#yes i picked the episode where pierce is just stuck at the door and no one gives a fuck about him

[discotechque]

till my hand shook with the way I fear

pairing: abed nadir/nby! reader word count: 1.6k rating: T

me and abed have neurodivergent solidarity and for that, we would be besties. also the mc in this is specifically non-binary so whatever.

There's clear haze that settles over the bar, that's the first thing Abed realizes once he settles into the space. It's dim, like most bars are and he assumes that's the charm of places like these. Jeff and Britta are adults ( he is too but he's overlooked and therefore his opinion is mute ) so he follows their guidance. Watching from afar, observing their inebriated choices while downing another shot.

He doesn’t get the point of alcohol, much less bars, and it seems the whole point is to get pleasure after an initial sting. A sharp weight that lays in the back of one's throat before elation rips through you. Bourbon burns through him with too much consequence, gin coats his mouth with a bitter tang, and wine falls flat on his tongue.

Maybe it's his upbringing, he's never witnessed his father take a sip to this day, or the pressure that rushes to his frame when he's offered a drink. Abed understands the appeal of bars, it does not mean he shares the same sentiments to them. They're noisy little backend places where melancholic characters come to waste away their sorrows, typically finding pathetic people who drool over glass rims.

However, he is not pathetic ( even if his oldest friend is rounding his seventies and community college all seemed like a folly ) and he had never been overtly dripping with melancholy. So he stood by the small arcade game in the corner, unbothered and safe, until someone offered kindness.

And he takes miles of that even if all they've given was an inch because even if he isn't pathetic or melancholic, he is greedy. He likes eyes being on him because he has so many thought he wants to share with one mouth that can only do so much. Abed is not dumb, he knows what the man wants and how his friendly touches are slowly rising above his knee.

He knows what the man wants and isn't surprise at his outburst once learning that the feelings isn't reciprocated. There's streams of Mint Julep dripping from his jaw and lashes, softly mumbling about his love for Farscape before having it degraded. Abed knows he deserves it and was warned by Annie that people are sensitive ( but he is not held by the bounds of common decency or empathy no matter how hard he tries to keep his mouth shut. )

Then, he remembers the man's proposition ( the only reason someone would be interested in him ). He isn't familiar with being viewed as a sexual object and men weren't unwelcome in his eyes. Gay? Is he gay? Maybe something that exists within the unorthodox box that is sexual realization? The questions sound so foreign even within the echo chamber of his mind.

He's in a dingy bar celebrating his best friend's birthday, this is not a time for the sexual exploration of his subconscious ( although he saves the thought because he considers if not now then when ). The drink is seeping within his clothes, it's going to stick if he doesn't move. He needs to fucking move.

And he does, swiftly pulling himself away from the chair and heading towards the bathroom. Wherever that is, Shirley said it was in the far back and Annie said fair left. Yet, she meticulous as ever so what if she always assume her left is everyone's true left and Shirley is vague with her directions but it doesn't even seem to be enjoying her time here at all.

He's not enjoying it either if he's honest. His loose shit now sticks to his chest and he knows it would make sopping sounds if the man's glass was any larger. Jeff brought them here to celebrate because they're all adults and Troy deserves to have a birthday party in style but if all Jeff and Britta do it bicker, doesn't that make them children themselves? And if he shares his companionship with them, does that make him and all the others children by association?

He's going nowhere with this train of though, this he knows but it can't ever seem to stop. His brain becomes a leaky faucet that can never be screwed back just right so it drips and drips just like the alcohol does along his jaw and lashes. Abed wants to go home but he's with his friends and it's his best friend's party and it'd be so rude of him to leave so soon. At least, that's what Annie tells him.

( Parties were far and few between when he was younger and even then, he cannot replace family functions for beings that truly care for him. )

But then he remembers you, nursing an iced tea in the corner because you are not interested in bestowing wisdom onto Troy that you do not have or participating in anybody's shenanigans. Bars are where people come to hook up or fuck up, you proclaimed on the car ride here, there's no in between.

Then he hears it, bursting against his ears as a smile splits across your face, a discotheque pop song that might be pleasant if it wasn't so overwhelming. His hand involuntarily taps against his thigh in tune with the rhythm. It helps sort out the sensations, the noise is different than the bland flavoring of water, and he knows what's what but it all feels the same in his mind.

Abed's eyelids shut, another involuntary tick he can never seem to shake, and his hand has created it's own beat. Rapid and rushed with no real rhyme or reason except for the fact that it's something that will tug his mind away from everything. ( It's the same thing he does when he's at the edge of a rollercoaster, it makes him safe. ) If everyone else can sway to a rhythm, why can't he?

"Hey," an unexpected voice softly call out to him ( tenderness within this group almost borders on unnatural ). Abed slowly opens his eyes to see you, you call out to him. He feels his hands move away from his pants, tangled within your fingers instead as you gaze at him with earnest. "five things you can see?"

Your hands feel polished, no—plush. He's afraid that if his thumbs press too hard, he'll begin to meld into your being. That's a great idea for a movie, he thinks and he knows you've been his muse from time to time. Maybe it means something, he's not willing to deep any deeper.

His eyes scan the room for a brief second before he rattles off, "The wooden floors, the bartender, the door, the chair behind you, and Annie still trying to be a Texan."

Her accent still lingers within her mind, poor acting for someone so involved a role they've assigned for themselves. The though nearly amuses him but he's getting off track, he needs to focus on you. On the way your hands gently rub over his knuckles and needs to ignore this growing pit within his stomach on whatever that insinuates.

"Four things you can feel?"

"My feet against my shoes, my jeans against my legs, how hot my ears are, your hands."

You don't let go even after he's mentioned it, instead he receives a squeeze that sounds throughout his body. A continuous cycle the runs on until you ask him for something he can taste, he doesn't know what lingers within the crevices of his mouth. ( He'd want it to be you and licks his lips without a second thought. ) Yet, settles on the answer Mint Julep.

Something about thinking this way must be wrong, he shouldn't want to keep holding your fingers or gaze into your fervent irises. He shouldn't be attracted to someone like you and shouldn't be searching for so many reason on why he has to tear himself away from your presence. Still, shouldn't doesn't stop him from doing so.

Maybe his hands have melted into yours, it'd be a good excuse on why he can't bring himself to let go. The song changes again, how long has he been in this small little world with you?

"Hey, it's Mazzy Star, this fucks so hard." he's heard of this before, maybe you've shared it with him. It's less grating on his ears, smooth melodies being shifted on strings, and he watches you sway from the corner of his eye.

( He likes to be watched but something about you commands all his attention. )

Still shifting from foot to foot, you turn to him with a far more lax expression. Both shifting into familiarity as you ask, "You wanna sit down?"

"Not really," he shoots back suddenly but you're not perturbed at his fast response reflex. However, his heart sinks as the next words tumble from his lips. "but we can stand here and sway?"

You don't pull your hand away from his, instead, pressing into his fingers as you ponder a reply. Perhaps you think this isn't real as much as he presumes you'll humiliate him for even asking. But you don't and another smile splits down your features, large than the last one he saw from across the room.

"Of course, Abed Nadir has a genius idea. Let's do it."

You don't move him from this space you've cultivated with him. Instead, wrapping arms around his neck as he places them on your waist ( he never went to prom but this is better than any teenage fantasy ). Moving side to side, never shifting around in a circle but rather awkwardly figuring out a steady pace while his stares becoming fonder while the night grows.

Abed still doesn't get the point of bars but he can figure it out the next time he's here with you.

#abed can be a little bisexual ... as a treat #anyways in this episode abed never says he straight so i am legally allowed for him to have a crisis after a drink is thrown on him #yes i picked the episode where pierce is just stuck at the door and no one gives a fuck about him #i know in 2010 nonbinary probably wasnt a popular term but im using it here bc i dont care #i don't know how much i liked this but i think it was kinda cute #julianscribbles #ch: abed nadir #abed nadir #abed nadir x reader #community x reader #abed nadir imagine #community imagine #abed nadir imagines #community imagines #nonbinary #nonbinary reader #tv: community

[shurisneakers]

shut in [2]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied violence, drama kings, and stupid tv show references

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: ayeeee, we’re back for part two. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

Hours were spent on the road in thick silence. 

The both of you had been driving around for a while now. You were a considerable distance away from the mansion and Pierce, but you didn’t dare to stop.

Initially you had only put the pedal to the metal without solid plan. Get the fuck away from there was the only objective you cared about. 

Hours later a signboard registered in your frantic thoughts. Familiarity struck a chord, and all of a sudden you had a vague idea of where you could go. You were unsure if it still existed, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

Darkness still coloured the sky, but the roads were deserted. No cameras along the highway was a welcomed feature. You eased your foot off the accelerator, carefully assessing the path you were taking for your exit. 

You saw a small clearing near the highway, taking a deep breath before pulling the car into a sharp turn off the road and into the woods.

“Where are you going?” your companion jolted up when the car swerved abruptly. 

You didn’t answer; just kept your eyes peeled for the structure. You didn’t have a backup plan if this didn’t go right.

It took much longer than you anticipated before you found it, pulling the car to a stop. You were deeper into the woods than you would have liked. 

You stuck your head out of the window to confirm you were at the right place. It looked like you were.

“Where the hell are we?”

“My summer vacation house,” you murmured, unbuckling your seatbelt. You stepped out of the car to assess the damage. .

Another door opening and closing told you that he had gotten out of the car as well. However, he trudged ahead, leaving you behind. 

The car was pretty beaten up. The metal gates hadn’t done it any favours.The question was whether it would still work if you needed it to.

Probably would, but not for too long.

You looked to the side to see where he went. He was standing in front of the house, arms crossed over his chest as he ran his eyes all over the building.

You trekked past him, walking up the two steps to the door. Pulling at what looked like a doorbell in any other scenario, you tugged off the outer shell to reveal a small scanner underneath.

You pressed your thumb to it, tapping your foot impatiently as it gave a beep of approval. The door gave a soft click. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, twisting the handle to let yourself in. 

“You’re kidding right?” he asked incredulously from a distance behind you.

“Hey, man, stay outside if you want. Suit yourself.” You were sure he could fashion a bed out of leaves and twigs if he was that desperate.

Fumbling for the light switch, you sigh in relief when the room is illuminated.

“Whose safehouse is this?”

“Ransone’s.” You shrugged nonchalantly, moving ahead to inspect the place.

“I have every single one of his safehouses committed to memory.” His voice was becoming fainter as he planted his feet firmly at the doorway, refusing to move. “This ain’t one of them.”

“He’s sneaky. Once watched the next episode of Desperate Housewives without telling me.” The house wasn’t as dusty as you thought it would be, clearly being maintained once in a while although not regularly. “Broke my whole heart, he did.”

“Whose house is this?” he asked once again, tone hard as steel.

“Best that you don’t ask questions, buddy.” You looked at him wearily, a slo warning in itself, ending the conversation there. “Or else you’re welcome to leave.”

The entrance opened directly into what you assumed was the living room, or a sorry excuse for one. It had a couch facing an old cable television set, mounted on a small cupboard.

In the same space was the kitchen, with a microwave, a sink, and shelves lining the wall. A small mini fridge sat atop the counter.  There was a dining table with six chairs for a family, almost like a sick joke. You found yourself letting out a short exhale at it, moving onto the next room.

It was bare except for a shelf pressed against a well. Opening it, you found yourself looking at multitudes of what looked like burner phones, microphones, cameras, some as small as a button. Regular security cameras and monitors to go with it, trackers, anything you needed was available in those four drawers.

You pocketed a burner cell to use for later, moving to the room on the opposite side of the hall.

However, unlike the rest of the rooms you had seen so far, this one was empty. Not even a shelf decorating it.

The next door you opened was a bathroom, the final being a bedroom with one bed in the centre pushed up against the wall. A wardrobe in the corner contained numerous t-shirts of black and grey of every size, tactical pants and other necessary items of clothing.

You eyed the last door at the end of the hall before finally deciding to pursue it.

It opened to the patio in the back, two steps leading down from the house into the wooded area. Pillars held up the corners of the roof. It all looked picturesque, meant to blend in as a normal house.

You stood there for a second, taking in the silence around you. Nothing could be heard for miles, so if something were to happen-

You shook your head, forcing your imagination to stop running wild. You shut the door behind you, steadily making your way back to where the guy was.

It appeared that he had caved. He had moved from the doorway, instead taking a seat on one of the dining chairs. He was observing you, eyes keen as you took a seat opposite to him.

Dropping the burner phone on the table, you looked at him expectantly. Silence ensued until it dawned on him what you were implying. 

“I’m not calling him,” the guy said, leaning on his palm. Coward. 

“Fine.” You pulled it back, snapping it open to dial the number.

You let it ring all the way until the very last second.

“Hello?” the low voice resonated from the other end.

“Ransone.” You rolled your eyes at his tone, somehow letting your exhaustion tear down any kind of filter you usually had while in conversation with him. 

“Y/N?” His voice jumped two octaves higher to his usual pitch, dropping the facade immediately. 

“Did you set us up?” You ignored the small glance you got from the guy at your name.

“What?”

“Did you set us up?” you repeated brazenly.

“What?”

“Oh, cut the shit Ransone, was this a trap?” The guy next to you exploded impatiently.

“Wilson?” Great. A name to the face.

“Answer the fuckin’ question, Vincent.” The mention of Ranone’s first name had you surprised. No one dared to call him that.

“No, Sam,” came his response almost mockingly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sam Wilson. It sounded familiar. You’d heard it tossed around a few times at the organisation.

“Why were both of us on the same assignment?”

“I told you, I wasn’t sure if Wilson was going to show up.” You could hear his chair faintly creak in the background. “This was his mission first.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” you interjected. Faint memories of a passing comment he made during your briefing were beginning to surface. 

“It means,” Ransone emphasised. “I called him first. He was being a bit… difficult. So I sent you as a backup.”

You looked at Sam. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, as if to say to ignore what he was saying.

“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me that you were sending someone else?” If Ransone had told you, he should have mentioned it to him too.

“Oh, grow up.” Ransone sounded irritated, a tone that he seemed to reserve for Sam specifically. “You’re not children anymore. You can handle a few miscommunications.”

“Bullshit. You and I both know this isn’t an accident,” Sam retorted, dangerously good at not giving a shit. 

“You better watch yourself, agent.” Ransone snarled. “I don’t like being questioned.”

“Like I give a shit about what you like or not. We were outnumbered 8 to 2. You tellin’ me you had nothing to do with this? That the stars just aligned to royally fuck with us?”

“Yes, I waited until Mercury was in retrograde to plan this hit,” he drawled sarcastically. “Don’t you for a second forget what you owe me, Wilson. You’d be stupid to believe I’d let it go so easily by having you killed.”

His voice was ice by the end. Sam’s eyebrow furrowed as he leaned back, crossing his arm over his chest.

“Then what about me?”

“Y/N,” he sighed, instantly sounding softer. “I didn’t think he would show. That’s it.”

“You’ve never been unsure of anything.”

“Which is why I sent you in. Pierce had to die one way or the other. Don’t care how.” It wasn’t what you were talking about, but it brought up something else. 

You looked at Sam. Should you tell him that Pierce was dead before you got there?

You decided against it, not knowing what his reaction would be and too tired to gauge it over the phone. If someone else had gotten to Pierce before you, it meant that Ransone didn’t get a chance to deliver a dramatic end to his life, which would tick him off endlessly. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Sam broke the momentary pause.

“You don’t.” He paused. “Distrusting me is the wisest thing you could do.”

You scoffed at his stupid Game of Thrones quote. How he was this obnoxious at a time like this was beyond comprehension. 

“Give me your location.” He couldn’t sound less interested, like a parent forced to pick up their child. “I’ll send someone to come pick you up.”

Sam’s finger tapped at the table, drawing your attention to him.

He slowly shook his head, mentioning to his ear then drawing his finger in a circle indicating his surroundings.

Disclosing confidential information over the phone wasn’t the wisest idea. You had no idea if anyone was tapping into Ransone’s calls, listening for sensitive information. For all you knew that’s how they got to the mansion before you. 

“Forget it. We’ll figure it out,” you told Ransone, eyes still locked on Sam.

“All right, stay low for a while. Keep me updated.”

You cut the call without another word, removing the battery and tossing the phone onto the table.

“What now?”

Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence rested uncomfortably between you as you stewed over what to bring up. 

“Did you kill Pierce?”

“Christ, we still on this?” he scoffed.

“It’s a yes or no question.” 

“No,” he stared at you. “I didn’t.”

“Did Ransone send you to spy on me?” It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, although you thought he had moved past the need for that years ago. 

“No, I was there for a mission.”

“You got any proof?”

He rolled his eyes. “Scout’s honour.”

He lifted his hand up in a mock-salute. A wince flashed across his face; barely, but enough for you to catch it. His arm dropped back down again.

You examined him silently, searching for any hint of a lie or bluff. You found nothing, only an adamant set of eyes staring right back at you.

Your chair creaked as you pushed yourself away from the table. You could feel his gaze following you as you walked down the hall to the bathroom. Shuffling through the shelves for something you were sure was there, you soon stepped back out.

You had no idea why you were doing this. You didn’t even know the guy.

He had his sleeve pulled up to his shoulder, examining the wound from the bullet graze. Dried blood streaked his forearm, partially covering his tattoo.

You tossed the first aid kit onto the table, watching it slide across to where he was sitting. Sam glanced at the box, then up at you.

You just turned around silently, walking back down the hall and towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

__________

Sleep didn’t come that night, and predictably so.

Whether it was the survival instinct guarding you from the stranger in the house, the adrenaline from the mission or even the anxiety of not knowing what exactly was going on, you were sure that you didn’t catch even a bit of shut eye.

Morning came around after what seemed like days rather than hours. You still stayed in bed well past the sunrise, pulling at the hem of your pillow. Your knife was still strapped to your thigh and your gun found a place on the nightstand, just in case.

When you heard the opening and shut of cabinets down the hall, you finally pulled yourself up, stretching to get rid of the weariness in your muscles. You decided against the gun but left the knife strapped to your thigh as you shifted off the bed.

You paused at the doorway, hand on the knob. Shoving aside your hesitation, you opened the door quietly. You could handle it, easily.

Walking towards the kitchen, the volume of his ruffling and filing through the kitchen only became louder. You stopped at the entrance, watching as Sam slammed a cabinet door shut.

“C’mon man,” he groaned before turning around to lean his body weight against the counter. There was a small bump under the sleeve of his arm, different from the curve of his muscle. You assumed he had bandaged the bullet graze the night before.

He was still wearing the same thing as yesterday. Dust was slightly settled on his shirt and one knee of his pants was ripped slightly.

“Mornin’.” You quickly looked back up at him, not realising when he had seen you. “Get any sleep last night?”

You wordlessly shook your head and he shrugged in understanding. 

“Did you?”

“Oh yeah. Out like a light.” He pushed himself off the counter.

“Really?” You watched as he pulled out a chair for himself, taking a place at the dining table, same place he was sitting the night before.

“Sounded like the reasonable thing to do.” He had an unnatural amount of faith in the fact that you wouldn’t murder him. Although you couldn’t judge if he was simply putting on a show, having stayed awake just as you had. 

“I'm stuck in a safehouse with a stranger, forgive me for being a little careful,” you muttered defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hey, never said you were wrong.” He lifted his hands up. “But just to make sure; are you going to kill me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“And I’m not going to kill you. I’d say that’s enough reassurance to get at least a nap in.”

“Give me one good reason to believe you.”

“If you killed me, Ransone would blow the roof of this place with you still in it. I’m one of the best he’s got.”

“Bullshit.” You scoffed, walking around the table to go see what you could find to eat. Ransone wouldn’t do that for anyone, and he knew that.

He didn’t bother responding but you could sense him tracking your movement.

The first cabinet you opened consisted purely of jars of peanut butter, stacked together neatly. The one beside it had jelly arranged in a similar fashion, jar to jar and taking up the entire space. Adjacent cupboard had loaves of bread, probably the most you’d seen together in a house ever.

The next cupboard was... empty.

“You have got to be fuckin’ with me,” you cursed under your breath. “Is there nothing else here?”

Save for a few plates and cutlery, every other shelf was empty. Your frustration only grew with each drawer you opened and shut, finding nothing but the same three components over and over again.

“There’s some soup on the top right, behind the bread.” His voice came from behind you. You checked where he mentioned, finding multiple cans of tomato soup. “I hope PB&J is your favourite, ‘cause that’s really all we got. I checked twice.”

“We won’t be here long anyway. It’s fine.” You walked a few steps towards where the TV was, sitting atop a small cupboard. If you weren’t getting gourmet meals, hopefully it would be compensated with some entertainment.

Rummaging through it didn’t prove to be a major hassle since there were only three DVDs; Die Hard, Notting Hill and Megamind. Beside it sat two books, American Gods, and Pride and Prejudice. That’s all. 

“Really made sure to cover all demographics with those movies. There’s only one local news channel, everything else is static,” Sam informed you, unmoving from his position. You sighed, tossing the DVDs back and shutting the door.

“There’s a room over there with some basic shit. Burners, mics, cameras. Clothes are in the bedroom drawer. Should probably take a shower while you’re at it, I can smell you from a mile away and it’s giving me a migraine.” You pushed yourself off the ground, pointing towards the rooms as you walked down the hall. “Backyard’s all heavily wooded. If we try hard enough, I’m sure there are a few trap doors or crawl spaces or whatever around here.”

You could hear him follow you as you gave him the tour of a place you were sure he already had examined thoroughly before you greeted him this morning.

Pushing open the door to the suspiciously empty room, you stepped to the side, allowing him to observe. The both of you had the same thought process as you split up, sticking close to the walls, running your fingers across the plaster to look for any major differences.

“Got it,” he called out. You spun on your heel to face where he was standing. A small chunk of the wall was missing, a small button in the centre of the cavity he had created.

Pressing it lightly, the mechanical sound of sliding doors filled the air as the entire side of the room gave way to shelves upon shelves of weapons. Guns, knives, ammunition, bulletproof vests; enough material to last you years.

The doors slid shut when you pressed the button again, not until you had a mental note of what was available in case you found yourself in a situation where you required them.

“That about covers it. Don’t think we’ll be here long so just think of it as your three day long staycation.”

“I’ve had a better time at funerals than I’ll ever have in this shithole.”

________

“What do you mean they escaped?” Their voice was booming, dripping with slow rising anger. “Someone explain to me how the fuck that’s possible.”

“They took the car and left.”

“They took the car and left,” they said mockingly in a high pitch. “I know that, you fucking imbecile. I’m asking how they were alive long enough to do it?”

“They teamed up. Took out nearly everyone,” the agent was monotone. His arm was in a sling and his partner stood beside him, thick bandages around his midsection.

“They shouldn’t have been there together. They shouldn’t have been sent together.”

No one said a word, not even daring to breathe loudly.

“This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen. We killed Pierce. Everything was perfect,” their voice dropped as they spat out the last word. “So then how did this fucking happen?”

“Boss, we’ll-”

“I want them dead.” They interrupted, casting silence in the room. “I don’t care how you fucking do it. I want you to find them and rip them to shreds. Both of them.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And if you even fucking think of coming back without a proper update-” they brought their hand down harshly on the table. “-I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

The agents just nodded, faces pale as they shuffled out of the room silently.

“Fucking idiots.” They nursed their forehead on their palm, calming the nerve that was menacingly visible on their temple. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Part 3

#sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #mcu fic #sam fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson series #falcon #falcon x reader #the falcon x reader #hitman!sam wilson #hitman!au #shut in fic #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #sam wilson #the falcon #read my fic you cowards it's good

[keravnous]

- agent 14/agent steve haines; american money

It's a Thursday and it's raining. The raindrops are heavy and loud on impact, running down his windshield like tears. He's on his way to the set and he prays that it'll clear up soon.

"This show will kill you", Warren sits on his bed, sheets lazily draped over his legs. Steve can see where his pubic hair begins and his mouth waters. Warren takes a long drag from his cigarette, blows the smoke into the air.

"It fucking won't, nothing can", Steve's leaning against the door frame, coffee in hand.

"Fuck yes, it can. And it will, lurking around at Forum Drive all day and for what? Two minutes of frightening pictures that will make Karens all over LS go buck wild."

"Who's Karen?"

"Forget about it. Let me suck your dick, Haines, c'mere."

As he arrives near the recreational center and pulls into one of the lots it has indeed stopped raining. The streets are still wet but the sun's coming out again and the air is already mushy with the reblooming heat. There's a lanky man with a dog and he's yelling into his phone - the man that is, not the dog.

He knows who the guy is, even though he most likely doesn't know him, probably he doesn't even know that Steve exists. He's an associate of Franklin Clinton and the Bureau keeps a close eye on him, due to the nature of Clinton being so close with Townley and Philips.

Steve watches Lamar, leaning against the hood of his car, the remaining rain wetting his thigh through the denim.

"Man Frank, you just ain't around no more, homie. That's all I'm saying. Yeah - Yeah, sure whatever, dog - Yeah, fuck yourself too, homie."

He hangs up and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. The dog looks at him. "Man, you get the fool more than I do, Chop. Wassup with him, can you tell me? He always been that fool, but something ain't right there."

Steve knows what ain't right there. Franklin must've picked up by now, or maybe Townley told him, what they were up to that one afternoon at the warehouse. And for what he knows about Clinton and what the intel tells him, the young man probably isn't much of a big fan of government-approved interrogation techniques.

And he probably also won't like what Steve has next in stock. Warren was a little careless the last time around, tongue loosend by sweet kisses and a hand around his dick, when he spoke about a securicar delivering important IAA files soon. It won't hurt 14 but it would definitely aid Steve an awful lot, so he decided to send the boys on the road again, maybe on Tuesday.

The production team's van rolls up next to him and they swarm around him like a stock of bees buzzes around their queen and then there's sound and light checks being run and a woman applies powder to his face. Lamar Davis has not moved a single step. Their eyes meet.

"What are you idiots doing here?", he hollers. Steve wonders if he could be of use.

"We're shooting a show", he replies, while the attach a little microphone to his collar, "The Underbelly of Paradise, you surely have already seen an episode or two."

"You're that Haines-guy then?", something in Lamar's voice makes his skin crawl, his files told Steve that he too is a gangster after all, killing and robbing are some of Davis' favourites. The look he shoots him isn't much friendlier.

"In the flesh", Steve dusts of the sleeves of his polo shirt.

"Yeah, aight. Fuck you then, man. C'mon Chop, we best be leavin', homie. Imma take you back to Frank's crib", oh, there is something in Lamar's voice that Steve definitely doesn't like at all but he just smiles politely at the man, until he's around the corner and out of sight. Steve's smile drops.

"Can we hurry this up a little, people? I don't got all day!" The bees start buzzing again.

_

The raid on the Humane goes by easier than expected. They are in Warren's living room, as the news inform about the incident. Steve is just pouring himself another glass of wine and Warren looks at him.

He knows, that the other one knows. It's a cover story the IAA will buy, but not Warren. Pain shoots through his legs as he slowly makes his way towards the sofa.

Warren mouths a few words at him. Be careful. Steve nods and leans over, places a soft kiss on his shoulder.

"Learned from the best", he whispers and Warren jerks.

"What?", there's panic in his voice.

"The Rashkovsky Job? The breakout and then his research goes missing?"

Warren blinks at him in disbelief.

"So, did he let you know if he likes it in South America?"

They laugh and Steve feels light, his fingertips tingle with it.

_

Steve's on his balcony. There's a saxophonist a few meters down the road, playing some Sinatra pieces and the music wraps itself around him like a blanket. The musician's interpretation reaks of melancholy and reminds Steve of the golden days of Vinewood cinema, noir films and cigarette smoke. Musicians playing at street corners isn't something foreign in a city where everyone has dreams of being the next big national superstar, but Steve usually hates him with his guts. This one's different. It touches him and he finds himself enjoying the dark, warm tunes that float through the cool air. It will be autumn soon and Steve's glad that the heat will be gone.

Warren watches him from the inside, leaning against the kitchen counter, lips curled in a smile.

_

Steve has always hated Michael's bloated and ugly, fat face and now he even gets to point a gun at it. It feels like his birthday and christmas fall on the same day.

"They know or they think they know that I'm the one that was behind the incident."

They stare each other into the ground, guns raised. Steve's ready to fire, has been from the minute Townley walked onto the plaza for the first time.

"Put the weapons down, boys. Fun time's over!", Steve wants to sigh. This is not happening. And then they are suddendly surrounded by their own man Sanchez has sent and then fucking Merryweather's there, too. This is not fucking happening. And so he does the only thing he's always been good at.

"We all know you Agency boys are balls deep in a plot to drive up your fundings by any means necessary", he shouldn't have said that. Warren trusted him with that info, even showed him the intel. He sees something moving behind Agent ULP's eyes, it's fear. He's got him.

Suddendly there's a loud pop and then pain shooting through his left leg. "Same goddamn leg", he blurts out as hell starts to break loose around him. Sanchez blood sprays the concrete in a bright red as the bullet pierces his skull. Steve wishes it would've been Michael instead.

He runs until he can't take the pain no more, then cowers on the ground, slowly robbing behind cover, as Dave and Michael pick up the gun fight. He's bleeding heavily, red liquid rushing out of the wound and drenching his cargos. It seems like the bullet is stuck and maybe has wounded some arteries. He figures that he probably hasn't that much time left. He strips himself out of his shirt and wraps it around his leg, adding pressure on his thigh, just above the bullet wound.

He thinks about Warren. Oh dear God, don't let me die today.

_

"What did you do?", it's Warren, he's sitting at Steve's kitchen table.

"Did you let yourself in, pretty boy?"

"What happend?", he sounds furious now, gets up and his eyes bore into Steve's. He's dizzy with it, with what Warren's gaze tells him, let's him know without saying a word.

"Nothing, it's nothing."

"You got shot!"

"Yeah, the same leg."

"That's - you're-"

Steve wraps his arms around him and presses him close and Warren releases a surprised noise. "I'm still here", he says and it's more for and to himself, than for Warren but the other doesn't seem to care, burying his face in Steve's neck.

The world's a little brighter and warmer and Steve doesn't feel that threatend anymore. He has to make a phone call, but that can wait a few more minutes.

_

He has a team on the way to the plant, it will be alright. They'll be gone for good, just another casualty. He sighs, takes a deep breath and throws the script on the seat across from him.

"Are the cameras rolling? Yes? How do I look, the chin's sharp?"

Warren looks at him, eyes still a little hazy from his last orgasm and Steve turns his head and looks at him. He's so pretty and Steve's heart misses a beat.

"I-", his voice breaks and Warren blinks.

"Yeah?"

"I hate you."

Warren laughs. It's deep and dripping with amusement, running down Steve's body like hot honey. He rolls himself over, on top of Warren, who's still laughing deep in his chest, burying a hand in Steve's blond hair.

"No. No, you don't."

They look at each other and their gazes turn soft. "Sometimes I do", Steve's voice is quiet, honesty seeping through his words, "But sometimes I-, I would burn the world down to protect you."

Warren's hand caresses his neck. "My life would be so very boring without you, Haines. It nearly makes me forget that I just really want to skin you alive, sometimes."

It's not really an I love you - I love you too, but it's as close as they can get without hurting their egos. The kiss is soft and sweet and a promise.

"Hi, I'm Steve Haines. I've tracked down killers, attacked incompetence and taken down terrorist cells, and tonight -"

The gunshot rips through the night and the camera man throws himself back, lands unpleasently on his back.

"My god! The guy! What's-his-name! Fuck, shit, they shot him!", he stares down at the dead man, blood rushing out of the bullet wound in the back of his head. The impact had torn some skin and skull apart and there's a nasty opening, his brain leaks out of it. The camera man vomits out of the gondola as sirens erupt in the night.

_

Warren has his feet up on the coffee table, mindlessly zapping through the programs. It's all shallow and boring and he hopes that Steve will be home soon. Home.

His stomach does a funny little flip and Warren smiles to himself, wraps the blanket around him tighter. It smells of him, his perfume. He closes his eyes and he can practically feel Steve's hand creeping around his neck, resting on his shoulder, heavy and warm. It's always like that, when he comes in on Warren sitting on the sofa. He will lean down and place a feather light kiss on the back of his head, maybe rest his nose there for a moment, taking the other man's scent in for a few seconds, before getting up again and ranting about Norton or another colleague. A fuzzy warmth spreads in his stomach and Warren sighs. A sudden noise interrupts his daydreaming and he lazily opens an eye at the TV. It's a Weazle Broadcast.

"We interrupt our nightly program for an important message. We just recieved notice that FIB Special Agent Steve Haines has been shot on duty at the Del Pierro Pier. Agent Haines died a hero, doing what he loved, which was presenting a TV show. He helped combine the chaos of anti-terrorism and the mindlessness of network television into one highly successful career. Mr. Haines, who was not married, leaves behind his mother."

The world goes silent.

_

He's not moving. Has not in hours, maybe it's even a full day at this point. He has not eaten, has not showered, has not moved at all.

Warren feels like a dead man. The thought makes a bitter laugh splutter over his lips and then has him break out in tears immediately after.

It's a scary thought that people continue to live their lives, acknowledging that an agent passed away last night but they are now out and about, at their jobs, maybe seeing friends or family. A lover, even. They are busy living their life's while Warren's just dissolved in a matter of seconds.

It's a scary thought being ripped off of something so dear so abruptly, it's scary how it ripped a hole it Warren's chest that is now filled with a black, emotionless but equally painful void that nags, tears and claws at him.

It's a scary thought that he's alone again.

His body, his throat gives in and he's rolling on his side, screaming and tearing at the blanket, fingers grabbing at the fabric, as his knuckles turn white. He's screaming and screaming and screaming until his throat is sore and his eyes burn and the only noises that leave his mouth are little pathetic whines of exhaustion and the gasping for air. The pain in his chest takes his breath away, chokes him and makes him want to curl up, bore a knife into it, twist and turn it until it goes away. He feels like vomiting.

_

It's Sunday. It's been a little over 30 hours. Warren is tired, but everytime he tries to close his eyes he sees him, hears his laughter ring in his ears. It hurts. It hurts so much, he has hardly any words left to describe the agony he is going through.

His head hurts too, so does his throat and his stomach, with the constant throwing up and the lack of hydration. But he can't bring himself to get up, to grab a glass of water and drown some pain killers and go to bed. His legs are heavy and he just doesn't have the energy.

Warren feels like dying but he's also so painfully alive.

_

He's wide awake. He'll need to find a solution for how he's going to be able to go to work tomorrow.

But for now he's wrapping himself in Steve's blanket, the one he sleeps in when he's been over, inhaling the fading scent.

_

"Agent 14?"

His eyes are red, bloodshot and his fingers are trembling, seconds away from shaking. He had powder this morning to just make it somehow and it's slowly wearing off. He hasn't been on coke since college and it sent him on a murder high, blood pumping like a race horse only to now let him dive head-first into a killer hole.

It's been three days since Steve left his life both, quiet and eardrum-tearing loudly, and it feels like a nightmare, eternal and burning hot. He's empty inside but there's also just so much pain, it feels like he's breaking into pieces. His stomach clenches and his heartbeat is heavy, vibrates thickly in his chest and he just wants to die, too.

"Mrs. Rackham", his voice is rough, it doesn't bother to hide that Warren had been crying and screaming his lungs out every night since Steve's brain had been splattered onto the ferris wheel.

"I need to talk to you."

This is about Avon and Clifford, he's sure. His hand shakes and coffee spills on his desk. He curses under his breath and reaches for a tissue but Mrs. Rackham grabs his hand with force. They look at each other. Warren blinks.

"You are not in a good condition. I don't need explanations or lies, 14. I want to offer you my sincere condolences on your loss, Mister Jones. "

Warren takes a deep breath but he can't keep his eyes from tearing up.

"Take the week off, Agent", as he's not moving, shocked and dumbfounded, she starts to pick his jacket up, "Go now, I'll cover you up."

He gets on his feet, knees weak and body shaking, takes his jacket from her hands.

"Thank you, Phoenicia", he means it.

She looks at him. "I'm sorry", and she means it, too, "The IAA could've done some-"

"Don't."

She nods sharply and then looks at him once more, eyes piercing.

"I lost my husband in service as well, Iraq in 2004."

And then they're hugging, Warren is burrying his face into her neck and wailing like a little child.

_

It's a weird feeling and it fucks with his head as his gaze falls on the door of his apartment. He could've sworn that he heard the key turning the lock. He stares and stares and stares and it feels like his brain is readying for Steve to come through the door anytime.

He doesn't.

_

It's midnight and he had five more moments like the door-lock one earlier. He feels like he may go insane.

Warren fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and opens up Eyefind, types his thoughts into the searchbar.

At the end of his research he's left with two possibilities: it's either a stage of grief (denial they call it - dying's more fitting, Warren thinks) or the sideeffects of the coke slowly wearing off.

_

It's raining. It's like the heavens above are pissing down on him. Warren's crying while the rain relentlessly pounds on his umbrella.

He's standing a few meters away from the funeral party. Steve's mother bails her eyes out and he would like to go over to her and wrap her im his arms but he would just be a stranger to her.

There's a saxophonist in front of the cementry. He's playing Sinatra's Summer Wind, sounding sad but warm nonetheless. Steve's family probably thinks of that as a weird coincidence but Warren has spent two full nights finding the man again, who has played down at Steve's street corner all those months ago. It was difficult and time consuming, but not impossible.

There's a new wave of tears making their way out of Warren's eyes and he has to clasp a hand on his mouth to stop the painful noises from making their way into the soft air of spring. He feels like he's breaking apart, torn into two pieces.

He cries and cries and cries until the funeral party is long gone any the sun sets. The saxophonist is still playing.

_

When Warren comes home the sun's gone for some while and it's dark out. There's a light burning in his kitchen. For a moment, just a split second, it feels like Steve will swing around the corner. But he doesn't.

He walks into the kitchen to find a bouquet of white lillies sitting on the countertop. He checks the card attached to them.

Sorry about your loss.

He doesn't recognize the handwriting, it looks like it could've been written by someone who's older than Warren, male maybe, but his last Hand Writing and Letter Indentification Course was two years ago. He figures his cleaner, a nice elderly lady, had put them there. He thinks about her seeing the bouquet on the door step and carefully carrying them inside, placing them in the only vase Warren has at home. It makes him both sad and glad, glad that at least she's still around.

_

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.

14 would've liked to ask Robert Frost if he was just stupid or naive or both.

_

Two days later he's so angry at the world that he grabs the vase and throws it across the room, where it collides with the wall and breaks in a thousand little pieces.

_

The anger keeps on coming, rage that boils hot and white in his stomach, makes him lash out at colleagues and scream his lungs out, throwing things and fits like it's nothing.

He finds himself beating into walls and furniture until his knuckles bleed.

Mrs. Rackham puts him onto another break, Temporarily Suspended Until Further Notice the record reads.

_

Warren's awake, restless but exhausted, again. It's three in the morning. His head hurts, his bones hurts, his whole body feels heavy.

"I should've stopped you from going", he whispers into the night and his mind conjurs up Steve's voice, consoling him.

"No, really. I should have been more persistent. If you just would've stayed with me that night."

Steve answers him again, but it sounds washed out in Warren's ear.

Oh, please don't let me forget his voice.

_

He's not moving again. Hasn't done so in two days.

Mrs. Rackham continues to call him, but he won't pick up. He can't handle her, can't handle her sorrow and her advices. He doesn't want to hear it. She would probably also bug him about not showing up for work again and that's just something he really doesn't want to hear right now.

It's phone rings again and he picks it up to throw it against the wall with all the force he can possibly muster, so it would just shut up, but it's not Phoenicia calling this time. It's Lester.

"14? This is Crest." He doesn't sound good. Warren doesn't know what to say.

"I am, ehrm, calling to see how you're doing?" Odd. He can't bring himself to say anything back. "You know I, err, saw you didn't clock in to work for a few days? Are you doing, ehrm, well?"

"Yeah", it sounds as broken as he feels. There's an uncomfortable silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, maybe even for a full minute. He hears Lester's inhaler.

"I, well I err heard about Haines."

It should send him into a rage, a fit, maybe even crying manically but there's just nothing. Just the casual numbness that hangs above him like thick clouds these days.

"Yeah, a shame, isn't it?"

There's coughing, then deep breaths being taken. "You're not doing too well, Crest?"

"Can we meet up, 14? I", another cough, "I know a place."

_

The sun's out and it burns in Warren's eyes, on his skin, even though he's wearing both, a jacket and sunglasses. Crest sits across from him at the table, not touching his iced coffee. So isn't Warren, he is neither thirsty nor hungry.

They are at a bean machine on Vinewood Boulevard. It's one of the stores Steve used to buy his coffee at. There should be stining pain at the thought but there's just sadness, blackness wandering through Warren's mind.

"You don't look too good", Crest says.

"You neither", Warren says and to mask the shaking of his voice he takes a sip from the coffee. It tastes like nothing, like liquid paper.

"I don't feel to good either. But you also don't, so what's the matter, 14."

Warren just shrugs. Lester looks at him, a steady and stern gaze, as if he's looking for answers in Warren's eyes, in his fucking soul.

"What are we doing here?"

"Just looking after a, err, friend."

"We're not friends, Crest."

"Associates then, maybe?", the look on his face is a little sad, offended. Warren can't bring himself to care.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Any lead, yet?"

Warren lifts his eyebrows in suprise. "A lead?"

"Yeah, you know", Crest clears his throat and leans in a little, "Who did it, you know."

Maybe Warren's mind is playing tricks on him again, but Crest looks a little concerned.

"No, none. Nothing."

Crest nods and leans back. Lester doesn't offer his help, so Warren decides that he then won't ask for it. Still confused and mouth already opened he wants to know why, as Lester's lungs throw a fit, his body cramping and being thrown forward and then back again by his dry coughs. Warren's up on his feet in a matter of seconds, his heartbeat picking up a fast rate he hasn't feeled in weeks, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He grabs Lester by his shoulders and holds him up, while he coughs coughs coughs. At the end of it there's blood on his chin.

"You're not planing on dying as well, are you?"

The look Lester shoots him, slumped in his chair with other guests on the terrace staring at them in shock, makes Warren's skin crawl.

_

He hasn't been at an attorney's office ever. It's a weird experience.

The people are nice and calm and so is Mister Allan, who has Steve's testament laying in front of him.

"So, Mister Jones, shall we get started then?"

Warren nods. It still confuses him. He wonders what Steve's mother thought, when she heard that she won't inherit everything. Warren doesn't want money, money won't replace anything.

He must've said that out loud, because Allan chuckles.

"Mister Haines hasn't left you money. No need to worry, Mister Jones."

He leaves the office with a black box tucked safely under his arm. He doesn't open it, not in the office, not on the way out in the elevator, not at home. He tucks it away in his closet, deep down where he keeps a ski puffer, that he never wears anyways.

_

He finds himself talking to Steve, or what his mind conjurs up of his memories, more often. It helps him, or so he hopes.

He misses him and the soliloquy is a good substitute, at least for now.

_

They are at a clinic just above the hills and behind the Vinewood sign, far away from the city, the air is dry and crisp nonetheless. Lester sits in a wicker chair, wrapped in a blanket and stares at the fountain in the middle the perfectly trimmed meadow. Warren sits next to him, craving a cigarette, but not lighting one. He'll have to wait a couple more minutes, until the nurse will bring Lester back into the clinic.

"Thank you for stopping by", Crest means it.

"Am I the only one?"

"No, oh no. There's, ehrm, Franklin's coming over too, once or twice a week."

He looks better, rested. Warren doesn't know who Franklin is, but he nods politely anyways.

"That's nice."

"Yeah, he's a good kid." A crook then.

"Are they treating you well up here?"

"It's fine, I- argh, fuck it. The dinner's horrible but the doctor's are good enough. Won't make a difference anyways."

"That's what they're saying then?", Warren looks into the setting sun. From up here Los Santos seems peaceful, quiet, a big, glorious and shining city. It's a hell hole full of shit, Warren knows that now, but he can't leave. Not yet.

"Yeah. No. They don't say it, but they mean it. It's in their eyes." Lester takes a sip of his water.

"Don't say that, Crest."

Lester looks at him. He doesn't say it, but the look on his face says it all. You've been through enough, I won't tell you that I'm dying soon.

"Yeah, well, it was nice seeing you. Getting better and such", Warren gets up, the wicker creaking, his phone in hand and sunglasses back on. They look at each other for a long, quiet moment and then Warren nods, turns around to leave. A surprisingly strong hand grabs his arm.

"I have a project, it's happening right now, Warren."

He stops in his tracks. From somewhere behind the fountain laughter sweeps up the hill. There's an old lady on the meadow with their grandchildren and they're playing ball. She has a bandage around her head.

"A project?", Warren doesn't turn around.

"Yeah, I'd like you to take over. You need something to do."

"I still have a job, Crest."

"That reminds you of him." It's like a kick into his guts and there's sudden rage boiling inside of him, but there's also something else. A certain calmness, that wraps itself around his shoulders like a white blanket. T feels a lot like clarity.

"That it does, yeah."

"I'll have Paige bring you the details."

"Sure. Good night, Crest."

He walks over the little path out of bark mulch, that is overgrown by trees, back to his car. He feels oddly content.

_

See, life does goes on. It's a weird thought that strikes him out of nowhere. He's afraid of forgetting everything that was, since forgetting always seemed easy. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week but who knows what will be in a year? Maybe he'll catch himself sooner or later, not thinking about Steve for a few weeks, months, years.

He's afraid of that, sincerely so.

_

The air in the bunker is cold and damp. Some of his people are moving out the old equipment. He doesn't know Crest's newest associate, it's most likely no one from the Hertz/Clifford-Incident.

I'm sorry I called him a buffoon, if I had only known back then.

He thinks of Phoenicia's concerned face and suddendly he finds himself smiling.

"Oh, he was a buffoon, you weren't wrong, Ma'am", he says to himself and hears a quiet chuckle errupting from his chest. There's sadness floading him, but it's warm and sweet and feels like an old friend.

There's no time for tears as the door of the bunker suddendly beeps loudly, informing him of a visitor arriving.

_

"So, you're getting along, then?", Crest sounds better. Warren lets go a breath, he doesn't even know he held in the first place.

"Yeah. They are quiet, but I appreciate the effort they are putting into it."

"I told you, they're are reliable."

"So you did."

There's a long pause, silence.

"Listen, Crest. I gotta go, speak to you soon."

As he hangs up, he's confronted with his lie, standing alone in his quiet living room.

_

The next time Lester invites him over, he says yes. He lives in a bigger, cleaner house now and Warren can only guess, that he was indeed involved in the robbery at the Casino his team is trying to solve right now. He'll offer them a false trace. Maybe they'll pick that one up.

"Georgina's not home, you just missed her", Lester wobbles down the stairs to the living room, crutch in hand.

"Who?"

"Georgina, he lives with her", Warren looks up, from where he is securing Lester's arm with his own hand and looks into the face of a young man. He looks younger than himself and wears expensive street style clothing.

"Who are you?"

"That's Franklin, Warren. Franklin, that's the friend I've been telling you about."

"Pleasure", Warren's voice still on the edge, while the man's handshake is firm.

"You lost your man, dog? Lest been telling me."

"I did, eight months ago."

There's something moving behind Franklin's face but he's quick to cover it up. Warren wonders: what and why.

"Shame man, I'm sorry to hear that, homie. My girl left me, too."

"He didn't leave me. He died."

Franklin looks at Lester, confused and a little reproachful, too. Then, it seems to click, as Franklin looks at him again. He now looks a little terrified, actually.

"Franklin was just leaving anways, weren't you?", Crest sits down in a beige armchair. Warren notices that he has new glasses.

"Yeah, shit. I mean of course, I was on my way out. Nice meeting you man, I hope you're, you know, doing better soon. See you around."

"Thank you", Warren recieves an awkward pat on his shoulder and then Franklin's steps distance themselves, until the front door falls shut.

_

He didn't leave me. He died.

His own words echo in his skull but they don't throw him into a manic tantrum, he's not crying, not screaming. He's oddly calm.

Is this how it feels, when one comes to terms with something, he wonders. Maybe, it is.

He died.

That he did and it must've been fucking ugly. Blood and soupy brain everywhere. Warren wishes he could've held him during these moments, when the body is slowling shutting down, when something mysterious, unknown happens to the human consciousness.

He died.

And Warren had missed him every single day since then. He leans himself against the closed bedroom door of his apartment and then makes his way to his closet.

The box is still where he has left it.

He died. He died. He died.

"I miss you, Steve", he whispers into the silence of his flat and then he smiles, it's small and sad, and he sinks onto the ground, box clutched in his hands, "Fuck, I wish you were still here."

There's silence but Warren likes to think that something of Steve's mind, his soul is still left on this earth, stayed with him. It's a nice thought, even if it's unrealistic. It's still consoling.

Steve's gone for good, but just because his body doesn't walk the dirty streets of LS anymore doesn't mean that he left Warren's life completely - he still existed, left his footprints behind. And Warren's ready, willing even, to take carefully aligned pictures of them and hang them on his wall. He's ready to look at them every day that may come and maybe he'll stop crying at some point. Or maybe he won't. He'll be fine.

It's an odd feeling. His life still feels empty, incomplete since Steve passed and so does Warren. He feels empty, shallow and sad, but it will pass and he will take the time. It doesn't mean forgetting him, quite the contrary maybe.

He flips the lid, puts it aside carefully with a quiet thump on the carpet below. He takes a look inside and bursts out laughing.

_

"Did he leave you something?", he hasn't seen her in years, since college. She used to be his flat mate.

"Yeah", he smiles to himself.

"What is it?", she looks moved and Warren would love to tell her, but he can't. He really can't. Not all of it, anyways.

"A letter."

"A letter?"

"Yeah, a fucking love letter."

"Warren! Don't say that! It's very heartwarming!"

It's been a year. He still misses him. "He wasn't the type for it, that's all."

He thinks of the envelope he keeps in his safe. It's a document, FIB header and logo, completely official.

Reference: Counter Espionage, Crimes Against National Safety, A Report By Steve Haines to be handed to Misses Phoenicia Rackham In Relation "To Agent 14", Mister Warren Jones

"Oh, was he not, you know, a little a romantic?"

"No, it must've taken a lot for him to write a love letter." It was really sweet and it went well with the attempt to put Warren in a High Security Penitentiary.

"Really?", she looks a little concerned, but she doesn't get Steve, their relationship as it was, like Warren does.

He looks up from his coffee cup and lights a cigarette. He hasn't had a smoke in a long time but at least he stopped with the cocaine.

"Yeah. Sometimes", there's a smile tugging at his lips, "Sometimes I think he would've rather seen me locked away."

#i'm sorry but i had to #my writing #steve/14 tag #steve haines/agent 14 #agent steve haines #agent 14 #gta v #gta online

[page-doctor-bekker]

Cat out of The Bag (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) this takes place before Human Error, and THIS CONTAINS FLASHBACKS, PANIC ATTACKS, DISSOCIATION, GUN VIOLENCE, AND IMPLICATIONS OF A HATE CRIME

no ava in this one :( but caring dr charles and some lovely backstory

-

-

ED service was never, ever a boring day. Gaffney Chicago Medical Center could see a dozen traumas by noon, coming off the streets of the city Sarah called home.

Less often than traumas, they saw more serious emergencies; Code pinks when a newly-walking child wanders off, code greys when someone attacks someone without a weapon, a code red when someone decides it’s a great idea to smoke in the bathrooms, or…

“This is Maggie Lockwood in the ED, we have a code silver in the ED,” Maggie was quiet, glancing rapidly between the phone, and a treatment room where Dr. Charles was locked in with another man, maybe in his mid-40s.

Code silver. For guns.

Sarah’s heart practically stopped. She made panicked eye contact with Maggie, who shook her head and motioned for her to be quiet.

He covered her mouth, dragging her into the alleyway.

“Treatment two?” Sarah mouthed, and Maggie nodded.

Maggie hung the phone back up, and Sarah saw two security guards move into position outside the glass door to treatment two. Sarah felt short of breath, and like she wasn’t in her own body. She felt a sharp pain in her lower right abdomen, and she touched her thumb to the area, feeling the crater of a scar she had. She felt herself losing grip on her calmness, and really all she wanted to do was hide. Her head felt full - Not physically, but full of thoughts.

The phantom pain from her side got more intense, and Sarah squeezed the edge of the desk. Her knuckles were white, her breathing was shaky, and physically she could see but she was so in-her-head she couldn’t see what she was looking at.

She was under the table before she realized shots had fired, and she covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, focusing solely on her panic attack.

They’re going to get me.

She choked out a quiet sob, realizing she was the only one left inside, other than the doctors treating… Someone.

“No exit wound. Bullet may be lodged in his spine, push him on his side. He’ll choke on the blood if we don’t.”

“ED’s clear, PD’s on their way.”

“Are you sure there’s nobody else in the ED? Are the exits locked down?”

“Yes, positive. Checked every room. All critical patients are being transferred upstairs or to East Mercy, and all non-critical patients are being encouraged to relocate to other hospitals. We’re going on bypass,”

She threaded her hands through her hair and tugged, soliciting an ache at her scalp. It hurt, but it was almost grounding. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, she couldn’t catch her breath as if she had run two miles in the peak of summer.

The sound of the gunshot rang through her head, echoing through her skull, bouncing around and rebounding. She felt hands on her skin, and opened her eyes. She frantically checked her entire body, searching for the hands. They weren’t there, but they sure felt real. She twisted and flapped her hands rapidly, her fingers outstretched and extended as far as they could go. The stimulation usually calmed her, but nothing seemed to calm her right now. She couldn’t seem to get herself back to reality, although reality wasn’t much safer than the flashbacks she was stuck in.

She couldn’t breathe. She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach, and she wished she had never felt what that feels like in the first place. She heard another gunshot, whether real or fake, and felt searing pain at the site of her scar. White, hot pain, that burned and she clenched her teeth and held her hand to her side.

She felt warmth on her right flank, and her fingers were wet and red. She was oozing blood through her new shirt, a white transgender pride shirt that she had picked up from the festival, and changed into inside the teal port-a-potty. The festival organizers had hung flags and streamers on it, and a sign that said “ANY GENDER”.

“No pulse, bag him!”

She felt warmth on her side, but her fingers were dry and cold when she touched her scar. She untucked her shirt, and lifted it up. All she could see was the scar. She let out a sigh of relief. Just as soon as she let out that sigh, she was back.

She could see stars, and the Chicago streetlights, and feel the concrete on the back of her head. She tried to lift her head and look around, but her vision was blurry. Her hearing was echoey, and she writhed in pain against the rough concrete. Her hair felt warm, and wet, and she knew it was blood. She heard the men running, and a police officer’s siren.

Sitting up made her feel dizzy, and she felt a sense of vertigo from the discrepancy between her position in the flashbacks and her position in real life. Her vision doubled, and the hyperventilating wasn’t helping her mental state. She imagined she was satting maybe in the low 90s, high 80s. She felt lightheaded, like she may pass out.

She’s laying in the backseat of a police car; A huge step up from the concrete. She heard the sirens even worse now, piercing her eardrums and making her head pound. She felt helpless.

“Dr. Reese?”

She could vaguely see Dr. Charles through her tears.

There was a doctor standing over her.

“Can we use a treatment room? I think she’s having a panic attack. She needs somewhere dark, and quiet if possible.”

“Treatment four, close the curtains and the doors.”

She heard the beeping of monitors, and all alarms went off just before she passed out. She felt ribs crack as the doctor gave her chest compressions.

“She’s going out, too much hyperventilating.”

She woke up in the dark. She blinked, groggy, and her eyes set on Dr. Charles.

“Sarah?” Dr. Charles looked concerned, “You had a panic attack. You were so upset you made yourself pass out.. Do you know what triggered it?”

“Were the shots real or… Or…” Sarah rubbed her eyes, hard enough that she saw colors that she wasn’t even sure existed.

“There was a shot, yes,” He nodded, “But… We thought we evacuated everyone. What were you doing under the table? You seemed like… Like you were having some sort of dissociative episode, flashbacks…?”

“Uh…” Sarah shook her head, with a short sigh, “I don’t… I don’t need you to shrink me. I have generalized anxiety, it’s in my chart.”

“You passed out,” He shrugged, “Standard protocol, you can’t return to work until I sign you off. And I want you to finish your saline, we want to make sure you aren’t dehydrated, that there’s nothing else contributing to passing out. And…” He gave her a tight-lipped smile, with concerned eyes, “It just seemed like a bit more than a normal panic attack.”

Sarah stared at him, quietly, “It was just a panic attack, Dr. Charles. Nothing more.”

“If it was something else, I will leave it off your chart and not tell anyone, I just don’t want you to internalize it.”

Sarah was quiet, and heard another gunshot ring through her head. She shuddered.

“Sarah.”

“Okay, okay,” She threw her hands up, “I…”

She sighed. Dr. Charles raised an eyebrow, and Sarah pulled up her shirt. She pointed to the scar, “I was shot in college, okay? I just… I’m just afraid of guns. That’s all.”

“You were shot?!” Dr. Charles exclaimed, quietly, “When? Why?”

“Look, Dr. Charles, it’s not a big deal,” Sarah murmured, putting her shirt down, “I’m over it.”

“You’re not over it, Sarah.”

“I am,” She argued.

“Sarah, it’s okay, don’t work yourself up, but in order to help you I-”

“I don’t need your help!”

Dr. Charles was quiet.

They both sat silently for a minute. The only sounds were the saline drip, heart monitor, and the oxygen machine that led to the cannula in her nose.

“I was walking home alone at night,” She trembled, “From Chicago pride.”

Stop. You’re doing to lose everything.

“Oh Sarah, I am so sorry,” Dr. Charles gave her a look of pity, which filled Sarah with anger, in addition to the remaining anxiety.

“Wearing a transgender pride shirt.”

Dr. Charles was quiet, “Sometimes allies are mistaken fo-”

“I’m not an ally, Dr. Charles.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a minute, and Sarah started braiding a few strands of hair together.

“I won’t write this down in your chart,” He affirmed, standing up, “Finish your saline, then have someone take your IV out. I’ll… I’ll sign you off to come back to work tomorrow.”

He started to leave, then stopped. He had his hand on the door, but he looked back.

“I care about you, Sarah.”

She nodded, swallowing nervously.

“This doesn’t change that, okay?”

-

-

(A/N) thank you for reading! lmk what you thought~

#chicago med #dr charles #daniel charles #sarah reese #dr reese #transfemme!sarah #idk how i feel about this #i think i like it #but im not sure #whatevs

[rookie-ramsey]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 39 40 41 42 10 13. Quite alot of prompts here should be a bit of challenge but they'll all fit into the post x

Lockdown (Ethan X MC)

WARNING: This story features gun violence/a mass shooting. Loosely based off the Grey’s Anatomy shooting episode.

Preview: Silence fell for what felt like an hour, but was only a few seconds as she listened to the clock’s ticking. Another gunshot, this one closer, made her cover her own mouth to contain a loud gasp.

Olivia bit her lip when she heard a nearby door slam. Her chest tightened as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath. Before she had a chance to press her full weight against the door, it swung open.

“No!”

The day started normally.

Hospitals were supposed to be safe. Most patients who walked in walked out. Even the ones who didn’t make it expected to succumb to their illness. Nobody walked into a hospital thinking that their life would be on the line in a matter of hours.

Olivia studied a chart as she made her morning rounds. As she made her way down the hall, her pager chimed with a notification. She took it out of her pocket and frowned at the page from the front desk. 

Code silver.

From where she stood, Olivia could hear the alerts reaching the nurses’ pagers as well. “What’s happening?” she asked a nurse who rushed past her.

“They called from the front desk. An aggressive, armed patient from the clinic is somewhere in the hospital. Security is trying to track him down.”

“There’s an armed patient on the loose? Is anyone hurt?”

“We don’t know. Just stay on this floor until they announce an official order. Be prepared for a lockdown.”

Concerned, Olivia pocketed her pager. The thick walls and floors of the hospital could easily mask the sound of a gunshot on another floor, which made her stomach sink. As normal as everything seemed, she had no way of knowing what was happening on the floors below or above her.

Taking a deep breath, she busied herself with finishing her morning rounds. As she left the last patient’s room, her pager rang again.

Lockdown.

“Oh no…” Inhaling sharply, she tried to remember her lockdown training. As the nurses started to duck into the closest hiding places, she slipped into the nearest room, an empty patient room.

She picked up the telephone and dialed an extension. As it rang, her heart pounded in her chest until Ethan picked up.

“Ethan! What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.There’s an armed patient loose in the hospital. He shot the security guards on the first floor.” Even through the phone, she could hear the tightness in Ethan’s voice as he tried to sound calm. “I’m worried about you. Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay.  I’m on the floor below you.” Holding the phone tight, she sat on the floor with her back pressed to the door. “I’d feel a lot more reassured if these doors had locks.”

“I know.” Ethan fell silent for a moment. “Stay where you are. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Okay. Be careful.” Olivia let out a shaky sigh. “I’ll see you soon.” She hung up the phone and sat down, suddenly aware of the silence on the floor.

Everything’s going to be okay.

For several minutes, the only sound was that of her own heart. When the intercom in the hallway buzzed, she nearly jumped.

“Attention, staff. Please remain in place until further notice. Stay out of sight and do not leave your locations.”

A hard lump formed in her throat. Swallowing hard, Olivia reached into her pocket and winced when she remembered leaving her cell phone in her locker. Once again, silence fell, leaving her to listen to the steady clicking of the clock. 

When a muffled shriek pierced the stillness, her heart skipped a beat. Moments later, a gunshot rang out. Olivia felt the color drain from her face as the gun echoed once, twice.

Silence fell for what felt like an hour, but was only a few seconds as she listened to the clock’s ticking. Another gunshot, this one closer, made her cover her own mouth to contain a loud gasp.

Olivia bit her lip when she heard a nearby door slam. Her chest tightened as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath. Before she had a chance to press her full weight against the door, it swung open.

“No!”

XXXXXX

Ethan hated waiting.

Left with nothing to do but wait, he stood by the window, gazing down at the parking lot. Police cars and two SWAT vans occupied the lot, their lights flashing.

He tried not to think of how easily one dangerous person could disappear in a massive hospital. Moreover, he tried not to think of who had crossed paths with the shooter. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ethan let out a sigh and sat down.

“Ethan, they’ll track him down,” Baz whispered.

Ethan’s lips pressed into a thin line. He disregarded Baz’s attempt to reassure him with a shake of his head. “They need to find him faster. We have patients and staff in danger.”

He strained his ears as he tried to listen, hearing nothing beyond the doors of his office. Biting back a worried sigh, he tried not to imagine what could be happening on the floors beneath him.

Everything’s going to be okay. 

A twinge of guilt tugged at his heart for making a promise he didn’t know he could keep. Inhaling shapely, Ethan forced himself to tear his eyes from the door. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think about anything else, but he couldn’t. 

She had to be safe. 

The hallway erupted with a series of gunshots. Ethan’s eyes shot open. His heart jumped into his throat, rendering him breathless as he counted one, two, three shots. 

In the silence that followed, Ethan’s stomach dropped. He knew they were safe in his locked office, but that wouldn’t save anyone in the patient rooms that didn’t lock. 

Nobody spoke as the doorknob twisted a few times. After a few moments, the feet retreated from the door. Ethan let out a long breath, refusing to let himself become too relieved just yet. 

As he ran the situation through his mind, his stomach sank as he realized the shooter had already made his way from the first to the top floors, most likely stopping in between. 

Before he had a chance to reach for the phone, his pager vibrated. Ethan checked it and felt nauseous as he recognized Olivia’s pager number. The message only contained a room number, which made his chest constrict with worry. 

Wordlessly, Ethan pocketed his pager and made his way toward the door. 

“Ethan!” June hissed. “What are you doing?”

“I think Olivia needs me.” Ethan rested his hand on the door handle. “I’m going to find her.” 

“Ethan, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

Clenching his jaw and pushing any concerns for his own safety to the back of his mind, Ethan poked his head out of the office just in time to see the door leading to the hospital’s roof slam shut. He stepped out of the office and quietly made his way toward the stairwell, trying not to look down at the slain security guard. 

He reached the stairs and took them as quickly and quietly as he dared. As he reached the third floor, he crept into the hallway and looked in both directions before he navigated his way to the room number from Olivia’s page. 

The sight of the ajar door sent ice down his spine. Moving quickly, Ethan rushed forward and closed the door behind him. 

At the sight of Olivia’s prone form lying on the floor with blood staining her shirt, his legs almost gave out. 

“No, no, no…” Dropping to his knees next to her, Ethan started assessing her condition. “Olivia?”

“E...Ethan…” A pained wince crossed her face as she weakly tried to keep her hand on her abdomen. “It… hurts so… so much…”

“Where does it hurt?” Ethan took a deep breath, trying to force himself to be calm for her sake. “Show me where it went in.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand, steadying it as she guided his hand toward the wound.

“No… no exit wound…” She let out a pained gasp as Ethan applied firm pressure to the wound. 

Ethan grimaced, guilt feeling his eyes as she groaned. “I know it hurts, but I need to try to slow down the bleeding.”

“I know…” Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth against the burning pain.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Ethan urged. When she opened them, he nodded in relief. “Focus on me. Keep your eyes open and try not to make any sudden movements.”

“We’re stuck here for now…” she groaned. “By the time we can leave…. I’ll bleed out…. or develop peritonitis.”

Ethan inhaled sharply. As her boyfriend, he wanted to promise her she would be alright. As a doctor, he couldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. “Those are risks right now, yes. But I’m here. I’ll do whatever I can to keep you alive.” 

Nodding weakly, Olivia fought the urge to close her eyes. She tried to focus on anything other than the pain and the weakness that gradually increased, threatening to make her pass out from blood loss. She fixed her gaze on Ethan, not missing the fear his eyes tried to hide.

“I love you…”

Ethan’s breath hitched in his throat. “I love you, too.” 

Tears sprung to her eyes as the pain intensified.  “I’m scared… we won’t get out of here in time…” she gasped.

The fear in her voice tugged painfully at Ethan’s heart. “Shh… just breathe... “ He clenched his jaw to prevent his voice from quavering. If it weren’t for the urgency of keeping pressure on the wound, he would have drawn her into his arms to comfort her.

Darkness swam in the corners of her vision as she let out a breath, the simple effort deepening the pain. As Ethan freed one hand, she fumbled for his hand. “Please don’t leave me…”

“I won’t leave you,” he promised. “I’m not leaving. I’m getting some gauze to pack the wound.” 

His hand grazed the nearest drawer and he pulled it open, rummaging until his fingers closed around some sterile gauze. He ripped open the package.

“Alright, I’m going to pack it now. It’s going to hurt, but I need to do this. Are you hearing me?” When she nodded weakly, he started packing the bullet’s entry point with gauze. Olivia bit her lip to contain a pained gasp and weakly clenched her hands into fists.

Once he was finished, Ethan returned his hands to their original position over the wound. The gauze barely slowed the bleeding, but at the very least, it might buy them some time, if only a couple of minutes.

“Shh, shh…” Ethan kept his hands in place. Olivia’s fingers loosely wrapped around his wrist. “There you go… just hold on.”

For a moment, Ethan closed his eyes and willed himself not to think of the worst case scenario. As he calculated how much time they had, an announcement from the police startled him.

“Suspect is in custody. Please remain in place as emergency personnel tend to the wounded.”  When the door swung open, Ethan’s shoulders nearly slumped in relief as two medics rolled a gurney in.

“What’s the situation?”

“She has a single gunshot to the abdomen. Given the location, she needs surgery immediately to prevent a fatal infection,” Ethan ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Blinking groggily, Olivia tried to force her eyes to remain open. She kept a weak grip on Ethan’s wrist as the paramedics approached her. “Carry me…?”

Carefully, Ethan lifted her into his arms and stood up. He moved as quickly as possible without jostling her and settled her on the gurney.  “They’re going to take you downstairs now. Alright? You’re going to be fine.”

He only hoped he was right.

XXXXXX

When Olivia awoke, it was to the sound of a heart monitor beeping.

“Hmm…” Groaning, she opened her eyes, meeting the evening sun spilling through the window blinds. A moment later, a hand gently touched her cheek.

“Rookie?”

Blinking, she smiled drowsily at the familiar nickname. When she focused, Ethan’s face came into sight. “Hey…”

“Hey.” Ethan sighed in relief and started rubbing her cheek with his thumb. “There you are. What do you remember?”

Olivia lifted a hand, settling it over his. Her face twisted in thought, paling as she recollected details. “The shooting. Are you okay? Are my friends okay? What-”

“I’m okay. Your friends are okay, too. They’ll be in to see you later.” Ethan moved from his chair and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You… if it had been much longer, you wouldn’t have made it.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her free hand on the layer of gauze covering her stomach. “How bad is it?”

“You’ll recover fully in a matter of weeks, but you had to have surgery to remove the bullet and repair the laceration in your stomach.” 

“Oh.” She nodded softly, then spoke softly. “How many people…?”

“Five fatalities including the security guards and two patients. Six wounded.” When her face fell, Ethan smoothed a hand over her hair. “They apprehended the shooter on the roof. He was the husband of a patient who died in the ER a few months ago.”

Sighing, Olivia squeezed his hand. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought I was going to die.”

“I was terrified, too,” Ethan admitted. “The entire time I was with you, all I could think about was how time was running out and the thought that I might…”

“Hey.” She reached out and rested a hand on his stubbled jaw. “I’m here. Because of you, I didn’t die. If you hadn’t been there…”

Ethan leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’d rather not talk about that right now.”

“Okay.” Olivia leaned into his kiss. She patted the bed. “Come here.” When he hesitated, she nodded encouragingly. “I’m not going to break.” 

Ethan gave in, lying next to her on the bed. He laid on his side so they would have room. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m a little sore, but the painkillers are doing a pretty good job.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tags: @princess-geek​ / @sanvivrma / @kiingevan / @buzz-bee-buzz / @perriewinklenerdie​ / @lapisreviewsstuff / @polishchoicesfan / @msjpuddleduck / @silverlitskies / @paulfwesley / @dr-brianna-casey-valentine / @timmagicktoad / @choicesstanblog / @choicesobsessedd / @trappedinfandoms / @alexis0280 / @junehiratas / @ramseyandrys / @cecilecontrera / @cxld-play / @justanotherrookie / @imescullen / @bellcat2010 / @desmaranj / @lion-ess24 / @mkamra2355 / @ethandaddyramsey / @openheart12 / @mvalentine / @choicesfanaf / @whatchique / @smilex1104 / @elephant9998 / @nooruleman / @caseyvalentineramsey / @kaavyaethanramsey / @xee-na-art-blog / @edith-eggs1 / @oofchoices / @noboundariesplease / @schnitzelbutterfingers / @tefigranger / @laceandlula / @paisleylovergirl / @simsvetements / @crazy-loca-blog / @somegdchoices / @jlynn12273 / @ramseysno1rookie / @sanchita012 / @forthebrokenheartedthings / @lilyvalentine / @parkerattano / @lucy-268 / @loveellamae / @drramseysownsme / @misswhit12 / @drethanfreakingramsey / @juneiswriting / @macy-ray85 / @swimmingauthordreamerbonk / @myusualnerdyself / @siaramsey / @takemyopenheart / @queencarb / @drakewalker04 / @aylamreads / @mrsdrakewalkerblog / @kiara-36  / @nerdydinosaursweets  / @choicesstan1 

1. “Be careful.”

2. “I’ll take care of you.”

3. “Where does it hurt?”

4. “Are you okay?”

5. “Please don’t leave me.”

6. “I’m scared.”

7. “I‘m worried about you.”

10. “Carry me?”

13. “Are you hurt?”

39. “I won’t leave you.”

40. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

41. “Just breathe.”

42. “Focus on me.”

From my prompt list

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #choices #choices: open heart #tw: gun violence #gun violence tw

[stormtrprinstilettos]

“It’s not like I’m asking you to dinner.” - Roger x fem reader (smut)

Summary: It’s 1983 and Queen is recording their next album at the studio where you work, and things get a little heated between you and the drummer.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

In this “episode”: Roger finally gets Reader to go on a date – an actual, real date. And a question is popped. (No, not that one, calm down.)

Word Count: ~5k

Warnings: age gap (21 vs. 35), language (WTF no smut?)

Tagging: @fixedonroger @a19103 @ginabaker1666 @thickthighsandbasicbrowneyes @culturefiendtrashqueen @imaginesandideas @rogertaylorscar @painkiller80 (let me know if you want to be added)

[A/N: An anon sent me the fluffiest idea and I just had to use (most of) it. And, dammit, I’m sorry, no smut this time, but it needs to happen this way. Keep sending me those ideas because I need them in order to keep this going!]

Sunday. Finally. A day off. And you have tomorrow off, too, since your boss was kind enough to hire another girl to sit in and answer the phones a few days a week to help out. When Roger brought you home this morning he was headed off with the rest of the guys to go do some interviews so you weren’t expecting to hear from him anytime soon. You’re trying your best not to replay the conversation you had with him last night, but it was stuck on endless repeat in your brain. What did he mean – “I’m not giving you up any time soon,” you keep thinking. This is ridiculous. He’s leaving, he’ll be in Munich, then touring… Stop it, Y/N. But you can’t stop. He’s right. You overanalyze everything. This is just fun and he’ll move on when he leaves.

You desperately need a distraction, so you decide to start rearranging your albums again, this time by sleeve cover instead of alphabetically. It was stupid, especially because you knew it was going to get on your nerves the first time you’d go to look for one, but it got your mind off of him. You’re concentrating hard on the task you’ve given yourself when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

“I’m in the mood for Italian food. What’s the best place in this god awful city for Italian food?” It’s Roger, and you can’t help the massive smile that’s formed on your face.

“Dan Tana’s,” you tell him. “But they don’t open until dinner time.” You hear cars rushing by and horns blowing in the background. “Where are you? It’s so loud.”

He starts to chuckle. “I’m on some payphone outside. Dan Tana’s, you said?”

“Yeah, but they don’t open until dinner time and…”

He cuts you off. “Can you be ready for 5?”

“You’re talking to me?” you ask.

He’s laughing at your awkwardness. “Yes, you. I’ll pick you up at 5:00.” He doesn’t wait for an answer and he hangs up the phone.

You start to laugh at his sheer audacity. Part of you wants to be difficult and tell him you’re not going when he shows up, but you know you won’t do that. It’s only noon, but you rush to your closet to find what you’re going to wear.

The hours eventually passed, and you did your makeup three times, changed your clothes four times before finally deciding on your blue dress. You find yourself in the same situation as yesterday evening before he picked you up for that dinner with everyone else – nervous as hell, sitting in your living room, waiting for Roger to knock on the door. And when he did, you had to compose yourself again and not run to the door like you wanted to. And when you open the door, there he is again, wearing a tie – no blazer this time – and those sunglasses. God, do we really need to go to dinner? you groan to yourself, wanting to make him ravish you right there in the doorway.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets you, with a toothy smile and a kiss on your cheek. He holds his arm out for you to hook yours into. “Ready to go?” You smile and grab your purse and head out the door. “Thought I’d take you this Italian place I heard about,” he jokes as he walks you to the car.

You hear the people whisper and feel them staring as the two of you are walking inside the restaurant, trying your hardest to ignore them, but it’s hard to do. Roger, on the other hand, isn’t paying them any attention, instead focusing his attention on you and making sure you’re guided through the crowd waiting to get in as effortless as possible. The restaurant host immediately recognizes him and hurries the two of you to a table, far in the back away from as many people as possible, but you still feel people looking at you. “Ignore them,” he whispers, leaning over the table and taking your hand in his. “It’s just the two of us, no one else,” he says as he’s giving you a comforting grin. He glances down at the menu. “What’s good here?”

“I always get the veal parmesan,” you tell him with a chuckle. “Not that I come here a lot. That’s what I always get at Italian restaurants.”

He starts to laugh. “Not the adventurous type?”

“It’s my favorite,” you shrug. He’s still holding your hand as he looks over the menu, and you sit like that, in silence, watching him, and you can’t stop smiling. He glances up and you and smiles back before going back to the menu. You start to giggle at his deep concentration before realizing he probably doesn’t know what he’s reading and pull the menu away from him. “Pasta, seafood, meat or veggies?” you ask with a giggle.

“Meat,” he playfully growls. “Like a real man.” You roll your eyes and point to the menu section with the meat selections as you push it back to him and he smirks. “I have no idea what any of this is.” He points down. “What’s this?”

“Liver,” you tell him, laughing at his disgusted reaction. When he points to the next one, you giggle. “That’s veal parmesean.” He nods and closes the menu and gives you an impressed look. “I spent a semester in Italy when I was in college so I learned the cuisine. Studied that more than what I was actually there to study.”

He listened to you intently as you talked over dinner. For some reason you were chattier than usual, probably doing it because people kept staring and you were trying to distract yourself. It didn’t matter to him – he loved hearing you talk. After the waiter took your plates, he inched his hand to yours so he could hold it again, and as soon as he grabbed it, you were rendered speechless for some reason. Apparently he was too, because neither one of you spoke, sitting there and smiling at each other instead, until the waiter brought your coffee. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” he says, softly, looking deep into your eyes. “Because if I didn’t, I just want you to know that you are absolutely beautiful.” You smile and he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “And not just tonight. Always.”

You’re smiling as you melt inside, a different feeling than you usually get when you see him. It’s not that sexual desire that almost burns. It’s a flutter, a calmness, a… What is he doing to me? you ask yourself. Everyone else disappeared. It’s just the two of you, no one else, just like he said earlier. You lean over the table to get closer to him. “Come here,” you whisper, and he leans over to meet you and gives you a soft, slow peck, your eyes closing as you feel the warmth of his lips on yours. The moment is interrupted when the waiter brings the bill, snapping you both back to reality.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says as he hands the waiter the payment, standing up and holding out his hand for you. You walk out holding hands, this time not caring that people see you with him, ignoring the whispers and quiet gawking everyone is doing. It’s just the two of you, no one else, and you’re floating.

He’s driving around, not sure where he wants to go next, but he does know he doesn’t want to take you home – not yet. The conversation is flowing so smoothly, and you’re both enjoying the evening and the company so much you don’t want it to end. “Turn here,” you tell him at one point, so he listens to you, knowing you can navigate this place much better than he can. A few minutes later, you tell him to pull over, and excitedly jump out of the car, waving for him to join you. Shaking his head and chuckling, he gets out and walks over to you. “Come on,” you smile and grab his hand, pulling him along as you walk out to a view of the city below. “Just in time,” you murmur as he starts to take in the view. “Haven’t been up here in a while. My favorite place to watch the sunset.” He draws you in from behind, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. He’s done this so many times before, and your insides flitter every single time. As you stand there, wrapped in him, you have no cares in the world. You’re not overthinking things for a change. You’re not questioning his motives or even worrying about what the future will bring. You’re in this moment, and you finally understand why he was always telling you to stop worrying about tomorrow, or the next month, or the next year. Now – that’s what it was all about. Now, the only time you can control, and this is exactly where you want to be.

“Y/N?” he says as he turns you to face him. The sun has just about disappeared from the sky, but there’s still a slight glow that’s making his eyes look even more enchanting than normal. You look at him and smile, his face telling you he has something he wants to say. “I… uhh…Thanks… for sharing this with me…” His words are stumbling a little, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he seems a bit nervous. He runs the back of his hand on your cheek, smiling and piercing your eyes with his. Your heart is beating so fast you can hardly catch your breath, and you sense he’s having a harder than usual time breathing as his smile fades and his expression turns serious. He opens his mouth and takes a breath like he’s about to say something else, but nothing comes out. He slowly leans down, and you can feel his breath on your cheek as your eyes flutter, then close as his lips meet yours. His hands slide down your arms before resting on your hips, drawing you in closer as your arms wrap around his neck, and the entire world starts to melt away. You slowly pull back, your hands resting on the nape of his neck, and you slowly open your eyes. He tries to say something again, but the words don’t come out.

All you can do is smile, finding this nervousness of his endearing. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. “Why are you so tense?” you ask him. “Your whole body is tight.” You look up at him, your chin on his chest and and you start to rub his back.

He kisses your forehead and smiles. “Maybe being around you is stressful,” he chuckles, and you push yourself away, pretending to be upset and offended.

“I don’t know why I still like you, knowing you’re an asshole,” you laugh as he pulls you back close, leaning down so his nose touches yours.

“Oh, you like me?” he grunts sarcastically. “I happen to L…” He quickly stops himself and smiles. “I happen to like you, too.” He kisses your forehead again and pushes your head to rest on his chest. You can hear his heart beating, and you start to giggle again. “Stop being cute,” he laughs. “I’m trying to relax and enjoy the view.”

You look up at him again, giving him an adoring look and smirk. “My view is quite nice to look at.” He rolls his eyes and laughs, pulling you in even tighter. Just as you were about to speak, a car pulls up and four teenagers crawl out. “Ugh,” you groan. “It was nice while it lasted.” You slowly pull apart from each other and watch as these jackasses who interrupted your moment start to walk into view.

“Brownies,” he blurts out, out of nowhere. “You brought those brownie things to the studio the other day. Those were good.” You look at him, humored with confusion “I want some.”

“I don’t know where to buy brownies at 8:00 on a Sunday night,” you laugh. “I made those anyway.”

He grabs your hand and starts walking to the car. “Then let’s go so you can make me some.” He’s serious and you’re still laughing.

“I can’t just make them, Roger,” you laugh. “I need the mix and…”

“Well let’s go find the mix,” he says, hurrying and opening the car door and shoving you in. “What?” he asks, starting to laugh at himself when he gets in the car and puts the keys in the ignition.

“The stores are closed,” you tell him.

“Damn,” he chuckles. “Well… Where to next?”

“I don’t know,” you giggle. “You’re the one who invited me out tonight.” He nods and starts the car. “So where are we going now?” He shrugs and pulls out, not knowing which way to turn on the road and looks at you for guidance. “I don’t know where we’re going so I can’t tell you where to go.”

“My place?” he asks, not sure of anywhere else to go. You point in the direction he needs to turn and he starts to drive. He grabs your hand again, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss it, and you look over at him and smile. You’ve been smiling since the second you opened the door when he picked you up, and you don’t feel like you’ll ever stop smiling again. “Tell me, what does a girl from [your hometown] want out of life? I mean, really want out of life?”

You sigh and lean your head back on the seat and gaze out of the window. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be happy,” you say quietly. “Not that I’m not a happy person or that I’m not happy where I am.” You turn your head and look at him. “I just want to be able to take my final breath, whenever it may be, and know that I’ve lived a happy life.”

“Wow,” he says, impressed by the maturity of your answer. “Usually people will say they want the big house, fancy cars, loads of money…”

“None of that matters to me,” you say, cutting him off. “So many of these people in these obnoxious houses have all of that, but they’re miserable.” You turn your body in the seat so you’re facing him, his hand still holding yours. “It’s not always about material things, you know? I mean, yeah, they’re nice, but it’s about the people you surround yourself with.”

He starts to laugh, loud and heartedly. “I think you’re the only person out here who feels that way.” He stops laughing and starts to grin. “You’re too good for these people.” He raises your hand so he can kiss it again, only this time he holds it there for the rest of the ride to his place so he can keep giving it random kisses.

He starts to loosen his tie as you walk inside and head to the living room. “Do you want to change?” he asks. “Get more comfortable?” You follow him back to his bedroom and he pulls out some sweatpants and a t-shirt. His eyes suddenly light up, having an idea pop into his head. “Change,” he says as he heads out the room. “I’ll be right back!” He rushes out, not saying a word about where he’s running off too.

After changing your clothes you sneak back into the living room, thinking you’re going to catch him doing whatever he rushed off to do, but you don’t see him. You don’t hear him anywhere, so you start to wander around the house trying to find him. You should know better by now than to put yourself in a position where he can scare you, but you forget about every other day before this one. When he sneaks up behind you and grabs you, you scream and slap him. “Dammit, Roger!” you yell and he’s in complete hysterics. It only takes a second for you join him in the laughter. “Stop doing that!”

“Never,” he laughs. You roll your eyes and slap him again. He grabs your hand and walks you to the kitchen where he points at a box of brownie mix on the counter with a proud look on his face. “Got it from my neighbor,” he chuckles. “Nice old lady.”

“Really?” you ask with a laugh. “You want me to make brownies?” He looks at you and pokes his bottom lip out in an over exaggerated pout that makes you giggle. You roll your eyes, smiling again, and walk to the refrigerator. “Well? Get me a pan. You have one of those?”

He gives you a big smile and reaches into a bag. “She gave me one,” he laughs. “Everything’s in here but the eggs.” After you grab the eggs from the refrigerator you start to look through his cabinets, searching for a bowl to mix everything in. He walks up to you holding one and smiles. “Told you. Everything’s in the bag.”

He leans on the counter watching you mix the batter and pour it into the pan. “Do you know how to use the oven?” you joke, but he gives you a blank look. “You’re useless,” you giggle as you set the temperature yourself. “You’re quite sneaky, too,” you tell him with your back turned. “Bringing me to dinner just so you can get me back here to make you brownies. I could have done this…” You turn around to finish your statement, but you can’t, because as soon as you turn around, he plants a kiss on you and smiles. Faking an unamused expression, you stick your tongue out at him and he takes his arm from behind his back and wipes a finger full of brownie batter on your face. “You’re such a child,” you laugh as he stands there with his eyebrows raised and licks the rest of it off of his finger.

When the brownies were finished, you took them to the living room, where you cuddled on the sofa and watched a movie. You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you wake up on the sofa, curled next to him, your head on his chest. He coughed, and that’s the only reason your eyes opened. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“No,” you groaned. “I have to clean the mess in the kitchen.” When you stand up, he stands with you and turns your body in the direction of the bedroom. “That’s not where the kitchen is,” you giggle.

“Go to bed,” he tells you, standing behind you and bending down to give you a kiss on your neck. “I’ll take care of it.” You turned yourself around, ignoring what he said. “I know how to wash, Y/N,” he chuckles. “Go to bed. I’ll be there when I’m done.”

You shuffle into the bedroom and collapse on the bed, and immediately your brain started running its mental marathon. The entire night was perfect. Dinner was sweet and romantic, even with the crowded atmosphere with the gawking and whispering. The sunset seemed like it was almost special ordered just for that moment. And the rest of the night, here, at his house, had an oddly comforting domestic aura. If one of your friends had told you they were the one who experienced all of this, you’d have been nauseated by the sweetness. You were nauseated, but because, despite all of it, all you could do was think about him leaving. You hadn’t thought about it for a second the entire night, but now, being left alone with your thoughts, that’s all you can think about. When he comes to bed, he snuggles up as close as he can to you and holds you tight, entwining his hands with yours. He meant it when he said he wasn’t going to be letting you go any time soon, and this was the first time you believed him. You had convinced yourself that this whole thing was only about sex, but now you weren’t so sure anymore. Not now that the two of you spent the entire night together without it, and especially not now that you’re both laying in this bed and neither one of you are trying to rile the other up. But still, there’s a nagging feeling in your gut kept telling you that you had to let him go, and if you didn’t do it soon, it was going to hurt that much more when you did.

He dropped you off at home on his way to the studio the next morning. You stayed chipper enough on the ride, cracking jokes and laughing with him, doing a great job not exposing the thoughts that are swirling around in your head, when all you really wanted to do was cry. Which is what you did the second you closed your apartment door. You didn’t even make it further than the door before the tears started to flow. It pissed you off that you let yourself feel things for him.

You sat alone all day, wallowing in the tidal surge of emotions that overcame you, feeling like you were drowning with no life preserver in sight. When your phone rang around 5:00 you didn’t want to answer it, but you did, clearing your throat, hoping that would mask the raspiness you knew your voice would hold. “Hey, beautiful,” you hear Roger say when you answer. You can hear his smile on the other end.

“Hey, you,” you say, almost in a whisper, cringing because your voice sounds terrible. “How’s it going over there?”

“Fine,” he replies but quickly changes the subject before it can be discussed further. “Are you feeling alright? You sound hoarse.”

You feel tears starting to well up again when you hear his voice, but you fight them off. “No, I’m feeling a bit icky,” you lie, although not completely. “It just came over me all of a sudden.” You hate lying to him, but you can’t exactly sit here and tell him the truth.

“Do you need anything? I can come…”

“No!” you stop him. “No,” you lower your tone. “I’ll be fine. I just need some rest.” You’re trying so hard to fight back those tears but they’re not holding back and start to slide down your cheeks. “You don’t need to come. I don’t know if it’s contagious.”

He knows nothing is physically wrong with you. There was nothing wrong with you this morning. But he’s not going to argue. He’s going to give you the space you apparently need, and he’s not going to ask any questions, even though he has no idea why you’re blowing him off. “Alright,” he whispers. “I’ll be here until 7 or so, so call if you need anything. The new girl is here so she’ll be around to answer the phone.” After assuring him that you would, you can hear him sigh. “Last night was one of my best, Y/N. I want you to know that.”

You close your eyes, wishing he would stop being so fucking perfect, because all it’s doing is killing you slowly. “Mine too, Roger,” you whisper. “Go on, they’ll get tired of waiting for you,” you giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispers back, and you can hear his smile again. “I L… I’ll see you,” he says and hangs up the phone.

For the first time since the guys have been recording you’re dreading going into work, only because you don’t know how you’re going to react when you see him. What you do know is that if you don’t stop overthinking and worrying about this then you’re going to make yourself sick, for real this time.

When you walk in, Anna, the new girl, greets you, overly cheerful and eager to be your friend it seems. You’ve met her once before, the day your boss brought her in for the interview. She seems nice enough, but a bit too much to handle right now. You’re listening to her dribble on about her boyfriend and how much she misses him since he’s out in New York at college when Roger walks in, much earlier than expected.

“Hello, Anna,” he greets her, smirking and being the flirt that he can’t help but being. “Looking lovely today.”

She starts to giggle giddily. “Hey, Roger,” she says, her cheeks turning a bright pink. You roll your eyes and smirk, finding the whole scene amusing.

He looks over and sees you sitting at your desk and smiles. “And you, Y/N, even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

Oh, fuck, you groan to yourself. Just seeing him ruins everything, because you had your mind set on ending it with him. You were going to tell him today, maybe tonight. Or next week. Or next month. Or the day he left. You didn’t know anymore. That damn smile… “Not looking so bad yourself, Mr. Taylor,” you tell him, still smirking and unable to break free from his eyes.

“Can you come help me with something?” he asks, walking closer to you, not smiling anymore. You hesitate, but follow him into the recording room anyway, closing the door behind you. He takes your hand and guides you to the sofa in the back of the room and sits down. “Let me in, Y/N,” he says softly. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

This is not the conversation you want to have right now. You weren’t ready, but you knew it had to be done. “You make me feel things I’m not supposed to be feeling and it’s infuriating.” You look down at him as he’s sitting there, looking at you, and he has that damn smile on his face. “Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” He’s tickled by your frustration, but you don’t find it funny. You can’t deny it anymore because that night, in the studio – that was fucking perfect. Sunday night – that was fucking perfect. Every minute spent with him, even if it’s just talking about some minor thing – fucking perfect. But you didn’t want to feel. You didn’t want him to feel. You just wanted to have your fun and move on when he did because you didn’t want to get heartbroken. You were the heartbreaker, not the recipient of it. “I don’t want to feel anything, Roger.”

“But you do,” he says. “I didn’t want to feel anything either.”

“Well, stop feeling it,” you staunchly tell him. “You’re only going to be here another month or so and…” You look at him and sigh. “We’ve already talked about this.”

“Well things have changed,” he said with a bit of force, startling you a little. Your want to walk away, but you can’t. He’s holding on to your arm and pulling you closer to him. “I’m going to Montreux for a few weeks when I leave here to work on some solo stuff before going to Munich. Come with me.”

“W-what?” Shocked. That’s all you felt. Shock and, oddly, sick to your stomach. All you can do is sit down.

He turns his body to face you and grabs your hands. “I need you to come with me.” His face was serious. This wasn’t some game anymore. This wasn’t what any of this was supposed to be. “I fucking need you…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to leave you here.” You can’t even speak. This has caught you so off guard you can’t even think straight. “I never wanted this to happen either, Y/N, but it did. And now, well, now I can’t stop it. And neither can you.” He leans over and gives you a soft kiss on your completely flabbergasted lips and smiles. “I don’t need an answer now, or even tomorrow. Will you just think about it?” You shake your head. “That’s all I ask.” He runs the back of his hand on your cheek, smiling that damn smile you can never say no to. “You said all you want out of life is to be happy. I know I can make you happy if you let me.”

You know he can. He already does make you happy. And you don’t know why you aren’t yelling at him that yes, you will go with him, that you’ll go anywhere with him. You can’t say anything. You’re not even sure if you’re breathing right now. All you do know is that you’re engulfed in his stare, in his smile, and in the feeling he’s giving you with his hand on your face. He’s rendered you completely speechless again, but suddenly you start laughing, confusing the hell out of him. “This is stupid,” you giggle, confusing him even more. “I shouldn’t have to think about this.”

He starts to giggle too, albeit nervously. “No, you should. It’s not like I’m asking you to dinner.”

“Roger, I…” You can finish what you want to tell him because everyone walks in, ready to get to work, but you can’t take your eyes off of each other. He knows exactly what you were about to say, because he replied without even hearing it.

“Me too,” he whispers with a smile.

[part 7>>]

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x fem reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fic #roger taylor smut #1983 roger

[theriptidepodcast]

Episode 1 Transcript

THE GIRL WITH A FEW OF THE GIFTS

SOUND: DRIPPING WATER, WAVES, GENERAL CAVE NOISES, FOOTSTEPS MUSIC: PROBABLY ROCK OR SOMETHING OF THE SORT TARRIN: (humming along with the music at first before noticing You) Oh hello. How the hell’d you get in here? Ugh, no matter. I was just about to check on my second favourite girl, I suppose you can tag along. Not like you have any way out of here. Come on. In this one she’s in Hat Yai Thailand. Summer of ‘53 by the looks of it. Oh, 1953, sorry. Centuries are kind of important I suppose. You ready? SOUND: WHOOSH, BUBBLE POPPING MUSIC: FADES SOUND: LAUGHTER AND MUMBLING AND GENERAL SOUNDS OF A SMALL TOWN, PERHAPS A CHICKEN TARRIN: What a dingy place... Oh sorry, I forgot you can't see it. I'll describe it for you, minnow. Looks like we’re in the middle of town. Look at that poor child. Oh, don’t worry. No one can see us. This is technically a memory. Technically. That being said, don’t touch anything. Don’t know what you are, but I can’t imagine timespace will be kind to you unless you’re like her and her ilk. I think they may just be timespace, y’know. SOUND: EVERYTHING QUIETS, THOUGH THERES PROBABLY STILL A CHICKEN OR TWO TARRIN: Oh, what’s this? Look, minnow. That little girl was shunned by society. Whyever would that be? Is it because she’s was orphan? Because she was quiet? Because she was blunt? Because she could see into peoples minds and pick apart their futures with a simple touch? Probably all of that. Like a good mixture of all of that. Look how scared these people were, minnow. Of a little girl, of all things. Look at how they cowered and fled and- ESME: Uh, excuse me- SOUND: DOOR SLAMMING, RUNNING FOOTSTEPS TARRIN: Pathetic, really. Oh, but what’s this now, minnow? Someone’s coming, and fast. Down through the empty stalls and over livestock. A red blur. Aaaand, straight into the little girl. Oh, she fell down. Well she didn’t get hit that hard, come on. SOUND: ESME GRUNTING, FALLING SOUNDS, NECKLACE FALLING ONTO GROUND TARRIN: The little girl felt as if she could suddenly see everything, at least in that moment. The visions were vast and varied and blurred in their hurry to be, to make their way into her mind. The only thing the little girl could make out was a redhead girl with dark skin, freckles and scars scattered along her body like comets and stars. Oh, the runner’s necklace fell off in her hurry. How unfortunate. What will the little girl do, minnow? It seems she’d been thoroughly affected by the other running into her. As if it affected her psychic powers in a bad or intense way. I imagine that probably sucked. After she recovered, she picked up the necklace. ESME: Oh, uh, miss! You dropped your.... locket. Oh... I should probably return this to her... SOUND: WHISPERS, WAVES, FOOTSTEPS TARRIN: The little girl began following after the others’ path. It wasn’t hard, the other wasn’t exactly subtle. No, she has never been subtle. Produce carts fallen over and disturbed foliage made it clear where she was going and where she had been. The path led her outside of town, towards the beach. Towards the giant building that was home to so many deaths. It might've been some sort of mansion in its heyday, who knows. It was a place of respect now, full of shrines and offerings and such. Now I’m not one to assume other cultures, I’ve been stuck in that dingy cave longer than you 've ever been, minnow. I don’t know how they felt about death in Thailand in the 1950s, but they probably in the very least respected the dead. The girl hesitated. She hadn’t brought any offerings, and she could hear... things. Whispers. Though, they weren't the same as the whispers she heard in town. In town they were mixtures of thoughts and futures, here they were just simply whispers. Must be nice. I mean I’m not a psychic, but being forced to know everyone’s thoughts and futures and then being somewhere where you would see nothing. Feel nothing. To, for once, have your thoughts be your own. Must be nice. The footsteps led up to the building. Of course they did, minnow. Where else would a mysterious stranger go? The little girl walked in, her sense of duty outweighing her uneasiness. Wonder what that’s like. Are you attached more to your duty or your feelings, minnow? Even with your answer, which one wins in the end? The little girl approached the door, and knocked. It was a dingy broken down old building, and she knocked. Can you believe that? She knocked. Who would even answer? A ghost? SOUND: DOOR OPENING NATCHAYA: (ghost effect) Oh, hello! Who do we have here? ESME: Uh, hi... I’m looking for a girl with bright red hair. Like, like a fire? Her path leads here. TARRIN: Well what’dya know? A ghost. I’ve lived long enough that you'd figure I’d know how to bite my tongue at this point. NATCHAYA: (any ghosts just have a ghost effect to them) Oh! You need the messenger for something? Come in, come in! I’m Natchaya by the way! Pleasant to have a visitor who can see us! I’m afraid we don’t have much here... Oh, and how ever will you get up to the messenger! This place hasn't exact had good building structure for a while. SOUND: WAVES BUT FARTHER AWAY, DOOR CLOSING, WHISPERS TARRIN: Natchaya led the girl into the broken down house, hand floating close to her back. The little girl let this happen, though Natchaya’s hand would have gone through her otherwise, which would have been hilarious. The little girl was polite though. Inside was bustling with people, but for once the girls head didn’t hurt from the visions. Perhaps because they were dead, and they couldn’t fully touch her. Not in the way physical people did. ESME: Um, I’m Esmeralda... I think I prefer Esme though. NATCHAYA: You think? ESME: I just need to return this necklace, miss. NATCHAYA: Yes, of course... How to get you up these beat up stairs though... Or lack of stairs I suppose, heh... Oh, Art! Hey, has anyone seen Art? ART: You rang? TARRIN: Their voice came before their body, although I suppose one can expect that from a ghost of all things. Especially one as ridiculous as Art is. They floated down from the ceiling, in a relaxed sitting position. NATCHAYA: Art, would you mind giving her a way upstairs? She needs to get to the messenger. ART: Of course, anything for a beautiful young lady. TARRIN: Art winked, as ridiculous beings are wont to do. As I am wont to do. They waved their hands around, as if creating a symphony and debris swirled around them, creating a makeshift set of stairs. It was pretty dope. NATCHAYA: That should do you just fine. Thank you, Art. Will you be able to make the journey upstairs yourself? There shouldn’t be any troubles once you get up there, she’s just in the bedroom. Second door to your left when you get up there. TARRIN: Esme nodded and started her journey up the stairs. For anyone else it would probably be trivial. One step after the other, no matter if it was made by a ghost. For a ten year old though, it probably felt like an adventure. Oh to be a child again. Not this child though. I’m already under enough stress having a girlfriend in a superpowered family, imagine being alone and superpowered and... Alone. She walked along the hallway quietly. She did everything quietly. She had to, I imagine. The door to the bedroom was cracked open, and Esme saw the girl from the intense visions. The one who bumped into her. She was a teenager. She was talking animatedly with a ghost that didn’t have a face. When she noticed Esme lurking in the doorway she brightened even more than she had already been. As if she recognized Esme. The combination of piercing red eyes and the way she acted scared Esme. MESSENGER: Oh, who do we have here? Come in, come in. Oh, don’t mind Jira, she’s not much of a conversationalist. She’s absolutely lovely once you get to know her. TARRIN: Esme walked in, nervous. The redhead was intimidatingly sweet. Intimidating in general. But for Esme... She was intimidatingly too much. Her powers needed proximity, see? Usually being across the room from someone only gets surface level things, but being this close felt too much for Esme to handle. She had a task to do though. She had to return the necklace. MESSENGER: What brings another living soul here then? I was told this was a place reserved for the dead. TARRIN: Esme didn’t answer. Couldn’t, perhaps? Could you? MESSENGER: Not a talker either, huh? Can I at least tease a name out of you? ESME: Esmeralda Chavez... MESSENGER: How pretty. May I call you Esme? TARRIN: The girl walked over to Esme, smiling. She didn’t know the effect she was having on Esme. I imagine she thought she was just making a friend. She touched Esme’s shoulder. A kind gesture, but one that sent Esme reeling both literally and figuratively. Visions came upon her, crashing like the waves outside. An ice castle- no an ice prison. The redhead grinning at a group of people, seeming to be from different eras. They were surrounded by debris and broken down buildings, the redhead was with a tall man and she picked up a bundle. A child. The redhead and a pale man, Esme thought she might recognize him from the group in the first vision? This is going by too fast. They were cuddled on a blanket on a beach, but the colours were weird. The sky purple, the water green in a bad way. The sand blue. There were lights in the sky. Esme came back when she hit her head on the wall, and the girl stepped back. NATCHAYA: Are you okay, dear? TARRIN: The redhead was sat on the bed, vague concern on her face. Natchaya was floating beside Esme, hand itching to comfort the girl. Jira, the faceless ghost, was gone. Esme nodded. Her head hurt, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. There was a lot she handled on her own. A bump was trivial. NATCHAYA: Oh, good. Have you done what you came to do? TARRIN: Right, the necklace. Did you forget too, minnow? I know I did. Those visions were pretty intense. Esme seemed to have forgotten too. She fished the locket out of her pocket and held it out to the other. The girl touched the place where the locket would have hung. MESSENGER: (gasp) Oh, my locket! Thank you, love! Grei would kill me if I lost it! TARRIN: She moved to take it from Esme’s hands, but Esme flinched. She didn’t want to experience that again. Whatever that was. The teen understood, sitting back down. MESSENGER: Pass it to me? TARRIN: Esme nodded, tossing it over gently. It seemed it was going to land on the floor between them, when a warm gust of wind brought it over to the teen. Esme watched as she put it on again, tucking it into her shirt. MESSENGER: Thanks again, love. May I ask what happened when I touched you? Does it hurt when people touch you? ESME: Kind of. It hurt more when you did it. It’s visions... Future events and thoughts, I think. Yours were... a lot. I didn’t even see your death. You’re not normal are you? Not human? MESSEMNGER: (laughs) No, no love. Not by far. Neither are you, it seems. Not normal in the very least. TARRIN: Her laugh filled the room. It was the type of infectious laughter fathers usually had. Unashamed and loud. Esme couldn’t help crack a smile as well. Once the girl calmed down she stood and headed over to the window, seemingly intent on jumping out of it. MESSENGER: I should be getting to my next job now, Esme. Thank you, I’ll see you next time. SOUND: FOOTSTEPS, JUMPING, WIND TARRIN: With a wink the teen was out the window, and... flew off. Esme couldn’t believe any of what was happening that day, but a flying girl was an entirely different story. ESME: Who was that? NATCHAYA: I don’t know her name. She brings messages and packages to Jira sometimes, and leaves after talking for a few minutes. Busy girl, it seems... Well, we ought to get you home, don’t you think? TARRIN: Home. What was home to Esme? An orphanage that didn’t want her? Streets that were unkind? The first kindness she’d gotten in this town was from the dead. The dead she couldn’t know the thoughts or futures of. ESME: Would it be okay if I stayed here? NATCHAYA: Here? This place hasn’t been fit for the living in years, dear. Besides, won’t your family be worried sick! ESME: I don’t have a family. There’s no one to miss me in town. ART: And I’m sure with my services we can make this place fit for a princess such as the young lady. What’s the harm, Natchaya? TARRIN: Natchaya pursed her lips, looking between the two. Art looked happy to have another person here, and Esme looked hopeful. What was the harm? She would have to stay away from Jira’s room when the messenger girl came, but living with Jira herself would be pretty easy. Besides, town wasn’t far if Esme ever did find herself needing a living being. NATCHAYA: Alright. Art, start getting the master bedroom set up first and foremost. We can worry about the rest of the house later. It’s late and she probably needs rest. TARRIN: Art grinned and flew off to do just so. Esme brightened up. She felt just about as happy as the messenger had been. Natchaya couldn’t help but smile back. NATCHAYA: Well, I suppose it would be nice to have an addition to the family. ESME: Family? TARRIN: Aw, she has a family now. I always said it’s better to find your own than deal with what you were given. I mean why deal with the worst when you deserve the best? We should head back now. Let them live their lives. SOUND: WOOSH, BUBBLE POPPING, CAVE NOISES AND WATER DRIPPING AND WAVES MUSIC: FUNKY AND COOL TARRIN: Well, what did you think minnow? Was our girl entertaining enough for you? That’s all I have for now, get out of here. Perhaps next time you’ll learn more about her. Her powers, and her family. Perhaps. Until next you stumble in here, minnow. SOUND: FOOTSTEPS, HUMMING FADING AWAY MUSIC: FADING AWAY

#transcript #episode 1 #trp #the riptide podcast

[crystallized-iron]

So I got bored and answered an entire ask meme.

Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

My comfort zone for writing might be emotional angst. 

Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Sci-fi, the kind with ships and space aliens, probably similar to Star Wars but with my own spin on it

Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I wouldn’t be so dramatic with the wording, but I will not write kidfic (that’s when some are kids and others aren’t, right?) or de-aging. I would only write characters as kids if it’s part of a super long series and they all age together. And I haven’t even done that.

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Charles Xavier supposedly died but his consciousness was recovered by scientists and then transferred to a cloned body of his. Then they get scared when he starts to actually use his power.

Share one of your strengths.

Painful scenes.

Share one of your weaknesses.

Fluff

Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

He rubbed his head. They just would not stop.

- sun is dropping - did you hear - the bodies should -

Bodies?

- be at the bottom -

His hand lowered to his side. Did he catch the thought of a murderer? He could pick it out over the usual hum. So he was nearby.

The door to the inn opened and someone walked inside.

There was a flash of a moment in Charles’ mind. A group of men. Their faces pierced grotesquely by their own fishing hooks. And dragged to the bottom of the sea.

The screaming was chilling. But… but...

It was no ordinary person that committed that sinful act. He was gifted, like Charles himself.

Someone bumped into him and Charles caught the image of a girl. Bruised. Starved. ‘They give one fish for using us.’

‘Using you?’

‘Our bodies. We would fight, but… Food is food.’

“Private room for one if you can.”

It was not out of pure cruelty, not from an evil nature. He was stopping those that brought pain to others.

“Charles, let’s go,” Raven said, key in hand.

“He is with us as well,” he stated, getting the man to turn and stare at him.

======

The Gifted, Chapter One

I like this scene here. We see Charles’ just picking up the thoughts of others because he cannot control his powers yet. We get a glimpse into what Erik did, and even why he did it (although that is also an earlier scene). But the closer Erik gets, the more Charles can see, showing that proximity is a big factor in what Charles can see when it comes to mind reading.

Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Charles faced him. “I am not sure how much I can tell you.”

“You read my mind.”

“It is the loudest.”

Erik folded his arms. “So what can you tell me?”

“Only about my life after the age of twelve. But I warn you, I am terribly boring.”

“You are a mind reader. How is that boring?”

“But that is just what I can do. Aside from that I'm a boring person, really.”

“Let me decide that,” Erik said.

Charles nibbled his lip while he decided where to start, his mind catching a question from the other man. “Of course you would want to know more about that.”

“Of course. Because you were hurt.”

Shaking his head, Charles said, “I really do not know who she is. That all happened just before Raven.”

“What do you mean, just before?”

He gazed at the floor. “My earliest memory is running. Just running. There is nothing before that.” His arms came up, wrapped around himself. “There is just the stars above me, the cool breeze, the night sky. Cold grass beneath me that crunched with every step.”

Erik came closer.

“My lungs were burning, my heart was racing, I… I just kept thinking ‘run’.”

“And you don’t know why.”

“I don’t. I was in the woods. And I tripped over a tree root. I suppose it was lucky. Raven happened to be hiding nearby. She found me.” He raised his head and looked at Erik. “In the dream, that woman… she… you know.”

“Choked me,” Erik finished for him.

“Yes. Well. That part, it… it must have really happened.” Charles swallowed down the emotions trying to force their way out. “I didn’t… I didn’t know until she said… there were marks.” He moved a hand down his neck. “I know my power is protecting me. Or I would remember all of it, or… maybe be even worse off. Not sure. But whatever it was had to be... really, really horrible.”

Erik stood in front of him. “But you survived it.”

“I don’t know how. I… don't want to know.”

=======

The Gifted, Chapter Four

This scene, I think I pulled it off well. Charles’ emotional explanation of what he does remember from the time just before meeting Raven.

Which fic has been the hardest to write?

That would be So Beautiful, simply because there’s a lot of subs but no comments, anywhere, period. The number of comments really does make a difference in how quickly something might be updated, you know. (And at this point, I’ve temporarily fallen out of MCU love and am now focused on X-Men, cherik specifically)

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Currently, that is The Gifted. I’m already writing chapter 8, but only up to 5 is posted so far. Probably a good thing because I edited both 6 and 7 maybe three times now.

Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Both. I am passionate about writing, but the fanfiction part has to be a hobby. Now I just need to get working on my original work more.

Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

For me it’s moves, and probably X-Men: The First Class right now.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

When you’re writing a fight scene, you are doing it because you want the character to get hurt. Even if they run away, you need to have the injury goal in mind, because that determines the way the characters move and all that. So decide the injury goal first.

What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Never use -ing, never use -ly, never use blah blah blah.

If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I can think of three right away, but I would say The Gifted.

If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Fuck... right now, cherik.

Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Generally start to finish, but I will occasionally outline random scenes for the end. I’m always planning for the end and then get stuck in the middle.

Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

I’ve tried. Right now I have a tiny notebook map for The Gifted, and a few scenes outlined, but that’s it.

Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

I don’t think so. I wouldn’t know if I do or not. Maybe it’s James himself lol. His various characters influence a lot.

Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Cat is napping, tv isn’t super loud, I’m not expected to socialize, nothing I want to pay attention to is going to be on, it’s not after 9pm yet, I have ideas and the perfect soundtrack and plenty of empty pages to use.

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Depends. Prompt fills are lucky to get any revision. The Gifted goes through my own editing as well as my beta’s. Promised Love and A Lie to Live, when they were getting weekly updates, had one revision each, right after typing, and then were immediately posted. I stressed over those two a lot during that time though. Not doing it that way again lol.

Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

From Comfort Original:

It had been a bad night, the tower getting cooler than usual as the wind whipped around outside. Even with how well it was built, the windows still had a slight rattle against the force of it. Bucky hated the cold, too many negative memories involved. Watching outside, he knew he was safe, knew that the chances of something coming up this high, without him noticing it, were extremely low, but he still worried. He couldn't go back to Steve, though. Things had been getting a little complicated between them, mostly due to the man that had taken them in.

Edit:

The wind howled outside, chilling the tower more than usual. The windows rattled with every strong gust. Bucky stared outside. The cold reminded him of being thrown from the train, of being frozen for days, weeks, months at a time. It made him think of HYDRA, and even though he knew the chances of anyone sneaking up on the team here were extremely low, he couldn’t stop the worry from creeping up on him.

But he couldn’t even seek out his best friend for comfort after their fight over the man that had been kind enough to take them in.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

I already decided I will be doing this for A Lie to Live, because I know I can write it so much better now.

Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Never. Anything I’ve ever posted, you can still find it if you know where to look.

Although it looks like one site decided to delete my work. And my account. I have backups on my flash drive, I’m pretty sure, but still.

Always back stuff up. This was mostly original though. Too high rated for fictionpress.

What do you look for in a beta?

Mostly that they will be okay with the content I want to create. I tend to write darker stuff (had a beta for violent vampire fic and have a beta for dark x-men fantasy au), so it’s good to know they will be okay with that. Also things that I think may be triggering, I mention ahead of time before I write it. Just to be sure everything is still good.

Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I tend to be my own beta and mostly catch typos and reword stuff, change the flow if I have to, maybe move a scene or a chapter.

Being a beta for others? I fix grammar mostly. I feel like I’m shit at suggestions though lol.

How do you feel about collaborations?

I love them but they never get finished lol. There’s two people I’ve collaborated with on different stories over the years, one I started a page with, and someone that was interested, but that’s it.

My only issues these days, with the invention of google docs and able to write back and forth and all that, I am a shy writer so I will wait for the other person to leave the document, especially during... certain scenes...

And also, that the breaks in between adding a part does not exceed a week. The last one I worked on has now passed a year since anything added, so I don’t think it will be updated again any time soon.

Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

LadyDarkPhoenix because she got me into fanfic and into the MCU fandom and her ideas are awesome. One of the people I’ve collaborated with for years over different stories.

NotEvenCloseToStraight has some of the best fics. I haven’t read any for awhile for a variety of reasons (not to do with her, my own distracted mind and now fandom switch really) but she is amazing and a sweet person.

Kellyscams has written some amazing stuff. Just, really check them out.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Um... Oh, this is tough. I think I’m mostly reading prompt fills and wips right now.

Maybe a sequel to Coming Home by helens78, only because I didn’t know how much I wanted Wesley/Charles until then. And then add in the implied interest in Erik as well, and yes.

Do you accept prompts?

I do.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

It varies. Prompt fills lately are more canon compliant, but if I’m doing chapters, it’s way AU.

How do you feel about smut?

I love reading it. I somewhat write it in collaborations.

I panic and stop every other sentence when I attempt writing it alone.

How do you feel about crack?

It can be good.

What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

Depends on the character and the situation.

Would you ever kill off a canon character?

I’ve killed Tony at least twice now.

Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3 for sure.

Talk about your current wips.

The Gifted is a fantasy AU in the X-Men Alternate Timeline Movies fandom

Promised Love is an arranged marriage fantasy AU in the MCU fandom

A Lie to Live is a fantasy AU in the MCU fandom

So Beautiful is a modern, no powers, college AU in the MCU fandom

Help Me is a sequel to Bite Me and it is a vampire au in the MCU fandom

Talk about a review that made your day.

This chapter made me feel feelings. My poor boys! :'( And well done with Erik's anger, lashing out and the aftermath. I understand you are upset, Erik, but that is not an acceptable way to treat a friend. And it's good that you realized that too.

===

This one especially. Also their previous two comments.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

Not really. Not since, like, high school.

That was a long while ago. I was still really into the LoTR movies.

Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one)

Bite Me

Bucky tried to block Aldrich’s blows with his arms but the monster gave him a harsh stomp to the stomach. Bucky coughed as he rolled onto his side, tasting his own blood in his mouth.

“I truly did want more of a fight than this out of you. How pathetic.”

“T-think so?” He looked up to see Tony coming back.

Aldrich caught the stare and turned, grabbing onto the wooden stake made from the leg of a desk.

“Shit!” Tony struggled.

“Thank you, Anthony.” Aldrich yanked the stake from Tony’s hands and, finding Bucky on his feet, thrust it through the other vampire’s chest.

“No!” Tony cried, trying to get past Aldrich to reach the man he loved, but his Master gripped his shoulder and threw him back.

“You were perfect,” Aldrich growled, “but I will never have your heart, will I? Not as a mate.”

Tony blinked away tears that threatened to blur his vision. “Never.”

Leering at the vampire that held Tony’s affection, Aldrich shoved the stake deeper, Bucky’s cold, dark blood gushing out around it, and then pulled it free.

A grotesque, thick flow fell from the hole in Bucky’s chest.

“No, no, no!” Tony needed to reach him, but he froze once the already stained wood pierced him next.

“You can join him, Anthony,” Aldrich spoke so sweetly, giving it another push to be sure neither would leave.

Tony stared at him. His chest felt wet, cramped, cold. Fear shook his body.

His knees hit the floor. “B-Buck...y...?”

But no response came.

As Aldrich walked away, Tony found himself all alone in a place that reeked of blood and horror. His vision began to falter. He grew so tired... so very tired... so very... very... tired...

#ask meme #writing

[notimetoblog]

Not Happening

Summary: An online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand. 

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write another story yet I somehow always manage to become stuck. To get my mind off it, I started to rematch Parks and Rec and got the idea for this fic lol. I'm thinking of giving it a few chapters and making it a mini series. The inspiration came from the episode “Soulmates” from the third season of the show. I’ll just be using the basic premise of the episode, this story wont follow it exactly. I’m also picturing this as a modern au :).  I hope you guys like it!! Thanks for reading as always. 

MY STORIES

Meet us downstairs in 5

Panic raced through your body as you realized you only had 5 minutes to meet Nat and Wanda. They had texted you almost two hours ago hoping you’d join them for coffee and you had, of course, left getting ready until the end.

Running to your closet you picked up the closest clothing items and threw them on, hoping you didn’t look too much of a mess. You gave yourself a quick look in the mirror, knowing there wasn’t enough time to do much more, grabbed your purse, and raced down the stairs. 

Everybody knew Nat was a stickler for punctuality. It was her mission in life to be early to anything and everything she was ever invited to. Although she would never admit it, she always tried her best to rub off her punctuality to her friends, becoming easily annoyed when Tony or Sam claimed to be “fashionably late”. This was just a casual meeting with friends, but still, your survival instincts told you not to keep Nat waiting. 

Exciting your building you looked up and down the street, a smile spreading across your face when you spotted your friends.

“Hey guys,” you said as you approached them, giving them a small wave. 

“Hi,” they greeted in unison. Wanda was adjusting a cross body bag she wore as they began walking towards you.

You had known Nat and Wanda for several years now. Luck had placed all three of you in the same class in high school and you had become inseparable ever since. All three of your personalities complimented each other perfectly. Nat’s usual intense approach to life was balanced out by Wanda’s more easy-going attitude. You usually found yourself in between the two with a not so intense yet not so carefree attitude, finishing off the perfect mixture for a lasting friendship. 

--

“So, you’re saying he was a dud,” Nat said with a smirk from behind her coffee cup. She had been showing a lot of interest in your love life, well to state more accurately, your non-existent love life.

The three of you were sipping on your coffee, casually conversing about a series of topics that had ranged from the recent news, to World Cup, to the date you had been on a few nights ago. If you knew anything about Nat and Wanda was that if they had something they wanted to know about you, they would most likely be able to ease it out of you. So, you carefully listened to their questions hoping to see where they were steering the conversation.

“That’s not what I said,” you replied with a chuckle. 

A few nights ago, you had gone out to dinner with Jake, a new coworker. It had been a nice date. He had been a gentleman, opening doors and pulling out chairs, listening to you talk about your interests, had been very good at keeping the conversation going, yet after you had said goodbye you realized it felt more like you had hung out with Nat or Wanda. There had been no sparks, just a lovely beginning to a new friendship.

“He’s a great guy,” you continued, ignoring the sarcastic sounds of agreement both your friends were making. “He is! He’s kind, a great listener, but you know, he’s more of a guy that would make an excellent friend.”

“Fine,” Nat said, teasingly rolling her eyes. “If we’re getting technical, I guess you could say that even though he wasn’t a dud, the date was. Is that more accurate?”

“Yes!” you said, mockingly slamming your hands on the table. “That’s exactly it!”

“Well,” Wanda began and the way she drew out that word made you a tad nervous. “Maybe you can try looking somewhere else?”

“Come on, just spit it out Wanda,” you said knowing very well she must have been thinking something up with Nat if they seemed this interested in who you were or weren’t dating.

“Alright,” she said with a laugh. “Why don’t you look online? You know, on one of those dating sites. Maybe you can find someone there? Even if it’s just to have a little fun.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you said shaking your head. “That’s kind of weird, no? Like I’m just supposed to feel a connection to someone simply by seeing their picture?”

“Well not exactly,” Nat jumped in. “See you write down your interests, so the site matches you with people who are into the same things.”

“Oh,” you said starting to consider making yourself a profile. It wouldn’t hurt to try, you thought.

“And I mean, maybe you don’t find your future husband, but maybe you find a few nice guys you get to hang out with,” Nat said. She leaned a bit forward on the table giving you a reassuring smile. “And you don’t have to accept to go out with anyone if you don’t want to. Just because you match with someone doesn’t mean you’ll have to meet.”

“Well,” you began. Your thoughts raced hoping this wouldn’t be as bad as you had originally thought. “I mean, I guess I could give it a try,” you smiled.

“Great!” Wanda said a bit too loud causing those around you to look your way. “Sorry,” she said, her hands up in an apologetic gesture. “We can build your profile right now!”

You were starting to question how they would be able to do that, but all your questions were answered as she pulled out a laptop from her bag. 

“You guys planned this, didn’t you?” you said. You stared at them, piercing your eyes to let them know you were clearly suspicious of them.

“We just hoped you’d agree,” Nat said with a shrug. “We didn’t just invite you out for coffee for this. We really did want to hang out.”

“Fine,” you said with mock anger. “I’ll choose to believe you ONLY because you paid for my coffee and because you have graciously accepted to also buy me lunch.

“I didn’t,” she replied. “That was not a par-“

“Ok!” Wanda cut her off. “The first question says to describe yourself.”

“Let’s see,” you said, surprised at how fast she had pulled up the page. Knowing her, though, she had probably already saved it on her laptop for easy access. “I love to read and die for candy, another treat Nat has offered to buy me.”

“Ok. Sexy, well read, and loves the sweeter things in life,” Wanda said as she typed the description onto your profile.

“Much better,” you said with a chuckle. 

“Favorite place?” Wanda asked.

“Um.. Oh! The small community garden that’s right by my place. It has this cute bench right by a patch of flowers.”

“Really?” Nat asked. “It can be anywhere in the world. Paris, Hawaii, the Grand Canyon?”

“Nope,” you said as you pictured the bench you were talking about, a smile appearing on your lips at the peace sitting there usually brought. It had a great view of this patch of colorful flowers. If your sat at the perfect spot, you could pretend it wasn’t only a patch, but a meadow that extended as far as your eye could see. “Just the little bench in that garden.”

“What do you think of dogs?” Wanda asked after having typed your response.

“Love,” you replied quickly.

“Cats?”

“Love.”

“Fish?”

“Love”

“Turtles?”

“No opinion,” a serious tone suddenly overtook your voice. Nat and Wanda both turned to you with a confused look. “They’re condescending,” you said nonchalantly. 

“Ok” Wanda said with amusement. “Describe your ideal man.”

“Oh gosh. I mean, mysterious.”

“Mhmm,” Nat nodded in agreement as she took another sip of her coffee.

“Funny, intelligent, kind, caring, great listener, not afraid to show emotion or of commitment, handsome, romantic, can build stuff, doesn’t mind getting caught in the rain, can row a boat.”

“You’re just describing Noah Calhoun from The Notebook,” Wanda snorted. 

“Mmm,” you said with a smile. “I mean if this thing,” you said pointing at the computer, “can find me a Noah Calhoun then I might just kiss it.”

“Who’s this poor Noah guy?” an intruding male voice caused you all to look behind you. “And can I just tell him how sorry I am that he might be stuck with you? It’s the least I can do for the guy.”

You rolled your eyes as you realized Bucky was the one speaking. The two of you had met thanks to your mutual friend Steve and had never gotten along. He was so full of himself, thinking he was high and mighty and could get whatever he wanted. His cocky attitude had instantly caused you to suppress voicing some of your strongest opinions on him for Steve’s sake. You were still unsure of how he and Steve could be friends. Steve was so kind and sweet, and Bucky was the embodiment of all your pet peeves and then some. 

Pulling up a chair from the table next to you, he took a seat next to Wanda, who thankfully immediately closed her laptop before Bucky could see what you had been working on. 

“Hi Nat,” Bucky flashed a smile to the red head who responded with a quick hello. “Wanda,” he said, playfully bumping his shoulder with hers. 

“Hi Buck,” Wanda responded. 

After being invited to a get together at Steve’s place, Bucky had met both Nat and Wanda. Neither of your friends had found Bucky as off putting as you had made him out to be. They accompanied you ready to hate Bucky’s guts as much as you did, but left chatting about how funny and interesting he was. You had rolled your eyes telling them once they saw him as many times as you had, they would be singing a different tune. Unfortunately for you, though, that had not happened just yet. On the contrary, Bucky seemed to charm them more every time.

“So why are you trying to ruin this guy’s day, Y/N?”

“Shut it Barnes,” you snapped back at him. “You’re rudely interrupting a conversation, by the way, so why don’t you just leave us alone.”

“Ouch,” he said, mockingly placing a hand over his heart. “And here I was thinking you’d be happy to see me, doll.”

“I doubt you’ll ever get that reaction from me. I’ve already had enough of you to last two lifetimes.”

“Did you get dressed in the dark?” he asked, pointing at your clothes, which you had hastily thrown on.

“Shut up,” you replied, an edge to your voice only he was able to bring out. “It’s not like you’re much of a fashion expert.”

“Maybe,” he chuckled as he raised an eyebrow, unbothered by your evident unhappiness with his presence. “But even I know those colors clash. Anyway,” he said directing his gaze to Nat. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Nothing much,” she replied with a slight smile. “Just planning our day.”

You looked over at her, hoping she could sense the waves of gratitude you were trying to telepathically send her way, for not letting Bucky know about your online profile. He would surely tease you about it until you pulled your hair out.

 “Well, if you guys are interested there’s this new photo gallery one of my buddies just opened up. He asked me to invite all the cool people I know, so sorry Y/N, but this invitation is just for Nat and Wanda,” a smirk you wish you could punch away spread across his lips. You stared back at him with a deathly glare mentally willing him to just disappear. He just had this way of getting under your skin with anything he said or did. He could be standing half a mile away from you, looking in the opposite direction, and he would still manage to piss you off. 

‘Whatever’, you mouthed as you rolled your eyes at him. 

“It opens tonight at 8,” he said as he (finally) began standing up and handed a small flyer to Wanda. “And you know what? I’ll be nice and also extend the invitation to you Y/N. Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you,” he said with a wink; a very stupid and irritating wink. 

“We’ll be there,” Nat said with a laugh. For some reason she always found Bucky’s attitude towards you humorous. You looked at her incredulously, taking back all the gratitude you had sent her way before. 

“Awesome,” he said. “Look forward to seeing two of you tonight.”

With that he turned and walked out the coffee place. 

“You did not just accept an invitation from that idiot!” You glared at Nat, who continued to laugh. 

“I did,” she finally said after managing to control her laughter. 

“Wanda!” you said looking for back up. “Surely you see the evil I’m trying to fight off.”

She chuckled, “Y/N, he’s a just an idiot around you and he did invite you too at the end.”

You crossed your arms across your chest. 

“You two can have fun at this lame photo exhibit because you can forget about me going. I don’t think I’ll be able to pretend to get along with him at a public function.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Nat said, waving her hands as if that could easily dismiss your hatred towards Bucky. “Let’s finish up your profile.”

“Yes!” Wanda said, having seemingly forgotten about it thanks to Bucky. “I just have to upload your info and a picture.”

After taking out her phone, she and Nat helped you take a nice picture, helping you find your best angle and arranging your hair the most flattering way. You approved a picture, and Wanda uploaded it to your profile. 

“Now, you can start looking through a few profiles or you can wait until the system finds you someone they think might be a good match.”

“Lets just start looking,” you leaned forward to get a better look at the computer screen. 

“Wait!” Wanda yelled, startling  both Nat and you. 

“What is it?” Nat asked a bit worried at Wanda’s sudden exclamation. 

“You got a match!” Wanda said, all but bouncing up and down on her seat. 

“Really?!?” you said a bit too excitedly; something that did not go unnoticed by Nat who chuckled. 

“Oh my god,” Wanda continued reaching out for your hand. “It’s a 98% match! That’s a soulmate level match. I’ve never seen anything this high before.”

You squealed unable to hold back your excitement. What if this online dating site actually guided you to your perfect match. Maybe you really were about to find your own Noah Calhoun. 

“This computer might’ve actually just found the future Mr. Y/L/N,” Nat said.

“Who is he!?” you asked scanning the screen and not seeing any information on him. 

“Click right here,” Wanda said pointing to a small red box in the center of the screen. “That will take you to his profile.”

Nat gave you a drumroll by banging her hands on the table as you moved the cursor to the little red box. 

After a pause for dramatic effect, you gave the box a click.

“Ah!” you recoiled as Nat and Wanda double over besides you with laughter. 

Staring right back at you was a picture of a man, leaning on a motorcycle, wearing a black leather jacket. He looked off to one side, trying to make this clearly posed picture look like a candid shot. His eyes were too familiar, despite them looking to one side, his voice already nagging in your mind. 

His name was written across the top of the page, in bold black letters, mocking you.

JAMES BARNES. 

This HAD to be a joke. 

PART 2

---

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #Modern!AU #bucky barnes #bucky #stories by notimetoblog

[smolbeandrabbles]

Sway Pt.1 - Danny Rayburn x Reader (Bloodline)

Here / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6  / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Author’s Note: Hello! Welcome to my first Tumblr published Fanfic! (Please be gentle!!) I’ve written many before, I’ve just not been this brave... I’m kinda proud of this one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC. I have watched one episode of Bloodline but before I started watching I read a lot. This could be inaccurate. You have been warned. Could I have watched more before writing, Yes. But I hope you know how it feels to start something and be unable to stop...! Also, my knowledge of Miami consists of one trip.

Premise: This is what happens when you watch Dirty Dancing 2 AND start Bloodline all in one day!!(Then listen to some Camila Cabello) You meet Danny in a bar intent on having a good time and leaving. He has other ideas.

Word Count: 7097 (I cannot write short, you’re in this for the long haul.)

Warnings: Sex is discussed/hinted at. (Cannot write smut to save my life!) drinking. one night stand. 

 Y/N = Your Name. She doesn’t really have much of a description but she is loosely based on an OC of mine. (hence, tattoo.) We’ll see how it goes and I might be brave enough to sequel...

It was only just a little slow dancing, Just a little romancing on a Friday night We shared some drinks, yeah, only a couple But it sure wasn't nothing that would change my life

---

Friday – 11:30pm – Little Havana, Miami

If there was one thing you loved it was the Cuban bars you could find down in Little Havana… you may have lived in uptown Miami (with the lifestyle to suit) but something about your roots always pulled you back here. It was the way they danced, you guessed. The seedy little clubs here where they held each other too close… and it was too hot and exactly everything you loved. You knew that you could easily be the Queen in any of them, but you never had a King. It didn’t really matter to you, you could light the room on fire alone, with all eyes on you as you moved your body in all the right ways to the music. On occasion men would at least try to dance with you – but you knew you had a reputation, and that scared a lot of them off. Tonight you were fine alone, you needed to dance off a hard work week and both your friends were at some swanky uptown champagne party you had not been invited too, nor had the patience for, you were content to dance the night away man or no.

Unbeknownst to you, you had caught the attention of one man in the room. Well, more than just one man, but everyone else was looking to make the move at the right moment… he was only looking to make a move. Danny Rayburn didn’t often come to Little Havana, but tonight was a night he just wanted to get away from everything about Miami he knew and get into something else. Maybe even literally. He was glad that he did, leaning against the bar, beer in hand, he watched her own that dance floor. There wasn’t even much space in here, or room to breathe in the hot smoky atmosphere but she commanded that floor like the Queen she likely was. He pressed his tongue against the corner of his mouth as he watched her… Fuck… That dress hugged her so tight it might as well have been painted on; the plunge at the front also meant it left little to his imagination… He was content to watch her all night from here, if he didn’t want to put his hands all over her instead. He took another gulp of beer and pushed through the crowd, all eyes on you.

When he put his hands on you, you felt yourself smirk, gliding over your dress, across your waist and your hips, pulling your body into his, your back was flush against his chest. He ground his hips into yours with more confidence than even some of the men who danced with you regularly had. You placed your left hand over his, to direct the way he wandered; better to let him know who was really in control of this situation. Turning your head you were met with piercing blue eyes, you felt your breathing hitch at how intensely he stared… Whatever you expected, the man staring back at you was not it. You ran your hand through his hair, thick and long enough for you to tangle your fingers in it, pulling him closer to you – which he clearly didn’t mind at all; pulling you tighter against him if that was even possible. His grip was strong, but it didn’t bother you – sometimes they bothered you – he felt safe, safer than anyone in this bar had ever made you feel. You let his hand go, and you knew almost horrifically that you trusted this man – you let him lead you, lead your body, you wanted him to touch you. It wasn’t just the atmosphere that was hot anymore, you could feel your heart beat quicken as he grazed your skin. His rhythm was intoxicating and all you wanted to do was breathe him in. Unlike the way your parents danced, classically trained as they were – despite your fathers’ ancestry – you and him were locked in an embrace and a dance that would not need you to move across the floor. That was the point; you could be the centre of attention without moving an inch… Your breathing hitched again as his hands moved lower than they perhaps should have, you meant to give him a warning look – but you knew you didn’t at the way he touched his forehead to yours. You knew his effect on you; but quickly you realised you were effecting him – he was taking breaths that matched yours and the look in his eyes, no longer piercing but dark, lustful. You felt your cheeks heat up because this dance was no longer an act. This was a few layers of clothes away from being about something else entirely… You bit your lip and felt yourself smile. This evening was going to end up being significantly longer than you had ever wanted it to be.

“We should get out of here…” His eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips and back, and then he grinned, as if you had just read his mind.

** 

Saturday - 10am – Danny’s Apartment, Miami.

He was probably still just a little drunk when he woke. The clocked flashed in bold red ‘10am’. At least he knew he could turn up to work whenever and still not be late… His mystery girl - he believed her name was y/n but he didn’t know if he was making that up or not,  it suited her, though – was not beside him. He sighed, for a second the thought that she had simply just left hurt him, she’d be just like everyone else. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and realised that, no! She was still here! Standing by the window overlooking the street, lost deep in her thoughts…

 You had got up around an hour before; no regrets stuck in your head as you regarded the man next to you for just a minute… He was surely a lot older than you, but, he was at least cute… You realised stupidly that he knew your name (Damn he’d sighed it enough!), but you hadn’t asked his, and he hadn’t exactly offered it either. First mistake, you supposed. You left the bed, showered, and were half way through getting dressed when you became concerned that you weren’t even sure which part of Miami he lived in. And this was surely his apartment because it wasn’t yours! …Perhaps that was for the best, if he knew your name AND where you lived… It was small, and although it looked lived in you weren’t exactly sure it was him who had lived in it… There were moving boxed scattered throughout, and you would forgive him that for not having the space. However, most didn’t even look opened. And that spoke to you of a man who was in slight denial of his current situation… and that, depending on what that situation was, could be problematic… You lent against the window frame and gazed down onto the streets below and out over the roof tops. You could still see the sea from here… but the skyline was still a mystery to you.

“Isn’t that a little ironic?” His husky morning voice managed to send an involuntary shiver down your spine, you turned to him, eyebrow raised; He was studying your back intently. “Hmmm?” “Your tattoo is a bible quote.” Without a shirt the script across your left shoulder was visible; “How do you know that…?” He didn’t strike you as the church on Sunday type. Well, maybe a different kind of church. “Psalm 23:4 kinda gives it away.” Looks like you’d nailed that, then. You laughed, “What makes it ironic?” He stood and walked across the floor, he was built well and you at least had to admire that. Ha, at least I woke UP with a 10. Many times had you had alarming phone calls from your friends pleading you to pick them up from a 10 turned 2. He smirked at the travel of your eyes but it didn’t bother you, you wanted to remember what you couldn’t remember. Today, that left you a little disappointed in yourself. He placed his hands either side of your face, effectively pinning you up against the glass. His eyes flicked down your body and he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, you felt your heart start up again as his blue eyes locked on yours. “If you’re a good Southern Christian Girl you should probably be in confessional by now…” He still hadn’t rid himself of his morning voice and he threatened to drive you crazy again. You held yourself back; “I don’t know… it’s not a Sunday… I’ve got all of today yet.” “Well, then, maybe we should make it worth your while and get a little more sinning done…” Okay… There we go, you laughed, ducking underneath his arm; “Honey, I’d love to stop and stay, but I should probably get going…” “...What? No, you don’t have to leave…!” “I really should…” you flicked your eyes over your shoulder “I do kinda need to borrow a shirt… though…” He hesitated for just a minute and you could see his brain working in his eyes; “…Yeah… Yeah sure…” He started searching through his things, leaving you amused and shaking your head as you gathered your dress from where it had pooled on the floor, you folded it neatly, and moved through into the next room. He swung around the door barely seconds later half-dressed himself to hand you a black shirt; “Oh! Thank you…” He made sure his hands brushed against yours as you took it from him and he watched you pull it over your head. He bit his lip gently, watching you smooth it down to fit to your figure. Something about the fact you were now wearing his shirt made him feel like you were his… And he realised then he wanted you to be more than just a one-night stand. Of course, your mind was going in a different direction entirely. You’d had a great time, you always did… and you’d had a few nights like this but you’d never been looking for anything. And you weren’t now either. “Hey wait – no – you – you can stay for breakfast?” You smiled at the fact he was still trying “… I’ll make you something.” “No, no, it’s okay really…” though, you had to say, what man had ever offered to make you breakfast before? “Not even coffee?” “No… I’m fine…” You could do with something, but it was better to love them and leave them than sit here and think on it for another hour… “Oh… Okay…” it was clear he was more than just a little disappointed. Then, he dashed back across the room, picking up a pen he searched for a piece of paper, anything… Oh here we go… This was only heading in one direction. He scribbled something and crossed back to you; “Take it…” “I don’t need your number…” That didn’t deter him, he kept his hand out in offering… You looked from his hand to his face and back “How else are you going to give my shirt back?” Well, you weren’t. That’s how it worked. You sighed, giving in but knowing you were never going to call a man whose name you didn’t even know.  You took it gently from him, folding it up, you slid your feet back into your heels. “Do you want me to call you a cab?” “I’ll be fine. Honestly. And you don’t need to walk me down stairs either…” He knitted his eyebrows together with an expression that showed you were clearly hurting him. You opened his door and turned back to him with all sincerity; “I had a great time last night… I really, really did… No one has ever made me feel that way as a dance partner… and…” You trailed off noting that you were making the look on his face too hopeful; “Maybe I’ll see you on the dance floor again…” “Yeah, CALL me.” He said, like that was so obvious. “Yeah… Okay…” Not a chance!

You closed the door behind you, shaking your head gently and taking the stairs quickly whilst contacting your ride back to your apartment… You only stopped at the bottom to check you actually had your keys and everything else you had packed in your bag. When it became apparent that you did, your phone chimed to let you know your ride was here. And upon exiting the building you realised that you were on the street you had just been staring at. You smiled to yourself, and as you opened the car door you turned and looked up to the window. Predictably he was standing watching you… Now dressed in slacks and a similar black shirt to the one he had handed you. He offered a wave, which made you smile that little bit more and return it before you hopped in the car – recognising you were essentially wearing a man’s shirt as a dress and needed to get home ASAP. You closed the door behind you and didn’t look back as the taxi pulled away from the curb. Pulling out of the street and onto a main road you noticed that you still had the paper in your hand… you unfolded it; and you only realised how much you were smiling when you felt your cheeks hurt. Danny.

 When you entered your own apartment, nearly a stark contrast to his, you finally took a breath out. However when you breathed in you stopped in your tracks; “Oh my god…” you took another breath. Of course his shirt would smell like him… You placed all your things on your kitchen counter and sat on a bar stool for a minute, gathering the fabric up you inhaled again and closed your eyes. All you could feel then was the way his body pressed against yours as you danced… and how it seemed to fit so well when you – “NO!!!!” You snapped your eyes open, gathering your things back up and walking to your bedroom. You weren’t going to do this. A one-night stand was a one-night stand, you’d done it before with zero consequences and this one would end the same way. Two weeks down the line when you ventured out alone again and found another man to hold you on another dance floor, Danny would be another one in a long line until you decided you actually needed to find someone ‘for real this time’. God knew your parents were hoping for that day sooner rather than later. Still, with the full intent of changing when you arrived home, you didn’t take his shirt off all day.

*** 

Sunday – 9:30am - Uptown Miami

 Your friends decided it would be a fantastic idea to head out for Sunday Brunch, and you’d spent the back half of your Saturday planning this out, and then where exactly you would find yourself afterwards… likely day drinking at some pool party, or maybe down on the beach… There was always shopping on the strip… With all day and endless possibilities, Friday was the last thing you were thinking about. The sunshine was brilliant today and you’d spent a good hour this morning lazily tanning yourself on your balcony… The shirt was now somewhere in your laundry, and his number at the bottom of your bag and you hadn’t thought about calling it once.

Eventually you decided you had to get ready, pulling on a white blue-and-burgundy-striped wrap dress. It pulled in tight to make you look like an hourglass and it cut flatteringly deep but was still sophisticated. You pulled on heeled sandals and pushed Raybans into your curled hair. You kept your lips simple, like your gold jewelry, but your eyes smokey. Your nails painted the same burgundy that ran through your dress. Your designer bag of course matched in the same colours. With a spritz of your favourite perfume you left your apartment to join your friends downstairs. The car pulled up to collect you and they both greeted you with a hug; Amanda and Evelyn had been your best friends most of your life and you were each other’s good AND bad influences.

“Well DAMN girl! Every man is going to be looking at YOU!” You eyed them both; “US! Come on!” The driver took you the scenic route down by the water, and you watched the way the sun glittered across the blue expanse… and suddenly you realised you didn’t even know where you were heading; “What’s this place we’re going?” You turn to them both, knowing they’d probably agreed without you, because you were never really the best at deciding on things. “Oh! Well! My parents really rate it! And it’s got super good reviews… Look it’s even in here…! This Danny Rayburn guy must be really something…” She turned the magazine just quick enough for you to catch a glimpse of the picture and for Friday night to come flooding back – no, no! That was a trick of the light and just the name being Danny SURELY… “What!? What’s he called!?” “Danny Rayburn?” “Let me actually read that!” You weren’t sure if she handed the magazine over or you grabbed it from her. And you also weren’t sure of the expression on your face when you looked at the picture more closely. Oh, you have GOT to be Fucking kidding me…. “Did you book it?” ANYTHING to avoid him… “Well no, but… It’s meant to be amazing… Since when were you one to shirk away from food?” “Uhm. No that’s not-” “Did you not want to come?” “That’s not it!” “Y/N! Don’t you think it’s about time we tried somewhere new?” They both gave you the same look with big wide eyes and you sighed, defeated. Hopefully it’d be your lucky day…

 You decided it was better to push Danny to the back of your mind and not start looking for him around here. If you started looking to avoid him you’d probably end up spotting him and that was not the aim. Quite the opposite. You decided it wasn’t to be your lucky day when the waiter showed you all to one of the elevated tables against the wall, in full view of the kitchen. You felt your heart start again, but this time it was anxious… okay… Y/N… You can do this…! Sure he owns the place but that doesn’t mean he’s actually HERE! You studied the menu harder than you really meant to, head down and focused, you placed your hands either side of your face and read. You were beyond intrigued – everything sounded like a safe-bet modern classic… but when you read between the lines everything had a slightly out of place quirky twist. Suddenly you were starting to piece together Danny Rayburn for yourself… and you had to be honest, you quite liked the picture…

Your friends were also both single, and the waiter was typically tall, dark and handsome. So whilst you were trying not to be seen (even with what you had opted to wear) they were gratuitously flirting with the poor guy. When his laugh became a little uneasy, you cut in; “Maybe you two should stick to mocktails!” They both gave you a near enough horrified look that you would suggest brunch without alcohol, the waiter looked more than grateful, to which you smiled. “Hopefully they both won’t scare you off!” The great thing about having Hispanic roots was there were so many people in Miami that were exactly the same… “I’ve seen worse!” He grinned “Are you ready to order?” “Me, yes… please excuse my friends, they are trying desperately NOT to live the single life.” “Haha! They are excused.”

You started with your drink, it was like your signature and you always lamented how no two bars could ever make it the same. He seemed rather accepting of the ingredients – sometimes restaurants would hate you for it, and one had all but refused to serve you something that wasn’t on the set menu. Apparently not Danny’s. Your friends ordered more alcohol than you thought was safe to consume at this time in the morning and you had a sneaking feeling they had a lot to tell you about Friday night.  When it came to the food you ordered very carefully. Heck, if you’d taken Danny up on his offer of breakfast you’d actually know how good the guy was to be adventurous but you felt playing it safe – but by no means simple – was the way to go. Amanda was going down no such route and even Evelyn eventually had to stop her; “Amanda, honey, we can’t order the entire menu!” “Evie! I’ll have what I want!” You raised an eyebrow; “You had an eventful Friday, it seems.” “We are NOT talking about it!” Amanda pointed a finger to swear you to silence. Evelyn made a face as if to agree with her. The waiter took that as his queue to get out quick, but not without thanking you, personally, in Spanish.

Amanda folded her arms with a pout; “UGH! Why do you always do that! You tell us off for flirting, then off you GO! He’ll be interested in you now!” “I’m sorry, maybe you two should have taken my offers of Spanish lessons more seriously!” “School made it so tedious though!” “Amanda, since when were you ever interested in school…” you shook your head and resumed your position of leaning your head in your right hand. Evelyn was better at reading between the lines, “What is going on with you Y/N?” “What do you mean?” “You’re usually right in there with all your adventures! And heck, everything you get up to at your so called job, and our nightlife..!” “You just told me not to ask about it!” “Well, aside from one mishap, our night was innnnnnncredible… Like, you honestly need to go to one of these parties Y/N!!” “No I really don’t!” “OH. Wait! I KNOW! What happened on Friday!” Amanda realised that whilst you weren’t with them, you most definitely would have been out on Friday. “WHAT!?” Of the three of you, you were one least likely to get in trouble. “Well what was he, a solid 1? Not even a solid 1?” “A solid -10?” Evelyn had them both falling about laughing. “…I didn’t say anything about a guy!” “No, but you’re clearly hung up on him!” They giggled again. “I thought the rule was we DIDN’T get hung up on one-night toy-boys.” You took Evie’s turn of phrase. “Well at least tell us about him!?” “There’s nothing to tell! You clearly both had a better night.” “At least tell us where!” You hesitated; “Little Havana.” “OH! OHHHH! That’s why you’re bringing the Spanish out!” “NO. Would you two please stop!” They just giggled to themselves again; geez. Now you needed that drink.

Danny Rayburn wasn’t one for thinking he had good luck. So he had to pinch himself. It took him a while to spot her, but when he did there was no denying that the girl from Friday night had walked into his restaurant. He studied her from the kitchen window with a smirk. She was halfway through her drink by now and the group of three were in very animated conversation. He could hear her laugh from here. She had made his day and it wasn’t even lunch time yet. “Danny what are you staring at?” “You won’t actually believe this…!” He nodded towards her “That girl I was talking about?” “From Friday!?” Jason slid over to the window to peer though; “Yeah. She’s over there…!” “OH Damn! Look at her! Did you tell her you worked here?!” Danny shook his head; “Nope!” He raised his eyebrows “God knows what I did, but I better be thanking my lucky stars.” He turned back to look at his chefs; “Who has table 14′s order?” Javi, who was waiting it and had just come past to collect something else tapped one of the clipped pieces of paper; “Right here, Danny.” “Oh. I got this one.” He pulled the paper and studied it, impressed. “Any particular reason?!” Javi began trying to balance plates and turned back to the table, sure the three girls were all very attractive in their own right and from here were in Danny’s direct line of sight, but Danny liked a challenge and that order was hardly complicated. Jason answered for him; “Cuz the girl in the white dress is the one he’s been talking about since he got in yesterday.” Danny nodded his agreement. “Ahhhhhh!! I’m going to assume she has no idea.” Jason gasped in mocking; “Why would you hurt him so!” “Well, she hasn’t exactly asked after you Dan!” “Oh she will, give me a hot minute…” Javi’s eye’s flicked to the other chef; “Jason, you’re a betting man.” “I bet she walks out before Danny gets a word in edgeways.” “Shutupbothofyou!” Javi dodged the swipe expertly and laughed “You’re ON Jase!” “UGH! HE IS SO STARING AT YOU!!” Amanda hissed across the table, you turned to see that indeed the waiter for your table was watching you with a smile… you turned back to her, intent on playing the situation; “Well what do you want me to do Amanda, give him my number?” “No but you can give him Amanda’s?” “Wow, Evie, you’re a regular expert.” You laughed. “Why have I never thought about that…” You nodded to Amanda “You can have ALL of them.” “She’s going to need them all at the rate she’s going!” That sent you and Evie laughing, and Amanda back into a folded arms huff; “You two are not funny!” “Actually, you can HAVE a number I recently collected…” You trailed off as your waiter came back to the table with your dishes… and your friends weren’t wrong he was surveying every detail of you, and it was a little unnerving. He was surely cute, but he was not your type. “Please enjoy Miss…!” He almost bowed, deep, and with a wink and then wandered off to his other tables, but not without a glance back. The others turned almost completely around to watch him go. “Well, if that man does not want that dress on his bedroom floor then I don’t know who does…” Amanda shook her head, “Please, PLEASE take him up on the offer and do it for me.” “UH. NO.” “oh come on, when was the last time you had sex y/n? And I mean really GOOD sex.” You opened your mouth;  uh, Friday? , but decided to hold back “…What you really mean is good sex I actually remembered… Ah, Alcohol my old friend!” You took another sip of drink and they both looked to each other with an eyebrow wiggle.

The food was gorgeous, and you savoured every single bite. Goddammit now you were really regretting NOT taking him up on breakfast. In fact, it was so good you were seriously considering a whole 180 on the situation and almost FORGOT you were supposed to be being inconspicuous. And you were all in agreement on this; you were now a few glasses in, and you’d switched to sangria – your waiter was more than impressed at that – and they had staggered the dishes so both not overwhelm you, and in such a way that they complimented each other. This was likely up there as one of your top brunches ever. The more alcohol your friends put in their systems the more the hilarity of their Friday night drinks party came to light – including the guy who got too touchy with Amanda in all the WRONG ways and how she’d had a drunken screaming fit at him that had set everyone else in the room into total stunned silence. But, although they kept pressing you for detail, you were keeping Danny Rayburn as buried as his phone number. That one was for you to keep.

Your concentration on your plan lapsed, of course it did, you were having a good time with your friends and you were drinking and your eyes wandered. The restaurant was beautiful, and wouldn’t look out of place anywhere on the Miami strip. You knew how much of a pretty penny real estate was, it was how your dad had made his money, and still was making… This place couldn’t have come cheap. And it was up together like someone constantly poured their heart and soul into it. If it was him, you’d seen his apartment and you thought they couldn’t be further apart. You looked to the kitchen for barely a few seconds; but it was enough for everything to shock you back to reality. He wasn’t even looking at you, not at first, but he was instantly recognisable. And when his eyes flicked up to meet yours you knew that he’d known you’d been here for a long time – your eyes didn’t meet by chance, because he didn’t expect you to be looking at him. You looked away just as quickly; no, no, no, no, no, no… okay, don’t panic y/n, he’s working. If you make your excuses now you can go before he even has the chance to leave… and look how busy it is, he doesn’t have time… One thing was for sure the table was going to be the most interesting thing in the world until you could leave. All at once you lost the majority of your appetite, to nerves, of all things.

Danny watched the shock, or, horror that crossed her face as his eyes locked into hers. The way she turned back to the table too fast and he knew she wasn’t looking back here any time soon – but the blush that crossed her cheeks and crept up her face and down her neck… He’d done that! He bit his lips together. He had two choices… maybe he had many more, but to Danny it was obvious. He could go out there and talk to her, or he could stay in here and watch her walk out of another door. He wasn’t sure how many chances he could afford to spend. “Jason, watch the kitchen for a minute I’m going out there.” “WHAT?!” Jason’s tone let him know he thought Danny was insane “Are you kidding!? Are you going out there?! You’re going to let Javi win the bet!? What about Kitchen loyalty man!” “Look I’m just gonna have to owe ya! That or you can take the constant piss when I screw this up!” “If you screw this up.” “This is me, Jase, it’s a when… Wish me luck!” He patted his friend on the shoulder and headed towards the swinging kitchen doors. All the chefs looked to each other, and Jason knew that for the next 5 minutes, there would be no cooking done here.

You dared to peak through your fingers and to your dismay he’d left his work station and now appeared to be tracking into the main restaurant. Please, just be going ANYWHERE but here… He caught your waiter’s arm and they exchanged a quick conversation before he rounded the bar and headed towards your table.

“SHIT!” You grabbed a drinks menu, which suddenly became very interesting and covered your face with it, both your friends looked up at you without a clue, probably about the voice the exact same question. Not that they got the chance. You were aware of just how hot you felt, how fast your heart was beating and the nerves that were bundled in your stomach. This could only go so wrong, surely. “So, just imagine my surprise when of all people to walk into my restaurant this morning, you happened in here… Y/N.” You didn’t know what his normal voice sounded like, considering your brief conversation the morning previous. But it could only have been him that had spoken.

Both your friends were staring at him now, wide eyed and open mouthed. You weren’t surprised, they had seen the article too and his picture it couldn’t have been anyone else. And he was talking to you. You lowered the drinks menu slowly, allowing you to regain some composure as you swallowed hard, met by those dazzling blue eyes. To your dismay you also quickly noticed that your friends weren’t the only ones staring, but the whole restaurant wanted to know what exactly was so important it had dragged Danny Rayburn out of the kitchen. If you didn’t focus on him, you were going to die. “Well, apologies for not realising you owned a restaurant on the riviera.” – Damn, that confidence had come out of nowhere, maybe it was the adrenaline but you sure were glad of it. He was clearly amused; “You never exactly asked.” “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly ask for your number either.” “Oh, you remembered I gave it to you, I haven’t seen you try calling it.”  “You know girls like to leave guys waiting. Right?” “Not even on the cab ride home?” he shook his head “I thought Friday went down well.” Your friends expressions changed dramatically; and they quickly grasped that you KNEW when you read that article this morning, you knew EXACTLY what you could be getting into, and here you were – IN IT. “Would you call a guy that didn’t even give you his name?” “You didn’t seem all that interested in finding out.” You weren’t sure if you were riled or impressed that he was pushing this all back on you.  Your eyes flicked behind him to the kitchen, now at a complete standstill as they joined everyone in watching the two of you. Including your waiter. He wasn’t interested in you, you comprehended Danny had told his entire staff of your existence and you’d just voluntarily walked through that front door. “You seemed pretty good at saying mine.” Your friends switched from staring at him to staring wide eyed at you and you could see them bursting to ask the question.  He almost took a physical step back; you were playing him at his own game. He liked you even more now. “Y/N. It’s a good name. I wouldn’t mind saying it more often…” His eyes flicked down the cut of your dress slowly – you’d already guessed that he wanted to pool this one on the floor of his little apartment too… “Anyway, I really came to ask how you and your friends are enjoying my restaurant.” You were calling heavy bullshit on that, but you had to at least admit to him that it was incredible, with a grateful smile “…Amazing… But I had a feeling you knew that…” “I try.” He didn’t wink, but it was present in his voice. “What is most important is you enjoy your time here…” For the first time his eyes left you and looked to your friends, who were still in stunned silence. “…Can I get you anything else?” Both of them took far too long to regain any semblance of speech, so you ended it before they could; “Just the check.” You read the wince that didn’t cross his face and the horror of you even saying it that crossed Amanda and Evelyn as they swiveled between the two of you again. Your face remained as stoic as possible; he ran his tongue across his lips and then shook his head; “NO. No, you’re not paying. This is on the house.” Oh my GOD. He HAS to be THAT guy.  “I’m capable of paying for myself. Thanks.” You let him know you weren’t having it. “NO I insist.” He turned back to your waiter “JAVIER, Clear the check for table 14!” You could honestly have killed him right then and there, he turned back to the table, placing his hands down he lent in close to you in a way that made you back up, but also have instant flashbacks to his body pushed up against yours… you could breathe him in again now… Oh God… He smells so damn good…  “I gave you that number for a reason… You really should call it.” He murmured it, his voice almost growled and you wished he hadn’t… Because you were heating up everywhere else now. He let his eyes linger on yours for a few moments more, before, satisfied, he wandered back to his kitchen.

 Luckily your friends waited until the door to the restaurant had swung closed behind you; “DID YOU SLEEP WITH DANNY RAYBURN!?” “In my defence I didn’t know that’s who he was.” “DID YOU GET DANNY RAYBURN’S NUMBER!?” “I didn’t WANT his number he wouldn’t give up I told you this.” “GIRL! WHAT! WOMEN WOULD KILL FOR THAT!” “Do you want it!?” Amanda seemed to weigh up her options for a second; “Yeah – No – YES!” “Then go back in there and ask him, seems he’s not shy about handing it over!” “He literally just PAID for us! What even was that!? You could cut that sexual tension with a knife, LORD. Y/N!!! Get back in there!!” “NO!” You put a stop to that right then and there “There was no sexual tension either!” “Girl, I thought Javi was bad, that man undressed you with his eyes, undressed himself and then pushed you back on that table. That much was obvious.” The fact Evelyn had that mental image in her head didn’t detract from the fact you couldn’t un-see it. “I mean was he any good!?” Amanda got back to what she felt was important “Oh my god! Go and sleep with him yourself.” “I would but he’s already slept with you, so I’d rather get it from the source.” You sighed “I don’t know.” “You don’t know!?” “I was drinking. It always gets sketchy… bits are less… clear…” you gave a slight smirk “I mean, he’s a solid 10… so…” Amanda let out a lament and buried her face in her hands “And BOY can he cook.” Evelyn mused “Well yeah, he’s got that I suppose.” You folded your arms “But I am NOT calling him. I’m not doing this! It’s a RULE! He was a one-night stand, and it happened and that’s that. I am DONE with Danny Rayburn.” You closed the door to your apartment and almost screamed. Why!?! Whhhhhy!? This was NOT how it was meant to happen. That was your golden rule, this was never how you were going to end up dating someone… where exactly could you go after a one-night stand!? He knew more about you than you would care to tell or show someone you had been solidly dating for months. You supposed this was just the Universes way of laughing in your face.

Still, you didn’t give in right away. Although, hours in your apartment alone with your thoughts was not helping things… There would be no harm in trying, that might have been true… but… from your observation of his apartment ALONE you knew that man had history. If you called that number there was by no means a clear slate for either of you… 

You rooted around in your bag from that evening to find the now crumpled strip of paper he had written his number on… You stared at it so long the string of numbers were no longer numbers. If you called it, even if you got scared and backed out he would have YOUR number… “Aw, Screw this Y/N… Live a little!!”

His phone barely rang twice; “Yeah, Danny?” “…Hi…” You almost whispered it, why did that assured confidence in his voice make you feel so timid? Hell, why did he almost sound sexier over the phone?? “…Y/N!” You heard his laugh “…It damn well took you long enough!! What happened!?” “…Well, I had to find it again first…” “As long as you tell me you didn’t have to fish it out of the trash and piece it back together I think I’ll be okay… I’m glad you called.” “You are?” Of course he is dumbass he wanted you to call him yesterday! “Why would I not be…!? Are you okay? You sound kinda quiet…?” He laughed again “Lemmie guess, your boyfriend’s in the next room isn’t he?” It got you, the way he asked if you were okay and actually sounded concerned… but then as if he’d changed his mind shrugged it off with a joke… “No..!!” You stammered it as you tried to sound more assertive and then could feel your cheeks heating up. You had just out sassed this man to his face in his restaurant in front of your friends, but now you couldn’t talk to him over the phone!?! You took a deep breath. He was silent, he let you take the time you needed… Danny Rayburn who the hell are you…!?

You put your head in your free hand; “Look… I’ve never done this before…” “Done what?” The edge to his voice made you think he knew, but he wanted you to voice it. You took another breath and, as you felt yourself get hotter and knew you probably matched the stripes in your dress, were glad this wasn’t a face to face conversation; “Called a guy after a one-night stand…” “…Well, Darlin’, that’s okay… This is new to you. I get it…” He drawled it in that way that let you know he wasn’t from Miami, but that simultaneously sent shivers through more than just your spine. He didn’t, however, make the joke that you expected “…I’m glad you decided to break the habit. And even more glad you decided to do it with me.” He was met with your silence, you had no idea what to say, and that was the truth… He carried on, you knew he could sense that admitting that was uncomfortable for you… “Look, how about we take this slow… We’ll go for a drink this week and talk it over… There’s a great little bar down by the beach not too far from my restaurant. You strike me as a 9-5 gal and… Well, I can leave whenever I want but the earliest, I really like to leave is 6, after a shift, so… How about 6:30… Thursday?” You smiled, he’d just taken all that pressure off you in one fell swoop. You guessed he was used to it, clearly, he was experienced in all areas… You knew that well enough. “That’s perfect. Thursday… It’s a date.” A date!? What the hell were you saying this was insane! He laughed gently in agreement; “Excellent… y/n… a date!”

---

* A/N (Post-Posting!): I genuinely used this GIF as the picture... so, I’ve added it here for you! ;) )

#danny rayburn #danny x reader #danny rayburn x reader #bloodline #first fic on here and its Danny? #it's DANNY! #ben mendelsohn #Tagging Ben for the heck of getting it out there #Then HIDING. #Linzi Writes #1 #Liliana #Sway #This is ground zero. #smol bean drabbles

[themargaretgrace]

DON’T WALK AWAY || MARTER

What: Margaret shows Carter her home town and special spot of here where they share their first kiss. 

Where: Hotel Room 

When: March 29th

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,003

@cordellacarter​

Margaret felt like she was in on cloud nine, getting to spend all day with Carter combined with their conversation the other night. The smile on her lips would not falter, even as she leaned down to get a sip of her milkshake. After a moment she  glanced up at him, “So is this everything you have dreamed and more?” She asked before sitting back up, “The amount of times I would come here to edit photos and draw is countless.” Margaret reminisced as she looked around the diner. “It hasn’t changed much at all...I mean the cameras weren’t here but everything else is the same.” She teased, it was the best way for her to deal with them always seeming to be right over her shoulder.

After their very flirtatious conversation, Carter was a little worried that things between them would be awkward but things were probably better than ever. Though that very fact terrified him, it also made him feel a little excited about the what the future had in store for them. He’d not long finished up his cheese fries, not just working on the rest of his milkshake. “Absolutely,” He said, a grin unable to be washed from his face. Glancing around the old diner, the red head couldn’t help but picture a young Margaret working away at one of the booths and he bit at his lip gently to stop himself from smiling even wider. “Are you sure the cameras weren’t here? I mean they’re so subtle you probably wouldn’t have noticed.” The boy joked.

Her eyes couldn't help but move to linger on his lips. And maybe she wasn't doing a good job hiding it, but she wasn't even she if she wanted to. When Margaret saw him bite his lip her own smile grew, if that was even possible. Her foot moved and brushed against his. Unintentional at first, but once she got the contact she couldn't help but take advantage of it. A chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head, her face brightening up all over again. "You know that is a very good point. I mean with all this big equipment, it is totally possible to overlook it." Her eyes glanced over when she felt the stares then moved her eyes back to meet his, "Who knows my whole life could have been the Truman Show."

The moment Margaret’s eyes came into contact with his lips, his stomach couldn’t stop churning, it took everything in him not to let his wander down to hers. “Well - I for one would’ve definitely tuned into every episode.” He admitted, slightly shaking his head. He was somewhat getting used to his entire life being public knowledge so the cameras weren’t bothering him all that much. His infamous smirk growing on his features as the girls foot brushed against his continuously. “So Miss. Pierce - where to next on this wonderful hometown tour?”

"Hmm..." Margaret hummed after pushing her milkshake to the sight and letting her arms sit on the table so she could lean forward, ever so slightly. The moment she saw his smirk she swore she could have melted into a puddle right then and there, and it was probably obvious on her face as well. "Well there are so many options, you already got to see all my amazing photos and modeling skills." She teased before continuing. "There is my old school, the library, and there is also this little spot that I would always sneak away to when I was in school. It has an amazing view."

Carter couldn’t keep his eyes off the girl at the best of times, but today? It was like his eyes were glued to her and he didn’t care how obvious it seemed. “You are quite the model, those prom pics really were somethin” The smirk grew a little bigger. Taking a moment to think over the options Margaret had given, he hummed softly to himself. “My vote is on the view.” He grabbed his phone from the table and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans before rising to his feet.

"You think so? And to think I had no idea that I would actually model at some point. It was my training." Margaret had a proud smile grow on her lips. "Going and picking yourself, Cater? Typical." She teased and even threw a wink in his direction, was this a big step of confidence? Yes, but she was at the point where she felt like if she didn't try she might never know. And so far things were going so well so there was no reason to stop now. "But good choice, it is one of a kind and actually not that far from here." Margaret grabbed her phone and camera bag that she always had with her. Not anticipating how close she would be to him once she stood up, her eyes moved up to meet his. "If you don't mind walking." She asked softly.

Carter rolled his eyes playfully, usually he was the one so confident with flirting but Margaret had him feeling way out of his depths. Normally he would’ve had a cheeky retort to snap back, but his mind was all over the place in the best possible way. “Sounds great.” He slipped out of the booth, waiting for the blonde before making his way to the exit and holding the door for her. “Course not - not with good company anyway,” he smiled contently. “Lead the way.”

When he rolled his eyes she couldn't help but let out a laugh, "Oh? Am I taking the job of causing the eye rolling?" She asked as she followed him out of the diner, thanking him when he held the door open for her. "You keep flattering me, CC. I don't know if I can handle it." Margaret teased nudging his shoulders as they started to walk down the side walk, not being able to help but want to stay close to him. "Hopefully my spot didn't get too popular, because it use to be one of the few secluded areas in the city."

As the two walked out of the diner and along the sidewalk, an overbearing urge to reach out and touch the girl overwhelmed him. Whether it be his hand in hers or his arm wrapping around her shoulders, he just craved the feeling of her being closer. Fighting himself internally he just kept his body close to hers, a laugh escaping his lips as Margaret nudged him. “Stop making it so easy to flatter you,” he teased back. “Well I guess that all depends on how many people you brought back here back in the day.” He joked, nudging her back gently with a chuckle before glancing over at her for a moment then back out to the direction they were heading.

"It's not my fault that your amazing charm is just rubbing off on me." Her own laugh leaving her lips, before continuing. "It am not responsible for anything." She shrugged innocently, but the smirk on her face said otherwise. When he nudged her back her smile grew and without even thinking she looped her arm through his. "Oh goodness I couldn't even count on my fingers..." She started then glanced over her eyes meeting his and she swore she forgot about the world for a moment. It was like when their eyes locked together nothing else could ever matter, it was all noise. But she snapped back to reality to reply but did not move her arm, glancing down for a moment. "Actually. You are the first person that I even told about it and you will be the first to see it as well."

Carter should his head a little, laughing with the blonde. “Rubbing off on you or you’re stealing it?” He joked, though at this point in time it was border lining the truth - so far Margaret had been even more charming than he was, which wasn’t normally the case but the situation they’d found themselves in had him feeling a little nervous. That feeling somehow subsiding when the girl linked her arm with his, her touch had the most calming presence on him. “The first person, huh?” His eyes lit up like you wouldn’t believe, knowing that he was the first person she was going to be showing this place to made him feel extremely special. “Well now I’m even more excited to see it.”

Margaret stuck her tongue out at him at his comment, but a smile quickly grew onto her lips instead. When he didn't move his arm from hers she felt herself relax, her fingers even started to run along his arm. "Of course you are, no one has been able to prove themselves worthy." She admitted trying to act like she was being charming and teasing but she was telling the truth. "Plus...I don't think anyone could understand how the simplicity of it is what makes it that much more amazing." When she glanced over at him and saw how his eyes lit up she swore her heart skipped a beat. After another minute or two of walking, she turned towards a patch of trees. "Right around here." She pointed out before leading them into a small wooded area, she lead him into a spot that had a beautiful view of a old tree, a lake and a little of the city skyline.

Unable to stop himself from laughing when Margaret poked out her tongue in his direction, Carter shook his head once again. The smile on his lips seemingly not able to fade even the slightest when in her presence. “Well then if that’s the case, I could only hope I’m worthy after all these years.” He teased, as she began to lead him through the trees, swallowing hard he mustered the courage to slip his arm from hers and instead grabbed one of her hands, lacing his fingers through hers as he followed her closely. The moment they’d reached the spot they were heading, Carter let out a content sigh as he took in the view. “Wow..”

When he took her hand and laced their fingers together she swore she felt her heart skip a beat. She glanced back at their hands and smiled, nibbling on her bottom lip trying to focus on leading him closer to the view. "You know that painting that I keep with me while traveling? It is based off of this." She explained softly, leading him of the tree but when she stopped she stayed close to him. She kept a small version of it in her suitcase and it was her way to remind her of home and where she came from,  Her shoulder brushed against his as she glanced over at him to take in his reaction, a small smile growing on her lips. "You like it?"

Trying his best to keep his cool, Carter tried not to think about how much he liked the feeling of their hands laced together. How much he didn't want to ever let her hand go or how much he couldn't imagine someone else's hand ever taking it's place. "I - Yeah, I recognise it." He was stumbling to find words, he was in awe of everything. The view, the moment, her. Glancing down at the girl for a moment, the soft of smiles on his lips. "It's beautiful," His voice quiet as he nodded a little, referring to more than just the view.

Margaret couldn’t help but move her other hand to rest on his arm. Just lost in the moment, she even took the step to let her fingers brush along his knuckles. “I mean I gave it more of a city skyline but close enough.” She rambled softly, her head ducking down to brush against his shoulder. Her head picking up almost just in time to meet his eyes. His soft smile made her heart skip a beat, even a quiet breath left her lips at the sight. The way he looked at her...she can’t just be seeing things right? “Captivating...” She mumbled, her eyes couldn’t help but linger over his features. Taking in the sight and how the remaining light hit his features. It was unfair how gorgeous he could look in any setting or light. He was perfect, this was perfect. It all almost felt like a dream.

Carter felt his breath catch in his throat as their eyes locked, nobody had ever had this effect on him. Ever. And maybe the reason for that was because his mind knew there was only one person designed for him, and none of them were it. None of them were Margaret. Everywhere she touched, his skin grew warm beneath her fingers. "Y - Yeah, captivating.." His eyes hadn't left hers, it was becoming increasingly obvious that he wasn't talking about the skyline, the lake or the view - but instead, her. The way her hair fell perfectly against her shoulders and back, the way the sunset brought out the blue in her eyes. Nothing about this moment could've been anymore perfect. Carter's eyes glanced down at the girl's lips for a moment, swallowing softly as his free hand lifted up and gently cupped at her face before finally leaning in and pressing his lips against hers.

Margaret brought her hand to reach on top of his, her eyes and hand never leaving his. Was this all real? He was leaning towards her, he was going to kiss her. Someone who had a hold her heart since they met. A person who found her and showed her all that she is and could be, her confidence the chances she took was all thanks to him. Although everything felt so real, so amazing as soon as his lips pressed against hers. Everything and everyone melted away from her, they were in their own paradise. A place where the fireworks that she only heard about in movies started to go off in her. Her fingertips ran along his knuckles before moving down his arm. Finally moving to rest on his jawline. Tracing his skin and taking every moment in as she moved her lips against his. Almost tugging him towards her with their hands, the distance, even though it was small, felt like too much.

The moment their lips collided, a wave of calm washed over him it was like everything just melted away - everything around them ceased to exist, it was just them. After spending as long as he could remember wondering what this exact moment would feel like, it was finally here. After spending years talking himself out of kissing her, he was finally doing it and it was even more than he ever could've hoped for. His head turning just slightly into her touch as the girl's fingertips grazed his jawline. Wrapping his free hand around the girl's waist and pulling her toward himself, needing the distance between them to no longer exist.

When his arms wrapped around her, her hand moved to softly brush into his hair. She didn’t know where she started and he began a was exactly how it was suppose to be, how it is meant to be. Now that she had the taste, now that she was in his arms she knew she couldn’t turn back. If anything she wondered how in the world they managed to wait so long for this. She led his hand where their fingers were laced together to wrap around her waist. Her other hand moving to his neck, her nails running along his skin. Letting her fingers explore him, wanting to take in anything and everything. Little things she could touch  and fall in love with before she took a chance to explore. Even though her heart was beating out of her chest that didn’t stop her from the small step of confidence to lead them so her back could press against the tree.

The fact that the two were surrounded by an entire camera crew had no effect on Carter, in fact it was the furthest thing from his mind. He didn't care what people were going to say once they saw the footage or how it made them look, all he cared about was the feeling he got when they lips were pressed together and how he could get that feeling to last forever. As the two moved just slightly, their lips never parting as Margaret's back made contact with the tree. Both of Carter's hand moved down the girl's body, gripping at her thighs as he lifted her off of the ground, deepening the kiss as he did so.

When she felt his hands move down her body, a soft whimper left her lips. If she thought his touch drove her crazy before this took her to another level. It relaxed her but made energy shoot through her body. The perfect mix that made a small smile grow on her lips. Effortlessly moving with him to let her legs wrap around him her ankles crossing once she did so. Even though this was their first kiss, and an amazing one at that, their bodies seemed to know how to work in perfect harmony. Her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her fingers moving through his hair holding him close to her. Her grip on his hair tightening when the kiss deepened. Taking another step of confidence as she moved to nibble on his bottom lip and tugged softly. A small smile playing on her lips as she melted into the kiss again. Wondering how in the world they had gone so long without taking this step together.

Everything about this moment felt completely and utterly perfect, Carter couldn’t have asked for their first kiss to have gone any better, he felt like he was on cloud nine, it was everything he imagined it would be. As Margaret’s fingers tugged on his hair he just about shuttered at the feeling and the moment she bit at his lip sent a shock running through him in the best possible way. When their kiss continued to deepen, Carter felt himself needing a breather so after a few more minutes had past, he lowered the girl back to her feet. His hands moving back up to cup her face as his lips finally parted from hers, his dark eyes slowly opening to meet with hers, searching for any indication of how she was feeling after the moment they’d both shared.

When he started to lower her she almost didn't want to let go, worried about this moment ending. But the moment his hands moved to her cheeks, she swore she felt herself melt all over again. As he slowly parted from her, she leaned forward almost following his lips before letting her eyes slowly flutter open as well. A smile slowly grew on her lips as their eyes met, she was almost sure that her eyes were the shapes of hearts and sparkling. Letting her fingers continue to move through his hair, as she leaned forward and let her nose brush against his. "CC...." She whispered softly, "That was..." She started to say breathlessly, not even sure how to make words but she knew she had to say something.

Carter kept his eyes locked with Margaret's, the sides of his mouth slowly tucking up into a smile. He had never been able to stop himself from smiling around her, especially not when she smiled. Her smile had a hold on him like nothing ever had before. Gently nudging his nose against the girl's as his hand moved to brush a little of her hair behind her ear. "I - Yeah.." He began, his voice low and raspy as he nodded his head just slightly. "It was." His eyes still unable to look away from hers, too in awe of her beauty to risk looking away for even one second.

When she saw his smile she let a relieved sigh leave her lips, she was worried...but who wouldn't be when you took this kind of step with someone. Especially someone that you cared about as much as Margaret cared about Carter. He was her world and everything she could want or need, she couldn't even think or possibly want another person to take that spot for her. When his nose nudged against hers, her nibbled on her bottom lip the corners of her lips still turned up in a smile. Then her head tilted into his touch as his fingers moved to brush her hair away. His low and raspy voice made her heart feel like it was beating out her chest, even moreso than before. "Amazing doesn't feel like a good enough word for it....I...." She started trying to find the words, "I don't know how this didn't happen sooner."

Carter felt as if he were floating, his whole body was at ease and softened under her touch. Nobody had ever had that effect on him before and he was sure that nobody ever would again, just Margaret. He needed that, he needed someone who softened him and made him a little less rough around the edges. The red head couldn't help but hum softly in response to the girl's words, her inability to find words to sum up their connection was exactly how he felt. Clearing his throat softly before speaking "I don't know how either and as much as I wish we could've been doing this a long time ago, nothin' beats right here right now." He admitted, his eyes finally leaving hers to take in the view once more, it really was breathtaking.

Margaret leaned forward to let her forehead rest against his temple when he looked back out at the view again, "It is perfect...even better than anything I could have....and have imagined." She admitted softly, her voice barley above a whisper. Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before picking her head up to just admire him. "Wait..." She said after really taking in what he said, "You have been wanting this to happen for awhile too?" She asked him as she moved one of her hands so her fingers could run along his jawline again. "Do we...feel the same way?" She asked him with a little shred of worry in her voice, because even though everything was perfect she needed to be sure.

Carter couldn't help but lean softly into the girl as she pressed her head against him, taking in a deep breath he just allowed himself to really take in the moment. In all of the scenarios he'd imagined in his head of what their first kiss would be like, he never imagined it'd be so picturesque. It was like something straight out of a movie. His eyes still overlooking the city skyline as he nodded a little, "Pretty much since the day we first met in that little café in Brooklyn.." His glance met hers again. "There's always been a part of me that has wanted to do just that."

"Brooklyn..." She repeated and let out a breathless laugh, her smile growing, "That was an amazing day...I still to this day can't believe I was lucky enough for you to reach out to me." Their first kiss, talking about how they felt, how they first met....her heart could barely handle it. "You made my heart feel like it was beating out of my chest before...and to this day you still do. Especially right now...." She said as she met his eyes, "It only ever does that for you, you know...you have such a special hold over me." Something about this moment and being in his arms, she had to put this all out on the table for them. She couldn't imagine a better moment to do so...she already knew she would be smiling about this day for the rest of her life.

A soft chuckle falling from his lips as he watched her reminisce on the first day they met, times were a lot simpler back then and though life threw them both in opposite directions they still were able to build the incredible relationship they had and for that, Carter would always be thankful. "Of course," He furrowed his brows a little, one of the only things the boy wished he could change about Margaret was the way she saw herself, he wanted her to have all of the confidence in herself that he had in her. "You're amazing at what you do, punch my name into google and see how many pictures of me smiling come up - very little, and I bet my bottom dollar that any I am smiling in have your name attached to them." He meant every word he said. As the girl began to admit how she felt, he felt his heart begin to quicken, nodding slowly.

Her thumb ran along his skin as he spoke, her eyes admiring any feature she could. Especially when he chuckled, the way he would give her a small smile and how he would sometimes shake his head. Almost everything she did, she could find something to admire about him. Her eyebrows raising when she saw him furrow his eyebrows having a feeling it must have something to do with her confidence. Of course she had more than enough of it, but she always didn't have as much as she could in her work. "Carter..." She said softly but felt her smile growing again, along with a blush spreading on her cheeks. "You think so? Well it is a total honor to have my name attached to them." She said then took that step and reached to grab his hand placing it right where her heartbeat was. Glancing down at their hands, "It has always been yours, you know..." Margaret started, "There is no one else I can or what to trust with it."

Carter felt his breath catch in his throat, her words making him feel more uneasy than anything else. This was the girl of his literal dreams, standing in front of him confessing how she felt and all he could do was freeze. When his hand came into contact with her heart, the moment he felt it beating made him feel physically sick. He didn't deserve to have this hold over her, he didn't deserve to be the one that made her feel this way. She was saying everything he'd ever hoped for - everything he'd ever wanted her to say and yet, all of a sudden he was was feeling extremely nauseous at the thought of them being together being an actual possibility. "Gracie.." He breathed, his eyes falling closed for a minute as he shook his head, pulling his head from her chest. "I'm really sorry.. I can't do this."

Margaret let her fingers run along his knuckles after she placed his hand on her heart, she was taking a big leap. Of course they admitted they wanted this to happen, and maybe she took a step too far to admit how much she cares about him. But her love for him? She couldn't hold it back, he deserved to know. Her eyes quickly moved up to meet his when he pulled his hand away from hers, "Carter...what?" She asked and she swore the heart that was beating out of her chest just dropped. "What do you mean you can't do this?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing together, "Did I say something...or do something?" Her voice coming out shaky as she tried to take a breath. Concern and worry written all over her face, she didn't...she couldn't sit with the idea that maybe she worked this up to a lot more than she thought it was.

Carter knew the effect those four words would have on the girl, he knew what him saying them especially in this exact moment would do to her. He'd broken a lot of hearts in his day but he'd never thought he'd ever break Margaret's heart and he knew that was exactly what was happening and it was killing him. The girl's words hit him like a tonne of bricks, his chest growing tighter and tighter as he could hear the pain in her voice. The boy softly began to shake his head, knowing that no matter what he said at this point he wasn't going to be able to justify the pain he was putting her in. "I - You didn't do anything, it's me.. I just - can't." He wanted to pull her in for a hug, hold her body against his, take a deep breath and fill his lungs just one last time with the smell of her shampoo. But he couldn't. "I'm sorry.." His voice cracked just the slightest bit as he turned away from her, making his way back the way they'd came.

Margaret's eyes tried to meet and search his but she knew this was already a lost cause. She knew he didn't like commitment but she thought she could be the exception, she hoped she could be. But that dream was quickly pulled from her grip, and so was the only person that she knew she couldn't survive with out. And how he was pulling away from her to walk away. "Please no, don't walk away from me. Please, not now..." She called out to him, her voice cracking through the tears rolling down her cheeks. Almost running to keep up with him her hand reach out to him but she missed him. "Carter..." Margaret tried to call out but instead it came out in a sob, wrapping one of her arms around herself and the other reaching out for something...anything. The world was spinning and crashing around her, everything was hitting her like a million bricks until she couldn't stand anymore. Causing her to move to sit on the side walk and hide her face in her hands.

#para #para:003 #carter

[theclosetpoet7]

His Wife Loves taking Risks

Disclaimer: Not mine, Naruto is

Notes on chapter: In which they try the Rinnegan body switching technique

Rating: T, with some suggested themes and mild cursing.

It starts with a small object.

Sakura suggests it one day after they are ambushed by rogue nin. It was simple enough to defeat the men, but her husband had decided that it was the right time to experiment, valiantly or stupidly opening a portal in front of his body as a means to stop a kunai from coming at him.

She had yelled at Sasuke to just deflect it while she held a two hundred pound attacker and flung him across the field. The neo-sannin merely responded with a small smirk and activated the Rinnegan.

The kunai would have pierced his smooth skin if she hadn’t thrown another one at it.

“Are you fucking kidding me anata?”

She dusts her gloves off and adjusts her ponytail, angrily stepping over a fallen opponent as she pads to her husband.

“That could’ve hit you!”

“But it didn’t.”

“Thanks to me!”

He bends down to pick up a shuriken that was deeply embedded on a brunette’s arm. The nin groans out in pain. He straightens up to smirk at her again. It is an expression he uses to calm her temper.

“I knew my wife would save me.”

Sakura stares dumbfounded at him, pissed but at the same time flattered that he’d been so trusting that he decided to play around during a battle.

“The next time you do that, don’t count on me to heal any injuries.”

He knows she’s just teasing but settles for nodding in reply.

“It’s interesting though.”

Pale ears perk up when she goes back into the topic.

“Let’s say you open a portal, do you think you can simultaneously open another?”

“What are you thinking of?”

She grins at him, picking up a small rock in her hand.

“Open two.”

She throws the rock towards his left as he activates his visual prowess. The small pebble enters a dimension of pure black. And once he’s opened another one, he reappears ten meters away from where he once stood. The pebble falls on where his feet was supposed to be.

The spouses stare at each other then.

Sakura’s emerald green eyes tell her husband that something has piqued her enthusiasm.

________________________

She tosses a kunai this time.

Of course he had tried switching places with a bigger object, but it was merely her chuunin jacket and had no way of harming him. And he had done it out of sheer will because there was no other way. Something had to be done or else he’d be stuck in that desert dimension forever.

Still though, his wife is too cunning and a good strategist. It was actually fun listening to her input on his technique but not surprising. She had always been adept in giving him instructions. It was a trait she possessed that helped with their teamwork during missions, like that time in their battle with the snow ninjas.

So, when Sakura throws him a handful of shuriken in addition to the kunais. And by throw, he means she’s actually trying to injure him with multiple sharp objects, Sasuke couldn’t help but switch places at least three dozen times before she’s finally satisfied.

“I would expect no less from you Anata, you mastered that pretty quickly.”

He wonders if she’s just training him.

.

.

.

Or actually trying to take his life.

__________________________

It is a twenty pound frozen turkey she wants to try this time.

He merely sweat drops at the sight.

“Such a waste.”

“Well, I’ll cook it after, so let’s try it.”

He observes his pretty spouse, with her long pink tresses that settles past her shoulders. She is wearing a scarf around her neck and is rubbing her glove-clad hands as she fights the chill of the winter weather.

“You’re cold.”

“You can warm me up later.”

She gives him a cheeky wink which only reddens his face as she supports the turkey with one hand, tossing it up and down, as if it didn’t weigh much. It still amazes him how easy she makes it look.

So he decides to humor her again.

He wonders what her endgame is, and he has an idea exactly what she wants in the future. Still though, he won’t try it unless she tells him. And even then, he might put up a fight.

But when the male nin successfully switches places with the bird, and they had determined that he can do it despite a fifty meter distance, Sasuke decides that he’d probably surrender to her whims anyway…

Considering how roughly she pushed him to their bed and had her way with him that very night.

______________________________

She’s holding a dummy the next week.

And judging by the size of it, the raven-haired nin concludes that yes, she does intend to do what he thinks she’s intending to do.

Sakura plants a kiss on his lips as she tries to reassure him that he can do it. He hesitates for a minute until she bites his ear and whispers seductively.

“I’ll reward you again later.”

He does it successfully in four tries.

And when the doors to their new house slam shut, when he’s pinned against the wall while she goes down on her knees,

Sasuke thinks that his wife’s positive reinforcement is working well for him.

___________________________________

“Let’s try it with me this time.”

“No.”

“Oh come on!”

He knows that she’s about to suggest it but had hoped that she wouldn’t. Six months had passed by since their last attempt and he honestly doesn’t want to risk it.

Still though, she is moody and is always trying to prove something.

It’s admirable but kind of stupid at the same time.

He knows that she wouldn’t have suggested such a thing if their blonde teammate had kept his mouth shut about her weight gain.

“I can still carry you, ignore what the dobe said.”

“Not with one arm, have you seen me lately?”

“Aa.”

Something in her forehead twitches.

“Are you agreeing that I’m fat Sasuke-kun?”

“No. Of course not.”

“So let’s do it.”

“No.”

“Please?”

His patience starts to wear thin.

“No, I won’t use the Rinnegan to switch places with you while you’re so far along.”

There is a sternness to his tone that allows her to straighten up. Then, she is waddling towards him. Sasuke wonders if she’s mad at him.

But she grabs his right hand in hers to lace their fingers together.

“Fine, Gomen. It was a stupid plan anyway.”

He lets out a relieved sigh.

“But, after?”

Sasuke nods his head.

“After.”

He accompanies his pregnant wife back home.

His heart is full of love and contentment.

_____________________________

Four months later, she sneaks a glance at him as she’s doing curl ups, still trying to shed the baby weight off.

He is holding Sarada in his arms, putting their daughter down for a nap.

He returns her look.

It doesn’t take much for him to figure out what she’s thinking.

“I’ll drop Sarada off at your mom’s for the afternoon.”

“Thank you darling.”

They succeed on the first try.

She lets out a victorious Shannaro when he successfully transports her to where he once stood, which was at the exact opposite of her location in their massive backyard.

It doesn’t take her a second before she’s running to his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist as she gives him a passionate kiss.

His lone arm pulls her thigh more tightly against him, eagerly returning her kiss as he carries her back to their home.

Truthfully, he had missed these rewards of hers.

So as he’s pulling her clothes off and she’s pulling his off, when he touches her gently, lovingly, when they finally connect their bodies and their souls; feeling that inner peace once again…

Sasuke hopes that they would never have to use such a technique.

But it’s amazing.

And oh so right.

And if by any chance he faces a foe in the future that will force him to activate his visual prowess, there’s no one else he’d rather have by his side than Uchiha Sakura.

________________________

Author’s Note: Based on Sasuke and Sakura’s awesome teamwork in the last episode of Gaiden.

#sasusaku #sasusaku+fanfic #sasusakufanfiction #sasusakufic #sasusaku fanfiction

[ohnohetaliasues]

Lucy or Lisanna? {Fairy Tail Fanfiction} {Ch.2}

(Kat)

I hat to cool down a bit before I read the next chapter. Let's torture ourselves some more.

I've put Fallout Boy on to match my anger.

I am ready.

Lucy POV... I can't stand it anymore.

Can't stand what anymore? 

This is all happening so fast.

 I run out of the guild, feeling ashamed. How couldn't I tell Natsu? Lisanna has back up unlike me. 

????

I'm the one who will suffer alone but Natsu will be mine. Not hers. 

I am quietly snuffling in my apartment 

'quietly snuffling.'

thinking about my miserable life. 

Lucy, your life is pretty good.

I don't even have parents anymore and I'm alone. I need to write to her.I get out paper and start scribbling down plans. Tomorrow I'll ask him on a date and I'll confess at the park? No, too cheesy. I've got it! I'll take him on a romantic boat ride and confess! But he has motion sickness... That's it! I'm gonna make a picnic and go! Yes! He loves food and I'll bring fire-fries since he loves them. 

What are fire fries? Like, french fries with the stuff they put on flaming hot Cheetos on them?

I was about to go get a snack myself when I back into someone or something. I quickly turned placing a ready hand on Loke's key. A small rupture of laughter came from the man and it somewhat hurt my ears to hear the noise. I felt a hard smack to the face and I tumbled backwards hitting my head on the edge of my desk.

Assalt!  

I cried. I wished for Natsu to help but I know he was at the guild and before I know it, I'm unconscious. 

Don't be Where the Maple Leafs are.

Don't change tenses. Which this fanfiction does a lot.

I felt like I was floating and I was surrounded by light and last I knew I was lying on the floor of my apartment dying. I couldn't move my body and I could feel something pierced through my right leg and left ribs. I let out a weak cry "help?"

A questioning plea for help.

Lisanna POV... Stupid Lucy, why does Natsu pay her the attention? I'm prettier and skinnier and lighter and way funnier but he hangs out with her still. 

Uh. You sure aren't acting the part, Lis.

I'll have my revenge soon enough, we'll be getting married and Lucy will leave forever! Mira and Elf-Nii are already on my side

Mira ships Nalu like no tomorrow. Did you even watch episode fifty? 

And then there's Elfman, who would never do something to harm one of his friends.

and the whole guild will come to me! I don't have anything against Lucy but I need Natsu to be mine and she in the way!

Happy POV... I decide to visit Lucy on my own accord because the guild was way too loud today. I swear I heard a faint cry of help and I enter through Lucy's window as per normal. I nearly fainted at the sight I saw, Lucy was lying on the ground dying. 

Dying?!

I acted before thinking and hauled her out the window. I had to get her to the guild! I screamed "Wendy! Charle! Help" they came running but before Wendy got close she fainted due to what Lucy looked like. Her hair was blood stained, her clothes torn with I sharp pole stuck through her ribs and glass shards through her right leg. Everything was turning blurry but I had to help Lucy! "Natsu!" I gave all my strength into calling him then fell fell to the ground.

What?! I thought she was knocked unconscious, not stabbed!

Natsu POV... Oh crap... I hated what I saw in a crumpled heap in front of me. A dying Lucy covered in blood. I had no choice but to attempt to help her as Wendy was out cold. I pulled the pole out in one go and carefully picked out glass. I slammed the doors of the guild open with Lucy in my arms " clear a table!" I ordered roughly but my command was obeyed. I saw Gray cooling her forehead and washing the blood off her face. By this time Wendy was awake and raced over to help. I swear I saw the Strauss siblings smirk out of the corner of my eye.

MIRA AND ELFMAN SNAP OUT OF IT.

LISANNA WHAT HAS COME OVER YOU?

Wendy POV... I cried when I checked for Lucy's pulse. Charle looked at me with pure concern. I used my healing magic again and again but no matter what I tried... Lucy had gone. 

SHE DIED?

I hated having to do it but I spat out the words while choking on sobs "Natsu... I...was*hic*too..late, she's dead" Natsu ran out before anyone could even process the words.

Natsu would just start denying it.

 Juvia and Erza fainted while Gray chased after Natsu. 

Erza would chase after Natsu. Also, Erza is not that weak, she'd probably support herself on a table, though.

And Juvia would probably need Gray to hold her. Do you even know the characters?

Everyone had either collapsed or was processing what had gone on. The only people in the guild without puffy faces were of course Lisanna, Mira and Elfman.

Mira would be sobbing her eyes out.

Elfman would be crying, too. 

Lisanna would also be sad if she wASN'T TOTALLY OUT OF CHARACTER.

Okay, I'm mad again, but I will continue the review. I'll post another chapter soon.

Dear lord what is this fanfiction.

~Kat

#ohnohetaliasues #mod kat #Mod Kat reviews stuff #Mod Kat reviews things #Kat reviews stuff #NO #LUCY DIED?!?!?!?!!? #HOW?!?!?!?!?!?!!? #I NO LONGER UNDERSTAND #fairy tail #bad fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail fanfiction #bad fanfictions r us #When Bad Fanfictions Attack #bad fanfiction #stop #LISANNA FIND YOUR CHILL #THIS IS NO LONGER OKAY #NO MORE #this is scary #lucy or lisanna

[trbl-will-find-me]

Every Exit, An Entrance (12/?)

There are two (and only two) possibilities: either she led XCOM to victory and they are now engaged in a clean up operation of alien forces, or XCOM was overrun, clearing the way for an alien-controlled puppet government to seize control of the planet.

She’d really like to figure out which it is, but asking hardly seems the prudent option.

She’s in her office when Royston knocks. “Commander? You got a minute?”

“Door’s open.”

Steph settles heavily in a chair on the other side of the desk. “Is that offer to hold the wedding here still good?” “Yeah,” she says, looking up from her papers. “I can’t lift the safety restrictions, so you’re stuck with us as photographers, but I see no reason why we couldn’t have it here.”

“Central alright with it?” “He’s more sympathetic than you’d think.”

The tension drains from the sniper’s shoulders. “Oh, thank god.” “Martin’s fine with it?”

She nods. “To put it lightly.”

“Your folks really put you two through the ringer, huh?”

“I can’t call home without it being an issue. Used to be it was just mom, but now she’s got dad roped in, too. At this point, I could pierce my nose, cover myself in tattoos, and I still think they’d be more interested in ‘how could you marry someone you haven’t even known a year?’”

The Commander grimaces. “Ouch.”

She nods. “It’s not much better for Martin. His mom’s made peace with it, but his dad’s a … big personality. He tends to dominate the conversation. And,” she adds, lowering her voice. “He doesn’t really believe I speak the language, so.”

“So, you get to hear the whole ugly, unfiltered version.”

She nods. “I try to make myself scarce when those calls happen. On the upside, now I’ve got something to do with that time.”

“You have a time frame for it?”

She shrugs. “Molchetti keeps sending me wedding blogs. I guess we’ll figure out a … thing and go from there. So, end of January? Maybe?”

The Commander nods. “That’s fine. We can requisition most things quickly these days. I just need to know what they are.”

Royston cracks a grin. “Don’t think you can requisition lifetime supplies of Xanax, ma’am.”

She laughs. “Unfortunately, not. But ear plugs? Those, we can get.”

The sniper groans and buries her face in her hands. “It’s not like we’re seventeen with a crush. We went to war, for crying out loud. Holy shit,” she says, quietly. “We went to war. Sorry,” she shakes her head. “That’s still feels weird to, you know, acknowledge.”

“Aliens invaded the planet. We went to war from a secret base under the Kansas cornfields. They turned our friends against us, tried to use them to kill us, and we responded by knocking their ship out of existence. I’d be concerned if those things didn’t feel weird. I don’t think most of us have really had the time to process it.”

“I dunno. Bernard seems okay. Central seems … alright. Dr. Vahlen’s practically chipper.”

“Moira Vahlen is a woman whom I both deeply respect and about whom I have serious concerns. Try not to use her as a gauge. As for Bernard and Central, they’re career military. They expect to say ‘I went to war.’ Most CIA case officers aren’t quite in that boat, Royston.”

“I didn’t even believe in aliens before all of this. So, when the offer came through,” she shrugs.

“Do you regret it?”

Royston shakes her head. “Don’t get me wrong: I’d love to make it through the night without high-def, surround sound nightmares, but no. I wouldn’t trade what I did or who I met here for anything. I mean, we saved the world.”

The Commander’s gut twists. Don’t jump the gun on that, she wants to say. There could always be something coming down the pipeline. The Pods. There’s something there, but I don’t know what, and I know it’s coming for us all. Royston doesn’t need to hear that, though. Not now, anyway.

“Yeah,” she finally offers. “We did.”

--

They spend that first day digging graves. There are enough survivors to keep the haven running, yes, but the toll is still high. The dead lie, like fallen toy soldiers, on the southern edge of the shantytown, waiting for a final resting place, growing cold and stiff as night falls. There are whole families in their numbers, the old and the young alike. If she looks too quickly, she thinks she can see the faces of Strike One. But, of course, that’s ridiculous --- they are all long gone.

She wonders who buried them, if anyone gave them that courtesy. They had given their all; each and every one had deserved a proper memorial.  She realizes, sadly, that their names are almost certainly forgotten to all but a handful of people. She doubts the dead before her will be remembered much longer.

They break for dinner, a quiet, somber affair consisting of whatever they can carry out from the Avenger and cook over campfires. Her men break into small groups, save for Krieger, who takes her dinner on the ship; she has a job to do, yes, but also a vigil to keep.  The Commander couldn’t deny the request.

Her remaining soldiers split into two groups: Wallace, Kelly, and Sally in one and Thomas and Moon in the other. Science and engineering clump together. Tygan takes dinner in his lab while Lily eats quickly, then turns her attention back to repairing the damaged water purifier.

Central doesn’t eat, just takes a nip off of the flask he carries in his side pocket, and keeps his attention on the local Resistance leaders, and the matter of what to do going forward.

She looks around for a moment, watching, taking in the life among the carnage, then sets her unused bowl near the others. She never liked stew anyway.

Digging is hard. The ground is rocky and the shovel awkward in her hands. Her back hurts, her arms hurt, and she’d give her left kidney for a backhoe, or even a pair of work gloves.

It doesn’t matter, though. The holes have to be dug if they expect any chance of funerals tomorrow.

Sally makes her way back next, her own shovel in hand, and begins working from the other side of the grave.

“Sal,” the Commander begins. “About what happened on the bridge today…” “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she says. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, that’s not it,” she says, tightening her grip on the handle. “I mean, that’s …” She heaves a sigh. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d appreciate it if you’d consider staying with us once you hit eighteen.”

Sally brushes a stray hair back with her shoulder. ”I’m not,” she groans, heaving a pile of dirt to the side. “I’m not planning on leaving, ma’am.”

“Wasn’t sure after today.”

She can make out the silhouette of the girl shaking her head by the light of the portable lantern. “That’s just …” She heaves another pile of dirt out. “I dunno. Something to say, I guess. Ugh,” she intones, removing a worm from her pants. “I like to remind him he’s not the only one who can make threats.”

“Uh-huh,” the Commander nods, hefting another shovelful of dirt out.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Sally offers. “I can feel you wondering, so I’ll spare you asking. No, things were not always this fucked up.”

“So, I really did put you in a shitty position the other day.”

Sally shakes her head, driving her shovel into the dirt again. “Nah. I’ve been with him long enough to know when a bad episode’s coming --- you were fine. And he was too distracted to notice me dumping things out. Besides, I’d already been on his case about you two. Part of the job description.”

“What’s the job?”

“Professional tragic waif.”

The Commander almost laughs. “You’ve got some sense of humor.”

Sally pauses for a moment, leaning on her shovel. “Laugh or cry, Commander. And if I start crying, I don’t know how I’m gonna stop.”

“Yeah,” she says, depositing another pile of dirt. “I can appreciate that sentiment.”

--

“Commander,” Central’s voice sounds in her ear. “When you get a minute, it seems we have a situation.”

She pushes herself up on one hand. “Could you elaborate on that, Central?”

“Entirely terrestrial in nature, ma’am. We’re not looking at hostile contact. But, beyond that, you’ll have to come see.”

“I’m on my way.”

She slides out of her bunk and crosses the floor from her small room out into the Common Room and on toward Mission Control.

From the hallway, she hears a bark, and picks up her pace.

Central is standing in front of the Hologlobe, staring bemusedly at a SHIV. Something barks, and he shakes his head.

“Alright. Where’s the dog?” She asks. “I’m assuming that’s why you called me in.”

“It would seem our engineers are starting to run low on work, Commander. Meet ROV-R.”

“ROV-R?”

He gestures down towards the SHIV. “ROV-R.”

The SHIV rolls towards her, the sound of panting playing from its speaker. It tilts its gun mount, now retrofitted with a camera, up at her, as if asking for affection. The impression of a small, flying drone tickles the back of her mind. It’s familiar, so familiar, but she can’t put a finger on where’s it’s from. Her heart swells with fondness for the little character, though, and she almost turns to Central to ask if he remembers its origin.

Something stops her, though, a voice she’d almost swear wasn’t her own.

He won’t know.

It’s a ridiculous idea, though. Who else would be in her head? She’d notice if someone else had decided to move in. God knows she spends enough time with her thoughts.

She kneels down and pats its chassis. “Dr. Shen,” she asks, pressing a finger to her comm. “We have a robot-dog now?”

“My apologies, Commander.”

“No apologies needed, but, one question: how advanced is the AI?”

“It’s largely autonomous; we were developing the unit for search and rescue work. The men decided that some … ancillary features would be a boost to morale.”

“So, yes, we can teach him tricks.”

Behind her, she hears Central trying to stifle a laugh.

“At a minimum. As we work to decode more of the alien systems, we hope to repurpose them for our own uses. ROV-R serves as a kind of test unit.”

She nods, though she realizes the gesture won’t carry over the comm. “Right. Well, in that case, carry on.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

She rises, and offers the robot a few affectionate pats on the head. It’s rear antenna begins swaying from side to side, a rough approximation of a tail wag.

“Well,” her XO offers. “We did need a mascot.”

“A robot dog powered by alien tech. Somehow, it’s fitting.”

ROV-R emits another prerecorded bark and rolls off, eager to explore more of the base, panting all the way.

“On the positive side, we won’t have to take him out in the morning.”

She watches the robot go, and runs a hand through her hair. “Probably shouldn’t ask Shen about making him fluffy.”

“Absolutely not.”

--

It’s late when they finish digging, and even later by the time she’s finished her check-ins with Shen and Tygan, and taken a shower. Still, she pads down to the bar, wet hair braided back. They’ve come this far; she’s not willing to risk losing the progress they’ve made.

“He filled a flask and headed out,” Kelly says from her spot. “If you’re looking for Central, that is.”

The Commander nods. “Thanks. How are … how are you holding up?”

The ranger stares at her beer bottle. “It’s not my first go with ADVENT, so I should have known what to expect. And, all things considered, we did … well, okay. But those people could have been my parents. They’re still someone’s family.” She shakes her head. “And that’s not even counting what happened to Gunda. She’s got a son, you know. He’s five. He’s probably never gonna know his mom.”

The Commander sighs. “We can still hope.”

“You don’t look like someone who got good news, ma’am.”

She shakes her head. “Not at the moment. But, there’s always a chance. We never know what tech we’ll salvage, where it might take us.” “What do we do in the meantime?”

“The only thing we can,” she sighs. “Keep her comfortable.” She crosses behind the bar, filling her bottle with water. “I’m gonna go find where he went. Comms are on if anything happens.”

Kelly nods. “Good luck.”

ROV-R chirps as she heads down through engineering, and she offers Lily a wave. The night air is damp around her, and she pulls the shell closer around her shoulders.

Central’s not hard to find, the small glow of one of the lanterns giving his position away in the dark. She’s careful to approach from the front, not wanting to startle him.

“You want company?”

He offers her his flask in response.

She settles down next to him, against the same tree trunk, shoulders almost touching. She can feel the warmth radiating off of him, and has to fight the urge to lean her head on his shoulder. She wouldn’t have thought twice about it in the days before the invasion, assuming they didn’t have an audience --- it would have been expected. He would have threaded an arm around her waist, his hand curled over her hip.

But they aren’t those people any more.

She downs a drink and wrinkles her nose. “Didn’t know you were a bourbon drinker.”

“Beats wood alcohol.”

Her eyebrows shoot up as she passes him the flask.

“Kidding,” he says, “Still got some sense.” He pauses a moment. “You weren’t who I was expecting.”

“Think Kelly would have made it eventually, but, between you and me, she’s pretty rattled.”

“News from Tygan wasn’t good,” he asks, though it ‘s more a statement than a question.

She shakes her head. “Pretty grim, actually.”

He downs a drink, and passes the flask back to her. “So, what do we do?”

She shrugs.  “Cross our fingers? Hope for some kind of insight off whatever tech we can steal? Honestly, I don’t know.” She takes another shot. “Keeping her comfortable seems like the only real option.”

She passes him the flask, and they sit in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, “about the datapad. And Sally. That wasn’t … it wasn’t the best way to have handled it.” She pauses, chewing on her lip.” But I don’t know how to do this without you and, at the time,” she trails off. “Doesn’t excuse it.”

He takes a drink. “It worked. That’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t have roped Sally in, if I’d realized things were that bad.”

He sighs. “As far as messengers, you couldn’t have picked a better one. She’s persuasive when she needs to be.”

“I could have gone myself.” She shakes her head. “I should have gone myself but I was mad at you, and well. Point is, I’m old enough to know better.”

“We didn’t need a round two of shouting.”

“You really think that’s where it would have gone?” “I wasn’t real happy with you, either.

She nods. “Probably already enough scuttlebutt.”

“Your story time the other day certainly added to it.”

She chuckles. “They wanted to take bets on who’d win in a fist fight between you and Shen.”

“What?” He asks, furrowing his brow. “I’m not fighting Shen.”

The Commander nods. “That was Sally’s point.”

“Why the hell did that even come up?”

“…The odds of Shen allowing you to muss up her workspace as you dragged someone out the airlock, if I recall correctly.”

She can feel Central’s eyes on her. “First of all, it wouldn’t be a drag, it would be a throw. And second, odds are good Shen would help.” He takes another drink, then passes her the flask. “If Thomas keeps it up, he’s gonna find out.”

She takes a sip. “Getting tired of the booty shorts?”

“Shit-giving is its own kind of bonding, especially in tight quarters, but there’s a limit.”

“You mean Sal,” she says, as he takes the flask.

He raises his eyebrows in silent admission as he downs another drink.

“What even set that off?”

“His arrogance, her impatience, my crappy parenting: take your pick.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “From what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t call your parenting crappy. She’s a good kid.”

“She had her mother for the important things.”

“Loyalty, resourcefulness, dedication, sense of humor,” she says, ticking traits off on her fingers. “Sorry to tell you, Central, but that’s you.”

He offers her the smallest of smiles, but shakes his head. “So’s her aversion to this,” he says, tapping the flask, and downing another drink.

“Not the worst thing to pass on.”

“Only if she keeps it up.”

“Have some faith,” she says as she leans back against the trunk. “You got her this far.”

#xcom #fic #every exit an entrance #commander/central

[assbuttyourlife]

When We Were Young - Chapter Thirteen

Pairing : Misha/OFC

Warnings : Language, Fire, trauma, PTSD, family members’ death (including child), therapy, flashbacks (not in every chapter), injuries, cheating. Long fic. Angst, fluff, Smut. Mention of suicide.

Words : 5502

Summary : After her grandmother’s funeral, Lily must return to the place she lived in when she was young and has to confront the ghosts of her past. She will run into an old friend that she thought was lost forever.

WWWY Masterlist

AO3 link

CHAPTER 13 - MISTAKES

Life went on pretty normal and boring for Lily after she got back from her trip to Italy.

She had to work a lot, so she was spending most of her days at the music hall, and when that was done, she was practicing at home for hours.

Except for a few text messages, she didn't share much with Misha during that time. She missed him and wanted to spend a lot of time with him, but she knew he was a busy man now, with a family to care about, and it was fine for her.

So that night, when she heard someone ringing at her door, she hoped to see his face when she opened, but was shocked to see the face of Peter instead.

“Peter? What's up? I'm kinda... surprised to see you here.”

“Yeah umm... sorry I didn't call first but... I kinda... miss you and... I thought I would just stop by a few minutes to see if you're okay.”

“I'm fine.”

“Good... can I come in?”

She surprisingly considered letting him in, but didn't know if it was a good idea after all that happened. Noticing her hesitation, Peter helped.

“I just wanna chat for a few minutes and I'll go. Promise. Please, Lily...”

How weak she still was in front of her pleading ex-boyfriend...

“Alright...”

He walked in and kissed her cheek before going to the living room and sit on the sofa.

“So... Is everything okay with you?” Peter asked, patting the sofa next to him so Lily would sit next to him.

She did so.

“Yes, I'm fine, nothing very spectacular since I got back from Rome. I work a lot as usual.”

“Right... Rome. You hate flying, why did you decide to go to Rome all of a sudden?”

“I told you, I needed vacation. Far from here. It was great. It's just a little weird to be on my own now.”

           After everything that happened these past weeks, she indeed felt a little lonely in her apartment sometimes. When that feeling was overwhelming and she felt she could lose it, she'd just go to her practice room, put her headphone and dance as long as she could on her favorite music. It was her way to forget she was alone, and it usually worked pretty well.      

“You miss your gran'... That's a normal reaction I guess.” He said softly, taking her hand in his and stroked the back of it with his thumb.

She closed her eyes at the pleasant sensation.

“Yeah, I do...”

“Any chance you miss me too?”

He didn't move, but Lily didn't move her hand away from his and sank into his gaze.

“Listen, I know I've been a dick and I deeply regret it. But it happened only once when I was in a hard time and... I know it's no excuse, but I still love you, Lily. So damn much...”

She closed her eyes, melting at his soft words. Why was it so hard to stay mad at him? Why was it so good to hear him say he still loved her?

She reopened her eyes only when she felt his lips on hers. She didn't mind... it felt great, and she missed his kisses. She missed him, and at that moment, she forgot how stupid he had been and how much he hurt her.

It was shy at first, but she kissed him back and after a few seconds it became hungry and needy.

Her whole body was craving his touch, so she didn't protest when he caressed her cheek before laying her back on the sofa and settled on top of her.

She didn't move when he started to undress her.

She didn't flinch when his naked body settled between her legs.

She even moaned when he entered her and thrust fast and hard. It felt good... The physical sensation was good, but her mind wasn't really following.

She was fast to come, and he was too, after so much time spent apart, they couldn't hold back long, but then he stood up and offered his hand to her, suggesting they should move to her bedroom, and she gladly complied.

They spent the whole night on each other, they fell asleep snuggled against each other, and when the morning came, she woke up near him and she felt something strange.

It should've been satisfaction, comfort and peace of mind, but if she had to name it, she would say it was shame mixed with a hint of disappointment and... guilt.

He left before she went to work that morning, and on her way to Benaroya Hall, Lily didn't say anything to Katie, probably because she knew she would make her feel even more ashamed of herself, and she didn't need that. She wouldn't talk about that to Katie... ever.

When Peter called the same evening, she didn't pick up her phone, and when he texted her to ask if he could come over, she didn't reply either.

Just like that, she pushed him away from her one more time, except this time she was the one feeling guilty.

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

The last week of August came fast, and with it, the day Lily had to leave for her trip to Northfield with Misha as she promised him.

He was free because he wasn't in the next episodes they were filming, and Lily didn't work the whole week, so they jumped on a plane, just the two of them, to go back to the place they used to share and love so much, and hopefully turn the page of their old relationship to start a new platonic one. That's at least what Lily expected from this trip, and what Misha told her he wanted too.

As surprising as it was, Lily was happy to do it. She needed things to be clear between them, and she especially wanted to do that for Vicki. His wife was too amazing to risk anything. She would never forgive herself if they'd fight because of her. He built a perfect family and he deserved to be happy with them. But in order to do that, he would need to give them all of him, and apparently he needed to let go of the part of him that was still stuck in the past with Lily.

Misha took care of booking the hotel, a nice place not too far from Lily's grandmother's mansion. They arrived on a cloudy Tuesday morning, and Lily was happy to finally settle somewhere else than a plane or a car.

She went to the front desk to check in while Misha was getting some coffee, but he apparently didn't book his room under his real name because she could only find hers.

“Are you sure you don't have anyone called Krushnic? Or Collins? Or Vantoch... or Tippens maybe?”

“Sorry Ma'am but no...”

Misha popped out from behind, carrying two cups.

“Yep! This is it, we're good to go.” He took the key from her and started to walk towards the elevator.

“Wait! I don't have your key, I didn't know which name you booked your room with!”

“I booked only one room, Lily. Let's go.”

It took a few seconds for her to process what he just said, and by that time she heard the 'ding' of the elevator's door.

“Wait... What??? Are you nuts?”

“Relax! two beds.” He winked and she sighed.

“Oh... Fine... a little awkward but fine.”

“That's not awkward. We're just two old friends sharing a room.”

She scoffed, not missing the irony in his voice. She couldn't believe he was the one saying that.

“Sure, sure... two friends who used to fuck like rabbits, but sure!”

He almost chocked on his coffee.

“Miss Hagen! such a crude language!”

It was her time to wink before stepping out of the elevator.

“I'll try to refrain from snoring then.”

They settled on their room and decided to visit the mansion first as they were not far from it.

When they arrived at the Litchfield's house and Lily opened the door of the workshop, the smell of wood rushed to Misha's nose and with it, all the memories he treasured so much.

"God! The smell itself brings back tons of memories."

"Look!" Lily trotted to a shelf, took the small plane that sat on it and handed it to Misha.

"Remember this?"

Misha walked next to her and took the object from her.

"Damn! Isn't it the first thing I did with your grandpa?"

He looked at her as she nodded with a smile.

"I was so proud I did this, I couldn't stop talking about it with you and I carried it with me everywhere."

"Oh yeah... Believe me, I remember." She chuckled and he joined her.

"Now I see it's just ugly!"

"Aw you're too hard on yourself, it's just... handwork."

They shared an amused look and cracked up.

"You should take it and give it to West."

"Yeah, I'll do that. He will be happy to hear that bedtime story of me cutting my fingers to make it... He's into a bloody stories phase... Hey!"

He suddenly spotted something in the drawer he just pulled and picked it up. When he turned around to face Lily and raised his hand, she saw a chain hanging on his fingers, the wooden braided ring he made for her hooked on it.

"What is it doing here? You were supposed to wear it and keep it forever!"

Lily's eyes sparkled.

"I lost it! Of course I never told you that, but I didn't know where it was! Grandma must've found it and thought it belonged here so she put it back."

"Well... I disagree." He stepped forward and wrapped his hands at the back of her neck, locked the necklace and gently pulled her long wavy hair out of it.

"It belongs here."

It instantly reminded her of the day he gave it to her, right before their first time, and she suddenly felt a very familiar flutter in her chest, but tried to push it away.

Misha was still in front of her, his blue eyes piercing into hers. She cleared her throat, and he almost jumped, lost in his memories too.

"Alright! You can actually take whatever you want. I'll probably sell the place so... I'll get rid of everything you won't keep."

That felt terribly wrong to Misha.

"What? You seriously consider selling this place?"

She walked along the shelves, brushing her fingers on each wooden toys.

"What else can I do?"

"Anything! You have plenty of possibilities! You can't just throw this away like it doesn't mean anything!"

She noticed his voice raising and getting higher and felt a little guilty. She could understand he was sad to see all of this go, she was too, but she thought he was smart enough to be reasonable about it anyway.

"You're too sentimental, Misha. I can't keep huge places like those only because I had good times in it. It's a total waste!"

He turned around and ran nervously his hands in his hair, scanning everything in the room.

"Too sentim-..." He didn't even bother finishing to repeat what she just said, as offensive as it felt. "You grew up here! You spent all your childhood and teenage years between this house and the farm, your most treasured memories are inside those walls, and now that it's yours, you wanna just give everything up and throw all this away like an old box of crap?"

His voice was raising even more and she didn't like that, so she raised hers too.

 "Hey! don't you dare talk like it means nothing to me! It's not an easy thing to do, but I don't see what else I can do with two fucking huge houses when I live at the opposite side of the continent, and      you     were the one who wanted to come here to turn the page, so brace yourself Mr Collins, because this is part of moving on, and it's      MY     fucking choice!"

She was out of breath now. Why did he have to make her feel guilty about everything? They were here to collect memories and have a good time, but here they were yelling at each other again, in the middle of her grandfather's favorite place, and Misha apparently wasn't done.

 "Well it's a      BAD     choice!"

"Just because you don't agree doesn't make it a bad choice..." Her voice was a bit shaky now, so she said it lower.

His jaw twitched, he was visibly holding his reply back. He took an empty box, threw as many things he could inside and walked out of the garage with rage plastered on his face.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

When he didn't answer, she hurried, locking the door behind her and rushed after him.

They were all the way up at the front of the house when she finally saw him, loading the box in the car he rented.

"Misha!"

Still no answer. He was now in the car, starting the engine. She ran faster and yelled.

"Hey! You can't just leave me here like that, you're my ride! What the hell are you doing? Misha!!!!"

He ignored her and drove away while she just stood here alone, shocked and aghast.

 "      DICK    !" She cursed out loud, kicking the ground.

And of course she had let her purse in the car, and her phone was in it...

"Arrrgggh asshole!!!"

She started to feel dizzy because of all the rage swirling inside of her, ready to explode, so she sat in the grass near the parking lot and took deep breaths.

That was a very good start for this trip, right?

When she felt better, she tried to think about where he could've been gone. Maybe he went back to the hotel... But she doubted he would just lock himself in a hotel room. Or maybe he went to the farm? Mmmh... Knowing she wanted to sell it, he was probably too angry for that now... And then she remembered he always went to the same place when he was not feeling good... The place where he lived before moving to the cottage with his family...

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

 Northfield - December 1987

Lily and her mother were walking back home in the freezing night after they went shopping in town. It was almost Christmas so they went to buy some presents for the family, and Lily bought some for Misha and Sasha too, as she knew they were back in town.

Misha had stopped by her grandmother's house the day before to bring her grandpa some presents for Christmas, to thank him and her grandma for everything they've done for him and his family.

Unfortunately, they didn't know the old man died in his sleep a few weeks ago, so when her grandma told them, Lily heard Misha's sob resonating through the entry hall.

They came inside to talk around a cup of tea, and Rebecca told her grandmother they were back in town and she planned to stay for a while. That made Lily very happy to have her best friend back for Christmas.

When she asked where they were staying, Rebecca didn't answer and changed the subject, so Lily just supposed they were still staying at the same small place, a few blocks away.

"Lily, can you speed up please? It's freezing outside and I still have to make dinner." Her mother called. Lily was stuck in her mind, walking behind her mom absentmindedly.

"Sorry... But we could've taken a car you know... It would've been faster!"

"Aw, come on sweetie-Ly, it's so pleasant to walk in the snow when it's Christmas time! It's not like we live far from the city. Stop complaining, you're a healthy and lucky thirteen year-old girl... Some people don't even have legs! Be grateful!"

 What??

Lily rolled her eyes.

"Seriously? I can't believe you just said that..."

"Believe it or not but it's true. So now... What do we cook for dinner?"

"Mmmh... Spaghetti!!"

Mary chuckled.

"Sometimes I really wonder if you have Italian blood."

"Well you should know that better than I d- Ouch! Mom!" Mary stopped walking suddenly, and as Lily was walking right behind her without paying attention, she bumped into her, head first.

She rubbed her sore nose and saw her mom looking straight ahead at the other side of the road, so Lily checked to see what had caused her to stop walking so abruptly.

She was surprised to find Misha's eyes staring back at her, with a glimpse of awkwardness in his gaze. He was standing in front of... a tent?

For a few seconds, no one dared moving or talking. Mary didn't want to make him feel even more uncomfortable, Lily wasn't sure she understood what was exactly going on, and Misha was just frozen, obviously not expecting their visit.

It was a little away from the center, near the woods that were following the road to go to the farm, in a camp where a few people usually settled for the night when they were traveling. It was definitely not a good place to live for a long period, especially in the cold winter.

Mary decided she couldn't just ignore him and crossed the road, followed by Lily.

“Hey Misha! Lily told me you were back in town, I'm happy to see you! It's been a long time.” She hugged him and searched the place.

“Is your mom around?”

As if on cue, Rebecca appeared from inside the tent. She must've heard them and went to hug her friend she hadn't seen for a while.

“Hey Becca, I missed you! Why didn't you say you were planning to come back? I would've arranged a few things for you.”

“I missed you too, Mary. It's been almost a year! Don't worry, we're fine.”

“Is Sasha with you too?”

Lily saw Misha and her mom exchanging a quick glance.

“He's sleeping inside. He's a bit sick.”

“Do you have a place to stay? I mean... other than... here?”

“Sure! This is temporary. We were supposed to go back to the place we had before but it wasn't free right away so...”

“Well now that I just found you, I can't just go home and do like nothing happened! I have so many things to tell you! Why don't you all come with us and we'll have dinner? It's too cold to be outside. Plus Lily's craving spaghetti so she will probably cook for too many people again.”

Lily looked down amused and she heard Misha chuckling. It was a bad habit... she always cooked too much when she was starving.

“Alright... Just let me wake Sasha up.”

She disappeared inside the tent, and when she came out again, she was carrying Sasha who was obviously too weak to fully wake up.

“Ugh! He's definitely getting too big for me!” She put him down and Misha helped him walk. Lily came at the other side and helped supporting him too.

When they were finally home, Lily took Misha with her in the kitchen to cook dinner while the two women took care of Sasha in the first floor's guest room.

“Thank you, Mary.” Rebecca said in a low voice while she was tucking his son in the bed.

“You're welcome... are you sure you don't want me to take him to the hospital? I really think he has a bad cold and needs antibiotics...”

Rebecca rubbed Sasha's hot and sweaty forehead tenderly.

“We don't have health insurance anymore. I can't buy him antibiotics. He'll be just fine if he can rest here for a few days.”

“Of course he can stay here.” Mary laid a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder.

“Let's go downstairs before Lily burn the whole kitchen, shall we?”

They shared dinner in the living room while Sasha was resting, and Mary took this opportunity to tell Rebecca what she really had in mind.

“You know... the cottage is free if you... want a temporary place to stay while your place is getting ready...”

Misha looked at his mother with his eyes full of hope but they didn't share a word. Lily could tell he was worried, she knew him enough to notice when something was wrong, and he was awfully quiet for someone who usually was so chatty with her, especially after a long period without seeing each other.

“I mean... I know you have plans and I would hate to overstep but... It's almost Christmas and since my husband and my dad died we kinda feel lonely here and I would absolutely love to have you with us... Plus I could really use your help in the farm... and Lily and your boys are already good friends so I'm sure it won't be a problem... what do you think?”

“I think...” Rebecca looked at her son one more time, trying to see if he was okay with the idea, but she only saw him sharing a warm smile with Lily.

“I think it's actually not a bad idea.”

“Great! Oh that's gonna be fantastic! Let me get dessert now!”

Mary stood up happily and went to the kitchen, humming Christmas carols, a huge smile on her face.

That was the beginning of a long period of happiness for both families, and one of the best Christmas Misha's family had until now.

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

It was raining when Lily arrived at the camp an hour later, so she popped out her umbrella. She had to ask her grandmother's old neighbors to call a taxi so she could drive here. They were nice old people, but very curious to learn about the little Lily they saw growing up, so she had no choice but to tell them what was going on in her life, avoiding the details as much as she could.

She scanned the place and saw him on the same spot he always came to when he needed to think. He was sitting on the wet stoned picnic table facing the place their tent was once settled, his feet on the bench, his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands. He obviously was here for a while because he was so wet that his hair was dripping. Lily's heart tightened at that vision.

She slowly and quietly stepped towards him. Misha didn't hear her, and it's only when he couldn't feel the cold rain dropping on his skin that he looked up to see her standing before him, her arm extended to share her umbrella with him.

“You're wet.” She pointed out in almost a whisper.

He looked away, observing the few people trying to get their drying clothes inside, surprised by the rain.

“How did you find me?”

She scoffed.

“Well... seems like you still have the same thinking spot after all those years. May I sit with you?”

He shrugged and she sat up to the table next to him, still sharing her large black umbrella so they wouldn't get too wet.

“Misha... What is it? I can't believe you're that upset just because of me selling the houses.”

He sighed.

“You don't get it, do you? It's so much more than that to me. More than a few pieces of lands and walls.”

“I do get it! It is for me too, what do you think? It's hard but necessary. You asked for this trip, Misha. You wanted to come here and leave all of this behind you, and now you act like I'm the bad person who wants to get rid of everything you cared about. I never said it would be easy.”

He wiped the wetness off his face and brushed his hair back with his fingers.

“I've built my whole house thanks to your grandfather's lessons... I've created a charity based on the values he taught me... I became an actor to be able to change things in this world, because I wanted to do as much as your family did for us on a larger scale, I married a woman who I love because she sometimes manages to make me feel as good as I felt when I was with you... I have two kids who I want to raise exactly with the same values your family taught me. My whole life is based on this place... my whole damn life, and probably my mom's and Sasha's too, gravitates around you, your family and this place! I'm just sad to let it go.”

A tear fell from Lily's eyes as she took Misha's hand in hers. She actually never thought about it like that.

“And what do you think it did to me when I had to let go? I had nothing anymore... My whole life turned into ashes, including my family.” She sniffed “Every.single.member of my family is dead, Misha. I am utterly alone, but I know I have to keep going for them.” She couldn't hold her tears back anymore.

Misha leaned his forehead on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

“How did you manage it?”

“I don't know...” It was a whisper.

“Sometimes I just wanna die to be with them again.”

His head flew up but she ignored him and looked in the distance.

“I thought about slicing my wrists probably a hundred times after the fire, thinking I didn't deserve to live when everybody else died. Ryan should've lived instead of me... but here I am... and I have to keep going for them... and I will.”

Misha laced his fingers with hers and squeezed her hand.

“I told you that a long time ago, and it's still true today... You're the most amazing woman God has ever created on this planet.”

She laughed bitterly between her tears.

“Oh my! I'm definitely not.”

“You're wrong about one point though.”

She met his piercing blue eyes when she noticed he wouldn't talk more.

“You're not alone. As long as I'm alive, I'll make sure of that.”

She threw her arms around his neck and broke down crying, realizing she needed to hear that for a very long time, but never in those past twenty years had she thought Misha would be the one pronouncing them.

She drew back and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“Oh... Is that the french way to say thank you? I like it.”

She giggled and nicely slapped his shoulder.

“Shut up.”

“So... Are we going to the farm today?”

“How about we get up early tomorrow and go? I'm freezing and I'm starving, snuggling in my bed stuffing my face like a pig feels like heaven to me right now to be honest.”

Misha chuckled.

“How sexy! Alright let's go then... maybe they'll have spaghetti.” He helped her jumping down of the table.

She let out a long moan.

“Stop talking dirty to me!”

She hooked her arm around his and they started walking back to the cab.

“We never really tried that...” Misha said after thinking silently for a while.

“Try what?”

“Dirty talk!”

He said it too loud so Lily sank into him and hid her face with her umbrella.

“Geez, can you yell it louder? Someone at the other end of the planet didn't catch! We were fifteen, for god sake, of course we never did that! I was too innocent, you perv!”

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

“Do you listen to yourself, miss purity? You were far from innocent!”

“What? Yes I was! I didn't even know how to dirty talk at the time!”

“Mmh I don't really agree here... You knew perfectly what to say to drive me crazy.”

“Can we change the subject? Just get in the damn car.”

He threw a mischievous look at her before getting in the car, and they were back in the hotel ten minutes later.

“Dibs for the shower!” Lily ran though the door and went directly to her suitcase to find clean clothes.

“Said the girl who spent an hour under the rain without an umbrella...” Misha replied sarcastically.

“Oh... Sorry I didn't think about that... But you're the one who booked only one room, so screw you, I'm going in the shower.” She ran and locked the bathroom door behind her.

“That language again...”

Misha ordered food while she was showering and laid on his bed to call Vicki and the kids. He was speaking to West when he heard Lily's panicked voice through the bathroom door.

“Oh God, Misha, help me!!!”

He jumped out of bed, his heart bouncing.

“Tell mommy I have to go, baby!” And he hung up fast.

“Lily? What is it?” he called with panic, knocking on the bathroom door.

“There is a giant monster in the bathtub!!”

Oh... He sighed and chuckled with relief when he understood what it was about and tried to joke about it.

“What kind of monster? Do I need salt or is it more of a silver kind of monster?”

 Uh?

She had absolutely no idea what he was talking about but she had no time to waste!

“The eight legs kind of monster!! Get in there and kill it before I die!!!”

He couldn't help but laugh and turned the door knob.

“If you don't unlock the door, it will be difficult for me to get in, you know...”

“AAAhhh it's moving!!!”

He heard the click of the door lock and she grabbed the front of his shirt.

“Get in here!”

He saw her draped in her towel, her hair dripping. That was not a bad view...

She pointed at the bathtub and he looked inside.

“Great specimen of tarantula indeed...”

“What? Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!”

He giggled like a kid.

“Lily, there are no tarantulas here, I'm just joking. Will you please chill out and-”

“WILL YOU PLEASE KILL IT NOW???”

“Wow okay!” He took the shower head and was about to turn on the hot water.

“You're gonna kill it with the shower head??”

“If you don't shut up I'm not gonna kill it, I'll put it in your bed.”

She bit her lower lip but...

“What if it crawls back up the pipe when I'm in the shower?”

“Okay, that's enough.” He put the shower head back in it's place before turning to her.

“What are you doing?”

He grabbed her and she panicked when he carried her on his shoulder.

“Misha let me down!!! Okay, I'll shut up! I'll do whatever you want!! Oh my god don't do this! I'm sorry!”

He slammed her down on her bed and pointed his index finger at her.

“If you move from here, you'll be in trouble.”

She didn't reply but didn't move when he got back in the bathroom. She heard the water running and when he went back in the room a few seconds later, she was still in the same position on her back, supported by her elbows.

“Good girl. You can go now, it's gone.”

She collapsed on her bed.

“I'm too tired now... you can go first.”

Misha rolled his eyes and went to the shower. When he was done and got back in the room, he saw Lily still laying on her back, but she was asleep. He wanted to get her a blanket but a knock on the door interrupted him and woke her up. It was room service bringing their food.

“Dinner time.” He winked.

“God exists... are you gonna wear a shirt or...”

He looked down at himself.

“Do I need to?”

She was staring at his very distracting chest and a grin slowly appeared on her face.

“You still have your nipple freckle.”

He chuckled and she pouted when he put a gray T-shirt on.

“Eat!” He ordered.

They both ate on his bed, and they laid down watching some TV. She instinctively snuggled next to him, and soon enough she fell asleep against him. Misha looked at her sleeping like that next to him and he smiled, remembering the countless times they both fell asleep like that when they were young, and he realized he missed it more than he would want to admit.

He pulled the blanket up on them both, kissed her hair and soon joined her.

#misha collins #fanfiction #when we were young #slow built #misha/OFC

[astridspokemonfic]

Episode 1: A Meeting of Chance!

Narrator: Our world is inhabited with creatures we call Pokemon, each with unique personalities and strengths. Pokemon and people help each other grow and improve in a codependent relationship. Be that in work, play, or battle.

Astrid stretched her legs as she hopped off her bed. Today she would be receiving her first Pokemon from Professor Laurel! While she had virtually no interest in battling, she was most definitely planning on becoming a Top Coordinator. Quickly changing, she ran down the stairs, yelling a quick goodbye to her mother as she left.

She wasn’t the only one who would be starting her journey today. There would be four other kids she would meet today who were also going to get their starters.

Rushing up the hill of her hometown, she mentally ran through the list of pokemon she wanted. She had a first choice, but she was prepared for limited options. Astrid nearly slammed the door open, startling nearby scientists as they eyed her warily. She noticed she was somewhat early and took a seat next to a shorter girl who was reading through a thick book. It seemed that with her included, they were only waiting for one more person.

“Hello! I’m sorry I’m late! I was so interested in the- Oh I’m not late.” A woman in her late twenties came rushing into the lab, actually slamming the door open in her rush. She had frazzled dark red hair, and her glasses were askew on her nose. Given her lab coat, Astrid assumed that this woman was Professor Laurel. The scientist pressed her glasses into place and walked past the seated teenagers, through a door, and deeper in the building. A few moments passed and she popped her head out behind her, looking at them with confusion.

“Well come on then, aren’t y’all excited for your first Pokemon? Yeesh. You bunch aren’t very talkative. The group last month? Wouldn’t shut up.” The woman continued, seemingly ignoring the group behind her. Astrid lagged behind the group as she glanced about the room. Heavy footsteps echoed in her ears as she turned around. Ah. The last teen had arrived, almost late, but arrived nonetheless. Astrid analyzed the girl with a critical eye: She was wearing mostly black, the only bit of color she saw was the dark red belt at her hip, devoid of any Pokeballs so far. She followed the group silently, clearly hoping not to make a scene at her tardiness.

“You all should introduce yourselves to each other while I get the Pokemon ready.” The Prof moved to a side room without so much as a passing glance. All the teens were silent. Someone coughed.

“Uh, my name’s Astrid. I want to be a top Pokemon Coordinator.” She said, hoping to break the ice. The dark-clad girl next to her nodded and decided to go next.

“I’m Janine. I want to be a Pokemon Trainer.” She said simply, offering a handshake. Astrid took it and smiled slightly. The only male in the group spoke up.

“I’m Adrian, and I want to get into the Hall of Fame!” he said smiling brightly at the duo.

“Hi, my name is Andrea, and I want to travel with my Pokemon.” A pretty girl with long hair said softly.

“My name is Sheyla, and I want to become a Pokemon Professor.” The short girl announced in turn, finishing the introductions. The professor hadn’t come back yet.

“So… which Pokemon do you guys want to get?” Andrea asked. Astrid’s eyes lit up at the question.

“I want a Mudkip!” Adrien said first. Astrid nodded, thinking about it. A water/ground type would be a surprise for electric types, but one grass type move would absolutely destroy it with double effectiveness.

“I want a Chikorita!” Astrid said in response. Adrien looked at her as if thinking about a Chikorita’s stats. Before the other girls could respond, Professor Laurel came in holding a large tray of Pokeballs.

“Well, Astrid, you just might get your wish. You too Adrian! I managed to snag 6 traditional starter Pokemon, so you guys are super lucky!” The Prof said setting the tray down. She picked up all 6 balls and threw them into the air with vigor as different Pokemon all popped out in a burst of light. Sure enough, there was a Chikorita strutting amongst the other Pokemon, clearly trying to capture everyone’s attention.

Adrian had immediately rushed towards a Mudkip and was kneeling close to it, conversing quietly. Andrea was already nuzzling a Popplio who seemed to be slightly exasperated with her and a Snivy had actually approached Sheyla outright, looking up at her with an expectant expression. The Chikorita clearly seemed annoyed that no one was paying attention to her and had begun to pout slightly. Astrid beamed; this Pokemon’s personality was perfect for coordinator battles! She approached the Chikorita and knelt in front of it, allowing it to look up at her critically. The Chikorita seemed to accept her as its trainer as it nodded curtly before placing its tiny paw on her knee.

Astrid gathered the grass type into her arms and glanced back at Janine who seemed unsure in her choice.

“You having difficulty choosing?" She asked, startling the other girl out of her thoughts. She nodded sheepishly in response.

“I hadn’t put a lot of thought into this moment I’ll admit.” She conceded.

“Hm. I always knew I wanted a Chikorita, so I wouldn’t know how you feel, but I think that you should go with whatever Pokemon would compliment you.” She advised. Janine nodded and looked across all the Pokemon that were sitting around. Her eyes seemed to scan across all the Pokemon before her eyes settled on a fire type that was hopping around an annoyed Bulbasaur. She stopped for a moment, before a smile spread widely across her face.

“Torchic?” She called, and the Fire-type immediately rushed over to her, tripping a little, but overall reaching her quickly. Janine smiled.

“Would you like to be my first Pokemon?” She asked softly. The Torchic chirped happily in response and hopped onto her lap. Astrid giggled at the overenthusiastic Pokemon. Professor Laurel watched with a gleam in her eye.

“I assume you’ve all chosen the Pokemon you want?”

“Yes!” Astrid spoke up as her Chikorita nodded with a satisfied look on its face. Professor Laurel nodded and led them to a table off to the side.

“These are PokeDexes. Consider them to be sidequests on your journey. I want you all to work on filling them up with as many Pokemon as you can. It’ll be useful for my research.” She allowed the teens to pick up a Pokedex and handed them all five Pokeballs each. “For safety’s sake, I wanted to put you all into groups.” She analyzed them all critically. Janine felt herself shift under the woman’s piercing gaze. “ Hm. Yes, that’ll do fine. You three.” She pointed at Adrian, Sheyla and Andrea. “Annnnd you two.” She flipped her hair and gave a knowing smile to both girls.

“These groups are completely optional; there’s no obligation to stay in the same group. But recently trainers have been going missing at an alarming rate. For my own piece of mind, I was hoping you’d stay in these groups.” She finished.

“Ah! It seems I have to go check on an experiment!” The Prof. herded the teens out with a wave of her hand. “Be safe, and make sure to have fun!”

Janine and Astrid looked at each other and laughed at the woman’s antics, reluctantly nodding and stepping out of the lab.

“We should probably re-do introductions then! My name is Astrid, and I want to be the Top Coordinator in the Niacal Region!” She stated proudly. The Chikorita in her arms nodded, seemingly agreeing with her plan.

“My name is Janine and I want to become the strongest Pokemon Trainer in the Niacal Region!” Janine said with a sudden burst of confidence. Astrid smiled and offered her a handshake.

“So! Let’s get to it!”

“The first gym is in Mistdrive city. I think I want to go there to get my first gym badge.” Janine said, pulling out a town map. Astrid glanced at her Poketch.

“There’s a contest in Rocens City. We could kill two birds with one stone if we passed through there first.”

Both girls came to an agreement.

~*~*~*~*~

“I don’t understand why the first place we have to go through is a forest,” Astrid said, looking through her map frantically. The duo had been walking for what was maybe 15 minutes, but they seemed nowhere close to the end of the forest.

“We needed to get through here to get to Rocens City. From there we can decide where to go.” Janine said, looking at the map over the coordinator’s shoulder.

“Aagh we’ll be stuck here for years!” She groaned. Her Chikorita chirped in response.

“You’re more pessimistic than I thought you’d be.”

“Ugh, that’s cause I didn’t know the Gemlock Forest would be a literal maze!” She said, throwing a pinecone behind her.

“The other group probably passed through here, they left almost immediately,” Janine muttered while Astrid looked around the forest feeling on edge.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” The girl felt like a thousand eyes were piercing into her back. A buzzing sound drew her attention as she whipped around. “Beedrill. Of course. Because this day couldn’t get any worse.”

“Run!” Janine hissed at her. They both sped off in a single direction as they were followed by the irate bee Pokemon.

“We can’t keep running forever you know!” Astrid panted out while her Grass-type Pokemon seemed to be close to tears.

“I know, but what are we supposed to do?!” Janine asked, ducking low to avoid another branch. Astrid dug her sneakers into the ground and spun on her heel to face down the horde of Beedrill.

“Battle them!” Astrid yelled. Chikorita stood in front of her, clearly scared, but determined.

“Chikorita! Use Razor Leaf!” Astrid commanded. The Pokémon chirped and flipped the leaf on its head, summoning sharp leaves towards their attackers. The Beedrill crossed their stingers to protect their bodies, but they continued their assault immediately.

Astrid let out an “Eep!” And turned tail running.

“It’s no use! Chikorita’s moves aren’t effective on Bug-Types! We could probably battle one on one, but there’s too many for any strategy right now!”

Janine paused in thought and glanced at her Torchic.

“Torchic! Use Ember!” The bird hopped up and blew small wisps of Fire at the oncoming horde.

The Beedrill seemed to cower in response, slowing down substantially.

“Perfect! Torchic’s Ember is effective against Bug-type Pokemon!” Astrid shouted. “Let’s get out of here!”

“Great job, Torchic!” Janine yelled. The Torchic chirped happily and hopped up to its trainer. Finally, both girls managed to outrun the angry Beedrill, stopping to rest near a picturesque stream.

“What even set them off anyway?” Janine asked. Astrid huffed and thought back to her actions before.

“Oh my Arceus. I- I think it’s because of the pinecone I threw earlier. It must’ve aggravated them in some way.” Janine gave it some thought before shaking her head.  

“That was so small! There’s no way that got so many Beedrill upset at once.”

“Unless I hit one on the head.” Astrid retorted. Janine reluctantly agreed.

“Now then, we need to get out of this forest,” Janine muttered.

“We could try following the stream! I read once that people settle near water.”

“We could try.” Janine looked both ways of the stream before deciding to go downstream. Astrid followed silently.

“So. What made you decide you wanted to be a trainer?” Astrid asked.

“Hm, I think I wanted the adventure of meeting different kinds of Pokemon and people. I spend a lot of time at home, so this is a new experience. What about you?”

“My mom’s originally from Johto, and so was my dad. I always found Contests super interesting, so I would always practice with my mom’s Lillipup. Though Honey wasn’t very interested in Contests…” Astrid said sheepishly.

“Sounds like Contests are your passion,” Janine noted.

“Yeah. They are. No one in my district was really into Contests though. When I heard I could go on this adventure, I took the first chance I got! So. Why do you want to travel and meet Pokemon?”

“Well my parents were trainers themselves, so there’s a lot of Pokemon at our house, and they seem to keep taking in any they can find! I sort of wanna do the same things they did.” Janine said, thinking back, “My little brother wants to go on a journey too, one day. I think he wanted a Charmander.”

“Solid choice,” Astrid commented. “I don’t have siblings but-”

“Wait.” Janine held up her hand. “Do you hear that?” Astrid went silent for a minute.

“I can’t hear much over the stream- Oh wait I hear it now! It’s sorta… rumbly? Is that a word?”

“We’re in the middle of the forest; So why does it sound like a construction site?”

“Maybe some Timburrs got antsy and decided to build something.”

“We should check it out.”

“Should we really? I don’t think we should get involved- Janine!” Astrid ran to catch up to her friend who was already running towards the sounds. She caught up to the girl when she knelt behind some bushes. “Don’t run off like that!”

Janine grabbed the girl’s arm and motioned for her to be quiet. Astrid gave her a confused look before Janine told her to look through the bushes. It seemed that there was a giant drill boring into the side of a hill.

“That’s got to break like, 4 conservation laws on its own,” Astrid whispered.

“Whatever they’re doing, it’s definitely illegal. Wait. This must be what pissed off those Beedrill earlier! They’re not supposed to be here! They’re invading the Beedrill’s natural habitat.” Janine whispered back. “We need to stop them.”

“What can we do? We barely started our Pokemon journey!”

“Well, we can’t do nothing!” Janine hissed. Astrid considered for a moment. Her Chikorita seemed ready to battle, and Janine’s determination was becoming infectious.

“We need to investigate more.” Astrid decided on. Both Pokemon and Janine gave her an incredulous look. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Wait, what?” Janine paused “I meant we get an Officer Jenny here, what were you thinking?”

“If they’re not doing anything wrong, then they’ll have no problem telling a passing trainer what’s going on.”

“Are you sure about this? There’s a difference between getting the authorities and jumping headfirst into danger.” Janine warned.

“I mean, sure! Why not?” She let out a shaky breath. “This can’t be any different from acting in a play.” The coordinator stood up abruptly and stormed right through the bushes with Chikorita running to match up with Astrid’s pace.

“Excuse me-“ Astrid began, but her eyes widened and she immediately ducked down to a nearby rock, pulling the Chikorita out of anyone’s line of sight. She peeked over the edge to make sure that she wasn’t jumping to any conclusions. Sure enough, there were two trainers who looked vaguely alike that were tied at the wrists and gagged.

“Okay, now this is definitely illegal!” Astrid muttered. She turned to Chikorita. “Chikorita, do you think you could cut those ropes with a razor leaf?” The Chikorita nodded and took careful aim. In one swipe, the ropes had snapped off and the two trainers were free. Both of them looked shocked and confused until Astrid managed to sneak over to them.

“Are you guys okay?”

“No! They took our Pokemon!” One of them said.

“Who did?”

“Team SubZero!” The other answered, wringing her wrists painfully. Astrid took the opportunity to look at the duo. They looked vaguely alike, but they had major differences. One had clearly dyed blonde hair and was skinny. The other’s hair was curlier, and she was wearing a dark blue vest.

“Team SubZero? Like the temperature?”

“No time to explain. We need to get our Pokemon back and stop them from drilling into that mountain.” The blonde said, rushing towards the drill. Astrid looked to the bushes where she knew Janine was crouching with Torchic. She gestured for them to come over, and the trainer discreetly ran to them.

“What’s going on?” Janine asked. “I thought you were going to talk to them.”

“I didn’t need to. This girl was tied up here. Now I am 100% sure that something illegal is going on.”

“Are you okay?” Janine asked the teen. She nodded.

“Kayla.” The blonde from earlier had returned and tossed a Pokeball in her direction. Kayla caught it and immediately released the Rowlet inside. Janine noted that the newcomer had a Charmander nuzzling happily onto their leg.

“We should get out of here,” Astrid said sternly.

“Leave? We can’t-“ Kayla began

“We’ll come back later. We should talk about what’s going on first.” Astrid hissed. Janine considered her for a moment before reluctantly agreeing.

“She’s right.” Janine gave off a sense of finality, leaving the duo with no room to argue. They all snuck off the drill site and back to the safety and coverage of the forest.

~*~*~*~*~

“Now let’s start. My name is Janine, and this is Astrid. We started our Pokemon journey like what? Two? Three?”

“Months ago?” Kayla asked.

“Hours. Around three hours ago.” Astrid intoned, hugging her Chikorita close. “Could you guys please explain what’s going on?”

“Uh okay, my name is Kayla, and this is my twin sister Kaytlyn. We started our adventure around last week. We had decided to come to the Rocens city Forest to train when we heard that rumbling sound from the drill.” Kayla began “I explained this before: We asked what was going on and they used a Hypnos on us. When we woke up we were tied up and our Pokemon were gone. Around an hour later, you came around and rescued us.”

“We had it under control,” Kaytlyn muttered. Astrid scoffed.

“What were you gonna do? Chew through the ropes?”

“...Maybe.”

“As ridiculous as that sounds, it wouldn’t have worked. How did you get your Pokemon back anyway?” Astrid asked

“I dropped a rock on the guy who was supposed to be watching us. He was slacking off.” Kaytlyn smirked.

“Oh my Arceus! Kaytlyn!” Kayla whacked her sister on the arm.

“What?!”

“Is he even alive?!” Kayla hissed

“I mean he wasn’t bleeding…” Kaytlyn muttered. Kayla rolled her eyes at her twin and turned to the duo in front of them.

“How did you guys get caught up in this?” Kayla asked, prompting Astrid to launch into a long-winded tale that boiled down to: because we were too curious for our own good.

“Well, I overheard them talking. I think there’s a weak point in the drill. If we damage the engine enough, we may be able to stop them.” Kaytlyn said. Her Charmander was still nuzzling her leg. She gently nudged it away with her foot.

“That could work. We need to have a coordinated attack though.” Kayla said.

“Coordinated you say?” Astrid interrupted with a shining look in her eye.

“W-What?” Kayla stuttered, put off by the teen’s excitement.

“Oh. Astrid’s Dream is to be the Top Coordinator in Niacal. I assume she has a plan.” Janine said expectantly.

“Mhm! I have somewhat of an idea of what to do.”

~*~*~*~*~

‘So the goal of the plan is to damage the engine as much as possible with your fire type Pokemon.’

Janine and Kaytlyn stealthily snuck behind the drill, carefully hiding just out of sight from any prying eyes.

‘Kayla and I will serve as distractions. We’ll act like I was caught helping Kayla escape’

‘Why do I have to be bait?!’

‘Shush. We’re gonna make it look like I had released Kaytlyn and that I was in the middle of untying Kayla.’

“One of those pesky trainers escaped!” Janine waited until their voices and footsteps had faded away before climbing up and spotting the parka-clad SubZero grunt who was operating the machine.

“Geez, do they ever get warm?” Kaytlyn muttered behind her. Janine silently agreed with her before pulling out a pouch of silver powder and tossing it to Kaytlyn.

‘You guys could knock out the driver with Chikorita’s poison powder.’

‘Won’t that kill him?’

‘Only if ingested orally. Other than that, he’ll just lose all feeling from the neck below’

Kaytlyn quickly climbed up the side of the drill, stopping just underneath the window to the driver’s seat.

Kaytlyn carefully blew the powder at the man above her, watching him slump down onto the dashboard, unable to speak. She smirked at his fallen body and repressed the urge to draw all over his face. Kaytlyn gave Janine a thumbs up before climbing into the vehicle herself. She made sure the keep it running, to prevent any suspicion.

‘We only have one shot at this so make sure it’s a direct hit. You’ll need to get in and open up the control panel for the engine.’

Janine carefully ran her hands along the side of the drill before she felt the slightly raised surface of the panel.

“Ha! Gottem!” Janine smiled triumphantly, using a stick as a crowbar as she popped the cover off the panel.

“Oh wow.” She muttered. She had a clear view to the engine. “This is so not secure.” She turned to the Charmander and Torchic next to her who were both excited to help.

“Alright. Torchic use your strongest Ember straight through that hole. Charmander, I think Kaytlyn said you knew Ember too?” The Charmander let out a soft wheezing sound before nodding. “Alright let’s do that.”

Both Pokemon took in big inhales of air before letting them out at the engine. From the driver’s seat, Kaytlyn could already feel the dashboard getting warmer. The teen waited until she felt the drill shudder to a stop and then begin to shake. She pushed the grunt out and hopped down herself. Janine pulled away from their fire types to help Kaytlyn drag the body away into the brush.

“Hey! You guys done yet?” Astrid yelled, running up to them with Kayla lagging behind in a slow jog.

“What happened? I thought you guys were gonna be distractions.” Kaytlyn asked. Astrid sighed.

“It didn’t work out. They caught up way too quickly, so we just battled them. Luckily they had mostly Normal-Types. Is the engine done?”

“Almost. It’ll pop any second now.” Janine said, glancing through to the engine. “Oh yeah, it’s definitely gonna pop soon-the engines melting!”

“If that’s the case we better get out of here,” Astrid said, grabbing Kayla’s wrist and dragging the already panting girl to the safety of the forest. Janine and Kaytlyn quickly followed.

The boom of the explosion still rang in Janine’s ears as she watched the drill go up in smoke. Astrid laughed gleefully and pulled the other three into a close hug.

“I knew something was up when the Beedrill got mad.” Janine pointed out.

“Yes, yes. You were right.” Astrid conceded. Their joy was cut short when a piercing screech echoed from the clearing with the drill.

“Who did this?!” The group turned to see a 20 Something-year-old woman wearing earmuffs and yet another white parka, as she raged at the destroyed machine. “This drill was supposed to be indestructible! How did you fools destroy it?!” The grunts cowered away from her perfectly manicured nails. Janine snorted. The drill was clearly not indestructible. She turned to the trio next to her who were watching apprehensively.

“You guys don’t have to join me.” She muttered.

“Wait what? Janine-“ the teen stood in the clearing, Torchic proudly standing tall at her calf.

“I broke your stupid machine!” Janine yelled, calling the attention of the woman and the surrounding grunts.

“You brat! That was private property! I’ll have you thrown in jail for this. Janine swallowed nervously.

“Well, this forest is protected property of Niacal! You can’t drill here!” Astrid ran in with Chikorita in her arms. She placed a hand at Janine’s shoulder in reassurance.

“Ah. Two Brats.”

“Four.” The twins stepped up, both of their Pokemon raring to go. Dozens of grunts surrounded them, boxing them in and preventing escape.

“I got rid of you the first time, I’ll do it again.” The woman called out a Glalie that stared down at them icily.

Astrid leaned to Janine, whispering. “Glalie is an Ice-type. Our best bet would be your Torchic and Kaytlyn’s Charmander.” The trainer nodded and signalled for her Torchic to get ready.

“You don’t have to fight them, Ciela.” A male voice called from behind a wall of grunts. A man in his late teens stepped between the identically dressed grunts. He wore a white lab coat and had an easygoing air about him. His dull brown hair was slicked back “Our preliminary research was a fluke. There’s nothing in this forest. Below ground or otherwise.”

“So these past two days were a waste of time?!” Ciela shrieked again in her shrill pitch. “I’m not explaining this to the boss, Lucian!”

“Fair enough. But we’re wasting our time here.” Lucian stopped, suddenly serious. “Let’s not cause any more trouble.” Ciela seemed to disagree but reluctantly recalled her Glalie. She gave the trainers a piercing glare over her shoulder as the grunts followed the scientist guy.

When all of Team SubZero had left, Astrid collapsed onto her knees in relief.

“That was so nerve-wracking! If every day as a trainer is going to be like this I don’t think I’ll survive a week!” She said. Kayla let out an involuntary wheeze as she chuckled at the girl’s antics.

“We should probably report this to the Officer Jenny at Rocens though,” Kaytlyn said, sitting down next to the dark haired teen.

“Oh yeah. We still need to get out of this forest.” Janine said, causing her partner to groan in annoyance.

“Wait, what?” Kayla was extremely confused

“Oh yeah, the whole reason we were in this mess in the first place was because we couldn’t get through this forest,” Janine explained.

“Hey, wait a minute, we’ve already been to Rocens city! We could help lead you out of the forest,” Kaytlyn said.

“I am suddenly super happy that we ran into both of you.” Astrid smiled, throwing an arm over Kayla’s shoulder. The coordinator began to talk the others’ ear off about contests. Her twin was listening in, giving her opinion from time to time.

Janine let out a tired sigh and the four headed to Rocens city as the sky began to stain orange.