Did It Ever Really Matter? (3/?)

brought absolute tears to my eyes

WHY is this so hot 🥵

Reblog if you’re over 20 and still read/write fan fiction.

I’m curious!

Relative Dating Part Eighteen

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Pairing: Indiana Jones x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Welcome back to the latest garbage fire!

The artifact mentioned in this chapter is a fake one.

Warnings: Cursing; period-typical sexism; period-typical expectations of women; some angst; fluff

Summary: It’s been three years since she left him to spend his last night alone in Cairo—three years of living in New York; three years of half-heartedly wondering what might’ve been; and three years of wondering if she, wherever she is, thinks of him, too.

“I don’t want a lot of tears tomorrow.”

“Then don’t cry.” She gives him a sly look, even as his eyes narrow in irritation at her.

“I meant from you,” Indiana clarifies.

“I won’t cry. I’m not leaving Cairo empty-handed.”

“Right,” He drawls, eying the black Abyssinian kitten in the carrier in her hand.

“Isn’t she cute!”

“You name her?”

“Bastet, of course.”

“Of course.”

Keep reading

Reblog if you will forever miss this majestic look

SEBASTIAN STAN as NICK FOWLER in The 355 (2022) dir. Simon Kinberg

aXe’s & O(rgasm)’s (2/?)

Pairings: collegehockeyplayer!Curtis ‘The Axe’ Everett x female reader

Warnings: dark themes- Curtis’ storyline is supposed to be chaotic and fast paced- no slow burn here, TRIGGER WARNING- male violence resulting in injury towards female!reader- semi graphic- blood is mentioned but not described in detail, derogatory language towards female!reader, unrequited love interest, enemies to lovers- kinda, bar scene, talk of blood, unrequited sexual advances (male towards female- groping over the clothes), TRIGGER WARNING- dub con-ish - in the form of threatening reader with forced sexual acts, talk of Curtis using physical aggression, Curtis using physical aggression towards a male, angry Curtis, grumpy Curtis, head strong reader, slight size kink- Curtis is 6’4 and strong- no description for reader but she can also be plus size as Curtis is a big strong guy, explicit language, explicit sexual content- smut, non graphic creepy peeping tom, praise kink (must be 18+)

Please let me know if I missed any warnings!

Word Count: 6.4K

A/N: I had a lot of help with this one- from spitballing, hand holding and beta reading I have @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @sconnie-doesnt-know and a dear friend no longer on tumblr to thank! Not sure what I would do without you 3- this one was a true labor of love and I’m not really sure why Curtis’ storyline fights me at every turn! So, thank you, Amber and Tiff for putting up with my crazy writing process! ❤️

All mistakes are my own. Also, if this is trash- I don’t want to know!

The Axe x chickadee: hockey AU

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

The door was heavier than you expected, having to exert more force than anticipated to push into the dank and dimly lit bar.

In all honesty, you'd never been here before, but since your dress- freshly pressed and stain free-showed up on the front desk of the Boys and Girls Club with no sign of Curtis the entire week, here you were... Schydes.

It never dawned on you that Curtis would skip his community service hours for the week. Could he even do that?

But foolishly, you never got Curtis' number and the thought of calling his family's gym made your stomach knot and your skin run cold.

When your anxiety finally got the better of you by midweek, you reluctantly asked your supervisor for Curtis' number. She had been kind enough, not giving you a hard time as she flashed you that all knowing look. But In the end she reminded you gently that she couldn't divulge his personal information without his consent.

So you started with his family's boxing gym after your late shift ended over an hour ago. Curtis' Mom greeted you with a smile when you found her at the front desk. Jane tried to encourage you to come back another day, but you wouldn't listen- and as much as Jane didn't want to admit it- part of her loved you for that.

"Curtis is busy, sweetheart" Jane smiled at you, "he's running errands for his old man."

But something about the way she was avoiding eye contact and busying herself with rearranging membership pamphlets made you think she wasn't telling you the truth.

When you perched yourself on an old dusty loveseat at the front of the gym, smoothing your clean white dress into place and picking up a dog eared magazine, Jane knew that you didn't plan on going anywhere until you saw her son.

Schydes- known to most as "that biker bar across the tracks"- was a place most wouldn't dare to go. Especially not a sweet thing like you. But when Jane let it slip that Curtis was at the bar, you thanked her with a smile you couldn't hide and promptly left.

Getting your first glimpse as you pushed into the bar, you swallowed hard around the lump in your throat, trying to appear confident while your heart hammered wildly in your chest.

The bouncer at the door lazily glanced in your direction, never really carding anyone since the regulars were the biker gang and a handful of old locals that dared frequenting the place.

But when the bouncer noticed you -definitely not a regular in your crisp white dress- his lips curled into a sneer. His gaze racked over you in your sweet little fluttery number- more suited for frolicking in a field of flowers then patron-ing a bar that hadn't been cleaned properly since god-knows-when. This was gonna be fun.

You ignored the bouncer's whistling for the bartender's attention, focusing solely on your mission- to find Curtis. All eyes were on you, the ill-fitting stranger, as you scanned a handful of mean faces glaring back at you. Taking a deep breath, you slowly made your way further into the lion's den- a place you had no business being.

"H-hi... I'm looking for..." you started, but your words trailed off when the bartender took one look at you before turning back to another patron at the bar. The bartender proceeded to ignore you, refusing to give you the time of day but grunting in your direction so his friend could turn and mean mug you.

You weren't wanted here.

"Hi, sugar" a voice crooned in your ear, so close his breath made goose flesh prickle across your skin.

Spinning on your heels you saw the frame of a large man looming over you, his build muscular in his tight short sleeve button up with a vintage looking geometric pattern. He sneered down at you with long stringy hair and glasses too large for his face. His mustache was outdated and porn-industry-esqe and he smelled of something reminiscent of your Grandpa... cloves, maybe?

"You lost, sugar?" the man clicked his tongue against his teeth, letting his gaze drop as he drank in every soft curve of your body with a filthy and audible groan, "you definitely don't belong here..." his voice was deep, tone patronizing and his eyes blazed with something sinister as he took a step towards you. You mirrored his step backwards, chirping when you accidentally bumped into someone behind you.

You gasped when you looked up to see an equally menacing character, a cigarette hanging from his lips. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a deep scar across his face and he was wearing a worn leather jacket. In the dark bar you couldn't quite make out the patch sewn into the chest of his jacket as your heart kicked against your ribcage.

"Who's this?" leather jacket snarled, almost spitting when he talked before looking up at the man standing behind you, "we don't do business at the bar... she can find a dealer on campus... get her the fuck outta here..."

"You hear that, sugar tits" the man with stringy hair laughed, "he doesn't got what you're looking for... but I got all you need right here..." your mouth went dry when he grabbed the bulge in his pants making a vulgar show of his girth.

"I'm not..." you hiccuped, "I'm looking for a friend" you frowned, surprised that you somehow manage to keep from gagging as his vulgarity made your stomach churn.

"A friend?" stringy hair barked a mean laugh as leather jacket glowered down at you. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat while looking around. You noticed that half the bar's customers were still watching you intently.

"Get the fuck outta here" leather jacket grunted, snubbing out his cigarette and turning to walk away.

"M-my friend..." you persisted, "I'm supposed to meet him here... he's ahhhh..." you looked around, desperately searching for Curtis but coming up short.

"I'll be your friend, sugar tits" someone hollered and the bar filled with snickers as a bead of sweat rolled down between your shoulder blades, stick uncomfortably to your dress in the unseasonable heat.

The man with stringy hair took another suffocating step towards you as a wave of nausea lapped at your stomach. Your hand shot up, palm pressed firmly into his chest to keep him at bay when you started feeling a little light headed. Your flight-or-fight response prickling to life.

With your mind racing towards full blown panic, you were pulled back to the present when a sliver of light at the back of bar caught  your eye. You shielded your face, eyes unable to adjust to the bright light before it was gone again, jumping when the back exit slammed shut.

You wheezed out the shaky breath you had been holding, tension bleeding from your shoulders when you that signature knit beanie atop his tall frame rounded the corner. Curtis Everett wearing a flannel and heavy boots, his knuckles were covered in blood.

You watched as Curtis took a handkerchief from the pocket of his black jeans, cleaning his hands up before shoving the scrap back in his pants. He was having a heated conversation with the man next to him who was wearing a leather jacket that matched the scared menace at the bar.

"Curtis" you sang out, relief blooming in your chest as butterflies filling your stomach. Your hand shot up, trying to get Curtis' attention attention, but stringing hair grabbed it, twisting it harshly as you yipped in pain.

"Curtis?" he sneered with a mixture of intrigue and malicious delight. The look he gave you had you suppressing a shudder as he continued squeezing your hand. This man made your skin crawl.

"Let go" your voice suddenly sounded so small.

"Let go" he mocked with a sickening laugh.

"Hey... Axe" stringy hair blew out a sharp whistle, keeping his eyes glued to you as you tried pulling your hand free, his grasp only tightening the longer you struggled. Your breath catching in your throat when you finally heard Curtis speak.

"That's it, Mack" Curtis insisted, flexing and un-flexing his fists, looking down at his hands with a frown, "Coach said I'd be done for tonight..."

Curtis and Mack stopped when they got to the bar top at the opposite end of where you were being held against your will. The bartender poured a shot and slid it across the counter to Curtis, the brute caught it, bringing it to his lips and taking it in one burning gulp before sliding it back and nodding for another.

"Not how it works, kid... coach don't call the shots off the ice... the boss will tell ya when you're done" spat the man Curtis called Mack just as another sharp whistle broke through the stale air.

"Axe..." the stringy haired man called again, "this pretty little thing says she's yours..."

When your captor finally stepped out of the way, relaxing his hold on your hand, Curtis nearing choked on his whiskey. His eyes went wide with emotion for only a fraction of a second before he recovered.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Curtis growled, crossing the room to you and frowning when he noticed stringy hair was still holding your hand. Curtis' eyes flickered around the bar, scanning the big open space as his mind raced.

"So she's not your friend?" stringy hair's lip twitched into a smile that had all the hairs spiking at the back of your neck. His smile quickly quickly dropped to a frown when you finally managed to yank your hand free of his hold.

Curtis felt his chest bloom at your small victory. Fuck... how the hell was he gonna get you out of this?

"No" Curtis glared at you, running his hand through his bread and clearing his throat with a grunt as he surveyed the room again, "she's not my friend..." he shook his head, glancing back at you with a frown.

"Didn't think so... she's not your usual kinda friend..." stringy hair hummed, licking his lips as he not-so-subtly checked you out, "this pretty little dress sure is white, isn't it?" stringy smirked, dancing his long fingers along the thin strap of your dress as you jerked away from his touch with a growl.

"Could be a good time..." stringy shrugged, unabashedly adjusting his growing bulge and licking his lips suggestively. He barked another dark laugh at your clear discomfort.

"Coach" Curtis interjected, his fists balled tightly at his sides as he tried to contain the rage that was building in the pit of his stomach, "forget this desperate cunt... we got get to the next stop..." Curtis' vile words made your breath catch for a moment in your throat.

Curtis' Coach narrowed his eyes at you as he mulled over Curtis' words.

"Desperate cunt?" your voice was shaking when it finally returned.

Just as the words left your mouth a large hand gripped your face, stealing the breath from your lungs as you gasped at the intrusion. Coach's hands pinching harshly at your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

You cried out in shock and pain, hands going instinctively to his thick wrist, but you soon realized struggling only made his grip on you more painful. Your entire body froze in fear, tears burning just behind your eyes.

"Watch that pretty little mouth of yours, sugar tits" stringy snarled, "sluts like you should be seen and not heard."

"Tommy wanted me to throw her out... but I kinda wanna see what's under this pretty little dress of her's..." Coach's grip on your chin tightened as you started struggling again.

"Sh-she's a fucking clingy princess bitch..." Curtis rushed, "gave her a sparing lesson the other day and now I can't get rid of her..." he continued as you shook your face free from stringy hair's grasp, seething.

“So… she wants it… bad?” stringy asked, even in the dim light you could see his pupils dilating as you shuddered with a mixture of disgust and anger.

Your heart was racing, you were seeing red and you swear you felt smoke billowing from your ears.

"Thought about getting my dick wet..." Curtis continued, feigning nonchalance with a tight shrug, "but I heard she gets around... now the cunt won't leave me alone... go home, sweetheart" Curtis snarled the last half at you, his eyes boring into yours with unspoken words.

"Curtis Everett does Jane know you talk to woman that..." but before you could finish white hot pain seared across your face, zipping up your jaw and you heard a ringing in your ear as your world shifted on its axis. Your vision went blurry when your eyes and nose stung with tears.

"Coach" Curtis huffed, taking a step towards you but froze when he recognized that crazy look in his coach's eyes. Coach was practically panting in delight at your pain.

"You keep that whore mouth shut" the man Curtis call coach spat, "you need a dick to wet... I can help you with that... but you don't come around here like some cunt in heat sniffing around where you don't belong... never seen you at MU... must go to that fancy school across town... bitches there thinkin' they should be heard..."

You heard a new round of laughter coming from behind you, even the bartender was leaning over his counter, watching the free show.

"I just..." but you lost your words as humiliated tears broke like a damn spilling down your face. Your hand was on your cheek, the heat radiating as you looked to Curtis, but he wouldn't make eye contact with you.

"You just what, sugar tits?" Coach cooed mockingly, "you can tell me..." he closed the space between you, crowding you in and pressing your back painfully against the bar as you felt the bulge in his pants lay heavy against you.

You could hardly breath, brain going fuzzy as your instinct to fight took over. You brought your knee up swiftly, aiming for his groin but only making slight contact. Coach stringy cursed, stumbling back enough for you to scramble away, tears streaking down your face. But you didn't get far, crying out in pain when a thick hand gripped your arm, yanking you back to him.

"Well that just wasn't very nice" Coach rasped, his eyes burning with anger as his free hand cracked across your face again. This time his ring caught your lip and slip it open.

Your head was spinning as you fought to hold your tears back- getting a sick sense that the bastard would get off on your cries. A metallic taste flooded your senses as you twisted in his painful grasp.

"Coach... stop" Curtis yelled.

"Might have to teach this cunt a lesson..." Coach snarled, ignoring his athlete , "you're real pretty when you cry..." he sneered at you, "bet you'd be even prettier crying on your knees" his large hand moved up your arm, gripping your shoulder and pinching at a pressure point. It dropped you straight to the floor in a heartbeat.

"Shit" you hissed when your bare knees hit the filthy floor, bile twisting in your stomach as your vision started to white out.

"Let's see what else that filthy mouth of yours can do... huh, sugar?" Coach hummed, as you heard the jingling of his belt buckle.

"No" you screeched, panic and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you surged forward.

"What the fuck" Coach yelled in shock and surprise when you lunged at him.

The breath was all but punched from your lungs when Curtis tackled you against the bar top and rushing you out of the establishment as Coach roared, furious and spitting behind him.

You stole a glimpse of the feral man as your big brute pushed you out the front door. You had left a scratch down stringy's face- just under his eye to the corner of his mouth. Your stomach flipped with sickening delight as you heard Coach screaming something about killing you before the door to Schyde's slammed shut. 

"Ouch!" you managed to find your voice once the fresh air hit your lungs, "you're hurting me!"

"Good" Curtis bellowed, speeding up his pace as you almost lost your footing. You stumbled a few times before starting to jog to keep up with him.

Curtis didn't stop until you were a good 6 blocks away- in the direction of the decent part of town. That's when he rounded on you, pulling you into an ally against a whitewashed brick building and looked over his shoulder before speaking again.

"What the fuck were you thinking, y/n?" Curtis spat, nearly shaking with his unspent rage. He snarled when he didn't get an answer, turning opposite you and beginning to pace as energy thrummed through him like a live wire.

There was a long angry silence between you two before he spoke again.

"Are you OK?" he grunted, the anger bleeding slightly from his tone as he walked back towards you, surveying your lip and face before crouching to get a better look at your legs.

You watched him drop to the ground, gingerly inspecting the broken skin at your knees while leaning against the brick wall to catch your breath.

What the hell had Curtis gotten himself involved in?

You leaned over, bracing yourself against the wall before capturing his larger hand in both of yours. He turned to look up at you, his long lashes fluttering at his cheeks as he squinted, ocean blue eyes adjusting to the light from the street lamp.

Your brow furrowed when your thumb ghosted over his knuckles, cracked and dried with blood. Curtis tried to pull his hand away but you held on, narrowing your eyes at him before you spoke.

"What are you doing?" you frowned down at him as he shifted uncomfortably on the ground, his free hand brushing over the back of your calf, making your skin tingle as butterflies bloomed to life in your belly.

"I'm looking at your knees" he shook his hand out of your hold, "you need to clean these... that floor is filthy..."

"Curtis" you ignored his lecture on injury maintenance, "what are you doing there? Does your Mom know?" your last question was whispered- like you were worried, if you spoke any louder, Jane would hear you.

"Does my Ma know what?" he scowled up at you before moving to stand, closing the space between you and bracing his forearm on the brick wall just above your head. You couldn't drag your eyes from his as you felt the heat radiating off his body.

"They looked like..." you started in a hushed tone.

"Don't fucking say it..." he hissed, pushing off the wall and rising to his full height, the frown still etched on his face, "what the fuck were you thinking comin' to Schydes?" his anger was building again, "you trying to get yourself hurt?"

"No" you glared up at him, pushing yourself off the brick wall, but he used one hand to press your shoulder until your back hit the brick with a soft thud.

"You're Mom said..." you started again with a petulant huff.

"My Ma knows better then to send you there...." Curtis cut you off, "no fucking way she sent you there..."

You blew out a stubborn exhale, your heated gaze dropping to the ground as you squirmed against the touch of his hand holding you in place.

"What did she say?" the growl in Curtis' tone almost made your knees go weak.

You looked away, refusing to answer him.

"Y/N..." he warned. 

"She told me to come back tomorrow.... That you were running some errands... I told her I'd wait... and after about an hour she let it slip that you were at Schydes" you yelled, trying to roll out of his hold with no luck.

"She told you to come back and like the little brat you are... you didn't listen?" Curtis hissed through gritted teeth as he dropped his hold from your shoulder, raking his fingers through his beard, "you know she's probably worried sick about you?"

"I was trying to thank you for getting my dress back to me, you dick..." you snarled, moving to push off the brick wall, but his hand met you half way again, pressing you back, halting any forward progress you were making.

"Why would your Mom care about where I go?" you huffed.

"Cause you don't belong there" he snapped, taking his handkerchief from his back pocket, finding a clean corner and gingerly taking your chin in his hand to wipe at your cut lip.

"Neither do you!" you snapped, wincing away from his touch.

"You don't go there" he snarled, shoving his handkerchief in his pants, "you hear me?"

You narrowed your gaze at him, trying like hell not to break first, but your eyes suddenly filled with tears as all the awful things he said rushed back to you. You blinked away, but your glossy eyes twinkled in the street light- giving you away.

Curtis' demeanor softened for a second, reaching to cup your jaw in his palm as the pad of his thumb brushed over your cheek. You jolted away, wincing when you felt pain radiate from where you had been slapped. Your skin feeling hot and swollen.

Curtis' jaw ticked with a hiss as his hand came up slamming the brick -just above your head- with the meat of his closed fist.

"I could kill him" he snarled. But his eyes immediately went soft again when they met yours.

He leaned into you, his body wash or cologne smelling woodsy and making you dizzy with desire. Then Curtis did something completely unexpected- brushing his lips feather light over your swollen cheek. You gasped when his eyes locked with yours, parted mouths inches apart as you shared the same breath, panting at a standstill.

"You're driving me crazy, chickadee" his whispered, the pet name making you swoon.

"I just... can't stop thinking of you and your pretty dresses... wanna be buried so deep inside you" his groaned confession making you gasp as his eyes screwed shut.

And that's when you lost all common sense, wrapping your arms around his neck and crashing your lips into him.

Curtis lifted you clear off the concrete, your back hitting the brick as the air was punched from your lungs with a soft groan. He gripped the back of your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his narrow waist while he swallowed your pretty moans. You felt your cunt clench around nothing, your panties well on their way to ruin.

"You did so good back there, baby" Curtis hummed against your lips, "so fucking good...

And then, as quickly as it had started, Curtis broke the kiss, untangling your legs from around him and dropped you gently, but abruptly, back to the ground.

"We gotta go... I gotta get you home... where's your place?" he asked, "just promise me you won't go back to Schydes" his exhale was heavy, "you got it?"

"What? I'm not going anywhere with you" you huffed, fire burning in your eyes.

Curtis' chest was heaving as his blown eyes glowered down at you. The sexual whiplash making you dizzy.

"God... I swear I don't fucking understand you, Curtis..." you panted, equal parts lust and frustration, "just....fuck... leave me alone" you hissed, shoving your hands into the unmoving wall of muscle that was his chest.

You swear you saw his lip curl slightly at the corner before his jaw clicked. He took a possessive step forward, caging you against the wall and digging his hand into your hip. A growl rumbled low in his chest and the fire in his eyes nearly melted your panties on the spot.

An electrically charged silence hung in the air, his gaze dropping to your lips as he licked his, leaning in to trace his nose just behind your ear as the fingers at your hip danced under your dress and over your panties. You gasped when his calloused fingertips expertly found your clit, rubbing circles into the ruined fabric.

"Curtis" you whimpered, "please..." your entire body was trembling when he took your wrists in his hand, spinning you around and pinning them against the wall above your head. It all happened so fast - the feel of Curtis' beard scratching over the back of your neck when he asked you if this was what you wanted.

You nodded, managing to moan a please when he made you use your words as he slipped your ruined panties down your legs and off your body. He stuffed the ruined scrap of fabric in his back pocket for safe keeping.

Curtis toed your shoes apart with his large dark leather boots as he used his free hand to work his belt and pants open, pulling his hard length out and stroking it a few times before running the weeping thick head up the back of your bare leg.

You shivered when you felt his pre cum hot against your bare skin as he trailed his heavy length up your body.

Curtis dropped your wrists, his large hands moving to your soft curves to angle your ass up the way he liked it. You moaned, pressing a palm against the rough brick wall as you rucked your dress up to your waist for him. Curtis groaned when he got a good view of the curve of your ass.

"So wet for me, chickadee" he whispered, lewdly pulling your cheeks apart and humming with appreciation when the dim streetlight made the slick glitter up the cut of you.

"Please, Curtis" you whined, clawing at the brick as you shivered.

"You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?" he goaded, running the tip of him through your folds, "I'll take care of you... I'll always take care of you..."

Reaching behind you, you frantically grabbed for him, trying to ground yourself as he caught at your entrance, slowly sinking every hot inch of his length into you with a groan.

"Fuck, chickadee... ya feel like heaven... " he groaned, "but you're gonna bring hellfire down on me" he dropped his forehead to the back of your crown with a shudder when he bottomed out.

You moaned, tucking your arms against the brick and resting your face on your forearm as you watched him. Curtis looked god-like in the moonlight as his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones- giving you a moment to adjust to the stretch of his thick length.

You shimmied your feet farther apart with a whimper, dropping the angle of your hips and swallowing more of him before he pulled out, dragging every veiny inch slowly through your folds before slamming back into you with a grunt.

Curtis held you by the curve of your hips as he pounded feverishly into you, only picking up his feral pace when he ripped your first trembling orgasm from you.

"Please, Curtis..." you sobbed, your thighs shaking as he wrapped an arm just under your bouncing breasts, pulling your back against his front as he fucked up into your squelching hole.

"Doing so good for me, chickadee" he grunted, your walls fluttering around him as you felt pressure building, embarrassingly quick, deep in your belly.

"Fuck... give me another, pretty girl" he groaned, his palm slamming against the wall to keep you both upright, "touch yourself for me" he instructed.

Your soft fingers immediately found your clit, dipping to gather slick where he was pressed to the hilt, almost coming again when you felt his cock moving inside you.

"You like that?" he grunted with a smug smile, "so fucking good for me, baby" his hips began to falter when your fingers circled your bundle of nerves, his name a whisper on your lips.

"So fucking tight" he groaned, "sing for me, chickadee... such a good fucking girl" stilling his hips on one final deep thrust, his cock twitched, hot and heavy.

Curtis took hold of your jaw, turning you back to him and capturing your lips in a searing kiss that had you tipping over the edge again, pleasure coursing through your veins as he swallowed your pretty song.

You hummed blissfully, floating back down to Earth as an aftershock zipped down your spine and curled your toes. You whimpered when Curtis pulled out, pressing a kiss to your dewy crown as he moved to tuck his cock back into his pants.

"Curtis?" you whispered, turning into him and wrapping your fist around his still throbbing length. He groaned when you pulled him into a slow and searing kiss, taking your time to explore his mouth as your fist pumped slowly over the length of his cock.

"Christ... just like that, baby" Curtis grunted, his chest heaving as his forehead pressed to yours, "fuck..." he groaned bucking his hips into your soft hand just as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Goddamnit" he snarled, pulling away from you to take out his phone. He frowned down at the screen before shoving the phone back in his pocket, unanswered.

"I gotta get you home" he blew out a frustrated exhale while tucking himself gently back into his pants with a hiss.

"Do you have to go?" you asked, voice soft as you smoothed your dress back into place, feeling too shy to ask him for your panties, "stay with me..." you reached for his chest but he caught your wrist in his hand.

"I can't" his clipped words and signature frown made your heart sink. The soft glimpses of Curtis that managed to sneak past his usual grumpy exterior weren't enough. You wanted more.

"Why did you say that stuff about me?" your snarled, feeling self conscious again and childishly ready to pick a fight.

"What stuff?" he asked, feeding his belt back through the loop in his pants before glaring up at you.

"All that awful stuff... to your... coach?" your voice warbled with emotion.

"Had to get him off your scent" Curtis said matter-of-factly, "my coach isn't a good guy... an' he's involved with a lotta bad shit."

"He's fucking horrible" you confirmed, "but what you said..." you felt tears prickle at the corners of your eyes again, "it was... awful, Curtis" your words became angry and watery.

"I didn't mean it" he went to reach for your arm, but you swatted him away, taking a step back.

"Yeah, right..." you snapped, the panicked feelings of being used making your stomach knot.

"Chickadee... I swear... I had to get you outta there... I had to protect you..." his tone was soft but insistent.

"And how exactly did your dick protect me?" the strangled rage sob bubbled up your throat as Curtis' eyes went wide, "you used me..."

"What?" his brows furrowed under his beanie, before he yanked the cap from his head, running his hands through his short hair, "god, chickadee" his voice broke, "you don't really think that... do you?"

"No" you snapped, "I... I don't know... why did we even do that?” your voice cracked, "I'm so fucking stupid" you snarled to yourself, "you don't even like me" you sniffled, your shoulders rolling in as you made yourself smaller.

"It's not like that, y/n... not with you..." he ran a hand over his beard as your vision went blurry, blinking back tears that were threatening to spill.

"Bullshit" you snapped, "why isn't it like that with me? I've seen the types of girls that come asking for you at the Boys and Girls Club... Why'm I not good enough?" you spat, feeling the bitter taste of jealousy rise up your throat.

"I never said that..." he corrected you, "I... we can't..." he blew out a heavy exhale, frowning at you.

"Well we just did” you snarled, "so what now?"

"Chickadee... this would never work" he tried to reason with you.

"You shoulda thought about that before you put my panties in your back pocket" you snapped, wiping an angry tear from your cheek as you turned, stomping past him and attempting to leave.

When you rounded the corner of the alley back onto the sidewalk you ran straight into a slight man with beady eyes in a leather jacket- the same jackets from the bar and you swear you recognized those beady eyes sneering at you from a corner booth back at Schydes.

You chirped in surprise, taking a step backwards and running into Curtis who had been hot on your heels.

"Little Bobby?... what the fuck are you doing here?" Curtis snarled, gripping your arm as he pulled you back into his chest.

"Stepping into a lover's quarrel apparently" he smirked from you to Curtis, "Mack needs you" Bobby hissed.

"Yeah, I got it... I just gotta take her home" Curtis sniffed, trying to seem indifferent.

"Looks like you were doing a little more than takin' her home" the smirk Bobby gave you made your stomach retch.

"You fucking perv" Curtis growled, sweeping you behind him as he took an intimidating step towards the man.

"Watch yourself, Axe" the smaller man snarled, lifting his jacket to reveal the shiny butt of a handgun tucked in his waistband.

You whined against Curtis' side as he held his hands up in a non threatening manner, letting Bobby know he understood.

"Just lemme take her home, Bobby" Curtis tried to reason with the man, "an' I'll be right back."

"Why don't you let me take her home" Bobby sneered suggestively.

"You're not gonna fucking touch her..." Curtis roared as you clung to his flannel.

"What do ya think the boss will have to say about this?" Bobby's menacing gaze flickered to you, trembling at Curtis' side, "Axe's pretty little bitch from that good school, right? What's that I heard him call you, when you were singing so pretty? Chickadee?

You squeaked, face flushing with embarrassment as you buried your face further into Curtis' side, refusing to acknowledge the man as Curtis' rage burned white hot.

"Fuck off, Bobby..." Curtis snarled, "Ain't nobody there gonna give a shit... I get my work done..."

"Maybe not" Bobby shrugged indifferently, "but I think Sky's gonna care..."

You felt Curtis' entire body tense for only a second before a snarl ripped though his chest and he lunged at the man, knocking him out in one punch. The man tumbled to the ground, out cold.

After Curtis dragged Little Bobby’s unconscious body into the alley you both hurried back to your place, taking a few random turns until Curtis was satisfied that you weren't being followed by anyone else.

"Am I in danger?" you finally had the nerve to ask once your apartment door was locked and double bolted.

"Nah" Curtis brushed it off until his gaze met yours and he blew out a deep sigh, "I don't think so... Couch definitely doesn't like you" he frowned.

"Feeling's mutual" you tutted and Curtis couldn't fight the small smile that tugged at his lips.

"If you could lay low for a few days... that'd be good..." he sighed, running his hand over his beard.

Curtis made his way to the tiny kitchen of your shoebox one bedroom apartment, opening your freezer and finding a freezer burned bag of vegetables in the back. He grabbed the hand towel hanging from your oven and wrapped it around the block of frozen vegetables.

"How's your face?" he asked, concern laced in his frown as he assessed your injury.

You chirped when he place the ice gently against the offending cheek. Hissing when the ice melted the heat still radiating from your skin.

"Lay low?" you asked, "what the hell does that even mean? And what did you get yourself into?" you huffed, "what college hockey player also moonlights as a mobster? I feel like I'm in a bad gangster movie" you babbled as Curtis' lip curled up into a smirk.

"What?" you huffed, not finding any of this amusing.

"My Ma warned me about you..." his laugh was affectionate as he shook his head, smiling at you.

"Warned you about me?" you squeaked, "about me?" your laugh was dry, "she shoulda warned me about you..." you scowled up at him, gasping when he closed the space between you and took your lips by surprise. The makeshift ice pack dropping to the floor with a thunk.

Curtis' expert lips didn't break the kiss as his large calloused hands roamed down your sides, kneading every curve he came across as he walked you backwards, further into your apartment. But just as he was pressing you back into the dimly lit hallway that lead to your bedroom his phone buzzed to life from his pocket.

He didn't break the kiss until he had fished the phone from his pants, looking at the screen briefly before rolling his eyes and answering the call.

"Yeah?" he grunted into the phone, turning and walking back down the hallway as he left you there in the dark.

You hesitated -for a moment- to follow him, unable to make out the person's voice on the other end of the call.

"Who called you?" Curtis insisted. There was a pause as he listened intently.

"No... it was Little Bobby" he snarled the man's name, blowing out a frustrated sigh, "does it matter?" Curtis asked harshly, turning back around and finding you standing behind him in your living room. He frowned as he started pacing the small space.

"No... Sky wasn't there" Curtis swore.

Who was this Sky?

"It doesn't matter..." he insisted with another sigh, "no, it doesn't... I knocked him out, he probably won't even remember it..."

Curtis paused to listen again.

"Nah... that's all you need to know... Mack isn't going to care" he tried to reason, "no" he huffed, "cause... we weren't exactly dancing, Ma..."Curtis blurted.

"Oh, my god... Curtis!" you yipped, burying your face in your hands as you sank to your couch, completely mortified.

The hockey dividers were made by the lovely and talented @firefly-graphics ❤️

As always, thank you for all the love and support. Please check out my archive blog where I only post new fics @drabblewithfrannybarnesfics ❤️

'til the morning comes (6/?)

steve rogers x reader (fluff and angst)

summary: you need to get some air, and see some friends.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of the death of a father, super vague mentions of MCU-typical violence/terrorism

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 7) (series masterlist)

 “Trouble in paradise?” Helen peers above her sunglasses, frowning.

 “What?” As if you hadn’t spent ten minutes inside the hotel bathroom washing your face with cold water, minimizing its puffiness. “No.”

 “I just thought your hot-shit husband would be the one driving you around,” she explains while you buckle your seatbelt. “He seemed really excited to pick you up last night.”

 Back then, you had expected a text to light up your phone at eleven o’clock, followed by excusing yourself from the bar. But Steve actually found you and walked to the rental car. He greeted your friends charmingly, shaking hands and joking about the late hour, but mostly he ushered you out the door to kiss you again. And again and again—

 “We’re not married,” you mutter.

 “Like, really excited.” She elbows your ribs. "Did you have sex?"

 You roll your eyes. “Can I not just wanna see my best friend?”

 Helen removes her sunglasses in time for you to spot her side-eye. “Not when she’s hungover, and late to work.” She exits the roundabout driveway and starts toward the Fairmont. “Honestly, a school night. You’ve changed.”

 At least these drinks celebrated an accomplishment. Once, you went with Joaquín because a student vomited on your favorite patterned dress and her mom had shamed you for failing to nurse her precious daughter back to health. Still, Helen’s chastisement—no matter how lighthearted—makes you squirm. “I missed you,” you tell her, “Doesn’t that count for something?”

 She checks her mirrors. “How was your art thing?”

 You haven’t given her an update yet. Your friend group had agreed to a No Work Talk policy on nights out. Though, the art festival never felt like work—so unlike the long days you spent prancing around Steve’s office, providing help where it probably wasn’t strictly needed. The event meant something to you. And to Steve, who apparently hid his creative talents from you.

 Paling in comparison to what you hid from him.

 “It was fun,” you say honestly. “It was… everything.”

 Helen gives you a sidelong look. “You don’t sound enthused.”

 You cross your arms. The festival should spark a dozen happy memories: a triumphant return to the elementary school you loved, to doing what you do best. Plus, a definite win for the campaign, the entire night brimming with your favorite people.

 Maybe twenty year’s time will allow you to forget all the bad that happened after. “I wish I could stay longer.”

 “Shut up,” Helen laughs. “I’ve never seen you so happy.”

 Your face warms, because No Work Talk inevitably meant Steve Talk. Your futile attempts to discuss Joaquín’s abrupt switch to kindergarten or Helen’s new roommate or Dane and Sersi’s next vacation all failed to overshadow the rapid questions regarding your fiancé.

 You answered them like a lovesick schoolgirl, the corners of your lips lifting as you pictured him, especially his slightly mussed hair when you reluctantly left the heat of your first real kiss.

 Now, thoughts of Steve turn sour. Nails scraped across his scalp out of frustration rather than passion. His height towering over you. The room filled with his anger, floor to ceiling.

 He made you feel small. Maybe you are, or maybe you should be.

 “It was fun while it lasted.”

 Helen interprets your shift in tone as your mind shifting to Shangqi, and the spirit inside her car lessens. Jerking a thumb toward the backseat, she explains, “I have two things of pajeon. One for him, one for Xialing.”

 You squint at the truly giant containers, crammed with steamed-up food and strapped into each seat. “You cooked?”

 Helen huffs, pulling into the Fairmont’s driveway. “Well, I bought it and then lovingly transferred it to a different container, creating the illusion that I can cook.”

 Apparently, no amount of misery can ever overpower Helen making you laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” You gently dismiss the valet driver as you unbuckle the comfort food.

 Helen doesn’t return your smile, mocking seriousness. “You realize how much takeout I eat now that you’re gone?”

 “Thanks for the ride.” You haphazardly balance the Tupperware against your torso while shutting the door. “Y'know, I can send you my recipes.”

 “Too much work.”

 “For one of the smartest people I know, you’re awful at following directions.”

 “Hey.” Helen stretches across the console. “Double checking. You sure you’re okay?”

 She needs to get to her lab. “Yeah,” you lie. “Love you.”

 “Love you.”

 You weave effortlessly through the bustle inside the Fairmont. Enough red-vested employees give you vague nods of recognition that you sneak inside the staff break room without arousing too much suspicion. There, you find Shangqi poking a vending machine, his crisp white sleeves folded to his elbows.

 “Hi,” you whisper. Then, you realize the room is empty.

 He tilts his head affectionately, flipping his soda can. “Hey, Mrs. President.”

 You wrinkle your nose, bashful at the stupid nickname. “Um…” You shove the pajeon toward him. “Helen sends her love to you and Xialing.”

 Shangqi hums. Then, he lifts the plastic from your hands, stifling any of your weak objections with a tight embrace. You shove your nose into the scratchy material of his uniform, which smells like the inside of a new car mixed with crisp laundry detergent. Reminiscent of home—or what home used to be. You mold yourself to his solid, secure body.

 You’re already sniffling. “Why didn’t you take the day off?”

 He sits at a small round table, cracking open his soda and poking the giant mass of food now in his possession. “Already, with the patronizing.”

 You fold your arms. “Sorry. I know.”

 “Maybe parking cars helps me process my emotions," he chuckles, while motioning you to grab a chair. “The lack of tips is a metaphor for my grief.”

 You place a hand over his, letting one finger trace the bumps along his scarred knuckles. “Shangqi,” you start again, “I’m really sorry.”

 He drinks his soda, his mouth forming a thin line. “It was unexpected but… bound to happen.”

 Thankfully, no foul play. His father passed in his sleep, an oddly peaceful death for such a violent person.

 Although, that side of Wenwu never revealed itself to you. Shangqi and Xialing openly disdained him, and although their tension thickened the air of his cold home, you mostly remembered an old, kind man who made you tea and inquired about your career.

 A nice girl, Shangqi relayed to you later, lightly mimicking his father’s accent.

 The nicest, you replied smugly.

 “Is there anything I can do to help?” You feel stupid asking the question, especially with the hours counting down before your flight back to New York.

 His smile returns, barely detectable, and he interlocks your fingers briefly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

 “Bothering you during your lunch break?” you tease, but your grimace keeps the mood dampened.

 He smacks the plastic lid. “I get to eat scallion pancakes for the next two weeks, thanks to you.”

 “Are you sure you’re okay?” Asking a second time usually earns you a real answer.

 Shangqi softens at your concern. “I don’t know. It’s my dad.”

 “He was intense,” you agree.

 “Not exactly the most healthy relationship I’ve ever had.”

 You bite the inside of your lip. The crack in his voice transports you back to the nights you spent at his place, the rare ones when he opened up about Wenwu. Even underneath the cover of darkness, you struggled to look Shangqi in the eye as he talked through the trauma of living under the Ten Rings’ oppressive shadow. A past he rejected without hesitation, favoring a cramped studio apartment and a low-paying job heavy with entitled customers. Something simple and uncomplicated, far from family.

 Still, you listened, both to his stories and to his heart beating steadily against your cheek, pretending—mostly for your own sanity—that throwing a leg over him and tracing patterns on his chest could protect him from the worst of it, and lull him into a sleep where thunderous nightmares wouldn't jerk him awake.

 “You’re the only one of my girlfriends to meet him.” He clears his throat, eyes going glassy at the realization. “Actually, you’ll be the only one to ever meet him.”

 “Well, I’m lucky then.”

 “You don’t have to lie,” he says bitterly. “He did some terrible things.”

 Six months into your relationship, you accepted Shangqi’s first—and extremely hesitant—dinner invitation to meet his father.

 You owed him. While your personal challenges could never eclipse his, he supported you, through frazzled weekend lesson-planning and long nights. Shangqi drove you to half a dozen art stores to find the best deal, kissed your shoulder when you cried, offered to beat up your administration when you texted him about losing your job.

 No, you didn’t owe him; it wasn’t an obligation. Rather, a privilege. To have a little bit of his pain be yours.

 “That doesn’t change the fact that he’s your father, and a part of who you are.” You nod decisively. “I got to be a part of that.”

 He sighs, a brief and shaky thing. “Thanks.”

 “But I…” You wipe away a tear. “I can’t go to the funeral.”

 “That’s alright. You’re busy.”

 The quickness of that response makes you wince. “I’m sorry, I tried, but I’m not—”

 “Hey." Shangqi takes your hand again. “S’okay.”

 “I should have answered my phone last night,” you choke out.

 “I didn’t even think you were in the city.” He shrugs. “Honestly, I kinda expected you to be asleep on the east coast.”

 You scoff. You would have preferred that. Instead, guilt calcifies inside your stomach.

 Mere months ago, you wouldn’t have so idly dismissed his name flashing on your screen. He seldom called you—never twice in a row. But you were too distracted by your friends, the drinks you shared with them, the prospect of spending the rest of that night with Steve. While you and Shanqi ended on good terms and you’d never purposely ignore him, maybe deep down you rebuffed even the possibility of something sidetracking your perfect night.

 Fucking selfish.

 “I just wanted to hear your voice,” he confesses. “I didn’t expect any more from you.”

 You shake your head, refusing his conjured-up excuses for your behavior. “I should have called back. I would’ve wanted to be there for you.”

 “You’re here now,” he urges. “Even if you are taking up my lunch break.”

 With a cheeky wink, Shangqi grabs a plate and two forks from the miniature kitchen counter. He cracks open the top container, carefully transferring a pancake and cutting it in half.

 The moment strikes you as alarmingly familiar: yet another one of the hundred meals you’ve shared, yet another time you’ve arrived with food to break up the monotony of his day. In fact, you could both name the exact Korean place where Helen got these pancakes. And if you thought about it, you could probably recite Shangqi’s regular order back to him.

 Earlier today, as you pushed through the hotel doors, the muffled yet cheery beat of Helen’s favorite pop music reached your ears, immediately relieving the burns in your heart after leaving your fiancé speechless on the hotel room floor.

 You suck in a deep breath. It’s been so long since you’ve felt at ease, among friends, your love mutual and long-lasting.

 It’ll never be this way with Steve. The realization crushes you a little.

 “I have to ask about your new guy,” Shangqi remark, offering you a sip of his drink.

 “No, you really don’t,” you mumble.

 “That happened quickly.”

 “Only because—” He wouldn’t believe the truth, if you could tell him. And if he did believe you, he’d pity you. “We should talk about you and your dad.”

 “C’mon.” He leans backward, satisfied with how flustered you seem. “Take my mind off things. Are you with him ‘cause of his money and looks? Be honest.”

 “No, Steve, he’s…”

 “He’s rich and attractive,” Shangqi supplies.

 “He’s… good to me.”

 Most of the time.

 “A very glowing review,” he says, every word drawn out in suspicion. “Not surprised though, I’d trust a politician as far as I can throw him.”

 You laugh. Steve is kinda strong, but Shangqi has mastered, like, every martial art under the sun. It wouldn’t even be a fair match. “You could throw him pretty far, I think.”

 “Not far enough.”

 You can’t finish your food with the funny feeling sloshing inside your gut. “He’s different, sometimes.”

 “Sometimes,” Shangqi repeats sadly. There’s the pity.

 “He won’t let me go to the funeral.”

 “Won’t let you?” Shangqi leans forward, his strong forearms bracing the table, the pale scars on his knuckles flexing.

 You hate this subtle macho display just like you hated Steve’s yelling. It’s not cute, this overprotectiveness, and you wish they would think to comfort you instead. “Most people don’t know, right?” you ask, deflecting. “That your dad was behind all that stuff. They've just heard of the Mandarin.”

 After a pause, he nods gravely, sitting back in his chair. “When it comes to Wenwu, most people just see a very rich and powerful man, with two kids who hated him.” His jaw ticks. “But most people doesn’t mean all people.”

 You wring your hands. “You’re right.”

 “I think your senator made the right call.” You catch the derogatory tone on Steve’s title, yet he doesn’t apply it to yours: “Future First Ladies of the United States shouldn’t be seen at a crime lord’s funeral, no matter how innocent it may seem.”

 You push your half-eaten pajeon toward him. “Yeah.”

 “I’m not voting for him though. Seems like an asshole.”

 A laugh, a real one. “That’s okay.”

 Win or lose, you don’t care. You just wanna get through this, whatever it takes.

 “Is this what you want, with him?”

 You blink. “Is it okay to say that I don’t know?”

 “You don’t have to ask if it’s okay.” Shangqi considers you for a long moment before picking at your food. “Whatever happens, you can always come home.”

— — —

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