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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

For The Weekend

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request by @gemini0410: Could I ask for a song request? "Blank Space" by Taylor Swift with Angel Reyes pretty please? 😍🥰💜

Warnings: language, Angel being a softie and a flirt

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I just really liked the fun and flirty energy of this song and I thought that it went really well with Angel. Thank you so much for the request! Hope you enjoy xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @encounterthepast @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @lilacyennefer @everyhowlmarksthedead @starrynite7114 @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @sincerelyasomebody @mijop @sadeyesgf @xladymacbethx @thesandbeneathmytoes @blessedboo @appropriate-writers-name @holl2712 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @lakamaa12 @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @garbinge @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @luckyharley1903

You leaned over the pool table to line up your shot, chuckling and shaking your head as Angel tried to get you to choke and miss. The two of you had been going back and forth all night, and the banter somehow led to you challenging him to a pool game. When he’d lost the first one, he changed it so that it was the best two out of three.

“And what do I get when I win, by the way?” you asked with a smirk as you sank another shot.

Angel shook his head, “Is my company not a good enough prize for you, querida?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, “I’ve already got that. Was looking for something a little extra.”

Excitement flashed across his face for a moment, but whatever comments he was thinking, he kept to himself for the time being. You bit lightly on your bottom lip before taking your next shot. You missed, but barely. Not according to Angel, who was gloating that he finally got you to choke.

“Alright, then let’s see what you can do, Mr. Reyes,” you said with a smirk.

He was intently lining up his shot when you casually perched yourself on the edge of the pool table. He caught a glimpse of the way that your shorts slid up a little higher on your leg, and it was just enough of a distraction to cost him his shot. His miss was much more obvious than yours, but you were kind enough to not call it out loud to the entire club. Instead, you walked over, standing dangerously close to him.

“Gotta stay focused, baby,” you said quietly with a laugh.

“You just here looking for trouble?” he cocked one eyebrow as a smirk crept over his face.

You shrugged, “It’s a bonus.”

You knew that Angel had a bit of a reputation. There were more than a few rumors floating around that you’d heard and you were willing to bet that most of them were true. You were more than willing to find out for yourself. You could also tell by the way that he was looking at you that he’d probably heard a thing or two about you as well. Part of you wondered how much he believed of what he’d heard. Something must’ve piqued his interest if he was willing to go back and forth with you all night like he had been.

You won your second game in a row, and Angel decided that he was going to take his loss on the chin and keep moving forward. You laughed, “What, don’t wanna see if you can get best three outta five?”

“I know when I’m beat,” he laughed, “I’ll even buy you a drink.”

“Oh, is that my prize?”

“Were you hoping for something else?” you could see the mischief in his eyes.

You dragged your teeth lightly along your bottom lip, “I had a couple ideas in mind.”

He stepped in close to you so that you were the only one who could hear what he was saying, “Don’t get in over your head, Y/N. That’s a dangerous mistake.”

You pulled away so you could look him in the eye, “A mistake that I’d be willing to make.”

“So what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Take me for a ride,” you saw the way his eyes widened and you laughed, giving him a playful slap on the arm, “On your bike.”

“Oh, right,” he smirked, “I think I could do that.”

“Right now?” you arched your eyebrow.

“It’s your prize,” he shrugged with a quiet laugh, “I’m at your mercy.”

One end of your mouth quirked up into a smirk, “Dangerous position to be in.”

You could see it in his body language that he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch you, “Maybe I like a little danger.”

You delicately traced your fingertips over the patches on the front of his kutte, “Then let’s go,” your hand dropped down and grabbed his, tugging him to follow you.

Angel trailed behind you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly the closer you got to the door of the clubhouse. You heard Coco and Gilly call after the two of you, but you ignored it, simply shaking your head as you bumped the clubhouse door open with your hip.

It was still warm out, considering how late it had gotten. The light from the clubhouse and the lone lamppost just outside the compound shined just enough for the two of you to be able to make your way across the lot to where the bikes were parked. You turned to face Angel, taking your strides backwards as you looked him up and down with a smile. He shook his head, trying not to let his smile be too apparent on his face.

“What’re you looking so happy about, huh?” Angel asked as he backed you up against his bike.

Your breath hitched in your throat for a moment but you tried not to let it show, “I got Angel Reyes to leave a party early. I’m just…a little proud of myself for that one.”

He smiled and shook his head before reaching forward and lightly running his thumb along your cheekbone, “You’re a hard girl to say no to.”

He leaned against you, his face incredibly close to yours. You felt your knees tremble slightly and for a moment you thought that he was going to lean in and kiss you. Before you could get swept away in those thoughts, the heat from his body being pressed against yours was gone as he leaned back, handing you the helmet he’d grabbed from the handlebar of his bike. The tiny smirk playing at his lips let you know that every move of his was intentional, trying to figure out the best way to get you worked up. You let out a shaky laugh as you held his helmet in your hands, realizing that beating him at pool might’ve been easy but the game you two were playing now, you were both experienced players.

“Suit up, querida,” he chuckled as he gently moved you so he could get onto his bike, “Don’t want you getting hurt on your victory lap.”

You laughed as you clipped the helmet on, tightening it slightly before hopping onto the bike behind him. You ran your hands down his sides and onto his thighs, feeling his body tense up as you did. His attempt to play it off didn’t fool you, and you giggled quietly to yourself as he took your hands and pulled your arms around his waist.

“Above the belt at all times when we’re on the bike,” his false serious tone was easy to see through.

“What about when we aren’t on the bike?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

You settled against his back as he started up the bike. He rolled out of the clubhouse lot, but once the tires hit the road, Angel took off like a bullet. You laughed as you pressed tighter to him, enjoying the adrenaline and the slight sense of fear that went through you as he took each curve with expert precision. Nothing else could be heard over the wind in your ears and the roar of Angel’s bike, and it was the most at-peace that you had felt in a long time.

It wasn’t until you were a few miles into the ride that you realized that you had never asked Angel where the two of you were going. You supposed that you didn’t really care, but you were curious. You’d left the familiar streets of Santo Padre behind and hit the highway, the road stretching on endlessly before you. The two of you seemed to be the only ones on the street, making Angel a little cocky as he weaved and sped up, earning some excited laughter from you. You felt him vibrating with laughter as you wrapped your arms tighter around him.

When he finally slowed back down to a reasonable speed, he took one hand off the handlebar and rested it on top of yours. Heat seeped from his hand into yours as he carefully entwined your fingers. He might’ve been showing off, but there was still something about it that felt sweet. He seemed so comfortable as the two of you cruised through the darkness, the sky lit up only by the stars and the full moon.

“You never asked where we’re going,” Angel spoke up for the first time since you’d left the clubhouse.

You laughed, “Didn’t think it mattered.”

He shook his head but didn’t make any other remark as he pulled off of an exit from the highway. You had no idea where he might be taking you, and with anyone else that might’ve been a scary thought, but not with him. Whatever the adventure was, you were all-in. Something about being with Angel made you stop giving a damn about the consequences—whatever happened, it would be worth it.

You could’ve spent the entire night riding around California with no real destination. He slowed down as he started to roll through the streets of a town that you hadn’t ever been to before. Wherever you were going, you knew he’d been there before. His route was deliberate and if anything, that made you more curious.

“Should I even bother asking?” you said with a laugh.

He shook his head, “Nope,” you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a few more minutes, the two of you landed yourself in the parking lot of a small diner. The sign said that it was open 24 hours a day, and it looked like one of those places that you wouldn’t think to stop into if you were just passing through. But if Angel was making a point to bring you here, you knew that there had to be more to the place that what met the eye.

“Awful long drive just to get to a diner,” you said with a laugh as you hopped off his bike.

He smiled at you, “A worthwhile one, though,” he draped his arm around your shoulders, “Best empanadas in California, hands-down.”

You smiled up at him, “Oh really? How’d you come to find that out?”

“We stopped in here one time on our way back from a run—one of the only places that’s open all night long. This little, old Dominican woman came out of the kitchen when a few of us rolled in here—didn’t even take our orders,” he laughed, “Just brought us out some food and we all fell in love a little bit.”

You chuckled, “Talk about good customer service.”

He laughed, “She doesn’t fuck around. I come here whenever I can’t sleep. She gives me food and refuses to give me any drinks with caffeine in them because they’ll keep me up even longer.”

He held open the door for you and you stepped inside, instantly feeling at home in the cozy little establishment. You scanned the seating area and besides you and Angel, there were only two other people there, and they didn’t even look up from their meals when you had walked in.

Angel guided you over to a table and pulled out a chair for you. The overly flirtatious trouble-maker from the clubhouse seemed to disappear once you rolled into the parking lot. You felt like you were getting a look at a completely different side of Angel.

Before he could sit down, a woman, you assumed she was the one that he had just been telling you about, walked over. She shook her head at him but you could see that there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Angel held out his arms, “Hermosa, I’ve missed you.”

She waved him off, “Sit down. You saw me two nights ago,” she smiled at him before looking at you, then back to him, “Not Ezekiel.”

He laughed, taking a seat across from you, “No, not Ezekiel. This is Y/N. I told her that you make the best empanadas in California.”

She turned and looked at you, clearly trying to figure out what she thought of you. You sat still, letting her decide how she felt about you. After a few moments of silence she nodded with a small smile, “He’s right. Best empanadas in California, at least. You’ll see.”

Angel didn’t oversell it. Despite the fact that it was past 2AM and you were in a diner you’d never been to, in a town that you had no idea what or where it was, you were having one of the best nights of your life. The food, the company, the feeling of being completely detached from everything else that was going on in your life—you didn’t want to go back.

“I think you’re dangerous for me, Angel Reyes,” you said with a small smile as you took a sip of your drink.

“And I thought I was the one in danger with you,” he smirked.

You laughed as you leaned forward, resting your arms on the edge of the table, “While we were riding, I repeatedly had the thought that I wouldn’t care if we just took off and didn’t go back. I was fully prepared to just go along for the ride.”

“You’d last a weekend, maybe,” he leaned forward, mimicking your position, “Before you’d wanna bail and go home.”

“If I didn’t know better, Angel, I’d say that that was a challenge.”

He smirked, “Your words, not mine.”

“Can’t believe you’re trying to bait me into running off with you,” you laughed with a shake of your head.

“You’re the one who wanted to go for a ride,” he smiled at you, “Can’t help if you fall in love with me in the process.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your face, “You sure think a lot of yourself, huh?”

He laughed but didn’t give you any other response to the question. The two of you sat there, each fighting the urge to reach across the table to take the other’s hands. It felt like a game of chicken, even though both of you desperately wanted to cave. Angel leaned in as he told you stories about late-night antics with the guys on their way back home after runs. You listened intently, finding yourself a little more enamored than necessary with the way his eyes lit up as he jumped from story to story, thriving off of having someone to talk with.

You’d hardly noticed the amount of time the two of you had spent sitting and talking at the table. You knew that it would be wise to hit the road and head home, and yet you didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. The little bubble the two of you were existing in for the time being was far more inviting than the real world.

“Think she does orders to-go?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Absolutely not,” she materialized seemingly out of nowhere to scoop up your plates, a kind smile on her face.

“I was just about to say that, you didn’t give me a chance,” Angel laughed as he dug out his wallet to pay the bill.

The two of you were making your way out the door and back towards Angel’s bike. His hand landed in the small of your back and you allowed him to pull you closer against his side. The short walk across the parking lot felt like it was so much longer as you reveled in every stride the two of you took together. His fingers slid underneath the thin fabric of your shirt and you chose not to comment on it, enjoying the contact more than you maybe should have.

When you reached the bike, Angel stood in front of you, looking down into your eyes to try and figure out what the next move was going to be. His hands were resting lightly on your hips and something told you that he didn’t want the night to be over yet, either. You wondered if his pride would win out, if he wouldn’t want to be the one to cop to it.

“So what’s next, querida, hm?”

“Am I still cashing in on my prize?” you rested your hands against his chest, “Or has that timed out?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “It’s whatever you want.”

You drummed your fingers lightly against the leather of his kutte, “I do like the sound of that,” you saw the smirk on his face and asked, “Any other places you’re in the mood to show me on our little joyride?”

He chuckled, “Maybe. I know a nice hotel a little ways up the road there,” he nodded back towards the road.

“Oh, do you now?” you fought back your laughter.

He pulled you against him for a moment, heat from his chest bleeding over into yours “I do,” he smiled as he handed you the helmet, “Ready to see if you can last the weekend?”

You bit down on your bottom lip with a nod, “Yea, I’m more than willing to win another bet against you, Reyes.”

He chuckled as he hopped onto his bike and waited for you to do the same, “Yea,” he settled into his seat as he felt your arms wrap around his waist, “We’ll see.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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nctxdreamies · 3 years

Text

A Silent Love

speak up, i’m listening

summary: wonwoo is known to be the quietest, most introverted, cold guy on campus. his feelings are only kept to himself until someone shows up...

who: wonwoo x female reader

genre: fluff, college

warnings: none :)

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i kinda love wonwoo so i had to write something up, hope you like it!

you’ve always been on top and focused on your studies

the only person that really kept you sane was your best friend joshua

he’s been by your side since day 1

you could never imagine where you’d be in the world right now without him

everyone always thought you two had a thing for each other

at one point that was true

things took a turn and you two thought it was best to just stay as friends

after that incident your friendship grew even stronger than before

both of you cringe at the fact that you used to date

you two agreed on to never bring it up ever again

you’re surprised that joshua and you even get along because of how different you guys are

he’s a total social butterfly, has so many friends, parties a lot ocassionally, and somehow still manages to get good grades

you on the other hand focus on studying, have a few close friends but joshua is your second half, and barely get out of your apartment

you wouldn’t consider yourself as an introvert nor an extrovert, somewhere in between...

studies were on top of everything, you had no time to focus on a relationship other than your strong friendship with joshua

especially after that incident, you knew that you could be independent

one day joshua went out partying late

he didn’t answer any of your calls or texts

it didn’t concern you since this wasn’t the first this happened

you couldn’t sleep knowing that joshua wasn’t home yet

you were always concerned about his well being but he always said that you worried too much for him

while waiting on joshua and studying for finals a phone call reached your phone at 3:00 am

this was odd since the number didn’t look familiar

you decided to pick it up anyways

“hello?”

“hi i have your best friend and he’s wasted right now, i’ll be there in 5”

“oh sorry who is this-“

you got cut off from the person on the other line hanging up

thoughts were running through your brain wondering who that could’ve been

exactly 5 minutes later there was a knock at your apartment door

you looked through the peeping hole to reveal joshua and a tall guy wearing a black mask, and bucket hat basically covering half of his face

you really only worried about joshua at this point since he was on the ground

the guy was struggling to hold him up

you immediately opened the door and right when you opened it you saw him dashing off around the corner really fast

you thought that was the weirdest thing ever

you picked joshua up and threw him on the couch

“jeez this guy is so wasted”

you looked back at your phone and saw the number and decided to text it

“thanks for bringing my friend home, sorry about that...”

‘read’

“oh wow what a way to say no problem”

the next morning you woke up later than usual and jolted out the door looking like a mess

good thing your morning bus ride to campus was long enough to get ready

you got on the bus and it was packed, there weren’t any spots left to sit in

there was one window seat open near the back

you headed down there and asked the person sitting in that row if you could sit there

he just moved over and let you through

right when you sat down a weird feeling got to you

you glanced to your left and the guy looked exactly like the one who brought joshua home last night

he was wearing the exact same bucket hat and black mask, this time his eyes were showing and he had a pair of round glasses on

he was just scrolling on his phone looking through social media

you decided to get ready while the bus started moving

there was a bump in the road and the makeup brush in your lap fell and rolled into the aisle

“shoot” you whispered under your breath

he quickly picked it up and handed it to you

you took it from his hand and locked eyes for a good 5 seconds

“thanks” you smiled

he went back to scrolling on his phone again

“hey weren’t you the guy that brought joshua home last night?”

“oh...um yeah, how’d you recognize me?”

“the bucket hat and mask! you seemed to be in a rush last night huh?”

“... yeah i was out later than usual”

the bus stopped at the campus and you both got up

you were surprised that he was getting up as well

you exited the bus and before he started walking off you caught up to him

“wait! are you a student here too?”

“yeah it’s my third year”

“woah really, mine as well!”

he didn’t seem much of a talker, he just wanted to get away from you

“by the way my name is y/n and i major in biology” you turned to him and smiled

“i’m wonwoo, i’m also in biology” he was basically whispering this

“how come i’ve never noticed you until now?”

“i guess it’s cause i’m always in the back and the first one to leave” he shrugged his shoulders

little did you know he knew who you were before you even talked to each other

you stood out to him in class since you were always paying attention, never late, and very active on the biology chat page

he knew you were out of his league and that’s why he was so cold and trying to avoid you

he eventually got over you even though he never talked to you once

but then the feelings rushed back when you started talking

“we should study together one day, and plus it’s finals season”

“i actually don’t study with other people... i kinda enjoy being alone”

“i can tell, you seem like the quiet type huh”

“i guess you could say that”

he suddenly turned the wrong direction to try and get away from you

“you know that’s not the right way”

he kept going and ignored you

you walked in class and noticed wonwoo already there

“wait i thought you were going the opposite way, how’d you get here before me?”

“i know ways” he glanced at you with a cold look

you just walked away to go sit at your seat

class ended and you turned around to go meet wonwoo again but he wasn’t there

you went to the library to study since it had the best lighting and comfy chairs between the bookshelves

you made your way there to your usual spot near the back, there was a tucked away table and chairs

someone was sitting there which surprised you since nobody really knew about this spot in the library

their back was facing you, but you decided to see who it was

“oh hey there wonwoo! i didn’t know you’d be here”

he looked up at you in shock

“this is where i normally go, what are you doing here?”

“i study here all the time, so you’re full of secrets” you laughed

you managed to crack a little smirk on his mouth

“so what are you up to?”

“i’m reviewing the content from the first few lectures”

you grabbed a seat beside him and started looking over the content he was looking at too

he felt uncomfortable by this but this was the only way he could get closer to you

you looked over at his test papers he was studying from

“woah you’re so good, how do you get grades like this?!”

“i just work my butt off i guess” he smiled

this was the first time you actually saw him smile so genuinely

“hey you should keep smiling like that, it looks good on you”

his eyes widened a bit and his cheeks were starting to warm up

he ran his hand through his hair and turned the other way in embarrassment

“well anyways i gotta go check up on joshua he’s still at the apartment”

“oh alright”

he seemed kinda sad that you were leaving so fast

“if you ever wanna study again together you got my number in your phone” you grabbed your stuff and left

that night while you were flipping through your textbook violently joshua knocked at your room door

“hey y/n sorry about last night, i was a total mess”

“whatever that’s all on you, at least someone brough you home safely”

“wait that wasn’t you?”

“no i was worried waiting for you all night”

“then who was that...” his eyes widened

“it was wonwoo, he brought you home”

“wonwoo... wonwoo” his face was confused

“oh like wonwoo in your major!”

“you know him?”

“yeah of course i do, we’ve talked a lot before since he loves music as well”

“oh wow he doesn’t seem like that type of guy, if anything he’s so cold and quiet”

“are you serious? this guy is NOT like that”

“he’s literally like that to everyone in our major, he’s that guy who sits at the back and listens along”

“you’ve never seen the real him i guess... why don’t the three of us go get a coffee tomorrow, then you can see how he really is”

“you know i’ve gotta study dude i don’t have time for this” you have him a disappointed look

“come on y/n you’re not studying for the whole dayyy” he started sulking

“ugh you’re so annoying. FINE if it will make you stop acting like this i’ll go”

he smiled and walked out of your room

you continued studying all night

your phone suddenly lit up with a text

“hey y/n i’m not sure if you got these notes but here they might help you study” *sent an attachment*

you opened it and everything on there were the things you struggled with the most

“wow thank you, this is really what i need right now!”

‘read’

joshua knocked on your bedroom door and that woke you up

“good morning y/n it’s time to get ready we’re going out for our coffee hangout”

you totally forgot about that so you started rushing to get ready

there was a knock on the front door and joshua opened it

you could hear a little bit of the conversation but you were more focused on getting ready

you walked out to the living room and saw wonwoo and joshua sitting on the couch talking together

“you’re finally ready, you literally take ages to do all that”

“not my fault you woke me up late”

“let’s get going” joshua gestured you guys to the door

you guys got to the cafe and found a booth near the back

“so wonwoo how has studying been for you?” joshua asked

“pretty good, i feel ready surprisingly”

you sat there feeling nervous about the finals

“y/n you need to relax this is a great way to reset and take a break from studying” joshua insisted

you all ordered your food and drinks and began talking

“so y/n told me you’re very quiet wonwoo”

“oh uh i guess i’m like that at school”

“oh come on wonwoo you barely talk, i never knew you were in my class”

“yikes well this is a great time to get to know each other” joshua smiled

you guys started talking for a while and enjoyed the conversation

you were able to have wonwoo open up more about himself

joshua’s phone started ringing and interrupted

he instantly left and said that he was sorry for leaving really early

“i guess it was urgent...”

wonwoo just shrugged

it started to get awkward without having joshua there

“so i heard you’re into music?”

“oh yeah, joshua probably told you... i kinda like making music”

“woah actually that’s so cool, could i hear a sample?” you asked

“it’s not really done but i have a short recording on my phone”

he let you listen to it

“dang that’s so good! i didnt know you did this type of stuff!”

“yeah it’s been a longtime hobby of mine”

you and wonwoo kept talking for a couple of hours now and you both started to lose track of time

suddenly joshua texted you

“oh my we’ve been here for so long, i better get going and plus i still need to study”

you started packing up and just before you could leave wonwoo’s hand stopped you

you turned around

“y/n i had such a great time today, thank you”

“me too we should definitely do this again!”

he didn’t respond except he just looked straight into your eyes

“i need to tell you something” wonwoo broke the silence

“yeah what’s up?”

he took your hand and led you outside

it was so beautiful with the sunset and you were both in awe

he brought you to a nearby lookout to watch the sunset

“wow it’s gorgeous up here” you exclaimed

“yeah i normally go here when i’m stressed”

“so what was it that you were going to tell me?” you asked

he started getting nervous and turned towards you

“well... this may seem so sudden but y/n i really want get this weight off my shoulders...”

you looked really worried

“i like you. i can’t keep being so cold and quiet to you, it really hurts me.”

he just said it so confidently

you didn’t know what to do, it felt so sudden and out of the blue

your words didn’t come out and you were just stuttering

“i like you too wonwoo, you’re such an amazing guy and i’d love to get to know you better”

he finally felt relieved from your response

he couldn’t help it and leaned over to kiss you

you didn’t hesistate to kiss back, it’s like you were meant for each other

he pulled away and held your hands and you both watched the sunset as you leaned your head on his shoulder

it started getting dark and he started walking you home

“how long did you have these feelings for me?”

“now that’s a long story” he laughed

“wait so even before i met you that night when you took joshua home?”

“i guess you can say so” he smiled

“i’m sorry i ran away that night without meeting you. i was too nervous to face you” he said

“what why? i was wondering why you left in such a hurry”

“yeah i just get nervous around you that’s why i’ve been so mean to you”

“what you weren’t mean to me... well kinda just a little cold”

“i’m sorry y/n”

you stopped and hugged him

you two reached your apartment and he watched you go in safely

“good night y/n” he texted you

“good night wonwoo.” you replied back

joshua was standing at the door smiling when you came in

“what’s wrong with you?” you looked at him and laughed

“i saw it all y/n don’t hide”

your face turned red and you ran to your room

“oh my y/n don’t worry if you don’t want to tell me i’ll just ask wonwoo”

you opened your door to a smiling joshua

“you- stop smiling like that” you rolled your eyes

“come on you two are so cute how could i not”

“ugh whatever, i need to study bye” you started pushing him out of your room

the next morning you were just about to head out your door, you opened it and saw wonwoo standing there

“oh nice to see you” you smiled brightly at wonwoo

he hugged you and kissed your forehead

you could hear joshua making a big deal out of it behind you

you closed the door behind you and left with wonwoo

wonwoo is still a shy guy when it comes to being with you in public

you absolutely don’t care about what people think

you still love him even though he’s still like this, it’s kinda cute

he rarely shows affection to you in public because the thought of pda just makes him feel weird

he respects you for who you are and isn’t the guy to be overly attached with you

he’s truly someone you’ve been dreaming of

#wonwoo #wonwoo au #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo svt #seventeen #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #svt fanfic #kpop imagine #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x reader #college au #wonwoo fluff #svt imagines #kpop scnearios #wonwoo scenarios #svt scenarios #Spotify

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astralaffairs · 4 years

Text

voltaire to versace 02 | thomas jefferson

title: voltaire to versace 02

pairing: professor!thomas jefferson x reader

words: 8.7k

warnings: honestly not much. sex jokes n references, dolley simping for james, broke college student meals

desc: from francis bacon to foucault, descartes to dante, your political philosophy seminar doesn’t promise to be a blowout — and yet, one mysterious stranger and a risqué evening later, your burberry-clad professor gives you the feeling it won’t be quite the snoozefest you’d expected.

tags: @lunariasilver @tinywhim @nyxie75 @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @checkurwindow @katierpblogg — let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

"Dolley, holy shit; please tell me you're already home." Y/N's words were breathless as she hurried across the quad, muttering under her breath into her phone. She'd darted out of her lecture hall the moment they'd been dismissed, having no desire to stick around for the confrontation she knew was inevitable.

"I'm just getting out of class, dear," Dolley responded, but when she continued, her words were teasing. "What sort of trouble did you manage to get yourself into while I was gone?"

"I cannot begin to explain." Y/N let out a huff, glancing over her shoulder and ducking her head as she whispered, "but it's not good."

"Oh, good lord, Y/N; I was joking." She could hear the genuine worry begin to creep into Dolley's voice and couldn't help but wince.

"Yeah, I wish I was, too." She chalked the subsequent rush of static through the line up to Dolley's sigh. "Where are you right now? Can I meet you somewhere?"

"Want to go to dinner?"

"Too broke for that."

"Packaged ramen from the drugstore on the east side of campus?"

"Now you're speaking my language." Y/N grinned, and she could only picture Dolley rolling her eyes from wherever she was. "I'll be there in a few."

"You'd better. I can't wait much longer to hear what sort of nonsense you've been up to."

"You slept with a professor?!"

"Shh, Doll; not so loud," Y/N hissed, pulling her back into the soda aisle and frantically checking for any prurient eavesdroppers. Her voice was low when she added, "It was the guy at the bar last night. I had no idea he was a professor here."

Dolley let out a dry, disbelieving laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is... a mess."

"You're telling me."

"So, what's the plan going to be?"

When Dolley folded her arms, raising an amused eyebrow (a little too amused, in Y/N's humble opinion), but Y/N furrowed her brow. "What d'you mean, 'what's the plan?'"

"What are you going to do the next time you run into him?" Dolley asked. There was a pause; Y/N hadn't thought that far. "You don't really think you can make it through the semester ignoring this, do you?"

"I... Maybe? I don't know!" Y/N let out a frustrated huff. "That's what I need you to help me figure out. What else are you here for?"

"Oh, you make an excellent point," Dolley sighed. "All I do is pay half the rent and help you get laid at bars downtown."

Y/N scowled. "You helped me get laid by a professor. Just help me."

"Mmh, I don't think I heard a 'please' in there."

"Please, Dolley, my white knight to whom I owe my life," she pleaded, clutching her roommates arm and sighing wistfully. Dolley's lips were pressed into a line, but that didn't stop her smile from showing through. "I would be nothing without you; just please, do me this one final favor."

"Alright, alright," she conceded with a huff, shaking free from Y/N's grip. "Drama queen."

Y/N shrugged shamelessly. "I bring excitement into your life. Don't be ungrateful."

"Whatever you say, dear." The defeat in her words made Y/N grin. "So back to your excitement, then."

"I'm so lost," Y/N groaned, finally emerging from the soda aisle with shoulders slumped in defeat. "If the sex hadn't been so good, I'd probably just pretend it never happened."

Dolley creased her brow. "Was it really that good?"

Y/N turned to her with a serious demeanor, a hand on her shoulder as she looked her in the eye. "Dolley. I am covered in hickeys from my neck to my hips. That man damn near threw my back out. I won't bullshit you; there's no way I'm gonna be able to sit comfortably for—"

"Okay, alright! A 'yes' would've sufficed," Dolley cut her off, pushing past her to the shelf of instant noodles. Y/N looked disproportionately self-satisfied when she followed. "That's about enough details for one evening."

"You asked!"

"But you can't spend the entire semester ignoring him, Y/N," Dolley continued, ignoring her words. "That class is notoriously difficult — the only people I know who didn't frequent his office hours were the ones who got 'C's."

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples as her roommate pushed cup after cup of beef ramen into her basket. "So then shouldn't I just put this whole thing behind me? I can't really start asking him to help me analyze Kant if I open the conversation with, 'hey, good to see you again, you're almost as good at teaching as you are in bed.'"

Dolley laughed at her dry tone. "I don't mean that, of course."

"Then what do you mean?"

"If you never agree to put this all behind you, I think it's going to be on both of your minds for the rest of the semester," she said matter-of-factly, hesitating when the freezer at the side of the room caught her gaze. "Should we pick up pizza rolls, too?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course we should," Y/N scoffed, brushing past her toward the Totino's section. "But if he and I both just ignore it, wouldn't that be an easier way to put it behind us?"

"Oh, grab a bag of the cheeseburger flavor, would you?" Dolley leaned in to look over Y/N's shoulder, ignoring her words altogether, and she glanced back with a raised eyebrow.

"Can you focus for five seconds?" She dropped three bags of pizza rolls — pepperoni flavor — into her basket with a huff. "Anyway, the cheeseburger flavor is disgusting. Get some taste."

"Don't discount the nostalgia of it!"

"Dolley." Y/N fixed her with a pointed look, and she sighed.

"We both know ignoring it is a poor idea, even if it is the easier option." Dolley didn't waste a second in pushing right past Y/N when she stood, grabbing a bag of the cheeseburger pizza rolls (an oxymoron in itself, as Y/N would've told her) before the freezer door could fall shut. "Just talk to him after class one day. Don't make it take more than five minutes."

"I don't even know where I'd start with that. I've dealt with awkward fallout from one-night stands before, but never with a professor." Her footsteps stalled within the last yard of the frozen section. "I've just gotta ignore it and focus on the coursework, Dolley. Wanna get some Ben and Jerry's?"

"Are you trying to distract me with a pint of chocolate fudge brownie?" Dolley asked incredulously, before adding, "Because it's working. Let's get two."

She grinned. "Excellent."

Y/N figured that was the end of it, that two pints of ice cream and an incredibly vague game plan would be enough to satiate her friend for the time being, but after they checked out, trying to figure out how many meals they could extend one pack of ramen to (because, really, if you just add more water, doesn't it make the servings bigger?), Dolley felt the need to return to it as they walked through the sliding glass exit doors, her words holding an air of finality.

"If you really want to insist on not just communicating with the poor man, Y/N, then fine." Y/N raised a quizzical eyebrow, not yet following where Dolley had abruptly turned the trajectory of their conversation. "But after his lecture on Wednesday, when you realize that leaving the subject untouched just makes it more unbearable—" ("'When'?" Y/N muttered dubiously.) "—then I need you to agree to go talk to your professor."

Dolley didn't wait for her response, squinting at the nutrition facts on the ramen labels as her focus drifted elsewhere (sure, it said two servings, but she was fairly sure that only the bourgeoise couldn't have stretched it to three), but Y/N let out a surrendering sigh.

"Wednesday's going to be just fine," she said, realizing but not caring that Dolley was no longer listening. "But if it isn't, I'll talk to him."

- -

Wednesday was not 'just fine.'

Y/N spent the entire class on edge, trying futilely not to let her thoughts drift back to the other night in the bar, then on the street in front of her building, then in the elevator, in her living room, even in the kitchen— but no, she was getting off track. Little did she know, Thomas was having precisely the same issue.

She jotted down his words almost robotically, the meaning of them going into one ear and out the other, more focused on the sound of his voice than on what he was actually saying.

Only once did she manage to focus for long enough to actually process a thought, but when he was fielding questions about the material, Thomas conveniently managed to miss her having raised her hand from where she was seated. She supposed she'd just positioned herself too far back and thought no more of it.

Despite how 'not fine' that day had been, she dismissed it as a fluke, showing up the next Monday with her head on straight, her readings prepared and annotated, and took a seat several rows further forward. Her motivation may have been misplaced, leaning a bit too far toward wanting to impress her professor and not far enough toward a desire to understand the material, but she was familiar enough with the content to feel comfortable giving her input on the questions he posed to the class throughout the lecture.

Again, her efforts bore no fruit. Her notes were better that day, so that was certainly something to count as a plus, but she left feeling put-out by the fact that she hadn't even had a chance to participate. Usually, she wouldn't have been so perturbed by this — sitting through a Socratic seminar playing tetris on her laptop was no unfamiliar experience — but this class accounted for six of the twelve credit hours she still needed for her chosen major. She didn't suppose that it'd be a good look to have the class dragging down her GPA to be the same one she was supposedly most passionate about; generally speaking, that wasn't what graduate schools were looking for.

Besides, she liked the subject, too. Surely that had to count for something?

And that was how she kept pushing off the inevitable conversation with Thomas — sorry, Professor Jefferson — and coming up with increasingly creative excuses as to why her efforts were being so plainly ignored, not only that following Wednesday, too, but also the Monday and Wednesday after. She'd made it through three weeks of classes before she could finally work up the nerve to confront him.

Unfortunately, that task proved to be no easier than her previous one.

Thom— her professor was always the last one into the lecture hall and the first one out, leaving no opportunities for chatter, or in her case, a supposedly inevitable clash she'd already begun arming herself for. She'd nearly caught him in the halls at various times, but he always seemed to have somewhere he urgently needed to be. The same doctrine followed in his office hours; apparently, another student had scheduled a meeting with him three minutes after every single time she arrived, without fail, so could she please just come back another time? Surely, another time would be better for both of them.

That time never came.

It was near the end of the fourth week that she was entirely fed up. They'd moved from Kant to Machiavelli, and so far, The Prince had her ready to tear her hair out. It didn't help that they'd all just finished the book, their first paper of the year on it due the next Monday.

She was far past lying to herself about her motives being purely academic while she continued to privately just want his attention — no, by then, she was hopped up on forty ounces of sugary coffee and just a touch of RedBull, and she hardly had a thesis for her paper. She'd read the same passages time and time again — she likely could've recited them word-for-word by the time she demanded feedback — and any shallow, vain desires for recognition were the furthest thing from her mind. She needed a professor, and she was pissed that Thomas didn't seem to have any interest in acting like one.

It was late Thursday evening when she marched across the green from the library to the building that housed his office in a fury. Yes, it was the last week of January; yes, the entire city was still coated in snow, but no, she could not bring herself to care about the very real possibility of frostbite as she trudged through the snow in sweatpants, slippers, and a tank top. Practicality wasn't her priority. Finishing her paper was.

Thomas's office hours were from 7 to 10 PM every evening, a schedule he stuck to religiously. It was 9:24 when Y/N began tracking snow through the bottom floor of his building, and 9:31 when she finally managed to locate and reach his actual office.

It was reluctant when she finally knocked, struggling to resist the urge to simply bust in and rip him a new one, but to her relief, it was simply met with a 'come in.' That was when she threw the door open in a fit of annoyance.

"You've been avoiding me," she said, eyes narrowed and tone accusatory before he could so much as react to her presence.

"Y/N, I—" His eyes were wide; he seemed to be at a loss for words as his eyes drifted down to her sweatpants and Hello Kitty slippers. He couldn't have convinced her it wasn't a dignified look even if he'd tried. "What are you doin' here?"

"We need to talk." She dropped her bag into one of the chairs in front of his desk, though she chose not to take a seat, instead glaring down at him, arms folded.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and though his head was down, his shadow of a grimace told her everything she needed to know: he'd been dreading this conversation far more than she had. "Look, right now really isn't a great time. I've got—"

"Don't bullshit me, Thomas."

"Professor Jefferson," he corrected her, the words hissed through gritted teeth, and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"My bad. Don't bullshit me, Professor Jefferson." Y/N scowled as she took another step towards him. "Your office hours don't end until ten. There's no way you have time for a meeting between now and then if you haven't already started one."

He let out a heavy sigh. "Alright. Alright, fine. And I know what you're gonna say, but—"

"Do you really?" she challenged him, head cocked to one side. "Because the fact that you haven't given me one chance to speak to you in almost a month tells me pretty clearly that you don't. Generally, you find out what people have to say by listening to them."

"We can't have this conversation here. You've gotta come find me some other time." The urgency in his voice only served to infuriate her further. What right did he have to be dictating this when he'd tried to stop the conversation altogether?

"Oh, believe me, I've tried," Y/N huffed. "I'm done accommodating. If you wanted to talk about this some other time, I would've been happy to, but we're well past that."

He held her burning gaze warily for another moment, but she didn't let up. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. Say your part. I'm listenin'."

"You've been completely freezing me out. You haven't been answering my questions in classes; you haven't been letting me contribute to discussions; you, most recently, haven't let me talk to you for more than five seconds, hence why I'm here." She launched into an irate monologue without any further encouragement, and to his credit, Thomas at least had the decency to look guilty. "You've been turning me away at your office hours; for fuck's sake, Thomas, you haven't even answered any of my emails!"

"I know, I know," he said, and though she could see the exhaustion written across his face, she didn't let him continue. "But you've gotta understand—"

"I'm not done," she cut him off, and it was then that he raised an affronted brow. "Anyway, I get why you're keeping your distance. Really, I do. And honestly? I can't really blame you for it."

"Well, great, so—"

"But with that said," —she gave Thomas an expectant look as she continued to speak over him, challenging him to try and interrupt— "You've been doing more than keeping your distance. You've been outright ignoring me, and that's where I'm drawing a line in the sand. Refusing to engage with me doesn't help either of us."

She let out a heavy breath when she finally reached the end of her rant, and though he was certainly taken aback, Thomas looked unimpressed.

"May I speak now?" he asked mockingly, and she scowled. "Or are you just gonna keep cuttin' me off?"

"Depends how much bullshit comes out of your mouth."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure." He put his pen back into the cup on the edge of the desk before drawing himself up to the fullest height he could reach in a rolling chair. With how he was looking at her, with how cross his tone was, Y/N may have backed down in another context, but quite frankly, she was beyond having anything to lose. "I understand that you're hurt, Y/N, and for that, 'm honestly sorry, but—"

"I'm not hurt, I'm ticked!"

"Y/N." That time, his hard voice, his barely-contained anger, did make her shrink away, just a bit. "You've gotta realize that what happened is in the past. It was a mistake. I didn't know you were a student here — you even told me you went to school in Chicago."

"I did, for two years."

"Doesn't matter. Moral of the story is that you've gotta leave that in the past. I'm your professor now, and that's a boundary that can't be crossed. We both need to stop dwellin' on it." His saying 'we' rather than 'you' certainly didn't go unnoticed, but Y/N deemed it not worth addressing.

"Great. It's behind us. Can you stop ignoring me now?"

"Come on, Y/N—"

"Seriously? You're gonna argue with that?" She threw her hands up in a huff, beyond exasperated and crossing the line to indignance. "You wanna remind me that you're my professor? Then stop acting like I don't exist. It's that simple, Thomas."

"It's Professor Jefferson. And I'm not tryin' to ignore you," he defended. "But don't you see the position this puts me in? My job's at stake here. This can never happen again!"

"And who said I wanted it to?" she bit back immediately, and for just a moment, Thomas was rendered silent.

"If that's not what you're lookin' for, then what are you here for?" His voice was quiet, his gaze searching, and Y/N sighed.

"Seriously? I haven't made myself clear enough?" She raised an eyebrow, but his blank look told her all she needed to know. The tension in her shoulders dropped; her combative stance went neutral when she reached into her bag, pulling it from the chair in front of his desk. "You're the one who keeps emphasizing that you're my professor — and that's what I need you to be right now."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly lost as she withdrew Machiavelli's The Prince from her bag, beaten up and slathered in colored tabs around the edges. She added in a small voice, "I've been struggling with the reading. I did it all, but there are just a couple passages that... I need help with."

Thomas — no, Professor Jefferson (god, was she ever going to struggle with getting that down) — looked stunned, plain and simple. Y/N had expected all of his assumptions for why she'd shown up there. Two weeks earlier, they may have also been accurate ones, but ultimately, she was still just a student. He'd really had to have had a big head to think he'd take priority over that for any extended period of time.

His eyes were wide. He continued to look toward her, but his gaze was blank, slowly drifting to his desk, until finally, he sighed. "Well, shit. I, uh... I'm really sorry, Y/N. Really." If the growing guilt behind his shock hadn't been clear enough in his demeanor, it was woven tightly into his voice. His stare flickered back up to her, and despite her lingering irritation, the apology in it softened her. "I got so caught up in my own problems that I didn't even consider. I didn't mean to assume that you... y'know."

"Came here to try and get dicked down?" Y/N supplied, voice dry as she watched him expectantly. He cracked a sheepish smile.

"Somethin' like that."

"As though it'd be worth the effort," she snorted. "There are, like, thirty frats on campus, and I have a paper due Monday — in case you'd forgotten. If I wanted to get laid, I'd do it much more efficiently."

"Mm, but would it be as good?" At the clear ego in Thomas's playful stare, Y/N's eyebrows shot toward her hairline.

"Now who's crossing boundaries?"

Despite the skepticism in her voice, Thomas laughed. "'M just kiddin'. Promise."

"Hilarious." Her small, persistent smile undermined her sarcasm, and his gaze was soft.

"Alright, alright, come take a seat. Show me which pages you're strugglin' with."

"Yeah, so it's less full pages and passages than it is key phrases I just can't seem to connect to the rest of the work." Y/N lowered herself into the chair that wasn't already holding her bag as she flipped open her book to her third pink tab, turning it to show him. "Like, here. Chapter 19."

"Mhm."

"I understand what the whole page is getting at, but look at this..."

They sank easily into the text, despite being focused more on one another's voices than on the writing itself. Ten PM had long since come and gone, but as the night stretched on, the pair only continued to pass Y/N's book back and forth, bouncing from passage to passage, idea to idea as though no time had passed at all. Neither of them bothered to check any sort of a clock until Y/N let out a loud, drawn-out yawn. Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"You gettin' tired?" Y/N gave a halfhearted shrug as he finally checked his watch, and his eyes widened. "Shit, it's past eleven. We should get you outta here."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." Her voice was weary as she lifted herself out of her seat, tucked her book back into her bag. "I've got everything I need for my paper, anyway."

"Glad to hear it." Thomas reached for his coat as she made her way to the door, but she paused when he asked, "You're not thinkin' of walkin' home, are you?"

She glanced back over her shoulder. "What if I am?"

Thomas furrowed his brow. "Tell me that's a joke. That's gotta be a joke." Y/N shrugged, and Thomas groaned lightly. "In that outfit, you freezin' and gettin' abducted are equally likely, you know that?"

"Aw, thanks for letting me know! Now I feel so much safer," she said, plastering on a mocking smile.

"Lemme call you an Uber," he offered, and Y/N quirked a brow.

"Are you that much of a one-trick pony?"

"If makin' sure women get home safe is my only trick, I think it's a pretty good one to have," he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N had to laugh.

"I can appreciate that. An Uber would be great." Y/N pulled her bag up her shoulder as she returned to his door. "I'll see you Monday?"

"Mhm. Your driver's named Amy, and she's drivin' a blue Camry, by the way," Thomas informed her, and Y/N smiled. "G'night, Y/N."

"Night, professor."

From then on, Y/N began frequenting Thomas's office hours, only hesitantly at first. While her motives were genuine, all of them being centered around getting into grad school, she didn't want to become overbearing, especially with the one night, the sixteen stolen hours that still hung over their heads. She stopped by twice the following week, neither time staying long as other students began to trickle in, peeking nervously around the corner toward his office, knocking so quietly at first that neither Thomas not Y/N realized someone was there. She didn't need him any more than her classmates did, so she yielded her time gracefully.

Moreover, she knew that only very little of the time he offered to students wasn't already occupied, and while the reason for that was certainly clear to her, she wasn't sure whether it'd gone over his head. It wasn't until the fourth time she went to meet with him that she found he was every bit as aware as everyone else.

"Hey, Thom—" Y/N cut herself off with a wince. "Professor Jefferson, you around?" she called down the hall to his office, nose still buried in the email from the anthropology department that she'd pulled up on her phone (apparently they were having a bake sale on the east green; Y/N didn't bother to read further and learn why once she saw they'd have caramel brownies). She only glanced up when she didn't receive an answer, instead hearing chatter drift down the hall, and her footsteps slowed as she neared his doorway. Her eyebrows shot up.

Y/N recognized the woman seated — well, hardly still seated, at that point — with her back to her as Lucy Hart, who sat front and center during every single one of their lectures, who was now all but draping herself across Thomas's desk, leaned onto her forearms and with a pen between her teeth.

Though she seemed to find whatever Y/N had just missed to be hilarious, Thomas's amusement was forced, uneasy as he eased his hand away from where hers had fallen to cover it, holding the book open by one of its ends.

"Alright, Miss Hart, we'll see." Whatever the question was, Thomas wasn't about to give her a straight answer, but Lucy seemed to take that as a challenge. Her cleavage finally spilled back into the neckline of her dress when she sat back in her seat, but she traced one finger up Thomas's forearm.

"I guess we will," she replied. She hadn't seemed to have caught on to how wildly uncomfortable she was making him — Y/N could only assume Lucy had decided she'd left him 'flustered.' She reached for his copy of Hobbes's Leviathan, her perfectly manicured fingers brushing over his as she did so. "Now, where were we?"

Ahem.

From the angle they were seated at, neither Thomas nor Lucy had noticed Y/N standing in the doorway, an eyebrow raised — when she cleared her throat, though, they both jumped. Their reactions to her presence couldn't have been more disparate. The relief written deep in Thomas's tiny smile was obvious, but Lucy was looking her over with a scowl.

"Hey," Y/N finally said, taking a step forward. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"'Course not." It was Professor Jefferson who answered, tone formal and body language neutral, but how quickly he'd answered, overtly cutting off Lucy, told Y/N she wasn't misreading the situation. "What can I do for you, Y/N?"

"Yeah, Y/N," Lucy furthered, eyeing her dubiously. "Why are you here?"

Y/N's gaze flickered between the pair of them, the tension in Thomas's shoulders subtle but clear as he inched his arm further from Lucy's. "Last I checked, Professor Jefferson, we had a meeting scheduled for right about now."

Her smile was genuine despite how Thomas knit his dark brow; she hadn't yet moved past finding the ordeal wildly entertaining. "Do we?"

"I thought so," she added with a shrug, and when her pointed gaze fell to Lucy, who still looked irate sitting in the small tufted chair across from him, Thomas sighed, and Y/N felt confident it'd been a sigh of relief. He seemed to have realized the escape rope she'd thrown into his lionness's den. "Unless I got the time wrong? It could've been tomorrow evening, I—"

"No, no you're in the right," he cut her off a little too adamantly, and though she'd already begun to dig through her phone for the nonexistent calendar event, she looked up with her eyebrows raised. "'S my bad. I took the timing down wrong."

Y/N had to bite down her self-satisfied smile. "Are you sure? Because really, we can reschedule; I'm also available—"

"No. Now's just fine," he assured her, and the indignant look Lucy shot him had the beginnings of a smile creeping past Y/N's innocent mask. "Made a promise, and it'd be only right to keep it, wouldn't it?"

"It is your responsibility to model integrity, professor."

"Then I guess I've gotta make sure I don't give anybody the wrong idea."

Y/N wasn't sure whether the words, 'the wrong idea' were pointed at her or at Lucy, or whether they were even pointed at all, with her simply reading too far into a nonexistent subtext to take them at face value. She didn't dwell much longer.

"Well, thanks for stoppin' by, Miss Hart—" Vindication flashed in Y/N's eyes when she noticed his electing not to use Lucy's first name. "—I hope all this discussion's deepened your understandin' of Hobbes's view on human nature."

"Oh, I've learned quite a bit about human nature," Lucy said as she stood, and Thomas's discomfort hadn't faded. Y/N was struggling to comprehend what about her words possibly justified her tone being so suggestive. "I hope I can come back another night for you to teach me a little more of it, Thom— oh! I mean, Professor Jefferson."

She glanced bashfully at Y/N with her final few words, her sheepish front fooling no one. Y/N wasn't sure to what end, but this was a clear ploy for her jealousy — she'd been around the block once or twice. Y/N genuinely struggled to contain her amusement as Lucy shot him a wink before turning to leave, exaggerating the movements of her hips. The door fell shut behind her.

It wasn't until Lucy's footsteps were out of earshot that Thomas let out a heavy sigh, sinking down in his chair, and Y/N let out the laugh she'd spent the past ten minutes swallowing.

"So, Lucy Hart, huh? That's who you've been spending all your alleged 'office hours' with?" she started, and Thomas's glare was weak.

"C'mon, Y/N."

"Is that why your door's locked half the times I show up here? Today wasn't very subtle, you know."

"Y/N." His voice was hard when he gave her a pointed look, but with how tired he looked, she didn't push it further, just smiled.

"Relax; I'm just kidding." She shrugged off her jacket. "I know that if you were to sleep with a student, it wouldn't be Lucy. Don't worry."

He raised his eyebrows at her audacity, her smug grin, but he couldn't prevent the amusement that showed through to his expression. "Really? You're gonna go there?"

"Go where?" When she knit her brow, plastered on a confused frown, Thomas had to swallow his laugh. "Now, I'm just not sure what you're implying, professor. Do you plan on sleeping with Lucy?

"Hilarious, Y/N." His rolling his eyes left her undeterred. "In all seriousness, though, I think she really believes she is bein' subtle."

"Unfortunately, I'm well aware," Y/N sighed. "I've seen her at a few too many parties to have any illusions about what a painfully tactless flirt she is."

"You're tellin' me."

"Has it been like this all semester?" she asked. Sure, Y/N had seen how shameless Lucy was during lectures, leaving no stone unturned to draw attention to herself, but this seemed a new level of egregious. Yet, Thomas nodded.

"Once a week, every week. Least, when it isn't more than that."

"Sometimes it's more?" Y/N let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, and Thomas nodded his solemn confirmation. "Jesus. So this is why you look pissed every time she participates in class. I figured you just hated the sound of her voice as much as I do."

"Believe me; I've been startin' to."

"That's so harsh!"

"Aw, c'mon, and you wouldn't?"

Y/N shrugged, pursed her lips, but her eyes glinted with hubris. "Well," she said, "It'd depend on how hot the student was. I mean, in my opinion, if Lucy was me, it just might be a different story."

Thomas couldn't bring himself to look annoyed. "Yeah, yeah. Alright," he said, shaking his head at her words. "You think you're fuckable. I get it."

"Glad we agree." Y/N's lips quirked up into a smug smile, but Thomas raised his eyebrows.

"Hang on, now. That's not quite what I—"

"But if she's really bothering you," Y/N continued, altogether disregarding his protests, and Thomas sighed. "You know you could just, like, talk to Lucy about it, right? You're the one with the power, here."

She couldn't put her finger on exactly why he winced at the latter sentence.

"Guess so, I just... I dunno. 'S really no big deal; I'm just gettin' fed up with all that." He gave a halfhearted shrug that made her raise an eyebrow. "But don't worry 'bout that. Why're you here, if not for the meetin' we've supposedly got scheduled for tonight?"

His tone was light, playful with the question, but Y/N was still stuck on what he'd started with. "Hold on; you can't just deflect that easily."

"Deflect from what?" He furrowed his brow, but Y/N just huffed, walking toward the near side of his desk.

"From whatever you're getting 'fed up with all of,'" she said, and when she eyed him skeptically, his fatigued sigh told her she wasn't imagining things. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, sure, join me." Thomas beckoning her toward his empty chairs was almost absentminded. "But really, it's nothin'."

"No offense, but I don't know if I believe you." As she sank down into one of his guest's seats, a conflicted look flickered across his gaze, building further on the concern in her words. "What's up? C'mon; talk to me."

He hesitated. "'M serious, Y/N; it's not—"

"Thomas."

He raised an eyebrow, but it took her a moment to notice her own error. "Excuse me?"

"Professor Jefferson, I mean. Of course." Her smile was sheepish, but it just made him chuckle.

"Alright, alright. 'S nothin' serious, anyway, but 'm just gettin' sick of not bein' taken seriously."

Y/N's words were hesitant as she raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? People take you seriously."

"Mm, but do they?" He sighed as he sat back in his chair. "I'm the youngest professor on campus; half my office hours are taken up by undergrads hittin' on me. It's hard to feel like I'm gettin' a lot of respect when you don't even treat me like a professor."

"Hey, come on, I respect you," she defended, and he shook his head.

"I don't mean you, specifically, Y/N. Just... your whole class. I'm already hardly old enough to be teachin' at a university, but it also kinda sucks to see how many people pretend to care about learnin' just to get my attention," he said, and his voice was soft. His quiet sigh made Y/N frown, especially as his absent gaze wandered through his own office.

"I'm sorry," she said, and he glanced back over to her. "Keep in mind, though, you made the first move on me. Not the other way around."

Despite her having been entirely serious, her words made Thomas laugh — a full-bodied laugh, too, one that couldn't help but make her smile in return. "Thanks for lettin' me know," he said, and though she rolled her eyes at his sarcastic tone, she was glad to see him lightening up. "Sorry to say it, sweetheart, but not everything's about you."

Neither noticed his casual term of endearment. "What a shame," Y/N sighed.

"Mm, I'm sure. I guess I just..." When he trailed off, Y/N raised a brow, and the concerned look in her eyes was what prompted him to continue. "I know I'm smart, 'n all, but it never feels great to feel discounted. Especially bein' new to the faculty."

"I hear that," Y/N said, her tone light but gaze solemn. "For what it's worth, I do come to your office for help because I know you can and want to provide it, not because I have some ulterior motive."

"Glad to hear it." Though his tone almost suggested he may have been being facetious, Y/N could tell that he wasn't making fun. "But on that note, thanks for givin' me an out with the Lucy fiasco. What'd you need, comin' here?"

Y/N's smile was small, all but apologetic as she unzipped her bag after pulling it into her lap. "Right. So, I know this isn't your job, and all..."

When she trailed off, Thomas eyed her suspiciously, especially as her lips only seemed to stretch further into a grin. "What's this about?"

"Is there any chance you'd be willing to read over my paper for my constitutional law seminar?" At the hopeful look she wore as she withdrew her printed essay from her bag, he had to laugh.

"Really? You're not even here for somethin' about my class?"

"Yes or no, professor?" She raised a brow, waving the packet back and forth expectantly.

"And why'd you decide to come see if I'd look through it? What makes you think I'm gonna?"

"You read over my French paper last week!" she pointed out, and Thomas sighed.

"Yeah, 'cause I speak French."

"You speak English, too. And you worked in government." Y/N shrugged, putting the paper down on his desk regardless. "So, please? I'd ask my roommate, but she's studying business, and you must know how that goes."

"You trashin' on business majors?" Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"If I was, would I be wrong?"

Her deadpan stare made him laugh. "Can't argue with that. Give it here."

He held his hand out for the essay, and she gave it to him with a wide grin. "You're the best."

"What else is new?" he asked, and despite how dry his tone was, his eyes were teasing. "You wanna go through it with me now, or should I get it back to you some other time?"

"Any chance we can go over it now?" she asked. "It might sort of be due in two days."

His eyebrows shot up. "Are you tellin' me I'm some kinda last resort?"

"Of course not!" she defended, but she hesitated before continuing, "Just an eleventh-hour supplementary resource who's going to help me get a diploma."

"I'm sure," he said, and the skeptical look he gave made the corners of her lips twitch. "You owe me, y'know that?"

"Really. I should start paying you, one of these days."

"To be fair, you do pay my salary."

"Mm, maybe some students do, but I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you."

Thomas furrowed his brow, confusion permeating every aspect of his expression as he looked back at her. "What, you 'n Elizabeth Warren linked up in a personal campaign for free college?"

"No, but the president of financial aid and I did." She shrugged. "Honestly, they saved my ass. Sorry I'm not raising your salary, or anything, but I hardly pay to go here."

When he slowly nodded, she could see the small, subtle smile tugging at his lips. "I'll try not to hold it against you. 'M glad you ended up here anyway."

Y/N's grin was exaggerated, a fact she did nothing to conceal. "Aww, professor, I knew you secretly liked having me here."

He rolled his eyes, but his smile mirrored hers. "I meant that I'm glad that money isn't holdin' you back from gettin' a good education."

"I'm sure you did."

Thomas cocked a brow. "D'you want me to read your paper or not?"

At his words, Y/N had to bite back her cocky grin, and she nodded. "Yes, please."

"Then get off your high horse 'n listen." Despite his words, amusement sat heavy in the way he was skeptically eyeing Y/N.

"Of course, professor."

"It's been shockingly chill."

Y/N was sprawled out on the carpet of her living room, a styrofoam cup of ramen in one hand and chopsticks in the other, while Dolley sat curled up at the end of the couch flipping through Netflix on their TV.

"No lingering sexual tension?" Dolley challenged, glancing down to where Y/N was slurping her noodles (she'd asserted that ramen on the couch was too high of a stain risk). Y/N shook her head, and Dolley raised an eyebrow. "Really? No secret desire to end up bent over his desk?"

"Okay, listen, what I want and what I act on are two very different things." She pointed her chopsticks at Dolley accusatorily. "I can have it both ways."

"So you're still looking for another night of fun?" Dolley raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N only grinned.

"Are you offering?"

"I could be convinced, dear." The wink Dolley sent her made Y/N laugh, broth sloshing down the side of her cup that she didn't hesitate to lick off of the back of her hand.

"Mhm, because my sex appeal is through the roof, I'm sure."

"Alright, I'll confess. I am only joking, after all," Dolley sighed, a wistful look in her eyes as she scrolled through the Netflix TV dramas category. "But only because things with James are going better than I expected."

Y/N's eyes widened; she spun in her spot on the floor. "Dolley, oh my God, spill! You've been holding out on me."

"There's not much for me to spill, really." She shrugged, and the smile she wore was coy. "He and I have just been getting on well. Nothing more to it."

"No. Uh-uh." Y/N shook her head, setting her near-empty instant ramen onto their coffee table. "You're gonna give me more than that. You have to. Clearly something's been happening."

Dolley bit her lip. "So, would we rather watch Stranger Things or The Good Place?"

"Don't you dare change the subject!"

"Alright, alright," she finally sighed, and her gaze was soft when she finally met Y/N's eyes. "So, we've been seeing each other more often. Getting coffee, grabbing lunch between classes. He's even had me read over different drafts of his thesis."

"Aww, he's using you as an editor? How romantic!"

"Make fun all you want, but he trusts me with it. Isn't that worth something?"

"Of course it is, Doll." Y/N smiled, unable to tease Dolley further when she had such a sappy look in her eyes. "But if you've been dating, why am I just finding out?"

She didn't meet Y/N's gaze, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves. "We haven't been going on dates, really."

"Oh yeah? This is how you talk about hanging out with everyone else you aren't dating?" The challenge in Y/N's tone made her scoff, roll her eyes, but they both knew she had a point.

"It's nothing official."

"But do you want it to be?" Y/N quirked a brow. Dolley's smile was faint.

"Maybe a little," she said quietly, and Y/N's grin broadened.

"That's adorable. I'm thrilled for you," she said, but there was a heavy pause before she hesitantly added, "but be careful with him."

Dolley furrowed her brow, finally turning toward where Y/N sat. "What d'you mean?"

"You have a habit of quickly getting attached to men who turn out to be terrible for you. Remember Henry?"

"Knox or Clay?"

"Either. You're making my point." Y/N gave her a knowing look, but Dolley didn't seem overly offended. "You're just too quick to give people the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone deserves it."

"But that's what you love about me, dear."

"Don't you turn my undying love and affection for you against me!" Y/N protested, and though she rolled her eyes, Dolley appeared to be entertained. "I adore you for what a sweetheart you are, but it's also what men take advantage of."

"Yes, I know; you've given me this talk before," Dolley sighed. "But really, I think this time might be different. I really like James."

Y/N pursed her lips. "It'd better be. Otherwise he's gonna have hell to pay."

"I'm not too worried."

"I am."

"Would you feel better if I gave you a chance to screen him?" Y/N raised an interested eyebrow at Dolley's words. "Because I invited him to come over Wednesday night for dinner. If you'd like, it'll be a prime time for you to interrogate him."

She sighed. "I dunno, Doll. I don't want to third wheel."

"You live here. You won't be third-wheeling," Dolley pointed out. "And you wouldn't have to stay! You could just pop in, say hello, and either leave or just go wait him out in your room."

A small smile grew across Y/N's lips at her words. "And you'll seriously let me interrogate him?"

"Have at it."

"I'm in."

Dolley 🥺💋 sent: James is coming over in five minutes, so get home whenever

Dolley 🥺💋 sent: unless of course you've decided to grant him your tacit approval

Y/N sent: be home soon 😪

Dolley 🥺💋 sent: see u 😘

"Y/N?"

It was Wednesday evening, around 6 PM. Y/N's political philosophy seminar had just been let out, but she'd really spent most of her focus over the past three hours on figuring out exactly how to determine whether or not James was a piece of shit. Apparently he was bringing takeout to her and Dolley's apartment for all three of them, which she saw to be a point in his favor.

However, as her classmates filed out of the lecture hall, Y/N stood idly, taking hesitant steps forward out of her row as she tried to multitask, neither eager to stop texting Dolley or to trip all the way down the steps to the front of the room. It was Professor Jefferson who knocked her out of the reverie that'd been induced by the promise of James delivering what she imagined to be the best food she'd had in weeks.

She looked up with a brow raised, tucking her phone back into her pocket. "Hey, professor."

"You have a second to talk?"

"Oh, um..." Despite her deep-seated motivation to get home before dinner was cold, she supposed it could wait just a little longer. She nodded. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

She pulled her bag onto her shoulder as she stepped out onto the hall's staircase, maybe three rows up from where Thomas stood at the bottom floor.

He leaned nonchalantly against the first row of desks. "So, the TA I've had since first semester's leavin' in a week or two. He's goin' abroad to South Korea for the fourth quarter, 'n he's decided to resign from bein' my assistant at the end of this week, so that he can make sure he's got everything in order for the next three months."

She frowned. "That's too bad. I'm sorry to hear it." She folded her arms, paused before adding, "So what, you want me to break the news to the class that we aren't getting those papers on the Enlightenment back anytime soon?"

At her quirked brow, her playful smile, Thomas had to give a light laugh. "Mm, I'm hopin' it won't come to that."

"You should probably get to grading instead of keeping me from dinner, then."

"Oh, 'm sorry; how dare I, really?" He responded, a hand over his heart, and she had to bite back her entertained smile at the irony in his indignance.

"Honestly. I can't imagine why I put up with it."

"I'll make it up to you," he said dryly. "But seriously, 'm not just tellin' you that for the sake of small talk. What I'm sayin' is that I have an openin' to find a new TA."

"I see," she said, raising an eyebrow. "And where, pray tell, do I come into all this?"

It wasn't that his train of thought was hard to follow, nor was his implication, but until he said it outright, Y/N had no desire to make any sort of an assumption.

He smiled. "You have any interest in becomin' a TA?"

"Seriously?" She furrowed her brow. "I mean, I appreciate it, but why?"

"First off, your work's consistently at the top of this class," he said matter-of-factly. They both knew she was well aware of this, after the hours in his office she'd spent grilling him on the historical context of every one of Voltaire's assertions and the implications of every early revolution. "You're a good writer, 'n you're more than capable of reviewin' other students' work. You've also already taken most of the other classes I teach, so you're familiar with all the material."

She nodded slowly, folding her arms, and though her expression would've conveyed that she was deep in thought, she couldn't suppress her growing smile. "I see. So it doesn't have anything to do with how attractive or charming I am?"

When she raised a playful eyebrow, he laughed outright. "Whenever your charm can start gradin' thirty ten-page papers a day, I'll start takin' it into account."

"Don't underestimate it."

"Alright, alright, I'll keep it in mind." He shook his head, and his lingering smile made the corners of her lips twitch. "'M serious, though. If you've already got enough on your plate, and you don't wanna take on another commitment, that's cool 'n all, and I can always ask someone else. But would you want the position?"

She pursed her lips, eyed him hesitantly. "Will I need to apply for it?"

"Nah," he said. "By the university's policy, you've gotta send me your resume and transcript, but if you wanna be my TA, you've got it. So?"

When she bit her lip, his eyes flickered down to her mouth so briefly that she almost didn't notice it. "I don't know, Thom—" He raised a brow. "Professor. Is there any chance I can think on it and get back to you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, 'course. I can give you 'til the end of the week, if that's enough time?"

"That'd be great." As she held his gaze, she couldn't help but ponder exactly what she was being asked. She was sure his motives were pure; she couldn't imagine for the life of her Thomas giving her a job with the intent of breaking down professional boundaries so he could sleep with her, but that was where her mind was going regardless. "I'll stop by and let you know on Friday."

"I'm countin' on it." He wore a wide grin that shouldn't have and usually wouldn't have put her on edge. Her mind had fallen down the rabbit hole of fixating on just how much more time she'd be spending with him as his TA — he saw enough of her during his office hours, but she was of two minds with that. On one hand, what would a few more hours change? However, on the other, all she was hearing was that he didn't mind spending a few more hours with her. "I'll see you then?"

When he raised an eyebrow, she finally realized she'd spaced out for a solid minute, and she fixed on a smile, though it was tense. "See you then."

She left without another word.

James proved to be a nice guy when Dolley had him over; he brought burgers and milkshakes for all three of them. However, Y/N knew she'd only find herself on Dolley's bad side however many hours later. As much as he was talking, Y/N didn't retain a single word he shared about himself, despite having promised she'd use the evening to formulate her opinion on him. So much for protecting Dolley.

Instead, Professor Thomas Jefferson occupied every one of her thoughts.

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

What a Time to be Alive- Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 10- The White Violin Part 2

Summary: After a less then stellar time at the bowling alley, you and the Hargreeves must find a way to stop Vanya during her concert tonight, doing whatever it takes.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Warning: Reader gets stabby again, enjoy

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

Maneuvering your way out of the ball gutter area, you stumble a bit while getting out, a steady pair of hands catching your waist before you can face plant into the concrete. “Y/N, you cant keep falling for me in front of my family, it’s getting embarrassing.” Quips Diego breathlessly, lifting you up to face him, “Hilarious.” You deadpan, pulling away and readjusting your blood spotted jacket. His face shifts to that of a concerned boyfriend in an instant, “You were shot...look...a bloody hole in your thigh.” He says pointing towards the damage, you feel the fabric of your black jeans. The small hole is indeed wet with your blood, you let out a snort, you never even felt it. “Huh..the bullet must have went straight through. Didn’t even know.” You whisper, shaking your head, how you managed to completely ignore the shot, still surprises you, but now is not the time to think about it.

“Shit! We gotta go!” You tell Diego as you start jogging down the hallway towards the exit. He follows close behind, as more bullets rickashay off the cement walls in the background.

——

It’s a short sprint to the Icarus Theater but fortunately the five of you make it. No personnel is waiting outside to take your tickets and the doors happen to be unlocked. Guess they weren’t expecting highly trained childhood superheroes to come barging into a theater to stop their sister from causing the apocalypse. It could have happened to anyone really.

You race up the marble staircase, the other Hargreeves rushing up behind you. The beautiful sounds of an orchestra are floating on the air and into your ears, you’d be thoroughly enjoying it, if not for the dire situation. Suddenly Allison puts a hand on Luther’s large chest, stopping him with what she just wrote down on her notepad. You halt in your tracks, Diego sidestepping you so he won’t crash into your back as he turns around as well. I need to go alone. Is what Allison wrote, Luther’s blinks in confusion, “Wha...Allison, I can’t let you do that, all right? She’s beyond reasoning.” He argues firmly, she stares at him defiantly.

“You hear the music? It’s started.” States Diego, implying everyone needs to hurry up and take action now. You can’t help yourself and snort, “Yeah...we got ears.” You whisper sarcastically, he just rolls his eyes at you while holding in a smile, probably not the best time to be a smart-ass but stressful situations and use of sarcasm is how you cope.

“Do you honestly think she’s gonna listen? After everything that’s happened?” Continues Luther, trying to reason with a pleading Allison who just wants to save Vanya from herself.

“We don’t have time for this.” Says Klaus nervously, Luther finally caves and off Allison goes, racing towards the doors to the concert. The four of you watch her bound up the carpeted steps, “You’re using her as a distraction, aren’t you?” Says Diego to Luther, already onto his plan.

“Our best chance to incapacitate Vanya.” Luther replies glancing at Diego. You cross your arms, “Maybe if we leave her alone she won’t do anything and after the concert we can sort this shit out. I highly doubt Vanya’s in the mood to see any one of us right now....Especially you, she hates you the most” You explain to them, Luther furrows his brow at you. “Thanks. But we can’t risk Vanya accidentally doing anything dangerous.” He tells you, you turn to him. “Now you sound like Reginald, great.” Luther gives you an offended look, before deciding otherwise in arguing further with you. He makes for the stairs, as Klaus follows behind, Diego nudging you to follow them. “So, what’s the plan?” Wonders Klaus, as Luther stops on the steps to answer him. “Uh, you wait out front.” He tells Klaus, as you and Diego walk through the open doorway, you don’t care enough to stick around and listen.

You follow Diego through hallways and finally you make it backstage, Luther appearing on the opposite side of you two from across the stage. “I’m just throwing leaves in the wind here, but how is this an honestly good plan?” You whisper yell at Diego, he stops to look at you, who’s to his left. Your face is glowing in the red stage lights, making you look like an alluring creature from another world, and for a second he’s lost in your beauty. You’ve unintentionally stunned him in the most inconvenient of places, his heart pounds with adrenaline. “Uh...um...it’s all we got.” He fumbles on his words, not truly sure what to say that would convince you. He already knows you’re not gun ho for this plan anyways, but what other options do you all have. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Or stupid measures thought up by a guy who’s half-monkey, never moved out of the Academy, and lived on the moon for four fucking years.

“God, she sounds amazing.” You mutter to no one in particular as you start to listen to Vanya’s solo, a second later Diego goes racing across the stage exactly when Luther does. “Wait! Diego, stop!” You yell at deaf ears, he’s already throwing himself at Vanya. She snaps around and whips a slash of white energy at him and Luther. Launching them into the screaming crowd, you make a break for it as the other instrumentalists stand up from their seating. She turns around once again to project another powerful wave of force into the orchestra, silently demanding them to sit. You’re unfortunately pushed roughly off stage, harshly tumbling into the theater chairs, you smack into a metal chair, falling to the floor with the wind knocked out of you. People rush past your injured body unaware to your gasping for breath, to concerned with getting the hell away from the weird glowing eyed lady on stage. You don’t blame them, none of them were clearly prepared for how their night just ended.

You stand up, hearing the shouts of Diego and Luther, as they attempt to direct traffic as orderly as possible. Within thirty more seconds the place is completely vacant, you dart for behind some chairs near where Diego and Luther are hiding. “She’s stronger than expected.” Breathes Diego, surprised from Vanya’s impressive display of power. “Yeah.” Agrees Luther, suddenly getting smacked in the face with Allison’s notepad. She throws him an agitated pout, you’re to her right, in the next row over. Shaking your head disapprovingly at him in a half-joking and half-serious way. “Yeah. We’re fine thanks for asking.” He jabs back before continuing, focusing on Allison, “Look, I almost lost you once, all right. I wasn’t about to lose you again.” He tells her earnestly.

“Wow that’s real fucking adorable...but now we’re in a load of shit thanks to you two dunderheads.” You snap at him, annoyed with how rapidly the nights events are terribly going. Luther gives you a defeated look as Diego speaks up, “Well, so much for the element of surprise. What else you got?” He asks Luther, Allison starts to quickly make a gesture of her playing a ghost violin.

“No shit Allison. Tell us something we don’t already know.” Diego grumbles sarcastically, you roll your eyes at him. “She’s referring to the violin dipshit, we need to take it from her.” You sass back, the rest of them glancing over the seats to watch Vanya play. You catch the sound of boots quietly making contact with the red carpeting of the theater. Then a moment later, gunfire blasts through the area, screaming into your eardrums. “Fucking hell.” You mutter through clenched teeth as you hold your hands to your ears, ducking lower to the floor.

“What the hell happened to Klaus? He’s supposed to be lookout!” Shouts Diego from the floor. “Yeah are you surprised.” Answers Luther, who’s attempting to sink to the ground as low as he possibly can. When you look up again you watch as a sudden bright flash of blue appears from out of nowhere, less then a nanosecond later arrives Five.

“What’s with all the lollygagging?” He wonders while walking down the wide isle, completely oblivious to the masked murderers. “Five get down!” Roars Luther as bullets rain down next to Five. He lets out a surprised gasp as he quickly ducks in between the smaller isles. “Five...wha...I thought you bailed on us?” Questions Luther.

“I had an errand to run.” He vaguely explains, looking around wide eyed at the current carnage, “This is not good.”

“You know these guys?” Inquires Diego, assuming this mess has something to do with Five and the wack shit he gets himself into, not to mention the rest of you.

“Yeah, I do.” He simply says.

“And?”

“Well...we’re screwed.” Five announces worriedly, while looking back up the isle at the approaching assassins. He then turns his head to find you who’s watching the masked gunmen slowly walking your way. “Y/N! If you could manage to get one of their guns...then maybe we’d have a chance.” Yells Five as Diego throws some of his knives directly into the chests of more Commission assassins.

“Great idea! Cause I would love to get shot through my fucking scull!” You scream back, sarcasm dripping through every word. You’re fast, but unfortunately there are a grand multitude of guys with automatic rifles who could give two shits if you die or not. You’d make it to your guy, but you’d also be dead before you could do anything destructive, and getting shot is not a very pleasant feeling by any means. But before Five has time to reply with his own ounce of sarcasm, Klaus comes bursting through the theater doors yelling about seeing Cha-Cha and that she’s apparently coming to kill us. Or something along those lines, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hear as your ears are ringing with all this noise.

Scrunching up your eyes, you shake your head and cover your sensitive ears in a desperate attempt to collect your bearings once again. When you open your eyes ready to suck it up and take one for the team, you look over with wide eyes to the sight of ghost Ben, who’s releasing the tentacle monster from within himself and presently strangling and smashing the fuck out of the masked gunmen. You share a shocked glance with Diego, the both of you completely astounded as to how the hell Klaus is able to do whatever it is he’s currently doing.

Your nose catches the scent of something you’ve been hunting for the past week, head snapping to the stage, you scowl at the blooded assassin before you. Who’s giving you an equally nasty look that’s practically inviting you to take the bait. Without another thought, you stand up, racing down the wide isle to meet your foe. Ignoring the mumbled yells of Diego and the others, you’re solely focused on ending Cha-Cha once and for all. It takes you less then three seconds to reach her, before slamming her harshly into the cement wall at the back of the stage. She falls to the floor with a grunt, as you slowly walk over to her, eyeing up your prey like a she-wolf to an injured doe. She scrambles to pick herself up, jumping to her feet in an instant, fists clenched and ready to fight.

“You’re good at what you do, I’ll give you that.” You tell her casually, unawares to the fiery glow subconsciously emitting from your irises. She lets out a ragged cough, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at your eyes color change.

“Yeah well, you’ll have your time to see how great I am at it, and then when I’m done with you, I’ll pay your boyfriend a little visit.” She snaps at you, her voice dripping with malice. You only chuckle at her sad attempt at holding any ground in the conversation.

“If I didn’t want you to suffer you’d be dead already...I’m not feeling particularly gracious this evening.” Your voice is calm and collected as you tilt your head to her, fully enjoying the growing fear emitting from her injured body, although she hides it well. “You’re already half dead. But I’ll oblige and see if you really do know how to kill someone who can’t be killed.” She bitterly sneers at you while you smirk at her, silently egging her on to do something. Your hopes answered as she lunges for you, it’s an easy dodge to the right, as you smash your fist into her left rib cage. She lets out a rasped breath at the sudden impact.

Cha-Cha turns around to let more fists fly violently in your direction, you bring your forearms up to block a hit to your left then your right, then your face and then to your vulnerable chest. You can tell she’s giving everything, as you’re just toying with her. Your fight turns into that of a dance, the both of you throwing jabs at each other as you waltz around the backstage of the Icarus Theater. Her foot cracks you in the side of your knee, sending a white hot pain throughout your body, as you drop to the floor from the sudden jolting impact. She then laughs while taking this golden opportunity to kick you savagely in the stomach. Your vision goes spotty as she beats into you, until you look up to find Diego, watching the two of you from the stage. That’s all the motivation you need, before reaching out your hand to promptly halt anymore of Cha-Cha’s violent advances.

You pull her down, letting go as you stand up to face her once again, a single red trickle of blood painting down the corner of your mouth. When she stands up to launch herself at you, you swing your leg up, effectively smashing her across the head. She stumbles to the floor, dazed at your quick attack. Your steps are fast, as your fists are on her once again, laying into her with all your pent up emotions, finally gushing out in an array of violent brutality. She’s underneath you, desperately holding her arms up to help cover her already bruised face.

You’re screaming with rage and anguish for your fallen friend Patch and everyone else who’s ever needlessly died at the hands of Cha-Cha. Your fists are raw and covered in blood as you rip open her jacket sleeves with each new hit, making way into her bloody arms and face. You don’t notice the tears streaming down your face, when a hand suddenly touches your shoulder. Your head whipping to the side, staring daggers at whoever dare stop you. It’s Diego, he looks at you with sad eyes, staring deep into your glowing orbs of hellfire. He shakes his head while giving you a pleading look, beckoning you to stop your vicious tirade on Cha-Cha and to follow him. You look back down at her through your bleary eyes, blood and purpled flesh adorning her miserable features as she slowly lets in and out shallowed breaths from her pathetic spot on the floor.

You raise yourself off of her, standing defiantly above her like a tired warrior after a long battle. She opens one eye to look pitifully up at your blood spotted face. You step to the side to then glare down at her, your burning eyes meeting her wretched grimace.

“Get up.”

The corners of her lips curl into a wicked grin, as she lets out a strained wheeze, her last attempt at a comprehensible laugh. To your great astonishment, Cha-Cha begins to begrudgingly peel her bloodied body off of the cement floor. Bringing herself onto her knees then to her feet, she’s breathing heavily and swaying slightly, dizzy from the ferocious beating you just gave her. She spits out a wad of blood as her good eye glances over to Diego, who hasn’t moved a muscle, praying that he’ll make you follow him and leave her in peace. You look from Diego then back to Cha-Cha, your face a mask of stone.

“Patch wouldn’t want me to kill you...you know. She’d tell me something wise and how we can be good, even when we are full of hate and rage towards the ones who’ve wronged us.” More tears fall from your conflicted face, running down to your chin as hot and angry little droplets, “I liked her...she was nice and smart, believed in people and was good at her job.....she was my friend...Eudora didn’t deserve a bullet through her chest, but you killed her anyways. Just like all the others.” Cha-Cha opens up her arms, giving you a defeated shrug, she has nothing else to say to you. You give her a weary nod, as Diego comes up to your side, touching your arm in an attempt at leading you away.

“I wish I could be like her...but I’m not.” You whisper truthfully, pulling out a spare dagger from Diego’s leather knife vest, only to plunge it directly into Cha-Cha’s windpipe. Her eyes shoot open at the sudden impact, her hands reaching up to try and pull you away. But your arm’s to quick, you pull the silver blade out of her neck as blood spurts from the opened wound. She tries desperately to cover the damage, but her attempts are wasted as she falls to her knees in despair. You watch her stare on wide eyed at your unflinching form, while she abruptly falls to the cold ground. Bleeding out before your very eyes, your emotions are all over the place and you feel like you’re about to cry or scream or both everything building up and up and up. Diego turns your shoulder to face him, “Y/N we gotta go save the world. Babe are you with me?” He tells you quietly, looking deeply into your tearfully glowing eyes. You part your lips, about to say something but nothing comes out but a heavy stressed huff of air. You’re not entirely sure if you’re about to lose it or not, you’re angry over Patch’s death, you just killed Cha-Cha, and the apocalypse is supposed to happen very soon. Wiping out your whole world, the Hargreeves, and Diego. The one person you can trust with your life, and the one person you’ve loved since you were a teenager. Honestly the only person you’ve ever truly loved.

“I’m with you. Ride or die remember.” You reply, wiping the wetness from your face and giving him back his knife. He gives you a lopsided smile, taking your shaking hand and swiftly leading you to the others.

——

“Oh, welcome back. Where were you two?” Questions Luther, the rest of the Hargreeves closely positioned around him, all of them watching as you and Diego walk closer into the group circle.

“Murder.” You answer bluntly. He makes a confused facial expression and nods, not sure what that was implying but then again with you, he doesn’t really wanna know.

“So how do you wanna end this thing?” Shouts Diego over the roaring sounds of white energy and Vanya’s violin playing.

“We surround her. All right? We come at her from all angles.” Instructs Luther as the rest of you lean in to hear better.

“So it’s a suicide mission.” Whispers Klaus sadly.

“Yeah, but one of us could get through. It’s the only chance we’ve got.” States Five setting up the actual plan, well at least the best one the group could come up with. Either way, things aren’t looking good whatsoever and you’re not 100% certain if you’ll actually survive.

“Are we all in?” Says Luther while glancing around the six of you. All of you nod as he continues to lead, pointing to Diego first, “Stage left.” Then to himself, “Stage right.”

“Allison?”

Diego turns around to race up the isle as Luther focuses his attention on the rest of you, “You guys take the front.” With everything to lose you leave Luther and Allison as you run through the smaller isles next to Klaus and Five, your heartbeat pounding with adrenaline and fear. While Klaus takes the left corner of the chairs and Five takes the right. You jump over a couple rows to bring your way to the front of the theater. Vanya plays on, oblivious to everything that’s going on around her, blissfully unaware in her moment of music and light. It hurts your sensitive ears and the pure light radiating from Vanya is no help either to your hyper-aware senses. You hear the yell or battle-cry of Luther instructing everyone to charge.

You don’t think twice as you jump to your feet, launching yourself over the edge of the stage and bracing yourself for impact when you take out Vanya. Everything happens so fast, a second later you feel like you’re being blinded as the floor and your boots appear to not be making contact anymore. Unless you were just teleported to a zero gravity room, things aren’t adding up. When you squint open your eyes once again, you’re surprised to find yourself and everyone else suspended in midair by Vanya’s energy tentacles. You’re placed in the center with the Hargreeves boys to your left and right. Their faces seem to contort into a pained expression as you notice how Vanya’s sucking their life force from each of you. But due to your rapid healing abilities it’s not affecting you as terribly, it feels like the wind is constantly being knocked out of you and it’s getting harder to breath by the second. Without warning you hear a piercing blast scream through the air, whatever it was, stopping Vanya from hurting you anymore.

The moment of peace short lived as you’re dropped to the thinly carpeted floor. You jolt to your feet once again as everyone races onto the stage to make sure Vanya and Allison are okay.

“Is she alive?” Rushes Luther worriedly as Allison holds an unconscious Vanya in her arms, the rest of you looking on in deep concern while Allison answers with a quick nod much to everyone’s relief. That and the normal rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat a solid indicator of her aliveness, not that they would be able to hear it though.

“We did it. We saved the world.” Smiles Luther with a relieved sigh, the others doing the same. Your stomach twists with the horrid sounds of something breaking from far away. You can’t place where it’s coming from until you turn your head to look up through the glass-less open theater dome. Your eyes widen at the bewildering sight of scattered pieces of the Moon racing towards earth. You slowly rise to your feet, Klaus catching your odd change in behavior, he turns to stand as well. His eyebrows raising in surprise, “Um. Guys? You see that big Moon rock coming towards us?” Asks Klaus, just making sure everyone’s on the same page.

“That’s not good.” States Luther matter-of-factly.

“So this is it, huh. So much for...saving the world.” Sighs Klaus sadly as he looks down at his dog-tags with longing and fond memories. Everyone is standing by now, except for Vanya and Allison who are still seated on the stage floor.

“If only Sir Reginald could see us right now, huh? The Umbrella Academy. A total failure.” Mutters Diego with a defeated tinge to his voice, you look over at him and then back at the destroyed Moon.

“I guess now I can finally see what it’s really like on the other side.” Diego turns his head to look at you, reaching his hand out for you to take, you interlock your fingers together as you smile at him sadly, “I hope it’s nice.”

“At least we’re together at the end. As a family.” Adds Luther, gaining the attention of Five.

“This doesn’t have to be the end.”

The four of you turn around to face him with equally confused faces, all of you doubtful in whatever Five’s about to tell you. “What? What are you saying, Five?”

“I think I have a way outta here. But you gotta trust me in this.” He pleads as Diego, Klaus, and Luther shake their heads and practically shrug him off, all of them extremely skeptical. “Well, then, we might as well accept our fate, because in less then a minute, we’re gonna be vaporized.”

“What do ya got Five. Cause if I’m being honest I don’t really have dying by flaming Moon chunks on my bucket list.” He looks at you with a new found determination and slight relief that someone is willing to listen. “We use my ability to time travel. But this time, I’ll take you all with me.”

“You can do that?” Wonders Diego.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You’re lookin’ at it. A 58-year-old man inside a child’s body, so there’s that.” Scoffs Five, still annoyed with how things turned out for him.

“Oh, what the hell? I’m in. You in Y/N?” Asks Diego while giving your hand a light squeeze.

“Let’s do this.”

“Yeah whatever. I’m in.” Adds Klaus.

“Me too. Allison?” Says Luther while looking down at Allison for an answer, she shakes her head in agreeance, it appears everyone’s on the same page, even Ben.

“Okay great. Luther, grab Vanya.” Instructs Five as the seven of you gather into a circle.

“Wait, should we be taking her? I mean, if she’s the cause of the apocalypse. Isn’t that like taking a bomb with us?”

“The apocalypse will always happen, and Vanya will always be the cause, unless we take her with us and fix her.” Explains Five to an unsure Luther, the rest of you nod in understanding.

“No man left behind. Now Five get us the fuck outta here.” You quickly add, as everyone joins together to hold hands while Five begins using his powers. Suddenly a bright blue light starts to appear right above everyone’s heads, indicating the opening of Five’s time portal. Diego squeezes your hand again, you returning the favor while giving him a hopeful smile.

“Ah.” Yells Five, working through the pain and exhaustion of bringing seven people into another decade or wherever you’re about to go. You can feel the tingling of electricity buzzing throughout the air as blue and white waves of energy begin surging all around you.

“Hold on! It’s gonna get messy!” He shouts over the loud wooshing sounds created by his time-traveling abilities, your own ears suffering along with it.

You take one last glance at Diego before your vision is taken over by the incredibly blinding lights of the blue portal. You can’t hear anyone anymore and your whole body feels like it’s in a zero gravity room, you feel for Diego or Klaus’ hand but to your panic you can’t feel them anymore. A second later the portal opens up, giving you a good view of a nearby trash can and solid concrete down below you as you’re spit out of the sky in rapid succession. You suddenly can’t see the blue energy of the portal anymore or feel the electricity around you as you free-fall straight into some discarded trash.

#the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy x reader #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories #number two #tua #tua season one

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bxthharmon · 4 years

Text

Never Go Home Again, Pt. XIII || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words:2715

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: abuse / being a fugitive???

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy. teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: In a desperate attempt to sort everything out, Y/N finds herself in the ones place she least expected to be

A/N: ok ok ok i promise im writing my requests oops anyway love yall send more requests cuz im always bored. Also, yall dont understand how sad i am that this is ending :( BUT started writing another series so lemme know if u wanna get tagged in that <3

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

“John B, what are we doing at the police station?” JJ asked, breaking the stuffy silence that was consuming the vehicle.

“Somebody’s gotta tell them what happened.” He justified.

“Need me to come in, like, as a witness?” you asked. He shook his head.

The heavy quiet was broken by Pope, coughing like he’d inhaled chili powder. “Easy there, chief.” JJ reprimanded, and you took the blunt away from your friend. “Alright,” JJ leaned through to John B, “I’m just gonna be real with you right now,” You watched his red cap, “You might end up in the lion’s den, but you don’t go there on purpose. It’s fundamental, just like my old man always told me, you should never, ever trust cops. No matter what the circumstance is.”

“Your old man’s an abusive liar.” Kie countered.

“I agree with JJ.” Pope spoke, and you frowned, holding back the giggle in your lips as he continued, “Fuck the police.”

“You going to the dark side now?” Kie snarked.

“When was the last time the police ever helped us?” He countered.

“Peterkin looked out for me, alright?” John B interrupted, “Or tried to, at least.”

There was a moment of thick quiet before he continued.

“They need to know.”

He looked around, none of you willing to argue as he got out of the car and entered the station. You looked over to JJ, who was determinedly ignoring your stare. You wondered what the fuck was going on because last time you checked, you had been on good terms with him. You sighed, looking out the window and waiting impatiently for John B to return so that the awkward silence would end. You took a hit from the blunt you’d taken from Pope, letting the smoke swirl around in your lungs before gently blowing it out, ignoring the frustrated looks you got from the other three.

Next thing you knew, everyone was shouting and the car was accelerating, the officer trying to open the car door discarded as the shocking adrenaline rush took ahold of the speeding car. Eyes wide, you took another hit from the blunt.

“Good news for residents of the Outer Banks, Dominion Power says their underwater transmission line, which will restore power to 95% of the area, should be functional within 24 hours.”

Sirens passed, but in the hazy atmosphere of the car, no one moved, other than to make sure the car didn’t turn. Pope and Kie sat in the front, JJ and John B to your right, seats reclined as you all attempted whatever kind of rest was possible on the worried heat of the day.

“And still no arrest for the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from-”

Kie clicked the radio off, glancing over at the three of you in the back.

“Let’s game this out.” JJ suggested, “Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but… who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us? So the accuser is a big shot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused…” he looked over to his friend, “is John B, who is pretty much a homeless 16-year-old boy at the moment.”

“Thanks.” came the hoarse voice of the boy across from you.

“Shit.” you muttered, running a hand over your face and sitting up straight for the first time in hours. You twisted so that your back was leaning on the back oh Kie’s seat, and you were facing the three boys.

“Okay, man, Yucatan, alright?” JJ said, swiftly avoiding your arm as you stretched, “I’m saying, that’s the only option, what other option do you have?”

“Enough with the Mexico bullshit.” John B shook his head. “Sarah’s gonna bail me out.”

“She did witness the whole thing.” Kie pointed out.

“So did I?” you reminded, “So what? She’s gonna snitch on her brother for her dick appointment of the week? No offence, bro.”

“It’s not happening.” JJ reiterated, “We’ve gotta get you off the island.”

“The ferry.” Pope said, “It’s the only way.”

“Exit stage left while you still can.” JJ added. “Before the entire island is on lockdown.”

“Get down.” You reminded him softly, and you all ducked. You reached for JJ’s hand, but his simple gesture of pulling it away made you feel embarrassed, unsure of whatever was going on between you. You turned away from him, looking out the window again.

“Sarah’s not a pogue, John B.” Pope reminded.

“Yeah, you can’t stay here, man.”

“Let’s go then.” You muttered, and Pope pulled out, driving carefully to the docks. They were crowded, and you got out before anyone could argue, thankful for even two minutes out of the suffocating atmosphere. You walked to the sign, reading the notice about the ferry closure and ripping the wanted poster off its staples. You walked back to the car, reading it as you reached the vehicle, then passing it through Pope’s window and shaking your head solemnly. You got in next to JJ as they passed the paper around, JJ making a joke.

“Okay, so the whole island’s looking for John B right now.” Pope said.

“Well at least you know how much you’re worth.” You joked, receiving a frustrated look from Kie.

“Congratulations, John B,” JJ smirked, “you’re famous.”

“We gotta get to the HMS. We need small, no running lights-” kie began to reason, but John B cut her off.

“It’s at the Chateau, Kie.”

“And I wonder if the cops have got the entire place staked out.” JJ said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Let me think. Yeah, no, they definitely have that place locked down.”

“Hey Jay?” you nudged him, an idea forming, “Like, a couple of weeks ago, you mentioned your dad’s boat? The Ghost? Spectre?”

“The Phantom!” JJ and Pope caught on.

“He still got it?” Pope asked.

“Maybe.”

“You could get that right up the coast, no problem.” Pope said.

Bickering followed, and then the sudden realisation that Pope’s car was on the poster. Suddenly, someone was hitting the window and the car wasn’t starting and everyone was shouting. The car lurched forwards, straight into another car, and then took off, driving away as people watched, shocked.

The car sped forwards, crashing around as you all shouted for Pope to stop, his high ass was definitely not fit for driving.

“JB,” you shouted over everyone, “you need to get out.”

Pope braked, all of you thrust forwards with the force of it, and you found yourself pushing John B out of the car while JJ shouted instructions at him.

The two field tents were massive, rows of chairs on either side as swarms of people worked, talked, and typed. You wandered around for a minute or so, watching the officers interact, always being pushed back when you tried to talk to anyone. You could feel the eyes of the security team burning into you as you looked for Shoupe. Eventually, you saw him, talking to a taller man in an SBI windbreaker. You walked towards them slowly, finalising your plan in your head.

Shoupe saw you, and stepped aside from the conversation so that he was facing you, the agent turning as well, a frown forming as he took in your scruffy attire and the faint smell of JJ’s weed that was clinging to your clothes. You looked between them, “Uh, Officer Shoupe, I have some info.” You greeted.

“Who are you?” The agent interrupted, looking you over again.

“Um, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I know John B.” you clarified, and he nodded.

“What have you got for us?” he asked, and you breathed in, and out, pinching yourself slightly.

“I saw everything on the airstrip.”

The SBI agent introduced himself as Bratcher, then they sat you down in one of the tents, letting you explain what you saw, uninterrupted, and asking questions when they saw fit. They told you that your account, while plausible, was a hard one to argue, especially against Ward Cameron, unless you had a second account to back it up.

Sarah Cameron, you thought. Talk to Sarah.

After taking your statement, they left you to sit in the field tent, shivering in the cold breeze and no coat, watching them call your dad, listening out for any relevant information you could gather.

You could feel their eyes on you, discussing what to do with the information you had for them. An officer, you couldn’t remember her name, had draped a jacket over your shoulders at some point, then led you away while the SBI agent gave a briefing.

You waited at the end of the tent, looking for anything to cease your worry and boredom.

Then you saw her. She looked as lost as you had, trying to work out who to talk to, just like you had a few hours ago. You stepped towards her.

“Sarah?” she turned to you, going to hug you, but an armed officer stepped between you, pulling you apart. “No, she’s my friend!” you struggled towards her, another officer holding her away from you, both of you shouting.

“What’s happening?” Bratcher asked, all of you stopped struggling.

“This is Sarah Cameron,” you explained, “she was there, like I said.”

He looked between you, and nodded, asking her if she was able to make a statement. They took her away, sitting her down at the other end of the tent, letting her talk. You saw Ward approaching.

“Y/N?” he frowned, and you raised your eyebrows.

“How do you know who I am?”

“Sarah’s mentioned you.” he looked around, “have you seen her?”

“Oh, is she no longer locked away in her room?” He tensed, confusion and anger contorting his features.

“How do you know about that?”

“Can’t say.” You said, “Not a great parenting strategy, just saying.”

He leapt forwards, a madness in his eyes that you’d never seen before. He grabbed you by the throat, screaming in your face while you clawed at his grip. Within seconds, other bodies were pulling him away. Your panic subsided, and you looked at Bratcher. You could use the situation to your advantage.

“See what I mean?” you yelled, pointing at him as you faced Bratcher, “He’s crazy! I told you, he attacked Big John, he’s the reason this is all happening!”

Bratcher sighed, signalling for his men to take away the older man. “I have to say, Miss Y/L/N, your story is making more sense. Two stories matching perfectly, his temper. But we talked to your father, you’re free to go, we’re almost done with Sarah.”

“What’s going to happen to John B?”

He sighed, “We’ve gotta bring him in, you understand that.”

You nodded, “I hope I shed some truth to the situation.”

You walked away, leaving the jacket on a chair as you passed, sending a reassuring smile to Sarah on your way out, you wandered the streets, finding your way to JJ’s house.

By some kind of miracle, you arrived at the same time as Kie and JJ. He was getting out of the car when he noticed you, and instead of making any move to hug you as normal, he froze.

“Look, JJ,” you sighed. “Why are you mad at me?”

You stood opposite him in his front yard, staring at the way he sighed, an odd mix of relief and defeat adorning his features. “I saw some texts, from Tyler.”

You nodded slowly. “I rejected him, if that’s what upset you. Since I met you, no guys have been the same, you know?”

His eyes pulled in slightly, as if realising that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t one-sided. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Yeah.” you glanced at the floor, “I don’t really know why. Things were weird between us and I just - I missed my old life. But it was like, the confirmation I needed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love you.”

His jaw dropped slightly in shock, running you words over in his head, working out whether you were genuine. You began to step back, and before you could think about what had just happened, he was kissing you.

It was urgent, emotive, full of everything that you couldn’t put into words. You broke apart, still slightly shocked at the confession. You looked at his front door.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

He looked to Kie, who was pretending she hadn’t watched, and nodded apprehensively, slipping a hand into yours and leading you to the door. He opened it, leading you through into the mess. You stepped over shoes and bottles as he led you in, calling out for his dad.

You ventured into the living room, seeing his dad passed out on the sofa, a half empty bottle of something on the table next to him. “Dad, I need the keys to the Phantom.” a snore sounded, “Dad?”

You looked down, noticing the sleeping pills and picking them up, showing the bottle to the blond boy next to you. Watching him, you could practically feel the hurt resonating off him, masked by his strong resolution as he looked back at his dad. Noticing the chain around his neck, between you you found a pencil and pin to get the keys with.

You stood a couple of feet behind him as he knelt down, preparing himself.

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you.”

The voice was a murmur, almost soft, and your heart was beating in your throat. You knew what he was capable of.

“You’re back.”

This time, Luke had more clarity in his voice, and was more awake. He hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Just checkin’ in.” JJ said, backing away as the older man sat up, taking a swig from a beer bottle.

“School out already?”

“What?” JJ frowned.

“Did you ditch? It’s alright, you can tell me.”

JJ nodded slowly, “Yeah. I hit the break, you know?”

“I hated school too. My boy!” Luke chuckled. You felt intrusive, like you were standing in on a moment that wasn’t yours to see. But the moment felt intimate, hitting you where it hurt as your eyes went glassy. “You know what? Listen, hey.” he stood shakily, “Hey, look, I know I’m hard on you sometimes.” JJ hummed, fear mixing into his pain, “But sometimes I - I see your mother in you, and it gets me a little tweaked, you know?”

You wiped a tear away, the scene before you hurting more than you would like to admit. The man looked at you, and you could see JJ’s shoulders tense.

“You got a girl?” he didn’t look away from you.

“Uh, yeah, Y/N.” JJ looked over at you, worry seeping into his eyes.

“You treat my boy better than I could, okay?” You nodded slowly, more tears slipping down your face.

“Of course.” your voice broke slightly, “I love him.”

“Me too.” His head turned back to his son, “I love you, son.” He pulled JJ in, “Come here, I love you. I love you, son. I love you.”

More than anything, you wanted to call him out. Tell him that if that was true, then he wouldn’t hurt JJ like he did. But whatever this moment was, it wasn’t the right one to do so.

You could hear JJ sniffling, letting his hands find their way onto his father’s back. When he spoke, he sounded like he wanted to be stronger than he felt, his voice thick, pained, struggling. “Love you too, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t got nothing to be sorry for.” His father muttered, the sleeping pills pulling him back out of consciousness, slowly as ever. JJ helped him down onto the sofa. “You’re a good boy.” came the murmur.

JJ let out a shaky breath, not sparing you a glance as he pulled the chain from his father’s neck and stepped away. He looked back at you, almost embarrassed to have let you see him in such a vulnerable state. He turned to leave, your voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

“JJ, you don’t always have to be strong, you know that, right?”

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @teamnick @thoughtsofthestars @obxmxybxnk @pcterparxer @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @sxcretinhuman @alexa-playafricabytoto @angvelics @badwolf00593 @coloradogirl07 @mendesmaybank @jiaraendgame @5am-cigarette @emerald-xcd @haharudy

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

but here i am

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,187

summary: After years of being separated from the Avengers, Bucky finds you during a job.

prompt: ‘You told me not to fall in love but here I am. Coming back to you again was not the plan. Barely coming up for air, what can I say? Baby, I’ll go anywhere you take me’ - Pull Me Deep - Logan Henderson

warnings: swearing, violence

a/n: This was written for @fvckingavengers Writing Challenge! Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy!

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

That stupid ass smirk tugged at James lips as he took in the sight in front of him. Me with a knife in hand and standing over Harold Carr, billionaire and tech extraordinaire. There’s not a single hair out of place, my Valentino dress as pristine as ever.

“It’s been a while, sugar,” he said, and my attention is captured by the way his tongue flicks out over his lips.

I wanted to punch that stupid look off his stupidly attractive face.

I pointed the knife in my hand at him, the other hand going to rest on my hip. “Get out. I got here first.”

“No can do,” he said. As he sauntered closer, I just continued to hold the knife up. He eyed it without a drop of fear. He was too accustomed to being threatened with sharp objects. “I’m an Avenger, remember? That means that I have seniority over you.”

“Bullshit!” I snapped, my frustration growing. “You don’t get to take over whatever you want just because you have a fancy ass suit!”

Carr’s eyes were flickering back and forth between the two of us, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to make sense of our relationship. Or whatever you’d call it. It was more of a love-hate thing, with him loving antagonizing me and me hating his guts for it. The fabric I had torn from the curtains and stuffed in his mouth muffled anything he had to say about it.

“You used to have a ‘fancy ass suit,’ too, remember?” James took a step closer, not even flinching as my knife pressed into the soft skin of his neck. With just one flick I could slice his jugular.

He was trusting me not to.

“You really are stupid, huh?” I asked. The sounds of the party wafted in through the cracked door. A horde of rich cats all too preoccupied with playing a game of Who Has the Best Life to realize that their host had disappeared over thirty minutes ago. “I could kill you right now,” I said, though even as the words fell from my lips, I knew that I wouldn’t. That I couldn’t.

Even though I’d never admit it, James Barnes had wormed his way into my heart years ago and had never quite left.

“But you won’t.” He swallowed and the knife nicked him. A small drop of scarlet trailed down his porcelain skin, staining the crisp white shirt he donned.

“James.” I dropped the knife and rushed to look at the tiny cut. It was nothing compared to the injuries the both of us suffered almost daily. I hadn’t even realized what I’d done until a fond smile lit up his face.

“Told you.”

I opened my mouth to shoot back some smart ass response, but the look on his face stopped me. There was a glint in his eyes, but it wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t trying to taunt me. “James,” I breathed, suddenly finding the dress I was in very, very restricting.

I swore I could see the raging ocean in his eyes as he towered over me. His breathing stuttered as he tried to joke, “I think you’re getting soft for me, sugar.”

The moment that lingered between us was ended by the groans coming from the man currently tied to a chair. With the spell broken, I took a step away and willed my heart to stop beating so god damn fast. “You need to leave,” I said, clearing my throat as I turned to look back at my target. The feelings I’d harbored years ago were drifting out of the box I’d thrown them into in the back of my mind.

“Come on—”

“James. Leave.” My voice was cold, and my eyes even icier. There was a tone of finality to it, despite the fact that I was going against what my heart wanted.

But listening to my heart will get me killed.

I’d seen it all before. People like us thinking that they could be normal. That they could be in love and nothing would happen.

Then they ended up with a bullet between their eyes.

I’d almost been one of them, once upon a time. And then I learned that none of us get a happy ending.

The ballroom was filled to the brim. There was hardly room to breathe, let alone walk. Dignitaries from all over the world had come together for this one event. It was a modern day Babylon, with the myriad of languages floating around.

But as much as you wanted to drink your weight in champagne, you had a job to do.

“What’s your status, sugar?” His voice crackled in my com.

“Heading for the control room now, Sarge,” I said under my breath, ducking my head so that my hair fell like a curtain to shield me from the others at the party. I sipped at a flute of champagne as I made my way towards the staircase. My movements were languid, slow, as though I didn’t have a care in the world.

The super soldier’s chuckle fills my ear and I can picture it—him sitting in the limo outside that’s waiting for me, surrounded by surveillance equipment. He was in his gear, ready to burst in at the first sign of trouble. Wanda was probably rolling her eyes at his antics as she lazily watched the screens. “You know what calling me that does to me, baby doll,” he purred, mischievous even though it was most certainly not the time.

“Can you two not flirt when we’re on a mission?” Sam asked from where he stood at the bar. He was playing lookout, making sure that no one followed me. James had thrown a fit during the briefing when he’d been told that he was going to be stuck out in the van with Wanda.

But then Rhodey had reminded him that he tended to get reckless when it came to me, and it shut him right up. It also helped that Sam had actually gotten an invite, since he’d taken on the mantle of Captain America about a year prior, and him sitting calmly by the bar made it seem as though the Avengers weren’t onto the operation’s antics.

If only they knew.

The hub of the operation we were working to take down was easy enough to find. All I had to do was try each door until I found the one that was locked.

“Oh, the magic of a good bobby pin,” I said as I crouched down. I slipped one of the pins out of my hair and bent it so it was a little easier to get into the keyhole. With a few twists and jimmies, I had the door opening without so much as a creak. It revealed rows after rows of computers, though it was clear that the most important one was the one situated on a huge desk at the front of the room. “I think they’re just trying to do our jobs for us at this point.”

The door shut behind me with a soft click and I slowly made my way across the room. It felt too quiet and it was stupidly easy for me to get to the control room. Everything I knew about this kind of situation was telling me that something really, really bad was about to go down.

“Something feels off.” But even as I voiced my concerns to my team members, I took a seat at the head computer, plugging in the drive. Hacking into it was easy enough, but it just added to my anxiety.

“You okay, L/N?” Wanda asked. “I can send in Barnes if—”

“No,” I said, cutting her off as I began to load the files onto the drive. “Sometimes I forget that people think they’ll never be caught and don’t bother with better safeguards.”

But even as I said it, it felt like a lie.

“Or they think we’ve all retired,” James offered.

Despite the dread that was pooling in my gut, I watched as the files loaded themselves onto the drive, willing it to go faster so that I could get the hell out of there. “Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered, my leg bouncing.

My eyes kept flickering to the door, knowing that if anyone came in, I’d be screwed. There was one entrance into the room, which meant one exit. If I was lucky, I could hope that the monitor would turn off fast enough that I could duck down beneath the desk.

But, of course, luck wasn’t on my side.

I heard the twist of the doorknob before anything else, and I quickly turned off the monitor before scrambling to take cover under the desk. The drive was still stuck in the computer, hopefully still loading files onto it despite the monitor being dark.

“I swear, I saw someone come in here on the cameras,” a strange voice said, and I cursed.

We hadn’t found any evidence of cameras in the blueprints of the building, and it would appear that it had come back to bite us in the ass.

Well, more specifically, my ass.

I couldn’t even call for backup. The men were too close and Sam, Bucky, and Wanda wouldn’t make it to me in time. My best bet was to stay completely silent and hope that they left.

“I think you’re seeing shit, Davies,” a second voice said. It was much gruffer and it sent chills down my spine.

I let out slow, carefully measured breaths through my mouth, ensuring that I didn’t make a peep. Even the softest of sounds could alert them and I had no desire to get caught. My heart jumped in my throat as I heard one of the desks scrape the floor with the same jeering quality as nails on a chalkboard.

It was quiet for several long moments, and I could hear them start to make their way back to the hall.

“I swear, I’m gonna tan your hide if I check that security feed and no one’s there,” the second voice snapped. The door opened and I was sure that I was in the clear.

“Y/N, are you okay? What’s your status?” Sam asked, and my heart stopped as I heard the footsteps stop.

They’d heard it.

In the stark silence of the room, Sam’s voice was as loud as a gunshot.

My heart pounded against my ribcage as I prayed to whatever God there was that I was wrong, that they hadn’t heard him. I slipped my hand down to the slit in my dress, my fingers curling around the handgun strapped to my thigh. If I was fast enough, I could get the jump on them, but I’d have mere seconds—no, milliseconds—to shoot.

Steeling myself, I jumped out from behind the desk and fired in rapid succession.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Four shots total. Three of them hit their targets, though nothing vital.

The men in front of me thundered towards me, anger twisting their faces.

“Y/N, I’m on my way!” Sam said, though I barely heard him as my gun was knocked from my hand.

Hand-to-hand, then. I ducked as the larger of the two—the one with the gruff voice—reached for me, kneeing him in the groin. The smaller man—Davies—tried his hardest, but he was easy to take down. Even with my evening gown on, I flipped myself up and wrapped my thighs around his head, twisting until he fell to the ground.

But before I could get to my feet, the other had his hand around my throat, choking me until the edges of my vision went black and I went limp in his arms.

“You know I can’t do that,” James said with a deep sigh as he watched me twirl the knife in my hand.

Scoffing, I kept my eyes locked on Carr’s. There was a twinge of fear in the cold green orbs of the tech genius gone terrorist. Despite the front he put up, he knew what I could do. What I could do. “Why not?” I asked calmly, as though we were making small talk about the weather. “You’ve done it before.”

Even Carr knew how low of a blow that was.

The super soldier stood so close behind me that I could feel the warmth radiating from his broad chest. He always was some kind of human heater. Memories of him holding me close in the cold of winter flashed through my mind. A mission in Siberia that had resulted in us taking shelter in a safe house without electricity.

It felt like a million lifetimes ago.

“Really, Y/N?”

Even after all the years we’d been apart, my actual name slipping from his lips sounded foreign. From the second we’d met, I’d always been ‘sugar’ or ‘baby doll’ or sometimes even ‘kitten,’ if he really felt like annoying Sam on the coms.

I didn’t want to admit how much his presence affected me. How my entire body felt tense with him being so close. How badly I wanted to turn around and throw myself into his arms, pretend that the years we’d been separated hadn’t happened.

But I couldn’t.

The pain of being left behind had seared my heart, left me reeling.

So I pushed aside the twisting in gut, gripping my knife so tightly that my knuckles went white. “So, Harold,” I sneered, “are you going to tell me about your little operation or am I going to have to put in a little elbow grease?”

“Are you actually going to ignore me?”

“Are you actually wanting to have this conversation now?” I asked, my tone running over my teeth as I tried to control my anger. I just wanted to finish this stupid job so I could collect my paycheck and go home to a nice bubble bath and a bottle or two of wine.

James crossed his arms over his chest, the Kevlar doing absolutely nothing to hide his thick muscles. “Yes.”

I stared at him incredulously. I couldn’t believe he was actually trying this right now. “I’m working!” I pointed at the man in the chair, the knife coming close to slicing his nose. “I’m doing a job that I’m getting paid for. If you wanted to talk, you could call literally any other time. I know that you all have my phone number on file, even though I’ve changed it at least seven times!”

“If I did call, you wouldn’t talk to me,” he said, his jaw clenched so tightly that I was sure his teeth were going to shatter.

“Maybe that’s because I don’t want to talk to you,” I hissed.

Both of us stopped as we heard a sputtering, turning to see that Carr had managed to spit out the wad of fabric in his mouth. “Not that this isn’t riveting,” he drawled, not at all sounding like a man currently being held hostage, “but can you two stop your little lovers’ quarrel long enough to finish this?”

“We’re not lovers!”

“Stay out of it!”

Carr raised his eyebrows. “Because that clears things up.”

I rolled head to the side to glare at him. “Did anyone fucking ask you, Harold?”

The man looked a little taken aback, his mouth hanging open. It was clear that he wasn’t used to be talked to in such a way. But, then again, most men like him weren’t. Rich, white men were used to having the world bow at their feet.

There was no way in hell he was getting that from me.

“You were the one who left, Y/N,” James said, interrupting the stare down that I was in the middle of.

I whirled around, pointing the knife at him yet again. “Don’t you start with that shit. You guys are the ones that left me for dead!”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat as I slunk through the doors of the Avengers compound, still limping from the gun shot that had grazed my thigh over a week earlier. I hadn’t gotten to shower since I’d managed to escape my captor eight days before, and I knew that I smelled like something fierce.

But it didn’t matter.

Because I’d escaped.

Agents were starting to notice me, stopping in their tracks and staring at me as though I’d risen from the dead.

And in a way, I had. When I’d finally made it back to civilization after two days of wandering the forest surrounding the abandoned house I’d been held in, I’d found that I’d been held hostage for a little over seventeen months.

I knew that the whispers from the agents surrounding me were going to reach the people who used to be my team within minutes. Being an agent of the newly rebuilt SHIELD was like being in a sorority. Since everyone worked, lived, and breathed each other, anything new spread through the group like wildfire.

It was a little concerning when I realized that the doors still opened for me automatically. The A.I. controlling the locks still recognized me.

“You should really update your security,” I said coldly as I stepped into the conference room that my team was in.

No, not my team. My former team.

Sam, Rhodey, Bruce, and Wanda were all standing around the table staring at a hologram. But the second I’d walked in, they’d frozen in place.

“What?” I took a step forward, ignoring how badly I wanted to collapse from sheer exhaustion. “No words?”

The door behind me opened once again, and I could feel who it was without even looking.

“Sugar…,” James said, completely breathless. “Y/N… You’re alive.”

I didn’t turn around. Didn’t even look at him. My fists clenched at my sides, sweat on my brow from willing myself to keep standing. I was in so much pain, it was insane. “Do you want to know what’s worse than being kidnapped and tortured?” I asked, hating the waver in my voice. The five of them were watching me with something akin to horror. “Realizing that your team—your so-called family—isn’t coming for you.” Sam took a step forward and I shook my head, taking a step back. “Don’t bother,” I said. “I’m done.”

I turned on my heel and made to leave the room, but stopped in my tracks when I saw James staring at me with heartbreak in his eyes. He looked just as beautiful as he had the day I was taken, with his dark hair half-pulled up. Everything I had felt for him seemed to come back ten-fold but I pushed it away. Taking a shaky breath, I brushed past him and began to head for the exit.

As far as I was concerned, I was done with the Avengers.

“Y/N! WAIT!”

I ignored the man calling after me, walking as quickly as I could. It was a lot harder and had a lot less impact with a limp.

James quickly caught up, moving so he stood in front of me, blocking my path. “Y/N, please. Wait,” he said, blue eyes blown wide as his hands went to my shoulders.

I roughly shoved him away from me as though I’d been burned, eyes narrowing. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I snarled. “Did you even try to find me?”

“Of course, I did. I—”

“Then how did you not find me?” I asked. My chest was heaving from the exertion. “I was in an abandoned house in upstate New York. I managed to get out and find my way back here in eight days. I’ve been gone for almost a year and a half, and I was in the same god damn state.”

James looked at me as though he’d had his heart ripped out and tossed to the ground. “Y/N, please… I’m sorry we didn’t find you,” he croaked, his eyes watering. “Please, stay. You… You don’t have to be a part of the team, but—”

“Why?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. My face was flushed as I tried to keep myself steady. I needed to get to a hospital, or at least a place I could take care of my wounds myself. “Give me one reason to stay.”

“Because I love you!”

I froze, my heart stopping. “No, you don’t.” I moved to walk past him, hyper aware of the stares we were attracting.

“Would you listen to me?!” He chased after me, easily keeping up. “Y/N, I am falling in love with you, okay?!”

“Well, don’t!” I pivoted, almost causing the super soldier to crash into me. I felt like I was going to combust from anger and frustration. How long had I waited for him to say those exact words? I’d waited for a year before the Snap, then desperately tried to get him back for five years, and then waited two and a half more years for any return of my feelings. But now it was too late. “Okay?! Don’t fall in love with me! Because I’m done! I’m done with this team! I’m done with this family!” The energy around the two of us crackled, like lightning was about to strike. I took a deep breath, grounding myself. “I. Am. Done.”

“We searched for you! For the entire time you were gone, we never stopped looking!” James retorted, his face red. The vein in his neck was popping out against the rest of his skin.

My hands were shaking as I thought about that time. I’d been so scared, even though I couldn’t show it. “I spent a year and a half waiting for you,” I said. The tremor in my voice betrayed how hurt I actually was. “And I waited years before then for you to want me the way I wanted you.”

“Sugar,” he said, earnestly searching my eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Baby doll, please. I love you.”

“I told you not to fall in love with me,” I whispered, though there was no conviction behind it.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “I’ve never been good at following orders.”

“I’m still here!”

Scowling, I pointed the knife at Harold Carr, who got real quiet, real quick. “We’re having a conversation. Don’t be fucking rude.”

James straight up smirked at that, his tongue running over his teeth. “So those feelings you had for me—any chance they’re still there?”

“Don’t be an ass, or I’ll carve up your face next,” I threatened, even though we both knew it was empty. There was no way I’d touch his pretty face.

As if to prove that point, he pursed his lower lip and sauntered towards me. His chest pressed against mine, his flesh hand moving to cradle my face. “I’m in love with you. Always have been. Always will be.” His calloused thumb rubbed against the soft skin of my cheek. “If you don’t have feelings for me, I’ll walk away. But if you do…” His hot breath fanned over my face and his lips were so close. I just wanted to kiss him senseless. “Please. Let’s figure this out.”

Everything that had happened over the years flashed through my mind. My first time meeting him, realizing that I was in love with him. Pining after him and spending five years trying to bring him back. Resigning myself to being just his friend after the Snap was reversed and he didn’t anything. Being taken and praying for him to find me, only to rescue myself and walk away from life as an Avenger.

As much as I hated it, I missed it. I missed being a part of a team. Sure, the money was better doing freelance work like I had been since I left, but it was so lonely.

And there was no James.

My heart pounding in my chest, I grabbed him by the collar and pressed my lips to his. Pieces inside me clicked together like a puzzle as his arms wrapped around me. Everything that’d happened faded away as my fingers tangled in his hair.

He was the one to break away first. He leaned his forehead against mine as we savored in the moment.

“I love you.” My nose nudged against his as I stole another quick kiss.

“I love you more,” he said, refusing to let me go. There was a sort of magic that hung between us. A spell that could only be brought on by a kiss so right that it was as if fate had written it.

A spell that was broken by the man you had been interrogating before James had interrupted you.

“I still here!” He bellowed, his ugly face twisting.

“I guess we should take care of that, huh?” I asked, though my eyes didn’t break from the super soldier’s.

His lips brushed against mine in a promise of a kiss to come. “’We?’”

“Yeah,” I said, as though it was obvious. “We’re a team, right?”

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #fvckingavengers writing challenge

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allaboutthebooz · 4 years

Text

I See The Light Pt. Four

Summary: Tony takes the team to Walt Disney World and Steve is understanding why it’s so magical.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: angst. Gotta have the angst.

A/N: Well when I typed this up it came out to over 2300 words and I could have kept it going, but I figured I would cut it where I did and just make add another part. Have mercy. There are a few scenes from the actual movies added in and, well you’ll see. Memories will be in italic. The majority of this will be memories. And don’t worry, this is just scratching the surface of the relationship between Steve and the reader.

Sweat dripped from Steve’s forehead and covered his back, chest, and arms. It soaked his shirt, causing it to stick to his body with each hit he landed on the punching bag.

‘whack’ ‘whack’ ‘whack’

Memories of his past flooding his mind with each swing. The life he lost when he put the aircraft into the ocean the frozen Artic. The war. Bucky. Peggy. Peggy. Peggy. Nothing, but anger pours from him. His hits growing harder and harder until the bag rips from its steel hinges and crashes onto the floor, sand flying from the busted stitching.

Breathing hard, he takes a moment to calm down before brushing his hair back in place and picking up a new bag and hanging it up. Replacing the broken one. Another deep breath as he resumes his workout.

‘whack’ ‘whack’ ‘whack’

“Trouble sleeping?” A voice calls from the front of the gym, pulling Steve’s attention away from the task at hand. He looks for the intruder to see Fury standing in the shadows, except he’s not alone. A smaller, slim figure stands beside him. A woman. They move forward together, stepping into the light.

“I slept for seventy years, sir.” ‘whack.’ More punches land on the hefty sand filled bag. “I think I’ve had my fill.”

“Then you should be out. Celebrating. Seeing the world.” The two stop about five feet Steve. He stops his hits and finally looks at his company.

Fury the same as always. Dark clothes and eyepatch. Face void of emotion. But the woman. The woman was someone Steve had yet to meet. Her hair was long and a rich shade of burgundy. Her face almost completely void of makeup. Freckles scattered across her cheeks and nose. Eyes big and round. Her suit skin-tight, like Maria’s, but more blue than grey. Still dark, though. He tries not to stare too long, but her small smirk tells him that he failed.

He turns from then and starts to unwrap his hands. “I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn’t say what we lost.” He stuffs one wrap in his bag and begins to unwrap the other.

“We’ve made some mistakes along the way. Some very recently.”

Steve peeks at them and notices the file in the woman’s hands.

“You here with a mission, sir?”

“I am. Agent Y/L/N.” She takes a step forward, holding the file out to him.

“Trying to get me back into the world?” He asks, not taking the file.

“Trying to save it.” She tells him, speaking for the first time. Her voice calm, but stern. She opens the file, urging him to look.

The subject within grabs his attention. He puts his other wrap in the bag, joining its friend. He takes the file from her and sits on the bench.

“Hydra’s secret weapon.” He starts flipping through the pages and pictures of the Tesseract.

“Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you.” Fury explains, causing Steve to look at him. “He thought-we think the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That’s something the world sorely needs.”

The super soldier closes the file and hands it back to the agent. She takes it. “Who took it from you?” He asks.

She sighs. “He’s called Loki. He’s…not from around here.” She taps her fingers against the folder.

“There’s a lot we have to bring you up to speed on, if you’re in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.”

Steve stares beyond them, contemplating. “At this point, I doubt anything will surprise me.” Agent Y/L/N smirks when he stands and turns away from them. “Ten bucks says you’re wrong.”

He gathers his bag and walks to the row of punching bags that are lined on the floor. Picking one up and putting it on his shoulder. Fury continues. “There is a debriefing packet waiting for you, back at your apartment.”

Steve keeps his pace, heading towards the exit.

“Is there anything that you can tell us about the Tesseract, that we ought to know now?”

“You should have left it in the ocean.”

That was the first time he had met Y/N and all he knew about her was that she worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. and was nice to look at. Except, he never admitted that to anyone, not even himself. He remembers seeing her in the control room of the Helicarrier and the way she let out the biggest belly laugh as he handed her a ten-dollar bill. “Thanks, Cap.” Was all she could manage to say between her laugh.

He learned that she and Natasha were extremely close, and both had a personal mission to save another agent that had been compromised because of Loki. The two women were very similar in skill and attitude, which he believes is because of their time in the Red Room, but Y/N was just a bit more carefree. She laughed more than Natasha did. He never had to ask her name. He didn’t have to. It was in her file in the debriefing packet. Y/N Y/L/N. Simple yet fitting.

Both she and Natasha hail from Russia, saved by Clint, and are now the top spies working for Fury.

Said spies were currently sitting across the table from he and Bucky. They were sharing pictures from the trip. This was the first time they’ve actually sat together as a group for a meal. They decided to meet up in the UK at Epcot to eat at the Rose and Crown.

They ordered drinks while waiting for Sam and Wanda. Laughing and telling stories of different events that happened during the trip.

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear a grown man scream the way that Bucky did on Space Mountain.” Nat tells the other’s as y/n hunches over the table, laughter spewing from her lips and tears falling from her eyes.

“It’s a rollercoaster in the dark!” Bucky states, trying to defend himself. “You can’t see anything except for some fucking lights that look like stars. You think you’re gonna go one way and it’s like ‘no man, you’re going this way.’” All I could think was ‘All of this bullshit that I’ve dealt with, and this is how I die.’”

His admittance makes the other’s roar with laughter again, drawing unwanted attention to their table.

Another successful mission means another party thrown by Tony. Various friends and heads of business to rub elbows with. The team is required to attend to kiss the asses of every old rich snob that walks through the door.

Everyone in their best. Steve in his usual button down and black slacks. After watching a couple of World War II vets- who were as old as he is- get taken down by Thor’s Asgardian elixir, he moves to find more of his friends. He spots Nat behind the bar, mixing drinks. She’s talking to another woman. As he moves closer, the woman turns her face to the side as Bruce steps up beside her.

Steve stumbles the slightest when he realizes it’s Y/N. Her burgundy hair looks almost black in the dim party lights and curled in soft waves down her back. Her dress, like everything else she wears, clings to her curves in black silk, stopping at her knees. Her shoulders covered in nothing but two thin straps. A giant bow on her left hip. Her soft skin tempting to touch.

He shakes his head and continues his walk to the bar. Y/N turns from the semi-private conversation that was occurring between the beast and the spider. She gives Steve a smile when she sees him coming her way.

“Hey there, soldier.” Her soft voice calls to him.

“Hey, yourself.” He replies, leaning against the bar.

“Having fun?”

“Impossible not to. There’s some interesting characters here tonight.”

She laughs and nods. “Do you expect anything else from Tony?”

He chuckles. “No, of course not, but it’s fun no less.”

“Well, good. You deserve to have fun.” She stretches over the bar, giving Steve a good view of her long frame, and pulls a couple bottles of beer from behind the counter. She pops the tops off of both of them and hands one to him. “I talked to Sam. Still no word on Bucky.”

The soldier sighs and nods, taking a sip of his beer before answering. “Yeah, he’s still missing.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find him.” She puts a hand on his arm, stroking her thumb across the skin that’s exposed under his rolled sleeves. His skin tingling at the simple touch.

All he can do is nod.

The night is drawing to a close, all the guests have left, and the team is sitting around a table, littering the couches and floor. Thor laughing.

“But it’s a trick.” Clint calls from his spot on the floor, drumstick twirling between his fingers.

“No, it’s much more than that.” Thor tells him, clinking beer bottles with Steve, Y/N perched against his legs in the floor.

“Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power.” Clint exclaims in a mocking tone. “Whatever, man! It’s a trick!”

The God of Thunder chuckles raising his hand to Mjolnir as a welcome gesture. “Please, be my guest.”

This begins the entertainment on the guys each taking their turn trying to lift the hammer. Each of them failing after countless tries. The women sitting around, smirks in place and eyebrows arched.

After Bruce jumps away from it with a tease of Hulk rage, Steve pats your shoulders, urging her forward so that he can have a try.

Everyone giving words of encouragement, while he struts the short distance to the table, rolling his sleeves up once more, a smug look on his face as he observes the taunting hammer. He grips Mjolnir’s handle and tugs. Muscles straining with the resistance she gives.

The hammer budges just a bit, but quickly sets back in place. Thor’s smile slipping and Y/N’s eyes growing wide, her drink stopped on her red lips. He gives a final tug, before raising his hands in defeat. Thor gives an anxious chuckle as Steve resumes his spot on the couch. She stands, handing him her drink.

“Let a lady show you show it’s done.” Her bare feet pad quietly across the floor, Sam giving a cat call from his hair by the bar. Steve watches her observe the hammer, placing her hands in the same position as the other’s had. Giving it a good pull, the table groans beneath it and the hammer ever so slightly scoots across the surface. Another pull and it lifts only a centimeter up.

The others fall silent, watching in awe of what was happening before their eyes. Thor’s drink long forgotten as it tips in his hand and drips down his arm. Steve sits unmoving, watching this killer assassin, move the hammer more than he ever thought possible, by someone other than Thor.

She releases the handle with a huff and step back. “I didn’t want to be queen, anyways.” She smooths out her dress, ignoring the silence and stares from the team, sits on the arm of the couch next to Thor’s shoulder, snapping him out of his shock.

Bruce clears his throat and gestures to Net. “And, Widow?”

“Oh, no, no, no. that’s not a question I need answered.” She responds, leaning back on her elbow.

Tony, ever the skeptic, carries on with his belief. “All deference to the man who wouldn’t Be King, but it’s rigged.”

“You bet your ass.” Clint chimes in, patting Tony on the shoulder.

“Steve, he said a bad language word.” Maria calls from her place on the couch.

Steve sighs. “Did you tell everyone about that?”

After Sam and Wanda finally join the table, everyone orders their food and the laughter continues. Steve sits back, trying to remember everyone got to be carefree like this. He can only think of one time and even then, they were hiding from something.

Clint had a family. A family. And the only people who knew were Y/N and Nat. After they had all settled in and gotten washed up. The girls helped Laura get dinner ready. They laughed and drank, well Y/N and Nat did, and they caught up on everything. That night, Steve found himself standing on the porch with the burgundy haired Avenger next to him. Both sipping from a bottle of beer in their hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Because it wasn’t my secret to tell. He wanted to keep them safe. We all did. They’re the only family, I have. We couldn’t tell anyone.”

Steve’s gut twists at her admission. Her only family? What about the Avengers? Weren’t they a family? “They’re not you’re only family.”

She pulls her big eyes away from the night sky and turns them on him. “You don’t know anything about me, Steve? You know me as well as Tony does.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“It is true. You only see what I allow you to see.”

“Why? We’ve been working together for a long time now. How many times have we almost died together? How many times have we saved each other’s lives?”

“That’s work, Steve. That’s not personal.”

“Then let’s make it personal.”

Y/N sighs and shakes her head, looking down at her lap. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why not? You know everything about me.”

“The whole world knows everything about you. You’re an open book. They have a fucking exhibit dedicated to you at the Smithsonian for Christ sake.”

“That’s not everything. That’s what I did during the war.”

“Then tell me something that no one else knows. If you want to get personal, then you can start.” That stops him. He wasn’t expecting her to turn it around on him. “That’s what I thought. How about this, Cap. When you can be honest with me, I’ll be honest with you. It goes both ways, if you want to be a family.” She hops down from the rail and goes inside, slamming the door behind her.

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*If you would like to added to the tag list, please send me an ask. I am able to keep up with them better that way!

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #marvel #Avengers #marvel series #marvel reader insert #Disney #disneyland #disneyworld #i see the light #i see the light series

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saintheartwing · 4 years

Text

Undertales of Friendship: Beware the Man Who Speaks in Hands

Frisk was not having very good dreams.

Over and over, he would find himself descending down, down into the dark recesses of the "True" Laboratory beneath the normal place where Alphys had worked in the underground. The walls a dark green, a chill running through the air, a faint fog all around his feet as he nervously stepped past patient chair after patient chair. Over and over again he'd approach the sinks in the back of the room, turning them on to get the key one of them had inside them, hoping to flood the sinks and for the key to either float up, or the pipes beneath to burst open to get what he wanted. Yet that always gave way to the sight of that...THING coming out of the third sink.

A cute little round, cheery face, twisting and bulging and morphing into a monstrosity with a horrific laugh, large black eyes with pinprick white pupils gazing back. A tongue lagging out of one of many mouths, eternally crying and bleeding-black eyes on a whispy, curved tail like a scythe. This...this odd, strange, faintly melted specter of many faces looking back at him, three in a row all rising up from the sinks, mouths opening and closing and all speaking at once, and saying the same phrase again and again.

"LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET.

LOREM IPSUM DOCET."

Frisk knew what it meant. Sorrow itself teaches. And he knew what these things were. Pieces of what had once been the Royal Scientist of the Underground, WingDinG Aster, aka Gaster, as he preferred to be called. More bestial and darker traits had risen up in this little "Mini-Me" of Gaster, and they were really only interested in one thing.

"Come join the fun."

"It's a real get together!"

"Become one of us! One of us!"

"You'll be with us soon." The Memoryheads intoned, as more heads sprang up around Frisk, knocking him back as they bulged and popped, Frisk shivering as the Memoryhead closest to him intoned in a dark voice.

"Sorrow itself teaches."

"Teaches what?" Frisk asked. And again the Memoryheads would get closer...closer. "Look, I-I don't want to join in the fun!" He insisted. How many times had he done this before, only to be ignored as they leapt on him and-

But now it was different. Now they merged together, popping and squishing into one, growing larger and larger as an enormous black maw opened slowly and a voice faintly echoey in tone rang out.

"I only want what's mine. And you have a part of it."

"Wh-what's that?" Frisk asked, a gigantic head now staring down at him, white pupils gazing deeper and deeper into him as Frisk found himself sinking, going further into the endless black that was engulfing him-

And then he awoke, Fluttershy the Pegasus gently dabbing a cloth over his head as he sat up on her couch, glancing about her little cottage. "Wh-what happened?"

"Oh, Frisk, sweetie, you fainted in the middle of feeding the chickens outside. Is it too hot for you? I don't know why you always wear a long-sleeve shirt." Fluttershy sighed a little, waving a hoof in the air. "I mean, blue does bring out your eyes, but you must get very hot."

"No, it...it isn't that." Frisk muttered, holding a hand to his head as he cringed. "I keep having these bad dreams and I haven't slept well lately."

"...dreams?" Fluttershy murmured. "Hmm. You know, I think I know someone who could help with bad dreams." She offered with a gentle smile, clasping her hooves together and beaming.

And indeed, a quick letter from Spike was sent out, and Princess Luna of Equestria was soon back in Ponyville, happily meeting with Frisk as the tired, ragged-faced, scarcely-able-to-keep-his-eyes-open child moaned, rubbing his head as he laid on the couch in Fluttershy's home. Fluttershy handed him some golden flower tea, another very popular dish brought up from the Underground thanks to the kindhearted Toriel, and Luna thoughtfully looked him over, dark blue eyes gazing intently at him as Sans, who was also there to look after the kid, gave the kid a hot dog. Or rather, a hot cat.

"Ugghhh. I'm sorry, Sans. I don't feel like eating it."

"geez. ain't even hungry enough to have one of my specialties? now I KNOW somethin' ain't right with you." Sans said, shaking his bony head back and forth. "maybe a joke'll cheer you up. what do you call a guy who gets run over? tired."

Fluttershy, Luna and Frisk all slooooowly turned their heads to directly look at each other, then at Sans, saying absolutely nothing. "..."

"...wow, something IS wrong with you. not even a chuckle." Sans commented with a surprised look on his face.

"I can see his soul's aura. It is plagued with bad dreams. Something has a grip on him." She reasoned aloud. "Frisk, I ask of you. Tell me EVERYTHING thou dost remember of thy dreams. It's most imperative."

"I'm dreaming of these...amalgamates. Melted-together things, pieces of a person that used to be. They're called Memoryheads because they're...well, they're like living heads that are the embodiment of a memory of a man." Frisk said, his tone sounding just as exhausted as the child looked. "A man named Dr. Gaster. He used to be the Monster Kingdom's Royal Scientist...and he was Sans and Papyrus's big brother."

"Whatever happened to him?" Fluttershy softly inquired.

"He fell into his machine, into the time/space continuum and now's in pieces."

"what Frisk here means is that he's at a PIECE conference." Sans remarked wryly.

Many, many, MANY miles away, something stirred. A very furious growl turned into a roar as a cracked face snarled out high and loud enough to crack every glass window in Canterlot. Which it DID.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT BONEHEAD SAID THAT!"

"OW. OW. Sans, that joke was so bad it's physically hurting me, OWWW." Frisk moaned out, Luna whacking her head against the nearby wall over and over again, Fluttershy covering her face with one hoof as Sans nonchalantly shrugged.

"maybe you're right. guess I should leave and make sure you get some-"

"DON'T YOU DARE-"

"PIECE and quiet."

"OHHHHH." Frisk groaned, writhing on the couch as Sans exited the house, laughing uproariously as another pained groan echoed out from miles away in Canterlot.

"Ugggghhhhh. How detestible. He should put more backbone into his pu-" Princess Luna began to say before cringing. "Oh sonofa-"

"HA!" Sans laughed.

Unbeknownst to them, it wasn't Frisk who was in the most danger. No, that dubious honor went to Papyrus, who was hard at work in his new job as a guard for Princess Celestia in her palace at Canterlot. Well, "work" is a strong word. Because currently, he was, along with the other guards, enjoying a nice game of charades with her. Celestia was pantomining a clown to demonstrate the circus, though the guards couldn't quite pick up on that, least of all Papyrus. Then again, perhaps the other guards DID realize it, they just couldn't speak over Pap's VERY loud voice.

"OH! OH, YOU ARE A FLOWER! NO, NO WAIT, YOU ARE A PATIENT FROM AN INSANE ASYLUM! NO, NO WAIT! A MAGICIAN! YES, I AM CERTAIN YOU ARE A MAGICIAN! IS THE WORD MAGIC?"

Celestia chuckled a little, Papyrus happily bouncing up and down in the throne room as she cheerily smiled back, some of the other guards jabbing each other in the side, snickering a bit at his childish exeuberance. It was really quite adorable.

But then the room began to get dark and cold, a chill settling in as Celestia realized that she could see her breath right in front of her. She gasped, quickly looking around the room as the expanse all about her began to convert into utter shadows, and she narrowed her eyes. Was this Discord playing a prank? It couldn't be Sombra, he wasn't around anymore! What was going on?

"...PaPyRuS..." A voice whispered, its voice haunting and echoing as Papyrus stiffened in shock, Celestia looking over in his direction before inky blackness began to swell around him, Papyrus struggling to get free of the darkness that was engulfing him. He let out a gasp, trying to push the other guards away so they wouldn't get sucked in, Celestia racing towards him.

"NO! PRINCESS, STAY BACK! I DO NOT WISH YOU HARMED!" Papyrus insisted, the blackness carefully pinning his arms to his sides as a form rose out of the black, its face skeletal, one black crack running up its right eye, another running down towards its mouth on the left as it gazed over Papyrus, bony hand clasping Papyrus's cheek. "DO...DO I KNOW YOU?"

"You don't remember, Papyrus?" It spoke. "I remember everything about you. Everything."

Papyrus's mouth gaped open slightly, Celestia taking a step forward, eyes intently narrowed as her horn glowed. "You release him NOW. I will not allow you to harm an innocent."

"I only want what's mine." The being said. "I need...to make USE of you." It told Papyrus.

And with that, the inky blackness exploded outward like a bomb, Celestia reeling back along with the guards as she gasped, glancing around...

Papyrus was gone.

AN HOUR LATER...

Sans was calmly sitting on a bench in the park, leaning back and doing nothing. Just the way he liked things. Calmly sighing, he looked up at the sky, and the clouds idly passing by as he saw Papyrus approaching off in the distance, dressed in his normal attire and eagerly sitting down next to him. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?" Papyrus asked Sans.

"well, i like to watch shapes in the clouds. that one looks like a flying dragon, see?" Sans said, pointing with a bony finger up at a draconic-shaped puffy cloud that looked like it was belching out 'flames', Papyrus nodding in agreement.

"OH, YES, IT DOES INDEED."

"and that lil' one over there looks like a mother duck, and the other ones after it are lil' ducklings."

"LIKE THAT CUTE LITTLE BIRD THAT LOVES TO CARRY PEOPLE OVER RIVERS?" Papyrus inquired.

"yeah. we gotta treasure that bird." Sans agreed with a calm, respectful nod.

"MAY I TRY ONE?"

"of course, paps." Sans said with a wink, Papyrus rubbing his long chin before pointing upward with a red-gloved hand.

"OOH! THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A WOUNDED DERPY WITH SMOKE COMING OFF OF HER WINGS-"

KRAKKA-THROOOOOM! Derpy Hooves crashed hard into the market, a cry of "MY CABBAGES" echoing out through the air as a loud "Sorry' echoed out soon after, Derpy limping by them, angrily holding up an exploded mailbag, complete with the shredded remains of what had been a suspicious package and cake frosting and cabbages all over her body, Sans raising a nonexistent eyebrow as he looked her over.

"what happened?"

"It's a SICK world we live in with SICK PONIES!" Derpy shrieked, grumbling darkly as Papyrus shook his head back and forth.

"WHAT A SHAME. THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER SEND MAIL THROUGH THE POSTAL SYSTEM."

"yeah. i'm guessing that was a Boom Boom Cake of Pinkie Pie's."

"HOW CAN YOU TELL?"

"cuz she's got a real explosive personality."

Silence for a long, long time before Papyrus wryly remarked "...I HATE TO TELL YOU THIS, BROTHER, BUT YOUR JOKE JUST...BOMBED."

Sans stiffened a little, slowly turning his head, as if truly seeing Papyrus for the first time, his mouth agape in surprise as Papyrus put a hand on his shoulder...with incredible weight behind it. "you're not paps."

"NO...I'm not." The being that was not Papyrus said. "You know who I am, Sans. And you know why I'm here. You understand why."

"gaster, come on, he's just a child-" Sans began to say, Gaster's stolen form shaking its head back and forth solemnly.

"I'm not going to harm him anymore than I've harmed Papyrus. Or that I'll harm you. I only want what's mine." Gaster explained."Now come. It's time for all of us to be one big family, Sans. The way it should be." He intoned kindly, as Sans felt a large embrace engulf him, the shadows swallowing his form as he fell deeper, deeper, deeper into the abyssal black around him...

And then, within a few moments, there was only what appeared to be Sans on the bench as he made his way back towards Fluttershy's cottage. "now then...third time is the charm."

...

...Frisk was still on the couch, fast asleep as Luna held a hoof to his head, focusing intently, her lips slightly pursed. Fluttershy stood nearby, biting her lip as the light softly filtered in through the window, bathing over Frisk in soft golden light as Luna cringed.

"This is serious. An immense block is inside his mind. Whatever's inside him has placed a mental barrier that I cannot easily break through. I will need additional help, Fluttershy." Luna sighed at last, removing her hoof from Frisk's forehead before steepling her hooves, lying back in the chair she was sitting on. "He will have to be taken to Zecora."

"taken to ol' stripeybutt, huh?" Sans's voice rang out as they turned, seeing he was stepping out of the closet, Fluttershy gasping as she slightly jumped up in the air. "what? c'mon, Fluttershy. nothing wrong with a couple skeletons in your closet. everybody has 'em."

"I take it you could simply...shortcut your way to Zecora?" Princess Luna mused aloud as he looked Sans over, the skeleton giving a cute little wink, showing off a faintly royal blue glowing eye as Frisk was softly hovered through the air and over towards him. "However are you able to do that?"

"ahhh, blue magic runs in the family, really." Sans the Skeleton remarked with a shrug. "both my brothers got different mastery over it. But Paps's spirit's tied to the trait of Bravery, so his magic comes off more orange. Me, I'm patient, so mine's light blue." He remarked with a shrug, unzipping his blue jacket as the sleeping Frisk was caaaarefully lowered down, down, and soon, was perfectly positoned right in front of Sans's form. With a little smile, Sans zipped his jacket back up, Frisk now warmly tucked away in the jacket almost like a mother kangaroo with her baby joey, as Sans patted the sleeping child on the head. "theeeere we go. all snug as a bug in a rug."

"You've been waiting to do that to him for a while, haven't you?" Fluttershy asked with a smile. "I can tell."

Sans gave her a big grin. "oh, you've no idea." He said, reopening the closet. "i'll see you two later. got a lot to do." he remarked before popping into the closet again, Fluttershy smiling before suddenly stiffening up. Something hadn't been right. What had he said? "My magic's light blue".

...but Frisk had been surrounded in a royal blue light.

"Princess Luna, I think something terrible has just happened." She realized aloud, wheeling around and looking into Luna's eyes. "We need to find Ms. Toriel immediately."

Meanwhile, Frisk was still tucked away inside the jacket as Gaster-Sans calmly walked down the forest path, heading to the abandoned Castle of the Two Sisters, the old castle of Princess Luna and Celestia. The castle was long overgrown, its steeples crumbling and cracked with trees around it drooping and saddened, everything about it giving off the air of dejection and abandonment as Gaster's borrowed form approached the front of the castle and pushed the doors open. Little Frisk was still fast asleep, Gaster's stolen form looking quietly down at Frisk, biting into a lack of bony lip.

He felt guilt. Frisk had been nothing but kind and loving to monsters like him. He'd freed his kind, he'd given his brothers something to live for again. Such a dear child.

"I..." He hesitated, gently stroking Frisk's brown-haired head. He just looked so cute, all tucked away tight and warm and safe in his jacketed body. "...he's just a child..." He murmured.

But he wanted to be whole again so dearly. To just be himself. Before he'd only been able to hold onto the material world in little bits and pieces, barely able to manifest for more than five minutes. But now with Sans and Papyrus sampled...

And soon it would be three with Frisk. Out of everyone in the Underground, four had the strongest physical connection to him. He'd been scattered in pieces across the Underground, and had barely managed to scrape enough of himself together for this wild, desperate plan. He needed four souls, and the pieces of himself within them: Sans, Papyrus, Frisk and Alphys. With Papyrus, his physical form would become more stable. With Sans, his mind would get more stable. With Alphys, he could get back his Soul. And with Frisk would come his heart, his compassion. He needed that. He needed to feel again. To just love someone.

"You're only feeling remnants of a man who once was." He murmured to himself, gently taking Frisk's sleeping form out of his jacket and laying him on a table as his visage began to shift, growing taller and darker. "You don't truly feel guilty. All you feel is a shell. Intellectually, you know you should feel disgusted. But you don't truly feel it. With the child claimed, you will. With the child claimed, you will feel again. Be almost utterly whole again. It's everything you want, isn't it?"

He now stood tall, a large skeleton in a dark cloaked robe with a silver undershirt, his form lean and faintly thin. A black crack ran up his eye, another running down to his mouth from the other eye, his skeletal hands having large holes in the center as he gently laid one on Frisk's head. "Believe me." He spoke softly to Frisk. "I'm truly grateful. With this, I'll be whole again. And you'll never be alone." He offered, shadows beginning to rise around Frisk as his SOUL was exposed...

Gaster flinching as he reeled back, cringing as he clutched at his chest, feeling his remnant of a Soul, his pale imitation flinching. Damn. The soft light of Sans and Papyrus within him were objecting. They were almost utterly overpowering him. Perhaps he couldn't claim the child yet. He'd need more raw power. Perhaps Alphys would do. Her Soul was rather weak-willed in comparison, and would provide the boost needed.

Ah, well. For now he could at least do one thing with the child. Carefully lifting the child up, he placed him between the folds of his coat as he buttoned it up more, the little one nicely tucked away inside him as he softly enjoyed the gentle movements of Frisk turning ever-so-slightly in a peaceful slumber. Sighing, Gaster sat down against a nearby wall, and softly drifted off to sleep himself to join the child in dreamland...

TO BE CONTINUED...

#Undertale #undertales #My Little Pony #My Litte Pony Friendship is Magic #crossover #fanfiction #fanfic #adventure #wd gaster #gaster #Frisk #Sans

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trashmenofmarvel · 5 years

Text

Devil’s Backbone - Chapter 17

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x S.H.I.E.L.D. agent!Reader

Summary: With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors. (This fic is explicit, 18+ only, dubcon in earlier chapters)

Chapter Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 3.7k

AO3

The drive to HQ was fraught with an odd kind of tension. You weren’t sure if it was coming from you or Rumlow, but he seemed unable to remain completely still behind the wheel. His fingers drummed against the top of the wheel, moved to fiddle with the heater, then went back to tapping.

Despite his apparent restlessness, he drove just below the speed limit, unhurried as he stayed to the right for traffic to pass him by. It made you feel uneasy, especially when compared to his earlier urgency, but it wasn’t long before you figured out what he was doing.

Rumlow began to question you. Various things that would no doubt be covered in your debriefing, but he apparently wanted to know them before you got to HQ. There wasn’t anything out of line with that, it was his right to question you as your superior, but it still made your foot bounce with nerves.

You answered his questions nonetheless, sticking to the truth where you could. You told him about being isolated and tortured. You talked about your escape. You even talked about how you had realized S.H.I.E.L.D. had a mole because of Mrs. Kartal’s warnings.

“Did they make it?” you asked, sounding almost timid in your swirling dread. “Missus Kartal and her son?”

“Yeah. They’re safe,” Rumlow answered, tone too bland for you to discern the truth of it. Were they still alive, or had you ordered Mrs. Kartal and her son right into the waiting jaws of the beast?

Rumlow flicked on the turn signal in a sudden movement and cruised onto the onramp of the freeway, ignorant of your internal strife. “All thanks to you, kid. I can’t say anyone else in that situation woulda gotten ‘em out in one piece. But you did.”

You sunk lower in your seat. His praise felt undeserved at best, and at worst, his words were a mockery.

You didn’t know if Rumlow had turned but you prayed he hadn’t. The man practically sweated S.H.I.E.L.D. patriotism, but Bucky’s earlier reaction hadn’t exactly inspired confidence in you.

Bucky… You wanted to believe him; you also hoped he was lying. If he wasn’t lying, that meant the man you looked up to for years wasn’t the man you thought he was. It meant he was a liar, a traitor, and a murderer.

But if Rumlow was telling the truth, that meant Rogers had had a direct hand in your abduction and torture. It meant he was the enemy and you wouldn’t find any aid from him. Worst, it meant Romanoff was on his side, and she was way more dangerous than the golden boy of America.

Rumlow or Rogers. Who was the traitor and who was your ally? You didn’t know Rogers very well, though he’d always been polite to the point of borderline shyness.

And Rumlow? He was the closest thing you had to family.

The anxiety was making your chest ache and you took a steadying breath, smoothing a wrinkle on the black STRIKE hoodie. It still smelled like Bucky and you closed your eyes to let the comforting scent ease your nerves. Now that you had a moment to reflect, you were a little mortified to think of what would have happened if Rumlow had shown up a few minutes earlier. You used to give your teammates such shit for thinking with their dicks.

Former teammates, you reminded yourself as a pit formed in your stomach. If Rumlow was HYDRA, then that meant he had set up half of his team to die in the ambush. You couldn’t believe that was true.

You couldn’t… except something had begun to nag at you, prodding at the back of your mind over the duration of the car ride. There was one thing you couldn’t figure out. Jones.

A memory flashed across your mind: Friday night, the team at a grubby bar in downtown DC. The guys were loud and raucous, alcohol-fueled grins plastered on their faces as they gave “peach fuzz” Jones all kinds of shit. It was his twenty-first birthday and he was making the most of it, his own cheeks red after taking another shot of mint vodka. His eyes were glazed from the buzz of the alcohol, reflecting the tacky holiday lights that hung from the bar rafters all year long.

That rich brown gaze remained glassy as it stared up at you from the fluorescent-lit concrete, the spreading red halo a declaration of your guilt. You could still feel the weight of the pistol in your hand, hot and alive as his body started to cool in the frigid night air.

You opened your eyes and swallowed down the lump in your throat. Focus on the facts. Why had Jones been at that compound? He hadn’t been part of the Kartal family detail, so he hadn’t been an escaped prisoner like you. No, Jones had been assigned to the Lemurian Star mission with Rumlow.

Half the team on the Lemurian Star. The other half with the Kartals. Everyone who had been part of the convoy team was dead. Everyone except for you.

To make matters worse, this had been your first mission as team leader. Your fingers dug into the fabric of the hoodie when you realized who had filled out the rosters. Rumlow had decided who went on the Kartal mission and who stayed behind.

Jack Rollins was Rumlow’s second in command; he should have been the one to lead the mission. Rumlow never should have assigned you to a leadership role for something so important.

Why had he?

There was the matter of Jones. A follower on his best day, not a renegade let alone a rogue, and whatever he was involved in, Rumlow would know about it.

Wouldn’t he?

Even if Rumlow hadn’t known Jones was HYDRA, at best, at best that meant he had no idea what was going on in his own team and they had died due to his negligence. Rumlow should have been a protector and a guide, vigilant to make sure the danger never came from within your own ranks.

He hadn’t been.

You tried to control your breathing. Had Bucky been right all along? Was Rumlow HYDRA or was he just extremely incompetent?

Fuck. You should have figured this out earlier, and would have if you had had your head on straight and hadn’t let your weakness for the former assassin distract you.

Even now as your thoughts turned toward him, your chest squeezed in anxiety. Had Bucky killed Director Fury and Jasper? Why hadn’t he told you?

I’ve done terrible things. If you knew even a fraction of them, you wouldn’t even… even be able to look at me.

Maybe he’d tried, and you simply hadn’t listened.

“You okay, kid? Bein’ awfully quiet.”

Rumlow’s voice shook you from your mired guilt. You hadn’t realized you were staring out of the front windshield, looking without really seeing.

You wanted to turn toward him, shout your accusations and force him to confess that all of this was his fault. You wanted to punch him across the jaw and demand to know how he could have let everything get so fucked. Rumlow couldn’t lie to you any longer, not with Jones as the smoking gun.

Instead, you took a steadying breath.

“Not really,” you said with quiet bitterness. “Half the team is gone. They’re just… gone.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Williams,” he said, his voice surprisingly sympathetic.

“I know that,” you snapped. You saw him slightly turn his head toward you out of the corner of your eye.

Shit. You needed to calm the fuck down and save your anger for when you weren’t trapped with Rumlow in a car speeding down the freeway.

Biting his head off felt so good, though. It really did.

“What I mean is, there was nothing you could have done differently,” he said, all reasonable. “It’s a fuckin’ kick to the balls when you lose people. You’re gonna wanna blame yourself, but you can’t. You gotta compartmentalize.”

He was right, and that was exactly what you had to do. Rumlow, one way or another, was responsible for this hell you were in. You couldn’t do anything about that now, so you packed it away in a tidy little box and put it in storage. He would answer for its contents later. You would make goddamn certain of that.

“I don’t blame myself,” you answered, voice flat as you stared through the windshield. “I blame the people responsible. Every single one of them is going to pay with fucking interest.”

“There she is,” Rumlow said, giving a low chuckle. Your desire to bash in his head multiplied a hundredfold. “That’s my girl.”

Your heart swelled with pride before you could stop it. The immediate swoop in your chest, so sharp and admonishing it made the emotions swirl into a sickening and confusing mixture.

You were spared from having to make any more conversation; he pulled the car up to the row of doors that led directly into the front lobby.

That surprised you, expecting he would go into the underground parking structure. He must have seen your expression, because as he unbuckled his belt he said, “We’re taking the fast way. Someone wants to talk to you first.”

“Who?” you asked, suspicion tensing your muscles.

Rumlow smiled and winked.

“Big secret.”

Frowning at that cryptic statement, you unbuckled your own seatbelt and exited the car. The winter air was biting, and you wished you had thought to bring a coat over the thin hoodie.

You followed Rumlow inside through the doors into the lobby. At first, only fleeting glances were thrown your way, but then more and more heads turned.

“O-o-okay,” you said slowly. You couldn’t help the way your shoulders curled in defense at so many eyes on you. “What did I do?”

Rumlow didn’t seem the least worried, and in fact, put a hand on your shoulder as he grinned broadly.

“Got captured by the guy who killed the Director and then lived to tell about it.”

You blanched at the forced recollection. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault, you reminded yourself. It didn’t make the grim news any easier to swallow.

“I got lucky,” you responded tensely. He took his hand away, and despite yourself, you felt unsteady without its weight.

“Eh,” he said with a half-shrug, “it may have been part of it, but luck only gets you so far.”

He wasn’t wrong. Your escape hadn’t been lucky—it had all been because of Bucky’s help, and you still didn’t know why he had done such a complete turnaround.

You hoped you lived long enough to ask him.

“Wait here a sec.”

You watched as Rumlow strode across the lobby; once he was out of sight, you took your first real breath.

Trying to play your old role with Rumlow was taking a toll already. Sure, you were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., but you weren’t a covert spy like Romanoff. You were STRIKE. Your job was to storm the castle, not try and outwit the king.

Discomforted by the attention from the agents around you, you turned toward the part of the lobby you had always ignored: the public section. There was a display of Steve Rogers, large and situated in front to pull in the eye. The history of S.H.I.E.L.D. was documented on the walls for interested minds to discover.

You started at the more modern end. Most of the mural was taken up by pictures of the Battle for New York. It had only been a couple years ago, but the day was still fresh in your mind. You’d been on the Helicarrier with your team and sent to Stark Tower for the cleanup. Aliens, Asgardian gods, and the fact S.H.I.E.L.D. had been forced to reveal itself to the world, it had been the craziest day of your life.

Well, until now, anyway.

The Avengers, looking war-torn but somehow valiant, stared down on you as you walked by. You also came across the members of the board, including Dr. Hank Pym and Howard Stark until his death.

Next was the Cold War era, and despite the lack of much detail on the wall, you knew S.H.I.E.L.D. had had a lot of run-ins with the Soviets during that time.

Finally you got to the SSR and its most prominent members: Chester Phillips, Howard Stark, and your personal hero, Peggy Carter. Others included Daniel Sousa and Jack Thompson as early members of the SSR New York branch.

All of this history, all of these brilliant minds and celebrated heroes, but somehow HYDRA had been hiding within it, biding its time for the last seventy years.

Doubt and fatalism began to creep in again and you were left feeling helpless. Seven decades of the best S.H.I.E.L.D. had to offer couldn’t stop HYDRA. What hope could you possibly have?

You were just about to turn back to the lobby when your eye caught onto the World War II section. Captain American’s origins. You peered closer at the display; Rogers was standing amidst a group of soldiers on a dirt path in an autumnal forest. The men grinned at the camera, arms around each other’s shoulders as cigarettes dangled from curled lips.

Howling Commandos, you silently read the engraved words. Rescued from the rogue Nazi science division known as HYDRA, they became stalwart allies and close friends of Captain Rogers.

But one amongst them had been a companion to the great Captain America long before the war and Project Rebirth. James Buchanan Barnes, also referred to by his friends as “Bucky”—

You stared at the letters. Read them again. And again.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky.

You focused again on the black and white photo blown up onto the mural, your eyes automatically drawn to one particular face.

It was like staring at a living ghost, and wasn’t that what he was? His hair was shorter and his face clean-shaven in the sepia image. He was young, startlingly so, but his eyes… there was a forlorn look in them you would have recognized anywhere.

There was no doubt this was the same Bucky who had been controlled by HYDRA. The same one who had been your only source of comfort in that hellish cell. The same one who had ensured your freedom.

Your Bucky.

With trembling fingers, you reached forward and pulled one of the pamphlets out of its holder. The paper shook as you opened it up, and inside was a different picture, this one of Rogers and Bucky standing side by side, dirtied and bloodied but their teeth flashing white in happy smiles.

Or at least, Rogers was. Bucky had his lips quirked in the approximation of a smile, but there was something brittle in his expression as he looked to his best friend.

You turned to the back of the pamphlet to see a range of dates.

March 10th, 1917 – February 1st, 1945

How? How is this possible? You narrowed your eyes as you read the smaller print. Bucky had been presumed dead after he had fallen from a transport train during Armin Zola’s capture.

A train. Bucky had mentioned a train.

It said nothing about how it was possible for a man who had supposedly died in 1945 to be here, now in D.C., looking like he hadn’t aged much at all.

At least you knew one thing for certain. Steve Rogers definitely knew him, and there was no doubt he would aid you in helping his once-best friend.

“Williams!”

You quickly folded the pamphlet and slid it into your pocket, turning to face Rumlow and finding he was not alone. Your back went rigid with honed-discipline at the sight of a superior.

“So, this is the esteemed protégé,” Alexander Pierce said with a warm smile, extending his hand to you.

Time seemed to stand still as words echoed to you from within the depths of your memory.

Wipe him—

it couldn’t be

he had been there

in your cell

he was the one in charge

the man who gave the orders

he knew heknewheknew

—and start over.

Your hand was being shaken, but you didn’t remember moving it from your side.

“Secretary Pierce,” you said evenly as he kept your hand clasped in his. His eyes were a faint cornflower blue, ones you recognized along with the timbre of his voice.

The graduation ceremony at the Academy. He gave a speech. It was him.

“Brock told me all about your heroic escape from the hands of that assassin,” he commented, exposing a smile that was all pearly white teeth. It reminded you of a shark circling its floundering dinner.

“All thanks to my training,” you found yourself saying as you retracted your hand mechanically. Your heartbeat was thudding in your ears and prayed he couldn’t see the terror behind your eyes.

“Without it, I wouldn’t be here.”

“And she’s humble, too,” Pierce said, brows lifting as he turned to look at Rumlow. His discerning blue eyes did not reflect the warmth on the rest of his expression.

“Didn’t learn that from me,” Rumlow responded with a lopsided smirk.

Pierce chuckled and turned back to you. He really does have the charming, handsome old man routine down to an art. Hatred curled in your gut for the both of them. You felt naked without a weapon, not even so much as a knife in your boot, but you could improvise. Elbows and the heel of a hand could do a fantastic amount of damage given enough motivation.

“I apologize for not being able to speak with you longer,” Pierce said with a small smile, his eyes roving over your features. You didn’t care for it one goddamn bit. “You need to get to your debriefing and I need to attend to some special guests for the launch. I just wanted to tell you that I’m very impressed, and I look forward to working with you more closely in the future.”

Once upon a time, that pronouncement would have been enough to brighten your entire world. Flattered and star-struck wouldn’t have covered it.

Now, all you could do was give him a plastic smile and say, “Thank you, sir. I look forward to that as well.”

Pierce’s smile didn’t falter exactly, but it did seem to catch, as if you had done something he hadn’t expected. He recovered quickly and gave Rumlow a nod. “I’m counting on you to make this launch as smooth as possible, Brock.”

Rumlow responded with a curt, “Yes, sir.”

You watched Pierce long after he had turned away, and didn’t take your eyes off of him until he disappeared around the bank of elevators.

Bucky had been right again. There was no S.H.I.EL.D. Not anymore. Not with Director Fury dead. There was no doubt as to why he had been assassinated; to make room for Pierce to take over without challenge.

“Can’t wait to take that bastard down.”

When you turned to Rumlow you saw he was staring up at the larger-than-life mural of Captain America.

“Yeah,” you responded, looking directly at Rumlow. “The thought that HYDRA could still exist and be a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. makes me want to fucking retch.”

Stupid. Really, really stupid. Rumlow looked at you out of the side of his eye.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a gesture you knew meant annoyance, and he said, “Come on. Time for that debrief.”

He turned from the historical archives and strode across the lobby.

You caught up to him, really wishing you had a weapon. Right now, you didn’t feel like you were in a place you would have once called home, surrounded by colleagues and a team. You felt like you were far behind enemy lines. Alone and without backup. The prison had been a nightmare, but there was something about this situation that felt even more sinister. At least in the prison, you had known who your enemies were. Now, every face could be an insidious mask and every smile could be a knife in the dark.

“Insight Bay,” Rumlow told the control system as soon as you stepped inside the elevator. The doors shut behind you, the sunlight streaming in through the glass wall giving you little comfort.

“Agent Williams does not have clearance,” the automated female voice responded.

“Command Override 61311,” he replied with a roll of one shoulder.

“Confirmed.”

The view of the lobby vanished as the elevator began to descend underground instead of lift upward into the building. You shifted on your heels, nerves getting the better of you.

“So,” you said, trying to figure out where Rumlow was taking you, “what was this about a launch?”

Rumlow glanced your way, a crooked half-smile spreading across his lips. “Another big surprise. New security protocol we’ve been working on ever since the Incident. It might even help us take down Rogers.”

You knew he was talking about the three Helicarriers, but you furrowed your brow anyway. “I’ve never heard of that. Why wasn’t I told?”

“Because,” he responded, the tilt of his head smug, “only those above Level Eight have clearance to know.”

You didn’t have to feign confusion this time.

“There are no levels past Eight except for the board members and director,” you told him.

Rumlow’s smile was near delighted. “I was gonna wait to tell you after your mission report, but… Oh, what the fuck, no point in keepin’ it a secret. We’re gonna be bumping your clearance.”

Light filled the elevator, but it was not the buttery sunshine filtered in through the lobby’s windows. You turned to look out of the glass, and your mouth dropped open at the impossible span of space in front of you. Towering steel walls encircled a hangar bay that was large enough to fit a city block or two.

Nestled inside, huge and monstrous and dwarfing the crew around it to the size of tiny black ants, were three completely assembled Helicarriers.

“Williams,” Rumlow put his hand on your shoulder, “Welcome to Project Insight.”

Next Chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #reader fanfiction #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #brock rumlow #devil's backbone #my writing #my fanfiction

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illfoandillfie · 5 years

Text

Quiet In The Library

Pairing: (70s) Roger x Fem Reader

Summery: Roger visits Y/N at work.

Warnings: Dom!Roger, Public sex, oral (m receiving and f receiving), exhibitionism

Words: 2535

A/N: I’m a librarian. I’m a bottom for 70s Rog. Sue me.  #bottomrights

He couldn’t be here. You’d only seen him briefly out of the corner of your eye, maybe you’d made a mistake? Please God, let you have made a mistake. Let it be literally anyone else, even the patron with the bad breath. Him you could handle. Christ, you specifically hadn’t told anyone in the band where you worked because you knew he’d pull this shit. You liked Roger, he was a sweet guy and a great shag, but the last thing you wanted was him to be here in your library. Partly because you knew he’d take the piss for your dowdy workwear, partly because you knew this would spark some sort of sexy librarian fantasy for him that not even the most unattractive uniform could dampen. Not that you hadn’t had those fantasies yourself, but if you were both here thinking about it the chance of you being fired for inappropriate conduct was much higher. Shit now you were thinking about it. You had to clench your thighs together and silently thanked god Roger couldn’t see your legs under your desk.

You glanced up from your work, praying it wasn’t Roger you’d seen, only to have your fears confirmed. Roger gave you a subtle wink as he walked over to the card catalogue and began pretending to search for something. You stood up from your desk and walked over to him, hoping that if you cut off whatever game he was playing, he’d leave you alone.   “Good afternoon sir is there anything I can help you with?” you said in your most professional voice. Roger just grinned back at you.  “Are you looking for a particular book?” you glanced around to make sure none of your co-workers were within earshot, “Perhaps you just got lost trying to find the exit?”  “Oh, no, I’m right where I wanna be,” He looked you up and down taking in every inch of your uniform – the bland white blouse, the knee length brown skirt, the sensible shoes. You tried to ignore the way he cocked his eyebrow at you and the growing pit in your stomach.  “What the fuck are you doing here Taylor?” you hissed. “That’s a bit rude. What happened to calling me sir?”  If you hadn’t been standing in the middle of a library you could have screamed. You were about to tell Roger to go fuck himself when you noticed your boss looking your way and you slipped back into customer service mode, “Well, sir, if you do require help locating any resources please don’t hesitate to ask.” With that you turned around, work appropriate ponytail bouncing, and grabbed the nearest trolley of returns, pushing it towards the back of the library. 

It was midday on a Tuesday, so the library wasn’t overly busy, thankfully. Most patrons were towards the front of the library anyway, looking through the fiction shelves or else playing with the microfiche. You specifically headed towards the non-fiction shelves where there was less chance of being overheard; if you were going to tell Roger to fuck off you couldn’t risk your boss hearing. You turned down an empty row of shelves – 570s, Biology – put the brakes on your trolley and slowly let out the breath you’d been holding. You knew Roger would follow you – you had felt his eyes on your bum as you walked away from him. You shook your head trying to get rid of the entirely inappropriate ideas you were suddenly having. About ten seconds later Roger joined you. You crossed your arms, trying to look as threatening as possible and waited for him to be close enough to hear you. “I’ll ask you again. What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even find out this is where I work?” you were whisper yelling, but Roger just seemed to find you amusing judging by his stupid fucking smile. “First of all, that’s not a very polite way to speak to a patron. Secondly, Bri let slip.”  “How the fuck did he find out?”  Roger shrugged, “Didn’t ask. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me though.” He was close enough to grasp the material of your skirt and begin to slowly drag it up. “The whole sexy librarian thing really works for you by the way.”   You rolled your eyes, trying not to let on how much his words affected you, but you could feel the blush creeping up your neck and you hadn’t made a move to stop his roaming hands. "Roger we both know these are literally the least sexy clothes I own.” He laughed quietly, continuing his quest to expose as much of your legs as possible while also running the fingers on his other hand up and down your side, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake, “and that’s not the point.”  “What is the point then?” He’d finally succeeded in lifting your skirt high enough that he could trace the outline of your pussy through your already damp underwear.  You clutched at his shoulders for support, catching some of his hair between your fingers. “The point,” Your voice was much breathier than before, “The point is that I’m at work and you shouldn’t be here,”   “I thought we we’re having fun.” He circled your clit with his thumb. You dropped your head against his shoulder as you felt yourself getting close, biting your lip to keep quiet. Suddenly he withdrew his hand, “But if you want me to go I will.”   “You complete and utter bastard,” “Think I preferred it when you called me sir." He leaned into your ear as he spoke, his voice low and rough, and his words hit you like a lightning bolt, “You want me to stay?” “Yes sir,” it was almost too quiet to hear, but it was enough for Roger.  “Christ, you make it so easy,” His fingers returned to under your skirt but this time they dipped beneath your underpants as well. Light teasing touches around your clit that were nowhere near enough. “I’ve barely done anything and you’re completely soaked for me, and y’know why?”  You shook your head.   Roger held your chin and tilted your face up so he could look you in the eyes, “It’s cos you’re a slut.”   Your whine was muffled as Roger covered your mouth with his hand.   “Uh uh uh, gotta be quiet in the library. Shouldn't have to tell you that.” Roger’s other hand was still teasing your pussy, slinding his fingers through your wetness and around your clit, never giving you quite enough. You closed your eyes trying not to whimper into the hand that still covered your mouth.  “Y’know seeing you like this, in your uniform, practically begging for me to make you cum, its driving me fucking wild. You’re such a needy slut. Got me so hard right now, there’s no way I could leave without someone noticing,” He pulled his hands away from your body wiping his wet fingers on the inside of your thigh “Think I’m gonna need that pretty mouth of yours to help me. If you’re a good girl and keep quiet I’ll let you cum.” You dropped to the carpet, desperate to please. 

You slid your hand up the inside of Roger's leg, eventually landing on the outline of his cock, and began stroking him over his jeans, teasing him the way he’d teased you, until you felt him grab the base of your ponytail in warning. You looked up at him innocently and bit your bottom lip as you undid his belt and fly, pushing his pants down until his cock sprang free. You couldn’t quite hear him but you were pretty sure he muttered the word ‘Christ’ as he watched you lick a line up the underside of his shaft, before taking his tip into your mouth. You lowered your eyes and bobbed up and down, adjusting to his size, your hand wrapped around his base. Roger’s hand was tangled in your hair and his breath was ragged as you licked around his tip, before taking him back into your mouth as far as you could manage without gagging. The fear that someone was going to overhear you was constantly in the back of your mind, making your heart beat faster, but Roger was letting you control the pace which made you less worried. Suddenly you heard a noise that made you pause. You pulled off of Roger and looked up at him panicked when you realised it was someone in the row next to yours. Roger held a finger to his lips, signalling you to stay quiet, and pushed you back down onto him.  Your eyes were wide with worry as you continued to bob your head, watching Roger for any sign that the person was getting closer, but you had to admit it was a huge turn on. Roger certainly seemed to agree. He kept one eye on the person in the next row and one on you as he snapped his hips up, pushing himself further into you and making you gag. Every time you let a noise escape, he’d tug on your hair, another warning to control yourself. You could see he had his lip between his teeth in an effort to muffle his own gasps and whines.

Eventually you heard muffled footsteps retreating as the person in the next row left, Roger pulled you from him and held you by the ponytail as he leaned down and growled into your ear.  “You better hope they left because they found what they were looking for. That they didn’t notice you being a slut and went to find your boss. I’m gonna fuck your mouth for real now, and you’re gonna swallow all my cum like a good girl, isn’t that right?”   You nodded, afraid that anything you said would be too loud. Roger slammed his cock back into your mouth, using his grip on your ponytail to push you down onto him before pulling you back up again rapidly. You were a gagging, whimpering mess. Saliva dibbled from the corners of your mouth, your hair was falling out of the neat ponytail it had starting in, and your eyes filled with tears causing your makeup to run. Roger kept control of you, treating you like nothing more hole for him to use. His grip on your hair got tighter as he got closer to his release, causing you to moan around his cock.   “Taking me so well” he said softly as he pushed you down once more and held you there as his orgasm hit, his cum sliding down your throat and coating your tongue. Your chest was burning when he finally pulled you off, letting you drop to the floor, heaving for air.  

Roger gave you a minute to catch your breath and wipe your chin while he tucked himself back into his jeans, before hauling you back up to your feet.  “Show me,”  You stuck out your clean tongue. “Good girl.” He wiped the remaining tears from your eyes before continuing, “Think you deserve to cum?”  “Please sir, I was good.”  “I don’t know. I told you to be quiet but you didn’t do a very good job. Could have got us caught. But maybe you would have liked that.”  “That’s not fair sir, you made me gag! I would have been quiet but you made me gag.” You kept your voice as quiet as possible but you felt ready to throw a tantrum at the injustice of his suggestion.   “You’re sounding like a bit of a whiny brat right now.”  “Please! You said I took you so well and I was a good girl and I swallowed and I need to cum so bad please.”  “I do like it when you beg.”  You weren’t sure whether or not that meant Roger was going to give in, until he lifted you up to sit on top of the trolley and pushed your legs apart. He bunched your skirt up at your waist so you could watch him pull your underpants down to your ankles. He didn’t waste any time before he had two fingers running between your folds.  “If I hear a single noise from you, I will stop.”  “Yes sir, thank you sir.”  His fingers, once again soaked from how wet you were, pushed inside you at the same time he bent down and licked a line up your slit. You had to cover your own mouth to stop any noise escaping as his fingers increased their pace and he began lapping at your clit. He was going wild, eating you out like it was the last thing he’d ever do, and you couldn’t look away. There was something about seeing him between your legs, here where you worked, that was so insanely erotic. Roger’s eyes caught yours and you had to bite down on your knuckles to stop from moaning. You could feel him smirking against you as your free hand landed on the back of his head, pushing him into you. You could feel the pit in your stomach tighten with every swipe of his tongue and pump of his fingers, hitting the perfect spot and pushing you closer to your edge. His lips latched on to your clit and sucked. Your toes curled and it took all your energy not to scream around your knuckles. Roger continued his ministrations as you rode out the orgasm.  

“Fuck” you whispered in between deep breaths, “I can’t believe we just did that.”  Roger chuckled softly as he helped you back to your feet. He took your hand and examined the knuckle you’d been biting down on. “Surprised you didn’t draw blood,” You pushed his shoulder playfully before pulling your underwear back up and readjusted your skirt.   “Can’t believe I have to go back out and work now. How do I look?”  “Kinda like you just sucked dick in the back of a library”  “Fuck, Rog, how am I gonna go back out there. There’s no way to get to the bathroom without walking through the main area.”  But Roger was already on it. He licked his thumb and began rubbing at the mascara lines under your eyes and on your cheeks. He then spun you around so he could untie what was left of your ponytail, run his fingers through your hair to smooth it down and retie it.   “Sorry I can’t do more, but that should look tidy enough to get you to the bathroom where you can fix yourself up properly.”  “Thank you,” you breathed out, wrapping your arms around him and leaning into his chest. His arms came up around you and he spoke into your shoulder.  “Shit, no, I messed up your hair and makeup in the first place.” He pulled back from the hug, dropping a quick kiss to your lips, “Probably should have thought about that before I pushed you to your knees.”  “No harm done. Plus, y’know I like it when you pull my hair. I had fun”  “Good. I’m glad.” He leaned back down right next to your ear, “Next time I’m going to fuck you properly though.” 

#roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #queen fanfic #queen smut #my fics #this goes out to everyone who wants 70s rog to top them!#you are vaild !!#We Are Valid !!!#come and get your rights !!!#I will not stand for the bottom discrimination on this site #(i also have a squeal half written as well lmao #so look forward to that)

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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 5 years

Text

You Don’t Own Me...

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x Wakandan! Reader

Summary: After your own family was recently murdered by Klaue, you’re taken in by the royals and begin to live in the palace, making you close friends to T’Challa and Shuri. Erik is a guest in the palace as well, after making amends with T’Challa, ultimately saving his life, but the man decides to make yours considerably harder, teasing and messing with you all hours of the day with the occasional passing flirtation. So when you catch him training in the private gym set aside for sparring and sit down to braid his hair for him, T’Challa’s wedding to Nakia that same night, where Erik can’t keep his hands to himself, and an elevator you both get into alone, things take a delightful turn.

A/N: so my baby is not dead cause he is way too pretty to die, and I’ve been wanting to write this for awhile because he’s beautiful and just *sighs* we love him (I’ve been sick and I watched Black Panther twice in that small span of time it was magical), I hope you enjoy it I loved writing it cause damn that stare tho I adore your feedback btw!! (it’s so long wow) I asked so you all shall receive! Here are a few that commented:

@cocoaflowerrs @harleycativy @honeytoffee @chaneajoyyy @mydemons-aremy-friends @thehomierobbstark @lifelover4u @wrtngnght @bitemyxxx @bakerstreethound

Warnings: FLUFF, mild swearing, so many feels, sexual tension to the max, a punch is thrown, heavy kissing

The long, floral bridesmaid dress your best friend, Shuri, had made for you trails ethereally behind your figure, it’s simple and seductive, cinched at the waist before flowing outward. She made it to be practical as well as still being able to fight in it, slits down your toned, brown legs for you to walk easily without tripping over the long fabric. You step lightly through the palace halls in sandals, tied up to your calf, smiling to the guards when you pass by them. You find the lab where your sister and brother are arguing, T’Challa groaning loudly in frustration when Shuri points at his toes rather aggressively.

“I might be a troublemaker, but at least I moisturize my skin!” she gestures to his arm, pulling up his sleeve. “So damn ashy, brother!”

He swats her hand away, “I am a king, forgive me if I don’t have time for a personal spa day-”

“How are you expected to take care of a kingdom when you can’t even take care of your skin?” Shuri says, unable to get it all out through the giggles, pointing to his ankles.

“Oh, you wish to go there?”

“What are we yelling about?” you ask, tilting your head curiously when both of their attentions whip towards you. “You didn’t do what I think you did, Shuri...” you warn, giving your best friend a knowing glance.

She stifles a laugh when she holds up her tablet, “Oh... but I did.”

She presses play to the video of that faithful incident of T’Challa being thrown across the room after testing out his new suit’s kinetic energy distribution. That happened months ago and around the time you first arrived here, but it never fails to bring a grin to light up your face, you bite down on your bottom lip to hold in the fit of giggles threatening to surface.

“She showed it to Nakia!” he throws his hands up in aggravation and glares at Shuri. “I am never going to live this down, you know that? That video will haunt me until the day I join the ancestors.”

“Well... I hope your fiance found it as amusing as we do,” your lips quirk in the corners, moving to leave the room. “Hopefully as Queen, her sense of humor can help improve your own.” Your frustrated friend glowers at you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” T’Challa looks you over, giving you the parental stare he learned from his mother. “The wedding is in only a few hours. You have things to do.”

You furrow your brow, “I’m not the one getting married, bridezilla, all I have to do is show up.”

“You’re the maid of honor. There is more to your role than just showing up. You know how important this is to me, y/n, and to Nakia,” he pleads with his forehead wrinkled in that worrisome way, guilt-tripping you into complying. You roll your eyes with a sigh.

“I’m just going to go to the training room, it’s the only time I get a moment to myself, I won’t be long,” you tell him softly. “Does that please you enough, your Highness?” you mock, hand curled around the doorway.

“Fine, but Erik is in there already,” he warns. “I wouldn’t bother him.”

“You offend me, T’Challa,” you scoff. “He talks a big game, but the boy is harmless.”

“She only says that because she wants to have his kids,” Shuri smirks. “Oh, Erik! Take me now,” she presses the back of her hand against her forehead, tilting her head back dramatically. “You love him like those women in the American soap operas, like Rosy and Julio!”

“You mean Romeo and Juliet?” you correct with a small smile, despite the burning of your cheeks at the thought of Erik in that way. She wasn’t wrong.

“Whatever,” she waves you off. “Just use contraceptives...”

“Shuri!” T’Challa scolds while you make your swift exit, laughing at your best friend’s odd, theatrical antics.

You walk down to the training room, Erik’s strenuous grunts echoing off the gym’s walls, the sound of cloth wrapped flesh slamming into a punching bag. You enter the room quietly and watch as he moves graceful, animalistic, he holds power in his hands and demands the attention of the room without having to ask. His shirt is off, great, and you can’t concentrate on where to look, at the low hanging, deep gray sweatpants, barely clinging to his defined hips or his muscular, Greek god like torso and chest, littered with small marks and scars. His black dreads were out because he didn’t bother to tie them up, knowing they would have slipped out anyway, hanging over his predatory eyes.

He hears sudden movement behind him, looking you in the eye when he catches you in the room with him. He was bred as a soldier to hear small noises, to notice everything, and to keep his emotions in check at all times, to keep a neutral expression in the face of an enemy. But you aren’t an enemy. So he cracks a half smile, unwrapping the white cloth from his calloused hands. His eyes wash over your figure in that dress and he holds back a growl, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

He hums lowly, drinking you in, “You look damn good, princess.”

“Always the charmer, Erik,” you roll your eyes, afraid you’ve pulled something from how far they went back. Your eyes trail over him and he sees it, holding your gaze.

“Hey, sweetheart... I’m not the one that wants to have my kids,” he smirks, amusement glinting in his brown eyes. Shit. “But with you as the momma, you know they’d be beautiful.” You grow flustered at the compliment.

“You heard that?” you blow out a cool breath of air, wetting your lips anxiously. He watches the action with an unreadable expression, flashing that stupid and damned, attractive smile, rows of perfect, ivory teeth, the few gold ones glinting in the afternoon sun pouring in through the windows.

“Yeah... and Shuri, for someone as wicked smart as her, doesn’t know shit about American television. Romeo and Juliet was Shakespeare, not a soap opera,” he chuckles deeply, the masculine melody rumbling from his chest.

“The only reason I know anything about it is from sneaking into the father’s library at night, but that was a long time ago...” you tuck a curl behind your ear at the bittersweet memory of your family and he continues to listen without interrupting because he could relate to your struggle. “Shuri tells me that she finds it predictable and far too boring for her taste, she enjoys nonfiction and scientific journals, but I thought American books were... cute. Something about predictability in romantic literature is comforting.”

“So, you’re a romantic?” he arches a dark eyebrow, intrigued. “You should try reading Fifty Shades...” he teases.

“Nice try, but I’ve already read it,” you surprise him. “It lacked chemistry and tension. But the sex was... interesting,” you let out a fluttering laugh, the innocence in your voice rivaling the way you look over him.

“Let me know if you want someone to act it out with, gorgeous,” he crosses the room, eyes fixed on you, before he takes your chin between his fingers, knocking your jaw up. He unconsciously snarls his canines when he studies you. It’s got to be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, that sounds fun, you think M’Baku would be interested?” you pinch your brow, messing with him, challenging his stare with a daring one of your own.

“Don’t play with me, princess,” he shakes his head, husked voice dripping with warning.

You look at his sweat ridden, umber skin, his dreads going every which way. You reach out and take one between your fingers, brushing it out of his face while he analyzes your movements.

“Your hair is a mess, N'Jadaka,” you tell him. No one ever calls him by that anymore, if they did he’d probably make them regret doing so, but not with you, he wants you to say it again.

He licks his plump, pink tinged lips, “You gotta solution, beautiful?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, smart ass,” you slit your eyes, rolling your eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time today. “Sit down.”

“Yes m’am,” he smirks, doing as you say, sitting cross legged on the sparring mat below you both. You get on your knees behind him and take his individual dreads in your grasp, parting them into four sections at the top of his head.

He winces when you pull harshly, “If you fuck up my hair, princess-”

“You’re not going to do anything. Your precious hair will be fine, I’m fixing it,” you explain, loosening your grip slightly, gentle when you take three pieces at a time and braid it down his head to where it naturally ends.

“You’re hot when your bossy,” he muses and you tug at his hair in retaliation, earning a pained groan from him. “Watch it,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I’m the one with the power here, baby,” you tell the man child, wiping sweat from your brow at the concentration. “You need to be watching it.”

You guide him to lay his head in your lap as you sit down completely, halfway done now. He looks up at your face while you’re focusing intently on doing his braids, watching the way you bite your bottom lip, eyes set on the task in front of you, and nose scrunched in the most adorable way possible. He could look at you all day, he thinks, just like this. His taut back against your thick thighs wasn’t helping anyone either, feeling the ridges of his muscles and scar incisions on your bare skin through the sheer dress. He takes the bold risk of running his hand up your leg while he lays there, the sinful idea of you clenching around his fingers flashing in his mind, his warm, heated touch on your silk skin overpowering your good sense to stay away from him and his trouble. Your breath catches.

“Go any further, Killmonger, and I rip out a dread.”

He exhales a small laugh, putting his hands up in surrender when you get to the last step, almost finished, tying them all off with rubber bands he has, luckily, in his pockets. Thank God, you think, you didn’t know how much more of this you could take.

“Easy, momma... I was only playing,” he winks up from where he lays in front of you. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I know when you’re lying to me.”

You roll your eyes, but this time it’s paired with a small curl of your lips, tapping his broad shoulder, signalling for him to get off of you. “I’m done, you big baby.”

He grunts when he stands up and checks himself out in the mirror before him, hand gliding over his done hair, and he grins, dimples on display. It’s one of his rare, genuine smiles that only grace the outside world when your presence is known, mostly a result of something you do or say. Not that you know that.

“You did good, princess,” he looks at you, impressed. “I’m coming back to you again, get ready.”

“I’ll have to charge you the next time,” you fold your arms over your chest. “This was just a free trial.”

He chuckles darkly, cocking his head to the side, “What do you want in return?”

You. It almost slips from your lips, but you catch yourself just in time when there’s a knock by the doorway. T’Challa.

“T’Challa...” you throw him a look over your shoulder. “Don’t you have things to do?”

He looks between you and a shirtless Erik, his eyes widening slightly at the possibilities of what you two could have been doing, “I took a break, you were taking longer than you said you would.”

“I didn’t give you a set time,” you slit your eyes.

“You implied that it wouldn’t be long, you’ve been gone for more than thirty minutes.” He finally notices Erik’s new hair and compliments him, “Your hair looks nice, Erik.”

“You can thank your little friend for that,” he nods in your direction, eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than he thinks he should before your gazes break.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” T’Challa looks amused when he smiles at you, interested. “Playing hairdresser with a half naked Erik?” Erik is enjoying this more than he should.

“If I go with you to go help Nakia get ready, will you get off my back?” you ask, walking past him.

“Not entirely, but that’s a start,” T’Challa laughs, looking at Erik one more time. “Put on some clothes, Erik, you’re my best man, you need to get ready.”

“I thought white boy was going to walk with you?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Everett will too,” he rolls his eyes, waving him off. “He’s oddly excited about all of this.”

“The whole nation is excited, T’Challa, it’s not like your feelings for her have been a secret, my friend,” you gesture for him to come on already. “So hurry up or I’ll get Shuri to show Erik the video, too.”

“You wouldn’t,” T’Challa walks out after you.

“Wouldn’t I?” you dare your brother with a small, conniving smile.

“What video?” Erik calls after you.

You peek your head back in through the door frame and mouth, Later, eyes glittering mischievously.

~~~

The traditional, Wakandan, wedding ballad began to play elegantly and you look over at your nervous, best friend, adjusting his blazer. He catches your worried gaze and you smile softly, calming him. He reaches for your hand and you take it in your grasp, raising your hand to hold the side of his face. It makes you so unbelievably happy, seeing him marry the love of his life, an occasion you and dozens of other people have been awaiting. He squeezes your hand affectionately before dropping it, letting you return back to your place. The silent affirmation meaning the world to him.

You look over at Erik, his hand resting on T’Challa’s shoulder in a brotherly fashion. You glance over his black and white tux, it’s unlike him, being so dressed up, but it’s a good look for him. Really good, you think. It flatters his broad shoulders and muscular build nicely, and he grabs your stare in mid-air, smiling slightly. He shoots you a wink when no one else is looking and you look down at your flowers, hiding your burning face.

Shuri stands by your side, head leaning on your shoulder as she gets bored of the festivities.

“Glory to Bast, y/n, stop drooling over Erik... I’m going to be sick,” Shuri yawns. “How much longer will this be?”

You roll your eyes, “It hasn’t even begun,” you whisper as everyone sits up in the aisles, set up voluntarily by the villagers and children, and Shuri herself, of course.

The aisles were riddled with stargazer lilies, Nakia’s favorite flower, placed intricately and their vines wrapped, worn into the redwood. The ceremony is set in the room with the garden of the heart shaped herb, glowing luminescent and bright purple.

The ring bearers are the first to walk in, a few of the village boys and girls, some tossing pink rose petals on the ground, the rest fighting to hold onto the pillow where the rings rest atop. The guests laugh at the children, Erik walks down to kneel to their level with an adorably wide smile, making silly faces to make them giggle. Your heart warms at the sight. One of the little girls hands him the rings, along with a flower she places tenderly behind his ear, he mutters a small, sweet thank you, almost blushing. T’Challa even cracks a smile, tears beginning to brim his eyes, at the cute exchange. You find yourself doing the same.

Nakia finally steps out of the small entrance, everyone rising from their seats, her mother and father on either side of her. T’Challa freezes on sight when he sees her, Okoye, Shuri, and you notice this with moved smiles, all close to tears yourself. Nakia wears a long, emerald dress, breaking the white gown stereotype, she wanted to be different, she told you. And she looks stunning, gold detailing sewn into the green fabric, off the shoulder and draping behind her, her deep, sienna skin glowing gorgeously amidst the moonlight and green in her dress. T’Challa’s tears, once at bay, come rolling down his cheeks, his chest rising and falling.

He mutters a small I love you to her when she joins him on the stage and she smiles widely, beautifully, whispering that she loves him too. Her hand holds the side of his tear stricken face and she wipes one off his cheek with the pad of her thumbs, leaning forward to angel kiss both his eyelids.

“Hey! No kissing yet!” Shuri interrupts the tender moment, T’Challa glaring daggers at her while Nakia only chuckles, giving the people a good laugh, including yourself and Okoye, all wearing matching dresses.

The ceremony goes on as smoothly and emotionally as planned. Mid-vows, there are hot tears falling down your face, but you wipe them away, not wanting to take the attention from them. Erik, however, saw the action before you could hide it all the way, locking eyes with you from across the room, both of you opposite to each other with the loving couple between you.

His lips quirk, You alright?

You nod, smiling softly, and he returns it, his hard features softening when you look at him long enough.

You look beautiful.

You don’t know how you catch the silent words leaving his mouth, but you do, growing flustered immediately and smiling so wide it makes your cheeks hurt. You wish you could see this side of Erik more often, the sensitive, sweet one, the Erik that isn’t afraid to show how he feels.

But, before you know it, the officiant says, “Now you may kiss the bride!”

Nakia takes by the front of his blazer before he can think, bringing his lips to hers with fervor and passion. He cradles her face in his hands and dips her down as the crowd rejoices, Shuri making a show of showing blatant disgust. You slap her shoulder, laughing with one another when Okoye reprimands you both.

T’Challa and Nakia walk hand in hand down the aisle, everyone following them back to the palace for the reception with dancing, music, food, and drinks. You clutch the bouquet of lilies in your grasp, slowing your pace when Erik moves to walk by your side, stepping in time with you.

“That was so sweet,” you look at him as you both walk, glancing at the flower still behind his ear. “What you did with those kids...”

“What? The flower’s nice... and I didn’t want to say no,” he plays it off. “That’s all.”

“Mmhm,” you look down when you walk, smiling at the ground, unconvinced. “You know it’s okay to be nice every once in awhile, even you could spare to show your softer side, Erik Killmonger.” He regards you coldly, but your words have a way of melting that icy exterior of his.

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes, still trying to keep the tough guy act but you see right through it when he looks at you from the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smile on his lips when you two arrive at the palace’s reception.

“Hold up,” he says to you and you stop, turning to him. He takes the flower out from behind his ear and places it gingerly behind yours, your curls keeping it in place. His fingers brush the skin of your cheek when he does so and your eyes lock, pulling back before he clears his throat. “It looks better on you, anyway, princess.” You smile softly, his touch lighting your skin on fire.

T’Challa and Nakia have already begun their first dance as a married couple, swaying her around the makeshift dance floor like a leaf in the Wakandan spring wind, it’s hard to keep your eyes off of them. Okoye and Shuri stand off to the side, stuffing their faces with assortments of food being served. Then Nakia makes eyes at you and Erik when her and T’Challa begin to slow dance, you and him standing side by side like that, hands brushing ever so softly. She nods towards him, raising her eyebrows in a silent command for you two to get over it and dance together. You slit your eyes. Erik notices this small, wordless conversation and smirks softly, glancing at you.

After debating and looking at you for a moment or two, wondering what to say, he interrupts your mile a minute thoughts, holding out his hand, “Dance with me?” he asks, almost daring you to accept his invitation. How could you say no to that?

You look to his hand then to his eyes and back again, heart beating considerably faster, and you take his hand cautiously, “Sure...”

His calloused hand grasps yours, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t bite,” he says, pulling you onto the dance floor and into his hard chest, other hand on the curve of your back, lips curved maliciously by your ear when he whispers, “Unless you want me too.” You laugh at that.

You keep a distance, only an inch away from each other faces that seems to diminish whenever you share a breath of air, standing still in time when he twirls you.

“Where’d you learn to dance like this?” your voice is light, barely above a whisper when you speak, hoping to keep this little bubble you two have created.

“My pop,” he smiles, but it’s bittersweet, not quite hitting his eyes. “He said you’re never gonna get a lady if you don’t know how to dance with one. That and cooking is the way to a girl’s heart...”

“Your father sounds like a smart man,” you meet his sad eyes and they flicker slightly, like that flame in his stare he takes pride in slowly blowing out the longer you look, simmering his fear. You understood him, how it felt to lose your family like that, and he knew that.

“He was.”

“So are you,” you tell him, taking both of your arms and wrapping them around his neck, staggering the man for a moment before he in turns wraps his own around your waist, warmly bringing you closer. “When you want to be,” you joke.

His lips turn up in the corners, letting out a small laugh, "Thanks, gorgeous.”

You lay your head on his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent of clean sheets and spices, a smell you can only classify as Erik, and his breathing slows.

“You’re so tense...” you tell him, hands moving to rest against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat against your palm when he wraps his large arms around you.

He chuckles darkly, catching your wrist in your hand when you begin to trail your fingers down his torso. “I think you know why.”

“I’m not sure I do,” you say, fingers threading together behind his head, brushing the skin of his neck. “Enlighten me.”

The lights in the palace room go off and the person manning the music decides to turn on the deep blue and purple flashing lights, everyone coupling up with close friends and lovers. Erik’s grip on your waist tightens when some of the men make eyes at you, about to ask for you to dance, but upon seeing his possessive, threatening gaze, they think better of it. A slower, more sensual song plays, after someone requested to play more American songs, the DJ of sorts happily obliging.

He leans down to whisper to you, “Do you still want to dance, beautiful?”

“Mm, do I have much of a choice?” you tilt your chin up, beginning to sway with the music that’s playing, his hands never leaving your waist while his dark eyes trail over your dips and curves.

Your bodies move languidly with one another in the dark, your hips dancing to their own accord, and your back curves in that delectable way Erik can’t get enough of, turning yourself around to move against where you need him most. His hands slide down to grip your sides, knowing exactly what you’re trying to do.

“You’re a damn tease, y/n,” he bites by your ear, the deep laugh that leaves him vibrating through your body when he presses up against you, forcing you to feel every inch of him. Enough to feel him grow hard against your backside, so you move back, curls moving with the smooth and sexy movements of your body, hands sliding down his front, and spinning yourself around, leaning close enough to him so your noses touch.

Your eyes make a show of flicking up to finally meet his, “Am I?”

But before he can answer, opening his mouth to retaliate, close enough that you could lean in if you wanted to, a stranger’s large hand falls to your waist, pulling you into someone. You turn around and see a man you don’t recognize, just some drunk looking for a good time that he wasn’t going to get from you.

“Mm, you must be the new girl here... You’re even more lovely in person,” the man whispers by your ear, alcohol heavy on his breath and sweat on his skin, a sickening combination. “Wanna go somewhere a little quieter?” His hands going lower the longer he speaks.

“No... thank you,” you say, struggling to get the words out, but he doesn’t budge. You try to move from his grasp then Erik is walking toward him, pulling you from his grasp and setting you aside.

“Is that how you treat a lady? Grabbing her from behind and thinking she’s yours to keep?” he gets face to face with him, looming over the stranger by a few inches, eyes blazing in the dark.

“Back off, boy, I know how to treat a woman just fine,” he slurs. “You’re just jealous that I made a move before you did... maybe she finally wants a real man-”

Erik starts seeing red and before you can stop him, he’s knocking his fist into the man’s face, sending him tumbling to the ground with a loud bang when he hits the floor.

Shuri is by your side at once after seeing what happened, sending guards over to take the man out, pulling him by the arms inconspicuously out the doors while everyone is occupied.

Shuri’s hand clasps on your arm to get your attention. Your best friend looks at you with worried eyes, “Are you alright? We’re escorting the man off the premises now, and he won’t be bothering anyone else... Because if he had stayed behind, you know my hands would have been-”

You nod with a small smile, comforting your close friend with a small squeeze to her hand, letting her know you’ll be fine, “I’m okay, Shuri.” She breathes a sigh of relief. “We’ll tell T’Challa another time, we don’t need to make a scene,” you tell her. “This is his big day and I don’t want to upset him.”

She nods in understanding, “And Erik?” she looks to the man, trying to keep his composure, thinking that she’ll reprimand him for using violence, but she moves to embrace him. He’s taken back for a second before patting her back awkwardly, wrapping one arm around her small frame. “Thank you for saving my best friend.”

“No.. uh, no problem,” he stammers out, not expecting the hug.

She turns to you. “Why don’t you take a walk... go get some space from everyone? T’Challa will understand.”

You nod, knowing that’s the best for you right now, the crowd getting more and more suffocating by the second.

“I’m coming with,” he insists. “You don’t need to be alone right now.”

“Erik,” you look at him, hoping to keep a serious expression. “I don’t need anyone with me, I’ll be okay, promise.” Shuri wiggles her eyebrows at you before walking off, leaving the two of you by yourselves once again. You’d get her back for that.

He looks you over, “This isn’t up for negotiation, princess.” He holds out his hand for you and you take it, hesitant, his large, calloused hand encompassing yours.

Then he’s walking through the crowd, pulling you gently along with him, navigating between the guests. He wastes no time in getting to the doors that lead back to the palace’s bedrooms, the royal, gold encrusted elevator awaiting on the bottom floor. He drops your hand and you immediately find yourself missing the warmth, walking alongside him to the elevator where the up button flashes bright yellow. He silently leads you into the elevator when the silver doors finally open, closing behind you two.

You stand with your back against the elevator wall, mirror behind you, with your hands gripping the metal bar behind you. “Thank you...” you say, your voice quieter than you intend it to be, a fluttering phrase that makes him turn around to look at you.

“I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing,” he tilts his head slightly, concern deeply embedded in his chocolate eyes, studying your face.

“Sure, but I could’ve handled it myself, too, you know,” you meet his eyes boldly and his lips quirk at the edges, taking a step towards you. “If you hadn’t have stepped in.”

He squares his shoulders, slitting his brown eyes, towering over you with a small laugh that brings out his dimples, “I’m sure you could have, beautiful.”

Your head hits the wall, and you realize neither of you has pressed the floor button, sitting still in this vacant space, just the two of you, “Then why’d you do it?”

He’s chest to chest with you now, hands on either side of your head, caging you in like a predator stalking prey, “Do what?”

“Hit him... let him get to you like that...”

“He put his hands on you, baby,” his chest rises and falls, the fire returning to his stormy, dark gaze, the new pet name he’s given you sending your heart into sudden turmoil, unreadable on your face. “I...” he struggles to get the words out. He sounds so vulnerable, almost emotional when he tries to speak, and it breaks your heart. “I couldn’t let him hurt you-”

Without thinking, you step up on the tips of your toes, leaning close enough to kiss him, but missing, lips pressing against the corner of his plump lips, just as soft as you imagined them to be. His face heats up under your lips even after you break away, locking eyes with him, noticing how his have become much darker, glazed over with lust, deep brown consumed in onyx.

His eyes fall over you hungrily, sneering his canines, flicking from your slightly parted lips to your eyes, finding desire in your y/e/c irises, “You shouldn’t have done that, princess...”

He tilts his head down, sending his lips to crash feverishly against your own, sending you into the elevator wall. Your eyes flutter close at the overwhelming sensation, Erik kissing you, you never thought you’d see the day. He kisses you slowly, completely, and wantonly, taking his time in moving his lips against yours. Damn, he’s wanted this for so long, you, him. His lips made for yours and yours made for his, bodies molded into one another. You move to grip those beautiful braids of hair, fingers in the dips and intricate patterns, making him groan, tugging him closer to you until you both are flushed together, not a single breath between you. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, gently biting when he catches it between his teeth, eliciting small mewls to fall from your lips, exciting him, a puddle melted into his large hands. You’ve become his for the taking.

His hands slide under your ass, lips never leaving yours, gripping your thick thighs forcefully through your sheer dress, and pulling you up to guide your legs around his built torso, pressing you further into the walls that hold you both. He nips at the soft, brown skin of your neck, marking your neck with his teeth and mouth, lightly circling the spot with his cooling tongue to ease the bite, and you revel in it, legs tightening around him.

Your hands find either side of his face when you break away to catch your breath, leaning your forehead against his, his shallow breath fanning your face, lips brushing ever so softly, wishing to meet again.

“Shit, baby...” he kisses the curve of jaw, burying his face in your shoulder with a soft laugh. “If I had known...”

“Known what?” you breathe a laugh, kissing both of his dimples, making his smile widen.

He presses his lips by your ear and chuckles, “That you actually wanna have my kids...” Dammit, Shuri.

384 notes · View notes

nautiscarader · 5 years

Text

Wendip Week day 3: We got each other now

(Ao3)

Tyrone Pines is an ongoing character in my older!Wendip stories, and he’s from @elentori-art‘s drawing.

- Well, we have each other now, son.

Saying this with a somber tone, Dipper put his arm around his son's shoulder, bringing him closer. He knew he wasn't gonna cry, he was far, far braver than he looked like. But still, something has been rising up in his chest, and the boy looked up at his father, looking for some wisdom in this difficult time.

- You know that means, right? - Yeah.

And suddenly, their sad faces wer filled with wide smiles as they exclaimed at the same time.

- We've got house to ourselves! Woo-hoo!

The two high-fived each other before Dipper prompted his son to turn around.

- Come on, wave mom goodbye one more time. - Bye, mommy!

The SUV honked again, before it disappeared behind the row of trees that hid Wendy and Dipper's house from the road.

- Don't forget to tell her that her hair looks nice after she comes back. - Dipper spoke to is son. - Why? - Well... I think women like when you mention that if they change the hair style. - Dipper pondered for a moment - I don't remember Wendy ever changing hers, though, but I always say it when she comes back from Mabel's day off at the spa anyway. - So, what should we do now? - Tyrone asked his father. - Well, let's think... What would mom not let us do if she was there?

The two men stood in place for a good minute, both scratching their chins in a near-identical, mirrored way. The truth was, Wendy wasn't a particularly strict mother, and living in woods of Gravity Falls meant Tyrone was both taught to follow rules, as well as to know when to break them.

At some point, Dipper shrugged.

- Okay, let's think what Wendy would not let us do if she wasn't letting us do stuff anyway... - Eat ice cream for breakfast! - Tyrone replied at once. - Good idea, champ.

A moment later, the two stormed for the kitchen, pushing themselves on the way, and it was Dipper who got to the freezer first. He took the large box, turned around and proudly opened it to his son's widening eyes.

- Oh, fudge! - Hey, language, son - No, it is fudge!

Dipper looked at the box he took out.

- Oh, fudge, you're right! - Better take some strawberry-filled waffles with it. - Good idea.

Dipper took his son into his arms and let him take the package of waffles from one of the upper shelves.

- Think about that, Tyrone, we've got a whole day to ourselves! We can do whatever we want. So, what do you want to do first?

His son pondered a while, and at the same time as Dipper, their faces curled into a wide grin.

"The history of tortoise polo is a long and rich one, dating back to 1845, when sir Roderick Pflummington The Fourth rode his tortoise Bobby in a military parade in front of the King, and had to dodge a kettle the Queen herself threw at him after the third hour, displaying lack of amusement..."

The monotone, drowsy voice of Bert Kurns narrating his miniseries slowly put the two men into a state of slumber, as they stared at the TV in their living room, consuming spoon after spoon of the fudge ice-cream. It was already 4 P.M.

- You've got to give it to him, he can make boring things interesting. - Yeah, I think so. - Dipper mumbled.

He flailed his hand, trying to take another scoop of the dessert, but found himself whacking on a plastic, no matter the angle. Gathering the strength, he turned to the side, and found the box near-empty.

- Well, ice cream is gone. - What? No, I only have half the stomach ache! - Tyrone protested. - Hang on, I think we have more in the freezer in the basement. - Right next to bear repellent and portable internet? - Tyrone asked. - That's right. Gotta be prepared for apocalypse, like mom says.

The two looked at each other, and at the same time, they launched their fist s at each other. Dipper's was rock, Tyrone chose scissors.

- Aww, man. - Tyrone groaned and reluctantly got up from the sofa to go downstairs.

The basement of their house was quite spacious, and the act of venturing underground always gave little Tyrone a bit of a thrill he could experience in their home. It was naturally cooler, just enough dark to make a few hairs on his neck to stand up, but it was still cozy enough to make him feel safe. Of course aside the pantry he was trying to reach, the most important part was the vault.

It was the only part of the basement that stood out, thanks to steel, clean, almost alien-looking, black door, heavily guarded by both magic and technology. He knew his parents kept treasures there, though he only was allowed a peek or two in his whole life, and he always wondered if it was possible to somehow outsmart his parents and get inside.

Tyrone walked to the spare fridge, opened the freezer and, much to his delight, found not one, but five spare packages of fudge ice cream. He grabbed two, and was about to rush upstairs, when he felt a sudden gust of chilly wind on his back. Thinking the door to the fridge opened again, he turned around, but as he did so, a new image made him open his eyes wide, and drop the packages of ice cream to the floor.

- Dad! Come quickly!

The voice of his son alerted Dipper at once, and much faster than he thought he'd be able to, he sprinted downstairs, fearing the worst.

What he saw wasn't the worst, but it was quite high on the scale.

In the wall opposite the backups, there was a hole, not a neatly cut one, but evidently torn by some animal, as splinters of wooden planks lie everywhere underneath it, and only the partial darkness obscured the mess. Dipper grabbed his son and pushed him gently aside.

- Careful, we don't know what's inside. Go upstairs, I'm gonna call Ford and Stan, we gotta see what caused the damage. And Wendy too, she should know. - Can't I help? - No, Tyrone, and beside, if it can rip through concrete and wood, I don't think you are safe here. - But Dad... - Do as I say, Tyrone.

The boy ran to the stairs, and he was half-way up, when he realised he should be hearing his father making the call. He turned around, cautiously walked back, and saw the basement empty, and his father nowhere in sight.

- Dad?

Swallowing loudly, Tyrone walked into the tunnel, making sure not to cut himself on the sharp, broken planks, and took out his phone to shine the light on the walls. The tunnel went down, and it was getting wider, though that didn't exactly make his journey down easier. Whatever creature lived there, didn't require rails or handles to secure itself while crawling.

There was however, a sound. A terrifying, paralysing sound of scratching and clicking that simultaneously made Tyrone freeze in place and push himself to go further.

His father was there, and he had to do something.

He realised he didn't need his phone anymore to shine light; the walls were covered with glowing mushrooms and purple crystals, emitting eerie, cold light. And then, amongst the unnatural noises, he heard something worse. His father's gurgled voice.

- Get... off... me...!

If he ever had any hesitation, it was gone once and for all. Tyrone peeked out of the corner and saw a monstrous, lobster-like creature with several, elephantine tentacles or trunks, holding his father. The dark, pupil-less eyes stared at him, with evidently one intention.

The next moment, the cavern was filled with a scream, but not of the monster, nor Dipper, who found it more and more difficult to breathe, but a new one.

- FUDGE YOU!

The creature turned its head towards the intruder, only to have his vision blocked by something gooey, cold, and rather tasty. The monster dropped Dipper to the ground, and it took him a while to get up, horrified by the sight of his son crawling further down.

- Ty...Tyrone!

Dipper desperately moved his arms and legs to climb up, but more importantly to push his son to the exit first.

- I got you, dad!

He reached his hand and with more than few problems pulled his father up, just in time for another loud noise to fill the cave.

- Run!

Dipper grabbed Tyrone and rushed to the exit, hoping he would be able to give his son more time to escape. The light of their basement was already on the horizon, getting closer with each second, but so was the noise of the pincers and claws behind them. Heart beat faster and faster, and only when Dipper and Tyrone crossed the boundary between the tunnel and their house Tyrone and Dipper allowed themselves a breather.

But the very next moment a loud crash behind them reminded them of the monster, who evidently couldn't get through the wall the first time, but found enough strength to do so now. Tyrone shrieked, but his vision was obscured by his father shielding him from the tentacles.

- Close your eyes!

Tyrone followed his father's command, and he did so, knowing what was gonna happen. Last thing he saw was his dad grabbing the bear repellent and aiming the nozzle straight at the monster's eyes. The basement was once again filled with its shriek, and Tyrone knew his father has done it.

And then, Tyrone felt something dripping on his face.

A single drop fell to his lips, and he realised he was tasting blood.

He opened his eyes, just in time to see his father fall to the floor beside him, and Tyrone quickly grabbed him to see if he was hurt, though he mentally tried to not notice the tentacle around his shoulder. But as he examined him, Tyrone realised it was the monster's appendage that was bleeding, an odd, violet thick substance, exactly where it has been cut.

- Get out, you oversized shrimp! You belong to the hors d'oeuvre table!

A familiar, loud voice brought a wide smile to Tyrone's face, when he saw his mother swinging a huge shining axe back and forth, chopping one appendage at a time, much to the creature's distress. But Wendy didn't want to harm the animal, she wanted to kill it once and for all. With a final swing, she bashed the creature's head, splitting it in half and covering herself with the same stinking, thick substance that was dripping from the floor.

Only when the lifeless body of the creature slid down the cave, Wendy allowed herself to turn back.

- Tyrone! Dip!

She dropped her axe and rushed to her family, and brought them into a tight hug. Tears flew down her cheeks, mixing with the odd substance that covered her, her husband and their son.

- Are you guys okay? - Ca-Careful, I-I might have a rib or two broken... - Dipper wheezed, and his eyes bulged when he felt Wendy's arms around him. - Oh, sorry, honey! We're gonna rush to the hospital soon. - Uhm...

Tyrone opened his mouth.

- Your hair look... uh, nice, mom?

With most of her strands dishevelled and soaked in the monster's blood, that was a blatant lie, but it didn't stop Wendy from bursting into a deep laughter while tears of happiness continued to trickle down her face. Even Dipper managed to let out a chuckle, though his tears were a bit more of pain.

"And thus, we conclude our 75-part miniseries about tortoise polo, its origins, and intense and violent history that continues till present day. In the next series, we will dive into the history of manatee surfing, a fascinating sport that originated in ancient Mesopotamia..."

Five hours later, three boxes of fudge ice cream lay open, one for each member of the Pines family. Dipper was worried the extra calories might rip the bandages he had around his torso off, but he also felt that each spoon improved his health significantly. For Wendy, no amount of sweets would produce a better taste than the one of safety, as she looked at the two men most dear to her life.

From time to time, she ruffled her son's hair, sneaking kisses on his forehead, much to his simultaneous delight and protest.

- Mo-om! - Shush, Tyrone. If you were to rescue your kid, you'd be giving them kisses all the time, just to make sure they're fine. - And me?

Dipper puckered his lips, but received only another portion of ice cream to his lips.

- You're getting nothing for going after that thing alone. - Hey, I told you! - Dipper protested - I tried to call Ford, Stand and you, but that thing got me first. I would never go into a dark tunnel alone.

He turned to his son.

- I said, I'd never go into a horrible, dark, monster-infested tunnel alone! - And if I didn't, you'd be its dinner. - Tyrone blew him a raspberry.

He yawned and cuddled up to sleep between his parents who quickly placed a blanket over him. A moment later, first snore filled the living room, when Tyrone fell asleep, tired after the day full of fudge and mortal peril.

- We trained our kid well. - Wendy cooed. - I agree. And sorry for ruining your day at spa with Mabel. - What? - Wendy looked up, confused - Oh, nah, that's alright. You guys are more important.

She leaned over their son and kissed Dipper, tasting the sweet, chocolate-y flavour on his lips.

- And don't worry, Dipper, I'll make sure to be very careful tonight.

Her voice suddenly turned into a low and smoky one, and even if Wendy didn't drag her finger gently across the bandaged side of his chest, Dipper's skin would be full of goosebumps.

- My combatant deserves it.

She then took her phone and replied Mabel the message that she meant to send five hours ago: that next time they play paint-ball, they will have to remove Waddles from her team, because he's too good.

#wendip #wendipweek #wendip week #wendy x dipper #dipperxwendy #gravity falls #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #nautiscaraderfics

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luckyspike · 5 years

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Adventures in America, Ch. 3 - in which Adam meets his traveling companions and Crowley and Aziraphale meet their rental car

This story is so dumb and I love it. For prior installments, check out chapter 1, and chapter 2. Or just peruse my fanfiction tag (which has a lot of other stuff in it, too!).

Touchdown. BA flight 191, after an uneventful flight, touched down in Austin International Airport at 4:17pm. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to, uh, Austin,” the pilot announced over the intercom. Adam, who had nodded off for the latter half of the flight, was looking out of the window eagerly, hands on his knees and feet bouncing. All the excitement, the nerves, the sheer joy that this was really happening that he’d had when he boarded, and then lost when he’d gotten bored, came roaring back tenfold as the brown scenery slid by outside. “Local time is 4:18pm, and outside temperature is about 84 degrees, which is about 29 centigrade. We’ll be arriving at gate -” Adam zoned out. Outside of the airplane, ground crew directed the jet to the gate in question, but it didn’t matter, not to Adam. He wouldn’t be meeting anybody at the gate, anyway.

He turned his phone back on, and sent a quick text to his parents, and then another to the group text that included the Them and Anathema. He paused, debating whether or not to also text Crowley or Aziraphale, but he paused. Hopefully the international plan he’d paid for was as good as it seemed, and his dad wouldn’t give him an earful about international rates when he got home, but, well, maybe just in case … certainly they’d hear through the grapevine, anyway. He stuffed the phone into his bag instead, and pulled out the slip of paper he’d written the instructions for meeting up with the storm chasing team instead. Meet at the baggage claim. Right, easy enough. He had to pick up his duffel bag anyway.

Disembarking the plane took, in Adam’s opinion, ages. They let all the posh people in first class off first, and then business class, and finally economy. He held his backpack straps tightly, shuffling down the aisle in the line, and tried to look calm and cool, not like a kid on Christmas morning, in spite of the excitement bubbling inside of him. He’d be looking for a woman, Rachael, who was tall and tanned and dark-haired. They’d video-chatted extensively in the lead-up to the excursion, and he was fairly certain he would recognize her on sight. Still, she’d said she’d be holding a sign, too, so best to look out for that -

He paused, halfway through first class. Sniffed. Something smelled of … sulfur. Sulfur? And a rainstorm. It reminded him of Aziraphale and Crowley’s place, and the memory jarred him enough that he looked around for the duo, blue eyes scanning the rows of first-class seats. He didn’t see them, of course, or any signs of them, although he wasn’t sure what that might have entailed. Still … Nah. He shook his head, and kept shuffling. They’d told him to have a good time. They wouldn’t have managed to keep anything secret like this, not those two. For godfath - no, guardian ang - well, not really … guardian supernatural entities, they weren’t particularly subtle and as a unit, Adam thought fondly, only slightly brighter than they were individually. Which wasn’t saying much*.

The air on the jetway was dry, and hot, and reminiscent of Madrid, the few times Adam had been there to visit his sister. He took a deep breath, grateful to finally be off the plane and back on terra firma, and hustled toward baggage claim and customs. He found his duffel, and made it through customs - it wasn’t any trouble, just a line which Adam managed to tolerate by looking around and taking in the sights of the airport which had, through creative architecture, attempted to resemble a modern art installation but instead mostly looked like a government building with a bit of window dressing.

“Enjoy your vacation,” the woman at the customs desk drawled, with an accent Adam had previously only heard in movies. His heart skipped a beat, and he beamed.

“I will do, thank you so much.”

And that was it. He was in! He didn’t skip through the exit from customs, although it was a near thing, and quickly started looking around at the assembled crowd, scanning the faces there for anyone that looked familiar or, failing that, a sign that said ‘Adam Young’. He found it, eventually, held by Rachael, just as she’d looked on video chat, herself looking among the faces of arriving travelers for Adam. She caught sight of him as he started toward her, boots still squeaking on the linoleum, and waved him over, her face breaking into a friendly grin. “Adam!” She seized his hand as soon as he offered it, and shook with bone-crushing strength and no small amount of enthusiasm. “Hey, welcome to Texas! So good to finally meet you!” She had an accent too, Adam realized, sort of southern but not like the woman at customs, just a hint of that. He’d have to find out where she was from.

“Great to be here,” he enthused, and he meant every word of it. “I’m so excited, this is really an amazing opportunity.”

“Glad to hear it!” she laughed. “Hopefully we can find you some storms, huh?” She looked over his bag, eyebrows raised. “You got everything? Need anything else here? The rest of the crew is waiting outside - the other student researcher got here this morning, so we just been hanging out around the city while we waited.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m totally ready.”

She nodded, satisfied, and headed for the door, Adam tagging along at her shoulder. “Great. The truck’s parked in the will-call lot, let me just call Noel and he can pull around. Let’s wait inside, though -” she held out a hand to stop Adam before he stepped through the sliding doors. “Kinda warm out there. Definitely warmer than England, huh?” She grinned, and then Adam heard a tinny voice on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, hey, I got Adam, can you bring the truck around? Thanks.” She hung up, and stuffed her phone into her jeans pocket before she propped her hands on her hips. “So I’ll introduce you all when they get here, but basically it’s gonna be four of us. You know me, I’m the climatologist and I guess the main guide, but Noel helps a lot. He’s our meteorologist, driver, and photographer too, but since it’s just the two of us we both kinda wear all kinda hats.” She pointed to Adam. “You’re one of our student researchers, and we have another guy with us for this session. Hope you don’t mind if we put you to work.”

Adam laughed. “It’s what I signed up for!”

“More fun that way, anyway.” She sighed, happy, as she watched a variety of vehicles drive by outside, picking up travelers as they did. “Better than those storm tours that just drive around lookin’ and not much else. We gotta get closer to get the data. Anyway, other guy that’s with us goes by Lucky, I’ll let him introduce himself, but he’s studying climatology at, uh … somewhere in Iowa, I think. I think you guys are the same age.” She waved a hand. “Whatever, I’ll let you guys hash it out, we’re gonna have plenty of time in the car.”

“Sounds good.” Adam nodded, and adjusted his bag on his shoulder.

“Anyway,” she went on, “plan tonight is to take you guys out to dinner, kind of get to know each other and everything, go over the plan for chasing, yadda yadda, and then we’re gonna hit the road early tomorrow to get north.” Her eyes widened, and she gestured for Adam to follow her outside. “There’s Noel. Anyway, yeah, we’re heading north -” she strolled off the curb and into the lane of traffic without much concern for oncoming cars. Adam, well-accustomed to this after years of interactions with Crowley, followed her without concern. “- ‘cause there’s a big system forming around the Oklahoma panhandle, and we might see some action day one.” She wagged her eyebrows at him. “Start off with a bang, right?”

“That’d be wicked.”

She chuckled. “Wicked, huh? I like that. Here’s the boss!” she called, as they pulled up alongside a red pick-up truck. Adam’s eyes widened. Americans, he thought, really knew how to do pick-up trucks. He’d seen pick-up trucks in England, of course, but this monster dwarfed most of them. The extended cab and the bed cover just served to make it look bigger. And it wasn’t the only one of that size parked at the curb - he could count four just in the immediate vicinity.

Well, he had heard things about Texas.

“Hey!” a man called over the roaring engine, and Adam looked up to see the driver standing on the sideboard, clutching the luggage rack with one hand and waving with the other. “I’m Noel! You can throw your bag in the back, Rach’ll show you where to put it with all the equipment.” He grinned. “Gotta get movin’ before we get a ticket.”

Rachael rolled her eyes. “We won’t get a ticket,” she said to Adam, in a tone that probably would have been a whisper had she not had to shout over the commotion of the pick-ups lane. “Here,” she showed him to the back of the truck, dropping the gate and revealing a bed packed full of bags, boxes, and expensive-looking meteorology equipment, “you can put your bag here, next to the camera bags.” He did, and she threw the gate back into place, brushing her hands off and turning her beaming smile to him once again. “You ready to hit it?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, still smiling. He wasn’t sure he’d stopped since he’d gotten off the plane. “Let’s do it.”

She punched him in the shoulder. Adam laughed, and then thought of Pepper. She punched him like that, back home. Man, would she have loved this. She’d have loved Rachael, too. “Love the enthusiasm, kid. Load up!” She climbed into the front passenger seat of the truck, and Adam hauled open the rear passenger door, climbing onto the footboard and sliding into the seat. Across from him, a suntanned boy - yeah, about his age - with a scruffy beard and dark hair pulled into a bun smiled at him with a wave. Adam waved, but then was distracted when Noel stuck his hand into the back to shake Adam’s.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Young.”

“You can call me Adam, really,” he assured Noel. “Thanks for having me.”

“Hey, if you’re willing to work and don’t run off at the first sign of golf-ball sized hail, it’ll be a pleasure,” Noel replied with a laugh. “Alright, let’s get you guys a taste of Texas. Everyone good with barbecue?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, in unison with the other guy in the back seat. Noel nodded, and the truck roared forward, out of the airport.

“So you’re from England?” the other guy said, turning his attention to Adam and offering his hand to shake. Adam took note, as he shook the guy’s hand, that there was … a hint of a London accent? Just a little? No, couldn’t be. “I grew up around London, ‘til I was about twelve,” he went on. Oh. Yes, then.

“Really? Funny old world,” Adam replied. “Name’s Adam Young. I’m from Tadfield - it’s a little town out in Oxfordshire.”

“Huh. Never got out that way, at least not that I remember.” He looked puzzled. “Although there was an air base there my Dad might’ve been working out of at some point … huh. Anyway.” The guy sat back in his seat and shrugged. “My name’s Warlock Dowling, but please do not call me Warlock.” He rolled his eyes. “I think my mom was hopped up on pain meds when she named me. Everyone calls me Lucky.”

Adam nodded. “Cool, okay. You’re studying climatology?”

“Climate science, yeah,” Lucky answered, eagerly. “You are too, right?”

“Meteorology, yeah.”

“It’s so cool, isn’t it?” He looked out of the window, gesturing to the cityscape passing by as they rolled down the highway. “The whole Earth! Man, when I started learning about weather and geology and stuff in seventh grade, once I came back to the States …” He waved a hand. “Forget it. I used to make weather maps for fun. Drove my parents crazy.”

Adam laughed, genuinely, and nodded. “It’s awesome. I was eleven,” he said, with absolute certainty, because he wouldn’t forget that year for anything, “an’ this lady - she’s a friend, now, but she was new to town then - gave me these magazines that were talking about climate change and severe weather and the rainforests and stuff, an’, I dunno, just had an interest ever since. Studied a lot on my own, outside of school, when we moved on to like, biology and stuff.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lucky nodded. “So you’ve never been to the States before?”

Adam shook his head. “No. I mean, I’m as excited for that as I am for the weather, honestly.”

“Good!” Noel interjected from the front seat. “You’re gonna get a hell of a tour of the midwest, see all kinds of stuff. We’ll go over it at dinner, I think we got a map too, so you can kind of get an idea of where we’ll be. And, you know, if the weather don’t pan out like we hope it will - hopefully it will pan out, but you never know - by the end of the season we should be up by Yellowstone, so we can always show you around up there.” He smiled at the backseat passengers approvingly in the rearview. “I’m from Wyoming myself, so I can give you the local tour.”

Lucky’s eyes widened. “ Seriously? That’d be awesome. I’ve never been, always wanted to go.” He looked to Adam. “You know about Yellowstone? It’s supposed to be amazing.”

“I’ve read about it.” Adam nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, it’d be cool to see it.”

“Well, we’ll have to see what the weather is doing. You never know how things are gonna go in this business.”

Rachael grinned at them over her shoulder. “That’s what makes it exciting.”

“An’ sometimes real boring,” Noel added.

“Sometimes,” she agreed, with a wink to the students. “But we’re not gonna think about that. You guys are here to study some storms, we’ll get you storms.”

The conversation continued on, through the drive to the barbecue place, and then all through dinner. They went over the route - starting south, around the Oklahoma/Texas border, and then moving north as needed with the storms, likely ending up toward the Canadian border at the end of the season. They talked equipment - cameras and recording equipment, laptops, hot-spots, as well as some remote monitoring equipment that Rachael hoped to drop if there was a great deal of lightning, which was her particular interest. Adam and Lucky listened intently, contributed as needed, and ate so much barbecue throughout the entire thing that Adam felt fairly nauseous by the end of the meal. Judging by Lucky’s expression when they stood from the table, he felt similarly.

“It was just so good,” Adam lamented once back in the truck, his hands over his stomach.

Noel nodded solemnly in the front seat, hanging a right into a motel parking lot. “A common mistake. Sleep it off tonight, we got an early start in the morning.” He parked the truck well away from the door - none of the parking spots, Adam imagined, would have been big enough - and looked into the backseat. “Five AM work for you boys?”

Adam ignored Lucky’s quiet ‘oof’ and nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I’ll be ready.”

“Fantastic.”

Several hours earlier …

“I feel like I’m covered in grime,” Aziraphale griped, as they meandered their way through baggage claim and toward the rental car desks. “Is that normal for air travel?”

“Can’t be, you only just spent ten hours in an aluminum tube with the re-circulated air of a bunch of other people.”

“Touche.” He cracked his neck and frowned. “I need a shower.”

“You know,” Crowley said slyly, handing his shoulder-bag (black, obviously) off to Aziraphale, “had you let me ensure the Bentley would be waiting for us outside we could already be on our way to a nice, lovely hotel room with a hot shower and not waiting in line at a rental car desk.”

Aziraphale huffed. “It’s not a long line.” He caught the look Crowley gave him, and turned his nose up a little. “I’m going to wait by the door. There will be a shuttle, apparently.”

“Marvelous.”

The angel watched from a distance too far to hear while the demon negotiated with the man at the desk. There were some subtle gestures, a raised eyebrow from Crowley, some significant stammering from the man, and eventually, he handed over an envelope. Crowley smiled and swaggered away from the desk, toward Aziraphale, who watched him suspiciously.

“What was that about?”

“Got us an upgrade.” Crowley took his own bag back*** and led the way to the shuttle, waiting outside in the heat. Aziraphale’s suspicious glare turned to a grimace when they stepped into the pick-up area, fighting back the urge to loosen his bowtie against the humidity and oppressive heat. They were back in the air conditioning of the shuttle soon enough and sat down, side-by-side, Aziraphale with his suitcase between his knees and Crowley with his bag in his lap.

“What kind of upgrade?” Aziraphale asked pointedly, as the van doors closed - improbably, there were no other passengers to pick up, although Aziraphale suspected there was some infernal interference that led to that state of affairs - and the shuttle rumbled away from the curb. “If we walk into that rental car lot and there’s a vintage Bentley -”

Crowley groaned. “No, angel. If I’d brought the Bentley over I wouldn’t be bothering with this bloody shuttle. I got us a bigger car, is all.” He glanced at the envelope. “Had us in some little economy thing, probably only had a four-cylinder engine and a governor.”

“Don’t all rental cars have a governor?”

“I’d imagine this one’s will be broken.” Crowley gave the angel a cool look, a dare to say anything. Aziraphale didn’t take the bait. “Any case, I told him we needed four-wheel-drive.”

“Do we?” Aziraphale looked surprised.

Crowley shrugged. “Watched a show on telly before we left. They go all over, dirt roads sometimes, figured it’d be smart to have. Plus, it was the only thing with the bigger engine.”

“Does the Bentley have a big engine?”

Crowley shrugged. “Acts like it does.”

“Crowley …” Aziraphale lowered his voice, in case the shuttle driver were listening in, although the young man looked cheerful and blissfully unaware of their conversation. “Please don’t do anything infernal to the rental car.”

“Me?” Crowley looked wounded. “Wouldn’t dream of it. There’s already one semi-sentient demonic car in the world, and it’s currently in a garage terrorizing a wages clerk. That’s more than enough for one planet.”

Aziraphale sat back in his seat, prim, hands folded in his lap. “I agree. Good. Glad we’re in agreement.”

They finished the shuttle ride in silence, Aziraphale looking out of the window to the passing landscape, which was mostly buildings so close to the airport, and Crowley apparently dozing, although it was hard to tell with the sunglasses. Which seemed, Aziraphale thought, as he looked out of the window, to be a fairly wise addition in this kind of weather. He may need to get himself a pair, should the opportunity arise. Not that he needed them, but, well, it wouldn’t hurt to look the part.

The shuttle lurched to a halt, and they stepped off, Crowley handing the driver a roll of green dollar bills without a word as he went by. “Thank you so much,” Aziraphale added, on his way by, smiling to the stunned driver. “Excellent driving, very pleasant and observant of the speed limit. Have a lovely day.”

“Thanks.” The driver watched them go. What weird people, he thought, his eyes sliding from their receding backs to the roll of money in his hand. Can’t complain, though. He tucked the bills into his pocket, and pulled away, back on his regular route to the airport. He would have a nice day, he thought. Things were already looking brighter.

Aziraphale didn’t ask, ‘is this it?’ as they approached a car. It wouldn’t be. It was green, and small, and he wasn’t sure what kind of upgrade Crowley had managed but he was fairly sure that was not a large enough car. He didn’t ask ‘is this it?’ at the next car, either, but in this case it was because the car was so obviously it.

It was huge, and black, and it looked menacing just sitting in the parking lot. Crowley clicked a button on the key fob - that was novel, Aziraphale thought - and the lights flashed while a chirp sounded. The demon hoisted open the back hatch - Aziraphale blinked at the sheer size of the inside of the thing - and tossed his bag in, followed by the angel’s.

“It’s bigger than the Bentley,” he said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. Crowley grunted, and started toward the right side of the vehicle before, if his annoyed expression were anything to go by, remembering that this was America, and changing direction. Aziraphale closed the back hatch and headed for the passenger side, frowning at the height of the step onto the footboard. No car had any business, he thought vaguely, being this large.

Inside the car already, with the keys in the ignition and the engine running, Crowley was sitting back in the seat, arms crossed, glaring at the stereo. He glanced over when he saw Aziraphale, and for a minute, his expression softened. “Ah, angel, you might want to … uh, wait outside a minute.”

“I thought you said no funny business with the car,” Aziraphale said flatly.

“Nothing funny.” Crowley looked back to the stereo, his expression hardening again. “Just need to reach an … understanding.”

Aziraphale sighed, and unfastened his bowtie, tossing it to Crowley who caught it with practiced ease. “Alright.” He stepped back down, and started unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. “But don’t take too long - it’s hot out here.”

“Only be a minute, angel.” The door shut. Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Hullo,” he said to the car, drawing the word out. “4-runner, eh?”

To this point in its 45,000 miles, the Toyota 4-Runner had never had a single thought. Of course it hadn’t - it was a machine, an inanimate tool of transportation. It had happily transported families, salesmen, concert-goers and, on one occasion, secret agents without a hint of self-awareness or even a tinge of consciousness. This was why the car was surprised to find, suddenly, that this was no longer the case.

The radio station flickered uncertainly.

“I have a feeling,” the driver went on, while the car considered that it had never recognized a driver before, “that I’m going to be spending entirely more time with you than I’d like to. So just to be clear: I don’t like you, I probably will never like you, and there is very little you can do to that will not, ultimately, disappoint me.” The electronics flickered again. Anxiety, thought the car. What was anxiety? Why did it know that was what it was feeling? “Really, this can only end one of two ways for you: you don’t disappoint me too much, and I return you at the end of this bonkers road trip to your safe rental agency, where they’ll clean you up and you can go on being a nice rental car, or you disappoint me too much and -” he leaned closer to the radio, and the hiss cut through the static of the electronics and silenced the squeal of interference between high-tech electronics and supernatural forces “- I’ll leave you in a ditch in flamesss, sssee if I don’t. Underssstood?”

The engine shuddered. The driver - Crowley, the car thought, although it wasn’t sure how it knew that name, or why it was even thinking about it in the first place - sat back and breathed out. “Right. Alright, angel!” The passenger door opened again and a passenger - the car would have gasped, if it could, although it did manage an extra-strong blast of air conditioning - climbed back in, radiating love and light and safety. Without understanding how, or why, the car switched its stereo immediately to a country-music radio station that was currently playing Somebody Help Me by Kenny Rogers. Crowley glared at the stereo and murmured, “Not a good start.”

“Did you, you know, do whatever you needed to do?” the angel asked, gesturing vaguely to the dashboard.

Crowley put the car into reverse as he said, cryptically, “We’ll see. Hotel first, then dinner?”

“Yes, fine. Do you know where Adam is?” He considered it. “Only I wouldn’t like to lose him so early on in the game. Again.”

“We can recon after dinner,” Crowley said, pulling into traffic and immediately running another car off the road. Aziraphale winced. “He told me the name of the team he’s going with, I found a picture of their truck online. We’ll drive around and look for it.”

“Unless he’s already left the city.” Aziraphale wrung his hands, nervous. “You don’t think they would have?”

“Nah. Got a text from Anathema that Adam said they’re not leaving until the morning, and they’ll be going north.” He ran a red light, prompting blaring horns from either side of the intersection and a whine from the engine of the 4-Runner. “Don’t have much beyond that, but we can find him.”

“Austin is a large city.”

“Not as big as London.” He shrugged. “We have all night, we’ll find him. Get some wine into you and you’ll be fine.”

“Perhaps.” Aziraphale looked out of the window as they drove down a highway, cars whizzing by on the right as Crowley passed them at - well, the speedometer didn’t bear looking at. He swallowed. “It’s been some time since I did a reconnaissance job.”

“Bodyguarding, more like,” Crowley said, conversationally, yanking the steering wheel to the right and flying down the exit ramp to the hotel. “Been a minute for me, myself. But It’s like … oh, you know.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel, irritated. “Like - like something you learn to do and never really forget.”

“Swordfighting?” Aziraphale suggested.

“Maybe.”

Aziraphale had made the reservations under his name, and checked them in with the pleasant woman at the front desk. Overall, it was a very nice conversation - she was telling him about places to eat in town, especially where to get good sushi - and he was just getting ready to bid her a good day and take his leave when, from behind him, Crowley shouted, “Riding a bike!”

The woman blinked. “There are, uh, bike trails along the greenbelt -” but Aziraphale was waving a hand. “Oh?”

“He remembered something from earlier,” he explained with an apologetic smile, as he picked up his suitcase. “He does this sometimes. You get used to it.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Okay. Well, have a nice trip! Enjoy America!”

“Thank you. I’m sure we will,” Aziraphale replied, following Crowley toward the elevators. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, the clerk looked down to her computer - such a nice man, a little strange - and smiled a little when she heard him mutter to his companion, “You really need to work on that, dear.”

* Adam did know, actually, that Aziraphale and Crowley were each quite intelligent. They helped him with homework, after all. But book smarts, he reasoned, and actual common sense were vastly different, and while they might be brilliant in their own right intellectually, as a duo they at times struggled with concepts like pre-planning, not telling everyone their secret plans, and interacting with normal humans like they themselves were normal humans**.

** Adam knew they weren’t, but a little effort sometimes wouldn’t go amiss. There was, of course, the incident with The School Play. Crowley had been forgiven, eventually, but it took approximately one (1) metric tonne of candy in gifts, a generous donation to the school’s art department, and a weekend at Alton Towers for the entirety of the Them, all expenses paid.

*** Aziraphale had wondered what he’d packed in there, since Crowley invariably always miracled his clothes on and off, but he suspected it was hair products.

Now with Chapter 4!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale #crowley #adam young #warlock dowling #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #the one where they go to america

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captnbarnesrogers · 5 years

Text

9,445 Miles From You - Your First Day

Pairing/Characters: Bartender!Harry Styles x Waitress!Reader, a shit load of OCs Warnings: nothin too bad in this chapter; swearing, anxiety Chapter Summary: You fought your anxiety and now you’ve got a job. You meet your co-workers and managers but most importantly, you meet Harry Styles, who is one of a kind. Word Count: 3.1k+ A/N: Mostly some background stuff but Harry makes an appearance :)

9MFY Masterlist

February 2018

At this point in time, you weren’t exactly sure what was happening with your life. You were eighteen and jobless and so far, not even McDonald’s wanted you. You were depressed. You had no money of your own and financially, your parents couldn’t provide everything for you without sacrificing everything else that needed to be done. You needed to be independent. You wanted to be independent so that you could, even just a little bit, take a bit of weight off of their shoulders.

Another day, another failed interview. You huffed with frustration and threw your folder into the nearest bin. You tried to stay positive, but this was the seventh interview in a row where they had found a “more suitable candidate” – excluding all the previous interviews within the last three years. You gave them all of your hours, even the hours you didn’t have and couldn’t give but still, they had advised you to put down “more” hours. A more suitable candidate? More hours? Bullshit. There were only so many hours in a day and you had put down ‘24 hours’ in your resume and yet, they wanted more hours. You were angry with the world. Why couldn’t they just give you a job? You were hard working. You had initiative. No experience due to the fact that no other place wanted to hire you but nonetheless, you were the person who wanted to learn anything and everything in anyway you possibly could. You had a smile for days even if you didn’t want it for fucksake! You sighed and eventually, when you got home, cried into your pillow.

“I just don’t get it, I’m giving them everything I’ve got, even everything I don’t.” You cleansed your face as your best friend was on loud speaker.

“I know, Y/N, but like your mom said, if it’s for you then you’ll get but obviously these places don’t have a spot for you, it’s not you, Y/N, they’re dickheads.” You sighed after grabbing your phone off of the marble top bathroom bench. There was a moment of silence due to the fact that Anastasia was working on an assessment for one of her classes – most probably due the next day due to the fact that she kept complaining about how much she wanted to die.

“You know…” You began.

“What?”

“Paige told me about this group on Facebook and I joined it a couple of days ago.” You pulled up the group and took a screencap, sending it to Anastasia.

“Hospitality Job Hunters? Are you sure this is legit?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged as if she was actually right in front of you, “I know some people who got jobs from there, I guess people just post pictures of themselves and a description of what they’re about and a future employer responds.” Anastasia hums in response, looking through the photos you’d sent her.

“So, why not do it?”

“Well, first of all have to seen my face? My body? Compare all of this to the people who post on there.” She scoffs.

“Okay, first of all, shut the fuck up, you’re fine, and second of all, you’re posting to get a job, it’s not Tinder!”

“It’s like Tinder for jobs though.” She sighed through the phone, the taps of the keyboard loud enough for you to hear through the phone.

“I don’t know, Y/N, I reckon, just do it, you never know if you don’t try.” You mumbled a ‘whatever’ through the phone and another moment of silence crashed the entire conversation, “Anyway, I gotta get this done, text me in the morning?”

“Will do, ya lil bitch, have fun with that.” She laughs.

“I will, don’t worry.”

“If another person rejects me, I’ll stick my head between a door and slam it on myself.”

“You’ll be fine! Just relax and rip it off, like a band aid.” You let out a deep breath, “I love you, okay?”

“Love you too.” And with that, the phone call ended. You laid in your bed staring at the wall. You just needed to sleep this off, you can decide in the morning.

When you woke up, you still hadn’t decided and on top of that, you barely slept, making you cranky and ridiculously sleepy on the train. When you arrived to your class, you sat down next to your friends who greeted you warmly as they always did. Jean noticed your intense stare at your phone; three photos – one happy which showed your outgoing personality as much a still photo could, one smiling before seeing a musical, and one that looked like a headshot.

“Nice photos.” Jean compliments. Kadia looks over and agrees with Jean with a smile.

“What are they for?” Kadia asks.

“I’m kind of looking for a job on that Facebook group.” Jean nods. Shortly after, your other friends, Kiley, Bea, and Megan walk in and sit at the table just behind you. Kiley moves her blond hair away from her face.

“Just post them, Y/N.” She suggests, her sweet and shy voice comes out. The other nod.

“This is your last option, if you don’t get it, you’ll just have to wait until we graduate.” Bea interjects, “And that’s two years away.” And with that small push from your friends, you write a small description of your personality and attach the three photos into the post, pressing ‘post’ as quickly as you could. You set your phone down as Jean rubs your back in support and after fifteen minutes, you phone vibrates.

‘Jacob Fisher commented on you post on Hospitality Job Hunters’ It had said. You squeezed Jean’s arm and she looked at you with concern.

“Someone commented.” You whispered.

“Check it.” And so, you did. You gasped after you read it, “What?!”

“’Hey, Y/N! Send your resume through to my email and leave your number as well, I’ll call you today, so we can set up an interview.’” You read out to her quietly. She shook you by the shoulders and gave you a warm hug.

“This is it, Y/N, this is your job.” And you could feel it too, this was the one. This was your job, you believed. Eventually, Jacob called you with an interview waiting the next day. So far, everything was going great. You felt like you could breathe even just for a moment.

The next day, you’d met up with Jacob at a tall building, obviously the bar you were to hopefully going to work at. A small but very visually appealing sign hung above the entrance, ‘Heavenly Gin’, blinking bright and very pink. You sat by the front side of the bar where you were greeted by a blonde-haired girl with bright blue eyes, her smile was warm and welcome.

“Hi! How can I help you?” Just in front of you was a man, he too had blonde hair but his eyes were green and almost hazel, not a bad sight at all. You blushed softly at the sight of him when he smiled at you.

“I’m actually here to see Jacob Fisher.” You smiled at the girl.

“I’ll get him for you.” She held her hand out for you to shake. With nervous and clampy hands, you shook it, “I’m Regina, by the way.”

“Y/N.” As you waited, the blonde-haired boy began to make conversation.

“Hi, Y/N.” He greeted with a smile. Everyone, so far, seemed to be chirpy and you felt right in place, “I’m Roger.” He too held his hand out for you to shake which you did. He continued to polish the cutlery in front of him and separated them into different trays, “So, how’d you find us?”

“I, uh, posted on this Facebook group.”

“Ah.” He nodded, “Most of our bartenders here did the same.”

“Really? I feel less weird now.” You chuckled.

“Oh yeah? I’ve got another one for you, one of our bartenders actually ‘applied’, if you will, when he was drunk out of his mind during a night out and now, he’d been working here for two years.” It made you laugh. The though of a drunk guy having a very drunk conversation with Roger about how he needed a job, “On a scale of one to ‘I feel so out of place’, how weird do you feel now?”

“After that? I’m at a two.” He chuckled at your reply, “How long have you worked here?” You continued.

“I was hired just before the renovations, so around seven or eight months.”

“So, long?” You questioned, and he nodded.

“Long enough.” Footsteps were heard behind you.

“Aha! There she is, hi, Y/N, I’m Jacob!” Jacob was just a bit shorter than Roger. He wore a colourful Hawaiian shirt with some khakis, his brown hair was slicked back and his beard was quite thick. You jumped off of the bar stool and shook his hand, “Just come through here.” He took you behind the bar through a dining area after waving goodbye to Roger and Regina. He asked you about your likes and dislikes and why you wanted to work there. You chatted heavily about the Winter Olympics which you bullshitted a little bit due to your lack of knowledge on most of the sports but in the end, Jacob smiled and commended you for your quite outgoing personality. He had let you know that there was another waitress he needed to interview but so far, everything was going good for you and if he hadn’t taken another interviewee, he would’ve hired you on the spot but still, things were looking up. You thanked him for his time and said your last goodbyes to Regina and Roger before exiting the venue. You took and deep breath and prayed to whatever God there was up in the heavens and down below hell to bless you with this job and these seemingly good people.

By the week after, sure enough, Jacob had emailed you a list of uniform preferences and where to be when.

Friday, February 23rd, 2018

The smell of brewed beer and oak flooring filled your nose as the clock struck 3:30 PM. You wore a black top and blue jeans with black and white sneakers – regulatory uniform for staff at the venue. You were once again greeted by Roger who introduced you to the Venue Manager, Tyrone, and the Bar Manager, Josh. Tyrone looked down at you, not in a euphemistic way but in the literal sense. The man was at most, to you, like six foot five. He greeted you with what you sensed was an absolutely fake smile. He was unsure of you, almost like he didn’t trust you and your lack of experience and skills. You were used to the stare due to the fact that most places you had applied for, the interviewers had the same belittling stare. Tyrone showed you around the venue and the staff area before giving you a name tag and sending you upstairs into the high ground bar. Josh greeted you after you pushed your way through a sea of people.

“You feeling okay?” You nodded, “I can tell you’re overwhelmed and if you feel anxious at all throughout the night, just let me, Gianna,” He gestured to a small woman, with curly hair sticking out of her bun, “or Jane,” She was tall with blonde hair who smiled sillily at you, trying to make you feel welcome, “know, okay?” You nodded again with a much realer smile. Josh then introduced you to a fellow waiter, Joe, who wore glasses and had his long hair tied into a bun. He smiled sweetly at you and shook your hand. Josh left you with Joe who showed you every basic thing you needed to know; collect plates, glasses, light the candles, and of course, take some orders. He explained that at night, the bar turns into a club and that we needed to keep the place clean which meant checking bathrooms and cleaning up broken glass. To be quite frank, you didn’t know that waitressing meant doing all of this stuff, though, you weren’t complaining.

“So yeah, we’re pretty much the back bone of the bar, without us, these people would go to shits.” He laughed. Joe was sweet and made himself feel welcome and approachable. This was dangerous, knowing yourself, this would eventually get messy. He was sweet, handsome, funny, and approachable which was honestly a recipe for disaster for someone looking for love and affection. Someone who was inexperience with the world like you. He interrupted your thoughts, “By the way, you’re not the only new kid, see that guy over there?” He pointed over to another guy who looked almost exactly like him; long hair tucked away in a bun and glasses. You nodded, “That’s Harry, he’d new as well, maybe you could both bond over that.” He chuckled.

As night fell, Joe asked you to light up some candles and start spreading them out on each table. You subtly observed Harry from afar. He was handsome, incredibly handsome. When the light shone on his eyes, they were emerald green. His smile was contagious, evident in the fact that the girls he was serving were all smiley and giggly which also meant that he was probably a good conversationalist. You hadn’t noticed yourself staring until Harry quite loudly placed a glass into the dishwashing rack, making you clear your throat and look away.

“Girls seem a li’l crazy tonigh’, aye?” He began.

“Yeah, crazy.” You reply, still lighting up the candles.

“’M Harry.” He smiles.

“I know,” You cringed at yourself, “I mean, I don’t know but now I do know since you told me- Jesus, sorry, I’m- I’m Y/N, sorry to ramble, I guess I’m just nervous.”

“First day too?” You nodded, “I was like tha’ when I first started workin’ at a bar bu’ don’ worry, shit gets easier, don’ stress, yeah?” At this point, you were trying not to. And just like Joe had said, the bar had turned into a club type scene. People were starting to stumble in from their pre-drinks and began to order drinks from the Heavenly Gin bar. They started gathering on the dancefloor as early 2000s and late 1990s music blasted from the speakers. This was all fun and laughter to you since you’d never actually been clubbing or the such. You danced and sang along but still worked hard which you were commended by Josh when he laughed as he walked by. You continued collecting glasses that were empty and even collected one that was sitting in the same spot for almost four hours, untouched. It was almost empty, a sip left, and it would’ve been completely drained and so, you took it upon yourself to collect the glass, knowing that it was a rule to collect such glasses just in case it’d been spiked. The music was getting better and better which only made you dance more, making Harry laugh and join in. A few moments later, while putting some glasses away, you heard a commotion at the bar, making you turn your head. A dishevelled man was arguing with Harry.

“Who the fuck took my glass!?” He pointed at you and began to make his way behind the bar, “It was you, wasn’t it!?” The slur in his voice made it evident that he was, in fact, drunk.

“I- I, I just- I-it was s-sitting there, almost empty, I-” Harry watched as you stammered and stumbled on your words. He inched closer trying to keep him away. The man kept coming closer which only made Harry grow more protective over you. He held his arm out in front of you to keep you away from the intoxicated patron.

“I will talk t’her, mate, jus’ step outta th’bar.” The man growled in frustration.

“Next time, don’t take someone’s-“

“Mate, jus’ calm down! I said I’ll talk t’her, I’ll get yeh anotha drink, jus’ step out, yeh don’ need t’yell at her, I’s no’ tha’ big of a deal.” You stood behind Harry with the tea towel, that once hung off of your apron, covering your face. The man walked away with a huff, “Hey, yeh okay, love?” You couldn’t breathe, it was like the world suddenly crumbled around you, “Okay, okay, yeh alrigh’, Y/N, I’s no’ yeh fault, I’s yeh job, lovie.” He tapped the other bartender and let them know that he was off to take care of you. He took your hand and led you to the side door which led to the staff entrance. He rubbed your back and held you in his arms, hushing your sobs, telling you that you were going to be okay. After a while, Harry left you to calm down, Josh telling him the he urgently needed to be back at the bar. He left you with sad and sorry eyes, completely regretful and not wanting you to be left alone with your thoughts. You guessed that he knew what this feeling was like. When you had calmed down, you returned to your work and tried to cast away the anxious thoughts of being fired after your first day and to be faced with, once again, with the intoxicated patron who had been the source of your panic attack. Harry checked up on you frequently, rubbing your back comfortingly whilst speaking to you. It was later, after work, when you found out that Harry had spoken to the security guards and asked them to eject the man which made your heart warm. After work, you sat in the locker rooms by your locker and took a deep breath. Harry walked in and gave you a soft smile.

“How’s m’girl?” He asked, taking his jacket, bag, and red and white bobbled beanie out of his locker.

“I’m okay now.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. You weren’t really good at expressing gratitude and making the words ‘thank you’ leave your lips felt almost foreign in the sense that no one had really done this for you before. You cleared your throat and stood in the middle of the room.

“Harry?” He hummed in response, “I- I just wanted to say thank you for what you did.”

“Y/N, I’s alrigh’ I promise.”

“I know but you didn’t have to stick up for me like that but you did it anyway.” He walked over to you and engulfed you in a hug.

“I wasn’t gonna let some drunk guy yell at yeh fo’ summat so trivial, I’d never let anyone yell at yeh if I can help it.” He pulled away from you and looked at you, “A’ve always got yeh back yeah? From now on, yeh got me.” You smiled and hugged him tightly once again.

“Okay.”

“Okay!” He pulled away from you and put his backpack on, “Now, how ‘bout we get a drink downstairs an’ I’ll take yeh t’th’ station, how’s ‘at sound?”

“Sounds good, Harry.”

MASTERLIST

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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sailorjupitersworld · 6 years

Text

I’ve Got You

To previous readers of the story who might be coming back to re-read, I did some editing and rewrote a few things. Not much is different, but spelling mistakes have been fixed and grammatically incorrect sentences have been take care of. (I hope I got them all at least.)

Plot/Summary- There’s a string of murders involving young women in San Antonio, Texas. (Y/n) has a connection to the case, but does she realize that in time?

Warnings- Mentions of rape, abuse, abusive ex-boyfriend, swearing, blood.

Pairings- Spencer Reid x Reader

a/n- First time writing first person. I apologize if it’s horrible!

----

“It seems this unsub is going after young women in their mid to late 20′s. Typically women with (h/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, (s/t) skin and are recently out of a relationship. We think this is a man of in his late 20′s to early 30′s. He seems to be acting out some kind of fantasy,” Hotch started.

“He’s a confident, charming, and kind man. He has the ability to lure his victim’s to a place where there is a lack of people. He knows how to get them alone.” Prentiss followed.

“And he has access to chloroform, to knock his victim out and drag them to where he’s keeping them.” (Y/n) finished.

The group of policemen nodded, dispersing to their set locations.

“Alright guys, we need to find who’s doing this and fast. 7 victims in two weeks. We’ve gotta stop this man before he kills again.” Emily stated, a look of worry etched into her features.

“Prentiss and Morgan, I want you two to head down to the bar the last victim was scene. Ask around and see what you can get. (L/n), Reid and I will head to the crime scene and see if there’s anything that may be different from the last. JJ, I want you to talk to the family, see if there may be anything that connects her with the last few victims.” Hotch ordered.

---(First Person)---

The three of us exited the SUV, gloves already equipped.

Something about this case left a sinking feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t unusual for a case to make me a bit queasy, but I’ve never felt like this before. Something was wrong. I just didn’t know what.

“Hey Hotch, (Y/n), check this out.” Spencer waived you over, a piece of paper in his hands.

“What is it?” Hotch questioned,

I grabbed the paper and began reading aloud.

“Hello there agents. You think you’re close because you have a profile? Because you think you know me? You don’t. Though, maybe one of your team members do. Have fun!

-DJ.”

“Who does he know?” Spencer asked, confused.

My heart dropped, (e/c) eyes widening the size of dinner plates.

“(L/n), what’s wrong?” Hotch questioned.

“I need to make a phone call. I’ll be right back.”

“(N/n)!” Spencer called after me, but I didn’t stop. There wasn’t any time.

“I said I’ll be right back!” I shouted, causing the police officers on scene to give me a confused look.

I rushed out of the building and turned into the alleyway, quickly dialing the number. “C’mon, pick up!” I muttered.

“Why would I pick up, when I’m right here?” A gravelly voice came from behind me and I felt my heart rate speed up.

“Damian.” I hissed.

The blonde haired man grinned at me, an evil glint in his eyes. “Shut up, bitch.” A fist came towards me, and before I knew it, everything was black.

----

“Officer, have you seen the other agent that came in with us?” Hotch asked hurriedly.

They haven’t seen you in over 20 minutes, and it seemed that nobody else on the scene had either.

The woman nodded and pointed to the ally. “She was just over there. She went down that way.” The ally was dark and dreary.

Spencer and Hotch walked quickly, flashlights in hand.

“There’s nobody here.”

“Hotch, look, her phone.” Spencer said, he could only fear the worst for you. You fit the victimology, he knew you shouldn’t have been working this case. He didn’t say anything and he knew.

“Get it to Garcia, and have her trace the last call. We need to find (Y/n) quickly, before she ends up like the rest.” Hotch felt the same panic and urgency as Spencer. You were like a daughter to him, and he couldn’t lose you.

---

“Son of a bitch.” I rasped. My throat burned and my head pounded.

I tugged at my hands, but I couldn’t move them. Looking up, I realized they were bound to a pipe... No, not a pipe. A pole.

It was damp, dark, and a musty smell filled the air. I must be in a basement.

A large metal clang was heard in the distance. His footsteps could be heard.

“Good, you’re awake.” Damian grinned.

“Let me go.” I croaked.

He crouched in front of me, “Oh honey, after what you did to me, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” Pulling out a knife, he dragged it across my cheek.

“Now it’s time you paid.” He growled. Slicing my shirt down the center, he made several shallow cuts along the skin of my chest and stomach.

I didn’t let out a sound, closing my eyes in pain.

“Aww, not gonna make a sound? Well, maybe this’ll help.” He flipped me and I heard what sounded like a belt buckle.

“No.. No, please don’t” I whimpered, writhing and attempted to free myself from the binds, rubbing my wrists raw in the process.

“Too late!” He clawed at your pants, undoing the buttons.

I knew exactly what was going to happen, and there was no way for me to stop this.

---

“Damian Jackson! He was put away for domestic violence, sexual and physical abuse, and attempted rape. His girlfriend filed 4 years ago. Oh my god...”

“What is it Garcia?”

“H-his ex! (Y/n) (L/n), born (birthday). That’s our (Y/n)!”

Everyone exchanged surprised glances, not once had you mentioned this. Not a word. They had know you for almost three years, and none of your behavior showed signs of past abuse. Spencer wracked his brain. “How could I not know? I should have know!”

Prentiss’ voice interrupted his thoughts, “Garcia, when did Jackson get out of prison?”

“He got out two weeks ago,”

“When the killings started,” Morgan interrupted.

“Where can we find him?” Rossi rushed.

“78451 Swan Drive!”

“Baby, I love you.” Derek said thankfully.

“Whatever you say hot stuff, just bring her back to us.”

Hotch and Reid were already on the move, “All units, head to 78451 Swan Drive. Bring an ambulence!” Hotch shouted.

---

I sobbed quietly, blood gushed from my nose, my chest was covered in red, not a single piece of (s/c) skin in sight. My hips throbbed with bruises and my wrists were bleeding. My pants were in tatters and strewn across the room. The only thing keeping myself not exposed were the black shorts I wore underneath and a bra. “At least he was courteous enough to leave those on.”

“They’re not coming, don’t you get it?” He growled, kicking my side once more.

I groaned in pain, “No, they’re coming. They’re going to arrest you, and put you away for life. Maybe they’ll put you on death row.” I spat.

He grabbed my hair and pulled me up to face him. “You fucking bitch! You have no idea what you’re talking about!” He screamed, spit flying in my face.

A loud crash was heard from upstairs, followed by voices.

“Get up, slut.” He cut the rope from around my wrists and pulled my body up.

My legs were weak, and I couldn’t help but stumble.

“I said GET UP!”

The metal door was opened in seconds and I let out a breath of relief when I saw the people who stood before me. Morgan, Hotch and Reid stood before me. Their guns were raised and they were clad in vests.

“Spencer...” I rasped.

“Shut it!” Damian screamed once more, pressing the cold metal against my neck. “You move and I’ll cut her throat open!”

“Put the knife down Damian.” Aaron growled. His face was etched with anger, but his eyes were full of fear.

“You don’t have to do this Damian, we can get you help.” Spencer attempted to reason.

“I don’t want help,” He began to drag the blade along your neck, “I want this fucking bitch dead!”

I felt a sharp pain in my side and Damian let go. I fell to the ground with a thud and I gasped for air.

“No!” Everyone yelled.

I watched through spotty vision as Damian was tackled to the ground. Hotch and Spencer quickly made their way over. Spencer was quick to pack the wound with the remnants of my shirt.”

“I need a medic! Federal Agent down!” Hotch yelled into his ear piece.

Spencer grabbed your head and looked you in the eyes, “(Y/n)? (Y/n), it’s okay. We got you. You’re going to be just fine.” He assured.

“I’m sorry. I should have said something. I should’ve known it was him. I’m so sorry.” I cried. (h/c) hair stuck to my face, the blood and sweat serving as the adhesive.

“Shush, you’re gonna be okay. Save your strength.” Hotch grasped my hand.

“Gentlemen, I’m going to need you to move.” The EMT said.

They quickly moved you, and soon you were being carried to the ambulance.

“Spencer, I love you. Aaron, thank you for being there for me,” I choked out. “If I don’t make it-”

“No, stop talking like that. You’re going to be just fine.” Spencer whispered shakily, tears streaked down his cheeks.

Black spots began to cloud my eyes, and the voices around me became muffled.

"I love you too.” Was the last thing I heard before everything went black.

------

Everyone sat in the lobby of the hospital, tears filled their eyes. Waiting for news on your condition. Morgan paced, Prentiss bit her nails, JJ munched on cheetos with a solemn look, Rossi twiddled his fingers and Garcia was wiping at the constant flow of tears. Hotch frequently made his way to the front desk, asking for new, yet receiving none. He was almost frantic. He’s lost too many and he couldn’t bear to lose another one. Spencer tapped his foot, trying to keep his breathing under control. The brunette wanted scream. It was agony not knowing. For someone like Spencer, not knowing was rare, and he hated it. The sound of the door opening and closing caused everyone to bolt up from their current positions.

“How is she?” Emily cried.

“Is she alright?” JJ gasped.

The surgeon and his nurse smiled, “It was a tough battle, but luckily the knife just missed any vital organs. She lost a lot of blood, but she’ll be fine if you give her time to heal.”

“Can we see her?” Spencer choked out. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks stained with tears.

The nurse nodded, “You may, but be careful. Not only will she be dealing with physical scars, she’s going to be going through a mass emotional trauma. She’s been swabbed for DNA and cleaned up as requested by the Bureau. But be warned, experiences like this... they don’t leave the brain easily. Please be cautious and try not upset her. She’s in room 241, down the hall and third door on the left.”

Aaron let out a shaky breath and nodded, “Thank you.”

Everyone made their way down the hall quickly, and there you sat, eyes wide open.

“Hey guys.” I croaked.

---

Everyone chatted with you for about 20 minutes before deciding you needed rest. Hotch and Spencer stayed however.

Hotch needed to ask you just one question, “(Y/n),”

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It didn’t seem important. It’s apart of my past I don’t particularly like living through, but I will admit that it made me stronger. I knew who it was when we found that note. I should have said something, but I just couldn’t until I knew for sure.” I looked down at my hands, avoiding their gazes.

“I understand (Y/n). But if you keep information from us again, I’ll have to write you up. You endangered yourself and others.” He scolded.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” I looked down at my hands, avoiding their gazes.

“Oh, and (Y/n)?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” I gave him a soft smile, before he turned and left the room. I waited until he left before turning to Spencer, who had taken a seat next to me.

“I meant what I said. I love you.” I smiled, meeting his beautiful hazel eyes. Much to

“I love you too, (Y/n). But none of this was your fault. You couldn’t have known, and you couldn’t have been sure,” He grasped my hand, much to my surprise. Spencer wasn’t exactly one for physical contact.

I grasped his cheek gently pulling him in for a soft kiss. I pulled away with a gasp of terror, startled by the image of Damian forcing himself upon you.

“(Y/n), what’s wrong?

“I saw him... What he did to me. I’m never going to be able to forget him am I? He’s always going to show up in the corner of my mind.” I cried.

“(Y/n), breathe. It’s alright, he can’t hurt you anymore. I’ll never let anything like this happen you again, none of us will.” He hugged you to him, cautious to not hurt you more.

“Thank you.” I sobbed over and over.

“It’s alright I’ve got you.” He hushed, your cries died down and your body relaxed in his arms. You had fallen asleep. He set you down gently and placed a kiss upon your forehead. “Whatever happens (Y/n), no one will hurt you ever again.” He whispered to your sleeping form.

“Nobody..” he heard you mutter.

He smiled, “Nobody.”

---

It had been a year since the incident. It had been a long recovery, the memories of what happened that day were not forgotten. But here you sat cuddled up to Spencer at a Christmas party that Penelope had decided to throw, enjoying the people you love and cherish.

You looked up at him, a smile on your features,

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” Spencer chuckled at you.

“I was just thinking... The shittiest things have happened to all of us,”

“Very true,”

“But we all have each other. Some people aren’t that lucky.”

“What are you trying to say (Y/n)?”

“I never had a family, people to fall back on, and now I do. I guess I’m just saying I’m lucky is all.” I stated thoughtfully.

I was truly lucky to have every single one of the people who sat before me.

“Marry me.” Spencer blurted out.

“What?”

“I know we haven’t been together long, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Are you sure?” I stared at him, looking for any signs of regret that he may be having right now. I couldn’t find any, all I could see was a man who loved me with his heart and soul.

“Yes, I’m completely sure.” He nodded.

“Yes! Yes I’ll marry you!” Pressing an excited kiss to his lips,

“Wait,” Emily interrupted

“Who’s getting married?” Derek cut her off.

“We are.” I said nervously.

“OH MY GOD!!! FINALLY!!!” Penelope squealed.

“Do you know when?” JJ asked.

Spencer shook his head, “No, not yet. Maybe in April.”

“Congratulations!” Will said, giving you a hug. Everyone else doing the same.

I stopped at Aaron and Jack who was super excited. “There are two things I know for sure though,”

“What’s that?” asked Kevin.

I kneeled down to meet Jack’s eye level, “Jack Hotchner, would you do me the honor of being the ring bearer?”

He looked at his dad excitedly, “Can I daddy?”

Aaron chuckled, “I don’t see why not.”

“Yay!” Jack exclaimed excitedly, “Can my dad help me?”

“Well, I have another job for your daddy,” I grinned and stood, “Aaron Hotchner, you have been for me more than my parents ever have or ever will. You’ve helped me through situations that I couldn’t confide in anybody else with. Not even Spence. After Haley’s death, I wasn’t sure if you’d ever be the same, but you never stopped being there. You have always been a shoulder I and everyone else could cry on. That being said, would you do me the honor of walking me down the aisle?”

Aaron stared in shock, tears pooling in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he pulled you in for a tight hug. “Yes (Y/n),” He whispered.

“Why are you upset daddy?”

“I’m not upset Jack,” Aaron said, seperating from the hug to look at his son with a smile. “(Y/n) just made me very happy. That’s all.”

Jack giggled, “Good job (Y/n)!!!” He cheered.

Spencer came over and put his hand on your lower back.

“I love you guys, all of you. You’re the best Christmas present a girl could ask for.”

Through the rest of the night, nothing but laughter and love were in the air. New memories were created, ones of love and laughter.

And you knew you’d soon be creating ones of lust when you arrived home with Spencer. It truly was a night that you’d never be able to forget.

---

That’s it! Sorry it’s so sloppy and kind of all over the place when it comes to POV’s. And sorry it’s super super long! I just couldn’t stop writing. Hope you enjoy!

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #aaron hotchner x reader #platonic #aaron hotchner imagine #father figure

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