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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose.

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas.

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones.

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him.

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too.

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him.

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders.

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation.

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement.

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped.

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be.

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits.

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!”

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined.

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you.

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet.

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees.

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see.

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you.

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room.

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars.

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal.

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas.

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more.

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you.

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips.

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you.

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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leighistired · 3 years

Text

Out Loud

A Martin character study AO3 Link

“G’night mum, love you.”

“Make sure you put the trash out, don’t want it stinking up the house.”

At 12 it occurs to Martin, he can’t recall the last time his mother said “I love you” to him. She must have. He knows she loves him, so why can’t he remember her saying it? Was it before dad left? It can’t have been that long ago. He knows if he brings it up she’ll just tell him off for being silly so he just decides to not say it unless she says it first. She doesn’t say it.

“Look how nice our neighbor’s garden is,” she says instead. “If only we could have such a nice garden.”

“The neighbors hire a man-” Martin tries to explain. He had just done law maintenance over the weekend; he would have to bring up memory issues next time they saw a doctor.

“Aren’t you happy with how I provide for you?” She snaps. “Ever since your lousy father left us I have done my best even with my health and all you can talk about is getting a bloody gardener.”

“Sorry, mum,” he says. It’s better not to argue when she gets like this.

“Forget it. Just get me my tea.”

He goes and brews her a cup of Oolong tea. It’s far too bitter for his tastes but it’s all he buys when he does the shopping. Perhaps that was it, instead of saying she loved him she just provided for him.

Martin tells himself that until she gets too sick to work and begins needling him to get a job at 14. Suddenly he’s providing for her on top of school and everything else but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. She was just sick and the medication she was on made her tired most of the time so it wasn’t like he could expect her to be excited to see him; especially not when he’s the one bringing it to her.

“Is soup the only thing you buy?” She asks one evening when he brings her dinner.

“You didn’t have soup last night,” he reminds her patiently after a long day of school and work.

“Oh, so you think I’m ungrateful? I am your mother! I gave birth to you! You should be happy to take care of me!”

“It would be nice if you acted like a mum for once!” Martin snaps back. He regrets it as soon as he says it and doesn’t wait to hear her response. He leaves the house and sits in the park near his house for a long time and cries. Of course she loves him. It must be so hard on her to be stuck at home all day with no one to talk to and there he went snapping at her. She’s asleep by the time he comes home and neither of them mentions it in the morning.

Martin doesn’t know what he expects when he starts to transition. He hadn’t even called it a transition at first, he just likes how he looks with short hair, baggy clothes, and a sports bra. His mother disagrees. There are days she won’t even look at him and when she does it’s usually even worse.

“You cut your hair again,” she mentions one morning over breakfast. “Just when you were starting to look like a girl.”

“Yup,” Martin replies tight-lipped. He had been thinking it over for a while and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a girl. The way she says it hits him sharply. If she was never going to say “I love you” to a daughter, why would she say it to a son? He doesn’t bother coming out to her properly because he can already see the disgust on her face when he gets a proper binder.

When she decides to move into a full-time care facility, it’s almost a relief. He feels foolish for expecting her to say it when she leaves. He feels even more foolish when he says it in goodbye. The receptionist gives him a sympathetic look when she doesn’t say it back but the receptionist probably assumes his mother has memory issues and forgot who he was. She doesn’t. Still, he appreciates the gesture.

Dating is nearly impossible for most of his life. It’s easiest to blame his busy schedule; he doesn’t even have time for friends outside of school. The fact that no one even asks him out isn’t something he wants to think about. After he drops out of school and his mother leaves, dating and friendship don’t get any easier. He can’t let anyone he works with get close enough or they’ll find out his real age and utter lack of qualifications. Online dating is also out of the question for similar reasons. If one of his coworkers saw him with the age 19 in his profile they would either know he wasn’t actually 25 or they would think he was a creep and he didn’t exactly feel comfortable lying about his age to potential dates. Meeting people organically isn’t the worst thing in the world but it’s difficult. He makes a few passing friends at a local trans support group but even then, he can’t get close to anyone without risking someone discovering his falsified CV.

He doesn’t have his first real boyfriend until he’s 23 years old. They meet at a Holloween party thrown by a mutual acquaintance and date for almost five months before Martin ruins it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dominick, I love you,” Martin says as he serves dinner.

“Oh, uh, it’s a little fast to say that, don’t you think?” Dominick had stammered awkwardly. Was it? It didn’t seem like it to Martin and even if it was, it was true. He loved Dominick.

“I-I don’t think so,” Martin replies nervously. Some distant part of himself starts to berate him for being so needy.

“It kind of is. Let’s just pretend you never said it and we’ll see how we feel in a few more months, ok?”

“You mean we’ll see how you feel,” Martin says a little bitterly.

“Why can’t you just relax and enjoy the holiday?”

Martin had sighed in resignation and picked at the rest of his plate. They broke up a week later because Dominick felt like they were “looking for different things.”

Martin doesn’t have another serious boyfriend after that. He goes on a few more dates over the years but nothing that lasts longer than five months. Nothing that lasts long enough to say “I love you.” In some deep dark part of him, he wonders if he was ever meant for love. His father hadn’t loved him enough to stay, his mother hadn’t said she loved him in over a decade, and he’s not even sure he was in love with Dominick. He gets crushes, sure, but he just throws himself into his work at the Magnus Institute instead.

Working in the library isn’t bad. He gets along with his coworkers well enough but he can never get close to them. Not close enough to love them as friends or be loved in return.

Then he gets transferred to the Archives.

Jonathan Sims is not the first asshole boss Martin has ever had. He doesn’t understand why Mr. Bouchard sent him down to work in the Archive in the first place and his first impression with his new boss is less than stellar when a dog follows him into the building. It doesn’t help that Jon is good-looking and every once in a while Martin catches glimpses of a version of the Archivist without a stick up his ass. Like when he spends Martin’s ice cream birthday talking about emulsifiers. If only he would be clearer about what he actually wants from Martin. No report or follow-up seems to be good enough, even with the help of Tim and Sasha.

Martin works hard for Jon’s approval. He doesn’t know why he wants the recognition but it’s either this or quit and he really, really can’t quit. So he spends three full days looking for every woman named Angela over fifty in Bexley only to be berated for actually talking to one of them and then he offers to look into a case about spiders that clearly upsets Jon only to get trapped in his flat by a zombie worm woman.

When he finally escapes, he takes a few worm corpses with him and he dumps them on Jon’s desk while he’s in the middle of a statement. Let Jon try and disprove that When he gives his own statement he makes special emphasis on reminding Jon how hard he worked to meet his exacting standards. He refuses to be yelled at for this.

Except Jon believes him. More than believes him, in fact. He offers Martin a place to stay. Of course that would be enough to ignite a crush in Martin.

As soon as they get to document storage Martin sits on the cot and begins to cry with exhaustion. He expects Jon to leave but again he surprises him.

“I-it’s alright, Martin,” he says awkwardly as he pats Martin’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here and I’m certain Elias will respond promptly to my request for extra security.”

“Thanks,” Martin sniffs. He can’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person.

“Would...would you like me to stay until you fall asleep? If- if you think it will help.”

“Oh, er...no...I’ll be fine, thank you. You should be getting home, anyway. It’s Saturday, Jon.”

Martin blacks out as soon as Jon shuts the door to document storage. When he wakes up he finds his crush on Jon stubbornly still in place.

He can’t help himself after that. He starts taking special care of Jon in hopes of encouraging the kind man he saw that night into emerging. At the very least Jon doesn’t yell at him as much and he even thanks Martin for the tea he brings. It’s then that he notices other things about Jon, like how rattled he gets by certain statements and how he’ll often go an entire day without eating or drinking anything unless someone brings him something. That someone being Martin. He also notices how late Jon leaves, if he leaves at all.

It’s on one such night of Jon still being in his office at 11 o’clock that Martin knocks on Jon’s office door.

“Jon?” He calls gently.

“Hzzmt! Martin?” Jon responds, having been startled awake from dozing at his desk. “You should be asleep.”

“And you should be home.”

“I see your point,” Jon sighs. “I’ll finish up here and head home. Unless you need something?”

“Actually….I-I was thinking,” Martin beings. “Since I sort of kicked you off your cot...D’you want to come back to document storage with me? You know, get some sleep?”

“What?”

“Er...forget I-”

“The cot would be rather cramped with both of us,” Jon warns as he gets up from his desk. “If...if you’re sure you want me to join you.”

“Yeah...I thought you had work to do?”

“It can wait until morning, no use keeping you up longer than necessary.”

Martin only half regrets offering to share a bed with his crush. Jon was right, the only way to fit both of them on the cot is for both of them to sleep on their sides (or for Jon to sleep on top of Martin but even the thought has his face burning) and it’s difficult for him to fall asleep with Jon’s back pressed against his. It’s good to hear Jon fall asleep, though, and as time wears on it’s easier for Martin to goad Jon away from work to sleep a few hours.

The more of himself Jon reveals the harder Martin falls for him. Especially after Jon accuses him of being a ghost during the Prentiss attack. Even with the guilt Martin feels every time he looks at Jon mummified in bandages. That was Martin’s fault. If he had just paid more attention then he wouldn’t have lost Jon and Tim in the tunnels. He does everything he can to try and make up for it; despite Jon becoming more and more closed off by the day. Intellectually, Martin knows that Jon has gotten like that with everyone, but something deep down makes Martin feel like it’s his fault Jon’s gotten so cold. It doesn’t help that Jon seems to have gotten friendly with the policewoman investigating the murder of the previous Archivist. Tim even seems to think they’re having an affair which does wonders for Martin’s self-esteem. Jon wouldn’t be the first straight man Martin has ever had a crush on but Martin was pretty sure Jon wasn’t straight. Again, he wonders if he’s done something wrong to push Jon away.

After Jon stumbles out of his office covered in blood claiming to have had an accident with a bread knife Martin finds all the excuse he needs to regularly drag Jon to the canteen to make sure he eats something. The silences during those lunches are hard. They had eaten together before but now Jon wasn’t talking to him. The most Martin could get out of him were a few one-word answers. He tries not to think about how it reminds him of his mum.

“So,” he tries for the millionth time while Jon picks at his sandwich. “Did I tell you what happened while you were at physical therapy the other day?”

Jon doesn’t say anything but he looks up with a gaze that bores into Martin.

“Uh...A little girl came in alone with a statement, she must’ve only been eight years old,” Martin says. Jon looks at him with an expression that almost seems afraid. “Don’t worry, it recorded fine on digital. She walked right down into the Archive, walked up to my desk, and said ‘Excuse me. My name is Beatrice Walker and I’d like to make a statement about a supernatural occurrence.’ She sounded so grown up and she refused to leave until I had recorded her statement. Turns out her dad was using the library for research and she had just wandered off.”

“What was her statement about?” Jon asks to Martin’s surprise.

“Oh, a hamster with mysteriously changing spots.”

“Ah,” Jon replies thoughtfully. “Not much need for follow-up there, I suppose.”

“Not unless you really need me to track down the shop where her parents picked up the new hamster.”

He catches the briefest of smirks from Jon before the conversation dies again.

After that Jon’s coldness and paranoia comes out in the form of a screaming accusation over letters Jon found in the trash. Martin barely manages to make it to the bathroom before he bursts into tears after coming clean about his CV. Tim thankfully doesn’t check on him while he silently curses his taste in men. Jon doesn’t meet his eye for the next week in what he bitterly hopes is guilt. He does seem slightly more willing to talk with Martin at lunch, though.

Then Jon goes missing. After trying to get Martin and Tim to go home early because Jon was feeling under the weather; he disappears. Not before apparently bludgeoning someone with a pipe and isn’t that exactly what he and Tim need to see as soon as they get back from a two-week kidnapping by a spooky door monster?

With Sasha gone, Jon missing, and Melanie King being suddenly hired by Elias, whatever’s left of Martin’s relationship with Tim deteriorates. More so when Martin becomes the only one in the world to believe Jon could be innocent. It’s probably that that makes the police detective “investigating” Jon so actively hostile toward him. Apparently, people say he and Jon are “close” and that probably only means the lunch thing but he wants to imagine it’s something more. Like people are somehow picking up that Jon likes him back.

When Jon comes back to confront Elias it’s all Martin can think to do to fall back on his tea-making. He ducks into Jon’s office with a piping cup of the overly sweet tea he spent months perfecting to Jon’s taste and finds him with his face buried in his one non-bandaged hand.

“Jon?” He calls as gently as he can while he closes the door behind him. “I brought you some tea.”

It’s when Jon looks up that Martin notices the bloody mess down the front of his shirt.

“You’re hurt. Let me go get the first aid-”

“No!” Jon interrupts frantically. “Just...Could you just stay with me for a moment?”

Martin acquiesces and they sit side by side on the sofa in Jon’s office in silence until Jon starts sniffling into his tea. He offers Jon a hug and Jon all but dives into his chest to cry. It’s the saddest most broken thing Martin has ever heard and it’s all he can do not to pull Jon into his lap and curl around him protectively.

“Martin...I-I...I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. For Sasha and Prentiss and...and for the way I treated you. You didn’t….no one deserves that.”

“None of that was your fault and I sort of deserved it. I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” Jon insists before going back to quietly crying into Martin’s jumper. Martin doesn’t respond. He can’t recall the last time someone’s apologized to him. At least not like that. He’d been told off most of his life for not doing things up to people’s standards. A few people over the years had told him he didn’t deserve it but Jon was the first person to apologize. No wonder Martin was falling in love with him.

Damn it.

Cuddling doesn’t become a regular occurrence for them by any means but Jon begins doing more to seek Martin out after that. They eat lunch together more often and Martin stays up late to talk to Jon while he’s abroad. It drives home how deeply buried into Martin’s heart Jon has become. Especially after he comes back after going missing for a month and has the audacity to joke about being moisturized by a clown mannequin for a month.

He wonders if Jon feels the same way. Sometimes Jon will smile shyly at him, and he can almost believe that Jon would be interested in a relationship if the world wasn’t ending. The last time they speak before the Unknowing they’re in document storage.

“Are you ready?” Jon asks as he shifts nervously.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Martin signs. He heard what happened to Melanie. He knows what’s likely to happen to him. Some small part of him is screaming to just tell Jon his feelings like it’s the climax of an action movie.

“Stay safe,” Jon says.

“Come back,” Martin replies. Jon offers him a hug. It’s no movie kiss but it allows Martin to hold Jon as close as possible. Jon himself is hanging off of Martin’s neck and it feels like a final goodbye.

Then Elias confirms what Martin has always suspected deep down. That his mother never loved him or if there was a time when she did, she stopped when his father left. Even after everything. After he spent years taking care of her. After he had to quit school to care for her. All she ever saw was his father. All his transition did was to remind her further of how much he looked like his father’s son. At least it was worth it. To distract Elias so Melanie could find evidence to arrest him.

Then Peter Lukas shows up and reveals that Elias planned to get arrested. Worse than that, he offers Martin a promotion of sorts.

Then they get the news from Yarmouth. Tim’s body is found in a charred heap, Daisy is missing, and Jon is dead in all but brain activity. At least Basira is physically alive.

Martin spends as much time as he can next to Jon. He’s used to loving someone who can’t love him back. Maybe this is all he’s destined for. Love unrequited. He talks to Jon’s dreaming corpse. Tells him about his day, reads him poetry, even a statement, but nothing draws Jon out of his coma.

Then his mother dies. He barely has the emotional strength to mourn her. Instead, he scatters her ashes and mourns his childhood lost to trying impossibly to earn her love.

After the Flesh attacks, Martin makes a decision. He’ll join Lukas. It’ll probably lead to his death but what did that matter? His mother was gone and didn’t care about him anyway. Tim and Sasha were gone. Jon was basically gone. Basira and Melanie were the only people left that he vaguely cared about and by doing this he could at least protect them.

He visits Jon one last time in the hospital. He’s still covered in wires and his eyes still flit around violently behind his lids as Martin sits down next to him and takes his hand.

“Hey Jon,” he says quietly. “I...This is the last time I’m going to see you...Probably ever. I know, I know old dramatic Martin surely he’s exaggerating. I’m not. The Institute is in danger and...I have a way to keep Melanie and Basira a little safer, so I’m doing it. I just came by one last time to say...Jon, I...I love you. Goodbye.”

He gets up and presses a kiss on a part of Jon’s forehead not covered in wires before leaving. It’s alright that he doesn’t say it back. No one ever says it back to Martin.

When Jon wakes up everything becomes that much harder. Suddenly he had a reason to live and the way Jon pursues him makes him almost believe...No, even completing the thought would be dangerous for all of them. Jon trusts him enough not to be constantly badgering and that makes it worse. When Jon is there the Lonely makes Martin resent his presence and when Jon’s gone Martin resents his absence.

The final, most excruciating pain is when Jon comes after him in the Lonely. He’s excepted his fate in the chilling numbness of the Lonely. Maybe that’s why he says it. The certain, inevitable rejection would be numbed utterly. So he says it.

“I really loved you, you know?”

And Jon looks broken. Even after he rips Peter’s statement from him. Even when he reaches for Martin’s face with hands that seem far too warm and makes him See. Knowing Jon loves him isn’t like “knowing” his mother loves him. Instead of a lie born in Martin’s mind to stamp down the fear of rejection, it’s a reality pouring from Jon’s mind mingled with Jon’s fears of rejection.

Jon’s hands still feel too warm compared to the icy chill of the Lonely as he leads Martin out. Still, he refuses to let go all the way through the tunnels, the Institute, talking to Basira, packing at each other’s flats, and on to the train. The way to Daisy’s safe house feels like a blur and when they finally arrive it’s all Martin can do to remember to take off his binder before collapsing into bed with Jon’s warm arms around him.

He wakes to Jon’s quiet crying. The awful, stifled thing that breaks Martin’s heart.

“Jon,” he whispers.

“Martin? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Jon,” he assures as he swaps their positions so Jon is tucked firmly against him. Jon makes another broken noise and Martin can’t stop himself from crying, too.

“I-I’m here, Martin. You aren’t on your own,” Jon soothes and Martin almost has to laugh. They lay crying and comforting each other until they both fall back asleep.

When they wake up properly they take stock of the safe house’s pantry and make a list of things to pick up in the village after breakfast. Martin gives in to the temptation to buy a new notebook to try and write poetry in. They have enough canned food to survive to the next ice age so they pick up perishable items like milk, bread, butter, and eggs. Jon also picks up fresh peaches and a box of Martin’s preferred tea. It’s easy to pretend like they going on a normal shopping trip as they walk up and down the aisles to check things off their list.

They return to the cabin and settle in. Martin sits on the sofa and tries to write out a poem while Jon tries to read a book from Daisy’s personal collection. After a while, Martin beings to feel Jon’s gaze on him.

“Is there something on my face?” He tries casually as he’s met with an expression he’s never been on the receiving end of.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Jon sighs. Martin can’t stop the noise that comes out of him. All his life trying to earn love and Jon just says it while Martin’s thinking of a synonym for ‘yellow.’

“I-I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” Jon says quickly, his soft expression suddenly turning worried.

“But I do.”

“Oh…Oh!”

“Yeah.”

Jon starts giggling and it’s impossible for Martin not to follow suit until happy tears stream down both of their faces.

#the magnus archives #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jonathan sims #I wrote a fic #this was supposed to be posted on valentines day

153 notes · View notes

just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 13

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,160ish

Summary: You try to handle what happened with Steve, while Natasha tries to handle her pregnancy.

Warning: serious pregnancy complications

A few days later, you were anxious and needed to get energy out. You dragged Natasha to the park for a run. She was huffing and puffing as you basically ran circles around her.

“You’re stupid,” Natasha panted, trying to keep up. “You're stupid, evil, sadist and I wanna kill you.”

“Endorphins are good. Endorphins are mood elevators,” you replied. “This is supposed to make us feel better.”

Natasha stopped and threw herself on the ground. “Do you feel better?”

“I’m stupid.” You jogged around her.

“Slutty mistress.”

“Pregnant whore.”

“Sleeping with our bosses was a great idea.”

You stopped and sat yourself beside Nat. “You know what’s ruined for me?”

“What?”

“Ferry boats. I used to love ferry boats and Steve's got a thing for ferry boats. Now every time I see a frigging ferry boat—“

“You know what's ruined for me? Coronary artery by-pass grafts ... and aortic aneurysms. I used to love aortic aneurysms.”

You laid next to Natasha with a sigh. “Have you cried yet?”

“What do you think?”

“Do you think we’ll feel better if we cry? You know like just let it out?”

“Probably. Yeah…. Do you wanna cry now?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

~~~

Steve entered the hospital elevator, finding himself alone. Which was relieving. Unfortunately, at the last second, Fury entered wearing a beanie.

“Nice hat,” Steve commented.

“Shut up,” Fury responded.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m going back to work.”

“You’re not cleared for surgery.”

“Leave me alone. I’ve been sitting at home watching Ellen giving away things on TV. Ellen, Steve! You clear me now or I’ll hurt you.”

“If you want me to clear you so soon, maybe you should've thought about that before you gave chief to Stark and invited Satan to Seattle.”

“Satan?”

“Good morning,” Peggy greeted, entering the elevator. “I like the hat, Nick.”

“Satan speaks,” Steve murmured.

“Actually I prefer to be called ruler of all that is evil. But I will answer to Satan.”

“What is she still doing here?”

“I asked her to stay,” Fury answered. “We have a pediatric surgery attending on maternity leave.”

“Actually, I could use you on a consult,” Peggy told Steve. “Will you meet me up there Steve?”

“Ah yeah. Fine,” he responded. Peggy left the elevator. “I’m not clearing you for surgery.”

~~~

Dr. Gamora and her group of interns were all gathered in a patient’s room for rounds. Dr. Banner was also in attendance.

“Mr. Jackson is scheduled for resection non-small cell carcinoma today,” Natasha stated. “He did well overnight, has remained afebrile. He's had a dose of ceftriaxone this morning. He's pre-op labs are unremarkable. His chest x-rays, um, are unchanged from the previous.”

“I own a couple dry-cleaning stores,” Mr. Jackson explained. “Never believed what they said about inhaling the chemicals.”

“We’re going to do everything we can for you, Mr. Jackson,” Banner promised. He turned to Natasha. “Did oncology see him yet?”

“Uh, they’re waiting for the surgical path,” Natasha replied.

“Thank you, Dr. Romanoff.”

“Next patient,” Dr. Gamora said. The group of interns followed Gamora.

“You need to tell Banner,” you whispered to Natasha.

“No,” Natasha responded.

“I just think you should still tell him about the baby because he'd at least have the responsibility of having to pay.”

“No! You know what? He’ll never know. It’s over. Once this pregnancy is taken care of, Banner won’t even be a blip on my radar. He’ll be a smudge.”

“Right,” you scoffed.

You all entered the next patient room to see a young woman.

“Alexa Rickie,” Peter began, “she’s 23 years old. In for a scheduled ETS for treatment of her erythrophobia hyperpyrexia.”

“Erythrophobia?” Val whispered to Clint.

“Blushing,” he answered.

“You have any questions about the procedure?” Gamora asked Alexa.

“Oh. Dr. Ro….” Alexa began, but paused as she started blushing badly. Trying to get it to go away, she fanned her face. “Dr. Rogers explained everything. He was very… huh… helpful. He gave me some…. sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Peter said. “Half the patients that come through here have the hots for Rogers.”

“Dr. Quill,” Gamora scolded.

“What? It’s true.”

You simply rolled your eyes. It’s not like Peter was wrong. It was just so annoying because it was true, all the patients did swoon over Steve. Gamora ordered all of you to exit the room. You followed her and stood in front of her when she stopped.

“Okay, assignments,” Dr. Gamora said, looking at some papers. “Val, the Rogers’ need an intern up in the NICU.”

“The Rogers’?” Val repeated. “Like, the both of them? Together? And me by myself with the two married people who hate each other?”

“Go.” Val sighed and walked off. “Natasha you’re on the thoracotomy.”

“With Banner?” Natasha wondered. “Oh, can I have the hateful married couple instead?”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I thought that I was your resident and not your hostess. I assign, you take. Is there a problem with that?”

“No.”

“Is there some reason why it's inconvenient for you to spend the day in the OR, learning from Dr. Banner?”

“No. I'm very happy to be working with Dr. Banner. Thank you very much.” Natasha rushed off.

“Clint and Scott, the pit.” They nodded and left. “Peter, Alexa Rickie is your patient.”

“Yes,” he said quietly before leaving.

“Y/N, you will be doing scut.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can tell you’re still distracted from the Rogers’ drama, and you need to find some focus.”

“I’m plenty focused.”

“Prove that to me today.”

~~~

Val stood by Peggy in the NICU as Steve went over a baby’s chart.

“Where’s the mother?” Steve asked.

“Gone,” Peggy answered. “She stuck around long enough to get the kid strung out and then took off. Sound familiar?”

“Peggy!”

“Steve, I know it’s a long shot. I know that.”

“You told me you had a newborn with an invasive mash. You fail to mention that she's premature, underweight and addicted to narcotics. There's no way that this baby is going to survive spinal surgery.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Even if she does, she's a mess. She'll just get meningitis seizures. She's going to live a short painful life.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s my job to know that.”

“You’re not God, Steve.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm sorry honey but you're not. You don't get to decide—“

“Wait, did you just call me honey? Don’t call me honey!”

Val tried to focus on the baby as the conversation grew more uncomfortable.

“Fine,” Peggy conceded. “You’re not God, Dr. Rogers. Look if a patient has any chance at survival, which I think she does, then you have a responsibility—“

“Don’t talk to me about responsibility,” Steve retorted.

“You took an oath Steve!”

“Oh, don’t you dare talk to me about oaths!”

“Steve, I messed up. People mess up.”

“You slept with my best friend in my favorite sheets.”

“The flannel sheets? You hate the flannel sheets.”

“No, I love the sheets.”

“You like the Italian sheets with the paisleys—“

“Would you just stop talking about the sheets?”

“Fine!”

“Look I’m sorry. I’m just gonna go,” Val interrupted. “I’ll go check on the labs.” She couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

“Peggy, don’t do this,” Steve said.

“Steve… look she’s a fighter,” Peggy watched the baby girl. “Look how far she’s come already.”

“Don’t get attached. Don’t get involved. Just… don’t make her life more painful than it already is.”

“Steve, please. She has nobody. She needs someone to fight for her.”

“She’s too far gone. You have to let her go. Let her go in peace.” Steve started to head out.

“Fine Steve, walk away. It’s what you do best.”

~~~

“How are you holding up today?” Tony asked, cup of coffee in hand as he walked beside you.

“Fine,” you responded.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard Gamora has you on scut today.”

You scoffed. “It’s ridiculous. She’s questioning if I’m focused.”

“She’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s her way of showing she cares.”

“Stupid way. Can you just put me on one of your cases for the day? I desperately need it.”

“Fine. Come on, I have a surgery in 30 minutes. You can scrub in.”

~~~

Natasha rushed into Dr. Banner’s surgery that had already began. She wasn’t feeling well and had spent a majority of the day in the bathroom. A nurse quickly handed her a gown.

“Here, Dr. Romanoff,” the nurse said.

“You’re late,” Bruce commented, focused on the surgery.

“I apologize,” Natasha responded, merging into the group of others that were watching.

“Just starting to dissect around Mr. Jackson’s tumor… I’ve almost got visualization.”

Natasha let out a shaky breath, as her head pounded. She had no idea what was going on, but she wasn’t willing to sit out on this surgery. She was already mad at herself for being late.

~~~

Val walked into the NICU with the baby’s chart. Peggy was watching over the baby who was gripping onto her finger.

“She’s got a good grip,” Val commented.

“Yeah,” Peggy agreed.

“I don’t think…” Val sighed, handing the chart over to Peggy. “It doesn’t look good.”

“She's a got a resistant strain of pneumococcus. The antibiotics aren't working. You may want to get yourself reassigned Val. I don't think we'll be operating today.”

“So do you think Dr. Rogers was right?”

“She’s just too far gone… she does have a good grip… I hate admitting that he’s right. Especially right now.”

~~~

Natasha was getting more exhausted with each passing second, and sweaty.

“The tumor has infiltrated the pericardium,” Bruce stated. Looking up, he sees Natasha looking like she’s day dreaming. “Romanoff! Romanoff!”

“What… sorry?” Natasha answered, the world around her muffled.

“Is my surgery interrupting your daydreaming?”

“No. Sorry.”

“There is an arrhythmia when I press down on the tumor. That is a sign of what, Romanoff?”

“Umm…. Ah. It’s a sign of, it’s a… it’s a sign that the uh, tumor has infiltrated the pericardium.”

“Possibilities?”

“In all… I’m sorry. I…”

“Do your homework, Romanoff. It could be causing a tear in the aortic muscle of the heart.”

“So he’s got a broken heart,” another doctor commented.

Panting, Natasha swayed before collapsing on the floor. A few of the doctors let out exclamations of surprise. From the gallery, Gamora, Scott, and Val saw everything. They quickly headed down to the OR.

“Dr. Romanoff, are you okay?” A doctor asked, kneeling beside her.

“Natasha,” Bruce called. “Natasha. Somebody help her!” He stopped surgery, but hadn’t moved from his spot. “Natasha! Don’t just stand there, dammit. Somebody help her. Get a gurney in here!”

Gamora, Val, and Scott rushed in with a gunnery and supplies.

“Natasha,” Bruce called again.

“Natasha,” Val repeated, getting down beside her friend.

“We’ve got it Dr. Banner,” Gamora said. “We’ve got it.” She put a breathing mask on Natasha’s face.

“Okay, talk to me. Tell me what we do we know,” Bruce ordered. “What do we know? Talk to me Valkyrie.”

“I don’t know,” Val responded.

“Come on people let’s move.”

“Natasha!” Gamora called. “What hurts?” Nat didn’t respond, but was conscious. “Let’s get her out of here. There’s a patient on the table. Lift.” They lifted Natasha onto the gurney and started moving her from the OR. “Good, good.”

“Dr. Gamora, when you get her stabilized, I need a report please.”

“Right, Dr. Banner!” They quickly move Natasha out and down the hall. “Uh! Her pulse is racing. I need her on a monitor to get a BP. Also I want her started on a liter of LR wide open. Val run ahead to emergency and let them know we're on our way.”

Val noticed that Natasha was trying to talk. She removed her friends mask. “What?” Val questioned.

“Seven weeks,” Natasha said, breathless. “I’m pregnant, Val. I’m pregnant.”

Val, Scott, and Gamora stopped and looked out each other. They moved the gurney into an elevator.

“Okay, no. We’re going to pre-op instead,” Gamora instructed. “Val, find Peggy Rogers. And be discreet.”

Val nodded and hurried off. She found Peggy with Fury and Clint near one of the nurses stations.

“Excuse me, Dr. Rogers. We need you fast,” Val said. “Um.. it’s Natasha, one of our interns. She’s…. she’s collapsed.”

“Natasha’s collapsed?” Clint repeated.

“Why do you need me?” Peggy asked.

Val sighed, not saying anything. Comprehension dawned on both Peggy and Fury, realizing that she must be pregnant. Clint looked at them, getting it too.”

“Natasha’s pregnant?!” Clint exclaimed.

“Shut up Clint,” Val scolded, before turning to Peggy. “Please come.”

“Of course,” Peggy agreed, following Val.

~~~

“Thank you for that, Tony,” you said, scrubbing out of surgery beside the attending. “I really needed it.”

“Of course,” he responded.

“Y/N,” Clint said, bursting into the scrub room.

“Clint?” You questioned. You studied him, realizing that there was something wrong. “What is it?”

“It’s Natasha.”

~~~

In pre-op, Peggy was performing an ultrasound on Natasha. Dr. Gamora was standing behind Nat’s bed, stroking her hair.

“Have you notified the father?” Peggy asked.

Natasha didn’t answer, simply breathing funny.

“Natasha? Natasha?” Gamora called. “Natasha? Is there anyone we can call?” Natasha just continued to gasp slightly. “Oh we’re losing her.”

“Do you see that?” Peggy asked, pointing at the screen displaying Natasha’s uterus. “It’s an extra uterine pregnancy in the tube there. She’s bleeding out. We need to get her to surgery immediately.”

They rushed Natasha to surgery and immediately got started. Gamora was still behind Natasha, watching over her, asVal observed the surgery.

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Val worried.

“How attached was she to this pregnancy?” Peggy asked.

“I don’t know. She’s a pretty private person.”

“She's lost a lot of blood but I've got it from here. Dr. Gamora you must have a surgery or two of your own today.”

“I’m fine right here,” Gamora responded, keeping her eyes on Natasha.

~~~

You were rushing through the hall, trying to find out any information on Natasha and her condition. You were so incredibly worried about her, which didn’t help your already bubbling emotions. Rounding a corner, you rammed right into a chest. Hands grabbed your arms to steady you. You looked up to see Steve, looking down at you with concern. Just looking into his eyes, made you want to break down in his arms. Which was so extremely frustrating. You pushed back out of his grasp, causing Steve to hold up his arms in defense.

“Don’t!” You said sharply.

“Sorry,” Steve said.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m so tired of it, Of you being sorry.”

“Dr.—“

“Don’t do it!”

“Dr. L/N—“ He glanced around as you began causing a scene.

“Dr. L/N, seriously? Are you concerned about people finding out about us? Is that what matters to you?”

“Y/N, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! You have a wife who’s not easy to hate. Who’s annoyingly kind and painfully smart and I pretty sure that she’s current saving my best friend’s life.”

“Y/N, just—“

“Don’t! Stop talking to me like you’re my boyfriend! Stop talking to me at all.”

You rushed away, finding the OR that Natasha was being operated in. You opened the door. But before you could get fully into the room, Gamora saw you and came up to you.

“Need something?” Gamora questioned.

“I’m coming in,” you stated.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. I’m her friend.”

“Exactly. She's lying on the operating table, naked, exposed. She's sedated but she's probably scared out of her mind. Now right now she's not a doctor. She's not your friend. She's a patient and she deserves to have all the privacy I can give her. You're not going any further.”

“We went jogging this morning,” you sighed. “I made her go jogging. Did I… is there a way that it could of….”

“No.” Gamora shook her head. “It started out this way. Nothing caused it to happen.”

“Just, please, let me stay by her side.”

“You can try. But I’d have to take you down.”

“Right now. Just in this moment. I hate you.”

“Yeah, well, I can take it. Focus on scut and wait outside.”

~~~

You found yourself working on scut in the lobby, trying to keep your mind off your friend in surgery. Steve stood far off, watching you. He couldn’t stop feeling terrible for what he had done to you, and he couldn’t stop loving you. Knowing that you wouldn’t want to be comforted by him, he found himself in the NICU, checking up on the premie baby Peggy had asked him to help on.

“Look at that, BP is stabilizing,” Peggy noted as she entered the NICU.

“She’s stronger since this morning,” Steve said, rocking slightly in the rocking chair next to the baby. “There’s no reason in the world why she should be stronger since this morning.”

“She’s really beautiful, isn’t she?”

“I’ll tell you what. If she makes it through the night, if she has a little bit more strength, I’ll operate.” They gave each other small smiles.

“You know the way I see it we could deal with us in one of three ways. Option 1. I could apologize. You could forgive me and come home and we could move on with our lives like adults. Or, option 2. I could apologize. You could forgive me, come home but, you can still bring it up to use against me whenever we argue.”

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“Satan has a sense of humor.”

“What’s the third?”

“I don’t know what the third option is.” She leaned in and kissed Steve, who kissed back. Slowly, she pulled away. “I just know that I still love you.”

~~~

Waking up, Natasha glanced around the hospital room. Her eyes stopped roaming when she noticed Gamora sitting in a chair beside her.

“What happened?” Natasha asked.

“You had an extra uterine pregnancy. Your left fallopian tube burst,” Gamora explained. “Dr. Rogers… she did everything she could but there was too much damage. She couldn't save the tube.”

Natasha didn’t respond, she simply looked away and closed her eyes.

~~~

You were sitting outside the medical center on a bench. It had been an emotional day and you were finally allowing yourself to cry. Walking out of the hospital to leave, Steve noticed you. But hadn’t noticed that you were crying yet.

“Y/N?” Steve called softly.

“Oh,” you gasped, trying to wipe the tears quickly.

“Y/N.” Steve came around to the side.

“Don’t…” You swallowed. “Please, please just don’t’ say anything.”

“Okay.”

He stood there, watching you try to pull yourself together before you quickly got up. You walked over, stopping in front of him.

“I’m just exhausted,” you sighed. “Missing my parents is exhausting. What happened to Natasha and you is… hating you is the most exhausting.” Without much thinking, you grabbed his face and briefly kissed Steve. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

You headed back into the hospital, leaving Steve stunned.

next chapter >

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livinginncity · 4 years

Text

Late Nights In The Studio w/ Taeil

♚: taeil x reader

❡: fluff

ⱳƈ: 3.5k

⚠︎: none really. some swearing, the typical talk of stress as an idol, but really just some tooth-rotting sentimental fluff.

you couldn’t exactly say how things escalated so quickly. you had gotten a text from taeyong explaining in barely comprehensible texts, of which you have come to decipher with ease, that your boyfriend had not been satisfied with today’s recording session. a text you received many times before and did not doubt you would see again, as it meant the love of your life had once again been consumed by his passion for music with the assistance of his perfectionist nature.

upon seeing said text, you couldn’t help but to heave a sigh. ‘a long night for you, is a long night for me,’ you had once told him, and every part of your being agreed wholeheartedly. not once did you regret saying such a thing, you still remind him whenever he attempts to dissuade you from indulging him with your presence on late nights like these. the sigh was due to your own day being rather eventful in the most unpleasant ways possible. as your mind began to wander back over such things, you arrived at the corner of the street you had been walking along where a small chinese restaurant sat—allowing you to break from your previous train of thought.

“hey, y/n.” as you entered you were greeted by a familiar face, one that allowed a smile to wiggle its way onto your own. “the usual, I’m guessing?”

“hey.”

your feet dragged themselves to the counter and you plopped down into one of the seats that sat across from the register, your bag landing on the floor right beside it. face feeling hot, your forehead sought out the cool surface of the countertop.

“hello. earth to y/n.” the young adult spoke again, prompting you to roll onto your cheek to face him.

“yeah, the usual.” the response was immediately shouted into the back where his mother was sure to be. “actually, can you add three dàntà?”

“must you make my life harder?” again, the order was relayed to the sweet lady whom you’d loved as soon as you met, before he turned back to continue speaking. “so i’m gonna take a wild guess and assume your celebrity boyfriend is glued to the floor in front of a mic again.”

his words brought a chuckle from your lips at the reminder of your boyfriend’s apparent predictable nature.

“you would be correct.”

“why don’t you just ask him to leave the studio a bit earlier? You're clearly not having the easiest of days either.”

“are you actually serious? asking that man to leave the studio or practice early would be like asking your mom to close the restaurant early.”

“i’ll be in my grave before she ever agrees to that.”

“exactly. plus, it’s not that bad. i just bring him food and i might pass out on the couch in the studio. he usually feels bad when i do though, so we’ll leave pretty soon after that.”

“so you just eat and sleep? you’re so lazy.”

“look, i’ve been swamped with so much schoolwork and work-work that i’m dreaming pie charts and the odyssey all together—cut me some slack.”

“yeah, yeah. just sounds like excuses to me. and to think my ap class cousin just sits on her ass all d-“ he was interrupted by a smack to the back of his head.

“what did i tell you about using that kind of language in the restaurant?” you stood up and walked over to meet the older lady at the entrance of the kitchen, quickly being enveloped in her arms. “especially to my precious, little niece.”

“hi, auntie. has he been giving you a hard time? i told you i’d beat him up the next time i was here, if so.”

a light smack to your arm was felt as she let out a warm laugh. “oh, hush. how have you been? are your grades okay? what about that internship? how is that going?”

“my grades are okay, and my internship is going well. my boss is pretty nice and they seem to like my ideas, so i think they might consider hiring me as permanent staff once it’s over.”

“that’s great, sweetie. now…tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

it took about another thirty minutes to shake your extremely talkative aunt, but you managed to do so before the food started getting cold and finally made your way out of the small takeout joint.

finally arriving at the familiar building, you hastily made your way up the numerous stairs and stopped in front of the recording room.

you couldn’t help the sigh that left your lips as you watched taeil through the clear window that took up a majority of the door. it seemed you had arrived a little late because he was now sitting in front of the panel, that had more nobs and buttons than your simple mind could comprehend the use for, with his head in his hands and elbows resting on his knees.

you decided to knock before entering to signal your arrival and shut the door gently behind you. upon seeing your figure his head rolled back, accompanied by a groan and hands sliding his face.

you simply let out a teasing huff, followed by a ‘well, it’s nice to see you, too,’ and carefully set the food on the clear section of the desk to let yourself settle between his legs as he wrapped his arms around your thighs and nestled his face into your midsection.

you both stayed there for a minute and the male in front of you let out a contented sigh when you let your fingers play with and run through the hair atop his head. the pair of you separated only when the rumbling of your stomach decided to ruin the brief moment of domesticity.

you moved rather slow despite being slightly embarrassed, which gave taeil enough time to nibble at your stomach through the material of your shirt. you snorted as you slapped the back of the boy's head before turning to set out the food.

“stop doing that, you weirdo. i don’t know where the hell you got the idea to start doing that from.” he just let a small smile show and pulled you sideways into his lap and scooted the chair closer to the desk.

“but you laugh every time i do it.” you rolled your eyes at that.

“that’s because it tickles.” the words came out before you could comprehend who you’d just said them to. ‘stop, please,’ ‘food...cold,’ and ‘okay, i like it,’ leave your mouth before your lungs are finally allowed a breath again.

“you know you don’t have to do this every time, y/n.” your boyfriend finally spoke after the two of had scarfed down the majority of your meal in silence—not uncomfortable, but clear that something had been on his mind besides his music. you turned to face him more before he continued.

“you’re working so hard every day, finishing up your last years of school and securing the internship you’ve been longing for since day one of university. you do all that and you still come here to make sure i’m not cooped up in that recording booth all night, that i’ve eaten, that i stop stressing myself out. i get so stuck in my own head and life that i never come to visit you at work on your lunch break or drop you off for your morning classes before i head to practice. how have you not broken up with me, y/n? i’m really not even wor-“

you swallowed the bite you had taken before proceeding to shove the whole dàntà into his mouth, clapping the crumbs if your hands and patting them on your jeans for good measure. the pastry resided there while he sat in a slight shock, and he slowly became aware of its protrusion as lifted his hand to take it out and set it on the table.

your hands found the familiar holds of his shoulders as you leveled your eyes with his, orbs seeming to gaze directly into his soul. all he could think at that moment was ‘wow.’

“i do this ‘every time’ because i don’t get to do it every time. your schedule is so hectic with the concerts, tours, fan meets, promotions, and jacket shootings, that the times when you’re recording or practicing are the only times that i can really be with you.”

his gaze seemed to fall at your words, but you continued at your own pace because even you can admit that he at least owed you that.

“but even though those moments are brief, i absolutely love to be there for them. because i can see how passionate you are. when you dance, you dance as if your life depends on it. you practice every move until your not just content, but satisfied with how they turn out. and when you record, it doesn’t matter how many times the producer says it sounds perfect. you’ll do take after take until you deem it worthy for your fans to hear.”

your hands rubbed over his shoulders before moving up to cup his face. they looked glossy and you knew if you continued to stare at them, your own would soon mirror them. yet you continued to look at him anyway.

“seeing your passion continue so strongly after making it through your trainee years, pushes me to continue in the times i feel like giving up. and to know that i can offer you solace amongst all that you must do, even if it’s only for a brief moment, makes me even more sure that i will never regret being in this relationship with you and that you are really fucking dumb for ever doubting it.”

by now, more than a few tears had made their way down his face and yours, but you just let your thumbs wipe them aside before pulling him into a slow, telling kiss. even so, you wanted to say it. again and again and again, until he heard it so much that he couldn’t help but start to feel that way about himself.

“moon taeil, i am in love with you. i’ve known that i loved you since our third date when you tripped and spilled that hot ass coffee onto my new white dress and kept apologizing until i let you buy me something from the store across the street. you didn’t even question me when i picked out a hoodie with bunny ears that was most definitely way too large for my size. and quite frankly, i think i’ll love you even after the sun finally claims this earth. and even in our next life, should we have one.

“i’ve cried on the nights when you were off in another country, i’ve laughed on the nights where i watch the videos of you and the boys on variety shows, and i’ve felt an overwhelming swell of pride on the nights that i see you on stage or accepting yet another award for the hard work you never stopped putting in. being with you is worth every night spent alone, every nap taken on that surprisingly comfortable and overpriced couch, and every penny lost to my nosy ass aunt’s restaurant, so long as i know that you’ll always come back. that sometimes i get to wake up to you in my bed after you’ve been gone for months, that every once in a while you offer to buy me that same couch for christmas—which i really am thinking about accepting soon so please keep asking—and that whenever i walk in here after a long ass day for the both of us, you take the time to sit and eat the same damn food i bring every time without fail. i’m sorry it took me so long to let you know how grateful i am to have you in my life. i’m sorry i left you to fight this battle on your own.”

somewhere in between your words, you had shifted to straddle him so you could face him fully. you could feel his fingertips digging into your hips before they clenched tightly around your shirt, his head falling into your chest, and broken sobs filled the small room.

you held him close and let his tears soak your shirt—knowing full well now that he had felt insecure about your relationship much longer than what you originally thought. it made you feel guilty. for not seeing something so important. a sudden movement interrupted your thoughts and you looked to see that taeil was now staring right into you.

“i love you, y/n. i love you, i love you, i love you. god, i am so fucking in love with you. i know i’m not always around, and that there are so many more things i could be doing to spend even more of the little time we have together. i see you living the life i wonder if i could’ve had if i had chosen a path different from the one i’m on now, see you busting your ass to get your phd and masters despite having to put yourself through school, and i see you when you pass out on that couch surrounded by loads of papers that i know no other intern would be expected to do or be trusted with, and yet you always manage to finish after slaving away over them and surprising your bosses with each assignment.

“i know how much you cry and beat yourself up when you score low on a test, how much you stress when a deadline is approaching for your classes and internship, and how much you try to keep up with me, your family, and even what’s going on in the other twenty-two member’s lives and sometimes i just can't help but wonder, ‘how is she so strong.’” you’d done a good job keeping your tears at bay as you watch him cry, but you joined him as he continued. it was now your turn to bury your face into his chest, and he spoke over your sobs.

“babygirl, you are so strong. you are so strong, and i can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that the blood, sweat, and tears that you’ve put into everything you do will be worth it. you will feel that satisfaction and pride in yourself, and i want to be with you when it all pays off. to see that smile on your face and those happy tears you try to hide from everybody because they all think it’s cute to see you so overjoyed. so i promise you, y/n, it won’t always be like this.

“one day, things will settle down a bit, and we’ll get to spend time judging and adjusting to each other’s weird ass habits, and i’ll attempt making you an edible breakfast, take you to work and pick you up on your lunch break, and we’ll hide away from the world on our surprisingly comfortable and overpriced couch while watching dramas that have no damn reason being that cheesy, and listening to true crime podcasts while discussing how we’d get away with murder and that we’d make the perfect partners in crime.”

taeil lifts your head, just as you had done him, but instead kisses away your tears. you let out a slightly embarrassing giggle before sniffling your runny nose. taeil’s face was still tear-streaked, but now wore a large smile that felt a hundred times lighter and you could feel your aching face mirror it. he took your right hand and intertwined it with his left, and you could see him take a large breath before he let out the last of his words.

“i will marry you one day, y/n. we’ll have at least one kid before so they can be apart of the wedding, and we’ll have at least two girls and one boy. we’ll adopt one or two and make sure our kids are as fashionable as taeyong, and we’ll sing them to sleep together, and teach them the importance of hard work and that it does pay off. i am so helplessly in love with you, y/n, and i promise you that i’ll show you that all this, with school, work, me, was worth it.”

and you sat there, staring into the eyes of the one and only love of your life, with a finally visible future—a future that felt almost certain with the amount of confidence that flowed from him and his words—and you could really feel it now. his promise of the hard work and effort paying off eventually, you could feel it planting it’s roots in the seeds you laid both as an individual and together.

“oh, you will be the death of me, moon taeil. and i don’t think there could be a better way to go.”

this was only the beginning of a very sappy, vert fluffy love story and you were in no rush to finish it.

fin.

bonus:

you both ended up at your place that night, kissing, cuddling, fucking. taeil had to go back to finish recording and helping out at the studio, and you decided to call in. your hard work showing in how fast they were to praise and accept your request—insisting you take a couple more on top of that.

and so you walked to the same building that morning hand-in-hand, careful to look out for dispatch and any other paid stalkers that liked to lurk around every corner for the next scandal.

you took the elevator up this time, but when you walked to the studio containing the recording booth, you were a bit surprised at the sight of the other twenty-two neos and multiple staffs huddled into it. how they all fit in there, you’ll never know, but you could hear various sniffles going around the room and caught sight of many tear-stained faces and glossy eyes.

you knocked on the metal frame of the door, causing everyone to turn to you and taeil, and what shock you most was that some burst even further into tears upon seeing you. yukhei and taeyong seemed to push their way to the doorway and enveloped the two of you in a tight hug—tighter for you as you were the one that ended up in yukhei’s arms.

“umm,” you looked to taeil for assistance, but he seemed just as clueless as you. “what’s…all this about?”

you look over at johnny as he cleared his throat. he hadn’t been crying, but looked rather happy by whatever had caused such a gathering. “if i may…”

he clicked a button and, as clear as day, you heard, “i will marry you one day, y/n. we’ll have at least one kid before so they can be apart of the wedding, and we’ll have at least two girls and one boy. we’ll adopt one or two and make sure our kids are as fashionable as taeyong, and we’ll sing them to sleep together, and-“

you found that your brain could only comprehend the soundboard in this very moment, and that was to ensure that you and taeil would indeed actually live to make those words come true before dying of embarrassment.

you searched for taeil’s eyes in the crowded room to find him as red as his punch era hair, still wrapped in taeyong’s hold. the younger lifted his head from the shoulder of the older male to look down at him—eyes sparkling.

“do you really mean it, hyung? you want your’s and y/n’s kids to be as fashionable as me? you think i’m fashionable? hyung!” his last word came out muffled as he was quick to burrow back into the crook of taeil’s neck.

and then the questions erupted.

“is that three kids or five?”

“will we all be uncles?”

“there can only be one godfather, right?”

“wait, are you even catholic?”

“well, if they have five there can be five of us, right?”

“i think i’d rather have one named after me.” “omg, i didn’t even think about that! you guys will definitely name one after me, right?”

“i don’t know about you, but i'm sure they’ll name one after me.”

“ha, yeah right. as if anyone in their right mind you name their child or children after you dorks.”

“yah! what was that?”

“yah? yah? what year were you born again.”

“wait, wait, hyung! i’m sorry!”

you managed to slip out with taeil’s hand in your own and began to sprint down the hallway and few flights of stairs. the two of you stopped about halfway down the stairwell panting, out of breath, and laughing any oxygen out of your lungs. you leaned on opposite sides of the stairwell, but you managed to calm yourself enough to push off your wall and walk over to taeil.

you stood in front of him and grabbed both of his hands before going up on your toes to kiss him for a bit. when you finally pulled away, per your lung's request, you settled your head in his chest and wrapped your arms around his torso. a door slamming somewhere above you startled you away from each other.

“hyung, noona! you still haven’t said who you’re gonna name them after!”

you two looked at each other for a second before nodding simultaneously.

“Run.”

#nct #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #taeil #moon taeil #taeil fluff #this was supposed to be a smut but i got emotional #sorry you will not taste taeil's phat juicy ass today

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masjestickingdom · 4 years

Text

My Little Secret (Part 3)

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: Welcome to the house of torture, where you find yourself struggling to survive.

Note: This is the last installment of “My Little Secret”! It was supposed to be longer (seriously, way longer), but I decided to cut it down. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to upload today. If you haven’t read part 1 or part 2, check them out here or here. Enjoy!

____________________________________________________________________________

It was day two of you living in the house of torture, and the torture began with a simple call. Nothing was more tiring than the constant cries of your morning alarm, but nothing was more frightening than waking up to the screaming ringtone of your phone before your alarm. It was five minutes till five in the morning, and Johnny was calling you--nothing about it was a good sign.

The week before you had temporarily moved into the Jung, Lee, Kim household, Johnny and you were promoted to one of the higher positions in your department, effectively ending your boss-and-subordinate position with Jia and subsequently her frequent calls, which you felt sorry to whomever would take your position. Instead, your calls came from Johnny, who was your partner-in-crime in the company since you two were exclusively the two assistants of Chris, your current boss.

With you groggily forcing yourself up your bed, the phone kept ringing across the room. You were trying that “life hack” of waking up in one try by having your phone away from easily accessible areas around you, but with the surprise calls, you were sure to give up the habit soon.

“What?” you said grouchily into the speaker once you barely made it to your desk.

“Yeesh, I woke the Grinch up,” Johnny responded jokingly.

You wouldn’t have it. “It’s almost five, Johnny. We leave for work at seven.”

Cue the dramatic list of things you had to do that day, commencing your wonderful morning of your second day in the house that wasn’t yours. That was just a small appetizer of the horrors of your mornings there. They were nothing in comparison to your nights when you would return to the sweet smell of whatever dish Doyoung or Jaehyun were cooking but couldn’t afford to eat with the work you had to do. They paled in comparison to your lonely nights up in the kitchen, fetching water while looking over some thick files in the dimly-lit kitchen. They were a speck of dust in comparison to the nights when you actually had the time to sleep, yet you couldn’t. You would lie awake in bed, drowning yourself in a whirlpool of the same thoughts. What kind of thoughts? Surprisingly, none of them had to do with your work. No, you were sick of it. Rather, they were the kind of thoughts that involved the certain man sleeping in the next room.

Caught up with work, it wasn’t hard to swallow your feelings about Jaehyun whenever you two were in the same room, an occurrence that was rare with your crazy schedule and Jaehyun’s focus on Jaehyung. Sometimes, you would wonder why your sister suggested that you filled in her spot while she was away when all you would do was work even in the house.

Days rolled by quicker than you expected, and they were unsurprisingly unpleasant. You were able to suppress your feelings for Jaehyung to some degree and could hold conversations with him, building the foundation of your guys’ relationship as in-laws. You even initiated the conversations sometimes. But all that just reminded you that you couldn’t have him, and it was killing you.

Soon, it was the second to last day at the house, and you (thankfully) had the day off. You had told Jaehyun the night before to relax so that you could start taking care of Jaehyung more, but the kind father refused. So there you were on the couch, watching Jaehyung’s favorite movie with everyone else in the living room. It was one of the rare moments when Jaehyung stayed quiet, his eyes watching the screen with so much anticipation that you wanted to pinch his cheeks. You didn’t, of course, since you didn’t want to pull him out of his zone. Instead, you focused your attention to the movie, which you admittedly thought was entertaining

Lunch rolled by like a breeze and Jaehyung was sound asleep in his room. Before you knew it, you were back in your room on your laptop, looking over the interview Johnny had with one of the most renowned artists of the digital age even though it was your day off.

“Johnny, I think you can send it to Chris,” you spoke into your speaker, making small commentary on a few slides. “It looks great.”

Despite giving him the okay sign to proceed with the presentation, you sensed that there was hesitation on the other line.

“What?” you asked, an ugly feeling clawing into you. “What’s wrong?”

Another moment of silence sunk in before Johnny dropped the bomb. “Chris also told me that Jack’s manager called.”

You drew a sharp breath inward. “No.”

From your friend’s visibly frustrated sigh, you could only imagine your boss’ deeply furrowed eyebrows. “Don’t tell me he canceled.”

“He said something about schedule conflicts.”

There was no better word than exasperation to describe how you felt. Jack was someone everyone from Asia to North America knew. He was the guy that everyone wanted to get an interview of--he always turned offers down. Somehow, Chris managed to get a hold of his manager and arranged a meeting for both an interview and a photoshoot, but there was always an unspoken tension that whispered an ominous message that Jack would cancel. The main story for your November issue was now empty.

“That jackass,” you murmured under your breath as you furiously typed a message to Chris on your phone. “With two days from the shoot he’s bailing? Unbelievable.”

“Chris already said that there was nothing we could do about it,” Johnny said, stopping you from your impetuous typing. “So don’t request that we call Jack’s manager again.”

“We can’t just let this egoistic man do whatever he pleases,” you huffed furiously. “Our entire team has been working day and night for this, and the one day we’re let to rest is the day he decides to suddenly say that he won’t be cooperating. The audacity of this man to cancel two days before the shoot is unacceptable. Just who on Earth does he think he is?”

By the time you were done ranting, you were already seated on the edge of your bed, pulling up your socks.

“A worldwide superstar,” Johnny candidly replied to your rhetorical question.

“Well he obviously needs a wake-up call,” you grumbled. “Can you send me his address?”

Rummaging through your bag in an effort to find your keys, you heard Johnny say, “You don’t even know if he’ll be there.”

“So I’ll camp out.”

At that statement, Johnny decided against picking up a fight. He knew better than to have you get riled up even more. You were on your way out when Jaehyun came out of his room with Mark and asked where you were going.

“Work,” you said over your shoulder before swiftly leaving the house before anyone could say anything else.

“Isn’t it her day off?” Mark uttered when he recovered from the fact that you had just gotten away in a blink of an eye. “It’s a national holiday.”

With a frown, the taller man stared at the door. “Jaehyung was looking forward to spending the afternoon with her.”

“Maybe she’ll come back soon.”

It was midnight by the time you had personally convinced Jack to take part in the interview and photoshoot. You had waited in your car for six hours in front of his house, hoping that each car that passed by belonged to Jack. At the second hour mark, Johnny joined you in the waiting session, originally there to tell you that you were crazy until he gave in. For half an hour, Jack refused to let you in. He thought you were a fan at first, but even after you cleared the misinterpretation, he still refused to let you in, let alone be the main story of the magazine. It didn’t matter if the wind was frosting your hands or freezing your ears: you had to convince Jack. After waiting outside at his gates for another four hours, you successfully got the conceited man to let you in for only five minutes.

“You’re seriously crazy,” Johnny breathed out into the cold night the moment you two stepped out of Jack’s house. “You’re a crazy lady.”

A huge smile was planted on your lips as you closed the gates behind Johnny.

“We did it,” you said, almost whispering. “We did it.”

Engulfing you in a warm hug, Johnny patted your back and gave you a squeeze. “You did it.”

You laughed joyously and swayed your bodies side-to-side, returning Johnny’s actions, and when you let go of him, you immediately squealed and jumped around like a two-year old.

“We got Jack!” you shouted excitedly, twirling across the street. “We did it!”

It probably wasn’t the best idea to run around the streets at midnight when you were exhausted from waiting because on the way to your sister’s house, you were yawning every passing second and almost fell asleep at each red light you encountered. Making it across the lawn wasn’t an easy task either with the wind forcefully pushing away from entering. It was a quarter till one in the morning when you opened the front door, greeted by your brother-in-law from the kitchen. You weakly waved at him, but were too tired to bother starting a small conversation with him. You couldn’t even hear the man ask you whatever he asked, not even your name. All you could do was stare at your moving legs, which seemed to move on a mind of their own as they moved past the shoe room, and watch your world turn black.

...

“No, Johnny was there with me,” Doyoung heard you say while he flipped the waffle maker over the stove. “Yeah, I’m glad we didn’t cancel everything.”

“Jesse?” he called out, leaning his head back to see you reach out for the doorknob.

“Don’t worry!” you responded, waving to him briefly. “I’ll be back before dinner!”

And you were gone like that. At the sound of the door shutting, a certain someone with a long pair of joggers and a white t-shirt appeared from the basement.

“Was that Mark?” he asked in a husky voice, slipping into one of the dining chairs.

When Doyoung revealed that it was you, the man immediately shot up from his chair and rushed to the windows. Sure enough, you were speedily walking across the street, busily talking to someone on the phone.

Catching you while you were knocked out was the last thing Jaehyun had imagined he would be doing earlier that morning. He was so concerned that you wouldn’t return home that he stayed up all night, wandering back and forth from the living room to his room, so he almost lost it when you fell into his arms. No matter how many times he called out your name, you wouldn’t wake up. Crouched on the ground with you cradled in his arms, he watched you soundly breathe in and out with a relieved expression. Gathering his strength, he stood on his feet and lifted you up in bridal style, taking you to your room as quietly as he could. While he tucked you under the covers, he watched you go off into dreamland peacefully, which oddly made him feel at ease. As he brushed away a few stray strands of hair from your face and observed your soft but dominant facial features, a strong wave of discovery hit him like a rock. His pulse began to pick up, and he was no longer at ease. But what he did was simple: he left an unopened box of aspirin and a water bottle next to your phone, which he carefully placed on the bedside table. When you left the house without a notice, he went into your room and saw the aspirin tray peeking out of its box and the water bottle three-quarters full. A smile unknowingly rested on his face.

Later that night, when you returned well past dinner time, you went straight to your room, passing the meal that was left for you on the dinner table and calling Jia.

“That’s great,” you told her through the phone, plopping down onto your chair. “Tell Emma that we’re expecting her entire team there, too.”

A small repetition of knocks shortly followed and seeing who it was at the door, you quickly hung up on Jia and swiveled your chair around.

“What’s up?” you greeted the man of your dreams, watching him take great strides towards your bed. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I couldn’t,” he replied simply, situating himself comfortably on top of your big covers.

Turning around back to your computer, you attempted to force down the intense emotions that were resurfacing. With the handsome man showing up in casual joggers and a simple t-shirt, an outfit that looked damn fine on him, you had to mentally slap yourself to come back to your senses. But they kicked back in an instant when he called, “Jesse.”

At the sound of your name melodiously leaving the lips of Jaehyun, you restrained yourself from looking at him.

“I’m listening,” you said, searching for a lost document in the sea of mess known as your desktop.

A short-lived second of crickets passed before he said, “Shouldn’t you be taking a break from work?”

With your eyes busily scanning for the file, you answered monotonously, “I already did when we were watching the movie yesterday.”

“You came back at one yesterday,” he urged in a more pressing voice. “Jaehyung was waiting for you.”

That got you to stop what you were doing. You hated it when you let down Jaehyung, and you didn’t need to be reminded of your constant shortcomings.

“I’ll see him first thing in the morning,” you said barely above a whisper.

“Jesse, look at me.”

Those four simple words were all it took for your heart to skip a beat. A small tugging of your heart began, the tug you felt during your sleepless nights. Silently sighing, you prepared yourself to set your eyes on the most beautiful man. Of all your years working and facing severely bad days, the hardest challenge in your life was to look at Jaehyun straight in the eye. Nothing competed the concerned gaze he gave you. Absolutely nothing.

Giving yourself another mental slap, you returned his seriousness with a flat, naive look. When he took a step forward, beginning his advancement towards you, you focused your nervous, excited energy on your toes, squeezing them. With a few feet in between you two, he settled on your desk and held your gaze with so much intensity that you had to blink.

“Don’t you think you’re working too much?”

Your brows instantly furrowed. “What?”

“You’re giving up your personal time and social life to work when you don’t have to.”

Despite Jaehyun’s soft, cautious tone, you felt attacked and alert: the man you loved thought you had no social life.

“I do have a social life,” you argued, returning your gaze back to the screen to break the horrific feeling sinking into your stomach. “You just don’t know it.”

“Jesse.”

The smooth, fragile fingers of the man spread warmth throughout your body when he touched your arm. The sound of your heart beating grew louder and louder, your face, in contrast, stoic as a rock. You had no idea how to react. The man’s hand was on your arm! It was even squeezing your arm for a quick second.

“I’m saying this for your better interest.”

You couldn’t register anything he was saying; your attention was taken away by his hand. It was as smooth as silk compared to your rough, unmoisturized hands. Thankfully, it wasn’t too long when an idea occurred to you. You strategically leaned into your chair, naturally (and regrettably) pulling your arm away from the man’s touch.

You cleared your throat and gathered the courage to face him eye-to-eye. “So I work overtime sometimes. What’s wrong with that?”

“When was the last time you enjoyed a full day off?” When a grilling number of silent seconds ensued, he continued, “You always couldn’t make it to our dinner invitations and left Jaehyung bummed out.”

The butterflies began to subside when a new, more vivid feeling arose.

“I’m sorry, but the truth is that I work for something that needs my constant attention,” you said, your eyes darkening.

His eyes dug deep into you, insisting you to think again. At that point, you were slowly getting frustrated. How could you bear the atrocity of him belonging to someone else while caring for you like that? You hated how you felt.

“Why do you care?” you shot, not meaning for it to come out as harsh as it did. “I get that I’m Janet’s sister and Jaehyung’s aunt, but I don’t need you to feel obligated to care just because of my connection with them.”

It was Jaehyun’s turn for his eyebrows to knit together. “As a friend, I think that it’s not good for you to always be overworked.”

You snapped. “Don’t give me that crap, Jaehyun!”

You felt a part of yourself fall at the crestfallen expression that formed on Jaehyun’s face, but you were still pissed at how he made you feel stupid and giddy inside even though he wasn’t yours.

“Since when were we friends?” you striked. “We only know each other because of Janet!”

With an incredulous expression, Jaehyun exclaimed, “So all this time you initiated a conversation or smiled at me was not because we were friends but because you felt obligated to?” He stood up from the desk in fury and stepped forward. “I couldn’t sleep because I cared about you and was worried that you wouldn’t come back! You know why? Because you never come back! Not even on the holidays!”

You pushed onward and pointed your finger at his chest. “You’re the one who feels obligated to treat me the way you do! You’re the one who feels the need to look out for me just because I’m Janet’s younger sister! Did I ask you to set me up with Jungwoo? No! Did I ask you to stay up for me? No! So stop making me feel so damn bad when I already feel like I’m at rock bottom for treating Jaehyung the way I have!”

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice the lack of proximity between you two. Your mind was running with furious thoughts, not giving you a chance to cool down. But the sudden change in Jaehyun’s expression broke the angry momentum: his face had fallen back to a broken manner. You watched his eyes stare into yours, waiting for something you didn’t know what you were waiting for. It was a matter of moments when his mouth slightly parted and spilled something you wish you could unhear.

“The only reason why I look out for you is because I have feelings for you.”

There went the sound of your heart pounding harder than ever with the rush of adrenaline spreading throughout your body. A chilling breeze ran down your spine as you watched Jaehyun wait for your reaction with pained eyes, causing you to step backwards, away from the taken man.

“No, no you don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Take that back. You don’t mean that. You don’t.”

Your breathing rapidly fastened. Your palms became sweaty. The room felt suffocating. Jaehyun remained where he was--until you took in his honest self for one last time and left him for the bathroom, where you sat in the corner and let the tears you hadn’t let out for years trickle down your exhausted face. By the time you returned to your room, he was gone.

The next morning, you vanished from the house, leaving Jaehyung the presents you intended on giving him when your sister arrived next to his bed. You remembered the day you went shopping with Jaehyung and Jaehyun, secretly looking for their presents. You remembered how happy Jaehyung was to be running in the big mall. Most of all, you remembered Jaehyun’s sweet voice and his fatherly smile. You threw his present in the trash can.

There was no trace of you left in the house of torture except for the food you left uneaten. When you closed the front door behind you, you cut off the string to the red thread that you had hung on for so long. But what you didn’t know was that the man in joggers and white t-shirt had grabbed on, holding on for dear life. You started the engines to your car and drove off in the dark streets. You were still fumbling to hold the red thread, trying to grab onto the falling pieces.

24 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 3 years

Note

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

y/n - ‘I was born to make everyone’s life a living hell’ maam this LINE?! JAW DROPPED, TIME STOPPED being insecure all her life and wanting to live up to the expectations to her dad just to have that sliver of attention from him, that sentence gives us a glimpse on how little she felt despite being accomplished, rather successful actually because she always cleans her boss’ mess have a lot of baggage to unpack. and when the secret was confirmed, her anger rejects all of the entity that ties with her past because both her parents deprived her for the things she was supposed to have– becoming greedy to fulfill those. then eventually, somehow, going back to her roots aka being humble after having the talk with her dad. As most of her insecurity started because of him and how she had to be the bigger person for his other family, clearing out the misunderstanding between them brought a sense of peace while she’s settling in the restless turn of events.

and with our main man gojo, this guy, it is not wise to- 😤😤 how can you say you’re engaged after doing the body tango huh? esp when you said you want y/n to be your wife? oh gee and the revelation of his past relationship with mia and how he sees her in y/n is so fucked up. can’t help but think that satoru wanting to marry and be this lovey-dovey with y/n is just him reliving the moments that mia never gave him in the past. and y/n accepting that their current relationship is based on how they’re filling up the cracks in their needs and settling for the sake of familiarity. imagine how deep in love our girl is to keep satoru in her life 💔 im still in it for the second lead agenda

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

BUT i know you mentioned this many times but laywer! naoya all poised and in his best behavior while helping y/n in her new situation has my heart go💕💕 winning lots of cases and is known in his field, he proved that he is both beauty and brains. and the pen spin??? man be pulling those fast spins either to distract or impress the person he is talking to flashing those perfect white pearls wtf now i can’t get that out of my head naoya brain rot 🥵🥵 also celebrity chef! sukuna in charge of all those delicious, exquisite cuisines? imma make myself broke just to taste his masterpiece🥲 ooh but how about him being a michelin star chef and owning a michelin-starred resto?! no doubt, left and right you see this man appearing on some high food magazine on the cover 😊😊 oh oh i also saw that supermodel! choso?? also his face is plastered on magazines AND luxurious advertisements ex. shibuya crossing! where most people be drenched in his glorious presence yea weird shibuya arc ref pls kill me and everyone talks how handsome and intimidating he is while he just have a rbf and only the closest people in his life get to see him drop that front 😌😌

with that in mind, imagine supermodel! choso being a godfather to the baby of y/n?? he would go soft immediately at the sight of the child and would probably love giving lots of branded clothes it will be good enough for more than a year ☺️🥲😭

oh and there is this one scene in chp7 that reminded me of the recent korean movie i watched i dont wanna say it in case you wanna check it out its called sweet and sour and oh god idk why but watching it, mind keeps on prompting your fics 😬😬 maybe bcos i some of your fic always had med related topics and the main actress role there is a nurse. i remember that you’re on your clinic training so maybe thats why 😳oohh pls don’t forget to take breaks and be safe heart and oh ur a psych major too? oh wow hi ig in relation to one actress in the sweet and sour fic, she was also in a kdrama the heirs- which was popular at the time with it being packed with some solid household actors and actresses. sky castle tho, ig it relates to the theme of reckless more because its mostly how parents from the upper class will mindlessly destroy someone’s life to attain their materialistic desires 🤧🙂

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

i hope you’re doing well nowadays :’)) we need to find gege the best chiropractor to take care of his back, so good that it’ll make naoya respawn to life 🙂 suki i don’t think i’ll get tired of saying how much i love your work that it feels illegal im reading it for free 💔. i don’t really have much to offer, but im wishing you good health and success in your life :’)) aah i’ve mentioned this already but take care always 💕💖😊🥰

- 🍳

read the new chapters and aAAACKKKKK BESTIE???

needless to say, everyone here needs a therapy so they can get their shit straight together 🤧🤧 (ノ•̀ o •́ )ノ ~ ┻━┻

this fic, easily in my top 3 ‘heart belongs to who it dictates’ so many twists, so much drama and ANGST! YES BESTIE GIMME THOSE ANGST 🥲😌

- 🍳

y/n becomes a real baddie when she’s pissed off 😫

hmm y/n wasn’t really working hard for her dad’s attention, it was more like she felt so left out and unwanted (she feels unwanted wherever she goes) that she just decided to pack up and support them from afar bcos to her, she’s so alienated in her dad’s family that she felt like she had to work hard to earn a spot in their table. she knows she’s the outsider but she wants to feel like she can be part of them, that she is also a child deserving of love and care, but becos her stepmom focused more on her actual kids and her own dad was too busy with his new family now, it made y/n feel that she had to do something to be worthy of that.

that’s why most of the money she made working in tokyo was still wired to her family; she put her brothers in school and supported them, all because she hoped it would make them accept her more. now, things are different because she finally found her biological family, but even if valeria and co. still don’t want her, y/n is now more focusing on building something that’s truly hers that no one can take away. yes yes, she did become greedy, but more for power than of acceptance. she got to a point she doesn’t care as much vying for her parents’ approval and now thinks her luxury gives her comfort; only because at least she has that much. like she said in the latest chapter, happiness was not what she needed, it was stability and money - all things she lacked before.

and yea she did go back to her roots! all of her issues started with her dad anyway but that part is slowly patching up 🩹💔 oooh actually your theory is right bestie 🧐 gojo found y/n interesting bcos she reminded him of mia, so the more she pushed him away, the more he’s like wait, i’ve been here before, let’s not repeat past mistakes but i can do better now. on the part where gojo talked to mia while she was asleep, notice how he said he’s given a second chance to do better now, all because he couldn’t do them with mia but he could with y/n.

ohhh actually y/n was the one who established that ‘fulfilling mutual need and settling for familiarity instead of being lonely’ type of relationship. gojo avoided her for weeks and he’s pretty settled in keeping his distance, but she was the one who sought him out. deep down, y/n is afraid if she doesn’t at least use him as an anchor to her more humble roots, then she might spiral out of control and end up like valeria, thus using him as a ‘distraction’ but in reality, she needs his comfort to be grounded.

SECOND LEAD AGENDA OMG LETS GOOO 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ geto the fine fine option.

NO BESTIE MOMENT U MENTIONED LAWYER NAOYA I JUST KNEW I WAS GONNA SCREAM. okay but lawyer! naoya is so fine, i love his character so much bcos he’s a pure bean. originally, i was gonna make him an antagonist but i found he had more potential as a good, supportive character. HIS PEN SPIN HELPPP WHY COULDN’T HE JUST BEEN OUR BABY DADDY 😫 he pulls them fast spins bcos he’s nervous btw HAHAHAHA y/n can be quite intimidating and lawyer! naoya is sometimes too precious.

celebrity chef! sukuna is MEAN! he was pictured after gordon ramsay so lmao. omgggg sukuna being famous not only for his food but also his handsomeness 😳 he gets so cocky over how no one can get in his level while popping a battle of champagne, listening to ‘careless whisper’ while dancing to his reflection in the mirror 😤

also yoo supermodel! choso is THE hot shit 🥵 he’s so famous his schedule is packed for an entire year and a half and those are just for very selected brands and designers! ugh imagine going to work on the subway when you see supermodel! choso with rbf posing sexily and you swoon because he’s so sexy. plot twist that choso doesn’t know how to drive bcos as a kamo family member, they grew up with drivers taking them to and fro, so when his driver got sick and everyone else was busy, supermodel choso takes the subway himself and hides behind a face mask and cap while still wearing extravagant clothes that makes him stand out more. he does not have ‘subtle’ on his book at all.

and yeah people say he’s intimidating but its more his height and build + rbf! in reality, he’s just as soft and sweet as naoya, but both of them go into protective mode when someone they care about is being crapped on. and boy when they DO get into “what did you just say?” mode, better run away 🏃🏻‍♀️ supermodel! choso is also an heir to the kamo empire though not after the business, but he still has enough power to take you down in a second.

meanwhile, lawyer! naoya didn’t become this successful without being so savage yet composed he makes you question your entire existence before he drags you to court. lawyer! naoya is so scarily convincing that he can make you plead guilty even tho you did nothing wrong 💀

aaaah omg supermodel! choso LOVES babies actually! as the eldest child who looked after his brothers bcos the kamo parents are always away for work, being a father figure is so natural to him. i can picture him being the one who cries harder than gojo if the baby is born bcos he’s so excited, then reads poems to the baby before sighing that childbirth is such a beautiful thing 🥺

omg i know sweet n sour, the actresses are one of my faves tho i haven’t watched it yet! oooh they’re a nurse? i didn’t know that 🧐 i actually finish my short training in a week so i’ll be heading on to heavy majoring in psychology! wait bestie are YOU also a psych major 😳💕 oh and i see i see, sky castle *jots that down for future references* reckless actually has lots of significance in terms of the parents’ roles so i’m excited to see that! and aww thank you so much, can’t believe i made it in someone’s top three 🥺💕

HELP AHSKWKW i’m gonna call the best chiropractor in the world and send them gege’s way, i’ll cry a river if that’s what it takes to bring my boo back to life 😭 and noo baby the support already means a lot to me, i’m just happy to indulge in my hobbies and share it wih you all so thank you very much for everything 🥺 please take care of yourself too n have a nice day!! kith MWAH 💕

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #series: reckless #jjk: manga spoilers #anon:🍳

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masked-buffoon · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2: Twisted (Part 3)

Warnings: torture, violence

Author notes: Rather short part, with a lot of dialogues... Hope you’ll enjoy nonetheless!

"So..." I stared at the man chained in front of me "You called me there... Because you can't make him talk...?"

"Yes..." The subordinate looked nervous and played with his hands "He didn't say a word, whereas it's been half a day we are torturing him..."

"Four hours." I corrected him "Half a day is twelve. I do hope you would have been able to make him spill out his secrets in twelve hours."

"I-I'm sorry, Ogawa-san... We didn't know who to call, except for you..."

"Ane-san's squadron is specialised in torture, though...?" I hummed, sitting down casually.

"But you are our direct superior..."

"I suppose I am, since you are part of Dazai-san's team..." I sighed "Let's see... What are those gruesome bruises he has on his face?"

"We beat him up... With iron bars..." He quickly added when he saw I was examining the state of his hands.

"Beating him up...?" I raised both of my eyebrows "Are you self-taught in torture? Or simply stupid?"

"I... We..."

All the henchmen present in the room lowered their head. I sighed again.

"I suppose the Mafia doesn't have any classes for that matter..." I chuckled sarcastically "I suggest you observe and learn a few things."

I took the file about our prisoner and started reading it. He was a member of an organisation specialised in slave trading. A month ago, we had attempted negotiations to take them as a subcontractor of some sort for our own business and they had agreed. However, the shipping we had ordered had never arrived to its destination, Brazil, and we had found out they had used our funds for their own profits, instead of helping us and getting their share of the money. The man I had in front of me was supposed to give us information about his organisation, so we could crush them or force them to cooperate with us. After going through his personal life, I put the papers on the tray filled with various torture instruments and crossed my fingers on my thighs.

"I do have to admit you very skilfully ruined his face." I told the subordinate next to me "He looks absolutely disgusting. To prevent that, you have several tools at your disposal, and different methods. Removing his nails or his eyelids, cutting his ears, or his fingers, one by one, are a few examples. They are bloody, but they don't require much effort, at least. However, my favourite one resides in this."

"The file...?" He timidly followed my pointed finger.

"Exactly. The file. Is he awake?" I inquired.

"He passed out just before your arrival..."

"The pain must have been too great... Avoiding such a troublesome situation is also part of why beating a prisoner up is not a method of torture." I smiled "Bring a bucket of iced water."

The cold water woke our man up immediately. He looked around him, at his surroundings, but far from being panicked, he cracked a proud smirk and looked at me in disdain.

"These thugs did not make me talk. What does a girl like you expect to do~?" He grinned.

"I'm almost sixteen, but I am these thugs' superior nonetheless. I'd advise you not to underestimate me." I chuckled "However, I do admire your willpower. How many teeth did you lose, by the way?"

"Too many." He grimaced "If I ever come out of there, the only thing I'll be able to eat is soup...!"

"If you ever come out of there..." I burst out laughing "Ah, thanks for enlightening my day...! I haven't laughed like that in a very long time."

"If you're planning to kill me, anyway, all the more reasons not to talk." He shrugged.

"Oh but I will make you talk." I assured "And I'm not even going to stand up from this chair."

"I'm curious." He snorted "Are you going to shoot me? Will you order your men around? Come on, I'm ready...!"

"I'll ask you a single question." I narrowed my eyes "You don't need to answer, I'll need you to keep your saliva to give me information about your organisation, after all."

"Whatever." He huffed "Just kill me quickly so that is over."

"Sure sure. So impatient..." I paused to make sure he listened to me "Is your wife pretty?"

His silence was meaningful. I pursued.

"I'm just curious, you know... There isn't any picture in the file, so I am asking for your honest opinion." I smiled.

"I don't have any wife." He spat on the ground, giving me a threatening glare.

"You don't...?!" I exclaimed, seemingly shocked "It turns out my subordinates are more useless than I thought..."

I turned toward them.

"How could you make such a basic mistake during your investigation?" I falsely lectured them "Go back to that address immediately and check if there is a wife. If there isn't, I'll make sure you are stuck with cleaning the headquarters for a week."

"... The address...?" My target questioned breathlessly.

"Well, the place where you live, obviously..." I crossed my legs "Oh, and... If you see any kind of woman, bring her to me."

"In the torture room, Ogawa-san...?"

I gave the henchman an exhausted look.

"Where am I, currently? I swear these boys..." I waved my hand in front of my face "Really, now... What are information for if we can't make use of them...? What do you think, mister prisoner?"

"I agree..." He mumbled, looking away.

"Let's wait for them to come back." I took a pain reliever "It'll give you some respite and, hopefully, some time to think about your answers."

"Are you not at least going to try and extort the intel out of me...?" He sounded surprised.

"My schedule is surprisingly light today. You need not worry about such worthless matters." I stated "Besides... Will you talk if I skin you slowly and painfully...?"

"... I don't think so...? My secrets will be taken with me in my death."

"That's why I'd rather not." I pulled my phone out "It'd only leave a puddle of blood on the ground, not too hygienic..."

"I know I am not supposed to ask questions, but... How did you end up there...? In the Port Mafia? You're a young teenage girl, yet you talk about torture like an office worker would talk about a pile of paperwork. Does it even click to you, what you are doing to me...?" He frowned.

"I am there to survive." I accepted to answer "I had nowhere to go, but I was fortunately recruited. I have an ability, you see... As to what I am doing... I am purposefully making you suffer so I do obtain the location of your headquarters and the name of your boss."

"I don't feel that much pain for now."

"It shouldn't take long. My men just came back, with quite a catch, I have to say."

The door of the basement opened noisily and muffled gasps and cries resonated in our ears. A woman was dragged toward another pillar and was handcuffed, hands above her head and body dangling powerlessly. I smiled darkly and demanded to remove her gag so we could hear her screams of fear.

"Very pretty indeed." I judged her "And that small bump... Goodness, you're pregnant...! Congratulations miss...!"

"Let me go...!" She pleaded "I have nothing to do with you...! I'm innocent...!"

"I'm sure you are. You look very harmless. Your husband, however..."

"I've told you, I don't have a wife...!" He defended.

"I don't know him..." She sobbed.

"Why does everyone make my job so complicated...?" I complained, walking toward the man and pulling out a chain he wore under his shirt "What's that? A jewel? No, it's a damn wedding ring! And what does she wear? A matching wedding ring! Please, just admit she's your pretty wife, already!"

"Alright! Alright, she's my wife..." He confessed "But don't hurt her! Don't hurt her..."

"That depends on you. Your headquarters and the name of your boss." I glared at him coldly.

"I can't..."

"Taneda-kun." I called a subordinate "Find me some oxytocin. And hurry up!"

"... Oxytocin...? What's... What's that for...?" His eyes widened "What are you going to do to my wife...?!"

"Oxytocin is a hormone that helps during the delivery." I explained "Thanks, Taneda-kun. It initiates the contractions of the uterus when the baby is ready to go out."

"What...? Are you crazy...?!" He pulled onto his restraints "Stop that!! Right now!!"

"A location and a name, that's all I ask for." I pressed the tip of the syringe against the woman's tummy "Now."

"Alright!! Alright..." He gave up, lowering his head "Our headquarters... They are in an abandoned warehouse of the port, number seventy three... The boss' name is Samejima Seiji... That's all I can tell..."

"That's all I asked for." I put the syringe on the tray "Thanks for your cooperation."

"Will you... Will you let my wife go...? With the baby...?" He asked in a breath.

"I am in a good mood." I declared "Usually, I would have no qualms about killing all of you there, right now, but I will let you go. That will be today's good deed."

"... Really...?"

"Really." I confirmed "Obviously, it won't be free, but if you disappear from Japan, I'll consider you dead. Oh, and..."

I pulled out my gun and shot at his hip, making him yell in pain.

"You at least deserve becoming crippled for putting me through the trouble of actually getting your wife there." I shrugged, standing up "But you were right. You'll leave that place alive. Now, put a bag on their heads and escort them toward the airport. I believe they have a long journey ahead..."

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3 - First Come First Serve - Words: 2,788

"Here's her profile, Greg," Sergeant Donovon said, dropping a folder on her boss's desk.

"Clarissa Hughes, aged 32, brown and blue, 5' 5", No. 1 District, been on the force since '10, promoted to Sergeant in '17. Unmarried, unattached, no children, father deceased, mother living in Manchester, one sister in America." Greg sighed after reading the file. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. He never liked cases involving one of his own. They always gave him a migraine.

The scene yesterday was impressive even for someone like him who'd been in New Scotland Yard for over 30 years. The young woman had been found in her apartment, laying face down on the floor. A small bullet hole in the window revealed a sniper had been perched on the roof of a nearby building. While there were entry and exit wounds, they had not yet found the bullet to give to ballistics.

"There's not much to go on. It could have been random. Maybe she had one bad date with someone who was a bit off their rocker and-"

"Inspector," Anderson interrupted.

"Yes?" Greg replied, migraine now doubling.

"They found this at the scene." Anderson held out a Ziploc with a ruby red, silk handkerchief. It had no markings on it, not even a snag, save for the small, gold R embroidered on the corner.

"Where did they find it?"

"It was special delivered today with no return address or other markings."

"Now why would a woman, whose name does not start with R, order a monogrammed handkerchief."

"Bored!"

*bang*

"BORED!"

*bang bang bang*

"Sherlock! I swear you had better stop that or I will call Lestrade this time and tell him it was you who put the hallucinogen in Anderson's tea!"

"Fine!"

"Good!”

*thwap thud thwap thud thwap thud*

"Sherlock?"

"I'm being quiet!"

"What are you doing?"

"A bow and arrow are much more satisfying!"

"Oh -!"

"Torry! Guess what!" Erin called out to her roommate from the living room of their shared apartment.

"You're moving out?" She called back, teasing as usual.

"Haha, very funny," Erin deadpanned. "Really though, this is awesome."

"Did we get a case?"

"Better!"

"Two cases?"

"Torry!"

"Ok! What?"

"In exactly 1 month you and I will be in London, England speaking at the International Inspectors Convention."

"Wow! That's fantastic! I wonder if-" Torry paused. "Nevermind."

"Don't worry, Torry, I already checked," Erin winked. "He's scheduled to speak the day after us."

"Inspector, there's been another murder," Donovan announced, walking up to Lestrade in the break room.

"Ok," he replied. "Is it my division?"

"Yes, this time it was Amelia Walker. She was an Inspector in No. 3 District." Greg slammed his mug down on the counter.

"Walker and Hughes were two of our best inspectors! Have you found any connection yet?" The two grabbed their jackets and headed downstairs.

"Nothing yet. The landlady just reported her body. Anderson's there now with his team."

"Ok then, let's go." The two got in the car and headed off. When they arrived, Anderson rushed up holding a small envelope.

"Another one just arrived," He said. Lestrade grabbed the envelope and looked inside. Sure enough, another ruby red handkerchief with an embroidered R on the corner. "I asked the delivery boy where he got it from but he said he didn't know. It was a different boy this time too."

"Where is she?" Lestrade asked. They followed Anderson over to the body. "Cause of death?"

"Another sniper." Anderson showed them the bullet hole in a nearby window. Lestrade shook his head.

"Did ballistics ever get a lead on the gun?"

"Nothing," Donovan replied. "It's a standard sniper rifle but there are literally hundreds of those to try and track down."

"There must be something we're missing," Lestrade groaned.

"Ah! London! Doesn't it smell great!" Erin exclaimed, taking a deep breath as they stepped off the plane.

"It smells like airplane fuel. Let's wait till we actually leave the airport," Torry replied.

"Ok, grumpy. Geez, remind me never to take you on a flight again." Torry growled in reply but Erin just chuckled. "Let's go get our bags and head to the hotel."

"And go straight to bed. I'm dead."

The next day, the inspectors convention started. There were hundreds of private investigators, police inspectors, and a few other kinds of detectives. Torry kept her eye out for one specific "Consulting Detective" but there was no sign of him on the first day. They did however meet their hotel room neighbor, Frances Grant. She had been an inspector at NYS in London until she moved to Manchester about a year ago.

"Nice gal," Erin commented, walking out of their bathroom that night.

"Yeah. I wonder what that case she mentioned was," Torry replied from her bed, already laying down.

"I don't know. She said she was going to help her old academy friend investigate while she was here, right?"

"Mm," Torry agreed. "Must be pretty serious," She said sleepily.

"Are you really already going to sleep?"

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Seriously? We're in a hotel, got to bed early, have the opportunity to actually watch BBC from London and you want to sleep."

"Yes. You watch TV and tell me all about it when I wake up. I won't be able to stay awake to give BBC my full attention when I'm this tired."

"Party pooper," Erin teased as she plugged in her earbuds. Torry grunted in reply and went to sleep. 2 hours later, Erin was nearly asleep still watching late night mystery shows on BBC.

*CRASH*

"What the-" Erin startled awake. Looking at the TV she saw the detective on the show had just been shot. "Oh, should probably turn that off and go to sleep," She whispered to herself. After turning off the TV and unplugging her earbuds, Erin rolled over and tried to go to sleep.

"Wake up sleepyhead!" Torry yelled the next morning.

"Ok, ok, I'm up," Erin groaned. The girls got ready for the day, Torry dressing up extra fancy since a certain someone was on the program. They headed down for breakfast, where Frances said she'd meet up with them. She didn't show up though and the girls headed back to their room.

"I wonder why Frances didn't come down for breakfast," Torry mused, walking out of the elevator on their floor. Erin shrugged and was about to say something when there was a yell from down the hallway.

"Help! Help! Police! Someone!" A housekeeper cried out.

"What's wrong, miss?" Erin asked, rushing up to her in front of one of the rooms

"Sh-sh-she's dead!" The woman exclaimed. Torry squeezed past her, not noticing which room it was, and looked inside.

"It's Frances!" Torry called out to Erin.

"Oh no!" Erin replied. "I'll be right there!" Erin turned to the housekeeper and handed her a tissue from a box on the cleaning cart. "Why don't you wait in our room? I'll call the police and then they can take a statement from you once they get here." The lady nodded and Erin took her to their room to sit down. From there she called the police.

Meanwhile, Torry began investigating the scene of the crime. "Hm, sniper," Torry mumbled to herself, noticing the window. She walked around the body, examining it and taking mental notes. Suddenly there was a knock on the room door.

"Police!" Torry opened the door at once. "Inspector Lestrade," The man introduced himself. "Are you the one that called?"

"No, that would be my friend, Erin. She's in our room next door with the housekeeper who found the body."

"Are you here for the convention?" Lestrade asked. 'Last thing I need is some amateur messing things up,' He thought to himself.

"Yes."

'Dang it!' He mentally shouted. "Alright, have you moved or touched anything since you entered the room?"

"Really, Inspector, I wouldn't dare! This is a crime scene after all!"

"Ok, just checking," He defended.

"36, married, no children, lives in Manchester, originally from London. That much she told us last night. We had dinner together. She must have died sometime in the middle of the night. I'd say around 2am. Based off the stage of rigor mortis." Lestrade stared at her, surprised. He'd only ever seen one other person rattle off so many facts so quickly. "She was killed by a sniper through the window. I also noticed that-"

"Wait, sniper?"

"Yes. I believe I just said that."

"What's her name?"

"Frances Grant, she's an-"

"Inspector," Lestrade said sadly. "I went to the Academy with her." He shook his head. "Anderson, get me those two other files. Let's see if this one has a connection."

"I'm sure it does, Graham. You probably just haven't looked well enough," Sherlock drawled from the doorway.

"Did I invite you here, Sherlock?" Lestrade yelled.

"Not specifically," He replied coolly, waltzing into the room. "But I heard there was a murder," He said, eyes lighting up. "And I simply had to come!" He grinned.

"Sherlock!" A shorter man yelled from the hallway. "Where did you get off to?"

"In here John!" Torry was just about to say something, finally past the initial surprise that her favorite Detective was standing in front of her, when Erin yelled from the next room.

"Torry! Get over here!" She yelled. Torry, John, and Greg rushed over. "She's gone into shock, can you help me get her on the bed instead of this chair?"

"I can help you, miss. I'm a Doctor," John said.

"Please do, Dr. Watson," She replied. Turning to the others, she asked: "Are you with the Yard?" Lestrade nodded. "She was the one who discovered her body. You'll want a statement later, obviously."

"Ah yes, thank you, Miss-"

"Erin Blair. And that's Torry Star. We're America's only consulting detectives," Erin said with a wink. John's eyebrows shot up immediately. "Yes, Doctor," She continued. "I've read your blog."

"Speaking of Sherlock," Lestrade spoke up. "I had better get back and make sure he hasn't started world war 3 with Anderson."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to come back with you. There was something I noticed," Torry said. Lestrade nodded and the two of them went to the other room. Torry walks in first and, while Sherlock and Anderson are bickering, paces the room. 'Now, I need to check what's shining behind that chair,' She thought. Attempting to go to the corner to check, Torry finds Sherlock is blocking her path. "If you're not going to help investigate the murder, then get out of my way so I can." Torry states. She then pushes past him to examine what she finds to be a bullet casing. Greg had to bite back a laugh at Sherlock's face.

'I've never seen the man look so offended!' Greg thought. 'This will be interesting.' Just then, the hotel phone rang. "Hello, Inspector Lestrade," He said, picking up the phone.

"Inspector, we just had a package dropped off for Miss Grant's room. The boy asked it be delivered right away to Sergeant Donovan."

"Alright, bring it up." Once the package was brought up, Anderson and Donovan opened it carefully while Sherlock and Torry argued over what type of sniper's rifle shoots those bullets.

"It's another handkerchief!" Anderson exclaimed.

"Another?" Torry and Sherlock asked in surprise. Greg explained to them what had happened with the last two murders.

"There's a note with this one," Donovan said shakily. "Congratulations. You're next."

"Let me see that," Torry said, grabbing the handkerchief. "The sniper is a woman. Military or police training with that level of skill. I'd say about 37 with that handwriting. First name is Ruby. This handkerchief is Ruby red and has her monogram."

"Ruby Jones!" Greg exclaimed. "She went to the Academy with me. She failed though. She didn't like working with others. She was too competitive, always trying to prove herself. She had a high level shooting badge and I think she trained on that rifle you mentioned before. I guess she was taking her revenge."

"I'll put out a warrant," Anderson said.

"Thanks," Donovan said to Torry. "I don't know what to say."

"Really?" Sherlock scoffed. "You're thanking her! She did the same thing I do! Well, not as perfectly but still!"

"She's different, Holmes," Donovan spat. "You wouldn't understand, freak."

"And with that I wish we had solved the case a little later," Torry mumbled. Donovan didn't hear her, but Sherlock did. Though he couldn't hold back a slight smile at that, he still felt a bit put off at Torry stealing his spotlight.

Meanwhile, once the others left the room, John looked at Erin with a smirk. "What?" She chuckled.

"America's only consulting detectives?" He teased.

"I couldn't help it," She replied. "We are fairly well known back in the colonies," She said with a posh British accent, making John smile. "We got invited to speak at the convention yesterday."

"Oh! Of course! You were the guest speakers! I actually wanted to come and see you but Sherlock got stuck on a case. It was really only a 3 but I couldn't get away."

"Ah," Erin sounded in agreement. "Yeah, that's happened to us too. Torry and I work together on every case. If one's there, so is the other."

"So which of you is Sherlock then?" John teased. "If I may do a little deduction of my own, you said you read the blog, you're obviously both fans, so it would only make sense that you've tried to compare yourselves."

"Well done, my dear Watson," Erin grinned. "Yes, we've done that. But we don't line up with either of you exactly. I guess it depends on the case. Some Torry picks up on right away, some I pick up on, and some we figure out together 50/50. And we've had some pretty crazy cases too! Nothing as interesting as yours I suppose though."

"Sounds like you make a good team. I, erm, wouldn't mind discussing some of those interesting cases with you," He said casually. "Perhaps the four of us could go out to dinner this evening?"

"That would be lovely!" Erin said. Just as she finished speaking, they heard yelling from Sherlock and Torry in the next room. They rush over to see what the commotion was. Sherlock and Torry were standing toe to toe right next to the body. Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan were just watching in surprise.

"What makes you think you can just waltz in here and take over my crime scene?" Torry yelled, cheeks bright red.

"Yours?" Sherlock scoffed. "London is mine! You're just some American knock off!"

"Knock off! Well then tell me, why didn't you notice the bullet casing? Hm?"

"I hadn't looked there yet! I was just about to!"

"Week excuse from a man who notices everything!" Torry smirked. "Tell me, what's your excuse now?"

"Excuse for what?" He hissed.

"Dilated pupils, elevated heart rate, rapid breathing, shall I list more?"

"I could ask the same for you," He replied. Torry blushed even brighter but maintained eye contact. Suddenly, after a moment of quiet, Sherlock leaned forward and kissed her quickly. "I like you," He whispered. "Dinner tonight?"

"Ok," Torry squeaked, abit dazed. Sherlock spun around, coat swishing behind him.

"John, let's go, we have to get ready," Sherlock stated. John shook his head and Erin chuckled.

"I guess they're just more blunt than we are," Erin joked.

"It would seem so," John replied, blushing slightly himself. "See you tonight then. We'll pick you up here."

"Ok, John," Erin said. "Well, well, well," She then said, turning to Torry. "Solve the case yet?"

"And that's how Torry and I met," Sherlock stated. He smiled at his fiance who was sitting next to him.

"You forgot to mention how nervous you were that night getting ready," John adds, laughing. Erin and Torry chuckled lightly but Sherlock's ears tinted red. The older couple sitting across them by the fireplace smiled. Sherlock had brought John, Torry and Erin to his parents house to introduce the girls and make the big announcement.

"Well, we couldn't be happier for our son," Mummy said. "Or for you John. You're family too you know," She winked.

"So when's the happy day?" Sherlock's Dad asked. Torry and Erin were just about to reply but they were interrupted.

"Oh please!" Mycroft groaned. "Weddings are simply atrocious emotional events that I have no use for." Sherlock's face fell slightly.

"So I suppose our asking you to officiate would be out of the question?" Sherlock asked

"On the other hand," Mycroft said suddenly, a smile hinting at the corners of his mouth. "Perhaps I can make an exception just this once."

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#sherlock bbc #sherlock x oc #john watson x oc #reverselock #sherlock #john watson

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zodiacal-dust-and-curls · 5 years

Text

A Day In

A/N: Thank you to @unbound-chaos for sending in the request! Sorry for the wait!!! Roger is next and he's my last 500 blurb. Thank you to @rogers-wristbands for proofreading. Enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: this is definitely hurt/comfort. But idk how to explain it beyond that. Let me know if you feel a tag should be added here!

Word Count: 1.2k

You'd been feeling a little useless lately.

Well, not useless, that wasn't right. You were productive at work, getting compliments from your boss and even having part of your work published in a major project. Useless wasn't quite the word.

Ben had been very busy with filming lately, leaving you and Frankie to each other at home. You loved little Frankie, but something was just missing.

It was Ben. It felt like he was always missing lately. Busy filming meant being away from you, far away unfortunately. Filming on location in another country.

He'd called every night to talk to his best girls, but a tired voice on the phone wasn't a replacement for him. You missed his presence, the knit ghost that haunted the flat, the leaden weight that kept your bed warm. Life wasn't the same at the moment.

After 3 weeks of calls, texts, and snaps, you were feeling pretty worn down. Everything was going right at work, nothing was amiss with your family. You were just . . . off.

You'd taken to spending nights in, eating whatever you prepped on Sunday, and only leaving to walk Frankie. It felt a little like a sad excuse for an existence, but it was all you could motivate yourself to do for the last several weeks.

Ben had started to pick up on it, roughly 6 weeks after he'd left. He may have been away, but the man wasn't dense. You always sounded tired. You weren't snapping him back with pictures of your face. If you did, the smile wasn't quite right. You always told him everything was fine.

"How was work today, love?" He was excited to remember that you had a big meeting today. It had been scheduled before he left and he knew it was important to you and your job.

"It was fine." No, that didn't sound right to him. You would have told him if you crushed it or fell completely flat. Fine didn't cut it on days like today.

"I thought you had that big presentation today?"

"I did. It went fine." He could hear someone huffing as they repositioned themselves in your lap. If Frankie felt the need to be that close all the time, something was definitely up.

"Alright, love. Do you want to tell me how it turned out?" He was going to pander for these answers if it killed him. Clearly you needed something. Maybe his work was finally taking a toll on you?

"Sure. My boss liked the data I compiled. It's going to be presented internationally." There was still something missing from your voice, but he'd take the answer.

"That's spectacular. I'm so proud of you."

But everything wasn't fine.

All your friends were busy with work, kids, or partners and you didn't get to see them often. You felt like you were out on your own little island. Just you and Frankie, set to suffer another few weeks.

Twelve weeks after Ben had flown to set, you found yourself in a particularly crappy mood. You'd cashed in a personal day just so you didn't have to move past the couch. Loneliness was a terrible look on you.

Luckily, Frankie was feeling the same. She wasn't begging for a walk or even to play with her toys. She'd just curled up next to you in solidarity.

Some time after your second "feel good" movie, which wasn't working honestly, your phone rang out with Ben's song. (I'm In Love With My Car, obviously)

"Hello, love. How's work?" He sounded chipper. Maybe something good happened on set today.

"I didn't go in today. Not feeling my best." You were still firmly planted on the couch in a pair of his shorts and your comfiest shirt. Full on wallow mode.

"I'm sorry, love." He did sound upset. Poor thing. "But I think I know something that will make you feel better."

Just then the front door opened and Frankie burst from her spot next to you.

"Frankster!" That voice was awfully familiar and about 3 weeks early. "I've missed you so much. But where's our girl? Where is she hiding?"

You could have burst into tears. He was home, early. You stood up to walk to the door, but he beat you by making his way into the living room.

"There you are." He quickly closed the distance between you and pressed you to his chest. "I have missed you so much, my love."

You would've responded in kind but now you had actually started crying. You'd done your best to stay busy for the last 3 months. Work was in a great spot, you'd seen a few of your friends for dinner, Frankie had regular walks and outings, but home was always so empty and quiet. Having Ben back was like a splash of color in your slowly graying world. You'd missed him desperately. You always prided yourself on being an independent woman and not being defined by your relationships, but sometimes the relief of your loved ones being near was just needed.

"Hey, love, hey." Ben was pushing hair out of your face and wiping away as many tears as he could with his thumbs.

You looked at him through your tears and saw wrinkled brows. He was always so concerned when you cried, but did his best to either rectify the situation or just hold you through it.

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing you say to him. You were sorry for being a mess, you were sorry tears were the first thing he got when he came home.

"It's okay." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "It's okay. Three months is far too long." Ben had started to push the two of you onto the couch, back to your pile of blankets.

After holding you for a few minutes, enough time to calm you down, he started to move around.

"Where do you think you're going?" He had started to get up from the little nest you had reconstructed in roughly 30 seconds.

"I think I'm going to put on sweatpants for a nice day in." He said it so matter-of-factly you almost let him go.

Instead you threw his shorts at him and said, "Or, no one wears pants and we both stay right here?"

His face lit up with a smile, nose and eyes crinkling in your favorite way. "You drive a hard bargain." He slipped off his jeans and jacket so that he stood before you in just his boxer briefs and a t shirt, bathed in the golden sunlight of the afternoon. "Move over."

You happily wiggled to the side so he could rejoin you in the nest.

"So . . ." You hated to do this because he just sat down, but you'd been wallowing all day, which meant you hadn't eaten.

He just watched you, eyebrow cocked, waiting for what could make you hesitate.

"What do you wanna do for lunch?"

He let out his booming, baritone laugh. Of course food would be your only motivation to put a pause on the cuddle-fest that had just begun.

"Take out?" He offered once his chuckles subsided.

You nodded enthusiastically to agree. Then neither of you had to move until it got here. "Roshambo for who has to answer the door?" You offered sheepishly.

Ben just gave a quick nod before pulling out his phone.

"Let's find something good, yeah?" Then he pulled you into his side so you could both stare at the options on the screen.

Once you'd settled, he pressed another kiss to your hairline. Today was going to be a great day with your love tucked in next to you.

A/N: I'd love feedback! Drop a comment or an ask if you liked it. 🖤 the secret code word is Roshambo (a ridiculous way of saying Rock-Paper-Scissors, but it's fun to say!)

Tag List: @rogers-wristbands @deakydeckme @bitemerog

I think that's everyone! If you'd like to be added, send a message/ask!

#ben hardy #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #t writes #a day in

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thewisekenisme · 5 years

Text

Dear Abuela

Summary: Roman writes a letter to his grandmother talking about his roommates.and how each of them has changed his life for the better

warnings: mentions crying, meltdowns, loud noises, and anxiety

words: 3,188

Series College AU

(sorry, this is shorter than I normally write Guy’s I will make it up to you! I promise also this is just an introduction into the series! so there will be more soon!)

Dear abuela,

I miss you so much! thank you for your latest letter and providing your famous chicken enchilada recipes, Patton wanted me to tell you he will make you proud when he makes it for dinner for us this week! classes are amazing! I am enjoying my theater classes and my history of theater. let me tell you I am learning way more than what Google taught me! like I learned ' that the history of theatre charts the development of theatre over the past 2,500 years. While performative elements are present in every society, it is customary to acknowledge a distinction between theatre as an art form and entertainment and theatrical or performative elements in other activities.'

but I also learned that college is a time where teens become independent, they move away from their families to focus on themselves as well as to their studies to pursue careers that have drawn their interests, but most importantly, college is a place to make some life long friendships, maybe even some relationships. There was one rule that every college student knew and would agree with. It was that being a roommate was hard. when trying to respect each others privacy going through your day to day life as a student, and trying to not get in each other's way, was a very tough and hard thing to do when they were basically with you every night. But when you end up having four other roommates on top of yourself, you tend to be in the way of everyone, more then you want to be. That is what I, Roman Prince has found out the hard way, living with four roommates was probably the hardest thing he has ever done in his life. But if you ask me if I would change it for the world. Nope, I wouldn't change anything about any of my roommates, not a single thing!

Right! My roommates, all four of them. There's Patton (padre because he acts like our dad!) Logan (mama lo, because he worries more then a mother does) Virgil (Emo nightmare, panic at the everywhere, etc.) And finally Dee (Dr. Jekyll and Mr lie, jack the fiber, etc). Oh! How can I forget Spot! ( Logan's service dog) These are the people who have changed my life in just a few short months! And I will tell you why because hopefully they can come to visit sometime during break soon! I know you and papa will love to meet them, and abuela I know how much you love to make sure everyone who comes into the house is feed and is happy, you won't have to worry about them not liking your food, I have been telling them all about you and your cooking, and about papa, everything! And they can't wait to try your cooking and to meet you and papa, that will be an amazing day that I will not forget. Okay so how I am going to tell you about each of them, I will put their first and last name, their ages and what year they are! Okay? Okay! Let's get started!

Patton hart, 21 junior -

Now Patton is basically the dad In our little friend group. He makes sure we have breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Makes sure we have soup and medicine when we are sick, he says puns like they are going out of style! Everything that a parent does, Patton's has done it ten times that! Patton is the kindest person you will ever meet. like if he sees someone he doesn't know struggling to carry their books, he will be by their side willing to carry the books for them. He's also super hyper and cheerful! I think he has ADHD like me, but when I ask he gets nervous and tells me I'm just being silly and he doesn't have that. But I can tell because he's lying because he always bites his lips and giggles a bit when he lies. But I won't push him to tell if he doesn't wish too.

Anyways, he is the oldest in our apartment, he shares a room with his twin brother Logan and Logan's service dog spot. (I'll tell you more about him next, but get this, Logan has a different last name! I know crazy huh! Turns out their parents are divorced and Pat goes from his moms and dads but logan stay's with his mom mostly, okay sorry ill stop gossiping for now) He is going to school to become a veterinarian (even tho he's allergic to cats) he told us it was the perfect job for him because he loves animals and taking care of people. What better way than to take care of both? I mean yes we are all still very worried about him and his allergies, but I believe he can do anything he puts his mind too, and he has! So far he's been aceing all of his classes plus has been keeping up with helping any of us if we need it.

Now I bet you're wondering how I met this wonderful human? Well, I met him just how I explained Patton helps people. I was struggling to carry all my books after my bookbag had just fallen apart, I was also late for class so I was rushing and ended up tripping scattering my books everywhere! I am not ashamed to say I cried, it was the first week of school, I was rushing, I was late, so this was just the icing on the cake! But then out of the blue, an angel appeared in front of me reaching a hand out offering a helping hand. There stood Patton hart with a worried expression and hand out to help me. As I said he is the kindest person you will ever meet! And since that moment we have been friends! So that's good.

Oh, Patton wanted me to let you know that when they visit you will not be allowed to lift a finger. He wants to be able to take care of you because you let all five of us into your home. And yes I told him you would want to do things anyways but he insisted so. Abuela you may have met your match.

Logan Berry, 21 junior -

Logan is actually the mom of the group. he is the opposite of Patton, he makes us study, makes sure we go to bed and wake up at a decent time, eats a healthy diet, no sweets or movie nights on school nights! but all he does is study and stay with Patton, and get this we aren't allowed to be loud if we are excited or want to get our point across! he has all of us on a tight schedule we aren't allowed to do anything fun! he is the second oldest in the house (twenty minutes younger then Patton, but he acts like the oldest, and thinks he can boss us around!) A total killjoy, But mostly he can sometimes be an emotionless robot, which may sound harsh but he kinda acts like one, like he doesn't show much emotion and speaks very monotoned like "I too would appreciate it if you did not speak so loudly, spot and I do not like the noise" that's how he talks to us, all the time, he's just so proper and preppy kinda like a snob who thinks their better then everyone. I mean he is a Science major and is really smart so maybe he thinks he has to act that way towards everyone but I'm not sure.

But then again he has a reason for all of this, At first we all thought he was just a stick in the mud so we decided to make as much noise as possible and try to mess with his schedule, boy did we regret it. You see at the time we didn't know but Logan has Autism and has made this schedule to fit all of our needs including his. so when we (i mean me, Virgil and Dee) decided to break the no being loud rule, we found out why there was a service dog in our apartment. Us ignoring his schedule, messing with his alarm clock and being extremely loud, we ended up causing him to have a really bad meltdown. That was the scariest thing I have ever seen, we saw Spot do his tasking (doing tasks to make sure their owners know they are doing a thing that could be triggered by other things. such as cratching your arm when they are anxious, their service dog will gently jump on their owner and move their hands away.)

Anyways, when both Patton and Spot were able to get Logan to calm down and was able to move him to his room the rest of us was given a long lecture and the worst feeling of guilt any of us has ever felt, Patton explained to us why he has everything on such a tight schedule and stuff, which made us feel a lot worse. So when Logan came out of his room now calm and feeling better we all made sure to apologize for our actions and tell him that we will now follow his schedule and rules, to make him feel comfortable in his own Home, I kid you not he actually smiled! it was totally worth seeing, and we all plan on making sure we can see it again, soon.

Logan also wanted to me to send you a note he was talking and told me to write down everything he says, so this is what he said, (or this is how our entire conversation went. ) 'Mrs. Prince I have made sure to keep Roman on a strict schedule that will allow him to focus on school, theater and still have time to write you letters, (tho I am highly impressed people still write letters, it is an art form that has been lost by many our age, I had no idea anyone has written a letter. I wonder if my mom would appreciate a letter along with our daily text messages, I could stop by the local post office and buy a packet of an assortment of postcards to send to her, maybe I should send some to my dad as well. I would have to ask Patton for his address so I can.) ME: Lo, I'm glad I gave you a great new way to talk to your family but what else would you like me to tell her? hm oh yes, apologize. please do tell her that Patton and I will make sure you are well taken care of that is all I wish to tell her.

so, that's what lo wanted me to tell you, you have no idea how hard it was to not laugh the whole time, it was the cutest thing I have ever seen!

Virgil Peterson, freshmen 19-

Next up, we have Virgil Peterson. (More like emo nightmare, but I shall spare the teasing, and name calling for right now.) the one friend who wears dark eyeshadow, black skinny and a purple jacket my nicknames basically define what he looks and how he acts. He also takes my teasing and name calling as a grain of salt but dishes it back way more then he needs too. But I suppose our playful banter goes both ways more than one. (Do you know how papa and I go back and forth? Well, that is basically how mine and Virgil's friendship is defined. Friendly banter and such) he is basically in the middle child like myself. So it goes Patton, Logan, me. Virgil, and then dee (I will tell you about him next) and boy does he take advantage of this development! He takes up all of Patton's cuddles when we have a movie night, he's allowed to be moody whenever he wants, but god forbid any of the others be moody. (Sorry I'm getting off subject, but still, he is basically a toddler. A toddler who can use stronger language. But thankfully Patton made a swear jar for him, the bad side of the swear jar, we all are forced to use it.) So basically if he is tired and stays up past Logan's bedtime for any reason except for studying. Well normally Logan would get upset with us, but with Virgil, he just sits with him keeping him company until he either goes to bed or the sunrises.

Anyways let's ignore that whole rant and go back to talking about what Virgil actually does. Virgil is a writer and is taking creative writing courses here at the college, what he likes to write I'm not sure what he enjoys writing (he will not share any of it with me!) But whatever it is Logan seems to enjoy it as does Patton and Dee. It seems that the only ones who are not allowed to read his writing are me and spot and Spots a dog! Which I don't understand I'm not very critical about things (yes, I am critical about the live action Disney movies, but hey they better slay or go away. but that's not the point, the point is he won't let me read his writing no matter what I do, beg, grovel, nothing happens I am still kept in the dark about his writing.) But other then that Virgil also works at the theater my class uses for our performances so he's able to sneak all of us in when a new show comes on, thankfully he hasn't got caught yet so we are able to do things like that. ( I saw the cutest middle school Romeo and Juliet performance and ah, it was so cute, and wish they were doing it for another week, but sadly it was only a three day play) even if we do bicker all the time, I guess he is pretty cool not that I would tell him to his face.

Anyways I bet you're wondering how I met Virgil? Well it was through Patton, Virgil and his older Brother Devan (Dee for short) they where looking for a place to live and me Logan and pat had a spare room so we allowed them to move in, that's when we first met, and I wasn't so sure how I felt about him, I still don't but all I know is he is a little anxious at times and has nightmares and such. We found out the hard way, so whenever I wake up in the middle of the night and I see he is in the living room in the dark, I will sit on the couch and put on a Disney movie, I will watch it until he is ready to talk about it or he relaxes enough to fall back asleep. So basically that became out routine whenever he has a bad night and his brother isn't awake or there to help him through the stress, and anxiety of the dream or the day he had.

He also wanted me to tell you that he is also excited to come to visit you mainly because I've talked about how good your food is, but is a little nervous about flying to a new place, he nor his brother have ever been too. Which I replied with your farm is peaceful and the fresh air would be good for him. He agreed he would like to try and come, so we may just do that, but by driving so none of us feel nervous about flying. Which means we will have five people plus a dog in the car for a long time, don't want to think about the hours we will spend in the car, but I will keep my mind on the fact that we will be together, soon!

Devan (Dee) Peterson, senior in highschool 18-

Now I do not know much about Dee, all I know is that he is Virgil's younger brother, he is in design classes to make clothing and such (he makes amazing clothing for Virgil and I am completely jealous of because they look absolutely fabulous), not to mention he has a birthmark that goes over the left side of his face and is also is mute? (it's more of a question because Virgil says he does talk but then he doesn't, Logan said it sounds like he has selective muteness which makes sense. because he is very quiet and uses sign language mostly but we don't want to questions him about it and make him uncomfortable.) He really doesn't like to be around us unless Virgil is around. But even then he sticks to cuddling his sweet little snake Sweetpea finding comfort in her and spot. all and all He's a really quiet kid. (although Virgil warned us that once Dee gets comfortable with us, he will start to become very mischievous and play pranks on us, but for now, he will stay quiet and do his own thing.)

I also only know from Virgil That Dee is very thankful that you are allowing him to bring Sweetpea with us when we come to visit. He told me that his brother was really worried he wouldn't be allowed to bring her. But I told him that you wouldn't mind so your answer in the last letter really took away a lot of anxiety for them. Virgil did want me to tell you that if you feel uncomfortable with him and dee staying in the living room were sweetpea will be sleeping with him, just let him know and they will try and find a better spot for her. which I replied you raised four boys plus me you have seen the worst of things. but I told them I would tell you, so here we are.

well, Abuela, this is all I have to tell you so far in this letter, school is great, my roommates mates are great, life is all in all great, the only thing not great is homesick I am. I miss you and papa so much words can not describe how much I miss both of you. If I'm being honest the way everyone is talking about their families makes me feel blessed for my big happy family. like take Patton and Logan, for example, Patton said this is the first time Logan hasn't been away from From their mom this long since he was little, Pat even said he didn't want to see their dad alone anymore like ever, but he didn't go into details as in why all I know is if we mention it to Logan he won't be happy with any of us. anyways, I hope this letter finds you in good health, please tell papa that I love him, and of course I love you! I shall call you as soon as I can Abuela, I love you and can't wait to see you soon.

sincerely your príncipe valiente Roman

tag list

@figurative-falsehood @today-only-happens-once @chanderefk @whymustibedraggedintofandomhell @combine-the-kitchens @deceitifullies101 @imjustawibba @treasureofpriam @bookwyrminspiration @geronimo-scamander-spd @lightfloofydino @pawtoncake q

#autistic logan #adhd patton #adhd roman #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #deciet sanders #sander sides fanfiction #remy sanders #sander sides #college au #Thomas and Friends #anxious virgil #selectively mute

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 4 years

Text

Witches, Chapter 19: yeah there’s actually still one last little bit of investigation left in this case. I’m sorry too. Now who wants backstory for side characters in a DLC case!

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

For all her bluff and bluster about getting back to investigating in the face of Blackquill’s disdain, Athena doesn’t seem to have a clue what they should do next. She tromps in stocking feet back into the aquarium, Phoenix and Pearl trailing behind her, and stares at a poster on the wall with life cycle facts about penguins for five minutes before she suggests that they go visit Sasha, because if Blackquill was here, then he had to be done interrogating her, right?

Pearl remains behind at the aquarium to get settled in, and Athena complains the whole drive to the detention center because Phoenix made her put her wet shoes back on instead of driving barefoot. “I’m wearing tights!” she insists. “It’s not barefoot!”

“Shoes, kiddo.”

“They’re wet! It’s gross!”

“Should’ve thought of that before you threw a bucket of water at a witch.” Or whatever he is. Fae-adjacent, the same vague broad classification to encompass Phoenix and Trucy and Klavier and Thalassa. Apollo’s not quite there yet.

“Wicked witch of the bench afraid he’d melt if it hit him, you think?” She steps out onto the parking lot asphalt and winces at the tiny rocks digging into her feet. “Okay,” she sighs. “Shoes.”

As they wait at the detention center for Sasha to be brought out, Athena turns, very seriously, to Phoenix. “Alright, Boss, we’ve gotta cheer Sasha up! If you’re feeling bad about the investigation, don’t you dare show it!”

The door on the other side of the glass opens and an officer escorts Sasha in. She wears a grin on her face but has a wild look in her eyes. “Ahoy, me buckos! Worry ye not about me! My spirits be good and ol’ Prosecutor Nostache won’t keep me down!”

“Uh.” Athena blinks and turns to Phoenix. He shrugs.

Sasha’s entire posture collapses. “Well that was an anchor,” she says. “Straight to the bottom. I wanted to make you feel better for all the trouble I’m causing…”

“We were hoping to cheer you up,” Athena says.

“Maybe you both can just act natural,” Phoenix says. Not that telling anyone to “act natural” ever leads to any normal or natural behaviors. Certainly not if he ever told Maya that, though after the first time he learned to add the qualifier “act what might be natural for a human”.

“Anyway.” Athena inhales deeply and the large, forced smile that she had put on calms down into something still friendly, still smiling, but closer to neutral, and much more natural. “What we’re here for, Sasha, is to tell you that we’d like to represent you in court tomorrow!”

“What!” Sasha shoves herself backward from the sill, her chair screeching horribly across the floor until it gets stuck, and she still pushing tips herself and the chair over backwards, thudding out of sight to the ground.

“Sasha?” Phoenix asks. “Is - is something wrong?”

She doesn’t stand back up. Athena pushes herself up on the sill and presses her forehead against the glass, trying to peer down to see if she’s okay. “Pros - Prosecutor Blackquil s-said--” Sasha’s shaking, shuddering breathing interrupts her words. “Said that you w-wouldn’t show up. You’d abandon me.” She’s definitely crying now, loudly and messily. “And you’re here! You - you’re - you’re h-here. To rescue me.” She rights the chair, rubbing tears off of her cheeks and out of her bloodshot eyes.

“No, Sasha!” Athena still has her face up close to the glass and she presses her palms up against it, too. “We would never! Even Prosecutor Blackquill should know that! I would never! Don’t cry!” The next loud sniffling comes from Athena.

Oh boy.

“These are happy tears.” And Sasha is smiling, beaming really, even blinking furiously to stop further tears from falling. “I’m so so glad I met you both! For Orla and me a-and—” Another shaky breath stops her for a moment. “Okay. I’m okay. I’m okay! You’ve probably got questions, right? Fire away!”

What she tells them of cleaning the orca pool that early morning is a review of what they’ve already heard, up to the point that she readily tells them she was arguing with the captain. She talks more about Orla’s tricks, says that the calendar with the seven am meeting with the captain is definitely not hers, and when they tell her that they dropped off her medications - it was Fulbright who tasked them with this, but it still had to be cleared with the prison so that they know no one is trying to smuggle in something illegal like white powder (Apollo is way too straight-laced for an Anything Agency and it’s hilarious every time he smacks inconsequentially up against that wall) - she starts getting weird. Like she’s trying to distract them from the fact that she’s on medication at all, which isn’t really working. “Are you sick?” Athena asks. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s all just peachy!” Sasha says with false, feigned cheer; the fact that she couldn’t drum up a fish pun to use really seals it. (Wait, isn’t a drum a kind of fish? Why’s he know more about fish than flowers? And seals - god damn it.)

Athena stares doubtfully at her. Her shoulders slump. “I guess I could just tell you, huh,” Sasha says. “It’s for a heart condition but—”

“A heart condition?” Athena cries, her voice high and shrill.

“—but it’s not that serious—”

“Not that serious!” Athena’s second echo isn’t quite as much of a piercing shriek, but it’s even louder, an angry yell. “It’s your heart! Don’t tell me not to worry!”

Sasha heaves a sigh. “This is why I don’t tell people,” she says. “Because you freak, and then I’m trying to reassure you that you don’t need to treat me like I’m fragile, and I’ve got to explain that I’m not dying, so on, so on.”

“Oh,” Athena says. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Sasha shrugs. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. It’s not you. It just gets a little tiring going through the same song-and-dance every time I tell someone. Much less fun than putting on the same song and dance with Orla every show!” Athena laughs and Sasha sticks her tongue out at her. “And I’d just had that argument with the captain the other night, too. The one that came up in the trial this morning. He knew about my condition, and I’d told him that I’d scheduled the surgery that would fix it, and he was worried and he told me that’d been thinking, and he was taking me out of the show. You saw the new flier, right? That I’m not in it?”

Phoenix nods.

“And it was supposed to debut yesterday. But I needed to go out there and perform yesterday. It was the anniversary of Azura’s death, and I had this crazy idea that I would go in front of the audience and tell them all that her death was just an accident, that Orla didn’t kill her, and now the captain wasn’t going to let me out there. So what I did” - her smile is somewhere between devious and sad - “was move the skull rock from the show stage. Put it back in the orca pool, figured the captain probably wouldn’t look there, and if he couldn’t find the major prop for the new show, we’d have to do the old one again, right? Marlon gave me a hand with it, while he was watching Orla at the stage pool.”

It was a bold plan, is about all Phoenix can say to that. “Azura is the orca trainer before you?” he asks.

“Yeah. Azura Summers. She taught me everything I know - she was a year older than me and we were like - anemone and clownfish. Remora and shark!” Phoenix doesn’t speak marine biology but Athena is nodding in solemn understanding. “She was a year older than me. She was the best - you ever meet someone and just, hit it off immediately, you just know that they’re someone who’s gonna be so important in your life?” Sasha stares down at her hands, fiddling with something. “And then she was gone.”

“That must’ve been awful,” Athena says. “Losing someone you loved, and then having everyone else say that your friend was the one that killed her, and no one believes you when you know otherwise.” She sniffs again. Poor girl and her sensitive hearing and hyperempathy.

Sasha nods. “Azura was like family, since my own family was never exactly supportive of my career path.” And not that Phoenix wants to downplay the severity of family disapproval, how much of a mess of hurt their influence can make, but he can’t exactly say he’s surprised to hear that a selkie’s family might think that her getting a career with an orca was bad news. “I can only imagine what they’re saying now after the captain’s death now too.”

He doesn’t want to pick at a reopening wound, but he never knows what strange little pieces of information will help, and so he asks, “Were you and Ms Summers - involved?”

“Huh?” Sasha blinks at him. A moment later the meaning clicks. “Oh! No, she was straight. She had a boyfriend that I never got to meet, but I’d help her send him videos of some of our orca-training sessions, because I mean, getting to see your cute girlfriend hanging with a cute orca, what could be better?”

“Toss a cute penguin in there too!” Athena suggests. “And then you’re golden!”

“Athena, I love the way you think!”

Phoenix clears his throat. Something more for his “legal etiquette Athena needs to learn” list: the detention center is not a place for hitting on people. Or maybe it’s more Sasha hitting on her. Or maybe they’re just like this.

Sasha’s face falls and her eyes turn downcast. “She had this matching charm with her boyfriend that I’d wanted to return to him after she died, but I didn’t know enough about him to find him, so I just hung onto it myself. Swore on it that I’d become the best orca trainer ever, for her.” She holds up the charm; it hangs from a cord with a bead strung on it, and looks like a little talisman or envelope one would find at a shrine. “Just like the captain always used her walkie-talkie after that. It had teeth marks from Orla in it, when she brought Azura back up from the water…”

Jack Shipley’s death must be like reliving a nightmare for her.

(But also, remembering the photo of the body, Phoenix did not see a walkie-talkie in the victim’s holder for it.)

“Wait, you didn’t even see her boyfriend at her funeral?” Athena asks.

Sasha shakes her head sadly. “She didn’t even have a funeral. We held our own memorial for her at the aquarium, but her family just sort of - showed up and took her away. I’d suggested that we get an autopsy or something done, to know how she actually died and that it wasn’t Orla, but we needed her family’s permission for that and they wouldn’t give it.”

Her face is turned toward them, and her eyes are, or should be, but she has the spaced-out look of someone not seeing what’s right in front of her. “They had this huge row with Dr Crab about something, too. I wonder if that’s part of what changed him. He and Azura were pretty close, and he started acting so different after she died - talking about how he was going to euthanize Orla, when before he said he’d never do such a thing. He thought she did it! He still always keeps poison on hand, ready to put her down at any moment! If she’d been found guilty today he would’ve just done it, right then!”

Phoenix has a very good idea of who they need to talk to again, next.

Back at the aquarium, they find Dr Crab in his laboratory, with Pearl, who is holding a furiously a squawking Rifle in her arms. “—correct, she does hate me. Since this little annoyance” - Dr Crab gestures at Sniper, who is for once free of the nest of his hair and waddling about the lab - “imprinted on me right out of the egg, she thinks I stole her baby. I didn’t want to steal her baby! But I guess she feels like the human parents of a changeling would.”

“That’s very sad for both of you,” Pearl says seriously. Rifle’s wings flap against her hands. “Your job involves inducing animals to vomit a lot, doesn’t it?”

The doctor snorts. “Today’s just been a hell of a day.” He squints down at the strange machine in his hand, something too boxy to be a regular tablet, with a small screen that flips back on a hinge. “Now let me see if I can find out when she ingested that foreign object.”

“Hi Mr Nick!” Pearls releases Rifle to the ground and the penguin makes an immediate beeline for Dr Crab’s shins. Absorbed in whatever he’s looking at on his machine, he doesn’t seem to notice. “Watch the penguin vomit! It’s for Sniper to eat!” She directs his attention to a pile of, yes, penguin vomit, that he doesn’t want to consider any further, but that Sniper is pecking at. “Mr Doctor told me that mama penguins partially digest and regurgitate fish for their babies to eat, because it’s easier for them to eat that mush!”

“You two seem to be getting along well,” Phoenix says. “You and Dr Crab, I mean.” They already knew that Pearl hit it off with Rifle, somehow.

“Rifle ate something she shouldn’t so I was helping him get that out of her.” Pearl gestures now at the corner of one of the lab tables, where an object, familiar though it’s partially covered in mushed-up fish, lies. Phoenix takes a few more steps forward. The mess doesn’t smell as fishy as he expected, or perhaps he’s lost all sense of smell, and yes, whatever it is that Rifle ate looks a whole hell of a lot like the little talisman Sasha had, that once belonged to Azura. And there was supposed to be a second one, that Azura’s boyfriend had, wasn’t there?

“Excuse me, Dr Crab?” Phoenix says. He grunts. “Can we take a look at that charm that Rifle swallowed?”

He grunts again. Phoenix decides that’s a “yes”. Investigations don’t get anywhere fast, otherwise. He gingerly picks up the cord on the charm and lets it dangle. Yeah, that’s definitely the same thing as—

“Hey! What are you doing with that?” Dr Crab snaps out of his reverie, with all the anger of a man who’s only just realized something is happening that he would’ve liked to have stopped sooner. “Put that down! That’s Azura’s!”

Phoenix drops it back on the table. Dr Crab, with no regard for penguin barf, snatches it away. “What the hell was it doing in Rifle’s stomach?” He drops it back into the pocket of his lab coat.

“Would this one happen to have belonged to Azura’s boyfriend?” Phoenix asks.

“I don’t make it a habit to discuss the affairs of the deceased! Especially not with you people!”

Bit of a fraught subject, there. Sasha did say that they were close. “Yesterday was the anniversary of her death, right?”

Dr Crab’s sigh sounds more like a growl. How close is Phoenix to being kicked out of the lab? “That’s right,” Crab says. “A year since the orca killed her.”

“You really think Orla did?” Athena asks. “I don’t believe it!”

“And I was there, Ms Lawyer. I saw Orla bite her. Maybe she didn’t mean to kill her, who’s to say - but what I do know is that Azura is dead.” The point he puts on his last several words closes down the topic even more firmly than his outraged yelling did. Satisfied that he’s shut Phoenix up - for the moment, because Phoenix refuses to be done until he’s run out of questions and he’s still got plenty - he returns to studying the data on his machine.

Who knows what might be important information for a trial? “So what’s that there?” Phoenix asks.

“Monitoring system. Collection of medical records for all the creatures. Between it and the cameras I can monitor them all constantly, twenty-four/seven. Company secret, that’s all I’ll tell you.”

“Really?” Phoenix asks. “Aren’t medical records just like - past exams and stuff? How can you get present, constant data from that?”

“Good point,” Crab says, after a slight pause. A sneered, thin smile stretches out across his face. “I can see there’s no fooling you.”

“Are you trying to fool me?” Phoenix asks.

The two Psyche-Locks that clang into place answer that question for him.

“You tell me,” Dr Crab says.

“Clearly,” Phoenix says.

“Excuse me, Mr Doctor?” Pearl asks. She scoops Rifle up into her arms to stop the penguin from resuming an attack on Dr Crab’s shins. “Mr Nick is a very good lawyer who always finds the truth but he needs to know everything he can to do so. Even if you don’t think your monitorings have anything to do with the case, it might be the information that Mr Nick needs to bluff himself into a better position to win!”

Dr Crab stares at Phoenix, his eyebrows raised. Phoenix wishes Pearl had found any other way to phrase that. “And it would be very kind and helpful of you to do,” Pearl adds.

The lab is far from silent - the hum and murmur of computers, Rifle’s struggles to break free and attack, Sniper eating, Athena cooing at Sniper. But it still feels quiet and empty as Pearl waits for any response and reaction at all from Dr Crab. He says nothing. She narrows her eyes, glancing from Rifle to the floor, like her next step in convincing him will be to sic a penguin on him.

Instead she simply readjusts her hold on Rifle, pulling the penguin up further in her arms, and says, much more seriously, no longer with any sort of pleading edge, “You asked for my help to examine Rifle and I gave it to you, remember? It was just a few minutes ago, right before Mr Nick came back, but I didn’t just offer that on my own.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dr Crab hisses. “That’s exactly what happened, isn’t it? I asked her if you could grab her for me and - damn, now I owe you, don’t I?”

He and Athena both glance over at Phoenix’s sharp intake of breath. Pearl doesn’t do this; she cares about human standards of fairness and tends to cancel debts made out of careless words of people who don’t know better and don’t know what she is. This situation, this case, she thinks is desperate. And Dr Crab saw what she is. It’s fair.

Pearl, unblinking, hollow-eyed, nods. “And I think you should answer Mr Nick’s questions about your monitoring,” she says.

Dr Crab shakes his head. “Well,” he says. “Shit. I got careless and that’s on me - to the victor go the spoils. So if I answer whatever questions our Mr Lawyer here has about my monitoring equipment here, then we’re settled, yes? No debts after that.”

“No debts after that,” Pearl agrees.

They both wait for Phoenix to say something; it’s a bit tricky, he thinks, to follow up a top-tier negotiation such as Pearl’s. “So. Twenty-four/seven monitoring. How’s that work?”

“It’s an ecological data organization system developed in Europe. Teleobservation Realtime Pertinent Data Organizer, TORPEDO for short.”

Phoenix decides not to try and suss out how well that acronym actually fits it, and not just because the whole name has already been ejected from his brain and he couldn’t repeat it back if he tried. Tele-pertinent real-time data what?

“It records information on its subjects constantly - heartbeat, vocalization, movements, temperature, and so on - through sensors placed on or near the subject. All that gets sent to me and my equipment here. Rifle has her sensor attached to her flipper ID tag.” Pearl takes Rifle’s wing in her hand and holds it out to examine the tag in question. “For Orla and the fish, it’s attached to the side of the tank. Now here we go, what’s it say about Rifle’s feeding?” Dr Crab glares down at the terminal in his hand. “Four am on the nineteenth is when she swallowed that. What a weird time. And - shit, Orla didn’t eat at all that night until the next afternoon.” He shakes his head. “What is going on here?”

“Maybe that’s why Rifle wouldn’t eat my fish but Orla would.” Athena sounds slightly cheered at the prospect that it wasn’t her causing personal offense to Rifle - Rifle just wasn’t hungry.

Phoenix clears his throat. “Why keep it a secret?” he asks. “This monitoring system - it’s clearly helpful and it’s not like we’re competitors trying to come in and steal your secrets.”

“Let me preface this by saying” - nothing good ever starts that way - “that this system has been tested rigorously and approved as safe and legal in many countries. Just not this one.”

Ah, that would do it. “You’re breaking the law?” Athena asks, startled.

Dr Crab grimaces but it ends as something more like a grin. “That’s why I keep this terminal with me at all times. Lucky, else the police might’ve been poking their noses into it yesterday. None of the rest of the crew knows - keeps them safe from the legal repercussions, but I had Jack’s permission for this. He felt, and I agreed, that giving the best care possible to our animals was more important than legality.”

“But - but you’re breaking the law! And that’s—” Athena sputters, searching for a solid objection. “That’s breaking the law!”

Yeah, she’s a smart kid but hopefully she’s not going into a trial without a co-counsel any time soon.

“And if breaking the law betters the lives of our animals? Are we supposed to just sit and wait for the law to change, when in the meantime we can have more information and act quicker to help them - to save their lives?”

“But…” Athena glances to Phoenix for backup she won’t find. Not that he’s not a hypocrite, but he’s not going to step into this debate just to be one. It’s disconcerting, again, every time he realizes that part of Athena’s admiration of him comes only from the fact that she doesn’t know him as well as Apollo does. She’s arguing against the logic that bore him his ace in the hole. And he can’t blame her; it took him a long, bad time to get there. “You’re just - twisting it around, now.” But she looks rattled, not sure how to square this away with the foundation of her career.

“Dr Crab,” Phoenix says. “I might need to use this information in court tomorrow. But that would obviously cause serious problems for you and the aquarium.” He isn’t asking permission, but this isn’t quite an apology, either. It’s just a statement of what it is, regrettable, inevitable.

“You’ve gotta do your job, Mr Lawyer, and I do mine.” Dr Crab shrugs, more resigned than bothered. This must be a prescient concern, for however long it’s been since they installed this system at the aquarium. Maybe it’s even a relief by now, to no longer be hiding. “I stand by my convictions and don’t have regrets, and I hope you won’t, either. I can’t blame you, or her, for that.” He nods at Pearl.

“I appreciate it.” Nice to not have a witness biting his head off, even if in this case it would be - not deserved, he’d like to think, but understandable.

“Hmph. Any last questions on that or can I—”

A loud peeping begins, like the chirps Sniper made but louder and constant. Dr Crab frowns and slips a phone out of his pocket. “Hello? Crab here.”

“That’s a ringtone?” Pearl asks. “That’s adorable!”

“I don’t think Maya’s gonna let you change mine,” Phoenix says to her.

“I didn’t think that Dr Crab liked the penguins that much,” Athena whispers. “But I guess he’s just a big softie, really!”

Were he actually listening to them Phoenix has no doubt the doctor would consider those fighting words. As it is, his fighting words are for whoever is on the other end of the line. “Son of a bitch, you people again! What more do you—”

He storms from the lab and slams the door behind him. Athena looks at Phoenix. He nods. She creeps closer to the door to listen, crouched with her ear by the crack where it closes, though Phoenix isn’t sure she needs to be that close to actually hear. “He’s saying that Orla was found not guilty,” she says, “and that should be enough - stop harassing him, he knows that - if it comes to it he - Mr Wright!” She tried to spring back up but smacks her head against the bottom of the doorknob on her way up, and wincing and grumbling to herself, stands tall again. “He said - that if he has to he’d euthanize Orla!”

“No!” Pearl gasps. Rifle wriggles around in her arms and Pearl sets her on the table. “She’s not guilty! In a court of law! She can’t be punished!”

Knowing that the whole orca pool can function as a faery ring makes Phoenix even more nervous that she’s going to commit larceny as soon as anything starts seeming tense. Grand Theft Orca. This is not something he ever thought he would have to consider.

The door swings violently inward, banging hard into Athena’s shoulder. She stumbles away, cursing under her breath again. Phoenix picks out pieces of several languages. (He really should ask her how to say “fuck you” in German. It would be funny.)

“Where’s my goddamn calendar?” Dr Crab storms back in, sweeping a dozen takeout containers from the desk in front of the largest screen into the trash can strategically positioned right next to it. A few fliers for the orca show drift to the floor. “Son of a bitch, where did I leave it this time?”

“Calendar?” Athena perks up. “It wouldn’t happen to be one of those cute penguin ones, is it? Mr Rimes found one in the nap room and—”

Dr Crab snatches it away from her and scans the mess of his desktop for a pen and scribbles something on it. “Yes, that’s mine. It was a gift, all right?” He sighs. “From Azura. She designed the calendars for this year and this was the prototype.”

“Oh.” Athena’s smile vanishes. And then, seeming to take a cue from Phoenix’s line of questioning of Sasha back at the detention center, she asks, “Did you and Ms Summers happen to be, erm, romantically involved?”

“Of course not!” He bristles at the suggestion, almost weirdly defensive, so while he sees no Psyche-Locks, Phoenix still won’t take it as the end-all-be-all. Maybe he’s defensive about the calendar for what’s written on it, that meeting with the victim at seven am. Could he, at that time, have committed murder? “Were I even so inclined to partake of ‘romantic feelings’” - he doesn’t make them with his hands but Phoenix can hear the air quotes - “I certainly would not involve myself with—” He stops. He glares at Athena and Phoenix in turn. “What business of yours is it, anyway?”

“I just heard a lot of sadness in your voice when you mentioned her, and the calendar,” Athena says. “And I wondered—”

“She was a good friend and now she’s dead, of course I’m sad!” Though he’s probably not sad now, just mad at them and their prying questions. “How can you possibly think that’s related to your defense of Sasha, or do you like using the excuse of being lawyers to pry into people’s personal lives?”

Seems like it’s time to redirect; this thread when pulled on isn’t going anywhere good. “Your phone call just now - what was that about?”

“Heard all that, did you now?” Dr Crab sighs. Phoenix skips the part where he clarifies that Athena did, because she has better hearing than the human and fae also in the room. “That’s the Center for Dangerous Animal Control, insisting that if Orla ever attacks anyone again, we’d better not bother with this rigamarole and just put her down immediately.”

“But that’s not fair!” Athena has her fists raised, ready to fight the shadowy specter of this vague organization. “Did you agree to that?”

Dr Crab is quiet for a very long time. “Sometimes,” he says finally, “unfortunately, things happen. As a veterinarian, I am prepared to do whatever needs to be done.”

“Sasha says you keep poison on hand to always be prepared to put Orla down!” Athena levels the accusation with fury that Sasha would be proud of.

Dr Crab reaches into one of the pockets of his lab coat and pulls out a tiny plastic bag that contains within it a red and yellow capsule.

One that looks exactly like that they found mixed in with the contents of Orla’s stomach.

Phoenix is very, very glad they didn’t show it to him.

“That’s awful!” Athena says. “How dare you!” She’s livid enough that Phoenix isn’t sure she realizes this pill is like the other one, and while that’s something they’re going to have to work on - making sure she’s clear-minded enough to make all the connections that matter, for now she’ll have him or Apollo with her, and Phoenix is just glad she won’t blurt it out to Dr Crab. He wants to keep this one close to his chest until he sees the best opening to play it.

“Sasha thought the same thing.” Dr Crab drops the pill back in his pocket. “When security around Orla was tightened last year, she insisted that I not be given a key card to access the orca pool room. Thinking, I imagine, that the chances of Orla having a medical emergency when either she nor Jack were here to let me in were lower than the chances of me doing something to her.” He huffs derisively, Athena still seething.

“Dr Crab, I have a last question for you,” Phoenix says. “This - Center for Dangerous Animal Control.” Or however the words were ordered. “Ms DePlume told me something interesting earlier today.” That the Center had made this same demand a year ago, and for some reason relented, but the aquarium has been making large monthly payouts to someone or somewhere ever since. Phoenix repeats this fact to Dr Crab’s expressionless face, and adds, “It’s clear that there’s something going on behind the scenes here, and I suspect that it has something to do with this murder.”

“Do you.” He’s good at responding by saying nothing, but any words at all are sometimes enough to trip the trap, let Phoenix know exactly how much a witness is hiding.

Five Psyche-Locks this time, the appearance punctuated a moment later with loud footsteps and a louder yell. “Dr Herman Crab! Sorry to interrupt, but Prosecutor Blackquill wants to speak with you!”

“Son of a—” Dr Crab punctuates his speech by smacking his calendar down hard on the the table. “What the hell else could you possibly have to ask me?”

“We were hoping to have Mr Rimes testify at tomorrow’s trial, but we’ve been having some trouble getting him to cooperate. As such, Prosecutor Blackquill would like to call you instead!”

“Hmph.” Crab takes a moment in which he clearly is sizing up and assessing Fulbright, deciding whether he can get out of this and if he wants to tangle with Blackquill in that way. Surprising that he didn’t manage to coerce (or threaten) Rimes into talking and has to go for a backup. “Fine. But I’m not giving my opinion on what happened. I’ll tell you what I know, but I’m not taking sides.” He turns to Phoenix. “Until tomorrow, Mr Lawyer.”

Neither Trucy nor Apollo notices when the office door opens. Trucy has her laptop in her lap and is furiously scrolling, glancing between the screen and the notebook Apollo is still trying to write it. It’s a silent and periodic scuffle between the two of them as Trucy grabs it and yanks it toward her to check something, and Apollo pulls it back to continue writing. Phoenix shudders to think how unreadable his handwriting is from this. “Commonly for a number of heart conditions,” Trucy mutters. “Is this relevant, Apollo?”

“Of course it is!” He reaches across her keyboard and turns her screen toward himself. “Go back to the book - the picture. If she had a heart condition and a physically intensive job—” He taps his pen against the screen. “There’s no visible injury, look, wouldn’t you think a killer whale could cause some damage—”

“Oh! You think that—”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, guys,” Phoenix says. “What are we working on?”

They shriek in tandem, Apollo flinging the pen and Trucy knocking the notebook to the floor and almost dropping her laptop. Athena claps her hands over her ears, belatedly, and braces herself against the doorframe. “Yes, we’re back now,” Phoenix adds. “What’ve you got?”

“First: the capsule!” Apollo moves his hand like he means to gesture with the pen to the capsule in a bag on the coffee table, except the pen is no longer in his hand, so he’s just sort of waving, and his voice still as enthusiastically loud as ever. “It’s a sleeping drug! That’s the brand name on it, ‘3 Zs’. The Shipshape Aquarium vet recently bought a bunch of it from Hickfield Clinic - it’s meant for people, but apparently would work on other mammals.”

“A sleeping drug?” Phoenix repeats.

Apollo nods.

That had been Phoenix’s first thought, when he first saw that capsule, but Dr Crab called it poison - sure, enough of it could certainly kill, but he’s a veterinarian. He’d be legally able to get some kind of actual euthanization drug instead of trying to overdose an orca on sleeping pills - if that was actually what he intended with it, and not something else. Why pretend it’s poison?

“And the other thing - Shipshape Aquarium had the woman who died last year, Azura Summers, right?” He doesn’t wait for Phoenix to confirm he knows and barrels on, “She was getting medication prescribed by Hickfield Clinic to help her manage a heart condition.”

“I found an illegal download of that writer lady’s book!” Trucy pipes up. Bless that girl.

“A heart condition?” Phoenix can’t do much but echo right now, but his mind is racing. What was Apollo saying when they walked in? Jack Shipley removed Sasha from the show for fear that she would come to harm because of her condition - theoretically, that could’ve already happened. “Do you know what the medication she was on was called?”

“Uh…” Apollo glances down at his notebook. “I wrote it down? It’s like—”

Phoenix takes the notebook from him. The writing is exactly as messy as he imagined, jagged pen lines trailing off across half the page when Trucy grabbed it. “That’s the same medication that Sasha is taking,” he says to Athena.

“So what’s that mean?” she asks.

“I have no idea.” That’s a hell of a coincidence, but he doesn’t really see how it could be anything but an unfortunate coincidence, even as a man whose policy is to not believe in coincidences. Orla isn’t on trial now, and wasn’t on trial for Azura’s death, either, yesterday. But maybe this information could offer some reassurance, and closure, to Sasha and the rest of the aquarium crew. “But that capsule, now that’s something. Nice work, Apollo.”

Apollo gives Phoenix a wide-eyed, startled look. Has Phoenix really complimented him so rarely?

“Where’s Pearly?” Trucy asks. Her face falls. “Did she go back home already?”

“She’s staying at the aquarium to help out with Orla, with so many of the staff dragged out to testify and everything.” There she goes again, slotting herself perfectly, naturally, in somewhere, like she’s meant to be there, so that no one even questions letting a strange little faery girl in so far behind the scenes.

The only thing to put him slightly at ease is that she said she would be ready to call in, from the aquarium, through video phone during the trial tomorrow, which holds the implication that she’s not going to spirit Orla off to the Twilight Realm in the middle of the night to keep her safe.

Though she didn’t promise for sure that she wouldn’t, so he should probably call her and extract that promise from her, before he ends up defending in a case of orca larceny.

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

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hookedontaronfics · 5 years

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First Contact series - Part 4

Title: First Contact - Part 4 Read the previous installments here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Rating: T Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Some mild cursing A/N: Taron proves his caring heart but was it all just a fever dream? The fourth installment in the First Contact series will leave you wanting more. If you love cute, fluffy Taron, you’ll love this installment. The series will eventually involve more mature themes as it develops, so be warned! I hope you enjoy! x

I woke up with a start into the darkness of my room, my breathing shallow as I tried to sort out where I was. For a moment I thought I’d had a bad dream, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead, but I had no lingering impression of a nightmare in my mind. Then a sharp pain in my stomach caused me to moan, and I closed my eyes against the sudden feeling that I was about to be sick.

I stumbled out of my room into the hallway, crashing into the doorframe and cursing as I hurried to the toilet, bending over and heaving. Once I was done, I rolled over on the floor and laid there in the dark, not feeling much better after emptying the contents of my gut. Shit, I muttered to myself, trying to focus on just breathing for a moment, pressing my palms into my abdomen in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

It’d be just like me to get raging sick right before my next table read, I groaned. It’s just nerves, I tried to convince myself, as it had been a few days since the last read with Taron and the group thanks to scheduling conflicts.

A light snapped on in the hallway and I realized I hadn’t even considered my noise volume, but I couldn’t continue the thought as another wave of nausea moved through me. Jules knocked timidly on the door before easing it open, seeing me lying prone on the floor. I hadn’t even had the strength in me to flush the toilet, so I could only imagine what she was seeing. I would have been embarrassed if I didn’t feel so awful.

“Oh, honey,” she said, as I tried to shield my face from the onslaught from the overhead light.

“Everything hurts and I’m dying, Jules,” I moaned, curling up into the fetal position as my gut continued to spasm.

“You’re going to survive, I promise,” she said sympathetically, reaching over and yanking down the toilet handle.

“I completely regret all that sushi we had for dinner,” I sighed as Jules helped ease me to a sitting position, but I wasn’t willing to leave the bathroom just yet. “I can’t miss work,” I said, shivering despite the fact that my body was covered in sweat.

“Well you’re certainly in no shape to go right now,” she said, feeling my forehead with the back of her hand. “And you’re burning up too,” she added, opening the medicine cabinet and shaking out a couple painkillers from the bottle. “These should help,” she said, dropping them in my hand.

She poured me a cup of water, and the thought of trying to swallow anything down made me feel like getting sick all over again. I had to force myself to down the pills. “I want my mom,” I whined pathetically, my head lolling to the side a bit.

“Your mum is in America so all you’ve got right now is me,” Jules said gently.

“Well that’s just bloody great, innit?” I said sarcastically, and thankfully Jules didn’t take my rudeness personally.

“Should we try and get you back to your bed?” she asked, being sweeter than I’d known her to be. I must have looked like I was on death’s door.

“Mmmm I’m just gonna crash here,” I mumbled, pulling a towel down off the rack and making a pillow out of it, stuffing it under my head. The coolness of the hardwood floor was actually soothing to my overheated body.

“Suit yourself,” Jules replied. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours so you can call off your job,” she added.

“I’m not calling off,” I said stubbornly, but Jules just closed the door on me and left me to my misery. I drifted in and out of sleep, the pain never really subsiding, and ended up tossing the medicine anyway, getting sick several more times before I had nothing left to give. I was completely drained when Jules came to wake me up.

“Help me up,” I said weakly, holding my arms out to her with the intention to get ready for work. She pulled me to my feet and supported me to my room, dumping me back in my bed despite my protests.

“Give me your phone, I’m calling for you,” she replied, hands on her hips, and I must have been plumb out of my mind because I allowed her to do it. I had pulled all of my covers and extra blankets around myself, unable to get warm while she told my boss I was currently indisposed in the bathroom, whatever that meant.

“You just rest, okay?” Jules said after making my excuses for me, and I could only nod. My body had won this round, and I was thoroughly disappointed. I’d been looking forward to work, and after our date, I wondered how Taron and I would interact in person again. He’d kept up a steady stream of texts the past few days, falling asleep in the middle of our convos late into the night, which were usually about the most random and ridiculous things. I enjoyed the fact that Taron didn’t take himself too seriously, but sometimes wondered if we were more than just friends. Yes, he flirted with me, but he tended to flirt shamelessly with everyone. It was just his personality, and part of what drew me to him.

These thoughts drifted through my delirious mind before I crashed into a dreamless sleep, waking up nine hours later feeling sweaty, hungry and disoriented. I kicked off the covers, feeling like I was suffocating under all of them, and laid there for a few minutes testing myself, but the pain from earlier had seemed to subside. I gently poked at my stomach, and it growled back at me. “Well okay then,” I said to no one, disheartened by how much effort it took to get out of bed. I could hear the telly in the front room, figuring Jules and Mary were up and about. It would be about suppertime, so I wrapped my robe around myself, still clad in my jammies, and shuffled out to the main room.

“Hey guys,” I said, and three sets of eyes turned around to look at me at the sound of my voice. Wait, three? I stopped dead in my tracks and gasped when I saw Taron perched on our couch with my roomies as if this was just a normal, every-day occurrence.

“What in the Queen’s name are you doing here?” I asked, probably not one of my finer moments. I was suddenly very aware of my purple heart-patterned sleep pants and the fact that I wasn’t even wearing a bra, and I pulled my robe tightly around myself self-consciously. I had no makeup on and my hair was likely an utter mess.

“You weren’t at work today, and Jules texted me on your phone that you’d been really sick all night. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Taron explained, not even remotely phased by my appearance. He looked incredibly casual, one of his favorite caps pulled low over his eyes. “And I brought you ice lollies,” he added brightly. “My mum always gave them to me as a kid when I was feeling ill.”

“I think you call them popsicles in America,” Jules supplied when I looked rightly confused.

“Would you like me to get you one?” Taron said, and I agreed because he looked really cute about it. I sank down into the couch, feeling vulnerable but there was nothing I could do about it now. Taron had already seen me like this, in all my sickly glory. I at least ran my fingers through my hair, trying to tame it down.

“Couldn’t have given a girl a warning?” I said cheekily to Mary and Jules before Taron came back, handing over the popsicle in a bowl for me so it didn’t make a mess.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, sitting across from me on the ottoman, his knees touching against mine.

“Cautiously better,” I said, unable to not smile at him. That adorable face could make me feel better any day.

“How’d the table read go today?” I asked, as Mary tapped Jules on the shoulder and they both got up to give us some space. I gingerly picked up the popsicle and nibbled at it while Taron ranted a bit.

“Not as good as before, if I’m honest. They had one of your colleagues in and he was alright, I suppose, but he kept asking us for ways to make the script better. That’s not, as a rule, my job, you know? I deliver the lines and try my best to give them a life, but the actual language of it, that’s not my job.”

“No, it’s mine,” I agreed, deciding grape was not my favorite flavor of popsicle in the world, but the gesture had been kind and I wasn’t about to throw it back in Taron’s face. Still, my stomach had started to hurt again, and I tried to ignore it as he went on about the script session some more.

“And frankly, he just wasn’t you. Then again, I don’t know if anyone else could be you,” Taron concluded, smiling over at me before his face crumpled into worry. “Are you quite alright? You look a bit green,” he said, and I shook my head.

“Too soon,” I said, clutching my stomach and running for the bathroom again. After I didn’t resurface for a bit, Taron came looking for me. I was still hung over the toilet, though this time I’d managed to flush. I looked up at him and for some reason this made me start to cry, and then, feeling embarrassed, I ended up crying even harder because I was crying in front of him.

“Hey,” he said, kneeling down next to me and rubbing my back. “It’s okay,” he said, trying to soothe me.

“No it’s not,” I cried, having to let it all go. I felt like massive shit, first of all, but it was also difficult to handle that he was seeing me in that state. We hadn’t known each other long enough for me to feel like that was justified, to feel that I had earned my place in his concern.

“But it will be,” he said, not trying to correct me, just continuing to rub my back patiently while I cried it out.

“I am so sorry,” I said, sniffling a bit and trying to get myself back under control.

“There’s no need. I’ve been sick before in my life, I know how it feels. We’re all human here,” he said, so kind about things it made my heart hurt too. “It’s alright to need someone to look after you,” he added. I took in a shaky breath and finally looked over at him, and he gently brushed the tears off my cheeks. I gave him a small smile and he helped me back to my feet. I managed to rinse my mouth out quickly, and we ambled back out to the couch, Taron suggesting I lie down and just rest and watch some telly.

He made sure I was comfortable, situating himself so I could rest my head in his lap. And let me tell you, he had incredibly comfortable thighs. I could still think it, even if I didn’t feel great. Tim wandered over and parked himself on Taron’s other leg, and he had to chuckle over that. “Guess I’m not leaving for a while,” he joked, petting Tim and baby-talking the cat in a cute manner. Everyone had their own “pet voice” - Taron was no exception.

“Tell me a story,” I smiled up at him, his eyes catching a glint from the table lamp. “About being on set. Anything…”

He idly ran his fingers through my hair as he recalled some funny moments with his co-stars, and I felt myself getting sleepy, lulled by his touch and the sweet drone of his voice. I could honestly listen to that accent for hours on end; he could have read the dictionary for all I cared. The corners of my mouth would turn up in a smile when he’d get to a funny bit in his story, and I rather enjoyed when he’d laugh at his own jokes. It was endearing in a way I wouldn’t have had the privilege to know before.

He must have noticed that I was growing tired and suggested I’d get better sleep if I were in my bed, so before I totally drifted off I let him steer me to my room, unable to worry about what it must have looked like. He seemed to only be focused on me, taking the time to actually tuck me in my covers, smoothing them out over my body.

I was having trouble keeping my eyes open at that point as he leaned over and ever-so-gently brushed his lips against my forehead, placing the sweetest kiss on my skin. I’d wonder later if that had actually happened or been just part of my delirium. “You’re not warm,” he whispered, his voice sounding slightly unsteady, but I was already half-asleep so I couldn’t ponder that further. “I do believe you’ll feel better in the morning,” he smiled, giving my hand a slight squeeze.

“You too, babe,” I mumbled, the words just tumbling out as I was sliding head-long into sleep, totally unaware of the expression on his face, the one that said his feelings ran much deeper than just friendship.

I assume he took his leave from Jules and Mary, but I was long gone into dreamland at that point. When I awoke later I’d have to wonder how much of what had happened was just a fever dream. How many more encounters was it going to take before we’d finally give in to our feelings?

Interested in what happens next? Read Part 5 here!

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron x reader #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton fanfiction

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pnwswiftie · 5 years

Text

I felt owned by an employer once. He was sexist and baited me into working for him only to turn the tables and gaslight me. And to be honest I’ve never pin pointed the feeling that has sat in my gut about him until recently; until watching my idol go through the same thing on a large scale in front of the world, until what has happened, what has been happening to Taylor Swift in her industry.

Mine was a veterinary surgeon whom I worked with in the past. I left the veterinary field and started a new career. The Vet (we will call him) moved away and when he came back he contacted me with a new idea to start his own practice.

He painted me a beautiful picture of what this clinic would be like. He said he couldn’t do it without me and promised me the world. I still remember the phone call where he said the words- “you will be my practice manager, my right hand, you could run the show and have a handsome career, I’ll make sure you are set for life, you will have an opportunity to buy into the company as well, to profit share.

He offered to pay me whatever my current job paid me. I didn’t jump at saying yes. I worked so hard to be where I was and this was a big risk. My now husband was hesitant and didn’t trust him 🚩 but supportive of whatever I chose (love him). Well, im the only one of me so a month later I took the jump and put in my notice. I trusted him.

I was hired on with one other person. A male, roughly my same age, overall a nice dude. We will call him Sam. I was in charge of all operations of the front desk and all aspects of the business side of things. I started every excel sheet for income tracking, taxes, inventory. I created every document, I created the scheduling program, I set up every vendor accounts. I scanned every piece of paper that came into the clinic doors, I set up our benefits. I answered phones I handled every single client. I visited clinics and preached to people our vision, so they would refer to us (we were a referral based clinic) on my days off. I did it ALL. I also scrubbed into surgery with the Vet and Sam, as there were only 3 of us running the entire show. If the phone rang, I would answer on a headset under my face mask and handle a client or clinic call right there, scrubbed in. I didn’t mind, I felt proud to show off my multitasking skills. He would give a little wink and a joke and the validation felt nice, like I earned his approval 🚩 when I did something above and beyond.

About a year went by and I was rolling in hard earned money, that’s for sure. I was working 7 am to 10 pm some days so I always had overtime. Sam was responsible for 1 thing- patient care, and I was responsible for LITERALLY everything else you could possibly think of. 🚩Needless to say I was getting worked to the BONE 🚩 . I was cool with it tho, this is what I signed up for right? We were growing and successful and getting BUSY!

One day I accidentally found out the pay gap 🚩between myself and Sam. I had been completely naive to the fact that we were not equals, nor was I getting paid “management” but that he made SUBSTANTIALLY more than me. I gave it some energy for a couple days and vented to my husband, then I let it go. Sam was nice, it’s not his fault. 🚩Maybe he’s just worth more than I am to the company, I told myself. 🚩Maybe he has a past history I didn’t know about that made him more valuable. It definitely should have been my red flag 🚩

My relationship with the Vet was kind of like a daughter and father but 🚩 only on his terms. Fun and playful and lots of “your our boss lady!”. It would also take very odd turns, 🚩 having to do small tasks outside my morals. In the office he would call me “the office manager, the boss, it’s all up to you, hospital administrator!” yet on the phone would call me 🚩 “the front desk person” 🚩“my receptionist” to other veterinarians. It bothered me, a lot, but I pushed it away. 🚩Who am I to be that nit picky over a title? 🚩He probably didn’t mean it or misspoke, I thought.

The tricky part is that I only have little under the radar examples of his abuse. 🚩 The ones you can’t QUITE put your finger on, that you can’t QUITE justify quitting on the spot but make you feel 🚩 worthless. They continued every day. He was incredibly sweet and funny, and then 🚩condescending and cruel. It was a roller coaster to try to please him constantly. It wore on me. I came to work and to deal with it I would make lists on scratch paper. Lists of why I was starting to hate my job. Lists that I would read in the car and cry. If I wasn’t cheerful he’d come in with 🚩“PMSING TODAY?” .... I’d laugh n bite my tongue. 🚩 That’s just being friendly playful right, he knows me well enough to say that to me, we’re like family, right? But every day I felt awful. And I needed my job now, more than ever. 🚩 He knew I needed this job, too. We had just put an offer on a house and surprise! we’re now expecting a baby.

Being pregnant changed things. I couldn’t assist in surgery and xrays like I used to. 🚩He would scoff when I would have to leave for prenatal appointments. 🚩 He would be caring and kind one minute, giving me hand me down baby clothes and gifts, and then cold and dry the next. 🚩Sam could and often would sleep in and no call/no show. He would roll in at noon and jump into surgery, acting like nothing happened, they’d joke together about women in front of me and being hung over. I was 5 min late once because of a traffic jam and had to have a “sit down meeting” about attendance. 🚩 I felt so ASHAMED and EMBARRASSED. 🚩 I had never once, NOT EVER, had work problems, attendance problems, behavioral problems, in my entire history of working. This job was my LIFE. 🚩 Was something seriously wrong with me???

The last straw came when I was 6 months pregnant. He claimed that everyone was having a private “check in meeting”. He told me at mine that 🚩him and Sam talked 🚩 and agreed that I’m not the happy bubbly girl I used to be. I sat with him in the shade of a big oak tree in the grass that has since fallen in a wind storm (ironically. He said I would be getting a $1 raise and that he wanted me to take on MORE responsibility since I could no longer assist in surgery and listed basically anything he could possibly think of to tack on to my job to make up for that $1. 🚩 all I could think was... how???? I was already drowning. I finally got courage this time and said NO. My lip quivered and tears ran down my face with 🚩 stress. I brought up valid arguments but looking back I wish my voice wasnt so timid. Or that I had the courage to call out just one, ONE instance of his inappropriate behavior. But lastly, 🚩 I asked why is my title “FRONT DESK PERSON” when Sam is now “Lead Surgery Operations Director (Who Does No Wrong)??

His response sticks with me to this day. It was painful and degrading and I will never forget it. After working my ass off and building this place from the bottom, the long nights and everything I gave them... I also will never forget his 🚩 smirk . “Well you see, giving you a title like that would be like rewarding a BAD DOG with a BONE” 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

🚩I was devastated. 🚩And confused. 🚩I’m a BAD DOG???

I stuck it out for the remainder of my pregnancy, working the 12 hour days up until I went into labor at work. I trained a new girl on every process, excel spread, schedule I had developed and created. I put on a fake smile and wrote my scratch lists and re-read my lists on the way home and cried. I couldn’t just quit. I couldn’t let my family down.

We had our baby and stared at his tiny toes and fingers and cried every single day that I may have to go back to my hell job. I interviewed for different clinics while on leave. I was desperate. The vet was on a sweet streak- 🚩 sending us gifts, having his wife cook us meals and checking in on us all the time. He frequently asked what date I was coming back. He informed me that when I came back I would need to take the later shift and give the new girl my current shift. 🚩She needed it, he said. He said we could discuss the title of “lead receptionist” now and could 🚩 continue to work towards my goal of hospital manager. 🚩 I accepted but I felt sick. 🚩 I felt like I had to go back to work for someone who I couldn’t trust. I felt like he owned me in the worst possible way. (At one time he even tried to tell me I had half of the PTO that I actually had saved up for maternity leave, another 🚩🚩🚩 but I saved my paystubs as PROOF)

Today I work for the clinic that we shared the building with. When they heard I left they immediately offered me a position. The Vet left to purchase his own facility. He acted shocked and surprised and in disbelief that I wasn’t returning. At first it was tough, not gonna lie. We literally ate noodles for a year because I went down to part time. But the bravest thing I ever did was RUN ♥️ I now LOVE my job and they treat their employees wonderfully and equally and have real life morals.

I actually didn’t intend for this to be a novel LOL but even if not a single soul reads this, it’s therapeutic for me to actually get my thoughts down after almost 6 years now. My advice is to ALWAYS trust your gut. TRUST THE 🚩 RED 🚩 FLAGS. Don’t let anyone make you question your character. Never EVER ACCEPT being controlled and manipulated against your morals. Choose the future over time spent in the past (thanks T @taylorswift) and work somewhere that respects you. That pays you FAIRLY. Don’t be afraid to TELL your story too because this has to STOP (I’ve almost deleted this whole thing 13x) If it happened to me I can’t imagine how many other women it happens to. Anyway if you read this then holy shit here’s a hug and CHIN UP YOU ARE WORTHY, YOU ARE NOT A BAD DOG. ♥️

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grandthorkiday · 5 years

Text

Mob AU “Playthings” Part 4

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

“As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster.” No one laughed. “Seriously?! Goodfellas! One of the greatest mob movies of all times! One of the greatest movies of all time!” No one spoke. “I will have you know that was a spot on Ray Liotta impression.”

“Not now, Tony,” Natasha Romanoff said from her position leaning against his desk.

It was midmorning the next day, and they were all packed into ADA’s office. Tony Stark, the ADA in question was leaning back in his office chair, feet on the desk. Since his joke had fallen flat, he had taken to staring at the ceiling. His partner, Natasha, fiddled with the recording device they had been listening to. Strange had recorded Loki’s recounting of the initial kidnapping before the young man had broken down and cut the interview off. Now, protectively, the psychiatrist batted the woman’s hand away from the recording as though it held some essence of the young man that needed to be taken care of. Val and Bruce sat side by side, Val’s old notes on her lap while Bruce had a condensed version of all the notes the department had taken over the years on Gast in his.

“Anyway,” the detective said as she picked through the mess of paper on her lap, “Loki and Thor both worked at Lille Melt.”

“Thought they would be able to go to college and not work.”

“Apparently Odin cut Thor off when he refused to go to live in the dorms. And I think he cut Loki off for refusing to go to Georgetown.”

“Father of the year.”

“Lille Melt is owned by a lieutenant in the Sakaar family. And it was a frequent destination for Gast until well about nine and half years ago.”

“Are you saying he saw the two of them and was like, ‘Yeah, that’s what I want’?” Tony asked.

“Basically, yeah,” Bruce glanced at his notes. “That place was and has always been filled with lower level thugs and their family members trying to make their bones. Boss could have expressed interest and a dozen of their coworkers could have started supplying him with information about them.”

“Why not snatch them from work then?” Natasha adjusted herself on the desk.

“Too many witnesses and sober Thor really could have held his own. So could Loki. They weren’t pushovers.”

[read more cut]

“So he waits until they’re off work and school, then takes them.”

“The technique is pretty common for kidnappings associated with Sakaar. What’s unusual is Gast being personally involved,” Val shufffled through her papers.

“He was in the old days.” Stark took his feet off the desk and pulled his chair up. “Back when it was his stepfather’s operation.”

“I remember hearing that,” the other ADA said. “Stepdaddy married Mommy for her real estate money and gave Gast responsibility for like some delis and restaurants that had bookie operations in the back. He made them legitimately profitable and expanded the nonlegit stuff as well. Drugs, girls, and gambling, get a good meal while you wait. That was the pitch. He basically bought his stepdad out of being the boss.”

“Oh there’s a lot more to him raising to head of the Sakaar family besides that, but yeah. The old guys used to say he performing mob beautification. Nowadays you’d call it mob gentrification.”

“Has anyone verified Loki’s account?”

“Fandral Dashwood. Roommates with both brothers,” Val slid a yellowing copy of her original notes and a more recent copy over the desk. “He says they went out, they got drinks, they went to Gast’s table. The group lost track of them for about an hour or so before they were told they left.”

“Who told them?”

“The bartender. Apparently Gast paid for their tab before he left.”

“How gentlemanly.”

Strange’s phone rang. He put his finger up to silence everyone and answered, professionally saying, “Dr. Stephen Strange, how can I help you?” There was a pause as he listened. He frowned slightly. “How is he reacting?” His frown deepened. “How long?” He looked around at Val and mouthed, ‘Loki.’

“No shit,” she hissed jumping up and pushing her papers toward Stark. Stark shook his head at the papers and Romanoff took them quickly.

“That was my assistant. Apparently Loki found a channel on the cage match in Atlantic City. And he saw Thor. And Gast.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

“Actually, he took it remarkably well. You would think he was watching his favorite television show the way it sounds. They’ve been unable to get him to turn it off is the problem.

Val and Strange got to the facility an hour later. Loki was still in the main ‘common area’, parked on the floor in front of the TV. He reminded her of a child watching a Saturday morning cartoon show: he was still dressed in his pajamas and he was clutching a pillow close to his chest. He wasn’t really smiling, but his face had an enraptured look as he looked at the screen. On the screen, Gast was being interviewed.

“You think it’s going to be a great fight?”

“I sure hope it is for how expensive it was to put on!” Everyone laughed. “But seriously, I do think it will be a good fight. We got the good ol’ crowd favorite, Groot. Love'em to death. Not much of a talker.”

“Not a peep, really,” Thor agreed.

“But he’s a good guy. Then you got ‘The Punisher’ over there. Oooh boy, is this going to be a fight.”

“Nothing nice to say about Castle?”

“He’s hot? If you’re into that kind of thing,” Thor shrugged.

Gast playfully pulled him close. “Naughty thing! He likes to play coy!” He kissed Thor who quickly deepened the kiss, moaning loadly as the Grandmaster’s hand travelled down to his legs and began to slide upward.

Loki whimpered, curling in on himself more.

“Hey now! We’re pay-per-view channel but it ain’t that kind of pay-per-view!” The host laughed, but made no move to physically stop them.

“Loki?” Val sat down on the couch. She glanced at Strange. He was analyzing the younger man’s behavior as well as analyzing as much as he could from Thor’s on the television.

“He’s not so mad anymore,” was the response she received. “He was so mad when he left. He kept saying he was going to make Thor stay in hotel room….and visit with people.”

“'Visit with people’?”

“They wear condoms, so it’s okay.”

She grimaced at that. “Maybe you should turn off the television.”

“I usually get to watch all of his interviews when we’re away from one another. I even get to call in sometimes,” he looked around hopefully. “I think I can remember the number. Can I have a phone?”

“No!” Val grabbed the remote from a side table and turned it off.

Loki gave out a cry as the screen went black, scrambling over to manually turn it on. Strange was faster and blocked his path.

“Nope! No more television for today. At least not until we talk about what just happened here.”

“All that happened was some FUCKING BITCH turned off the television!”

“New rule: no name-calling people are trying to help you.”

“Shut up asshole!”

“Already broke it.”

“Loki, do you remember what you talked about with Dr. Strange yesterday?”

That caused a change. The young man seemed to shrink and became suddenly fascinated with the fabric of the rug. He nodded slowly.

“Do you think maybe it would be wise if we pick up where you left off?”

Loki shrugged, standing up and swaying slightly. “In the office again?”

“Until I get in the habit of carrying around a recorder, afraid so.”

“C-can Val come with us again?”

“Of course. Whatever makes it easier.”

~2009~

They were unsure how long they had been down here, in the dark. The few people who had come by to look at them and replace the bucket that served as their toilet didn’t exactly come on a regular schedule. Nor were they chatty. They usually just threatened them if to not make an escape attempt, brandishing their guns at them. They hadn’t eaten anything in what felt like days. They had been given water, but only just enough it seemed. There was no blanket or material to make anything resembling a bed. There was a patch of the wall that was warmer than the rest, but it was close to the door. And the brutes had a habit of throwing open the door. Thor nearly had his nose broken once.

The door opened once more. The light behind it was so bright compared to the room they were in that they drew back, shielding their eyes.

“Ah, you are behaving today!” The voice was familiar. It sent a shiver down Loki’s spine.

‘Malcolm’ entered the rook followed by four men. He was wearing tailored pants and a ridiculous paisley shirt. He smelled of spiced cologne. His hands were in his pockets and he made a small gesture with his head. A fifth man entered, bringing in a chair before retreating out once more.

As he daintily sat and crossed his legs, he smiled. “My you boys must really be bored. Nothing really to do here. Well, there’s ah ha one thing I guess you can be doing here.” He winked and all four of the men laughed on cue. The brothers kept silent. The man sighed. “To business I sup-”

“You won’t get away with this!” Thor barked, trying to stand. The man nearest him pushed him back down.

“Rule one, sweetheart. No interrupting me. You wait to sp-”

“Our Father knows men in the FBI! And Police Commissioner!” Loki shouted.

'Malcolm’ sighed and rubbed his temple. “I didn’t want the to do this the first day.” He snapped his fingers and all four men withdrew handguns from their belts, pointing them straight at Loki. The young man cried out and Thor immediately threw himself over his brother.

“Hey now, nothing’s going to happen! Not if you both behave. I said, don’t interrupt me. So don’t interrupt me. Very simple. Now, do either of you know who I am?”

Again the brothers were silent.

“It’s okay if you don’t. My name is En Dwi Gast. Though everyone calls me by my title; The Grandmaster.”

Thor swore quietly and Loki’s eyes widened. Everyone in New York knew the Grandmaster.

“See you do know me!” Gast clapped his hands excitedly. “Now, I don’t really need for you to introduce yourselves. Thor Valhalla, oldest son second child of Odin Valhalla the famous attorney who has made his boned in the international diplomacy trade. And you are Loki Valhalla, adopted son of Odin. Your original Father was Laufey Jotunheim, who died as part of a peace delegation. Your birth Mother gave you to her friend Frigga before she took that last bow.”

“You can get all this from a Google search or day at the god damn library with an up to date periodical section,” Thor growled. He had waited until Grandmaster stopped speaking.

The man shrugged. “They said I was a lazy student in school.” He stroked his chin. “You two hungry?”

It was a surreal moment. He had asked like they were in the middle of an interview or had been visiting. It had been asked casually, ignoring the guns and the bucket of human waste in the corner. He stood and nodded. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t fill your bellies.”

They used one another as a crutch as they were forced and follow him out of the room. They were surrounded by men with guns and they were too weak to really break free.

Gast led them to another room that had been set up with a folding table and three chairs. He waved each into a chair. He smiled eagerly at them. Sitting between them, he waved over two women with silver serving trays. In front of Loki they placed a bowl of soup, Minestrone, his favorite. Thor had been given a Monte Cristo. They stared at one another over their plates: the meal was a familiar one. They had had it before. It was the last lunch they had ordered when their Mother had come into the city to visit.

“You know, Frigga is a beautiful woman,” Gast was saying. He had been handed a folder and he was going through it, slowly and with exaggerated care. He took out a photograph and put it in the center of the table. Frigga, Loki, and, Thor were sitting outside a cafe, laughing as Hela moved to sit down with them. “I mean, you tell me she has kids in her twenties and I wouldn’t believe it. Good genes.” His eyes swept over Thor. “Good genes.”

“What do you want from us?”

“Right now, I want you to eat. Your hungry, aren’t you sweetheart? Eat something for me. Please?”

The meal tasted of ash and salt. But they both ate every last bite.

#thorki #val #loki #grandmaster #thor #hehe some thundermasterrrrrrrr #Grandthorki #sfw #fic #cw dubcon #cw noncon implied #cw drugs #cw rl drugs #submission #playthings #playthings part4

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bohrapbachelorette-blog · 5 years

Text

Borhap Bachelorette (Part 1)

Word Count: 2,156

Prompt: This is a Borhap boys x reader Bachelorette AU.

A/N: This was written by @ @wewillfarrokhyou @anuknowha @tooweirdtolivetoogaytodie @freddiesstache @queen-in-funerland @fatbottomedgwil

We hope you like it! Also be sure to vote for who gets the first impression rose.

Taglist: @bitemerog @mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank and @rogerinatrash @roger-bang-the-drum (who signal boosted my original post) Message me to be added to the list/follow this blog)

You had just arrived in front of the mansion. You were extremely nervous about being the star of The Bachelorette - you didn’t have too much experience dating before, and being on this show was supposed to be a chance for you to find love. What could you say? You were a true romantic at heart. You were dressed in your best gown, your makeup and hair done by the specialist, and now you sat waiting. You hadn’t met the guys yet, but they were due to arrive in the limo any second.

Chris Harrison came from inside the house and approached you.

“Hello, (y/n), how are you feeling?” He said, with his T.V. smile on.

“Hi Chris! I'm excited, but also quite nervous. Just really hoping to find the love of my life. I know I’m ready,” you smiled brightly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Just then, the limo started to roll into the driveway and you heart began to race.

“Here we go...” you muttered to yourself.

A tall man with gorgeous cheekbones and a straight jawline got out of the limo and walks towards you, holding a pitch black acoustic guitar. Fender, you assumed - you weren't really knowledgeable about guitars. He had clear blue eyes and chestnut brown hair, with perfectly arranged facial hair. He started singing “You’re My Best Friend” as he walked towards you.

“Ooh you make me live, whatever this world can give to me...” As he was singing, people on the sides threw polaroids at you. You caught one - they were all pictures of him in various cute, Instagram-worthy poses. “Ooh you’re all I see..” you were laughing at how silly and sweet it was.

“Hello love, I’m Gwilym Lee. Lovely to meet you.” He says, taking your hand and giving it a kiss.

“That was a wonderful entrance,” you laugh, and he takes a bow.

He walked past you and into the mansion. He seemed like a genuinely sweet guy and you were excited to see who else was going to come.

Out of nowhere, the song “Boss Ass Bitch” began to play. You were incredibly confused until from around the corner you spotted a giant dinosaur dancing its way toward you. You burst out laughing at the ridiculous sight, your hand coming up to cover your mouth.

“Oh my god!” You yelled out, watching the dinosaur shake its hips.

The dino got on its knees and presented you with a rose. He unzipped the top part of the costume, showing ginger hair and bright smile. He roared and you laughed again.

“I’m Joe, Joe Mazzello,” he exclaimed. You took the rose out of his hand.

“Well, you certainly put on a show,” you said, highly amused.

“It’s all in the hips,” he joked.

He smiled and walked past you. You could already tell that Joe was going to be a lot of fun. He had a great sense of humour from the way you nearly cried laughing at his dinosaur dance. You wondered who was going to enter next.

“Remember the Time” by Michael Jackson began to play as a man in full egyptian clothing came out of a limo dressed like a pharaoh. He had tan skin and big blue eyes and his whole look gave a grandiose appearance.

“Hello, your highness,” you bowed at his costume.

“Well I was in Night at the Museum, so I couldn’t resist. I’m Rami Malek,” he beamed, holding out his hand.

“(Y/n),” you grinned, taking his firm handshake.

“I look forward to getting to know you,” he smiled as he walked behind you.

You were impressed by his kingly appearance and beautiful features. Night at the Museum? I only remember Ben Stiller... Who is he?, you thought to yourself. Only one more guy was left to join all of you in the bachelorette house. What kind of a person would he be?

Right on schedule, another limo appeared. It was loudly blaring — “I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt…” The back half of the baby blue limo was a hot tub with an admittedly very cute blond sitting in it, shirtless, arms draped around the sides. His curly blond hair and chiseled abs were almost too much.

“Hey, baby. Care to join me?” His accent made you weak at the knees.

“Ah...I'm good, thanks.” You blushed and gave him a small smile.

“Oh. Um. Okay.” His pecs twitched almost nervously. Confused, he looked down, but it happened again and you started giggling uncontrollably.

“What was that?” Joe asked.

“What was wh-” the blond started, but it happened again. You and the other boys doubled over in laughter.

“I -” Hot Tub Man turned beet red and lifted himself out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his torso. A small laugh also escaped him. “I'm Ben Hardy. Nice to meet you.” Ben said as he walked over to you. He went to hug you but backed up a little when he realized that he was soaking wet. You muttered a quiet, “sorry” to him.

“I’ll save it for later,” he said, maintaining a suave composure as he walked to the mansion to dry further.

That was it. All the guys had already introduced themselves and made quite the impression on you. From the sweet romantic Gwil, to the funny and charming Joe, the royal Rami, and the gorgeous Ben. It was going to be a hard choice to see who gets the final rose. You just hope that the interviews help make it easier.

The guys were all drinking in the lounge of the mansion when you walked in. Chris Harrison walked to the front of the room.

“Well, this is it, enjoy your first night!” he said as he walked away.

All four guys were staring at you. You couldn’t help but to blush.

This was your time to play coy - you wanted them to believe there were things about them that you didn’t know. You wanted them to be completely honest and after you’d seen them on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody together you knew exactly how they would act both on and off set. Even while they were there, you’d watch them on social media and their interviews when they weren't with each other. Hell, you even knew their favorite foods but you wanted to hear it “straight from the horse’s mouth”, as they say. You knew that this was going to be fun, and you just had to let it play out right. You just had to be careful and pretend to be unaware of these guys and their pastimes.

Rami trailed off first. “Ms. (y/n), I’m not sure if you like cats, but I am severely allergic. Thought I’d let you know beforehand.” He grinned.

“Well, I’m a model!” Gwilym stated.

“We’re all models.” the other three sighed in unison.

Ben seemed to keep his eyes on you, making you a little uneasy.

“Your eyes are absolutely gorgeous Y/N. Look at how soft they are and how the light in this lounge absolutely twinkles off of them.”

It took a moment for you to process the information and once your brain finished establishing his words, you had time to notice that he had a shirt on.

“Oh, oh you’re Ben right?”

He held his hand out as the other three watched him and slowly looked over at you as you shook it.

“Great, now she’s going to like you more, and after I dressed like the best thing since sliced bread. I. Feel. Betrayed. Ben.” Joe huffed as he puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms.

A small smirk appeared on the blonde’s face. He felt confident that he was the first one who made physical contact with you since you guys entered the mansion. His grip was firm but gentle, he wasn’t using too much force and but you could tell he didn’t seem to want to let you go. But he did.

“I love dinosaurs and the prehistoric age, I love history-” Joe stuttered to try to catch your attention.

“Is that what you majored in college, Joe?” You glanced over at him with a smile.

“Actually, I went to college for the cinematic arts, I wanted to make my experience on the big screen.” He grinned, his hands held in front of his face, and he slowly spread them apart as if he was making some kind of invisible rainbow. Almost as if he were about to do jazz hands.

“Well, I’m British darling, have you ever dated a man from another country?” Ben hummed.

“Not yet, but I’m still available,” Gwilym laughed.

Ben sent a glance over at him, one of slight disgust as he squinted his eyes.

You tried to contain your laughter but it was hard, you could tell you were in the room with a bunch of goofballs but you didn’t hate it- in fact, it made them each stand out, it was cute.

Rami caught your attention as he was sitting there, his eyes fixated on something else.

“Something wrong?” You questioned.

“Hmm?” He looked over at you, a bit embarrassed, as if you caught him doing something wrong.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about how beautiful you are,” A small smile formed on his face.

“Don’t mind him, he’s even like this in interviews,” Gwilym said.

“He’s been like this on our dates too,” Joe tried to whisper so Rami couldn’t hear.

“I hope you know, I did hear you, and I do pay attention, just not to your existence or your-” Rami paused and put his hand to his mouth pretending to cough. “Cold. Isn’t that right, John?”

The room got silent for a second as Joe sent Rami a death stare. But his only response was to return it with a sly smirk.

Soon enough Joe tackled Rami off the couch and was playfully pulling at his suit as the other two burst out into laughter.

You laughed too and watched them all turn to you, momentarily stopping the fight.

Joe’s face lit up some, “Guys, she’s laughing at me. I’m funny.”

“Funny to look at…” Rami whispers.

This time, Joe playfully hit him in the arm and got off of him. And they all tried to gain back their composure. Rami fixed his jacket and straightened his tie.

You were still laughing, but soon tried to gather yourself as well. They were all smiling, you could tell that they were enjoying this talk with you.

“Weird that you’re allergic to cats but here you are playing Freddie Mercury, and being all lovey dovey with the creatures. You love them more than you love us,” said Joe.

“Not true,” Rami said with a small frown. “Not my fault that I was hot enough to play the leader.”

“But bloody hell, I was Roger and everyone loves a sexy drummer,” Ben grinned.

Gwilym let out a small chuckle. “Especially Joe.”

Joe blushed and lifted his white dress shirt to cover his face in embarrassment.

Gwilym turned to you and smirked. “Should I tell her that Joe has a cardboard cutout of Ben?”

You eyes floated over to Joe as he continued to stay flustered and quiet. “Is this true Joe…?” you pondered.

Joe tried not to answer for what seemed like an eternity. Soon he pulled the shirt down and replied with a mumbled “Yes.”

“How do you feel about this, Ben?” you felt a little weirded out but you wanted to find out exactly what was going on.

“I feel honored actually,” he laughed. “He only did it because I was never there for them. They were always touring but I had to go, other things to do.”

You looked at him and than your eyes grew slightly worried. “Does that mean that you won’t be here for me?”

The other three turned to look at Ben, all with faces of questioning.

“N-no of course not!!” Ben stuttered. He seemed surprised that he told on himself, even though you already knew.

“Um, (y/n), could I steal you for a second?” Rami asked, breaking the slight tension in the room and taking his chance to get some alone time with you.

“Not on my watch,” Gwil said pushing him to the side as he grabbed his guitar. “Well, you are a big Queen fan, mind if I play something?” he looked at you so earnestly that you decided to nod.

You all started singing Somebody to Love together, each of you pitching in with different verses. You started to feel at home with these boys. Chris Harrison was surprised when he walked back in to see you all together - the guys were generally more possessive over the bachelorette.

“Well, (y/n), it’s the end of the night. It’s time to give the out the first impression rose. Who will it be?”

..............................

Who do you think made the best first impression, and who would you give the rose to? Vote here: https://doodle.com/poll/3zupusvkkyepfarn

#borhap boys #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #rami malek #ben hardy #borhap #bohemian rhapsody

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