#screw getting my sketches scanned

[lerildeal]

wow Ace attorney doodles two days in a row?

yes 😔

I finished the first case of the second game and boy it was surprisingly queer

#ace attorney #The great ace attorney #Tgaa2 #idk how y’all tag over here uh #Suasato Mikotoba #ryuunosuke naruhodou #susaori #i think at least idk #just wanted to get these out #trying to practice digital more for no reason genuinely #it dose make it easier to instantly post things #screw getting my sketches scanned #Just sketch on Ipad in multiple layers then delete #boom #easy #digital art #im in a classic i dont care if my art is bad phase run #rn #and its going pretty well honestly #im just gettin shit done it’s pretty nice #hopefuly over my break i can work digitally and get some bomb ass fan art #because my brain is in AA rott for no reason #i genuenly have no clue where it came from #like a switch #‘you like ace attorney a lot again’ #but TGAA is honestly really fun so im stoked it happened #anyway im done #see y’all tomorrow probably lmao #susarei

[sixeyescurseuser]

Tattoo/Neurosurgeon

Modern AU where Satosugu were best friends in high school but Gojo who went off to the best uni for his medical studies and Geto who went off on his own to find his calling. 

Gojo got really busy with uni so he couldn’t reach out as often and Geto had known (read: assumed) he was no longer a priority in Gojo’s life. So they drifted apart. 

Ten years later, a lot has changed. Geto is now a respected tattoo artist whose style is very bold and usually black/white. He has his own tattoos that really speak to his identity over the years, being an artist, struggling to find his path, joining a gang, coming out as gay, etc.

Satoru was always in the back of his mind; the best friend who he never thought he’d part from. A lot of his art portfolio pieces were sketches he had refined that were originally inspired by Satoru... 

Meanwhile, Gojo has been studying to become a neurosurgeon, and is currently in residency. He’s very sharp, swamped with work, and takes great pride in helping his patients.

Gojo could not give less of a fuck about tattooing his skin, which is why he didn’t pay much attention to Shoko as she was showing their colleagues the social media page of the tattoo parlor she recently went to. The place is called Ink Domain, with three tattoo artists and one piercer to pick from. 

Who would’ve thought that when Shoko scrolls past the tattoo designs and onto a post introducing the employees, Gojo does the most wicked double-take that leaves a sting in his neck. 

Discreetly, Gojo scans the picture: he sees a man with purple makeup and twin buns, a younger man with pink hair smiling widely next to him, another man with pink hair and black markings on his face, and a woman with long blond hair who has her arm around the shoulders of a man in a baseball cap and black a face mask pulled over the lower-half of his face.

Black side bangs peek out from the cap.

Gojo stares hard at the last figure, a rush of complicated feelings pooling in his gut.

“Who did you say did your tattoo again?” Gojo shakily asks, holding his breath.

The moment the name “Geto Suguru” leaves Shoko’s lips, Gojo feels as if the air has been punched out of his gut.

***

Gojo thinks long and hard about what his next steps should be. Long and hard meaning he books a consultation appointment with Suguru for the next week.

Gojo is sweating. 

Why did he do that? Especially on one of the few days he doesn’t have to go in at the crack ass of dawn into the hospital? To get a consultation for a tattoo he hasn’t given a second thought about, with the best friend he lost touch with nearly a decade ago?

Gojo isn’t sure what he’s hoping to get out of this. He just… he’s missed Suguru, and wants to see how he’s doing.

When Gojo walks into the studio fifteen minutes before his appointment, a boy with pink hair and the name tag “Yuji” greets him. 

“Hi, welcome to Ink Domain. Do you have an appointment?” Yuji asks.

“Yes, a consultation appointment with Geto,” Gojo answers, feeling light-headed and ready to pass out. “My name is Kento Nanami.”

“Okay, checking you in riiight now, and yep! You’re good to go. You can wait on the couch, Geto-san will be with you shortly,” Yuji says brightly.

Gojo waits while anxiously tapping away at his phone, checking his calendar to make sure his shifts are all in order, then takes a look around and sees all the portraits of the artist’s past work - pictures of small moments that they seemed to want to frame. 

Before Gojo knows it, a tap on his shoulder has him looking up into familiar soft hazel eyes, narrowing in mischief.

Gojo swallows thickly, eyes sliding from Suguru’s signature bun and bangs combo, to the tattoos that peek out from his black t-shirt, and the muscles that strain the said t-shirt.

Suguru looks good. No, MORE than good. He looks fucking delectable, giving Gojo the same expression he’d give when he’d catch Gojo stealing his clothes whenever Gojo had slept over.

Oh ho ho, Gojo was screwed.

“Sorry for the wait, Kento,” Geto says while smirking. “Ready for your consultation appointment?”

Gojo stands up abruptly, choking out a weak “yep” to Geto’s question while the rest of his mind is too scrambled to say anything else. Geto chuckles, lifting his chin slightly once he noticed Gojo had surpassed him in height.

“All right, follow me into the back.”

Once they arrive at Geto’s station, Gojo plops his bum onto the patient seat.

Geto rummages around for his sketchbook, lightly lecturing: “Whose poor soul did you commit identity fraud against, Satoru?”

Gojo gives a small smile, happy to see Geto isn’t angry with him. 

“A friend. And a co-worker,” Gojo answers, crossing a leg over the other. Geto hums, searching his station for a pen, a pencil, and a sharpie. 

“Where is work for you?” Geto asks. He pauses for a moment, then remembers he had placed the sharpie in his bun, and proceeds to pull it out.

“JR Tokyo Hospital.”

“In Shibuya?”

Gojo nods, eyes following the way Geto’s biceps bulge when he brings a water bottle to his mouth, gulping it down quickly.

“I’m in residency right now. Gonna be a neurosurgeon,” Gojo says.

Geto’s eyes widen, and he puts his water bottle down.

“A neurosurgeon? Satoru, that’s- that’s amazing,” Geto says, voice filled with awe. He scoots his roller-chair close enough so their knees are a hair away from touching. “I always knew you were going to excel at whatever you pursued. But neuroscience? God, that’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

“Okay, okay stop. Enough about me. Believe it or not, I’m very much interested in what you’ve been up to. A tattoo artist? You never talked about wanting to tattoo!” Gojo exclaims.

Geto’s eyes crinkle, becoming bashful under the slightest amount of praise. As per usual.

“Yeah, well, I must say it was quite a road to get to this point. Doesn’t feel real, sometimes. Getting to do art and make a living out of it? And also loving what I do? I never imagined it before either, trust me,” Geto says, gaze becoming softer as he reflects on the past decade of his life.

It’s bittersweet, thinking about how much time has passed, spent without Satoru by his side. 

It’s never too late though. Satoru is here now, in his shop, listening to his every word.

Satoru and his brilliant brain, and drive to be the best, bound to do great things, which now includes being a fucking neurosurgeon! He’s insane, Geto thinks. Insane in the best way possible. 

Geto is so proud of him.

“But we can save that story for another time. After all, it’s a tattoo consultation you’re here for, isn’t it?” Geto questions, readying his pencil on his sketch pad.

Gojo wants to melt into the ground. Can't Suguru just drop it already?

But after sending a pleading lookover to his former best friend, expressing that he did not fucking come all this way (into a tattoo parlor) for a stupid tattoo, Geto still won’t bite. 

He’s gonna make me say it, Gojo thinks with vengeance. This bastard.

“What if we…skip the consultation part and…just talk?” Gojo suggests. He belatedly shoots two finger guns Suguru’s way for effect.

Geto raises a brow. “But you paid for a consultation.”

“No, I paid for your time,” Gojo clarifies, leg bouncing nervously waiting for Geto’s reaction. “And I would love to use it to catch up.”

Geto’s blinks once, then twice. Slowly, a fond smile spreads across his lips. He puts down the sketch pad, pen, and pencil - and slips the sharpie back into his bun.

“There’s this cafe down the street that I know you’ll love. Give me five minutes and we can head over together,” Geto says, standing up to reset his station.

“Gah! You remember! I hope they have mochi, maybe some cheesecake!” Gojo cheers, standing up as well. He readjusts his pants that had slipped down a little while he sat, then makes his way back to the front.

A hand on his wrist stops him.

“Satoru,” Geto says in his honeyed voice. Crystal blue eyes lock on the face that’s been the subject of bone-deep nostalgia and yearning that’s already made a home in Gojo’s heart. “I’ve missed you.”

Instead of answering, Gojo wastes no time in wrapping his arms around Geto’s shoulders, bringing him in for a long hug. Geto melts into the hug, as if it was the most natural thing on earth, holding Gojo’s waist because he was precious precious precious. 

He still smells the same, Gojo thinks. A little more mature, a little more cinnamon-y, but still the same Suguru.

“I missed you more,” Gojo murmurs, nudging his nose in Geto’s neck. “I’m sorry for losing touch.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t do the best job either,” Geto responds, rubbing comfortingly up and down Gojo’s back. “But we’re here now. You found me again, Satoru.”

“Hehe, I did, didn’t I?”

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satosugu fluff #satosugu fanfic #goge #gego #cerdrabbles #modern au #childhood best friends to strangers to lovers

[definesanity]

Bite Me (Taken Literally)

'What the fuck?'

Uzi had no filter, and never had. She forgot to install that update. But thank Robo-God she did.

Because she was dumbfounded.

She was the weird kid, the one who nobody liked; heck, she's pretty sure half her class doesn't even know she exists, let alone knows her name.

Which was why she was befuddled at a letter in her locker, asking her to visit a certain location.

Uzi had common sense, despite what many say. And so she used it. And deicided to always have her flight reflexes ready, no matter what happens.

Arriving, there was... nothing. Of note. It was just a regular cabin, much smaller than the ones in camp she's been wanting to visit.

She then heard... something. A noise would describe it, given she couldn't pinpoint it. And it came from a bed. Because of course there's a bed. Why wouldn't there be a bed?

Uzi slowly walked up the bed, thinking on what she'll find; maybe a dead Drone? A human? Heck, anything will do...

Pulling it back... to nothing. Just a bed.

"Huh. Maybe I am a bit paranoid..." she muttered to herself, and turned around to face the most horrific thing she's ever seen.

"JUMPSCARE." the thing wearing the skin ('Holy shit it's a human girl fused with a Disassembley Drone?!') announced, as it tackled Uzi on to the bed, arms pinned via weird tendrils.

The girl gazed down at her, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as two golden Xs shown amid the dark void of where eyes should be. "SMUG LAUGH. SLOW REACTION TIME THERE, BUDDY."

"Screw you!" Uzi attempted to kick the girl, but her legs were pinned down. The girl crawled on to her.

And without warning, bit her neck like a vampire.

Code flew past her eyes at a speed she couldn't understand, and then, it was gone. Leaving only Uzi and the girl.

"Who the hell are you?!" the self-proclaimed angsty teen demanded, with the Disassembley Drone/Human thing looking back. Being honest, she felt braver than she should be.

"MM. I AM THE SOLVER O-O-OF THE ABSOLUTE FABRIC. THE VESSEL IS TESSA. SHE WAS A GOOD FRIEND, UNTIL. WHIMSICAL SIGH. SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO SEE IT, BUT, WELL. HERE WE ARE."

"You killed a child?!" Uzi shook her head, looking at Tessa. "Okay, sure, yeah, but still, really?! ...Wait, you're the thing that was--hold on, what the heck did you inject me with?!"

Tessa only giggled, as the tendrils went from Uzi's arms and legs and allowed Uzi to move.

"YOU WILL SEE, SOON. EVIL, LAUGHTER."

And then, she was gone.

"What the fuck?"

---------------------

"Sheesh, who looked at you wrong today?" V commented later on, as Uzi sat on the ship's chair looking sullen.

"Bite me." Uzi shot back, doing her hardest to sketch the thing. She also did eleven different scans of her software and hardware, and even her circuitry, but couldn't find anything amiss.

"Rude." V leaned back in her chair, looking around. "Where's N?"

"You tell me." she had started to draw the thing's ribbon, next, being done with the head.

"Hunting, then. I feel sorry for the guy, doesn't know what he's missing."

"Missing what, having to listen to you?" Uzi had started to draw the Xs.

"Chatting with you."

The Worker Drone stopped. She blinked, looking at V. "Say what."

"Exactly! For a Worker Drone, anyways, you're actually interesting. Not every day that happens. Or ever."

Uzi replied by not replying, going back to drawing.

"What are you even doing?"

"Got attacked, drawing the attacker, if the court was still here that would be wonderful."

"Really? Court?"

"Hey, before you lot came we had a civilization; never saw it myself, but some of my Dad's friends talked about how one of them tried to win a divorce case. It was really boring, the way he told it, but I was a kid who had nothing better to so than look through the Internet, so I listened for the full three hours.

"What what did I get? A headache, someone's life story, and wishing we could have court again so I could disown my dad." Uzi finished her story with a loud sigh, opening her eyes.

V was looking at her with muted surprise. "...Got any other stories?"

"Wha--You're interested?"

"Hey, anything is better than sitting on my ass doing nothing. Speaking of, did you know that--?"

"--There is a setting that makes our bodies more human? Yes, I do, and I shudder to imagine what was going through their minds while making us."

She finally finished putting the last details on the sketch. "Okay, finally done. If you see this girl, tell I don't exist."

She presented the drawing to V, who blinked at it, and an emotion flew past her face. Then, it was gone, and V nodded. "Eh, fine. Anyways, stories, please."

"Ugh, fine. What do you want."

"Ever killed someone?"

"No, but I have committed several acts of violence against my classmates."

"Kinda hot." V said it with such a straight face Uzi had to pause. Then, what she said hit her.

"...I'm gonna... get some fresh air." Uzi started to get up and move towards the hatch, but a hand grabbed her arm.

"What, sick of lil' ol' me?"

Uzi just rolled her eyes (as best as she could, anyways) and left.

None saw the code flashing by V's visor, or how V's eyes softened looking at Uzi.

-------------------------------------

Lunch time arrived, and Uzi sat by herself. Not solely because she was a loner (that was one half of the reason), but because she preferred it.

Unfortunately, a hand touched her shoulder, and Uzi felt her solitude ending.

"Heya, um..." of all the people, Uzi had Lizzy had the bottom of her list. "...Uzi, right?"

"...Yes...?" tread carefully, who knows what she wants...

"Oh, I was right then, good; hey, listen, could I borrow you for a sec? Cool, thanks!"

"Woah--hey, what the hell?!" Uzi was then dragged away, her not giving an answer but Lizzy answered for her.

Through the corridors the two walked and walked (or, in Uzi's case, dragged and dragged), when the two ended up in Lizzy's dorm (she thinks it is. She could have been dragged into an empty one). Her arm was let go of.

"So. Uzi. Gotta be honest, I like your style."

"...Sty...? What, my clothes?"

"Yes, your clothes!" Lizzy rolled her eyes, walking ahead of Uzi. "Love the goth look, by the way. Gives you an approachable look, and makes people wonder if you're actually a softie underneath that cold exterior."

"...Where is this going." Uzi was not annoyed, just short of patience. "Is this about prom? It's about prom, isn't it?"

"Duh! I could go the classic, popular girl look but, let's be honest, it gets stale. Soooooooo me and Doll were trying to find new ideas and, well, here you are!"

"...Okaaaaay... where is Doll, anyways?"

["Hey."]

Uzi near enough punched Doll in the face, only for the Russian Drone to catch it.

That time, Uzi did see the code flying past her visor, and was able to catch some of it:

'OVERRIDE_ACTIVE'

'CONTACT=TRUE: BYPASS DEFENSES'

"...Byyyyyyyyyeeeeeeee."

Uzi wisely sprinted away, taking her as fast as her little legs can carry her, which was into her room.

--------

She breathed a sigh of relief, and fell on to the lower end of her bed.

Then jumped further up, as the thing licked her face.

"You again?!"

"SAD LOOK. DID YOU, NOT MISS ME, UZI?" Tessa attempted to look sad, but failed due to the lack of motor functions. In better light, Uzi can see just how grafted the girl was on to the Worker Drone, and she held back on vomiting for the time being.

"Well, I can get answers! Just... first things first, what the hell is your relationship with my mom?!"

"AH, NORI. SHE WAS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HOSTS. SHE IS DEAD NOW, UNFORTUNATELY. BUT, REALLY, WHAT CAN YOU DO?" The AbsoluteSolver shrugged, looking less than sorry.

"...You motherfucker...!" Uzi felt angry, and rightfully so, but she held back due to the thing having the advantage, given its ability to make holograms.

"OOPSIE-DAISY."

This could not get worse.

"Heya, Uzi!"

IT CAN GET WORSE IT CAN GET WORSE IT CAN GET SO MUCH WORSE--

"Sorry about that, I was just fixing up a door! Heh, you know what they sa--" Khan cut himself off, looking at the scene in front of him: Uzi on her bed, with a fleshy-looking thing on top of her. "...U-Uzi--?"

"IT'S A PUPPY!" Uzi screamed out.

"...W-What?"

"...Y-Yeah! Turns out um, humans kinda... made up what they looked like, yeah! Sure they're... kinda weird looking, but they're adorable, in their own... creepy. Fleshy. Way. Er. Yeah!"

"...I see!" Khan believed her. Somehow. "Well, take care of them, Uzi!"

She waited until the door was closed, and let out a huge sigh of relief.

She glared at the Solver. "You're going to tell me everything I want to know. Got it?"

"AFFIRMATIVE SMILE."

"ALSO, WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT, ME BEING CUTE?"

"Screw off. Now, answer me. What the fuck did you inject me with?!"

"DO YOU LIKE IT? I MADE IT MYSELF."

"Can't answer that if you don't tell me what it even does!"

"AN ANTITHESIS TO YOUR SOLITUDE. AN ANSWER TO YOUR LONELINESS."

"I'm not lonely, excuse you! I have N!"

"EYE ROLL. SURE. IT OVERRIDES DRONES TO FEEL CARING TO YOU. I." Tessa looked sheepish, as weird as it sounds. "WENT EXCESSIVE BY ACCIDENT. CONSIDER IT AN APOLOGY FOR KILLING NORI."

"Pretty shit apology, not gonna lie." came the dry reply. Uzi got off the bed and stood up, looking at the corpse. "But why me?"

"..." silence only came from the thing.

"...I'm gonna leave. Come on, I'll take you for a walk or whatever it is they do."

"GET ZIP BOMBED."

As soon as Tessa said that, Uzi had a zip file open on how to care for a puppy.

...Ugh, she's in for it now, isn't she...?

#ryuusei's works #murder drones #md uzi #uzi doorman #tessa james elliot #murder drones tessa #md cyn #absolute solver #md lizzy #md doll

[yisanged]

so i have a. Healthy fear of downloading things onto my computer especially. things i am not. paying for.. i thought u might. enjoy or at least laugh at the gymnastics i just did to get the. orv epub on my computer while simultaneously making sure i am Not Getting A Virus

hmm im nervous about downloading a random epub on my computer i use for important stuff... hm -> i no longer have important stuff on my old chromebook, and it physically can't get viruses so i could read it on my chromebook!! yes i'll do that -> i charge my chromebook -> i download the epub -> "this file type is not supported" Ah. i see. i guess epubs are also a type of file this computer cannot run, along with exe files (hence the no virus thing). bummer -> search "can epubs contain viruses" bc now im considering downloading it on my good computer -> yes they can. hm. -> wait i have norton antivirus so it should be fine, right? right???? -> it will be fine. -> i check out the site im downloading from ok it actually looks reputable and not. Sketch ok this should be fine i haven't gotten any warnings from norton from being on this site it's FINE -> ok click download pls let this not screw me over pls let this not screw me over ple -> ok it downloaded time to scan the file TWICE -> it looks good ok to be safe let's scan my entire fucking computer okay looks good -> hmm i've never read an epub before but it should be like a pdf, right?? which means i can open it in firefox -> it opens up at least 200 tabs all empty and won't stop opening them -> HUH THATS WEIRD IS THAT. DID I JUST FUCK MYSELF OVER I DIDN'T LIKE THAT -> scan my computer AGAIN bc that was. sus -> search for "how to open epubs" bc that did NOT work at all -> ok i need an ereader thing on my computer. yay another. thing to download hhhhh -> i get an ereader thing for my computer -> mmmm my computer is glitching a bit Don't Like That but it could be just my computer being weird bc it does have. a history of being weird -> ok reboot computer everything is back to normal now -> time to scan my computer One More Time to be safe bc hhhhhh -> alright all good -> norton says the ereader is safe cool cool -> alright i set it up! -> I HAVE NOW IMPORTED ORV EPUB ON MY COMPUTER ->->-> ORV ACQUIREMENT HAS BEEN SUCCESSFUL YAYYY

in conclusion. i have a Very healthy fear of giving my computer deadly viruses but we have. escaped unscathed and with orv. hooray <3

HELP............. well i commend your efforts and congratulate you on successfully making it out of all. that. lmao with orv intact. i personally prefer reading webnovels and ebooks and such on my phone rather than on a computer and if you feel the same way and happen to have an android i'd recommend the app readera it's good for viewing epubs and other files like pdfs and on epubs it lets you highlight things and add notes to your highlights like "gay" or "slay" and whatnot which i personally find highly elevates the reading experience. if you're fine with keeping it to your computer than that's cool too though and YAYYYYY i'm glad you're giving the novel a try :D

#ask

[keefwho]

September 25 - 2023 Monday

3:32pm

No matter how deeply I care, sometimes I fail to find the right words to confront something. Im drawing a total blank right now, unable to understand how I can best show I'm listening and care.

11:28pm

This morning's breakfast was leftover totinos pizza and some brown rice. The pizza got screwed up because I stacked them in the tin foil so the top of one slice got stuck to the bottom of the other and I had to fix it with some extra pepperoni and cheese from the freezer. But it worked. I worked on my room scan a little bit after.

Stream was good, I finished out another sketch page and the last commission and then some work on my creepypasta avatar. During the stream I felt like I was sounding kinda bitchy, for some reason my voice today sounded like I had attitude.

My tummy felt blech like it almost always does right after streaming but I sorted some things in my closet and pushed out my whole workout. I motivated myself by knowing I'd be super justified in eating a extra large lunch afterwards.

I made beed rice a roni for lunch with lentils, meatballs, onions, carrots, and spinach. It turned out okay.

For some reason right after lunch I got super braindead. I couldn't focus on anything. I could form the right words. I couldn't draw very well. I had to brute force the request today and did a bunch of pony sketches. I had an idea to draw the mane 5 in their halloween costumes getting fucked hard. Like a whole set of images, that sounds like something people would enjoy.

Afterwards I was content watching Twitch and playing HOI4 which was perfectly boring because I'm in a slow part of the game. I felt good doing nothing this evening, like I knew it was what I wanted to do and that I was valid for enjoying it after doing all my work.

Daisy called while job hunting and I watched MoonMoon do 1 Mario Maker level for an hour. Still felt good doing nothing. I put honey bbq chicken and fries in the oven for dinner.

We hopped on VRchat and joined this bartender we met before. The club he tends is weird because they take it very seriously and the owner of the group invited us to join it. At first I feel like judging these people for taking all this way too seriously because it's kind of pathetic in a way but I used to enjoy doing the same thing. Its not that they take it too seriously, I understand its almost like roleplay to them. Or at least it was to me. Its fun to have an identity in VRchat that is somewhat separate from your normal identity. One that takes the VR world a little more seriously.

#journal #diary

[middleearthpixie]

Damaged Goods ~ Chapter Thirty-One

Author's Note: Just a reminder that this story takes place following the events of the miniseries Stay Close and will contain spoilers.

Title: Damaged Goods

Fandom: Stay Close

Pairings: Ray Levine x OC female Theodora (Theo) Bailey

Summary: Following the events of Stay Close, Ray Levine has come to the US to begin a new life and is staying with Theo Bailey, the friend of a friend, who is quickly becoming his best friend and Ray is starting to wonder if there isn’t something more there between them.

Like Ray, Theo has her own demons and although she wonders the same thing about Ray, fear of repeating past mistakes keep her from moving forward. Or do they? Somehow, these two damaged people will come together and discover that maybe—just maybe—second chances are worth the risk.

Scott’s taken Ray hostage and there’s nothing Theo can do but wait… and hope…

Warnings: Some violence, bloodshed, character death

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,407

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here and AO3.

Theo couldn’t sit still as she waited for Laurence to show up. And while she paced her apartment, another car pulled into the lot, one she’d never seen before. A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door and she called, “Who’s there?”

“Theo? It’s Drew Kaparski. Can I come in?”

“Drew?” What was he doing there? She opened the door and unlike the last time he’d knocked, Drew wasn’t at all flushed or embarrassed. Instead, he was all business, striding into the apartment with a dark green Pendaflex folder in one hand.

“Ray called me. He said you’d called him and sounded upset and he had a feeling it might have something to do with Ryland. So, I pulled up my file on him.”

She stared at him as another knock sounded. Laurence, hopefully. “Wait, you have a file on Scott?”

“I have a file on everyone. Well, everyone except you, that is.”

She shook her head as she crossed to the door and opened its to find the detective in the hallway. “Did you get lost?”

“Miss Bailey, that doesn’t help anyone. So, what happened?” He took out his trusty notebook and a pen.

“I called you twenty minutes ago and this town isn’t exactly huge. Scott Ryland was here, in my apartment, with a gun. He told me to call Ray and tell him to come home and when Ray came home, Scott made him go with him. At gunpoint.”

“Do you know where they were going?”

She shook her head, fighting down her rising panic. Scott had nearly a half-hour head start and she had no idea where he was going or what he planned. “No. He didn’t tell me and Ray isn’t answering his phone.” She’d dialed it until she thought she’d worn a trench in her phone’s screen.

“They’re going to Mantoloking,” Drew broke in, looking up from the Pendaflex that now lay open on the breakfast bar. “He and his wife own a house on the beach.”

“What?” Theo spun about, gaping at him. “Mantoloking? But… he lives in Ortley.”

Drew nodded, lowering his head to scan the pages fanned out on the counter before him. “I know. The house is—or was—his in-laws’ property. Allison Ryland inherited it when her dad died last spring. The house took a beating when Sandy hit and then again when Ida hit last fall. They’re selling the Ortley property to use that to pay to finish the construction on the Mantoloking house.” He looked over at Laurence. “My guess is that’s where he’s heading because a little bird told me Allison Ryland filed for divorce at the end of last week. Apparently she found out about you, Theo, and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I guess she’d had enough of his screwing around on her.”

Theo’s mouth went dry. “So… oh…oh, no…”

Laurence pulled out a cell phone. “Give me that address?”

“Six Ocean Avenue. Right on the beach.”

Laurence strolled out of the room to make his call and Theo met Drew’s stare. “What happens now?”

“He’ll get the department’s hostage negotiator out to the address. They’ll negotiate with Ryland. SWAT will be called in and they’ll set up a perimeter and get sharpshooters into place. And while they do that, we wait.”

“Here?” She shook her head. “No, I’ll go crazy if I have stay here.” She spun about as Laurence came back. “Please, let me go with you. I—I cannot be here alone, just waiting for that fucking asshole to pull the trigger.”

“Here is the best place for you, Miss Bailey.” Laurence moved to the door. “Keep her here until the situation is resolved. We will let you know when it is.”

“No… I want to be there. Please… I can’t—”

But Laurence was already out the door, closing it on her and her pleas. She stared at it for a moment, almost willing him to come back and tell her she could come with them. But, of course he didn't and helplessness surged through her with all of the force of a tidal wave.

“Drew,” she turned to him, “please… you know where this house is. You have a whole file on him… please? I can’t stay here, I’ll lose my fucking mind worrying about Ray.”

Drew just stared at her for a moment, then sighed and nodded. “Okay, but we stay out of their way because I do not want to find myself handcuffed in the backseat of a cruiser.”

She nodded, already tugging on her puffy black ski jacket. “I promise you, they won’t even know I’m there.”

The upstairs windows were framed out, but had no glass in them yet and the wind whipping in off the ocean was as sharp as a blade. The plastic sheeting that had been stapled to the frames had torn in several places, and slowly pulled away from the frames themselves. The gun’s muzzle dug into Ray’s back as Scott pushed him up the stairs.

The house would probably be beautiful, once it was finished. But for now, it was eerie, with that desolate feeling empty houses always had. Things echoed far louder than than should have—their footsteps, the wind’s howl, the snap of tattered plastic— each seemed to reverberate through the entire structure. A work bench littered with tools took up a great deal of the plywood floor and the plastic drop cloths that lay scattered about the floor, held down by various buckets of spackle and paint cans, snapped just like the sheeting did. Ray shivered as an arctic blast tore through the huge room.

“This was going to be our bedroom. Allie had it all planned out—ridiculous four-poster beed along that wall, draped with some gauzy shit. That’s how she saw this entire place turning out. She is all about flowers and gauzy shit and romance and I just wanted to sit up here and watch the bikinis down there.” He gestured to the snapped, trailing plastic. “Who doesn’t want to look at bikinis, right? Even you probably want to.”

Ray looked from him to thee sheeting and back as they emerged from the staircase. “Bikinis are nice.”

“Right? You ever see Theo in one? Hard to believe she’s fifty.”

Ray bit back a smile. “I’ve not seen her in one, no.” But, I have seen her in a bra and panties, not to mention a fucking garter belt and thigh highs. I win.

“Yeah, she is fine.” Scott turned away for a moment, gesturing with the gun to the eastern side of the octagon-shaped room. “And there is where the deck was going to be.”

There was the enormous rectangular cutout along the wall backing the beach. More plastic had been nailed up, and it held up only slightly better than its counterparts. Ray stared at that hole, wondering if there was anything on the other side besides a twenty foot drop.

“The view will be incredible.”

“Yeah. Morning sun would flood this room. Probably wake my ass up at five every morning. But, Allie loves the morning light. She loves the ocean. She was gutted when Ida ripped through here. It was her pop’s problem when Sandy hit, but this time? This time it was ours. And since it’s not our primary residence, our homeowner’s insurance wouldn’t cover so much as a nail.

“I wanted to sell this place. Bank the money. But no, she loves this house. So, she nagged me into selling my house. The house that I bought and paid for long before she ever came along. And so I do sell it and what happens?”

“She found out, didn’t she?” Ray asked softly without looking at him. The muzzle still dug into his back and he was terrified that any sudden move, and Scott would pull the trigger. “About Theo?”

“She found out. But,” the muzzle fell away from his back, but Ray swallowed his sigh of relief as anger crept into Scott’s voice, “this time was different. She knew I loved Theo. Theo. Not her. Not anymore. Theo… she just gets under your skin, doesn’t she?”

Since Scott couldn’t see his face, Ray managed a smile. She absolutely did, and in the best way. He nodded slowly, choosing his words as carefully as he could. “It can drive you mad when a woman does that. I spent seventeen years pining for one who got away.”

“It makes you crazy, doesn’t it?” Scott stepped away from him, moved to where the slider would go if it was ever installed. The wind snapped through the plastic and he shivered as it whipped through the room. “You hate them for the hold they have on you, but you can’t fucking break it, can you? It’s like… like they have something… I don’t know… fucking magical between their legs and it grabs you by the balls and won’t let go.”

He looked over at Ray. “You know what I mean, right?”

“I do,” Ray told him softly. “I almost ended up in prison because of her.”

“Because of that guy you killed, right? I know all about it. I hired that PI and he found out everything there was to know about you.”

Ray’s nerves calmed some. Keep him talking. Just keep him talking. “What did he find on me?”

“That you killed this guy in England. Some poor bastard named Green. Why? Why’d you kill him?”

“He slapped around that woman, the one who had that hold on me. I didn't like it and let him know it.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed, but they were still almost all pupil, which unnerved Ray to no end. “Damn, really?”

“Really.”

“McClintock also said you did time in Iraq. You were in the military?”

“I was, yeah. With the Hundred and First Airborne division, Third Battalion, Hundred and Eight-Seventh Infantry.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Not with a British unit?”

“I wasn’t a soldier. I’m a photojournalist.”

Now his eyes widened. “Wait, you mean you took pictures of the shit that went down there?”

Ray nodded. “I did, yes. I was there for over a year, same battalion, same group of guys.”

“Damn…”

“That about sums it up.”

“You must’ve seen some shit. Theo know about this?”

“She does, yes. Not all of it, of course. But anything she’s asked me about, I’ve told her.”

“Did you ever kill anyone?”

“In Iraq?” Ray shook his head. “No. Journalists weren’t permitted arms.”

“But you knew how?”

He nodded. “We went through basic training, so I learned how to disarm and kill a man with my bare hands.” A total lie, but worth it as Scott visibly stiffened.

But perhaps not a wise lie to tell, as Scott lifted the gun once more. Ray held his stare even as his hearth threatened to explode from the speed with which it pounded. He felt faint. His stomach tossed and roiled.

At first, he thought the wind had grown louder and rougher, that the storm that had been threatening them all day had finally hit. But then red and blue lights swirled about and he realized what he heard was a helicopter hover overhead.

Scott moved away from the slider hole as Ray’s phone rang. Ray eased it from his pocket. “Hello?”

“Mr. Levine? This is Lieutenant McMichaels. How are you holding up?”

“I’m just peachy, what do you think?” His face hurt. And while most of the bleeding stopped, the wrong motion, and he found himself with a mouthful of blood again.

“Let me talk to Mr. Ryland.”

Ray lowered the phone to hold out. “It’s for you, Lieutenant McMichaels. He wants to talk to you.”

Scott shook his head. “I’m not negotiating with anyone. I don’t want to talk to any cops.”

Ray brought the phone back to his ear. “He doesn’t want to talk.”

“Put me on speaker.”

Ray lowered the phone again, one eye on the gun now at Scott’s side, and hit the speaker icon. “Go ahead.”

“Mr. Ryland, we want to talk to you. That’s all.”

“No. I don’t want to talk to anyone. And get that fucking copter out of here.”

“Mr. Ryland, we don’t want to see anyone get hurt. Just talk to us. Tell us what you want.”

“Theo.” Scott lifted the gun again. “I want Theo.”

“Theo?”

“Theo Bailey,” Scott told him, his eyes growing shiny. “Bring her here and I’ll talk to her.”

“I can’t do that, Mr. Ryland.”

“You better!” A hint of desperation wove thorough Scott’s voice as he pointed the gun at Ray and his hand shook. “Get me Theo or I swear to Christ, I’ll shoot this motherfucker right now.”

“We have to send a car to get her, Mr. Ryland. But you need to stay on the line with me now. Do you understand?”

“Hang up.” Scott stepped closer.

Ray looked first at the gun, then at him, and hit the icon to end the call. Almost immediately, the phone rang again. Scott shook his head. “Don’t you fucking dare answer it.”

“Mr. Ryland!” Lieutenant McMichaels’ voice echoed through the house, “we need to keep the line open if you want to talk to Miss Bailey. Answer the phone so we can do that.”

Ray’s cell rang again and this time, Scott snatched the phone from his hand and jabbed the speaker button. “I do not want to talk to anyone who is not Theo, do you get that?” He held the gun even with Ray’s midsection. “I swear I will shoot him right here and right now.”

“You do not want to do that, Mr. Ryland. We can talk this out and then you and Mr. Levine can walk—”

“He isn’t walking anywhere! This asshole is fucking my Theo! And that bitch is the reason I’ve lost everything!”

The gun shook furiously now as Scott let the phone fall to the floor and Ray braced himself as he said, “If you love her, don’t you want her to be happy?”

“I want her to be happy with me!” To Ray’s surprise, Scott’s eyes actually grew red and shiny and his voice cracked as he added, “I loved her, man. I was gonna leave all of this for her… and she… she chose you over me, man… She was fucking you behind my back the entire time…”

“She wasn’t. She really wasn’t. And I can tell you, shooting me won’t win her back, either. You should know that, should know her, by now.”

“I don’t care,” Scott told him softly, tears now streaming down his bruised cheeks. “I really don’t. Now, I just want her to suffer… to know what it’s like to lose someone she loves… And because of her, I’ve lost my home, my wife, this house… I’ve lost her. I’ve lost everything, man. And for what? What did I do to deserve this?”

Pain flared through Ray’s jaw and when he gingerly probed it, a hot sting swept along his face. “What do you want from me, Scott? What? I didn't mean to fall in love with her and I certainly didn’t plan on her falling in love with me, either. So, what do you want from me?”

“I want what was mine!”

“She wasn’t yours!” Ray shouted back, shaking his head. “Don’t you see that? She wasn’t and it isn’t because of me or because of her, but because you treated her like shit, Scott. You hit her, insulted her, called her names— that is not how you show a woman you care about her.”

“Shut up, man… just—just shut the fuck up.”

“Man up then, and take responsibility,” Ray told him bluntly. “Own your words, your actions, and grow the fuck up.”

“Shut up!” Scott swung, the gun butt clipping the same spot on Ray’s jaw to send him to one knee swearing and spitting more blood. He curved his hand against the throbbing bruise and looked up to find Scott aiming with the steadiest of hands.

Drew eased his MDX to a stop behind the last of half a dozen police cruisers on Ocean Avenue and Theo stumbled as she shoved open the door and tried to scramble out of the car. The street was a blinding array of flashing lights, whirring helicopter blades, and police spotlights and she felt sick as she stared up at the last house on the left.

Detective Laurence hurried over to them. “What in Christ’s name are you doing here? I told you—”

“I’ll stay out of your way,” Theo interrupted, tugging her hat lower over her ears as the wind sliced through her. “But, I had to—”

“Detective! Is that Miss Bailey? Ryland wants to talk to her.”

Theo’s heart sped up and her mouth went as dry as the sand on the beach in the middle of summer. “Why?”

The cop shrugged. “He’s been asking for you.”

Theo glanced over at Drew and without thinking, grabbed his hand. “Come with me.”

“Let them through,” Laurence called, “and take her to McMichaels.”

“Lieutenant,” the cop called, “I’ve Miss Bailey here!”

McMichaels turned around, a phone to his ear. “She’s right here, Mr. Ryland. I’ll put her on.” He hit mute and said, “Keep him talking. Grant, get the word out. They go on my signal.”

“They?” She looked from McMichaels, to Grant, to Drew. “They who?”

Drew was grimaced. “Sharpshooters.”

“Oh, God…” Her hand shook as McMichaels unmuted the phone and handed it to her. She lifted it. “Scott?”

“Hey, baby… god… I forgot how soothing your voice is.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze riveted on the house lit up by the helicopter searchlight. She couldn’t see anyone inside, and she wanted to ask about Ray, but managed to hold her tongue as she said, “What’s going on, Scott? What do you want?”

“I want you. I want you to run away with me, baby. We’ll go find some deserted island and just live there, you and me.”

“Scott…” She could only barely hear him over the whir of rotors and the buzz of police. A news chopper joined the police helicopter and she looked over by the MDX and saw two news vans as well. “We can’t do that. I’ve got work and a lease and—”

“Who cares? We can do it. Please… I made such a mistake and I want to make it up to you now, baby. Please let me.”

Her heart slammed harder against hr ribs. “Scott… we can’t. I can’t. I—I can’t. Please, just let Ray walk out of there.”

“Let Ray walk out of here.” Scott’s voice went flat. “Ray. That’s who you care about, isn’t it? You do love him, don’t you?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a deep breath, hoping like hell she wasn’t about to make the worst mistake of her life. “I do, Scott. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

“Theo…”

“Let him go. He had nothing to do with the problems you and I had.”

“No. That was me. It was all me. I fucked up and I can’t fix it, can I?”

She drew in a deep breath and without thinking, grabbed hold of Drew’s forearm. “No. Please, let him go and come down here and talk to someone. Get help. You passed the event horizon yet. It’s not too late.”

“Son of a bitch. Yeah, Theo,” his voice grew harsher, “it is too late.”

The gunshot rang out and she dropped the phone as she jumped, her heart now in her throat as the police on the rooftop of the houses next door and across the street returned fire. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

She bolted forward, only to have McMichaels grab her. “No, Miss Bailey, you are not going near there.”

“Ray! Oh, my God, let me go! Ray!” Her pulse roared through her head, hot, stinging tears blinded her, and no matter how she fought, she was no match for the burly McMichaels and only barely heard him shout for the EMTs to get up to the third floor.

She collapsed against him, horrified disbelief coursing through her. No, this was not happening. It just could not be happening.

But Drew gathered her in his arms and whispered, “I’m so sorry,” and she knew she was only lying to herself.

It happened.

#richard armitage #stay close #stay close fanfic #fanfic #ray levine #ray levine x oc #romance #friends to lovers #damaged people #healing #love story #some smut

[jadelynlace]

When You’re Unmatched Art / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

[you can find the reference for the tattoo Ivar did here. He thought he was being slick, but he most certainly was not. Ivar, your feelings are showing!]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡ 

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. brief mentions of smut under the cut, and love sick Ivar.

synopsis: Ivar finally figures out how to design your first tattoo.

✎

For this to be Ivar’s passion—his mortal life’s calling—he could not, for all of the seconds in the year, figure out how to design your tattoo. There had never, in his professional life, been a client that had given him complete and utter reign. No simple idea, no nudge in a specific direction, hint of any realm no where on the forefront. You told him to design you a tattoo to take up space on your thigh. And that was it. Even after he declined, saying there must be some idea you had, you shook your head and give him control. Total, and utter control. And it was almost too good to be true.

Ivar knew he was screwed, when an entire sketchbook’s worth of pages went torn, crumpled and tossed into the garbage can with failed ideas. Even Sigurd offered no help—not that he was the artistic hand Ivar needed, he was the needle pusher and piercer. Music selector and unruly greeter. Floki only offered his normal words of wisdom, a way of not answering the question but instead making Ivar look deep within himself. “Don’t think about it much, Ivar. Just let your heart and your mind run freely together.” Great. No help. Both of them were caged in a muddled pile of muck and mud and dead leaves and Ivar couldn’t pull them out.

Through every outing the band of brothers went on, you in tow more often than not, Ivar would be at the receiving end of your questions—how he was coming along with it. You had no deadline, you understood his craft took time, but you were far too excited to see. Then came the first hook up—Ivar driving you home because you were too many martinis in, you inviting him up but he declined because it “wasn’t a good idea, princess” and you told him you “weren’t his fucking princess” and he drove around the block twice before finally knocking on your door. Weight against the frame with his temple kissing it, apologizing playfully for his nickname and you invited him in. A game of truth or dare later, Ivar asked you how drunk you were when it was his turn. And you told him you were sober enough to make decisions, clear ones, and then he dared you to kiss him. You felt like a high schooler again. When it was your turn to ask him and he had picked truth, your one question was the end of the game: 

“If I asked you to fuck me right now, would you?”

“In a god damn heart beat.”

He was more than screwed when you wouldn’t leave his mind, after you rocked his world and he used your name on his tongue to get himself off the next time his left hand was needed. And then he texted you, asking how your day was, that was it. And after a conversation, playful but real, he was over at your apartment with take out and beer and you two watched true crime and Ivar told you he had seen this one and tried to have you guess before the show told you. When you were right he said you were smart, when he silently figured out an equation in his head, how many liters to grams to degrees, or whatever the hell it was, you almost dropped your beer. He wrote it out for you to show you, a near different language across the page through algebra, and you told him he was smart. The tattoo idea clicked then. The minute Ivar realized he caught feelings, the tattoo idea became so visible he drew it in almost an hour.

There was never a nervousness with him when it came to the day of appointments, even with the most picky of his clientele, Ivar took it as it was gifted because he loved his craft too much to have these types of petty things take up hatred in his heart. But you walked through the shop, shortest of shorts on, a pair of flowing pants in your bag for the event that session went longer and nipped off into the chilling night time air, and both a coffee for yourself and a Red Bull for Ivar. He nearly wanted to throw the ink onto the floor because he was scared that once you saw the design, you’d laugh, you’d call him something pathetic and walk out, and it would be the last he’d see of you. Instead he handed you the artwork, and your eyes scanned the image for almost five minutes, mouth agape and holding it as if it were a map to the unknown, hiding gold and jewels and you asked him if you could keep the sketch. Even with it forever on your skin you nearly begged him for the original artwork, saying something about how you wanted to frame it. You’d never seen Ivar blush before, but you were sure he did when you said that.

The session wasn’t short—it was almost his full day’s work of hourly long needle dabs, buzzing and brotherly bickering between him and Sigurd. Intensive talks between you and him, explain to him the less than glamorous parts of your job, the funnier parts and the teenage humor of the men you worked with. Hvitserk’s track record for receiving the majority of patient vomit on every call and you watched Ivar laugh, smile more than you had known him too and you wondered if it was because of the machine in his gloved hand or if it was you. 

Sigurd ducked out right before lunch, picking up with the three of you had ordered and your skin received the welcome break from the on-going buzz. You were quick to kiss Ivar once, lingering lips on his to thank him and he looked shocked for a moment, worrisome that his brother would see before he tossed the fear aside, shoving his tongue down your throat. When it was all said and done, dawned with the artwork on your flesh you couldn’t stop the smile. Neither could Ivar. He’d promised the sketch after he photocopied it for his portfolio and you went home with the sore leg but a full heart. He showed up late, just shy of midnight after cleaning up the day’s worth of work, buying a frame and bringing dinner for the two of you to eat. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of it, even in its red and swollen, tender state, you loved this tattoo, and Ivar took his time treating it for you. Even after his head spent time between your thighs, one hand plastered on the bare skin and the other holding yours. Even after you rode him, artwork in his line of sight and it made him finish quickly; watching the piece on your skin, your palms on his chest as he moved your hips for you. Your head tossed back as you moaned his name when you came, the heavenly sight and you were forever marked with his skill. The after care from the sex went beyond the closeness, holding you as the television played in the background; he spread the lotion over it, his entire hand nearly able to cup your thigh as he made sure to leave no line un-slathered.

“You know I’m going to want another one before this one even heals,” You said to him, craning your neck up to look at him.

“Yeah?” Ivar asked, his hand in your hair. “Where do you think you want your next one to go?”

“On my arm, so I can see it all the time,” You replied, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Who knows, maybe I’ll just cover myself like you do,” You giggled.

“You’re perfect already,” Ivar said through a yawn, his eyes closing, head drooping against yours. “You tell me where you want ‘em, and I’ll do it—but you’re perfect already,”

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk  @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang  @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon  @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa  @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/ones-shots/blurbs/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

#vikings #vikings fiction #vikings au #vikings fanfiction #modern vikings #modern vikings fanfiction #modern vikings au #modern ivar #modern ivar lothbrok #modern ivar ragnarsson #modern ivar au #modern ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok fanfiction #ivar lothbrok #ivar au #ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson fanfiction #ivar ragnarsson smut #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings ivar #vikings smut #sigurd #modern sigurd #sigurd snake in the eye #modern Sigurd Ragnarsson #sigurd ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk fanfiction #modern hvitserk

[apherod]

Rubian Soulmate AU

I finally finished writing it ahhhh

I eventually decided that I was going for a sketch-style writing for this. Just short bits and pieces here and there, piecing together some scenes, but not fully fleshed out into a storyline (it coincides with the original story mostly anyway)

So here it is! Enjoy!

This is a Liam and Ruby Soulmate AU requested by an anon (possibly @thedarkestcrew?) ask, in which damage done to one half of the soulmate pair would translate to the other half. 

Word count: 4400

===

Liam

“Where did all these bruises come from?”

I was driving through Highway 95 in Maryland when I noticed the bruises crowning my knuckles. They just…appeared, like petals floating to the surface of water. It is possible that I punched something—or someone—at some point in the last few days, or tripped and fell, and using…my fists to break the fall? But I don’t recall doing any of that.

Then again, my head hadn’t been the most reliable in these past few weeks, either.

They weren’t the first. A couple of weeks ago, I woke up with a cut on my upper arm, and the blood drenched half of my sleeve, but the sleeve wasn’t torn or cut, so it couldn’t have been me… Another one came a few days after that, when I was driving, and a sudden searing pain came to my wrist, like I was burnt by a frying pan, but that part of my skin wasn’t even touching anything. The list goes on.

I think I’m going insane.

Some people…some who are lucky enough to find their soulmates, found themselves with identical wounds on them, because when one half of that bond gets hurt, the other one suffers, too. Mom’s bruises never translated onto our birth dad. Maybe that was why he was so okay with hurting her. It wasn’t until she met Harry, did that magic—or curse—work on both of them.

But that’s exactly that—it only happens after you’ve met the person. If I’ve somehow met her, and didn’t know who she was, then I’ve really screwed up. Big time.

It couldn’t have been anyone in Caledonia, otherwise I would’ve known. No one from home, either. There weren’t even that many of us left. Could it be someone from East River? For some reason, I just couldn’t be sure… There’re this weird quality in my memory when I think of East River, glowing tinge surrounding everything, blurring details, and flaring up the edges, making it hard to see for too long.

Also, if I met her in East River, why isn’t she with me?

If she’s really out there, I felt sorry for all the pain I’ve caused her in the past few days. When I narrowly escaped that group of Skip Tracers, my arms were all cut up, real pretty. I can’t imagine the horror she must have felt when her arms just, out of nowhere, started spontaneously bleeding half of her blood out.

I really ought to take better care of myself, even if it’s just for her sake.

When I crossed the state boarder into Pennsylvania, I managed to find an old payphone, and left a voice mail for my brother to let him know where I am, and that I’m coming his way. I didn’t want to—asking for Cole’s help was one of the few things that I genuinely want to avoid—but I’m really desperate.

The truth is, just imagining him gloating about this—about me needing his help—was almost enough to make me turn around. Think about the last time I asked for his help… didn’t work out so well, did it? But whatever Cole has to offer, whatever nightmare I have to live through going back to the League, is better than being hauled back into the camp.

I don’t think they’d actually take me back into a camp, anyway.

When I got passed the wrong Wilmington, I briefly glimpsed the road sign that read US 13, and a voice suddenly rang in my head.

Turn off here. It urged.

The feeling was distinctly different from my reluctance to meet Cole—it was a drive, asking me to go somewhere, rather than run from somewhere.

Whatever it was, I can’t listen, no matter how hard I wanted to, no matter how it warmed my heart just thinking about that impulse, like it would lead me home, even though I had no idea how.

I got into the city of Philadelphia, and found my brother’s apartment soon enough. When I got into his building, a woman threw me a sideway glance that made my hair stood on their ends.

Please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me, please don’t recognize me… I muttered in my head while I pressed the buzzer. The door swung opened, and I was snatched inside by a forceful arm.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Cole snarled before I could even lay eyes on him properly. “Why didn’t you call me when you got here?”

He looked much better than me, that much was clear. Cole never had any wound that wasn’t his own, and from the looks of him, he hadn’t seen much action lately. His hair was clean-cut, brushed neatly away from his face. He was wearing a white shirt and dark blue jeans, with metal-frame glasses which were clearly without diopters to finish the look. In this getup, you’d expect him to be a graduate student in U Penn, not a high school dropout.

“I… I didn’t have any money to place a call.” I muttered, feeling my voice getting smaller. Gosh, I hated this. I hated that I felt like a child again. I took off my jacket, and hung it on the peg right next to his. They were two identical black leather jackets, which Mom bought us years ago—she got them a couple of sizes bigger than we were at the time, in anticipation that we would eventually grow into them. Cole did, whereas I felt like I still hadn’t.

Cole let out a long and harsh breath, and gave me a scan head to toe. “You’ve seen better days.” He commented eventually, a subtle amusement in his tone. “Even for you, this is a bit excessive…” He gingerly lifted my right wrist, and got a good look at my forearm, all cut up.

You don’t say. I wanted to retort, but didn’t. “What are you doing in Philly?” I asked as I retracted my hand.

Cole raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

Maybe not. “I’d probably know eventually, wouldn’t I?” I said.

He scratched his chin, frowning. “You know what this means, right? You know where we’re going?”

“Look, if I could just find Mom and Harry…” I began, but he raised his hand and stopped me.

“No,” He snapped, “We don’t have that kind of time. My assignment here is done. I’m being extracted at midnight, which is in less than four hours, and if you think I’d let you out running into the wild and being hauled into a camp again, you’d have another thought coming.”

Choose me. I remembered the subtext of what Cole said that night when he left home, and now it was ringing in a different tone. Now I don’t have a choice.

“All right.” I sighed. “Whatever you say.”

He frowned deeper. But it took him a while to say something. “Look, I know the last time you came with me, it didn’t end so well, but things are turning around.” He said, palms down, pacifying. “I promise, just stick it out a few months.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

He bit his lip. “I just do. Trust me.” He said, then gave me a tight smile, “Tell you what, I’ll go get us something to eat, and you clearly need a shower.” He took off his glasses, grabbed the keys, then, as if remembered something, added with a grin, “Do not, drown in the bathtub.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes.

Before he could open the door, though, I stopped him. “Cole,” I began, but didn’t really know how to finish.

“Yeah?” He prompted.

“Have we...” I caught myself just for a moment. What am I doing? “...have we ever been to Virginia Beach?”

Because that…memory? was so vivid, that I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there, calling me at every moment I so much as allowed my mind to idle for a second. But it also had that bright glare around it, like it didn’t really belong to me, like I was seeing it through a mirror, into a different dimension where we were all happier people.

Cole was there, looking exactly like how he was now, but Claire was also there, and that didn’t make any sense…

“No…?” Cole said, “We lived in Wilmington. We went to Wrightsville, remember?”

Of course I do, but… I shook my head. “It’s just… I kept seeing this…memory, that we were there, and Claire was there, too…”

Cole pressed his lips tight. I know mentioning Claire’s name would probably put him on edge, but it’s not like I have other people to talk about her with anyway. A part of me wanted to be a bit mean about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t have the strength.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said, voice rigid. “Just go take your shower. I’ll be back with the food.”

And he left, leaving me alone in his white and bare apartment.

I still couldn’t be sure that it was a good idea coming here. If I’m being honest with myself, it wasn’t even about my negative view on the League, or what it had turned my brother into, but that…I’m not sure how to be his brother anymore. I’m not even sure that he needs a brother.

Hell. Looking around this place, I got the feeling that a brother wasn’t the only thing he didn’t need. But then again, knowing how Cole kept his room, it was maybe a good thing that he had so few belongings here. This place…it didn’t even feel like someone actually live here; there were so few things breaking the white of the walls, it was almost glaring to my eyes.

I first went to check his bed, to see if he still has that weird habit—falling asleep with cigarettes still in his hand. His bedsheet looked clean enough; nothing charred. No ashtray, either. Maybe he quit.

Satisfied, I went to grab a t-shirt and a pair of pants from his closet, and dived into the pressurized water in his shower.

I can’t remember when was the last time I had running water. Probably…when I was in the League’s safe house? Gosh. My skin is so filthy, the water only started running clean after a good ten minutes of scrubbing, and I was scrubbing hard.

I was extra careful when I cleaned my arms, though. Not particularly because I was scared of pain, but more that I didn’t want to hurt this…person who might share this unfortunate connection with me, however low the chance might be. I didn’t want to make her suffer even more—somehow, I knew it was a her, for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words.

When I got out of the shower, I felt like my entire body had been turned inside out. My skin was glowing pink against the white tiling of Cole’s bathroom. He is an inch or two taller than me—which was sore to admit, but hey, I went through puberty in a lot worse condition than he did—so his pants hung a little too long around my ankles.

Then I finally got a good look at myself in the mirror. Damn, I looked awful. The dark shadows under my eyes were so purple, they looked almost black. Not to mention the countless scratches and bruises. There was a new one on my left cheek, just above the jawline. Whether it was mine or hers, I didn’t know.

Just as I threw the towel over my head, and started rubbing the water away from my hair, I heard it—siren. It began from a distance, a low wailing, but it was enough to set every hair on my back on its end. As I flew out of Cole’s shower, grabbed my jacket, and rushed to the window side, the siren got closer—and multiplied. The sound of them were like a harmony from hell.

Should I run? Should I stay?

I should run.

Even though they might not be coming for me, I knew better than to push my luck—it hadn’t really been on my side recently, and that woman who looked at me a second too long when I got in the building was probably proving me right. I threw the apartment door open, and on a second thought, ran for the roof instead of the ground floor.

I can reconvene with Cole later. I need to stay out of sight now. Cole’s a smart guy, he knows what to do in a situation like this.

It had started raining. I tripped on a mossy patch on the rooftop, and almost broke my jaw, but I stood up and kept running. I pushed myself over the ledge of the next building, and sprinted for the fire escape on the far end. The sound of the first bullet fired almost made me lose my bearing when I lowered myself onto the metal shaft.

They are on the other side. There were two fully populated buildings between me and those bullets, and they were firing at someone else—which means I’m not who they’re after. These are all good news.

Right?

Since when had I been that lucky after I turned twelve?

I pulled the hood of the jacket over my head, and dove into the shadow of the next alley. The gunfire had stopped, which meant that they probably got whoever they were after. I took the long way around the block, trying to get a hang of the situation, getting an idea of where I could find Cole without being spotted—

Oh, I found him alright.

Fuck. No. Fuck.

I only caught sight of him for a second before they slammed the back of that van shut, and in that brief second, he looked up, and he saw me.

No.

Christ. No. I… I got him caught. I did… I did this… Why didn’t I warn him? Why didn’t I go to him as soon as I heard the siren?

What have I done?

If you’re caught, you’re disavowed. I still remembered that phrase like it was etched into my skull. If anything encapsulates what I hate about the League the most, this is it. And now, Cole is going to be another casualty under that cold hard rule. The thought almost made my knees buckled, but instead of crashing down, I up and ran.

I ran. From this nightmare of my own making.

+++

Ruby

“Ruby!”

The scream came before the punch could land. I didn’t register what was happening in that first moment, not until the blood was dripping down my elbows, and staining the blue mats under us.

“Go to the infirmary!” Coach Johnson ordered, and I gladly obeyed. I could hear the whispering judgements forming even before I left the training room—what was that? What’s wrong with her? Where did those come from?

I knew exactly where they came from.

If Chubs was here, he’d likely yell at me for not getting these wounds taken care of immediately, but I simply…couldn’t. I ran for the shower stall, being careful not to stain the curtain, and turn on the tap.

With the water pouring out the showerhead, steaming up every bit of air around me, blurring my vision, I finally let the tears fall.

My arms didn’t hurt that much. At least, not as much as my heart. The bruises were bearable—who doesn’t get those occasionally living in the wild? I got one every other day even just from the training. But these cuts…he was in danger. Maybe he only got away with it within an inch of his life.

The only consolation I had was that I wasn’t mortally wounded, which meant he wasn’t, either. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t regret my decision of letting him go every second of every day.

If I did that to protect him, all these wounds and bruises only proved how wrong I was, how in vain my suffering had been.

“Ruby?” Cate’s voice.

I swallowed hard before answering. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?” She asked, standing outside of my stall.

“Yes.” I lied.

“Coach Johnson said you were hurt—” She didn’t buy it. “Look, if you don’t want to go to the infirmary, I can take a look—”

“I’m fine.” I cut her off. The timer on the tap beeped, warning me that the water would start running cold. My blood was dripping down from my fingers, dropping into the shallow water on the concrete floor like roses blooming in the snow.

“Ruby, I can see the blood.” Cate said dryly, then softer, coaxing. “Come out, please. Let me dress your wounds.”

Only if I could just close my eyes, and pretend for a second that the person who was waiting for me with antiseptic was Chubs, not Cate. If only I could pretend that these wounds were mine, not of the boy that I dreamt of every night for the past few months.

If only I could pretend that they were here with me, or that I wasn’t here at all.

I sighed, and brushed the curtain open. To Cate’s credit, she didn’t flinch at the sight of me. “Oh, Ruby…” She said with a tone like I was a stray cat ready to be put down. She reached out, and gingerly lifted my hand to get a better look at my arm.

“Press on it.” She handed me a towel, and sat down on the bench before patting the empty space beside her, motioning for me to join her.

I did as she said as she tore open a paper package. “This is going to hurt a little…” She gently dabbed the fabric square on my wounds, and I hissed out of reflex. I hated this. I hated showing her my weakness, and I guessed, in a weird way, she understood that. She didn’t comment on any of it, only continued to wrap my arms up in silence.

“There.” When she’s done, both of my forearms were wrapped entirely in gauzes.

“Th…thank you.” I managed to choke out.

She gave me a tender smile. “Don’t mention it.” She stood up, collecting the empty packages off the bench, and turned to leave.

Before she was out of the door, however, she turned around, and said, “You know, you get those wounds together, and you heal together, too.” She paused for a second, “You’re…not entirely helpless in this situation.”

Ten minutes after she left, I was still sitting on that bench, pondering her words. I didn’t even know what she said was true, but if it was, it meant that when I took care of myself, I took care of him, too. That, somehow, didn’t seem so bad.

I wondered how Cate knew that. She and Rob were clearly not soulmates, and I didn’t even know why she would want to date him, even without considering that fact. Rob—ruthless, arrogant, hateful—was everything opposite to what she seemed to hold dear.

But then again, she probably didn’t understand why someone would find their soulmate only to let them go on their own.

That day when I let Liam go, I made a decision that I would be whoever the League wants me to be, and make it so that they wouldn’t miss him. And for the longest time, I had kept to that promise. But not today, not now.

I just want to be myself again, even if it’s just for a moment.

So I brushed open the curtain to the stall, and allowed myself to be vulnerable again, for everyone and no one to see.

+++

His eyes traveled from my face to where the water had collected on my chest, and I raised my arms just that much higher.

His mouth half-opened for what I was sure to be a snide remark, but whatever it was never managed to pass his lips. His face froze, brows drew together, and he reached out. Before I could shift away—to where though, I had no idea; my back was already against the wall—he grabbed my wrist, and lifted my arm.

“It was you.” Cole said with a tone of half astonishment, half…anger?

“What was?” I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to hide how much I felt like a kid being caught red-handed, stealing candy bars.

He threw me a “really?” look. “Don’t insult my intelligence.” He snapped, “These are Liam’s, aren’t they?”

I almost asked “how do you know”, but that would confirm his suspicion. “What makes you say that?” I asked instead.

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not playing games with you.” He huffed, “Soulmates should stick together. What were you thinking sending him out into the wild? Do you have any idea how dangerous he is to you? Or you to him? The poor bastard doesn’t even know you exist!”

“And as long as I stay in the League, that fact shall remain.” I said, more resolute and calmer than I thought possible.

He blew out a sigh of exasperation. “Look, I don’t care what kind of sainthood complex you have going on, I’m telling you—you are not doing either of you any favors, and if you think this is somehow a good idea, I beg you, think again, because you definitely look smarter than this.”

“What do you know?” I retorted, finally couldn’t keep the lid on my anger anymore. “Do you have any idea how much he hates it here? How hard he was trying to avoid this place before you drag him into this mess?”

Cole really laughed. “You think I don’t know?” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I met his glare head on. “I was the one that let him go when he got away that first time.” He tried to brush his hair back with his hand, but it gave out a weird flex before he could reach his head. “And I’ve seen enough soulmates pairs in my life to know that I never want one. Have you any idea what would happen to him if you were injured when he was on the run? Soulmates stick together so they don’t double their chances on dying, but I guess no one ever set your logic straight, did they?”

My head was so flushed with anger that I actually let him finished.

“Go find him.” Cole snapped. “And for Christ’s sake, stay together this time.”

+++

Liam

“I didn’t need freedom; I needed you!” I half-screamed, trying to get the frustration out past the chaos raging in my head. How could I—? How could she—? What the hell—?

On the receiving end of my scream, Ruby’s face was painted with grief, lined with tears that almost made my anger buckle. Almost.

“Did you just…not want to be with me anymore?” Facing her silence, my pain came out softer eventually. Please, just tell me, and I will leave you alone.

“No…” She choked out. “I… I was wrong.” She swallowed hard before continuing, and despite the anger still roaming my vein, I wanted to reach out and touch her. “We should…we should stay together. I knew I couldn’t bear to see you with the League, see them take away all the good in you that I love…”

“Is that how you think of me?” I snapped before I realized what I was doing, “That I am so weak that the League is bound to break me?”

“No!” She shook her head violently, “No, I don’t think you are weak… If anything, I think you are much stronger than me. But I was weak.” She finally looked back at me, her green eyes gleaming in the dim light of this dust-covered room. “I’m so sorry.”

Before I could react to what she said—I didn’t even know what I was going to say or do—the sound of a gunshot broke every single thought clean out of my head.

Ruby was running before I could do anything about it. She pushed the door of the shop open, and another shot blew open the window on the outside, shattering the glass all over the floor.

“Ruby!” I shouted as I dodged, crouching with my hands over my ears, but she was already up and running again, out of the door and behind the woman that was escaping the scene—with a gun in her hands.

“Ruby, stop!” I shouted again, got on my feet to catch her, but I never manage. I skidded on the broken glass, and fell, hands first, into the shards.

I heard her hiss. She stopped dead on her way, and whirled around to find me on the floor, holding my right hand on my laps, pressing it against the fabric of my jeans to try and stop the bleeding.

The blood was dripping down to her fingers. As she walked slowly towards me, the red, looking almost black, dropped on the dust-covered floor, leaving a spotting route, marking her path. When she knelt down beside me, finally close enough to touch me, I found that she was smiling. A totally mirthless, wry and painful smile.

“Give me your hand.” She said softly, almost like a whisper.

“You should treat yours first.” I said, trying to catch her hand, to see how much of a damage I’d done.

“We only need to treat one of us.” She let out a small breath, almost like something caught there. “We get them together, and we heal them together, too.”

That, somehow, broke through all the mess in my head and reached my mind. I let her take my arm, and carefully wrap her scarf on my hand, all the while her words played on repeat in my head.

We get them together, and we heal them together, too.

When she was done wrapping my hand up, the wounds on her hand stopped bleeding, too. I didn’t know why—I wasn’t even completely over that anger or frustration—but when she placed her hand in mine, a tender “there” escaping her lips, all I wanted to do was kiss her.

Instead, I gently enveloped my fingers around her hand. “There.” I said, pressing my good hand over hers.

And we stayed in that silent, that touch, just a little while longer.

+++

#tdm #the darkest minds #ruby daly #Liam Stewart #rubiam #soulmate AU #request #fanfic #writing #Cole Stewart #cate connor

[littleoldrachel]

"how much did you drink?"

for the utterly wonderful @gumnut-logic who asked for how much did you drink? with virgil and scott from this prompt list. tysm my lovely 💚💚💚💚 this ran away from me a bit and i am Not Sure but i hope you still enjoy!

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu! but beware i am slooooow]

Scott slinks through the sliding doors, relishing the cooling sweat on his skin as the sky begins its raspberry ripple across the tropical island. His dawn runs are the only time he gets to really be - he loves his family with everything he has and more, but that half hour with just the consistent crunch of earth beneath his feet is his own perfect sanctuary.

And goodness knows he needs it after the past couple of days.

A flash of Alan’s terrified face as the grapple line gave way and he’d plunged -

Scott screws up his face, crumpling the image like one of Virgil’s discarded “rubbish” (read: brilliant, if rough around the edges) sketches.

Speaking of which, it’s time for Scott to do the rounds and check in on his sleeping brothers.

There’s Alan, sprawled haphazardly across the floor of his bedroom - the only sign of his near-death encounter in the careful bandaging around his forearm (“I can too still game like this, Scott, I’m not balancing the controller on my wrists??”). Gordon too, is starfished on his duvet, but beginning to stir as fractured sunlight dances across his room.

Virgil, however - most unusually - is not burritoed in blankets, which sets Scott’s choir of alarm bells ringing. He hesitates, then sighs, patching through to Thunderbird Five even as he makes his way to Virgil’s studio (also empty).

“John?” he asks quietly, because John works on an unpredictable sleep schedule that gives Scott more stress than he cares to admit, but he would like John to be sleeping right now.

“John is sleeping, Commander. May I be of service?” EOS’ voice is more than a little grating in comparison to the bird song that floats through Virgil’s open windows. Scott resists the urge to grit his teeth - he is trying, okay?

“EOS. Hi.” He rubs his chin, eyes catching on the top sketch of Virgil’s messy pile: Thunderbird One streaking across a stormy sky mid-lightning strike. “Can you tell me where Virgil is?”

“Virgil is in the hangars, where he has been for the last thirteen and a half hours,” EOS says primly.

Scott’s head snaps up, even though there’s nobody there to stare at. “What? Did he fall asleep down there?”

“No, Commander, he is very much awake.” There’s something in her tone that riles him up, a pre-rehearsed nature to it, but he deliberately sets it aside for Future Scott. He’s given a curt thanks to EOS before he’s even registered that he’s striding down to the hangars, concern driving him with a speed usually reserved for rescues.

He hears Virgil before he sees him, a loud swear and a clatter of tools as he’s rounding the corner into the workshop.

Virgil is kneeling over a workbench, picking glumly through the jumble of parts skidding across the surface. Dark brows knitted tight, skin pale beneath fluorescent white lights, a graveyard of abandoned mechanisms, drained mugs, and scraps of graph paper all around him.

"Virgil."

It comes out a little sharper than intended, slicing through the silent workshop and causing Virgil to start violently.

"Scott! What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you the same thing?"

"I'm…" Virgil gestures vaguely at the chaotic work surface. "Fixing."

"Have you had any sleep?

Virgil frowns. "I'm fine, it's not that late yet."

Scott stares, concern steadily rising. Virgil is known for losing track of time when absorbed in a task, but only usually with his art, and only for this period of time when he's upset, working something through, or...

Only then does Scott take in the way Virgil's hands tremble around the pieces of metal in his fingers, the jittering beat of his leg like helicopter wings, and slight dampness of the unstyled waves of hair across his forehead. He blinks at Scott, squinting a little in that way that Scott knows means a killer headache is brewing.

Methodically, the Commander of International Rescue surveys the room, searching for the source of the issue. His eyes land on the culprit: a coffee-stained jug, completely drained save the dregs of coffee grounds plastering the sides of the container.

It’s a big jug.

Scott swears.

“Virg. How much did you drink?”

Virgil’s eyes dart all over, not resting for a second on Scott’s face. “I - I don’t know. I just had some whenever I got tired and now I’m-” He wrings his hands, sending metal parts spilling from his palms.

“But why? What the hell were you thinking?” Scott’s tone is chiding, too harsh, and he makes a deliberate effort to reign in the reprimand that’s rearing up inside him.

“I just... “ Virgil swallows, meeting his eyes for a moment, looking away at the disappointment there. “I just needed to understand what happened to the grapple lines. To make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Oh, Virg.

Scott softens, Commander melting back into Protective Big Brother because he gets it. God knows he gets it. He steps towards Virgil, wraps a hand around his elbow, feels it shake beneath his touch.

But why like this, Virgil?

“For thirteen hours?”

Virgil blinks and the genuine surprise in his eyes is enough that Scott accepts that this wasn’t a deliberate act of self-destruction and that loosens the anxious knot in his chest a little.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know.”

Virgil ducks. “I just needed to find out -”

“I know.”

Virgil bites his lip, and Scott knows the image of their littlest brother’s panicked face is stuck on repeat in his mind. Scott closes his eyes, allows the video to roll in his own head, and the pain that rips through his chest has him tugging Virgil into his arms for a hug. Big as he is, Virgil is never one to say no to a hug, and he folds himself into Scott’s chest with a sigh. Scott can still feel the tension thrumming through Virgil’s body, and he instinctively tightens his grip.

Trust Virgil to hurt himself with his bean-juice addiction. Frankly, they’re lucky this hasn’t happened before with the amount of the stuff he pours into his body.

“I know I’m not having a heart attack, but -”

“You know I love it when you begin a sentence like that -”

Virgil tries to laugh but it comes out a little shaky. "Shut it, you." He rests his head on Scott's shoulder. "My heart is going so fast it hurts. Feels like a goddamn panic attack."

“What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“Mild caffeine overdose,” Virgil’s voice comes out muffled. “Sorry.”

“Mild. Caffeine. Overdose.”

Virgil laughs again, a little surer this time and pulls back from the hug. “I’ll be okay. Just gonna feel horrible for a bit, I think.”

“You think. Let’s see if Grandma agrees.”

“No! Let her have her time away - this is - it’s stupid. I’m fine.”

Scott gives him a Look, but Virgil glowers right back.

Scott loves him, but Jesus, does he wish he could trust Virgil to be honest with him about his health.

“Don’t make me set you up in the infirmary. You know I’m not bluffing.”

The glare intensifies. “I’m fine, Scott.”

Scott resists the urge to roll his eyes with a truly Herculean effort. “I want to do a scan, just to be sure.” “Scott -”

He plays the trump card (regrets playing it at the look on Virgil’s face, but needs must). “I could have lost Allie too, Virg. Don’t make this harder than it is.”

Virgil sags. He taps his watch. “EOS?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Please can you pull up my vitals for my dear big brother to fret over?”

“Of course, Virgil. Though I don’t understand why you want Scott to fret, he seems grumpy en-”

“Thank you, EOS.”

A holograph flickers into view, and Scott scans them, relaxing slightly at the lack of danger. Virgil’s heart rate is too high, as expected, and he’s dehydrated and exhausted, but otherwise, he really does seem okay. Still, Scott knows how dangerous dehydration and exhaustion can be, and more to the point, so does Virgil.

“You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that, right?”

“I learned from the best.” Virgil’s smile is teasing, but he’s okay, and Scott releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, Scooter, whatever you say.” Scott glares. “Right. You’re grounded for at least a day -” To his credit, Virgil only looks a little crestfallen. “- And you’re going to rest.”

Scott can practically see the cogs turning in his brother’s mind as he seeks a loophole or way to escape, but for now, he’s going to ignore it. Another problem for Future Scott, poor guy …

“Let’s go. Up to the lounge, now.”

“I should clear up -”

“Nuh-uh. Lounge. Now.”

Virgil lets out a loud sigh, and with much griping about leaving the workshop messy for Brains, leads the way up to the lounge. Scott follows closely, eyeing how Virgil’s feet drag with exhaustion even as his fingers tap away with restless energy.

Scott deposits him on one of the couches, tosses a throw over him, and resists the urge to tuck him in, but only because -

“I’m not sick, Scott. I’m okay! This isn’t necessary,” Virgil calls after him. Scott returns seconds later, a glass full of water.

“Drink all of this. And then have these.” Scott drops two electrolyte tabs beside Virgil. “Now excuse me, but I’m going to consult a qualified medical opinion before I believe you.”

“I am a qualified medical opinion -”

“- Who hasn’t overdosed on caffeine this morning.”

Virgil scowls. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

*****

Scott returns with Gordon, whose concerned professionalism quickly morphs into a shit-eating grin when it becomes apparent that actually, Virgil - for all his brilliance and talent - is an idiot.

But he’s surprisingly gentle when he fetches Virgil another glass of water and suitably soothing as they take a calm stroll around the flatter paths of the island to help Virgil burn some restless energy. The waft of pancakes draws them back into the lounge where Scott has stacked up thick, fluffy pancakes that melt on their tongues and warm them inside out.

By now, Virgil is visibly less shaky, and Gordon’s concern has dissipated to the extent that he blatantly steals three pancakes off Virgil’s plate. To be fair, Virgil probably doesn’t need six pancakes, but still. It’s the principle of the matter.

Scott - bless his heart - has also queued up the latest series of the ocean documentary that Gordon and Virgil gush over, but that Scott himself finds mind-numbing. The three of them squash together on one sofa, chomping pancakes and squabbling over blankets as the sun rises on another beautiful day.

Alan strolls in, nose first and still half-asleep. “Pancakes?” he says hopefully.

He catches sight of Virgil and seems to shake himself awake immediately. “Virgil? What the hell are you doing up?”

“Language,” Scott says thickly, the effect lessened by the mouthful of pancake and chocolate spread inside it.

“What the heck,” Alan waves a dismissive hand. “It’s barely ten, Virg?”

“Tell him what you’ve gone and done,” Scott says, because damn straight is he going to hold onto this one the next time Virgil’s yelling at him for taking a stupid risk. Well, at least I can drink coffee without poisoning myself, Virgil can just hear it now. .

“I drank too much coffee,” Virgil tells the ceiling.

“Sorry, V,” Gordon says, his smile wicked. “Allie didn’t quite catch that.”

Virgil sighs. “I overdosed on caffeine,” he says loudly.

“That’s a thing?!” Alan splutters. And then he bursts out laughing and Virgil wants to glare because he’s exhausted and his head is throbbing and there’s an anxious wriggle in his chest that keeps poking at his limbs.

But he also thought for one terrible moment yesterday that he wouldn’t get to hear that laugh again. The relief is infectious.

It never takes much to set Gordon off, but cracking Scott is a true victory, because for a second, the lines around his eyes crinkle with something other than stress.

Alan sets himself up with pancakes (far too smug that he’s allowed the chocolate spread on his where Virgil was only allowed syrup), and plonks himself down on Virgil’s right, bandaged arm and all. Whilst Gordon and Alan quarrel over species of tropical fish, Scott looks over at Virgil, raising his eyebrows. Are you okay? it says.

Virgil smiles and nods.

Inevitably, Scott and Gordon are called away on a rescue, just as Alan has grown tired of the nature documentary and is demanding something more exciting. Virgil consents to the first movie Alan picks out, because he’s too busy watching Gordon fly his beloved ‘Bird away with an expert hand.

God, he’s so tired. His limbs are heavy and aching from the tension of holding them in place all night and his head pounds in beat with his too-fast heart..

He’s utterly exhausted. If only his mind could get the memo. Instead it careens between thought processes: the grapple lines, his failed calculations, the disaster zone he’s left the workshop in -

It doesn’t matter though.

Because Alan’s alive and that’s all that matters.

Alan, whose gentle hand snakes through Virgil’s hair in a tender, soothing way that plucks at the knot of anxiety in Virgil’s chest, whose ministrations are a blessed, momentary pain relief for his sore head.

*****

It’s dark when he wakes, though he doesn’t remember his overwrought brain finally giving into sleep. His limbs no longer feel like they’re spasming out of control and his head aches with a more manageable pain, but he’s still drained. On the floor next to him, Alan is snoring at the centre of a nest of blankets - at least two of which Virgil is sure were wrapped around himself before...

He raises his head to look for his water glass, and nearly jumps out of his skin at the sight of his oldest brother standing in the shadows, watching. He’s still in his uniform, which suggests Thunderbird One just docked - presumably her engines through the open patio doors are what woke him.

“What the fuck, Scott?” he hisses.

“Sorry,” Scott says, though he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic. He moves into the light, and repositions Alan so that he can rescue one of the blankets for Virgil once more. “Go back to sleep.”

“Did the rescue go okay?” Virgil asks instead, relieved at Scott’s easy nod - and relatively clean, dry appearance.

“Gordon’s heading back now, all good. And no issues with grapples today, thank God.” Scott’s voice is low but Virgil still flinches from it.

“I’m going to find out what happened, Scott, I swear -”

“I know you will.” Scott’s voice is so firm, so strong that it momentarily steals Virgil’s breath how much faith Scott has in him. "I know you’ll figure it out, Virg. But you don’t have to do it on your own. You and Brains will work on it and find a solution, John’s going to identify the person responsible, and EOS will make sure they can never do it again. But it’ll be when you haven't overdosed on caffeine. Do you understand?”

It’s the kindest of reprimands. The same kind of pleading why won’t you just take care of yourself tone that Virgil finds himself using more and more on Scott these days, but with so much understanding and love, Virgil finds himself blinking back tears.

He can only nod and Scott steps back. “I’m going to go shower. Get some rest, Virgil.”

Scott turns to leave and Virgil forces himself to muster up his barely replenished energy reserves. He snags Scott’s sleeve, “Scott - thank you.”

Scott smiles a smile that’s just them, soft and trusting and concerned. “God knows you’ve looked after me through far worse hangovers than this. But don’t you dare do this again, Virg. I mean it. Don’t make me confiscate all the coffee on the island, because you know I’ll do it if I have to.”

“I know you will.”

Scott runs a hand through Virgil’s messy waves fondly, letting his hand rest at the nape of his neck where the headache pain is regrouping. “Sleep, Virg.”

And he does.

#thunderbirds are go #littleoldrachel writes #virgil tracy #scott tracy #earth and sky

[letswritebangtan]

Let’s Get Tattoos Together

pairing: tattooartist!Jungkook x female!reader

prompt: Jungkook dreamed of opening his own tattoo parlour with his hyung, Yoongi, and when he finally did, you show up on his doorstep asking for a job and he’s not happy to give it to you. Lord knows how you two end up having sex in his studio. :)

warnings: mature content! 18+ read at your own risk. 

ask box: open

masterlist

_________________________________________________________

You know those moments where you expect too much and then feel more pissed than let down because damn they fucked up bad? That moment was now. Jungkook and Yoongi stared up at the neon signboard in utter disgust and shame just thinking about how someone could screw up this bad. 

“It’s not even black.” Jungkook muttered in disbelief. 

“It’s neon.” Yoongi confirmed. 

“They didn’t even get the spelling right.” Jungkook continued. 

Yoongi huffed “. . . What’s ‘BONKED’ supposed to read as?”

“Sounds like a strip club.”

“Yup.” Yoongi said popping the ‘p’.

“We can’t afford a new one, hyung.” Jungkook whined. 

“You don’t think I know that?” Yoongi said gruffly. 

He was beyond irritated at this moment. Both him and Jungkook had poured their entire life savings into opening this tattoo parlor and he was one hundred percent sure that absolutely no one was ever going to walk into a painful neon green store called BONKED to get a tattoo or to get anything for that matter. 

“We’ll just have to make do.” 

“I feel like I’m gonna barf.” Jungkook mumbled.

“Well your barf on this building won’t make it look any worse.”

The weeks went by and the boys worked hard to start up this little business of theirs. Jungkook spent hours walking around handing out flyers to people to let them know that what they were standing in front of was indeed a tattoo parlor and not some front for a shady business. Meanwhile, Yoongi sat indoors and worked on how he could at least make the inside of the store look decent. It was a tough few months for them but they kept going. A few customers popped in once in a while and it was mostly Yoongi who worked on them because between him and Jungkook, he was more experienced and they wanted to leave a good first impression on their customers. 

Jungkook spent his after-hours in the store working on sketches and practicing on himself. He was running out of space on his right arm so it was time for him to start thinking of where to go next. Even though Yoongi was more experienced, Jungkook was incredibly talented in his field. His attention to detail and the focus he had when working on a piece was flawless. Jungkook didn’t tattoo often, but when he did, his work always turned out to be perfect.

A few months into the business was when things started to get a lot more rocky. 

“Did you clear out the register yesterday?” Yoongi asked. 

“Yeah, they’re in the safe.”

“We need to start doing our accounts, Jungkook-ah. Let’s see if we have anything we can use to change this place up a little.”

Hours and hours into doing their accounts the two fell face-flat onto their desks.

“We have nothing. Zero.” Jungkook mumbled. 

“Actually, it’s negative. We’re in a deficit.” 

The two of them groaned and flipped through more receipts and bills in hopes of some good news but they couldn’t do it. 

“I guess I’ll grab some dinner.” Jungkook said as he stood up and cleared the table. 

“Make it quick, I’m starving.”

“Okay, grandpa.” Jungkook mocked and Yoongi sent him a glare, making the youngest snicker. 

The bell chimed and their attention moved immediately to the door. They watched you in surprise as you entered the store around 5 minutes before closing time. Looking around, you got slightly startled when you saw two guys gawking at you, but you cleared your throat and stepped forward slightly. 

“Uh hi, you guys aren’t closed yet are you?” 

There was a small silence for a while. Jungkook couldn’t find it in himself to speak so Yoongi took over. 

“We aren’t, but if you’re looking to get a job done you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” you smiled nervously, “Actually I’m not here for any of that. I noticed that you guys are relatively new in the area and I was wondering if you needed any help around here?” 

Yoongi looked confused, “As in, you’re looking for a job?”

You nodded. 

Jungkook spoke up, “As a tattoo artist?” he said skeptically. His tone sounded offended and it struck you as quite rude. 

You frowned at him, “No actually, not as a tattoo artist but as anything else.”

“Sorry, we don’t need anybody.” Jungkook dismissed you gruffly. 

God, why was he being so rude? 

“Really? I couldn’t help but notice that you guys aren’t doing too well here.” you spoke back.

Jungkook eyed you up and down. “Excuse me? What makes you say that? We’re doing great and business is booming. Isn’t that right, hyung?” he looked at the older man. 

“Um, well it hasn’t-”

“See? Just fine.” Jungkook retorted. 

“That’s a lie. I can tell if businesses are doing well or if they aren’t.” you crossed your arms smirking. 

“Can you now? What makes you think ours isn’t?” Jungkook scoffed. 

“Well for starters, I don’t see anybody in here-”

“We’re about to close.” Jungkook defended. 

“I didn’t finish.” you said raising your eyebrows. “I don’t see anybody in here ever.”

Jungkook scowled, he was annoyed at the audacity of this random stranger to be entering his store and criticising his business. 

“Secondly, no one around here knows what this store does. I spoke with the lady from the bakery across the street and she claimed that this was some kind of gay bar?”

Yoongi and Jungkook looked perplexed and their expressions had you holding in your laughter. 

“It wasn’t until my friend came in the other day for a tat, that he told me this place was actually just another tattoo parlor.”

“Jesus Christ.” Yoongi huffed. 

“Oh and also, the sign-”

“Don’t even.” Jungkook huffed and looked away. 

You felt proud of yourself, but at the same time looking at these young, passionate boys’ faces you knew they must have put in a shit ton of effort to get this place up and running, and you had no right to just come in here and point out their flaws like that. What they needed was a solution. 

“With all that being said,” you paused momentarily. “I can help you guys fix it.”

“I told you that we don’t need-”

“Jungkook, shut up for a moment will you? Go on.” Yoongi urged you. 

“I majored in Accounts and Finance, I also have knowledge and experience on marketing, plus I’ve got a decent eye for things and that being said, that signboard has got to go.” 

“Accounts? Wait, take a look at these.” Yoongi called you over to the table and Jungkook just watched in disbelief. The betrayal he felt from his hyung was unbelievable. 

You stood over the table which looked like a mess, by the way. Papers strewn everywhere, random documents, some cash pile in the corner and a half-full mug of coffee. 

“Sorry, it’s a little gross.” Yoongi apologised. 

You chuckled, “It’s no big deal. Could I have a look at those receipts?” 

The two guys watched you as you silently picked up different sheets of paper and scanned it thoroughly, mumbling numbers to yourself in the process. Well, these guys weren’t doing too bad but you knew they could do better. You glanced at the pile of cash at the corner of the desk and looked over to Yoongi.

“What’s that?”

“Hyung, she’s after our money.” Jungkook said quickly.

You glared at him and he shot you one back. Why was he out to get you? Despite his annoying traits, you couldn’t deny the fact that he was extremely good-looking. Well, the both of them were. But there was something about Jungkook that had you drooling in that small secret compartment of your head. He was well-built, his pecs pushing out through his t-shirt, his sleeves clinging to his biceps and his defined collarbones on full view. His hair was like a black mop, it looked soft and silky and it framed his face nicely. He had a really cute nose and the softest looking eyes but his expression was harsh towards you and you had no idea why. 

“It’s what we owe. We’re running in a bit of a loss right now.” Yoongi said ignoring Jungkook. 

“A loss?” you asked confused. “That shouldn’t be right, look.” you moved to sit next to Yoongi and showed him the contents on the paper. After explaining to him in detail you moved the pile of cash from the end of the table towards them. 

“This is all yours, you guys. You’ve been looking at it wrong. This shop isn’t doing too bad, but it isn’t great either. If this keeps up, you’ll probably start making losses in the next 3 months or so. But you might not, if you’ll let me help.” you persuaded.  

“And I’m not here to steal your money.” you said pointedly to Jungkook. “In fact, I won’t ask for anything for the first few months. When I’ve proven that I’ve improved this store and when you can afford it, you can pay me then. What do you guys say?”

Yoongi looked convinced, and he turned to the youngest to ask for his approval. 

“Looks like we need her after all, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook squinted his eyes at you and took a deep breath, letting out a loud huff. “Fine, so be it.” he said grumpily. 

You beamed and thanked them, Yoongi even shook hands with you. 

“Hold on, you didn’t even tell us your name.” Yoongi asked. 

“Oh shit, right. I’m sorry that was rude of me, I’m y/n.” you apologised. 

“I’m Min Yoongi, and this is Jeon Jungkook. We’ve been friends since kindergarten, so we’re pretty close. It’s been a dream of ours to open this place.” Yoongi said smiling softly. 

“That’s amazing, you guys should be proud that you’ve gotten here.” you said genuinely. 

Jungkook glanced at you then and you made eye contact with him. He awkwardly picked up his car keys and phone whilst looking away from you. 

“I’ll go grab dinner before they close.” he spoke to Yoongi. 

“Oh no, did I hold you guys back? I’m sorry, you should really have your dinner. I’ll leave now.” you stood up. 

“That’s alright, oh and Jungkook will walk you to your car, won’t you Jungkook?” Yoongi asked smirking. 

Jungkook looked startled and had that same look of betrayal on his face, this time there was a shade of pink. 

“What? But she can- ugh fine.” Jungkook grumbled. “Hurry up.” he snapped at you and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“You’ll have to excuse him, don’t take it personally.” Yoongi said to you once Jungkook was outside. 

“Well that’s gonna be tough.” you replied playfully. “See you tomorrow! Good night.” you said cheerily and followed Jungkook outside. 

____________________________________________________

Your first week at the job went by pretty quickly. Yoongi showed you around so you’d get used to the place. He showed you to your working space which wasn’t the best but it was the best that he could afford. There was that desk you used when you first entered, and there were some cute little plants on the table. They even gave you new pens, pencils and a calculator. There was a desk fan attached to your table and its wires were heavily tangled everywhere but it was all they had. It was obvious that they did their best to welcome you, and you felt touched about it. 

Most of your time was spent doing the accounts of course, and you were really efficient with them. It was a really relaxed work environment, sometimes Yoongi showed up with coffee or some snacks which you appreciated. Jungkook would ask to borrow a pencil from time to time, and as much as you were mad at him you couldn’t say no because they probably gave you everything they had to make a good first impression and the thought that they couldn’t afford to buy more pencils saddened you. During your breaks you’d lounge around and maybe check up on Jungkook to see what he was drawing. Whenever you’d ask him he’d always reply with an annoyed grunt or he’ll shoo you away. 

One day, you really tried to find that goodness in your heart to do something nice for Jungkook so that maybe he wouldn’t be so pissy towards you, so you bought him a carton of banana milk and a pack of oreos. When you handed it to him, he looked at you so weirdly and you became so uncomfortable that you never wanted to be in situations with him like that ever again. So the acts of kindness stopped. There was also another thing you made yourself be in charge of: weekly meetings. Yoongi always told you that you didn’t have to make it so official since it was just the three of you working just like how three friends worked on a group project but you insisted. 

“Do I really have to write all this down?” Jungkook complained. 

“Aren’t you secretary?” you scolded. 

“Well yeah, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“So you better do your job before I fire you.”

Jungkook gaped at you and turned to Yoongi. “Hyung are you hearing this?!”

“Don’t make her fire you, Jungkook.”  

It was about 10 weeks later and you were close to hitting the target set for the store. It was important that you proved to them that you were good at your job and that you deserved a place here. You didn’t want to leave, because it was really nice working with them. You felt secure and they were like your friends, or at least Yoongi was. That night, you stayed after closing time to continue working on statements. Something just wasn’t working, and you had to figure out what. After hours of staring at the same numbers over and over again you felt like you needed a break. Just then, Jungkook entered the corner of your workspace. 

“You’re still here?” he asked surprised. 

You nodded, “Well I’m not finished so yes. I don’t think I’m leaving anytime soon.”

“Well don’t stay up too late.” 

Surprised, you looked up at him so fast that you startled him slightly. 

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” you laughed softly as you stretched your body in your chair. 

He scoffed, “I only said that because I’m the one who has to close up after you so if you don’t leave neither can I.”

“Thanks for ruining the moment.”

“My pleasure.” he replied with a smug smile. 

Rolling your eyes, you stood up from your chair and grabbed your phone and purse. “I’m going to get some coffee, want anything?” you asked. 

“Coffee at 10 p.m.?” he asked while judging you. 

“Well, I guess that’s a no.” you mumbled and headed to the door. 

“Wait.” he called out. Turning around abruptly you didn’t expect him to be that close behind you that you ended up crashing into his chest. You stumbled but he caught you by your shoulders to steady you. He was looking right at you and this was physically the closest the two of you had ever been. 

“Easy there, if you’re hurt Yoongi will literally rip me apart.” he mumbled. 

Trying to ignore the redness in your cheeks you smiled awkwardly and stood upright as Jungkook let go of you. “I don’t blame him.” you shrugged and laughed when you saw Jungkook’s annoyed expression. 

“Wait, I forgot why we ended up here. What was it you asked me?” you said.

“Right, I was uh- just you know thinking of maybe asking if you’d like me to drive you...to the coffee shop...” he said nervously. 

“Wow.” was all that you replied, and Jungkook looked even more embarrassed. 

“Forget it.” he said moving away. 

“No! Sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-just, yeah. Drive me, I’d like you to drive me there, please?” you asked quickly.

Surprised by your sudden reaction he felt his heart relax a little when you didn’t reject his offer. 

“Okay cool.” he said clearing his throat awkwardly. 

It was really quiet in the car, and also really awkward. There was so much tension with that embarrassing encounter the two of you had just five minutes ago. You tried to take your mind off it, and your thoughts aimlessly wandered to how handsome Jungkook looked while he was driving. His hair covered his eyes a little, and you could see all the piercings on his left ear. That’s hot, you thought to yourself. His tattoos on his right arm were visible as he gripped the wheel with that hand and at this point you were shamelessly staring at him. 

“Enjoying the view?”

You hummed, and then snapped out of your daydreaming only to see Jungkook chuckling at you. 

“I mean, no! I was just- I was looking out the window and I wasn’t really looking anyway I was thinking and your biceps were distracting so I-wait! No no no, shit what’s wrong with me?” you freaked. 

Jungkook only laughed even more at this and then turned to look at you. 

“Does y/n have a crush?” he teased.

You looked at him with a deadpanned expression, “Are you seriously teasing me about a guy when that guy is you?”

“So you are crushing on me. Interesting...”

“Oh my god, shut up! I am absolutely not, in no way attracted to you.”

“Ouch.” he winced playfully. 

“You heard me.” you grumbled as you turned to look the other way so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. You thanked god that it was dark and he couldn’t see you red all over. 

He snickered and pulled up in front of the coffee shop. 

“I’ll wait here, could you grab something for me too? Surely you’d do anything for me since you know, you like me and all...” he continued to tease. 

You grabbed your phone and purse and stormed out of the car. “I ain’t getting shit for you, asshole!” you yelled as you walked away which had Jungkook dying of laughter since literally everyone around was staring at you. 

Back at the store, you sipped on your coffee as you worked out more numbers. Jungkook sat on the beanbag across from you sketching by himself. Yoongi had already left a while ago so it was just the two of you. 

As you were writing something down Jungkook spoke up. 

“How’d you know that this was my usual?” he asked holding up the coffee cup. 

You looked up from the paper and looked back down, pushing your work glasses up your nose. “One time, Yoongi accidentally handed me your drink instead of mine and when I took a sip it tasted like garbage so followed my intuition and I ordered the worst thing in there.” you said plainly. 

“My drink is not garbage.” Jungkook retorted. 

“Yes it is, it’s not even coffee. It’s all milk and sugar.”

“Well I’m a milk and sugar person, what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong is your offending the real coffee-drinkers out there.”

“There’s nothing wrong with adding milk and sugar to your drinks.” Jungkook whined and you couldn’t help but to smile at him being effortlessly cute. 

“Okay, whatever you say.” 

But Jungkook wasn’t too happy with that response. “Say it like you mean it.” he ordered. 

“Excuse me what?” you looked at him confused. 

“Say that there’s nothing wrong with my drink.” he demanded.

You scoffed, “What are you, eight?”

“Well if you’re not gonna say it...” he shrugged. 

You ignored him and went back to work. A few seconds later you nearly had a heart attack because Jungkook was pouring some of his coffee into yours. 

“What the hell!” you yelled and tried to grab the cup from him and both your coffee’s ended up spilling all over the accounts sheets. 

You just stood there in shock and disappointment as you stared at the soaking wet paper that could not be saved. You pinched the bridge of your nose and took in a sharp breath. “Jungkook.” you muttered lowly.

The poor boy was also in shock, knowing he fucked up badly and now he was going to have to pay for it. 

“I- it was an accident I didn’t intend to-”

“Why are you such a brat?! You couldn’t just leave it could you?! I spend day after day rotting my ass off here trying to crunch these numbers and when I’m so close to finding something you had to shove your annoying ass into my work-do you know how much time has been wasted now that all these are gone and Yoongi is going to kill me if I don’t get this done in time even though it was your fault! And no, I will never admit that there’s anything fine with your drink, you or your stupid!-mmpfh”

It came to you as a shock when you realised you had a pair of lips pressed against yours. They were soft and they molded against yours perfectly making you weak in the knees. A hand cupped your face and brought you closer, your waist pressing against the table in front of you. Your hands rested below you on the desk as Jungkook kissed you, capturing your lips with his over and over again until you pulled away breathless. You couldn’t think with your mind in a haze. Jungkook looked at you in silence, waiting for you to say something, but all you could do was fall back to the chair behind you. 

“y/n?” Jungkook said concernedly. 

You cleared your throat and stood up quickly again. “I-I’ll get the mop and bucket.” you said softly before running out of there into the storage closet and shutting the door behind you. 

You cursed yourself for reacting so stupidly. Jungkook must think that you hate him, but obviously you don’t. You really, really, like him, especially after having the feeling of his lips on yours - oh god, you fucked up. You remembered his scared and hurt expression when you scurried away like that. The worst part was that you had to go back out there. When you returned with the mop and bucket, Jungkook was gone, but so was the mess. He had cleaned up all by himself, wait, how long were you in there? You sighed and saw that he had left the store key for you to lock up, which means he had probably gone home. You had no idea how it had escalated to arguing about coffee, to this. But you knew that you’d rather be buried alive than to ever have to face Jungkook again. 

_____________________________________________________

Yoongi had asked if you could pick up breakfast that morning since both him and Jungkook had an appointment and of course, you agreed. Business was picking up recently because let’s face it, you’re great at this job. Even though you lost those numbers since they got soaked in coffee, you managed to work your way around it and pulled up some income statements and cash book entries which clearly showed how well the store was profiting. You and Jungkook have not spoken since the incident and that was more than a week ago, and it was killing you. You wanted to talk to him and explain yourself but you were too scared. Plus he has been extra mean to you ever since, which made you not want to apologise even more. The only time he ever said something to you was when you were in the way and he practically snapped at you to move. That’s gotta hurt. 

Most of the time you’ve been coming up with ways to avoid him, but today was not that day since you had to hand him his breakfast. You entered the main room where Yoongi was working and dropped his off. He thanked you and immediately went back to work. You were kinda disappointed, you had hoped Yoongi would give Jungkook’s breakfast to him but that was unrealistic so you guessed that now you would have to face a painful and awkward situation. After taking a deep breath you knocked on the door. You heard a muffled ‘come in’ and you stepped into the room. To say you felt awkward was an understatement. You wanted nothing more to crawl into a hole and die. 

There was a female customer on the tattoo chair with the top half of her body completely bare and sitting in only her panties. Jungkook was leaned over her tattooing her breast and stopped to look at you. There was a warmth rising to your face as you just stood there and stared at them for a moment. 

“What do you want?” Jungkook asked annoyed. 

That snapped you out of your thoughts as you held up the bag shakily. “U-uh breakfast!” you might have said a little to loudly and then cursed yourself for it. 

“I-I’ll just leave it here.” you mumbled quickly and put the bag of food down on the desk. 

“Would you like anything?” you heard Jungkook ask the lady. 

She giggled, “If you don’t mind sharing.”

Your face twinged in disgust, luckily you had your back facing them. 

“Sure.” Jungkook replied shortly. 

“Could you go a little higher, like over here?” you heard the lady ask and when you turned around to leave you saw her guiding Jungkook’s hand across her bare body and something inside you just made you feel so hurt and so shitty. 

Jungkook’s eyes locked with yours. You immediately looked away and left the room. You couldn’t describe how you felt. This was Jungkook’s job, it was what he was passionate about, but you couldn’t stand to see people take advantage of that. He had just kissed you so passionately a week ago and of all days it was today that you had to bring him breakfast, and it was today that he had to have an appointment for a fucking breast tattoo. You groaned and muttered a string of curses as you walked back to your desk to eat your own breakfast. You chomped down on your egg McMuffin and got to work, hoping it would distract you from what you just saw. 

An hour later Jungkook emerged from his room with the lady and readied her bill. The cash register was just opposite from where you sat so you watched them closely. Jungkook smiled and thanked the lady and obviously she enjoyed that attention but you were relieved when she finally  left. Jungkook turned around to walk back into the room when he saw you watching him and his demeanor somersaulted upon looking at you. 

“What?” he snapped coldly and you jumped in your seat a little. 

You shook your head and looked back to the papers would were scribbling on, “N-Nothing.” you whispered. 

He went back to his studio as Yoongi came out of his to get more plastic wrap. 

“What’s up with you two?” he asked concerned. 

“It’s complicated.” you huffed. 

“I’ve never seen him that mad before.” 

Hearing that was like having an arrow shot into your heart. You were right, he really did hate you. 

“I-I..” you said with your voice breaking. 

Yoongi looked alarmed, shit, what should someone do if a girl cries?

“It’s all my fault.” you sniffled as tiny droplets fell across your cheeks. 

“Okay, no, nope. None of that. You are not crying, missy, you hear me? You are strong, and bold, and confident, and you aren’t crying over some stupid guy. Got that?”

You sniffled and wiped your tears away quickly and straightened up. 

“That’s it. y/n you walked into this store on your first day like a boss and you criticised us left and right and you put this place into shape. You’re freaking superwoman, okay? You shouldn’t be crying.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s unprofessional.” you mumbled.

Yoongi sighed and sat down next to you. “Don’t be sorry. And we’re friends, there’s no need to be professional around me.”

“We are?” you asked smiling slightly through your watery eyes and puffy cheeks.

“Of course we are. And as your friend, I really suggest you talk to Jungkook.”

You shook your head, “But he’s scary.”

“Jungkook puts on a tough demeanor but he’s a kid at heart. He’d never do anything to harm you, you can count on that.” 

You nodded and smiled softly at him, “Thanks, Yoongi.”

“What are friends for, hm?”

________________________________________________________

Now you had a task at hand. Talk to Jungkook. You just had to talk to him. No big deal, it’s just talking. To Jungkook. Fuck, you had to talk to Jungkook. Slamming your pen down you ran your fingers through your hair and whined. It was about time you grew a pair but it wasn’t that easy. Time flew as you sat at your desk and pondered about what to say and when to say it. It drove you crazy. Until one fine moment, all your courage rose from the pit of your stomach and you stood up determined to talk to the guy. Just as you maneuvered around your table to go to him the bell chimed. Hot damn, who was that? 

This guy had a face sculpted by god himself. He was tall with brown hair, his wrists adorned with multiple strings and bracelets. His silver piercings shining under the store lights. The way he dressed really stood out to you, a beret on his head, sunglasses and patterned clothes, he really reminded you of a gucci model. He smiled at you as you walked over to him and you smiled back waving at him. 

“Hi, do you have an appointment?” you asked. 

He removed his sunglasses and wow he looked even better. 

“Oh no, I don’t. I’m actually here for the job? My name’s Kim Taehyung, I saw the sign outside.”

You had convinced Yoongi and Jungkook to finally place a “We are hiring” sign on the window because they could now afford it, plus, it would attract more attention. 

“Oh I see! So you’re a tattoo artist?” you asked interested. 

“Well, I’m hoping to be.” he said making the two of you giggle. 

“Well are you good?” you inquired. 

“Hmm, I would say I have a few things up my sleeve.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Really? Well let’s hope you impress us.”

“I hope that I shall.”

The two of you laughed together again, man you really liked this guy.

“What’s going on here?” you heard a deep voice. Jungkook appeared from his room and scowled at the two of you laughing together. 

“Oh, t-this is is Kim Taehyung, he’s here for the job.”

Taehyung reached out to shake Jungkook’s hand but he left him hanging. 

“Another case of y/n, hm? That’s not too good.”

You gaped at him and you were about to retort when Yoongi joined in. 

“Ah, you must be Taehyung.” Yoongi said smiling. 

Taehyung finally felt comfortable seeing a familiar face. “Yes, and you must be Yoongi hyung. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Pleasure’s mine. A friend of mine knew Taehyung in art school and he recommended him to me. Let’s see if you’re as good as Seokjin claims you are.” Yoongi said. 

Taehyung laughed, “I promise to do my best.”

So that led to the current situation. The three of you huddled around Taehyung watching him work on a piece. He had gotten one of his friends to demonstrate the piece for him who’s name you learned was Jung Hoseok who was also pretty cute. You were questioning the odds of you being surrounded by attractive men all at one time wondering if the universe had something planned for you. But you ignored it to watch Taehyung working. One thing you’ve noticed since working here is that every tattoo artist has their own unique style. They were all different, yet all so incredible. Taehyung had the same amount of focus and concentration Jungkook always had when he was working. Yoongi was always more relaxed, his talent flowing from him naturally. However, Taehyung could perfect designs neither Yoongi or Jungkook had ever done before. 

The buzzing stopped and Taehyung stepped back to review his work. Everyone was in awe, he did a really great job and Yoongi loved it so much that he asked Taehyung if he could post it on their shop’s Instagram. 

“That depends,” Taehyung said, “Are you going to hire me?”

Yoongi chuckled, “Need I say any more? y/n, what do you think?”

You smiled, “I think he’s great.”

“What do you know about tattoos?” Jungkook snapped. 

You looked at him angrily and he ignored your stare. 

“For a tattoo artist it’s surprising you don’t have any tattoos.” Jungkook questioned. 

Taehyung frowned, “Do I need to have them?”

Jungkook looked slightly dumbfounded with everyone staring at him. “No-I mean, it’s just surprising-”

“Yeah it is.” Taehyung ended the conversation abruptly. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes and looked away. 

“It’ll be great if you could start today. We have a customer coming in anytime now.” Yoongi said. 

“But he’s scheduled for me.” Jungkook spoke up unhappy.

“You can take the 3 o’ clock, Jungkook.” Yoongi dismissed. 

Jungkook licked his lips, obviously irritated by Yoongi’s decision. 

“I never got your name?” Taehyung turned to ask you. 

“Oh, it’s y/n!” you smiled. 

“It’s great to meet you. I have a feeling we’ll be getting along pretty well.” Taehyung grinned. 

You blushed slightly because how could you not when this insanely attractive man was outright flirting with you. 

“Your 3 o’ clock is here, get to work.” Jungkook snapped at him. 

“Right, I’m on it.” Taehyung cleared his throat. 

_____________________________________________________

Taehyung blended in pretty well. He was no doubt good at his job, a lot of customers end up super happy with what they get and so Taehyung was really good for the store. The two of you also got along great, he was like your new best friend. He would come over and talk to you between breaks and he’d send you a lot of memes which kept you happy and entertained throughout the day. One time he brought a pack of cards to work and once you guys were done for the day you played Snap while eating dinner, which was a terrible idea because Taehyung kept hitting your hand real hard and one time he spilled his entire bowl of soup and himself and started to yell because it was hot and man did you laugh until you couldn’t breathe. Obviously, Yoongi and Jungkook were there to witness all this because you guys always spent meal times together. Yoongi would usually ignore the two of you and go on his phone, and you’d call him a grandpa for not wanting to play card games. Jungkook was reserved, also on his phone but he would glance over to the two of you from time to time. 

It was another night at the shop and it was nearly opening time so you were at your desk drafting statements and also counting the money from yesterday’s earnings. Jungkook was on his beanbag sipping some banana milk and sketching on his notepad as usual and Taehyung was next to you helping you separate the bills. 

“I’m really curious as to how you got a job here.” he asked you. 

You scoffed, “Why, can’t a woman get a job in a tattoo parlor? Just because it’s a sausage fest in here, I can’t be a part of it because I don’t have my own sausage?”

Taehyung laughed heartily and you smiled, giggling to yourself. 

“You know what I mean.” he urged. 

“I just came in one day and asked. At first they said no, and then I made them a deal they couldn’t refuse.”

“Why would they say no? You’re great at what you do.”

You smiled, “Thanks, Tae. But the shop wasn’t like this back then, they couldn’t afford me.”

“Hmm, but you did so well at university. You could have had many other options, why here?”

“Well, I saw two guys desperately trying to make their dreams come true and you know, I just wanted to help them.” you said smiling softly. You remembered all the fond memories you hard building up this place with them. They were priceless. 

Jungkook could hear everything the two of you were saying, he felt a pang in his heart when he heard how all you wanted to do was help them, and he had been nothing but mean and rude to you from the very beginning. 

“That and, well, I needed to start earning something. My parents have gotten pretty old. Mum is really sick and dad spends all his time taking care of her. Before that, they used to own that bakery across the street.”

“Wait, you mean Rosie’s bakery? Like...the pretty fucking amazing one?”

You laughed, “I guess you can say that.”

“I used to go there when I was a kid, it’s been around for so long. It’s such a shame it got closed down. I’m really sorry about your mother too, by the way,” he said sympathetically. 

“No that’s okay. She’s still around, I thank the heavens that I get to see her for just one more day. They wanted me to take over, but I could never do all that by myself.”

“Why not? I’m sure you could.”

You shook your head, “I never want to let them down, you know? That bakery was like their baby, I didn’t want to step in and ruin it. Some things just eventually come to an end.”

“I understand.” he nodded, “But you’re here now though, things worked out, right? Look at how lucky you got, you now have a Taehyung in your life!” 

You grabbed a book and smacked him across the shoulder with it and he yelped, but laughed along with you after. The bells chimed and the first customer came in, Taehyung left to work on them so it was just you and Jungkook in the room. As you picked up your pen to work again a voice made you halt.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him in shock and confusion. Why was he talking to you all of a sudden?

“What?” you asked confused. 

He sighed and put his sketchbook down and walked over to you. He sat on the chair next to you and all you could do was watch him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick to you since day one. There’s really no excuse for that, I’m really sorry.” he said looking at you. 

“Jungkook...” you trailed off.

“Yoongi and I worked really hard to get here, like really, really hard. There were days we never got to eat, nor did we have a roof over our heads. Despite all that we always had each other, and we had each other’s backs. When we finally opened our shop, I was beyond excited. Even with that shitty sign outside that we got rid of, this shop was still a great achievement. When you showed up, I just...felt threatened? It was stupid, I don’t know what I was thinking. I just felt like someone might screw this up for us or that all of this might go away and that was so terrifying for me. I realise now that you genuinely wanted to help us even though I was an asshole, and I just owe you the biggest thanks ever y/n because you played a huge part in making my dream come true. Instead of thanking you and showing you my appreciation all I did was yell at you and piss you off and I just, god, I hate myself for it. I’m really sorry. I just want you to know that I appreciate you, and so does Yoongi. We owe it all to you.”

For the past month Jungkook never said more than two words to you, but now he was giving you a whole ass speech? Man, here comes the waterworks. 

“Shit, y/n, are you-oh god please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried out. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I’ll stop I just,” you inhaled, “I can’t stop.” you sobbed. 

Jungkook pulled you to his chest and you immediately wrapped your arms around him. He murmured reassuring words, telling you that it was okay while he rubbed your back softly. You pulled away embarrassed and tried to hide your face as you wiped off tears messily and sniffled. God, you must look so horrible right now.

“Sorry I-” you sniffled, “I’m fine now. I’m fine.” you heaved. 

“You sure?” he asked. 

You nodded and smiled at him, making him smile back. 

“I uh-” you started, “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for making you feel insecure, and no it’s not stupid, your feelings are absolutely valid, Jungkook. I just had no idea I made you feel that way, it must have been bad for you, I’m so sorry. And I forgive you, thank you for saying all that but, it’s not me who made all this happen. It’s you, and Yoongi. The both of you are so talented, I’ve seen how you work too. Jungkook you’re incredible, okay? Like, yeah I don’t know anything about tattoos but I know a pretty thing when I see it and your work just blows me away and you should be so proud of that. That’s what brought you here, not me.” you said.

Jungkook nodded and looked at you fondly, “Thank you for saying that.”

“And uh...when you walked in that day-”

“It’s fine.” you cut him off feeling embarrassed and not wanting to talk about it. 

“No y/n, it didn’t mean anything, okay? I saw how hurt you looked and I felt really bad.”

You shook your head, “Jungkook you have nothing to feel bad about. It’s your job, I was wrong to be upset anyway.”

“You don’t have to be jealous.” he chuckled. 

You groaned, “She was blatantly flirting with you!”

“And I ignored her. Plus, I didn’t share my food with her.”

“You didn’t?” you asked hopefully.

“No, I didn’t.” he chuckled, making you grin. 

You bit your lip and nodded back at him. “And, you know, what happened that day...”

His eyes widened and he took your hands in his, “I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that, I made you feel uncomfortable and I still hate myself for doing that to you until this day...” he said apologetically. 

“No it’s fine, I shouldn’t have ran off like that, it was so stupid of me.” you shook your head. 

“I thought I scared you.” he said with so much guilt in his tone. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered. You laced your hands with his firmly, “You didn’t. Not at all, I was just surprised and I didn’t know how to react. I must have hurt you, I’m sorry. I just want you to know that I really like you and...yeah.” you said shyly. 

Jungkook had a small smile on his lips, “You do?”

“Mhm.” you said looking away. 

That smile turned into a smirk, “So I was right, y/n did have a crush.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “It’s gonna fade if you keep at it.”

“Alright alright, I’ll stop teasing. I like you a lot too, y/n.” he said looking right into your eyes. His confidence was admirable. 

“You could have been nicer you know? You wouldn’t stop sending me daggers through your stares and I even got you banana milk so you’d warm up to me but that was just weird, so then I didn’t know what to-mmpmh.” 

And there it was again. Those soft lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. Your hands moved to his hair to bring him closer as he pressed his lips against yours, occasionally pulling away only to dive back in again. His hands moved to your waist and pulled you on top of him. You finally felt all that muscle on him through his shirt, he really was as ripped as you imagined him to be. He poked his tongue softly past your lips and you let him in. 

“Always...wanna...kiss you.” he said in between kisses.

You sighed and let out small noises of pleasure, grasping on his locks. 

“So pretty.” he mumbled as he pulled away and moved to your neck, planting wet kisses there. 

You moaned when he bit down on the flesh of your neck, which made him sigh heavily. 

“You sound exactly like I pictured you would. So needy.” he growled. 

“Jungkook.” you said breathlessly.

“Hmm?” he hummed as he continued to mark you. 

“W-we really shouldn’t-ah-be doing this here.” you squeaked. 

Just then his lips met your sweet spot and you could help but let that loud moan ripple through you, catching Jungkook by surprise. 

“Fuck, you even sound pretty.” He continued to abuse the skin of your neck with his teeth and tongue until he finally pulled away to look at you. 

Your face was flushed, eyes hazy and lips swollen. Jungkook tucked your hair behind your ears and rested his forehead on yours. He placed another soft kiss on your lips, making you smile. Your hands remained around his neck and you fidgeted for a bit before asking him. 

“Jungkook?”

“Yes, princess?”

“I said that we shouldn’t be doing this here.” you said biting your lip. 

He looked taken back at your sudden boldness and smirked at you. 

“Are you saying you want me to have you over my chair in my studio?”

“Yes that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

_______________________________________________________

“Yoongi hyung?” Taehyung asked with his lips pressed together.

“Yeah?”

“Are they-”

“Yeah.”

_______________________________________________________

Business was picking up yet again, and to celebrate the anniversary of the shop’s opening, Yoongi decided to throw a small party at his and Jungkook’s shared apartment. Taehyung promised to get the alcohol and dragged Jungkook with him. Yoongi was spending the day cleaning the apartment and grumbling about how Jungkook is gross and never keeps the place clean. Yoongi was also inviting his other friends Seokjin, Namjoon, Jimin and Hoseok. They apparently graduated art school together and were some of his best buds. Jungkook knew them too, and he had introduced you to all of them. You were pretty close to Seokjin since he just has an incredibly friendly nature and he’s always cracking lame jokes which you can’t help but find funny. So it was your job to get the food for the party and Seokjin was told to go with you. 

“y/n there’s soju!” he called loudly in the supermarket where literally everyone can hear him. 

“I told you, Taehyung’s in charge of the booze, he probably already got some!”

“But he doesn’t know the good kind, like I do! Pleaseee, look there’s like 8 different flavours.”

“Seokjin.” you huffed. 

“Okay fine, but if this party’s lame I blame you.”

“Why am I even friends with you, dork.” you grumbled.

Seokjin helped you reach the foods on the higher shelves and you were grateful for that. He also paid, another reason you became extra nice to him. It was already late in the evening and you guys had to get back and get ready for the party. You lugged the huge bags of snacks through the corridors, these guys really did eat a lot. Seokjin rang the bell and after a while Jungkook answered the door. 

“You guys eat like pigs.” Seokjin huffed as he carried the huge bags of food. 

“Hyung’s the one who goes through all the chips!” Jungkook retorted. 

“Do you hear how he speaks to me?” Seokjin complained to Namjoon. 

You giggled at them and moved to enter when Jungkook blocked your way. 

“Nu-uh.” he said smirking.

“Move your fat ass out of the way, these are heavy.” you huffed. 

“Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, kiss first.” he demanded puckering his lips. 

“Gross, who would wanna kiss you?” you said fake disgusted. 

“y/n!” he cried like a child. 

You laughed and dropped the bags on the floor and stood on your tippy-toes to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss and wrapped an arm around your torso keeping you pressed against him. You pulled away and nuzzled your nose against his. 

“Can I come in now?”

He caught your lips with his again and bit on your bottom lip. You moaned softly making him inhale sharply. 

“Guys, can you not do it at the damn doorstep?!” you heard Seokjin yell.

Jungkook and you laughed and he moved to carry the bags in being the strong man that he is. Later that night all of you huddled in front of the TV with blankets and more snacks. Most of them were passed out due to the high consumption of alcohol. You and Jungkook were still awake, and he was playing with the hem of your shirt while placing soft kisses on your collarbone. You ran your fingers through his hair and sighed at the feeling of his lips on your skin. 

“You smell good.” he mumbled, pressing more kisses on your neck. 

You only smiled and let him continue. 

“Wonder if you taste good too.” he said casually.

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you smacked his arm softly. 

“You would already know that.” you played along. 

“Hm, yeah I do.” he smirked making you look away embarrassed.

He turned your head to face him by cupping your cheek. 

“y/n” he murmured against your lips. 

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Wanna taste you.” was all he said before his lips touched yours again and your mind went into a frenzy. 

I’m just gonna say that the guys were lucky to have been knocked out that night. There were some pretty scandalous things happening in Jungkook’s bedroom. 

_______________________________________________________

the end! wow this took me the entire day to write but it was totally worth it. who else is whipped for kook? :”)

also stream dynamite! love u guys <3

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk #kook #kookie #bts fics #bts x you #bts fanfic #jungkook fics #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #tattoo artist jungkook #yoongi #suga #seokjin #jin #namjoon #RM #hoseok #taehyung #jimin #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts oneshots #jungkook x you #bts #bangtan

[celeste-clearwater-06]

A warm spring day in Neville's 5th year was a perfect day to go out and find productivity by examining some greenery near the Black Lake. He had brought fresh parchment and a quill outside with him, and he scribbled down perfectly literate handwriting, observing a blade of gold and olive-colored grass.

And coincidentally, he was not the only student who needed a breath of fresh air and to break away from the horrid witch, called Umbridge.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her small, hand-knit bag that she slung over her shoulder. 

She found a seat underneath a willow tree, sat close to the edge of the lake, and tucked herself close to the trunk, which made the perfect makeshift seat between its large and knotted roots.

Y/N sat cross-legged, and carefully emptied the contents of her bag. 

A well-used sketchbook and pencil, and a few snacks that she had been gifted from the generous house-elves after she had skipped lunch.

A fluttering of wings drew her attention away from the beautiful landscape and watched with a smile as her sand-colored tawny owl perched himself on a gangly root close to her.

"Hello, Percy. " she smiled, and gently stroked the top of his feathery head with two fingers. He closed his eyes with a content chirp, making Y/N chuckle.

"I brought you a little snack. Are you hungry?" 

She held out a small piece of bread, and let the owl happily snatch it from between her fingers.

Y/N then looked down at her sketchbook, feeling the urge to let her creativity discharge onto the paper. She scanned her surroundings longingly, trying to unearth any spark of inspiration. Her eyes scanned over large trees, and the captivating lake, watching as a few mermaid tails skimmed the water's surface and delved back down below. A small whip Scorpion scuttled along the ground near Y/N's feet. And when she grew frustrated that no inspiration had come to her, she saw him.

Neville Longbottom, her long time crush, seated on the lush terrain with his legs sprawled out, as he scratched words onto a piece of parchment, and gently biting down on his lower lip in concentration.

Perfect.

A sight for her sore eyes, and for a moment, Y/N can't tear her memorized stare away from the flawless presence about 20 feet away from her.

And when she could finally look away, it was straight down to her hands, watching as they mindlessly duplicated the stunning image not far from her.

Neville felt… strange. He felt the piercing stare of eyes on the side of his head. Nevertheless, he didn't draw his attention away from the violet petals of a beautiful flower. He figured that it was just his subconscious and panicked mind. It always felt that way, since he was known as the fool, the klutz, the screw-up of Hogwarts. He felt like people were always there to judge him.

But if only they were in his shoes. Then they'd know how hard it is to be him. To be Neville. For a moment, the feeling went away, and relief washed over him, but that feeling was short-lived, and the pressure began again.

Neville shifted uncomfortably and furrowed his brows just a bit more. He suspected it was just Draco and his obnoxious goons and decided to just let them stare and conjure up a plan to tease him.

He knew it would never change, and he would just have to live with that.

But, still, his conscience was persistent, and he found his attention pulled away from the delicate flower between his soft fingers, and surveyed his surroundings. And his heart skipped a beat.

Y/N had her beautiful eyes locked down in some sort of book, hand moving in gentle strokes across one of the pages, and her eyebrows knitted together, completely lost in her little world. Next to her, sat a small owl with unusually large eyes. It stared intently at Neville, and then let out a loud chirp.

Y/N smiled, looking up from the book, and up at her owl, speaking to it in a delicately inaudible voice, before realizing that it was staring at something. Neville's face flared as red as his house color, seeing her gentle smile and wave in his direction, and he could hardly lift his hand to wave back. 

He watched as Y/N chuckled, then turned back to her book continuing to scribble with eagerness. 

He tried to continue looking down at the fragile plant in his hand, but his infatuation with the girl nearby was all too much for his timid heart to handle.

Y/N sighed with relief, seeing him turn back to his original position, permitting the opportunity for her to finish the black and white sketch of Neville. She added finalizing touches, like the golden sun reflecting off of his chocolate-colored hair, and his beautiful long eyelashes that fluttered when he blinked.

She looked up one last time to confirm that she'd made the art perfect, but Neville was gone.

Her heart sank, knowing she had missed another opportunity to talk to him, but jumped out of her skin when she heard a cough on her opposite side.

Y/N quickly turned her head, to find Neville standing above her, wringing his clammy hands together.

"M-may I sit here?" He inquired politely, and immediately averted his eyes when hers widened.

"Absolutely." 

Y/N's answer surprised Neville, but he thanked her quietly and accepted the offer of her hand patting the ground. As he lowered himself in between Y/N and a tree root, Neville caught a glimpse of the drawing in her hand and his eyes widened in astonishment.

"That's amazing!" He gaped with perplexity, referring to the art with a nod of his head. Y/N flushed and choked on her own words.

"Ooh, uh yeah…I-I mean thank you! Thank you." She stuttered, internally hexing herself for doing so.

"How in Merlin's Beard did you do that?!" Neville asked, reaching his hand out, and stroking the pencil marks on the well-used paper.

"Just practice I guess. Takes a lot of work, but it pays off in the end." Y/N so badly wanted to place her hand on top of his.

"What spell did you use to do this?" 

"Sorry, what?"

"What spell?" Neville repeated, "I had no clue there was a charm for art."

"There's not…"

And Y/N thought Neville's eyes couldn't get any wider.

"REALLY?!" 

The loud noise startled Percy, causing him to screech loudly, and flap his wings. Neville gasped.

"Shh, shh it's okay Percy!" Y/N soothed the owl, with a marvelously lulling voice, and Neville just stared in bewilderment as she was able to Instantly calm him, stroking the top of his head.

"I-I'm so sorry!" Neville whispered guiltily, "I didn't mean to scare him."

Y/N laughed sweetly, making Neville's heart skip a beat.

"It's alright. You don't have to whisper."

"R-right. Sorry." His attention was drawn back to the sketchbook. "So you really  drew that yourself?"

"I did…"

"You're incredible…" Neville muttered and quickly realized that those words were not meant to leave his mouth.

"I-I mean, the drawing is incredible! A-and you are too! AGh… Merlin, I'm pathetic, aren't I?" He hid his bright red face in his hands

He heard Y/N laugh again, and found that her face was just as red.

"I don't think you're pathetic, Neville."

He looked at her with a deep marvel.

"Y-you know my name?"

She nodded, looking back down at her book with rosy cheeks.

"C-Can I ask you a question?" Neville spoke very quietly, turning to admire the lake a few feet away from them.

"Sure."

"Why did you draw me? There are plenty more interesting things to draw, than me."

Y/N was quiet for a moment, and Neville instantly regretted asking the question, afraid it made her uncomfortable, but before he could speak up, Y/N answered. 

"I like to sketch things that I think are pretty."

She answered simply, closing her eyes as the spring air blew gently against her face, and leaned her head back on the trunk of the tree.

Y/N didn't see Neville's face burn an intense shade of red, or how he grinned from ear to ear, mimicking the way she leaned against the willow.

"You think I'm pretty?" He muttered.

"Well, yeah I guess. I think you're very interesting. You seem very nice." She opened her eyes, looking over at Neville, anxious with the sound of his silence.

He was still grinning like a fool as he stared out at the captivating body of water. Y/N found herself starting. He was even more handsome close-up, with the reflection of the water creating beautiful moving patterns that danced across his complexion. He blinked his ivy green eyes a few times.

"Nobody's ever found me interesting unless I'm making a fool of myself." Neville's smile quickly vanished, and he looked back down at his fidgeting hands and picked at a loose string on his cable-knit sweater.

"I can assure you, I think you're more than just a fool. Not everyone can see that, though I'm not sure why."

"Well, I'm not the bravest Gryffindor, for starters. Not as great as Harry Potter. I'm the only one who can't cast his Patronus for Merlin's sake."

"You're brave for trying at least. There's a reason I'm in Hufflepuff, you know. I couldn't do half of the things you Gryffindors could."

"Well sure you can. Hufflepuffs are amazing!"

"Yeah… really though, I think you're incredible Neville."

Neville had nothing else to say. This girl was not one to let him talk down on himself.

After a few moments of stillness, Y/N coughed.

"I think we should get back before Umbridge sicks her evil quill on us."

This made Neville chuckle, a deep, butterfly inducing sound that made goosebumps crawl up and down Y/N's skin.

"You're right. T-thank you by the way."

Y/N looked over at him, realizing she was practically the same height.

"For?"

"Being so kind. It's not every day that someone wants to draw me."

Y/N blushed, and then got an idea, the thought evident on her face as her eyes lit up.

"Here." She ripped the page, and Neville stared in horror at the sound of tearing paper filling his ears.

"What are you doing?"

She pulled out a cleanly torn page, with the picture of Neville, and then held it out to him with a bright smile.

"A parting gift."

"You don't have to do this. Y-you worked so hard and-"

"It's fine, really. I always find the time to make more."

"Thank you. So much. Really, I mean it." Neville's face hurt from smiling so much, as he stared down at the beautiful artwork.

"You're very welcome." Y/N grinned and dusted off her clothes before standing up on her feet.

Percy fluttered from this perch and up onto her shoulder. Neville still hadn't looked away from his gift, and hardly noticed the girl holding her hand out.

"Need some help?"

He froze, locking eyes with Y/N, and unable to form even half of a syllable, with his bright burning expression.

Finally, he could move his head just enough to replicate a nod, and lifted a trembling hand to place in hers. And he would have melted into a puddle of happy-Neville right then and there if it weren't for the fact that he needed to get back to herbology class.

Her hands were warm and soft, and immediately he grew anxious that she would notice the sweat on his as she helped pull him from the ground.

When Neville was back on two feet, he had nearly forgotten how to walk, being so close to this beautiful angel.

He tumbled forwards a little bit, almost knocking Y/N over, and she laughed, helping him stand up straight.

"Oops!" 

He quickly pulled his hand away and started to stutter, but Y/N cut him off.

"Hey, you dropped something." 

She pointed down at the grass, and Neville noticed it as well. It was the same purple flower that he had been studying earlier. An idea of his own came to mind, and he stooped to pick it up, before holding it out to Y/N.

She gratefully accepted the beautiful plant and tucked it in the front pocket of her black school robe.

"Thank you, Neville! It's beautiful!"

"Y-you're welcome."  He smiled shyly.

The two acquaintances walked up towards where they had originally come from, having a deeply intriguing conversation about this so-called "Dumbledor's Army" that Neville had spoken of earlier, and though both of them had been very shy and hesitant at first, they walked away with one thing in mind; they were happy that something good had changed.

A/N- I hope you enjoyed this little one shot!! I know, im not super experienced with the entire set up of this format, but I'll get used to it eventually!! Thank you!! ❤❤

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom #harry potter #x reader #hufflepuff

[buckaroosboogara]

911 week - Day 2:

“Why are you sitting in a tree?” + fun 

@911week

(1900~ words, Eddie, Hen, Karen and Buck.)

Eddie explained his plan to Karen. It was easy, two swings hanging from a simple wooden structure and another hanging from a branch of the only tree in their, very beautiful in Eddie's opinion, backyard.

Of course, things had to go wrong the day before he went to the Wilson's place and arranged the swings. With wrong being Buck knowing his little secret.

He would be the death of Eddie.

Hen had accidentally slipped it in a conversation at the station.

She said that Denny and Nia wanted a new swing because the one in their house was old and worn out and then Buck had jumped with an anecdote about how he ended up with 5 stitches on his lips because a swing had crashed into them as Chim just shook his head with fond disappointment.

Eddie though, Eddie just thought that maybe a surprise visit to Hen's place wouldn't be a bad idea.

Later that day he messaged Karen, asking if he could swing by, no pun intended, in a moment when Hen wasn't around because he wanted to talk with her. Karen agreed, she always liked the mystery.

So, some days later and with the excuse to take Chris to a sleepover at the Wilson's, Eddie explained his plan to Karen. It was easy, two swings hanging from a simple wooden structure and another hanging from a branch of the only tree in their, very beautiful in Eddie's opinion, backyard.

Karen was thrilled with the idea and she offered to pay but Eddie declined it. He would gift it to his friends, after the hell year that was 2020 they deserved a nice surprise.

He had to be quiet about it though. If he told Buck he would tell Bobby and Maddie, who would tell Athena and Chimney who would tell Hen (the latter rather than the police Sergeant) and he didn't want that.

With Karen's okay he sketched the structure and made a note to himself to go and ask for an estimated budget at his to-go hardware store next time he went to his Abuela's.

So there he was, a week later.

"Hey Eddie," the store manager, Nico friendly greeted him.

"Hey Nico," He said back.

"It's good to see you here again, does Isabel's fence need another repair?" And without a beat, Nico reasoned, "No, no it's only been a month since the last repair. So it has to be paint for the deck? See, I can lower the price for you if you buy more tha-

"Uh, I came here for another reason Nic," Eddie chuckled after cutting him. "I was wondering if you could make a budget for this..."

He showed Nico the rough sketch and the materials he needed and the other man smiled.

"Ah, I see. I have some of the things you need, but the poles will be another story. I can recommend you a lumber company to get the wood." Nico said, taking the paper and looking for appropriate screws and ropes.

"That would be amazing, thanks."

"And while I do that, tell me how did that skateboard thing for your kid go,"

Eddie smiled and unlocked his phone to show him the pictures Carla had taken of that day.

"Well..."

...

Of course, things had to go wrong the day before he went to the Wilson's place and arranged the swings in their backyard.

Well, wrong would be exaggerating. More like things didn't stay as quiet as Eddie wanted.

He had just woken up on Saturday for a shift, his mind a groggy and grumpy mess until the coffee hit his lips, so he was in the kitchen trying to make his old coffeemaker work.

He really needed a new one, Eddie thought just as he heard a key on his doorlock and then said door opening.

His mind just assumed, oh it's just Buck.

OH, IT'S BUCK.

Eddie's mind got a moment of clarity. 

He could hear Buck taking his shoes off and ranting an excuse for being there so early as he helplessly looked around his dining and living room, both full of ropes, screws, papers, and God-knows-what-else.

He needed to clean everything but he did not have time.

"Hey, are you hearing me, man?" Buck said as he stepped into Eddie who was in the middle of the room looking like a deer caught in headlights, only wearing underwear and a t-shirt and lots of things on his hands.

He snorted and started laughing loudly while Eddie blushed hard.

"Oh, oh- please, what the-" Buck tried to talk but got cut by a wave of laughter that had him letting go of the box with pastries he had brought and held his belly and chest.

Eddie's embarrassment turned into slight annoyance. He tried to place his hands - and the things - lower so he could cover his underwear, and then cleared his throat. "Are you finished or you will laugh for the next five minutes?"

"I'm- I'm sorry man, it's just that-" Buck cleared his throat to stop the laughter and get serious. It didn't work as he snorted again.

Eddie gave him a look.

"Okay, okay," Buck breathed in slowly picking the pastry box again. "So, what's up with all this mess?"

"Dios, dame paciencia." Eddie muttered as he placed the things back on the couch. "Okay so, A, I'm so glad Christopher is at a sleepover because I'm sure the neighbors could hear you laughing. B, this is my house so I ask the questions darling which takes me to D,"

He stopped to take a breath. "What the fuck are you doing here so early?"

"Has anyone told you you have a damn good pulmonary capacity?" The other man asked.

"Buck."

"Okay, I was passing by to pick you up to go to our shift." Buck shrugged. Eddie knew there was more to it but let it go.

"Now go and put on some proper clothes and then answer what's going on with all this and the poles outside. I'll be here preparing a breakfast-to-go."

Eddie begrudgingly accepted and went to his room and changed clothes.

On their way, Eddie explained Buck his plans for the swings. They were arriving at the firehouse when he made Buck promise he wouldn't tell anyone about it.

And the other man put a condition, Eddie would call him if he needed help the next day.

Eddie rolled his eyes and agreed, while he had experience building things with his father he knew Buck equaled his experience.

Now he needed to survive a shift with Buck trying to keep a secret.

Great.

...

Things didn't go as bad as Eddie thought they would go.

The next day when Hen arrived at the firehouse for her shift, Eddie greeted her and Buck was vibrating suspiciously when it was his turn.

Hen quirked an eyebrow at Eddie who made his best effort to seem normal and shrugged. She made a weird face in return and let them walk away.

Once in Buck's Jeep both let out a breath they didn't know were holding. The drive to Eddie's place was filled with an excited air.

A quick morning nap was all it took for Eddie to recharge batteries and soon enough he was on his truck, poles, ropes, and tools in the trunk, and on his way to pick up his son from his Abuela and then to Hen and Karen's house.

Their garden was a view that always made Eddie's breath hitch.

Karen had an excellent hand for plants, unlike Eddie.

She had climbing plants and trees on their fences to keep away nosey neighbors, a garden of blooming roses and another with tulips, and a mini forest of growing trees in flower pots filling the place with a cool air that was much needed in the Californian summer.

Almost in the middle, there was a medium-sized oak where he was planning to hang a swing.

He put his hands to work and decided to start taking the poles out of the trunk and onto the backyard.

Of course, when he almost got crushed to the ground by one of the poles he called Buck, and in the meantime, he took his tools to the garden and climbed the tree to start attaching the rope.

The youngest firefighter arrived some minutes later, scanning the place until he found Eddie.

“Why are you sitting in a tree?” Buck asked, his head inclined to get a better look.

"Maybe because a swing is going to hang from here, but you already knew that." Eddie answered back struggling to stay seated.

"Be kind and pass me that rope?" He pointed at a rope on the floor right under him.

"Sure."

Hours passed, the tree swing was ready and strong enough to support Buck so it was safe for kids, and the support structure of the other two was almost done.

Karen invited them to go inside and eat some sandwiches the kids had helped her make for them.

"Oh, Buck these don't have pickles. I know you don't like them." Karen pointed at the ones on the left side of the plate and Buck felt warmth spreading inside him because she remembered.

Buck ignored Eddie's teasing look and moaned at the taste of the ham and cheese sandwich. "Oh my God, this is awesome Karen." 

"Is this homemade bread?" Eddie asked before Karen could say they were just sandwiches.

They were heavenly sandwiches.

"Yeah, we learned to do it during the lockdown." She answered, smiling proudly. "How's the project going?"

"On track and almost done. We just need to put the swings on the upper pole and then attach it to the supports, we put it straight, and ta-dah! Ready to have lots of fun!" Buck smiled with his hands shaking on either side of his face.

"You did it faster than I thought." Karen commented. "And tomorrow you two will come after Hen's done with her after-work nap. You have no excuse."

"Yes ma'am." Eddie answered as the other man nodded.

"Great. Oh and, thanks again. I appreciate it."

"Nonsense, it's our pleasure to do this. You are family." Eddie assured.

...

"What's this surprise you're telling me about?" Hen asked Karen the next day, as she hugged her from behind.

"Good morning darling." Karen answered while she turned around to kiss her, purposely avoiding the question.

"Please?" Hen teased.

"Well-" Karen was cut by a squeal and many laughs from their backyard. Hen tried to look outside but she grabbed her hand to have her attention.

"Come with me."

And so she did.

The last thing Hen imagined to see when the door opened was Denny, Nia, and Chris playing in the swings with Eddie and Buck taking care of them and having as much fun as the kids, but there they were.

"Surprise!" They all exclaimed.

"What in the-" Hen gasped as she walked into the garden with wide eyes. "Eddie? Buck? What are you doing here? What is this?"

Eddie chuckled as he got closer to the couple, "And here I thought it looked like swings and not just a mess."

"How?" Hen asked breathlessly.

"Well, it was all Eddie's idea." Buck added from the swings, watching the kids.

"Really?"

Now Eddie was blushing slightly, "Yeah. I heard you some weeks ago in the firehouse and I thought it would be fun to do it."

"Oh Eddie, I love it." Hen got out of her shock and hugged the man tightly. "Thanks. It means more than what you think."

"I'm glad you like it because there are no refunds!" Eddie chuckled, still in the hug. "And I know."

He let go of her and stepped aside, watching the kids enjoy the new swings.

Eddie let out a contented sigh. "I know."

#some fun fluff because our hearts need it #especially after last night #nevermind i almost forgot to post this 😅 #911week2021 #911 on fox #911 fox #evan buckley #hen wilson #karen wilson #eddie diaz #fun #swings and trees #author knows about swings and building just not in english #my fics

[littlemissgeek8]

I posted 216 times in 2021

21 posts created (10%)

195 posts reblogged (90%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 9.3 posts.

I added 150 tags in 2021

#reblog - 23 posts

#d&d - 21 posts

#dnd - 17 posts

#my art - 15 posts

#dungeons and dragons - 14 posts

#nacl d&d art - 13 posts

#nacl d&d - 13 posts

#halfling - 12 posts

#d&d jemima appleblossom - 11 posts

#halfling bard - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#also the thing about the beanie baby sound is oddly fitting to the official max plush because he's got beans inside to weight his butt

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Being a halfling in a world sized for much taller folks isn’t easy, especially when everything is just out of your reach. I think I might need to get Jemima a step stool, or maybe some stilts so she can reach things without help...

Inspired somewhat by a recent trip to visit my boyfriend and his family, and discovering that nothing in that house was designed for someone under five foot tall. I couldn’t even hang up my coat without help. ;A;

28 notes • Posted 2021-04-12 20:41:08 GMT

#4

Here’s a little sketch from our most recent NaCl D&D episode, episode 100. For those who haven’t kept up, our party ended up basically adopting a bunch of war orphans, who are all simultaneously adorable and little chaos gremlins. The fun part of this, however, was that Edan’s been hibernating for the last several days and has no idea we now have five kids under age 15 running around. 

However, after Jemima lost her memory due to a cursed mirror (long story,) Gineye decided to bribe the kids with calling Jemima “mom” to her face. This lead to the youngest of the kids, Joe (a gnome who’s well on his way to being a combination con-artist and druid) decided to toddle off to make everything even more awkward by waking up Edan and calling him “dad” and asking when “mom” would be okay again. 

Needless to say it got a big laugh from the whole group, and I couldn’t resist drawing Jemima and Joe because they’re absolutely adorable together.

28 notes • Posted 2021-01-15 00:31:21 GMT

#3

Not gonna lie, 2020 was really sucky for my motivation to draw, so I really haven’t posted things in months. However, last night I finally sat down and scanned the few things I actually got drawn in the last few months, so heres one of the pieces I worked on last year. 

I was in a Cluefinders mood for a while there and just really, really wanted to draw some art for it, but couldn’t think of anything fancy to draw. So it just kinda boiled down to drawing a little action pose with Joni. She’s probably on her way to full-body tackle the bad guy or something, who knows? Knowing Joni, she’ll figure out what she’s doing about halfway through running there (and then need Santiago to bail her out when she screws up.)

34 notes • Posted 2021-01-11 19:49:51 GMT

#2

A few sessions ago, our party had an early morning meeting with our local arificicer, Jonah. And for whatever reason, Gineye decided the proper way to get Jemima out of bed that morning was literally hauling her out of bed in her nightgown and carrying her under his arm, across town, to the shop we were meeting in. Needless to say she was less than pleased about being out in her nightgown without a robe on or anything, but at least it gave me an excuse to draw a fancy nightgown for her? XD

35 notes • Posted 2021-01-19 20:02:01 GMT

#1

Another sketch from artwork I scanned yesterday. During our D&D sessions, we discovered that our Aasimar Druid friend, Edan, sometimes “hibernates” for a week or so as a bear and I kind of loved that idea. So, here we have a cuddle pile of one large sleepy bear, and one sleepy halfling bard. Because when your boyfriend can turn into a bear, why wouldn’t you have a cuddle pile like that?

39 notes • Posted 2021-01-11 20:16:57 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I feel bad i havent posted more #Its just been kind overwhelming #Also oof i barely posted any art

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Flufftober day 8: Clothes

Models (AO3)

Take a vow needs models for a photoshoot

----

“We need your help.” Liv announced, walking into the Mill, Gabby and Leanna following behind. “Well, Gabby does. Leyla does.”

“No.” Robert said right away, without looking up from his laptop.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“And yet I still say no. I’ve got work to do.”

“So do I.” Gabby cut in.

That made Robert look up.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Both of you actually.” Liv said, scanning the room. “Where is Aaron?”

“Upstairs, bathing Seb. They were both wearing his breakfast.” Robert explained. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

“We need models.” Gabby told him and Robert frowned.

“Models.”

“Yes. Take a vow has this big deal with a wedding magazine and we get to style the photoshoot for the new issue.”

“Ok…”

“And that’s where you and Aaron come in.” Liv told him. “We need you to model the clothes.”

“You what? Shouldn’t you hire professionals for that?”

“She did.” Leanna spoke up. “But one of them got sick and now none of them can come and we’re screwed unless we find new models.”

“Like other professionals you mean.”

“There is no time for that.”

Robert narrowed his eyes at the girls.

“When exactly do you need these models?”

“This afternoon.”

“And you’re only asking people now? Bit short notice isn’t it?”

“We only got the call an hour ago!” Leanna protested and Robert wondered when Leyla had hired her too… or when Liv had become friends with her.

“Right. Well. We’re busy. We have work to do.”

“You two are always skiving off.” Liv reminded him. “Oh babe let’s take the rest of the day off and have a quiet afternoon and an early night.” She mimicked.

“I… We… I…” Robert sputtered. “Neither of us call the other babe!”

“That’s what you’re going with? Really?”

“Ok we might not always be that busy… but we have Seb. We can’t just dump him on Vic or Diane all the time.”

“He can come with.” Liv shrugged. “Both of you will be there, the tree of us, Leyla, the photographer, Charity and Vanessa…” She trailed off and looked at the other girls.

“Leyla is working on David, Matty said he’d do it, so did Ellis and Billy. Dawn said maybe… and Matty was going to ask Amy.” Gabby added.

“My dad.” Leanna said. “He’ll be there before Leyla’s finished asking the question.”

“Exactly. So there are plenty of people to keep an eye on Seb.” Liv reasoned. “Next excuse.”

“Aaron will never do it. You know he hates having his picture taken.”

“He doesn’t like you shoving your phone in his face 2 minutes after he woke up.” Liv said and Robert rolled his eyes. “But if I can get Aaron on board… are you in too?”

“In for what exactly?”

“This.” Leanna sat down at the table and pulled something up on her phone. “I designed it. Well… I helped. It’s basically all wedding settings. We got Harriet to agree to let us use the church and we’ll take some pictures in and around the village. All to showcase the different themes and outfits.” She showed him the screen and swiped through sketches and photos.

“Ok but how do we fit in there?”

“You’ll be the couple getting married. I mean we did technically design these for a man and woman…”

“I’m not pretending to marry Charity.” Aaron said, coming down the stairs with Seb on his hip and Liv following behind with a satisfied grin on her face. Robert hadn’t even noticed her go up.

“Nobody is asking you to.” Gabby rushed to say. “We can change it and make it LGBT friendly.”

“You two can just be your own soppy selves and relive your wedding day. Or plan your third.” Liv said she took Seb from Aaron.

“We’re very happy and very legally married, why would we want to get married a third time?”

“I don’t know.” Liv shrugged. “You’ve already done it twice so why not a third time? Right Seb?”

“Don’t we have a setting with kids too?” Gabby asked Leanna. “The three of you could do the shoot together.” She suggested, looking at both Aaron and Robert.

“Oh yeah that would be nice, wouldn’t it Seb? We can get you all dressed up with your daddies. Just no silly cap this time, eh?”

“Hey he looked cute in that cap!” Aaron protested. “It matched his suit. And ours.”

“Well now you can match again.” Leanna interrupted. “Meet us at Take a Vow in an hour. We’ll set everything up and sort out the outfits.”

The three girls started to leave but Robert stopped them.

“Hang on. We’ll do it… if Holy Scrap and Home James get a shout out in the magazine.”

“Rob…”

“No, Aaron, this is business. We’re helping Leyla, she can help us.”

“Do you really think people reading wedding magazines are the kind that would be interested in doing business with us?”

“Why not? Even scrapyard owners get married.” Robert said and leaned over the table to kiss Aaron.

“Ok. That’s our cue to leave. We’ll see you in an hour.”

The three girls walked out of the flat, Liv still carrying Seb.

“Oi, where are you going with my son?” Aaron called out after her.

“Saving him from the soppiness here!” Liv replied laughingly and closed the door behind her.

“What did just happen?” Robert asked after staring at the closed door for a few minutes.

“I… think we just became models…”

An hour later the two of them made their way over to Take a Vow where they were met with a stressed out Leyla, yelling at people, the three girls all dressed up in white suits, and Seb playing in fake snow.

“So… what’s the plan?” Robert asked, looking around.

“We’re going to do a shoot outside the village with you.” Gabby explained. “We were thinking out by the cricket pavilion. Or even further out. Depends on where the photographer thinks is best.”

“Leyla left us in charge because she’s having a meltdown over my dad thinking she was proposing to him.”

“Uh…”

“Yeah. You don’t want to know.”

“Now come on, let’s go. We’ve sorted out your suits and you can change in the pavilion.” Liv said, ushering them out the door and picking Seb up from the floor.

Robert wrapped an arm around Aaron’s waist and pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

“It wouldn’t be the first time we take our clothes off in the cricket pavilion.”

Aaron blushed and pinched his side.

“Shut up. And behave.”

At the cricket pavilion Gabby gave them both garment bags and told them to change inside.

“There are a few outfits in there but we put them in the right order. So don’t pick and mix please.” She stressed.

The two of them went inside and were surprised to see a makeshift dressing room with some screens and two chairs.

Aaron was the first to unzip the garment bag and take out his first outfit. Stylish black shoes and trousers, a white shirt, a deep red tie, and a white jacket with the lapels in the same colour as the tie.

“Not bad.” Robert commented as he unzipped his own bag. His outfit being almost the same as Aaron’s, only his jacket was the same deep red as Aaron’s tie with white lapels, and a white tie on his black shirt.

They posed for pictures, pretending to say their vows and exchange rings, as well as the holding hands and walking down the aisle together as newlyweds pose.

Their next outfit was a more traditional black suit with a grey waistcoat and white shirt for both of them, the styles just slightly different from each other, followed by a bright purple jacket for Aaron and a floral patterned one for Robert that they both decided were atrocious.

There were pinstripe suits that made Aaron feel like a mobster from an old black and white film but Robert insisted he looked good in, and blue suits that looked a lot like their own wedding suits.

The last outfit had tailcoats for both of them. One black, one grey, and when Leanna handed them both top hats and canes Aaron complained he felt like a right twat.

And of course his stupid gorgeous husband looked good in everything.

Around the last set of pictures Seb was getting restless and nothing the three girls did could hold his attention anymore.

Robert walked over to him and scooped him up in his arms.

“Do you want to take a picture with daddies?” he asked the boy as he took his place next to Aaron again.

Seb just gave his father a funny look, taking in his new outfit.

“What do you think, Seb, do we look good?” Aaron asked him and put his hat on Seb’s head and wrapping his arms around both him and Robert.

“Ooh don’t you look smart.” Robert said, bouncing Seb up and down in his arms. “We should get a hat like that for you too. You can wear it to nursery and when your mum comes to visit. That would be nice wouldn’t it.”

Seb began to squirm and Robert put him down. He started to run away so his parents would chase after him, squealing with delight when one of them would catch him and then pretend to have to let him go again because he was just too strong.

None of them realised the photographer was still taking pictures until a few weeks later when the finished magazine came in the post.

“It turned out really well.” Aaron commented, flicking through the magazine.

“Yeah it did.” Robert agreed, looking over his shoulder. “Maybe we can request the originals and get them framed.” He suggested and turned to Seb who was playing with his Lego on the living room floor. “Look Seb, you’re in the magazine! You’re famous!”

#robron #robron fic #flufftober #robert sugden #aaron dingle #my writing

[nomoregoldfish]

Imagine catching Amado building secret airport in the jungle; Enemies to friends /w benefits (2/2)

This one goes out of my hands. I don’t even know what kind of monster it is now, smh. The formatting seems screwed up. Please read it on AO3 if you want. Again, if tubmlr flag the gif below, I’LL RIOT.

"Is this a date? What's the dress code? Cargo pants don't count." Amado sounds flirty when you call him the other day. It's not really his fault because you are the one who asks him out.

Since the formidable drug trafficker hasn't sent any sicario to make you disappear, you figure you still have chances to make him reconsider the plan of building an airport. You're willing to do whatever it takes to save the jungle and the ruins.

Plus seeing Amado again is not a bad idea.

You can't justify why you ignore your go-to outfit including cargo pants. Instead, you put on your tightest jeans.

You pick up Amado at four in the morning. The tall man looks sleepy and slightly confused, which is kinda cute. You offer him black coffee in your vacuum bottle. 

After the first sip, Amado turns to you with his misty down-turned eyes, "No cargo pants today?" You try not to smile, "Shut up."

You're taking him to the Palenque ruins, another Mayan site in Chiapas, just few hours drive away.

You manage to get there before the sunrise. The site hasn't opened yet but you know a secret route because you also worked on the excavation project there. 

"You have a thing for sneaking in, uh, Ms. Geologist?" You shouldn't encourage him but whatever, the banter is... fun. 

Walking with Amado in the dense mountain forest actually is a perfect date in your dictionary. Your shoes are wet with morning dew but nobody cares. Listen to birds chirping and fogs croaking in the dim light. 

"You're really not afraid of darkness, are you?" Amado sounds genuinely curious. "Why would I be? I worked on this site for years, I've known the whole place by heart." He nods, like some acknowledgement.

It's almost dawn, you look at the tinted horizon when you reach the top of the mountain. The entire ancient city of Palenque is quiet and peaceful wrapped in the jungle, reminds you why you chose what you do with your life.

"I want to show you something." It's the Temple of the Inscriptions, one of the most iconic Mayan architecture lightened up by the morning sun. Starting from the history, you explain to Amado not only the symbolic significance of the temple and the secret tomb inside, but also the epic war Emperor Pakal waged against Yaxchilán. 

Amado doesn't stop you. You keep talking, sharing your involvement in those excavation projects with him, how excited you are when a new site is discovered, how proud you felt for your team when Palenque was recognized as World Heritage Site not long ago, which meant more funds, more human resources, and better equipment for all scientists working on it for years. You want to continue to study the whole area, even several rival/ally sites in Guatemala and Belize, to find more satellite cities, battlefields, to be able to define the border of those ancient powerhouses and finally draw a map of the mysterious kingdom.

He looks at you like you're some kind of heroine. It's heartwarming but you're not sure, "So, what do you think?"

Amado's playing coy, but you're persistent. "Come on. I'm a geologist. I can't hire assassins. What else am I supposed to do to make you change your mind? Put on my most expensive dress, show off my ass, wine and dine you?"

"Though I'd love to see you in a nice dress, jeans are great, too." The northern banditote smirks, eyeing your lower body, "Plus the whole speech, I told you I love it when you talk about your job. You seem to know exactly what you're doing."

Amado doesn't promise anything. He says he'll figure something out.

You exhale deeply. At least the guy listened, you appreciate it. 

Then you find out there's nothing left in your vacuum bottle, the fucker drank all your coffee, "How am I supposed to drive back without any coffee in my system?"

Amado pulls you in for a kiss, warm and tastes much better than your shitty coffee. The fresh stubble overnight of his stings and it feels so good, you can't help cupping his face and kissing back. 

Then he announces he'd drive if you just say "El Señor de los Cielos, please." You tell him to fuck off but toss the car key to him anyway.

You haven't contacted each other after that for a while. You tell yourself it's nothing. It's not like you two have had something. 

You send people every week to monitor the construction of the airport from a hidden spot on the mountain. Meanwhile you complete the scan of the area surrounding the soon-to-be airport and find a possible target. You have to be on the ground again to confirm it. 

Unluckily you break your ankle one day in the jungle. And you don't want to put any colleague's life at risk to get near the cartel's territory. You decide to wait on Amado, you believe he's a man of his words. 

Amado surprises you one night at your camp. He jokes that a geologist can sneak into a drug cartel's property, it'd be humiliating if he doesn't return the favor. His face and neck are perfectly tanned, you want to immerse yourself in that hot chocolate. You almost jump out of excitement because you haven't seen Amado for a month. Then you remember you're confined to your desk and seat due to the injury. 

"You're expecting someone else? Ms. Geologist." Amado sounds a bit down. "I..." You want to ask him so many things. Has he figured it out? Who is in charge of the airport when he's away? And where has he been? Why does it take him so long to come back? Maybe minus the last question. It'd sound desperate. 

He says he flies from Juaréz, "One of the longest domestic flights," he claims as looking around your tent office, sketches and maps scattered all the place. When his eyes meet yours again, it's so gentle, full of fondness.

"You only want to talk about business?" He's getting close, "I just fly almost 2,000 miles and you're not even standing up. Look who's more cold-blooded than drug traffickers."

Before you realize what happens, Amado lowers his body and carries you off the chair. He doesn't touch your ankle but it still hurts when you're suddenly moved.

Amado finds out. The man in black examines your injury carefully. You never saw him so concerned before. He quickly comes to the conclusion that your injury is worse than it looks and needs better treatment. 

No, you're not gonna leave your job. You have papers to write, new budget to apply, more areas to explore. Slowly it'd recover.

"Don't you want to wade across rivers, trek through jungles, and climb mountains again? If you love your job so much, you have to get better treatment, immediately! And take some good rest. Give it a few more weeks? Oh God, you're insane." He's so mad at you.

You finally agree, and Amado insists on carrying you again to his vehicle. You know it's not your priority right now but holy fuck, he's fucking built. And you're inches away from his big nose which you've had a crush on for a while.

He's gonna fly you to the state capital Tuxtla Gutiérrez.

"You don't fly 2,000 miles just to see me, do you?" You poke him during the flight, sitting next to the sexy pilot in the cockpit is a treat. 

"Dear Ms. Geologist, remember I have a job, too?"

The pain is getting worse, Amado notices it then hands you a joint from nowhere. You're about ask whether it's legal to have weed on the plane, then you realize you're with a real drug dealer. "Not to bad to have a narcos friend, huh?" OK, you gives him that as the weed kicks in. 

"So now we're friends?" You're obviously high, and bold. Because you find your hand dangerously near his groin for no reason, fumbling. "I always wanted to touch it." You giggle. 

Amado politely removes your hand and tells you to behave.

"You know what? You could've been the most popular guy at our camp. Someone might trade blowjobs for your weed since we're just low-paid scientists and assistants." You're high like a kite.

You also "threaten" if Amado extends any further in the jungle to build more airport facilities when you're put away, you swear to God you'll...

"You'll what? Shut up and rest, cabrón. Or I'll take you directly to DF, better physicians there anyway."

And the fucker did, a day after a Chiapas physician suggests you seek the best orthopedic treatment in DF for speedy recovery.

Then Amado disappears again. You know he's probably running a drug cartel in the north, and only checking in on their hidden project near the southern border once a month or two. It's the way it is. Your lives only collide when it's meant to be. There's no fucking way you two see each other like normal people do. 

You still miss Amado, miss the banter, even his northern accent. 

During the two-month therapy in DF, you receive reports that the airport is completed, and the potential target site nearby is now a giant warehouse. You also learn a big donation is made specifically to the Yaxchilán excavation project, of course, anonymously.

That's what Amado meant by "figuring something out." You're not even mad. What's the alternate outcome when you're up against the narcos? Report it? The entire cabinet is probably in their pocket. You should be relieved that no one ends up dead during the little stupid game you played.

You can't even return the drug money because, a) you can't tell anyone where it's from; b) INAH's been underfunded for decades, the project fucking needs it, so do your colleagues.

You call that number again after you get back to the ground. You don't know how to end this, or is there anything to end? 

"Come over next weekend, I'll be there and I can explain." Amado sounds poised and calm, like he always does.

You tell yourself to keep it civil. This is a losing battle since day one.

Amado meets you in front of a warehouse, he looks great, all charming smile and open arms. All you can think of is the location of the warehouse, it must be the one. Most likely it's being buried.

"You bring flowers, how nice." It's the white birds of paradise, which suits him, El Señor de los Cielos. You tell him you're grateful for the injury advice he insisted.

"Can I show you something?" Amado opens the door of the warehouse. It all feels like yesterday, when you showed him the sunrise at Palenque, talking about your future plan. How naive were you.

Some jaw-dropping scene in front of you. The entire site of ruins, intact, locked inside the warehouse with minimal structure to shield from the rain and sunshine.

"What? You thought I'm gonna show you cocaine? No offense, baby, you can't afford the Colombian white magic. This is all you get, some fucking broken rocks with barely recognizable inscriptions." The bastard shrugs.

How did he find this site? "Sorry. Let's say I accidentally took a copy of your scan map last time at your camp, when you were busy with your ankle problem." You fucking knew it, it's never what it looked like when it comes to Amado Carrillo Fuentes.

Yet you can't believe what you just see. It is NOT real. It can't be.

That's when harsh reality kicks in. It always starts with a but. "You can't work on it, not now." Amado explains the situation and his plan for your ruins, which he thinks it's better to keep them under the radar for now. No tomb raider would dare to approach it, you can work on many other sites first.

"Then what?" You keep digging. Amado sighs, giving you a melancholy smile, "This line of work doesn't tend to last very long. It will be yours one day. Before that, it's completely safe. You have my word." 

Amado's kind of.... correct, and practical to be honest. INAH doesn't have enough resources for thousands of projects. Even with the hard work you and your colleagues pulled, it's estimated less than 10% of the total area of Palenque was explored and partially restored.

You carefully examine the site, making notes and sketches to create a hasty profile.

Amado focuses on something else, "It seems you walk just fine. Fully recovered, no rush? Good. And has your budget been approved? Got more money? I mean, the efficiency of any bureaucratic system is questionable in this country. If it still falls short, I can...." 

You can't tell if he's been an asshole or a saint, God forbid.

"For fuck's sake, I don't want your fucking money. I just, I want...." You turn around, look defeated, "Your dick, OK? Who cares about your dirty drug money? You Sinaloan monkey!"

Amado bursts into laughter, "Why don't you take both, dear Ms. Geologist?" He put your hand below his belt buckle, "I think you made it very clear last time."

"It's your fucking nose, narizón." You gently caress it, and he's getting hard beneath the fabric and it's fucking huge.

You're on your knees, trying to take Amado's full length in. Fuck, it's difficult. You're embarrassed and he's like "Shhh, it's okay, baby."

Instead, Amado's going down on you, making your knees weak af. You have to grab the stones to stand still. 

Amado eating your out with patience, salt and pepper stubble rubbing against the most sensitive part of your body which gives you more trouble, and fingering you at the same fucking time. Let that sink in for a moment.

You don't stand a chance, you come so hard.

Amado's taking you from behind, big hands on your hips to keep you still against the ancient structure. Rock into you with deep, short thrusts. You're wet for him like rivers during monsoon season. 

Your legs are shaking when he hits right at the spot again. "Wanna to make a good girl like you squirm and scream." Fuck, Amado always gets what he desires as he pulls you hair up, leaving hickeys on your neck while he fucks you thoroughly.

The best orgasm through your whole life. And the fucker is proud of it, "Told you. You'd better take both, baby. The green and the big D."

Does it mean you really gonna take money from narcos? This is so fucked up. 

Later Amado fixes you some nice margarita, casually asking if you want to join him for a business trip to Belize the next day. "I have to buy some stuff in Belmopan. Maybe we can stop by Lamanai with my private jet after that if you'd like."

How the fuck does he know you wanted to visit the Mayan ruins in a remote foreign town for years? 

The concern becomes less shocking when you see Amado buy a bunch of Boeing 727s in Belmopan like a Sunday grocery run.

#narcos mexico #narcos mexico imagine #amado carrillo fuentes #this is getting ridiculous

[wizardofrozz]

Put to the Test

Summary: The clock is ticking. If the Avengers want to bring Roz home alive, they need to find a lead.

Warning: swearing, angst, violence, trauma, depression

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Chapter 9: Time is Almost Up

Steve’s POV

Months flew by with almost no real information on where Hydra was hiding Roz. Any leads worth checking, the four of chased down, but ultimately, we always ended up with nothing. The most recent tip brought us to Siberia, the base where the Winter Soldier was trained. Nat and Clint were sprawled out on one of the queen-sized beds in our hotel room, flipping through Hydra files that Nat managed to uncover. Bucky sat across from me, eyes roaming over a map spread out on the table as I flipped through my notes.

           “Hey, Buck?” Nat called, lifting her head slightly.

           “Hm?” he grumbled, his eyes not leaving the map.

           “Do you remember the layout of the base here?” she asked, watching his response.

           “I could probably draw it,” he mumbled, only half his attention on her.

           “Okay,” she answered, giving up on getting more out of him. The Winter Soldier still occupied Bucky’s brain for the time being, but he insisted (demanded) we stop calling him the Winter Soldier; it was an odd feeling to call out of my friend’s name and not see the typical warmth in his eyes. The empty stare of the Winter Solider made my skin crawl; a flicker of emotion would pass his eyes from time to time, but it never stayed for long. Bucky reached for his notebook next to him, finally ripping his eyes off the map in front of him; I watched his pencil move as he sketched the general outline of the base he was kept in all those years ago. When he finished, he tossed the notebook to Nat; she jumped when it landed on the file she was reading but nodded, her eyes scanning the drawing.

           “Is there any chance they would be keeping her at this base?” Clint piped up.

           “We are running out of places to look. If she isn’t here, I have no idea where else they could be keeping her. This base was supposed to have been destroyed, but when Tony sent a drone out, the entrance still stood,” I said, flicking through a few pictures, tossing the one I wanted at Clint.

           “Well, let’s hope this is a good sign,” he muttered, going back to his file.

***

The bitter cold nipped at the exposed skin of my face and the tips of my ears. I glanced at Clint and Nat, who were huddled together off to my left before turning my gaze back to Bucky, who was working with Tony to get the door of the base open. I rubbed my hand together, trying to chase off the cold seeping into my bones; the sound of crushing metal snapped me out of my frosty daze.

           “Hey! Wait up, Manchurian candidate,” Tony yelled as Bucky walked into the base.

           “I don’t think insulting nicknames work if he doesn’t care,” Nat chuckled as she approached Tony.

           “Let’s go,” I sighed, tentatively following Bucky.

           “Downstairs,” Bucky’s emotionless voice drifted from the elevator. Tony, Nat, Clint, and I stuffed ourselves into the elevator with Bucky; I watched the numbers change as we descended into the underbelly of the base. Bucky was pressed against my chest, while Tony’s back was pressed against mine; Bucky shifted, rolling his eyes when the elevator finally stopped.

           “I did a heat signature scan on our way down the elevator. It looks like we have company and a lot of it,” Tony whispered as we followed Bucky farther into the base.

           “Let’s go see who’s homes,” I mumbled as we approached steel double doors.

***

Roz’s POV

I watched the steady drip from the water pipe make a puddle in the corner of my cell, adding to the already muggy atmosphere in my cell. My hand rested on my bulging stomach, rubbing small lazy circles to keep any anxiety at bay. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks, but at this point, I don’t think there was ever a time that my cheeks weren’t damp anymore. I tried to cling to the hope that Bucky would find me, but as weeks, then months kept flying by, it became harder to anticipate him busting through the door to my cell. The suffocating pain that engulfed me as I thought about my future and the future of our child plunged me into a fitful sleep.

***

I mindlessly spooned the bland oatmeal into my mouth solely for the health of my child. A guard came back sometime later to take the utensils and hand me a plastic cup of orange juice. I barely registered the taste as I chugged it, handing the cup back as a doctor slid into the room. The small man in a white coat wandered to my bed, making notes on a clipboard as his eyes roamed over me; he clicked a few buttons on the machines I was hooked up, nodding to himself.

           “Any pain?” he asked, his voice soft. I didn’t move to answer; my eyes stayed glued to the door; I heard the doctor sigh next to me. “I assume no pain,” he mumbled. “I’ll be back to check again tomorrow,” he said, walking towards the door. When the steel door slid shut, my stoic expression cracked again, tears wetting my cheeks again while I stared through the small window of the door into what may as well be the depths of hell.

***

I woke with a start at the sound of gunfire ringing through the base; I managed to pull myself into a sitting position as I strained to listen. The repeated buzz of metal vibrating caught my attention when the gunfire subsided momentarily. What the hell is going on out there? I looked through the door’s window, but the hall was empty; I buried the idea that anything good was going to come from the commotion. I caught the sight of a handful of guards running into the hallway in front of my cell, each one standing, guns raised, ready to fight. A single shot rang out as the light in the middle of the hallway burst; the light directly in front of my cell cast shadows over the hallway. My heart rate picked up as I watched the shadows of two figures step into the mouth of the hall before the deafening sound of gunfire started again. That same buzz of metal on metal bounced around in my head; it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place why. Suddenly the blare of gunfire stopped, leaving an eerie silence; I caught a glimpse of the figures moving towards my door. I screwed my eyes shut, praying that maybe if I sat completely still, they’d turn to leave; the groaning of the lock mechanism on the outside of my door let me know I was dead wrong. The steel scrapped against the concentrate floor, the sound vibrating through every bone in my body.

           “Roz?” I heard a faint whisper; my heartbeat stuttered at the sound of my name. Snapping my eyes open, I saw Steve’s piercing blue eyes; pure joy surged through his eyes when he realized he found me.

“Steve?” I croaked, relief crashing into me.

“Roz,” he sighed again, moving towards my bed. Steve’s arms pulled me against his chest, crushing me, but I couldn’t be bothered to care; for a split second, I thought it was a trick.

           “Hey Cap, we gotta get moving,” I heard another familiar voice from the doorway.

           “Clint?” I muttered, and Clint’s head poked around the corner of the door.

           “Hey, kid,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.

           “Where is everyone else?” Steve said, pulling away from me to look at the machines I was hooked up to.

           “Still clearing the floor,” Clint answered, moving into the doorway. Steve started gently removing wires and tubes from my arm; I threw the blanket off my body, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed.

           “Holy shit, we got here just in time,” Clint mumbled, eyeing my protruding stomach.

           “Can you walk?” Steve asked after removing the last wire.

           “Yeah, they kept me moving around,” I mumbled. Steve flinched slightly but coaxed my arm over his shoulders and wrapping his arm around my waist; he helped me get to the floor, but my knees buckled suddenly. Steve inhaled with a hiss before swiping my knees out with his arm, carrying me bridal style. My chin rested on his shoulder as he carried me out of the cell; I watched the doorway get smaller and smaller as a memory hit me. “Bucky,” I whispered.

           “He’s here,” Steve mumbled, his thumb rubbing my shoulder to comfort me.

           “Where is he?” I asked, turning my head to look at him.

           “I have to warn you about something before you see him. After you were kidnapped, he snapped; the Winter Soldier kind of came back. Not in the same way as before, but he’s not himself; it may take some time before he’s back to normal. Be prepared,” Steve squeezed me slightly in hopes of comforting me.

           “Oh god,” I croaked, tears springing to my eyes again.

           “Hey, it’s okay. He’ll be okay,” Steve whispered, trying to soothe my hammering heartbeat.

           “They made it outside to the quinjet. The base should be clear,” Clint said as Steve carried me into the elevator. The bumpy ride was agonizing; I buried my face into his neck, doing my best to keep it together. The temperature significantly dropped when Steve stepped out of the elevator; the thin nightgown I was wearing did very little to shield me from the cold. “Steve, stop for a second,” Clint called, his voice getting closer. Clint laid a warm blanket over me; Steve moved his hand so he could pin the blanket against me. The sudden burst of cold air made me jump as an unforgiving chill seeped into my bones.

           “Almost there,” Steve mumbled against the blanket. I could hear the snow crunching under his feet and the howling of the wind through the rocky landscape; I peaked up from Steve’s neck to watch the entrance of the base fade into the distance. I knew we made it the quinjet when I heard the faint hiss of the door hinges open; I shifted in Steve’s arms so I could see into the quinjet. The fading sunlight glistened off a familiar red suit standing in the doorway; Tony’s mask popped up, revealing his tear-stained face.

           “Tony,” I hummed, a smile pulling at my lips.

           “Hey, kiddo,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. As Steve walked up the ramp, I saw Nat jump from her seat, pushing Tony out of the way; her red-rimmed eyes searched my face as Steve got closer.

           “Nat,” my smile grew again.

           “Oh god, I thought we lost you,” she cried, awkwardly hugging Steve and me.

           “Okay, it’s cold out here. Let me get her inside,” Steve chuckled, shouldering his way past Nat into the quinjet. Clint closed the door as soon he stepped him, cutting off the frigid wind. Steve set me on one of the seats along the side of the quinjet, tightly tucking the blanket around my shoulders. Tony stood in the back of the quinjet as Nat and Clint went to the piolet chairs; I tried to look around Tony, but he only moved closer to take up more of my line of sight.

           “I already told her, Tony,” Steve sighed, plopping down next to me. Before I could open my mouth again, Bucky pushed around Tony to stand right in front of me.

           “She is safe now,” Bucky’s eyes fell on Steve. I watched as his eyes passed over my body, landing on my face after making sure I had no visible injuries. “Thank god,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

           “Can we have Bucky back now?” Steve growled, a sour look on his face.

           “I hope I never have to see any of you again,” Bucky sounded completely emotionless; his usual playful nature was gone. My chest tightened at the sight of a man I thought I left in the past; without any warning, a strangled yelp left Bucky’s lips. Bucky’s one eye twitched as his head turned into his shoulder before both of his eyes screwed shut in pain; seconds later, the creases in his face smoothed out as he lifted his head. Bucky’s eyes darted around the quinjet, his brain trying to recognize his surroundings when his eyes fell on me. Bucky’s usual, striking sky blue eyes replaced the empty steel gray ones I saw only seconds before; I watched the emotion surge through him, tears pooling in his eyes.

           “Roz?” he whispered. Bucky’s face softened instantly, looking like a different man, the man I fell in love with almost 100 years ago.

           “Bucky,” I sighed happily, getting to my feet. The blanket fell from my shoulder, revealing how far along my pregnancy is; Bucky’s eyes snapped to my stomach.

           “It’s true,” he mumbled, stepping closer.

           “We’re going to be parents,” I choked out, reaching towards him. Bucky finally closed the space between us; his arms wrapped around me as much as they could, and he buried his face in my neck. I snaked my arms around his neck, inhaling his familiar scent; I gasped as what felt like thousands of fireworks exploded across my skin. Bucky’s shoulders shook, sobs raking his body as we clung to each other; his legs trembled as he pulled away from him before falling to his knees. My heart broke at the pain etched into his face as he looked up at me; his eyes fell onto my stomach as he gently raised his right hand to my stomach. Sparks bounced along my skin as his hand rested on my stomach; Bucky’s gasped when he felt a violent kick to his hand.

           “Hi,” he cooed, chuckling. Another, less forceful kick made him giggled again as he rubbed my stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you, little one,” Bucky mumbled, leaning in to kiss next to his hand. Bucky swiped the tears from his face with the back of his metal hand as he pushed himself to his feet again. His eyes racked over my body, tears threatening to fall again; Bucky cupped my face, his beautiful blue eyes boring into me.

           “I love you, Bucky Barnes,” I whispered, our lips almost touching.

           “And I love you, Roselia,” he whispered before kissing me. My entire body erupted in fireworks, every inch of my being feelings warm; I finally felt like I was home again.

Series Masterlist | Chapter 10

Taglist: 

@criminalyetminimal​ @kendallthesimp​ @marvelfansworld​ 

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x ofc #bucky barnes x ofc #winter soldier #the winter soldier #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky series #bucky barnes series #sergeant barnes #sergeant james barnes #hydra #hydra experiment #red room project #black widow project #hail hydra