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greatooglymooglyyy · 2 months

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Moments (Matt Sturniolo)

contains: fluff, kissing, general sweet matt, third person matt pov, 700 words

a/n: okay so somebody requested a fic of matt and reader waking up and it wasn't going how i wanted so i kind of incorporated it into the end of this one. sorry twin. love you anon 💕 i also don't know how i feel ab this one. ig lmk

There’s always been a lot of noise in Matt’s head. Most days, it doesn’t even bother him; it’s just the way he’s hardwired. But it means when the world goes quiet, when something shocks his brain silent, he notices. It’s how he knows something important is happening, how he knows gravity is changing. Even if he doesn’t know why. So when he meets her, when he catches the scent of vanilla lingering on her skin, when he doesn’t even hear her name the first time she says it, he knows. Before he can name it, before he can pretend to understand it, he knows.

*************

They are sitting in his car at 3 am the day Matt asks her the question. He’d been turning it over in his brain for weeks. Writing it in journals, typing it out in text messages that he couldn’t bring himself to send, annoying the hell out of his brothers. All to get to the point where he can make this girl his. He’s run through exactly what he will say so many times that he thinks he knows every single way this can go. He’s prepared for anything. Except for what she does; tilting her head to the side and saying absolutely nothing. His heart is beating so fast and his stomach is so queasy that he’s about to take it back when she answers quietly: “I sort of thought I already was.” The whole car is silent again for a second, for two. Then she breaks into laughter and he follows, reaching over to pull her face to his when it lulls.

*************

Matt had only known her a couple of months when he opened up his notes app and created one with her name. He doesn’t know what exactly made him start it, but now it’s a lifeline. Her favorite food. Her favorite store. Her gas station order. He loves the look in her eyes when he hands her a drink without her asking, when he skips that song that always makes her want to cry. But it’s not until their first anniversary when she hands him five handwritten notes that he understands. The first line of the letter labeled “open now” reads ‘to be known is to be loved’ and it makes his heart go so funny that he steps to the bathroom and sits on the floor.

*************

If his brothers have taught him anything, it’s a sense of patience. And he’s never more thankful for it than when he’s waiting for her to get ready. But today, he’s starting to get annoyed. It’s been an hour since he told her he was ready to leave and she’s somehow still not dressed. He’s about to knock on the bathroom door and ask her to hurry up when it swings open and she steps out. She smiles at him and does a spin to show off her outfit, asking how she looks. A small gold chain with an M engraving catches Matt’s eye and he feels his frustration melt away. He walks into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around her waist to lift her before setting her down on the counter. She laughs in surprise and he cuts it off with a kiss, kicking the door closed behind them.

*************

Her phone alarm blaring yanks him out of some of the best sleep he’s had in weeks. When she reaches over him to grab the phone from the charger and silence it, he stirs and flips over onto his stomach to face her. “I thought you were off today.” He says groggily, rubbing at his eyes and watching hers go wide with realization. She covers her mouth and apologizes, going to slip out of bed and let him sleep. But Matt reaches out and tugs her back into his side, nuzzling his face into her neck and intertwining their legs. She smiles and relaxes into his touch, slipping his hand under his shirt and writing what feels like her name on his back with her fingertips. She sighs contently, and Matt listens as her breathing grows steadier and heartbeat slows. He watches her sleeping, his chest starting to burn with the weigh of how much he loves this girl in his arms. And he knows. Understands now that these are the moments he’ll be chasing for the rest of his life.

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo oneshot #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo oneshots #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

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write-r-die · 10 months

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Man's World - Part 6

I finally figured out what I want to do with this story! Get ready for a real plot to form!

masterlist

It was the middle of the night for us when the flare happened.

People who were outside at the time were the ones who died right away or got an aggressive case of sun sickness. People indoors got slightly less, people on the lower floors of buildings got less, etc.

I was in my parents’ basement when the flare happened. The accompanying earthquakes jammed the door to the stairs shut. It was a few hours before I finally made it out.

In the end it was sheer dumb luck that I survived, that I didn’t get sick.

Evolution, survival of the fittest – that didn’t factor into it at all when the world ended. Just your location.

I’m sure down the road I’ll have some sort of horrific health problems, that everybody will because you don’t encounter that much radiation without some of it infecting you. But I’m still alive and healthy for now.

I don’t know about the rest of the world, though. Nobody does, since all the technology was simultaneously fried and there’s no real way to get across an ocean anymore.

Usually I try not to think about it, but the soldiers accompanying us are talking about their travels while in the military. Two of them were stationed in Japan for a while; a third was stationed in South Korea. It was the middle of a sunny day in those countries when the flare hit.

One of the men from Japan shakes his head, smiling sadly. “I’ll never have sushi like that again,” he says mournfully.

The other frowns. “It’s a fuckin’ shame.”

We’re mostly on bikes or horses. A pickup truck accompanies us to carry back anything of value we find, but August tries to minimize car usage whenever possible, so we have a single truck with us to lug back whatever valuables we find.

We all pull off to the side when we reach the neighborhood. A bunch of identical little houses on cul-de-sacs that were once full of yuppie commuters. Now it’s empty.

“Each of you will have one guard,” August says to the six of Miss Ally’s people. “You will not leave their side. You will wait for them to clear each and every room before you enter it.” He pairs them up and sends them all in different directions, telling them to return to this exact spot in two hours.

They all head off. Only August and I are left.

“I don’t have a guard,” I say once everyone is out of earshot.

August gives me a shit-eating grin. He’s my guard. Of course. He motions me toward a one-story home with a detached garage. “Come along. We’ve got things to do.”

The first house we enter has no front door. The windows have all been blown out, but the treadmill and stationary bike in the living room appear to be going strong.

August picks up a discarded magazine from the floor. “Health nuts,” he says sadly. “Not known for having full pantries.”

“You’d be surprised,” I say.

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “Oh?” He gestures toward the kitchen. “In that case, take the lead. I insist.”

Health nuts can be similar to squirrels in terms of stashing food for a rainy day. We don’t bother opening the freezer or fridge because whatever was in there was either eaten by now or has turned it into a mold jungle.

August and I work in silence, scouring the kitchen for anything that might be of use. August immediately finds a bottle of wine, which he looks over, then seems to contemplate deeply. He puts it in his pack and I have a feeling he’ll be adding it to his private collection.

I pause in the middle of ransacking a drawer full of oatmeal packets. “You really couldn’t wait until I was out of the tent to fuck somebody else?”

August doesn’t miss a beat. “I could and I did. Andie came in unannounced and uninvited,” he says, pulling out a plastic jar of protein powder. “You woke up before things got too interesting.”

I square my shoulders and return to sorting. “I take it that sort of thing happens a lot.”

“Often enough.” He shuts the cupboard and sticks the powder into his backpack. “Find anything?”

“Oatmeal packets mostly. And this.” I hold up the plastic jar of trail mix. “It’s mostly empty but –”

“We’ll bring it. We need everything.”

His choice of words gives me pause. Need, he said. But I’ve seen the supply trucks myself and we seem to have plenty of almost everything. Nobody in the camp goes hungry or lacks in basic necessities, at least not as far as I know. But I’m also not part of the inner circle.

The pantry upstairs boasts two value-sized bottles of shampoo and three bars of soap, plus about a thousand toothbrushes still in their packaging. “Jackpot.”

“I’m checking the bathroom. Start on the bedrooms when you’re done.”

My bag is brimming with floss picks and antiperspirant.

The nearest bedroom once belonged to a woman. I can tell by all the expensive - and now very expired - perfume and makeup.

“Do we need clothes?” I call over my shoulder.

“Underwear and socks,” August calls back.

I head for the dresser. I don’t love the idea of wearing someone else’s panties even if their clean but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.

There are plenty of socks, so I grab a bunch of those. As I reach back to access the underwear, my hand brushes against something else.

I grab it and pull it out and see a familiar book cover. I used to have a copy on my Kindle, not a well-worn paperback like this. But it’s the same story. I want to squeal with delight. Of course that’s when August comes in.

“Find anything good?” he asks, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb.

I reflexively hide the book behind my back which is of course a dead giveaway.

He raises a dark brow, a smirk growing on his incredible lips. “What’s that?”

I don’t reply. I know he won’t believe anything I say until he sees it for himself.

He crosses the room to stand in front of me and holds his hand. Reluctantly, I give the book over. He watches my face, reveling in the embarrassment for a moment before looking at the book in his hand.

Slowly, his smirk widens. He flips to a dog eared page and begins to read and I want to die.

“He gripped her wrists in one of his hands, pinning them against the wall above her head. With his other hand, he cupped her sex over her dress and squeezed – not enough for it to be painful, but enough to make it clear that he was in charge, and this would go exactly the way he wanted it.”

I hate him. I hate the way he reads it in that deep sexy voice and I hate the way he smirks up at me and the fact that it’s getting me going and I hate him.

He’s smirking again when he looks up at me. “Is this the sort of thing you’d like?”

“It’s just a smutty book.” I try to sound dismissive.

He turns back to the book. “Her pussy throbbed under his touch —“

“Jesus Christ, stop that!” I snatch the book out of his hands and I’m way too turned on just by the fact that he said pussy and he’s still smiling and I hate him. “You’re acting like a teenager, trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” he says. “I’m trying to turn you on.” He takes a step toward me; I take a step back. “Get you wet.” Another step and I’m pressed against the dresser as he looms over me. “I have a feeling it’s working.”

I hate him.

And then he’s leaning in slowly, lowering his head as I turn mine up.

And his mouth is on my mouth, his fingers digging into my hips and I can’t breathe around the lump in my throat, the ache between my legs, that God-awful feeling in my gut that I will regret this.

But it doesn’t matter right now. Because right now all I can think about is the man pressed against me, the way his fingers are tugging at my hair enough to cause the slightest bit of pain that somehow makes me want him more.

My right mind isn’t in control – I know that – this sort of aching need is primal and weird and frankly a little scary because I’ve never felt this out of control before.

And then a shout comes from outside. “Boss!”

August pulls back enough to shout, “What?” My mouth is slightly open because I can’t get enough air through just my nose and all the while, August’s eyes are on that mouth, and I know he’s imagining everything that he could do to it and that it could do to him.

“We found some people in one of the houses. They’ve got Draven’s mark.”

That snaps us both out of our lusty haze.

Michael Draven is one of the six most powerful warlords roaming the continent. Besides August, he’s probably the scariest. Maybe even scarier, since August at least takes people in and protects them. From what I know, Draven only takes warriors and prostitutes into his group, and they’re not necessarily warriors and prostitutes by choice.

August’s soldiers have rounded up a man and a woman – a boy and a woman, more accurately. The woman is around my age but seems much older, and she glares at us hatefully enough to make me shudder.

They each have a tattoo on their forearms that identify them as Draven’s people. Some of August’s people have similar tattoos to identify them, but not all. Bearing any warlord’s mark is a gamble because people are about as likely to attack you for your allegiances as they are to show consideration for it.

“We’re not his people anymore,” the boy says. “I cut the mark. See?” He points to a few still-healing cuts slashing through the crow tattoo that marks him as one of Draven’s. It’s how his followers got the nickname crows. The girl’s mark is pristine.

August takes the man’s wrist in his hand and angles his forearm to get a better look at it. The man winces at his touch.

August drops his wrist. “And why are you no longer his people?”

“He . . . wasn’t a good guy,” the boy says slowly.

“Warlords aren’t known for being good guys,” Miss Evaline – one of Miss Ally’s people on this outing – says. “Except for the Boss.” She sounds more than a little condescending.

“I’m certainly not a good guy,” August says dismissively. He really isn’t and him saying so really shouldn't be hot but I still clench my thighs together.

After weeks of ignoring him, of keeping my legs shut and my vagina as dry as the desert, he reads one teeny tiny snippet of a bullshit Kindle Unlimited-esque romantasy in front of me and here we are.

“Give me details,” August says.

The two crows exchange a look.

“I wasn’t asking.”

“There were rumors of something going down. A merger, a trade, I’m not sure exactly what,” the woman says.

“A trade with who?”

The boy swallows. “John the Revelator.”

John the Revelator, who earned his nickname back before the world ended through apocalyptic religious and political rhetoric, is pretty freaky, too. He was somehow elected to the House of Representatives a year or so before shit hit the fan, and when it did, he knew just how to play it. His followers, now called Thoroughbreds, were ready to flock to him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a muscle tick in August’s jaw. He keeps his eyes on the crows when he addresses his soldiers. “Tie them up. We’re taking them back with us.”

The boy’s eyes widen in panic. “We’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” August says. “Blindfold them, too.”

***

Our little mission has been cut short. Whatever information those two people have is worth more than anything we’ll find in these houses.

I go back into the house to grab my shit. I hurriedly stuff the book into my bag and bury it under a bunch of shit. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving this thing behind.

“Still have that book?”

I jump at the sound of August’s voice; he neither notices nor cares.

“Why?” I challenge. “Gonna make me put it in the library truck?”

“Of course not,” he says. “That book is yours.”

I quirk an eyebrow because I find that difficult to believe. “Really? You want me to keep it?”

“Really,” he agrees. “In fact, I insist.”

“Why?” He can’t possibly just want me to keep it out of the goodness of his heart.

His eyes travel down to my mouth and linger there before returning to mine. “Because I know you’re going to think about me every time you read it.”

Fuck. Why am I turned on when I know he has every intention of torturing those two crows if they don’t give him what he wants?

He’ll torture the boy, at least. I heard a rumor that he doesn’t torture women – at least not physically – and I don’t know if that makes him a gentleman or a chauvinist.

***

August Walker had an unfailing ability to keep himself in check.

He was especially grateful for it at times like these, when he was simultaneously interrogating prisoners and imagining Delilah Reid pleasuring herself as she thought of him.

How did she like to pleasure herself, he wondered? Was she the sort of woman to rub frantic circles around her swollen clit, desperate for release, or would she take the time to tease herself?

Perhaps she put fingers into her tight cunt. Two at a time, he guessed, and only up to the first knuckle. He was very good and guessing the little details that brought women pleasure.

When he had her, which he inevitably would, he would start with one finger. He’d penetrate her slowly and deeply and only give her enough time to catch her breath before plunging in and out, steadily increasing his pressure and pace.

Thankfully, he stood with his back to the rest of the men in the tent, bent forward at the waist to mark the maps laid out on the tabletop. If anyone saw the impressive bulge in his pants, they assumed it was because he was in the middle of an interrogation, that his subjects; fear and his own power were what turned him on.

Not that a random, rude blue-collar twentysomething had him in knots – especially since that rude twentysomething wasn’t at the level of drop-dead gorgeous that was required for most men to withstand such high levels of bullshit.

“Where did you hear the rumors?” Sy asked the boy. He was in a wooden dining chair with arms, as was the woman. Neither of them were tied or taped down, though most of the soldiers in the room had rope or duct tape – a clear threat of what would happen should they cease cooperating.

“One of the other soldiers said he saw Draven meeting with a Thoroughbred at a stopover,” the boy said, using the nickname for John the Revelator’s followers.

One of the other soldiers in the room produced a knife and started tossing it up into the air and catching it by the blade. The boy saw and started speaking faster.

“One of them should’ve killed the other but they didn’t. They passed things back and forth; I don’t know what.”

“There’s not enough food in Draven’s camp,” the woman said, her words stumbling over the boy’s. “It’s not sustainable. Draven would only trade if he absolutely had to.”

“Is that why you left, then?” August asked without turning towards the captives. “You were hungry?”

“I left cause all Draven has to trade is women,” the woman snaps. “I’m not gonna be a whore for a bunch of white supremacists.”

Sy turned to the boy. “And you left because?”

“Because he’s in love with her,” August said dismissively. He finally turned to look at his prisoners. Judging by the look on his face, the boy had never voiced his feelings. Judging by the look on hers, the woman was fully aware of this and chose to ignore it.

“You were a whore in Draven’s camp?” August said. The woman looked him up and down, eyes briefly catching on his groin, and nodded once. “Would you like to be a whore in mine?”

The woman’s eyes went back to the bulge in his pants.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” August said. “It’s not for you.”

Lilah was probably fucking herself right this second while the rest of the camp was sleeping, he thought. She was probably doing it under the covers on her shitty cot in her shitty tent with at least ten other people in there.

Maybe some of them were awake. Maybe Lilah knew they were. Maybe she was too desperate to care.

“If I don’t want to be a whore?” the woman asked.

“Then I would hope you have something else of value to offer,” August said. “Otherwise, well . . .” He shrugged casually. “Take the night to think about it. Sy, put them somewhere secure for the night. I have other things I’d like to get done.”

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leafeon-enthusiast · 2 years

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Arceus, This Is A Train Wreck: Chapter 2

Emmet hates having his world turned upside down. Hates it. But this past year has been nothing but living in an upside down world. He had been somewhat successful in adapting to this new world. And after all that adjusting a total stranger had come in and kicked Emmet’s world on its side.

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Oh my goodness, thanks y’all for all the love on my previous chapter! Here’s chapter 2! Hate wins!

I will do my best to tag everything appropriately but do not hesitate to DM or send me an ask if you would like anything tagged that I have missed.

TW for blood, mentions of violence, and violence.

<-CHAPTER 1 O CHAPTER 3->

Chapter 2 Emmet POV

Emmet hates having his world turned upside down. Hates it. But this past year has been nothing but living in an upside down world. Emmet had been somewhat successful in adapting to this new world. And after all that adjusting a total stranger had come in and kicked Emmet’s world on its side.

He couldn’t help being intrigued by Volo’s offer. In the months after Ingo’s disappearance local detectives and the community alike had been helpful. The investigation even attracted the help of some detectives nationally. Still after months of searching, practically turning Gear Station upside down, no one was able to find a lead like this. This compelled Emmet to believe Volo was lying. Was Volo hoping to use Emmet and then betray him when he got what he wanted? To lie to a desperate man and use his desperation? This was upsetting to think about.

Emmet’s thoughts returned to the picture Volo had given him. He tenderly pulled it out of a drawer he had placed the photo in for safe keeping and stared at it.

“Warden Ingo of Pearl Clan,” Emmet muttered.

A lengthy internet search and some scrolling though historical records about ‘Hisuian Wardens’, whatever those where, led him to a short list of wardens from Hisui and sure enough Ingo’s name was listed.

Emmet’s runaway train of thought was interrupted from a call from Elesa. Thank Arceus. I need a distraction.

----------

Ultimately, despite his best judgment, Emmet accepted Volo’s offer to talk. He only hoped for two things,

1. that curiously would not kill the Purrloin, and

2. that he would be able to keep his cool and not break Volo’s nose.

----------

After a curt conversation over the phone, Emmet declared that best place would be the Rondez-View Ferris Wheel, in Nimbasa City.

Volo snickered.

“What’s so funny.”

Volo’s voice was seeping with amusement. “Well, I just got the impression that you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t. What does this have to do with the location I selected. You wanted something public but private enough for us to talk without being overheard.”

“Yes, yes and this is perfect, see you on out date then.” Volo purred.

“What-?”

Volo hung up. Then Emmet realized what Volo meant.

----------

It was a cool morning in Nimbasia City. Emmet could not help but let the excitement and nerves get to him as he was getting ready. He was excited because this could be just the lead he needed to find Ingo, but he was also nervous because he couldn’t bear to get his hopes up just to have them squandered. No matter how many times it happened Emmet never managed to get used to now much it hurt.

Despite this he managed to push down some food and head out the door with plenty of time to spare. Just in case he elected to take his Eelektross and his Archeops, has he still did not fully understand Volo’s intentions. Truly I’m giving Volo the benefit of the doubt with just two Pokémon.

Arriving to the Rondez-View Ferris Wheel head of schedule he awaited Volo’s arrival. Emmet waved at a few trainers he recognized from the Battle Subway as he waited. When Volo walked up, Emmet was in the middle of advising an Ace Trainer working on the Multi Battles line about the best way to protect a weakness their Pokémon partner was struggling with.

The Ace Trainer glanced between the two curiously. “Oh, I’m sorry where you waiting for him? Feel free to interrupt.”

Before Emmet could speak, Volo quickly spoke up, “Yes, I was waiting for Emmet in fact! He invited me to ride the Ferris wheel with him. But no worries I can wait.”

To make matters worse, Volo proceeded to wink at the trainer.

The Ace Trainer excused themselves leaving Emmet and Volo. Volo and Emmet. Two individuals about to ride a Ferris wheel together. Alone. Two individuals, who, given their situation, likely should not be left alone. A cool breeze dances through them, ruffling Volo’s hair and Emmet’s coat.

Emmet breaks the silence.

“Why would you say that to them?”

“Hm? Who?” Volo smiles innocently.

“That trainer I was directing.”

“Oh,” a smug grin arises on Volo’s face, “For fun. Then again, I’m not wrong, you did in invite me to a Ferris wheel.”

“And wink?”

“For fun.”

Emmet hopes the irritation shows on his face.

“Shall we.”

Emmet nods in agreement and they turn towards the Ferris wheel.

--------

“Oh where do I even begin!” Volo said, leaning back on his side of the compartment. He sat confidently; his hand made a strange motion. He created an ‘L’ with his hand and pointed up, holding his hand just below his chin. Volo’s eyebrows raised but his grey eyes were lidded. Smug bastard.

“I am from Hisui. It is the region you know of today as Sinnoh, but roughly a hundred or so years ago. I was a wanderer, a traveling merch-“

“Halt. You are from a place roughly a hundred or so years ago, making you? What?” Emmet scoffed.

“Immortal, I am immortal. No, I do not want to elaborate.”

Surprise flashes on Emmet’s face but he lets this explanation slide, after all that’s not entirely unheard of. He did however make sure to add this information to his growing collection of ‘reasons why Volo is a shady bitch’. If Volo was telling the truth, his appearance was one of a younger man roughly in his late twenties. He showed no signs of aging, no wrinkles and he moved with all the gusto a young man could hope to have. Quite frankly the only reference to a long life that Emmet could see where Volo’s hands, both being slightly scarred.

There are many different mythical and legendary Pokémon out there with the power to make this to happen. Based on Volo’s attitude Emmet wondered if he had been gifted with immortality or punished with it. Had he charmed his way to immortality? Emmet could also see this being a possibility.

Volo continues, “I was a traveling merchant with a deep love for myths and legends, I still do today. Because of my reverence for the mythological, I found purpose in a noble mission gifted to me by Arceus itself.” Volo said with a giddy grin, beaming with pride. He held both of his arms out grandly and tilted his head towards the sky, which to his credit was facing the sky and not the bottom of another Ferris wheel compartment.

Ah so this guy’s crazy. Emmet wondered if he had ever seen anyone more full of themselves than how Volo looked in this moment, unlikely.

“Along my journey I met many people. But after I failed my mission, I knew I couldn’t let the failure stop me.”

Ah so this guy’s crazy, and obsessive. What a charmer.

“So, I spoke to as many people as I could, gathering information. Anything that I could use in the future. This is where Ingo comes in. I had known Ingo before my failure and didn’t think much of him, aside from the strange fact he wasn’t afraid of Pokémon. Ingo’s strange speech pattern and references to something called trains was all foreign to me, but I wrote everything down. I knew one day it would make sense. And now it does.”

“Ingo never spoke of a twin, but he spoke of someone who looked just like him, and how this person loved battling. And after a very long time I found my way to you, Emmet.”

Emmet found himself struggling to pay attention. His mind was beginning to race. Ingo had been lost in time. His mind was racing like a runaway train with miles of track ahead. Of course, no one could find his brother because he was living a hundred and some years ago.

Fuck.

He wanted to punch something.

He wanted to punch Volo, but he had not motivation to, after all, as smug and rude Volo acted, he was the closest he could get to seeing Ingo again. Volo was the closest anyone had gotten him to seeing his best friend again. He sat quietly gripping his seat, eyes down cast, shaded by his hat.

Volo had stopped talking to glace over at Emmet, “Emmet?”

“I am Emmet.” A pause.

Focus, “My apologies do not allow me to derail you. As I’m sure you can understand this is difficult for me. I would like to ask about your mission.” He said, composing himself slightly.

“Roughly a hundred and some years ago I was in the middle of something. Something big and important, for the betterment for people and Pokémon. And I was interrupted by someone, an evil doer, and I was not able to complete my mission.” Volo gave the vaguest answer he could. Of course he did.

“I need more detail than that.”

“Awfully direct for the first date, aren’t you Emmet?”

“This isn’t-“

Volo brushed Emmet off, “I am not sure I can trust you.”

Emmet figured he might as well continue the conversation. Seeing as the ride was far from reaching its terminus.

“So, who exactly was this ‘evil doer’?”

“Ah yes! This is important for you.” Volo said, keen to change the subject. “This individual was also pulled back in time, a very competent trainer, they were able to best me at my most powerful and stop the completion of my mission. You see the god of evil, the legendary Pokémon Giratina, wanted to stop me from reaching my goal so he took not one but two powerful trainers from the future. Ingo was the other.”

Ah.

He stood up. He grinned as his gloved fist grabbed Volo by the collar and tugged Volo off of his seat. Volo made no move to stand or stop him. He felt the rage and pain of losing his brother manifest into something violent. Emmet was going to make someone pay and he was going to regret this. He needed a reason not to break this man’s nose.

Volo raised his eyebrows in surprise and stared into Emmet’s eyes and seething grin. Volo leaned toward him and smirked. “You wouldn’t.”

He did. In a swift movement he yanked Volo up and thundered his fist down on Volo’s pretty face. Emmet punched him square in the nose, and it was extremely satisfying. The release of anger and power through his fist was cathartic. To hold the man that subjected him to a year of mourning and loneliness and to shatter his smug expression. Just what he needed. To finally have so much control, to finally have so much power over something, someone, yes someone so-

Something fluttered in Emmet’s chest.

Volo groaned from below Emmet, still within his grip. He was quick to shoot Emmet a smug look. “You needed that, huh?”

Volo was promptly dropped on the ground. Emmet’s smile fell slightly, as he was struggling to bring his thoughts back down to Unova. His rage was quickly taking a backseat to embarrassment. He reminded himself that he was supposed to hate this guy. He did, he did hate Volo. Then why did he enjoy that. It was probably just the pent up rage right? Emmet felt flustered. He hoped the heat on his face could be mistaken for anger.

He remained standing while Volo tenderly touched his nose, assessing the damage. Emmet snapped out of his train of thought after a few more moments at the sound of Volo hissing after pressing on a especially painful spot on his nose. Emmet wanted to ignore how the sight of Volo crumbled at his feet drove him crazy. He hoped it was crazy in a attack, kill, kill, bite way and produced a handkerchief from his coat and held it down to Volo.

He would have to worry about these confusing thoughts later.

“Here.”

“Wow chivalry isn’t dead.”

Volo makes a point to get as much blood as he can from his hand to Emmet’s glove as possible in this exchange.

“Gross.”

“Says the man who punched me.” Volo mumbled though the handkerchief.

“I believe it was deserved. You’ve been a smug bastard, toying with me about Ingo.”

“I did not intend for your brother to be taken from you, and if you’re willing to help me I can return him to you.” He said seriously, then with a smirk he added. “Also, I enjoy toying with people, I am finding you particularly fun to toy with.”

Emmet grinned daggers at him.

“You’re clearly very strong Emmet and I haven’t been able to find help from someone so competent or motivated to reach this goal.” Volo said coolly, “That’s why I want your help.”

Emmet stares down the blonde at his feet. “Will you still be so smug?”

“Yes, it’s part of my charm.” Charming is one way to put it.

Emmet sighed. “Yes, I will help you and you will help me.”

“Excellent.” Volo hissed.

“Do I have permission to quit groveling?” Emmet grimaced, well as best as he could with his permanent grin, and helped the handsome man back up.

“I hate you.”

“You too.”

--------

“So are you going to apologize for punching me.”

“No.”

“Will I get a warning next time?”

“Your warning is that it will likely happen again if you aren’t careful.”

Volo nodded and checked his bloody nose.

----------

<- CHAPTER 1 O CHAPTER 3 ->

#trainwreckshipping #tw blood #tw violence #fanfic #fic #pokemon emmet #pokemon volo #emmet/volo #emmet x volo

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

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thatshithurted8 · 3 years

Text

Could’ve Been

Summary: In which Jeff deals with the repercussions of not acting on his feelings towards reader.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: angst, drinking and swear words.

You couldn’t help yourself, but to giggle while you made dinner for Jeff, Jonah and yourself. The sound of your laugh causes Jeff to look up from his barbers station and over to you, a smile appearing on his face at the sound of it.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking about yours and Jonah’s bits.” You state. Jeff just finished filming a barbershop episode with Bryce Hall, but by now the crew and Bryce were long gone.

Jeff smiles to himself as he puts his multiple hair clippers away. Even though you told Jeff and Jonah from the beginning you didn’t want to be in any of the episodes you always found yourself being in them anyway. Whether that be you doing the boys hair for an episode to having your witty remarks and contagious laugh be heard in every video.

Little did you know though, there was a reason why you were such a consistent guest on the show. This reason being the developing feelings both Jeff and Jonah harbored for you. Despite both boys openly flirting with you in seemingly every episode you were in you still remained oblivious to their feelings. However, as time went on unbeknownst to either Jeff or Jonah you started to reciprocate feelings for Jeff. You loved Jonah, but he was more like a brother to you than anything.

As more episodes of you appearing in were published to YouTube it was clear to not only the fans, but to Jeff as well what was happening. Fans constantly pointed out that it was obvious there was a love triangle going on whether it be a bit or not. They concluded this from all of the clips of both boys openly flirting with you along with all of the longing stares they gave you. It made Jeff giddy to know you most likely felt the same way about him the way he felt about you, but he never acted on it. He couldn’t do that to Jonah especially with how obvious it was the boy was in love with you.

“What’re ya making?” Jeff asks walking into the kitchen and peering over your shoulder after finally cleaning up his station. Jonah looks up from his phone from his spot at the kitchen’s island and he can feel his stomach drop at the proximity of you two. He watches as you pick up the spoon you were using to stir and allowed Jeff to taste the homemade tomato sauce for the spaghetti you were making.

“Tastes like what my ma makes, maybe even better, but don’t let her know I said that.” Jeff compliments causing heat to rush to your face and ears as he smiles at your reaction. This seemingly wholesome interaction between you two gets cut short by Jonah coughing and standing up.

“I’m not feeling spaghetti tonight I’m gonna eat out instead.” He says pushing his chair in underneath the island before walking out of his apartment without saying another word.

You look over at Jeff confused, but he just looks down at the ground not knowing what to say while slowly moving away from you. Jeff knew why Jonah was upset. After all Jonah has told him many times he likes you and Jeff did go a little over board with the flirting with you in today’s episode.

“That was weird. What was that about?” You ask Jeff as he sits down at the island and pulls his phone out to text Jonah. Jonah loved your cooking and never missed an opportunity to have some.

Jeff shrugs his shoulders and puts his phone away. “He’s been stressed lately, I don’t know why.” He lies. “We should move up to my apartment he’s gonna probably want to be alone when he gets back.”

“Poor Jonah, I hope he can relax.” You pout while you turn off the stove to bring the food you were cooking up to Jeff’s. The brunette helps you, but can’t help but to feel guilty at your obliviousness. Jeff loved flirting with you after all his feelings for you were strong, but he felt bad for his best friend. It was obvious you didn’t reciprocate Jonah’s feelings let alone were you aware of them.

The two of you carefully maneuver up to Jeff’s apartment with kitchen towels underneath the hot pots so neither of you would burn yourselves. As you get back into the groove of cooking again Jeff turns his stereo on, the Beatles echoing throughout the apartment.

Ever since Jonah seemingly stormed off earlier Jeff has been acting kind of stand offish which you couldn’t help but to notice. However, as each Beatles track played he started to return back to his playful self and your laughs of encouragement egged him on to continue singing along horribly to the music.

After an intense performance of Jeff playing the air guitar and singing to Helter Skelter Come Together came on, making you squeal. That was your go to song for karaoke night. Jeff smiles at you as you grab a ladle and start to sing into it as if it was a microphone.

“He got hair down to his knees. He got to be a joker, he just do what he please.” You horribly sing out while slowly moving your hips back and forth while slowly making your way down to your knees in front of Jeff.

You continue your performance while Jeff tries his hardest to not let his mind wander due to the position you were in.

“One thing I can tell you, you just got to be free.” You sing getting up fast while shaking your head back and forth to the beat of the song. As you fully immerse yourself into your performance Jeff laughs at you with loving eyes, but he is interrupted from watching when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

It was a text from Jonah. “You know my feelings towards Y/N the least you can do is not flirt with her around me.”

Suddenly a wave of guilt washes over Jeff. The moment Jeff met you he could feel the spark between you two and just as he was about to tell Jonah how he was feeling about you he beat Jeff to it and started gushing about you the next time Jonah saw Jeff. This resulted in Jeff never opening up to his best friend to let him know he had feelings for you as well.

“What’s wrong?” You furrow your eyebrows while watching Jeff sit down at his dinning table with an upset facial expression.

Jeff quickly sends out an “I’m sorry” text to Jonah before putting his phone away and nervously running his fingers through his hair. “Nothin.”

Furrowing your eyebrows even more you put down the ladle and make your way over to Jeff, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. “Seriously what’s up?”

“Nothin Y/N.” Jeff says standing up abruptly and gently pushing you off of him, causing your heart to drop.

“Yea okay.” You sassily say back while returning to the stove to cook, the playful mood ruined. There was now an unwanted awkward tension in the air that both you and Jeff felt, but neither of you knew what to say.

Finally Jeff speaks up, not really wanting to say what he was about to, but he felt like he owed it to Jonah to. “Y/N I think you should give Jonah a shot.”

You slowly turn around from the stove to look at Jeff with a confused expression etched onto your face. “What?”

“You guys have so much in common and click well. You guys could be a solid couple.”

Your heart sank initially thinking Jeff didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but the way he was looking everywhere, but you while saying this had you thinking otherwise. “Where is this coming from?” You ask starting to connect the dots and stepping closer to Jeff who doesn’t move away this time.

He remains silent.

“Jeff? Does Jonah have feelings for me?”

Jeff simply nods his head yes as if it was hurting him to say that. He didn’t want you to find out this way. After all, it should be up to Jonah to tell you when he’s ready, but from what Jeff just said he had no choice to tell you.

You let out a sigh. This was not how things were supposed to happen. “I feel bad, but I don’t feel the same for him.” You say inching closer to Jeff. His heartbreaks for Jonah, but he can’t help but selfishly feel hopeful that he may get a chance with you.

“Do you know who I do have feelings for?” You ask placing your hand on Jeff’s chest while a spike of confidence flows through you. Jeff’s breath catches in his throat when you get closer to him, but he instinctively melts into your touch.

“Who Y/N?” He stutters out, nervous that you were going to say Todd or some shit. Jeff wasn’t typically a nervous person, but when it came to you and his strong feelings for you he was.

You roll your eyes at his obliviousness. “You for fuck’s sake. I thought it was obvious.”

A blush and smile washes over Jeff’s face as he looks down at you, but his smile quickly disappears when he remembers Jonah. Seeing his reaction makes you release an annoyed sigh. Although you were oblivious to Jonah’s feelings and sometimes got in your head about Jeff there was no denying he felt the same for you. You just knew he did.

“We can’t do this to Jonah.”

Rolling your eyes you move away from Jeff. The confidence that you had was now annoyance. From the moment you became friends with the two boys you learned that Jonah had a track record of seemingly liking every girl Jeff liked as well. Ultimately causing Jeff to step back so Jonah could have a shot. Yes, Jeff’s being a good friend, but you were sick and tired seeing Jeff’s happiness be put on the line for a guy who wouldn’t do the same for him.

“I know you feel what I feel. I’ve felt it the moment we met two years ago. For the love of everything good stop denying your feelings and finally own up to them for once! You have let Jonah stop you from being happy for so long now. Advocate for yourself Jeff, be selfish for once in your life cause I know you want this as much as I do!”

Jeff looks at you with wide eyes. He was happy that you finally confessed your feelings for him, but he didn’t see this outburst coming even though he knows every word you said was true.

“I can’t Jonah’s my best friend.”

You internally groan, getting even more agitated that Jeff wasn’t seeing what you were seeing. “I understand that, he’s my friend too, but given the opportunity he would push you to the side if that meant he had a shot. I’m not asking you to drop him. I’m asking you to allow yourself to be happy for once.” You say rolling your eyes before turning back to the food cooking on the stove that you seemingly abandoned.

The tension in the air was now thicker than before and Jeff felt awkward in his own apartment. A few minutes go by and he finally speaks up. “Y/N look at me.”

You look over at him with an unimpressed expression, but you notice how close he’s gotten to you. Jeff grabs your hand and starts to gently rub his thumb across the back of it. “You’re right. I do have feelings for you.” He says inching closer to you, causing your heart rate to speed up.

“Then act like it.” You say looking up into his beautiful brown eyes.

Without hesitating Jeff pulls you to his chest by your hand before smashing his lips against yours and caressing your cheek with his free hand. Automatically you kiss back, placing your hand on the nape of his neck while deepening the kiss.

You were the first to pull away, but you rest your forehead against his. “Wow.” That was probably the best kiss you’ve ever had.

Jeff’s cheeks were flushed red and you knew he felt the butterflies from the kiss as well. You two stare into each others eyes seemingly relishing in the moment before guilt begins to wash over Jeff’s face as he realizes what he just did.

“What?” You ask backing away concerned.

He sighs and scratches at his beard. “I want this as much as you do, but I can’t for Jonah’s sake.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep breathe at his words, trying your best to control your emotions. He just said the last thing you wanted to hear. Without saying another word you walk by the brunette and to the front door where you put on your shoes and grab your purse.

“Where are you goin?”

“I’m sorry Jeff, but I can’t be friends with you especially after that kiss. My feelings are just going to keep growing and there’s no point in torturing myself by being around you when I can’t be yours.” You simply state, hurt evident in your voice before opening the door and leaving Jeff’s apartment without another word.

As the door shuts the smoke alarm goes off signaling the food you were cooking was burning, which only made Jeff’s heartbroken mood worse.

“Oh my god Y/N is here! I haven’t seen her in so long!” Zane yells to Jeff over the music before rushing over to you who just arrived to Todd’s birthday party. Ever since that night 8 months ago in Jeff’s apartment you started to distance yourself from Jeff and Jonah along with the Vlog Squad since they were always with either boy. However, you weren’t going to miss Todd’s birthday for the world. After all he was one of your closest friends.

The moment Jeff’s eyes fall onto your frame while you greet the first few people you know his heart rate began to increase. You looked good. Hell even better than you did 8 months ago if that was possible.

You made your rounds through the party, saying hi and having conversations with your friends that you haven’t seen in almost a year while the music filled the large house. Although, it was Todd’s birthday you were hesitant to come. After all you knew Jonah was going to be there and more importantly Jeff as well. But today wasn’t about you it was about Todd. With that being said you decided to swallow your pride and show up for one of your best friends.

However, you tried your best to avoid Jonah and Jeff for the night. Which was working out fine until you ran into Jonah. You guys hugged and caught up and to your surprise Jonah introduces his girlfriend, Francesca to you. Of course you were happy for him, he deserved to be happy, but the two started dating two months after that night at Jeff’s. That meant if you stayed around you and Jeff could’ve been a couple. Yet, you couldn’t help, but to feel hurt. Surely Jeff would’ve jumped on the opportunity to make you his now that Jonah was off the market, but you haven’t heard from the Staten Island stud since a week after what happened. Clearly Jeff’s feelings towards you weren’t as strong as you thought.

As the night continues Jeff builds up enough confidence to approach you. So that’s what he did. Feeling a tap on your shoulder you turn around from your conversation with Todd and are shocked to see Jeff standing in front of you.

“Oh my gosh Jeff! It’s been so long!” You exclaim before pulling the brunette in for a hug, fighting off the awkward tension. This was seemingly a friendly hug, but as you were in his embrace all of the feelings you thought you didn’t feel anymore came rushing back. Jeff felt the same from the moment he saw you walk in. And the familiar but nostalgic smell of your perfume only amplified it.

“How’ve you been?” He asks pulling away, but laughing at your reaction. You didn’t realize how much you missed his laugh until now.

“I’ve been pretty busy with school, but still good. What about you?” Jeff was happy to hear that you were still in school. After months of Jeff convincing you to chase your dreams you finally applied to a university to become a physiotherapist and got in, putting your influencer career on the back burner. He was proud of you for not giving into your fears of having a late start in your degree and quitting.

“I’ve been good as well. The guys and I have been pumping out barbershop episodes basically every week now.” By now Todd was now gone, talking to his other guests.

Although, both of you were telling the truth of what has been up lately neither of you delved into the fact your minds would always wander back to each other. Especially late at night when neither of you could fall asleep.

“How are ya liking school?” Jeff asks stepping a bit closer for you to hear him due to the loud music.Just as you were about to answer his question you feel arms wrap around your waist and a kiss being placed on your cheek.

Justin. Not your boyfriend, but not your friend either.

“Hey baby sorry that I’m late.”

As Jeff watched the guy that looks a bit like him display affection to you a pang of jealously and hurt hits him. Clearly your feelings for him weren’t as strong as Jeff thought they were.

You mumble a “hi” back to Justin and discreetly push him off of you. Suddenly you were all too aware of who you were standing in front of with your rebound by your side.

“Who’s this?” Justin asks pointing at Jeff then looking at you.

“Justin this is Jeff, a friend I haven’t seen in a while.” Another pang of hurt hits Jeff at being friendzoned. “And Jeff this is Justin.”

Jeff swallows the lump in his throat and cuts directly to the chase. “So are you guys a couple?”

You almost choke on your drink at Jeff’s boldness, but Justin answers his question before you could cough out a reply. “Nah, not yet man. Y/N wants to take things slow. Something about not wanting to get her hopes up if things turn sour.” Justin laughs.

Jeff looks at you knowing exactly why you want to take things slow with this guy. You didn’t want to be let down the way you did with Jeff. It was obvious you were still hurt and Jeff’s suspicions of that were proven by your avoidance from his analytical gaze.

An awkward silence falls upon you guys, but Justin doesn’t seem to acknowledge it as he was vibing out to the music. You and Jeff exchange awkward looks while you anxiously bite on the rim of your solo cup.

Just as you were to speak up to bid goodbye to Jeff and get away from the tension Erin comes running up to you. “Y/N it’s our song!” She yells, clearly intoxicated. Before you could protest what was about to happen she drags you over to an open spot in the crowded house to dance to Britney Spears, Toxic. Ultimately leaving Justin and Jeff alone.

As you danced to one of your favourite songs you were grateful that Erin pulled you away because your mind was starting to drift away from Jeff and the way his presence made you feel. The next thing you know the song was over, but you continued to dance with Erin to five other songs while Zane supplied shots for you two.

While each song passed you were oblivious to Jeff’s eyes on you. Justin was talking his ear off about the mixtape he was working on and quite frankly Jeff couldn’t give less of a shit. Every time Justin asked him a question Jeff would simply respond with vague answers, trying his best to suppress his emotions.

Seeing you after all of these months apart it made Jeff realize just how much he missed you. There was no denying he missed you from the moment you walked out of his apartment, but ever since then he tried his best to distract himself with creating. And it was working, but that was until now.

You continued to let loose occasionally glancing over to Jeff’s direction without realizing what you were doing. It wasn’t until you felt arms wrap around your waist that your dance moves come to a stop. You quickly turn around and smile while stumbling into Justin’s arms.

“Hey baby.” You say while wrapping your arms around Justin’s neck while continuing to sway to the music, the alcohol you drank flooding throughout your blood.

“I’m going to get a drink do you want anything?”

You simply nod your head as Mariah walks over to catch up with you and Justin walks away to find the kitchen. Your conversation with Mariah was going great until you felt someone place their hands on the small of your back.

“Excuse me.”

You turn to look and see the person was Jeff walking past you. He makes eye contact with you and you could’ve sworn time stopped in that moment, making you automatically sober up. His eyes were full of longing as well as hurt. Jeff doesn’t stop to talk to you. Instead he keeps on moving through the crowd of people to leave, your eyes yearning after him.

Your focus on the brunette is ultimately broken when Justin hands you a beer. You shake your head and turn back to your conversation with Mariah and introduce Justin to her. As you do this you miss Jeff turning to look back at you one last time, his heart breaking even more as he watches you grasp onto Justin’s arm while laughing loudly.

As he walks out of the party Jeff’s mind wanders to what you two could’ve been ultimately hurting himself more at the thought.

tags: @jeffywittek2020

#jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeffs barbershop #jeff wittek angst #jeff wittek fluff #jeff wittek smut #vlog squad #jeff fm #jeffrey wittek #todd smith #jeff wittek x reader #fic recs

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spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

____

I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Hello, fic request coming through if you are still doing them! Okay, Carlos has not been feeling well so he stays in and doesn't go to his shift. TK still has his shift, so he wants to stay with Carlos to keep an eye on him but Carlos says he is fine. TK is uneasy at work just wants to go back home, he calls Carlos but he is not answering. Tommy says TK can go check up on Carlos, while he is at home, he finds Carlos in bed and when he goes closer, Carlos is not breathing. Paramedic!TK coming through. Super angst ensues but Carlos makes it in the end after some time in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 25: heaving through corrupted lungs

thank you for the prompt!

thanks also to @noxsoulmate for the beta! 💚

ao3 | 2.9k | major character illness, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, brief references to past, canonical character death

“Strand, I know we’re not on a call right now, but you could at least pretend to be focused.”

TK flushes as Tommy’s somewhat less-than amused voice reaches him from the back of the ambulance. He hurriedly locks his phone and shoves it in the glove compartment, though not before checking every messaging app he has for word from Carlos.

There’s none, of course, just like it’s been all day. Logically, he knows Carlos is probably sleeping—god knows he needs it—but that isn’t going to stop him from worrying, or from sending check-up texts every ten minutes. It does, however, stop Carlos from answering, which isn’t very conducive to TK’s ability to concentrate on work today.

“Sorry, Cap,” he says. “It’s just—”

“Carlos is sick and you’re being paranoid, as usual,” Nancy chimes in, audibly rolling her eyes from the driver’s seat. “Look, dude, if he said he’s fine, then he’s probably fine.”

“Well, I’m the paramedic in the relationship, and I say he’s not fine.” TK sighs and forces himself to resist the urge to pull out his phone again. “Carlos likes to lecture me about hiding injuries, but he’s exactly the same when he’s ill; he could be on death’s door and still saying he’s okay. But he hasn’t said anything today, so I’m worried.”

“You’re always worried about him.”

“Welcome to relationships,” Tommy comments. “Seriously though, TK, are you going to be okay to finish this shift? There’s still ten hours to go and we cannot afford for you to be distracted out there.”

TK doesn’t answer right away; on one hand, he’s itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

He’s staring out the window, considering his options, when he realises that he knows these streets. Like, actually knows them. They’re right around the corner from his and Carlos’s home, and an idea strikes TK like a lightning bolt.

“Hey, Cap?” he asks, twisting around in his seat to look at her. “How about we take a lunch break now instead of driving all the way back to the station? There’s a great place nearby, and it’s less likely that we’ll be interrupted by a call before we get food.”

Tommy eyes him suspiciously, clearly not buying his innocent act. “What are you talking about, TK?”

“Mine and Carlos’s place is literally two streets away; we could drop by and I could check in on him and make sure he’s okay. Plus,” he continues, already spotting the argument on Tommy’s face, “I’m not lying about the food. Carlos cooks in bulk, so we’ve got loads of leftover casserole in the freezer.”

Tommy pauses, indecision clear in her expression. She narrows her eyes at TK, scrutinising him. “Will this mean you’ll stop being so distracted?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright.” She sighs and nods, and Nancy switches directions to head towards their home. “I’m holding you to that, Strand.”

TK spends the entire drive, short as it is, drumming his fingers on his knees and trying to keep the ever-growing panic at bay. Carlos is going to be fine.

He has to be.

He jumps out the ambulance before Nancy’s even fully stopped it, cursing himself as he fumbles with his keys. Tommy pats his shoulder soothingly; it doesn’t really calm him down, but TK appreciates the effort and her unconditional support. When he gets inside, he simply waves a hand in the general direction of the freezer, hoping Tommy and Nancy get the message, and barrels upstairs, Carlos’s name bursting from his lips.

“Carlos, babe, you here?” It’s a stupid question; TK had seen the Camaro in the driveway and Carlos is far too ill to want to walk anywhere—or so TK hopes—so he has to be home. But the silence draws out, and TK’s heart is pounding a mile a minute by the time he reaches the door to their bedroom.

“Carlos?” He pushes open the door, sighing in relief when he sees his fiancé sprawled across the bed, dead to the world. It’s a little weird that he hasn’t woken up yet given how loud TK was shouting, but it’s probably just because his body needs the rest. TK would bet that the apocalypse could happen outside the window and Carlos wouldn’t so much as stir.

He tip-toes towards the bed, a soft smile spreading across his lips as anxiety gives way to fondness and love. It’s not until he’s within touching distance of Carlos that he registers just how still he is; just how silent the room is.

This morning, Carlos’s breathing was loud and harsh, punctuated with periodic sniffs and coughs.

Now, he’s not making a sound.

And, as TK drops to his knees and bends over his fiancé’s body, he realises that his chest isn’t moving.

Carlos isn’t breathing.

The panic is back in full force as TK frantically presses his fingers to Carlos’s pulse point, praying for something—a flutter, anything—to indicate that Carlos isn’t… That he’s not…

There’s nothing.

Instinct takes over, TK linking his hands on Carlos’s chest and starting compressions even as his vision blurs with tears and he chokes on the sobs building in his throat.

“Cap!” he yells, not taking his eyes off Carlos. “Cap, up here!”

A minute later, Tommy and Nancy burst into the room, both halting in shock for a moment before jumping into action. Nancy moves to the other side of the bed, already pulling out the ambu bag, while Tommy comes to stand by TK.

“What do we have?” she asks, professional as ever, though there’s a clear worried undertone to her voice.

“No pulse, no respiration,” he manages, voice thick. “Skin is warm to the touch. No clear cause, but patient was congested and moderately feverish during the past few days.”

Tommy nods and gently pushes at TK’s shoulder. “Alright, you did good, TK, but you should let us take over now,” she says gently. “Come on, Nancy and I can handle this.”

TK ignores her, continuing compressions with renewed force. “I have to help him, Cap. I have to.”

“And you have, but now—”

“No!” Later, TK will be ashamed of the way he lost control like that, and he’ll have to apologise to Tommy, but the only thing he can really, truly focus on now is Carlos. He keeps pushing, feeling Carlos’s ribs give under his hands, and forces himself to keep going even though his stomach turns at the idea of causing him any pain. “Come on, baby,” he mutters. “Come on, Carlos, please.”

Time is running out; TK can tell by the way the silence is starting to feel heavier and heavier, by the looks he knows Tommy and Nancy must be exchanging over his head. Carlos’s time is running out, and TK is staring down a future he doesn’t know he can survive, and—

“I have a pulse!” Nancy shouts, and the words don’t register in TK’s head until Tommy’s hands are forcibly pulling him back and Carlos’s chest is moving and his eyelids start to flutter.

Tommy slides into the space left by TK, practiced hands checking Carlos’s vitals. “Carlos, can you hear me?”

She gets no response save for a weak groan, then Carlos’s body goes slack again and his head lolls limply on the pillow. TK takes a panicked step forward, but he’s just as quickly pushed back as Tommy secures an oxygen mask over Carlos’s face.

“Nancy, get the backboard and the gurney ready. Heart rate is arrhythmic and respiration is laboured; radio Austin Memorial and get their cardiac unit on standby.”

Nancy dashes out of the bedroom, and Tommy grabs her own radio. “Dispatch, this is RA 126 responding to a cardiac event at 2204 Allred Drive. Patient is unconscious and breathing, however at the time of arrival, he was in cardiac arrest. Duration unknown.”

“Copy that, RA 126.”

Nancy arrives with the backboard, and TK feels like an invisible observer as he watches his two teammates work. He’s stuck, barely breathing, as he watches Carlos struggle and fight for his life; he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he dies, here and now.

TK moves as if in a nightmare as they get Carlos down the stairs and into the ambulance, eyes constantly locked on his fiancé. He thinks Tommy might say something to him, but he doesn’t hear it and he doesn’t bother to ask—terrible as it is to admit, he doesn’t care right now. He can’t care; there’s no more room inside him for anything else but Carlos.

He wraps a hand around Carlos’s wrist, two fingers resting on his pulse point, and prays that he’ll never have to feel that absence again.

Tommy sits beside him in the waiting room, a silent show of support while they wait for news on Carlos. Or until they catch another call; whichever comes first. Nancy is…somewhere. TK thinks she might have gone to grab some coffee or a snack, but he honestly has no idea. He’s kind of lost track of things, the hospital’s plain white walls turning time into water as they wait, and wait, and wait.

“I know how you feel, you know,” Tommy says, unprompted. “The night that Charles died, I… I spent so long blaming myself. I wasn’t there, you know? And I just kept thinking that if I had been there, if I hadn’t stayed out at Grace and Judd’s, then I might have been able to do something to save him.” She levels him with a firm, yet motherly look, and TK drops his gaze to the floor. “I know now that there was nothing. It kills me to admit it, but what happened would have happened either way, and it’s the same here. Carlos is young, healthy—there was no reason to suspect anything might happen. Certainly nothing like this. You did everything that you could, TK, and you have to hold onto that, no matter what the outcome.”

TK squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, giving up on keeping the tears at bay. Tommy reaches out to wrap one arm around him, but he jerks away, curling in on himself. “It’s not the same,” he whispers, voice thick. “It’s not— I knew, Cap. I knew he was ill and I still left him.”

“You said you guys thought it was just a bad cold.”

“No, I knew. I’m a paramedic, how could I have missed this?”

“These things happen, TK,” she says softly. “It’s cruel, and it’s senseless, and, more than anything, it’s unavoidable. We can go in circles blaming ourselves for it—and I know it’s worse for us; we think we should be able to see everything because it’s our job, right?

“The thing is, we’re the most blind when it comes to the people we love. We think we see everything and we always worry over them, but ultimately we just want to believe that everything’s going to be okay. That they’re going to be okay. It’s hard to accept when they’re not.”

“I should have done more.”

“You did all you cou—”

“No, I didn’t.” He lets out a sob, twisting away from Tommy’s touch once more when she tries to comfort him. “I should have insisted on staying home; I should have thought about going to check on him earlier. We have no idea how long he was lying there, dead—he was dead, Tommy—before we arrived, but if I had been there then I could have gotten him help.”

TK takes a shuddering breath and looks up at his captain, meeting her eyes for the first time since they were in the ambulance. “Tommy, if he dies, then I swear I’ll never forgive myself. Never.”

Tommy looks like she wants to say more, but just as she opens her mouth, her radio crackles to life. She sighs regretfully but stands, clasping TK’s shoulder gently.

“He’ll be okay, TK. Believe in that.”

Looking at Carlos, TK has never believed in anything less. He’s so still and pale on the bed and TK keeps having to check that his chest is still moving, despite the steady beep of the heart monitor and the constant thrum against his fingertips. He hasn’t let go of Carlos’s wrist since he was allowed into the room, and he doesn’t intend to let go until Carlos is back with him, awake and alive and okay.

He’s trying to believe in that outcome as a certainty, but he knows better than that. Carlos might be young and healthy, but the fact still remains that his heart stopped—coming back from that is far from guaranteed.

It’s been three days since the incident, and Carlos’s parents have been in and out, always bringing TK food and trying to engage him in conversation. He tries, for them, but it’s not easy and the attempts always fizzle out before long; TK just doesn’t have it in him anymore to talk and pretend to be positive. Any hope he ever had has abandoned him, the only thing keeping him afloat his grip around Carlos’s wrist.

A tupperware container drops into his lap, and TK looks up to see Andrea standing over him. She reaches across to caress Carlos’s cheek, then sinks into the chair beside TK, giving him a pointed look.

He sighs, attempting a weak smile for her. “I appreciate it, Andrea, but—”

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head firmly. “No more buts; I won’t hear them. My son might not be able to make sure you take care of yourself, but I am more than capable of taking over for him. I am very strict about food, ask any of his sisters.” Her stern look softens and she pats his arm gently. “Venga, mijo. You’ll feel better for it.”

TK looks down at the dish in his lap, doing his best to keep a grimace off his face. It looks and smells delicious, like all of Andrea’s cooking, but the sight of it makes his stomach turn, his gag reflex activating at the very thought of putting any in his mouth.

“Andrea, I…” He shakes his head and picks the container up with his free hand, handing it back to her. “I can’t.”

And it’s not just that TK can’t handle any food at the moment, though that certainly plays into it.

But they’re tamales.

The Reyes family recipe tamales, passed down through generations, which Carlos has been slowly attempting to teach TK. Which Carlos always makes on special occasions, and sometimes just for the hell of it.

Which Carlos made the night he proposed.

Andrea looks set to argue, but TK forces an end to the conversation by making her take the container and turning back to Carlos.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, knowing he’s disappointed her. “It’s just hard.”

She sighs and rubs his back. “I know. Just don’t come to me when Carlos wakes up and realises you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

That almost gets a laugh out of him, and TK looks over to smile at Andrea. It’s a brittle thing, but it’s a smile all the same, which is more than he’s managed in three days. She smiles back at him, and it helps him feel not so alone in all this.

A weak groan is all the warning he gets before, “Are you turning down my mother’s cooking?” reaches his ears, and TK gasps, whipping around to stare at the bed.

Right into Carlos’s eyes.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, tears springing to his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“Hey, baby.” Carlos’s voice is rough and rasping, his eyes fluttering closed again a second later, though TK can tell that he’s still awake. He reaches to the table and pours a cup of water, encouraging Carlos to lift his head and drink through the straw.

“Slow sips, that’s it,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb gently along Carlos’s wrist, still holding on tightly.

Once Carlos has drunk his fill, he opens his eyes again and looks up at TK, gaze searching his face. “I love you,” he rasps, smiling gently, “but did you really just say no to my mom’s tamales?”

TK splutters, but he can’t keep the smile off his own face, shaking his head fondly at Carlos. “I love you too, idiot,” he says. “And tamales don’t taste the same without you there to eat them with me.”

“Good thing I’m here now, then.”

TK hums. “Guess it is.”

(Later, after the nurses and doctors have come and gone, TK will pick up the tub of tamales, left behind by Andrea when she went to tell everyone the good news.

He and Carlos will split one, pressed close together in the bed to avoid getting crumbs on the sheets. Carlos will be smiling at him the entire time, and TK will kiss him over and over, relishing the sensation of Carlos kissing him back.

And it’ll be the best damn tamale TK has ever eaten.)

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capricorn-stark · 3 years

Text

Othello Pt 2

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am again, kinda long, swearing

a/n: i mention Dana Harlowe and Annie B’s diner, they’re both from RHATO’s final two issues lol. still dedicated to @tadpole-san even though she hate crimed me

part 1

“I thought you said you wanted to get coffee,” you started when you noticed Jason veering away from where your regular coffee shop should’ve been, choosing to cut through the street and venture to a different path entirely. “Because you just-”

“Yeah, I know, I’m hungry,” he declared, slipping his hands into his pockets and tilting his head towards another row of stores illuminated with neon-lights and flickering street lamps. “This place has better stuff than overpriced coffee, promise.” You let out an exaggerated gasp of shock at that notion and he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his.

It was always strange to be walking around Gotham during the night, but with Jason by your side, it was far less worrying than it usually was. On your own, you couldn’t even imagine traveling around the dark streets littered with muggers, petty thieves, and the occasional evil clown prince or two - one minute, you’d be speed-walking down the streets, the next minute you could end up as the lucky winner of Scarecrow’s fear-gas testing special.

You actually knew someone who had been in that very situation. They were in Arkham now.

With Jason, it was almost ridiculous how much safer you felt. It didn’t take a whole lot of observational skills to notice how the men who usually leered at you and your friends when you passed shrank and slipped into the shadows when a man over 6 feet in height and built like a tank walked past them. Jason himself was in a good mood tonight, his shoulders relaxed and a slight smile playing at his lips while he told you about the local theatrical-adaptation of Othello that was currently under production near Gotham University.

You were getting used to seeing him like this - not so moody, smiling, present - but you had also noticed the expressions he had when no one was looking, when he wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, when his gaze had a certain intensity to them that you hadn’t ever quite seen before. He didn’t really like talking about himself or his life, preferring to keep conversations centered around school or you. The few times you had tried asking about his family and work had all led to him clamming up and quickly dropping the subject, his body language rigid and completely closed-off, the crease by his brows deepening as his expression transformed into a scowl. It was the first time you realized that Jason Todd could actually be genuinely scary - and the first time you realized there was a much, much darker side of him that you weren’t sure if you wanted to see.

You knew it wasn’t your place to pry, and you had never brought it up since - but you couldn’t help but wonder just what had happened to make someone like him so angry.

“...and I figured we could - did you just zone out on me?”

You snapped back into attention at his rather dramatic tone, flinching out of your character analysis to pay actual mind to the man in question himself.

“No, I just-”

“Yeah? What did I just say?” Jason challenged, grasping your arm to pull you away from the traffic lane you had nearly walked right into. His disbelieving expression made your face burn red - but much to your relief (and embarrassment), he was laughing.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t completely zoned out-”

“After you literally walked into traffic? Yeah, I can tell,” he deadpanned, tugging you towards him right as the cars slowed to a halt, the pedestrian signal blinking above you. The sudden action and the sudden closeness made your face heat up - something he apparently noticed when his bright green eyes flickered across your features and caused a smirk to tug at his lips. Instead of the teasing you had braced yourself for, you watched as he tilted his head towards the diner across the street, letting go of your arm. “It’s right over there, c’mon.”

He was already moving towards the crosswalk when you shook yourself out of your stupor, quickly moving to catch up with him and glancing up at the diner. The big glowing red letters on the sign beside it read “Annie B’s”.

“They got good food,” he explained at your questioning look, leaning forwards to swing the door open for you. “I used to hang around here a lot when I was a kid.”

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen this place before,” you commented, entering and hearing Jason close the door behind him, taking a quick glance around before you took a seat in one of the cherry-red and white leather booths. “Kinda wish I had.”

The entire diner had a vintage touch to it, from the luminescent pink and blue lights lining the ceilings to the multicolored tile floors, the cherry-red barstools, and even the jukebox in the corner cranking out old-timey tunes. There were only a few other people sitting at the bar and chilling in a booth a few down from your own, all too absorbed in their own worlds to pay much mind to the two of you. You could hear the sizzling of the food being made back in the kitchen, emitting a heavenly aroma that made your stomach growl not-so subtly. Jason laughed as he slid down across from you, sliding one delicate paper menu over as he scanned over the other.

“Pretty cool, huh? And like I said, they got great food.” He nodded at your stomach and you rolled your eyes, eliciting another laugh from him. “Knock yourself out, ‘cus dinner’s on me.” Before you could open your mouth to object, the kitchen doors flew open and a woman stepped out holding a heaping tray of food.

“One chicken fried steak with a side of mashed potatoes and rings,” she announced as she set down the trays in front of a man sitting a few booths down, already moving to refill his glass with a pitcher of water. “Enjoy your dinner, Phil.”

“Thanks, Dana,” the man told her as he picked up his fork and gave her a crooked-toothed grin, already digging into his food. “Always do.”

“I sure hope so,” the lady agreed, moving to walk back towards the kitchen before catching sight of them. She broke into a grin at the sight of Jason sending her a playful salute, changing course to head towards their booth instead. “Well, look who it is!” she exclaimed, securing her curly black hair out of her face with an orange-and-green bandana as she stopped in front of them. “Jason Todd decided to drop by for a little visit, did he? And he brought a friend.”

The sight of her beaming at you was too contagious for you to not smile back up at her in return.

“Hi, Dana,” Jason grinned, nodding at you as she looked between the two of you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Dana Harlowe. Her dad runs this place.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Dana told you with another grin, leaning forwards to shake your hand in greeting. “When I decided to help out at the diner tonight, I wasn’t expecting a miracle. I definitely didn’t think this boy would ever walk in here with a date of all things-”

“Oh as if,” Jason scoffed loudly as the two of you laughed, face reddening beneath the bright colored lights. “Have you seen me? I was born a lady-killer.” He shot you a wink and you sent him another playful eye roll.

“Yeah, you sure killed me alright.” Dana burst out laughing again as Jason immediately let out a protest of betrayal at your words.

“I like you,” she decided when she finally managed to straighten, taking out her notepad and pen with another brilliant smile. “Did y’all decide what you wanted yet, or do you need another minute?” Jason glanced over at you and you nodded back up at her.

“Sure, I’m ready.”

Dana headed back into the kitchen for your food after you ordered, leaving the two of you to sit in a comfortable, familiar silence, the sound of forks scraping against porcelain plates and vintage beats being the only disruptors.

“I used to hear these songs on Gotham City Radio all the time,” Jason finally began after taking a sip of his water, fixating his gaze back on you as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the leather seat. “Growing up, I mean. I still do, sometimes.”

“Classic jazz?” You grinned, taking a small sip of your own water in turn. “You? I didn’t get that vibe from you.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug.

“At my old place, I had, uh, a butler. He wasn’t really a butler, honestly, he was more like a dad than anything. Or, like, a really cool grandpa. He had a whole rack of guns and shit he kept polished in this big cabinet thing-” You raised a brow, attempting to hide your amusement by taking another sip of water. You were a little surprised that he had actually started talking about his family at all - you weren’t about to ruin it, and boy, did you want to know more about the guy. “And he used to play that station all the time at home, GC Radio Classics. I guess I kinda missed hearing it.”

“He does sound pretty cool,” you admitted with a smile, setting the glass back down. “Do you still visit him?” Jason hesitated a few moments before attempting a nonchalant shrug. You noticed the tightness in his body language again, the same sort of tightness you saw when he was closing up around you.

“Not much anymore,” he finally said, letting his shoulders drop a little bit. “It’s been...a while. Just got some shit going on.” You watched him take another drink before you spoke again.

“If you ever want to talk about it with me - or talk about anything, really - you can, Jason.” It wasn’t just the products of your psych major showing through you - you meant your words, and the slight smile playing at his lips seemed to signal that he had understood that as well.

“Don’t worry about it, seriously. But thanks.” You nodded, looking up again when the kitchen doors flew open once again, Dana heading out towards your table with another two trays heaped with mouth-watering food.

“And here you go,” she smiled as she set your respective meals down before you, taking your glasses to refill them as well. “Enjoy your food, you two. Call me over if there’s anything else you need, yeah?” You both thanked Dana as she sashayed away again, letting the doors swing shut behind her once again after checking up on the rest of her customers.

Neither of you wasted any time digging into the food as soon as it appeared, finishing most of it in mere minutes like the starving university students you were, breaking the silence with the occasional offer at trying something the other had gotten. The aroma had been no false-alarm - it tasted even better than you had anticipated, and that was certainly saying something. Savory fries, buttery biscuits, and smoky burgers were better than anything else you had in a while.

“How did I not find this place sooner?” you sighed as you pressed a napkin to your lips, leaning back against your seat as you tried to process just how full you really felt. At this rate, you would have to roll your way out of the place. “I know you said it was gonna be good, but I didn’t expect it to be this good.”

“I told you,” Jason grinned as he finished up the last of his burger and fries, crumpling up his own napkins and setting them into the tray to throw away. “I know good food places! I grew up around these streets.”

“So did I!” you protested as he laughed and stood up to throw all the trash away, setting the trays back where they were supposed to go and pulling out his wallet just as Dana appeared by the kitchen’s window with two milkshakes.

“You can count these on the house,” she told him as she slid them over, ignoring his protests and sending you a wink as you stood up from the booth as well. “Enjoy your night - and it was real nice meeting you, Y/N. Todd, I better be seeing you around more often.”

“Yes ma’am,” he deadpanned, his smile warm as she waved them out anyways. “Thanks, Dana.”

You called out a thanks to her as well, tightening your jacket around you as you left the warmth of the diner and felt the chill of Gotham’s dreary night hit you once more. Jason handed you your milkshake, bringing his own straw to his lips and taking a sip.

“You guys seem close,” you noted with a smile as you took a sip yourself, relishing the cold, sweet taste of the shake in delight. Jason chuckled at that, shrugging as you walked along the illuminated sidewalks in no particular direction.

“She’s like an annoying sister to me. I’ve known her since I was a puny kid.” You watched as the corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile as he took another sip. “Dana, her sister, and her dad were good to me growing up. They’re great people.”

That, you had been able to tell just from meeting the woman herself.

“I liked meeting her. She was pretty cool.” He chuckled again and spared you another glance. “And thanks, by the way, for dinner tonight. It really was really good. And way better than just coffee.”

“I told you,” he grinned, flickering those brilliant green eyes across your face again. “I know where the good spots around Gotham are. We don’t have a lot of them, but when we do have them, they’re pretty damn good.” That elicited a laugh from you and Jason stopped beneath one of the streetlamps lining the sidewalk.

“You did better than I expected, Todd.” He made a big show of popping his collar and scoffing at your comment.

“What, you expected me to not impress you? Do you think that low of me?”

“That theatre minor of yours is really starting to make an entrance, you can put it away now-”

“Hey!” You burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join. You felt pretty sure that he looked the happiest right then and there than you had ever really seen him - whatever that might’ve meant. Pretty soon, your laughter was residing and he had taken a slight step forwards, a cheeky grin still plastered on his face. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

You looked back up at him with a nonchalant shrug despite fighting back another smile yourself.

“Yeah, it was a pretty good night.” His gaze flickered towards your lips before settling back on your face.

“Yeah?” The sounds of honking cars and the murmurs of people walking past all around you felt like they were being drowned out somehow when you felt him get a little bit closer. The smile tugged at the corner of your mouth again.

“Yeah.” Another moment passed before Jason finally closed the distance between you, meeting your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss for a man who looked like he could snap a baseball bat with his bare hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck after yet another moment, feeling him draw you even closer to him at the action.

Literally and figuratively, it was a sweet kiss. The milkshake truly had done wonders.

You were a little breathless when he finally pulled away, and you hoped the shitty streetlight would keep him from seeing just how red your face had gone. Jason was grinning at your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck.

“C’mon, that was better than pretty good.”

“Shut up,” you told him immediately, swatting his arm and moving to continue your walk again as he laughed and easily moved to catch up to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“It was! You gotta admit it, that was pretty great-”

“Shut up, Jason.”

Just like that, once again, you had Othello of all things to thank for your night. Maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been such a terrible book after all.

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natasha-romanoff-deserved-better · 3 years

Text

The Day The Music Died

Summary:

“This’ll be the day that I die,” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told.

Natasha never wanted to hear that song again.

Word Count: 3437

Also on Ao3 here

~~~

Natasha stares at the bandages wrapped tightly around Clint’s left wrist, eyes locked in on the red spots where extra blood had been soaked up by the gauze. Clint’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, softly drumming along to the song playing from the radio as he maneuvers the car around a bend in the old back road.

“I can feel you staring.” He says, snapping Natasha out of her trance. Clint takes his eyes off the road for a second to catch her gaze. “Nat, I’m fine. I promise.” It’s not going to change what happened, but he still tries. These types of missions were always hard on Natasha, and it’d only been made that much worse when one of the target’s bodyguards had managed to catch Clint’s forearm with a knife, dangerously close to critical veins. There had been a lot of blood and although Nat was easily able to stitch his skin back together, the close call had scared her - even if she refused to admit it out loud.

“I know you’re fine, idiot. It’s impossible to get rid of you.” She snorts and sends him a small smile. The radio cuts into a commercial, advertising their station and morning talk show before launching into another song.

A long, long time ago

I can still remember how that music

Used to make me smile

Natasha frowns at the song as an alarm bell begins to blare in the back of her head at the notes that drift out of the speakers. She furrows her eyebrows at it, a sinking feeling coming over her. Images from another time threaten to overtake her, and she’s too weak to stop them.

And I knew if I had my chance

That I could make those people dance

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

A blonde little girl, only five years old, prances around the front yard. She’s barefoot and wearing her pink sparkly sundress, hair pulled up into pigtails as she tries to catch a ladybug. Natasha watches from her perch among the tree branches. Mom Melina is kneeled on the ground as she works on the garden in front of the house, planting new flowers to replace the dead ones. She’s brought her portable stereo out, sitting it on the porch and playing at full volume. Natasha isn’t even aware of what song is playing until Yelena is running up to the porch, begging her to play it again. Mom Melina does. And then plays it again with an amused smile and quirked eyebrow when Yelena asks for a third time. Yelena cheers with joy as it starts again and rises to her tip toes as she begins to twirl and dance to the music.

Nobody knows what it is about the song that Yelena likes so much, but she loves it. She constantly asks for it, so much so that Melina loads it onto a cassette tape and keeps it in the car just for her. Natasha doesn’t quite understand what most of the lyrics are talking about, but she decides she doesn’t mind the song for Yelena. In a way, it fits- Yelena is the picture perfect little all american girl, apple pie personified.

Natasha’s frozen in her seat. She pleads with herself to move, to turn off the radio. She doesn’t want to hear this. She knows what verses are coming next, and her breathing catches in her throat as they start. These words hold no comfort for her anymore.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

And them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Her sister’s high-pitched voice singing the words, a beat behind as she moves her hands cheerfully, lost in the rhythm of the song. She’s buzzing with excitement- ready for her promised big adventure, too young and oblivious to notice their parent’s anxiety or her sister’s internal crisis happening in the seat next to her. Natasha can’t look at her sister, she doesn’t want her to see the panic she knows is written over her face. Instead, she keeps her eyes locked out the window, trying desperately to commit everything to memory. The red, white, and blue lights that light up the night, the football game where a band plays and people cheer, the abundance of restaurants where families are sat enjoying dinner. The normalness of it all makes her angry - how can all these people be so casual when her world is falling apart at the seams? Yelena begins to sing the verse about dying, and it takes everything within Natasha to not snap at her. She can’t bear to listen to her little sister singing about dying, so blissfully unaware of the possibility of the verse becoming true at any moment now. Natasha should say something to her, tell her to stop, tell her what was happening. But the lure of pretending one last time is too great for her to give away. She doesn’t say anything.

Did you write the book of love

A photo album, thick with pictures of them all sit on the shelf. It’s Natasha’s favorite thing in the house, and she often sneaks out of bed to stare at the photos. Realistically, she knows they’re all fake. But if she tries hard enough, thinks long enough, she swears she can recall the events. Thanksgiving had been fun; the food had been the best she’d ever tasted. Their summer vacation had been at the beach, and she swears she can feel the sun warming her face and the sand between her toes.

And do you have faith in God above

If the bible tells you so?

She and Clint had gone to a church once, as part of an undercover mission. She’d ended up having to walk out in the middle of the service. It had been too much. She could never believe in it, even if she wanted to. No loving God would ever create the horrors she had seen before her 13th birthday or give her a family purely to steal it all away so violently.

Can music save your mortal soul

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Natasha’s feet hit the ground, still en pointe, as she lands the perfect Grand Jete. She tosses her arms out in the landing pose and holds it for a second before excited clapping breaks her concentration. Yelena sits there, smiling wide as possible, clad in her own black leotard and pink tights. She’s in the younger classes, not as advanced as Natasha yet, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. Yelena scrambles to her feet, crossing the floor to stand next to her sister.

“Teach me, teach me!”

It’s a complicated step, and Natasha knows she’s not ready for it just yet. She doesn’t want her to get hurt.

“I’ll teach you when you’re older, okay?” Yelena nods, and turns to the mirror, copying Natasha’s arm positions.

Natasha tries to force another breath into her lungs, but it’s harder now, her throat and chest constricted. She squeezes her eyes closed, trying to block out the flashbacks that continue to assault her.

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own

And moss grows fat on a rolling stone

But that’s not how it used to be.

Fifteen years. It had been fifteen goddamn years since Natasha had seen her sister for the last time. She refuses to let herself think of what might have happened to her. It pains her to think of her baby sister, who had once been so full of life, in such a horrid place.

Natasha wraps her arms around herself, arms holding each other tightly. She digs her fingernails into her skin, attempting to give herself something else to focus on and ground her. It doesn’t work.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the Levee was dry

Them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

And signing this will be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Natasha doesn’t know how long they’ve been stuffed into this shipping container, crowded against a hundred other little girls. They’re all dirty, all starving, all terrified. The scent of sweat and urine threatens to suffocate them, the air hot and heavy.

She has tugged Yelena into her lap, arms protectively crossed over her torso to hold her close- hasn’t let go of her since the second they were put into here for fear of losing her amongst the other girls. She’s so tiny, and Natasha doesn’t trust any of the others.

Yelena stirs, a small whimper falling from her lips. Natasha tries to shush her gently, but it doesn’t work, and her sister keeps squirming. Her cries are starting to grow in volume, and one of the girls next to them sends them a dirty look.

“Yelena, Yelena. I’m here. You’re with me.” It’s the only words of comfort Natasha can offer her. She wishes she could tell her they were okay, that she was safe, that they were going to be fine. Instead, all she can do is assure her that her older sister had her. Yelena had stopped calling out for her mom a while ago, after her calls went unanswered and she finally realized no one was coming to rescue them. Natasha shifts them around, turning her back towards the others and away from prying eyes. Natasha turns Yelena on her lap, so that Yelena is facing her. “Yelena, look at me.”

Yelena shakes her head, so Natasha gently cups both sides of her face, titling her face up so that she has no choice. Yelena doesn’t resist, just locks her tear-filled eyes onto Natasha.

“I’m scared,” Yelena sobs through hitching breaths as her body trembles.

Natasha clutches her tighter and brings her closer, so close their noses are almost touching. “Don’t cry, Lena. Just sing with me.” Yelena frowns at her in confusion, and Natasha starts to sing under her breath, quietly, so that Yelena is forced to quite herself down and focus to hear the words.

She starts with the chorus, the part that Yelena knows and likes the best. “Bye, Bye, Miss American pie,” Natasha sings. The corner of Yelena’s lips quirks up in recognition. Nat pauses, prompting Yelena to sing the next line herself.

Her voice quivers, but she sings it anyways. “Drove my chevy to the levee…” Natasha nods in encouragement and joins her for the next verse. “But the levee was dry.” They sing the next few lines together. They near the last two lines of the chorus though, and this time, Natasha can’t allow her to sister to sing the last line. They hurt too much, they’re too real.

So she interrupts Yelena, skipping forward past the “Day that I die” line and jumping right into the next verse. Yelena doesn’t even question it, just follows her sister’s lead and allows herself to be completely absorbed in the whispered song.

Natasha sings almost the entire song to her sister, doing her best to remember as many lyrics as she could, and then starts over. She keeps singing, over and over again, until her voice starts to crack, and Yelena’s eyes are slipping closed in exhaustion.

“Tasha?” Clint calls, picking up the tension in his partner. She doesn’t respond, just stays frozen in her seat, locked in her own little world. “Hey,” He calls, a bit louder this time. He takes one hand off the wheel and places it on her shoulder gently. “Nat. What’s going on?” She’s shaking.

Instead of answering, Natasha claps her hands over her ears and leans forward, bending at the waist so she can rest her head atop her knees. She’s shaking her head, muttering something under her breath.

We all got up to dance

Oh, but we never got the chance

“Teach me, teach me!”

“…When you’re older.”

Natasha never got the chance to teach Yelena that ballet move. She wonders just how many other promises to her baby sister she’s broken.

“I’m going to pull over, Nat, okay?” A male’s voice comes from somewhere close by. His hand moves from her shoulder onto her back, to rub small circles on it.

Do you recall what was revealed

The day the music died?

She had never felt so stupid. Standing on that airway strip, holding a gun out in front of her, blocking Yelena. She had let her fall into the lie, childishly believe that maybe, just maybe Dad Alexei loved them like he said he did. As Alexei kneels before them, showing no sympathy to his daughters tears, she realizes that had never been the case.

The chorus starts again, and she feels bile rise in her stomach. “Bye Bye Miss American Pie” Natasha remembers how she had stolen that gun from a solider, shoved her sister behind her and threatened to kill numerous grown men for touching her. How desperately she had clung to Yelena when they’d been ripped apart. She hadn’t been ready to give up her sister, not ready to say goodbye to the American dream lie they had built side by side. “Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the levee was dry” The memory of Yelena’s face during those few days had haunted Natasha’s dreams for years. It had frightened her- even more so than the men with oversized guns. She had never seen her sister, who laughed at everything and loved the world with everything in her, look so despondent. She had tried telling her jokes to pry some kind of smile out of her. It didn't work. “This’ll be the day that I die” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told. That day, when dad Alexei handed them back to Russians soldiers, they had both died. Died only to be remade and ruthlessly forged into something new, nothing more than weapons of mass destruction and trained killers.

There’s cussing to her left that pulls her back halfway to the present. She’s in a car, and she’s covered in vomit that runs down her front and onto her chest and lap. Clint has a hand on her, and he’s telling her just a second, Nat.

“Clint?” She asks, still slightly confused. She can still feel the weight of a smaller body on top of her, feel the soft blonde curls against her chin.

“I’m here, Tasha. Hold on.”

Oh, and there we were all in one place

A generation lost in space

With no time to start again

Countless little girls standing in a straight line, blank expressions, awaiting their next commands. They’re all mirrors of each other, no identity left for any of them to cling onto. Natasha scans over each girl, searching for the blonde waves she knows so well. She can’t find her.

The song drags on as Clint navigates the car off the road, coming to stop. He jumps out and jogs around, flinging Natasha's door open. She doesn’t move, so he reaches in and unbuckles her before slipping his hands into her armpits and pulling her out of the car. She tumbles to the ground, falling onto her knees.

And as I watched him on the stage

My hands clenched in fists of rage

No angel born in hell

Could break that Satan’s spell

Natasha catches Dreykov’s eyes on them, and she tightens her hold on Yelena’s hand. Her sister makes a small noise - she’s going to have bruises with how tight Nat is holding her- but doesn’t pull her hand away. Natasha curls her free hand into a tight fist, ready to swing if need be.

Dreykov says something to the men with guns next to him and points a finger at them. The soldiers start moving forward, and Natasha backtracks, tries to back up but Yelena stumbles at the sudden change in direction.

I saw Satan laughing with delight

The day the music died

Natasha screams her sister's name, gripping onto her as tightly as she can. Soldiers have hands on them both, ripping them away from each other. Dreykov is standing several feet away, a tiny smile on his face. Yelena is shrieking, hands desperately trying to keep her grasp on Natasha with all the strength in her six-year-old frame.

They lose their grip on each other and are dragged apart. Yelena’s voice dies out as they carry away the only thing Natasha had left.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie -

“Turn it off!” Natasha pleads, before promptly vomiting even more onto the ground. Clint’s hands support her head, keeping her from falling. “Off, please. I can’t. Turn it--” Clint’s hands leave her for a second as he scrambles over her, reaching through the open passenger door and slamming the power button on the radio.

Natasha lets out a breath, thankful for the silence. With the song no longer playing, her head is beginning to clear, the painful images retreating somewhere she could lock them away again.

“All done?” Clint asks her. She spits out one last string of bile and nods her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as Clint helps her sit up and lean against his leg. He doesn’t rush her, just allows her to sit and try to regain control of her breathing as he combs his fingers through her hair.

When Natasha can finally think again, she frowns at herself in disgust. “Sorry,” She apologizes.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” he tells her. Clint reaches over and opens the backdoor, grabbing his go bag and digging around until his fingers find one of his clean T-shirts. He yanks it out, closes the door. “Can I help you change, or do you want to do it yourself?”

He’s honestly not even sure if she could change herself right now, with how much she was still shaking, but he gives her the choice anyways. She shrugs her shoulders, her way of accepting help without actually having to accept. “Okay, arms up.” Natasha raises her arms, and Clint carefully tugs her shift off her by the collar, making sure the filthy outside never touched any of her skin. He crumples up the shirt into a ball and tucks it in a bag. He bunches up his shirt at the neck hole and slides it over her head before gently guiding her arms through. It takes a lot for his partner to get to this state, and his concern grows with every passing second that goes by and Natasha is still out of it. He fixes the shirt over her torso, making sure she’s completely covered and then sinks down to the ground, leaning his back against the wheel of the car. There’s a soft breeze in the air, the slight chill nipping at their skin a welcome distraction. “C’mere,” he says, and guides Natasha into his side. She tenses for a moment, but then lets her head drop onto his shoulder, allowing Clint to take her weight. He wraps an arm around her to hold her close.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha repeats, and this time Clint doesn’t say anything. He knows she’s not apologizing to him, but someone not in their presence. He doesn’t push it. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, on her own time. He has guesses though. Clint had an older brother, and he knows what a protective but burnt-out older sibling looks like. He’s seen the way her eyes linger on certain little girls in public before snapping back, caught the way she had once brushed her fingers over a fabric doll with pink hair on a store shelf, heard the way she is able to understand children’s speech without any effort. She’s never mentioned a younger sibling before, but sometimes in her sleep, she mumbles a girl’s name, her hands clenched in fists as if trying to hold on to her.

He presses a kiss to her temple, a silent promise. He won’t push her- He doesn’t need to know exactly what happened. He knows how to support her and how to take care of her when she needs it and for now, that’s enough.

Years later, Natasha will press her forehead to an adult Yelena’s, both panting from the fight, Yelena upside down and laying in the wreckage of the red room. Dreykov is finally dead, by Yelena’s hand. Yelena cracks a joke, and Natasha smiles. They’ll never again be those little girls they once were, but they’ve finally found each other.

#natasha romanoff #yelena belova #kid natasha romanoff #kid yelena belova #songfic #black widow 2021 #black widow fic #angst #natasha centric #marvel liho #mcu #mcu fanfic #Clint barton #he's here too #look i actually wrote something

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anagentinwriting · 3 years

Text

Lifeline - Part 11

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 2500+

Warnings: Heart attack, fluff, angst, language

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

It was a slow day at the call center, which was a good thing, and you couldn’t help but wonder what Steve was planning. Earlier, he texted you, asking if you wanted to get lunch together, and you accepted. It’s been a couple of weeks since you hung out and had a movie night, but since then, you’ve hung out a few other times at your house watching movies and talking. It was innocent fun, nothing serious, two friends enjoying each other’s company. But, you did fall asleep on him one night after a late shift, but luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. Neither of you labeled them as dates because neither of you were looking for a relationship. You both joked about them being dates though, but they never blossomed into anything, even though one night you hoped they would.

Your phone line ringing pulled you from your daydream. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“Um...my daddy can hardly breathe?”

“Okay, hold on for a second, sweetie.” The address popped right up since she was calling from a landline and you dispatched an ambulance to their location. It was much easier to send help when they called from landlines; cell phones were tricky because you needed to go through the carrier if you needed to get their exact location. “The ambulance is on their way.”

“Good...they need to get here real fast,” the little girl said in a calm voice.

“Okay, sweetie, what’s your name?

“Duranna Dey. My daddy’s name is Rhomann Dey.”

“Okay. How old are you, Duranna?

“I am five years old.”

“Okay, Duranna, I need to know if your father is still awake?”

“Yeah. He called 911-- then couldn’t really talk--he gave me the phone then.”

“Your dad is a smart man. Duranna, is your front door unlocked?”

“Uh…is our front door unlocked, Daddy? Uh, no.”

“Okay, Duranna, can you go and unlock the front door for me?”

“Sure…okay, I am going to go. Don’t worry, Daddy!” You heard shuffling over the line. “Front door unlocked.”

“That’s good, Duranna. Now can you go ask your dad if this has ever happened to him before?”

“Yeah,” she said as you heard shuffling through the phone. “Dad, has this ever happened before? He says no, and he is still awake.”

“Good. Can you ask him if he has any kind of chest pain?”

“Do you have chest pain? Yes, yes, he does.”

“Okay, hold on for a second, okay, Duranna.”

“Okay,” she replied.

You radioed the paramedics over your headset and told them the situation so they would know what they were walking into upon their arrival.

“I’m back, Duranna. Is he still awake?”

“Yeah, we’re in our jammies. Is that going to be okay, or should we get changed?”

“No, that will be fine,” you smiled at her question. “I need you to stay with your dad to make sure he stays awake.”

“Okay. I got it. Stay calm, Dad.” You could hear sirens coming over the line. “They are here now; should I hang up?”

“Yes, Duranna, you can hang up.”

“Okay, thank you, bye.”

The line went dead, and you couldn’t help but smile. Duranna was one strong, calm, brave little girl in her given situation, where some adults wouldn’t be. It was surprising, and you couldn’t help but praise her parents. You sighed, taking off your headset and setting it on the table as you went on your lunch break.

When you walked out of your building, you saw Steve standing outside holding onto a leash with a beautiful golden retriever attached to it. You smiled, walking right up to them and crouched down to pet him.

“Awww, you must be Cosmo,” you cooed, scrunching up his face in your hands, and quickly licked your cheek. “You’re so cute, yes you are.”

“He wanted to meet you. Wouldn’t shut up about it all morning,” Steve grinned under his baseball cap.

“Well, it is lovely to meet you, too,” You added, bopping him on the nose. You stood up, smiling at Steve. “What are we doing for lunch?”

“Since I brought Cosmo, I thought we could take a stroll through the park. I know there are a few food trucks in the area we could check out.”

“Sounds fun,” you smirked, walking next to Steve with Cosmo out in front. “How has Cosmo been adjusting?”

“He’s doing better. He’s a little off at certain times during the day, but the vet says it’s pretty normal, and it’s all a part of the process.”

“Well, he looks happy.” You let out a soft chuckle, watching Cosmo look around with his tongue hanging out. “And he is so cute.”

“Thanks for the compliment. You know dogs do take after their owners,” he winked, forcing you to roll your eyes.

“Okay, wise guy,” you scoffed, nudging him in his side. “How’s Station 107?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Your brother gave me permission to ask you out a while ago, and he keeps reminding me about it.”

You chuckled. “Did he? Clearly, he doesn’t know how much of a guy you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You come off all innocent, but let’s be real, you’re a real troublemaker.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that information,” he chuckled, waving it off as you shake your head at him.

“It’s crazy how he gave you permission, yet you haven’t done anything about it?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him. “And here's Cosmo, who by the way I just met, and he has already gotten further with me than you have.”

“That hurts.” Steve feigned a pained look, holding his hand over his heart. “In my defense, I didn’t want you to feel pressured or pushed into something you weren’t ready for.”

“You never did, and that’s what makes you a good man, Steve,” you confessed, seeing his signature smirk spread across his face. “But, my life is enough of a mess as it is, and I wouldn’t expect you or anyone else to try and take that on.”

“That’s not it at all. I’m not worried about what happened in your past. I mean, I hate what you had to go through, but it’s never going to scare me off.”

You had no words. No comeback. All you could do was smile. You reached over and grabbed a hold of his hand. “Friends, hold hands, right?”

“Yeah, last time I checked,” he grinned, squeezing your hand. You felt your face heat up under his gaze as you looked away. You tried to weld your lips together, but it was no use. You had a feeling a smile would be plastered on your face all through lunch.

You and Steve settle on getting Mexican at Wade’s Chimichangas truck when you noticed the other truck was an ice cream truck. You stood in line and noticed the guy taking orders was very chatty and looked oddly similar to Ryan Reynolds.

“Next, oh, and what a cute couple you two are,” the Ryan Reynolds look-alike said. “I’m Wade, owner of Wade’s Chimichangas. Oh, and this sugar bear with the mustache behind me is Peter W. He saw my want ad in the paper, and he was an instant hire.” He smiled, but then it quickly turned into a frown. “This is actually the second time I hired him, the first time is when I hired him to be a part of X-force, and he died early on. Then, I time-traveled back in time after stealing this special watch from your universe's Thanos and brought Peter back to life at the end. Oops, spoiler alert,” he shrugged, staring at the empty space beside you.

“I’m sorry,” Steve asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to gauge the situation.

“Sorry,” he smiled. “This--” he twirled his finger in the air “--this is the wrong universe. Well, that universe technically doesn’t exist anymore since Mickey Mouse bought out Fox, and I’m not talking about the cute fox from Fox and the Hound either. No siree, this Fox was more expensive than my favorite shoe company’s net worth.” He shook his head back and forth, chuckling. “It’s going to be crazy fun! My place is safe and secure, but can’t say the same for that Australian Showman.” He nodded but stopped when a realization dawned on him. “Oh wait, dammit, he got out a few years too early. What a shame, he’s gonna miss out on some really big paychecks, but who cares about that guy anyway,” he signed. “Anyways, what can I get you two?”

“I’ll take the Almost Famous Chimichanga with rice,” Steve ordered.

“Oh, being safe and not going with beans, smart move, Captain,” Wade replied with a wink. “And for the lady and canine?” You gave Wade your order and ordered Cosmo a simple taco.

“Cosmo doesn’t need a taco,” Steve added, shaking his head.

“So, no taco for the canine? I am taking copious notes here.” You looked to Wade to see him licking his lips with a pen and small notebook pad in his hand.

“Yes, taco,” you answered, and Cosmo barked.

“Majority wins. Fire up the stove, Peter. It will be a couple of minutes, folks,” Wade announced. “If only there was a superpower to make food. I mean, he or she, I’m not sexist, could solve world hunger with just a flick of their wrist or magic wand.”

“Wow, that guy must be going through something,” Steve uttered loud enough for you to hear as you both moved down the side of the truck to the pickup area.

“Captain, you have no idea,” Wade looked over his shoulder and shot you both a tight smile. “Am I right, Peter?”

“He is,” Peter nodded, placing an order on the serving counter. “Order for the lovely couple and a taco for the gorgeous golden retriever.

“Thanks, Peter.” You pulled your wallet from your purse, but when you looked up, Steve was already handing Peter some cash.

“My treat,” he replied, answering your silent question.

“Next time, it’s on me.”

“Deal,” Steve smirked, getting his change back from Peter.

“Is he a Purebred?” Peter asked, looking down at Cosmo with a smile.

“I’m not sure I rescued him.”

“That’s incredible. My wife, Susan, and I thought about adopting, but she’s been training hard with her personal trainer, Gus, a few times a week, so we weren’t sure if we were ready for a dog. I mean, some of the workouts can last like four hours, but it is doing wonders for her, and it shows.”

“Well, when you both feel ready, give adoption a chance.”

“I will. I’m sorry to keep you from your date with all the questions.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Steve waved it off. “That’s how you keep customers coming back, right?”

“That’s right,” Peter chuckled. “Thanks for choosing Wade’s Chimichangas. Have a good afternoon, folks.”

You grabbed your’s and Cosmo’s baskets, and Steve grabbed his, making your way over to the open benches near the sidewalk. You plopped down with Steve taking the spot next to you, and Cosmo sat right in front of you, wagging his tail and waiting for his taco. You smirked at him, tearing off a piece and giving it to him.

“Are you getting the feeling that Susan is cheating on Peter, too?” Steve asked, taking a bite of his chimichanga.

“Yes, I thought I was the only one thinking that,” you answered, shaking your head. “Poor guy, he seems like a good one, too.”

A comfortable silence fell between you two as you ate. It was tasty, better than you expected it would be; you weren’t sure if it was the seasoning or sauce, but you would be a returning customer. Cosmo whined, staring into your eyes as you tore off another piece and gave it to him.

Steve smirked. “You’re gonna teach him to be a beggar.”

“Don’t listen to your dad. If you want to be a beggar, you be a beggar.” You patted him on the head, and he licked your hand.

“Wow,” Steve mouthed, making you hit him on the arm. He cracked a contagious smile, leaning into you, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you pushed him off you.

“You’re such as ass sometimes.”

“I am one of LA’s finest asses according to Sam,” he replied, forcing you to scoff.

_______

Taking the last bite of your lunch, you glanced at Steve, finishing off his chimichanga. He wiped his lips with his napkin and winked at you. You rolled your eyes, leaning forward and rubbing Cosmo on the head. You didn’t want to go back to work. All you wanted to do was hang out with Steve and Cosmo for the rest of the day. You sighed, looking down at your watch.

“Should we start heading back?” Steve inquired, placing a hand on your forearm. You looked at his hand, a shy smile appearing on your face.

“Uh yeah, we probably should.”

He stood up, offering his hand, which you took without hesitation. He squeezed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, sending a warm, comforting sensation flow through your body. You could feel your face grow warm as you stared at Cosmo walking in front of you. You bit your lip, peeking over at Steve, not missing the smirk you were beginning to love appear across his lips.

________

He pulled you to stop in front of your building, letting go of your hand, and you turned to face him. “Thanks for getting lunch with me and for bringing Cosmo. It was nice to meet him.” You smiled down at the dog, wagging his tail with his tongue hanging out.

“I think he enjoyed meeting you, too,” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, I don’t know if you’ve heard about this yet, but there is this first responders charity grill out slash softball tournament this weekend. I was wondering if...”

“Yeah,” you interrupted him. “Thor already invited me, and I was planning on going.”

“Cool.” He nodded, clenching his jaw. “But, I was curious if you wanted to be my date?”

You rubbed your lips together, a smile itching its way across your lips. “Did you finally have the nerve to ask me out?” You nudged him with your elbow repeatedly until he cracked a smile.

“Like I said, I didn’t want to pressure you into anything.” He sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just surprised you’re already planning a second date, and we aren’t even done with the first one yet.”

His jaw dropped open as quickly as he snapped it shut. If you weren’t watching him, you would have missed it. “I never said this was a date.”

“Yeah, but Cosmo told me it was, so who do you think I’m gonna believe. The guy I have been hanging out with or a dog willing to share all your secrets with me.” You shrugged with both hands in front of you, trying to weigh out your best option.

“Cosmo,” Steve looked down at his dog, shaking his head. “You can’t be telling YN all my secrets.”

“He’s a talker. Aren’t you Cosmo?” You cooed, making him bark in agreement. You smiled, reaching out to scratch his head one last time. You peeked up at Steve, not missing the gentle smile fading from his lips.

“How about it, YN? Do you want to go out on another date with me?”

“Yeah,” you grinned, nodding your head. “I’d like that.”

______

AN: Thanks for reading Part 11! We are over halfway through this story and there is so much more to come! And I am excited to share it with you all! The call about the daughter and father actually was something that happened and became national news a long time ago. I came across it while I was trying to find some 911 type calls/scenarios, and figured Rhomann and Duranna Dey would be a good fit for it. And she finally got to meet Cosmo! He is actually the dog from Guardians of the Galaxy! It is just a small cameo in that movie, but I love throwing in those easter eggs if you haven’t figured that out yet, haha! Did you like the Wade Wilson and Peter W cameo?! I thought it would be an entertaining addition and Wade breaking that fourth wall is always a fun time! The slow burn may finally be coming to an end. Let's just hope this charity softball tournament/grill-out date turns into a success! As always, thanks for reading, and don't forget comments are always welcome!

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sanghyukstattoos · 3 years

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Mafia!SF9's reaction: dying (?) when saving

A/N: Amazing huh, as always, thank you for this request

Read more here~~

Youngbin:

You and him trained at the same time as one another, displaying hardiness, endurance, team work, sacrifice and other traits judged to be essential for leadership

You spared on many occasions but never spoke apart from giving each other feedback and honest criticism

Such a good pairing that your superiors considered letting you two work together but the plan never made it through, they had already had other plans for you

Far into the future, the two of you have already settled into leading your groups when you stumble onto Youngbin in a civilian area

You have been living there for quite some time, having shifted only recently but Youngbin's apparently been here to for some weeks and to trail someone.

You meet him in an open store, lined with books, magazines for travel and snacks, in the dead heat of the summer and the owner moving around.

The next time you meet him, he accidentally bumps into your shoulder sending your stuff to the ground which when you pick up, he uses one to disarm the person who is following him

Moments later, you trace back your steps to find your missing item and out of pure curiosity do you find yourself witnessing the mysterious figure about to commit a violent action.

Youngbin has this look on his face, alerting you that he is not the same, scared and ready-to-plead person that he used to be at the academy

When you save him, the both of you fend off the attacker and send him packing to your superiors, in turn you receive benefits for his hard work and your last minute effort to save him

He takes you to this place he found out about earlier, it's completely nature, untouched by humans because of how it is sealed from the outside world, people are only allowed to marvel at it. He shows it to you as a sign of his gratitude.

Inseong:

Initially the person that none of your superiors thought would not make the cut but his display of determination, endurance to grow and willingness to change to be the best changed their mind which is why he eventually joins your team.

His readiness to ease tough situations and have fun with others makes him the perfect candidate to be a friend with, he's not the type to easily give comfort though.

This is because he's a kind soul but doesn't necessarily know how to properly express it which is why the members go with him to have fun because he knows how to lift a mood.

His advice is all hay-wire with random mumbles but his actions dictate what he's been trying to say all this time.

Secretly vibes to girl group songs during your breaks, what a guy~

When he's in danger, he reacts quickly because he's trained too but the individuals agility and strength throws him off, along with other people that have ganged up on him.

He keeps his cool, fighting with the agenda to get out of this place as quickly as possible and he almost succeeds, if he isn't brutally dragged back inside.

You and the rest of you team members help him and take what you need

He's injured, not life-threatening and you are impressed, he thanks you as he sits on the hospital bed but you reject his thanks by saying that it was all him, he managed to save himself all the way.

Jaeyoon:

Unsure of what he's supposed to do at first, you have to delegate tasks, responsibilities and he messes up but he is good at adapting to situations so he's quick on his feet and is able to think of solutions.

This makes him reliable and dependable since he is also great at comforting the others, his sweet nature allows people to easily warm up to him and share their troubles. A great listener and excellent contributor to the team, you appreciate him a lot because of it

A team player so his lack of ambition thwarts his concern for the members, he is completely fine with unsuccessfully completing a mission as long as the members are safe. Unlike the other SF9 members, he sees it as two options and will choose either one whereas the others will try and achieve both.

Supposed to meet the escape team on the other side, an external factor causes you to stay behind with him although he insists that he will be fine, you know that he fears the idea of being solitary.

He makes jokes to lighten the atmosphere and when it is time to move, he follows your orders as he has always trusted your instincts as team leader

He is immediately the best the person to be stuck with because of his variety of specialised skills that will contribute to any situation.

When you save him, he does the same for you too, not out of favour but as a responsibility that the two of you have to look out for one another as team members and also because of the situation you are in.

He'll show you physical affections as a way of saying sorry that he was not careful enough and that you could have almost died as you saved him, an example would be a short hug and when you are running, he'll hold your hand and tug your along

Dawon I Lee Sanghyuk:

He was the last person to join the group and although shy at first, he's grateful for the others since they managed to bring him out of his shell

Is playful and teasing when off duty and makes it a point to tease you, is the main reason why the trauma is less significant as a group, responsibility may be equally divided but his light-hearted spirit ensures that you can complete the mission with the same characteristic.

Is very serious during missions and his ability to lead the team through tough situations- with his instillation of hope and strategical tactics, is the reason why you would choose him to be the leader in your place.

One thing that unnerves you about him is how he falters when he's shocked, he stills when on a mission but the dangerous environment leaves him at great risk.

You realise it's full play when you're tipped off and send Sanghyuk alone to the hotel room but he freezes upon seeing the long-past wounded individual, despite your team's best efforts to bring him out of his trance-like state, nothing changes.

That's when you run up flights of stairs to save him, you get there moments before he's about to pass away from strangulation as the stranger behind him makes extreme effort to achieve his goal of secrecy.

After that, you make sure to train his response by sending to training lessons again but this time, his heart rate is going to be normal no matter who or what he encounters.

Rowoon:

Your personal assistant, can and will fight if and when required.

Very talented in the field but switched to assisting after a traumatic event with his previous group, they all survived but he could not compartmentalise what had happened so he left

Praised for his immense talent and often had the responsibilities of scouring targets and/or engaging with them in order to gather information

Is actually much more awkward than his first impression, mainly because everyone's first impression of him is based off his looks

His persuasiveness helped him encounter and secure targets making him ideal

Is the cook of the group when they were stuck somewhere, did it automatically and was not afraid to put anyone in their place if a fight broke out but never mixed the two

Spoke to his members and confided in their worries so that by soothing theirs, he would also soothe his.

Was ambitious to complete missions, looks out for himself a little more than he does for others which his superiors like and encourage but you have mixed feelings about it.

When you save him, he reconsiders his priorities during missions but you know that he had every right to look out for himself in a situation as dangerous as this so he has no obligation to change.

Is visibly shaken even after, you can see the fear in his eyes hidden with the idea that he is still alive and won't be encountering these situations as easily because of his current job as your assistant.

Is reprimanded and almost suspended by your superiors because had he almost failed his job, neither of you would be alive, strives to change after that

Zuho:

Reliable as a team member but insists that he should work alone and after convincing your superiors, they allow him to work in a remote, rural part of a country.

Your team is also stationed there but is working on a different mission, you knew that there would someone working alone towards one goal that your superiors need to achieve

You bought up the obvious considerable risks associated with a mission assigned in such a way, including whether the individual would pull through with their results

You choose not to doubt though, meeting him just before the dense forests that have been reconstructed to accommodate the growing population

He's immediately more interested in the suffering of the animals, telling you that they don't have sufficient water, food and space to live and you nod, preoccupied.

You ask him to take a look and he has to put this little animal that he's petting for the last twenty-five minutes down to start concentrating when he sees the absolute chaos

Fights with vengeance, he's angry that they have taken away the animal's nature and you sigh when you have to save him

He's overwhelmed with pain, the struggle of fighting multiple figures and not running into some big cat to become it's next meal

You help, are also wounded in the process so he helps you patch it up and carries your limping self to the medics. Comes back to check up on you and give his thanks.

You get just a little bit closer and from then on, it's just luck whether he's assigned to your team or not

Yoo Taeyang:

He's capable, tolerant of other people and does not easily lose his temper as compared to the initial reviews you received from his pervious superiors. However, he does easily misunderstand.

That is why he sometimes look as if he is forever annoyed with his furrowed eyebrows or pursed lips

Fun-loving guy, somewhat introverted so it takes time for him to get to properly know the team. Is also objective to your leadership even if everyone else seems to follow along exactly what you say and this is something you appreciate because you like the engagement.

When he trusts you enough, he won't question your orders but will ask for elaboration if any is needed, also the person you ask to sum up everything you have said, his memory is amazing like that

He's got exceptional fighting skills and the talent to predict the opponent's moves, was the same reason he earned a promotion despite his slight inability to work with others.

Very rarely comes to you with problems, often comes when he has the solution as well, similar to a report

Never lies so you can expect to hear the only and complete truth from him, says things as they are not as they should be so is reliable and dependant.

Usually the two of you spar, so if the opportunity arises in the field, you are able to fight together and once, you prevent his torso from being slashed.

He is surprised but quickly recovers and expresses his gratitude after it.

It's just work after all

Hwiyoung I Kim Youngkyun:

Puts in that little extra effort to make sure that the team's spirit is uplifted, like the the mood maker

Is easy to speak too and seek comfort from, when you were just a new group and you told him the truth about how you felt being the leader, he gave you some advice but feeling that it may have been too much, he ended it with, ''Just go for it.''.

A real sweet guy, for example, opens the door and lets people by, basically operates by the principle that you should people how you want to be treated, also goes for showing care or displaying kindness.

He's wounded in the leg, he's clutching it to try and stop the bleeding but he's down, the pain is so overwhelming that he's thinking how anyone could get up and run away and for a second, he even contemplates that this could be the end.

It's when you save him from the situation, let him lean on you till you find the medics, stay with him in the hospital and check up on him that he's going to put in all the effort he can to watch your back.

You tell to ease up and that's it is no big deal, because in line with his personality, you know that he would do the same

The two of you grow much, much closer after that

He no longer feels awkward to confide in his team leader and that's how you spend the end of your mission together after he almost dies, drinking beer and watching the stars in the night

Chani:

Chani panics, freezes as a result of the fear that had almost instigated his worst nightmares.

He's close to breaking down but rather than something simple like a single emotion or characteristics, he is conflicted. He knows that you are safe but his mind can not comprehend what you just did for him.

He's thinking that the your actions are multiple, behaviour complex, feeling safe amongst the unsafe environment because he knows that he can go home.

He's in shock, he's laying on the ground, kicked there, propping himself on his elbows after experiencing such massive fear that he would die.

You walk towards him, he wants to cry, for you to comfort him and tell him that you've got him but he doesn't say anything, he keeps this guard that when he stops along the way, he holds your hand and tells you thank you.

''There's nothing- I mean, I don't... What just happened was, thank you'' he says, fumbling for the correct words, wanting to attribute the success of his living to you.

But that was when he was a novice and you were teaching him the tricks of the trade.

Now he is much more confident, he knows how to compartmentalise and is frequently remarked as one of the best soldiers on and off duty.

He even saves you once, save is a stretch because he played a part and when you thanked him, he said that it was nothing compared to what you once did.

He was so cool about it that you teased him all the way till you dropped him to his house.

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ey8508 · 3 years

Text

Helm

Rumors and Secrets: Victor | 李泽言

[ He always knew how to insert each screw where it should be. ]

Note:

R&S for this card (CG above)

Chapter SPOILERS up to Season 2: Chapter 14-17 (read at your own risk)

Contains 5 chapters

Translation isn’t 100% accurate (or include grammar errors)

Every part for LZ’s dialogue would be in “this setting”

Do not repost to any other site (reblog is fine)

Chapter 1 Page 1 -Caerus, there is an investigation task for you. - Target name? - Guozi is a newcomer who organized the audit. Her relevant information is in the attachment. - Once received, when do you want it? - Before next Wednesday. - with such little time, the salary has to be increased by 20%. After the dialogue on the screen was stagnant for a while, the other side only replied a word: OK. Page 2 Duan Junjie put down his phone and was about to continue to look at the acquisition contract in front of him when he was suddenly patted on the shoulder. The colleague smiled and asked him: "Lawyer Duan, our department is going to have a dinner on Sunday. Would you like to come together?" "Sorry, there is something on the weekend, I can't come." Duan Junjie shook his head. The man's face was a bit unpleased: "Last time you also said that when something happened, why didn't you stay active with everyone? Eating a meal is also a way of communicate feelings." Page 3 "Forget it, I have been in Huarui for so long, and I haven't seen lawyer Duan participate in the department team building!" The female colleague opposite Duan Junjie smiled and replied, "I would rather offend the high-level staff and never work overtime. You still want to occupy his weekend, don't even think about it." The colleague left angrily, but Duan Junjie kept his head buried in work without commenting on the evaluation of him by the people around him. At exactly six o'clock, he sent the compiled attachments of the acquisition contract to the mailbox of the president's office, ready to pack his things and get off work, when the computer suddenly received a notification. Page 4 Is President Li so optimistic about the contract? Although he knows that the person in charge of the Huarui Group is extremely efficient, the time limit is too ridiculous. He clicked on the message and found that it was an anonymous email with a bunch of garbled characters. Duan Junjie frowned. This string of garbled codes was in disorder, but he soon discovered that it was an e-mail with two layers of special encryption, and the secret key was only available to members of BLACK SWAN. After deciphering the garbled code, he found that it was a sentence and a "S" symbol with a thicker style at the end. Come to the conference room of BLACK SWAN headquarters. Page 5 Duan Junjie read this sentence silently, and frowned. The other party does not use the B.S. communication channel, but uses an anonymous IP to send it. Obviously, it wants to bypass the surveillance of some people in the organization. After the establishment of the BS board of directors, the original Twelve members did not easily surrender to the BOSS. They were secretly engaged in a few small actions, although Duan Junjie is just a crew responsible for intelligence, because of the nature of the work, someone from Twelve has either hinted or tempted him, They secretly made a few small moves. Although Duan Junjie was just a screw responsible for intelligence, because of the nature of the work, there was also TW elve. Duan Junjie refused either by suggesting or tempting him but Duan Junjie refused. And now... Duan Junjie looked at this email and realized something vaguely. Page 6 He glanced at the time, and now he is leaving to meet the sender of the email. It should be too late to get home at eight o'clock and cook cat food for Amo. Although he was mentally prepared, when he opened the door and saw the man sitting across the long table, Duan Junjie still couldn't help but blurt out: "Mr. Li" The man opposite the long table did not erect the barrier to cover his face. He wore a suit with a straight back and a calm expression, no different from sitting in the office of the president of Huarui Building. Duan Junjie paused, then changed his words, "BOSS." Page 7 Li Zeyan pushed the document in front of him, "I know that your superior has just sent you a task, push that task, and do this first". "Push it." Duan Junjie took the file, "Does it mean that I don't have to keep in contact with him again?" Li Zeyan did not speak. His silence indicates his answer. Duan Junjie fixed his glasses and read the document roughly: "When do you want it?" "Before next Wednesday. Is it difficult?" Page 8 "It's not difficult, but it will take up a lot of my rest time. And I see that this part of the document is just a lead, and the things that need to be explore later are much larger than these papers." He emphasized, "This will be a long work, BOSS." "State your salary expectations." Duan Junjie seriously considered his mortgage and car loan: "Fourteen salary." "Sixteen salary." Li Zeyan looked at him directly, "correspondingly, you have to get back information worth this value." Chapter 2 Page 1 Duan Junjie’s life is very regular. He gets up at 8 in the morning and makes a cat meal for Amo. Then he takes the subway that arrives at 8:27, leaves the station at 8:47, and walks for five minutes to Huarui building, go to the cafeteria to get an egg, two buns, and a cup of soy milk. Sometimes, according to the mood of the day, he changes it to milk, and make sure to turn on the computer at nine o'clock and start working. He is just a screw built in the Huarui Group, as long as he is firm and wedged in where he should be on time everything should be fine. It’s just that there are accidents occasionally in a regular life, such as today. Page 2 At 8:51, when Duan Junjie was about to walk to the door of Huarui building, his footsteps suddenly stopped because a fallen leaf was hanging in front of him for five seconds. An Evolver has used their ability. Duan Junjie quickly reacted. He looked around, cars, pedestrians, even the giant screen advertisements that flickered forever in the distance stopped. In the world of silence, the sound of leather shoes stepping on the ground seemed so clear. Page 3 Duan Junjie saw Li Zeyan appear from the other end of the intersection, walked calmly to the middle of the road, came straight to a car and bent down. When he got up again, there was a tabby cat in his arms. When Li Zeyan hold the cat and stepped onto the sidewalk, time began to flow again. The noise reappeared in the city in an instant, the cars and the crowd were intertwined, and no one noticed the small change just now. Li Zeyan stepped forward, suddenly as if he noticed, that he turned his head to look at Duan Junjie not far away. "Mr. Li." Duan Junjie greeted him and walked over. Page 4 Li Zeyan nodded, took the cat to a safe place and put it down. The little cat was shocked and still seemed to be reluctant to leave Li Zeyan. After stepping on Li Zeyan's hand back and forth, it turned around and jumped into the bushes of flowers. Duan Junjie looked at the back of the cat, and inexplicably thought of his own Amo: "It has a labelled ear and it is a sterile cat." "The cats in this area have been neutered." Li Zeyan replied. These two sentences have no beginning and end, but the atmosphere is calm. Duan Junjie continued: "I didn't expect you to be a cat lover." Page 5 Knowing that all the cats in this area have been neutered and willing to use EVOL to save a cat, it really does not fit Duan Junjie’s impression of Li Zeyan. "It's just a matter of effort." Li Zeyan took off the cat's fur on his cuffs. "If it is not careful, it will not be saved every time." As soon as the voice fell, a thin mist gathered in Li Zeyan's always firm eyes, and his expression became a little dumbfounded as if something had touched his mind. Page 6 Duan Junjie saw Li Zeyan with this expression for the first time, but he intuitively felt that he shouldn't ask more. So he took a step back, "Then I will go first, and the yesterday's document will be sent to you before a quarter past ten in the morning." At 8:57, Duan Junjie arrived at the Huarui cafeteria. Today he bought one less egg because he wants to save time and punch in on time.

Chapter 3 Page 1 Whether as Caerus or Lawyer Duan, he has been very busy this time. Huarui's acquisition plan has advanced to a critical stage, and the investigation of the "small syringe" has also fallen into a bottleneck. Even Duan Junjie, who has no commercial sense, knows that this kind of medicine that can enhance Evol can create huge benefits that can change the world. He once suspected that Li Zeyan’s reason for being particularly concerned about "small syringes" was the instinct of capitalists to seek profit, but if they were chasing profits, they should put this unstable pharmaceutical package on the market as soon as possible, instead of letting him investigate The "black hand" behind the shadow of the "Syringe" incident. "Lawyer Duan, we'll be going first." Page 2 "Okay, bye." Colleagues picked up their bags and said goodbye to him. When they walked to the door, they could still hear a faint sentence floating over there: "Lawyer Duan also works overtime. It's really rare." The sky gradually darkened, and the neon lights of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows lit up for the first time. Duan Junjie was the only one left in the huge office. No breathing could be heard in the silent environment, only the monotonous keyboard percussion sounded in the ups and downs! A sharp alarm interrupted Duan Junjie's work. He quickly opened the alarm interface and found that the source of the alarm was actually for Li Zeyan's office of the president! Page 3 "The sound pulse in the office fluctuates abnormally" Duan Junjie whispered while looking at the screen, "someone went there?" It’s not surprising that Li Zeyan would be watched. Duan Junjie was surprised that someone dared to do something in Li Zeyan’s office. He immediately sent an encrypted signal to Li Zeyan to get the other party out of the office immediately. However, after a long time, Li Zeyan on the camera still motionless. Immediately he saw a girl pushing open the door of the office, still holding some documents in her hand. The boss of Huarui Investment’s gazed at the film and television company, also a member of BLACK SWAN, Miss NOX. "That's it, there wasn't anything major?" Page 4 Seeing this scene, Duan Junjie breathed a sigh of relief. It also reflects that the time for NOX to report on official business is the anti-tracking time given to him by Li Zeyan, and he must be worthy of the sixteen salary that Li Zeyan gave him. An hour later, Duan Junjie stood in front of Li Zeyan's office and knocked on the door three times. "Come in" Duan Junjie walked in, first closed the door carefully, and operated the small anti-eavesdropping device in his hand a few times and installed it on the door. Then he turned around and said straightforwardly: "Boss, it's done." Page 5 "Tell me." "The source of the eavesdropping was traced to a tea room in Xicheng District. This is the background check of the tea room owner and the personnel he has been in close contact with recently." Duan Junjie operated a few times on his mobile phone, and the corresponding intelligence content popped up on Li Zeyan's computer. , "A few people have contact with the small syringe". The person who installed the eavesdropping has also been found. It was the cleaner who cleaned your office yesterday. According to the monitoring comparison, they were not from Huarui, but they should have sent someone in disguise. People have been arranged to go to the Dingsha Tea Room, and they can act at any time. Page 6 "Understood" Li Zeyan's tone was always faint, his expression calm, it was not like he had experienced a tense eavesdropping crisis one after another, or for this man, he had experienced countless things. Things that are unimaginable even by Duan Junjie's thoughts. More dangerous than this, more knife-pointed. The scene of life and death on the front line. He scanned the page for a few times, pressed the button, and said: "Go to the next stage." Page 7 The meaning of entering the next stage is that he does not need to care about how those eavesdroppers will be dealt with. Duan Junjie nodded knowingly: "I understand." Li Zeyan's gaze cast through the floor-to-ceiling windows, to the distant ground, as if he was talking to Duan Junjie, or he was saying to the invisible opponent: "The line has been laid long enough." Page 8 Duan Junjie lowered his head: "I will continue to report to you if there is a new situation." He turned to leave the office, and suddenly wrinkled his nose before leaving. A faintly sweet smell that he did not know where it came from, on the tip of his nose, it was like the caramel scent he would smell when he passed the dessert shop downstairs. This type of scent should not appear in Li Zeyan's office. It might be an illusion, Duan Junjie thought.

Chapter 4 Page 1 Unknowingly, it was the end of the year again. At this time, the center of the topic in the tea room of my colleagues will be more and more to rely on a lottery draw in the main link of the Huarui annual meeting. "Last year based on the report someone in the department next door got paid for a month of paid travel and wine!" "I want to pick a camera. Maybe the equipment is configured, and my photography skills will also improve." "Lawyer Duan, what prize do you want to win?" "The Sunshine Award." Duan Junjie replied. Everyone went silent. Page 2 Duan Junjie thinks this topic is meaningless, and he doesn't think he has the luck to win a lottery. Excessive surprises are often accompanied by huge risks. He is greedy for peace and stability, and does not want to give life too many twists and turns. It's better to go home and cook an extra meal for the cat when you have the time. Huarui’s annual meeting has always been very lively. In addition to the people at the headquarters, some cooperating companies will also come to socialize. The police, like the boss of the film and television company of the company, will not be absent every year. Page 3 After the last eavesdropping incident, probably out of affirmation of his work ability, Li Zeyan handed him more tasks. As a result, he came into contact with this woman who had an unusual relationship with the BOSS. Although he exchanged information online, the other party did not know his identity in reality. He glanced at the energetic girl, and then turned away, not intending to say hello to her as Huarui's lawyer. Page 4 What Duan Junjie didn't expect was that he won the second prize at this annual meeting. The moment his name appeared on the big screen, his colleagues seemed to be more excited than him. These guys who usually claim to be the elites of the law surrounded him laughing and making noise, and they said that they should be invited to share the joy, "You're from our department. Duan Junjie you finally won this year's prize! " Duan Junjie was so upset by them that he simply slipped out of the annual meeting with an excuse. He had just gotten in the car and was about to start, and suddenly two figures flashed in the corner of his eyes who shouldn’t be there at this time. Page 5 Li Zeyan and NOX walked to the garage side by side, and the two seemed to be talking about something. Duan Junjie thought it might not be an official business, because the girl’s face had the brilliant smile that she have on her age. She carried a bag of vegetables in one hand and gestured twice with the other. Li Zeyan’s eyebrows were still the same. It's cold, but there is a slight arc in the corner of his mouth, and if Duan Junjie is right, is this BS BOSS carrying a bag of cat litter in his hand? It's the same cat litter as Amo. Duan Junjie raised his eyebrows, he felt as if he had discovered something extraordinary. Page 6 So Duan Junjie asked questions unrelated to work for the first time in the work email when he went to work the next day. Why is the poster of the Huarui Annual Meeting is a Siamese? Li Zeyan quickly answered him. That is my cat, it is a Ragdoll. Chapter 5 Page 1 Affected by the public opinion of "Huarui's malicious acquisition of pharmaceutical companies", the atmosphere in the company has recently become much sluggish than before. The pantry is no longer full of laughter and gossip, but turned into quiet discussions and sighs. "When I went to drink coffee across the street today, the clerk saw my badge and said that he would not accept it. He won't even talk to me afterwards" "Hmph, he didn't accept it?, you should complain to him at that time, not only complain, but also wear a Huarui badge every day to buy as a Huarui employee, it is never a shame!" "Yes, I should do that" Page 2 Duan Junjie was stunned and stopped for a while, and the colleague in the pantry had already noticed him: "Lawyer Duan." Duan Junjie nodded at them and poured the remaining water from the glass into the sink. A female colleague smiled and greeted: "Lawyer Duan, how is Amo at home?" "It's ok, Amo has not been losing weight recently." "By the way, we have recently established a Huarui cat-related group. Lawyer Duan are interested in joining?" a female colleague asked him with a smile, "Occasionally I can see President Li's cat too, Pudding!" "Thank you, I'll think about it." Page 3 After bidding farewell to his colleagues, Duan Junjie set off for the BS building. One or two minutes before, he sent a message from the special communication channel of B.S. saying that an emergency meeting would be held. Before coming to the meeting room, he habitually knocked on the door three times, and after getting permission from Li Zeyan, he walked in. "BOSS" "The next phase of the plan can start." "Understood, I will arrange manpower." Page 4 Li Zeyan ordered him to do the next thing as usual, until a silver-haired man suddenly broke in and interrupted Duan Junjie's bargaining over the length of overtime. The two talked in private. Before the silver-haired man glanced coldly on him, Duan Junjie turned around and left the meeting room. Only doing what should be done, not listening to what should not be heard, this is the work principle he has always believed in. Page 5 Duan Junjie feels that his current life is very good. Both Huarui and BLACK SWAN are huge and sophisticated machines, requiring countless from 'attorney Duan' and 'Caerus' as screws to maintain their operation. The man at the helm who directs the operation is Li Zeyan. Screws can get stuck occasionally and can be replaced, but Li Zeyan make no mistakes, let alone replace any mistakes, the consequences are fatal once it appears. Perhaps in terms of risk, following Li Zeyan is already the biggest gamble in Duan Junjie's life. Page 6 His chips were all bet on this man, and he inexplicably believed that Li Zeyan could win, not because of the gorgeous numbers in the Huarui annual report, nor because B.S. continued to grow these crowns and glamorous surfaces under his leadership. It is because the stray cat was rescued, the brand new "small syringe" industry chain, and the badge on the chest of a colleague. The reason lies in these small things. Duan Junjie turned on the phone and opened a chat window before starting the next stage of work. "What is the cat-related group number?"

#mr love queens choice #mr love queens choice victor #mr love victor #love and producer #love and producer li zeyan #rumors and secrets Victor

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junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

rogue.

↳ a night out leads you to exactly where you want to be.

◇ yoongi x reader ◇ smut | bit of angst | strangers!au ◇ 3.9k [1/1]

⇢ for danica aka @dee-ehn, as part of ficswithluv’s changeswithluv project for black lives matter ♡

notes: i told danica this was going to be daechwita!yoongi and boy i was not kidding one bit! i took quite a few creative liberties, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. thank you for your donation to such an important cause!

warnings: dom!yoongi, tatted and pierced!yoongi, like he has a tongue piercing whoOPS my hand slipped 🙈, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected sex (stay safe kids!!!), a very vague sense of the time period in which this is all happening bc it’s an au and i’m a dumbass idk!!! 🙈

It’s impossible to miss the man sitting in the corner of the bar.

He’s surrounded by a raucous group of people you can only assume are his friends, dressed in muted green with a silver chain at his throat. Dark eyes peer out from behind dark hair, ever vigilant as they flit around the room, scanning faces and assessing threats. Some would call it caution—others would call it paranoia—but you have to applaud him nonetheless. One can never be too careful, after all. While this bar does serve as an unofficial headquarters for the resistance, you’ve seen time and time again that the government has eyes and ears everywhere. You’ve watched friends and acquaintances alike get dragged off by uniformed guards, the emperor’s insignia on their chests shining bright as a flame and just as dangerous.

You’re seated at the counter on this particular evening. The bar is crowded, but even the other patrons’ chatter cannot drown out the conversation surrounding the man and his friends. It’s almost as if you’re attuned to them—like a radio set to a single station before the dial broke off. Every word comes through as clear as day, and you lean back in your seat to listen, sipping languidly on your drink.

“I’m telling you, we’re ready,” one of the men is saying. In the firelight, his brown hair glows orange, and the scruff of beard on his chin is rust. “One more week, and everything will be set. Taehyung’s already talked his way into the palace. We won’t have a better shot than this.”

“It’s hard to believe he’s already in,” the man across from him says, his wide doe eyes a stark contrast to the hard set of his jaw. “I thought it’d take him a lot longer, to be honest.”

“Tae’s a good liar,” a third man pipes up, shrugging. “Always has been.”

The second man snickers, his nose scrunching with mirth. “Really? You don’t say. You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about the dumpling incident again, would you, Jimin?”

Through all of this, the dark-haired man stays silent, sipping pensively on his drink. His gaze roves past where you’re seated, and though you can’t be certain, you swear it lingers for a split second before moving on.

“Let’s give credit where credit is due, though.” The first speaker is talking again, giving the dark-haired man a hearty clap on the back that nearly sends his tankard flying. “We wouldn’t have gotten half as far in our plan if it wasn’t for Yoongi here. How about a toast?”

“To Yoongi,” the one named Jimin intones immediately, raising his cup. “He’s always fighting the good fight.”

“To our very own Min Yoongi, finally taking out the asshole emperor for good,” the first man adds. “To one asshole killing another—and with the same last name, nonetheless. You sure there’s no relation between you two? We could be planning a patricide, for all we know.”

Yoongi stiffens. “Don’t even joke about that,” he says, his voice deep and lilting with a pleasant rasp that sends a shiver down the length of your spine. “That bastard isn’t my family. And even if he is—well, he won’t be for much longer.”

The threat lacing his words is unmistakable, and when you shiver again, it’s for a wholly different reason. People who want the cruel emperor dead aren’t difficult to come by, but few have the courage to speak of it so openly. But now, with the resistance’s plan finally coming to fruition, people are getting bolder. Tougher. Happier.

It hadn’t felt real, at first. The initial whispers were hesitant and disbelieving, but gained momentum with each passing day. Have you heard? The resistance is finally making a move. They’re going to kill Emperor Min. But despite the growing excitement amongst the townspeople, your heart remains heavy.

Ever since Emperor Min came into power a decade ago, his cruelty and ruthlessness have been unparalleled. His guards patrol the streets at night under the guise of keeping the peace, but you know as well as anyone that they’re searching for dissenters. Every night, you huddle away in your home with the windows shuttered, listening as the guards loot the bars and beat the helpless, all the while trying to root out rumored members of the resistance.

So far, their efforts have seen mixed success. Last you heard, some lower ranking members had been imprisoned. Several were executed two months back, their severed heads hung from the palace walls as an example to those who dared defy the regime. But the topmost members of the resistance, as well as the leader, have all managed to evade capture. They began a series of weekly raids, sneaking into the palace’s kitchens and coming away with stocks of food to feed the hungry. Next they looted the money vaults, filling their bags with bars of gold for distribution. And then they visited the armory.

Needless to say, the rumors swelled—as did the emperor’s desperation to quash the dissenters. You kept a careful ear close to the ground for any news, and listened in disbelief as each subsequent story grew more outlandish.

The leader of the resistance is the old emperor, who faked his death all those years ago.

The leader is Emperor Min’s bastard son, and he’s avenging his mother’s death.

The leader is—

A fresh wave of laughter draws you out of your thoughts, and your attention immediately goes to the source. The group of men surrounding Yoongi has dissolved into mirth, but the dark-haired man isn’t grinning with the rest of them. His dark eyes are trained on you, sharp and steady, and you wonder at what he could possibly be thinking. Is he even staring at you? You turn to check behind you, just to be sure.

And when you turn around again, he’s standing right in front of you.

“Oh!” you squeak, startled by his sudden proximity.

Yoongi blinks lazily at you, unfazed. He catches the bartender’s attention and buys another drink, and you belatedly notice that the tankard in his hand is empty and instantly feel foolish for assuming that he came over for anything else. Still, you can’t help but zero in on the way he leans against the counter as he waits, his body a hair’s breadth from yours, his elbows propped up on the polished wooden surface. This close to him, you can see the beginnings of an intricate serpentine dragon coiled around his right forearm, the inky black tail looping around his wrist before coming to a stop near the silver ring on his thumb. The rest of the tattoo disappears into the rolled up sleeves of his worn green jacket, and you wonder exactly where it begins.

Then you wonder what it would be like to trace those lines of ink with your fingers—and your tongue, if he permits it. Your throat bobs at the thought, your thighs squeezing together unconsciously, and it’s almost as if he can read your mind because he’s suddenly leaning closer, a crooked smirk playing on his lips.

“You seem tense,” he murmurs. “Why’s that, doll?”

A spark ignites the base of your spine at the term of endearment, flaring up through your veins. He’s so close you can count each individual eyelash, fluttering against his pale cheekbones with every blink. Silver earrings dangle from his ears—a combination of thin chains and hoops that glitter in the dim light. You think you spot another flash of silver between his lips, embedded in his tongue.

“Long week,” you manage at last, thanking your lucky stars that your voice comes out steady. “Trouble at work. But you don’t want to hear about that.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi replies, accepting the fresh drink that the bartender hands him with a nod of thanks. He takes a long sip, and you can’t help the way your gaze lingers on the soft curve of his lips around the rim of the glass. Then he nods at your own glass, which is half-full and mostly ice at this point. “Can I get you another? I hear alcohol makes your troubles go away.”

You raise a brow. “Really? I hear it just causes new, different troubles.”

An amused grin pulls at the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “You may be right about that,” he concedes, setting his drink down with a thunk and leaning in close again. “So how exactly do you propose we make your troubles go away?”

Your other brow rises to join the first. “I don’t recall asking for your help.”

That earns you another grin. “And yet, here I am, offering my services nonetheless.”

A beat of silence stretches between you, taut as a tightrope and thick with tension. Yoongi raises his glass to his lips again, but his dark eyes remain fixed on yours over the rim, unblinking and never once wavering. The clamor of the bar fades into the background, slowing until it feels like you’re swimming in molasses. Your heart thuds in your chest, arrhythmic and fluttery as the wings of the butterflies that have made a home in your belly.

You blink first. Your gaze drops to the soft pout of his mouth, and that’s all it takes for the thread to snap—for Yoongi to ditch his drink and grab your hand instead. “You wanna get out of here?” he asks.

And maybe it’s the alcohol swimming in your system, but you nod. Yoongi stands up, tugging you with him, and you relish the way his fingers fit perfectly into the spaces between your own. He leads you through the crowded bar, weaving amongst the scattered tables and their occupants, and you gasp when he suddenly veers to the side and tugs you into a dim corridor. Several closed doors line it, and he doesn’t hesitate to cage you against the nearest one. His mouth descends on yours, slanting fervently across yours in a kiss, and your eyes flutter shut.

Yoongi kisses you with intoxicating ferocity. His palms are hot against the sliver of skin that your shirt has ridden up to reveal, and devious fingers slide beneath the hem to push it up further. You moan into his open mouth, your breaths intermingling, and it turns into a gasp when the doorknob suddenly digs into your back, cool and unyielding.

Your companion pulls back, frowning at the way the knob refuses to give beneath his fingertips. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Locked.”

“What a shame,” you breathe back.

He hums and takes your face in his hands, kissing you until you go weak in the knees. “I’ve got a car out back,” he rasps when he pulls away.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Not two minutes later, you’re stumbling out into the back alleyway, the low drone of traffic and passersby a welcome change from the din inside the bar. As promised, a beat-up black sedan is parked against the brick wall, and Yoongi wastes no time in pressing you down onto the hood, slotting himself between your spread legs and mouthing insistently at your neck until you’re scrabbling at his back, your breathing labored and shaky.

“Come on, doll.” Yoongi straightens up, raking his dark hair out of his eyes and offering you a crooked smirk. “You can do better than that. Be a good girl for me and let me hear you.”

A pulse of heat spikes through you. His hands come down on either side of your body, twin metallic thunks as the rings on his fingers meet steel. One side of his mouth quirks as he looms above you, but he doesn’t touch you just yet. The silvery chains around his neck glint in the dim glow of the streetlamp at the end of the alley, and Yoongi huffs out an amused chuckle when he notices your diverted attention.

“Eyes on me, doll,” he chides, tapping the side of his nose. “Unless you’re looking for an audience?” Thoughtfully, he glances over his shoulder, where the alley opens up into the main street. Despite the late hour, there are still cars and pedestrians ambling past, completely unaware of the obscene way you’re sprawled atop the hood of Yoongi’s car with the man himself between your legs.

Completely unaware of the way your skirt is now slowly riding up, aided by Yoongi’s warm hand sliding along the soft, delicate skin of your inner thigh.

“I think you might like the idea of an audience too much,” Yoongi breathes, leaning down until his breath is fanning against your cheeks. There’s a tinge of alcohol that lingers on him, the barest hint of sweetness, but it’s neither overbearing nor unpleasant. You’ve been with men like that before—men whose drunkenness made them bold and stupid and immune to your desires. Those men were nothing like Yoongi, who’s staring down at you, ravenous, as if you’re a feast just begging for him to partake. Nothing like Yoongi, whose carnal gaze promises that he knows exactly what you need.

“I think,” he continues, so casually he may as well have been talking about the weather, “it turns you on, knowing that anyone might look this way and see you like this.” His voice is casual but his smile is wicked, and the combination is enough to have your core seizing, untouched.

And then he’s grabbing at the material of your skirt, bunching it up and leaving your bottom half fully exposed. Teasing fingertips skim the lacy edge of your panties, and your eyes widen when he snaps the elastic against your skin. “Yoongi!”

“Much better,” he hums approvingly. Your cheeks flush with warmth.

When he touches you again, it’s with much more fervor, the pad of his index finger tracing your clothed slit and molding the dampened fabric to your folds. Distantly, you think that you should be more embarrassed, being this wet from just some kissing and a few calculated touches, but the rest of your brain is too lost in Yoongi to care. Your gaze traces the dark ink blossoming across the skin of his forearms, following the serpentine coils of the dragon around his wrist. And then it drops to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans, straining against the faded denim.

Yoongi spots your new fixation almost instantaneously, his smirk morphing into something mocking. “What is it, doll? Do you want something?”

“I—” you try, but your voice sticks in your throat. Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“That won’t do,” he says. He cups your mound in one warm hand, his middle finger dipping inside you through the lace of your underwear, and you keen at the foreign texture of the sodden material. “Would you like to try again?”

“Yoongi, please,” you breathe shakily. Your thighs clench together unconsciously, and your companion merely chuckles as he pushes them back apart and settles between them, nosing forward until he’s inches from your dripping core.

“Good girls tell me what they want,” he proclaims softly. “Good girls get rewarded. But bad girls, they get punished. Do you want to guess which one you are, doll?”

He leaves you little room to answer—not that you could’ve mustered up anything coherent even if you tried. In the span of a single breath, Yoongi pulls aside your drenched underwear and sinks his tongue inside your pussy, and you belatedly realize that you’d been correct when you thought you saw a silver piercing embedded in his tongue. The metal ball glides smoothly along your walls, hard and unyielding. Each time he pulls back, or darts up to flick at your clit, or laves at your folds with the enthusiasm of a man starved, you feel it rubbing up against your sensitive flesh, the stimulation unlike any other.

If this is his idea of punishment, you would happily take it any day, night, or afternoon.

There’s something beginning to brew in your belly—something coiling tighter and tighter with each movement of Yoongi’s questing tongue. He’s mouthing languidly at your clit now, winding lazy circles around the little nub while two of his fingers stretch you open, and you’re beyond thankful that he’s chosen to wear smooth rings tonight. The pressure grows as he digs deeper, and he must sense your rapidly approaching high because he doubles his efforts to get you there, sliding in a third finger and sucking harder on your clit. You’re so, so close.

And then it all stops.

Yoongi straightens up and withdraws his fingers, licking his lips. His chin is shiny with your juices and his fingers are likewise coated in your sheen, but he seems otherwise unruffled as he adjusts his sleeves and takes in your gaping visage.

“You—!” you splutter, distraught. “How could… I was so close!”

He pins you in place with a look, the corner of his mouth lifting into a wry smirk. “I told you that bad girls get punished, doll. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now, do I need to repeat myself again, or do you want to tell me what you w—”

“I want your cock,” you blurt. “Please, Yoongi.”

At your shameless declaration, his expression shifts—turning into something dark and positively predatory. “Then turn around for me,” he commands, his voice soft but no less authoritative. “Hands on the hood of the car. I’m not planning on being gentle.”

A shiver dances down your spine as you comply, bracing yourself against the car. It’s a warm night, but the steel is still cool to the touch, smooth and hard beneath your palms. Behind you, you can hear Yoongi shedding his jacket and unbuckling his belt, a muffled grunt of relief escaping him as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. You want so badly to turn around and look at him—to take in the way his hand grips his cock and memorize every ridge and protruding vein—but you resist the urge. Instead, you wait, your head bowed, for him to make his next move.

Much to your relief, you don’t have to wait long. He’s palming at your hips before you can even draw your next breath, inked arms winding around your body so he can squeeze at your clothed breasts. He takes his time fondling each swell, pinching your nipples until they ache, and you sense the satisfaction radiating off of him when he finally decides to rid you of your shirt entirely.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he rasps, tracing along your spine before splaying a hand at the base so that you’re forced to arch for him. Immediately, you bend to his will, wiggling your hips slightly as you move into position. His sharp intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and neither does the low hum of appreciation that bubbles up from his throat as he smooths a hand along the curve of your ass. You can’t help but preen a bit under his approval, and when Yoongi notices, he chortles and lands a teasing smack on your rear that has you moaning.

“Dirty girl,” he accuses, amusement lacing his tone. “You really want my cock that badly, doll?”

You can only nod, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind. He makes quick work of your soiled panties, hooking two thumbs into the waistband and tugging them down to pool around your ankles. Now completely bare, you can feel every inch of Yoongi’s lean torso as he pulls you close and positions himself at your entrance, parting your walls with near-tortuous deliberation.

“Faster,” you gasp, clenching around him in an effort to goad him into picking up his pace. “Yoongi, I want your cock so bad, please—”

The rest of your sentence ends in a garbled, choked moan. Yoongi thrusts forward with no preamble, filling you up to the very brim, and when he simultaneously finds your clit with his thumb, the jolt of pleasure is enough to steal all the oxygen from your lungs. He circles the sensitive nub between his fingertips with expert precision, and you can only whimper out his name as he starts up a steady rhythm, his mouth finding its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder and lingering there.

The tight coil of pressure is growing in your belly once more, and this time you know that Yoongi has no intention of stopping it. He’s so deep you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, and you hear rather than see the strain in his jaw as he grits out your name and commands you to come, his thumb rubbing against your clit in just the right way to send you hurtling off the precipice and into white-hot bliss.

By the time you come back down, he’s getting close too. You can tell from the way his pace gets more and more erratic, and you pretend you don’t hear the I love you intermingled with the filth and praise he whispers into your skin. Instead, you let him palm your hips and tug you closer, sighing out his name and encouraging him to yes, come inside me and I love you too.

It isn’t until your combined juices are beginning to drip down your thigh and his cock is slowly softening inside you, that he huffs out a hoarse laugh. “You ruined the immersion,” he murmurs, pulling out and turning you around so he can kiss you properly. “I don’t think you’d tell a complete stranger that you love them, no matter how good the sex may have been.”

You smack his arm weakly, giggling. “Oh, shut up. You told me you loved me first, you know.”

Yoongi hums and presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Whatever you say, doll.”

Still smiling, you nestle closer to him, burying your face into his bare shoulder. Idly, you trace the scars littered across his chest—each one its own individual constellation, telling the story of just how long he’s fought against the tyrannical regime you live under. At the thought, your smile fades.

“I hope you’re not wrong about the plan,” you murmur, stroking the scar that’s just above his heart before moving to the ones that decorate his ribcage, the puckered flesh intermingling with the inky gladiolus blossoms he’s gotten tattooed there. One flower for each member of the resistance who’s lost their life—a permanent in memoriam. You follow the delicate outlines with a fingertip, committing each and every one to memory, and think back to all the rumors that say the leader of the resistance is the zombified old emperor, or Emperor Min’s bastard son.

Yet none of the rumors are as powerful as the one that you know to be the truth—that the leader of the resistance is just a man. A man with a good heart and a kind soul, who grew tired of living under the emperor’s relentless tyranny and decided to take matters into his own hands. A man who remembered his fallen comrades, and always kept his word, no matter how small or trivial a thing it might be.

“Come back to me when it’s all over,” you whisper.

Yoongi tilts your chin up gently, cradling your face in his hands as if you’re made of glass. “I will,” he whispers back. “I promise.”

#yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi scenarios #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #yoongi x you #suga #min yoongi #bts #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #lia writes #changeswithluv

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achubbydumpling · 3 years

Note

Modern Bucky is fat and Steve’s sugar baby. Steve likes to spoil him. :3

eyy only took me a month and a half to answer 😂😂 I'm sorry, nonnie, but I'm highjacking your idea and using it for today's chubtober prompt :D

(I ended up having a lot more ideas for this than I could actually finish writing in time, so this ends pretty abruptly as soon as Steve and Bucky actually meet)

[unfinished] Oct 3: Masks and Malfunctions

Rating: Mature Words: 1911 Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Sugar Daddy AU, Daddy Kink, Belly Kink, Weight Gain, Verbal Humiliation, Stuffing, Corsets, Age Gap

Bucky’s phone chimed and he didn’t even have to look at the screen to know that “Steve” just sent him more than enough money for the costume Bucky wanted. He didn’t actually know if that was the guy’s real name, but he’d been funding Bucky’s lifestyle since the beginning of college and Bucky wasn’t about to fuck that up by questioning the guy’s identity.

If this were a normal Halloween party Bucky would have just bought a random costume at Spirit Halloween, but his kinda boyfriend Jonas (it’s complicated) had invited him as a plus one to an actual masquerade ball. Bucky didn’t even know those kinds of things existed outside of fantasy novels, but right now he was at a high-end clothing store getting an “appropriate” costume.

[Bucky] Thank you, Daddy❤

Bucky texted Steve and then went back to trying on another dress shirt. This one had a looser cut that reminded him of something the male love interest in a period drama would wear or a pirate.

“Wonderful choice,” the store clerk told Bucky when he stepped back from the mirror. Bucky would probably never get used to having someone help him pick out clothes, but the higher-end stores Bucky had been to all offered this type of assistance.

“It drapes very well,” the clerk said with a sneer on his face. Bucky turned back to the mirror. Yes, he had to admit he’d fallen victim to the freshman 15. A small belly was rounding out even against the loose fabric of the shirt, but he didn’t actually feel self-conscious.

Steve had complimented him on every single one of those pounds. Bucky probably wouldn’t even have noticed all the changes to his body if Steve hadn’t been constantly talking about them. Bucky had never put much effort into maintaining his physique, but being hyped up by Steve over the smallest changes of his body made him feel desired and his heart fluttered every time his sugar daddy complimented his thicker thighs and soft belly.

“Any other suggestions?” Bucky asked and the clerk scoffed.

“A corset,” he muttered under his breath, but Bucky’s ears pricked up at the suggestion. His first instinct was to text Steve. Bucky didn’t know why it was important for him to know Steve’s opinion when Bucky was going to the party as someone else’s plus one, but excitement stirred in Bucky’s stomach at what Steve might say.

“Sure, get the corset.” Bucky sent the clerk on their way and then sat down to text Steve. He could feel his belly straining against the shirt buttons now that he was sitting down and he snapped a picture of the way the buttons on the otherwise loose shirt were straining over the thickest part of his belly.

[Bucky] Daddy~ they’re telling me I’m fat

[Bucky] they said I need a corset

[Steve] You will look incredible either way.

Annoyance prickled at the back of Bucky’s neck from the generic compliment.

[Bucky] that’s not what I asked

[Steve] You didn’t ask anything.

Bucky rolled his eyes at how literal Steve could sometimes be, but Bucky also didn’t know how to ask for what he really wanted to hear.

Some of his classmates had teased him for his weight gain and instead of making Bucky feel insecure, the hot shame had shot straight to his dick and he’d had to excuse himself to deal with the problem. Since then Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about Steve telling him those things.

Bucky didn’t even know what the guy looked like, but he’d quickly developed a crush just from texting him. It was actually fun to talk. Bucky couldn’t understand how the guy was single when he seemed like this perfect, interesting and kind guy—and rich on top of all that.

There has to be something wrong with him, but so far Bucky hadn’t been able to figure it out. Not for the first time Bucky wondered who Steve actually was, but his thoughts were interrupted when the clerk came back with three different corsets.

All the same material and color, just different cuts. Bucky’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tiny waist cincher—just tall enough to cover the widest part of his belly. Despite his grumblings the clerk helped Bucky lace up the corset and when he looked in the mirror he couldn’t believe it was him looking back.

His entire body shape seemed different. From the billowing sleeves of the shirt emphasizing his wide shoulders to the waist cincher doing an excellent job of making it look like he still had a waist instead of the soft belly that was hidden underneath. The simple black slacks he was wearing completed his outfit. Simple colors, just black and white.

The mask he had chosen matched as well. A deep midnight black that contrasted with his piercing blue eyes and gold detailing that caught the light when Bucky turned his head. He snapped another picture for Steve, but didn’t wait for his response. Bucky could still hardly believe that a single outfit could be this expensive, but Steve of course had transferred enough money to pay for it. On his way home Bucky finally checked his phone.

[Steve] What did I tell you? Incredible.

[Bucky] better than without the corset?

[Steve] This feels like a set-up.

Bucky groaned at Steve’s response. Of course, Bucky would luck out and get the sugar daddy that won’t humiliate him for gaining fifteen pounds before the semester was even over and wasn’t that a personal revelation. Bucky had never thought of himself as someone who could want something like this, but since gaining weight he had become more aware of his body—and how others perceived it.

[Bucky] it is

He quickly pocketed his phone after sending that text. Bucky immediately regretted it. He’d had a good thing going with Steve. Why risk fucking that up? His phone vibrated multiple times, but Bucky was too worried to check his messages until he got home. As soon as he’d closed the apartment door behind him he fished his phone out of his pocket.

[Steve] What does that mean?

[Steve] If you don’t want to continue this arrangement, you can just tell me.

[Steve] Bucky.

[Steve] Answer me.

[Steve] What do you want me to say? That you’re a spoiled pig? That you’ve gotten fat on your Daddy’s money and need a corset to look good for your little boytoy?

Bucky’s throat went dry as he read Steve’s message. The wave of lust that crashed through him, threw him off balance and he sat down heavily on the bench in the entry way of his apartment. He read the message again. And again. His dick gave an interested twitch. It was embarrassing how much he reacted to Steve’s words.

[Steve] Is that what you want?

[Steve] Don’t leave me on read.

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He typed and retyped the same message again until another one from Steve popped up.

[Steve] ‘Yes’ or ‘no’? It can’t be this hard to type one fucking word.

Bucky couldn’t breathe. Steve had always been kind and considerate, it made Bucky’s heart race to see this side of him.

[Bucky] Yes.

[Steve] Thank you, but we will talk more about this tomorrow.

Bucky’s phone chimed to tell him, he should be on his way now if he wanted to get to the party on time. His mind was still caught up in foggy arousal, his cock tenting his slacks. It’s too much, he wasn’t thinking straight and Steve wasn’t even here—wasn’t even touching him. Just a text and Bucky was a mess.

At least the walk to the subway station helped to clear Bucky’s head and chase away some of the immediate, burning need that had been burning in his guts just a few minutes earlier. It left him frustrated, but slightly more level-headed and in a more appropriate mood to be out in public.

When Bucky met up with Jonas outside the high-rise office building the guy was already wasted. He was surrounded by his office buddies and Bucky was honestly about to turn on his heel and go back home when Jonas called out to him. With all his mates there Jonas treated Bucky like another one of them and Bucky was already over the metaphorical dick-measuring contest that was happening whenever one of these guys opened their mouth.

Once they got inside Bucky split off from the group, Jonas didn’t even seem to notice. So, he explored the venue. The party stretched across multiple floors. The bottom floor was full of rich and wanna-be rich people schmoozing and socializing, barely anyone of them had stuck to the masquerade theme and Bucky kept debating whether he should take off his own mask.

He was much more comfortable on the upper floor. There were less people here and most of them kept to themselves. He felt less out of place when he noticed that most of the people here stuck to the masquerade theme, there were only a few people who’s face wasn’t at least partially hidden behind a mask.

Jonas didn’t even shoot him a quick text to ask where he had disappeared to, so Bucky was more than ready to just find whatever food this place offered, eat for free tonight and make the best of the situation. He didn’t know what he’d expected dating someone his age, but Bucky was done settling for anything and he made a resolution to break up whatever was going on between him and Jonas.

When Bucky finally found the buffet that was standard for these types of events, he couldn’t stop himself from loading up two plates and searching for a quiet, secluded place to eat. At this point it had become a reflex to send Steve a text whenever he sat down to stuff himself.

[Bucky] found the food

He sent a picture with his hand next to the plates to give Steve a sense of how big they were. Some guy’s phone went off as soon as Bucky hit send two tables over and for a moment Bucky wondered if that’s Steve.

He had a commanding presence even sitting down. Bucky could tell he’s a gym buff from his ridiculous shape. His shoulders looked almost double the size of his waist. As well as the large plate of food in front of him. This man needed to fuel his body with all those calories, but Bucky was eating more than him and only planning on getting fatter. Bucky dug in.

His little costume went from fitting perfectly fine to too tight within half a plate of food. The corset was throwing a wrench into Bucky’s plan of stuffing himself. He already felt full before he had even really gotten started. The blond guy from two tables over caught Bucky’s eye again. He was frowning at his phone and looking back up at Bucky.

[Steve] What are you doing here?

[Bucky] what do you mean?

Another phone chime from two tables down. Bucky re-read the text two times before he looked back at the blond guy. No way that’s Steve. That would be too much of a coincidence, right? Bucky sent another message and the guy’s phone went off again. For a moment Bucky contemplates just getting up and walking away, but then Steve was already out of his chair and walking up to Bucky’s table.

#asks #chubby bucky #chubtober 2021 #chubby kink

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justcourttee · 4 years

Text

Love, Right?

This was an ask from AO3, but I loved it so much and wanted to post it here too.

vasiliassuns asked: aaaaa!! i love all these one shots so much:)! would it be any trouble to ask for the waynes (minus alfred, he knows all) being in paris to research ladybug and accidentally see marinette transform before watching her whoop ass? (i know theres a lot of fics with this in the damianette tag, but aa!! such a good trope,,,and your writing is awesome.) its totally cool if not! i also wanna add that im super excited for the next chapter:) seriously tho your writing is awesome and i adore it

If you had told Damian Al Ghul Wayne that he would discover the love of his life in a shotty alleyway in Paris, France, he would’ve laughed in your face.

Yet there he was, his heart racing a million times a minute as he watched her swing into action sending the akumatized person sailing with a solid kick to their chest.

‘Flawless Execution, I couldn’t have done it better myself.’

Damian ignored the crowds pushing against him trying to take cover in the nearest shelter. He knew that by now his family would’ve seen his transmission from the camera contacts that Barbara had provided them before leaving Gotham. They would also be racing toward the battle hoping to catch a glimpse of how these victims communicated with the notorious Hawkmoth.

He turned the corner colliding into three other rushing bodies.

They all fell to the ground with a groan, each holding their own heads with equal scowls directed at the others. Damian was the first to find his feet as he crossed her arms, glaring down on his mess of brothers. Three voices filled the alleyway simultaneously, all as panicked at the other.

“Damian was that the coffee goddess-”

“Damian was that the flying angel from the acrobat gym-”

“Damian was that your girlfriend-”

Everyone silenced as their gazes shifted to where Jason stood. He only shrugged his shoulders in response, that familiar smirk pulling at his lips.

“She’s not my girlfriend Todd.” Damian tried to say it with the straightest face he could manage but he could do nothing to hide the red that had crept up his cheeks.

“Well, whatever she is doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the flying angel is Ladybug! That information would’ve been helpful earlier. We were already hanging out in civilian form, I mean, we could’ve been having our top-secret meetings without the masks!”

“Dick, some of us care about our secret identities unlike you.”

Dick pouted as Tim elbowed his side.

“All I’m saying is that if she can trust me to catch her 40 feet above the ground, then she should be able to trust me with her secret identity.”

“It’s not like she knows our identity’s Richard.” Damian narrowed his eyes at the older boy essentially silencing his continuous whining. “Besides, she probably didn’t want to harm us. If we showed care for her superheroine side, then Hawkmoth could try to attack us to get to her.”

Jason flailed his hand around mocking Damian’s speech behind his head earning a giggle from the others. Damian’s whole face flushed red as he tried to count backward from 10 to avoid killing Jason.

A blur of red landed in front of him, her slightly flushed face staring above them, as determined as ever.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Her eyes darted down to meet his, a slightly surprised look crossing her face.

“Gentlemen, please return to the shelter. It’s not safe right now.”

The boys stared at each other, calculating their best chances of regrouping if they split now. She swung off before she heard their answer shielding them from the oncoming blow. Damian wanted to rush to her side and help her back to her feet but it wasn’t the right moment.

As they made their way back toward the shelter, Damian’s mind was racing a million times a minute.

The quiet girl with a load of sass who helped him study French couldn’t be the bold superheroine who fought crime on a daily basis right? It seemed illogical.

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he could see it. The way she stood up in class to Chloe and Lila whenever they attacked him, the way she could maneuver around every situation within mere seconds of seeing how it would play out, the way those same blue eyes would shine with determination when she knew she was the smartest one in the room and was only being challenged to prove it.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Wait, can you say that again? I wanna make it my ringtone.”

Damian stuck his foot out as he skidded to a stop taking joy in seeing Todd tumble to the ground, a satisfying rip coming from his new leather jacket.

“Ah, c’mon man, it was just a joke!”

A small scream of terror caught their attention. A girl stood in the middle of the cobblestone, clinging to a stuffed bear, the Akuma looming over her as if ready to strike. Damian knew he couldn’t make it quick enough, but damn if he wasn’t going to try.

The Akuma's hand came down before he had even moved an inch, a sickening smack turning Damian’s stomach. As the dust cleared, Damian raced forward, intent on beheading any man who dared to lay hands on a child so small, but the Akuma was nowhere in sight.

The only thing that was left was a breathless Ladybug, dropped to her knees in front of the small girl, a white butterfly fluttering into the sky.

“Mar-Ladybug!”

Her head perked up at the sound of Damian’s voice as he fell beside her, checking her over for any injuries.

“I’m fine Damian, please, check on the girl.”

As if Damian needed any more confirmation that Ladybug was Marinette. Here she was not even denying that she knew him in that cute stammering manner she did. With a small nod, he turned to check over the girl, making sure the Akuma hadn’t bruised her.

Beside him, Ladybug stumbled to her feet throwing her Miraculous Cure into the air. Instantly, Damian noticed all the damage disappearing under the blinding lights as if the battle had never happened in the first place. He wanted to ask her how the magic behind it worked, but the sound of a shout cut him off.

“Oi! Get back here you little brat! I’m not done teaching you a lesson for eating my food!”

Instantly the girl in his arms became smaller. Ladybug noticed it as well as her eyes hardened, almost daring the man to take a step forward.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there. You were just a victim of Hawkmoth’s powers and need to be checked over by Chat Noir.”

The blonde hero nodded warily as if ready to attack from behind if things went south.

“I ain’t doing any of that. This child right here is mine and needs to be taught a lesson one way or another.”

Ladybug glanced behind her at the small girl’s silent tears as she clung to Damian’s arms as if they were her lifeline.

“You will be doing no such thing. In fact, by the end of today, she will no longer be your child. I suggest you leave now sir, I wouldn’t want things to get ugly.”

The man had the audacity to laugh. It fueled the rage inside Damian, but he refused to let go of the girl. He feared that if he did, she would run.

“What are you gonna do? You superheroes can’t touch me if I’m not akumatized.”

In a flash, he lunged forward. Ladybug wasn’t even fazed as she sidestepped him, pushing his head down into the cobblestone below. It was only one blow, but he was out cold, a small split on his forehead.

Damian couldn’t help the way his jaw hung.

“Medic, he’s going to need stitches. Sir,” Damian shook the shock from his face as he met her eyes. “This child seems to have taken a liking to you, would you mind taking her to the police station for me? Tell them I will be there soon to make my report and check on her.”

Damian nodded, unable to find his voice as those intimidating eyes stared down into his.

“And one more thing, I’ll be checking in with you later as well. It seems we have much to talk about little bird.”

Damian’s entire face flushed red as she swung off with her partner, his eyes never leaving her figure until she was out of sight. The sound of pounding feet on the pavement brought him back to reality as his brother’s skidded in front of him, their faces as impressed as his.

“Hey Damian, this is your fair warning. If you don’t date her, I might.”

“Ditto.”

“Me three.”

Damian stumbled over his denial as he watched his brother’s burst into laughter. Dick gathered the young girl from his arms, cooing at her until she was calm once more, allowing him to finally stand.

“You all are not worthy of her, only I am.”

Jason crossed his arms mocking Damian’s half pout as he and Tim shared another laugh at the murderous look in his eyes. He could care less what these imbeciles thought, the only thing that mattered was what she did.

And he couldn’t wait to find out.

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