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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 2 years

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Nights at the Circus: Part XXVIII

Conspiracies hidden within the walls of S.H.I.E.L.D. can wait. Knowing the truth about your past has only lit the spark of anger under your feet, and you decide that now is the time to take Loki and go confront your family once and for all so that you can finally let go of grudges and rise from the ashes.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Content Warning: mentions of family trauma, fluff/comfort Word Count: 3k

You were nearly silent the entire way home on the train. The four of you sat facing one another, Loki’s seidr rendering you imperceptible as you plotted a way to get back into the Tower without notice.

“It will be much easier, we could even slip past them during the day if we went undercover like we are now, Loki,” said Wanda.

“Well, seeing as the train will arrive in New York about four in the afternoon, we may not have a choice, Pietro said.

Loki remained quiet as well, occasionally running his hand up and down your arm, as if it kept you anchored in reality when you seemed to drift off (not that it did much good).

How is it that we have such similar personal lives, yet we are opposites in nature? he thought to himself, looking as you continued to glare blanking with your forehead pressed against the window. It truthfully was a foreign feeling to the god. On Asgard, he’d been certain that no one else had a father (who was King) who kept their true parentage a secret for fear it would cause him to become a monster. Forced to repress everything, his skin, his eyes, his blood, all of it was off-limits, even after he learned the truth. Every night, Loki thought at least once: Where do I go from here? Accept my freakishness, and that I bring nothing but shame to my kin?

Yet here you were, another measure in the same sad song, attempting to see things differently. You were planning to bring your parents into your level, to give them a chance to explain themselves. Loki had never done so. He’d let the trauma drive his footsteps, because he could see that there was no other way. Had he possessed your own soul, perhaps he’d be in a different world today.

But of what worth would that be, if it meant you weren’t a part of it?

It will be a strange way to meet the family, Loki mused. Guess who’s coming to dinner?

“Is she doing better?” asked Wanda.

Loki snapped to attention. “I’m not sure. I can understand her anxieties.”

“We are all familiar with the feelings of our lives being kept from us,” Wanda responded. “It makes me wonder where we would all be now if our powers were never real, and we were all just normal people sitting on a train.”

Leaning back, Loki thought for a moment. “I cannot say. I’ve never known anything but Asgardian palaces, prison tanks, and chaos. I know of no other way.”

Wanda tilted her head as Pietro spoke up. “But if you could imagine?”

Loki shook his head. “I think I may be incapable.”

Wanda tsked. “That is very sad to hear.”

Pietro sighed. “I would have a lot of dogs. And live away from the city.”

Wanda laughed lightly. “Yes, that sounds like you. I would want to live in a house like The Brady Bunch and have as many children as they had.”

Thinking to himself and looking over to your nearly-unconscious body slumped against the side of the train, he bit his lip. I could take you to every star in the universe. Twice. You could set fire to the skies, and I would be there to temper your heat after you finished your work.

A lifetime of sitting in the driver’s seat of a smallish craft with you in the navigator’s chair beside him, laughing. teasing, and holding one another as you hopped from world to world (and being received on every one as honored guests and not wanted felons), was Loki’s happy ending. That was Vahalla.

“I suppose I’d like to see more of the Universe,” he said softly.

Wanda nodded. “Alone?” she asked, indicating you.

“I’d never leave her side,” he replied. “It would be an infinitely smaller place without her.”

“Excuse me” Pietro interjected, “I do not mean to break up this love-party, but perhaps we should talk about Mr. Sitwell?”

Loki shook his head. “I can try to help in any way I can, but you know more about these people than I, and Y/N needs me now.”

“You think we can stop him when S.H.I.E.L.D. does not even trust us to walk around without drugs or monitors?” Wanda retorted.

“I think this explains much,” interrupted Loki. “Why would they want to really suppress us, if not to maintain control while they reclaim what’s mine--ours?”

Wanda nodded. “It does make sense.”

Loki sadly looked over at you again, and noticed that you’d fully passed out by this point. He ran a gentle finger from your temple down in front of your ear and over your cheek, casting a mild spell to plant the perfect dream in your mind to give you a little relief from the hells of your waking life.

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As Wanda had hypothesized, getting back into Avenger Tower was easier than getting out. You briefly saw the lightning damage to the building that Thor had bestowed while covering your escape, but no one noticed you each retreating to your rooms a little after 5 in the afternoon.

Before you lost your nerve entirely, you picked up the phone in your living room and dialed your old house number. Your oldest brother was the one who picked it up.

“Yo?”

You took a deep breath. “Tom?”

It was silence on the other end for a moment. “Holy shit, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you said warily.

“It’s…ah…it’s really good to hear your voice, especially after we got the news.”

“News?”

“That you joined the Avengers,” he replied. “Last time you called, Jessie was still pregnant.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a bit busy. But does that mean my niece is here?”

It sounded like Tom sighed from the other end before dropping his voice. “Yeah, her name’s Fiamatta, after her Italian grandma. And before you ask, we don't know if she’s, you know…like you.”

You cringed. Tom made it sound like you had herpes, not pyrokinesis. “About that,” you added, “Is Dad around?”

“Yeah sure, we’re all here for the big game, I’ll get him,” Tom said, putting the phone down for a moment that felt like an eternity.

“Hello?” asked a much deeper voice, one that made your spine freeze.

“Dad,” you said, trying like hell (and not very successfully) to sound collected.

“Oh, it’s you,” he replied, as if you were some nobody.

“Oh, it’s me, your only daughter is all,” you grunted. “Are you embarrassed that I got busted by Nick Fury and I’m working for the feds?”

“No, only that you didn’t learn a thing from me about keeping a low profile.”

“You are coming to the Tower tomorrow night,” you demanded. “For dinner at eight o’clock. I’ll tell the front desk to expect you.”

“Now, wait a minute, you expect me to--”

“--I know about Svetlana,” you interrupted. “About where she came from. I know it all. About Hydra. About her powers. And you’re going to tell me why you hate us both so much to my face tomorrow night, because you wouldn’t face her.”

The phone went silent again. For a moment, you thought he’d hung up on you.

“Fine.” Followed by a click and a dial tone.

You let every cell of yourself come undone as you carefully hung up the phone. You crumpled to the floor behind the sofa, so consumed in emotions that you didn’t hear Loki let himself in. “I had a feeling you’d need me after extending the invitation to your father,” he said. “And are you burning?”

You shot up upon hearing Loki’s voice, and extended your hand, where your arm was beginning to smoke again. You screamed, and it took Loki bounding across the room to get you to stop crying.

“See? This is what I was talking about,” you cried, showing your boyfriend your rapidly-dissolving arm. “I think the stress is literally killing me.”

Loki smiled, which was for once, something you didn;t expect of him. “Is this really what you were referring to, love?”

You shook your arm, as if the obvious peril of the situation wasn’t getting through to him. “Um, hello?”

Loki chuckled. “My dear, even I can sense that it is simply your natural defense maneuver.”

You caught your breath as your sobs tempered. “My what?”

“It’s almost a law of the nature of magic, that every being of power has defensive talents to balance out their destructive potential, whether or not they ever become aware of their existence. My illusions, for example. They can’t harm a person, but they certainly help me hide, don't they?”

You nodded, falling into his arms. He lowered you both onto the sofa, you still looking at your arm.

“But this is new to me,” you explained. “How can this be natural?”

“Your flames are natural to you, yet you didn’t have them at birth, correct?”

You nodded. “So, how do I control it?”

“That, I cannot tell you. You need to learn it for yourself,” he answered sadly.

Your arm completely disappeared into a grat smoke, but it didn’t stray far from where it had been before. “Strange thing it…it still feels like my arm,” you described. “Like, still solid?”

“Tell me, what else do you feel when this happens?” Loki asked gently. “Perhaps there is a clue in how it behaves. Try moving it.”

You sighed and did so, as if your arm was still solid and attached to the rest of your body. The smoke, indeed, moved as you commanded. “It feels like if I wanted it to, I could…”

The smoke finally let go of your feelings of attachment, and it wafted towards the ceiling, creating a hurricane spiral around the light on the ceiling. Loki watched with fascination.

“Oh, crap,” you muttered. “I don't want it to go too far. That’s my writing arm!”

As if you commanded it, the smoke spiraled back down to its former position, re-attaching itself before solidifying into the limb you knew and loved.

“Oh yes,” Loki remarked, “certainly a defensive talent. You will need to practice more than ever. This could make it easier for you to sneak around unnoticed. Perhaps…perhaps we could use it to discover more about this spy within our midst.”

You shook your head. “No, no, the last thing I need right now is more pressure to be useful.”

“Indeed, and I worry,” Loki confessed. “I can leave you to your supper tomorrow night, but I can also remain nearby if you think you may need me.”

You shook your head. “I want you.”

Loki chuckled at the comment in spite of himself. “I know that dearest, but a tumble in my bed will have to wait. What about your plans for tomorrow?”

You smiled at the joke, and it felt amazing to laugh again after all you’d seen and discovered over the past forty-eight hours. You took Loki’s hand, looking him in the eye. “I need you there. Please.”

Loki nodded. “What should I wear? I imagine my war horns wouldn’t make the best impression on a tax executive who hid away the greatest treasure on Midgard, would it?”

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Loki had to place another sleeping spell on you in order for you to be rested the following day, where you regrettably did nothing but zoom around, nearly as quickly as Pietro, after drinking what may have been a gallon of coffee to keep you alert. You had the help of Natasha and Bruce in preparing a simple but hearty meal of a lamb stew you knew your father loved as you were growing up. Thankfully, Thor didn’t skimp when you asked him to procure alcohol.

The day was soaking wet and rainy, as if to echo your dour mood. After arranging the table and ensuring the timely completion of the evening meal, you retreated into the library, curling up on a chair by a window, and you found yourself spending most of the afternoon staring at the rain to calm your fiery temper, preventing it from spilling over before your father was even due to arrive.

Several of the others stopped by to confirm that you were feeling ready to go through with this, and all offered to be a backup in case something went wrong.

“It sounds awful, what he did to you,” Steve said. “He isn’t the kind to get violent, is he?”

“Sounds like a man who doesn’t know shit,” Tony had quipped. “You’re better off cutting the strings, Sparky.”

“Please come by my room later so I can know how you’re doing, okay?” asked Nat.

You’d gotten dressed in your favorite indigo dress (the same one you’d gone to the theater with Loki wearing), and done your hair conservatively in an attempt to quell any fears your father already had against you.

Finally, the one you were hoping would come by before zero hour came by to sit with you, holding your hand the entire afternoon.

“Water again?” he asked.

You nodded. “I will never not be drawn to running water,” you affirmed. “I hope I die on a boat.”

Loki chuckled. “I hope you don’t die at all.”

Darling, how is it that even now you can make me smile? you thought.

“What is it that you hope to get out of tonight’s confrontation?” asked Loki.

You thought a moment. “Peace of mind,” you replied. “I always thought the family I was raised with was where my home was. Then I thought my circus family was where I belonged. I feel like, after tonight, there really won’t be anywhere I belong at all…but at least I will have closure.”

Loki nodded. “And so you shall,” he vowed, kissing the back of your hand. “But what if you cannot come to terms?”

Shrugging, you looked at your feet uncomfortably. “I suppose that will be that, and he and I will go our separate ways permanently.”

“Whatever will be best,” Loki agreed.

Looking up at your lover again, you saw the concern in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this? I am grateful you will be there, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you to--”

“--on the contrary,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “My curiosity draws me to the man who helped give you life, then chose to keep it from you at the first test.”

“No, he’s really not a horned villain like you think he is.”

“He’s worse,” Loki replied. “But he also started you down the path that led you to me.”

“That’s true,” you said quietly as you leaned your head onto his broad, solid shoulder. “I only hope that I don’t discover later that I’m just like him.”

“You aren’t, and even without knowing him, I know this,” insisted Loki. “I know this because here you are, waiting for the moment you finally bring those walls down for good. That was something…something even I wasn’t capable of.”

You swallowed, absorbing his words. “Please don’t see that as a weakness. You did what your mind told you to do in the moment, whether for better or worse. I only wish YOUR father and the UN understood it.”

“Excuse me, Y/N? Loki?” Steve was in the doorway, timidly addressing you. “He’s here.”

Loki cordially helped you to your feet, and you went towards the door. “Thank you, Steve,” you said, smiling as well as you could. You took Loki’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and began to walk past Steve and toward the conference room where the meal was set up.

“Oh, Firebird?” Steve called from behind you.

You turned on your heels. “Yes?”

Steve gave you the sweetest, most sincere smile you’d seen on his face. “I’m rooting for you.”

You wanted to begin crying again, but puffy red eyes wouldn’t do. “T…thank you,” you said, your lip trembling slightly as the emotions were already starting to flood your brain.

“That is very kind of you, Rogers,” Loki said in a low voice.

Steve nodded. “Well, we are a family here.”

You felt a burst of warmth in your heart at the words. We are a family here. It gave you courage.

After you walked away with Loki, he leaned over and whispered in your ear. “See, my pet? You do belong somewhere.”

The walk still felt a bit like a death march that lasted months. You even felt a little tired when you reached the door. You put your fingers on the handle, then turned back to Loki again.

“This is your last chance to bug out, I won’t fault you!” you warned one last time.

Loki placed his hand on top of yours on the door knob. “I would never dream of it.”

Opening the door, you saw him sitting at the head of the conference table, his natural place, leaning back in the chair, his arms casually crossed in front of his chest, as if the event bringing him here was completely casual. He didn’t bother getting up when you entered the room. The table itself was set for three, and Nat had done a decent job making the place feel formal without looking like a magazine setup.

He did, however, look you up and down with disapproval in his gaze. “You brought a boyfriend? Is he a wizard too?”

You sighed woefully. What a wonderful start! You dug around in the deepest sections of your mind for a reasonable response, and all you could muster was:

“Hey Dad, you’re looking…um…yes.”

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@el-zef @lokisgoodgirl @xorpsbane @fictive-sl0th @toozmanykids @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @michelleleewise @goblingirlsarah @moonlightreader649 @huntress-artemis

#loki #mcu #mcu loki #fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #mcu fanfiction #loki x reader #loki/reader #reader insert #reader is an avenger #reader has powers #pyrokinses #MCU avenger #avengers #family trauma #loki fluff #fluff/comfort fic

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

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to date a single father (1/2)

Pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie) x (f) reader

Warnings: mentions of trauma, drugs, and violence. a little angst? mostly fluff

Wordcount: 2.8k (I haven’t even gotten to the scene that inspired this thought process, guys...)

Part 2/2!

Summary: Frankie has a little girl in kindergarten and you’re the prettiest school teacher he’s ever seen. Being a single dad makes navigating relationships hard, that’s all.

Notes: I don’t really want kids but his baby is a part of his character so I thought it would be interesting to explore. I didn’t know how to put this in the warnings but obviously this topic can be a loaded one for some people, please be kind to yourself.

You first met Frankie outside the elementary school where you worked. You taught older kids, and they got let out a few minutes earlier to get their little siblings and to spread out traffic.

Most parents were in their minivan’s, on their phones, honking, or chatting through open windows. The sun was shining, sinking into your skin, and the kids were trickling out of the school.

He caught your eye, because he was standing nearby, hovering nervously, looking a touch lost. And maybe in small part because his hair was curling out from under his hat in soft tufts and his eyes were warm and bright.

“Can I help you, sir?” You asked cautiously, eyes still dutifully scanning the pick up area, making sure the students were safe.

He looked startled, then sheepish.

“My daughter’s in kindergarten,” he said, taking off his baseball cap to rake his hair to the side before replacing it. “It’s her first day.”

Ah. That explains his mother hen mannerisms.

“She'll be out in just a moment,” you said smiling at him. You explained the staggered release and noted how the crease between his brows smoothed a little bit.

You got to see parents with their kids often, and you were no stranger to the occasional handsome dad, but when his little girl came running towards him, nothing could have prepared you. His face lit up and she jumped straight into his arms yelling happily. As he spun her around for some wild reason your heart threatened to hammer right out of your chest.

He put her down and she chattered about her first day. As they walked away, he waved at you, and you smiled weakly before tearing your eyes away.

The kindergarten teacher appeared at your side. Her arm casually shot out, causing a running kid to almost crash into it, but effectively stopping him from sprinting somewhere more dangerous. She gave him a look before turning to grin at you.

“What?” you asked, trying to play off your odd behavior the best you could. You definitely weren’t staring at the most handsome dad you’d ever seen being adorable with his daughter. And by no means had you been neglecting your supervising duties to do so. She raised an eyebrow and against your will, your face was flushed.

“I’ve never seen you like this!” she said gleefully, laughing at you.

“There’s nothing to see!” you flapped your hand at her, knowing you were lying through your teeth.

“Isn’t there?” she knew you a little better than would be best in this circumstance. “Hon, I’ve worked with you five years and I haven’t seen a single person - real or from your stories – make you so flustered.”

You shook your head and started to walk back towards the school, calling behind you, “I wasn’t!”

“Would it help to know he’s single?” she chirped after you.

And you hated yourself because you stopped dead, heart pounding, before you walked away just about as quickly as you could.

That night, Frankie hated himself a little bit too, because he couldn’t get the pretty school teacher out of his head.

Over the first few weeks of the fall semester, this because normal for the two of you. Frankie kept coming early, and so when your let your class out, you would go stand and talk to him, both falling in love a little bit, and you would then get teased mercilessly by the other teachers. He would go home and day dream about seeing you outside of school, holding your hand, meeting your eyes and not having to look away.

He told the boys about you and accepted their bad advice and excited teasing with stride. You also gave up trying to deny it from your closest friends and they had the best time playing matchmaker for you, even if it was horribly embarrassing.

Every couple of days, your friend would keep his daughter inside extra long to help clean up or something, so you’d have more time to talk. On top of that, the older teachers made of habit of floating by and announcing how pretty you looked or how talented you were, and mentioning you were single with broad winks.

“Our sweet girl is just such a good teacher!” one man said. “I’d love it if she would marry my son one day. If she runs a household like her classroom, I could die happy!”

You felt like you could melt into the concrete. Frankie was grinning, his eyes alight with laughter as they met yours. He tried to ignore the feelings bubbling inside of him at the thought.

The next day, an older woman was apparently feeling protective over you, approaching Frankie and him a hard stare down. He fidgeted, shooting you a panicked look before she began asking him questions rapid fire.

When she was satisfied and moved on you finally turned to him saying, “I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Morales,” and he shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” he turned away from you, eyes searching for his daughter, and you almost didn’t hear him add, “It’s worth it.”

Silently you agreed, but before you could say anything, you saw his little one incoming. Instead of her dotting father, she hugged your legs, catching you entirely off guard. Frankie made a choking sound, his heart having leapt into his throat at the sight of you with his kid. The sky was cloudy that day – but he was feeling warm inside.

You talked to her for a bit before she moved on to him and they walked off waving, leaving you standing there in confusion.

Her teacher, on cue, slid up to your side.

“She’s been talking about you in class recently.”

“What? Why?” you were panicking. Never in your life did you picture yourself hoping a tiny little girl liked you, but here you were.

Her smile was soft as she said, “She thinks you’re nice and likes very much that her daddy has a girlfriend that is pretty because she thinks that means she’s going to become a princess.”

This was overwhelming. “I’m not his girlfriend!” you wailed, “I don’t even know what I’m doing!”

She hugged you tight, and whispered that you would figure it out. She promised you were doing just fine, and despite your anxiety, you half believed her.

Weeks later, you still weren’t his girlfriend, but you and him were just about the only people who didn’t think so. You let out class as early as you could most days, and he was always there to greet you as soon as you stepped outside. Sometimes he would have an “extra" drink for you from a nearby coffee shop, and he always got your order right. (He did remember his daughter’s teacher's, and well as hot chocolate for the little matchmaker.) Once, it was raining and the two of your shared an umbrella.

Now, your school was getting a new vice principal, and there was a social evening planned for parents and students to come and meet him. You were jittery with nerves, the thought of seeing Frankie in a new setting putting you on edge. You’d even put on a prettier than average outfit as if it were a date, and your coworkers were beyond excited.

Streamers were hung, pitchers were filled with lemonade, and you settled in a seat along the edge, hoping beyond hope that Frankie would find you and everyone else would leave you alone.

You had no such luck. After the new vice principal had been introduced to the staff, he made his rounds, greeting everyone personally before stopping on you. You made polite small talk, but he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in moving on, settling next to you.

He began leaning close, mentioning how many good things he’d heard about you and you realized he was flirting with you. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach. He wasn’t a bad guy, and maybe a few months ago you wouldn’t have minded so much, but now you just felt weird and uncomfortable. Politeness and politics were part of the job, but you scooted your chair away from his, unable to stop yourself.

When Frankie walked in with the other parents and students, his daughter pointed excitedly at you, tugging his hand. His eyes found you, but jealousy reared inside of him, along with a touch of hurt. There was a new man by your side, and he wasn’t being shy about his interest in you. Frankie didn’t know what do so he pulled his little one in the opposite direction, saying, “Snacks first, yeah?” knowing it would buy him some time.

He watched you out of the corner of his eye, thankful when other teachers seemed to approach the two of you to pull the man’s attention away. There was another roar of jealousy, though, as the man tapped the microphone and introduced himself. Looking at him on the small stage, in a suit and tie, Frankie felt scruffy.

He couldn’t be bothered to listen to him, his mind running. Would you prefer a guy like this? Successful and suave? Baggage free?

He followed his daughter, her attention short, as she ran to play with her friends. He hovered close to keep an eye on them, unable to shake the habit. Some other parents were talking to him, and he tried his best to be polite but he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the man, who was making his way back towards you.

It didn’t take long, however, for Frankie to see how uncomfortable you were, and a small, warm feeling bloomed in his chest in place of the jealousy. He kept the little one in his line of sight as he moved carefully through the crowds and behind the man. He caught your eye, and the warm feeling grew when your eyes widened and you visibly relaxed. Spurred on, he made a little symbol with his fingers over his chest - something Santi often did jokingly. It was an “S" shape, similar to the one Superman wore.

Do you need saving? he mouthed and you grinned, nodding slighting, so as not to betray him to your captor.

He didn’t need to hear more, butting into the conversation politely, but with determination. When the vice principal protested, Frankie confidently wrapped an arm around your shoulders and leveled his eyes at the other man. For all he was a sweetheart in a baseball cap, Francisco Morales could still gaze with the same intensity he had in the military.

The rest of your rescue went smoothly. He guided you back towards where the younger students were playing, and you were still grinning at him.

“Thanks you, Mr. Morales,” your heart was happy, you felt like you were flying. “You really are m- a hero.”

In that moment, Frankie knew he was a goner. To be your hero, and his daughter’s? That was maybe all he ever wanted.

“How can I repay you?” you asked, earnestly, the request and it’s potential making him weak in the knees.

He squeezed you gently.

“How about you call me Frankie?” he said, before taking a shaky breath. “And maybe consider going out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

You froze, your heart beat filling your whole body. He went to pull his arm away, but your hand caught his on your shoulder, keeping it around you.

“I’d love to, Frankie,” you managed.

Frankie found himself in a similar state of speechlessness, happiness flowing off of him, unable to make his mouth stop smiling. He settled for squeezing you again, both of you glowing and too overwhelmed to notice the high fives and quiet cheers from the staff around you.

The next 24 hours, Frankie was a bundle of nerves and excitement. He had spent weeks adoring you, seeing how wonderful you were, sharing as much of himself as he could. Now that he finally had the opportunity to take you on a date, he was terrified of blowing it. Calling Santi was almost a waste of time, the other man was too excited and gave him advice that required flirting skills he knew he didn’t have. He wanted to put his best foot forward, after all. He even left his hat home, cursing himself because the little pink brush he tried to use only made his curls fluffier.

But when he picked you up, time slowed down.

The two of you climbing into his truck, making small talk before you said, “I’m sorry you had to get a sitter for tonight, by the way.”

And he was forced to pause, looking at you. Beautiful, in the passenger seat, somehow thinking of him and his life. His mind was running as fast as his heart, and he didn’t have the slightest clue what to do.

“Frankie? Is everything okay?” his eyes met yours, and they were so earnest you knew to wait.

Gently, you put your hand on the middle console, palm up, offering. His hand fit into yours immediately, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“I… I gotta be honest with you,” he said, in a way that made you sure each word was thought out. “I think you’re really something special. But… I’m really afraid of this. I’m afraid of how much I like you. I had this whole dinner planned … but I can’t. I have all this baggage and I like you too much. I’m not trying to scare you off but … but I guess now is better than later?” his mind vaguely realized he self sabotaged, but it was all true. He was in too deep.

You took a breath, waiting a moment to make sure it was your turn. You felt the cool upholstery, the evening sun, and a tremble in his hand.

“Frankie… I can’t promise you I’ll want to stay, once I know it. But I really like you too,” his eyes met yours and you ran your thumb over his knuckles. “Please, just give it chance? Give me a chance to make that choice? I promise I’m in this just as deep as you are and I’m not perfect either but maybe we can get burgers, and just… just talk? Figure it out together, now?”

He would have squeezed your hand but he realized he was already gripping it too tightly. You knew he agreed though, because his eyes told you, and the two of you drove off.

You ordered bunches of extra fries along with your meals, and he parked a bit outside of town, where the two of you could see the sun beginning to set.

And he told you all of it as the two of you ate. The breeze was warm, running its fingers through the fields as he talked. He hadn’t expected his secrets to pour out of him but once he started, it felt as though a dam had broken.

He told you about his missions, the Delta Force, his friends. The drugs, the rehab, the back slides. The other woman, his baby, the heart break. Even the trauma, the therapy, and being a single dad.

You listened and in turn, told him about your life. Your hardships, your secrets, as forthcoming and he was. You were honest about how scared you were at the prospect of becoming a mother figure for his daughter. About how unprepared you felt for those hurdles. And when you were done, the two of you sat in silence, looking at the rising stars. Eventually, you spoke again.

“Francisco Morales, I still really like you,” you smiled at him, shrugging a bit. “If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to try this thing, with you.”

There was nothing more wonderful than the hope in his eyes at that moment.

“Yes, please,” his voice was a bit raspy. He took a couple of slow breaths. “I have to get home soon but can I be honest with you for just a little bit longer?”

“Of course,” you said, confused.

He hopped out of the truck, jogging over to your side and helping you step down. The door closed behind you but he moved closer instead of backing up.

“I had all these plans to take this slow, do everything right,” his voice was soft, and he was gently pushing into your space, allowing you to stop him at any time. “You deserved it, and I wanted to show you I could do it. But,” his hands found your body, one of them tugging your hips into his and the other settling on the back of your neck, half in your hair. “But I’d really like to skip some steps,” his forehead was on yours, gaze steady, his voice deep and warm.

“Can we skip to the part where I can kiss you? The part where I can tell you how much you mean to me, and hold you?”

You aren’t sure if you managed to say yes before his mouth was pressing against yours, kissing you for all he was worth.

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #triple frontier #maybe i don't know people #I'm not gonna lie this is a whole new animal for me #I hope he's mostly in character?#this was supposed to be a fic about making out on the couch like teenagers and then having to play it off #oops #here we are i guess hope yall enjoy!#maybe I don't know people

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sendme-2hell · 3 years

Text

Rating the Books I read after Gideon the Ninth (in order) by how well they made me forget my Gideon the Ninth angst

I starred the ones that I actually recommend if you want something similar to gtn.

I was bored so I made this. Mostly just so I can look back at this and laugh at myself in a few months and remember what I’ve read.

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

**Harrow the Ninth -Tamsyn Muir

Summary: A depressed girl has to navigate murder attempts by both the mom and the dad of her dead ex-girlfriend who she can’t remember. She tries to make soup and writes fanfic to cope.

How well it helped me forget: -100/10 but also 10/10

Rating explanation: This one gets a 10/10 because it did make me feel better about a *particular* GTN plotpoint which I was very angsty about, but tragically it did make me more feral. After reading it I reread both books so I don’t think it helped me forget my angst.

Similar themes to GTN: all of it, plus more memes

I Want to Be Where The Normal People Are - Rachel Bloom

Summary: Rachel Bloom who wrote the world’s most relatable song: “You Stupid Bitch,” and starred/created in Crazy Ex Girlfriend, writes about having anxiety, feeling like she’s not normal, and Harry Potter fanfic.

How well it helped me forget: 8/10

Rating explanation: For a few minutes I actually did forget about my griddlehark angst while I learned more about Bloom’s life and laughed at the painful relatability of it all.

Similar themes to TLT: ummm depression, feeling very out of place, memes

Fingersmith - Sarah Waters

Summary: The book The Handmaiden was based on. A girl is sent to become a Lady’s handmaiden to con her out of some money. She falls in love. Many plot twists.

How well it helped me forget: 5/10

Rating explanation: I was sadly still thinking about TLT the whole time I read this. I liked it but I actually like the Handmaiden better because the women spend more time together. Like in this book, I wish that Harrow and Gideon could spend more time together.

Similar themes: wlw enemies to lovers, at some point you realize the main character’s love interest understands what’s going on way more than the main character

Kindred - Octavia Butler

Summary: Very dark book about slave narratives. I cannot make a joke here, but this book is excellent.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: Again, I can’t make a joke. But Octavia Butler is amazing.

Ash - Malinda Lo

Summary: A wlw retelling of Cinderella with fairies and an emphasis on stories

How well it helped me forget:7/10

Rating explanation: This was really quick and fun and I definitely was rooting for the lesbians. Also it was nice it had a happy ending! If you liked Crier’s War (which I did), this was clearly an influence for Nina Varela.

Similar themes: wlw, the magic one + the fighting one dynamic

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel

Summary: A deadly pandemic wipes out so many people that the world spins into chaos and no one can figure out how to use electricity apparently? But the book is really about fame and wanting to be remembered. Go figure.

How well it helped me forget: -10/10

Rating explanation: Ok that’s not fair. It helped me forget about Gideon and Harrow but it did NOT help me forget about Corona. It was technically good and a lot of people I respect love it, but either because I was still thinking about TLT or because it was about a pandemic, I couldn’t really enjoy it.

Similar themes: post-apocalyptic

Red, White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston

Summary: The Prince of England and The son of the president of the US are enemies. They are definitely enemies.

How well it helped me forget: 6/10

Rating explanation: This was such a fun read that it almost distracted me! Tragically I was in such TLT headspace that I kept pausing to read fanfics where Gideon and Harrow switch eyes.

Similar themes: Enemies to lovers, queer

Troubling Love - Elena Ferrante

Summary: In true Elena Ferrante fashion, an event spurs an Italian woman to do a lot of internal processing and have some flashbacks.

How well it helped me forget: 7/10

Rating explanation: This book was a bit disturbing so it distracted me in that way. Plus I love Elena Ferrante’s writing so much that it felt like coming home to an old friend. Unfortunately for me, this is Elena Ferrante’s least queer book. I know because I have now read them all. Her most queer book, The Lying Life of Adults, would have distracted me better. Also just using this space to tell anyone who’s still reading this (probably no one) to go read My Brilliant Friend (and the corresponding Neopolitan Novels). They are not similar to TLT except they are vaguely queer and about competitive friendships where the girls are obsessed with each other in maybe an unhealthy way. Ok so a bit similar. Genuinely my favorite books ever.

Similar themes: mommy issues, daddy issues, childhood trauma

On This Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous -Ocean Vuong

Summary: A Vietnamese immigrant reflects on his mother, grandmother, and his own life experience in the US. It is poetic and beautiful and will make you cry.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: This book is beautiful. It really changes how you think about the US. Plus really interesting stuff about the western way of telling stories. Cannot recommend it enough, though very little to do with TLT.

Similar themes: queer, stuff about language, childhood trauma, you will cry

**The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon

Summary: OK sorry none of those were good suggestions for what to read after GTN. THIS is what you should read after GTN. It is an incredibly slow burn wlw enemies to lovers. There are dragons, there is magic, there are very cool female characters who I am in love with. This is like Game of Thrones but if it was good, queer, and only one 800 page book.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: Enemies to lovers!!!! What more do I have to say? Also very cool world-building, interesting religious themes.

Similar themes: wlw enemies to lovers, religious themes, magic, very old wizard milfs, also mlm

*The Traitor Baru Cormorant

Summary: Baru is a very smart girl in a colonized island. She decides she will play the game of the colonizers, rise up in their society, and destroy them from within. How is that going, Baru?

How well it helped me forget: 100/10

Rating explanation: This DID make me forget TLT. The only book to truly make me. It made me forget so badly that I wanted my Griddlehark angst BACK. GIVE ME IT BACK I don’t wanna feel sad about Baru anymore. I cannot recommend it more, it is so good, but it did make me ugly cry. It also made me majorly depressed about colonization and the state of the world.

Similar themes: wlw enemies to lovers, ending will make you cry

*The Monster Baru Cormorant - Seth Dickinson

Summary: Baru is depressed, has brain damage, throws up a lot, is sad about (redacted), does some things without remembering them because there’s something going on in her brain. Sound familiar? It’s kinda like Harrow the Ninth but more depressing. Oh also a lot of new characters are introduced, old characters come back, a lot of setup for the next book. Euler’s identity shows up out of nowhere?!

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: Again, it made me forget but only because I was so engrossed in this story. Also kinda depressed. This book is kinda depressing. But Baru is very fun to be around, and there are some other great characters. Marry me, Yawa.

Similar themes: again, this is just harrow the ninth on steroids, I am in love with every single woman in this series

*The Tyrant Baru Cormorant - Seth Dickinson

Summary: Baru makes a new bestie, reunites with an old bestie, and discovers a dead bestie in her brain!

How well it helped me forget: 1000/10

Rating explanation: I loved this book. There were a few scenes I reread >four times. This book makes the other books in the series worth it.

Similar themes: please see my venn diagram comparing tlt, baru, and A memory called empire for more information

*The Ninth House - Leigh Bardugo

Summary: A girl has seen ghosts her whole life and because of that, gets accepted at Yale even though she didn’t finish high school. Yale is like a hotspot for ghosts I guess. It’s dark academia, the girl has a secret, the narrator is pretty funny.

How well it helped me forget: 6/10

Rating explanation: I was trying to get distracted from TLT (and Baru at this point), but it’s hard to forget about Harrow and Gideon in a book called The Ninth House (hello?). It was enjoyable and there was some good humor. I’m curious about the next book in the series when it comes out. It is not wlw unless you squint (which I do).

Similar themes: debatably wlw body posession, nine houses, the ninth one being important, nerd boy who reminds me of pal, woman is revealed to be MUCH older than I originally thought, soul eating, revenants, tombs, necromancy, character named Mercy

The Bone Season - Samantha Shannon

Summary: It’s the future and London is a hotspot for clairvoyants. Paige is a woman who has a special gift and can jump into people’s bodies and possess them briefly (among other things, this is a terrible explanation). Because of this, she is sent to a secret part of the city where clairvoyants are trained to be monster fighters (but also like, kept there in captivity against their will). Unlike every other book on this list I honestly wouldn’t recommend. I know there are other books in the series. If you’ve read on and it gets better let me know. (I know no one has gotten this far reading this but still)

How well it helped me forget: 4/10

Rating explanation: This one was disappointing because I loved Priory of the Orange Tree so much. This book did not distract me from my griddlehark or barhu feels. There’s also a character named Warden so I thought about SexPal a lot.

Similar themes: enemies to lovers, ghosts, possession, queer but only background characters

****The Unspoken Name - A.K. Larkwood

Summary: A girl is in an isolated cult that wants her to die as a sacrifice (sound familiar?). A definitely not evil wizard helps her escape. She meets a cute necromancer who’s also kinda from a cult. She goes on some gay adventures, gets the help of a morally grey older necromancer (who I’m in love with), and fights with her frenemy.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: This is the most similar to TLT on this list. Gideon and Csorwe would be friends. Seriously I recommend this! And the second book comes out soon! And it’s not sad like TLT or Baru!

Similar themes: sword lesbian + necromancer dynamic, wlw enemies to lovers, cults, tombs, necromancy, character named “the sleeper”, also mlm

The Invisible Life of Addie Larue - V. E. Schwab

Summary: Adeline Larue made a deal with a demon in 1714 France, because she wanted to see the world and stuff. It backfires of course. She is immortal but no one remembers her. This causes all sorts of problems and makes her very angsty. The narrative flashes between her going through the years, and her falling in love with the only person who will remember her.

How well it helped me forget: 2/10

Rating explanation: I know people loved this book but I did not. I liked the last 50 pages, I’ll give it that. I wish it was more queer (it was a little queer).

Similar themes: as I said, a little wlw, immortality, demons, I guess falling in love with someone and them not remembering you now that I think about it

Sula - Toni Morrison

Summary: A story about two black women in the 1920’s-1960’s in an Ohio town. It is really great and interesting. It is a book about complicated female friendships (among so many other things that better writers not writing a list no one will read about their TLT feels have outlined) which I love. I was told I should read this after the Neapolitan Novels by Elena Ferrante and it did not disappoint. Same vibes.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: This was just a great book. Has really nothing to do with TLT

Similar themes: debatably queer

*Murderbot Diaries: All Systems Red, Artificial Condition, Rogue Protocol, Exit Strategy, Network Effect, - Martha Wells

Summary: Muderbot is an artificial construct who just wants to be left alone to watch tv, damnit! It doesn’t want to interact with humans, and it definitely does not want to talk about feelings. Too bad some humans want to become friends with it.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: These books were so good. They did help me forget! The books are really about having anxiety, making friends, and letting yourself have feelings. Also they are SO FUNNY. Highly recommend. In the way that I love Gideon’s POV, I love Murderbot’s POV

Similar themes: funny narrator, queer characters, space, people who don’t want to deal with their feelings being forced to deal with their feelings

*A Memory Called Empire - Arkady Martine

Summary: Mahit is sent a dangerous, evil empire to be an ambassador. Lots of beautiful writing about colonialism, assimilation, language, and culture.There is gay angst and funny characters. I am once again in love with a morally grey older woman character.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: Yes this book is great and did distract me from gtn (mostly. I did end up reading a great fanfic about wake, g1deon, and pyrrah in the middle but otherwise...). It is part of my holy trilogy of wlw books (this, baru, tlt) that I just read recently. The next book comes out on March 2nd so it will be a good distraction from waiting for Alecto. Like Baru, it made me feel like shit about colonialism but unlike the other two books in my trilogy (redacted but if you’ve read those books you know) didn’t happen. It had a not too sad ending.

Similar themes: see my venn diagram, but seriously what is going on with brain surgery in these books...

*The Luminous Dead - Cailtin Starling 9/10

Summary: A woman needs money and to get the money she goes on a risky cave dive. It turns out the only contact she has with the rest of the world is a woman who’s kinda a dick. It’s 400 pages of creepy cave diving and these two women talking to each other. It’s creepy and uncomfortable and I loved it. I did spend the whole book thinking it would be such a good story podcast.

How well it helped me forget: 10/10

Rating explanation: It did make me forget about tlt! There are some kinda boring parts but it pays off. The relationship between the two main characters is very interesting (though a bit fucked up).

Similar themes: wlw enemies to lovers, traumatised characters, shitty moms

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janekfan · 3 years

Text

Duress

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30665933

As ever, Jon’s timing was impeccable.

Impeccably awful.

Barely a month into his new “promotion” and already he could feel a toll. If he was completely honest with himself he hadn’t expected quite this level of work despite not being a stranger to long hours. To put it bluntly, the archives were a mess. Gertrude hadn’t left any clues as to how filing was done and it all seemed so haphazard he had to wonder if it wasn’t on purpose. He was up to his elbows in files he’d found in a water stained cardboard box when Tim sauntered up, looking down his nose at the papers in disgust. Jon wished he would help and didn’t know how to ask for it with their relationship as strained as it currently was. Tim had silently allied with Sasha when Elias made the announcement and they were all navigating the current situation gingerly. Jon didn’t blame him. She needed support. The statements and recordings and organization could wait until they were ready.

“Hey there, boss. Was wondering if you wanted to come out with us tonight.”

Oh, of course. It was Friday, wasn’t it.

Jon looked around his office, strewn with papers and post-its and worse off than it was this morning. Guilt welled up in him like blood from a wound. Tim was losing his already limited patience with him.

“Uh, yes, that would be nice. It has been a while.” He leaned back and wiped his dusty hands off on his trousers adding to the light streaks already there.

“Yeah, I’ll say. Too important to hang out with us now, ey Jon? Now that you’re a corporate bigwig?”

“I am not!” Tim held his hands up in supplication.

“Just kidding, yeah?” It didn’t sound like it was just anything; certainly not the jokes Tim used to tell. This just felt cruel, probably because Tim thought it was the truth. Jon could admit he was prickly and difficult and knew he never won over many. If he lost Tim and Sasha over this he didn’t know what he would do. “Usual place.”

That exchange happened hours ago and Jon didn’t feel well. He couldn’t go out like this, pulse pounding, head throbbing, vision swimming. He’d have to cancel. But he’d canceled at the last minute on them so many times before and he could tell their patience was wearing thin. How was he supposed to choose between his new job and his old friends? Why couldn’t he just be normal for once?

Why did Tim choose now to forget this sometimes happened?

Any moment they’d be by to collect him and Jon was so dizzy he wasn’t altogether sure if he could stand. He hadn’t felt like this since Uni when he and Georgie spent many a late night studying for exams. He’d crashed shortly after, struck down with some illness or another, and barely remembered more than a glimpse of her face staring down at him with concern. Surely they would understand?

“Ready, boss?” Casual with his jacket over one shoulder, Tim leaned into the office, scowling when he laid eyes on him, exasperated. “Really, Jon?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Tim scoffed. “S’sorry. I know it’s rude, I’m just. Tired.” That was a part of it anyway.

“You know, Jon, you say you still want to be friends and then never hang out with us.”

“I know, I’m--”

“You’ve cancelled so many times at this point I don’t know if it’s even worth inviting you.” Jon’s heart nearly stopped, a painful lurch that all but choked him.

“...Please.” Bare more than a whisper, Tim raised an eyebrow in question.

“What?”

“P’please keep inviting me.” If Jon wasn’t so sure he’d pass out upon standing he’d be springing to his feet. “I, I, I’m there. Next Friday, bells on, I swear.”

“And tonight?” Cold sweat slipped down his spine. But if he rested this weekend, took it easy next week, maybe asked them for a bit more help-- “Sure, boss.”

The weekend came and went and Jon tried every trick in the small volume of self-care tips he actually paid attention to. He wanted to show them what they meant to him, even Martin, new and bungling as he was. If they were to be a team, he needed to get to know him. And besides, Sash and Tim enjoyed his company. Had been inviting him out the whole while. Unfortunately, Jon was still exhausted from not sleeping well for bad dreams and restlessness, not eating enough because anxiety turned his stomach. But he’d made a promise and he vowed to make good on it.

Monday saw a fresh pile of work stacked neatly in the center of his desk blotter, old assignments shoved off to the side and a note in Elias’ neat scrawl informing him that this was the priority. Jon spent the next hour putting together the things he’d been in the process of collating and jotting down a list of instructions that even Martin could follow before dragging it out to where his assistants were working.

“Hullo, Jon.” Bright and cheery, Martin chirped a greeting and Jon forced a small smile.

“Morning.” Tim and Sasha nodded back, expectant looks on their faces. “I, um. Well, Elias brought in some more documents for me to take a look at.”

“Promotion came with some extra obligations, did it?” Tim laughed, elbowing Sasha good naturedly.

“Yes, I suppose it, it did.” Jon shifted nervously, anticipating the answer even before he’d asked. “I was hoping you would be able to help me with these ones?” He lifted the stack and Tim made a show of whistling.

“Wow, I mean. I would, boss, but I’m in the middle of this other thing you gave me last week.”

“Oh. I was. Well I was rather hoping you’d have wrapped that up by now.” The room began to tunnel and Jon staggered just a step even though he was standing still. He hadn’t been able to use his cane and handle this veritable mountain.

“You and me both.”

“Jon?” Martin’s worry was more embarrassing than anything else and he forced himself to focus despite the trembling in his hands. “I can take some of them.” But the messy heap on the corner of his desk in danger of toppling hardly seemed smaller than it had the week before. It wouldn’t do to add even more to what the other man couldn’t seem to handle but...

“Th’thank you for the offer.” He selected a few slim folders and handed them off and somehow the work in his arms became heavier.

“No problem!” Martin was beaming so he must have done something right and it sparked a bit of warmth in him. “I’ll make an exchange for another, soon as I finish this up.”

Tuesday went much the same, though Jon’s insomnia and sore joints forced him out of bed and he decided to use the gift of time to come in early to get a bigger start on the old mess so he had more time for the new mess and while Martin was slow it helped to have someone else tackling it with him. He suspected that Tim and Sasha were making a statement in their being shiftless and Jon couldn’t find it in himself to address it instead hoping that once he proved himself they could move past it. Using the stairs proved foolish as Jon nearly took a header from vertigo and he thanked the stars he was early and alone so he could sit down and wait for the episode to pass. Lord, he hurt. Joints on fire, white-hot fire pokers of pressure needling his hips. He hung his head when tears of frustration began to fall.

Wednesday found Jon buried alive and struggling. He had to stay late in order to finish out the day and by the time he made it home he could barely stand, falling into bed and waking the next morning still dressed in his wingtips and work clothes. Marginally better for the rest, Jon used the boon to plow through the rest of Elias’ assignment, skipping lunch he knew he wouldn’t eat anyway to finish.

“Oh, Tim!” He called out his door as he passed, relieved that he wasn’t ignored. “When you have a moment could you take these up to Rosie?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Jon pushed away the disappointment when the end of day came, his assistants left, and the box still sat on the corner of his desk.

No bother, Tim probably forgot and Jon searched the stacks for the department’s hand truck with its one sticky wheel and found it loaded up with more of Gertrude’s chaos. He didn’t have much choice than to shove at it unceremoniously until it toppled over, papers fluttering out of their folders and under shelves. He’d just have to deal with it later. What’s one more thing? When he tugged, his shoulder very nearly came loose and his yelp of pain was swallowed up in the dark and the dust. Noone around to hear him anyway.

More tears.

He was a mess.

He went along more carefully, cursing the squeak of the blasted wheel, cursing Tim for his forgetfulness, cursing Elias for letting him even steal the job from Sasha to begin with. Cursing time itself because he wanted to go home and it was already an hour past.

“Rosie, I’m so glad I caught you.” She was just starting to collect her bag. “Can I leave this for Elias to collect when he gets in?”

“Of course, Jon!” She helped him lift it to her desk and disguised his taking a rest with interest in her writing a note of explanation.

“Thank you, you really are a lifesaver.” Jon chuffed a weak and humourless laugh. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Of course, dear. Just take that along with you so I don’t have to hear about it from the night staff.” The dolly. Yes. It would have to go back down with him wouldn’t it?

Thursday Jon could barely lift his arms. The debacle from the day before had taken whatever they had left and he was scared that at any moment, his arm would drop from its socket. That happened sometimes. So far, no doctor had figured out why.

“Ready for tomorrow?” Tim jolted him out of staring at his pen cup and the surprise set his heart to racing. Jon didn’t know how many minutes he’d lost.

“Ah, uh.” Absently, he rubbed at his chest, willing the battering tempo to slow before it shook him apart.

“Boss.” It sounded too much like a warning and felt too much like his last chance to prove he had what it took to be their friend.

“I’m not backing out!” Quick to cover up his fumble. “Don’t forget to collect me.”

“Never!” Jon couldn’t help but hope he did.

It was a short walk to their usual pub and Jon pushed himself to keep up, breaking out in cold sweat as the nausea from his laboring heart rocked his stomach. He couldn’t wait to sit down. They were regulars enough that the first round appeared before them as if by magic. Jon sank into the conversation around him, sipping from his pint, wishing it was water, and interjecting when he felt up to it. Martin kept staring at him. Jon didn’t have the energy to pretend.

“Oh come on, boss! Our company can’t be that boring!” Tim was three drinks in and clapped Jon hard enough on the shoulder to rattle his bones. Jon bit his tongue so hard he tasted iron.

“Ah, no, just a long week.” His voice was papery as a wasp nest, thin and drawn. “Looking forward to a lie in.”

“Aren’t we all?” Tim drained his glass and Jon looked down at the worn scratched surface of the table to hide his irrational irritability with the statement. He didn’t corner the market on sleeping in. The others deserved a restful weekend just as much as he did.

“I’m surprised you managed to make it through Elias’ busy work.” Sasha murmured, selecting a chip and using it as a means for sauce delivery.

“Martin helped a great deal.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Jon, but we know who worked his way through the majority.” They exchanged a warm smile.

“Yes, well. Any you did, I didn’t have to. It was very much appreciated.” Martin was bright red and Jon’s cheeks were warm, from alcohol or otherwise, and Tim’s cawing laughter rang bright as a bell over the cacophony around them.

“You’ve broken him, Jon!” They caroused well into the evening until Martin mercifully faked a yawn and explained he had an early morning. Jon almost hugged him and if it weren’t for the state of his shoddy joints he may well have. Holding up a very drunk and very affectionate Tim, Sasha nodded to him.

“This was lovely.” Her grin beamed. “We’ll have to do this again.”

Jon dreaded it.

That month they dragged Jon out to the shops for lunch a few times each week. Catching dinner after work became a regular occurance. Sasha hosted a movie night one weekend. Friday nights at the pub continued.

Jon wasn’t sure which was worse; the exhaustion or the steadily increasing pain, but it felt worth it when the frosty attitude began to thaw. They were still friends. That’s what counted even though the littlest tasks had become huge when faced with choosing which ones to do at the cost of himself. He knew better and still he was overspending, going into the red just to collect more and more debt with no way to catch up other than lose his friends. Something was going to break. Jon hoped it wouldn’t be him.

Groggy, slow, Jon came to with his cheek mashed into the statement he’d been skimming. Something was...wrong. His heart. Racing, pounding against his breastbone, trying to hammer its way to freedom or jump straight out his throat. He blinked hard, trying to bring anything into focus and failing. The first attempt to stand had him face down on the desk again, the next he took in steps.

Sit up. Let the room stop moving.

Breathe. In. Out. Count them.

Ignore the agonized beating. Ignore the fear that came with it.

Stand. Slow. Wait. Patient.

Let the world fall still.

Jon didn’t bother picking up his bag. His phone, wallet, keys, all in his trouser pockets.

“Sorry all. I. I think.” He paused, gulping for air, swallowing none. “Need to go, go home.” If what made it out of him were even close to words he’d consider himself lucky. His tongue was thick and clumsy in his mouth, tripping up the syllables fighting their way past the rabbit-quick hammering,

hammering,

hammering.

“What’s wrong?” Sasha was at his elbow, Tim halfway out of his seat.

“Not feeling well.”

“You sure you can get home, boss?” Nodding absently Jon made his way carefully to the lift before Martin could offer to call him a cab or something equally ridiculous.

Muscle memory got him back to his flat and it wasn’t until he collapsed into bed that he remembered it was Friday and he’d again ducked out on drinks again. Tears collected on his lashes, slipping down his temples when his trembling got the better of them. They. This. All his hard work and he’d undone it. Before the encroaching black overtook him he fumbled with his phone, tapping out an apology to the group chat and barely managing to hit send.

He slipped in and out. Lucid one moment, hallucinating the next, burning away to nothing and ending up on the floor more than once after passing out attempting to, to…didn’t matter. There wasn’t enough in him to attempt it again, opting to lay flat on his back in the sweat soaked sheets trying not to move for the pain. For a wild, hysterical moment Jon was sure he would die here, alone, phone just out of reach, melting in wretched heat and so uncomfortably hot it was difficult to remember a time when he wasn’t.

Jon hurt.

Everything was darkness and agony. Each tremor an earthquake threatening to tear him apart. He was trapped in treacle, done up in bits of twine, strung together with razor wire and unable to move. It was a familiar voice that clawed its way down to him. Lifted him up, low and soft, a stone tumbling down a mountain and catching Jon up in the landslide. He thought he answered, made some attempt at a response, drawn out of him like water from a well. Hurting and disoriented Jon drifted. Consciousness slipping in and out through his fingers like the surf, breath like coals banked beneath his ribs. Jon’s body wouldn’t cooperate as it should and time seemed to skip from one moment to the next between long bouts of nothing.

A heavy palm, cool and comforting, came to rest over his forehead and Tim materialized out of nowhere, startling Jon enough that he keened when each joint shrieked and protested at his moving.

“Sh, sh, shh.” Tim. That’s right...he wasn’t sure it was true, but he was wiping down his over sensitive skin with a damp flannel to quell the coals for a handful of moments.

“Wha’s..?”

“When you didn’t come in yesterday or this morning, we figured we should check on you.” So many words. Too many to parse more than a few but the flood came anyway, streaking into his greasy hair because he’d been sure no one would come and Tim kept applying the cold compress; wrung, applied, repeated, and Jon sobbed with the simple relief of it, tears cool against the incandescence of his skin.

“Are you...l’leaving?” He winced at the raw scrape of his voice against his vocal cords. “Been. You’been s’so angry with m’me.” Tim’s face fell and Jon wanted to apologize. It was the illness, that’s all, lowering his defenses and simmering his many insecurities just below a fractured awareness that refused to keep them in where they belonged. Instead his breath hitched and he choked on a whimper of defeat. “Tri’tried so hard ‘nd still. M’sorry.”

“It’s alright.” So unbelievably soft. Jon thought he’d ruined this long ago and the tears came somehow faster. “I think we need to call an ambulance, bud.”

“No...nonono…” Jon didn’t want to be poked and prodded by strangers and stuck full of needles alone in a cold sterile room. Even in his ragged state Jon could see Tim was torn. “Pl’please.”

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, gentling him with a touch. “But if you can’t keep this down we have to go.” Medicine. Lucozade. Fed to him mouthful by mouthful in the intervals he was awake.

Quiet sounds he recognized, Martin. Sasha. Hushed. Martin tipped the next sip into him and Jon wasn’t aware of much, but he was aware enough to know he was disgusting after having slept and sweated in the same bedclothes for days. Martin wouldn’t hear of it and Jon didn’t know where to put all the feelings and he was so tired of crying and couldn’t seem to stop.

Sasha, they told him, has gone out for supplies and they asked if he’d like help getting out of his uncomfortable trousers and button down, now missing several buttons no doubt from his restlessness. Jon didn’t trust his voice, only nodded, trying and failing to sit up, losing consciousness entirely when one of them levered him up with an arm behind his shoulders. Tim was explaining it to Martin when he came around, peering up at them through fluttering lashes.

“S’al’...” Clumsy, the words wouldn’t come to him.

Together, they shift his limbs, passing him back and forth between, one moment resting against Martin’s chest, another tucked into the hollow where Tim’s shoulder and neck meet. He should be helping but he can barely stay with them, just concentrating on the pulse currently beneath his ear to ground him. Carefully, as though he is some precious thing, they rid him of the awful, disagreeable stickiness and their low murmuring seems such an intimate thing. He isn’t worth it. This. And then soft, clean clothes, well worn and familiar and when Jon surfaces again he’s with Tim on the sofa, bundled up and more comfortable than he’d been in months.

Martin is changing his sheets.

“I’m sorry, Jon.” He didn’t know what for and shook his head, or tried anyway. “Made you think you had to push yourself like that. Ignored how exhausted you were and guilt tripped you into not telling us ‘no’.” Lord, so many words, Jon dizzied himself trying to catch them, hold them, decipher them. “You should be able to trust us, and I.” A suspicious sniff. “I’m sorry.” Jon relaxed into him with a hum he hoped conveyed something.

“I think I remembered which meds he tolerated best.” Sasha elbowed her way into the flat, face lighting up when she saw he was awake. Kind of. “Jon! Thank god. You were in such a bad way.” Whispery and rushed, the same feeling in it as with Tim. “Let's get you dosed up and back to bed, okay?”

It was late evening judging by the window. The reading lamp was on. Martin sat beside him with a book he couldn’t recognize by cover alone.

“Mah’in..?” So it hadn’t all been a hallucination after all.

“There you are.”

“Miss’d work.” He nodded, uncapping a bottle of sports drink and holding it to his chapped lips. Jon drank what he could.

“Not important right now, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Gave us a scare.” Easy, like it was nothing in the world to do it, Martin laid the back of his fingers against his neck, against his throat. “That’s a relief. Tim called us in a panic.” By way of explanation. “But I think you’re past the worst of it now.”

“Don’, don’ remember.”

“Probably for the best. We’ve decided, if you’re alright with the arrangement, that one of us should stay with you.” That sounded okay even if normally Jon would fight it tooth and nail. He did remember being alone and scared. “Tim and Sash are talking. I get the feeling we missed something very important.”

“Mm.” Jon tried to sit up and swooned, came around with a pillow behind his back.

“Dunno if I’ll get used to that any time soon though, I’ll be honest.”

“Happens sometimes. Th’that’s why…” Martin picked up the thread.

“You cancelled on us. I understand. And I hope, I hope you know you can always tell me, us, I hope, when you need to. There’s no shame in it. I’ll admit, I’m upset with Tim.” He fussed with the quilts, smoothing out imaginary creases. “He knew this was something to look out for and he didn’t tell me.”

“No, it’s--”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Martin spoke with conviction. “Ever. I don’t want you to, to push yourself like this for a blasted game night. We can do other things as a department. Things that don’t jeopardize your health like this again.”

“Martin’s right.” Sasha sat at his feet, draping a hand over his ankle, and Tim stood at the foot of the bed. He looked proper chastised, eyes rimmed in red and swollen from crying.

“I’m so sorry, Jon. So sorry. I should never--I was angry and frustrated and used it to. To hurt you. Make you think we’d stop being friends over a stupid night out. Not like I lifted a hand to help you! When I knew you wouldn’t ask a second time!”

“S’okay.”

“It’s not!” Tim was a staunch friend. The type who got to know you so well and sometimes aimed too precisely at your soft parts. He didn’t need another telling off. Exhaustion lapping at his limbs, Jon curled his fingers in poor imitation of a come hither gesture. Willingly, Tim allowed himself to be pulled along by it, slotting himself beside Jon on the mattress to hide his own tears in his chest. Graceless, Jon managed to tug a hand over the back of his head, tangling fingers in Tim's hair, surrounded by friends and not alone.

“Will be, then.”

#TMA #the magnus archives #season one #jon sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #insecurity #lack of communication #sickfic #sick jon #fever #chronic illness #ehlers danlos syndrome #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #EDS #Pots #undiagnosed chronic illness

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silverhandy · 3 years

Text

House call

Pre canon. V being reckless and Viktor being worried.

It's hard to make a name for yourself in Night City, no matter who you are. Especially when you're a rookie ripperdoc trying to cover all the bases that Trauma Team doesn't give a damn about. He learned a lot back then - about other people, about himself, and about medicine, but the most important thing that came out of it was a simple promise to himself, a breaking point signifying that he has found himself a spot in the city's food chain - from now on, he won't be making house calls.

Luckily for Viktor, these days are far behind him, but when a call comes, he still packs the bag.

Read on AO3

When Viktor closed the deal with Misty on the space for his brand new clinic, he told himself he’d never go on a house call ever again. That was one of the reasons to finally get himself an actual clinic in the first place. It was hard enough to convince Misty that yes, what she called a ‘friend discount’ on rent really wasn’t necessary, but what turned out to be even harder was backing away from that statement after the first month of burning through the last of his savings to properly equip the damn place, every europenny of which he earned beating the living shit out of other people for the crowd’s entertainment, or, at the very end of his professional career, getting the living shit beaten out of him more often than he’d be willing to admit. He wouldn’t say he was surprised, but he’d still clench his teeth at how much of a money shredder equipment and basic setup was. Investing in cyberware to install without a baseline clientele was a stretch on his part, but worth it in the long run, or at least that’s what he was telling himself. In the beginning, he was a new face on the ripperdoc stage, without many people who could vouch for his skills or spread the word around Night City. He had to build that up over the years, from client to client, until he arrived at this ambiguous, albeit comfortable position he found himself at now - a bit too expensive for sex workers in dire need of a new leg, arm or face, but at the same time not fancy enough for corpos looking to spend their eurodollars on something extra their company-funded tech package didn’t cover.

He didn’t mind that, not really. The clinic was paying its own rent at this point, with more than enough still left for his personal needs. Most often he chose to invest it back into the clinic and get something like a brand new Kiroshi straight from a retailer without worrying whether the money would find its way back to him. He didn’t need the extra cash, didn’t need to go the extra mile, both figuratively and literally, to make a living. Just a few years back, right after finishing his apprenticeship, he found himself without a stable spot to practice his newfound profession and eventually resolved to the only way he could earn those killer fees back - responding to calls from patients too far gone to drag themselves to the closest ripperdoc. That added an additional layer of time and money, driving around the city from point A to point B, and then C and D and so on, playing those little fetch quests that required him to lurk in the parts of the city he’d rather avoid. That was the worst part - he had to grab his bag and go whether the patient needed him to be at that moment, be it next to a stinking, muddy trash container in a dark alley or a cockroach-infested megablock that had a mean-looking gang member at every corner, just waiting for shit to go down. In hindsight, Viktor would sometimes do more harm than good, dealing with emergency cases as a barely qualified ripper, but at least the patients didn’t die right then and there, whatever was left of their cyberware snatched by someone, a brand new owner who’s been eying a potential update. Fucking vultures, always lurking around, walking in simultaneous with risking getting a bullet as well, but he never let it scare him.

His boxing training sure came in handy in times like this.

Ah, how young he was back then. How inexperienced, mostly putting together the people and their technologies, salvaging what was left to salvage and removing everything else while trying to keep the damage to a bare, necessary minimum. At least one good thing came out of it - he had to learn damn fast and eventually installing new pieces of chrome seemed like a breeze compared to removing the twisted, shattered, or melted bundles of metal and wires that these tiny works of genius have turned into. It was a grisly job, one that made his current clinic in a run-down garage akin to a luxury. In many ways, it was. For one, it was much calmer, working within his own, controlled environment, with most appointments scheduled in advance. A real, damn luxury.

And so he made use of that luxury and just as Misty gave him the keys, complete with a plush, aggressively pink charm and a small, hand-carved figurine of something he could never quite discern, to the rusty gate that opened his soon to be clinic, he promised himself he’d never do a house call again. But as years went by, he came to realize that where there are friends, there are exceptions and V was one of the few people he was willing to make exceptions for.

It’s not like he expected it, either. Misty would later say that she knew something bad would happen that day, had a premonition or a gut feeling or whatever she called it, but he’d just shake his head and give her a grin. Sure, Mist. Sure.

Viktor didn’t believe in things like this, has seen too much in too little time to give his faith to anything higher than his own hands, be it corporations, capitalism, religion, or fate. He didn’t need to, having built enough skill and life experience that there was no need to extend his trust beyond that.

At first, V didn’t even call, she texted him instead, a scrambled collection of letters that must’ve lost their meaning at some point on their way from her brain to her fingers. One after the other, they kept coming and Viktor could swear that he could feel V’s agitation seeping through the screen. The doctor just frowned and found V’s number on the contact list, turning the volume up a bit on his interface before he unknowingly started to make a mental list of what he might need to put in his worn-out gym-turned-medical bag that he still kept somewhere on the bottom of one of his cupboards. The melody of an awaiting connection kept playing in his head, each note adding a drop to his slowly increasing pool of anxiety. Just as he thought she wouldn’t pick up, that a kind, robotic voice would send him straight on his merry way to voicemail, the music abruptly stopped, signifying an ongoing phone call.

‘V? You okay?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, the way you’d ask a friend how they’re doing after an all-night bender. Maybe that’s what happened, maybe the merc just had more than a little too much booze and was drunk texting whoever was high enough on her contact list.

All that answered him was dull silence, interrupted from time to time by a muffled sounds. As Viktor opened his mouth to ask again, V’s voice came, but not the one he knew, not the cocky blunder with curse words heavily woven into it, but a raspy, shaky whisper. If V’s portrait photo hasn’t been clearly visible in his open calls window, he could swear it must be someone else.

‘Vik, can...can you…’ a cough, much wetter sounding than a healthy person’s cough should sound. And something metal clanking on the floor. ‘Can you come? I’m…’ and another one, much longer than the other, followed by a few long, raspy breaths.

‘Where are you?’ Viktor asked, already pulling his old bag from under the counter. There it was, just as he remembered it. Even the blood spatters and grease that just wouldn't come off, having bitten their way into the material, were still there.

‘My place’ she just said, or rather spat out as another coughing fit overwhelmed her.

‘Hang in there, okay? I’ll be there in ten” he said before realizing that she has abruptly ended the call before he could even finish the sentence. He didn’t care about such a minor offense at the moment, looking over his equipment and taking whatever he may need with him, filling the bag with all kinds of medical tools that might come in handy to the point where the zipper just barely closed.

His initial anxiety was replaced by adrenaline, a familiar autopilot kicking in. V didn’t need him to worry his brains out, she didn’t need him panicked or unsure, what she needed right now was an experienced doc who could get the job done, even if he didn’t exactly know what the job was just yet. He put the bag over his shoulder, not letting its weight drag him down, and headed out, jumping two stairs at once. He didn’t go through the shop, not wanting to alarm Misty or be flooded by her questions, and took a short way out through the gate on the inner yard, finding himself on the busy street, full of people despite how late it already was. He didn’t stop to contemplate it, instead just hopped on his bike and slammed the gas handles, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that an NCPD patrol wouldn’t stop him for various traffic misdemeanors. He parked right outside the megablock where V’s apartment was in and practically ran up, navigating between the groups of people that were clearly enjoying their night out, chatting with neighbors or grabbing a bite from one of the many vendors that had their stall in one of the halls. The smell of old grease, fried fish and heavy spices hit his nostrils right along the nauseatingly sweet scent of weeks old trash and drying paint as he made his way through this labyrinth of a building.

For a second he was afraid that he had made a wrong turn or run through one flight of stairs too much, but the familiar, greenish gleam of a travel station was enough of a confirmation that he was indeed heading the right way. He finally stood in front of V’s door, a steel imbued construction identical to any other, not even a number plate in sight, but an angrily red dot indicating that the lock was closed. He raised the hand to knock and when he heard no answer, not even a single sound from inside the apartment, he felt another tingle of anxiety, but he pushed it to the back of his head. He knocked again, harder this time, with more urgency, as if the door mechanism gave a damn since V apparently didn’t hear him. He cursed under his breath and then it hit him, a solution so simple that he’d burst out laughing if he wasn’t feeling so on edge.

He still had it, after all. The first (and only) real piece of cyberware he got for himself, a simple lock opener that came in handy so many times in his early days, saved so many lives. He thought about uninstalling or even taking it out entirely so many times, after all, there were regulations about these things these days that he didn’t quite meet, but who cares. Flooded with relief that his sense of lawfulness has dulled into a table knife over the years, he started working the lock and after a mere few seconds he heard a familiar sound, identical all over the city in places like this. The dot changed to green and he waved his hand in front of it, triggering the mechanism opening the door. As he rushed into the pitch-black apartment, the blinds closed shut, V’s silhouette sprawled out on the floor, barely visible only because of the flickering light creeping in from the corridor, Viktor sighed.

He hated doing house calls. But damn, the things he'd do for that kid.

#viktor vector #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #misty olszewski #cp2077 #my writing

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whereyoursoulresides · 3 years

Link

I did it! I finally finished writing this chapter! I’m so sorry it took ages; it has 4 different scenes so it was a bit tricky to be in the right zone for all four of them! I hope you all enjoy!

As usual, link goes to A03, or you can also read under the cut!

Chapter Summary: After their first fight, Izou senses Kunihiro has withdrawn. His anxieties take him all over Tokyo, where he bumps into someone who seems strangely familiar.

“Thank you, we’ll let you know if we’re interested.”

Izou accepted the resume graciously and thanked the man for his time. As soon as he had left the establishment and was greeted with the open air, Izou couldn’t help but let out a groan.

“What a waste of time,” he moaned to himself, crossing The Jazz Heart off his list.

With another annoyed sigh, Izou ran a hand through his bangs. He had only a few resumes and business cards left, and had to choose wisely. To remain in the area would mean applying to more businesses in which he had little experience: high-end jewelry and retail outlets, flower shops, or elegant dinner venues. A wistful part of him had even hoped to win a position at the up-and-coming jazz bar, despite his lack of official musical experience.

“I should have known better,” Izou muttered to himself, as he scanned the list and chewed on his knuckle absently. “As if I actually know anything about any of those things…”

But, as quickly as that thought came, another arrived. It rose from his gut, soft and illustrious but tenacious in its roots.

But you do, this voice whispered, echoing into his bones. You would know better than most.

As loudly as he could, Izou tried to squash the voice.

“Let’s try further afield!” he announced, trying to pep himself up. So long as it wasn’t as far as the coffee shop from last year, anything would be reasonable. With a newfound sense of determination, Izou stuffed the list back into his pocket, and marched off.

---

As Izou meandered his way through the city, however, he found himself struggling to concentrate. At every coffee shop and bakery, his mind would drift to his home: the empty apartment, in which he and Kunihiro had been regularly in and out of since their first “fight”.

It hadn’t been an easy few days since that fateful interaction. Although neither of them had spoken of the incident again, the apartment had fallen with an unusual hush. Izou couldn’t tell how much of the quiet was due to their usual mismatched schedules, or if Kunihiro was intentionally avoiding him. The only exchange they regularly had was Izou handing a daily lunch box to Kunihiro. The man always accepted it with a nod, but Izou couldn’t help but notice that Kunihiro’s eyes never met his.

I’m reading too much into this, Izou scolded himself, as he rounded the corner to yet another hopeful location. This one, like the others, was a bit of a long shot. Izou had seen ads for this particular milkshake shop flash in all his magazines. It was new, hip, and set to open later this month. Izou hoped that by coming here early, he could convince the owner to hire him as part of the opening staff.

After checking the address once more, he stepped back to take a better look at the establishment.

Starlight Parfaits...

The windows were a slick shade of dark purple, gradually transparent like the facets of an amethyst. Posters of dark chocolate sundaes, fruity gradients, and swirly sorbets hung like pillars between the windows. As Izou tilted his head, he tried to gauge his feelings about this particular place. Even though it was so new, there was something about it that seemed strangely familiar. In addition, strangely comforting. Izou could see himself regularly popping up in a place like this.

Deciding it was worth a shot, Izou readied his resume. However, just as he was about to knock on the door, he caught sight of a familiar silhouette. Curious, Izou lowered his hand.

Past the bustling workmen and supervisors, a man and a woman were chatting behind the main counter. Although she had her back to the door, the woman was significantly shorter, and so Izou could see past her stature to the man towering over her. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome. A cloud of dark curls cascaded down his back. Despite his rising heartbeat, Izou squinted closer. Where did he know this man…?

Suddenly, as though the man had sensed his presence, his head jerked up.

For the briefest moment, their eyes locked. Bright ivy green and startling cerulean were frozen in time. However, as soon as the man shifted from the counter, Izou recoiled back. When the shadow began to solidify closer and closer to the door, Izou bolted from the corner as fast as his feet would carry him.

By the time the man had arrived at the door and opened it, all that remained of Izou’s presence was his resume and business card, lying motionless on the sidewalk.

---

It seemed ages before Izou’s feet began to slow down. The echoes of the pavement pounding were comforting; as if each step could breach him further from the dread that was rising within him. When he felt he had gained enough distance, Izou stumbled to a halt, crouching down to regain his breath.

Just great, he thought, as he gulped air with his hands on his knees. On top of everything else, he hadn’t needed this. Although deep in his gut he knew who that man was, Izou was forcing all his focus to stave the recognition at bay. Think of anything else, he kept telling himself. We are not going to open this box.

When his lungs were eventually functioning normally again, Izou finally collapsed onto a nearby bench. With the adrenaline wearing off, the heaviness of regret began to sag in. Defeated, Izou hung his head in hands, trying to hold himself together. His messenger bag knocked hollowly against the seat, his silken love-charm dangling silently.

I wish Kunzite-sama would talk to me, Izou finally whispered.

The name almost brought tears to Izou’s eyes, which he angrily pushed away with his sleeve. That name was so precious, so miraculous, yet as forbidden and dangerous as cursed treasure. To own it would be an elixir, the saving grace from the danger of the ghost that lived inside him. But to touch it at all was to unleash the rest of the monsters from their prisons, to drown in fool's gold in a cave of wonders.

The past doesn’t matter, Izou kept telling himself. We have a new life. A real life.

But how can it be real, a different voice asked, if you’ll never know the truth?

Letting out a frustrated groan, Izou buried his face in his hands again. If only there was someone else he could talk to. Some higher power who could understand the nuances he was struggling with. Izou didn’t consider himself particularly religious, but at this point, he couldn’t think of anything else to turn to. What human could possibly help him navigate adjusting his first real relationship, a spotty memory of an equally questionable past, and possibly some supernatural elements thrown in the mix?

At that moment, Izou felt something brush against his cheek. As he looked up, he thought he saw a pink petal float out of the corner of his eye. How strange, he thought. Cherry blossom season wasn’t set to open for another month…

But that’s when he realized where he was. Before him stood an immense stone staircase, lined with green cherry blossom trees that lined its ascent. As Izou’s gaze slowly drew to the top, the grand majesty of the temple slowly dawned to view. It was the same temple he and Kunihiro had visited on his birthday.

Before he knew it, Izou began to slowly make his way up to the temple once more.

---

When he arrived at its peak, Izou was dismayed to see that the temple grounds were practically deserted. Not a single attendant could be found, and Izou didn’t feel entirely comfortable approaching the grand establishment on his own. Biting his lip, he unhooked the enmusubi from his messenger bag. Perhaps if nothing else, he could find someone to buy a new one from…

Come back in six month’s time, or when the charm has run out, the attendant had said. Izou gazed upon the charm agonizingly. Only three months had passed, and with Izou’s love and care, the enmusubi practically looked as good as new. Its magic, if he believed in such things, should still be working…

But this isn’t an ordinary situation, Izou thought desperately, closing his eyes. Maybe I should try something more powerful…

“Can I help you?”

Startled, Izou opened his eyes. An attendant with yellow-blond hair had opened the door to the temple, and was stepping out with a broomstick in hand. From this distance, Izou thought he recognized him, but he wasn’t sure from where.

“I’m just hoping to say a little prayer,” Izou answered, but his voice was distant as he struggled to place this man in his memories. His gait, his serious, slightly condescending voice. The way his bangs hung over his eyes, as though he didn’t really want to meet Izou’s gaze unless necessary. How his short hair was the color of summer wheat, or freshly ripened corn.

Without looking up at Izou, the attendant began to sweep briskly.

“That enmusubi isn’t meant to work overnight,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Trust in it, and let it do its work.”

Although Izou understood where the man was coming from, he couldn’t help but feel uncertain as he glanced back down at the omamori in his hand.

“I just need a little more help,” Izou whispered. “Or maybe a different type of luck…?”

The attendant sighed shortly and paused in his sweeping. Suddenly, he turned to face Izou straight-on, and Izou was startled to see his features so clearly. Though he had boyishly handsome cheeks, they contrasted so sharply with the seriousness of his bright blue eyes.

“With all due respect,” the attendant said bluntly, “praying for change is a waste of your energy.”

Once more, Izou was taken aback with the man’s words. “Excuse me?” was all he could say.

The attendant didn’t look impressed, but he also seemed to understand that Izou wasn’t going to absorb his advice immediately.

“Praying only gets you so far,” he explained, gesturing to the charm. “And the omamori can only do so much. The rest is up to you, and your own effort to actively do something about your problem.”

Izou eventually closed his fingers over the amulet. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew the man was right in principle. Even if magic was real, it wasn’t as if Izou could summon such powers to bury away the obstacles that laid before him, or force Kunihiro to open up to him. The only thing he could do was to rely on himself - his own bravery, tenacity, and quick-thinking. He looked back at the man, whose sky-blue eyes remained steadfast.

“What if I’m doing all I can,” Izou finally asked, “but the other person isn’t responding?”

The attendant’s expression hardly changed.

“How do you know they aren’t?”

Izou blinked. “Er, well…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. ”They haven’t exactly talked to me about it. How would anyone solve a problem if they don’t even discuss it?”

“People process things in different ways,” the attendant shrugged. “Just because they’re not talking about it doesn’t mean they’re not working on it.”

It took a moment for Izou to process the man’s words, which seemed to have been spoken from a place of personal experience. Speaking came so naturally to Izou that it was hard for him to imagine anyone struggling with it, much less Kunihiro, who seemed so eloquent when he did speak. But perhaps that’s what Izou had been seeing all this time: a perfect facet, polished from practice.

He looked really upset, Izou recalled from their fight. Perhaps that night he had stumbled upon a crack, and Izou had not given Kunihiro enough time to address it before calling it to attention. Maybe the crack even ran deeper than it first appeared. But Izou understood now that it was unlikely for Kunihiro to trust him with it again so soon. Izou would have to earn it.

Slowly, Izou tilted his head at the attendant, gauging him up and down. Although there was something familiar about him, the sensation was entirely unthreatening. There were no shadows or pinpricks of dread, no echoes of ghosts. Instead, the man felt like a safe harbor, a neutral impasse. Izou decided then and there that this man was a friend.

“What’s your name?” Izou asked. “I’m Kozakura Izou.” He nodded respectfully. “A pleasure to meet you.”

The man blinked at him, as though he hadn’t expected Izou to be so forward. Eventually responded with a nod in kind.

“Daito, Jay,” the attendant answered. “Same to you.”

---

Upon his return home, Izou felt much better. Although his discussion with Jay hadn’t solved his various problems immediately, it certainly lightened Izou’s emotional load considerably. It was still early days yet, and Izou had faith in his self-efficacy to navigate himself around Kunihiro. He had made it this far, after all. They could talk about all that messy stuff when the time was right.

“I’m home,” he sang habitually as he stepped inside. As he hung up his items, he was surprised to see that Kunihiro was indeed home. There was a pot stewing quietly on the stove, and the smell of sweet curry wafted around him like a hug. From around the corner, Kunihiro appeared.

“Welcome home,” he greeted. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Izou chirped back. He decided it wasn’t worth telling Kunihiro about his worries from earlier that day. This was the first the man had spoken to him since their fight, and Izou wasn’t going to ruin it with something he could solve himself. “How was yours?”

Kunihiro passed Izou his lunchbox, all wrapped up in its fabric. Izou blushed when he realized he had accidentally sent Kunihiro to work with a pattern dotted entirely with flowers. He hoped he hadn’t embarrassed Kunihiro.

“Good,” Kunihiro answered. He looked like he was about to say something else, then quickly changed his mind.

“Why don’t you get yourself settled. I’ll plate for you and we’ll eat on the sofa.”

Izou smiled as Kunihiro went to busy himself with their curries. This was the most normal and relaxed they had felt in some time. When Kunihiro disappeared around the corner, Izou slid open the knot to sort out the lunchbox. Since Kunihiro was a much better cook, Izou was happy to do the cleaning.

Upon opening the lunchbox, however, he discovered it had already been cleaned. Not only that, but a single pink rose laid in its center. His heart warming, Izou slowly brought it up close.

This is his apology, Izou realized, his eyes closing. He just needed some time.

With the lunchbox and the rest of Izou’s things put away, he hurried to join his partner in the living room. As he tumbled into Kunihiro’s side on the sofa, he flung his arms around his partner and pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” he said, referring to the rose. “It’s a lovely gift.”

Whatever tension Kunihiro had been reserving seemed to evaporate with relief.

“I know I’ve been a bit distant lately,” he murmured quietly. “I’ve just needed some time to think.”

“I know,” Izou said, resting his head on the crook of Kunzite’s shoulder.

“But I wanted you to know my affections have never changed,” Kunihiro continued quietly. “To me, you are…” The most important, but somehow Kunzite couldn’t finish the sentence. It felt like making a deathly promise, a vow to beckon fate to break. “My care for you will always remain the same.”

Izou beamed and gave his partner a big, tight hug, before unwinding his arms and settling in next to him.

“Don’t worry, I know,” he said cheerfully, as he picked up his plate from the coffee table. “So long as we have time together like this, nothing else matters to me.” He curled up his knees and looked up at his partner. “I know how you feel, Kunihiro-sama.”

A great weight seemed to have been lifted from the room, and Kunihiro’s smile rose along with it. Reassured, he even turned on the stereo so they could enjoy some quiet, easy listening.

“Thank you for understanding,” he murmured quietly as they began to tuck into their food.

“No worries,” Izou replied, around a mouthful of rice. “Just don’t forget about the special days, you know? Those are the best days to spend some time together.”

“I promise I won’t forget.”

#kunzite x zoisite #kunzoi #fanfiction #kunzite #zoisite #shitennou #jadeite #nephrite #without words #without words 2 #without words II #our orbiting paths #anyo writes #civilian au #third life #bssm sailor moon

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

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How about "my family was never the touchy-feely type" and "I just want to be held for a while." Seems fitting for Tony to say considering his history but go with whatever you like best. 😊

I Just Have To Remember

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: General (G) Word Count: ~2k Notes: You always pick the ones that leave a lot of wiggle room. I hope you were looking for tooth rotting fluff, because that’s what I settled on. Thanks for the prompt, friend <3 Warnings: There is a lot of fluff. That’s it. Summary:

Peter is a constant source of touch and for a while, it throws Tony off. The realization that affection is the fuel throws him off even more.

touch starved starters

It took a while, for Tony to be comfortable with all of the open affection that Peter seemed more than willing to give him. When Spider-Man, the friendly neighborhood do-gooder came to fight with them against Loki and the power of the tesseract, Tony didn’t think he’d be earning another important person in his life.

Peter Parker forced his way into Tony’s heart, however – he wanted to be a part of everything the world of being an Avenger could afford him and as the time past, everything Tony had to offer, too.

It started subtly, Peter’s crusade to open Tony up a bit. Tony was quick to understand Peter’s affinity for learning and put him on tasks that needed a little extra care in how they were researched. It was half the fun, watching Peter light up when he found the answer, or get one step closer to being right where they needed him to be. Their time together went from every now and again to most hours of the day – Peter was diligent and could get lost just as easily as Tony could.

Having Peter in the lab came with the added perk of warm coffee every couple of hours. Tony didn’t notice it at first, how often Peter refreshed their cups. It hit him one afternoon when his head was pounding – his fingers a little more hyperactive than he was comfortable with. Picking his head up from the work for the first time in hours, Tony noticed the four empty cups of coffee spread out around the table. “I’m surprised I didn’t have a heart attack,” Tony mumbled, his fingers fusing with the pencil in his hand in an attempt to stop the shake of them.

After that, Tony started to take notice of Peter and the gentle way he plied him with coffee. It happened every couple of hours, Peter left for a few minutes and came back with two cups. He placed his own down by his mess on one side of the table, then came around and placed Tony’s in front of him. The most curious thing about it was the hand that Peter placed on his shoulder. The touch was light – he was obviously trying to keep it on the downlow. Grinning, Tony made sure to say thank you every time Peter did it from that point on.

The squeeze he felt against his shoulder each instance it happened was well worth it.

Every day, Tony lost the needless fight against the chemistry that surrounded him and Peter. Despite what he told himself, Peter was disgustingly perfect for him in all the important ways. Though they were both workaholics, Tony noticed that Peter went out of his way to take care of him – the coffee had only been the start. Where Peter lacked in experience, Tony made up for it in practical knowledge and the ability to provide an easy explanation. It seemed easier to press back against the bond that was inevitably forming; Tony never experienced anything like what he was slowly creating with Peter.

It scared the absolute shit out of him.

As if he could sense that, Peter kept his toe right on the line – Tony wanted to see him as some young kid, but he couldn’t; not when he kept such a tight rein on himself and the situations he navigated so flawlessly. The hand on his arm slowly turned into an arm around his shoulders and Peter’s breath against his ear as they continued to speak about whatever was on the lab table before them.

Tony held his breath every time it happened, his body afraid to move too fast – the thought of losing the new and devastatingly interesting sensation enough to make him seize up. Peter took to rubbing his fingers against Tony’s shoulder until he relaxed.

Tony could tell that Peter was waiting for him to make the final move – the patience the younger man exhibited was astounding. A huge part of him wanted to say fuck it all and pull him close, Peter made him feel all kinds of safe and sound. Yet, there was still a piece of him that wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of letting go – being vulnerable never got him anything other than sore feelings and sharp pains of disappointment.

He wondered if maybe talking to Peter about it might help ease some of the anxiety – Tony felt a bit pathetic, trying to formulate the best way to tell the man he was slowly falling for that he didn’t know what affection was and couldn’t decipher the way it made him feel. Shaking his head at the consuming thought, Tony buckled down and forced himself to push Peter from his mind; the execution of that much harder than it should have been.

Later in the lab, Tony waited until Peter brought him his first coffee of the evening and pulled him close, his own arm wrapping around the slim waist and dragging a soft sigh from pink lips. “That’s nice,” Peter mumbled, the hand on Tony’s shoulder gripping him a little tighter. “I know touch is weird for you, but – I like it, the way you feel against me.” Peter didn’t relent, the clench of his hand intensifying as he spoke.

Leaning further into Peter’s side, Tony let himself suck in a deep breath, the smell of Peter’s Lucky Brand cologne and Old Spice body wash making him feel calm. He let silence settle over them before even thinking to speak. “It’s not weird, per say. I’m just not used to it. My family was never the touchy-feely type. Affection is foreign.” He turned his head, his breath hitching a little when he noticed how close they really were.

“I like it from you. You make me feel safe. I’m just – still not used to it. It’s hard to think that you’re just doing it because you want to. I know you are, though – you just want to touch me because you can. Tony let his other arm wrap around Peter, his body turning so they were chest to chest. “I’ll take this, too – if you’re offering,” Tony leaned forward, his nose sliding against Peter’s in a silent question.

There wasn’t any hesitation from Peter, he tilted his head and pressed the softest kiss to Tony’s lips. His arms were solid around his shoulders, the tips of Peter’s fingers digging ever so slightly into the long strands of hair on the back of his neck. Tony lost all semblance of shyness the second Peter’s tongue traced along the seam of his lips, the taste of him dizzying, more than enough to help him forget about the worries bogging him down.

Tony clung to Peter when they eventually pulled away, his eyes closed under the heaviness that was reciprocated feelings. The stability of the man holding him up kept the ever present need to spook and run at bay. Peter was nothing like Howard – the genuine nature in which Peter gave was the total opposite of the only other person Tony sought the approval of.

Sighing, Tony searched for Peter’s lips a second time, the kiss soft and chaste – the slightest bit of reassurance to keep anxieties at bay. “How do you feel about ditching the lab tonight? My heads not really in it,” Tony posed the question and stepped out of Peter’s arms, the distraction of them too much in that moment.

“I could use a break. Any chance I can convince you to order Chinese and watch Sugar Rush on Netflix?” Peter’s bottom lip poked out a little, the look making Tony laugh, his breath catching after a few minutes of blissed out joy. He pulled Peter into a hug before he could lose his nerve, his lips pressing against the side of Peter’s head.

“Sounds perfect, Pete.”

----

Later, after too much processed chicken and rice, Tony found himself laid out against Peter’s chest – now that he’d given in to it, his body wanted to soak up all it could. Peter didn’t disappoint, either – his fingers danced over the side of Tony’s arm and his leg pressed up against his thigh as tightly as he could. If he weren’t so over the moon about what it all meant, Tony would probably be rabid with want. Instead, he felt content to be surrounded by all things Peter.

He felt himself start to drift after the fifth time he watched Adriano Zumbo try a cupcake. Tony pressed his forehead against Peter’s chest before forcing himself to pull away. “Come on. The big bed I have in my room will be much better for sleeping.” Tony didn’t give the sleep groggy Peter any choice, he grabbed his hands and hefted him from the couch, the two of them leaning on each other as they stumbled down the hall.

Tony got Peter set up with a toothbrush and went about getting his face washed and moisturized (because he needed to continue to look young, after all.) Catching Peter’s eye in the mirror, Tony grinned – the domesticity of the little scene making his heart beat double time. He dragged his eyes away and left the bathroom – Tony could only handle so much.

Stripping down to his boxer briefs, Tony slipped under the covers and turned his back to the bathroom door. The coolness of the sheets had him sinking into the comfort of the ridiculously expensive mattress, his brain starting to shut down after 36-hours of constant thinking and stress. It felt nice to finally not have to worry about how he’d handle Peter – how he’d force himself to let the obvious tenderness roll right off his back.

The mattress shifted a few minutes later, cool air slipping under the blankets as Peter climbed in behind him. He was in a similar state of underdress, his bare chest delightfully warm against Tony’s back. A heavy arm wrapped around his middle and tugged, Tony moving back willingly. “Is this okay?” Peter whispered, his lips pressing against the shell of Tony’s ear.

It took Tony a second to remember how to speak, his body just a few minutes away from succumbing to a well-earned slumber. Reaching back, Tony gripped Peter’s arm and pulled him closer. “Yeah. I just want to be held for a while. Glad you’re here to do that for me, Pete.” Tony’s semi-cognizant mutterings revealing more than he probably would have any other time.

Peter tightened his arms around Tony and settled further into the mattress, his limbs becoming heavier by the second. Soft lips pressed against the downey hairs on the back of Tony’s neck, both men sharing a shiver.

“I’m glad, too. Get some rest, baby,” Peter gave him another soft kiss on the neck, Tony’s little moan of happiness settling deep in his chest.

Just before drifting off Tony heard Peter mumble “Love you,” his hand subconsciously tightening around him.

Smiling, Tony groggily said it back – his eyes shutting for the night.

#stark-bb #starker #ironspider #bobbie writes #ask prompts

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therappundit · 4 years

Text

Best of the 1st Half: 2020′s Best Rap Projects (*so far*)...

“I’ve had, the halftime of my life...!”

*record scratch*

2020, WHAT THE F**K. 😳

Ohhh what a first half it has been. If 2020 ended today, it would still be one of the most historic years in a century...and NOT in a pleasant way. Years from now 2020 will be studied for the long-term damage caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, the potential breaking point (hopefully??) of this country’s ignorance to systematic racism and the need for a complete overhaul of our police departments, and of course, whatever the hell comes from the November Presidential election....and, not to mention whatever additional ‘tbd’ chaos rings in the second half of ‘20 that we haven’t even heard about yet!? These are trying times, folks.

My whole life, I have tried to use humor and entertainment to help me with processing high levels of stress and anxiety. This year, that process has felt more daunting than usual. I am writing less and less, and often find Twitter to be too dark of a place for me to navigate. It’s anything but a fulfilling “escape”. Still, I am constantly inspired by all of the new music that fills my headspace during life’s precious little moments, and it really keeps me grounded in the day to day.

At the end of 2019, I wrote the below in one of my posts. It took me back to a special feeling that I had, at a moment when the future seemed more like an opportunity, rather than a worrisome question mark. I’m going to work towards finding that place again, and I wanted to re-share this because it speaks to how the love of any art can be a healthy reminder of what we have to be thankful for in our daily lives:

“Regardless of how you feel about this list, I hope that you visit (or re-visit) any one of these pieces of strong work and find the same level of enjoyment that I did. I loved so much rap music this year and I could not be more excited about what the future holds. On a personal note, in 2019 I found myself even more in love with my wife, feeling luckier than I have in a long time, more satisfied with my hobbies and passions, and above all else, more in awe of my child (and anyone that ever raised a child) than ever before. I became a father for the first time in 2019, so as my baby daughter continues to fill my heart, I am beginning to wonder what she will think of her father’s love for this art form that has brought him so much joy over the years…I suppose time will tell.”

This list is long, because I think the talent that went into these projects is worth your time (and I put a lot of thought into creating this list as well...I do not work in the industry or know anyone that does, and I do not have any real platform - I just do this because I love the music).

If you are an artist on this list, I want to thank you, because you helped me stay positive and focused on a brighter future that I hope will soon come to us all...because everyone has been through something this year, and we deserve better. So salute to you and many, many others. 🙏🙏🙏

- THE Rap Pundit

The “Rules” for my list of the Best Projects of Q1-Q2 2020:

- the album/mixtape/EP/project/whatever you want to call it had to be released this year, by June 26, 2020

- the project must have at least 6 songs

- these rankings are a combination of my own personal preference, my take on overall quality of the project (whether it speaks deeply to my sensibilities or not), and how the final product compares to other work from the artists’ peers that occupy the same lane/‘sub-genre’ of rap music

So here we go 👀...

1. The Price of Tea in China by Boldy James and The Alchemist

Sometimes the greatest albums are not the most ambitious or flashy, they are remembered based off the strength of artistic chemistry and execution. Basketball fans know the beauty of a perfectly timed chest pass to a teammate streaking towards the basket can be more impressive than a behind the back pass that’s simply done for the sake of showing everyone that you can do a fancy pass. Staying with that theme, The Price of Tea in China is The Alchemist doing his best John Stockton impression, serving to Boldy James’ Karl Malone, and by album’s end you realize that Boldy scored a quiet 40 points while making this rap shit look like an easy lay-up.

TPOTIC finds Boldy sprinkling every ounce of his Detroit seasoning into Al’s pot to yield one of the most Mobb Deep-esque collaboration albums since Mobb Deep was dropping albums. In turn, this project is not only Boldy’s greatest work, but it serves as a re-introduction of a veteran MC that is suddenly more relevant than ever. Much like what Freddie Gibbs and Madlib did with 2019′s Bandana, this project is a great lesson on what MC and Producer chemistry can sound like when both parties are 100% on the same page when it comes to message, tone, and aesthetic goals.

It would make sense that Boldy James would fall into the Griselda fold, because much like Westside Gunn, Conway The Machine and Benny The Butcher, he comes from a city with a rich rap music scene that still struggles to reach the level of exposure that the NYCs, L.A.’s, Chicago's and Atlanta’s have basked in for so long. He writes from a place of “been there, done that”, showing a rich attention to detail that separates his street tales from that of his peers in the same way someone telling a story second or third hand can’t match the level of detail that an eye witness has saved in the memory bank. Boldy has survived both real world and music business challenges to rise from the ashes of “hey whatever happened to so & so, he was about to blow” conversations to reach a new peak in his mid-30′s. He deserved this suite of incredible Alchemist soundscapes (Al is deep in his bag here, delivering some of his most low-key impressive instrumentals in years), and like his super-producer buddy, Boldy is looking down at us from atop an already prolific 2020 at its’ midpoint.

I’m not sure anyone can match the chemistry that Prodigy and Mobb Deep had with The Alchemist, but in 2020, The Price of Tea in China delivers some of the most brutally subdued, occasionally humorous, stripped down rap records since P was throwing TV’s at us like he had nothing left to lose. If The Price of Tea in China isn’t holding the championship at year’s end, it still deserves to be mentioned as an impressive work by one of the strongest title-worthy unions running the pick and roll in the genre today.

2. Àdá Irin by Navy Blue

Okay let’s be honest: the “sub-genre” that is often referred to as lo-fi rap music (whether you consider it an actual lane or not, I know you know what I’m talking about...which I suppose proves its’ existence, right?), is beginning to suffer from the same affliction that all other sub-genres tend to suffer from once the word is out that this is “the thing” that the kids find trendy right now. A lot of folks in this lane sound *exactly* the same to the average listener. I’m not even the average listener, and I often feel that way. The irony that comes with being part of the sound that’s supposed to be bucking the mainstream clone machine turning into a mini-clone machine itself, means that the window is in danger of closing to avoid over-saturation of the artists that are already thriving between the gravelly, whisper-welcoming walls of Soundcloud URLs and Bandcamp EPs being slid to their heady fanbase with zero promotion. So with that all being said...why give Navy Blue a chance?

Navy Blue lacks the name recognition of many of his peers (for now), but he has now been thriving in the lo-fi pocket for some time as both a MC and producer, a young artist that’s closely connected to the lane’s most famous figureheads (Earl Sweatshirt, and to some extent, Mach-Hommy), as well as less heralded trailblazers like MIKE and the whole sLUms collective. Sure you can check out Navy’s Soundcloud page to get a taste of his work, but with this Àdá Irin album, we don’t just hear raw snippets of a freshly discovered unsigned talent. With this album we hear Navy as a self-assured solo artist, capable of sharing an inspirational song with the likes of Ka and sounding like every bit of the veteran next to the iconic soft-spoken lyricist. This is a very, very impressive debut full length album that showcases the best that the (sub)genre has to offer: some experimentation, jazzy loops, the diary-like intimacy of words that sit like dust on an old basement book shelf, and the raw emotions that come from working through love, pain and loss in real time. In 2020 there may be nothing completely new under the sun, but it’s the aesthetic choices that Navy Blue makes with every verse and every instrumental that make Àdá Irin feel like a perfect balance of beauty and sadness. If you want to dip a toe in this water but you’re not sure you can get into the mumblecore-ish world of MIKE, MAVI, Medhane or Earl’s work from the past two years, this Navy Blue album might actually be the perfect intro.

3. A Written Testimony by Jay Electronica (featuring JAY-Z)

Not a lot of positive breaking news in 2020...but when Jay Electronica surprised Twitter with a few cryptic Tweets back in February, implying that he was dropping an album (and Jay-Z would likely be involved), the rap game was set ablaze with excitement, skepticism, disbelief, and hope (albeit with some measured caution there as well).

This is something that fans, and arguably the entire rap world, had been clamoring for for a decade, many long since moving on believing that Jay Elec’s debut album had gone the way of Detox, sharing “1a & 1b” status as the most eagerly anticipated projects none of us seriously expected to hear.

Then it dropped....and then it went. In a Twitter-run rap world, quality is too often measured by how long a piece of art stays within the “trending” mix, as opposed to...well, whether or not it’s actually good! The truth is, A Written Testimony is not just good, it’s very, very good, and while it’s not the “Illmatic 2″ that some may have been expecting, realistically it’s superior to what I imagined a new project from such a reclusive artist would sound like in 2020. If you at least try to table the expectations laid out when “Exhibit C” came out in 2009...I think you will find a project (it’s up to you whether or not you want to count this a “solo debut” or not, but at this point, it’s new Jay Electronica - can we just leave it at that??) stacked with memorable moments, quotable gems throughout, stellar production (this is one of the best produced projects of 2020 by far, not sure how/why this piece of the puzzle would receive anything less than acclaim), and some moments of questionable preaching made more palatable by a strong overall voice and package.

Jay Electronica raps with conviction throughout, and while the project feels brief, it lasts long enough to be more than a quick feeling, even if many feel that it’s not long enough to feel like a full album. If "Exhibit C" was the teaser then this is the redband trailer, flashing enough skill and details to resonate for far longer than its’ duration. Much has been said about the heavy hand of JAY-Z on most of the project’s 7 tracks, but let’s be clear, this is not Watch The Throne 2 (even though at points, it may feel like something along those lines). Yes, in impressive fashion, Hov comes through riding shotgun to show a deeper shade of one of his more complex dimensions, with many of his rhymes begging for dissection with every bar. However, AWT features a JAY-Z that’s rapping through Jay Electronica’s lens, not by any means where 4:44 or Everything Is Love left off. This is definitely a Jay Electronica album. AWT dives in and out of Jay Electronica’s beliefs in broad strokes that appear and disappear rather quickly, but even when certain verses raise more questions than provide answers, every song still has at least a handful of the gripping words that remind us of what made Jay Elec-Hanukkah sound like the chosen one in the first place (his tussle with writer’s block and hesitation to put out any art make for some of the projects most engaging moments).

If A Written Testimony is the last Jay Electronica album we ever here - which I truly hope it is not the case - it is still a memorable piece of work. So if you were one of the folks that moved on from it after the “surprise” of Jay finally dropping a project subsided, I hope you change that stance and revisit it once again.

4. Descendants of Cain by Ka

“Quiet and frigid disposition, growin' up in the cold / Surprised I ain't get high from what I was low enough to behold / Like when Pops shot at the neighbor's shop, put one in his head / He knew how he grew me, threw me the gun, a hundred, and fled / Didn't play, 'fore po' arose dispose of exhibit A / I was raised to age a few years in a day / If not elite, didn't eat if you didn't pray / As much as I heal, had to deal, all my scars are here to stay / Our senseis spent days peddling / Our heroes sold heroin.” - Ka, “Patron Saints”

He makes it seem almost too easy. If the writing wasn't so gripping, you might not even revisit it. Ka’s Descendants of Cain arrived with little fanfare, except for the collective awe of his humble but religiously devoted fan-base. The religious devotion is an important piece here, as Cain adds to Ka’s quietly impressive discography another strong album that leans on classic scribes as inspiration to spin poignant metaphors on Brooklyn street philosophy.

This time, the classic work is the Christian Bible, and Ka being the brilliant MC/poet that he is, seems to have little trouble working with the medium to preach without sounding preachy, and wax familiar-sounding nostalgia over wax that sounds as dusty as it feels fresh, rich, and urgent. Producing much of the album himself, along with a few trusted collaborators, the album’s strength is in its’ density, as each song feels like it requires a pause to unpack every bar...and to be honest, that’s exactly the type of attention this work deserves. If you missed this one in the first half of 2020′s feverish dump of new releases, you need to remedy that immediately.

5. Pray for Paris by Westside Gunn

If The Alchemist is the overall rap music MVP for his many contributions to 2020 thus far, Westside Gunn may deserve at least a few honorable mentions. From becoming the ambassador of Buffalo New York to stepping up as an ambassador of the underground rap resurgence, I don’t think any other rap artist has done more to run with the torch that Roc Marciano has been waving for a damn decade than the Griselda mastermind. If you happened to hear Gunn name-dropping to Peter Rosenberg on Rosenberg’s long-standing Real Late show on Hot 97, you know exactly what I mean. Shouting-out close allies and lesser known peers alike, Gunn’s presence proudly announced the underground movement’s invasion of the highly known New York City radio station. It felt like ECW invading WWE’s Monday Night Raw all over again. Of course Gunn’s voice was met with more ears than usual during that interview, since that appearance came hot off the heels of the release of his much discussed side project turned full-blown album, Pray for Paris.

By now most fervent rap fans know the story behind the album (a project that miraculously arrived to completion while Gunn was suffering from the affects of coronavirus), but for many Pray for Paris is the introduction to the story of Griselda Records and the world that they revel in. If Conway the Machine and Benny the Butcher are responsible for the Griselda team’s grittiest street tales, Westside Gunn’s success leans on his ability to blur the line between all-too-real violence and cartoon violence, splattered with elite luxury references and shout-outs for his fellow wrestling addicts. The song titles are merely scattered trains of thoughts that may or may not have anything directly to do with a song’s actual meaning, it’s like naming your child ‘brunch in Williamsburg’ just because it was the last meal you happened to have that day. An audience brought up on Lil Wayne as the God MC may be completely lost at the appeal, but audiences brought up on Wu, DOOM and Sean Price know exactly what vibe Westisde Gunn is going for.

At times Gunn can come across as more of a talent curator than a stand alone MC, so if this is the album that takes Gunn to the next level as a rap star, it would make him the most unselfish rap star to come along in some time. A rapper doesn’t jump on an Alchemist produced track with the likes of Freddie Gibbs and Roc Marciano and expect to leave with anything but the Bronze medal. The same can be said for his chopped and screwed contribution to “Claiborne Kick”, which clearly belongs to Boldy James. That’s not to say that Gunn’s verse is a weak moment on any of the joints on Paris, but the fact that he consistently surrounds himself with high caliber writers confirms that he is well aware that the quality of the final product will be determined by the team involved, not just the artists’ name on the album cover.

For someone that considers himself more of an artist than a rapper, he continues to paint intriguing collages with every album, featuring him at the center of an ever-expanding portrait of MCs, producers, singers, designers, and dancers. Pray for Paris is a typical Griselda project that also happens to sport the potential of something larger than most of their fanbase ever imagined. Yes we get the dark backdrops, elite underground production, and quotables throughout, but we also get a few additional shades, as Gunn dabbles with a “beauty and the beast” dynamic that cleanly pairs his violent imagery with fashionista pomp and circumstance (which no doubt helped draw the likes of Wale and Tyler, the Creator to this project). But t’s all less of a solo album to push a mainstream solo career forward, and much more of a cannonball through the mainstream wall, just to allow some sunlight to shine on his people...and his city, for that matter - because best believe, Paris may be the inspiration behind the project but Buffalo, New York is still with him every step of the way.

6. Alfredo by Freddie Gibbs and The Alchemist

A highly enjoyable surprise drop from two-thirds of the potent combination that gave us the fan favorite project that was Fetti (shout-out to Curren$y, though), Alfredo feels like the perfect treat to hold us over during these trying times. It feels rushed, but simultaneously sharp and activated. It has the feeling of a controlled experiment that was slapped together in separate rooms, rather than carefully curated by multiple artists hunched over the same mixer for days on end. Alfredo is more of a display of two power hitters putting on an impressive showing at a Home Run Derby, rather than the collaboration that has been slowly simmering for years...but that’s also part of the fun, because it feels like Al & Fredo (eh?) were just as excited to release it as we all were to hear it.

Neither party is reinventing the wheel here, but if you are going to have a rapper and a producer connect for an album of great rapping over great beats, you would be hard pressed to find a more natural pairing than these two. The Alchemist delivers with samples that channel the speakeasy jazz of an old piano, and Freddie is simply the king of hard-rap soul right now, so he excels on every song. There are moments of darkness, moments of hope, and moments of self reflection (Gibbs is a logical choice to swing haymakers back at cops abusing their power), all delivered by Freddie at a break-neck speed over Al's significantly less urgent production....as if Gibbs frantically spilled his guts to his buddy over the phone while Al was kickin’ back with a joint saying “uh-huh...yup, I hear ya man.” The final result is an effective one, if not a quick teaser of what a lengthier amount of collaboration time between the two might sound like. It should also be said that the guest verses on this album (especially those from Tyler, The Creator and Conway) took this album up a few spots on this ‘best of’ list. Alfredo is easily one of the strongest surprises of 2020.

7. Reasonable Drought by Stove God Cook$ and Roc Marciano

There is a tradition in the rap music biz that newer/younger artists are often shepherded along by more seasoned artists in order to insure that the less experienced artist is blessed with the built-in audience that comes with a co-sign. It doesn’t always work, but typically the initiation comes with a solid musical foundation on a debut project accompanied by a greener MC still finding his/her way. Not the case with Stove God Cook$, he is perhaps the most unexpectedly fresh MC to be cut from classic rap cloth since Griselda & Mach-Hommy began to build cult-like followings.

While Reasonable Drought (and seriously, how bold of a title is that for a debut!?) is blessed by the impressive production and mentorship of underground rap icon Roc Marciano, it truly is the lesser known MC himself that captures the imagination right from the get-go. When I say that in my life time, I cannot recall such a strong debut performance by a MC that I have heard virtually no work from prior to his 2019 emergence, with the help of minimal publicity/ad budget (if any? Cook$ was barely on social media until *after* his album had already been released) on his way to dropping an album with zero features...then you should take my recommendation very seriously. Fresh style, some of the most rewind-worthy quotables in recent memory (an Uncle Buck reference!? Bow down, people), and a new following built exclusively on the word of mouth of equal-minded folks that were blown away by a project many copped on a passing whim... it’s clear that this moment could be the beginning of an amazing, fascinating career.

Similar to Roc Marciano before him, Cook$ possesses a rare flare with his wordplay and delivery that makes even the ugliest tales of coke dealing and disrespectful criminal activity sound like the colorful exploits of a post-Blaxploitation hero. He delivers every bar with the uber-specific word choice of Roc, but the outgoing swag of a Max B. The man that has people that never touched cocaine in their life singing that they’re “smelling like a brick right now”, is smelling like a winner in 2020 and beyond.

8. Battle Scar Decorated by Monday Night & Henny L.O.

Last call to board the Mutant Academy bandwagon!

I have been saying that this deep underground collective of MCs & producers has been low key having a banner year all year long, and scrolling through this list you can see exactly what I mean. Henny L.O. is too good to be slotted as just a battle rapper, while Monday Night is far too strong of a presence to be considered a mere associate of the core Mutant team. When you think of Mutant Academy and their respective affiliated acts, think of them as a gathering of solo artists that happen to make dope rap music together, but all parties involved are capable of standing on their own two. I think that’s what consistently impresses me about their projects...hat, and the lack of filler material.

Along with a deep Rolodex of mostly under-the-radar talent, the hunger and confidence of a thriving Richmond, Viriginia rap scene is present on every track of Battle Scar Decorated. Much like many of my favorite albums of 2020, there is no reinventing of the wheel here, the triumph is in the execution. Monday & Henny tag in and out, each with the confidence that they have spit the best verse on the song before they have even finished. It’s that level of ability combined with a shocking amount of production talent that makes Battle Scar Decorated essential listening to anyone that wants to be reminded of a vibe that hasn’t been in abundance in the underground rap scene since L.A. in the late 90′s. It wouldn’t be fair to talk about how much I enjoyed this project without including the great producers involved, so a big s/o to: Sycho Sid, C.R.I.S.T.E.N, James Couch, Savvy, Heather Grey, and Ewonne.

9. Eastern Medicine, Western Illness by Preservation

Accompanied by a who’s who of underground hip-hop’s finest (Roc Marciano, Mach-Hommy, Your Old Droog, Quelle Chris, Nickelus F, Tree, Navy Blue, Billy Woods, Ka *and more* - I mean seriously!?), Preservation has assembled an impressively cohesive compilation album both sonically and thematically.

Incorporating record samples from his travels in China, Eastern Medicine, Western Illness feels born in simplicity even though it is anything but a casual collection of dope verses over tightly wound production. A quietly gifted producer, Preservation knows how to squeeze the best out of his guests without shouting the results through the speakers, the choices are more subtle but yield a high impact and replay value. Listening to the project feels more like listening to a secret, unreleased project, because it’s hard to believe that this much talent would gift this much high caliber writing to a compilation of songs...although that was not uncommon in the 90′s and early 00′s (ah, I’m showing my old age again). Perhaps that’s a testament to Preservation’s vision, a DJ/producer with a relatively small catalog built on curated quality (see his fantastic 2015 collaboration with Ka on Days With Dr. Yen Lo). Eastern Medicine has enough talent involved that it could have been a worthy listen even if it was just as a hodgepodge of donated loosies, so the fact that the final product is so much more than that makes it an album that warrants a great deal of more attention.

10. The Allegory by Royce Da 5′9″

No accomplished lyricist makes life harder on himself than Royce Da 5′9″. Be it his tendency to cram personal observations and disclosures in and around his punchlines, or experimenting production wise, the Detroit veteran is intent on finding new ways to approach fine wine music, tossing more complex offerings into his catalog over the past few years. Things are no different with The Allegory.

Not only did Royce once again pen an album that speaks to his ability to cope with his own past and present, he inserts himself in the producer chair as well, addressing the trials and tribulations of the increasingly problematic world around him, over backdrops crafted by only his hand a a few trusted peers. The effect is mostly successful, with the production exceeding the expectations of many (myself included), while the writing is at times both thought-provoking and in need of further exploration on Royce’s part. The guest features range from effective to scene stealing (not because Royce ‘s verse is outshined, but there are moments where it seems as if the guest is better suited over Royce’s own production than he is). If you’re Royce Da 5′9″ and you release an album titled The Allegory, no one should expect a simple quick fix of bars over easily digestible instrumentals. The highs come in abundance, and while the lows come in small trip-ups and the occasional skit that the listener probably could have done without, you get the sense that with some editing and further focus of his lofty goals, his sermons could have been sharpened into a more effective analysis of many of his topics (the music business, being black in America, history, conspiracy theories), resulting in an incredible album instead of a very good one. Nevertheless, it is all worth the ride to hear the latest work from one of rap music’s most gifted MC’s from the past decade. If The Allegory isn’t a home-run, it’s at the very least a strong base hit.

Top 50 (all belong in the Top 10-25, but...there’s only 25 spots in the Top 25, soooo):

11. Cold Water by Medhane

12. Shrines by Armand Hammer

13. Bag Talk by yungmorpheus & Pink Siifu

14. Try Again by ovrkast.

15. RTJ4 by Run The Jewels

16. Noise Kandy 4 by Rome Streetz

17. Innocent Country 2 by Quelle Chris

18. Weight of the World by MIKE

19. Sages by Henny L.O. & Ohbliv

20. Milestones by Skyzoo

21. Carpe Noctem by Big Ghost Ltd

22. Lake Water by SeKwence

23. At the End of the Day. by Fly Anakin

24. Sole Food by Deniro Farrar

25. The Oracle 3 by Grafh

26. The Blue Tape by Tree

27. lo&behold by lojii

28. Infinite Wisdom by Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon

29. FULL CIRCLE by Medhane

30. UNLOCKED by Denzel Curry & Kenny Beats

31. The Throwaways by The Opioid Era

32. Anyways by Young Nudy

33. PTSD (Deluxe) by G Herbo

34. Holly Favored by Monday Night & Foisey

35. THE GOAT by Polo G

36. Demon & Mufasa by Yhung T.O. & DaBoii

37. The Face of Jason by ANKHLEJOHN

38. My Turn by Lil Baby

39. No One Mourns the Wicked by Conway & Big Ghost Ltd.

40. Two4one by Jay Worthy

41. Free Drakeo by Drakeo

42. Alone Time by YL

43. Assata by CV$ a.k.a. Con$piracy & Teller Bank$

44. Thug Tear by Big Kashuna O.G. & Monday Night

45. Ways and Means by Rasheed Chappell & 38 Spesh

46. IMMORTALKOMBAT by Al Divino & Estee Nack

47. Young & Turnt 2 by 42 Dugg

48. Sleeper Effect by Sleep Sinatra

49. Juno by Che Noir & 38 Spesh

50. LULU by Conway & The Alchemist

THE REST OF THE BEST (all belong in the Top 50 releases of 2020, but..what can I say, blame 2020 for being such a stacked year for music/events I guess):

Black Schemata by yungmorpheus, The Smartest by Tee Grizzley, Polly by the Powder Keg by Chuck Chan & Pad Scientist, High Off Life by Future, Gotham City Album by Plex Diamonds, Memphis Massacre 2 by Duke Deuce, Poetic Substance by RIM & Vinyl Villain, Styles David: Ghost Your Enthusiasm by Styles P, MF Bloo by Bloo & Spanish Ran, LSD by The Leonard Simpson Duo & Guilty Simpson, Funeral by Lil Wayne, RAW UNKNOWN by Spectacular Diagnostics, Nezzie’s Star by Eddie Kaine, ShrapKnel (self-titled), The Bluest Note by Skyzoo & Dumbo Station, WUNNA by Gunna, Get Money Teach Babies by Heist Life & Spanish Ran, Open Casket by Killer Kane, 6 Rings by Yung Mal, The Beauty of It by Eto, Meet The Woo 2 by Pop Smoke, Fresh Air by UFO Fev & Statik Selektah, Vito by Vince Ash, GRIMM & EViL by GRiMM Doza, RUDEBWOY by CJ Fly, Rocket to Nebula by Killah Priest, EVERYTHING by Kota the Friend, NO Blade of Grass by V Don, Eternal Atake by Lil Uzi Vert, I’m My Brother’s Keeper by Yella Beezy & Trapboy Freddy, Carhartt Champions by Tree Mason, Viral Viral! by Dunbar, Rowhouse Whispers by Ray West & Zilla Rocca, Magneto Was Right #4 by Raz Fresco, DUMP LIFE by Tha God Fahim, Jay NiCE & Left Lane Didon, Burn One, Tap In, Zone Out by Dot Demo, FNTG: From Niggaz to Godz by Squeegie O, PANAGNL4E, Vol. 2 by Los and Nutty, Death 2 All Haterz 2 by Rigz & Symph, Thank You For Using GTL by Drakeo & JoogSzn, Adjust to the Game by Larry June, Martyr’s Prayer by Elcamino & 38 Spesh, BETTER by Deante’ Hitchcock, Attack of the Future Shocked, Flesh Covered, Meatbags of the 85 by $ilkMoney, No Cosign Just Cocaine 3 by Ty Farris, Hear No Equal by Chuuwee, MSYKM by Tsu Surf, Your Birthday’s Cancelled by Iron Wigs, Spring Clean by Curren$y & Fuse, Arctic Plus Degrees (The Sun Don’t Chill Allah) by Planet Asia & DirtyDiggs, Psychological Cheat Sheet by Vic Spencer, Glass 2.0 by Meyhem Lauren & Harry Fraud, Trust the Chain by Planet Asia & 38 Spesh, Director’s Cut (Scene Two) by Ransom & Nicholas Craven, and Son Of A Gun by Key Glock.

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appleciders · 4 years

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personally, im also deep in the station 19 muck but like you i wish i wasn't. randomly watched it because pandemic and maya bishop is just so compelling, even with all the bad writing i still love her sm. is there anything you would want to see for season 4? your hair cut fic was so good and i cant stop thinking about how much better the season would have been had it ended like that instead.

first off, sorry to both of us for being here! but i guess let’s take escapism where can get it, hey. second, thank you so much for reading the fic!! i’m super honored you liked it <33

as for what i would want for s4...whew. a lot, lmao. i’ll put in under a cut to save my poor non-s19 followers.

mostly, i want them to please slow down the pacing. let story arcs breathe and build and develop. last season was so rushed—ryan’s death and rigo’s death and pruitt’s death all crammed in, andy and sullivan having a shotgun wedding out of nowhere, maya and carina fastforwarding to i love yous with only 30 second scenes and not a real date to be seen, vic hardly getting to process ripley—i could go on. it’s cheap and messy storytelling. cut it out.

i also really want them to let relationships do the same. i want to see the friendships that were so strained last season to grow again. show me andy, maya, and vic being friends and supporting each other!! for the love of god!! (show me andy and maya being friends, period. for the whole season. the whole goddamn season. no drama between them, only supporting each other through outside drama. if i have to see another season where these ‘best friends’ are at each other’s throats half the time, i swear to god.)

show me more team-as-family! a) i eat that shit up, and b) that’s supposed to be the underlying theme and premise of the show. show them laughing and goofing off together, show them holding each other up when things get tough, show them teasing each other to hell and back while they cook together in the beanery. invest in that again.

for the romances....develop that shit. honestly, i really hope andy and sullivan either break up or really do the fucking work to fix their relationship, because as-is, it’s a hot mess. and not a hot mess i particularly care to watch. i liked them fine in season 2, but the sullivan arc in s3 (which...not to out myself as having watched chicago fire, but which is a blatant rip-off of severide’s s1 arc in cf) puts him in a place where he’s not really ready for a relationship. and with the amount of shit they put andy through, she’s not, either. i know it’s impossible on a drama, but i would really like andy to be single this season? idk, i’m tired.

maya and carina better not be all sunshine and rainbows. they need to do the work! they need to show the work! after that rushed-ass ‘forgive me’ scene (where carina was...pressured into forgiving maya like the day after she cheated on her??? and that was framed as a good thing?? make it make sense), they deserve to show them actually navigating that broken trust and rebuilding something real. and as someone who doesn’t watch grey’s, i really don’t know carina very well? 90% of her scenes were her supporting maya through her ongoing breakdown (though a totally understandable breakdown! not criticizing maya for having trauma), so i’d like to see more of a balance of support in the relationship and more development of her as an individual apart from maya. she’ll be sticking around, and that will be much more interesting if she bonds with other members of the team.

dean and vic...look, my hands-down #1 wish for season 4 is that they treat vic hughes well, with respect, with screentime, and with a good arc. she’s the absolute best. and as much as i love dean miller (hint: a lot), he needs to start guzzling his respecting vic juice if the writers are gonna try to set up anything. personally, i’d really like to see them move past it? awkward crushes between friends happen. putting myself in dean’s shoes, living with one of my best friends who i’m also secretly crushing on, watching her play with my baby...it’d be a lot too!! but that doesn’t excuse being a dick, so i’d really like to see them take some time apart, and then start their friendship back up on a foundation of honesty and communication. because they’re so good, guys.

individual character notes!!!

well. i want every person at this goddamn station to go to therapy. they won’t, but i want them to.

andy needs to go to serious grief counseling after season 3. compounded by what’s bound to be a shitstorm from the discovery that her mother is alive? please. in regards to the whole mother arc, i really don’t want it her disappearance to have been like...gang-related. i’ve seen that posited as a theory, and that’s just a whole bundle of stereotypes we don’t need to get into. i also want the mom reveal to be the main revelation that takes up the majority of her arc the first half of the season, just to have time to process it. the captain’s race took up all of season 1—you can give this twist time to marinate properly.

vic hughes, my moon, my stars! i really loved the snippets of vic’s backstory that they gave us in s3. as someone who lost a family member to early-onset alzheimer’s in november, 3x09 was...oof. a lot. i love how they committed to fleshing out her past and her backstory more and i love the emotional depth barrett doss always brings to the screen. for season 4, i’d love to see vic get to process ripley and jackson properly. (and here i repeat my forever adage for female characters lol: let them be single for a hot sec.) i want her to move in with maya, because i think that dynamic is so fun and ripe for exploration, and then i’d love to see her digging in to her issues and getting help—going back to the firefighter group, actually talking, spending time with her found family. (sidenote: would love to see her help out with some like youth community theatre classes on her days off? developing connections with kids who have gone through losses, supporting them and in turn realizing the support she needs herself...tell me vic singing with kids wouldn’t be the cutest shit). anyway, i just rly want her to get a good storyline. but i’m not a screenwriter so like...hope they come up with one!

i’ve already written much more than i’m sure you wanted, so i’m going to condense the boys into one paragraph lol. i want jack gibson to heal himself and stop sleeping with taken women! his new found family is super sweet, so i really hope he gets to keep it throughout s4. i want travis montgomery to get only good and happy things, and the same goes for warren. actually, i’d love to see warren step into his new role as team Older Person a bit more? i think that would be a really fun and heartwarming dynamic to play with all the other characters. dean i think i already touched on, but i’d love him to take a breath, apologize to vic and explain, and lean on the rest of his found family. he’s gonna be such a good dad and i’m excited to see more of that.

finally: maya. oh, maya. she needs therapy. you can’t have a character say she’s been dealing with suicidal ideation and anxiety for nearly 20 years and just...magically make it all better. she deserves to get to unpack all the shit with her dad, and all the ways that’s impacted her. on some level, i kinda wish she’d not stayed as captain—i love her scenes so much when she’s allowed to be just chilling on the same level as her team. since that’s not the case, finding a right balance of her as captain and her as friend is gonna be super important. i want her to open up to her friends and lean on them. i’d love for mason to come back, too? i think her trying to heal herself, establish herself as a team member and leader, and rebuild her relationships with her brother as well as her found family and girlfriend would be more than enough material for an arc. it won’t always go great! this stuff isn’t an easy fix! but that’s why it’d be worth writing. plus, so many members of the team have shitty relationships with their parents that even though they won’t understand what maya went through, there’s some really fertile ground for compassion and cathartic ‘fuck our dads’ ball-busting i’d love to see seeded. bonus father’s day episode where literally none of them are happy and they decide to like...go play laser tag or something.

anyway, i’m sure that’s more than you wanted!! but thank you for the q lmao apparently i had a lot to say

#station 19 #maya bishop #vic hughes #andy herrera #like...everybody else lmao #yes i have homework due in 10 minutes i haven't started!#yes i decided to think about this instead!#what of it #....whoops #Anonymous

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namsjunies · 5 years

Text

infatuated // jjk

anon requested: can you write a nsfw blurb of nerd virgin jk losing his virginity to his female crush who’s like popular and he thinks is super hot lmao?

pairing: jungkook/female reader

word count: 3,059

tags: loss of virginity, handjob, face sitting, safe, penetrative sex

this goes way beyond being a blurb but i hope that makes it worth the time it took me to write it. please enjoy <3 also this is unedited so please excuse any typos hehe

Jungkook doesn’t know what it is about you that made you so appealing to him, aside from the obvious: your appearance. He’d spoken to you in passing, more in a group conversational context than one on one and he’d heard you speak in a single class he’d miraculously shared with you during his third semester. You’re nice and smart as far as he can tell, but you hang around in the same circles as Taehyung and Jimin who are whispered about all over campus, as vast as it is, because of their looks and their charming personalities.

Jungkook doesn’t get around much in terms of parties and clubbing, he promised himself he’d be diligent with his studies even if it meant sacrificing a lot of what people claim shapes a college experience. But Jungkook thinks much of what shapes a college experience is actually graduating over flunking out. It’s not that he doesn’t do anything at all, but he has priorities and he’s not going to sacrifice his ambition for the consequences of questionable actions.

Yet somehow, Jungkook becomes close to Taehyung after taking a number of classes with him over several semesters and suddenly he’s navigating through social circles he’s not quite sure he fits in well with. But, it brings him closer to you, who he’d been slowly developing what feels like a high school crush for the more he sees of you and the more he hears of you from his new friends. They talk about you so casually, and Jungkook just finds himself wishing he knew you like that.

Jungkook thinks Taehyung is trying to take him under his wing, help Jungkook become more open and social while still allowing him to maintain his focus on what he considers the most important. So it’s only after midterms end that Taehyung invites Jungkook to a big party rather than the more casual settings they usually hang out in. Jungkook is apprehensive at first, he’s not so sure about being somewhere unfamiliar around so many people he doesn’t know, but he receives reassurance from Taehyung that there will be plenty of people who Jungkook considers friends (and hearing that you will be there is enough reason already).

So maybe Jungkook puts even more pressure on himself to look nice for the party in an effort to impress you. He pushes his hair back away from his face to expose his forehead rather than settling for his normal look, and dresses himself in a blue satin button up and some black jeans. He feels like he might be just slightly too formal for a college party, but he’d rather look good than be underdressed. But upon arriving, he doesn’t feel bad, because Taehyung is dressed in his normal semi-formal attire--loose slacks and a dress shirt--and he offers Jungkook a grin and a clap on the back of his shoulder when he catches sight of him.

“Jimin and Hoseok are on the couch, I’ll get you a drink and then head over there,” Taehyung tells him before nudging him in the right direction.

Jungkook makes his way through a number of people hovering around drinking and talking and swaying in beat with the music permeating through the house before he spots his friends and the only place that he’s able to take a seat is on the armrest next to Jimin. Jimin then just offers him a warm smile. “I’m glad you made it, JK. Tonight will be fun.”

Jungkook is happy to be around his friends, and when Taehyung comes back and presses a cold beer bottle into Jungkook’s hand, their conversation carries on for a while pleasantly. Jungkook loosens up slowly, between all the talking and the music he’s vaguely familiar with and the alcohol. But despite how content he feels, he can’t help but wonder where you are after Taehyung had emphasized quite clearly that you would be around that night. Jungkook is sure that you’re surrounded by other friends in some other part of the house that he has yet to explore, but as soon as the thought enters his mind, he catches sight of you across the living room by the staircase. You keep getting caught up in brief conversations, but you’re clearly making your over to Jungkook (and the rest of your friends too, he supposes). He wonders if tonight he’ll finally be able to grab and maintain your attention. Sometimes, the way you would look at him and talk to him, so attentively with your eyes wide and sparkling welcomingly, he would feel so special and his cheeks would heat up under your gaze and he’d struggle to continue a conversation. All a part of having a crush, but it didn’t make Jungkook feel any better about making a fool of himself in front of you. He likes to think that he’d gotten more comfortable around you since Taehyung befriended him, but that thought could just be Jungkook’s own wishful thinking.

Eventually, after minutes of stealing glances over to you to measure your distance away, you’re finally standing in front of him. Jungkook’s anxiety tells him that you’re scrutinizing him, but you’ve only glanced at him for a second and then you’re smiling as you compliment him.

“Jungkook, I’m so happy to see you. I was hoping you would make it. I feel like I never see you outside of campus, I’ve been waiting for the chance to really talk to you.”

Your words alone are enough to make Jungkook’s heart drop into the pit of his stomach, but in accompaniment with your tempting tone, he feels like he might pass out altogether. His hand squeezes tight around his half empty bottle and he smiles uncomfortably wide.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss this. I’ve been putting off Taehyung’s invitations long enough. Plus, getting to see you makes this all the more worth it.”

Jungkook himself is amazed by how easily the words leave his mouth, and he feels somewhat triumphant when you smirk at him and tilt your head in response. A second later, Jimin is offering you his seat on the couch and as you sit, you drape your hand casually over Jungkook’s thigh as you peer up at him expectantly.

You’d always found Jungkook attractive, more than you care to admit to yourself. His eyes are always bright, glimmering with kindness, and of all the times you’d spoken to him briefly, you’d never once found him boring and honestly you ended up wishing that you saw him more often. But it’s also easy to catch on to the way he blushes and smiles shyly around you, even if now he sounds so confident.

You’re pleased with the way the night continues, being able to really talk to Jungkook for longer and learn more about him, with brief interruptions from Jimin vying for attention when Taehyung walks away every once in a while. But as time passes, you become more distracted by the way his pink lips part when he speaks or licks his lips, or how his arm flexes as he stretches or adjusts his grip on the empty bottle she’s pretty sure he’s keeping as a form of decoration. Your hand is still braced on his thigh almost possessively, and every time you move it up so much as a centimeter, there’s a new wave of blush blooming over Jungkook’s round cheeks. But you’re getting impatient, and you’re confident enough in his feelings for you that it gives you the courage to ask, “Do you want to go home with me?”

Jungkook sighs in what sounds like relief and nods, “Yes.”

The next 20 minutes pass in a blur with you reassuring him that yes, you like him a lot and you know he likes you too during the Uber ride to your apartment and as you’re unlocking the front door you ask if he’s sure to which he answers you with an urgent kiss as soon you’ve shut the door behind the both of you.

“The only thing is,” he breathes out as you’re pushing him down on your bed, and you pause then, wait for him to finish speaking before you even attempt another move on him. “I don’t really have, um, any experience,” he stammers, and all in the next breath he continues, “Is that a deal breaker? Is that something I should’ve mentioned earlier? I’m sorry I just really like you and, and I was hoping that it wouldn’t matter anyways-” he’s cut off when you lean down to kiss him again briefly.

“Jungkook, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re comfortable, okay? Let me know if you start feeling uncomfortable or something, I want this to be good for you,” you mumble with another soft kiss against his jaw.

You kiss him for a few minutes, it turns wet and sloppy quickly but the way that he breathes out a quiet moan against your lips just encourages you and you pull away only to start down the length of his throat. The loose fit of his shirt allows you to slide your hands underneath his shirt, feeling up the smooth expanse of his taut stomach until you reach his nipples. Your teasing draws out a whimper from him and you pull back to look at him as he blinks up at you shyly, eyes wider and darker than normal. “‘M sensitive,” he mumbles before you kiss him again hard.

“Cutie,” you giggle to yourself. “I wanna play with you a little bit more. Do you think you can undress yourself?”

After you receive a nod from him, you get off of him and stand so you can slip out of your own clothes, and once you’re left in your underwear, his awed expression is enough to make you shy as well. So you recover your confidence by gesturing for him to lie back again.

“Y’know, I don’t do this a lot either. But, I’m more than happy to be with you,” you tell him as you straddle his thighs, enough space in front of you to be able to slide your hand into his underwear and pull his cock out, already fully hard with the slightest touch of precum beading at the tip.

“Fuck,” he hisses softly as you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock to drag his precum down the length before you wrap your hand around the base.

“Already so hard and I’ve hardly even touched you. With how responsive you are, it’ll be so easy to learn everything you like,” you coo lovingly as he flushes with embarrassment and throws his head to the side.

You pull your hand away from him, still not satisfied with how wet he is and you don’t want the friction to hurt him, so you get off of him one last time to lean over to your nightstand and pull out a bottle of lube.

You’re on top of him again before he’s able to process that you’d gone at all, stripping him completely of his underwear before drizzling a surplus of lube over his cock before you’re taking him into your hand again and stroking him slowly, coaxing a reluctant moan from his throat.

“Such a nice cock, Jungkookie. Dripping and waiting for me. I’m going to make this so worth it for you.”

Jungkook doesn’t know what he did in his previous life to deserve having you on top of him, gazing down at him so lustfully and touching him in ways that he didn’t even know could feel good. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop blushing again, but his embarrassment escapes him immediately, the same as the whine he lets out, as you squeeze your hand around him briefly before you keep sliding your hand up and down his cock.

He keens as you continue to touch him, and you’re mesmerized by his glistening eyes and his slick lips as he peers up at you. Minutes pass with his soft whimpers only increasing in volume as you tease his cock and his nipples, his hips are twitching and stirring eagerly underneath you.

“I’m, I’m close,” he stutters, fingers curling tight in the sheets and he squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s bracing himself, but then you’re pulling your hand away and letting his cock lay twitching and neglected against his stomach. He lets out a whine that almost makes you want to finish him off but you shake your head instead.

“ I can’t let you cum just yet. Don’t worry, I won’t tease you for too much longer,” you whisper with a playful grin blossoming across your lips.

“Can I touch you?” he asks after he’s able to catch his breath and recover from his orgasm that never was.

Your smile only grows wider, fonder, and you nod. You take his hands and guide them up your sides until they reach your breasts and he reacts immediately. He shakes your hands off his wrists and he sits up as he toys with your nipples so he can slot your lips together in another sloppy kiss. He’s satisfied with the noise you make as his left hand closes over one of your nipples and his right hand slides down your torso until he can press it flat over your cunt.

“In my experience, this is not virgin behavior,” you manage to exhale. Your underwear is damp with your arousal and as he pulls your underwear to the side so he can drag his fingertip over your clit, a whimper leaves your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. All for me,” he sighs happily and you struggle to imagine what he’s seen or read that has prepared him for this moment but you’ll just ask him later. He mouths down your throat before he captures one of your nipples in his mouth just as he presses one of his fingers into your entrance. The palm of his hand is pressed deliciously up against your clit as he touches you tentatively, and it’s one of the only times you’ve noticed how unsure of himself he is.

“Jungkook. That’s good, it’s good. Keep going,” you breathe out encouragingly and one of your hands moves up instinctively to grab at his hair. You’re surprised when he pulls his hand away entirely and you’re more than disappointed by the loss until he looks up at you.

“Sit on my face,” he breathes out with a slight chuckle in his tone.

“Oh so you’re really feeling brave,” you tease him. “Are you sure?” you add, to which he just nods eagerly and both of his hands rest on your hips, urging you up again as he lies back.

That’s all the convincing it takes before you’re sitting up. You pull your underwear off completely and a second later you’re hovering over his head with your thighs spread welcomingly and he braces his hands against your thighs, pulling you down until he can press his mouth against you.

You can’t help the moan you express as he licks eagerly into your entrance, whimpering intelligibly about how good you taste, and when his lips close around your clit and he sucks enthusiastically, you feel like you’re about to collapse on top of him.

“Ah, juh, just like that, Kook,” you whimper as your hands tighten in his hair and your thighs shake, threatening to close around his head. His fingers feel like they’re pressing into your hips so hard that they might leave bruises but you can’t bring yourself to care when his mouth alone is making you feel so good.

You pull your hands away from his scalp and you lean forward involuntarily, your hands catching in the sheets to keep holding yourself up the best you can.

“Okay, fuck, okay, Jungkook, Jungkook,” you gasp, reluctantly and weakly lifting yourself off him to straddle his hips once more. “Not that that wasn’t good,” you mumble as you push your hair away from your face, and look down appreciatively at his face, shining with your wetness. He licks his lips contently and sits up again, props himself up on his elbows. “But I want your cock,” you finish.

Jungkook was feeling proud of himself for appearing to be doing so well for his first serious experience, but he supposes that you’re both old enough and you’re doing a well enough job telling him what you like that it doesn’t have to be as messy and terrible as others make it out to be.

It’s definitely not terrible as you sink down on his cock as soon you roll a condom on, and the warmth and tightness of your pussy is enough to take him to the edge of his climax again. “Feels so good,” he whimpers as you steady yourself with your hands on his chest and create a steady rhythm lifting and lowering yourself back down on his cock.

Jungkook’s hands are squeezing your thighs or your hips as you ride him, and he lets out a series of bated breaths and stuttering groans as you fuck him. You grab one of his hands and pull it down to press his fingers against your clit, letting out your own noise of satisfaction as he takes the initiative to press his thumb against the bud and rub it in tight circles.

He can feel his orgasm building up hotly in the pit of his stomach within a few minutes and he tells you this verbally: “I’m close.”

You’re pleased that you’re right behind him when he says this, your tummy tightening pleasantly with all the sensations coming down on you. “I’m, ah, I’m cumming, baby. Cum, Jungkook, you can cum,” you moan out, losing most of your ability to continue fucking yourself down on him.

Jungkook feels overwhelmed as you clench around him, his orgasm coming down on him like a tsunami at the same time, and even when you’re recovering, laying down next to him, his body still feels like it’s pulsing.

But you feel the same, and it takes you a minute to speak.

“How was that?”

Jungkook blinks once or twice as he registers your words and he lets out a content sigh. “I didn’t think it would be like that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment… Why don’t you stay the night?”

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #sub jungkook #sub jungkook smut #request #jk

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aquaticalay · 4 years

Text

Centurion .Chapter Ten.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Sequel to For Something Greater

Summary: (Y/n) is an active duty Navy SEAL Commander, the first and only woman to ever become a SEAL. After successfully stopping a genocide with the help of the Avengers, she becomes a bridge between the military and the earth's mightiest heroes. But even as her relationship with Bucky grows, she decides not to tell him about the nightmares and trauma that haunt her. Both their secrets begin to unravel when Bucky accidentally stumbles upon a piece of dangerous information about (Y/n) that she must never find out about.

Genre: Action, Drama, Romance

Warning/s for the series: cursing, violence, death, eventual smut, PTSD

Warning/s for the chapter: nothing, just a bit of cursing :)

Word count: 2.3k

Note: The plot is heavily inspired by the song 'in the dark' by Bring Me The Horizon, and 'Mercy' by Muse. So yeah, go listen to it if you want to :))) I'll post a new chapter every two days.

Let me know if you want to be in the taglist!

(Taglist will be reblogged)

THIS IS A SEQUEL TO 'FOR SOMETHING GREATER.' IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT, THE MASTERLIST IS IN MY BIO.

TRIGGER WARNING! THIS SERIES REVOLVES AROUND POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER. (Including, but not limited to: anxiety/panic attacks, extreme mood swings , nightmares, intrusive thoughts, insomnia, irritability, hypervigilance, and hyperarousal)

The flight to Madrid took no more than two hours. It was almost midnight when you touched down.

Tanaka already had a booking at one of the finest luxury hotels in Madrid. You took a cab there, and it didn’t take long for you to be greeted by the friendly staff. Tanaka had told them that she had room booked already. She also requested an extra room for you and Bucky to stay in. It wasn’t long before they approved.

You find it odd that they did not bat an eyelash or look at you funny, even when you look like shit. Sure, you had half decent clothing on— your trench coat was actually pretty fancy, too— but you had a bandage on the side of your forehead, and Tanaka, who was still getting used to her crutch, was making a lot of noise. It didn’t help that she said her ankle was swelling. She was wincing in pain at every step. When the woman who worked at the front desk offered Tanaka medical assistance, she bluntly refused, saying that she had everything under control.

In the elevator, you asked where she got the money for the hotel, but Tanaka simply gave you a sly smile and said that she had 'rich friends'. Whatever that meant.

The hotel staff lead you and Bucky to your room, and Tanaka to the room next to yours.

The room Tanaka ordered was most likely bigger than a standard hotel room. The paint job was minimalist and clean, black and white decorating the room with a splash of gold. A king-sized bed was set against a wall, opposite to a TV and a working desk. There was a two-seater sofa as well, and a glass coffee table. Exhausted, you plopped down on the bed, burying your head into the feathery soft pillow.

Bucky managed a chuckle, setting his duffel bag full of change on the table.

He sat down next to you, hands trailing down the side of your waist. “Sam-“ he started to say, but you cut him off.

“We’ll find him,” you reassured quickly, not leaving room for doubt, “We will.”

Suddenly, you heard a knock on the door, followed by Tanaka’s distinct voice.

“(Y/n)!” She called, “I need a favor.”

You let out a sigh, then trudged to the door. When you opened the door, you saw Tanaka leaning on her crutch on her left hand, and on her right hand, she was holding a dark green dress made of velvet and a fine leather briefcase.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“Please, let me in,” she gave you her desperate eyes, “I need to talk about this in private.”

Sensing her urgency, you let her in. She took a seat on the couch on the side of the room while Bucky eyed her cautiously, still sitting on the bed. He hadn’t trusted her yet, but if you did, he wasn’t going to question your judgement. You locked the door behind and made your way inside.

Tanaka threw the green velvet dress in front of her, laying it on the coffee table. She sighed. “I promised an informant I would meet them in an hour,” she said, “I can’t do that now. I can’t even walk properly. You have to go in my place.”

Before you could say anything, Bucky stood up, interrupting the conversation. “No fucking way.”

You sat on the opposite end of the soft, crossing your arms across your chest. “This is the informant who claims to know where Sam is?”

Tanaka nodded, “Yes.”

Though Bucky slightly shook his head in disapproval, you replied, “Sure.” You shrugged like it was no big deal. This was a matter of finding Sam. You can't refuse this chance. "Just tell me what to do and where to go and I’ll be there.”

Bucky exhaled frustratingly. “Do you even know who the informant is?” he asked Tanaka.

Your friend shook her head, “All that I know is that he goes by the name ‘Static’ and he’ll be waiting in a bar in Salamanca at exactly 1.30 AM. He will be wearing a purple coat and zebra shoes. He will say where tell where Sam is once you give him this,” she opened the briefcase, and as cliche as it sounded, it was money— US dollars, easily $800.000 or more.

“Static?” You furrowed your eyebrows, “You know that can’t be his real name.”

“It’s the name he gave me,” said Tanaka, closing and locking the briefcase securely.

Bucky sighed, “At least let me go with her.”

“Absolutely not,” said Tanaka sternly, “If you come with her, Static will know something is wrong.”

“It’s fine, Buck,” you reassured him, trying to calm him down, “I can do this on my own.”

Bucky locked eyes with you and saw a familiar flare, one that he recognized instantly. Your eyes almost glowed with determination, and he knew it was impossible to change your mind, now that you’ve already made it up.

You nodded, grabbing the green velvet from the table.

You only had a little under forty minutes to get ready, and Tanaka had told you that you needed to clean up properly. The deal with Static was going to be at an upscale bar in a particularly famous and lively part of nighttime Madrid. You needed to look pretty, whatever that meant.

You managed to wash and dry your hair, as long as apply make up with Naomi Tanaka’s help, she also faded the scar on your forehead with a little concealer. When you put on the velvet green dress, it was only a little bit too big, but no one would ever have to know unless they were you. It wasn’t too obvious. In fact, the slight oversizing looked alike an artistic and intentional design choice.

The bottom part of the dress, which would have reached a little lower than Tanaka’s mid-thigh, went all the way to your knees. The only problem was the plunging neckline that was too deep on you, the V reaching the center of your chest. You kept readjusting it uncomfortably.

When you got out of the bathroom fully dressed, Tanaka gave you a satisfied smile and two encouraging thumbs up. Bucky only raised his eyebrow in curiosity.

You sat down next to Tanaka, and she began briefing you again, repeating what she had told you before. "You’re looking for a man in purple coat and wearing zebra shoes. If he responds to the name ‘Static,’ that’s him. If he doesn’t, leave him alone,” she explains, “He doesn’t know my name. Do not give him your real name. If he asks, you have to think of something. Make something up. And he knows you will be wearing this dress. The rest is his game. You just have to play it.”

You nodded, repeating the information in your head. You were not a spy, you were a soldier, but you’ve been on quite a few undercover missions. Besides, you were fairly confident with your ability to lie. At least, you were confident enough that you could fool Static.

You grabbed the briefcase from the table. You were about to reach for your gun that was inside Bucky’s duffel bag, Tanaka stopped you. “No,” she shook her head, “The bar has metal detectors.”

You sighed but nodded and reluctantly agreed. Before you went out the door, Bucky gave you a kiss on your forehead. You hugged Tanaka. “Good luck, sister,” she whispered. The corners of your mouth curved into a coy smile, giving yourself a boost of confidence. “I don’t need it,” you reply, a hint of fake arrogance in your voice.

To say that the nightlife was lively would be an understatement.

You've heard that the nightlife in Madrid is amongst Europe's best, but now you get to see it with your own two eyes. With trendy bars and neon nightclubs, Madrid is the place to be for the ultimate night on the town. And of course, it’s worth keeping in mind that nights go late here. People danced about in the street, both drunk and sober, looking for a good time. While you did not like that kind of lifestyle, you understand those who do. Some people have shit to forget, others need to catch up on all the fun.

You walked down the street on Salamanca neighborhood, just a few minutes from your hotel.

The streets were lit up by streetlights, making everyone you see just a flash of the golden reflection.

You finally saw the bar you were told to go into, and you headed in. The upscale bar was a borderline nightclub, and Tanaka was right: they did have a metal detector. The briefcase passed soundly through the x ray. The security guard said nothing and only raised an eyebrow at you. He didn't question you, which lead you to believe he was used to this. That transactions like these happened here a lot.

When you stepped into the club, pink and blue neon lights washed over you. Everyone in there were eccentric, bathed with only the best designer items, from expensive sequin dresses to exquisite fur coats. People were laughing loudly and dancing drunkenly. It was somewhat hard to navigate the bar between the sea of colorful bodies.

You did not waste much time, you scanned the bar for Static— who should be waiting at exactly 1.30 AM wearing a purple coat and zebra shoes.

Purple coat and zebra shoes. It seemed like a very peculiar combination. You didn't think it would be hard to spot him, but it was. There's too much going on with everyone's outfit.

Finally you spot Static on the bar. He was just about to get drinks. You couldn't see his face yet. You needed to get closer. You manage to slip in and sat on the barstool next to him. "Static?" You called, and he turned to you. "You are four minutes and thirty two seconds late, my dear," he said, grinning.

You could finally see him under the neon, and your heart skipped a heavy beat.

His voice and features were all too familiar. He had fair skin, and a long, sharp nose. He had a symmetrical eyes, thin lips pressed into a line.

He was Michail Petrov. Tanaka's informant was Michail Petrov.

He hadn't aged a day since the 80s, which confirmed your suspicions that he had some sort of youth serum running in his veins.

It made sense that he knew where Sam is, considering he was the person who probably took him in the first place.

Is this how he makes money now? By kidnapping important people and selling back the information?

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. You closed your eyes for a while, trying to control your breathing.

"Something wrong, dear?" Petrov asked. He didn't really care about you, no. He only cared about the briefcase you were holding, and its contents.

"No," you said sweetly, forcing a smile, "Just had a long day."

He was smoking, taking a long drag and huffing smoke out of his nose and mouth. When he heard you say you had a long day, he offered to share the cigarette. You took it, but only to kill the flame in the ashtray.

He let out an amused chuckle and took your hand. He kissed your knuckles, and you let him. "Do you want a drink?" He offered.

You pulled your hand back and nodded, "Sure."

He turned to the bartender. "Sangria, one for me and one for the lady."

"So," he asked, his attention back to you, "what should I call you?"

Do not give him your real name, If he asks, you have to think of something. Make something up. That's what Tanaka warned you, right?

"Centurion," you gave him your fake name, or code name, you suppose. You didn't even have much time to think of it. The name just rolled off your tongue in the heat of the moment.

"Centurion," he repeated, tasting the word in his mouth, "Wonderful name. Do you know what it means?"

"They were professional officer of the Roman army after the Marian reforms, commanders of the legionnaire," you explain. The bartender gave you the Sangria, and you tried to pick it up without making your trembling hands obvious.

"Clever girl," Petrov praised, taking a sip of his red liquid, making him look like he was drinking blood.

You lean closer to Petrov, ignoring your impending panic, "Cut to the chase, Static," you whisper in his ear, "I'm only here for one thing."

Petrov narrowed his eyes, reaching for the briefcase. "Let's see it, then," he said.

You pulled the briefcase away, placing it on your side, "The info first. Without it, you don't have a deal." You said, almost snapping. You prayed he could not hear your racing heartbeat

"Feisty, aren't you?" He chuckled, amused. He dug his hand inside the pocket of the purple coat. He took out a very small glass bottle, and inside it was a small roll of paper. He dropped it on your palm and you gripped it. You didn't take the paper out, you couldn't risk losing it. You held it to a light, and it illuminated the bottle. You could see faint number written on it— coordinates to Sam's location.

That was good enough for you. You had to get out of here before he notices the anomalies in your behaviour.

You downed your drink only in a few seconds, gulping heavily. You let out a refreshed and exaggerated 'ah,' then swung the briefcase at his chest.

"Nice doing business with you, Static," you said cynically, giving him a side hug. He tensed, but did not move.

You turned your back, walking out of the bar immediately.

When you got to the streets you could finally breathe.

You had survived a meeting with Michail Petrov.

And during your last little hug with Petrov, you had managed to plant a small tracker on him.

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language-rxgers · 5 years

Text

Four Words (Steve x Reader)

Summary: Steve is simple. Steve is a planner. So why can’t he just say four simple words to the best thing he never planned?

Characters: Steve Rogers, Female Reader, Bucky Barnes

Request from @witch-of-letters :

“Can I request a Steve Rogers one-shot, where he wants to propose to Stark!Daughter!Reader? They've been together since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., and after Sokovia, Steve realizes that he can't wait any longer (after the wedding, the R gets pregnant with twin girls). When the Civil War starts, R stays on Steve's side, much to Tony's fear (and chagrin).”

A/N: I’m thinking this will probably be a 3 parter. This chapter is the proposal!

masterlist

part 2

Steve Rogers is a man with a plan. Every morning, he wakes up at 5:30 with the alarm and checks his emails. He then pours himself a cup of black coffee in the kitchen while reading the morning paper and going over his schedule for the day. At 6:00 he returns to the bedroom to wake you up after your half hour sleep-in, and lovingly drags you back to the kitchen where the two of you prepare breakfast and Steve relays to you the morning news. Of course, you could read the damn paper yourself, but it sounds so much more interesting coming out of his mouth. After breakfast, you both get dressed and ready for the day. Day in, day out, Steve knows every step of the domestic part of his life to a T. In a job where you go in without the slightest idea what might happen in the day, it’s nice to have even a morning’s worth of stability, if that. So yeah, Steve Rogers is a man with a plan, simple. Simple. So why is it so hard to add one teeny, tiny, simple step to his routine? For chrissake, it’s just a four-word, yes or no question.

“Will you marry me?”

The young man gazed up with hope glimmering in his eyes, sunlight sparkling off the golden band clutched between his fingertips. His partner’s mouth dropped open in shock and surprise before reality caught up to him, and his answer tumbled out of his lips. “Yes- yeah, yes, of course!” He stood from the park bench that the couple had been sitting on as his now fiancé rose from his knees to meet him in a tight hug. Steve felt a spread of warmth in his chest for the happy couple, but also tried to ignore his guilty jealousy of how easy it had seemed for that man to ask the question he himself had been trying to spit out for so long.

He looked down to you at his side, admired your beautiful wide smile as you watched the newly engaged couple, and he wished with everything in him that the two of you would soon be in their place.

Steve had met you when you moved in down the hall from him only a few months after he himself had rented a home in the building. At the time, he believed you to be a quiet nurse named Kate, but it wasn’t long before he discovered this to be extremely untrue. It was only two weeks later when you admitted to Steve that you were in fact Y/N Stark, a SHIELD agent sent by Nick Fury to keep an eye on him. Far from a nurse, you actually worked as a field officer, tech specialist and information broker for the law enforcement organization. You were also the daughter of Tony Stark- someone with whom Steve could certainly do without interacting again. Needless to say it was difficult for the soldier to hide his shock, hurt and betrayal, especially since he had already begun to develop feelings for you in the short time he’d known you- or whoever you led him to believe you were. Did this mean you weren’t actually the sweet, selfless girl who had become the reason he looked forward to returning home right after work every day? He knew it had only been a couple of weeks but he already found himself craving your late night hallway interactions and that sweet, warm smile that always seemed to be hiding in your eyes.

You patiently allowed Steve to come to terms with your revelation, before disclosing that you genuinely did want to be his friend, and felt that lying when he would undoubtedly become suspicious and figure out your true identity eventually was just unnecessary. After the fall of SHIELD, you revealed to Steve that you had been the one to alert Fury of the organisation’s corruption from the beginning after some suspicious encounters with, and inconsistent reports filed by, the STRIKE team, led to a fruitful independent investigation. It was then that you’d been assigned to watch over Steve.

In the years that followed, you became one of Steve’s closest friends, a beautiful constant in his eternally unstable life. The development of your relationship to something more than friendship was only natural… ish. One day you asked if he would join you for coffee- nothing out of the ordinary for the two of you to do, but this time there was a certain intimation of deeper feelings in your tone. Of course, this subtlety completely went over Steve’s head, and he proceeded to spend the next hour speaking of nothing but the results of your latest mission with you in the corner of the nearest crowded Starbucks.

The next morning, you corrected your mistake of assuming the most clueless man on Earth when it came to women would pick up on your vibe change, by marching up to him in the kitchen and informing him that you would like for him to accompany you on a date to the movies that evening if he so wished. Taken aback at not only your bluntness but also the fact that you fancied him in return, what was he to do but nod his head and respond with a cheeky “Yes, ma’am.”?

Evidently, one date turned into two, three, four, and so it goes.

After Sokovia, you both became brutally aware of how easily life could change in a split second. Steve realized that he didn’t want to wait anymore to continue his life with you. You were all he wanted, all he could see when he imagined his future. He never thought he would want a family again after coming out of the ice, but with you, it was so easy to picture that. Steve didn’t want that to stay as just a dream when he slept next to you. Now, it was his turn to take the leap, yet he found himself hopelessly lacking the same self-assuredness that had never failed you.

“Oh, Steve, check the time, we should be heading back.” You tugged at Steve’s sleeve as you stepped to continue your walk back to the car.

“Huh?” Steve shook his memories back to their storage cabinets and glanced down to his watch. With a start at how much time had passed, he followed you promptly.

For the rest of the day, Steve couldn’t for the life of him shake that nagging voice in his head, urging him to pop the question on the spot. It was maddening; every time he spoke to you he had to plan what he was going to say so he didn’t accidentally blurt out an impromptu proposal in the middle of the conversation. It was even more annoying because on top of planning his words, he also had to focus on keeping you out of his thoughts. He had always been able to keep his thoughts guarded when he didn’t want you reading him, but he loved that for the most part, you were the one person he wanted in his head. But ever since he started seriously thinking about proposing to you, he’d had to keep himself exceptionally blocked off, which he knew frustrated you.

The most frustrating thing of all, however, was that logically, he knew there was no reason to be so nervous. You had discussed your futures together before- marriage, kids, retirement. You both wanted to be married eventually when the time was right, but you also knew there would never be a right time. Your entire relationship had consisted of playing things by ear and “taking the next step” as it came naturally. Nothing felt more natural than marrying you, nothing felt more right. He knew you would say yes. But there was also that annoying, little punk in his subconscious egging on his insecurities.

“She’s still free to leave any time without consequences until you tie the knot.”

“Things are perfect the way they are right now, don’t screw it up by asking her to make the biggest commitment of her life.”

“You can barely work the tv remote, how are you going to navigate a marriage?”

“What if she’s about to break up with you right when you propose?”

Steve stared with wide eyes at the ring in his fingers, overwhelmed with all the reasons he shouldn’t propose. He was pulled from his anxiety by a rap at his door, and looked up to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe.

“Stare any harder and it’ll burst into flames.” Steve put the ring back into its box and let out a sigh.

“Part of me wishes it would. It’s too nice, isn’t it? She won’t like that it’s too flashy.” Bucky scoffed.

“It’s a plain metal band, bud. Don’t think you can get any simpler than that.”

“Well it’s got the infinity twist, might snag her sweaters or something. I don’t know. And there’s a couple diamonds.”

“I don’t think a diamond the size of a crumb is gonna snag any of her damn sweaters. Steve, she’s gonna love it. Quit procrastinating. Sam’s got 100 bucks saying you’re gonna take more than a month to pop the question and I don’t like how cocky he’s been since they upgraded his suit’s wingspan.” Steve exhaled a laugh and shook his head, rubbing his eyes.

“I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s just a big step, you know? I don’t even have a plan.”

“No plan, just ask.” Bucky quipped. “You and your goddamn plans, I swear I’m gonna rip my hair out. Steve, Y/N’s the simplest person I know. She doesn’t want any of your plans, she doesn’t want you to make a show of it. But she does deserve a little bit of effort. Make her dinner at your place, something she likes, get down on one knee and fucking ask her to marry you. Soon, before she does it first.” Bucky raised his eyebrows to show he was serious. And he was. You would ask Steve to marry you. But you were always the one to make the first move, and it was Steve’s turn. “Tonight, pal. Tonight’s the night. No missions, no meetings. Take advantage of the time you have. Stop putting this off.” Bucky held Steve’s gaze with stern eyes until the lovestruck soldier nodded with gratitude. Satisfied, Bucky stepped back. “Alright, I’ve got some paperwork to not do, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Star Spangled Man with a Plan.”

***

That night, you returned to your and Steve’s floor with curiosity blooming in your chest. All day you had had this… feeling. A phantom expectation, an unwarranted sense of anticipation tingling in your fingertips. You just couldn’t shake this feeling that something was going to happen, and you had no idea if it was good or bad. You’d attribute it to the telepathy, but you hadn’t heard anything suspicious all day. Actually, you did notice one thing. Steve had been unusually guarded lately- you could read people when their guard was down, but if they really didn’t want you to know something, you were as good as powerless. At first you weren’t too concerned; usually after a tough mission, like the ones you had been having pretty regularly of late, Steve would board up like a closed down mine shaft. It was impossible to read him until he let you in, which was the most frustrating thing you’d had to accept when you met him. He was like a brick wall sometimes, and all you wanted to do was break through to help him. But he always came around, in his own time. However, it seemed like lately he always had his guard up.

You arrived to an apartment filled with the homey aroma of spices and cooking meat. Steve was making Y/F/F? Oh, lord, what did he do this time?

You made your way to the kitchen, increasingly suspicious. “Steve? What’s up?” Your boyfriend spun around to face you, oven mitts on and your gingerbread man apron tied around his waist.

“Hey, I thought I’d make supper tonight. You know, to celebrate the end of the week.” You raised your eyebrows.

“Um, okay, but why? I’m not complaining, but you haven’t made Y/F/F since you spilled red wine all over my suede jacket.” Steve smiled nervously.

“Right, don’t worry, I didn’t ruin anything else, I don’t think.” You narrowed your eyes. “It’s just been a while since we sat down and had a nice meal together that wasn’t half-hour delivery. You go get changed into your sweats and I’ll finish up.” You shrugged and muttered out an okay before heading to your room.

When you returned, the table was set and Steve was pouring the two of you drinks. He pulled out your chair for you and set the meal on the table before taking a seat himself. As you ate, he asked about your day, as he usually did, and you asked about his. You shared funny work stories about the interns in your department and told Steve about how far you’d gotten in your training session with Wanda to continue controlling your similar powers. Throughout the meal, Steve listened with a gentle smile as you gestured animatedly, admiring the passion in your eyes. By the time your plates were empty the wine was half done, Steve began to feel his nerves building up. He tapped his thumb anxiously on the tabletop as he tried to listen to your story about your father’s latest experiment with a stretchy material for Bruce to wear that wouldn’t rip when he turned into the Hulk. Steve couldn’t believe you were in his life. He couldn’t believe you were here, right now, living with him, in love with him, choosing him.

“For now, you mean.”

“She’s going to get sick of you eventually, or find someone better.”

“She’ll get tired of you choosing missions over her.”

“You won’t have time to raise kids, you’ll be too busy fighting another battle you sought out.”

“You can’t live without war, what kind of father are you going to be to children, let alone a husband to a wife?”

“You can’t do this, coward.”

“You can’t-”

“Marry me,” Steve breathed out. You halted yourself in the middle of your sentence, leaning forward.

“Sorry, what was that?” Eyes wide and beautiful with curiosity. Steve blinked, unsure if he had even said anything at all. Did he just say that? Out loud? To you? The words fell out so easily despite how much that stupid voice tried to stop him.

But Steve was never one to back down.

“Marry me, Y/N,” he repeated. “Will you?” Your mouth opened slightly to form an O, the breath seemingly knocked from your lungs. You stared blankly at him as you realized what he had asked, and that he expected an answer.

Was this what had been consuming his thoughts lately, what he had fought so hard to keep a secret from you? You felt an exhilarating tingle run from the center of your chest to your fingertips, so strong you clenched your hands into fists to contain your elation. You and Steve had talked about marriage before and you both knew you wanted to be married someday, but you never knew whether Steve would be the one to take that step towards making it a reality. All you understood was that Steve was all you knew in this moment, all you saw, all you felt, all you wanted. It was laughably easy to answer his question.

“Yes.”

part 2

____________________________________________________________

Tag List:

All Works: @the-instrumental-mortal-blog @crazy4thewinbros @palaiasaurus64 @winterboobaerchen @thefridgeismybestie @becauseifuckingcan @libbyjune24 @erisan @pitubea1910 @friendlyneighborhoodnazgul @sixweekcure4dreams @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass @moderapoppins @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookgirlunicorn @hottrashformarvel @stargeek727 @fuckthatfeeling

Steve Rogers: @promarvelfangirl

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers proposal #female reader #tony stark #bruce banner #marvel #avengers #marvel avengers #cute #fluffy #proposal #enhanced reader #steve rogers x reader

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krycss · 5 years

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Actions Speak Louder Than Words | Jacob Seed x f!Deputy

Chapter 14

[Read on AO3]

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Guess who's alive! It's me!

It took so long to get this out. Just trying to find time between work and sleep where I had not only the motivation, but also the energy and the creativity to write was so hard. But, just writing a little bit each day helped out. Even just one word.

I appreciate your guys' patience so much! <3

Packing was slow. Every few minutes Jacob or Cat would stop what they were doing and just give each other a sad smile or a quick peck. Their short time of peace and normalcy was up, and while neither said it out loud, they both knew that they didn’t really want to go back. Even if it was important. Even if the fate of Joseph’s followers depended on Jacob returning. Eventually their bags were full, the cabin was cleaned, and there was nothing left to do but get in the truck.

Jacob took one last, big breath before locking the door behind them.

“Ready?” He spoke in almost a whisper, despite there being no one else around.

“As I’ll ever be.” Cat smiled up at him, squeezing his hand that was twined with her own.

The truck ride back was equally quiet, but a different kind of quiet. Both had accepted that things were going back to how they were. There was no changing that. Now they just had to collect themselves before they arrived back at the Veteran’s Center. Gone was Jacob being able to actually sleep in and get some much needed rest. His dark circles had started to lighten during their trip but Cat knew they’d be back almost as soon as he got back to work. Cat would miss the solitude. She liked to think she’d had enough time to adjust to being around people, but her anxiety definitely was rearing its head again as they neared the Veteran’s Center. She had gotten comfortable not having to look over her shoulder. She didn’t have to worry about not being able to speak properly because Jacob had been there. Now she knew they’d have to be apart again and her self-confidence plummeted, knowing she’d be going back to her stutter once more.

As if sensing where her mind was going, Jacob grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips.

She smiled at her husband, grateful for his unending support.

Too soon for her liking, they came around the bend leading towards the large gates of St. Francis.

The two guards readied their weapons at the approaching vehicle, only relaxing when they realized who it was. As they waited for the gates to open, one of the guards took a step towards Jacob’s open window.

“Sir. Nice to have you back.” He nodded quickly.

Jacob grunted, not even gracing him with attention.

The guard turned his gaze to Cat.

“You too, ma’am.”

Cat gave him a quick smile before turning her gaze back to the front. It was weird being addressed this way now. As an equal somehow. Sure, everyone knew that she was Jacob’s before they were married, but even then she was rarely acknowledged unless absolutely necessary.

Now she had to get used to that.

By the time they had managed to make it back to Jacob’s office they had already picked up the pile of reports from their time away. The Chosen that Jacob had replaced Pratt with, a stocky man named Isaac, followed them up to their room. He had long, dark, brown hair that was tied back away from his face. He wore the typical Chosen gear, minus the face mask, and had the Eden’s Gate cross painted across his left eye.

“No major incidents while you away, sir.” Isaac stood at attention near the door once Jacob was seated at his desk.

Cat went ahead and unpacked their things while also listening in.

“Any minor ones, then?” Jacob muttered while reading over the reports in his hand.

“Just the usual skirmishes with the Sinners. It appears the deputy that Brother John held captive, Hudson, has taken up the mantle of leading the attacks in the absence of you…” Isaac glanced up, making brief eye-contact with Cat. “Sister Catherine.”

Cat winced slightly at the title and her full name.

“Either ma’am, or Cat.” Jacob spoke. “If you must address her.”

Isaac nodded quickly.

“They’ve managed to take back some territory in Sister Faith’s region but that’s being taken care of as we speak.”

“Understood.” Jacob, sighed. “Anything else?”

“Nothing serious. We’ll get back to the normal schedule, sir.”

“If that’s all, dismissed.” Jacob called out.

When Isaac left the room Cat walked over to Jacob, leaning over him and kissing his cheek.

“Not even a moment’s rest, hm?”

Jacob huffed under his breath. “Not around here.”

One month passed.

It didn’t take long for Cat to return to her team and get back to work on the beacons. Her team was happy to have her back, bringing her up to date on all the gossip she missed out on during her honeymoon. Jacob still didn’t like having his wife out there, but she wasn’t going to be stopped. It was better than stewing in the Veteran’s Center all day like he tended to do. Everything was going smoothly until Isaac returned to Jacob’s room one evening.

“Everything good, soldier?” Jacob barely glanced up from his desk.

“Nothing to worry about, sir. Just that a letter arrived for you, ma’am.”

Cat perked up from her seat on their bed – Jacob finally replaced his cot with an actual double bed. She placed the book she was reading on the dresser before walking over. Isaac unfolded the envelope from his pocket before handing it to her. Cat glanced down at the envelope and smiled to herself before nodding to Isaac in thanks, earning one back.

“If that’s all?” Jacob eyed the man who was still standing too close to his wife for his liking.

Isaac confirmed and quickly made his exit.

“Who’s it from?” Jacob leaned back in his chair.

“Kim.”

“Rye?”

Cat nodded.

“She’s the only one who knows about…what actually happened to me. Why I came to you after all that. Everyone in the Valley knows about our marriage now. So, I don’t have to imagine what this is about.”

Cat maneuvered her way onto Jacob’s lap, despite his very light-hearted protests about having to finish his reports. She opened the letter with shaky hands.

“Dear, Cat.

I hope this letter reaches you. Wasn’t sure how to address it – not like the post office is really running around here though. And it was hard enough convincing Nick to even consider taking it to someone who might be able to get it to where it needed to go. Still, I heard the big news. Congrats on the marriage. Probably not hearing a lot of that from our side of things, if at all. I heard what happened from Hudson when she and the others returned. They might not understand, but you know I do. And I don’t fault you. Sure, I don’t quite get it, but that’s not for me to get. Anyways, don’t want to make this long, just wanted to let you know that we, too, had a change in the family. Finally had that baby of ours! It’s a girl! I’ll try and get you that money Nick owes you from your guys’ bet. Her name is Carmina and she’s a handful, let me tell you. But I was hoping you might be able to find that out on your own. Nick doesn’t know, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. You know my number to get in contact with me. I just really want you to meet her. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future but I still value you as a friend and I hope it’s returned. Anyways, let me know! I look forward to hearing from you.

Your friend,

Kim Rye & her adorable daughter Carmina.”

Cat took a shaky breath in as she finished reading the letter aloud.

“Seems like a trap to me.” Jacob raised one brow at her.

“Of course you’d think so. I…I really do want to see her. And the baby.” Cat leaned back, her side to his chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“You’re not going anywhere that close to Fall’s End alone.”

“Maybe…”Cat chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe I could convince her to let someone come with me?”

Jacob gave a quick, sarcastic laugh.

“Worth a shot?”

“…Up to you, just know that I don’t like it, darlin’.”

“I know, hon.” Cat gently patted his cheek as she leaned over to bring his desk phone closer.

The phone call was a little easier to navigate than talking in person. Granted, Jacob was right there which helped tremendously. Kim was excited to actually be able to talk to Cat since she wasn’t able to last time. “Let’s me know things are going good for you.” She had said. Cat had explained that Jacob wasn’t exactly keen on letting her go out there alone – or at least without protection – due to the circumstances.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me visiting since we’re…t-technically on opposite sides?”

“Cat, we were friends first before all this happened. I know why you did the things you did, and I understand. Do I understand on a philosophical level? Maybe not. But that’s not what’s important. What’s important is that I want my friend to meet my new baby if she can.”

Cat looked back at Jacob. She knew he could hear Kim based on his face.

“I mean, I’d l-love to. You know this. But, like I said, Jacob isn’t exactly comfortable with it and if I’m b-being honest, I’m more comfortable with him around. If there’s any way…c-could he come along?”

Jacob’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

Kim was silent on the other end but Cat could hear her walking around. Cat held the phone to her shoulder.

“Sorry, probably should have brought that up first.”

Jacob shrugged. “Probably. But, chances are now she’s gonna say no because of that. I’m not exactly winning any popularity contests. While I might not like the idea, I don’t necessarily want to keep you from your friend. Even if they’re associated with the enemy. Not that much of an asshole.”

“Don’t tell that to your followers.” Cat chuckled, rolling her eyes. “They’ll think you’ve gone soft.”

“Only for you.”

They smiled at one another before Kim called out from the phone once more.

“Tell you what.” Kim’s voice was hesitant on the other end. “He can come, but only if he stays in the truck and you both come unarmed.”

Cat’s eyes widened.

“Y-you sure?”

“Not really. But I trust you, and after hearing him say he doesn’t want to keep you locked away, I’m willing to throw an olive branch just so I can see you.”

Cat blushed, knowing that Kim heard all that. Jacob just sighed.

“If that’s doable for you two, then let me know and I can arrange a date that Nick won’t be home. Would rather not have him shoot you on sight.”

“Hold on, Kim.” Cat turned back to Jacob. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s dangerous, going out with no weapons, for one. Two, could be a trap, but that’s just my brain talking. If it’s something you really want, I’m willing to…compromise.”

“Like what?”

“I want you to have a weapon at least. Should anything go down – on the way there or on arrival – I at least want one of us to have a means of defense. Hell, you can leave it in the truck or hand it over if that makes her more comfortable. But I’m not leaving this base without a weapon and putting you in harm’s way.”

“That’s fine with me, Seed.” Kim’s voice piped up once more. “I don’t want to see her harmed any more than you do.”

“Questionable.” Jacob mumbled.

Cat lightly swatted his shoulder. “Be nice.”

She could hear Kim chuckle on the other end.

“How does next Saturday work for you? Nick and the others are going to be meeting up that day so he should out for most of the day.”

Cat raised a brow towards her husband. He just shrugged, nodding slightly.

“Works for us. I r-really appreciate this, Kim.”

“Not a problem. I’ve missed you. See you soon!”

“See you!”

Cat placed the phone back on the receiver and melted into Jacob’s chest. He immediately started rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

“This ought to be interesting.” He mused.

“Oh, very.”

Saturday came far too quickly for Cat’s liking. While she was excited at the prospect of seeing Kim again, this was still a risky move. She glanced down at the pistol strapped to her thigh. Should anything happen while they were on the road that’s all they had for protection. Granted, Jacob could do some major damage with just a pistol, but still, not the best odds in an ambush. Cat leaned her head against the truck window, letting the vibrations cover her thoughts.

They had opted for a plain truck, all black, and changed into more “casual” wear. Anything to keep attention off of themselves. Cat had her hair up in a pony-tail and was wearing a thin, black long sleeve shirt to hide her sins, some regular blue, skinny jeans, her combat boots, and a black ball cap with her hair pulled through the back. Jacob ditched his signature jacket – which took a lot of convincing from Cat – and opted for just wearing one of his white undershirts, with his normal jeans, and boots. He also was sporting a black ball cap to hide his hair and face.

“We’re almost there. You okay?” Jacob glanced over at Cat.

“I think so. Nervous, mostly.”

“Eh, it’s just a baby. They’re not too scary.” Jacob grinned, laughing when Cat stuck her tongue out at him.

They pulled under the “Rye and Son’s” sign to which Cat smiled lovingly at. Jacob parked the truck in front of the house, far enough away to make Kim comfortable, but close enough to be there if things went wrong. Cat could see Kim’s outline behind the front window before she disappeared to the door.

Cat took a deep breath.

“I’ll be right here.” Jacob reminded her.

Cat leaned over, kissing him gently. He chuckled when their hats bumped against one another.

“Go on.”

Cat nodded before turning back to open her door. Kim was now standing outside the front door with a bundle in her arms. Cat made a show of removing her pistol and placing it on the roof of the truck and kept her hands visible as she walked to meet Kim halfway. Her hands were twitching with the urge to fidget.

“You look good.” Kim smiled hesitantly.

Cat smiled back. “T-t-thanks.”

She crossed her arms, squeezing her sides to distract herself from her stutter.

Kim’s eyes darted behind her, to which Cat turned to follow. She hadn’t heard him open the door but Jacob was now leaning against the hood of the truck.

“He treating you right?”

Cat nodded, smiling softly. “P-perfectly.”

“Good. That’s good.” Kim sighed. “I was worried at first, when I heard the news. Everyone was. I’ve kept your secret though, haven’t told anyone. Didn’t know if you’d want me to or not. It reminded me of why you did it and I think that’s what made it easier for me to accept it.”

Cat smiled sadly at her friend, thankful for her understanding at least.

“So w-who’s this?” Cat turned her attention to the bundle in Kim’s arm.

The one-month old was sleeping soundly in her mother’s arms, her thumb in her mouth.

“This beauty right here is Carmina.” Kim moved closer, easing her arms forward to meet Cat’s. “She’s a hard sleeper so don’t worry about her waking any time soon.”

Cat nodded as she was handed Carmina. She bounced her lightly, a smile already breaking out onto her face. She hadn’t held many babies before this, but it would seem instinct was kicking in. It felt natural. Cat’s eyes roamed over the baby’s face, admiring the small tufts of dark hair on the top of her head. Kim was leaning over, cooing lightly.

“It was a hell of a delivery. Almost didn’t think we’d make it to the hospital! You wouldn’t believe the things that happened on the way there. It was ridiculous.”

Cat chuckled lightly, trying not to jostle Carmina.

“Y-you’ll have to t-tell me about it sometime.” She whispered.

Cat began lightly swaying. She wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly found herself emotional. All the talk of the future a month ago during her honeymoon suddenly reared its ugly head in her mind. Reminding her of what she and Jacob might never have. Carmina started to become a blur in her vision but she didn’t stop smiling.

“You okay?” Kim placed a hand one her back.

Cat nodded and glanced back over at Jacob. His hat was shadowing his eyes but Cat swore his eyes were glassy before he turned away. This was too much for both of them it would seem.

They might not have been there long at all, only a few minutes, but it was enough for now.

“We should p-probably go.”

“So soon?”

Cat sniffled. “I know. I’m s-sorry. Things are…”

Kim nodded in understanding. “I think I get it.”

They traded Carmina and Kim wrapped her free arm around Cat’s shoulders.

“You take care of yourself alright? I don’t know if or when we’ll see each other again, but I don’t know that it will be on good ground again. You know?”

Cat nodded.

“Alright. Now get going before your husband gets too antsy.”

They traded quick smiles before parting ways. Cat blinked back the rest of her tears, putting herself back together. Jacob had already gotten back into the driver’s seat. Cat made sure to grab her pistol again before she joined him in the truck.

No words were said but once she was buckled in, Jacob started the long drive back to the Veteran’s Center.

They walked back to their room in silence. Jacob had his arm around Cat’s shoulder as they walked. Whether to comfort her or himself, Cat wasn’t sure. When they finally reached their room they both changed into more comfortable clothes before moving to the bed. Jacob laid down first and pulled Cat on top of him. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I had heard of baby fever. Didn’t know it would hit this hard.” Cat mumbled.

Jacob hummed in agreement.

“You okay?” Cat glanced up at his face. He was still looking a little teary-eyed.

Jacob heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure. I think I was…taken aback, I suppose. Seeing you with a baby…? Awakened something in me I guess. I know I want that with you. But seeing it, knowing that it’s too dangerous for that right now? It was like waking from a perfect dream because some asshole dropped cold water on your head.”

Cat smiled sadly. “I get it. That’s how it was for me. It was like, we had talked about it, and that was enough for me. But then to actually hold her, it was like everything that we talked about went out the window. As if my brain was going ‘This is right, even if you aren’t ready.’ If that makes sense.”

“Yeah. Good ol’ basic animal instincts kicking into gear. We’re a pair, time to mate.”

Cat laughed lightly to herself. Of course he’d equate it in those terms.

“Hopefully soon.” He mused. “When the Project accomplishes our goals and it’s safe to have them. Maybe.”

“’Them’, huh? You wanting more than one?”

Cat moved up to lay next to Jacob instead, bringing herself even with his face.

“Of course. A whole pack of them.” His teasing wink got a laugh out of Cat.

“Oh really? And I’m birthing this entire pack, am I? Doesn’t seem like a fun time to me!”

They both laughed at that until Jacob kissed her forehead.

“I think at most three. There’s a part of me that wants the chance to make up for what my brothers and I went through. I want to be the father we never had.”

Cat rested her head on Jacob’s shoulder, her eyes getting heavy from the emotional afternoon.

“I think three would be lovely.”

“Someday.” He promised.

“Someday.”

Plans were underway two weeks later. New reports had come in from Faith about Hudson making pushes against her Bliss factories again. Jacob had agreed to send in more men to help defend them and had been coordinating all of that for most of the morning. Cat was currently relaxing up in their room by herself. She had woken that morning not feeling particularly great and so her team checked on the beacons themselves. Once she got the all-clear from them she felt comfortable enough to relax without having to worry about them. She was catching up on some reading – something other than reports for once – when it was as if a light bulb had gone off and shattered in her head.

How long had it been since her period?

She placed her book down on her lap, her eyes wide as she wracked her brain to figure out the answer. It was definitely before her wedding. When it didn’t started after her honeymoon she didn’t think twice about it. She’d been under quite a bit of stress lately, it wouldn’t be surprising if things simply got out of whack. Still, there was that tiny voice of hope in the back of her mind that was asking “What if?” Next to it however was a louder voice, one reminding her of the danger this could cause. They were in the middle of a war. A war in which she’d already been kidnapped, tortured, and kidnapped again. By this point she was wearing a path into the floor with her pacing. There was really only one thing left to do if she wanted a definitive answer. But what if she didn’t like the answer? And if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t know if she wanted it to be positive or not.

She pulled up her radio, calling for Isaac to meet her.

The man showed up rather quickly.

“Did you need something, ma’am? Jacob should be done with the ground team planning soon enough.”

“T-thank you, Isaac.” Cat realized now that this was going to not only be hard to get out due to Jacob being away, but also the sensitivity of the information. “B-but I was hoping to ask-ask for a favor?”

“Anything, ma’am.”

“Y-you can’t tell Jacob. I’ll-I’ll do that later.”

She looked up at him with pleading eyes. He wasn’t that much taller than her. Isaac seemed uncertain but nodded anyways.

“I need you to g-get me a p-pregnancy test.” She stared off at a spot on the floor as she felt her cheeks heat up.

If Isaac was surprised, he didn’t show it. But Cat swore she saw him stiffen up a bit.

“I’ll, uh, get right on that, ma’am.” And with that he turned and walked out the door.

Cat let out a sigh. Now she just had to wait.

Isaac returned about an hour later with a container of food from the mess hall. Cat raised an eyebrow as she took it from him at the door.

“In case Jacob asked what I was bringing you, I could say lunch instead of lying outright.” He smirked.

Cat chuckled. “A-appreciate it. Thank-thank you.”

“Of course, and,” He turned to close the door as he walked away “I wish you luck.”

Cat nodded her thanks once more before taking a big breath and heading to the bathroom.

To say that she was nervous was an understatement. She was currently sitting on the toilet seat staring a hole into the tile floor as she waited. It felt like she checked her watch every second and yet time was moving so slowly. Finally her time was up. She stared at the unassuming little stick sitting on the sink like it was a wild animal. She hesitantly stood up. The less than one foot walk felt like miles. She picked it up with shaky hands and squeezed her eyes shut.

If it was negative, she didn’t know what to do. She tried not to get her hope’s up but that’s impossible. She’d accept it, of course. It would be better in the long run, of course.

But if it was positive, that meant a whole new set of problems that, quite frankly, they weren’t ready for. If she was ready to accept those problems, would Jacob want to?

She took in a deep breath before psyching herself up and looking down.

It’s amazing how two, faint, pink lines can suddenly change everything.

Only seven and a half months to go, apparently.

#fic: actions speak louder than words #my ocs: catherine rook #far cry 5 #jacob seed #jacob seed x female deputy #fc5 #fc5 fic

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heartschoicegames · 4 years

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Heart’s Choice Author Interview: RoAnna Sylver, “Dawnfall”

Find true love and family with a pirate crew at the ends of the universe, where aliens, ghosts, and portals open the space between worlds...and your heart. You are a Navigator, one who creates and guards portals from one dimension to another, wary of the liminal sea between them.

Your universe is made of two worlds: one contains the magic-infused world of Zephyria, and the other, the dystopian space station Eclipse. The worlds are balanced, until one day, an explosive disaster, a deadly energy storm, and an infamous pirate—the Ghost Queen—upend your life and plunge you into a race to save both worlds.

Dawnfall is a 232,000 word interactive romance novel by RoAnna Sylver, one of the first set of games releasing with the launch of Heart’s Choice. I sat down with the author, RoAnna Sylver, to talk about writing interactive romance. Heart’s Choice games release December 2nd.

Dawnfall has frankly an insanely wonderful setting for a romance game. Tell me about the aliens, the pirates, the ghosts, and the alien-pirate-ghosts.

Hi there! I’m so glad you think this sounds fun! Yeah, Dawnfall is weird as heck, and that’s one of the things I love about this story. It’s weird in a way I don’t think we’ve seen much of before. I really just tried to put in everything I find fun or interesting, and that I’ve always wanted to write. Dawnfall started out as a total brain-candy project, and runs on pure Rule of Cool. Pirates? Yes. Magic? Yes. A slice of cyberpunk? Hell yes. Eerie ghosts and faerie-tale influences and memory-sharing potions? Giant bird people? The power of rock n’roll? Yes, yes, yes.

And also everybody’s dateable, and in a couple cases, dating each other. We weave a tangled web, but I think it’s a pretty badass and spectacular web.

You seem to really neatly straddle the genre fence here with a romance and sci-fi/fantasy. What was challenging about cramming all of that into one game?

Thank you so much for saying that. I’ve always adored SFF, and there’s so much in this genre-collection, so many extremes and concepts and contrasting colors, that I couldn’t limit myself to picking just one to play with. This weird game-book is kind of a love letter to fantasy and science fiction and haunted house stories and cyberpunk adventures—I thought a lot about the Disney movie Treasure Planet for its genre-blending beauty, and the Bioware game Mass Effect for its array of fascinating, multidimensional alien cuties to interact with and date… and then turned it up to eleven.

I guess you’d expect the challenge to be in making it all fit together/be “believable,” but I kind of threw that out the window. I don’t expect anyone to find it ‘realistic’ (setting-wise anyway; I tried to make every character ring true of course), and I don’t really care if someone thinks it’s silly, or doesn’t take it seriously. It is silly in a lot of ways. DAWNFALL is a giant ridiculous queer space magic pirate adventure, and the only goal is fun. If you have fun, I’ve done my job, and there should be something fun in here for everyone.

Did you have a favorite NPC you enjoyed writing most?

Honestly I love them all so much in different ways, and I know them so well by now it’s really second nature. Their voices come so easily and they’re all so much fun. The Queen’s swagger is awesome though, and her mental voice/mannerisms probably come through especially clearly. I love Zenith’s vulnerable moments when xie lets xir guard down and lets go of the need to entertain or please. I love Averis’s journey and growth from cute wibbly nerd to a confident swashbuckler (who is also still a cute wibbly nerd). I love how deeply Oz feels, how strongly he loves and remembers and honors memory, and how unafraid he is to show softness and warmth. And I love a certain spoilery ghost-babe and how they’re so full of joy at the beauty of life.

I do want to give special mention to Aeon, though. This is a story about connection, and I wanted to show that sibling bonds are every bit as important and strong as romantic or any other. I also wanted to show a complex, multidimensional antagonist figure who holds heartbreaking secrets along with authority, and is genuinely trying to do what she thinks is the best thing, and wants what’s best for you, the PC, even if you might not always agree. Her balance between being so emotionally guarded and determined and unyielding, while hopefully being extremely easy to read and tell what she wants and fears and loves—spoiler: you; she loves you!—was a challenge I hope I pull off.

…Also I enjoy any time Vyranix gets his pompous feathered ass handed to him. I think we all know a Vyranix, or at least of one, and it’s always fun to take them down, even in fantasy.

Who would you be romancing as a player?

I’m gonna say “everyone,” and here it won’t actually be cheating, because you can romance everyone! At once! In varying degrees/relationship dynamics and attractions. You don’t see a lot of polyamory-friendly games or books or anything really, and this is an incredibly important thing for me. The second I got the idea for Dawnfall I knew it had to let players romance anyone they wanted and show polyamory in a realistic, healthy light. I’m also a-spec (asexual and aromantic), and having not just good representation but being actively included and welcomed and celebrated in fiction is so huge too.

Dawnfall is a romance of course, being part of Heart’s Choice, but one of the single most vital elements for me is making it inclusive for aromantic and asexual players and player-characters. Essentially, I wanted to write a romance that didn’t penalize players for not experiencing the attractions the way we’re otherwise expected or required—and I’m so grateful that my amazing editors and community not only accepted but supported everything I was trying to do here. (It’s so refreshing not to have to fight for inclusion and freedom. It shouldn’t be, but it is.)

And that’s where the concept of “Heart-Stars” and “Same-Feathers” came from. I’ve never seen anything honor queerplatonic relationships like I’m trying to do here, and I want everyone, of every sexuality and attraction, to feel like they have a place here and can experience this adventure without limits. And I wanted to show that it’s a very normal thing, hence this being the same for the human characters as well as alien. (One of the nonbinary characters being human is also no mistake. I love me some wild alien genders, but there are tons of awesome nonbinary humans too!)

…That being said, I think I gave Averis most of my anxiety-issues, and would really just like to curl up with Oz and watch The Great British Bake-Off. That sounds like a perfect night in my books.

What were some of the things you found surprising about the game-writing process?

Coding was definitely the biggest learning curve. I’d never coded anything before in my life, and it’s such a new skillset to learn, entirely different from any kind of writing I’ve ever done. Sometimes it felt rewriting my brain, which did not at all do this intuitively—and also sometimes like I bit off much more than I could chew (first game ever being not only a huge piece of interactive fiction, but a polyamorous romance with aro and ace possibilities, and so many more variables than expected!), but it’s been worth it. Entirely. If my writing makes anyone feel seen and accepted and invited to have fun as they are, it’s worth every bit of struggle.

Also, oddly, interactive fiction is in some ways easier for me than writing a plain old book! Probably because I love AUs so much, and every choice in a game is like writing a tiny AU of the story, so I get to do the same scenes several different ways. My ADHD-brain finds something about this extremely satisfying, most likely because it somehow feels more like multitasking! Several stories in one, and if I like two ideas, I don’t have to pick just one to write!

Honestly though, I think the most surprising part is just being done, and…that I could do this at all. It was so huge, and took so long, and I learned so much, and every day I’m just kind of going “who the hell am I?” about doing all of this. I’m proud of it. I did a cool thing. And trying to get better at saying that.

And, what are you working on now?

I always have about 8 active projects going at once (which shouldn’t come as a surprise after last question!), but my next interactive fiction game is with Tales/Fable Labs! It’s shaping up to be a Dawnfall-sized project, but a little faster-moving and action-y.

It’s called Every Beat Belongs To You, and it’s a romantic thriller that feels like Twin Peaks meets Mr. Robot, with a smattering of Repo: The Genetic Opera. A creepy Pacific Northwest town with a secret (and a rash of ritualized murders), a super-slick medical research company whose flagship product is a 100% perfect synthetic heart, a mysterious new-age group, and a sister who went missing just before discovering how it’s all connected. Also five simultaneously-dateable (including ace and aro ships!) cuties of varying genders! Who will you trust with your heart?

I’m very excited about Everybeat, which should be just as queer, polyam, exciting, and weird as all my stuff! Aside from that, I’m working on Stake Sauce Book 2, its companion f/f vampire series Death Masquerade, and Chameleon Moon Book 3. I’m not always working…sometimes there are videogames, and sleep. But I really hope to have a lot more fun things to share soon!

Oh, and depending on how this weird, fun thing goes, I do have some ideas for prequel Dawnfall stories; maybe games, maybe books, but the ideas are there. The world—worlds, really—is so huge, and I’m not done playing in it yet! I also have some character art drawn, and I want to do a lot more of them. It’s another way to show love.

So thank you so much! I really hope Dawnfall is as fun to everyone to read/play as it was for me to write. I can’t wait to share it with you!

#hearts choice #interactive fiction

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Note

If you're still taking prompts maybe college Peter who has a newborn (up to you how that happened) no one but his close friends know about and one day he has to take him to class for some reason and the baby won't stop crying and Flash is being a dick and people are getting annoyed but professor Tony just asks if he can hold him for him and does so for the rest of the lecture and the baby chills out (an extra if you're into more peter whump maybe he's very much struggling to deal on his own?)

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

I really liked this one - I saw the original video of this idea and it was real heart warming.

warnings: underage drinking, minor character death

word count: ~3k

Peter never imagined a singular night of stupidity would change his life forever. Right before winter break of his senior year, Peter had the sudden epiphany that girls were not for him. He and Ned were looking at a The Rise of Skywalker magazine – a typical Saturday night for the two of them. Ned went on and on about how hot Daisy Ridley was, how her badass temperament made her even sexier – but Peter couldn’t take his eyes off the shots of Ben Skywalker. It wasn’t until Ned shoved his shoulder into his side that Peter noticed his own radio silence.

Though he pretended to shake it off for Ned’s sake, his mind kept playing on that fact over and over again. A part of him always wondered why he never got that excited about the dirty magazines the guys would pass around the locker room – or why dates with girls never ended up working out quite right. Some of his best friends were girls that he thought might make the perfect girlfriend, when in fact, they were the perfect friend, instead. It didn’t bother him so much as surprise him – the thought never crossed his mind before, but now – it was the only thing he could think about.

When Ned brought up a party MJ mentioned at lunch earlier, Peter jumped on the chance – it seemed like the perfect place to test out his new theory. Maybe if he just gave himself a chance to like a girl – it would all work out.

That was his first mistake.

The next occurred when he let Ned put cup after cup of whatever he found on the drink table in his hand. The last time Peter attempted to drink, he passed out with his pants down in the middle of MJ’s bathroom – upon reflection, he hoped that would have kept him from repeating the same disastrous action.

It seemed he had not had enough punishment for his stupidity – only this time, the result was not incriminating pictures and laughed away stories.

Waking up the next morning, Peter groaned as the world spun around him when he sat up. Blurry eyes took in the room around him and immediately felt panic. The soft violet on the walls was not the normal drab white of Ned’s bedroom, and the comforter pulled over his hips was certainly not the Batman one that his best friend kept spread across his bed. And the person next to him most certain was not Ned. In fact, he couldn’t even remember who the hell it actually was.

He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could, his head still spinning slightly. His naked body clued him in on what exactly went down last night, though no memories of it were able to surface. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand the whirlwind of clothes on the floor and the odd soreness in the small of his back to understand what took place. Stepping into his clothes, Peter pulled out the little notebook he kept in his jeans pocket and tore out a page – his half-drunk brain barely able to translate a legible note.

In leaving his number, he never assumed the girl would actually get back to him. He couldn’t even remember her name – he still didn’t recall what happened that night. That’s why it was a total shock when she called, her voice a little shaky as she read his own note to him – each word one he remembered putting down on the paper. He clenched his jaw a little and stayed on the phone, the girl he now knew as Stacy had something to tell him. And man did he regret not hanging up the damn phone.

All of his plans to leave and head to MIT were put on hold the second he found out he was going to be a father. He felt May’s heart break across the room later that night when he told her the news. She wanted him to get out of here and do bigger and better things just as much as Peter did – probably even more so, if he thought a little bit about it.

The hug she gave him felt a little bittersweet. They cried together and then stood back up and made a plan. There were a lot of things that needed to happen before a new little person could take up residence in their small apartment.

It turned out that Stacy was a couple of years older than him and trying to navigate her way through NYU classes. She was a nice person and wouldn’t be too bad of a person to raise a child with. Peter told her up front that their time together was a mistake – that even after finding out about their soon-to-be son, he still didn’t think there’d be a chance for them.

It felt good to jump that hurdle before things got too complicated when the kid did actually come around. She seemed perfectly happy to share the parenting duties – it didn’t hurt that she fit in pretty nicely with May, either; the girls were always whispering about this thing or that whenever he and Stacy got together to go to appointments.

Seeing his baby’s face on the monitor every time they went in for a check up kept things in perspective for him. When May had to check him out of classes to make appointments, his stomach rolled a little – there were so many opportunities he was missing, and the kid wasn’t even there yet.

The heartbeat and promise of little hands that would wrap around his made it all worth it, though. He never thought about being a dad, there wasn’t time in a 17-year-old’s life for that. With it now on his doorstep, Peter’s brain wouldn’t shut down and think about anything else.

There was so much anxiety built up around whether he could be a good dad with very little resources and a singular aunt that would support him through anything, but had a life of her own to live, too. His deferment of his MIT acceptance chipped at the resolve he tried to build each day the arrival of his son got more and more near. Peter let himself be happy with the fact that he could still go to college at all. NYU was better than nothing.

When Atlas came around, it was with a mixture of joy and sadness. Right after holding him for the first time, Stacy simply dropped back against the hospital bed, her eyes shutting uselessly. Peter looked around with the newborn baby still in his arms, the beeping of machines and rush of people in the room making the boy wail – the stimulus almost too much for Peter himself. It never occurred to him that one moment would be the last time he or Atlas saw her. In one fell swoop, Peter became a father and sole provider to the tiniest human he’d ever seen.

The transition wasn’t very easy, either. There weren’t romantic feelings between him and Stacy, but she was the mother to his child, the person he’d come to know pretty well over the past 9 months. An aneurism seemed silly in a 19-year-old girl – yet, it took her all the same. One of Atlas’s first days outside of the hospital was spent in the small cemetery her estranged uncle picked to bury her in. He declined Peter’s invitation to hold Atlas and got in his car the second the ceremony was over.

Just like that, Peter had a three-day-old and the impending start of college classes. He assumed sometime in the near future he needed to get a job, too – but he could only handle a couple of big things at a time. Getting the baby settled and into a routine seemed like the most important thing, so he focused on that. May helped the first couple of days – her chill nature a little frayed now that a screaming child kept them both awake at night.

Atlas was just shy of a week old when Peter started classes at NYU. 3 of the 4 he signed up to take were cookie cutter prerequisites and general education classes. The pick of the loot as a freshman was not very rich. He did manage to snag a Biophysics class, though – his AP credit getting him something a least.

The professor was a gorgeous man with a neat goatee and the softest eyes. He spoke with authority and the distinctness that came from being extremely knowledgeable about the thing he talked about frequently. Peter spent a lot of his time in Professor Tony’s class alternating between drooling over how stunning he was and daydreaming about how much fun they could have together – if the older man would appreciate being called daddy the same way Peter wanted so much to say it.

The most standout piece of Mr. Stark came from the kindness he treated all of his students with. Peter absentmindedly forgot to turn in the week’s homework and wrote an embarrassingly long and blathering message about this and that as an excuse – and if he could please, for the love of god, turn the damn thing in. Tony’s response was swift and gentle, the man allowing him a couple more days to get it in without deducting any points. When it happened again the second week, he pushed the deadline back for Peter and the rest of the class. In all the unluckiness, Peter was surprised to find such a caring person in the most unlikely of places.

The next week, Peter was shaken awake by May, a distraught look on her face. “I know that you have class today, but I can’t keep the baby. I got called into work. I’m sorry, Pete,” May said softly, her eyes trying to stay soft, to stay under control the same way she’d always been. Blinking, Peter sat up a little – the sleep clung to him tightly, the crustiness in the corner of his eye making it hard to keep his eyes open. Atlas still wasn’t sleeping very well and there’d been many hours of rocking the night before.

“Okay. I got him. Thanks, May,” Peter replied blearily, his hand moving up to brush at his eyes. It took another minute or two to come around, then Peter was out of bed and moving into the kitchen – his body putting together a bottle and some things into a bag on autopilot.

He could probably change the baby’s diaper with his eyes closed now, too. Taking care of Atlas was all he’d done for weeks now, his classes the only thing that gave him sanctuary. Now, he didn’t even get to have that. Blowing out a breath, Peter got into the shower and got clean before Atlas was up and crankily crying out for him.

The idea of staying home didn’t hit him until about ten minutes into class when Atlas would not stop crying. The decision to take him came when he noticed that they were just a couple class periods away from the exam – he wasn’t sure how Tony tested and didn’t want to miss anything.

Atlas didn’t make a peep their entire walk over and when he sat down, he figured that trend would continue. After twenty minutes of it and Flash Thompson turning around three times to tell him to shut his kid up, Peter started to get out of his seat. It’d been a stupid idea in the first place.

All of the sudden, Professor Stark was in his row, his hands out in front of him. “I’ll take him. Do you have a bottle? I can feed him and talk at the same time,” Tony said, his face split with a soft grin. The man stepped a little closer and crouched down, his fingers wiggling in front of Atlas’s face. “What’s his name, Pete?”

Not knowing what else to do and suddenly so very grateful for the man, Peter turned the boy’s carrier and happily handed Tony his son – the older man cradled him carefully and stood up. He looked good with a baby in his arms. Peter reached out to give him a bottle and their fingers touched – a delicate zing that Peter couldn’t ever remember feeling before shot up his arm and settled in his chest. “Come talk to me later.” He flashed Peter a smile and started back down the stairs to the front of the lecture hall.

He tried to pay attention, he really did – but it was hard to focus when Tony was holding Atlas so delicately and swaying back and forth to mock a rocking motion. True to his word, the man continued to lecture – the normal talking with his hands transferred to his face, instead. His eyebrows hiked up his forehead and quirked to run a severe line between them while he spoke – the entire experience of it a little bit overwhelming.

Atlas finished the bottle a little bit into the more intense parts of the lecture – Tony simply put him against his chest and started to burp him while he described the math problem they were currently looking at on the projector.

The whole thing was too much and not nearly enough all at one time. It felt like a tease, seeing just how good the gorgeous man could be with someone so precious to him. The part of Peter that yearned for help like that made him want to cry – his eyes watering a few times throughout the rest of the lecture.

Flash looked back once when Peter was wiping at his eye and called him a pussy – the word not having nearly as much bite as it would have before Atlas came around. He was a father with a lot of shit on his plate – and far from the type of person that would run away from his problems.

For the rest of the lecture, Peter kept his eyes on the sleeping baby in Tony’s arms – of course he would be quiet for a complete stranger. Though, Peter understood the ability to be comfortable in the older man’s presence, he felt that way himself. Getting up when Tony dismissed everyone, Peter climbed down the stairs and put the carrier by his feet, a hesitant smile on his face. “Professor Stark, you have no idea how sorry I am,” Peter started, his words immediately cut off by Tony’s hand raising.

“Don’t apologize. You needed some help, so I gave it to you. Besides, Atlas and I are pals. He didn’t throw up on me,” Tony remarked, his eyes pinching at the corners as a stunning smile slipped across his face. “He can’t be too old. How are you coping with classes and a newborn?”

Without really knowing what was happening, Peter started to cry – the question making all of the thoughts he’d been holding back crash down over his head. He wasn’t coping – he did his best to survive and that was it.

Peter loved the hell out of Atlas, but parenting was not for young people. There was a deeply engrained need to make sure other people did not make the same mistake he did – having a child was absolutely no fucking joke.

Peter felt an arm wrap around him, the smell of cedar wood and something he couldn’t quite place invading his senses. Atlas was still fast asleep in Tony’s arms – the baby’s feet pressing into him a little when the other pulled him close. There wasn’t enough energy in him to feel embarrassed – it felt good to be held, so he leaned into the comfort of Tony’s arms.

“It’s alright, Pete. Let me help you.” Tony muttered the words softly, his tone of voice just as much for Peter as it was for the small baby in his arms. “I can take care of the both of you.”

#starker #ironspider #ask prompts #bobbie writes #au prompts #teacher/student au #anonymous #nonnie

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