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izzy-b-hands · 1 year

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I played Bleeding Out tonight, so naturally I’m having Boss/Gat/Aisha thoughts and wound up writing another ‘Eesh has died, but Johnny is out of the hospital now and back home with Boss, and no one is equipped for this emotional upheaval but it’s here all the same’ thing.

Using one of my more recent Bosses, Ellis. If you’ve happened upon any of my SR stuff from the past year or so, you’ve probably read something with him in it already kladsfldjsa

---

“Thought we weren’t doing rings,” Ellis remarks, silver band in hand.

“Yeah,” Johnny mutters. “Well. I bought us rings. Wear it or don’t.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Johnny won’t look at him, and the third ring sits between them on the coffee table.

“Gonna give it to the funeral home?”

“Not sure yet. She didn’t get to wear it, so what would be the point in keeping it to wear myself, right?” Johnny asks. A hand worries at the bandages under his shirt.

“Don’t fuck with that.”

“It itches,” Johnny grumps. “I survived being fucking vivisected damn near, if I want to itch the fucking thing-”

“I don’t want you in the hospital again,” Ellis interrupts as gently as he can. “That’s all I meant.”

“Do you think she’d want it?”

“To be put on her in the coffin?”

“At all,” Johnny’s eyes are stuck to the ring.

“You know she would have said yes. You’d talked about it, and we’d worked out how it would work with me-”

“Should have just gotten two.”

“Would it help if I do it?” Ellis asks. “You tell me if you want it at the funeral home, and I’ll take it there. If you want a chain for it so you can wear it like that, we’ll do that.”

He doesn’t expect Johnny to move and join him on the couch, or to lay down and set his head in his lap.

But he plays with Johnny’s hair, and rubs his back. “Take the night and think on it. They said we could bring anything we wanted to go in it damn near up until the burial itself.”

“Think they could put me in there?”

“Don’t fucking say that.”

“You blame me for wanting it?”

“No. Just don’t like hearing it, since I damn near had to bury you with this,” Ellis replies, hand lingering down lower, at the bump of the bandages under Johnny’s shirt.

“Nah.”

“Yeah, I fucking did,” Ellis insists. “You didn’t have to sit there and watch yourself nearly bleed out while that fucking asshole-”

“Trent did his best,” Johnny sits up slowly and wraps an arm around him. “His route, I’m told was-”

“Bad. He’s banned from driving right now, as a result,” Ellis sighs. “Because who the fuck thinks, ‘oh, we need the hospital immediately, but we’re being followed by rival gang members, let’s fucking do a jump from the road to the roof of a building below it, and-”

“I’m okay,” Johnny interrupts. “I’m breathing. He did fine.”

“Any room in that coffin for me too?”

“We’ll have to ask. Eesh would be pissed though.”

“At having to share, or us giving up?”

“Maybe a little bit of both,” Johnny muses. “It’s not a big coffin, so maybe the sharing. That’s why she had us buy that new mattress-”

“Because we either replace it with a bigger one, or Ellis is gonna keep falling out of bed,” Ellis quotes. “She was right. It is really nice, not falling out of the bed because it’s too small. Kind of too big now, isn’t it?”

Johnny peers around the house, and his voice catches in his throat. “Would you hate it if we went to your place near the hideout, maybe?”

“No,” Ellis will never say it aloud to Johnny, but every day and night they’ve spent in Aisha’s place, what had been their place, all three of them...

He sees it. Over and fucking over again.

The chair she was tied to and her body limp in it, and the blood on the walls, and the flowers cut and tossed to the floor, and her head-

“Boss?”

“Should we call Pierce or Shaundi to come get us?” Ellis asks.

“I don’t think I can handle any questions,” Johnny says. “If Carlos was still here-”

“He’d pick us up and not say a single fucking word if we asked him not to,” Ellis gives up and buries his face into Johnny’s neck. “I don’t wanna undo all the work we’ve done. But if I could have two things, just two-”

“I know. We don’t get that though. But we can get revenge.”

“Maybe some sleep first?”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Johnny chuckles, but there’s a bitter note in it. “Have you been sleeping at all?”

“You know I haven’t. I keep coming down here at night,” Ellis murmurs against Johnny’s skin, just loud enough to be audible. “Because it feels like she’ll be down here. And I’ll untie her, and she’ll shout at us for fucking up, and then she’ll come upstairs to bed.”

They wind up taking the train, where they stay until the sun rises, sleeping as the cars follow their endless loop around the city.

#text post #long post #not to be overly emotional abt video games but yes I do get teary eyed and or cry every time I watch Aisha die bc like. plot wise I get why #but from a I love her and wish she could have been in every single game somehow point of view like. why #I know the deaths are a part of johnny and boss paying for their hubris and rash decision making and shit but fuck man #they don't show that much but that's even worse it's fucking brutal and when you play the game more than once you Know when it's coming #but it still fucking rips my heart out of my chest and I hurt for Johnny so much #ddk fucking. nails that dialogue as the shitty Saint npc drives to the hospital and he didn't have to Do That but he did and it's so good #but it tears me apart bc he keeps telling her how sorry he is and that he's coming and he's dying but his only thought is Eesh #I'm done and maybe I should pop the game back open since I'm not that tired anyway rn lmao

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g4rous · 3 years

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Sunlit memories (Garou x Reader)

tags: slight mentions of blood, no warnings really

words: 1.5 k

notes: this one is slightly longer than the two before bc I had to put in a lot of stuff here lol but anyways aa here it is finally! Tried making it a bit lighthearted <3

series masterlist

previous chapter

Chapter three

After lazily opening your eyes, pain spread through your head. The blackness from your vision cleared away, leaving a fog in your mind and the painful sensation was the first thing you could register before you felt the cold brick wall you were leaning on.

What just happened? Trying to recall how you got in that position, your eyes trailed to the opposite wall, now realizing you didn’t even remember being in this alley in the first place.

“Yo, you’re awake.”

Looking over at a few large wooden crates, your focus now shifted to the silver-haired teen sitting on top of them. You didn’t even make out a response upon witnessing the injuries behind his torn, black shirt. The puzzle was coming together.

Last sight you remember before going unconscious were the heroes from that mini-market fighting the same person right in front of you now. For a moment you almost thought you were being delirious, yet those wounds only proved your suspicions. Was he the self-proclaimed “Hero Hunter” everyone has been wild about recently?

“So…” he looked at you with an awkward expression, “ you gonna go now or?”

Slightly flinching as you snapped back to reality, now you were left completely perplexed on what to do. On one hand the realization made you feel quite uneasy, but on the other you were safe for some reason, despite getting caught up in the ruckus from before.

“What happened to those guys earlier..?”

“Oh, their bodies are probably still lying face down right around the corner,” he grinned, “if no one found them already, that is.”

However after picking up your distraught expression that boastful tone faded in an instant.

“Hey, hey they’re not dead, jeez quit freaking out.”

You only frowned after giving him a small glare. Your head still ached, although not as strong from a few minutes ago. How long have you been out? Judging by the still-sunset sky it shouldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, much to your relief. The street was still deserted and silent as well.

“Well, thanks for saving my skin back there I guess…” you looked over at his injuries, staggering for a moment after standing up.

“However, you should definitely get those injuries checked out. I think I saw a hospital or something around here somewhere.”

A few seconds passed as he looked at you with a blank stare.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Dude you’re literally bleeding all over.”

“I said I’m fine!-“, he exclaimed only to flinch in pain. “-why are you so worried anyways? Just go home.”

“Talk about stubborn,” you thought to yourself.

Though, on second thought you do see a good reason why he shouldn’t. It’s almost as if you had forgotten that you witnessed him straight up thrash some A-classes. That and all the other questions that piled up still haven’t left your mind, but be as it may now wasn’t the time for overthinking. People must be pursuing him everywhere now, huh?

You leaned against the wall, still contemplating the situation. Water droplets from the roof were the only thing breaking the silence as you both stood there quiet. That is, until you got an idea.

“I don’t plan on talking you into it anymore…” you spoke with a tinge of nervousness, “but I do have some bandages at home. It’ll just be ten minutes until we get there, I give you them and you can leave. I don’t think sitting on those crates until you bleed out is really practical.”

The teen almost reflexively wanted to protest but not a single sentence came out. He really couldn’t think of anything that made your idea sound regrettable, and as much as he hated to admit it he wasn’t in the best shape. You on the other hand felt almost obligated to help him out. Putting aside that shocking realization from earlier, he did watch over you after you got KO’d.

After finally jumping off the crates, he shrugged and put both hands in his pockets.

“Eh, sure.”

You gave a relieved smile before taking a look at the still empty street you were both heading for. The sky turned into shades of amaranthine and bit by bit street lights began illuminating the path. The streets nearing your house weren’t as deserted as the one you woke up in, and occasionally you had to move to a more hidden route. Fortunately you’ve been greeted by your neighborhood cat soon after, indicating the destination- your safe home.

“I don’t think you told me your real name yet, if I may know? I’m y/n by the way.”

“It’s Garou,” he responded after looking around, almost hesitantly.

“So… Why were you doing that today?” you spoke as you reached out for your keys.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Dunno, you don’t see someone beating up heroes every day.”

Taking a quick glance around your surroundings, you opened the door at last.

“You sure like answering questions with a question, huh?” you gave a tired smile, “ah, I won’t force out any answers from you I guess.”

The lights in the hallway were already open, illuminating the other rooms, some half empty. After all you still had some work to do in the house. Making your way to your room, the bag of trash next to the wall caught your attention briefly. You couldn’t remember the reason you left off in such a hurry, not even throwing it away.

“Well, come in!” you shouted from the other room, “just don’t get any blood on the carpet please.”

But much to your amusement the on-the-outside intimidating man just stood there with a blank expression ever since you stepped into the apartment. You weren’t sure was it politeness or just plain awkwardness but it made you cackle internally.

Even so, after your call he cautiously stepped out to the living room, actually being careful not to dirty the carpet as you told. The room was pleasingly decorated, and even if he didn’t know you it simply radiated with your energy. It was oddly comfortable.

And as you finally stepped out of your room with that first-aid kit, a ring on your doorbell caught you both by surprise. You almost asked yourself whether that’s a hero in front of the door, before your memory got jogged again.

“Well shit.”

You gestured an already alert and intense Garou to step away from the door, to which he only raised an eyebrow.

“Ah…” you whispered, looking over to the side, “I kinda forgot I called a friend over.”

“You remembered just now!?”

“I was knocked out!” you complained, much to his discontent.

What were you supposed to do now? You thought to yourself as your eyes trailed from the door to the teen. The doorbell rang once again as to make the atmosphere grow even more unsteady.

“Guess we have to improvise…”

“You’re joking right?”

“If she saw a beat-up guy jumping out my window I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

He only rolled his eyes as you went to the door to finally greet your friend, adjusting your shirt along the way.

Frankly, you felt somewhat guilty for roping him in, all bloody and bruised to socialize with your rather concerned friend. Well, who wouldn’t get a little suspicious to see a strange man in their friend’s living room. To make things even more awkward he hadn’t said more than two sentences in the past hour, not that it’s surprising.

“So-,” your friend smiled, desperately trying not to glare at the man��s injuries, “- how did you two become friends?”

“Ah, it’s from that monster incident I told you about earlier,” you smiled back.

“So that’s why he’s so bruised,” she glanced over at him sympathetically, to which he only glared at you deadpan.

“Nothing special.” He spoke in a bluntly before yawning.

“Oh, how come?”

“He delivers stuff!” you exclaimed before any other thoughts came to mind, “sometimes he comes across them there too unfortunately. Poor guy.”

As if his deadpan look couldn’t get any drier.

It was crystal clear he hates being pitied, and you desperately tried not to let out a chuckle because of the ridiculous situation. Truthfully you weren’t even nervous anymore since you let out so many laughs. And your constant teasing only made him talkative since he just had to drop something even more embarrassing for payback, making the evening even more amusing. You didn’t even notice the clock struck midnight already from all the banter.

After saying farewell to your friend, you came back to your living room to see Garou already at the window.

“Looks like you really don’t wanna use the door today huh? Well, way better now than having to explain why some bloody dude jumped out my window earlier,” you grinned, to which he scoffed.

“Pfft, yeah, yeah. Don’t drag me into any more of these things though.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Well, it better not happen anymore,” he rolled his eyes before flashing a small grin.

“See ya.”

You only gave your small wave before finally closing the window. The apartment was now rather serene, contrasting all the playfulness from earlier. Yet still you couldn’t help but notice that smile caught you by surprise. Nothing like that cocky smirk in battle- this was genuine.

#feel free to tell me your thoughts 💕#garou #garou x reader #one punch man #opm #opm x reader #one punch man x reader #garou headcanons #garou x y/n #opm fanfic #garo

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

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3rd life, Tango and Impulse are the last two standing?

this was the first 3rd Life request i received and oh boy have i wanted to work on it for so long. apologies for the older ones i havent touched yet; i’m getting to them! i’m just in more of a 3rd Life mood atm :)

...

Etho drowned

Impulse stares at the death message on his communicator with wide eyes. “Oh my gosh,” he whispers hoarsely. “He did it… Tango got him…”

He checks the tab list. Etho is gone. Only two red names stare back at him: his own and Tango’s. The endgame he’s been avoiding for weeks is finally here.

Impulse continues trading with his villagers, though there doesn’t seem to be much point anymore. Tango is undoubtedly on his way here right now, and he’ll probably want to end things right here and now. There’s only two people left, both on red. One more death will end the game, no matter who dies.

He finds himself hoping that Tango will fall into a ravine or get exploded by a creeper before he even makes it here. But he knows it won’t happen. There’s only two ways this could end, and neither of them are very appealing to him.

All too soon, he hears the familiar voice of his best friend call his name. Wincing briefly, he turns and finds Tango standing in the entrance to his villager trading hall. “Hi, Tango.”

“You saw in chat, right?” Tango’s red eyes are glowing bright, as is the red heart on his neck. “I got him. My trap worked!”

Impulse nods. “I saw. Heck of a way to kill your close friend.”

“Yeah, well, he would’ve killed me with no hesitation, so I did what I had to do to survive.”

“You’ve done a lot of things like that,” Impulse remarks carefully. “Remind me again who you’ve killed?”

“Grian, Bdubs, Scott, Jimmy, Ren, and now Etho,” says Tango gleefully. “Etho’s my first red lifer, though. Gotta say, there’s a hell of a rush in taking someone’s last life and knowing they won’t be able to come back and confront you.”

Impulse slowly shakes his head. “That’s a really… cold thing to say. Remember, we don’t know exactly what happens when we lose our last life. It’s likely we just appear back on our normal servers, but Grian said he didn’t even know that for certain.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tango rolls his eyes. “Whatcha up to?”

“Getting some books to enchant my stuff so you’ll have a harder time killing me,” Impulse wants to say. Instead, he opts for the safe answer and says, “Just some trading. You… want some emeralds?”

“Nah, I don’t need to trade right now.”

The two fall silent for a moment.

“So I guess we should address the elephant in the room,” says Impulse slowly. “We’re the only ones left. The last two standing.”

“Uh huh.” Tango’s eyes are still worryingly sparkling red. “We are. And don’t think I’m stupid, Impy. I know about the traps you put around your base. Plus the ones in Renchanting and the desert.”

“I didn’t put those there.”

“Whatever. Point is: I know where all the traps are. So don’t think you’re gonna get the drop on me. And when it comes to PvP, I’m stronger.”

“Are you trying to tell me to just lay down and accept my death?” Impulse demands.

“Hell no. Don’t do that! That’d be the worst way to end this whole thing.” Tango pauses a moment. “Who’ve you killed, again?”

“I… I killed Joel and Cleo.”

“And?” prompts Tango pointedly.

Impulse winces. “And… you. I took your second life.”

“Yes, yes you did. And I’m not gonna let you take another.”

“I don’t want to do that, Tango. I may be a red lifer but I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“Too bad,” Tango says coldly. “This is the moment I’ve been waiting months and months for. Two people left. I’ve done too much and fought too hard to delay my victory any longer. Come to the village with your best armour and your best sword, and if you’re not there in five minutes, I’ll hunt you down and kill you without mercy. Got it?”

Impulse can hardly hold back a shiver at the viciousness in his best friend’s voice. “G-Got it.”

“Good.”

Impulse watches Tango leave, before letting out a deep breath. He can’t deny he’s terrified; this is the final confrontation. Either he or Tango won’t make it out alive. And he has a suspicion as to which one will lose their last life first. As blunt as Tango had been, he’s right. Tango knows where all the traps are, he’s better at PvP than Impulse, and he has the fortune to have known Impulse long enough to be able to reliably anticipate any tricks he could come up with.

Impulse hardly stands a chance.

After assembling his best armour under the circumstances, Impulse takes his enchanted diamond sword and heads out into the village. He can already see Tango sitting atop one of the houses, legs dangling over the side. Tango’s armour is iron but enchanted, whereas Impulse’s is diamond and unenchanted. He doesn’t know which will be better in this scenario but he’s leaning towards the enchanted armour.

Tango spots him approaching and jumps down from the house, swinging his own enchanted diamond sword. “Sorry it has to be this way, Impulse. I hope you know that however this finishes, you’ll always be my best friend.”

Somehow, I don’t think you’ll be very happy with me if I’m the one who somehow wins after all this, Impulse thinks.

Aloud, he says, “I’m sorry too.”

A brief pause follows his words.

Then Tango charges forward and the fight begins.

Impulse blocks Tango’s first two blows, but the third glances off his armour. This completely throws him off and Tango lands a few more hits on his armour.

Losing his nerve, Impulse scrambles backwards and takes off running, hoping to give himself time to think of something.

“Hey!” Tango yells. “What are you doing?! Get back here!”

Impulse sprints as fast as he can towards Bdubs and Cleo’s abandoned castle. Without slowing, he jumps on the ruined planks of the drawbridge and makes it across to the other side. When he dares to look back, he notices Tango skidding to a halt on the other side of the moat.

Impulse involuntarily nods to himself. Tango hates parkour, even simple ones.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Impulse turns and spots Tango halfway across the bridge, jumping steadily from one plank to another. Panicking, Impulse jumps on the pressure plate in the centre of the room, before bolting for the stairs.

Tango has just reached the entrance when he hears the telltale hissing noise and he curses. He doesn’t have enough time to follow Impulse to the stairs and he knows it, so all he can do is dive back across the drawbridge.

The TNT goes off a second later, sending Tango flying onto the bank. It’s been placed in such a strategic way that it only destroys the lower floor; the second floor, which Impulse has managed to reach, is entirely untouched.

He grabs a spare bow and some arrows, and fires a few out the slit window at Tango, who is struck in the leg by one and has to retreat to avoid getting hit by the others.

Impulse takes a deep breath. This is a good position; he has the high ground, as it were. He has the advantage right now.

Unfortunately, that advantage becomes a lot less palpable when he realises his meagre arrow stock has run out.

Through the split window, he spots Tango running back across over the drawbridge, clearly realising that Impulse is out of ammunition. His leg is bleeding from where he’s pulled the arrow out but he doesn’t seem to care right now.

Impulse rushes for the second set of stairs and bursts out onto the top of the castle. Over the ramparts, he can see the long abandoned village he used to call home and he’s briefly gripped with a deep sense of sadness and nostalgia.

A few seconds later, he hears footsteps behind him and whirls round to find Tango charging towards him. With only a split second warning, Impulse ducks under his outstretched arm and rushes for the stairs again, but Tango sweeps his legs out from under him. Impulse lets out a cry of pain as he lands heavily on his wrist.

“NO!” Tango yells, standing over him with his sword, forcing him to roll over and look him in the eye. “You’re not running away again! I’ve waited TOO long for this; now fight me!”

Impulse responds by kicking Tango hard in his already injured leg, before rolling to his feet and taking advantage of Tango’s distracted state to shove him away.

Tango stumbles back, his mind fuzzy from the pain. His diamond sword dangles in his grasp. His chest heaves as he gasps for breath.

“Tango…” Impulse straightens up, a sympathetic look on his face. “Please. We don’t have to resolve it this way. Let’s just live together in this world until one of us dies naturally. There’s no reason for us to murder each other just to win this stupid game.”

“No,” growls Tango softly. “You’ve no idea what I’ve sacrificed to get here. If somehow we do go back to Hermitcraft after we die in this goddamn world, do you think anyone’s still gonna wanna be friends with me?”

“Then why burn all your bridges like that?” Impulse demands. “3rd Life is temporary but we’ll be on Hermitcraft for decades to come. Why throw it all away?”

“Y-You don’t understand. I have to win this. Th-There’s no other way to end this.”

Impulse carefully steps towards his best friend. “Tango. Plea-.”

“I SAID NO!”

Tango charges at Impulse, who intercepts him and throws him away from him.

What he hasn’t noticed is how close he is to the edge of the parapet.

Tango manages to catch Impulse’s wrist, pulling him to the ground, but the shock of the landing releases Tango’s grip on him.

Impulse gasps as he realises that his friend has disappeared over the side of the parapet. He hardly dares look, but his communicator going off only confirms what he already knows to be true.

Tango fell from a high place.

Tango is gone.

Impulse has won.

He struggles to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in his arm. It’s over. It’s really over.

After all this time, all these deaths, he’s the last one standing. The “winner”, if you could even call him that. He’s done so much to survive: things he’s ashamed of, things that will stay with him for the rest of his life. The things he’s witnessed will also haunt him; the deaths of everyone around him, including his best friends, as he’s unable to do anything about it.

After what feels like hours, he discards his armour and steps up onto the parapet, the breeze ruffling his t-shirt and shorts. At the bottom, he can almost picture Tango’s body, broken on the hard ground below him. He doesn’t know if his death will take him back to Hermitcraft, back to Tango, but anything is better than staying here alone in this world, void of happiness and life.

“I’m coming home, Tango,” he murmurs.

With that, he lets himself fall.

#3rdlifesmp #3rd life smp #impulsesv #tangotek #vaunna’s requests

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takeyourpillsbitchh · 3 years

Note

Carlos cow eyes

Since there wasn’t much context here, I guess I’ll just go with the flow and incorporate those soulful, big, brown eyes into this angsty, hurt/comfort fic that no one asked for 🥰

Also no one asked me to post this at midnight but I can’t sleep so why not 💁🏻‍♀️

⚠️TW: use of the f-slur in regard to a character explaining how it was used as an insult towards them.

It was late by the time TK was unlocking the front door and walking into his and Carlos' shared house. His whole body was sore, he was tired and all he wanted to do was shower, eat something and go pass out in bed. It had been an excruciatingly long day, but he knew the night was far from over.

Stepping into the house, TK sighed, instantly feeling so much relief at just being in their home. Turning back to lock the door, TK rested his head on the cool wood and slid his duffle bag off his shoulder.

"TK?" Carlos called. TK could hear him walk towards the entryway, tensing up and not looking forward to the conversation they were going to have to have tonight. "Hey, my love, are you okay?"

TK said nothing as he turned around, keeping his head hung low, moving to mold his body against Carlos'—strong arms enveloping him in warmth and comfort. Carlos stood there with him for a moment, rubbing his back, kissing his head, and just holding him. After a moment, though, Carlos pulled back, reaching up to caress TK's cheeks.

Brown eyes met blue—soft and sweet until realization filled those brown eyes and his sweet smile melted into a frown.

"Baby, what happened—"

"Can I please go take a shower before we talk?" TK pleaded, leaning into Carlos' touch.

"Of course," Carlos nodded, leaning in to press his lips to TK's forehead. "Want me to heat up dinner?"

"Please." He nodded, pulling away gently. TK made his way toward's their bedroom, stripping down once he reached the joined bathroom and winced at his reflection in the mirror.

His face was a lot more bruised than he originally thought. The bandage on his forehead was spotted with blood, the split on his lip was bleeding again, and his torso was littered with purpling bruises. Stepping into the shower, he switched on the water, sighing when the warm water soothed over his sore skin.

He wasn't sure how long he actually stood there, eyes closed, just letting his body relax as steam built up and surrounded him. Eventually, he built up the strength to wash himself, being extra careful with his forehead when washing his hair.

Getting out of the shower, he dressed in a pair of Carlos' sweats that hung low on his hips and a tank top. Walking out into the bedroom, he smiled softly when he noticed his uniform had been picked up off the floor, his phone had been plugged in and their bedding had already been pulled back.

He made his way back to the kitchen, assuming he hadn't been gone as long as he thought, considering the plate on the counter still had a bit of steam coming off of it.

"I didn't know how hungry you'd be, so I just warmed you up a bit of everything," Carlos spoke gently, setting a glass of ice water next to the plate that held baked chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and asparagus.

"Thank you," He breathed softly, kissing Carlos when he walked around the island and grabbed TK's face.

"Eat up and then we'll go to bed, okay?"

"Okay." TK nodded, leaning in to press another kiss to Carlos' lips before sliding onto the barstool, humming to himself as he took a bite of chicken. "Thank you, it's really good." TK offered a small smile to his boyfriend.

They continued like that, Carlos moving about the kitchen, cleaning up silently while TK ate. He was nearly done when he glanced up to see where Carlos was and realized he was watching him—big brown eyes all lovey and concerned and worried.

"You're doing the thing." He said around the bite of food he had just put in his mouth.

"What thing?" Carlos asked, perfect eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"You're giving me the Carlos cow eyes," TK answered, looking at Carlos pointedly before shoving another fork full of food into his mouth.

Carlos pressed his lips together and let a sigh out through his nose before walking over and leaning across the counter to take TK's empty plate before intertwining their hands together.

"I just wanna make sure you're okay, babe," he said, rubbing his thumb over TK's bruised knuckles.

"I'm fine," TK answered just as softly.

"Wanna talk about it?" Carlos asked, wanting nothing more than to just know what happened to his lover.

TK tilted his head in a motion to tell Carlos to come around the counter, letting Carlos turn his stool and step between his thighs. Big, warm hands splayed over his thighs as Carlos leaned in to press a kiss to his neck. TK leaned into the kiss, relaxing from just being so close to him.

"So, tell me." Carlos prompted, pulling back to look at Carlos, his insides twisting at the bruising on TK's face that already seem to look darker from when he first got home.

"Well, today had been a pretty busy day. Just call after call after call. We were all tired and stressed and just ready to go home. It was like fifteen minutes before our shit was supposed to end when we got a call about a fire and needing backup. So we get there and there is already another crew there so of course, dad goes to find their captain so we can get our orders on what to do," TK explained, his fingers finding the hem of Carlos' t-shirt and playing with it absently, letting them dip under to graze alone smooth caramel skin.

"Anyway, everything was fine you know, but the other captain kinda gave dad the go head to run the call and I guess his crew wasn't very happy about that and got mouthy with dad, saying he wasn't his captain so he didn't have to listen to him and threw it in his face that since he has cancer, he shouldn't even be there." Carlos' mouth dropped open at that and TK nodded in a yeah, I know kind of way.

"So, I stepped in and just told him to back off. We were all there for the same reason and that arguing wouldn't do any good for anyone," TK continued, taking a deep breath and glancing at Carlos, "Then he proceeded to say that if he wasn't gonna listen to a half-ass captain with cancer, he sure as hell wasn't gonna listen to his pussy ass f*ggot son either." TK saw the anger that flashed in Carlos' eyes at that and ran his hand up to Carlos' chest soothingly. "I know that pissed me off, too. And I retorted and I guess it was enough to push him over the edge and he swung on me missed and I swung back and didn't miss, which pissed him off even more. Dad, Judd, and one of the other firefighters broke it up."

"Damn, baby. I'm sorry you had to deal with that." Carlos shook his head, hands moving to TK's waist, making him wince. When Carlos gave him a concerned look, TK bit the inside of his lip and leaned back against the counter, and let Carlos lift up his tank top.

"Jesus, baby," He breathed as the dark bruises on his abdomen were revealed. "Are you okay? You sure nothing is broken?"

"I'm okay, Michelle looked me over before I came home," TK shrugged, looking down to where Carlos was racing over his bruised ribs with feather-light touches.

"You gonna press charges?" Carlos asked. TK snorted a laugh and shook his head.

"Nah. He left looking worse than I do." He shrugged. "Dad said he'd make sure the guy was getting reprimanded. I don't wanna take it any further than that it's not worth it."

Carlos nodded but TK could tell he wanted to push but wouldn't, he'd let TK handle it how he wanted and he really appreciated him for that. Carlos looked down again from Carlos, feeling his chest tighten for a second as he grabbed Carlos' hand.

"You mad at me?" He asked softly, feeling his eyes well up with tears.

"For not wanting to press charges? Of course not, even though I think you should--"

"Not for that." TK cut him off gently, glancing up just long enough to see those confused eyebrows again before looking back down, "F-for getting in a fight."

Carlos was quiet for a moment before reaching out to tilt TK face up by his chin to look at him. "Baby, look at me. I am not mad or disappointed or anything of the sort. It's not like the bar fight where you got into a fight just to fight. He came at you first, it was self-defense and even if it wasn't, I still wouldn't be mad after he said those things about you and Owen."

"Okay," TK nodded, his voice still shaky.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" Carlos asked, running his fingers through TK's damp hair.

"Will you carry me?" TK pouted at Carlos. "It hurts to walk."

Carlos chuckled before motioning for TK to wrap his arms around his neck. He shifted, wrapping TK's legs around his hips, and lifting him up by the waist, holding him tightly. He stood there just holding TK for a moment, kissing his shoulder, whispering sweet things to him, and swaying gently. TK smiled to himself, pressing small kisses to Carlos’ shoulder and neck and breathing in his sweet, comforting scent.

Once they finally made it to the room, Carlos stripped them both down, completely naked, and they crawled into bed together, cuddling under the sheets—bodies pressed close together from head to toe.

"I love you." Was the last thing TK heard from Carlos' deep, sleepy voice before he fell asleep cuddled against his lover's chest.

#tarlos #prompts #911 lone star #tk stand #carlos reyes #tarlos fanfic #tarlos prompts #gallavich1012 prompts

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carry-the-sky · 3 years

Note

Hi could you do 14. touch on a bruise for brio please?

ahhh thanks for sending this one in!! have some post-s3 angst, hahaha. :)

(also on ao3)

The next time she sees him, he’s bleeding.

Okay, maybe not actively, but the jagged line of stitches etched above his ear looks like it’s seconds away from ripping open. Beth takes in the nasty bruise blooming along his jawline, the cut splitting his bottom lip.

“Um,” she says.

Rio smirks. “What’s up?”

“I—” she sputters, because he’s just standing there with that stupid, smug expression, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to drop by the showroom after hours looking like—that. “You—what happened?”

“Not your division, darlin’.”

He says it lightly enough, but Beth reads the undercurrent of warning in his voice like a neon sign. He wants her to drop it.

Well. She’s not feeling very incentivized to give him what he wants at the moment.

“It is when you bring that”—she pointedly eyes the stitches—“into my showroom. Those look awful, by the way. Did he do them?” She juts her chin toward Mick, who’s lurking in the doorway.

The two men share a look, and Mick folds his arms across his chest. “Maybe I did,” he grumbles. “YouTube’s got tutorials for everythin’.”

Beth glances between them both. She’s about to open her mouth—to say what, she has absolutely no idea—when Mick snorts, shaking his head at the same time that Rio’s mouth twists into a grin.

“Nah,” Rio says, still smiling as he casts a glance back at Mick. “Nah, he didn’t. Your concern’s duly noted, though.”

Mick makes another sound in his throat that he quickly covers by turning it into a cough. Beth’s face flames, but she draws herself up and meets Rio’s gaze head-on. Let him try to get a rise out of her—she knows better than to take that bait.

“Fine. What can I do for you, boss?” she says, spitting out that last word like it’s acid.

Rio’s eyes fall to the floor, but Beth can still see the ghost of a grin lingering at the corners of his mouth, like he knows he got under her skin. Like he’s won. For one furious second, she imagines how hard she’d have to hit him to split his lip, leave a bruise. She imagines hurting him and liking it.

But she doesn’t really have to, does she? Beth still remembers the weight of his gun in her hand, how the recoil from pumping the trigger once, twice, three times made her hand ache for days afterwards. She remembers him choking on his own blood, the sound of it filling up the loft—

No. No, she hadn’t liked any part of that. It’s a catch twenty-two; she hates him, she wants him dead, gone and out of her life, his name crossed out in permanent ink, but then—sometimes she doesn’t. It’s the not-knowing that keeps her circling the drain, pushing that damn boulder up the hill only to watch it come crashing down again and again.

She thinks she might hate that even more than she hates him.

Beth blinks, coming back to the office. Mick’s staring her down like a hawk, but Rio’s gaze is more appraising, head tilted to the side in a gesture that’s so familiar, so him, it makes her stomach flip.

“Just here for my cut,” he says, as nonchalant as if they’re discussing the weather. She hears the unspoken words as clearly as the night he said them—you, me, we. It’s just business.

Beth holds his gaze a second longer, then tugs a black duffel out from under her desk. She hands it off, dropping the straps like they burned her to avoid brushing her hand against his when he takes it from her. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

“What, no mama bag this time?” he says, then presses his lips together like he’s trying not to grin.

Beth glares at Mick, who just shrugs. She snaps her eyes back to Rio, barely managing to unclench her teeth before asking, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, Mick’s gonna check the books.”

Of course he is. Beth isn’t exactly shocked, but it still feels like a slap on the wrist, another reminder that there’s a hierarchy and she’s the furthest thing from sitting on top. Even this, the operation she pieced together herself, the system she built on equal parts desperation and determination—even this isn’t hers.

You wanna be the king, you gotta kill the king.

Yeah, she tried that. Technically she’s still trying, but she shoves that thought down deep and ignores the twinge in her chest.

Rio’s already turning to go, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. “Next week, yeah?”

Maybe it’s the way he says it, like he’s glad he can pawn her off on someone else because he has better things to do with his time, or maybe the stress and exhaustion from these past few months are finally cracking her foundation—the reason doesn’t really matter. Beth can’t—won’t—let him have the last word.

“You should really get those stitches looked at,” she says.

He pauses, then looks back at her. In the low light, his eyes almost look black.

“I’ve had worse,” he says, and the words hang between them for a moment, heavy as a loaded gun.

Beth swallows. “Still. They could get infected.”

Something slides across Rio’s face, sharp and predatory. It’s the look he gets when he sees an opportunity, and Beth feels her stomach drop.

“Yeah?” he says, turning around so that he’s facing her again. He drops the duffel, and Beth can’t help flinching at the thud it makes when it hits the floor. “Sounds like you’re volunteerin’.”

“No, that’s not—”

But he’s moving, sliding into the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Beth’s eyes dart to Mick, but he just arches an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up from the list of sales projections he’s been checking.

Rio leans back in his seat. “A’ight, doc, fix me up.”

Beth stays where she is. The irritation that’s been bubbling just beneath the surface ever since he walked through the door is reaching its boiling point, but there’s something else humming under her skin, crackling like a live wire. He can leave whenever he wants—he was halfway out the door a second ago—but instead he chose to stay.

They’re circling the same drain, each of them waiting to see who will get sucked under first.

“I’ll—get the first aid kit,” Beth says, stepping around the desk only to be stopped in her tracks by Mick, who clears his throat audibly and pulls his jacket back to reveal the Glock tucked against his side.

Beth resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Really? You think I’m stupid enough to try something with both of you here?”

Rio doesn’t answer, just fixes her with an amused look.

“Fine,” Beth snaps, taking a step back. She nods at Mick, tips her head in the direction of the door. “It’s in the bathroom across the hall.”

Mick gives her a two-fingered salute and ducks out of the room, and then it’s just her and Rio.

He’s still—watching her. He looks relaxed enough, legs spread a bit and his hands clasped loosely in front of him, and if Beth didn’t know better, she’d say the expression on his face is almost neutral. But she does know better. His eyes are what give him away, flashing with the same electricity that’s thrumming behind her sternum. He’s waiting for her to make a move. She knows, because she’s doing the same thing.

God, she hates how much she likes this.

She barely registers Mick coming back—it’s only when he tosses the first aid kit onto the desk that she jumps, startled back to herself.

“Thanks,” she says, injecting as much sarcasm as she can into the word.

Mick’s mouth twitches, but he goes straight back to the books, sinking into a chair in the far corner of the office. Beth rolls her own chair around the side of the desk, lowers herself slowly into a seated position beside Rio. This close, she can see each individual color in the whorl-patterned bruise that stretches up toward the hollow of his cheek. She lets her eyes drag across it, then up his temple. The stitches look—well, not great. It’s clear they were done hastily, probably to prevent as much blood loss as possible, but the wound is seeping.

“Damn, that bad, huh?” Rio asks, reading it on her face.

Beth stares down at the kit in front of her. Her first aid knowledge extends about as far as patching up a skinned knees and Benadryl for minor allergic reactions—removing possibly-infected stitches from her crime boss’ head isn’t even in the same zip code.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you want me to do,” she says, abruptly exhausted.

Rio adopts an expression of mock concern that does nothing to ease Beth’s urge to slap him. “Oh, no?” he says. “What part’s trippin’ you up?”

Beth shuts her eyes for a second, briefly wonders why the hell she didn’t let him waltz out of here when she had the chance—except she knows why, and so does he, and when she looks again—

He’s practically beaming, that smug tilt at the corners of his mouth dialed up about a thousand percent, and it’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place. This is just another game—he’s messing with her, playing with his food before eating it.

The low buzz of electricity inside her ignites.

He’s not the only one who’s hungry.

“No, you’re right,” she says, popping open the first aid kit and digging around until she finds the antiseptic wipes. “I should at least clean those stitches up. Maybe even remove them, start fresh.”

She glances up, and that’s the only reason that she sees him falter, a blink-and-miss-it record-scratch behind his eyes before he recovers, slides the mask back on. Satisfaction floods through her. She can play his game.

“Whatever’s good, ma,” he says with a shrug. “You’re the boss, yeah?” He echoes her earlier emphasis on the word, grinning when he sees the barb land. “Shit, that’s my bad—poor choice o’ words.”

Beth rips open a wipe. “This might sting,” she says, pressing against his line of stitches, hard. She’s rewarded with him hissing a breath through his teeth, the hand at his knee balling into a fist.

“Easy, mama,” he grits out.

Beth flashes him her sweetest smile. “I’m sorry, is that too rough? I thought you liked that.”

Mick makes a noise like he’s choking, and Rio looks over, eyes bright with amusement. “Ay, cállate la boca.”

“Didn’t say nothin’,” Mick mumbles, still staring intently at the books.

Beth presses her tongue behind her teeth, swallowing a pinch of annoyance as she switches tactics. “Aren’t crime lords supposed to have, I don’t know, some sort of medical professional on retainer? For situations like this?”

“Nah,” Rio says with a shake of his head. “Why, you gunnin’ for a promotion? ‘Cause I gotta say, your bedside manner could use some work.”

And something inside her roars, because this is how she’s going to get him. She dabs gently at the wound beneath his stitches, swiping a thumb over the sutures. Rio winces, jerks back—

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth leans forward. She brings the antiseptic up to his face again, stops just short of pressing it to his skin, as if to ask, okay?

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth starts at his temple, softly scrubbing at the caked-on blood that’s streaked down from the cut above his ear. Her hand moves lower, fingers gliding over his cheekbones, and she’s not sure if she imagines his breath hitching when she reaches the bruise at his jaw. She drags her thumb across it, then back again. His skin is warm, under the pads of her fingers.

“How am I doing now?” she breathes, barely above a whisper, and she knows she doesn’t imagine him dipping a glance down to her mouth. Their faces are inches apart, close enough for her to count the shades of brown in his eyes. Her fingers trace lower, toward the curve of his lips—

His hand comes up to grasp her wrist, tug it away from his face. “Don’t,” he growls, low like thunder. A warning. “Don’t do that, Elizabeth.”

He’s looking at her again, but she almost doesn’t recognize the emotion swimming in his eyes. He’s—terrified. Of her. For a fleeting second she lets the thrill of it run through her, buoyant on the feeling of power, the feeling that she’s won—

(—she did it, she shot him, she’s free—)

The moment pops like a soap bubble, and she’s empty, hollow, everything good inside of her scooped away until this is what’s left. This is who she is. And maybe this game they’re playing was never meant to have a winner.

The realization leaves her numb.

She’s vaguely aware of Mick slipping the books back onto her desk, and when her eyes flick back up to Rio, his mask is firmly back in place. Steel, untouchable.

“I’m all better now, thanks,” he says, and then he’s pulling away, pushing up from the desk, slipping out the door. She watches his silhouette until it dissolves into shadow.

She’s alone.

#brio #beth x rio #brio fic #nbc good girls #my fic

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mymoonagedaydream · 4 years

Text

Only the Good Die Young (Part 6)

Summary: It seemed like everyone in that godforsaken town was out to test your relationship

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment, harmful relationship with parents, creepy threatening behaviour

Author's Note: Temptation. I feel like I’ve put these two through so much but I just. cannot. stop. Eventually I may need medical intervention.

---

You just stood there for a little while. Eyes closed, head resting against his chest, savouring the contentment and safety you felt in his arms. These moments of peace were few and far between for the two of you, so when they came along you held on to them for as long as you could.

Your serenity faded after a few minutes, as you found yourself struggling to prevent his mother’s words bleeding into the front of your mind.

You wanted to look after him, you wanted to heal and care for him the best you could, but you knew there was nothing you could do to make up for his past. You couldn’t fix it.

But at least now, you were able to realise that everything he’d ever achieved, he’d done completely by himself.

All his life he’d had no help, no support and no real reason to outgrow the life that people like your mother expected him to lead. At the very least, you were determined to change that.

After a while, he piped up. ‘You hungry? I thought we could order food, there’s a really good-’

You cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck and pressing your lips against his, apparently shocking him a little, because it took him a few seconds to respond. He eventually tightened his hold around you and tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss while you moved your hands to cradle his face. Eventually, he pulled away.

‘-pizza place nearby.’

You laughed at his stupid grin, nodded and reached over to the drawer with the takeout menus.

The two of you ate in front of the TV, then curled up together on the sofa for the evening. You were still holding onto this moment of peace, savouring every second, knowing how fleeting it could be.

---

As predicted, you only managed about an hour of relaxation before Bucky’s phone started buzzing. He picked it up and moved over to the kitchen when he saw that it was his mother calling.

You tried not to eavesdrop, but it wasn’t a big flat.

He didn’t say much, he was mainly listening to her, but as the conversation progressed you could tell he was getting more and more agitated. The only thing you could really gauge was that, at one point, she asked him for money. He told her he was pretty broke at the moment, so he didn’t have any to spare, but you had no idea if that was the truth.

It was heart-breaking to see the toxic side of their relationship in practice, especially after seeing all the love that his mother was capable of.

Finally, he said a short goodbye and trudged back to the couch. You waited for a second to see if he’d share willingly, but he just huffed, heaved his boots up onto the table and necked the rest of his beer. You were going to have to do this the hard way.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Yeah, fine.’ He gave you a short, tight smile and reached for the remote. You caught his arm.

‘Buck.’

‘It’s nothing, just...’ He gave an aggravated sigh and rubbed his eyes. ‘She’s not pressing charges.’

‘That’s not nothing. That’s a pretty valid reason to be upset.’

You were still very much testing the waters as far as talking Bucky down was concerned. You were sure that he’d calm down himself given enough time, but if you were going to move in here properly you’d prefer not to have walls full of holes.

He took a deep breath. ‘It’s not like I expected anything else, this is what always happens.’

‘Doesn’t mean it sucks any less.’ You shifted closer and interlaced your fingers with his, rubbing his forearm with your other hand, feeling some of the tension in his muscles settle under your touch. You were pretty pleased with that result, even if it was only small. ‘Y’know, for a guy who was so eager to find someone to talk to, you’re really not easy to get information out of.’

He let a reluctant smile spread across his face. ‘Good job you’re a ruthless interrogator then.’

---

The next few days were almost perfect. You were able to spend quality time together and unwind a little, just about managing to ignore the sixty-four missed calls from your parents and the texts begging for money from his. Bucky went out to work whenever repair jobs came up, but you quite enjoyed having free-reign of the flat while he was gone, making subtle changes that he barely noticed when he got back.

The decoration wasn’t bad per se, it just didn’t really… exist. It was your typical bare bones bachelor pad, you were convinced he hadn’t made any real changes since moving in- apart from a pile of magazines and a couple of suspicious stains on the carpet.

When your parents finally gave up, and when enough time had passed since the visit from Bucky’s mother, it felt for the first time like maybe everything could turn out alright. All the problems you’d faced seemed to be receding further and further, it seemed like they couldn’t penetrate the walls of this cosy little life you’d built.

So it was all the more disappointing when that turned out not to be the case.

---

You woke up to the sound of Bucky’s alarm. Stretching a little, you felt his body pressed up against the back of yours and his arms wrapped you. He reached over you to shut the sound off, groaned dramatically and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

‘Another morning I'll have trouble climbing out of bed.’

His words were muffled against your skin. You rolled onto your back and brushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead, smiling at the deep marks left on his cheek by the creases in the sheets. The two of you must’ve slept like logs, barely moving all night.

‘Stay then.’

‘I’ve got places to go.’ He placed a few soft kisses below your ear. ‘There’s a big job today, could be a few hundred bucks.’

You frowned and abruptly grabbed his head, lifting it away from you. ‘Hundreds? Christ, get out then.’

‘Wow, didn’t have you down as a gold digger.’ You laughed and tried to push him out of bed, relenting when he clawed his way back to you.

‘You could use some restraint, Barnes.’

‘I never said I was a saint.’

Ten or fifteen minutes later, Bucky finally got up and ready for work. You had a day of solid lounging around planned. Maybe you’d take a walk into town later, but only during the hours you knew your parents would be working. No way would you risk bumping into them.

---

He’d been gone for a few hours when the doorbell went. You couldn’t figure out who it was from the window, so you tiptoed downstairs and cautiously inched the door open. It was the blonde from the bar, the one who got Bucky thrown in jail.

‘What the hell do you want?’ The severity in your voice shocked you a little.

He gave a smug chuckle. ‘Calm down, suburbs. I wanna talk to Bucky.’

‘About what?’

He narrowed his eyes at you and stepped forward, stretching his arms out and bracing himself against the door frame. You instinctively moved back, tightening your grip on the open door, ready to slam it shut at a moment's notice.

‘I’d rather just speak to him, sweetheart.’

‘Look, he’s not here, but even if he was I’m sure he’d just tell you to fuck off.’

A sinister, calculating look spread over his face. ‘You’re here all on your own?’

The shift in his tone made your entire body tense up. You immediately defaulted into fight or flight mode, pushing the door closed as quickly as you could. Somehow he moved faster, shoving his foot into the gap and letting out an irritated grunt when the door slammed into it. You felt him pushing against the other side of the wood.

‘C’mon.’ You saw his fingers emerge through the gap and curl round the edge of the door. ‘I just wanna talk.’

Summoning strength from god-knows-where, you stomped down on his foot with all your weight. When it jerked out of the gap, you shoved your shoulder hard against the door, hearing the cracking of his fingers followed by loud yelp. He pulled his hand away and you swiftly turned the lock.

He was still shouting and banging on the door as you scrambled upstairs, your shaky knees finally causing you to collapse as you burst back into the flat. You crawled over to the window and peeked out, seeing him limping away down the street, cradling his injured hand against his chest. You breathed out for what felt like the first time in ten minutes, remnants of your adrenaline rush making your head spin.

Despite your overwhelming panic, you couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with yourself, cause damn that was pretty fucking badass.

You considered calling Bucky, but figured that as long as you didn’t answer the door again, you should be alright until he finishes. It’d be much easier to explain what’d happened after you’d had some time to think about it and to calm down a bit.

You made some tea and collapsed onto the couch, all the while making an effort to maintain deep, controlled breaths. Thankfully, it wasn’t too long before you managed to compose yourself.

When Bucky got back, you sat him down and reeled it all off, reassuring him throughout that you were fine. He seemed to take it surprisingly well, staying silent and still while you were explaining. You thought maybe he’d finally turned a corner with his anger.

That was, until you got to the end of your story.

‘He didn’t come back, right?’ You shook your head. He nodded to himself and clenched his hands together tight, dropping his head and taking a deep, shaky breath. ‘Fuckin asshole, man.’

You could see him ramping up to something, so you tried your best to diffuse. ‘It’s fine, I’m fine. I handled it.’

‘Nah.’ Bucky stood up suddenly and grabbed his jacket, storming towards the door. ‘He could’a hurt you.’

‘He didn’t.’ You followed him, managing to grab his arm before he made it out of the flat.

‘That’s not the point.’

You knew there was no fucking way were you going to stand back and let him do this again. His judgement was being clouded by anger, that much was obvious, so he needed a sharp reality check to ground him again.

‘Do you really think this is worth going back to jail for?’ He stopped tugging against you, turning his head slightly so you were in the corner of his vision. ‘Cause I guarantee I won’t be here when you get out.’

He was still for a second. You let go and took a couple steps back, waiting to see what he would do.

If he left, this was over.

He threw his jacket to the ground in frustration and ran his fingers through his hair, turning back towards you with a regretful grimace. You breathed a pretty big sigh of relief.

‘You’re right.’ He held his arms out in defeat. ‘Y’know, I try to be rational, but it all gets blown to pieces when I look at you.’

What a strange mix of accusation and romance.

‘If you don’t chill the fuck out soon you’ll only be looking at me through bulletproof glass.’

He rubbed his forehead exasperatedly. ‘God, I wish everyone would just leave us alone.’

You didn’t respond for a second, considering whether or not to tell him what you were thinking. It was something you’d been debating for a while, something you were going to bring up with him when it got closer to the end of summer.

Fuck it, now was as good a time as any.

‘We need to get out of this town. There’s nothing here for us Buck.’

He squinted at you in slight confusion. ‘You wanna move?’

‘Look I know it’s not been long, and I know there's a danger in wanting too much too soon, but I really think we could be happy somewhere else. Your parents, my parents, your weird creepy friends. We need to get away.’

He looked away, considering your proposal. You just shifted on the spot awkwardly for what felt like hours. Eventually he smiled, then grinned, and soon enough he was beaming at you.

‘Alright. Let’s get outta here.’

‘Yeah?’ Your head was spinning with possibility and optimism. ‘Where should we go?’

‘Wherever you want darlin.’

---

Part 7

---

@shawnie--jo @brilliantbellesoares @livingoffsavvyillusions @noiralei @bebeyeni @kingkassam @newyorkgoddess @sir-lili @im-squished @dancer3205 @thefallenbibliophilequote @supernaturalwintersoldier

---

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demigoddreamer · 3 years

Text

Addressing Batman’s Abuse Part 2

LINK TO PART 1:

https://demigoddreamer.tumblr.com/post/639260521881862144/addressing-batmans-abuse

Batman: keeps a secret that could harm his family

Batfamily: how could you keep secrets from us?? I thought we could trust each other

Batman: nah man this info for me only you guys can’t be trusted with this

Batfamily: keep any secret whatsoever

Batman(who has a horrible lack of boundaries): THE AUDACITY

Ok...I really hoped there wasn’t more to the abuse but there is. I honestly can’t believe I wrote ALL OF THAT. I’m gonna do a post where I try to display Jason’s pain and suffering for what it is and tell the haters that they have no basis and to get the fuck outta here if you don’t like it. Jason deserves to be loved and that’s not because he’s my fav. BUT BACK TO BRUCE… anyway here imma cover anything else I forgot because what else is a high school freshman gonna do on her last day of break. All I’ve been doing to studying my butt off and working hard nuh huh IMMA TELL THIS CRUEL WORLD TO PUT A SOCK IN IT STOP ABUSING MY BOIS LIKE THE BATBROS. Sorry I got off topic.

I was talking in the last post about RHATO#25 where Jason shot the penguin. Now he has a pretty darn good reason ok. My boi found letters from his abusive criminal father(more like a DNA donor cause he ain’t a good dad like he supposed to be) and this trash Willis Todd wrote letters to Jason when Willis was in prison. He was like sorry and stuff and i don’t see how this is good enough BUT YOU MADE MY BOI JASON CRY! (I can’t bear to see my boi jay sad) now if you didn’t know my boi Jason has a heart of gold(if you didn’t think jay’s a good person then you’re just a lower life form) and LIKE ANY CHILD HE WANTS TO BE LOVED BY HIS PARENTS. Anyway he’s mad at Penguin for putting Willis in jail and shoots him...we all know what’s going to happen…*sucks in breath* Bruce is like you broke my precious no kill rule and beats the shit out of my poor baby Jason. LIKE THAT’S NOT OK it’s honestly kinda worst knowing JASON HAS A HISTORY OF PHYSICAL ABUSE FROM HIS FATHER, another father figure causing him psychological trauma is going to bring up all sorts of bad memories and PTSD from Willis. Batman was supposed to be a better father than Willis but kinda ended up like him instead.

Sorry I didn’t discuss that more in depth in the last post, it’s why there’s a part 2. But now some new stuff. So as we know...Alfred died WHICH IS IMPOSSIBLE ALFRED IS A FRICKING GOD HE’S IMMORTAL HE CAN’T DIE WHYYYYYYYYY!!!!...sorry I’m just so sad Alfred is DA BEST. anyway in the comic Pennyworth RIP or something like that, they are having a nice funeral for him. You know what?? THEY TOLD JASON NOT TO COME TO THE FUNERAL. THEY INVITED AMNESIAC DICK(now ric?*cry in bad naming and lost bro relationships*) but they like to Jason nah bro we don’t want your ass you but my BOI JASON WAS LIKE NAH FUCK ALL OF YOU IMMA COME TO THIS. and he came and he HAS THE RIGHT TO COME. He loved Alfred just as much as any of them and Alfred loved him and would want him to FUCKING COME.(ngl my man jay looks good in those shades) anyway they all seem pretty hostile to him when he comes and Bruce doesn’t correct this like hey he’s not bad guy you know

Also we need to acknowledge the secret keeping. Bruce is super paranoid and has major trust issues. He doesn’t feel the need to give IMPORTANT INFO to anyone not even his own fucking family. And this withholding of crucial info often puts his family in danger. Like when Joker kidnapped them and made them think they’re faces were cut off. I don’t know exactly what happened but he knew Joker was gonna do something and they were put in danger. WHY WOULD YOU PURPOSELY SUBJECT THE KIDS YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY YOU HAVE TO CALL YOURS TO PSYCHOLOGICAL AND EMOTIONAL TRAUMA??? LIKE WHYYYYYYY? If you simply trusted them and not do stuff behind their back then this could’ve been avoided. It is hinted that while Bruce was unconscious the Joker told them some stuff, a lot of it he said when Bruce was unconscious but while conscious he said like Bruce loves Joker*not surprised considering why is joker still alive* and he secretly hopes that Joker kills his kid like HELL NO, whispered some horrible things that will make them self deprecate and increase depression. We can imagine how bad it is to be kidnapped, about to be lit on fire, seeing your cut off face on a plate(their faces weren’t actually cut off but still it’s traumatizing), and then joker toxin fills the room making you go crazy, I imagine it’s worse for Barbara after being shot by Joker and even worse for Jason BECAUSE HE WAS FUCKING BRUTALLY MURDERED BY JOKER AND HIS CROWBAR AND EXPLOSIONS. (I wanna shove that crowbar up Joker’s ass until he starts bleeding out of every orifice) and Bruce is like y’all we need to talk but everyone’s like no i can’t, making up excuses, etc. but i don’t blame them once again the secret keeping caused unnecessary pain. THEY HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE MAD AT BATMAN and he tries soooo hard to justify it. and when they keep a secret from him suddenly they’re the bad guy. BATMAN CAN’T HANDLE SOMEONE KEEPING SECRETS FROM HIM honestly that’s shitty AF. And so toxic like he keeps breaking into their business and crossing lines with privacy. SO WHY DOES BRUCE KEEP DOING THIS??? He keeps people in the dark and they get hurt like HONESTLY YOU’RE HURTING EVERYONE AROUND YOU AND HE MAKES SOME ASSED EXCUSE ABOUT PROTECTING THEM.

Look Batman, there comes a time where enough is enough ok. Please stop hurting them, you already lost them and you’ll never get them back. All of them should just get out but especially Jason. I know a lot of people think Jason should leave entirely and I don’t entirely disagree with that. But I think Jason should keep his bros ditch his dad. Like Batman keeps hurting Jason but his brothers I feel like are more there for him than anyone else and they’re as much victims as Jason is. Batman should stop adopting so many kids if he can’t treat them right.

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abarbaricyalp · 3 years

Note

handholding- 10/12/13

hugs - 34

kisses - 7/13/27

touching - 47

sambucky :)

Buddies, I literally cannot believe I managed to get all of these done without being too repetitive.

Handholding 10: Happily doing everything with one hand if that means they don't have to let go is already posted on my blog and on AO3: ElisabethMonroe: (til i carry you home) Your Hand in My Hand

Reblogging with AO3 links in a second

Kisses 27: Desperate Kisses

Inhale My Soul

(Listen, listen y'all, you don't know how many different universes of them dying and bleeding out in each other's arms y'all aren't reading here. I didn't do that to you. You're welcome)

Dissolving hadn’t felt like anything. Sam wasn’t sure he even understood what was actually happening. Maybe he’d thought it was just a trick of the reality stone. Maybe human minds weren’t meant to comprehend anything close to what had happened.

Coming back felt like dying.

He woke up on his back and he couldn’t breathe. It was like he had no lungs at all, just a trachea spasming in his throat without air, like a gills with no water. He grasped for the ground and the feeling of dirt was horrifying, a grave waiting to swallow him down into the Earth. The wind was knives on his skin. His suit felt like it was trying to pry his spine from his ribs. His legs ached like someone was trying to stretch the bones on a crank.

He must’ve screamed but there was no air to make a noise.

Finally sight came back and the first thing he saw were the trees falling over him, ready to crush him and hide him again.

Had anyone seen him disappear? No one was by his side. No one looked for him.

No, the trees weren’t falling. They were swaying in the wind. The sun kept gliding down through them with every shuffle of the leaves.

It was so quiet he felt like he could hear the leaves sighing as they grew.

It took him too long to realize the ragged breath that broke the silence like a gunshot came from his own chest. The hands digging his own grave shot to his chest, felt the rise and fall of his ribs and lungs, the proof that he was breathing. He was alive again.

He rolled onto his side and heaved until his ribs creaked, still firmly attached to his spine. There was nothing to come up, but the noise was comforting, the ache that he could name and handle was safe. Human. Living human.

His knees were in his legs when he leaned back on his haunches. They sank into the earth but the grave didn’t swallow him down. No unwilling sacrifice to be taken from him. He brought his dirt covered fingers--firm and whole and attached to him--up to his face. He found his cheeks, a beard with edges that were too straight for a man who had died and been put back together, his teeth. They throbbed in his gums like they were all about to fall out but they were there in his head. His tongue.

He could speak.

“Steve!” he shouted and his throat screamed in protest, the air in his lungs turned to fire. “Steve!” he called again and forced himself to his feet. His boots were tied. His pants were still tucked into them. There was no blood, which seemed wrong. He felt flayed open and left to soak into the ground. How could there be no blood?

“Steve!”

God, if Steve was dead…

Sam couldn’t lose more people. He couldn’t fight his way back. Not after this. Not while everything hurt so fucking much.

“Steve, please, God, where are you?!”

“Sam?”

Sam whirled around at the tired voice. The trees danced in his vision. The grass clutched at his legs, which still felt like they were being stretched out and sunk into the earth. The trees were going to take him over. The grass was going to eat him again. No one was looking. No one would find him. Why wasn’t anyone ever looking for him?

“Sam?” the voice called again.

Footsteps. Crushing grass. A metal screech in the bark of a tree. A colorful curse. “Sam, fuck, shout again!”

Sam stumbled forward, breaking free of the natural world trying to take him away again. He shoved himself away from a tree and crashed into a warm, solid, human body.

“Jesus, Sam,” Bucky breathed and wrapped his arms around Sam tightly. It hurt in the best way. Sam held him back, face hidden in Bucky’s shoulder. He didn’t even care about what gore he was smearing all over himself. Bucky’s hand came to the back of Sam’s head and Sam almost expected it to hit exposed brain but it didn’t. Instead his calloused fingers brushed over Sam’s short hair, smoothing over the natural lines and divots in it until goosebumps erupted over Sam’s skin.

Right. Things could feel good. That was part of being human and alive.

He had no idea how long they stood there. His shoulders were aching, but in a pleasant way that reminded him that there was something he loved right in front of him, in his arms.

Bucky was the first to move, stepping back half a step, a quarter of a step, barely any at all, just enough to bring his hands up to either side of Sam’s face. The cheeks and the mouth and the skin that was all there and new again. He tilted Sam’s head back, eyes intense and clear in front of Sam.

Had it not felt the same for him? Was he not grappling with his ridiculously weak claim to existence? Or, fuck, was this how he always felt after being frozen and woken up? Had he been going through this for seventy years with no one to run to? With no one to hold him and remind him that things could feel good?

Sam’s fingers tightened in Bucky’s vest and just as Bucky was starting to say something Sam couldn’t honestly answer--something about how he felt, if anything hurt, if he needed medical attention--Sam hauled him down into a desperate kiss. Their noses smashed together and pain bloomed across Sam’s face, made his eyes water, made him want to sneeze, made him want to lean into it all the more, like the pressed-on-bruise ache of Bucky’s arms around him.

He felt Bucky’s teeth notch a split into Sam’s lip by accident, crushed together with nowhere to go. Finally it softened. Bucky’s mouth pressed against his until Sam felt like he could actually breathe, until he could make his mouth do what he wanted, catch Bucky’s lower lip between both of his, wring out a noise he’d never heard the other man make before. Bucky’s hands on his face kept him close and Sam’s fingers tightened in his vest. He wanted to crawl into Bucky’s chest--felt like, maybe, he could after being unmade and remade. Their noses knocked together again as Sam tried to turn his head, kiss the other side of Bucky’s mouth, let Bucky bruise the rest of his lips.

Bucky pulled away, but didn’t let go of Sam’s face. Cool air flowed into Sam’s lungs until all of his bones and muscles felt like they slotted back into place.

“I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am to see you alive,” Bucky breathed.

We should talk about this. That. Later.

“I thought everyone was gone. I don’t know… I didn’t know how I came back. I thought it was just me.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. There’s hundreds of people. Not everyone, but at least half of us.”

Half of them.

“Oh my God,” Sam said. “Thanos won. He wiped out half of the universe.”

“I think that was us. I think...someone brought us back,” Bucky said. Pain flashed over his face as he looked at Sam and then pulled him in for another kiss. Sam tried to understand a second chance in it, but all he could feel was Bucky and relief and adoration. He wasn’t sure where that one came from more--him or Bucky.

“There’s still a fight,” someone said from behind them. Another magic shithead. Terror clutched at Sam’s chest like magic itself was enough to unmake him again, take him away again. “There’s still a world to save.”

Bucky’s hand found Sam’s between their bodies. Sam took a breath with lungs that almost seemed to work again. “What’re we waiting for then?” he asked.

Kiss 13: Frustrated Kiss

Better Than None

“Barnes, you wanna jump in? Any time’s fine,” Sam called out, though the volume wasn’t actually necessary, since he had an earpiece in and Bucky was only a few feet away, leaned on what was left of a building’s wall.

“Nah, you seem to be handling it just fine,” Bucky called back with a nod.

Sam ducked under the robot arm that had been flung at him. “Barnes, I swear, as soon as I get my hands on you--” he threatened.

“Y’know, normally that gets me going but seein’ as you were so anti-giving me a good luck kiss, I don’t know if I believe you anymore.”

“We don’t have time for this!” Sam threw the shield to cut through seven wire-y necks and caught it at degree 355 of its arc.

“It’s just a kiss. Takes two/tenths of a second,” Bucky said.

“I meant this dumbass argument.” Sam jumped out of the way of an electrical charge and Bucky watched it sail dangerously close to his head.

“Damn, maybe I am lucky without you,” he said and didn’t move at all.

“Bucky,” Sam sighed and ripped the head off of the nearest robot.

“Hot. Wish I could show you my appreciation.”

“How does me not giving you a good luck kiss translate you into not giving me any kisses?”

“It only seems fair. You’re putting my well-being at risk. There should be consequences.”

“That’s not how it works! You’re the one not--” Jesus, he didn’t have time to fall for the bait. He freed a mini-EMP from his utility belt and hurled it at the cluster of robots trying to scale the debris that first responders were using as a barricade to the rest of the street. A few seconds later, the robots fell away, powerless and useless.

“I kind of felt that in my arm,” Bucky said.

Sam growled out a huff and stalked over to Bucky. He shoved the front of the shield against his chest a little roughly and leaned in to kiss him, mostly teeth and irritation. The bastard still looked pleased when Sam pulled away.

“Good luck. Now will you please go do your job?”

Bucky grinned, all teeth and victory, and bolted into action.

Kisses 7: Passionate Kiss

Hand holding 13: Linking hands during s**

Bring Heaven to You

Sam swore he could feel Bucky’s mouth all over him. Every inch of his skin felt electric and alive. Frankenstein’s creature surging to life after a bolt of lightning, every nerve and muscle singing at the same time, overwhelming sensation in the best way. Like a freefall that keep him tethered to the mismatched hands clutching at his hips, his ribs, his chest, his shoulders, his thighs, the backs of his knees. Like Bucky couldn’t decide where he should be shocking Sam back to life either.

Bucky dragged his hand down Sam’s side, flat and steady so Sam could feel the golden band on his finger scorching his skin like it was made of fire. Like vows and rings and heavy promises weren’t enough to prove they belonged to each other, like they needed it written in flesh and blood like everything else about their lives.

Hahahaha, no. The rest is on AO3. Link in the reblog

Hand holding 12: Possessive hand holding

A Green Monster, And No We Don’t Mean The Hulk

“Welcome back to the show, Captain America!” a bubbly, young talk show host greeted. Bucky assumed he’d watched at least a few seconds of the program at some point when he was making it his life mission not to leave his apartment, but he couldn’t place her name for the life of him. “And you brought Mr. Barnes with you!” This she said with much less genuine enthusiasm and didn’t seem all that thrilled to have to look away from Sam to address Bucky.

“Well, you know I can’t stay away too long,” Sam said with a friendly smile. He held out his hand and the host took it in both of hers. It was less a hand shake and more an excuse for her to hang onto Sam, it looked like.

Sam and Bucky sat in the cushy seats for guests and, even though they’d already walked through the staging of this whole farce, Bucky was still deeply tempted to take Sam’s seat so he was between Sam and the host.

“So, Sam, last time we saw each other, you weren’t yet Captain America.”

“Funny how fast things like that can change, right?” Sam asked with twinkling eyes. Bucky wondered if the cameras were bolted down and if he could wrench one free even if they were.

“Well, I think it’s still not soon enough,” the host said and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “You’ve always been Cap to us here. You’ve been so vocal about your mission statement as Captain America, so I won’t make you repeat yourself.” Sam nodded gratefully, though Bucky knew he’d repeat his goals and wishes until he ran out of breath if it meant one more person heard them and got inspired. “So I thought we could focus on what’s going on behind the scenes with you. Has anything else changed for you since you’ve been back?”

As if coming back to life wasn’t enough.

“Oh, definitely,” Sam said. “Buck and I just finished flipping a house down by my sister. Y’know, we got decent temporary accommodations--Buck still has his in New York--and staying with my sister again was nice, but there’s nothing like having a house to come home to that’s just ours. No pre-teens stealing all the food outta the fridge immediately after grocery shopping.”

The host laughed along with Sam, though her eyes couldn’t quite keep from flickering to Bucky. “It’s fun that you’re rooming with Mr. Barnes. Does it feel like having college roommates again?”

Sam frowned, opened his mouth to answer, ran through a bunch of diplomatic ways to say what should’ve been obvious but wasn’t because this lady was into Sam. Which, like, Bucky couldn’t blame her for. But he was anyway.

He reached over to grab Sam’s hand where it was picking at a loose thread in his pants. “Actually, it’s more like just living with a partner,” he answered for Sam. “That’s something else that’s changed too, huh?” he directed at Sam. “Turns out, with consistent showers and therapy, he thinks I’m pretty charming.”

Sam frowned again and scoffed. “No, I do not. That hasn’t changed.”

The host laughed again, forced but a decent show anyway. “Sure, we all love a good bromance,” she said.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t,” Sam warned.

“It’s a lot like a bromance, yeah. Just without the B,” Bucky said. “We kind of figured my name had enough Bs to last us for a while.”

“Sam, are you saying--”

Sam sighed and brought his other hand up to the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately. And, yeah, he’s always like this. Some kinda puffed up bulldog or something.”

Bucky’s fingers tightened around Sam’s. “You’re my partner. I’m allowed to tell people that.”

“You don’t ever stop telling people.”

“Can’t blame him,” the host pointed out. Okay, maybe some of the hostility was misplaced, Bucky thought. Only some of it. “How did we not know about this, Cap?” she asked jovially, though Bucky thought she was still a little upset.

Sam shrugged. “Guess it’s not as exciting as superheroing. And cameras keep ending up destroyed,” he added pointedly.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the accusation. “Half the places we go could be classified as an active war zone. It’s not always on me that media cameras get crushed under debris or aliens or something.”

“Every single one that catches you touching my face?”

Bucky shrugged.

“So...how long has this been a thing?” the host asked.

“Since before Sam took the shield. It’s actually a package deal. If you want the shield, you have to have me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and let out another long suffering sigh. “I’m sorry he’s ruining this interview.”

“Oh, no, I’m about to win an investigative journalism prize, I think,” the host laughed.

“I don’t know how investigative it is when your subject is physically incapable of shutting up,” Sam said, looking over at Bucky with a glare and the smallest pout that made Bucky want to kiss it off of his face.

So he did, holding their interlaced fingers next to their face to hide from the cameras at least a little bit.

Hugging 34: Hugging while grabbing butt

Get Sprung

(Man, I meant to put this in the fr@ story and forgot :/ )

The building came down faster than Sam expected it to. He supposed well placed explosives would do that. What happened to uncertain, uneven dynamite? Why was everything electrical and precise nowadays?

He had no idea how Bucky managed to get Sam and the shield bundled in his arms before the ceiling came down. He didn’t know how Bucky had managed to kick a piece of wall upright and then locked his metal arm to hold the shield in place above them. He had no idea how Bucky knew it’d make the perfect alcove for them. For someone who pretended not to know what math was when AJ asked for help on homework, he was very calculation savvy.

Bucky slowly freed his arm from the straps of the shield. The rubble shifted a little, pressed a little closer, and then stilled again. They both let out a small breath. There wasn’t enough room to lay out totally, or to stand fully, but they weren’t being crushed. Bucky’s arm joined the other around Sam’s waist. Sam dropped his face to Bucky’s shoulder and let Bucky’s pulse drum against his cheek for a second.

“Are you grabbing my ass?” he finally asked and Bucky coughed out a startled laugh.

“Yeah, you better hope it’s me and not some darkness monster.”

“Couldn’t blame the monster if it was,” Sam said.

“I gotta make sure it’s still there. Would be a shame to lose America’s ass, y’know.”

Sam shook his head and pulled away from Bucky enough to light up his wristlets. He shook them off and rested them on pieces of concrete and rebar to light the space.

Bucky sank down to the ground, legs bent a little to accommodate the space and Sam followed him down, settling between his legs.

“So, now we wait, huh?” he said, reaching for Bucky’s hands to tangle their fingers together.

“Guess we gotta,” Bucky agreed. “Are you hurt?”

Sam shook his head. There was still a ringing in his ears from the explosion and he was sore from Bucky tackling him out of the way, but nothing felt crushed or cut or broken. “You?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said and then let out a breath at Sam’s arched brow. “I mean it. I’m not playing tough or anything. We got lucky. It came down on us, not sideways into us. I think there’s something lodged between the plates in my arm, but I don’t want you to do anything about it until we’re safe. It’s functional right now. I don’t need to be down an arm if we have to dig out.”

“We’re not gonna have to dig out,” Sam said. “Torres’ll track Redwing to us.”

“How’s your dumb robot?”

Sam reached for a wristlet and navigated to the Redwing menu. “Operational. Some exterior dinging, but nothing serious. He’ll be functional if we need.” Sam set the wristlet aside again and sighed. “Fuck, that was close, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. C’mere,” Bucky said, opening his arms. Sam shifted forward on his knees and leaned against Bucky’s chest, hugging him close. “‘M glad you’re okay,” Bucky murmured, lips brushing Sam’s temple.

Sam nodded and rubbed Bucky’s waist for a second. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re grabbing my ass again.”

“I know.”

“Alright.”

Touch 47: Touching their elbow to get their attention

Quiet Birds Circling in Flight

(Jeez, the only thing that came to mind for ages on this prompt involved a spaceship but these men have SEEN aliens and spaceships so that’s not as fun :(((((( )

Sam stood outside the cenotaph long after everyone else had left the service. And that was quite the feat in and of itself. It felt like the mourning could go on for years. There’d been enough tears around him that he wasn’t sure what his own would add to the spectacle.

To everyone else, the cenotaph was a mausoleum. But Sam had been next to Bucky when he told the military to quietly bury him in the cemetery where his parents were both buried. “You know,” Bucky had said one afternoon while they watched the cenotaph being built stone by stone, engraving by engraving, “I’d wager that most mausoleums are just cenotaphs. Grave robbing and reactions to grave robbing mean probably everyone just got moved somewhere safer.”

“Plus decomposition.”

“Well, shit, Wilson. When do you stop being you after death? When does dirt become dirt again? When isn’t it your resting place? Does it even matter where your body is when alls said and done? Is that ever actually you or just a space filler?”

Sam had elbowed Bucky’s ribs and they’d each taken a piece of stone and pretended they didn’t see.

Sam weighed the shield against his shin, knocking it slightly to the side, and then looked up at the stone one ten more feet above his head.

Steve would hate this so much. Sam felt like he could feel his raging blush from the after life. Sam and Bucky had both asked for something more muted, something quieter. Hell, something that would do good for the world Steve was always trying to save. All this money and work and art, for what? A place to take pictures for likes on the internet?

No, Sam had to remind himself, it was a place for memory too.

As much as Sam kind of hated the whole thing, he couldn’t deny that looking up at the effigy of his friend inspired him the same way glancing over at him had in life too. The words wrapping around and around the base of the cenotaph sparked the same intense pride and righteousness they had the first time he heard them.

Maybe he didn’t hate the cenotaph. Maybe he just wanted the real thing back.

He startled at a gentle touch at his elbow. He thought it might’ve been another mourner come to offer condolences, though those mostly went to Bucky when someone was brave enough to approach him. Most people hadn’t looked at Sam twice. Not when Captain America was, in theory, laying in rest thirty feet beyond.

Sam was not in the mood to listen to anyone else talk about the time Steve smiled at them in a cafe or grabbed their cat out of a tree. If he heard his name again, he was going to break down.

But he had the shield now. He had to do the things Steve did. Smile when he didn’t want to. Hide any sign of weakness, lest it reflect poorly on the red, white, and blue he carried now. So he ground his teeth together until his gums ached and turned with a screwed on smile.

But it wasn’t a mourner. Not a random one anyway.

Bucky still had his fingers on Sam’s elbow, a sad look on his face. Dawn was creeping over the horizon and Sam realized with a start and a bloom of despair in his stomach that he’d spent the entire night in the park.

“Think if we wait two more days he’ll shove that stupid stone shield out of the way and come out?” Sam asked, voice wavering like a flag in the wind.

“We would literally never hear the end of it if he did,” Bucky pointed out.

Neither of them smiled. Neither of them really meant their jokes.

Sam finally broke down.

He collapsed against Bucky’s chest. It wasn’t until he lost his breath in the middle of a sob that he realized he wasn’t the only one shaking. Bucky was crying too. They clutched at each other, both terrified they might drift away, that the other might decide this was too difficult too and go back to something better at the first opportunity.

Sam didn’t even blame Steve. He’d laid awake in the temporary accommodation the government had put him up in and tried to convince himself that if he was in Steve’s shoes, he wouldn’t have saved Riley and stayed in that timeline. But he couldn’t. He knew he would have, almost certainly. And it wasn’t fair to ask Steve to give up a happy, quiet ending after more than a century of fighting and hurting.

But understanding it and accepting it didn’t make it hurt any less. “What are we supposed to do, Bucky?” he asked with an irritatingly genuine hiccup at the end of his words.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, sounding for all the world like he was grinding his teeth together, trying to pull himself back together. “You have a lot more options than me.”

And it was true. Sam had had a job. The Air Force had reached out since he’d been back stateside. He had a family who missed him, who he missed. But it felt like something heavy and tethering had been locked away in that empty cenotaph. He didn’t want to walk away yet.

Bucky stepped back, kept a hand on Sam’s elbow. “For now, we should get back home. You need to sleep.”

Sam didn’t want to sleep. Everything hurt too much.

“Sam, come on,” Bucky insisted. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now.We could both use a few hours of being quiet, right?

Sam reached up to wipe the tears from his face. He had the shield. He had to act like it. “My place or yours?” he asked, still watery.

Bucky pretended like he didn’t notice. “Yours is nicer than mine.”

“And I have a bed.”

“I have a bed.”

“It’s unassembled in a box.”

Bucky squeezed his elbow and then tugged him into a brief hug that Sam was pretty sure they’d never speak of again. “Let’s get out of here. He’s not goin’ nowhere.”

Sam rubbed at his face again and nodded. “We-- We should order in. When’s the last time you ate?” he asked as they walked away.

“I had a better breakfast than you.”

“You didn’t have to give a speech.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t throw up in front of everyone.”

“Shut up, I’m a great public speaker.”

“Sure, Wilson.”

“Screw you, Barnes.”

The dawn bloomed before them.

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry—

I am not there,

I did not die.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #sambucky fanfic #writing #i answer things #the falcon and the winter soldier #prompt answers

17 notes · View notes

bbdaydreams · 3 years

Text

Courage My Love// Semi Eita

Pairing: Semi Eita x Reader

Summary: You like Semi and come up with a plan to confess to him, unfortunately it takes a turn. You meet again a couple years later by chance.

Chapter Eight: Teenage Dream

Series Masterlist•<previous•next>

A week into the tour and your body finally decided to allow you wake up before two in the afternoon. You stretched your body a little bit in your bunk before getting up and out to finish stretching. You checked the surrounding bunks and saw that only Haruka was still sound asleep while the others were empty. Making your way to the lounge you found your missing members and greeted them. They gave you back a robotic response while peeking out the window.

“The hell are y’all looking at?”

“The boys,” Yui answered. “I’m waiting to see if one of them eat shit.”

“Yui, what the-“

“Look, look, look!” Izumi whispered, stretching her arm behind her in an attempt to grab you to pull you towards them. You placed your knees on the bench to watch through the blinds with them.

Semi, Subaru, and Ranmaru were wearing plain t-shirts and gym shorts while Jiro wore a buttoned up blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black skinny jeans. The three elders from the group seemed to be running back and fourth from one end of the parking lot to the other while Jiro was skating a few feet away.

“How long have they been doing this?” You asked, turning away from the window.

“No clue- oh shit!” Izumi exclaimed, jumping up and running over to the main door to hop off the bus.

“That was a bad wipeout,” Yui added, following after the bassist. You followed after them, hesitating a little bit because you had just woken up and were in your sleepwear. Saying ‘fuck it,’ you threw on a pair of slip ons before following the others.

“Jiro!” Subaru and Ranmaru yelled before running over to their guitarist.

“Dude! You good?” Semi asked, crouching down to help Jiro sit up.

“Yeah, I’m good. Where’s my board?”

“I’ll go grab it,” Yui said as she headed towards the direction of there the skateboard rolled off to.

“What happened? I heard yelling,” Haruka asked. She was stepping off the bus still in her pajamas and rubbing her eyes, making it clear that she had just woken up. Her eyes landed on Jiro who was sitting on the pavement. He looked at her with panic in his eyes as she took in his disheveled look. “Why are you bleeding?”

“I- I’m okay, no need to worry-“

“You have a giant hole in your jeans that shows your red scraped knee, you have scratches on your face, and I can see the blood droplets on your flannel!” Haruka exclaimed, turning back around getting onto the bus.

“Is she pissed?” Jiro asked.

“Nah, just concerned. She probably went to grab our first aid kit,” Izumi answered. “You should probably take off your flannel though, that’s a pretty big stain on your elbow.”

Jiro unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a black t-shirt. Haruka came back with the kit and knelt next to the heterochromatic male. She took out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some gauze making him gulp, knowing what was to come. “Do you have to use that?” Jiro asked, gradually moving his arm away from her.

“Yes, now sit still,” Haruka responded.

“Here’s the board I ran as fast I could as soon as I saw-“

“Fuck!”

“-the brown bottle,” Yui laughed. “Guess nurse Haruka has it under control.” The rest of you laughed at Jiro’s reaction and left Haruka to tend to his wounds.

“What are you guys doing anyways?” Izumi asked the three older males.

“Oh, we were working out. Jiro does his own thing for exercise which is mostly either parkour or skating,” Subaru responded.

“Or as we call it, just Jiro things,” Ranmaru added on. “You guys are free to join us during our workouts though, makes things more fun.”

“Haruka and I might join you guys,” Yui responded.

“Pass from Izumi and I,” you spoke up.

“And why’s that? Nice pajamas by the way, very festive for summer with the snowflakes,” Semi teased.

“Leave me alone. Sweating is gross. And personally I get bored doing the same thing repetitively. I’ll go on a walk, maybe jog a little bit, but that’s about it.”

“Sweating is gross, huh?” Semi asked with a devious look in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare come near me,” you responded, taking a few steps back as Semi walked closer to you.

“What? I just wanted to give you a hug, especially while you wear your cute pajammies.”

“Stay the fuck away from me. Semi. Semi! No!” And now you were running away from the 180cm tall former setter, who you know could catch up to you at any time. You still chose to take your chances though.

“He’s never gonna let her go, is he?” Ranmaru asked Subaru.

Izumi and Yui heard him loud and clear which peaked Yui’s interest. “Ahhh so he still has feelings for our leader. How cute.”

“Keep this between us, but yeah,” Subaru spoke. “Does she have any feelings left for him?”

“Honestly, we’re not sure. She never talked about him after the whole thing went down. She’s been with other people but she’s never been over the moon for them. It doesn’t help that she’s also super independent. It makes us think sometimes that she’d rather be single. There’s nothing wrong with that either, but at the end of the day we think it’d be nice for her to find someone,” Izumi spoke, watching you run around the bus only to yell out you were going back to sleep right when Semi caught up and wrapped his arms around you. “You guys might not believe it but how she’s acting now with him is no different to how she’d act with other people. Maybe it’s because of all the touring we do but she’s so open with people that it’s hard to read her. We love her and she’s fun to be around with but when it comes to her, it’s hard to tell what she wants.”

“We see. Eita’s sort of been the same in relationships. He’s gone on dates too but he’s never been whipped for any of them. Like he’ll do his best to please them and shit like a good partner should, but if you look at him from a distance it feels almost forced. He wants to love but it’s like fake love, if that makes any sense,” Subaru spoke.

“What about your drummer girl? Also between us, Jiro still seems to like them a lot,” Ranmaru asked, deciding to bring light to the other potential couple.

“Wait, what do you mean still? From what we know, they were friends during their final year but that’s it,” Izumi explained , now confused.

“Jiro fell for her hard during that year like he would come home and talk to us about her and ask for advice if he couldn’t ask his older brother. The thing is he was labeled the dumb hooligan while Haruka was the typical quiet good girl so he didn’t want to taint her record. You know how people talk in high school. He was convinced she shouldn’t be with a fool like him, so he never spoke up,” Subaru followed up.

“Ah. Well I think they’ll be together by the end of the tour, maybe even week. I can feel it,” Yui said.

“And what about you guys? Are you single?”

“I have a boyfriend,” Izumi quickly answered. “He’s back in Japan.”

“I’m single. My reason being it’s hard finding people you wanna know more about, ya know?”

“Really now?” Subaru answered, looking at Ranmaru.

“Yui, are you sick? I think you’re lacking some vitamin me,” Ranmaru said, attempting to put his arm over Yui’s shoulders.

“No! Me!” Subaru argued.

Before either of them could touch her, Yui grabbed their forearms and tugged on them to bring them closer. When they jumped a little closer together she took their hands and placed them in each other’s before letting go. Yui looked over and Izumi who was smirking from trying to hold in a laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Dumb and Dumber. Since I apparently have you guys weak at the knees it appears you might be lacking vitamin D. You two should get to know each other and solve that problem,” Yui responded as she gave them a fake smile. “Let’s go Izu,” she laughed, turning from the boys to get back onto the bus.

Semi came back to the two white haired males and crossed his arms before speaking. “You guys are idiots.”

“Karaoke night!” Haruka cheered when your set finished that night.

“We just got done playing and you’re this excited for karaoke? At least act tired,” Izumi whined, leaning forward to place her hands on her knees after she set her guitar down.

“Haru,” Yui started before taking a deep breath, “what the fuck.”

“Mmmm, nice cold floor,” you said, letting your body collapse on the black tiles the backstage had to offer.

“Y/n, no!”

“Get up people walk there!”

“It’s dirty!”

Too tired to figure out who said what, you let out a groan and got up. “Fine I’m up, I’m up. I need a baby wipe though. I’m all sweaty and gross.” Making your way over to your green room you bumped into One Ok Rock. “Hey guys.”

“Hello, hello. You guys sounded amazing as always,” Taka complimented.

“Thanks! Oh! Do you guys have plans after your set?” Haruka asked.

“Sleep,” Ryota responded which made the others laugh.

“Ah haha, did you guys have something in mind?” Toru asked.

“We’re all off tomorrow so we were gonna have a karaoke night on our bus,” Yui explained.

“And there’ll be booze!” Izumi added.

“We’ll try to pop by then,” Tomo answered. You wished them luck before heading into your dressing room to clean up a little bit before meeting your fans.

Yui and Haruka were currently making dinner while while you were showering and Izumi was setting up the karaoke system.

“Oh fuck, we forgot to invite Won’t Regret,” Yui mentioned.

“I’ll text RoRo!” Haruka lit up.

“How could we forget to invite all of your guys boyfriends?” Izumi teased.

“Jiro is not my boyfriend!”

“I never said he was,” Izumi responded with a smirk.

“Does this make thing one and two mine?” Yui asked.

“Lol, yeah. Are you gonna tell them?”

“Yeah, I don’t need them annoying me. I have enough to put up with.”

Stepping out of the shower with a towel around your body you looked over at the girls and saw they were still doing what they did when you last saw them. “Hey, is dinner- oop gotta go!” You exclaimed, running to your bunks and closing the door because there was a knock at the front of the bus.

“It’s open!” Izumi yelled. Coming up the steps was Taka and Toru with smiles on their faces. “Hey! Welcome to our bus! Did the others decide to call it a night instead?”

“Yeah. They’re parents now so they age faster and need more sleep,” Toru laughed.

“No worries. C’mon in and take a seat. We just finished cooking if you’d like some food,” Haruka said, showing them a plate she had already prepared.

“Taka and Toru just got on the girl’s bus. Wonder what’s going on over there,” Ranmaru said aloud as he glanced out the window.

“Who what now?” Semi asked, looking up from his phone.

“Oh they’re doing some karaoke tonight. RuRu just texted me to invite us,” Jiro answered.

“RuRu? Do you mean Haruka? You guys have nicknames for each other already?” Subaru teased, laughing at Jiro’s reaction.

“Look at how red he is!” Semi roared.

Subaru looked over at Ranmaru, smirking knowing he was about to roast Semi. “Boy if you don’t shut up! Go look in a mirror before judging him!”

“Eh?!”

“Eita, every time Y/n is around you put all your attention on them. It’s like you’re a bee fixated on a flower. Just non stop buzz buzz buzz around them.”

“Okay, I get it.” Semi sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. Please just ask them out already.”

“I can’t do that, bro. It’s too soon. We’re just friends for now.”

“We have 5 weeks left on this tour. You’re gonna have to ask them out before then. Who knows if we’ll see them again after this.”

Letting Ranmaru’s words sink in he realized the reality of it. After the tour was over your band would probably go on your own tour to promote your new album in Europe, Australia, Japan and maybe even the US again whereas his band would probably only do Japan. You’d be busy touring and focusing on yourself you wouldn’t have the chance to see each other again. “Fuck. You’re right.”

“I’m always right. Anyways I’m headed to bed. Have fun at karaoke.”

“I’m going to bed too. Night,” Subaru yawned.

“Guess it’s just us,” Jiro laughed before tilting his head to ask “let’s go?” to which Semi responded with a head nod. They told their bus driver they’d be on the other bus so he could drive off if they didn’t come back by midnight.

“Alright that’s the theme tonight?” Yui asked Izumi, covering her mouth since she was chewing. They were both currently sitting on the small kitchen counter while Taka and Toru were sitting around their dining table and Haruka was standing off to the side.

“Let’s have our guests have the honor! Hit the button to spin the wheel,” she explained as she jumped off to hand her phone to the two older men. “Ooo, looks like we’re doing ‘Women in Pop’!”

Hearing knocking from the front door, Yui yelled it was open. Semi and Jiro walked in and greeted everyone. “It smells so good,” Jiro stated, eyes lighting up once he spotted the meal that was cooked.

“Take a seat and I’ll give you a plate. Semi, would you like one too?” Haruka asked. Semi nodded his head and they both accepted the meal after thanking them for the hospitality. After they were seated Yui got them up to speed to what they were doing.

“We should probably go first to show them how it’s done,” Haruka stated.

“I kinda wanna finish my food,” Izumi mumbled which made Yui jump in and say ‘me too’. Luckily for Haruka, you had just come out of the bunk area in sweats. “Look at that, Y/n can sing with you.”

“What did I do in the first five seconds of me appearing for me to go first?” You asked confused.

“Show up. Here is your mic,” Yui responded, making you playfully roll your eyes at her.

“How do you decide what song to sing?” Taka asked.

“We just decide between ourselves. Any song is good as long as it fits the theme,” Haruka responded. You let Haruka pick and take the lead for the song as you backed her up and sang your parts while also trying to match her energy in small dance gestures. When you finished you handed your microphone to Toru who asked to go next and Haruka handed hers to Izumi. Fixing yourself a plate you took Toru’s spot and sat next to Taka while Haruka took Izumi’s spot.

“Yo,” Semi started to grab your attention, leaning forward to not speak into Taka’s face.

“Yo,” you responded.

He smirked before continuing, “nice pajamas.”

You let out a small chuckle before looking back at him. “Leave me and my comfy clothing alone, asshole. I am cozy.”

Laughing at the nickname you gave Semi, Taka decided to jump in. “Hey Eita, we should go next.”

“Eh, I don’t know. Honestly I’m not much of a karaoke guy.”

“Boo, Semi you’re no fun,” you pouted while eating your food.

“Yeah, Eita you should try it out,” Jiro added.

Semi threw his head back and grunted in disapproval before turning his head to look at you. As he leaned back you did as well and gave him a child like smile, showing as many teeth as you could with your lips curved upwards as a friendly way to encourage him. Letting out a small chuckle, he leaned forward and let his forearms rest on the table. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Yay!” You, Taka, and Jiro cheered. Izumi and Toru sang Party In the U.S.A. by Miley Cyrus which had the group laughing when Toru tried to reach the high note and when he tried to mimic Izumi’s dancing. When they were done you all applauded for them.

“Do you have an idea for a song?” Semi asked Taka, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, yeah. I wanna do Beyoncé! Is Single Ladies good?,” Taka responded with a giant grin.

“I’m good with that.” The two got up from their spots and you and Jiro slid into their spots so others could sit as well. They accepted the mics from Izumi and Toru, Taka stretching afterwards to ‘loosen his body up’.

When the music started, Taka started moving his shoulders from side to side while Semi lightly bobbed his head along to the beat. Taka took the lead and sang the first verse. As the song progressed Taka put his body more into the flow making you all get louder for him to cheer him on. Leaving the second verse to Semi he moved his torso more into the song but he couldn’t compare to Taka, and it made him start overthinking a little.

He’s so much cooler and better than he is. Taka knows how to rile up a crowd. His performances are better than Semi’s but then again he does have more experience so he has to factor that into their differences. He’s so chill and laid back but also open and hilarious, he’s got it all.

Towards the end of the song when they were singing the last of the “all the single ladies”, Taka got closer to where you were sitting and went to hold your hand as he sang, causing the group to hype him up even more than they already where.

When they finished, you and Yui went next, opting to do Katy Perry. As you took the lead, Semi couldn’t keep his eyes off you and agree with the lyrics you were singing. He enjoyed your facial expressions as you sang and the way you carried yourself, somehow different than how you were on stage. Unfortunately Semi also couldn’t stop the negative thoughts that obscured his brain.

Semi noticed the blush on your face when Taka had the slightly intimate gesture with you. What if he’s not good enough for you? He doesn’t want to hold you back from being the happiest person you could be. Semi knows he’s not the funniest, most charming person in the world. Compared to your ex, Tendou, he knows they’re almost nowhere near similar. Tendou was more easygoing and knew how to light up the mood whereas Semi is more uptight, always concerned about others and what they think. If anything Taka was more like Tendou, a potential better option for you than himself. But he knows you all had just met recently so who knows if Taka is just being friendly or trying to get at something. Maybe you were just going to stay a teenage dream.

A/n: look at that an update. Sorry for taking so long, I’ve been tired but here ya go!

Taglist: @pluviophilefangirl @yourstarvic @sunaswife @mynscorner @itoshibaby @discountkiyoko @ibetonlosingcats @lilith412426 @soggyacidjuice

#haikyu #haikyuu!!#semi eita #semi eita x reader #semi haikyuu #semi x reader #haikyu x y/n

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wellimaginethat · 4 years

Text

Close Call

Pairing: Matt Casey x (female) Reader

Requested?: Yes

Word Count: 3355

Author’s Note: So I know this isn’t exactly what the request asked for, I did include how they met and started dating, but I did so in the form of flashbacks and I hope that’s okay.

Trigger Warning(s): Reader got shot, near death experience

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Reader is a cop and gets shot while on the job, causing her longterm boyfriend, Matt, to worry about her and think back on when they first met.

Y/N = Your Name

This wasn’t how you expected your Tuesday to go, but did anything ever go as you planned?

What had seemed like it would be a simple arrest of a suspect turned out into a full blown shootout, resulting in you taking a bullet to the lower left abdomen. You were doing okay for a while, Jay managed to pull you out of the line of fire and get you behind a car, but you were bleeding a lot.

Jay was shooting at the shooters before leaning down to check on you, the look on his face said it all, he was panicking. “You’re gonna be okay, we’re gonna get you out of here, just stay awake.”

“Don’t lie to me.” You barely managed to get out, you were feeling dizzy from the blood loss and your vision was starting to blur.

The last thing you heard before slumping over was a string of curses coming from your partner.

When the call came in for ambo, something in Matt’s gut told him something wasn’t right, and he immediately began to worry about you. Usually he didn’t, but something just didn’t seem right today.

As soon as he got word of what happened to you, he raced over to the hospital.

The two of you met just after you had transferred to Intelligence, barely a year after you had moved to Chicago. You got roped into going out for drinks with your new teammates and that’s how you ended up in Molly’s on that fateful night.

It was nearing two years ago now that you had gone up to the bar, trying to find an empty spot to order another drink, but that was hard considering it was a pretty busy night.

So you decided to try to squeeze in between two complete strangers, one of which bumped into you and practically knocked you into Matt’s lap. He had been taken by surprise but had wrapped his arms around you to keep you from toppling to the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” You quickly told him as you stood up, you could see your teammates out of the corner of your eye, snickering at you. You shook your head some, cheeks heating up.

“It’s all good.” Matt assured you with a slight chuckle.

“I’m really sorry, I was just trying to get a drink and um, yeah.” You glanced away, rubbing the back of your neck. “Sorry.” You mumbled again as you began to walk away.

“You didn’t order your drink.” Matt had reminded you.

You stopped and looked at him, pausing for a bit longer than you should have before responding. “Oh, um, yeah.”

Matt raised a brow at you, trying not to let on how amused he was but you could see it in his eyes. He beckoned you over.

You walked over to resume your spot standing next to him.

“Matt Casey.” He offered out his hand.

You smiled a bit and shook his hand. “Y/N Y/LN.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Matt smiled at you.

“Likewise.” You told him and ordered your drink when the bartender came over.

“I got that, Herrmann.” Matt told him.

“Oh no, no, you don’t-” You were stopped when Matt looked at you, so you smiled. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, I wanted to.” Matt told you with a smile, taking a drink of his beer.

The two of you ended up talking until the bar closed, at which point you bid him goodbye, but not before giving him your number.

Had you not had liquid courage running through your veins, you probably wouldn’t have given him your number, and the next day you were kicking yourself because you thought you made a fool of yourself. You honestly didn’t think he’d get ahold of you, but he ended up calling you later that day and asked you out on a date.

After that, dates became a regular thing for the two of you, and next thing you knew, you were spending almost all your free time together.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to become exclusive, not that either of you had been seeing anyone else, but the two of you made it official.

Matt and you had one of those easy relationships, it was just so easy to be yourselves with the other, not having to act a certain way or worry about the other judging you. You guys didn’t fight often, but when you did it was usually a small fight over something stupid and you would make up within a day, in the two years the two of you had been together you had only ever had two major fights, but you guys worked them out.

Matt paced back and forth in the waiting room, waiting for any word on your condition. As soon as they got you to the hospital, you were taken straight to the OR for surgery. It had already been an hour and he was insanely worried about you, and it just got worse and worse as time paced.

Jay was sitting in a chair in the same waiting room, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, and head hung down. He blamed himself for what happened. You were his partner and he was supposed to have your back.

Hailey took a seat next to him. “Hey, what happened isn’t your fault.” She tried to assure him in a soft voice.

Jay shook his head to her, looking at her but not exactly focusing on her because his mind was replaying what happened. “I should’ve seen the shooter.”

“Neither of you had any idea that was gonna happen.” Hailey told him gently.

Jay shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, I should’ve been more aware of our surroundings, if I had then she’d be fine.”

“Stop.” Matt told him, stopping in his tracks to look at Jay. “You and I both know damn well that Y/N wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” There was pain in his eyes, but his voice was firm.

Jay paused for a moment before nodding to him, although it didn’t really change anything and everyone knew that.

Everyone in that room was worried about losing you. They all loved you, both CPD and CFD alike. And everyone knew that if something were to happen to you, while it would hurt everyone, the two that would hurt the worst would be Matt and Jay.

Your relationship escalated quickly when Matt asked you to move in with him after only six months, but you were convinced this was the real deal, so you had said yes.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” You had asked him for probably the millionth time.

Matt chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“But are you really sure?” You asked him.

“If you don’t wanna-” You were quick to cut him off.

“I want to. I just want to make sure you want me to.” You answered him.

Matt nodded. “I want you to.”

“But are you sure?” You asked again.

Matt huffed a laugh and pulled you into his arms. “I’m sure.” He said softly before pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head. “Now shut up before I change my mind.”

You scoffed in mock offense. “Rude.” You told him, causing him to laugh.

Slowly you began moving your stuff there, which ended up taking three months because of your schedules and the fact that you were still unsure.

“Alright. This is the final box.” You said, standing just outside the apartment door holding a cardboard box that had the last of your clothes in it.

“Should I do a drumroll?” Matt asked with a grin, turning to face you.

You smirked. “Well it would be nice.” You answer him, causing him to shrug and walk over to the wall and give you a makeshift drumroll as you stepped over the threshold. “There. I’m officially moved in completely.” You informed him.

Matt grinned as he walked over to you, taking the box and setting it to the side before turning to you again. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close before kissing you. “You’re not moved in until we unpack the boxes.” He spoke lowly after pulling back.

You groaned. “Well that’ll probably take another three months.” You joked.

Matt chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t count on it.”

You hummed and shrugged. “Maybe sooner.”

“Definitely sooner.” Matt replied, his arms still around you.

It ended up taking only two weeks to unpack, and settling in ended up going a lot smoother than you thought it would.

By the time Dr. Marcel walked into the waiting room, everyone was on edge and fearing the worst even if they weren’t saying it.

Matt had practically worn out the floor from where he was pacing, unable to remain calm as he waited for any news. He immediately stopped when he saw Dr. Marcel in the entryway.

Jay was out of his seat and standing beside Matt, waiting for the news.

Everyone’s eyes were on Dr. Marcel, everyone waiting for an update on your condition.

“She’s stable, the bullet hit an artery and she lost a lot of blood, but we were able to repair the damage and give her a transfusion.” Dr. Marcel informed them. “She’s in recovery right now, then she’ll be moved to ICU. She’s stable but not completely out of the woods, though I am optimistic.”

Matt nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Marcel.”

“You’ll be able to visit her after they get her settled.” Dr. Marcel added before leaving the waiting room.

Everyone was immensely relieved after hearing that you had made it out of surgery and that you were in a stable condition, but they were still worried that something could go wrong and that they would lose you.

After you were moved to ICU, your friends were informed that two people could visit you at a time.

Matt headed out of the waiting room before looking at Jay. “Are you coming?”

Jay hesitated before shaking his head. “Nah, you go.”

“They said two people could be in the room at a time.” Matt said, nodding towards the door. “And you know she’ll be crushed if you aren’t there when she wakes up.”

Jay again hesitated, but only for a second before nodding and following Matt. He hated hospitals, but he’d do anything for you, which included spending all damned day in that awful place.

When they walked into your room, the breath was knocked out of both of them.

Sure, they both were expecting you to look rougher than usual, but neither of them had quite prepared themselves to see you in the hospital bed, complexion paler than usual, and a bunch of tubes and monitors hooked up to you to provide you with meds and to monitor your heart and blood pressure.

The sight of you completely broke Matt’s heart, but he stepped in and took a seat in one of the two chairs in the room.

For Jay it nearly sent him running from the room, he hated seeing the people he cared about in the hospital, especially when they were in bad shape, and you were no different. He would’ve given anything to switch places with you. He was still blaming himself for your situation, he kept thinking about how he should have been more aware of what was going on and that he should have been able to prevent this. He slowly took a seat in the other chair.

“It’ll probably be hours before she wakes up.” Jay commented after a while of sitting in almost complete silence, if it hadn’t been for the beeping of the monitors.

Matt nodded some, his eyes fixated on you. “Probably.”

Neither of them talked for a long time after that. Jay had resumed his sitting position from the waiting room, back arched and looking down at the floor, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped together.

“She’s going to kick your ass.” Matt told him suddenly.

This caused Jay to sit up some and looked over at Matt, his back and neck were starting to grow sore from how he was sitting. “What?”

“When Y/N finds out that you’re blaming yourself, she’s going to kick your ass.” Matt told him, tearing his eyes away from you to look at your partner. “You know damn well she will.”

Jay shrugged. “Or maybe she’ll agree with me.”

Matt frowned at him and shook his head. “Now you’re just being childish.”

Jay frowned now. “I am not being childish, I’m being realistic. If I had seen the gunman, I could’ve gotten us out of the line of fire and she wouldn’t be fighting for her life right now.” He was starting to get upset, and no matter how much he tried to remain calm, it was tough, especially given the situation.

Matt shook his head. “You know she’s not going to see it that way.”

“You don’t know that.” Jay practically spat at him, standing up out of the chair.

Matt remained calm as he looked at Jay. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down when you’re the one that’s angering me.” Jay said pointedly, his voice raising a little and he pointed a finger at Matt.

“Guys please stop fighting.” You rasped out, your eyes shutting even tighter before you opened them. “My head hurts.”

The two of them immediately stopped and looked to you before they were both at your side, looking down at you.

“You’re awake.” Jay commented quietly.

“Mhm.” You tried clearing your throat which just sent a dull jolt of pain through your chest, causing you to wince.

“Are you okay?” Matt was quick to ask you. “I’ll get the doctor.”

“No, I’m fine.” You reached out to grab him but your movements were slowed due to your injury and the pain meds running through your system. “What the hell were you two fighting about?”

“Doesn’t matter right now.” Matt told you, Jay nodded in agreement. “What matters is that you’re alive and awake.”

You smiled weakly at the two of them. “And that my two favorite men are here with me, that matters too.” You told them.

They both smiled softly at you and nodded.

Jay took your hand in his and squeezed it gently. “I’m sorry.” He told you softly.

You shook your head some. “Don’t.” You told him, voice still hoarse. “It isn’t your fault.”

Matt glanced at him briefly in an ‘I told you so’ manner, before looking back at you. “I’m going to go get the doctor, I’ll be back in a second.” He told you softly, kissing your forehead before stepping out of the room.

“I should’ve seen him.” Jay said quietly, looking down at your hand in his. “It’s my fault you got shot.”

“Did you shoot me? No. So therefore, it’s not your fault.” You replied to him. “And if you say otherwise, I’m gonna kick your ass...as soon as I can, that is.”

That caused him to smile and nod. “Yeah, okay. You couldn’t kick my ass before, what makes you think you’ll be able to kick it now?”

“Well I figured you’d let me, given the fact that I got shot and all.” You replied, smirking.

“Nah, that’s not how it works.” Jay told you.

“No?” You asked.

Jay shook his head. “Nope, we don’t take it easy on rookies who get themselves shot.”

You stifled a laugh and huffed. “I am not a rookie anymore, Halstead.” You told him pointedly.

He smirked at you. “Oh you’re not a rookie anymore?”

“Nope.” You shook your head some. “I’m not.”

“Yeah okay, rookie.” Jay replied, still smirking.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes.

He moved back when the doctor came in to check you over.

Over the next few days, you were completely fussed over by practically everyone, especially Matt.

When you were finally able to leave the hospital a week later, he didn’t let you do anything.

“Matt, I’m fine.” You tried to tell him after he had scolded you for attempting to make lunch, you would have successfully made the frozen pizza if he hadn’t caught you taking it out of the freezer and forced you to sit down on the couch.

“The doctor said it would be a while before you were back to normal.” Matt reminded you, not that you needed reminding.

“Yeah, and he meant normal as in doing what I was doing instead of being stuck at a desk.” You huffed. “He didn’t mean that I wouldn’t be able to take care of myself.”

“I’m not taking any chances.” Matt replied simply, causing you to narrow your eyes at him. “Glare at me all you want, Y/N, but I’m not risking you hurting yourself worse than what you are.”

You huffed and crossed your arms.

He ended up being right though, about you needing to take it easy, because later that same day you were trying to do for yourself when you moved wrong and pulled at your stitches, causing you to yelp in pain and fall to your knees.

Matt was by your side in a flash, kneeling next to you with a worried look as his hands ghosted over you, not wanting to touch you in fear of causing you more pain but also wanting to help in any way he could. “What happened?” He asked, fear and panic in his voice.

You couldn’t even talk yet the pain was that bad, you just pointed over at the laundry basket while still clutching at your side.

Matt sighed in disappointment before looking back at you, his expression still worried. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

You shook your head quickly. “No…” You managed to get out. “No hospital…’m fine.” You mumbled.

“You don’t exactly seem fine.” Matt remarked but carefully helped you stand when you were ready.

You got over to the couch, still holding your side in pain but it wasn’t as bad.

Matt sighed softly and took a seat next to you, placing his hand on your knee. “Please stop pushing yourself.”

You didn’t respond to him, just stared at his hand on your knee.

“Please.” He repeated.

You sighed softly, still staring at his hand. “I just don’t wanna be a burden.” You admitted quietly.

Matt moved his hand before shifting so that he could look at you, gently cupping your face to get you to look at him. “You aren’t a burden, Y/N.”

“Yeah I am, if I can’t take care of myself and help out around here, that means you have to do it, so therefore I’m a burden.” You said sadly, your eyes not meeting his.

Matt shook his head. “Look at me.” He said softly and waited until you finally met his eyes. “You aren’t a burden. This is what people in loving, happy relationships do. They take care of each other, especially when one is hurt or sick. You’ve taken care of me plenty of times, remember when I got the flu and could barely get out of bed?”

“That was different.” You said, even though you weren’t exactly sure how.

Matt shook his head again. “No, it wasn’t. We take care of each other because we love each other. You’re not being a burden, you could never be a burden.”

You felt tears sting your eyes and had to look away, sniffling.

Matt carefully wrapped his arms around you while being mindful of your side.

You leaned into him and wrapped your arms around him. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“For what?”

“For all this. Getting shot, being a baby about it, not listening.”

Matt snorted a laugh. “Do you ever listen?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “No, but you know what I mean.”

Matt kissed the top of your head. “You don’t have to apologize for any of that.”

“Then what do I have to apologize for?” You asked softly.

“Nothing.” Matt replied softly.

#matt casey x reader #matt casey imagine #matt casey imagines #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire imagines

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

What I’d Never Say or Do (Had I Been in My Right Mind) - Pt.1

We Both Break Free (…if We Make It on Top)

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count (Ch1): 2050

Series summary: A story in which you officially come back from the dead, Tony with Natasha decide to take the blame for the whole mess and organize a party with unexpected party crashers and Bucky should consider thinking before speaking.

Fic title applicable to Tony, Natasha, Steve and his soulmate (aka the Reader), Bucky and his sort-of-buddy Matt Murdock and possibly few more.

Ch.1 summary.: In which Natasha and Tony go mad.

A/N: This series will be just a smaller thing, snippets set around The Age of Ultron (and later, Endgame). Later will be referred to as WINSoD because the title is a monster.

Warnings (ch1): mention of death and resurrection, mention of superntural creatures (see Errare Humanum Est), language, fluff

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Tony Stark was a ridiculously theatrical person.

While that was no news to anyone who knew as much as his name at least, but he still managed to outlive the legend, the reputation that preceded him.

He left you standing by the door, walked in to gain the undivided attention of the person inside the office and wanted you to reveal yourself in the exact right moment – a moment he trusted you to recognize.

Well. You assumed with a revelation like yours, it was rather hard to keep the drama away. But leave it to Tony Stark that he would blow it to proportion just to have fun.

“Tamara, darling!” the billionaire howled, the door opened only for a crack, so you could hear the reaction. You rolled your eyes, sighed and nervously looked around. The department was empty safe for the woman in the office, but it still made you feel uneasy; probably the effect of having to hide for the past weeks to avoid detection that could lead to a major scandal.

“Oh god, what happened?” Tamara asked, sounding as horrified as annoyed.

“Why do you assume— okay, that’s fair. How’s you hubby doing?”

“Alright,” the poor woman answered, clearly suspicious. “I more or less cleaned up the latest mess, so I’ve been coming home early…”

“Yeeeeah, about that. I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?” Tony offered cheerily.

“Bad news. Always. Let me just sit down-- no, no, don’t let me sit down, I have a feeling I’ll wanna pace irritably.”

That caused the corners of your lips to turn up. You were starting to like this woman already.

“I’m gonna need you to deal with a major scandal worthy of your skills.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere and I assumed as much.” Now you officially loved her – and you saw why Tony did too. Sass and snark; Tony’s language. “So, care to elaborate?”

“Nah, I’ll give you the good news. You’re gonna get some help. I brought reinforcements. She doesn’t have much experience with PR-” Try none. “-but I’m pretty sure she’ll be the one all the questions will be aimed at.”

“Oh my god, Anthony, did you get a woman pregnant?!” the woman hissed, not bothering lowering her voice. She sounded… kinda pissed. Which was reasonable, given the fact Tony Stark was happily-not-single with one amazing Pepper Potts.

“What? No! I have Pepper!” he opposed her, having the nerve to be offended. You smirked, hoping Jarvis caught that one line too. “This is all on Capsicle-“

“Captain Rogers got a woman pregnant?! What the-“

You felt like this was the moment.

“No, Mrs…. Tamara,” you said it the end, realizing Tony never told you the poor woman’s last name, and entered the room. “But his soulmate sort of came back from the death.”

Tamara was a middle-aged woman, with blonde medium-length hair and huge majestic glasses, business suit in a bloody-red colour and lips perfectly shaped in an “O” as you demonstrated the problem at hand.

“Holy. Shit.”

Leave it to Tony Stark he would flee the moment an actual explanation was needed, letting the others deal with the aftermath of his dramatic tendencies. To be fair, this was more of your drama, so…

“Good. Looks like introductions are not needed. I’ll send you the necessary data. Have fun.”

He strode through the door, winking over his shoulder at you and sending an air kiss to Tamara and you nervously smiled at the woman, your awkward side showing when you raised your hand to a reluctant wave before you could realize a handshake would be more appropriate.

“Uhm. Hi…”

The blonde blinked several times, shook her head with an incredulous chuckle and stuck out her hand.

“Hi. I’m Tamara, Antony Stark’s cleaning service. What can I do for you?”

Oh yeah. You’d get along just fine.

…

The story was simple and yet enough to make at least two Avengers very much hated.

Tony and Natasha, perhaps from some residual guilt of which you weren’t sure where was coming from, were determined to be thrown to the wolves of public.

Apparently, it had been all their idea – to have Steve and you kidnapped in the first place by the bomb enthusiast psycho. They had caught something fishy, been aware of it for a long time and opted for drawing the something rotten within SHIELD and company out by leaking early info on where you and Steve would be going to dates for several nights in a row without your or Steve’s knowledge. Perfect bait with nearly perfect surveillance background and safety measures.

Predictably, it had gone to shit and while you had never been blown up to death, which was something Steve had had zero clue about, you had been recovering from your life-threatening injuries for weeks in a hidden facility of top-secret location with way too much security. Still without Captain America’s knowledge.

Admittedly, this tale was a PR nightmare in making, not to mention a complete bullshit. Yet, the Avengers (sans Steve so far) unanimously approved of it. Tony and Natasha would be the first to blame, while the rest would reluctantly admit they knew as well and they had all kept it from Steve.

“You can’t be serious,” was all you managed to come up with, Steve sitting on the couch next to you while the rest of the team, the part that was momentarily on Earth, gathered around you to break you the news. This was what they came up with? “People will hate you.”

“And their hearts would still bleed for their golden boy, who would forgive us in time, especially since we offered his girl a job and an apartment she can’t quite refuse.”

“Wait, what kind of a job?!” Steve snapped, waking up from the deep thoughts he had fallen into with this stupid talk.

“The non-dangerous kind, Steve, calm down, please,” Natasha cooled him off flatly, but you could see her sincere gaze when it met with Steve’s. We wouldn’t endanger her, not again, it whispered. Steve’s shoulders slumped.

“What kind of a job?” you echoed, still worried. You assumed the apartment Tony mentioned was a place in the Tower, not bothering to ask about that part.

“PR. Unless you want to deal with your old job of which I have no doubt your best buddy would give back. I’d just like to remind you how the public reacted to you dying.”

Right. You wouldn’t mind a little privacy and safe space. You liked your old job, but it didn’t seem like an option now. Except… this was crazy.

“But they will still hate you. It makes you guys terrible friends and teammates. Frankly, it makes you kind of… terrible people,” you said slowly, taking time to examine everyone’s face.

“She’s got a point,” Steve agreed, wheels in his head clearly turning in a lightning speed.

“Meh. You should know what Fury’s up to during his ‘the end justifies the means’ periods – which is non-stop. I wouldn’t worry about that,” Natasha shrugged it off, pursing her lips a bit.

“Wasn’t it you who said you weren’t sure how to get her back to the world without having to explain she was literally led by an angel from Heaven?” Clint reacted to Steve, who sighed.

“Yes, of course, but this-“

“-is perfectly believable,” Natasha interrupted him, raising an eyebrow before beckoning to Tony and herself. “Me and Tony came up with the operation – a spy and a billionaire with questionable conscience. We pulled the rest of the team into the charade. This can work.”

“I can’t say I’ll enjoy this,” Bruce entered the conversation for the first time, surprising everyone. “However, it will allow you to walk the streets freely – with uncomfortable questions, yes, but it is a reasonable deal for us.”

“Steve? Thoughts?” the spy turned to him again.

Your soulmate observed his team for a long time, just like you, watching each of them individually, trying to read them as he himself was conflicted and undecisive. Finally, his eyes settled on you, a hint of an encouraging smile on his lips.

“Doll? How do you feel about that?”

The softness of his voice, the actual freedom he gave you when it came to this decision warmed your heart and made you shudder at the same time. You had no doubt he had come to a decision; but the final step was on you and you only. He would be affected too, of course, but this was your life that could turn upside down for like… what, the third time since you had met him?

You worried your teeth over your lower lip. “I mean… I’d really appreciate not having to hide in here all the time, but… I don’t want people to hate you, guys. I feel like I caused enough problems-“

“No, doll,” Steve whispered, his hand covering yours and squeezing firmly as he locked his gaze with yours and didn’t let go. “I’m not asking about them. I’m asking about you. They are clearly willing to do this.”

“Are you?” you questioned despite being confident about his answer.

“Do I love you?”

That caught you off guard. “Huh? That’s not what I-…?”

What did that even mean? Did he love— come again? How was this about his feelings towards you all of sudden? Was it time to question them? God, you hoped NOT.

“That the newest version of asking whether the sky is blue, doll,” he explained with a lop-sided smile and you released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Idiot. Sap. Sweet-talker.

“You’re such a sap.”

“You love it,” he hummed confidently. You smiled despite your better judgement. You loved him. And yeah, you loved this silliness too.

“I do.”

“So… are we doing this? Together?” His smiled grew a little wider, the twinkle you adored appearing in his eyes and you couldn’t but squeeze his hand back.

“Yeah. Together.”

“Jarvis, send Dum-E with some insulin shots,” Tony cleared his throat and you felt your cheek dust with a blush, roughly pulled out of the haze Steve managed to put you in once again. “We’re all having unhealthy sugar rush.”

The captain rolled his eyes. “Har, har, Stark. Are you guys really okay with this?”

Clint huffed. “It’s not like people will start planning our assassination more than they do already.”

“Tamara might,” Natasha opposed, amused.

“Ah, poor Tamara, I better bring a wine with me when asking…” Tony mused, scratching his goatee.

You turned to the red-head spy, not happy about being out of the loop.

“Who’s Tamara?”

Tamara, the head of the PR department for Tony (and sometimes for the Avengers too, because those two clients, so to speak, often came as a package deal), was currently starring at you speechless when you told her the tale of what actually happened and what lie they had decided to feed the public.

The silence lasted long enough for you to start worrying.

“Are you alri-“

“Angels are real?!” she burst out, nearly making you jump out of your skin with the sudden exclaim. You placed your palm over your chest to keep your racing heart inside your ribcage.

“…yes. But so are demons, shapeshifters, witches and so on, so…”

“Not a good thing to go public with. Got it. I understand the cover-up now. Though people being able to be resurrected would be enough on its own even without the… creatures. My my… we have a lot of work to do.”

“I’d imagine,” you agreed, not having a clue how to do this and where to start.

The woman looked at you over the rim of her glasses, her smile kind, in the Stark contrast to her loud cry only few second ago.

“…you don’t have any experience with PR at all, do you?”

“Nope,” you admitted, accenting the P and looking away, ashamed that Tony threw you into this without giving you anything helpful.

Now Tamara had to deal with the scandal and with you trying to help. That woman was worthy of some serious pay raise (though you had no doubt Tony paid her enough for her to own a villa or something, exactly as much as she deserved for dealing with his shit).

“I’m gonna kill Anthony, I swear…. Okay, let’s get this shit on the road. Also, Jarvis? Tell Antony to get the freakin’ wine ASAP.”

Oh yeah. You would actually adore Tamara, you were sure of it.

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Part 2

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Here we go! The final part of the series. Admittedly, I’m not sure about quality of this thing, but I’m trying.

Chapter titles are taken from the chorus of Les Friction’s What You Need

Thank you for reading ♥

(I’ll be tagging my Errare Humanum Est taggies, if you don’t want ot be taggged anymore, let me know)

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collabwithmyself · 4 years

Text

1-3: Turnabout Transfix (1/2)

Ray and Maya both teased him about his "old man phone," but in Miles's opinion, it worked perfectly well, so he saw no point in replacing it. It was simple, it was solid, and most importantly, he could still customize a ringtone with it.

This meant that waking up abruptly to a tinny rendition of the Steel Samurai theme song had him in a marginally better mood than if it were a normal, repetitive ringing dragging him out of slumber an hour earlier than usual. He fumbled blindly for the cell phone chiming away on his nightstand and dragged it over to him, squinting futilely at the caller ID before answering.

"Mlejerth," he managed.

"My!" screeched a voice, shouting directly into his ear and startling him into sitting up. "It's a disaster!"

"Wh-- Maya? What happened? Are you in danger?"

"It's the Steel Samurai!" Maya wailed. "He killed the Evil Magistrate!"

"Well, that seems largely out of character for him," Miles mused, rubbing his eyes. "...Wait, hold on, where did you get this information? Why are you giving me spoilers?"

"I mean in real life! Turn on the TV, or whatever it is you old men do to get news!"

"In real--" Miles's sleep-addled brain struggled to comprehend what Maya was trying to tell him. "You... do you mean their actors?"

"Yes! Duh!"

He fell back against the headboard in shock. "You're telling me Will Powers killed Jack Hammer?" Why didn't she say that in the first place?!

"That's what the police are saying! You're a defense attorney, My, do something! There's no way the Steel Samurai would kill anybody!"

"Wh-- Maya, you can't expect me to be able to catch the attention of a celebrity, let alone be picked by him to defend him in court! I've only acted as an attorney in two trials!"

"Yeah, and you beat Sascha von Karma! That's better than a whole resume of cases or whatever! Come on, My, you gotta!"

Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. "You won't stop pestering me until I agree to this, will you?"

"Nnnnope!" Maya popped the P emphatically. "Meet you at the detention center!"

"Yes, I'll see you--"

Click.

"...there..."

What had he just gotten himself into?

⁂

"So this is Global Studios?" Maya asked, hands on her hips as she peered around. "I kinda expected it to be... I dunno, bigger."

"Bigger isn't always better, you know," Miles replied, pushing up his glasses. "They make do excellently with what they have, wouldn't you agree?"

"You can say that again!"

Maya strolled closer to the gate, standing on her tiptoes. "Geez, where's the handle for this thing? You think we might have to climb it?"

Miles gave her a look that he hoped conveyed his lack of amusement properly. "We are not breaking into the studio. I highly doubt they'd let just anyone in, especially after a murder just took place. We might need to go back and get, well, a permission slip from Mr. Powers."

Maya smirked at him. "You just wanna get his autograph."

Miles's ears burned. "It's important to the case--"

A horrible screech startled them both, and Maya sprang back from the gate, reflexively snagging Miles by the sleeve and making him flinch a second time. It took him a moment to recognize the piercing cry as a human voice instead of some furious animal.

"Hey! You there! You wanna get in, you're gonna have to go through me! Honestly, all day I've had to deal with nothing but gawkers and sightseers, it seems like nobody in this city knows how to keep their nose out of things, they've all got another thing coming if they think they can get past me--"

He turned to find a person in blue storming out of the nearby security station and towards them both. Intimidated, but knowing better than to let that show, he straightened up, and beside him, Maya did the same.

"Er, pardon me. I'm a defense attorney, and this is my," Miles hesitated, "paralegal. We're here on behalf of--"

The elderly woman squinted at him, then brightened like a light being turned on. "Oh! What a lovely young man you are, aren't you just a sweetheart?"

Miles blinked at the praise. Beside him, Maya made a sudden retching noise, though he couldn't fathom why. "Er, I'm representing Will Powers," he continued, gesturing to the badge on his lapel, "and I was hoping you could let us in to conduct an investigation? You are the security guard, aren't you?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Wendy Oldbag, Global Studios security, but you can just call me grandma!" The old woman waved a hand at him. (Miles was... not going to do that.) "Why, you're so polite, not at all like most people these days, so pushy and impatient, looking to sightsee just because something horrible happened! No, I can tell you're an honest young man, you wouldn't dream of causing trouble, would you?"

Miles shook his head. Oldbag continued to ramble, so his gaze slipped away from her and towards Maya, who looked positively mortified.

"My, I think she likes you," she stage-whispered.

"Is that not a good thing?" Miles was puzzled. "She'll be more likely to let us in."

"Ohh, boy..."

It took a lot of convincing to assure this woman that they didn't need a personally guided tour, thank you, and it was Maya being her blunt self that eventually got her to take the hint and leave in a huff.

"That was..." Miles searched for the right word as he gazed about the studio grounds.

"Yikes," Maya finished.

"Maya, she was a perfectly agreeable woman--"

"Are you that oblivious, My? She was totally into you!" She threw her hands into the air. "You get such a bad crush you practically block out your memory when Mr. Powers talks to you, but this lady flirting with you doesn't set off any alarm bells?"

Miles spluttered. "She was not flirting!"

"She was totally making kissy eyes at you!"

"This is an entirely irrelevant discussion topic anyways, we should be investigating."

Maya puffed her cheeks out, balling her fists. "You can't just stand there and let weird old ladies creep on you, My!"

"Believe me," he huffed with finality, "I would never let any weird old person get into my head."

They didn't get far before a figure standing under the archway leading to the studios spotted them. The already large detective puffed up in anger when they approached.

"Hey! Aren't you that murderer from the other day?!"

Maya squeaked, bravado evaporating. "Yikes! It's that himbo detective...!"

"I-- I beg your pardon, Maya, what--"

The detective - Gumshoe, was it? - stomped a foot in frustration, chest heaving. "Prosecutor von Karma's real upset because of you! All frustrated and can't focus on work, staring out the window and muttering..."

Maya seemed to regain her resolve. "How is it our fault she's a sore loser, huh? And besides, if anyone's at fault, it's you for doing sloppy detective work!"

This only served to agitate Gumshoe further. "Don't you insult my boss!" he exploded. But then, all at once, he deflated, brows knitting together guiltily. "...I did my best..."

Maya looked thrown. "Um... s-sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings..."

The detective shook his head. "Nah, you got a point, pal... I shouldn't be blaming other people like that..."

Miles refrained from pointing out that it was pretty much his job to be blaming other people, along with his boss's. "Well, I suppose there's always the next case."

"Yeah... hey! Speaking of which! What the heck are you two doing here?!"

Maya put her hands on her hips and tried to make herself look bigger. "Well, we're on this case too, pal!"

Gumshoe's mouth fell open in offense. "Hey! You can't just go around calling people pal! That's my endearing character trait, pal!"

"Well, what are you gonna do about it, pal?!"

"Pal, I'm gonna--"

"Are you here," Miles interrupted loudly, "on behalf of Miss von Karma?"

It was the wrong thing to say, evidently, as Gumshoe set his jaw again. "I told you to address Prosecutor von Karma by the proper title! Don't let me catch you saying that around my boss, or you're in for it!"

What an odd thing to insist on, Miles thought, but he nodded along nonetheless. "Well? Are you?"

"Am I what...?" Gumshoe took a moment, most likely replaying the conversation in his head. "Oh! Yeah! Prosecutor von Karma's on this case, and this time, we've definitely got it in the bag!"

Miles remembered the strange, uneasy feeling he'd gotten when staring down that woman in court. How her eyes burned with a disgust and hatred Miles couldn't hope to decipher. How her cold composure had dissolved into furious outbursts and frantic bluffs in an effort to save face as Miles took her case apart. How angry, humiliated tears had pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she'd clung anxiously to her right side like she was preventing a wound from bleeding out.

"I'd be worried about her punching you, My," Maya had said to him, "but I think she might just break her hand trying."

How the scrawny brunette managed to be so imposing, Miles had no idea. Everything about her made his stomach twist, like something was inherently incorrect about her. He almost felt sorry for her, having to be raised by a man like Manfred von Karma, but she had been molded into his likeness - a ruthless prosecutor who sought no less than a perfect win record - which made her his enemy.

Some part of him wondered if they could have been friends in another life - a life where they'd crossed paths earlier.

But Miles had far more important things to worry about than that.

#roleswap au #turnabout transition #ace attorney #long post #collab writes #miles edgeworth #maya fey #dick gumshoe #wendy oldbag #misgendering #misgendering tw #I don't think the word existed in 2016 but the comedic potential of Maya calling Gumshoe a himbo is too good to pass up

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

Text

Peter Hayes x Reader || Oneshot

Title: The One and Only

Notes:

This is set after the Allegiant BOOK. So, SPOILER WARNING, Peter has used the memory serum.

I love this boy. And his lack of fanfiction is a PROBLEM.

Plot: For whatever reason, you were in love with Peter, and he was with you. But... now he’s gone. And you have to try and forget. Which is hard to do when he’s still around.

Finally, he wants to remember again.

Warnings: There is SMUT. Its indicated where though, so you can skip it if you like ^^ But there is a bit of plot in the middle. Also, swearing.

~~~

“Hey, Y/N!” Without my permission, my heart does a little jump, but it’s not for the person who said hey to me. Sighing, I take my hands from my laptop and straighten my back, turning to smile at Peter as he comes over to me and takes a seat on the bench right by me. I’m sitting sideways on it so my laptop can be set on it as well, so now I’m facing him without turning and trying to notice how differently he sits down, to how he used to. It’s like he completely started over, which he kind of did. His whole life, “Wiped away by chemistry,”. Including the way he walked, talked, and everyone who loved him. Well, person.

Me.

Which was a total dick move on his part, which was the last completely in-character thing that he did.

But, I can’t be mad at this boy in front of me, even if he looks miraculously similar to the dick in question. From his shiny hair to the tips of his greedy fingers. “Hi, Peter, what’s up?”

“Just finished another recall lesson. Still nothing,” He shrugs, uncaring. I already told him that this is what he wanted by taking the serum, to forget everything. So, he doesn’t really try in these lessons that he’s forced to attend, by government law. He believed me right away, weirdly. And has been acting so aloof about it since like somehow, he understands, which of course he can’t. Because he doesn’t know anything about himself or what he did to cause his old self to want to erase his memory! The whole thing, his whole response to this life changing event is aloof, and its infuriating. It’s the main thing that hasn’t changed at all about him, along with his appearance and his firm aversion to sprouts. He’s still really, really annoying.

“You know, I’m glad you’re respecting his wishes to not remember, but maybe you should try and remember some things. I mean, the techniques are working for some of the others, right? You said, uh… Katie, remembered something? Her choosing ceremony?” I watch, expression changing from thoughtful to deadpanned as he takes my can of coke and swigs from it like he spent 3 dollars on it. Once he’s done, I snatch it away from him and set him with a glare as I put it down on the other side of the bench, away from him. It causes a mischievous grin to pop onto his face and a laugh, and I try to forget the other times he’s made that face at me before he took the serum. Because that Peter’s dead, and I need to let him go like Four’s letting go of Tris. It’s not fair to this Peter.

In response to what I said, he just shrugs his shoulders again and look away to across the park- where Caleb is taking some photos. We drove here together, him and me. In fact, we’ve been doing a lot together. As two of the only ones from the original group who knows everything that happened, we have a connection. Peter’s next words rip my attention from Caleb though and makes me want to blurt out no, immediately. “Nah, I mean old me wanted this for a reason, right? I mean, I do kinda wanna know why he wanted this, but I figure he was some kind of depressed loser with self-esteem issues. That’s good enough for me, to keep going like this. Don’t wanna be that.”

Words have escaped me. I guess, I figured he thought something like that the whole time, but… hearing it out loud, in such a certain tone, hurts. My heart fights for me to tell him he’s wrong, at the very least, but my brain tells me to let him go on. Don’t interfere. He told you, before he took the serum, to let him go. Still be friends but let go.

He was being unfair, but that’s nothing new is it? The asshole.

I press my lips together after I get over the shock and horror and kiss my teeth. Deciding this has been enough ‘friendship’ for today, I quickly save my work and shut down my laptop, closing it. “Yeah, um, Peter. I gotta go. Caleb! Caleb, are you done? I’m having an Old Peter moment, so we have to go now.”

It’s not exactly a code, but it is what he or I say when we’ve had enough of new Peter or we’re remembering too much and need to get away. We use it for Tris, too. Even though she really isn’t here anymore. Caleb immediately starts putting his camera in its bag and walking over, without a word.

Peter himself looks unruffled by it, having come to accept it easily that I won’t always be able to handle this. He isn’t exactly cold about it… in fact, he’s understanding. Nearly nice. It makes me feel even sicker. “Oh, by all means, go. I’m gonna stick around a while, see you guys later.”

Caleb nods to Peter, reaching us and turning to me. “See you, Peter. Y/N? Are you oka- Oh,”I pick up his wrist and start dragging him to the car. As soon as I’m in the front seat and I’m buckle din, I look back over to the bench Peter’s sitting at, and catch him watching me. Trying not to scowl at him, I turn back to the steering wheel and turn the ignition. “It’s never going to get easier, is it?” Caleb asks from the passenger seat after a while, looking up from his camera on which he was flicking through the pictures he took.

I shake my head, immediately, heart still clenched in annoyance and ageing heartache. I risk a glance at him, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Nope, don’t think so.”

With that, there isn’t else to say, so we just hold hands. Tightly.

~~~

At dinner later in the community dining hall, I sit with Four and listen to him talk about work for a while. It’s a little awkward, and a lot strange seeing as we don’t talk at all, most days. Not since Tris died, but we’ve never acknowledged that and it’s been months. We were never close in the first place, but once you’ve fought a revolution with someone, you become attached. He’s a staple in my life just as much as I am his, and that’s why our relationship is so strange.

Nodding in agreement to something he said about how ridiculous milk prices are at the moment and how frustrating that is as I skewer a piece of broccoli and place it in my mouth. I don’t foresee Four’s and my relationship ever changing, seeing as we’re so different and have very little common and I don’t particular want to be best friends with him -acquaintances with a non-personal past is nice. Comfortable, without any expectations but still the understanding that we’re here for each other. I like it, - so there isn’t much in thinking about how strange it feels, I just thought I would mention it once to myself. “Also, the toilet paper, you seen that??”

He groans, in response, causing a bubbling laugh to travel up my throat from my chest. “It’s killing me.”

“Killing you! I have a lower paying job then you, I’m gonna have to start using the cardboard rolls soon!” He shakes his head, the tiniest grin on his lips as he looks back down at his food. I feel triumphant. “It won’t be good!!”

“Oh, jeez… “

“Hey, we’re gonna have to rig Secret Santa so you can buy me some, okay?” I point my fork at him conspiratorially. “I’ll get you milk.” He chuckles this time, making me smile.

For the rest of dinner, we continue like that. Talking about our shared financial issues and even switching over to Caleb at one point and how he’s sitting so pretty on his high paying job and his stockpiled toilet paper. God damn Brainiac’s…

It’s a good distraction from Peter, a few tables away.

~~~

When I finally get home, after hanging with some other friends after dinner just outside the community centre, goofing around I nearly suffer cardiac arrest as soon as I walk through the door.

Peter is not usually a menacing presence. But when he’s sitting in my dark apartment in the middle of the night and I had no idea he would be there, that fact changes! I don’t let myself scream, though. I hold my breath until the urge disappears.

After a moment, I let out the breath deeply and turn fully to him, dropping my scarf and keys on the hallway table before moving further into my home, past him. “Peter… “I growl, annoyed at him instantly. I don’t catch the mischievous smirk he sends my back, but I do feel it. “What the bleeding hell?!”

“Sorry if I scared you.”

“Oh, you are not.”

“True.” His cheeky tone puts my senses on high alert. Both because a cheeky Peter has always and will always be something to worry about, and because it used to turn me on. Still kinda doe, but that’s not something I’m about to admit to this version of him. We haven’t established that kind of relationship, nor will we ever. Sighing as my heartbeat slows down to its normal speed, I check the battery level on my pheon before putting it on charge. Then, finally, I sit down at the kitchen table across from Peter and settle into figuring out why the hell he’s here. And… also… how he got in??? The door was locked??? “Key was under the mat, Y/N. You should probably find a more secure hiding spot. Or at least more creative, jeez.”

“… okay… “I roll my eyes. He has a point. “So, Peter, uh… why are you here?”

“Well, I… “I watch while he suddenly droops in confidence and draws something on the table with his finger. These moments are really weird for me. Peter was always so confident before, even when he shouldn’t have been. Its cute, but so, so weird. He draws the thing, whatever it is, then looks around the room, making me remember that he’s never been in here before. An attempt made by me to keep him at a distance, which I guess now has been turned to shit. His shy moment ends, and one corner of his mouth perks up in a half smirk. “I like your place, could get used to it here. I wonder… why haven’t you ever brought me here before?”

“To keep you at a distance.” I say, bluntly. Theirs a slight shift behind his eyes at it, making his mouth turn down a bit in a tiny scowl and his green eyes look cold.

“Has Four been here?”

“Uh… yeah.” I don’t know why I should lie, or why he would look so serious about it. Before the serum, this was his murderous face, but I’m assuming it must be something different now. New Peter doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. “He has, but not for long. He just came to help me move in, hasn’t been back since though… why? Uh, you know what, I don’t care. Why are you here?”

His serious face intensifies. “I saw you with him tonight, and it brought back some feelings. So, I have a question.”

Making a confused, and slightly frustrated face, I shrug. “What kinda feelings?”

“Jealously.” Oh, he’s playing blunt too.

That does make me think, though. Whether this is unwanted memories coming back, or just a glimmer, a shadow of the old Peter coming back for a second. Because, yes, this is exactly something that he would feel before the serum. Any time I was with another guy, especially Four due to his particular dislike of the tattooed, ex Dauntless, he would get so jealous. Usually, it ended with that guy receiving some kind of punishment or dirty look, and me getting Peter attached to me for the rest of the day. Now, though, I should just tell him to ignore it.

But… “So, what’s your question?” I can’t pass up the chance he’ll become a little more the Peter I love. Even though I shouldn’t.

He looks dangerously focused into my eyes, which is also very Old Peter-like. “Were we a couple, before?”

Ahhhh, whoops. I don’t know what I thought he was going to ask, but for some reason this didn’t occur to me. If I tell him the truth, he might remember more then he should. Not to mention the fact that it’ll ruin whatever relationship we have now. And if I tell him a lie, he’ll know. “Umm, well… uh, yeah.”

I hold my breath, as soon as the last word escapes my lips. Have I ruined it? Will he remember, and hate me? He’s silent for just a moment, not giving me enough to time to think of a plan if he does remember, before he leans back in his chair, muscles relaxing.

“Well, that’s news.” Well, that’s not the reaction I expected or one I wanted! At least be sensitive to my situation, Peter! He looks away from me and to the side of the room, and I watch. How will he take this? Will he leave? “Thought I felt something. No wonder I wanted to be with you so bad.”

“Hm, and I thought the new you was just annoying.” I get up from the table and head for the door. “Well, you better go, before you remember anything else,”

“Well, I kinda want to now.”

Don’t be serious, don’t be serious, don’t be serious…

“No, you don’t.” You didn’t want to remember before, you’ll hate yourself even more if you miss out on your one chance to change yourself easily. You’re already doing so well! Don’t do this to yourself, please. “Just trust me, telling you that you don’t want that.”

He looks at me again, and his green eyes change again. He gets up from his seat and comes over to me, a little too close. Oh, no. he doesn’t think just because I was with the other him that he’ll get any action, does he? The jerk. I look up at his face, craning my neck since he’s so close, and feel my heart plunge to my feet. He’s made up his mind, he wants to know. I shake my head at him, he smirks. “Come on, Y/N. Haven’t you missed me?”

I groan, and push him away. “Nooo… I mean, yes. But you’re not him. And I won’t take away your chance, to- “He brings me back to him his familiar hands on my hips. It’s like trying a drug that I long gave up… but still feels so good. Stubbornly though, I pick his hands off of me. I have to try to avoid his eyes. “Peter, go home.”

“No.” The resolve and the determination in his voice shocks me and I look up quickly at his face. He would’ve never refused to leave me alone like that earlier today. Already, his old self is coming… oh no. Groaning again, I turn to open the door and force him out. This is not good. We were doing so well! We were nearing our 6-month mark! It was going to work! And now… now… well, it can still work! It will. I just need to get him out of her- His hands are on me again, oh no. That feels good.

“Y/N… “He tightens his grip on my waist nearly painfully, so familiar and demanding me to give in and enjoy it. You know, before the morning comes and he remembers everything and shuns me. But I wont give up, and I put my hands on his again to try and peel them off, before his breath hits the side of my neck and his voice, dark and with that ever-joking way about it, causing me to pause. The asshole tone. “I want to remember, now. And you’re my ticket. Plus… you’re mine, right? I have some punishment to implement for talking to Four. For some reason that really pissed me off.”

My body’s ahead of my mine, in this. Already leaning back and feeling the warmth of his chest against my back while my mouth still talks about him leaving. “You’ll regret this.”

“Hell I will, now come on.” I turn around to face him, causing him to flash me a bright, Peter smile before he much too soon since I wasn’t really expecting him to ever do this again, kisses me, and it feels so good my resolve melts away. Of course, its still hanging around back there in the back of my heart, but now all the time I wasn’t touching him, wasn’t thinking about him this way has taken over. Not to mention pure, dumb, human sex drive.

SMUT FROM HERE ON

Kissing is nice for a couple minutes, at least. Everywhere his body touches mine, from our chests to our lips and our tongues to my arms over his broad shoulders and his hands holding my hips against his feels solid and exciting. The way he kisses me can only be described as being carnal. Purely animalistic, wanting to taste, and the way I’m kissing back isn’t different at all. I can’t help sucking gently on his tongue when his lips part, causing a lascivious groan to come from him.

In fact, in response, one of his hands comes up to cup the back of my neck and hold my head in place so he take control of the kiss entirely, the other arm hooking around my lower back and compressing me against him. I don’t know if it was his goal, but now I can feel clearly the wicked, familiarly full way of his pants when he’s turned on. Which he is, right now. Truly.

It makes me think for how long he’s been waiting for this, if he’s gotten so stiff so quickly. I can’t say though that I’m in much a different situation. My keenness for him is so that my core is dripping in wait, wanting to be filled by him. Impatient, I break the kiss and nearly give in to it again when his lips nearly follow me but stay strong. “Peter… “Oh god, oxygen. Breath, need it. He’s so hot. His hair’s a mess of brown surrounding his head, scar on his neck is calling out to be sucked on, and his eyes are beautiful. Green, and mesmerising, and tempting as ever. Giving in feels a lot like freedom.

“Yeah?” The word comes out as a breath, quiet with just a hint of his voice peaking around.

I trace my hands down from his shoulders to the rest of him, enjoying the feel. “Sit down, I can’t ride you standing up.”

“Oh, right.” Once he’s sitting down, I can clearly see his erection straining defiantly against his pants before he takes them off, his underwear going to the same place on the floor. I want to sit on it so badly, my legs shaking uncontrollably with arousal as I get rid of my own lower garments. When he sees my shining, wet pussy, he embarrassingly zeroes right in on it, an unstable smirk on his lips. Good, then. I like it when he’s unstable. Never know what he’s going to do to me. “C’mere, baby.” Tentatively, hoping I don’t trip on the way because that would be embarrassing as hell, I do as he says. As soon as I get a foot from him, he gets off the chair and kneels in front of me. Oh, god, if he starts anything here my legs won’t keep me up. “Hmmm, I think I remember you wetter,” I struggle to breath for a moment when he, without warning or even looking up at me, swipes a finger up between the slit of my lips. My hands snatch his shoulders, so I can stay up and I open my legs more, ready. “I think I missed this. Can you tell? My fucking cock feels like its going to snap off if I don’t get to have you.” He glances up at me for a second, then does a double take and looks back at my face again, focusing on it. I wonder what’s going through his head. The old Peter would have told me right away, just to see me go red and squirm. He is becoming that one, slowly, but still this Peter just grins devilishly at me, hooks his hands around the back of my knees and nudges me towards him some more. My body moves on its own, reacting to his hands and shuffle forward.

Then, looking into my eyes, he does something that puts me in the palm of his hands. He licks a long stripe, as if I’m an icy pole, deeply through my lips. It makes me rigid, and moan out in bliss, my eyes falling shut. Not one to be dormant though I really want to, to just let him do whatever he wants to me, I take my right hand and entangle my fingers through his soft, hickory hair and grip his shoulder with the other, swinging my leg over his right shoulder before opening my eyes and peering down at him again. He looks surprised, in awe. I feel freaken powerful. “You… you just going to stare at me Peter, or finish what you started.”

Its not a question, it’s a demand. He needs to do that again.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He flashes me another Peter smile, then gets to work. And man, did my move make a difference. It felt good before, but now I really do think I might lose in my legs, especially since I’m only one! And, god, he looks good eating me out. Like he’s kissing me, taking generous gulps every time his tongue scoops some more of my essence, getting deeper with every plunge until I’m trying desperately to distract myself by playing with his hair. Simultaneously though I’m pressing my heat into his mouth.

In the end, it’s the sucking that pushes me over the edge. Just as I’m getting used to the pleasure, he abruptly puts his mouth over my cunt and sucks, causing shock to rush through me and my eyes to widen. ‘Peter!” I gasp, tightening my grip on his hair, as cum explodes from my core. He doesn’t drink it, just leans back on his heels and watches it drip down my thighs in satisfaction. After a moment, he looks like he’s in a trance as he watches, and I reel from the extreme pleasure.

“It’s going to feel so fucking good in there. I missed this.”

“How can you miss something you don’t remember.”

“I remember Capture the Flag,” He says it off-hand, before either of us can realise that he shouldn’t remember that. I remember. Eric had picked him second for his team and me last because it was either me, or Christina and they didn’t have a good track record with her. I found Peter shortly after he got ‘shot’ with those neuro stim guns, and we stuck around that old carnival after everyone else left. He created a really dumb one liner, entailing that it’d make him feel better if I kissed his wounds. We didn’t get back until the early hours of the morning, getting probably near 2 and half hours of sleep. But he shouldn’t remember that.

My eyes snap down to him and hop down on my knees with him, looking into his eyes. Of course, I can’t tell just by looking at his eyeballs if he’s back, but maybe if I stare hard enough, he’ll tell me. After a moment, he just shrugs a little a smiles, blankly back at me. Then leans across and gives me a deep kiss. He pulls back and grins. “You’re the ticket, sweetheart. I knew it.”

Sighing, having let my hopes raise just then that he would be back, and wrap my arms over his shoulders and play more, softly with his hair. Looking at his lips, then his eyes. “Then maybe you should hurry up and take it.” I lower my voice, my heart bleeding to tell the secret I haven’t dares to utter to anyone, since Peter disappeared. “I want you back. I miss you.”

“I want to be back.” He leans towards me, curling an arm around my back so he can carefully lay me back on the floor. “Hey, when he’s back. Tell him for me that he owes you something big, for putting you through this.”

“Peter, are you making a dirty joke to me right now?” I giggle, looking at the ceiling now as he ready’s himself. He laughs, too.

“No, I actually didn’t hear that until you mentioned it. Really.”

“Really,” I roll my eyes, disbelieving.

“Absolutely Y/N! Now, let me concentrate.” That brings me back to the present. I realise I’m still dripping with cum from before, and when I look up at him above me ready to power into me fully, I realise I still fucking want him. He’s so tall, and strong, and I intend to give him a hickey on that neck scar if it is the last thing I do tonight.

Hooking my legs up and around his waist, I meet him in the middle for the first delicious thrust. I watch curiously, his face as it changes from mischievous to delighted, in an enticingly smutty way. That makes me grin, but then the pleasure hits me and a surprisingly, nearly embarrassingly amorous moan comes from me, as his cock powers through me, rubbing against my inner walls like static. In reaction the pleasure, I arch up into him, and pull him by the hair down to my mouth, pressing a slow, careful kiss to his lips first before moving on to that neck scar.

While he pounds into me, he also feels my ministrations on his neck. I lightly trace the tip of my tongue up the long line, then kiss the middle and start nibbling and sucking there to my liking, taking my time to enjoy it. And I know he does, too, because he mumbled a very sexy, guttural curse at one particular lick. It sent trickles of pleasure all the way down to my core.

This ecstasy goes on for who knows how long, I certainly wasn’t watching the time, before he lets himself go and I watch through half lidded eyes as he comes apart inside me, the stuff leaking out from around his dick and dripping out of me in warm spurts. I gives one last, hard thrust and I come along with him, a sigh escaping me and a sentence of curses from him. Carefully, he disconnects himself from me, and I get up and help him to his feet, beyond sleepy now. “… okay. That was nice, now… sleep?” I giggle, at the understatement and at his cute weary look.

“Show the way,”

“Yes sir, come on.” I lead him by the hand to my bedroom. Quickly we clean ourselves up, and then we hop in and the bed is so, extremely comfy after the floor. “Can’t believe we did that on the floor when this was here… “I mumble, tiredly.

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest place.” He pulls me toward him and I entangle our legs, almost subconiously. I’m so tired I don't pick up on that hint.

Snorting, I shake my head as I start to fall asleep. “No, guess not… “

~~~

In the morning, I wake up to peter already awake. He hasn’t moved much, just… you know, rested his head on his fist and is watching me sleep.

I squint and push my head back further into my pillow and away from him suspiciously. “… Goodmorning.”

He flashes a wicked grin. Wide smile and dull eyes, like he wants you to think he knows something you don’t. Or worse, he does. Very Peter-like. “Morning, beautiful.”

Even more suspiciously, I try to figure out first on my own what’s up, because something surely is. All I remember is what we did last night, and shame washes over me. Oh, lord… it’s too early for this. “What?”

“Told you, you were the ticket- “That makes me gasp, and sit up immediately, hitting my forehead on his and causing pain that I ignore. He rubs his forehead, but doesn’t seem mad. Just cheeky, and a little evil. “Christ, Y/N, I guess the honeymoons over, huh??”

I clench the sheets under my fists and chew on my bottom lip. “You’re… back?”

He just gives me a look, like ‘Well, obviously’.

No, no. I need a real answer. Does he realise what he’s put me through?? Probably. He is a jerk after all. “Peter?”

“The one and only.”

#Peter Hayes x Reader #Oneshot #Smut #Lemon #Divergent #Caleb Prior #Tris Prior #Four #Peter Hayes #Book Events #Divergent Imagine #Divergent x Reader #Allegiant

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