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thefoxandthepenguine · 3 years

Text

Flashback (Pt. 5)

Leigh Shaw x Reader

Summary: How Leigh and reader turned from acquaintances to lovers after Matt died (plot based on the original drama).

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: Well it seems that people love the fluff we had in the last chapter, but guess what! I’m actually a person fond of angst. So...good reading! This is actually a very short chapter and the short series is coming to an end in the next chapter. I hope I can get it done ASAP.

Part 5

1 years and 5 months ago

Things between Leigh and you might have changed after Christmas. Not much, just a bit.

You still hung out once a week at the donut shop after your workout session. But the place was no longer limited to the donut shop, nor was it restricted to the hour after the session.

You would go to some nice restaurants together. They could be café that Leigh had bookmarked a long time ago but did not have a chance to try before, or they could be recommendations from your colleagues.

You would also go to the theatre together. You figured out that Leigh had a thing for horror movies and yet you love watching superhero movies. And you really wanted to punch her in her face every time she laughed at your pale face after being dragged to watch a horror movie with her. You had to bury your face in Leigh’s neck throughout every movie. But she did not say anything when you did that. She let you.

You still talked about the books that you have read. But you started to share more about yourselves or your everyday life with each other. Sometimes she would just text you to tell you what she ate at lunch, or you would just send her a picture of the puppy you saw on the road.

But you were not dating, at least you kept reminding yourself not to use this term. You did not date Leigh, you just hung out with her.

1:09 read

Can I ask you something?

1:17 delivered

It depends.

1:19 read

Just say “yes”.

1:23 delivered

Yes 🙄

1:32 read

It took you 4 minutes to type a “yes”?

You rolled your eyes literally at her words.

1:46 delivered

I’m in the middle of a meeting!

With my boss.

You should be grateful I risked my job to type a “yes” for you.

1:51 read

🙄

What the hell is a primerizer?

1:54 delivered

I'm not google.

1:59 read

Forget that.

I shouldn’t have asked a person who doesn’t know how to wear perfume what a primerizer is.

You thought your eyes hurt by rolling them constantly when a photo of Leigh with blue eyeshadow popped up on the screen.

2:04 read

I think my right eye looks okay but I can’t make the left one match.

And my mum said she won’t go out like this.

What do you think?

THINK TWICE before you answer.

You burst out laughing at the photo. Everyone in the meeting room turned their head and stared at you, including your boss.

You mumbled a “sorry” and bit on your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing again.

You really did risk losing your job to reply to Leigh.

2:18 delivered

You look...good.

2:29 read

I’m going to strangle you to death.

2:37 delivered

I’m sure Drew will do that to you first if you fail to give him the review for his gift.

He complains about you in the office constantly now.

2:41 read

I hate him and the gift so much.

2:56 delivered

Bring them to my place tonight.

We can try to figure that out together LOL

And I’ll try to fix your face even if it's the TOUGHEST job in the world.

3:04 read

Screw you.

The memorial will start in 10 minutes.

See you tonight.

And you just could not hold your smile for the rest of your meeting.

Leigh was surprised to see Danny instead of Matt’s mother, Bobby, in the school.

“I thought Bobby’s coming,” Leigh greeted Danny and walked towards him with hesitation. She had not talked much to him for a while and they just had that emoji conversation going so that they would know the other was still surviving, somehow.

“My aunt broke her elbow or ankle so my mum had to accompany her to the hospital. And she made me come here for her.” Danny shrugged, all of his facial and gestural expressions making it very clear that he had no interest in coming to the memorial at all.

“What’s wrong with you?” Leigh glared at Danny.

Couldn’t he just act like a mature grown-up so that they could make it through the memorial together? Just like what a family was supposed to do?

“What’s the point of being here? The students here are obnoxious. They act like they love Matt and enjoy his lessons after he died, but what they did was just being an ass in his class when he was here.” Danny raised his voice and a few students walking by started to look at them and whisper.

“What is your problem Danny? Matt loves...loved his students and his job here.”

That’s why Leigh hated hanging out with Danny. He always had a way to make things much more difficult than they should be.

“No! This place was a pain in the ass for Matt. He always talked about how crazy this school made him. If he could go somewhere else, he’d never stay here.”

“What? Like he told you he’d rather go to Norway instead of going to school?” Leigh scoffed and could feel herself boiling with anger. Staying with Bobby might be a bit awkward, but it was definitely better than staying with Danny.

“Wait...you know that joke about Norway too?”

The tension was gone all of a sudden, and Danny just widened his eyes and looked at her in shock.

“Well...every time when Matt didn’t want to do a thing he’d just say that he had to go to Norway. It’s like an everyday routine.” Leigh lit up when she thought about Matt’s annoying face every time he made that joke.

“He definitely used it on me before he did it on you.” Danny was smiling too, probably thinking of the same thing as Leigh. “Okay maybe you’re right. He may like this job but I’m not taking ‘the students were an ass in his class’ back.”

“He’s a good teacher.”

“Yes he’s.”

Leigh finally smiled at Danny and walked to the classroom together.

Well maybe hanging out with Danny was not as terrible as she had imagined.

Leigh was a bit surprised that she could still manage to pull herself together when the teacher and students around her were all talking about Matt.

She hated people for avoiding bringing Matt up when talking to her. Yet she used to find it unbearable when people brought him up in the middle of a conversation at the same time. It was just...uncomfortable for her to share memories about Matt with others, especially with people she was not familiar with.

But she did not feel it that way today.

She was touched to know how much Matt meant to these students in the room. The memorial was voluntary. And Matt must have meant something to them so that these teenagers were willing to spend an hour after school to be here, sharing their thoughts about Matt.

She was proud to know that Matt inspired his students, even though it was just as trivial as inspiring them to like Crime and Punishment.

She smiled and nodded genuinely when the students shared their moments with Matt. Tears swelled up in her eyes and blurred her vision, but they never fell.

There was a hole in her heart where Matt was. The hole was there, and always would be. But maybe she did eventually figure out a way to live with this hole for the rest of her life.

Maybe she was moving on indeed. In her own way.

Danny left the school once the memorial ended, grumbling something about getting his bike back from Bobby. Leigh waved him off and decided to stay a bit longer at the school. She never had the chance to know more about this place, the place where Matt worked.

It was probably the last time she would be staying in here, at least in a while. So she did not want to rush things.

Leigh walked closer to take a better look at the mural hanging at the back of the classroom. The students did a great job in turning Matt’s drawing into such an immense masterpiece.

Leigh soon figured out the mural was like a treasure map to what Matt wanted in his life. She grinned at the secret code that Matt embedded in the picture: the Eisner, the Gold Coast and...Pickle.

Pickle Greer.

Their imaginary child. The ridiculous name that they came up with for their nonexistent child.

Matt always said that he was not ready and did not know how to be a father. So they were just messing around with silly names. Leigh never thought he would remember it.

But he did remember it. And he did want it.

Leigh felt something broken in her heart. She tried to move on, to live in a world without Matt.

But all Matt wanted was to have their own child.

How dared she to be so selfish.

You looked at your Lock Screen worriedly for any messages from Leigh as your working hour was coming to an end.

The last message you received from her was already two hours ago, and the memorial was supposed to end at four as far as you could remember.

Something was up.

You drummed your fingers on the table restlessly when you tried to call Leigh again. “Pick it up please,” you mumbled.

It went straight to the voice mail.

You could not stand it any longer so you decided to go to your car.

Your heart sank when you saw Leigh’s car parking in the school’s car park.

You rushed to take a closer look inside. Leigh was not there, and neither was her purse nor her phone.

You hurried to the front door and tried to get into the school when an old lady stopped you. You guessed she was probably a janitor based on her uniform.

You tried to explain the situation to her but she refused to let you in, saying something about the school being closed and that you should come tomorrow instead.

You were running out of time and patience.

“No! Listen. I’m a friend of Matt’s wife. She came here today for his memorial and I think she’s still here. Look, just lemme go inside and I promise I’ll leave once I find her.”

“No Miss. The memorial ended an hour ag-”

“That’s exactly the problem! Her car is still out there in the car park!” You cut her off and the janitor was stunned to know that.

“Ummm…let me contact the office first and see what we can do.”

This was maddening.

“A woman went missing after attending her husband’s memorial at your school. Are you sure you can take up the responsibility if anything happens and YOU ARE the reason why we can’t reach out to her earlier?”

You seldom made a scene at public places but you were practically shouting at the poor janitor now. You understood she was trying to do her job, but you just could not help yourself.

“Is there anything that I can help?”

A woman walked towards you with furrowed brows. You signed, not being very happy to repeat everything all over again but you still did while the janitor was making her call.

Looked like you could not get into the school in any minute anyway.

“Leigh? I thought she left an hour ago after the memorial ended.”

“You know her?”

“Yes. I’m the one who put the memorial together. By the way, I’m Nina. Leigh said she gotta go soon after the memorial ended.”

“Y/N. We’re supposed to meet after she leaves the school but she’s not answering any calls or replying my text. And her car is still out there.” You gestured your head to the exit and Nina’s brows knitted. “I know the school is closed but I’m worried about Leigh.”

“I understand. Please give me a second.” Nina walked to the janitor and said something to her before coming back to you and gestured to you to follow her. “Do you mind if we exchange the number so that we can let each other know once we find her?”

You nodded and exchanged your phone number with her.

“Let’s split up. I’ll search from the top and you’ll search from the bottom.”

“Thank you for your help, Nina,” you thanked her sincerely before heading in the opposite direction.

“Don’t mention that.”

You kept calling Leigh’s number while looking into every single room you passed by, in hopes of locating her by the ringtone, or Leigh picking up the phone.

No such luck.

You turned off the light after searching the last restroom on the second floor when something caught your eye.

There was a phone laying on the floor of the last cubicle, the screen barely lighting up even in the dark.

“Leigh?”

No response.

You turned back on the light and walked closer to the last cubicle. You tried to suppress the shiver but you still found your hands cold and clammy when you pushed open the door.

You let out a sign of relief when you saw Leigh sitting against the toilet, holding her knees to herself with her head burying deep in the knees.

“Leigh…” you lowered yourself to knelt down next to her, your hand stroking her back lightly, “I’m here.”

Leigh raised her head from her knees to look at you. Your heart clenched when she turned her face to you-her eyes swollen from crying and her cheeks were covered with dry tear stains, with makeup all over her face.

You wish you were here earlier for her.

You pressed her head slightly against your shoulder. “I’m here,” you cooed softly at her ear.

You could feel her relax a bit in your arms, dropping her head against your shoulder for a moment. But all of a sudden, she pushed herself backwards abruptly from you.

“I’m sorry. We-I can’t do this.” Her voice was hoarse and cracked, her eyes welled up looking at you.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to do this now. I’ll help you to text Drew or I can try to come up with something about the primeri-”

“No! It’s not about that stupid primerizer! I just can’t do this anymore.” Leigh raised her voice agitatedly.

“What-”

Leigh grabbed her belongings and stormed to the door. You tried to follow and grab her wrists yet she shoved you off with force.

“At least let me drive you home and then I can leave.” Your voice weakened as you looked into Leigh’s face.

Her lower lips were quivering.

“Please...”

That was the moment you knew you had to let her go.

Tag: @madamevirgo @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mionemymind @liver-casserole @sunshine278 @imapotatao @cristin-rjd

Again, I tried to include everyone who has requested a tag for the update. Sorry if I miss anyone and please tell me if you want to be tagged!

#sorry for your loss #sorry for your loss imagine #leigh shaw #leigh shaw imagine #leigh shaw x you #leigh shaw x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader

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reidingmelodies · 3 years

Text

Sugar Rush

Summary: Who knew finding the perfect wedding day dessert was so much work? Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Category: Fluff Includes: Food consumption, light kissing Word Count: 2.4K

“Did you know the first wedding cake was most likely served in Ancient Greece?�� Spencer began, looking down to where you were laying with your head snuggled against his chest. You hummed in interest, moving your hand to meet his where it rested on his lower stomach, intertwining your fingers together. Spencer smiled at the gesture before continuing his spiel, “But one of the earliest mentions of wedding cake originates from Ancient Rome where the cake was actually broken over the bride’s head in the hopes of bringing them good fortune in their life together”.

Your brows furrowed at that, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction. “Well, we certainly won’t be doing that at our wedding,” you giggled, giving his hand a light squeeze.

Flipping your hands over, he brought your hand to his line of sight and admired the engagement ring resting on your ring finger. “Do you want to smash cake in my face after we cut it?”

You thought for a second before shaking your head. “I don’t think so- unless that’s something you want to do? I don’t even get why that’s a thing in the first place, it seems kind of gross”.

Spencer sighed in relief, beyond grateful that wasn’t something you wanted to do. He loved you, and he was more than happy to exchange germs with you in other ways- but throwing cake at each other definitely wasn’t his style. “I’m glad you don’t because I feel the same way. Cutting the wedding cake is traditionally seen as a symbol of a couple’s commitment to each other, and I don’t want to ruin that by throwing cake in your face”.

You smiled, rolling over slightly until your stomach laid against his and propping your head up to look down at him. Spencer hummed in approval at the new position, moving his hand from yours and resting it on your lower waist. “Plus,” you added, “we’re paying way too much for the cake to waste a single drop of it”.

Spencer laughed in agreement, pushing himself up lightly to give you a soft kiss on your lips. “So no cake smash- there’s one part of the great cake debate settled”. You groaned at his words, dropping your head and burrowing your face in the space between his shoulder and neck.

“I don’t understand why there’s so many cake flavors to choose from! Honestly, do we even need a cake?” you groaned, voice coming out as no more than a mumble against your fiancé’s neck. Spencer rubbed your back soothingly, before humming in acknowledgement.

“We’ll figure it out, babe,” he reassured you, giving your forehead a quick kiss. “On the bright side, regardless of whether we pick one or not we’ll get to try at least twenty different types of cakes for lunch tomorrow”.

“I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or not,” you laughed, pushing your upper half up to once again look at his face. “But as long as you’re with me I’m sure it won’t be too bad,” you finished, leaning down to lay a sweet kiss on his lips.

“What a sap,” Spencer jokingly mumbled against your lips, causing you to pull away and playfully roll your eyes at him.

“A sap you decided to spend the rest of your life with,” you countered with a smirk, eyes softening in admiration at the grin that spread across Spencer’s face with your words.

“Best decision I ever made,” Spencer claimed softly, sealing his declaration with a concession of kisses against your lips.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair and continuing what you started- leaving the discussion of cakes and all things wedding behind, choosing instead to spend the night entangled with your fiancé, trading kisses and whispered declarations of love well into the evening.

***

The next morning, you sat in the kitchen nursing your cup of coffee while Spencer took a shower before you headed to the bakery. It had been six months of engagement bliss for you and Spencer, and you both found yourself on an impenetrable high for the first three months with no qualms. As far as the two of you were concerned, you were irrevocably in love with each other, full stop. You didn’t know when you wanted to get married, or where, but you knew that you wanted him by your side for the rest of your personal slice of eternity.

Eventually, that answer stopped being met with aw’s from your friends, and instead had been met with playful eyerolls followed by logistical questions regarding the wedding. It became apparent pretty quickly that there wasn’t a where or when anywhere in your plan, but the who, what, and why were pretty clear. And when it came to wedding planning, the last three took the back burner. Who would have thought?

Weekends cuddled up with your fiancé turned into Friday nights spent researching, Saturday afternoons filled with venue tours, and Sunday mornings comparing notes (and somehow, that was always the part that lasted the longest when it came to you and Spencer).

Once the venue was secured, you both became invested in the rest of the details that made your special day unique to the two of you, settling on a lilac color scheme and Save the Dates in the form of bookmarks. Everything settled into place pretty quickly after that, except for the dreaded cake.

There was just too much to it. Between the design, number of layers, and flavors there statistically wasn’t a high probability of pleasing all of your guests much to Spencer’s dismay. And as much as everyone said that the most important thing was that you and Spencer were happy with the cake, the two of you were more than happy with each other, and that’s all you really cared about.

“Ready, Y/N?” Spencer broke you from your train of thought and drew your attention towards him. He smiled, holding a travel mug of coffee in one hand and your car keys in the other, motioning towards the door with his head.

You nodded, taking the keys and heading towards the door with the love of your life in tow, internally cursing yourself for stressing out half as much as you have about a silly cake.

***

Two hours later, and one thing was for sure- you were right to be stressed. The owner of the bakery was one of the sweetest women you’ve ever met (the title of sweetest belonged to Penelope Garcia, hands down), but as welcoming and supportive as she was you still felt like a fish out of water.

You and Spencer were ushered into a room with exactly twenty-three cake samples laid out on tables, accompanied by open portfolios and photos of some of the bakery’s most renowned creations. In the time since your arrival you’ve tasted flavors ranging from lemon raspberry to mocha chocolate and you were exhausted.

You couldn’t help but feel like the universe was punishing you and Spencer for joking around the previous night about how great it would be to eat cake for lunch. You leaned over to tell Spencer just as much, and the exhaustion was almost worth it when you saw his smile illuminate the entirety of his face.

“What happened to ‘as long as you’re with me I’m sure it won’t be too bad’?” he jokingly questioned, booping your nose and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek when he saw the joking glare beginning to form on your face.

“Changed my mind when you called me a sap,” you retorted with a smirk followed by a quick squeeze of his hand so he knew you weren’t serious. Your comment made him laugh, and soon enough you were both in a fit of giggles surrounded by mountains of cake and half looked through portfolios.

As your laughter died down the reality of the situation you were in began to set it. You loved all of the cake you tried, but everything about what you were doing just didn’t feel right. The more you envisioned your cake, the cloudier the picture became. All you knew was that you wanted something that screamed you and Spence, but none of the flavors you tried did that. You sighed, and Spencer immediately perked up, forever in tune to you and your needs.

“What’s going on up there, love?” Spencer tapped the side of your head lightly with his pointer finger, causing the right side of your lip to slightly curl up.

“If I ask you something will you be honest?” you asked, putting your hand on top of his.

Spencer immediately nodded, grasping his fingers with yours and bringing your hand to his lips. “Always”.

“Do you picture any of these cakes at our wedding?” You questioned, bringing the closest portfolio towards you with your free hand and flipping through the first few pages. “They’re all so pretty, but I just don’t think they’re us, ya know?”

It was quiet for a beat longer than you expected, and for a second you were nervous you had somehow offended Spencer. But when you looked up and met his eyes, all you found was his understanding gaze looking back at you.

“I completely get what you mean,” he began, squeezing your hand before continuing his thought, “but Y/N.. do you really think that we’ll ever find a dessert that’s more us than donuts?”

You knew right away that he was joking, but you also couldn’t help but smile at the flood of memories that overtook you once he said it.

As Penelope liked to call your relationship, “the greatest love story of this generation” began just a block south of the bakery you were at over chocolate sprinkled donuts and coffee. It was a Tuesday morning, and you were running a few minutes late in your morning routine. You usually got to the cafe around 8:15, just before the majority of the 9-5 workforce showed up for their morning coffee fix.

That day though, you had missed your usual metro and walked in the door of the café at 8:27 AM. It was overly crowded, and you were already dreading waiting in the overpopulated line for your coffee, but as luck would have it Dr. Spencer Reid had picked that exact morning to treat the BAU to coffee and donuts.

He had walked in the door behind you, smiling in recognition at the book he saw peeking out of your bag. Before he could stop himself, he tapped you on your shoulder, reciting a fact about the author of the book. Almost immediately, his face dropped, worried that you were going to tell him off for being nosy.

To his relief though, you smiled and asked him for his opinion on the book- before you knew it, you both made it to the front of the line, and you found yourself longing for more time with the stranger who seemed to know an infinite amount of fun facts.

As you both waited for your coffee and donuts, you took a leap of faith and asked Spencer if he’d want to meet up for breakfast the next morning. To your delight he agreed, and the rest was history. After three months of sporadic breakfast dates whenever Spencer wasn’t away on a case (mainly consisting of you trying all of the donuts on the café menu and Spencer sticking to chocolate frosted with sprinkles), he took his own leap of faith and asked you out on a date beyond the comforting walls of the café.

As far as you were concerned, donuts were a fundamental part of your love story, and Spencer was a genius.

You smiled at the memory, turning to Spencer and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. He gave you a lovesick grin in response- “what was that for?”

“Have I ever told you you’re the smartest man I know?”

Immediately, Spencer nodded. “Just last week when I told you how many books have been published by Penguin Random House. You also said it the week before when we were talking about polar bears and I-” your laugh caused him to lose focus, all of his attention instead focused on the way your smile lit up your whole face.

“Okay, okay so I call you a genius a lot- sue me,” you countered, giggling with every word that came out of your mouth. “I think you’re onto something with donuts though”.

“Wait, really? I was just kidding,” the confusion was obvious on Spencer’s face, but it was laced with excitement as well and you knew right then and there that he was as hooked on the idea as you were.

“I know you were, but that doesn’t make it any less genius! It’s just so us. And not only that, but think of all the different flavors we can get! That way everyone has a choice over what dessert they have and we don’t need to stress over finding one most people will like. Oh my gosh babe, and Penelope can definitely help us think of a cute way to set them up! Maybe we can do a cake stand or put them out in a buffet style?” You made eye contact with Spencer, eyes widening as you realized you haven’t even asked for his opinion yet. Softly, you brought your ramble to a close, doubt slowly kicking in, “Unless you don’t think it’s a good idea?”

Smiling, Spencer stood from his chair and motioned for you to do the same. Considering the fact that you would do anything he asked you to, you followed suit and he pulled you into his side, planting a kiss to the top of your head. “I think you’re the real genius in this relationship, Y/N”. You giggled at that, and Spencer continued, “it’s an amazing idea. And you and I both know Penelope is gonna love that you thought of her to help us put it together. How about we go to the café and see if they’d be able to help us out, hm? Maybe grab some donuts while we’re there too?”

You nodded enthusiastically, before grimacing at the idea of having another sweet, “We’re gonna have a sugar rush for the next week, Spence”.

“Every day with you is a sugar rush, Y/N,” he quipped, trying to hold back his laughter at the disbelieving look on your face.

You chuckled, leaning in for one of many sugary sweet kisses awaiting you that afternoon before playfully retorting, “And you have the audacity to call me the sap in this relationship.”

***

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Tagging: @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #ash writes

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flightlessangelwings · 3 years

Text

Work of Art ~ Chapter 1/2

Marcus Pike x tattooed!fem!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, pining, an asshole boss, Marcus being the bestest, reader dealing with misogynistic comments, kissing, insinuated spicy times

Notes: This idea was brought to me by @the-purity-pen and I got so carried away that I broke it into 2 parts lol. Thanks so much Leeann! And thank you to @we-can-be-himbos for beta reading! I loved writing this so much and I’m so excited to share this with y’all so I hope you like it! Moodboard made by me

This was not the ideal situation to walk into when you came in for work this morning. Your job as a receptionist and concierge at The Lustrio, an upscale and expensive hotel, had been fairly tame and quiet for the past five years you had been there. This was the first time there was an incident, and of course you were the one to run headfirst into it.

The Lustrio was very fancy with a rich, high-class clientele. The rooms were lavish and went for hundreds of dollars a night. Even the lobby was a sight in itself, and sometimes people walked through just to look at the exquisite art and ceramics on display. The architecture and design of the space was a work of art in and of itself. You and your coworkers were used to the usual flow of traffic throughout the day paired with people checking in and out.

While walking in to start your shift, you noticed broken glass everywhere, a priceless piece of art was gone, and the overnight security guard was unconscious on the floor. The sun hadn’t even risen yet and you immediately rushed to the bodyguard’s side as you dialed the emergency line. In no time, the lobby was filled with police, paramedics, and FBI agents. You felt like your world was turned upside down, even if it wasn’t your personal property that was stolen.

Luckily, the security guard was just knocked out, and you had gotten there just in time for him to be alright. As you watched them wheel him away, your boss, Rodderick White, approached you with his usual scowl on his face.

“Well this is just fantastic,” was the first thing he said to you during this whole debacle, “Fix your jacket too, you look disheveled.” You didn’t expect him to ask if you were alright or anything; he seemed to have a grudge against you for some time and you were used to his comments. If you weren’t so overwhelmed, you would have commented on the fact that he didn’t even seem bothered by the theft in the first place but you were too flustered to fully notice.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking Rod,” you snipped back. But you decided not to push your luck with him today and adjusted the collar of your shirt and lined your jacket to look more presentable. The uniform wasn’t horrible: a black blazer over a white button down shirt and black vest with your choice of black dress pants or skirt with black stockings. It just got warm at times with being covered up completely, and the tightness of the shirt collar sometimes felt suffocating.

“Rodderick,” he grumbled back before he cleared his throat and put his mask of friendliness on, “The FBI wants to talk to you.”

You sighed. You knew they would want to interview you since you were the first in that morning, but you weren't looking forward to it. “Yes sir, Mr. White,” you used your fake customer service voice as you followed where the various agents gestured for you to go.

The FBI unit had set themselves up in both the larger and smaller conference rooms that were just a short walk down the hallway from the lobby. In the large one, they had laptops and equipment set up. You noticed several agents were already busy trying to get a lead on the case. The smaller room that you were led in to was set up for interviews. Once you reached the doorway, you were met with a single agent who you assumed would conduct your interview.

“Nice to meet you,” he greeted you with a warm smile and an extended hand, “I’m Marcus Pike, the agent in charge here,” you took his hand and gave him your name, “I”m sorry this happened here. I hope you’re alright. Can I get you some water or anything?”

It was nice to know that a complete stranger showed you more kindness and concern than your boss who you had known for years. You brushed off the frustration you had with your boss, along with the lingering feeling of the warmth from the agent’s soft hand in yours. He was handsome for sure, and had big soft brown eyes and a smile that lit up the room. A sprinkle of scruff lined his jaw and framed his face perfectly.

“I’m fine, thank you,” your voice was genuine when you spoke to the agent and you followed him into the room where you sat down at the conference table.

Agent Pike closed the door behind him and the two of you were alone in the room.

Suddenly, you felt nervous, even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. He must have noticed the nerves on your face right away before he gave you another sweet smile and said your name in a calm voice, “You’re not in trouble or anything. We just need your account of what you saw.”

Just those few words from him instantly made you feel better. Normally, you wouldn’t fall for someone’s charm like this, but something about this agent just seemed so genuine. Genuine and kind were two qualities that were hard to find in a person.

You felt yourself heat up as you gave him a nervous chuckle, “Since it’s just us in here, would you mind if I took my jacket off? I’m a little warm,” you tried to play off your jitters. When he nodded you added, “Just don’t tell my boss. We’re not supposed to be out of uniform at all when we’re here.”

Marcus laughed and looked down at the table, “Your secret is safe with me.” He looked back up when he heard your laughter, and this time it was his turn to be nervous.

With your jacket off, you were left in your short sleeve white button down shirt and vest, and you undid the top couple buttons to give yourself more room to breathe. But it wasn’t just the exposed skin that caught Marcus’ attention. He saw for the first time that you were almost completely covered in tattoos, and he couldn’t help but stare.

Marcus was absolutely a fan of art; it was what drew him to work for the art theft department in the first place. He also liked to dabble in art himself in his free time. To see how much artwork you had on your body made him stare at you in admiration. Marcus had thought that the lobby was nice to look at, but you were a work of art on a whole other level.

“Sorry,” he focused his attention to the papers in front of him to tear his gaze away, “I like your tattoos,” he added in a softer tone.

You smiled at him and Marcus thought his heart would break out of his chest. “Thank you, Agent Pike,” again, your voice was genuine. Truthfully, you thought his reaction was cute. You were used to worse anyway, and you could always tell when people stared out of interest or admiration versus disgust. Agent Pike definitely liked what he saw; you could tell already that he was not a subtle man at all.

“Marcus, please,” he met your eyes again and you both shared a moment where time seemed to stop for both of you.

“Marcus,” you repeated in a whisper and he echoed with your name.

Marcus had to bring himself back to the task at hand. He redirected the situation back to what he originally was supposed to be talking to you about. He asked you a series of questions about your morning, what you saw, the time you arrived, if you noticed anything in the past few days, etc. You answered all of his questions honestly, and your story lined up with events perfectly. Not that Marcus was concerned it wouldn’t.

“We have an idea of who it might be,” Marcus told you as he slid you a sheet of paper with the suspect’s photo on it, “Does he look familiar?”

You took the photo and furrowed your brows as you studied it, “Yeah,” your voice dropped, “He checked in a couple days ago. I remember I was the one who checked him in. He had a weird energy about him that gave me the creeps, but he didn’t try anything. Haven’t seen him since.”

Marcus clenched his fists involuntarily and suddenly felt the need to protect you. He wasn’t sure why; the two of you were practically strangers. Yet, even in your first meeting, he felt like there was something there. Even with his past history of failed relationships, there was something about you that just called to Marcus. Something about you told him that you were worth taking a chance on.

“Well we’re following up on him. My team is the best so we should have him soon,” Marcus turned serious as he fixed his gaze on you again. He waited for your eyes to meet his before he added in a more concerned tone, “Just stay safe until then.”

Something about his tone made your heart skip a beat and you felt your chest tighten. You could tell from the look on his face that he meant it, and his worry for you was genuine. Normally, you wouldn’t be flirtatious with a stranger, let alone an FBI agent, but you responded in a sultry tone, “I’ll be safer when you catch the guy.”

Marcus’ breath caught in his throat as he clenched his fists again; he definitely did not expect that tone from you. All he did was nod as he composed himself and slid his card across the table, “My number is on the back. If you think of anything else or need anything,” he paused as the tension in the room suddenly felt thick, “Call me.”

It took Marcus Pike and his team less than a week to catch the art thief, and when they did, his first thought was of you. He was pleasantly surprised that you had actually texted him the day after he interviewed you and he used the opportunity to make sure again that you were ok. He wanted to ask about your boss too, since he saw the older man berate you for seemingly nothing before Marcus and his team left. But, he decided not to push that envelope yet.

“Welcome back, Agent Pike,” your voice greeted him when he walked into the lobby.

Marcus was thankful you were at work when he came by and he greeted you with a smile and your name, “Nice to see you again,” he looked around, “Looks like you all got everything cleaned up well.” A look around told him that Rodderick was either busy in his office or off for the day, and for that Marcus was grateful. He wanted to talk to you anyway.

You whispered something to your coworker beside you and stepped around the desk to be closer to Marcus, “Like nothing ever happened,” you tried to make a joke but your eyes told a different story.

He read the question in your eyes clearly and it gave him the biggest pleasure to tell you, “We got him.”

Your face lit up and the relief on your face was clear, “I’m glad to hear it,” you let out a heavy breath, “I can’t offer you a free night or anything… At least not without Rodderick’s approval,” you said your boss’s name with snark and disdain and Marcus couldn’t help but let out a short laugh.

“I’m ok,” he replied lightheartedly before he paused and stared at you for a moment, “Can I ask you out to dinner instead?”

For a moment, you thought you had passed out. He couldn’t have actually asked you out, could he? But when you finally caught up to yourself, you responded with a soft but enthusiastic, “Yes.”

You took a deep breath as you stepped out of your Uber in front of the restaurant. It was a nicer place than you usually went to, but Marcus picked the place and insisted on treating you. You picked out a nice outfit for the occasion, and made sure that it was sleeveless to show you tattoos since you remembered that he really liked them. A smile lit up your face as you thought about the look on his face when you shed your jacket the day you two met.

But Marcus’ voice shook you from your throughs, and you looked up to see him dressed nicely in front of you. In his hand, he had a single flower for you, and you wanted to tear up at the gesture. It was something small, but you could tell how meaningful it was. With a thanks, you took the flower and hooked your arm around his as he led you inside.

At dinner, conversation flowed so easily. Marcus told you all about his career and his interests, and you did the same. You even made the joke that this was much better than an interrogation, which made him laugh. Everything seemed perfect, and both you and Marcus felt happy and comfortable with each other.

“So I have to ask,” Marcus started, “Are there any stories about your tattoos?” when your face flashed a look of apprehension, he clarified, “I’m not criticizing at all. Actually, I think they’re exquisite. Really a work of art.”

You bit your lip as you grinned. No one had ever complimented your tattoos quite like that before, so you indulged his question. You told the story behind some of them, and picked out your personal favorites, “I wanted to be a tattoo artist at one point, but it just wasn’t in the cards for me,” you sighed, “Maybe in another life.”

“Maybe in that life I’ll run the flower shop across the street and admire you from there,” he quipped back and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea.

But, stares from a man at another table caught Marcus’ attention. Your back was to him, so you couldn’t see, but Marcus did not like the way the man eyed you. A soft frown came across his face as he met the man’s gaze before he turned away. Marcus couldn’t help but think how rude it was for the man to blatantly check you out while you were obviously on a date with him. Of course, he knew you were beautiful and attractive, but he didn’t like the way the man stared at you.

“Marcus?” you asked when you noticed his expression dropped, “You ok?”

Your voice brought his attention back to you, “Yeah,” he answered with a half smile, “Fine.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth again, a voice interrupted, “Hey,” a deep rumble called your attention and it was the man who stared at you. He hovered close to you as he stared disapprovingly, “Don’t you have enough tattoos for a woman? Disgusting.”

Before you could even react, Marcus jumped to his feet to face him head on, “Don’t you have anything better to do? What she does with her own body is none of your business,” the anger in his voice caught you off guard, “And she is beautiful the way she is,” he added in a lower voice as he grabbed onto the man’s collar, “She’s a damn work of art.”

It was the last thing you expected, but you appreciated how fast Marcus was to defend you. But, you noticed the man’s anger also flared so you got to your feet too, “Hey, Marcus it’s ok,” you put your arms out between the two men to try to break them up.

Marcus glanced over at you for a moment before he decided to let the man go. He knew from the look on your face that you didn’t want to cause a scene. Asmuch as he wanted to just punch the guy, he decided to let it go. The man scrambled away the second he could, and Marcus let out a heavy exhale to calm himself down as you looked at him with wide, pleading eyes.

The way he immediately defended you lit something up inside you, and you wanted to cry from the rush of emotions. If you weren’t in such a nice restaurant, you would have tackled him in the biggest hug, but you kept your cool for now, “Thank you, Marcus,” you spoke in a hushed tone. Your hand dropped down to take his and you gave him a tight squeeze. You hoped your emotions came through in your grip.

And the way he smiled at you made your heart stop for a moment. Instead of sitting back down, Marcus squeezed your hand back, “How about we get out of here?”

You nodded as he left enough money to cover your bill and tip on the table and led you outside. As much as Marcus wanted to pull out all the romantic stops for you, he decided to change his plan for the evening and led you down the street to a diner, “How about pancakes a la mode for dessert?”

“I’m good with anywhere, Marcus,” you replied with a smile, “As long as it’s with you.”

In no time, you were seated in a booth for part two of your date. Honestly, you felt much more comfortable in a more casual place, but you meant what you said: you were happy anywhere as long as you were with Marcus Pike. Conversation picked up right where you left off and things just felt so natural with him.

“Hey,” Marcus suddenly turned the conversation in a more serious direction, “I’m sorry about that guy at the restaurant. He shouldn’t have said that to you.”

A flutter in your chest rendered you speechless for a moment before you swallowed hard, “It’s alright, Marcus,” you shrugged it off, “I’ve gotten worse.” You were bothered by the guy’s insult, but over the years you’ve learned to shrug those people off. But the look of concern on Marcus’ face made your heart flip in your chest, “Thank you for what you did though,” you added with a soft smile of your own.

Marcus seemed satisfied with that and his face relaxed, “What kind of date would I be if I didn’t defend the most beautiful woman in there?” he chipped back with a wink.

When you stuttered in an attempt to find the right words, Marcus laughed at you. Clearly, it had been some time since someone treated you the way he thought you should be treated. But, Marcus was determined to never let you feel unwanted or alienated again. He took pity on you and steered the conversation back to something light and the two of you talked over a pot of coffee for hours until you both decided you should leave.

Marcus put his arm around you as he guided you outside again and you fiddled with your phone in your hand as the two of you stood on the curb, “I guess I should call an Uber,” you mumbled as you made no attempt to do so.

He just watched you in silence as he thought about how nice it felt to hold you close. And Marcus couldn’t help how badly he wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want to cross a line so he held himself back.

However, your voice interrupted his thoughts as you turned to face him with a determined look on your face, “Listen Marcus, I don’t normally do this on a first date but,” you reached out to cup his face in your hands and slowly pulled him in close to you. You paused for a moment to give him a chance to pull away, and when he didn’t you pressed your lips together in a short, soft kiss. When you pulled back and caught his eye for a moment, you saw the fire in his eyes and you crashed your lips together again. This time, the kiss was more desperate and heated.

Marcus tightened his grip on you and held you as close as he possibly could as he deepened the kiss. The two of you let the rest of the world fall away as you got completely lost in each other. The kiss was sweet, yet fiery, and you both could feel the unspoken words in each other’s lips.

When he finally broke away, Marcus whispered breathlessly, “I don’t normally do this on a first date, but would you wanna come over to my place?”

With your forehead pressed against his, your voice was just as hushed, “Yes.”

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike x you #Marcus pike fic #marcus pike x y/n #the mentalist fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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corpsentry · 3 years

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january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

#my stuff

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knifefather · 3 years

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Hello guys! Uploading this chapter of Tutor Me for yall on tumblr! Only one more chapter to go before the story is complete. It’s been so fun to write this and I hope you enjoy this emotional train wreck of a chapter! Don’t worry though, I plan to finish Reader and Diego’s story with a bang, if you know what I mean! Anyway, I bring to you, chapter 5~

➼ Title: Tutor Me, Chapter 5 ➼ Pairing(s): Diego Brando/Reader, Johnny Joestar/Reader, Johnny Joestar/Gyro Zeppeli ➼ Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure ➼ Word Count: 4.3k ➼ Rating: Explicit, 18+ ➼ Contains: Chubby AFAB!Reader, college AU, angst, alcoholism, parental abuse, hurt and comfort. Grab your tissues!

ミ★ View this on ao3! ★彡

ミ★ Ko-Fi | Commissions Info ★彡

Preview

“This wasn’t supposed to happen...” he proclaimed, his tone growing more grave the more that he talked.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for you, he thought to himself, a crease settling into his brow. You were supposed to be a quick fuck. An experiment. That was all. But now look at where we are...

A soft look passed over his eyes before his expression contorted back to agitation. He angrily wiped the tears from his face and a bit of snot from his nose. When he moved his hand away, his expression was more determined than ever.

“Now get out of my way.”

Diego clasped the buckle on his helmet, straightening his posture and squaring his shoulders, before walking away from you yet again.

You stood behind him, mouth open, unable to even begin to form words. The dirt of the track whipped around you as a breeze passed through the stadium. The dust swirled around Diego as if it parted for him and only him, leading him towards victory.

The brightly lit stadium was packed to the brim with jockeys, paparazzi, and audience members when you arrived. You drew in a deep breath to calm your nerves, causing the thick, hot air to catch in your lungs. The atmosphere was almost oppressive as you made your way towards the admission line. Johnny, Gyro, and Hot Pants were already down on the track, having practiced for several hours before the actual tournament began. You were excited to see your friends but anxious about seeing Diego. Being around him tonight was a certainty that you had to deal with. Your throat grew dry at the realization, and you fleetingly thought about hitting the concession stand after you said hi to your friends.

You waited in line with the other attendees for God knows how long before the worker behind the counter took your ticket, allowing you entry. Quickly, you zipped past the stands and pushed through the crowds, heading down to the track before one of the staff members could stop you. As you made your way across the dirt, Johnny and the crew noticed you approaching and waved you closer. Your face broke out in a large smile as you neared them.

They all looked amazing: Hot Pants was dressed in her signature pink riding outfit and Johnny in his starry blue one. He looked cuter than you wanted to admit, and you adverted your eyes before you could be caught staring. Gyro looked more or less the same, but something about him seemed a bit more put together than usual. He gave you a distrustful look as you approached.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you made it!” Johnny said happily, wheeling over to you. His bright blue lips were tugged in a warm smile that made you forget about your anxiety for a moment.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world,” you replied.

In the distance, you could see the flashes of the paparazzi’s cameras aimed at the racers. There was a group of them nearby, snapping photos of a rider that was posing with their star racehorse. You knew it was a matter of time before the hoard would come to pester Johnny and the rest of the gang with photos and questions. You were correct in your assumptions: After a few moments of chatting amongst yourselves, the paparazzi interrupted your conversation with the crew by tapping Johnny on the shoulder and pushing a camera into his face. The interviewer flashed a too-white smile before looking into a camera that was held by another paparazzi. “And here we have racer number 7, Johnny Joestar! Johnny, tell us a little bit about your horse and hopes for the race,” they finished, whipping the microphone in his direction. His blue eyes went wide for a moment before clearing his throat. “Well…” He answered as swiftly as he could before he was hit with another barrage of questions.

As Johnny was being interviewed, several cameras snapped at Hot Pants, her outfit being praised by the rest of the team. She knew how to pose, too, and struck a different one every few seconds. Meanwhile, you had been more or less been pushed to the side and out of the cameras’ view. You looked at the scene, not envying your friends at all. Strangely enough, you noticed Gyro was standing off to the side as well, a pleased smile on his face. Unsure of how he would respond, you edged closer to him in hopes of making conversation, especially after the strange look he gave you earlier.

“What are you smiling about?” you asked innocuously, raising your voice a bit over the busy sounds of the stadium.

Gyro met your gaze, his expression shifting through a few different emotions before replying to you. “They don’t really like me,” he said.

You cocked a brow. “Why not? You’re a pretty good jockey.”

Gyro’s line of sight shifted from you to a paparazzi that was approaching him, presumably one that was new to the job. “Are you Gyro Zeppeli? Could you tell us a bit about yourself and your horse?” the young man asked, giving him the same treatment as Johnny. His cameraman pointed the filming instrument at Gyro’s face, getting way too close.

“Actually, my name is Inigo Montoya.” Gyro grinned, his gold teeth glinting in the bright lights.

“Oh,” the young paparazzi sputtered. He checked the roster in his pocket again, shaking his head before turning his attention back to him. “Sorry. Inigo. Where are you from? Why are you confident your horse will win the race?” the young man tried again.

“I hail from a land far, far away in the south. Super cold. You’ve probably never heard of it,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I came to Britain to win the championship with my horse, Ligma,” he answered, deepening his voice to sound more important than he was.

“Ligma?” the young man asked, his brow furrowing.

“You know, Ligma. Like--”

Just then, one of the more experienced paparazzi intervened, grabbing the microphone away from Gyro before he could crack his dirty joke. The other paparazzi harshly whispered to the younger one, and they exchanged glances before giving Gyro a distasteful look and walking away. All the while, Gyro was barely containing his laughter, his stomach and chest trembling with the effort. Once they were finally out of earshot, Gyro wouldn't contain himself and erupted into laughter.

You were taken aback by the scene, but you also found it hard to contain your giggles. You waited until the pair had fully adverted their attention from you and Gyro before speaking. “So, was that why they don’t like you?” you asked, still giggling.

“Yep. I always give them bullshit answers. They don’t really care about where you’re from or who you are, you know,” Gyro explained, his tone becoming more somber. “They just want a good show. To be entertained. That’s it.”

The smile had fallen from your face at his explanation. His green eyes scanned over your face before flickering away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Is that why you’re here? Do you care, or do you want to be entertained?” he asked, still looking away from you.

You were surprised at the boldness of his question. “Of course, I care. I want to see you guys do well--”

“Even Johnny?”

You furrowed your brow at this. His eyes met yours, his gaze accusatory as he looked you over. “What does that mean? Are you implying that I don’t care about him?” you shot back, your tone growing more defensive with every word. Gyro had always been aloof around you, but never like this. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the reason.

Gyro ignored your response. “You should get back to the stands. The race is gonna start soon, and the coaches aren’t going to be happy that you’re down here.” He fixed his hat while he spoke, the brim coming down to cast a shadow over his face.

Then it hit you as if the thought were a speeding train. Gyro... liked Johnny.

The cogs in your head were whirring a mile a minute, piecing together all of the times that he was unusually protective of Johnny. You thought back to the soft way that he looked at Johnny during riding practice, or the way Gyro ignored you after Johnny had flirted with you. You were going to argue the point, but he was right. The staff members that had initially spied you were now giving you harsh glances, some pointing now. At this point, the paparazzi had released Hot Pants and Johnny from being their hostages and were retreating to other parts of the stadium. You wished all of them good luck before making your way towards the stands, leaving them behind. Gyro’s words still rang in your ears, making your already complicated emotions about the event even more complicated.

You were still quite a bit away from the stands, but you could see Diego entering the stadium as clear as day. The swarm of paparazzi that obscured your view was a good indicator. From the looks of it, he was just arriving. It’s just like him to be fashionably late, you thought to yourself, making a sour face. Cameras began to flash again and interviewers animatedly asked him questions, trying to fit everything in before the tournament began.

“I’m going to come in first place. Just watch me,” you heard him boldly claim, quite loudly at that. This seemed to please the crowd of interviewers, because the volume of their voices increased as they wrapped up the interview. With only minutes before the jockeys had to take their places, the paparazzi finally dispersed. You were much closer now, able to see Diego clearly. His turquoise outfit was as pristine as ever, every detail carefully planned out. The letters on his equestrian helmet shined when he turned his head.

Before he was able to notice you approaching, a short, fat man hobbled out from the stands and down to the track. Diego’s big, showy smile disappeared and was replaced with a solemn look once he laid eyes on him. He froze in his spot. The man was clearly drunk, his hair unkempt and his clothes disheveled. The look of surprise on Diego’s face graduated to boiling anger, his mouth contorting into a sneer. You couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but you knew how his face looked when he was saying something aggressive. The old man responded with twice as much venom, yelling and shaking his fist at the rider. Diego shrunk under his words, but hatred still twisted his face.

Now, you were curious. You stopped just out of earshot from the scene, only close enough to hear the exchange of words.

“God damn it, I’m your father, Diego! A son does what his father tells him to!” the man slurred. Diego cringed, the alcohol on his father’s breath almost too much for him to handle.

“You’re no father of mine. Fuck off, Dario,” he spat.

This pissed off the old man, because he began to howl in rage at his son. “You’re a fucking disgrace, Diego! You’ve always been a disappointment to me and the rest of the family...It’s a damn shame that you don’t give every pound to help your dying mother in the hospital. A real damn shame,” the man--Dario--rambled, parts of his sentence nearly unintelligible from the slurring.

Though, Diego understood every word. The jockey snapped, his fist shooting out and curling into the man’s shirt. He shook the old man, his lips pulled back in a snarl, teeth bared like an animal. “Don’t you FUCKING dare say that! I send everything I have to support her, and you spend it on BOOZE! If there’s anyone here who is a disgrace, it’s you!” Diego shouted, pushing the man away before the violence could escalate any further.

Your mouth was gaping at the scene, unable to believe that the foul-mouthed drunkard was Diego’s father. He was the complete opposite of his son physically, bearing little to no resemblance to him. You couldn’t imagine his dull grey hair being the same shade as Diego’s blond locks. Though, they both had the same burning look of passion behind their eyes. Nonetheless, you continued to listen in.

“It’s no surprise that I smell booze on your breath. Like always,” Diego growled, his voice much calmer now. His blazing anger had turned cold, his words mechanical in quality.

“You’re a horrible child. A worthless waste of space. Win that money and bring it home to me, or you’ll never see your mum again. You hear me?” Dario said, waving a finger in the jockey’s face. Diego bit his lower lip, looking at the ground defeatedly before nodding his head yes. All of the fight left him, his frame deflating significantly. He understood the implications of his father’s words: The little money that Dario did use to help his mother would stop altogether. And then, she would be gone.

“Good. And after this is over, be useful and bring me a pint,” the old man said, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand before hobbling back off towards the stands.

You were completely at a loss. You blinked slowly, unable to believe the horrible sight that you witnessed. Diego was still staring at the ground, the fist that was once in his father’s shirt now clenched at his side. He was still biting his lip, hard, a small trickle of blood flowing down his chin. You felt horrible that he was clearly being abused by his father, but you were on a mission: You had to get to the bottom of why he was mistreating you, why he had ghosted you and threw you to the side like nothing. You had a sneaking suspicion that the treatment from his father was a part of the reason, but you had to know for sure. You decided to be the bigger person and put your thoughts of confrontation on pause. It could wait until after the race.

You approached him uneasily, taking light steps on the dirt like if you stepped too hard, he’d be disturbed. As you approached him, his eyes slowly rose from the ground and met your form. You were wearing a crop top and high-waisted shorts, along with matching shoes. You were beautiful, glowing, so much more confident than the first time he saw you. You proudly allowed your belly to show with your shirt, and the shorts showed off your legs and hugged the curves of your hips perfectly. It was faint, but a bit of makeup dusted your cheeks and kissed your lashes. You were the same, but different somehow. Something had changed in you along the way. If Diego weren’t devastated, he would be enamored by you. Part of him was, despite his pain.

When your gazes locked, you saw a look that you had never seen on Diego before. His eyes were those of a completely broken, desperate person. You had heard enough to know his secrets, and the both of you knew this while you stared silently at each other.

You flub, not sure what to say for a moment. “I… I had no idea,” you said, your voice small and full of hurt.

“I know.” Diego’s jaw was clenched. He didn’t want you to see him like this, so vulnerable and weak. His first instinct was to hide, to get away from you. Your empathetic gaze made feelings rise in him that he didn’t want to be feeling.

“I’m sorry that you have to deal with that…” you said, feeling stuck. “Is that the reason why you wanted to stay away? What your dad said about your mom?” you asked softly, as if you were comforting a child.

The gentle, caring look in your eyes only frustrated Diego further. He looked away, blinking hard and trying to restrain his emotion. He already made the mistake of arguing with Dario in public, which the paparazzi more than certainly saw him do. He wasn’t going to get emotional and have another scene with you, not when he had a race to win and a mother to save. Diego opted for silence, not giving a response and just looking away.

You sighed sadly before taking a step toward him, your hand outstretched. “Please. I need to know. You don’t have to tell me now, but I want to talk about this,” you tried, setting your hand on his shoulder. He promptly shrugged you off with an exasperated noise.

“I don’t want them to see,” Diego said, already turning on his heel and walking away from you. Your feet were moving before you had time to think about it, making you follow him across the dirt.

“That’s fine. But at least tell me after the race,” you implored, your tone growing more desperate. You swallowed, hard, and tried to get yourself together.

He was quiet again, worrying his lip between his teeth as he struggled to hold back all of the things he wanted to say. Diego tried to keep his eye on the ball, focusing on an image of him holding a 10,000 pound sterling check in his hand. Except, the image grew fuzzy in his mind’s eye, and he saw you instead. Your smile. Your eyes. You, choking on cigarette smoke. You, in the back of his car, blushing and looking at him like the most important person in the world.

You sped up, jogging next to his side. He walked faster, leaving you in the dust.

“Why? Why do you keep walking away from me? Every time? You always deflect and you never want to talk about anything. It’s not healthy, Diego,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ll leave you alone forever if that’s what you want. If you want to talk about this later, just tell me. Communicate with me, please.”

This got Diego’s attention, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Diego, what’s going on? What are we?” you tried one more time before giving up for good. You were well aware that you were crossing the line, but you needed something. Your hand went to his arm, your thumb gently caressing him.

You didn’t expect the furious expression on his face when he whipped around to look at you. Surprised, you took a step back from him, watching his hands curl around nothing at his sides.

“I don’t know!” Diego yelled, ripping his sleeve from your grasp. His eyes were smoldering with anger and fear in their basest forms. He sniffled a bit at the end of his sentence.

You stopped in your tracks, frozen by disbelief. Tears were now freely flowing down Diego’s cheeks, hot and wet and dripping onto the dirt below his feet. “You saw Dario. What an absolutely disgusting, no-good, drunk fucking swine he is,” he said through gritted teeth. “What’s what I deal with. That’s what my mother deals with. He doesn’t love her, doesn’t care if she dies young. That’s why I have to win this race. I have to have that money in my pocket; failure isn’t an option. I don’t know what we are. This wasn’t supposed to happen...” he proclaimed, his tone growing more grave the more that he talked.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for you, he thought to himself, a crease settling into his brow. You were supposed to be a quick fuck. An experiment. That was all. But now look at where we are...

“Now get out of my way.”

Diego clasped the buckle on his helmet, straightening his posture and squaring his shoulders, before walking away from you yet again.

Where you thought you would feel disappointment, you felt numb. You didn’t know what exactly to feel. You turned around and walked towards the stands, the scene below catching the attention of a few audience members. They looked at you curiously as you made your way towards your seat, but you paid no mind to them. Something in your gut told you that this wasn’t over. And, despite everything, you knew who you would be cheering for once the tournament began.

★・・・・・・★

The thundering of hooves on the dirt and the roar of the crowd reverberated in your ears. You watched as the riders were approaching the last lap, many of them bracing themselves for one last push of speed. Many of the jockeys who started in first place had sunk to the back, and others who had restrained themselves were rising to the occasion. Such was the case for your friends and Diego.

Gyro was currently sitting in 5th place, Hot Pants in 4th, Johnny in 2nd, and, surprisingly, Diego in 6th. You nervously watched as Diego bided his time in the back. A shadow was cast over his face from his helmet, and you and the onlookers alike struggled to read his expression. The announcer was going crazy with play-by-plays, calling out so quickly that the words lost their meaning to you. You wanted your friends to win, but you couldn’t help but cheer for Diego on the inside.

Johnny’s horse was speeding ahead of the contender in first place, the red-headed woman yelling a profanity at him and shooting him a dirty look. She maneuvered her horse to the side, trying to throw him off balance, but Johnny was quick. He swerved, avoiding the collision, and zipped past her into first place.

“Johnny Joestar has taken the lead! Can he keep this up? Do we have the winner?!” the announcer boomed, riling up the crowd. They all clapped and shouted, the sounds making your head buzz. The smell of alcohol was also heavy in the air and it didn’t help the knot that settled in your stomach. You hoped that Dario wasn't sitting nearby.

What are you doing, Diego? You thought to yourself, making a “tsk” sound under your breath.

Hot Pants surprised you next, overtaking the 3rd place racer and claiming their place. There were only a few meters left, and you began to sweat as the end of the race approached.

Suddenly, you heard a gasp from the audience. You flicked your eyes over to the back riders and saw what the audience had seen. Diego was jetting past the other racers, taking 5th, 4th, and 3rd like nothing. You found yourself scooting to the edge of your seat, your hands gripping the edge of the stands hard enough to make your palms white.

Diego was steady for a moment, riding next to Hot Pants, almost as if he was taunting her. Down on the track, he flashed her a cocky grin before snatching 2nd place away from her. Now, he was right behind Johnny, the two riders only a few feet away from each other. The announcer was hollering his head off, but silence settled over your ears. You watched them, side by side, sweat flying off of the both of them.

Johnny looked to his side, his brow furrowed, his upper lip curled in concentration. Diego’s eyes flashed as they locked gazes, a thousand words being exchanged from one intense look. Johnny pressed on, encouraging Slow Dancer to give everything that she had. Diego’s own horse still had a bit left in her, and, with an expert maneuver from her rider, Diego cut perfectly in front of Johnny, making Slow Dancer falter.

You gasped, you hands gripping the metal edge of the stands even harder. For a split second, Johnny’s horse lost her balance, stumbling, but he pulled hard on her reigns and recentered her. By then, it was too late, and Diego was several paces ahead of him, the finish line within his reach. Your heart raced as you watched him, you jumped to your feet and leaned in as close as you could, unable to look away.

“AND THERE HE GOES!” the announcer howled, the entire stadium screaming at the top of their lungs. The moment that Silver Bullet crossed the finish line happened almost in slow-motion. You could see the exact moment that her hoof touched the dirt right over the line, how the beast’s muscles ripped under her hide as she carried them both to victory. Diego was almost standing, braced so forwardly that he almost flew off the horse when they passed the finish line. You could feel the breeze ruffling your hair as he jetted past you.

And just like that, it was all over. Johnny wasn’t far behind him, and neither were Hot Pants and Gyro. Your heart was beating at a million miles a minute, and you couldn’t help but break into a huge smile and join the crowd in their cheering. You cheered until your throat grew hoarse and scratchy, until you couldn’t produce sound any longer.

Diego’s face was broken out in a toothy smile as his horse slowed. “We have our winner! Give it up for Diego Brando!” Everyone did accordingly, many whooping and hollerings taking place. Cheers still sounded off for the rest of the participants, and even though they were dejected, many were still happy to have made it in the top ten. Diego did a victory lap around the stadium, cameras going off like crazy and admirers reaching over the barrier for a chance to be close to the celebrity. He waved, a grin still dancing on his lips while he rode the high of being the winner. You could see from your seat the rise and fall of his chest as he drew in ragged breaths, trying to calm himself down from the excitement.

Slowly, you sat down, your hands stilling from the abundance of clapping. Even as you sat, you were still beaming uncontrollably. You couldn’t help but feel proud of him, to be happy for him at this moment, even though you knew that the happiness was only temporary.

#diego brando x reader #johnny joestar x gyro zeppeli #tutor me #jjba #not sfw #my work #chubby reader #cw alcoholism #hurt and comfort

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cinebration · 3 years

Text

Cuts & Bruises, Wounds & Abuses (Captain Syverson x Reader) [Part 15]

You visit the water station.

Tagged: @scuzmunkie, @thethirstyarchive, @maan24, @igotkatiepowers, @sugarpenchant, @lamthetwickster, @omgkatinka, @helloitsmeamie203, @simply-heaven, @l-u-n-a-m, @fckdeusername, @woterezwhet, @olkathechaoticfox, @bethabear12, @bloodyinspiredfuck, @flor-la-ganga95, @nothingright, @tapismyforte, @thebonzifonzibrothers, @peakymidwinter, @fanfictionaddiction99, @thereisa8ella, @kmuir1, @bichibibi, @love-yourself-first-tfw, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @lou-la-lou, @kat002nd, @babypink224221, @speakerforthedead0, @rn7rocks, @sofiebstar, @wheretheriversrunintothesea, @thatchickwiththecamera, @louiiissa, @october505, @turkish276, @heartfelt-pen, @mstgsmy, @kazzilla, @alyxkbrl, @suhke3, @summersong69, @untraveled-road, @wiccanmetallicrose, @crispysublimecupcake, @evangeline73aster, @eldarwen333, @calwitch, @contentobsessor, @noseyrosey1597, @the-problem-of-leisure, @itsjusttaralove, @wellfucksorrymum

Warnings: none

Gif Source: demivampirew

Taut silence filled the drive to the water station. The closer you drew to the structure, the more apprehensive you became. You caught yourself staring through the windows, looking for threats. Were there land mines on the road? Did another RPG lie in wait to take out the armored vehicle?

By the time you reached the station, a cold sweat broke out over your skin. Your left arm fired a steady barrage of pain the harder you tried to ignore it, as though the anxiety, the very idea of being attacked again, had reignited your flesh.

You wanted to claw at it.

As the Humvee turned down the road leading to the station, the lone building looming ahead, you glanced up to see Syverson’s eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.

Staring straight at you.

You tried to smile, but the attempt fell short.

The vehicle lurched to a halt.

Stifling sudden panic, you waited for Syverson to open your door before climbing out of your seat. Grabbing your camera bag, you slung it over one shoulder and picked up the tripod you had brought. Instead of pen and paper, you had a handheld tape recorder. As long as you didn’t need to change the tape, you’d be able to handle all the interviews with the men at the station just fine.

Several soldiers busied themselves around the destroyed pipes, trying to clear out the rubble. In the adjacent building, one soldier stood lookout at the door while another paced atop the roof.

You felt a hand brush yours and tug gently on the tripod. Jumping in surprise, you nearly knocked the captain with the tripod.

“What’re you doing?”

His mouth tightened. “Helping.”

“I can do it.”

“It looks heavy.”

“It is heavy.” The tripod was made of aluminum. Although only five-and-a-half pounds, lugging it around for an extended period of time definitely wore you down—even more so now that you carried it with one hand.

“Then let me help.”

You shook your head. “I’ve. Got. It.”

Syverson’s gaze flitted to your injured arm before fixing on your face, his expression hardening. Turning away from you, he walked up the mild slope to the damaged area.

Feeling stung, you trudged after him. The loose soil shifted beneath your feet as you made your way to the building. With the camera bag pulling you one way and the tripod another, you felt winded by the time you reached Syverson.

He introduced you to the soldier leading the construction operation. Setting the tripod against the nearest wall, you pulled out your tape recorder, turned it on, and began asking the questions you had memorized that morning.

Syverson’s gaze bored into you for the next two hours as you interviewed the men and toured the site. You felt it burning through your neck. Trying to ignore it, you threw yourself into the work.

As the sun reached its zenith, you finished the last interview and scanned the landscape. You turned to Syverson.

“Is it…safe to go over there?” You pointed to a small rise overlooking the station.

Syverson glanced at the area and nodded. Picking up your tripod again, you trekked after him.

By the time you reached the top, fatigue had settled into your muscles. The voice of reason whispered in the back of your mind, attributing it to the trauma of your injury.

You shoved it back and scouted the hill for the best shot of the station.

“How long have you been doing this?”

You jumped, heart stuttering against your ribs. Glancing at Syverson, you answered, “Doing what?”

“Taking photos. Writing stuff.”

Balancing the tripod between your legs, you tried to unscrew the first section to extend it. “Forever, I guess. I learned photography from my dad and writing from my mom.” You wrestled with the tripod, managed to get the knob to turn a fraction. “This tripod was my dad’s, actually. He doesn’t do photography anymore. Not professionally.”

You frowned. Why were you telling him all this? Better yet, why was he asking?

The knob refused to turn further. Clenching the tripod tighter between your legs, you tried to muscle it. It refused to budge.

Without thinking, you grabbed the tripod with your left hand.

Pain exploded up your arm. Crying out, you dropped the tripod and fell to your knees, cradling the arm. Tears of pain and frustration blurred your vision.

Syverson caught the tripod before it rolled down the hill. He crouched beside you, a hand on your shoulder. “Breathe.”

Air whistled out between your clenched teeth.

“Breathe.”

Forcing yourself to inhale deeply, you held the breath for a moment, then exhaled slowly. The pain began to dissipate.

The frustration didn’t. The tears kept pushing out from behind your eyes, rolling hot and fast down your cheeks.

“The pain will go away.”

“It isn’t that,” you frowned. “It’s this…I can’t use it! I’m useless!”

Syverson’s warm hand rubbed across the nape of your neck. “Hawkins said you can use it. It’s just a flesh wound—”

“I can’t even look at it! Every time I do, I can’t…” The sobs stuttered out of you. “I just think of Deakins and how selfish I am that I hate my arm when he died. I should feel lucky, not like this.”

Syverson’s hand kept you from slumping over and curling into a ball. You fought to stem the flood of tears.

“There’s not a single soldier out there without some sort of survivor’s guilt.” His voice rumbled low in your ear. “We all feel it. You are lucky, but it’s okay to…feel differently.”

Choking back a sob, you forced yourself to look at him. Pain etched his face in stark relief, his eyes soft with concern. His thumb continued rubbing against your skin.

“I know,” you muttered, the tears abating. “I just…I can’t move past it.”

“You have to. This is your calling. You can’t leave it.”

His words struck home. Nodding heavily, you traced patterns in the dirt with your good hand. You felt so tired, worn out by the burden you had carried.

You sat in silence for a few minutes. The sun beat down mercilessly on your head, but you didn’t feel it. All you felt was Syverson’s calming touch.

“What now?” he finally asked.

Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you mumbled, “See what Mahmoud brings back from the sheikh and then go home.”

“My interview?”

You arched your eyebrows at him. “For someone who didn’t want me around, you sure want me to interview you.”

“You’re…less annoying than I thought.”

You burst into laughter. A smile crept across Syverson’s face.

“And here I thought you just wanted to get it over with so I would leave sooner.”

The smile slipped. His hand dropped away from you.

Feeling its loss, you added, “You have the right to refuse the interview.”

“No. I want to do it.” The words tumbled out too fast.

“Okay.” Your attention drifted out toward the station. “I still need photos.”

Syverson hefted up the tripod and began extending the collapsible legs. “Tell me where.”

Something stirred in you as you looked up at him, his face set with determination. Struggling with it, you pointed in front of you and directed him where the tripod needed to be.

Where had the hostile captain from the first day gone?

#Captain Syverson x Reader #Captain Syverson #Captain Syverson imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #Sand Castle (2017)#Netflix Sand Castle

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haworthiaace · 3 years

Text

I’ve recently discovered that writing may be a little bit fun so. Here’s something for @shadeswift99 ‘s ghostbusters au (this post right here) :]

Tango didn’t believe in ghosts.

Why would he? There had never been any reputable, scientific evidence, and despite what his friends have told him countless times, ‘feeling a presence’ didn’t count as scientific evidence. However, his conviction didn’t seem to deter Zed and Impulse at all, who regularly barged into Tango’s apartment with their latest ‘discovery’.

“Tango, guess what?” The sound of his poor, battered door slamming open once again and Zed’s excited voice disrupted the peaceful silence that had dominated the room for the past few hours.

“Hi Zed, Impulse, good to see you guys too.” Tango didn’t have to look up from his laptop to know that Impulse was standing right behind Zed, too polite to barge in without some sort of invitation. Not polite enough to stop Zed, unfortunately.

Zedaph didn’t even acknowledge the greeting, continuing his thought the second he flopped down into a worn armchair. “Impulse and I were talking, and then we got on the topic of those guys who visit haunted places and hunt ghosts, and then I said ‘Well why can’t we do that?’” He sat up, eagerly looking at Tango, who could not for the life of him figure out what the man wanted from him.

Impulse, in his infinite kindness, noticed his friend’s confusion and filled in the gaps Zed had left in his excitement. “Zed and I want to start a ghost hunting business, and we need you to join us because you have a car.” He sat down much more gracefully than his companion, holding a small bowl of chips stolen from Tango’s kitchen.

The room was silent for a moment. “Hold on, what?”

“We-“

“No, I heard you, I’m just not exactly sure why you would think to ask me.” Tango never went on their other adventures no matter how many times they asked. After all, he had better things to do than chase wind and broken air conditioning, and it was dangerous to set a precedent. “You’re the ones who believe in all that fancy mystical stuff, not me.”

Zed stopped bouncing, and Impulse quickly brought forward the second, more practical half of their pitch. “We know you don’t believe in any of this, but even if ghosts aren’t real-”

“Which they are!”

“Right. A lot of people believe they are real, and will pay good money for some help handling them.”

Tango pondered this for a moment, making A Face for effect that made Zed giggle. Impulse had a good point, as was often the case unfortunately. Tango didn’t have a stable source of income at the moment, and an actual business could help quite a bit with groceries, especially if Impulse was going to keep stealing his snacks every time he came over. And working with friends would certainly be a bonus.

“What the hell, I’m in. Worst case scenario nothing happens and I laugh at you two.” Zedaph lit up like an over ambitious Christmas tree, resuming his bouncing with even more enthusiasm than before.

Impulse just grinned, “And best case scenario you finally figure out the truth.”

“In your dreams, Impy.”

Tango opened his eyes, and found himself lying prone on the floor. What was I doing? The dark, musty room plus Impulse and Zed looming over him struck a bell in his head.

They were on a job, as was the case most nights. Why Zed and Impulse insisted they do this at night was beyond him, but that was an argument for another time. A nonsensical ventilation system and a questionable foundation caused strange happenings in the home, and the trio had been called in. But even Tango had to admit this house was strange, and different from the others. The moment he entered, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he felt a chill. Their whole visit had been shadowed by a sense of wrongness.

“...Tango? Is that you?” Impulse’s voice broke the silence, with a hint of uncertainty that shouldn’t have been there.

“Yeah dude, of course it’s me. What happened?” Tango groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but he forced himself to stand.

Zed raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I know this is going to sound really strange, but we think you got possessed?”

Tango stared blankly at his two friends, and finally through the fog in his head realized they were dead serious. “Really guys? Come on, I know you believe in ghosts and all but isn’t possession a little bit much?”

Impulse started wringing his hands, and Zed spoke up, quieter than before. Neither one would make eye contact. “You… you weren’t yourself Tango. You looked angry, and kept throwing things.” Huh. Well that explained the broken furniture scattered around the room, and why Tango was so sore. “You knocked over a salt shaker, then suddenly passed out when the salt touched you.”

Tango was fairly certain he had never done that before. He was unnerved by the gap in his memory, but he tucked that into a corner of his mind to unpack later. Right now he had to convince these two knuckleheads that he wasn’t possessed.

“I haven’t eaten today, it was probably that.” They gaped at him, but whether it was because of his adamant skepticism or his poor eating habits Tango couldn’t tell. “It might be like… a low blood sugar thing.” Tango tried his best to be nonchalant, but his friends didn’t look relieved.

Zed stood up, the worry in his face replaced with anger as he crossed the room in long strides towards the door. “I really can’t believe you. Here we are, worried for your life and soul, and you call it low blood sugar.”

That wasn’t meant to happen. Tango rushed to fix his mistake. “I- I’m sorry man. I know you guys are worried, but I’m fine now! Whatever it was, it seems to be gone.” A small smile crossed his friend’s face, and Impulse moved to stand behind Tango, clapping a hand on his back.

“All that matters is you’re alright. Anyway, I think the salt scared the ghost off, so how about we head home, get some post mission pizza for that low blood sugar of yours?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tango grimaced at the disaster that he had apparently made. “How about we tell the homeowners that the ghost did this?”

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The ironic thing is that he wasn’t even on a mission at the time.

Tango was on his way home, cradling a bandaged hand that he would surely have to explain the second he walked into the apartment he shared with his business partners. His mind repeated the events of the past hour as he made his way down the sidewalk.

He had been browsing a thrift store, searching for a new pair of boots after his old pair wore out. He loved them dearly, but when the sole ripped off for the third time, Impulse drew the line and sent him off to find a new pair. His wandering/ moping brought him to One Man’s Trash: a rickety, rundown looking thrift store that was absolutely perfect. In Tango’s experience, all the good stuff got snatched up too fast at more popular stores, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with this place other than its appearance.

He delicately pushed the door open, greeted by a dusty smell mixed with cleaning supplies, and a loud, clear bell that was hung above the doorway. The interior walls were plastered with peeling, faded orange wallpaper that Tango guessed was at least 50 years old. They were decorated with dozens of picture frames containing vintage photos and postcards, each with its own price tag. The grey, carpeted floor complained where he stepped, and it was covered in tables with items for sale. It seemed people donated plenty, but never shopped here. Nobody was attending the front counter, which wasn’t a surprise for a place that probably only saw one customer a month, so Tango began his quest for the perfect pair.

After spending a good hour searching every nook and cranny of the disorganized sales floor, he found a sturdy pair of black leather boots hidden underneath a table, almost knee high with a one inch heel. They were covered in buckles and looked like they would be featured in a suburban parent’s nightmares. In the entire time he was there nobody had come out of the doorway in the back of the room, which Tango admitted was a tad strange. He even checked the sign in the front window to be sure, but the word ‘open’ was still lit up in neon just as it had been when he entered. He tapped the bell next to the cash register, but after a minute still nobody had arrived. He rang it again, and once more after that, still with no answer.

“Hello?” He tried, walking towards the only other doorway in the room, searching for a break room or something where the cashier might be. Maybe they fell asleep. “Is anyone here? I’ve got this pair of boots I want to buy.”

Still no answer.

He felt awful about invading the back room like this, but he was growing concerned. What if something had happened to the cashier? What if someone was in trouble? So, he pushed open the door, and found himself staring up at someone; a man with frazzled black hair and a brown suit that looked about as old as the wallpaper.

Except he could also see the break room. Through the man’s chest.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process what was certainly just a trick of the light. It was obviously just a shadow on the fabric that looked like a couch behind him. A very detailed couch, covered in a floral pattern with two overstuffed pillows on either end. The strange man didn’t say a word, simply staring at Tango with an increasingly malicious grin, watching his mind try to wrap itself around what he was seeing.

Then, without warning, he snatched Tango by the wrist, spinning him around and leaving bleeding scratches where the man’s claw-like nails had torn into Tango’s skin. Before he could even register the pain, the man charged at him and Tango braced for impact, but felt a deep chill instead. It was the coldest he had ever felt, as if every winter from the next hundred years had come to take out their wrath on one man.

It passed half a second later, leaving Tango shivering and clutching his bleeding hand. The man was gone. “How did he- oh shit.”

Sometimes, there comes a time when a person must accept defeat. When they’ve lost the battle, and are left with nothing but their pride. As Tango kneeled on the carpet, frozen to his core and holding his bleeding hand, the boots long forgotten, he could only see one logical explanation for… all of this.

“...Ghosts are actually real.”

So it turned out that the shopkeeper had to step out for a few hours due to an emergency, and also that ghosts exist and haunt thrift stores.

The cashier was really quite nice about the whole ordeal, offering Tango some first aid and the boots he found for free as an apology for their otherworldly roommate’s “antisocial habits.” As Tango walked home, boots in his uninjured hand, he had another revelation, albeit not as earth shattering as the first. He didn’t actually have to tell Zed and Impulse what happened while he was out. It would keep them humble to have someone constantly denying the validity of their work, and Tango may or may not have found it a little, tiny bit funny. He was doing them a service, really! Tango grinned to himself, delighted by how much his friends would appreciate* his help**.

*they did not appreciate this, and were in fact greatly annoyed

**this was not remotely helpful to anyone

Tango woke up, finding himself on the floor as he now did more often than most people would consider normal. Then again, most people weren’t an optimal vessel for otherworldly entities. This time though… something was wrong. More wrong than usual.

He was cold, despite the thick summer air, and he felt like his lungs had shrunk to a quarter of their size, his breath coming in short puffs. He noticed that he was in the same room from before he lost consciousness, and that it was in the same condition he had left it in, which didn’t happen often. Usually ghosts took advantage of corporeal hands to do some property damage, but this time the modern, expensive looking couches were thankfully unbroken, same with the family pictures on the walls.

... What was on his face? Tango felt a liquid slowly running down his cheek. Had the ghost been crying? That was a first. He reached a hand up to wipe away the tears and saw a flash of red. There was a smudge of blood on his left hand, but no injury.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, and slowly reached up with his clean right hand to touch what he had assumed was tears.

Sure enough, his fingertips came away red. “What the hell?” He asked, to nobody in particular.

“Tango! Oh my god, are you alright? Of course not, why am I asking that?” Zedaph burst into the living room, seemingly invited by Tango’s outburst. He grimaced at the floor and Tango followed his gaze to see a concerningly large pool of blood surrounding Tango. This would certainly explain why he felt so much worse than usual. “It threatened you and forced us to leave but then I didn’t leave and I snuck some sage into the room and then I heard a thud and-”

“Zed, slow down.” Tango groaned, holding his spinning head in his hands. “I can’t process a word you’re saying right now.”

Zed seemed to remember his friend’s recent blood loss, looking sheepish. “Right, my bad. It’s a long story, but we need to get you to a hospital or something. Not to be rude, but you look awful.”

“It’s alright, I feel awful so at least I match on the outside.” Zed started to walk across the room, trying not to step in the puddle whilst also trying to help Tango up.

Eventually he managed to pull Tango up by the hand, holding him steady when he started to sway.

Impulse greeted them with relief when they made it out to the car, Tango leaning on Zed’s shoulder, but he looked horrified once Tango’s face came into view. “Oh my god!” He covered his mouth with both hands, then immediately dropped them as though he had been rude. “Oh man, sorry about that, it’s just- your eyes…”

Tango shrugged, “Yeah, they seem to have sprung a leak.”

“Well I knew about that, but…” His eyebrows furrowed as even he, a believer in almost anything supernatural, was confused about whatever disturbing thing this ghost had done. “They changed colour? They’re red now. Like, the whole eye, even the white bit.”

“Cool.”

Zed piped up from his position under Tango’s arm. “‘Cool’? What do you mean ‘cool’?” He did his best to make air quotes without dropping his friend, who had clearly gone mad. “You literally got possessed and started bleeding from your eyes, and now they’ve changed colour, how is any of that cool?”

Tango, in his noble quest to annoy his friends, just shrugged again. “Probably burst a blood vessel or something, and it got in my eyes. Man, why is it always ghosts with you two?”

A Look came across Impulse’s face. Probably Zed’s too, but Tango couldn’t exactly see him. It was a Look that meant Tango had completely baffled them with his supposed obliviousness, which had only happened a few glorious times.

“Ok he’s clearly delirious, we should take him to the hospital.” Impulse pushed himself off the hood of the car and opened the back door, placing a towel on the seat. After all, this was Tango’s car and Impulse figured he probably wouldn’t appreciate blood all over the back seat.

“I mean, regardless of his bullshit he definitely needs to see a doctor, there was a lot of blood on that floor.” Zed quickly followed, helping Tango into the backseat then sliding in next to him. Tango supposed it was to keep an eye on him, which was great because he felt ready to pass out again.

On the bright side, he caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror and they did in fact look cool as hell. Of course, Zed and Impulse later disagreed because it could have been a ‘serious medical issue,’ but that was their problem.

At the end of a very long and very strange day, the trio sat around on a variety of couches and chairs in their living room, four half eaten pizzas scattered about the room. Although, they weren’t exactly a trio anymore - a new member had decided to join them regardless of what Tango, Zed, and Impulse had to say about it. An entity (for he surely wasn’t human) known only as the Beetlejhost sat cross legged in an armchair, looking completely at home despite only having been there for about two hours.

If asked, none of the ghost hunters could precisely recall how the Beetlejhost had joined them. One moment they were on a job like any other, the next they were being insulted up and down by a ghost in a black and white striped suit. After that first encounter he hadn’t left them alone, despite their efforts including but not limited to: every ghost busting method they had ever heard of, and others that they hadn’t.

Impulse sat up straight for no discernable reason, smacking the arms of his chair and startling everyone except for, of course, the Beetlejhost. He turned to Tango with a shit eating grin, which was absolutely a cause for concern.

“Hey Tango?” Uh oh. If the grin wasn’t bad enough, the singing tone in his voice solidified that whatever thought just entered his mind was truly devious. That or incredibly embarrassing. Maybe both. “It seems like our new roommate has a few… strange qualities. Supernatural, one could say.” He looked expectantly at Tango, that awful grin never leaving his face.

Uh oh.

Tango supposed that the jig was up. It had been a good run, he supposed. “Yeah, whatever. Ghosts are real, you happy?”

Just because he was busted didn’t mean he couldn’t sulk, so he crossed his arms and sank into his chair, completing the look by sticking out his bottom lip like a child who was just told ‘no.’

Zed piped up from where the others had assumed he was napping, not bothering to remove his face from where it was planted on the couch. “Absolutely.” The word was muffled, but it got his point across. Meanwhile, Impulse was smugly eating another slice of room temperature pepperoni pizza. Vindicated at last, after over a year of exasperated arguments and comical obliviousness.

“I hope you know I’m only admitting it because I’m afraid of what the Beetlejhost would do to convince me.” Tango gave up on his sulking and walked across the room to the box of cheese pizza precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. The man (or ghost? I suppose one can be both.) in question was looking off into the distance, lost in assuredly horrible thoughts. “And for the record, I figured the whole ghost thing out months ago, I just really liked annoying you guys.”

“Months ago?” Impulse held his pizza inches away from his mouth, the grin wiped off his face. “Are you telling me that when a ghost literally put you in the hospital and you still denied it, that was all just to annoy us?”

Now it was Tango’s turn to be smug. “It worked, didn’t it?”

So no, Tango didn’t believe in ghosts. But after everything he’d seen, he sure as hell believed in them now.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #tangotek #impulsesv #zedaph #joe hills #technically?#my writing #tw blood #tw possession #tw ghosts #ask to tag because theres a lot here #tango is being an asshole and its great #im not exactly sure what to do with the breaks between scenes #if anyone has a better way of doing that please help

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slutsofren · 3 years

Text

Danger Days Chapter 6: Look Alive, Sunshine

summary: the three of you find more questions than answers and the start of a whole new fuckin' problem im so so so sorry

warnings: tw for gore, bloodshed, hurt/little comfort, angst, gunfight, etc

word count: 4,166 she’s a big bitch lol

read on ao3 here / masterlist

“Let’s look around,” Ellie said dejectedly.

Joel walked off on his own, giving the three of you some space. Ellie went through a door and walked down the hall to her right, following it.

The halls and rooms here were void of your previous allies, not a single soul seemed to be here but you could still make out traces of equipment and feel a semblance of sentimentality from your memories. Damned memories tickling at the edge of your mind.

You picked up some papers and read them quickly, hearing Ellie somewhere in another room asking if anybody is there and Joel off to your right in some other room shuffling around. There was still quite a bit of medical paperwork on the hopes of a cure, of somebody like Ellie coming by.

Unfortunately the research was only bits and pieces but you could catch an idea of a project involving infected monkeys. Suddenly you were startled as Ellie shouted, “Yoo-hoo! Fireflies! Cure for mankind over here! Anyone?”

Before you could tell her to stop, Joel reprimanded her. “Let’s keep it down until we figure out what’s going on.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw him savenging around, picking up remnants of med kits, gears, even forgotten bullets and tools. Idly you think hJoel has the right idea and go off searching around too, pocketing the rest of the papers to finish reading them later.

The three of you continue looking quietly until coming to the conclusion there’s not much here.

“You sure this is where they’d be,” Joel asks you.

“Positive. That room over there was my uncle’s office,” you pointed towards an open door. “They must have pushed back further into the building.”

Ellie was the first to walk down a hall, finding it leading across to a landing with elevators and stairs. The man stayed behind for a beat, eyeing you. Likely second-guessing your motioves. Eventually he turned and walked away, following the teen. At the center of it all were large black containers and she kneeled in front of an open one and began to read, Joel joining her in flipping through the papers.

“Nothing useful,” Ellie states, throwing the papers down a bit more harshly than necessary.

“Ain’t nothin’ here but a bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo.”

You reach for some of the books and a binder and flip through them quickly too, noting some words about failed specimens and subjects not surviving an experiment until ultimately being harvested. Whatever they were doing wasn’t going well and they seemed to be feeling the weight of morality on their shoulders. There was an entry logged by some Doctor Anderson about feeling conflicted about torturing humans and questioning if it was worth it.

Shutting the binder quickly and throwing it in your backpack to finish reading it later, your mental dialog cut short as Ellie sighed heavily, “I don’t get it.”

“Looks like they all just packed up and left in a hurry, unless you got a better idea?”

Before you could answer, a loud metallic bang hit from the floor above the three of you. Ellie and Joel looked at each other before she said a bit grimly, “Maybe not all of ‘em left.”

“Stay close,” Joel commanded.

The stairs up to the third floor was behind Ellie and she went up first as you finished zipping up your backpack and tossing it on.

The floor above was more or less the same, open to the central garden in the middle of the building, objects in disarray, out of use vending machines that you’re pretty positive you used to pry open to steal sodas from. All this, but no Fireflies.

Joel went through a door on the left, probably scavenging for more things to find whereas you and Ellie went the scenic route on the outside corridor.

“What do you think happened?”

“Considering they had enough time to pack up research,” you pointed at some boxes, “they must have left willingly.” You shuffled through some more papers, looking for a clue. “But the question is, why leave?”

Ellie walked inside a door and followed the path of some wires that lead to an old flood light, “There are no bodies. That’s good, right?”

“If we find out where they went,” came Joel’s voice from behind you two.

You followed Ellie down the hall, peering into rooms and broken windows to your left. Suddenly there was another noise coming from behind and when the three of you turned, the very same flood light you’d all passed knocked over, lying prone on the ground.

“Shit,” Joel whispered.

“Um… So it’s probably clickers, right?”

You flashed Ellie a look, “Not the time.”

“Right.”

You all held your breath for a few moments, trying to listen until Joel broke the silence, answering Ellie. “No. Clickers don’t hide.”

He looked at you, giving you a once-over, likely weighing the possibility of you betraying him. You responded in kind expression, silently telling him to give whatever plot he has in mind a try.

Wary old bastard, you thought. As if you’d pull a stunt this far into your mission together, even after he began to act lukewarm to your presence.

You took the lead down a tarp covered hall, not really remembering this area much. They probably did push up to these higher levels judging by all the lab equipment left behind.

Digging in your memory, you recalled everybody keeping to the first and second floors in this building to make bailouts quicker. The militia men were on the rooftops to keep an eye out for any stray hunters or other unfriendlies.

Whatever happened on these floors were not from when you kept around.

Your trio came to a corner room that looked as if it were being used as an x-ray exam area, there were large black television-like screens on the wall that had some mangled imagery on them. Whatever it was put a shudder through you. Along the back wall, Joel found an x-ray abandoned on the counter and picked it up, when you and Ellie looked over his shoulder it looked like a skull with fungal growth on it. Like somebody who was infected for quite some time.

“Gross.” Ellie pretended to gag when she saw the photo.

Joel tucked the x-ray away and went on to look around, you followed by looking in the cabinets for alcohol disinfectant. “They had to have left something behind,” you mumbled to yourself as you began to feel the inklings of irritation slip into your bones.

Joel went to another door, this time leading to some room to the right but as he opened it, a screech came and he jumped, “Jesus!”

You drew your pistol from your hip and pointed it outwards, pushing Ellie behind you until you could hear chittering.

Fuckin’ monkeys , you think as you put your weapon down, faintly seeing three monkeys jump out a window on the opposite side of the room.

Ellie walks next to Joel, peeking into the lab he was stepping into and he leans towards her, “Well, at least it aint clickers.”

“Yeah. No Fireflies either,” she steps into the room. She throws her arms open wide, “Well, maybe in all that research they turned into fucking monkeys.”

You try to stifle a laugh but fail, a light giggle leaves your lips. “At least they’re not flying monkeys.”

“Just keep searching, we'll find something,” Joel says, shooting you a pointed look about your banter with Ellie.

The room looked like it used to be a science lab, naturally. The left and back side of the room were lined with metal cages, likely the ones that originally held the monkeys. Otherwise, there were large black countertop tables around, probably where students listened to their lecture and did hands-on assignments. Joel approached one of the tables in the middle, picking up what looked to be a recorder and pressed play.

A male voice clicked on. There were sounds of shuffling and screeches from the monkeys in the background. “That’s four palettes of lab equipment all packed up and ready to go. Now - big question is what do we do with all you guys. They say the tainted batch needs to be put down. You know what I say? I say screw that. Who made a bigger sacrifice than you, right? If anyone deserves to run free out there it’s-. Hey, easy! Agh. Shit. Oh, no. It bit me. Oh my god,” his breath gets heavy and the recorder stops abruptly.

Holy fuck, they were purposefully infecting animals , you think in horror.

“I’m sure glad we didn’t mess with them monkeys,” Joel says. “Did you know?”

You look at him wide-eyed and slack jawed. “Not a fuckin’ clue. I know my uncle was running blood tests and cell regrowth experiments but nothing like that.”

“He didn’t say where they went,” Ellie said, eyeing the two of you. The tension was minorly palpable, whatever small victory you gained in the camradiery field was now likely gone between Joel and you.

“I know, let’s keep looking,” Joel responded.

You fixed your composure and tried to reassure her, “We’ll find them.”

Your small trio followed the room into another, searching that one but finding nothing of interest in the drawers or on the tables. Not even another research binder. There was another door to the right and Joel approached it, trying to push his way in but there was a green metal object keeping it closed. He looked to you, “Hey, come help me.”

Stepping beside him, the two of you pushed against the door, throwing yourselves against it repeatedly to open it until it gave way. Joel gave you a tense nod, a silent thanks as he walked in first, Ellie close on his heels.

It wasn’t until you entered the room did you see it- the body. It looked to have been dead for quite a while, the bones were very obvious but still held together by the clothes wrapped around them. The person was sitting at a desk, facing the window, where Joel loomed over it as if it didn’t bother him and he picked up what looked to be another recorder.

Click. “If you’re looking for the Fireflies, they’ve all left,” a voice said grimly. You recognized it as the same one from earlier.

Ellie looked up from a binder she was flipping through, “Yeah, no shit.”

“I’m dead,” the man continued, “Or I will be soon. Got me some time to reflect.” Joel fast forwards through the tape, “...been years that felt like we were…”

He fast forwards again, ��...fucking thing was a giant waste of ti-...”

And again, “...not gonna do this anymore…”

Ellie sighs while you pace, wishing to listen to the tape in more detail later. “Come on,” Joel grumbles as he fast forwards it yet again.

“...looking for the others, they’ve all returned to Saint Mary’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. You’ll find them there. Still trying to save the world. Good luck with that.”

Ellie sounding mildly hopeful looks to both of you, “Do either of you know where that is?”

“I know the city,” he nods before turning to catch you chewing on your fingernails in thought. “You?”

“I- I remember Marlene mentioning it to Regan on occasion but they talked about it like it was abandoned. I’ve never been there.”

“Is it far,” Ellie asked.

“It ain’t close. I mean on horseback-,” he stops abruptly, something catching his attention out the window.

“What?”

Out of the corner of your eye you see it too. Flashlights peeking through the windows. Just as Ellie asked if they were Fireflies, the light shines on them as they stood by the window and Joel pushed her down, ordering her and you to hit the deck just as whoever was on the other end of that light took a shot at you all, shattering the window.

“Shit,” you shout, ducking down to avoid the coming onslaught of gunfire.

Ellie looked at you, “Who the fuck are these guys?”

He looked at you angrily, “Did you lure them here? Is this some kind of trap?”

“Fuck you, Joel Miller! I didn’t.”

He stared you down. “Fine, It don’t matter,” Joel argued, “We know where to go. Let’s get the hell outta here.” He jerked his chin at you and spit, “Lead the way.”

You wiped the initial shock from your system and went into mission-mode, keeping yourself calm and alert. They followed you out of the room, the three of you crouching to avoid being spotted by the new threat through the windows.

Making your way through the anteroom to the office then through the lab as silently and rapidly as possible while crouching. It wasn’t until you reached the x-ray exam room when you were hit in the chin with something hard, knocking you down, dizzy.

Your mind and vision were in a haze but you managed to catch the vague shape of Joel rush somebody, likely the person who knocked you over, through the newly forming tears in your eyes. Fuck , you thought, your face hurting like a bitch.

Ellie yelled something as she went to help Joel, apparently getting the bright idea to take Joel’s machete from his backpack and swinging it wildly at the stranger.

As they fought the man, you shook your head and rose on your haunches, still dizzy. You could make out the faint shape of a second man running up to attack but through your shifting vision, saw three of him. It didn’t stop you from raising one of your dual guns from your thigh holster, taking aim. Breathing in, slowly breathing out, you took the shot when the three men formed a single one.

The loud bang reverberated through the halls, momentarily distracting you from the brawl happening somewhere to your right but soon that silenced.

“What the fuck was that,” you asked nobody in paricular.

“Don’t look like Fireflies to me,” Joel mumbled in reply, hinting you must have been telling the truth.

Together, you all walked down the tarp covered hall from earlier but saw four shapes run past some red smoke on the only way out of the building, likely trying to cut you all off. “Stay back,” Joel said as he flung one of his makeshift bombs at the intruders. After a moment, it went off and sickly screams were either cut short or continued onto a deadly moan.

Each of you hid behind random turned over tables, guns drawn.

Although six of these strangers were down, it seemed there were more as another came in through the right side, taking a shot at Ellie. Joel responded in kind and shot him square in the neck, the blood splattering a nearby wall.

You followed suit and took aim at somebody ducking below a desk much like you. Your aim was a little off because of that damned kick to the head but you got the guy nonetheless. It was messier than you’d like, the newly forming headache was making things much more difficult.

Together with Joel, you took two more men down until you reached the small lobby where the stairs were only to find another flare emitting red smoke. “What the hell,” you wondered aloud.

“Probably to tell the others how to get to where we were, building is like a maze.”

With that, you and Joel look off, making sure to keep Ellie behind you as your group traversed down the steps, finding another flare. Joel heard them before you and raised his gun. You followed as two more men rounded the corner, both being taken down by the bullets you both expelled into their bodies.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears at the adrenaline rushing through your veins, no matter how much you remained focused at the task at hand. You took a breath in an attempt to ground yourself, following Joel closely behind as he was about to round the same corner, stepping over the two dead bodies when you grabbed Joel, pulling him back as a bullet whizzed by. “Fuckin’ hell,” he gasped.

Taking to the wall you peered out and quickly aimed, letting another bullet rain free. It clashed into the wall behind your target, narrowly missing as the man ducked behind the poor choice of the glass railing. Joel put his hand on your waist, pulling you close as he leaned back around taking his chance on the guy. He must have made it count because soon you heard a soft thud of the body collapsing.

If you weren’t so preoccupied trying to stay alive, you might have noticed Joel kept his large hand on you for a few moments longer than necessary.

Joel left the relative safety of the second floor lobby, nearly running to the exit. You grabbed onto Ellie’s hand as you shoved your nearly empty gun into it’s holster on your thigh, following him. He came to the closed door that led to the next area of classrooms to get you all down to the ground floor but just as he went to open it, it banged open from the inside starling all of you. The force was so strong that it pushed Joel to the glass railing behind him, his body teetering over the edge.

“Joel!”

You dropped Ellie’s hand as you ran to him, trying to get the other man off of him as he choked your companion. By the force and chaos, the rail gave way underneath Joel. As he fell, he pulled the stranger with him.

A scream surely left you as you watched in horror as the two men fell to the ground but it grew louder when you noticed a sickening metal bar poking it’s way through Joel’s stomach, staining red in the sunlight. Beside him, the attacker lay dead in a mangled heap of limbs, his neck at an unnatural angle.

You began to shuffle onto your stomach to drop the distance from the balcony walkway to the ground floor, Ellie close behind you copying your maneuver. Together, you both landed on the ground awkwardly and unbalanced. It was so unbelievably impossible to stay focused as you watched Joel writhe in pain from the impalement as loud banging seemed to invade your senses.

Ellie jumped straight to Joel asking in a rushed panic, “What do you want me to do?”

You couldn’t hear what he said when the double doors burst open, two men with a baseball bat and machete appearing. You grabbed both of your guns, unleashing lead into them with a little more force than necessary.

When you turned back around, you saw Ellie trying to lift Joel. “Don’t!”

You ran to him and dropped to your knees, removing your backpack and began to scrounge around for clean gauze. “You’re only going to create more damage, you old bastard. Stay still.”

With the gauze in hand, you motioned for Ellie to put as much pressure as she could on the frontside of the wound. You tried your best not to jolt him around so much as you tried to assess the entry wound on his back, only to find it was buried in cement beneath him. He groaned, calling out a string of curse words.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t need to if you had good bedside manners. Goddamned brat.”

His small jab at you could have made you cry if you weren’t so invested in keeping the old man alive and with no other alternative to removing the rebar safely from him, you had no choice but to lift him away from it.

You reached into your backpack once more and grabbed a strap of leather you usually kept close by, mostly to fiddle with, and shoved it into his mouth. “To keep you from biting off your own tongue,” you explained while adjusting your position to be directly behind his upper body to prepare and stanche the blood flow from his back. “Although I think we could all use the peace and quiet.”

Whatever comeback he had was cut off as he yelled, muted by the bit. While he was distracted by your words, you had nodded to Ellie to lift Joel straight up. He quickly fell to his knees as he tried to stand, probably ready to pass out from the pain and you padded the entry wound with gauze, holding it tightly.

His words came out weak as he told Ellie, “Just get to the damn horses.”

She looked at you and you nodded, removing one hand to give her a gun. “Do whatever it takes, kiddo.”

She walked in front of you both, her arms held high with the gun in her hand, ready to take on anybody else. She led you both to a classroom and knocked over some wood panels that barely covered a broken window.

“Do you think you can handle it,” you asked him.

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to throw his body over the edge, finding himself on his back once more. “Come on, move,” Ellie demanded of him as you jumped through the window after them. Just as she got him sitting up against a table, another man burst through the door across the classroom, gun ready to fire.

Seeing as you were getting rather low on your own bullets, you reached for Joel’s revolver and threw yourself out from behind the lab table, firing two shots and hitting him in the torso.

“Come on, we gotta get you outta here,” you told him. One look at Ellie and you saw her hands and sweater covered in Joel’s blood, you likely looked the same. Brushing those thoughts away, you and her flanked him on either side, trying to walk him out.

“No, I’m okay,” he moaned. Trying to push you both off him.

“Like shit,” Ellie threw back, “You’re not okay, Joel. Now come on! Fucking walk!”

You kept your free hand up, gun drawn, and Ellie matched your pose to his left. “Down this hall,” you directed, “To the left is the main entrance, we can leave through there.”

Don’t die on me now, Joel Miller , you silently wished, hoped, prayed.

Joel began to sway between you two, his feet were failing beneath him. His body in your arms grew heavier and sluggish with each step making it harder to walk straight. You really tried to keep the gauze at his back secure against the wound but it was hard to do that while also trying to keep him balanced. As you were distracted by assessing the man, he moaned out, “Up.”

You and Ellie looked up the stairs that were against the wall in the lobby and saw two men coming towards you all, “There!”

Ellie raised her gun first, taking shots at random and you did too. It was difficult to do while doing everything possible to not drop Joel but somehow, they too, fell dead along the stairs. On his other side, the teen poked at him out of breath, “I swear to god, I get you out of this, you’re so singing for me.”

You decide to jump in on the joke, trying to lighten the mood, “I think you mean ‘for us’, Ellie.”

Joel coughed a laugh, “You wish.”

Slowly the front entrance inched closer. Ellie left to pry it open and let you two through and Joel let go of you, shoving his body and burst through the secondary doors. He lost his balance and fell down the steps only to see as some other hooded figure with his hands on Whiskey and Callus’ reigns.

Before the straggler could even draw a weapon, you and Ellie took shots at him. Joel’s revolver clicked, notifying it was out, just as the man let go of the horses.

You ran to Joel, lifting him up to his feet. He groaned in pain, “I know, I’m sorry. Just a little longer, alright, cowboy?”

He gave you an odd look as Ellie appeared and she asked him, “Can you get on?”

Whether or not he can is entirely different than if he will, you thought. You were proven right as he jumped up on Whiskey, not even noticing he was getting on the wrong horse.

“Ellie, get on Callus,” you told her as you also swung your leg over Whiskey, saddling in front of Joel. “As for you, don’t bleed all over my goddamn horse. Hold tight.”

A part of you was worried that he didn’t even bother to jab, you kicked Whiskey’s underbelly and Joel’s body slouched against your back, passing out. The fact the warmth that seeped through your body was likely his blood was gnawing against the corners of your mind but you shooed the thoughts away. Together with Ellie, you filed out of the university as fast as you could, not looking back.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel (the last of us)#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel tlou x reader insert #joel tlou x reader #joel miller / reader #joel tlou x you #joel (the last of us) x reader #asher's writing #danger days fic #pedro pascal joel miller #posted on ao3

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theonlygamergost · 4 years

Text

A tattoo for a lost bet - Fd!au (1/3)

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

This fic was corrected by the lovely @im-default

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Techno and Skeppy bet on stupid things, and sometimes their bets can have very severe consequence if lost.

If you want to, look at what Minetra’s desing of Techno tattoo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tw! Betting, swearing. Btw, this is very long

Next part --->

Enjoy~

Childhood friends usually have that one thing they used to do or say when they were young, maybe even a habit they caught together and never got rid of. Techno and Skeppy used to bet on the stupidest things when they were young… Well, they still do bet on the stupidest things, but there is a difference from when they were young: they have some money now.

It was very normal for them to bet a couple of dollars on the stupidest things.

“My bus is going to arrive earlier than yours” Bet

“I’ll finish my homework before you” Bet

“I’m betting that you can’t finish your burger before I do” You’re on.

And these are just some examples, they really betted on everything, and Techno won half of them.

That’s why Skeppy stopped betting too much money when playing with him, literally half of Techno’s income was his won bets against him.

That’s why Techno barely stepped down from a bet coming from Skeppy, he was so confident that he also would bet the stupidest things to gain some dollars.

They didn’t bet only money though, they bet other things like objects or small things they had to do if they lost.

And honestly, Techno was so confident he could win a 1v1 in Minecraft against Skeppy, even though if he lost, he had to get a tattoo.

He hadn’t played in a few days due to all-nighters for last-minute tests, but Skeppy was worse than him anyway, it would have been fine… Right?

“You should get something edgy... like a skull!”

“I hate you”

Skeppy laughed as they stood in the waiting room of a tattoo place in town, Techno had lost the bet, and now, he had to get a tattoo.

“Look, you’re lucky I didn’t specify what tattoo you had to get” Techno took off his glasses and allowed his head to fall into his hands, “I know, if it was for you I’d have a dick tattooed on my forehead” Skeppy laughed again, Techno just exhaled in exasperation, out of all of the times he had to lose a bet, why this one?

The customer before them got up and entered what they guessed was the studio, Techno tensed up a little bit

“Do you already have an idea of what you’re getting? I’m pretty good at suggestions” He announced proudly placing his hands on his hips, gaining a death stare from Techno. “You are the last person I’d ask for a suggestion” Skeppy whispered “Ouch” before both of them smiled.

“To answer your question, yes, I do have something in mind”

I mean… after passing an entire night up, looking at tattoo ideas, he had an idea of what he could get, he just couldn’t find a photo or a drawing of what he wanted.

“By the way… “ Skeppy slipped his phone out of his hoodie, “... did you tell Phil about this?”

He froze

Skeppy noticed

“Don’t tell me… “ The boy with the light blue hoodie didn’t finish the question, scared of the answer.

Techno sighed…

and nodded.

“OH MY GOD TECHNO!!!” Skeppy bounced out of his seat, “ I THOUGHT YOU TOLD PHIL ABOUT THIS!!!” Techno gestured at him to be quiet, Skeppy sat back down.

“Phil would have never agreed to this! I had to do this without telling anyone” The customer and the Tattooist came out of the studio, “Plus, I’m doing this somewhere I can hide it pretty easily” he reassured, but mostly himself.

“Dude, you sound like you’re getting it on your butt” Techno pushed him lightly in response.

As the customer left, the tattoo artist came up to them and asked who of the two were here to get tattooed, Techno took a deep breath and got up.

No turning back now

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I applied a layer of petroleum jelly and put on a bandage, you’ll have to keep it for about twenty-four hours” Techno carefully listened to the tattooist after stepping out of the studio, “To avoid getting an infection, wash it with an antimicrobial soap and water, you can find it in any store, I recommend patting it dry instead of scratching it, put vaseline on it and keep it moisturized,” Skeppy was comfortably sitting on the couch, half-listening to what they were saying.

“For how long do I have to do this? Techno gently placed a hand on his left shoulder, “It’s a pretty big tattoo so...about four weeks” Skeppy’s eyes widened, p-pretty big? Four weeks? What in the hell did Techno get?

“Remember to do the whole process two times a day and don’t expose it to the sun, if you ever have any questions or insecurities, come see me kid, no worries.” Techno politely thanked him and gestured at Skeppy to follow him out, oh boy did Skeppy have questions for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“THERE WAS NO NEED TO GET IT THAT BIG!!!” Skeppy freaked out when Techno had told him the tattoo went from his left shoulder all the way to his elbow, he could have just gotten a letter or a dot and it would have been fine for him.

“To be honest, I was thinking of getting it smaller, but then the tattooer showed me a design he drew and… “ Rubbing the back of his head, he explained to Skeppy what happened in the studio while he was deciding what to get tattooed. Skeppy calmed down hearing his friend happy about the choice he had made, hoping that he wasn’t going to regret it later.

“By the way… can I see it? Now you’ve made me curious!” Techno shook his head and Skeppy frowned in disappointment.

“I can’t show it right now, the bandages are on it and I can’t take them off for a day, maybe tomorrow at school” Techno smiled subtly, he will never admit this but he couldn’t wait to show Skeppy his tattoo.

Making their way to the bus stop, they shared earbuds to listen to some music, right now they were using Techno’s phone meaning that Monstercat was playing it their ears, specifically, “Call me” by Subtact.

But the music was just a background to fill in an eventual moment of silence, they had been talking since they left the coffee shop and the tattoo argument never left the conversation.

“Would you ever get a tattoo Skeppy?” Techno asked curiously, walking side by side with his best friend, his hands were casually placed in his hoodie’s pockets.

The brown-haired boy had his hands behind his head in a very anime-like pose, “Maybe, I think it would be way smaller than yours though” the sky over the city was grey, the sun’s light was barely able to pass through the immense stretch of clouds, summer was ending and school had already started.

The two young boys arrived at the bus stop and kept chatting until their ride home arrived, Techno’s bus arrived first so they waved their goodbye’s and went their own way.

While looking outside of the window, he started thinking about how to avoid any possible questions about the bandages in the bathroom that his brothers could find.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He opened the front door to find two brothers playing cards on the coffee table, both of them too absorbed in the game to greet him.

“What are you guys doing?” Techno passed next to them to go leave his bag into his room, “Waiting for you to get home, dinner is ready and Phil won’t be coming home until later” Wilbur spoke up, eyes fixed on his cards, “Don’t disappear Technoblade, I just need to heat the food and we can eat” Techno nodded and entered his room, opening his backpack to grab out the bandages and soap he bought before parting ways with Skeppy, he knew there was vaseline somewhere in the bathroom and Will had a moisturizing cream he never admits he has and uses, there was no point in buying them since they were at home already, he could just borrow them.

After taking his shoes off and slipping in his slippers, he exited his room to sit at the counter to eat with Wilbur and Tommy, placing his glasses by his plate and rubbing his tired eyes before taking his first bite.

There were about two or three minutes of silence before anyone started talking.

“Tubbo said that he, Nikki and Eret are planning on a movie night next Saturday, they invited us” Tommy broke the silence, the Berry siblings loved doing movie nights, they had a small projector which served as a monitor and a big ass couch where them plus the Pandel could all fit if squished a bit, reason why they usually invited them.

“I already said I’m going, you guys coming too?” He looked at his older brothers, but his gaze fixed on Techno’s left shoulder… was it just an impression or…?

“I don’t have anything to do so, yeah I’m down” Wilbur replied after taking a sip of water, “You Techno?”

Now both of their gazes were on the pink-haired brother, who was currently munching on a vegetable. “Yeah sure,” he shrugged it off, “Have you asked Phil yet?”

Tommy’s eyes were still fixed on Techno’s left shoulder, “No… I was thinking of…asking him when he came- Techno wh-why is your left shoulder bigger than usual?”

He almost choked on his salad.

“What are you- Oh… yeah, you’re right” Wilbur also looked at his shoulder, welp, fuck.

“I… uh…” Techno almost stuttered, he had forgotten how vigil and attentive to details Tommy could be… what could he tell them…

Saying that he got in a fight was the worst idea ever, knowing his brothers they would have asked him the name, grade and address of who did this to him, so that idea was out of the question.

Eh, just deny it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he took another fork of his salad, trying to play it cool, “But I swear it looks-”

“Maybe it’s this hoodie” he quickly interrupted him, he had to get the attention somewhere else, fast.

“This hoodie is pretty fluffy and I didn’t use it for the entirety of summer so… “ He trailed off, leaving Tommy very suspicious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day at school wasn’t too different from others, the only “unnatural” thing he had to do was go get a violin and carry it from one side of high school to the other, thank god he usually carried stuff mostly on his right shoulder.

Speaking of carrying, he had to carry his backpack on only his right shoulder, a thing he despised and never did, but placing any type of weight on the new freshly-made tattoo stung a little bit, hopefully in a couple of days he could go back to using both shoulders normally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bandages… vaseline… the soap is already in the bathroom… “ It had passed twenty-four hours from when he got the tattoo, it was time for him to change the bandage, and to do so, he wanted to be a hundred per cent sure he had everything he needed before going to the bathroom.

He grabbed all of the necessary things and peaked into the living room, Wilbur was in his room and Tommy wasn’t home yet so he took a deep breath and silently DASHED to the bathroom.

First thing first.

Lock. The. Door.

He wasn’t about to get walked in on by one of his brothers, so he locked the door and took another deep breath, he was now partially safe.

Underneath his hoodie, he had changed after arriving home into his only tank top, aka Wilbur got gifted one but he didn’t like it, so much that when doing laundry he had placed it in the stack of Techno’s clothes, so now it was his.

He didn’t want to do the whole operation shirtless so I guess the tank top was pretty convenient.

Stripping out of his hoodie, he looked at the bandages wrapped around his arm and the deep bags under his eyes: if someone else looked at him, they would think he was part of a gang or something.

Carefully peeling off the bandages, he realized that the skin around the tattoo was pretty red, the bits that were getting exposed to the air felt hot, it was going to be a big problem if he had gotten an infection.

As the last part came off, Techno looked once again in the mirror, the beautiful floral tattoo that he had seen drawn on paper by the tattooist look way better on skin, his skin.

Techno was afraid of regretting his decision, getting a tattoo this big from a day to another was careless of him, but god it looked pretty, he loved it.

Realizing that he was smiling at his own reflection, he shook it off and got back into a more concentrated state.

As the tattooist said, with a glass, he poured over the black ink cold water, his shoulders loosened up at the welcome sensation of chill washing over him.

He took the soap he bought and started making slow and soft circular motions, pressing as little as he could-

The sound of the handle trying to open the door made him jump, oh no no no, please…

“What do you want?” he recomposed himself and spoke with his usual unbothered voice, “Did you lock the bathroom Techno?! Why the fuck would you do that?!”, a high voice came from the other side of the door, Tommy must have arrived home from practice and he usually takes a shower right after entering the apartment so…

“It’s called privacy Tommy, plus I just got out of the shower, and no, I’m not rushing, I’m taking my sweet time” A loud groan could be heard right before footsteps walking away, Techno sighed, close one.

He continued taking care of his tattoo with extreme caution, washing away the soap, applying the vaseline, and wrapping it back up again. He threw everything in his drawer ( who usually only had the gel he occasionally used and his trusted comb), put on the hoodie again and shouted at Tommy that the bathroom was free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that, he went straight back into his room to work on the unusually low number of homework, unfortunately, it was French, so it didn’t matter how much stuff he had to do, it was going to take a long time either way.

He finished around the time that Phil got home, the older brother had the habit of greeting every brother one by one, so when a “Hello Technomate~” arrived from the slightly open door, Techno smiled and replied with the least dead-inside voice he could make: “Welcome back home Phil”

He was about to close his textbook as Phil’s voice in the distance asked him a question he wasn’t expecting.

“Hey Techno… Why do you have bandages in your drawer?”

Time stopped and Techno froze, a shiver shot up his spine. Why did Phil open his bathroom drawer?

“Uh… Well… Tommy sometimes comes home with cuts and bruises so I bought bandages in case he ever needs them” It wasn’t a lie, Techno would always patch up Tommy if he got hurt when his protect-the-weak vigilante moves failed him and he got some bruises, his voice was a little shaky but he was so far away from Phil that he probably didn’t notice.

“Huh… That’s… awfully empathic of you… “

Techno stood completely still for a couple more seconds waiting for him to find the antimicrobial soap and the vaseline, but it never happened.

He exhaled after taking off his glasses, throwing himself on the bed, turning to face the ceiling.

He didn’t regret getting this tattoo, but for how long could he keep it hidden from his brothers? For how long would he be able to lie to his brother?

Only time could tell.

#technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #ph1lza #the eret #nihachu #tubbolive #my writing #my fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #fd!au #fd au #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction

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kai5621 · 3 years

Text

Deja vu [Heisenberg x OC]

Warning: age gap, slow burn, platonic to romantic relationship. Grammer issues (english is my first language criiii) . Child abuse, family abuse, death (not major character ). Eventual smut (maybe?）

Note: OK !!!! SO after drawing a bunch of RE8 OCs I finally could resist my self writing my own story about it. Cuz damm Heisenberg stole all my heart and I have no complains about it.

This is my first time writing a fanfic, so I will try my best !! And lastly-----

HEISENBERG DESERVES SOOO MUCH MROE LOVE.

And here’s a little potrait thet I drew for the oc (as for why I didn’t draw heisenberg as well, is bcuz im shit at drawing males ┭┮﹏┭┮)

The first time Heisenberg met Erin, she was only eight, can barely reach his waist and always be smiling everyday, like an every single child would at her age. She came to this shitty village with her dad, which claims to be her only family member. They are obviously foreigners to the villagers, as no one remembered there’s anyone in this place would have a such strong British accent, therefore they must be new.

Their family history has remained a mystery to most of them, oddly enough, only a few people who are about eighty or ninety years old do recall their family name, and were quite surprised to see that Erin’s father is back here again. Although every single one of them would shoot him with fierce glances that are not so friendly, even towards Erin. Except for Luiza, but even though her kindness was mainly for the poor little girl.

“I don’t understand, Charles. If you decided to leave this place before with such determination, why bother came back?” She asked her father sternly, while watching Erin just quietly standing behind him. She was thin, with a long, dark raven hair tied into a loose pony tail. But she does look endearing, those big, innocent watery eyes could gain everyone’s sympathy.

“That’s none of your business, and why does it even matter to you?” He seemed annoyed when answering this question, he roughly grabbed Erin’s wrist, without looking any of the people here, he just simply left, leaving others remain in silent confusion. Some younger villagers did ask Luiza about Erin’s origin, but all the time she just shooked her head, signed heavily.

“May mother Miranda bless that little girl. She does not deserve such man as her father.....”

Of course, Heisenberg would never missed such local news from the village. He did pay a visit to the new “guests” before informing Miranda and his siblings. The appearance of new faces surely hooked his curiosity quite high, but to be honest, he doesn’t even understand why he was that excited, as surely they would probably just end like the locals here, worshiping Miranda like she’s an actual god, and then would went missing mysteriously but eventually end up on her cold, metal operating table, with chest being cut open, blood splatters all around the body, while the Cadou parasite just devouring the remains.

Didn’t someone mentioned the family also has a daughter? Ah, then perhaps that lucky little thing would go to his sister’s castle and can becomes one of the “maid”. Just another victim, Heisenberg thought to himself, he could not hide his grin back. Holding his hammer at the back of his shoulder, he walked quickly to that infamous cottage where the new family is settled, a few quite whispers can be heard during his journey, the villagers were all surprised to see the presence of the metal lord, and naturally inquiring behind his journey.

Just like before, Heisenberg ignored all of them,

When he finally reached the shabby wooden door, of the cottage, he didn’t even bother knocking, just pushed the door wide open violently, using his ridiculous strength meanwhile announcing his arrival.

“Well, well, there’s been news all around the village about the new family, and I thought I could a pay a little visit, to get to know the new members! You are welcome, by the way......”

But when all he saw was a little girl standing by the dinning table, looking confused and stunned at him, his smug smile disappeared quickly, and even the eyes behind his dark specs were filled with momentary surprise.

“Uh, sir?” She asked quietly, putting the tray of cookies down on the table in a panic.

“Are you.... my father’s guest? I’m really sorry, he will be a away for a quite long time, and I’m not sure if.....”

He stood there for a moment, and then realized that she must be the daughter, although she’s much much younger than he anticipated. He cut her off before she finished the sentence : “Huh, so you don’t know who I am ?”

She looked so lost, after blinked her eyes a few times, she nervously said : “Sorry sir, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Heisenberg was never good with children, never, he didn’t really know what to do, after all he wasn’t expecting to meet a child who probably doesn’t even know what a dick is. So, they just stood where they were before, and staring at each other awkwardly in silence, to a point that even the little girl started to feel uncomfortable. She looked around quickly, trying to find something that could resolve this situation, then her eyes fixed on the tray of cookies on the table.

“Um, maybe...do you want to have a cookie, sir?”

The man with the hammer went speechless, he coughed a few times, put his hammer down next to the door frame, and blankly replied back with a tiny bit of fluster.

“Alright then. ”

It was fucking ridiculous.

Heisenberg would never imagined himself sitting in a old cottage, eating chocolate cookies and drinking teas like a normal human, while chatting with an eight years old girl.

Yes, he’s never good with kids, why would he? Being brought by a psycho bitch means he shouldn’t have any sympathy towards anything, everyone in this village had a good taste about his temper before, even his “Lord” title makes it too intimidate for anyone to have any contact with him. Thus, he never had a decent conversation with anyone else besides his cursed family. Frankly speaking, they were not really conversations, more like endless quarrels.

He had a quick look around in the room, when Erin went to the kitchen to make tea. This place is shabby, there’s no doubt about it. No painting, no decorations, only an old wool blanket laying down on the floor of the living room. He could see a few photo frames on the bookshelf, cover by dusts. He tried to have to closer look, but all he could see was three people standing together, presumably a family photo that was taken a long time ago.

“Here’s your tea, sir. And there’s milk and sugar.” She was holding a big tray, walking carefully towards table and almost got tripped by the chair. Heisenberg almost chuckled at her clumsy yet cute actions, but he remained silent, and finished his ninth cookie.

“Well, thanks, little one.” He said simply, then started to sip his tea. He saw Erin was standing next to the table like a lost little lamb, he can’t help but chuckled a bit, gesturing her towards the seat across him.

“ Oh come on, no need to be so frightened! I won’t eat ya.”

She was a bit hesitate at first, but eventually took his offer, sit across the table facing him. Although the teapot blocked half of her face.

“So....” Heisenberg started again, with his smug smile back on his face: “You are new here aren’t you, with your family.”

“Yes. Me and my father came a week ago, from England. But he used to live here, at least that’s what I know. ”

That made his curiosity even higher. An outsider, that originally lived here, how interesting, and how did they even escaped this twisted place.

“Where’s your father now?”

This question let her seemed a bit troubled, she shooked her head, looking disappointed : “I don’t know, sir. He said he’s busy, and that’s it.”

His grin became wider: “And didn’t your daddy tell you, that do not let strangers come into your house while you are alone?”

To his surprise, she did not seem scared, but instead she tilted her head as she was a bit confused, and answered him back politely.

“But I didn’t let you in, sir. You just opened the door and, broke in........”

Heisenberg burst into laughter right after he heard this answer, it was really loud, even the teapot and the cups on the table started to shake a bit, but thankfully Erin didn’t notice, she was completely stunned by his reaction and didn’t know what to do. She thought she probably offend him by saying that. But the truth is, Heisenberg is not mad at all, this child’s unintentional boldness is exactly what he likes.

“ Oh yes! I did break into your house, and aren’t you scared?”

“Should I be scared?” She calmly asked him back, filling his cup again with more tea. “I was tho, but you seem like a nice guy. At least I don’t think a bad person would eat my cookies and having tea with me. If you want harm me you would've done this way earlier.”

He could have so much fun with this kid, Heisenberg though to himself. An outsider was rare enough on its own, no praying, no worshiping, and he won’t hear all those “Miranda bless us” shit. Although, it’s quite ironic that his first decent conservation in 20 was held with a freaking child.

But he’s not complaining. He finished his tea, looking around the room for the last time then shoot his glance back on her. He stood up, ignoring the girl’s skeptical look, Heisenberg chuckled a bit.

With that, he simply waved his hand, and left the house.

“Well, thank you for your service little one, I’m afraid I must got now. But I’m sure we will meet again soon.”

He grabbed his hammer by the door frame, opened the door in a swift motion.

“And send my greetings to your father, will you, little one?”

#karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg fanfic

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jbbarnesnnoble · 3 years

Text

That First Day (1/2)

Summary: Grief shows itself in different ways. In the wake of losing Tony and Natasha, the Avengers know they have to begin moving forward and begin answering the questions they'd rather leave unanswered.

Features: Angst; Grief; Canonical Character Death; Polyamorous Avengers

Pairing: Tony Stark/Natasha Romanoff/Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers/Bruce Banner/Pepper Potts/Thor/Wanda Maximoff/Reader; Hint of Laura Barton/Clint Barton/Natasha Romoff

Notes: I'm planning on this being two chapters. I felt like it was getting two long and that it was a logical break to split up the two days. I'm hoping to have the second half done later this week.

Word Count: 2898

The sun was barely above the horizon as you made your way toward the tree in the clearing. A resting place for those who had no rest in life. A heaviness still clung to you, refusing to let go. The fog was lifting, creating a picturesque scene out of a painting. Your heart was heavy. It had only been a month since the battle, since losing Natasha, losing Tony. You thought for a moment you would lose Steve too. You may as well have, you thought bitterly. He holed up at his place in Brooklyn, only seeing Bucky and occasionally Sam, who had had to force his way into being accepted as a presence there. Your stubborn boys were looking out for each other, that was certain.

Heaviness settled over you like a worn blanket you couldn’t part with. You wanted to, God, you desperately wanted the hurt to stop. If the previous five years with some of the team missing had been hard, it could never compare to the pain you felt now. At least then, there had been a hope, no matter how small, that maybe someday you would find a way to fix it. Scott Lang had appeared, setting in motion the events that would tear two parts of the whole away, forever.

You had hoped, when Steve brought the stones back, that perhaps Natasha would return with him, that Tony’s sacrifice would at least see you reunited with her. You had nearly lost it on Strange when you realized he knew how the battle would end, the sacrifice that would be made. Bucky and Sam had both held you back as you had screamed at him. The sound of your heart breaking had pierced through them all. They felt it too. The feeling of loss refused to dissipate, and everyone was dealing with it in their own way. Some, better than others, you thought to yourself as you moved through the field.

You approached the tree, sitting down in front of the two stones. It still stung, not having a body to bury, that Natasha’s body was somewhere on Vormir, not home, where she belonged. You traced the letters on both stones, a habit you had gotten into. The closest thing to touching either of them that you had.

Silence covered the clearing, aside from the chirping of birds. You loved that sound, once upon a time, but now it felt like a mockery of the pain you felt. The team, once more fractured, broken in a way you weren’t sure time could fix.

“I miss you, both of you. We haven’t been the same since. Not really. We’re splintered, scattered. We finally got them back, only to lose both of you. That’s not how this was supposed to happen. We were supposed to all be together again, finally mend what broke. How can we do that when you’re both gone? Things have been hard. It feels like everything is falling apart and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do,” you said as your voice broke.

You drew your knees close to your chest as you sobbed, broken words whispered in the early morning light. You thought about Natasha’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close and whispering that things would be okay. Tony holding you close and telling you it would work out, because it had to. You wished that they were there.

The sun rose higher in the sky as you stood, retracing your steps back to the cabin where Pepper was sure to be making breakfast with Bruce watching over Morgan.

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The clock on the wall ticked past seven. Bucky could hear Steve in the kitchen, back from his run. He had opted to sleep in, a rarity. The bed seemed colder than he remembered in the days since he returned. He and Steve had been sharing, but more often than not, Steve was gone before Bucky awoke.

He had tentatively been invited into whatever it was the team had going on when he was in Wakanda. It had taken time. Tony had gone to visit him secretly. He had, after, still been a wanted man until after he was dusted. Tony Stark had been instrumental in clearing his name, in defending him. He never had the chance to really get to know the other man. It struck at him in a way he didn’t expect.

He knew Steve was trying to isolate himself. Trying to blame himself for losing Natasha, losing Tony. Bucky was too stubborn to let him. Sam had the same idea and stopped by as often as he could. Bucky thought about you, how you’d been floating around. Last he’d heard, you were with Bruce and Pepper at the cabin. He knew you were struggling, but he trusted Bruce to watch over both you and Pepper.

Bucky counted the seconds as he listened to Steve’s movements. He knew when he heard the clanking of coffee cups that it was time to get up and join him. As he got out of bed, he glanced at the photo sitting on the dresser. It was from before Thanos. The team had gathered in Wakanda. With half of the team still considered to be wanted criminals as the other half worked to clear their names, it was near impossible for them to meet up otherwise. You were squeezed between Bucky and Natasha, their arms slung around you. Tony was sitting happily leaning against Natasha with his feet over the side of the couch and his head in your lap. Sam and Wanda sat on the floor in front of the couch, with Pepper beside Wanda with Tony’s hand lazily linked with hers. Steve, Bruce, Clint, and Thor stood behind the couch, arms around each other. A small moment of happiness before everything shattered. Steve had taken to keeping the photo face down since he returned to Brooklyn. It surprised Bucky to see it upright.

In the kitchen, Steve hummed to himself as he worked on breakfast. Bucky would be up soon and he knew Sam would be by. It was the first time since the battle that he felt almost okay. He spent longer than he would have liked staring at the photo when he woke up that morning. It hurt still, to see it and know that there were two missing pieces. But he knew. He knew that Natasha would probably kick his ass if he wallowed any longer. She would never want any of them to stop living. Tony wouldn’t have been far behind her.

Steve smiled as he heard Bucky approach the kitchen. He plated the eggs and bacon just as the toast popped from the toaster. His heart didn’t clench like it had when he first returned to Brooklyn. The toaster had been a gift from Tony, specially made to make enough toast in one go for a super soldier’s appetite. It had been a gag gift, but Steve loved it, knowing that Tony made it because he cared about him. Sometimes, that was just how Tony showed his feelings, through little jokes that allowed him to deflect, but still showed he listened and he cared. Steve had made the joking comment about needing to buy more toasters a handful of times before Tony had given him that toaster as a joke.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve asked, startling Bucky, who had been staring at him like he’d seen a ghost. And in some way, he had. He hadn’t seen Steve look happy since before he was snapped away. The aftermath of the battle had left them all heartbroken and regrouping as they dealt with the grief. Steve had rarely rested in the few weeks that had passed, a month that felt like a lifetime.

“Good, Stevie, real good,” Bucky said as he took a seat. Steve set the plate down in front of him, before giving him a gentle kiss, another first since that day. Steve had been so closed off, Bucky had been at a loss of what to do. It was progress as Steve settled in to eat beside him, for once, the silence wasn’t painful as they ate. Bucky’s thoughts drifted to the rest of the team, what the others were up to, how they were doing. He checked in daily, but nothing could ever beat having everyone in one place.

As they cleaned up after breakfast, Steve gazed out the window above the sink, a soft smile gracing his face as he saw a cardinal land on a tree branch.

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The sun was barely over the horizon as Clint made his way back to the house. He had snuck out early, heading to where he had targets set up. He needed to take his mind off everything. After Tony’s funeral and the service they held for Natasha, Clint had headed back to the farm. Laura knew what the team meant to him, the relationship they shared. In her own way, she was part of it. Clint lost track of the nights they spent with Natasha, who for the longest time, had been the only one to know Laura. He chuckled as he remembered the look of fury on Steve’s face when he had brought them to the farm. Steve had thought Laura had been unaware, until he saw the chaste kiss she placed on Natasha’s lips when the redhead had approached her.

Clint remembered when Tony hit on her, only to be turned down when his wife said two Avengers was enough for her. Tony had been shocked before he laughed, the first true moment of levity since Ultron had been unleashed. Even still, he knew the two had formed a strong friendship. Tony had ensured the security of the farm from that day on, something Clint never had the chance to thank him for, not really. The mess with the Accords happened, the team felt like it was fractured and frayed, their relationship even more so. It wasn’t until the trip to Wakanda that everything had felt right again.

Laura watched as her husband moved around the house, putting his equipment away and out of reach of the children as she cleaned up the mess from breakfast. Clint’s plate sat waiting for him. She knew it was time to have the talk they had been avoiding.

“Tell me something, anything you want,” Laura said as Clint finished his breakfast. He let out a sigh, bracing himself for the conversation he knew was long past due.

“It should have been me,” Clint replied, his voice shaking.

“And if it had been?” Laura asked.

“Nat would be here. She would’ve helped take care of you, the kids. She’d have her life. She could do anything,” Clint said, his voice breaking. Laura didn’t think he’d open up that fast. The fact that he had told her a lot. He had been thinking about it for a while. Laura pulled him to her chest as he spoke, running her hand along the nape of his neck and down his back in comfort. The children would be occupied for a while, that much she knew. She had planned for this talk, knowing that one day more would simply be one day too long.

“I miss her,” Clint whispered.

“I know. I do too,” Laura replied. It was late in the afternoon by the time the Bartons were done talking. Clint’s guilt. Their memories. And the team.

“She’s with Pepper and Bruce. Hasn’t left the cabin or the compound much since the funeral. Pep says she visits the headstones every day at dawn. Makes her calls. She’s not happy about having to head to DC tomorrow,” Clint said when she asked about you. Laura sighed. You were the last on the list she needed an update on. Time apart wasn’t going to help any of you, she thought. She knew who she had to call.

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Pepper saw you making your way up the path as she flipped a pancake on to the plate. Bruce was in the yard with Morgan, keeping the young girl occupied. She saw a text from Laura Barton on her phone. Pepper knew she was planning on talking to Clint. She still hadn’t had luck with getting you to open up. You would read Morgan a bedtime story some nights and then head to your own room. You spent time with Pepper, sure, but you were withdrawn. You made the same trek each morning. Occasionally, you’d head to the compound to check in on Wanda. You were carrying the weight of everyone’s hurt on your shoulders.

“The princess requests her breakfast, your majesty,” Bruce proclaimed as he entered the cabin with Morgan on his back. It had taken time to get used to seeing him in Hulk form. He set Morgan down and she made a beeline for the table, sitting down. She called your name as she saw you enter the cabin. You chuckled as you sat down across from her. Bruce took the bench seat before Pepper sat at the head of the table. Morgan chattered excitedly as the three of you listened to her, giving her your undivided attention. You helped clean up before heading down to the water with Bruce and Morgan. Pepper insisted she would be fine, that she had work to get done. It was a half truth. She locked herself away in her office, replying to some emails as she waited.

It was a quarter to three when her phone lit up, Laura Barton’s name on the caller ID as she hit accept.

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Wanda clanced around the area. By some miracle, the rooms of most of the team were still intact, Natasha’s included. No one had entered yet. It was off limits to the cleanup crew. She had avoided it, opting instead to take inventory of every other room and pack things away to move into storage while the rebuild happened. Natasha’s was last on the list.

She knew you would be up soon. You usually spent the mornings with Pepper and Morgan before heading to the main building to help her with packing up rooms and having things moved into storage. She hesitated at the door. Packing up Natasha’s room was something she wasn’t sure she could ever be ready for.

She slowly opened the door. The room itself still looked immaculate. Some clothing lay discarded across the back of her desk chair. Wanda made her way over to the chair and picked up the shirt. She recognized it as one of Nat’s favorites. Before the Accords, the three of you had been on a mission together. Waiting for a pickup in Ireland, the three of you caught a concert at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin. She had almost forgotten about it until seeing the shirt. She pulled it to her face and inhaled. She could still smell Natasha. She felt tears sting her eyes as she moved toward the bed and sat down before she curled up on the bed. It too still smelled of Natasha.

It was how you found her, curled in a ball in the middle of what was once Natasha’s bed. You had run into Thor when you arrived. After the funeral, he had returned to New Asgard for a time. You hadn’t expected him back, not yet. You knew he was coming back to the States for the Capitol Hill hearings that were due to begin the next morning. You had figured he would head to DC first.

“Got room for two more?” you asked, startling Wanda. She sat up, simply nodding. You and Thor each took a side, sandwiching her between the two of you. She placed her head on Thor’s chest as you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as she cried, both you and Thor whispering quiet words of reassurance.

You left the two of them when she fell asleep, heading to the still standing kitchen to make a simple dinner. You kept the basics in there, knowing that if you didn’t cook dinner or order in, sometimes Wanda would forget as she packed away the belongings of the others. Packing was a job no one wanted to do, but that had to be done. As you cooked, you shot off a text to Sam.

You: Leaving with Steve around 10 tonight. Taking a quinjet. Can’t believe we still have one left

Sam <3: Call when you get in? I��m staying at my old place tonight. I’ll meet you two in the morning. I’m getting an early start on my run tomorrow morning.

You: Want company?

Sam <3: You don’t have to

You knew what that meant. You and Steve would find him somewhere along his usual route. You would leave him to his thoughts for a while before you did. You went back and forth with him as you cooked.

“Smells good,” you heard Wanda say from the entryway.

“Better hurry before Thor comes in,” you joked. She looked more relaxed than she had in awhile. You suspected she had been holding in her feelings since the funeral. Thor soon joined the two of you and the three of you spent the meal reminiscing. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were about to break at the mention of Tony or Natasha.

#polyamorous avengers #avengers/reader #bucky barnes #Steve Rogers #wanda maximoff #thor x reader #pepper potts #sam wilson #Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes/Wanda Maximoff/Thor/Bruce Banner/Pepper Potts/Sam Wilson/Clint Barton/Reader #clint barton #bruce banner #reader insert #marvel fanfic #marvel reader insert

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meliakim · 3 years

Text

Christmas Manito

Min and Mun join the boys for the Korean version of secret Santa.

“Wowww, Mun-ah!! I can’t believe you were able to cook this much food in one day!” Hobi said to Mun as he entered the dorm kitchen and looked all around at the baked goodies and snacks. “Well, it wasn’t just me though, I had help,” she said, eyeing Seokjin who was taking out his puff pastries from the oven… one of the things that she taught him to bake during one of their many cooking sessions. “Mun-ah!!! They’re perfectly baked this time!” he said excitedly, tilting the pan over towards Mun to show her. “See? I knew you’d get them mastered,” she said reassuringly with a huge smile on her face.

“Aish, they’re too cute,” Hobi said under his breath as he turned to leave the kitchen, though it was just loud enough for Mun to hear. A few seconds later, Taehyung roamed into the kitchen to have a look as well. “Tae! Come help me finish decorating the cookies,” she said to her fellow artsy friend. He went over to her and peered over her shoulder, seeing sugar cookies shaped like stockings, Christmas trees, and snowmen. “They’re so festive!” he said, taking the green icing that was being handed to him by Mun. “Are Min and Jimin back yet?” she asked him. He nodded and said, “they just got back with the pizza a bit ago.”

“The whole dorm smells so sweet!!” Jimin said as he placed the pizzas on the side table set up in the living room table. Min nodded in agreement and said, “they must be baking up a storm in there!” “I hope they’re almost done though, I’m so hungry!!” Jungkook said, laying on the couch. Namjoon and Yoongi both appeared from their rooms and put their gifts under the Christmas tree just as the three chefs came out of the kitchen with all the baked goodies. They put them on the table next to the pizza, causing Hobi to say “WoW!” and pull out his phone to take pictures.

All seven members and their two friends fixed their plates and began eating, sitting on the couches and on the floor… wherever they could find space. “Ok, so who is going to start the manito game?” Jimin asked, eagerly, wanting to know who his manito was. “Let’s use rock, paper, scissors to decide!” Namjoon said. They proceeded to do so, and Mun won, making her the first to give her gift to the person whose name she drew. She got up from her seat in between Seokjin and Tae on the couch and pulled her colorfully wrapped gift from under the tree.

She walked over towards Jimin and acted like she was going to give it to him before turning around last-second and giving it to Jungkook. Jimin pouted and the whole room was full of laughter. “Merry Christmas, Jungkookie!” Mun said before sitting back down. He bowed his head in gratitude and opened his present. It was a small travel art kit with a sketchbook, pens, and pencils. “Since you’re about to travel the world, I thought sketching would be a good way for you to document your trip!” Mun said as Jungkook looked at his gift admiringly. “JK JK it’s your turn!!” Jimin said.

Jungkook got up from his seat and pulled out his gift from the tree. Like Mun, he acted like he was going to give it to Jimin before handing it to Min who was sitting right next to him. Min smiled and said, “thank you, JK!” She opened up the perfectly wrapped gift and tried not to freak out of excitement. It was a nice pair of Bluetooth headphones that she had talked to him about a while ago when doing his makeup. “You’re always listening to music during our makeup sessions… and your old headphones were falling apart,” he said with a chuckle.

Min was next, and she followed suit by getting up and pulling her gift from under the tree. Of course, she couldn’t help but tease Jimin, causing him to pout and fall out of his chair while everyone else laughed. She handed her gift to Namjoon, saying “Merry Christmas, Joon!!” as she did so. It was rather heavy, so he sat it on his lap and ripped the paper off it. Min had been telling Namjoon to read the Lord of the Rings for months now, since he enjoyed the movies… so that’s exactly what she got him, knowing how much he loved reading. “Wow, Min!!! This is too much!! Thank you, manito!!” he said, bowing gratefully with a big smile as she sat back down.

After pretending to give Jimin the gift, Namjoon proceeded to give his gift to Yoongi, who was sitting next to Seokjin. He pulled the tissue paper out of the bag and broke down laughing, along with Seokjin, who had peered into his bag too. “Oh?? What is it?” Hobi asked curiously. “It’s underwear, I’m not pulling it out,” he said with a pink face, knowing that there were two ladies present. “Namjoon-ah! How did you even know his size?” Seokjin asked, still dying from laughter. “We wear the same size!” he said, causing everyone to laugh even louder. “So practical!” Hobi commented.

Yoongi got up to get his gift, causing Jimin to sit up taller in his seat… only for Yoongi to go back straight to his seat, handing the bag to Seokjin beside him. “Aish!! Yoongi-ah!! What kind of gift is this?!” Seokjin whined, pulling out a large stand-up photo of Suga, a Suga fan, a pair of Shooky socks, and other forms of Suga merch. “I thought you could put my photo on your desk so you can see me while you game,” Yoongi said with a smirk. “Aish!! Yoongi-ah!! So conceited!” Seokjin said, dramatically, causing everyone to laugh.

He got up and brought his gift straight to Taehyung, causing Jimin to roll his eyes restlessly, wondering if he would ever get a gift. Tae took the tissue paper out of the bag and first pulled out an iPhone case with RJ on it, then a Jin photocard, RJ keychain, and a Jin poster. “Hyung!! This is as bad as Yoongi-hyung!!” Tae laughed as he pulled out each item and showed everyone. Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh filled the room as Yoongi playfully slapped his roommate’s arm. “So conceited, huh??” he playfully whined. “Wait, no it’s worse!” Tae said, taking a closer look at the RJ phone case. “I don’t even have an iPhone!” he said.

Through his tears of laughter, Hobi looked at the phone case and said, “oh!! Mun-ah has an iPhone XR, right? This would fit her phone!!” Everyone looked at Seokjin as his laughter shifted from windshield wiper to a nervous laughter, his ears turning bright red. Tae’s boxy smile got even wider as he shook his head and put everything back in the gift bag, passing it over to Mun sitting next to him, as the gift was obviously geared towards her.

Tae’s turn started with him getting his present, and… finally, giving it to Jimin, who was still eagerly waiting. “Ahhh, finally!!” he said, opening the gift. It was a small dumpling-shaped plushie with Tae and Jimin’s initials stitched onto it. “I thought it would be a good reminder for us to not fight,” Tae said with a smile. Jimin jumped out of his seat and hugged his friend before he could sit back down. “Let’s not fight again!!” he vowed, going over to the tree and getting his gift while he was up, handing it to Hobi. “Jimin-ssi!!! This is too cool,” Hobi said, pulling a polaroid camera, film, and photo book out of the bag excitedly.

“Ok, ok, last but not least!” Hobi said in a sing-song voice, taking the last present under the tree and handing it to Mun. She received it gratefully and opened the package to reveal a purple apron with a subtle BTS logo on the front. She stood up and put it on immediately, then recognized that there was handwriting all over the inside. She took it back off and read the notes, seeing that each of the members had written something to her. “Hobi!! This is so great,” she said, trying not to get caught up and take the time to read all the notes just yet.

“It’s for you to wear at work!! Even though we’ll be on tour, you can always have us with you and think about us during the day!” he said, smiling at Mun. She dropped to her knees to meet Hobi on the floor and pulled him into a tight hug, nearly knocking him over. “It’s so perfect… thank you,” she said, still holding onto him. Seokjin joined them on the floor, wrapping his arms around Mun, then was followed by Tae, Jungkook, Min, and all the others, so that everyone was piled on top of each other in a group hug on the floor. “Merry Christmas, everyone!!” everyone said to each other, just so happy to be together.

#seokmun #seokjin x oc #manito #bts #bts fanfic #bts cute #Seokjin #ot7

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

Text

Jij Verliest - Chapter Three: Clip 6

master list previous (Woensdag Part One)

...

Woensdag 22:39

Sander’s final text message was a simple address to a nearby park, and while he knew little about what they were doing, as soon as he received it, Robbe grabbed his phone and his wallet and headed out of the flatshare. If his roommates noticed his abrupt exit, they didn’t ask about it. As Robbe biked to the address that Sander sent, the thrill of not knowing their plans—and meeting up with Sander—melted a little of the residual anger that bubbled up in the aftermath of Thomas and his texts.

At first, Robbe had been angry at Thomas for calling his mama. It was the reason that Robbe finally decided to text him back after the number of messages that he had left on read. But as soon as Thomas responded, his anger returned in full force because his ex-boyfriend wasn’t getting it. Why couldn’t Thomas simply take the watch and leave Robbe alone? Why was he making such a big deal about the fact that Robbe was returning a watch that he never used? As the conversation drew on, the explosion grew in his head, the anger at Thomas with it, and Robbe stopped the conversation, unable to take any more of it.

But his anger hadn’t gone away.

As he attempted to focus on his Bio notes in front of him, on the review that he was glancing over again, his focus kept drifting to his phone. Thomas was still sending him messages and each ding from his phone amplified the anger boiling inside of him. Robbe was not an angry person by nature. He didn’t like lashing out—hated it with a passion—but Thomas was getting close to causing an eruption with Robbe at the center. He needed to get away from the flatshare and distract himself until the anger went away, which was why he picked up his phone and messaged Sander without thinking.

And, here he was, biking to a park to meet Sander.

Even in near darkness, it was easy for Robbe to spot Sander once he arrived. With the bright full moon shining in the sky, Sander’s bleach-blond hair stood out, reflecting the silver moonlight. The tattoo artist in question was lying on what looked like a blanket in the middle of the grove with one arm tucked beneath his head. There seemed to be a small wicker basket next to his head, but Robbe didn’t have a clue on what was inside.

As Robbe approached, dragging his bike with him, Sander glanced away from the stars, his green eyes catching Robbe approaching, and a smile burst across his face. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Robbe grinned over at him. As Robbe leaned his bike against a nearby tree, Sander sat up on the blanket, crossing his legs beneath him. Robbe moved toward him and Sander patted the area beside him. He quickly sat down and crossed his legs beneath him. “Why does it not surprise me that you would be into stargazing?” Sander chuckled as he pulled the basket closer to him. “What did you bring?”

“I brought grapes, strawberries, and other fruits,” Sander said. He opened the basket to show Robbe before reaching in and pulling out two bottles of beer. “I also figured you might want at least one of these.”

“Yes,” Robbe said. Sander grinned, opening one before handing it over to him. Robbe quickly took a sip of it as Sander opened the other one. “You should’ve told me that you were bringing stuff. I would’ve stopped by and grabbed something on my way.”

“Nah, you had a lot on your mind,” Sander said. He pulled out a handful of strawberries from a plastic bag before proceeding to feed one to Robbe. He bit down on the fruit as Sander ate one himself. “So did you want to talk about it?” he asked before adding, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just thought I would ask.”

“I just don’t understand,” Robbe said, frustrated. He took a swing of his beer before continuing. “He pulls away, he breaks up with me, and, as far as I’m aware, moves on. It takes him three months to get his clothes from my apartment. But as soon as I return this dumb watch that I wasn’t even using, he starts acting like I just pulled out a gun and shot him in the foot.”

“Maybe you should’ve.”

“I just don’t get it,” Robbe said. “I don’t get him.”

“I don’t get him either,” Sander echoed, grinning over at Robbe. “I mean, he broke up with you. I don’t see how anyone could possibly think of doing that.” Robbe felt his cheeks flush considerably and, judging from the way that Sander’s grin grew, he could tell. “Besides, I’m sure he’ll realize his mistake sooner or later.”

“I’m not sure I want him to,” Robbe admitted quietly. Sander glanced up over him, raising a dark eyebrow, as Robbe glanced at him. Their eyes met and Robbe shrugged before returning his gaze to his beer. “A few months ago, I would’ve jumped at the chance of us getting back together. But after this, after him just trying to force me to take a watch that I don’t even want, I don’t think I could ever go back to him.”

“I get it,” Sander said. There was a little sorrow in his voice as he leaned back, propping himself up on one arm. His eyes were directed up to the sky, to the stars twinkling above them, and he let out a sigh. “Like you finally saw their true colors and you don’t know how you missed it?”

Robbe nodded. “Yeah.”

“I had an ex-girlfriend who was really controlling. From what she told me, something happened in her last relationship and she was trying to fix what she had done wrong.” Sander paused, biting down on a grape before continuing. “So she was even more controlling than she even realized. I didn’t realize how much until we broke it off and Senne pointed it out. We’re still pretty decent friends now, but we’ve decided that we’re never going to give it another shot.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought it was always me.”

“I’m sorry,” Robbe said.

“It’s okay. It was years ago.”

There was a comfortable silence between them. Robbe took a drink of his beer before glancing over at Sander, who was resting against the blanket. His bright green eyes were focused on Robbe and he couldn’t look away from them. Sander laid down, his eyes directed at the sky, before reaching out to pat the blanket behind Robbe. “Come on, I’ll share my wisdom about the night sky.”

“Is there going to be a pop quiz?” Robbe asked, taking a drink.

Sander grinned as Robbe laid down beside him. “Nope. Just a small lecture. If you can keep up.”

“If I had known that, I would’ve brought my notebook,” Robbe muttered, causing Sander to belt out a laugh next to him.

…

Woensdag 23:43

There were only a handful of constellations that Sander knew, or at least that he could accurately point out.

The first thing Sander had shown Robbe was the David Bowie constellation. It was shaped in the form of a lightning bolt and had a total of seven stars. According to Sander, the constellation sat in the vicinity of Mars, which was fitting because of some of his songs. Sander traced it out in the night sky and Robbe had to scoot closer to see the figure that he was drawing with the constellations. After showing him the depiction of his idol, Sander showed Robbe the constellations that he knew by heart. Once he had run out of those, they started looking up constellations on Google and searching for them.

Trying to find each of the specific stars in the masses of similar stars was a difficult task. More than once, the two of them found the wrong star in a sequence and would go searching for the right one. Occasionally, they would lose it and have to start all over again. But the two of them descended into laughter as they munched on the fruit and sipped the beer that had quickly gotten warm. Sander was nursing his first one and Robbe had reached the start of his third.

After the two of them were struggling to find one of the zodiac signs in the sky, Robbe asked, “What do your tattoos mean?” Sander glanced up from his phone, which cast a white glow across his face. Sander’s legs were crossed beneath him. Robbe’s were splayed out with one leg over Sander’s knee as he laid against the blanket staring at him. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I was just curious.”

A small smile spread on Sander’s face. “Not everyone gets tattoos that mean something to them. Some people just get tattoos that look good.”

“I know,” Robbe said, popping a grape in his mouth. In an effort to small-talk with Noor, he had asked her the same question and the majority of hers didn’t have a personal meaning. She had gotten them because she wanted them. “You just seem like the person who might have a few with a personal meaning.” There was a moment of silence between them. “Am I wrong?” he asked.

Sander smiled before reaching out his right arm toward Robbe. “One.”

“There’s only one with meaning?”

“No,” Sander said, grinning at him. “You can only learn about one of them at a time.”

“Aww, why?” Robbe complained. Despite that, he could feel a smile growing. Sander shook his head with a small smile on his face and Robbe pouted at him. He reached out, grabbing Sander’s right wrist in his hand, before looking the tattoos over. Sander’s skin was warm in his hand and he could feel Sander’s bright green eyes on it. Robbe glanced up at him. “Is there any way I can learn more than one?”

Sander chuckled. “Maybe if you bribe the teacher.”

Robbe smiled up at him, feeling the blush on his cheeks. His eyes dragged over the sunflower, the dragonflies, before settling on the trees. “What do the trees mean? I saw a photo of them on your Instagram.”

Sander smiled at him fondly. “The trees are the outline of the forest outside my grandparents’ home. When I was little, I used to go hiking in the woods with my dad. One time, I wandered away and my dad didn’t notice and I got lost. I was scared, but he eventually found me and took me back. Once I got to secondary school, I hit a rough spot and I started feeling that ‘lost in the woods’ feeling every day. When I got out of it, it was because of my family and my friends, so when I started designing my tattoos, I decided that I wanted the trees to be the base to remind myself that I’m not alone anymore.”

Robbe nodded, smiling a little. “That’s really sweet.”

“Don’t spread that around, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Your reputation as what?” Robbe asked, laughing.

As he waited for Sander’s response, he dragged his finger across the outline of the largest and darkest tree. The pad of his finger traced along every jagged edge of the tree, every branch, every twig that jetted out. It wasn’t a smooth silhouette of a tree but it added the realism to the tattoo. The tattoo looked like it had been traced exactly from the photo on his Insta. Sander shuddered beneath Robbe’s fingertip and he glanced up at him.

Sander’s bright green eyes were focused solely on him, connecting quickly with Robbe’s brown ones. As soon as their eyes were locked together, Robbe felt the same electric spark shoot through his nervous system again. His entire body felt warm—warmer where his hand was gripping onto Sander’s wrist. But it might be the mild night air and the lukewarm beer messing with Robbe’s mind. Glancing up at Sander, he watched as the bleach-blond glanced down at him, biting his lip beneath his teeth.

Gently, Sander pulled his wrist from Robbe’s featherlight grip. He rested his forearm by Robbe’s head, using it to brace himself as he leaned down. For a second, all Robbe could do was watch him, wondering what Sander was thinking, as his green eyes searched his brown ones. Then, Sander’s eyes flickered down to his lips. It only lasted a fraction of a second, but he caught it all the same. Robbe swallowed, tilting his head up a little, and his own eyes wandered to Sander’s mouth.

There was a determined look in Sander’s eye before he started leaning closer.

With his back pressed against the ground, Robbe felt like he was witnessing the moment in slow motion. The seconds dragged on and blended together in one hazy motion. There was a part of him that felt like he should stop Sander before they kissed because it all felt too soon and too fast. But at the same time, Robbe didn’t want it to stop. He could see that Sander was watching him closely, his eyes silently analyzing his every move, waiting for Robbe to speak up—to say no, to ask him to stop, to push him away—but Robbe didn’t. He didn’t want Sander to stop.

In fact, Robbe wanted Sander to come closer—faster—until their lips crashed together.

Robbe felt his eyes fluttering close as he waited for the kiss—for Sander’s kiss. He felt Sander’s other hand press against his thigh. Even through his jeans, he could feel Sander’s body heat, adding to the electric buzz he was feeling. From the second that their noses brushed together, Robbe felt his body crane up for the kiss, trying to meet Sander somewhere in the middle, trying to connect their lips a little bit sooner.

Sander was so close that Robbe could practically feel the upturn of his smile. Sander tilted his head, moving that much closer, and Robbe reached up, searching for the curve of his jaw. For a split second, as their lips grazed, Robbe wondered if he would be able to taste the grapes and strawberries on his lips or the beer on his tongue—

Like a bucket of ice-cold water being thrown on them, his phone rang out in the quiet space between them.

Robbe had never been more annoyed at his phone in his life. Letting out a disgruntled noise, Robbe blindly searched for his phone, not wanting to open his eyes. Once he felt Sander moving away from him, he opened his eyes. Sander was sitting straight up again, reaching for something. As soon as Sander found his phone and held it in his hand, a thought rang through Robbe’s head, practically begging the universe: please, please, don’t be Thomas. Sander held up the phone for him to see.

Lucas.

Robbe let out a relieved breath, reaching for the phone. Once it was in his hand, he answered it quickly with a tense, “Hello?”

“Hey,” Lucas said, sounding tense. “It’s safe for you to come home.”

“Lucas,” Robbe groaned, running a hand through his hair. His leg was still draped over Sander’s and neither of them made any effort to move it. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Thomas stopped by,” Lucas said. Robbe felt his blood run cold and he resisted the urge to bolt upright. “He said that he needed to talk to you ‘face-to-face’ about that fucking watch. When I told him that you weren’t here, he didn’t believe me until I showed him your empty room.”

“Please tell me you told him to fuck off.”

“I did not,” Lucas said. “He seemed pissed and I didn’t want to test him. I didn’t know if that was why you left earlier so I thought I would let you know that it was safe.”

“No, I didn’t know he was coming by or I would’ve warned you. It wasn’t why I left,” Robbe said. Before his flatmate and friend could question about where he was, Robbe quickly added, “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll see you when I get back.”

As soon as the call ended, his notifications lit up the screen. The vast majority of them were text messages or calls from Thomas, trying desperately to get in touch with him. The text messages increased in threats of coming over if there was no response and the number of calls went into the double digits. Robbe let out a sigh, nearly tossing the phone aside before he saw the clock.

It was past 23:00.

“Is everything okay?” Sander asked.

Robbe sat up and shook his head. “No,” he said, staring up at Sander’s green eyes which were focused solely on him. “It’s past 23:00 and I’ve still got to study a little more before I go to sleep. And I have an early morning class tomorrow morning that I don’t want to go to.”

To emphasize his point, Robbe pouted which caused Sander to snort.

Sander smiled softly. “Well, you better get home and study before you get some sleep for that beautiful brain of yours.”

At his comment, Robbe felt his cheeks flush, burning hot and bright in the summer night. But he didn’t get up from the spot and Sander didn’t move from beneath him. As Robbe lingered on the ground, his leg still draped over Sander’s knee, he wondered—or, rather, hoped—that Sander would lean forward to press their lips together, to actually finish the almost-kiss that had been so rudely interrupted.

Instead, Sander patted his knee and motioned toward his bike, which was still leaning against the tree. “Go on,” Sander urged. “I’ll pick up the blanket and food. You need to study.”

Robbe nodded, biting back the mild disappointment in his chest. “Okay,” he whispered. “Thank you for meeting up with me.” Sander nodded, grinning genuinely at him before patting his knee again.

He moved his leg off Sander before standing up on the edge of the blanket. Once he grabbed his phone and his bike, Robbe headed to leave. As he did, he glanced over behind him to see Sander picking up their makeshift picnic. For a few moments, Robbe watched his rhythmic movements before climbing on his bike and heading back to the flatshare.

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

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I loved your latest SVU Carisi fic! I would love something with Barba, please! Maybe something where he asks a coworker (either a detective or someone from the ME's office) to an event, either because he's lonely or embarrassed to go alone again.

A/N: Can I just say, I appreciate how general these prompts are for SVU because they really give me the room to go where the whim takes me? Because I do (not that I don’t love prompt lists, but this style just works for me with this fandom). I hope you enjoy the direction that this one ended up. Also, I watched several Barba episodes and a bunch of clips for “research” and that was a hole I was not planning to end up back in, but I still love him, apparently. Not quite as much as the first time around, but enough. Word Count: 2804 Tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster

“Mr. Barba! What brings you to my dark little dungeon corner of the world?” you asked, smiling brightly as the ADA strolled into the morgue like it was Central Park at noon.

“Y/N, please. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Rafael, or at least drop the ‘Mr.’ We’ve seen each other’s worst, there’s no need to be so formal,” he said, returning your smile with a small one of his own and a rueful shake of his head.

It was true that you and Rafael had known each other for years, since your school days when your stubborn and shameless self had wormed your way into the DA’s office, allegedly as part of a research project for school (a story that didn’t hold up when you never left). And he, still a young, brash ADA (not that the brash part had changed or ever would), had largely been stuck dealing with you as you poked through records and cases and pointed out all the places that they could have done better with handling the forensics of things. They never chased you out, because it came in handy over time and you had a charm that made your Nancy Drew nosiness, as he had nicknamed it, more amusing than annoying. By the time you had graduated, you were practically a part of the inner circle at that office, and it was easy to leverage that (along with your shining grades of course) into a prime position as a medical examiner.

Of course, the most valuable thing you had gotten out of all of it was still the friendship of Rafael Barba. He’d encouraged you through exams and romantic breakups and personal stresses without blinking and you’d done as much of the same for him as you could. He’d poured your inebriated ass into more taxies than you could count and sent you just as many hangover-cure breakfast deliveries. You’d laughed together, cried together, held each other up when the world seemed to be trying to crush you.

And still, at work at least, you insisted on calling him “Mr. Barba.”

“We have, but you’re also the one who talks about the need to keep professional lives separate.” You shrugged with a smirk. “Besides, it amuses you how much me calling you ‘Mr. Barba’ makes you squirm.”

He rolled his eyes. “I brought lunch.” He held up a familiar paper bag, no doubt containing sandwiches and raspberry turnovers from your favorite diner.

“Not dignifying me with a proper response I see,” you teased. “And bringing me food. Either I’m in trouble or you’re trying to bribe me for a favor. I hope it’s the first one, it’s always more fun.”

Your smirk widened and you waggled your eyebrows at him, waving him over into the little lounge area outside your office and pouring two paper cups of tepid coffee. He silently passed you your sandwich, hoping that you didn’t notice the light blush creeping up around his ears, or his quick intake of breath as you bit into it and moaned involuntarily. You both chewed in silence for a while, and you tried to just enjoy his company, as you usually did. But there was a strange tension in the air, unsettling the comfort of the silence and putting you on edge as you waited for whatever he came to talk to you about.

“Alex and Yelina’s tenth anniversary is coming up,” he said finally, trying to hide the strain in his voice, even though he knew you knew him well enough to notice it anyway.

You nodded silently, a sympathetic grimace on your face. You knew how much it had stung to him to attend the wedding and watch his childhood best friend marry his first love.

“They’re having a charity gala to celebrate. And personally invited me to go.”

You sucked in a hiss through your teeth. “Ouch.”

He nodded dejectedly. “I can’t say no to them. But I don’t know if I can get through the evening.”

“I could write you a doctor’s note. Fake some sort of illness preventing you from…I don’t know being in that large of a crowd or something?”

He laughed, and you smiled at the sound, knowing that it meant things weren’t quite as bad as they could be, and you didn’t need to break into your secret bourbon stash to fix them.

“Actually,” he said, buttoning his jacket and then immediately unbuttoning it again, as you often saw him do before a particularly difficult argument in court. “I was hoping you’d come with me, as my plus one. It’d really help to have a friendly face that I know can hold their own against the vultures.”

You sat in stunned silence for several minutes, staring at him. Your mind raced. Had he just asked you on a date? And if so, did you want to say yes?

When you didn’t answer, he shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat to get your attention. You jumped, startled out of your thoughts by the noise.

“I don’t want to impose; you were the first person I thought of. I know it’s not really your scene. I shouldn’t have asked,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, as if to tell you to forget the whole thing.

“Oh. Sorry, it took me a minute. I guess I just didn’t expect it. I thought you’d ask Olivia or someone, you know. I’d be happy to go with you though. I’d love to, really,” you started at the same time, leading the two of you to be talking over each other like fools.

You both stopped, you trailing off more than his abrupt end, and then you locked eyes and you giggled. After a few seconds of delay, he joined your laughter and soon, there were tears in your eyes and he seemed to be struggling for breath as you took absolute joy in the ridiculousness of it.

“Honestly Raf, I don’t know why you even questioned it,” you said when you had gotten yourself under control again. “Of course I’ll go with you. What else are best friends for?”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, relief evident on his face.

“So how fancy are we talking? Am I going to need formal wear, or will a nice cocktail dress that covers all the bits be enough?” your eyebrows wiggled again and he chuckled.

The night of the event, you were just putting the finishing touches on your appearance – making sure everything was perfect down to every hair in the right place, but not like you tried too hard, wanting to seem like this was not as big of a deal as you had slowly worked yourself up into thinking it might be – when a knock on your door alerted you to Rafael’s arrival. When you answered, you were momentarily stunned, a tux shouldn’t seem all that different than his usual three-piece suits, and yet…

Luckily, he seemed just as thrown off by your appearance, and the pair of you just stared at each other.

Finally, you broke the spell, gesturing lamely behind you. “I just have to uh, grab my bag, and then I’ll be good to go.” You tried to smile at him, but you were pretty sure it came off as more of a discomforted grimace.

And why shouldn’t you be discomforted? All this time, there had never been anything between you (though you would be the first to admit that you had found him attractive when the two of you met). And now, suddenly, you couldn’t look at him without feeling that fizzy, almost nauseous twist in your gut, the flutter of your pulse at the sight of his smile, the overwhelming desire to absolutely wreck his perfectly styled hair and pressed lapel as you pulled him close and ran your hands over every inch of him in a sensuous war for dominance. You tried to tell yourself it was just the occasion, the fact that he had asked you to be his guest to an event that clearly meant a lot to him, and that it really meant nothing. If you could maintain the lie for long enough, you pretended to believe, everything would go back to normal.

The car ride over to the event hall was short, the time filled with a primer on the various important people (both politically and to him) that would be at the party. Most of it was information you already knew, but still, you let him talk, knowing that it made him feel calmer. And then you were linking arms with him, hand delicately wrapped around the fold of his elbow and walking through the grand arching doorway.

“Thus, into hell,” you muttered too low for even him to hear, forcing a smile.

Introductions were made, hands were shook, the air next to cheeks were kissed. You had not yet met the couple of the hour, but you felt like you had met the entire rest of their world, dragged into mind-numbing small talk about stocks and board meetings, policies and constituents (where they were numbers and dollar signs and goals rather than people). At some point, you were separated from Rafael by some women who were absolutely determined to drag you into their conversation about some community center building charity and the related press benefits of visiting the construction site. They all flinched and tittered uncomfortably when you pointed out that their manicures would get ruined and they’d just be interrupting the professionals actually doing the work and wouldn’t it be better to just do a ribbon-cutting photo op when the project was over?

Finally, you managed to extricate yourself and found Rafael by the bar, sucking down a bourbon like no one’s business. He turned to the bartender as you approached and already had a vodka soda waiting when you reached him.

“My hero,” you said taking a deep drink. “Don’t ever leave me alone with those people again.”

“That bad?” he asked, eyes dancing as he smiled at you over the rim of his glass.

“I think I felt my soul exit my body. Twice. Why are you drinking so heavily already?”

“Alex and Yelina just arrived. I managed to duck them, but not before I got to bear witness to the whole…loving couple photo op.”

“Oh. I’m sorry Raf. Still, if they’re here, we should go say our hellos. The sooner we do the sooner we can blow this popsicle stand, yeah?”

He grimaced and finished his drink. “I suppose you’re right.”

He turned to walk away and you tugged him back to face you.

“Wait, here,” you said, reaching up to fiddle with his bow tie, fingers skimming his throat in the process and you swore you felt him flinch at the contact. “You were crooked,” you explained.

“Rafael!” Yelina said, smiling brightly and pulling him in for a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that,” he said, smiling at her in a way that made a soft twinge in your chest that you tried to pretend wasn’t jealousy.

“Congratulations, both of you,” he said, patting Alex on the shoulder.

“And who is this?” another woman in the crowd, who you thought had been introduced as the wife of some other senator but you hadn’t been paying that much attention, said, gesturing to you. “I mean I know this party is doubling as a charity gala, but you didn’t need to bring an example case.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, glaring at her.

“Oh you know what I mean darling. It’s not an insult, just stating facts that you obviously don’t belong. It’s little signs, you really do look…fine. But the hair, the clearance rack clothes, and when is the last time you had your nails done?”

“Y/N is one of the most brilliant medical professionals in New York City,” Rafael cut in before you could respond, curling his arm protectively around your waist. “And not that it’s any measure of character, looks fantastic by the way. But it’s an organic, genuine beauty so it’s no surprise that you don’t see it Mrs. Johnsville. After all, you haven’t seen your own genuine appearance in, I’d guess twenty years? Or maybe it’s jealousy causing you to say such spiteful things to the most incredible person in the room. Either way, I’d suggest you stop, before someone brings up your husband’s scandals and causes a scene.”

You turned your head to stare at him, lost for words. There was a not-so-subtle threat in his words, but that didn’t matter to you in light of the things he was saying about you, or the adoring way he said them.

He turned back to his old friends. “Alex, Yelina, I hate to do this, but I’m not going to stand around and let someone insult my date that way. So we’re leaving, but maybe we can get dinner sometime soon and catch up.”

“Of course, Rafi,” Alejandro said, his polite political host smile edging its way toward a smirk. “The four of us will have to do that.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rafael said, sighing as you both sat in the car. “She had no right to speak to you that way. I…”

“Stop, Raf. It’s not your fault. And you jumped in like a knight in shining armor, no harm done.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, I’m a little disappointed that I got all dressed up for you and I didn’t even get to dance…” you stuck your lower lip out in an exaggerated pout that made him laugh. “But I’m sure you’ll make it up to me somehow.”

“And for having dinner with Alex and Yelina and I. Assuming you’re willing to. Which I totally understand if you’re not.”

“I was wondering if you were going to bring up that invitation,” you laughed. “And of course I’m willing. I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it as many times as I have to to get it through your skull, I’ll do anything for you, Raf.”

Suddenly you had a brilliant idea and you looked over at him with a grin.

“Uh-oh, I know that look…”

“You know what’s better than dancing and wining and dining when you’re dressed to the nines?” you said, eyes aglow the longer you thought about it.

“What?”

“Being dressed to the nines to eat greasy diner burgers! Let’s go to Hank’s!” You grabbed the hand that rested on the center console in both of yours, pulling it close to you and batting your eyelashes pleadingly at him.

He groaned and shook his head. “Alright.”

“You know,” Rafael said, shifting nervously as he walked you to the door of your building. “There was a bit of a wreck in the middle, but all in all, this wasn’t such a bad first date.”

“Is that what this was?” you asked, heart skipping a beat as your both stopped on the steps.

“Would you be mad if I said yes?”

“A little. I mean, you could have told me sooner. I would have done way cuter shit all night.”

He laughed, looking at you softly. “I don’t need you to do cuter shit. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“See, shit like that,” you waved your hands around in frustration. “I don’t have a good comeback compliment for you because I wasn’t expecting it. You threw me off my game, charming bastard.”

“Y/N…”

“If this was a date, I believe a goodnight kiss is traditional,” you smiled.

He leaned in, close enough for you to smell the cologne he wore and the alcohol he’d had earlier and the spearmint breath mint he’d picked up from beside the diner’s register when he’d insisted on paying. His lips brushed lightly against yours but he quickly pulled away, just enough to look you in the eyes.

“You’d better not be calling that my kiss,” you teased.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

Sighing in exasperation, you did as you’d imagined earlier and grabbed him by the lapels to tug him closer and press your lips to his. He sighed against your mouth, bringing one hand up to cup the back of your head gently and hold you closer, the other arm wrapping tightly around your waist. Your lips parted, opening up to him and your tongues danced together like it was what they were designed for.

Gasping for air, you both pulled away, and he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered.

“Night’s not over, yet,” you answered with a shrug.

“What?”

The words felt inevitable, but right, as they worked their way through your throat.

“Do you want to come upstairs, Raf? We can watch a movie or…dance…”

#Law and Order: SVU #Rafael Barba x Reader #reader is a medical examiner #normally I love a fancy ball/dance/etc. trope #but I kind of wanted to go a little differently with this #I don't know...did I get his voice right?#I think I did...

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