their peers were on a senior trip right now. Alex had saved up for it and had money to go, and that’s exactly where his dad thought he was, but instead, they were here. Away from Roswell and together. It hadn’t even been that long since this--them--had begun, and yet it still felt like love.

Excruciatingly like love. Suffocatingly like love. He didn’t want to leave this bed or this town. He didn’t want to feel like sleep was wasting time. He wanted to just exist near him forever and cuddle close. He wanted to get to the point where they could hold hands, and Alex wouldn’t pull away. Michael couldn’t wait for all the little milestones they’d get to have together. He really did just want to speedrun them just so the excitement wouldn’t feel so overwhelming.

“Hey,” Michael said, kissing the side of his neck and still running his hands over his body.

“Please, go to sleep. I’ll literally pay you to go to sleep.”

Michael huffed a laugh and shuffled closer to say. “Hey,” he said again, “I love you.”

Alex’s body tensed up for a moment, and somehow, Michael didn’t even feel nervous. That’s just how good it was with Alex. He could throw himself face first in it, and he trusted that Alex wouldn’t let him down. Whether that meant he said it back, or he didn’t, it didn’t matter. It just mattered that he heard him.

Alex shifted, turning to face him with his sleepy face still in full force. Michael reached out and touched his red-tinted cheek. He wanted to touch that cheek forever.

“You mean it?” Alex asked. Michael nodded without hesitation. It was probably a little too soon--they’d only been dating for a little over a month--but it felt right nonetheless. “Okay. I love you too.”

“Do you mean it?” Michael said, more teasing than actually asking as he tugged Alex impossibly closer. A wide smile broke out onto Alex’s face as he nodded, reaching up for a kiss. “We should just move here.”

“Let’s do it,” Alex agreed.

“We can get a house. I’ll mow the lawn, and you can sit all pretty on the porch drinking mimosas while watching me.”

“Perfect plan. I’ll get some dumb job out here, like some office job, and work my way up to manager.”

“Why not do something fun like working in the library or giving guitar lessons?”

“You think I’m good enough to give guitar lessons?”

“I think you’re good enough to do literally anything. You’re Alex.”

Alex smiled, and his eyes drifted closed for a second. There was just an air of serenity around him that wasn’t really present any time before that he could think of. It was new and refreshing, and Michael wanted to hang onto it as long as he could.

“Okay,” Alex said, opening his eyes again, “For real. Let’s get out of Roswell and do something different.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, “Let’s do it.”

Michael couldn’t really tell if Alex was completely serious or not, but he knew he was. As much as he loved Isobel and Max and Sanders, he could always go back to visit. He couldn’t see a future where he stayed in Roswell, though. Especially not a future that involved keeping Alex. And even if this one conversation specifically wasn’t serious, Michael was sure that Alex was serious, no matter how scary the whole thing really was. But he knew Alex, and he trusted him.

They were going to get out, and it was going to be together. This was the end of all the bad bullshit that the world had given them.

At least they knew they wouldn’t hurt each other.

“Not to press, but are you seeing anyone?”

Alex scanned Michael’s face. There was something mischievous about it, like he knew exactly what the answer was, and he was asking on purpose. Alex huffed a laugh and licked his lips, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, “Are you?”

“I was at one point,” Michael said. It admittedly caught Alex off guard and made him feel a little stupid. He hadn’t really been waiting for Michael to show up like this, and he hadn’t wanted Michael to do that either, but he could list the amount of people who had lasted more than a single messy one-night stand on one hand. The idea that Michael had gone as far as seeing someone felt like Alex had missed something. “Hard to keep a boyfriend when you travel a lot. Causes a lot of trust issues.”

“Boyfriend?” Alex asked involuntarily. Thankfully, it went along with the game they were playing.

“I’m bisexual,” Michael said, staring at Alex so directly that even the darkness didn’t affect the impact.

Alex’s body started to feel warm. He had a label for it. It shouldn’t feel so strange or exciting that he had a label for it, but--he had a word for it. Openly. Out loud. No confusion or “I thought I was straight, and I’ve only been with girls, but I’m insanely attracted to you specifically.” Bisexual.

“Oh yeah?” Alex breathed.

“Yeah,” Michael said, and he said it like he knew exactly what Alex was feeling, “I’m kinda like ‘it’s my business and no one else’s, but I’m not gonna hide it’ about it, but my ex put a pride flag on my balcony and, well, I can’t take it down. Not when it’s pissed off all of my neighbors. They can’t win. How lame would that be.”

Michael had a place. He had neighbors. If his looks and the big kid job weren’t enough to prove that this was different from before, then that was. They were adults now.

Alex kicked his bag, drawing attention to it as he grabbed the strap to show the pride pin on it. Michael smiled so bright that Alex didn’t understand how it didn’t immediately solve the power outage.

“It’s a twisted kind of joy when they see it after they’ve decided they like you. Funnier when it’s in a professional setting, and they can’t say anything,” Alex told him.

Michael Guerin had always been an expressive person and now was no different. But the way he looked at him, the way his eyes lit up, the way he looked like everything just made sense for the first time in a long time, was a look that was so old and so new at the same time. It made it really clear that whatever he was feeling towards him wasn’t just nostalgia or a “what if” fantasy. This was real

“See, you get me,” Michael said.

Alex really did.

There was something so suffocating about the first date when you know that it’s a date.

Michael had spent more time with Alex than he’d spent with basically anyone else, considering they’d spent nearly every waking hour together since the day they met. They’d kissed. He was his boyfriend, but it was nerve-wracking to know that they were going on a for real date. This was the real deal. This is what he’d been waiting for.

“Hi,” Michael said as Alex walked up.

“Hi,” he said back. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jeans, and his hair was laying flat on his forehead, clearly the aftermath of a rushed shower at the Ortecho residence on the way here from work. He still looked ridiculously incredible.

“You look nice,” Michael said quietly. Alex rolled his eyes, but his cheeks turned an undeniable shade of pink. Michael considered reaching out for his hand, but he decided against it the moment they both simultaneously looked around to make sure no one was really paying attention to them.

It was stupid, honestly. He saw groups of guys coming to see movies with their friends. Groups of girls. Couples of all ages. Children. They didn’t stand out. They were just two guys. No one would think anything, and if they did, they probably wouldn’t say anything.

But there was always that probably.

“Let’s go inside,” Alex said, gesturing inside, and Michael didn’t hesitate to follow suit.

They got their tickets and skipped the popcorn stand, instead choosing to head for the theatre. They were one of the first ones in there, and they chose to sit in the back right, hoping that would give them some semblance of privacy.

Michael didn’t know what to say or how to make small talk. His head was reeling on what to do to make sure this date wasn’t a complete failure. This was their first date. It just had to be good. If only he knew what to say and how to act without pushing too far or being too weird.

“Can I be honest?” Michael said, “I haven’t been to a theater to see a movie since, like, middle school when Max and Isobel’s mom would take us.”

“Really? Liz, Maria, and I go all the time. We’ll have to go more,” Alex said, brushing his hair off his forehead, “And I’ll have to take you to the drive-in one day.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Absolutely.”

People filtered into the theater, but there weren’t that many by the end of it. No one sat near them, and Michael let himself relax more as the theater darkened and the trailers began. This was going well. This would be a good first date.

And then Alex put his foot on top of Michael’s.

Neither of them moved as the movie started up, the weight of his foot suffocating in a way that made Michael lightheaded. They were touching in public. And maybe it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world, but it was something that someone could not only see but something that anyone who did see would know that it wasn’t just guys being pals. That didn’t feel like a platonic touch.

Nothing with Alex felt platonic.

Michael had been on dates with girls before, usually as dates for fancy events as a statement piece or as an excuse just to end up hooking up, but none of them felt like it did with Alex. He couldn’t think of any other person who had him feeling so excited and dizzy with something as small as his foot touching his in a theatre. Alex was something else entirely. Being with Alex was like flinging himself into the sun without hesitation or repercussion. It was addictive. In the beginning, he’d considered the fact that it felt so new and exciting because Alex was a guy. Now, he was more sure than ever that it was because Alex was Alex.

Michael still wasn’t really sure what that meant for him. He didn’t know if that meant he was gay now or if Alex was just so fucking perfect that he excelled past the need for sexuality and gender roles. It was hard to tell.

There were big explosions happening on screen, loud noises shaking the theatre. He didn’t really know what they were seeing, only that it was an action film, and that seemed like the least likely thing that two guys on a date would go see. Still, as it got louder, Alex slipped his fingers into a hole in Michael’s jeans. Michael swallowed and looked over at Alex, but he was pretending to pay attention to the movie even as his finger moved up and down the small patch of Michael’s skin.

It was moments like that that really affirmed to Michael that it didn’t matter what he was. He could figure that out later.

Right now, he was fine with it just being about Alex.

“Can I ask something a little personal?”

“Have we not been doing that?”

“Okay, fine, I mean something serious,” Michael corrected. Both of them were laying their heads back on the headrests, facing each other and unable to not smile. Alex was more than a little convinced that if someone paid any attention to them, they’d think they were in love.

Alex wasn’t so sure they’d be wrong.

“You can ask me anything,” Alex said honestly. He had no intention of moving, no intention of taking his eyes off of him. Too many times when they were younger, he hadn’t watched Michael long enough, always too scared someone would notice and think something. He decided he no longer cared.

“What do you really want?” Michael asked, voice low and in that tone that hit Alex in his chest. The eye contact made it hit so much harder. For a moment, Alex considered channeling teenage Michael Guerin and saying ‘you’. “You’re clearly not happy in your current job if you want to work for yourself or at least get out. What do you want to do?”

Alex opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words for what to say. He hadn’t ever really had someone ask him something like that before. And even then, the last time someone had asked him something so open and blatant, it had been Michael himself.

“Software developer,” Alex said, though he could hear how unsure his own voice sounded, “I have ideas.”

Alex searched Michael’s eyes, craving that loud, undeniable recognition and that maybe even remembered some of his stupid ideas. He knew Michael knew who he was--or, at least, he was pretty sure--but he wanted to see it loudly. The longer he stared into his eyes, the more he thought he saw some sort of pride, but he still wasn’t sure if that was it.

“What kind of ideas?” Michael asked. In his own way, it almost felt rhetorical.

“Cybersecurity.”

“You’d be so much better than John McAfee.”

“Oh, thanks,” Alex laughed, nudging Michael until he let out a few giggles as well.

“You’re so welcome.”

It took a couple seconds before their laughter died down, still staring at each other. Alex wondered what it would be like to share a bed with him now. Would it be like this, laying and staring at each other and just being so fucking infatuated that they stayed up late into the night talking? Would they be able to keep their hands off each other? Would it be a blissful mix of both?

“You know, I always kinda wanted a partner who could come with me on business trips. Everywhere would feel like a vacation. Spend my days working, spend my nights taking long walks on the beach or making snow angels or just watching movies with my person,” Michael said.

“Are you trying to imply something?” Alex asked. If his eyes drifted to Michael’s lips, he could always say it was because he was waiting for a response.

There was a long pause, long enough that Alex both felt stupid for asking and excited for a response. It was crazy the things that Michael Guerin did to his brain.

“I don’t like to imply anything,” Michael said softly, “I like to be straightforward.”

Alex took a deep breath. He was more sure than ever that Michael knew exactly who he was. He didn’t call him on it. Not yet.

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, “That sounds like the dream.”

Okay. Maybe they were spending more than the normal amount of time together.

Michael, admittedly, couldn’t help it. He knew objectively that he was spending an obnoxious amount of time with Alex, but he never got bored of it, and Alex never called him out on it either. He was sort of waiting for the moment that Alex told him to go away, but he never did. Alex was kind of addictive, and the idea that Alex felt the same way about him was, well, even more addictive.

Even now, Michael was being annoying. Anyone else would’ve said something long before they got to the point where they were sharing an old bean bag while Michael watched him play his brother’s hand-me-down PSP. But Alex said nothing. Sometimes he considered that maybe Alex was too nice to say anything, but then he’d lean closer to Michael, and it didn’t seem like this was crossing any boundaries.

At one point, they’d been taking turns playing, but Michael realized at least a few hangouts ago that he was more than content watching Alex play. Today, though, he wasn’t even watching him play. He was just watching him. He was staring at Alex’s face, at the way his eyebrows pulled together when he focused, the way he smiled when he got excited, the way he bit his lip when he had to do the same thing over and over and couldn’t figure out how to win it. More importantly, he watched the way Alex leaned closer and closer and closer with each passing minute. They could blame it on the bean bag.

Michael, however, was too far gone to even deny it anymore. Alex was attractive in a way that scared the shit out of him. The kind of way that had him staring at the side of his face for hours like a weirdo. This wasn’t what friends did. Or, at least, never something he did with any of his friends before.

It didn’t take much thinking to realize how much time they’ve been spending together, how much they’ve talked and also been able to not talk without awkward silences, and how much they’ve been physically getting closer. It was enough to make lines blur in Michael’s head. Or, maybe more than just in Michael’s head.

“Alex,” Michael said impulsively and because he had no self-respect. Alex looked at him and didn’t even bother trying to come to a stopping point in his game first. It was stupid, but Michael’s heart was slamming in his chest anyway.

“Yeah?” Alex asked, a little hoarse from how little he’d been speaking. They hadn’t done much talking since Michael showed up. They sort of were just enjoying each other’s company like they had been for days. Michael didn’t want to stop enjoying his company.

Some part of him wanted to enjoy him a little bit more, even.

“Nothing.”

Alex gave a confused little smile, tilting his head in a way that Michael had far too many feelings about.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Alex went back to his game. Michael swallowed and tried to focus on it as well. But then he slowly but surely became very aware of every point they were touching at. Their thighs were pressed together, their hips, their torsos. Alex’s head was all but resting on his shoulder. He could smell his shampoo.

“Alex,” he said again.

“Yes?” Alex said, laughter in his voice as he looked at him. He wasn’t annoyed. He looked happy. How the hell was Michael supposed to breathe when he looked happy? Or when he looked like anything. When he existed.

“Nothing,” Michael said again. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Do you want to play or something? You can have your turns back,” he offered, going to hand him the PSP. Michael shook his head, pushing it back to him.

“No, seriously, all yours.”

“Okay, but what’s up? You can’t just say my name twice and then nothing,” Alex said. Michael breathed and kept his eyes on Alex, which may or may not have been a bad idea because then he really had to be aware of how attractive Alex is.

“Alex,” he said again. Alex scoffed, but it was playful.

“What? Spit it out. I can’t read your mind.”

Michael swallowed, his eyes drifting down to his lips and struggling to look away. “I kinda wish you could.”

Alex’s smile started to fade, which most definitely wasn’t his intention. “Why? Are… am I being annoying? Just tell me if I am.”

“No,” Michael said, shaking his head as he shifted closer. There really wasn’t much space to do so, and that was enough to make his thoughts clearer. “I just… I don’t…”

“Just say it,” Alex urged.

But he didn’t know what to say. So he just leaned forward, and he really expected Alex to move as far back as possible, so he moved slowly to give him time to either do that or push him or anything.

Instead, Alex met him halfway.

It was a life-changing moment when their lips met. Everything in Michael’s brain clicked and opened up. He grabbed Alex’s face, and Alex grabbed him back. The PSP slipped on the ground.

Michael pulled away just enough to look at his eyes.

“Sorry,” Alex whispered, but he didn’t let go.

“I did it,” Michael said back. Alex finally smiled again.

“Yeah,” he said, “You did. On purpose?”

“On so much purpose.”

“Cool. Me too.”

“Can I do it on purpose again?”

“Absolutely.”

Alex pulled him back in as he laid back into the bean bag, and Michael followed suit, both of them sinking in. It was the best idea he’d had since speaking to Alex in the first place.

He never wanted to stop.

Alex felt a little stupid for being upset when it became clear that they were close to getting the train up and running again.

He didn’t want to leave this place or Michael. It’d been over a decade away from him, and somehow, for the first time in all of his moving around, he finally felt like this is what he’d been searching for. In just this one hour of conversation, he didn’t feel as lost. It felt like he’d found his person. Like he found home. It didn’t make sense how, when he was younger, he’d managed to convince himself that the only way to thrive was to get away. Not only from Roswell but from the person who had already made him feel like he was thriving.

“Michael,” Alex said, saying his name out loud like it meant something for the first time in too many years, “You know it’s me, right?”

Michael looked at him, and it was a look Alex hadn’t seen in a decade. Endlessly fond. He wasn’t angry at him, clearly hadn’t been in a while despite the way things ended. All that time apart seemed to make it clear exactly what they were missing.

“Yeah. I know. I knew the moment you stepped on the train. Fate just gave me ample time to make sure I saw you again,” he said. Alex swallowed and tried not to show just how much he just wanted to cling onto him and this moment.

“I’m sorry,” Alex started instead, “For pushing you away like you were another part of Roswell, I needed to escape. I fucked up. I missed you. I wanted to find you again, but I was way too embarrassed to try.”

“I’m sorry for letting you go, for letting myself become a part of that fucking town as if I was just another statistic,” Michael scoffed, “I think we both knew I was more than that, but I was too fucking stupid to see it at the time. I missed you too.”

Alex smiled and reached for his hand. Michael accepted it, their fingers locking together.

Michael missed him too.

“Happy graduation day to me.”

Michael continued grumbling under his breath as he crawled beneath the bleachers. It was hot, and he was sweating, and he could barely focus with all the commotion going on above his head, but Isobel lost her earring, and it was probably worth more money than he could imagine, so he said he’d go get it. He hadn’t realized that going to get it would mean spending a solid fifteen minutes on his hands and knees in damp grass.

And he definitely didn’t realize it was going to lead to him fully running into someone while on his hands and knees.

Michael looked up to the person he hit, more than a little embarrassed. He was usually good at keeping his composure and not letting anything get to him, but he was already on edge, and this was just the icing on the shit cake. It didn’t help when he realized the person above him was probably the hottest guy he’d ever seen. Not that he ranked the guys he’d seen on a hotness scale or anything.

This guy was genuinely gorgeous, though, hair perfectly styled and outfit perfectly pristine. He looked unimpressed and bored at best, and Michael felt like now was time for awkward laughter. Thankfully, he managed to not do that and further embarrass himself.

“What are you doing?” the guy asked, and honestly, it was unfair that his voice sounded so nice on top of his looks.

“Looking for an earring,” Michael admitted, feeling too pathetic to come up with a cooler lie. The guy put his phone into his pocket.

“What does it look like?”

Somehow, for the next 15 minutes, Michael ended up having the help of, again, the hottest guy in school as they searched for Isobel’s earring. It was a little weird, honestly. He can’t imagine anyone else just dropping everything to help him look for an earring that wasn’t even his.

“So, how long have you gone to Roswell? Because I’ve literally never seen you before,” Michael said.

“I can say the same thing about you,” the guy said, “I’ve been going here all my life.”

“Really? I’ve been going here since I was 11. That’s so weird we’ve never seen each other,” Michael said, peeking over at him. The guy was focusing on the ground, and Michael noticed that he had his own pair of earrings in his ears. Something about it made Michael’s stomach tense. “My friend is Isobel Evans, though. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

The guy huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I have. Her brother is basically in love with my friend Liz.”

Michael scoffed, “You’re friends with Liz? Literally, how the hell have I never seen you.”

“I don’t know. The universe probably had a reason,” he said, “Maybe we’re meant to be arch-nemesis, and we had to have a neutral beginning.”

Michael grinned, “Maybe so.”

The more they talked as they looked for the earring, the more Michael felt drawn to him. He felt robbed that they had never met before. Something about him just drew Michael in. They just clicked. He knew it.

“Oh, shit, hey,” the guy said, standing up and wiping his hands on his pants. Michael looked up and grinned as the guy held out the little earring that Isobel had lost.

“Thank you,” Michael said, accepting the earring. The guy’s hand touched his, and it was cold. Something about it made Michael’s brain malfunction apparently because instead of just letting his hand go away like a normal person, he shook it.

The guy laughed and helped pull him up to his feet. Michael felt hot, and he blamed it on how much he’d been crawling around.

“Alex,” Alex said.

“Michael,” Michael said.

“Cool,” Alex said, “You got anything to do this summer?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

It took a whole three seconds of silence before Michael realized his hand was very much still in Alex’s from when he helped him up. He didn’t really want to let go for some reason, but he pulled his hand away as casually as possible.

“So, like, wanna hang out? You seem cool,” Alex said. Micahel almost had to laugh at that. There was no way any of this encounter had made him seem cool, but he didn’t want to say no.

Every bone in his body refused to entertain saying no.

“Yes.”

The lights come back on.

The train starts back up.

They’re moving, headed for a stop, and all Alex could feel was absolute dread. He didn’t know when Michael was planning on getting off the train, and he isn’t sure how much time they have together. Somehow things went from infinite to finite so quickly, and he felt a little sick about it. Alex needed to do something.

Michael looked even better in the light.

It was surreal and a little jarring how good he looked in the light. All the features the darkness hid were clear now, and he was so, so clearly the same man who he’d been thinking about for a decade. He didn’t want to lose him again.

The entire time the lights had been out, they’d been talking about what they wanted. Going places, doing things, finding their person, letting him go just felt counterproductive to it all.

Alex squeezed the hand that was laced with his before readjusting it so he could give him a firm handshake. Michael’s face broke out into a smile of pure childish excitement as he went along with it.

“When are you getting off this train?” Alex asked, straightforward.

“Two stops.”

“You got anything to do?”

“No. You wanna get off with me?”

“Yes.”

They both breathed a little harder than necessary, and they didn’t let go. It felt good to say yes. To do something because he wanted to. It felt good to see him smile and to know maybe they were getting a second chance. And even if this all went to shit, it didn’t matter. Only now mattered.

This is the beginning, a real one where they both get a say. They can both be on the same page and make sense of it this time. They had all the time in the world.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Alex couldn’t wait to get to know him again.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnmbb2021 #roswellnm big bang

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