#BUT IT'S TRUE. MY POOR LEFTOVER PIZZAS.... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

izzy-b-hands · 1 year

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TW for mention of moths and accidental moth death. Funny enough, I'm extremely phobic and grossed out by moths and butterflies (tho i think they're cool and pretty) and sort of grossed myself out writing this, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone!

Lil domestic moment/mini argument in a modern AU for the lads and the poor moth involved. That turns into a mini rescue mission of sorts. also Jack is there. And there will be pizza.

I kept writing and things kept happening idk.

---

"Really?" Stede scoffs. "Over a mild disagreement-"

The crop top, clearly handmade, reads 'I fucked Stede Bonnet and all I got was this stupid shirt.'

"Mary suggested color of fabric paint," Ed says icily, eyes never moving from the horror movie he's watching on the living room TV. "But Doug thought up the crop top bit. Much more comfortable this way, and I can reuse the leftover bit of fabric."

"Ed," Stede sits on the other side of the couch. "Darling."

"Don't even start."

"Look, I understand why you're upset with me. But I need you to see my side-"

"Stede, if you bring this up during one of my favourite movies, I..." Ed hesitates. "I don't know exactly what I'll do yet, but I'll be pissed."

"Can I stay and watch with you?"

"Of course."

He motions for Ed to stretch out his legs, and scoots slightly closer so Ed's knees rest on his lap.

"If you think you're getting back in my good graces with a knee massage alone-"

"No," Stede interrupts. "I saw you limp earlier, and I know massages help that bad knee of yours. Purely coincidence."

He works gently on Ed's knee, and looks up to the screen. "Us, right?"

"Yup."

They watch in silence for a bit, until he can bear it no longer.

"Ed, I know you don't like moths. I know you're scared of them. But I wasn't going to kill it-"

"I didn't want you to kill it, but you didn't listen to me! I was trying to tell you to wait so I could be in another room while you got it!"

"Oh," Stede blinks. "Ohhh. 'Babe, wait and just-' was going to end in 'just let me leave first.' Wasn't it?"

Ed nods. "Instead, you smashed into me, and I know you didn't mean to, but I got moth and gross moth dust all over my ch-"

He gags. "Yeah. I can't think about it or say it. Sorry."

"I'm sorry. But you knew I would try and move it and get it outside, and that would mean needing to get by you and out the bedroom door."

"That..." Ed sighs. "That's true. I should say sorry too. I could have just moved right away, and then come back to you as soon as it was outside. I panicked. Sorry, love."

"That's fair. You didn't want it on or near you."

Ed gently, carefully, strips off his shirt and lays it on the floor. "This needs to finish drying anyway. I was wearing it right away to be...well. Yeah."

"It's well done," Stede smiles. "And I like the violet."

"Right? I loved it but wasn't sure about using it until Mary mentioned it. I was texting both of them with pictures of all the paint colours; it was probably silly-"

"Sometimes a second opinion is all it takes to know if a choice is right or not. Nothing silly about that."

Eventually, Ed winds up in his lap, as the movie plays on and the winter sun dips below the horizon.

There's a buzz as the credits roll, and they both jump.

"Fucking piece of shit," Ed fusses as he yanks his vibrating phone off the end table. "Hello?"

"Hi, weird question," Olu's voice comes through the speaker just as Ed switches it to speakerphone. "Is Stede's phone not by him?"

"I left it charging in our room," Stede replies. "Why?"

"I told you we should have texted Ed first!" Jim's voice joins in on Olu's end. "He always has his phone near him!"

"What's going on?" Ed asks.

"This is stupid and you'll laugh, but we...nope, I'm not saying it. This is embarrassing!" Olu mutters.

"We're two grown adults that got scared watching Us," Jim's voice joins in again. "There's some people walking around here and I know, I know they're just like. Taking a late walk. But they sort of look similar in shape to both of us and I mean. It's fake, because if it wasn't Jordan Peele would have to be in on it, and surely he wouldn't-"

"Funny, we just finished that movie, but we're doing alright. Would you maybe like us to come over?" Ed smiles and nudges Stede. "Aaand maybe bring a late night snack, some pizza?"

"There should be some by our front door," Olu replies. "We ordered just as the movie started and then by the time it got here..."

"Oh no," Stede chuckles. "We'll be right ov-ED!"

The shadow in the hall turns, and the light at the end of it flicks on. "Did you two forget I was here?"

Jack. Who was in town and staying in their guest room, and who had been sleeping off his jet lag.

"I'm so glad to see you," Stede gasps.

"It's okay," Ed says as he stands. "We'll be over in a bit. We'll bring Jack too since he's with us."

"Why is he here?" Olu asks.

"Dunno. He called us last night asking for a ride from the airport and a place to stay."

"...sure. That sounds great."

"And we'll get some new pizza on the way there, because I guarantee a raccoon has already found the one outside your door."

"Pizza, you two, those two kids, and a raccoon," Jack smiles. "I woke up to a party!"

"The raccoon is not coming inside," Stede chuckles. "We had enough issues with the moth earlier!"

Jack frowns. "Speaking of, I woke up with that little bit of fuss and...hey, Ed?"

Ed, planning away about breadsticks and dessert options with Olu, seems not to notice.

Jack motions Stede over to him. "Look. When I went downstairs to get those extra pajamas you mentioned, I found the source of that flying friend. Y'all got a fuckin' infestation in the extra storage room down there. I shoved some towels under the door crack but..."

"Oh god."

"Yeah. So...tomorrow morning what say I call up Iz and Buttons, and the three of us take Ed out to the zoo and aquarium? While we do that, which should take most of the day, you and anyone else not afraid of moths-"

"Will go and clean things up," Stede nods gravely. "Jack. I cannot believe I'm saying this, but, thank you."

"Just don't make me watch that movie with y'all tonight. Don't know why you'd want to rewatch it right away, but just-I can't stand that one, too scary. The new alien one though-"

"Nope?"

"Damn, we can't even try it? Or did it scare you that bad?"

Stede sighs. "Nope?!"

"Why are you...what's with the tone?" Jack scoffs. "I'm-wait. Wait. Oh no, you meant-"

"The movie is titled, yes," Stede shakes his head. "I think you're still jet lagged."

"I think-"

"Jack, put on pants and trousers and lets get moving," Ed interjects. "They are absolutely terrified, Mr. Peele should be very proud. However, I think their neighbour is trying to give them their pizza, and he's walking all around outside their house freaking them the fuck out and it's a whole thing."

Stede peers down, then back up. "I really wish I'd realised you were-"

"Sleeping Winnie-the-Pooh style?" Jack grins. "I can't believe you didn't notice."

"Are you wearing that shirt out?" Stede asks as Ed yanks the crop top back on.

"Yeah, but hang on, I'll get you yours and Jack's," Ed jogs into the kitchen. "So we match, all three of us."

They head out ten minutes later, Ed ahead of them.

"You fucked Ed Teach and all you got was that stupid shirt?" Jack snorts.

"You fucked us both and only got the one shirt," Stede paraphrases off of Jack's shirt. "I'm starting to think he was going to make these even if the moth thing had never happened."

"You don't fuckin' say."

There's the honk of the car horn, and they rush to get in before Ed drives off without them.

#text post #long post #blackbonnet #this was gonna be an extremely brief bit abt the moth situation and Then i remembered how i love Us #but that movie is one of the few that makes me jump and since im alone i dont dare watch it #but i can make everyone in this fic do it and also deal with being scared aksnfjgng

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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MC's Family Finds Out that They're Actually Dating a Demon the Hard Way

Demon boys more or less going demon on the MC's family. Bound to happen really. This one ain’t so cuddly guys. Special thanks to @anonimo324 for the inspiration for this one. Literally never would have occurred to me if they hadn't have said something and I love the excuse to revisit this idea. 😄

Check out the Masterlist for more!

IMPORTANT: Continuation to "Demon Brothers Meeting the MC's Family" The general setup to this post is in that one.

Lucifer

You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true, right?

Oh, their MC's new boyfriend was smooth, put together, intelligent…

And prideful. So very prideful.

It radiated off of him like no tomorrow, there was just a subtle but constant air of superiority to everything the man did or said. Some may find it attractive but others? It can drive other people right up the wall.

And that's exactly what it did to some members of the MC's family. Even if he seemed educated and well-spoken what made him think he was so special? What made him think he was just so much better than the rest of the world??

They couldn't have known just how angry he'd get when they confronted him about it.

They couldn't have known that they weren’t questioning an arrogant man, but a prideful demon who'd take offense at the mere thought of being anywhere near their level.

It was only when he stood towering before them, demonic wings and horns in full view, did they learn the folly of their actions.

In their hospital beds, bones broken and bodies bruised, they'd rant and rave to anyone who'd listen "He's a demon! A demon! My child/sibling/etc. is dating a demon!!"

The MC disappeared with Lucifer that night, however. Their family writes them off as either dead or kidnapped for torture purposes.

In truth, they returned to the Devildom and Lucifer will never hear the end of how he lost control and attempted to skewer the MC's family members. Surely such a mighty demon should have better control than that... 🙄😑

Mammon

His dumbass let it slip a couple months in, but not without good reason for once.

He had actually been doing pretty well with their family. Sure he wasn't perfect, but he made it clear enough he was looking out for MC and honestly the rest of them as well.

It was small things. Checking up on them sometimes. Making sure the little ones, if any, were safe. Not stealing anything that isn't nailed down (though that's something the MC notices more than their family of course).

It takes a lot. A lot. A LOT to make Mammon break out his demon form. He's better at keeping it in than Lucifer. But showing him something that’s threatening MC is actually a pretty quick why to do it.

The family was out together on a shopping trip, a giddy Mammon included because he knew that meant he could beg ask the MC to buy him stuff.

They really should have checked before they started strolling down the damn crosswalk, but they didn't, and an impatient taxi went hurtling towards them.

Before they could even open their eyes Mammon was already lecturing them about their stupidity, holding them on the other side of the street. Shirtless because his demon form was out and the dumbass forgot to hide it again. Even though they were in public.

He was quick to change back once he noticed, but the damage was done. You can say their family was a little surprised that he straight up grew wings and horns. Only one of them fainted anyway.

To avoid causing further panic, Mammon just legs it away with MC still in his arms, shouting back an quick expletive laced "apology" over his shoulder.

MC smooths things over with their family later by phone. No one can quite wrap their head around the fact that Mammon is a demon, despite what they had seen, but it helps that he did seem to want to protect them.

The MC is not allowed to come home if they want to bring their demon boyfriend too, but their family isn't as worried about them as they could be. Mammon's looking out for them after all.

Leviathan

Okay. They always knew the boy was a little weird but hot damn did that opinion suddenly go from 0 to 60 real quick.

Levi was distant and off-putting at first but in time it became pretty clear that he was just pretty awkward. He wasn't the best with people, but he seemed harmless enough.

It was the MC's idea to bring him along on a family weekend trip to the beach. They honestly couldn't understand why at first. He never seemed to like being with them...

It DID start to click for them a little more when they saw the guy in the water though. They can say it's probably the first time they'd ever seen him so comfortable in his own skin. He even started smiling!

Things were actually going smoothly for them all for once… until other people started taking notice of MC in their swimsuit and one bold gentleman decided to make a cheeky comment on it.

Now, Levi had always stuck close to MC when he was around them. He was practically a second shadow. But it seemed like the second he took notice of those glances he got extra clingy and after that comment.. he started to have a meltdown.

The once bold gentleman was kindly picked up by the neck and hurdled into the ocean like a Frisbee. It would have been hilarious if it weren't so horrifying.

It was about the time that the lad grew a snake tail that the MC's family peaced out off the beach, screaming in terror. MC and Levi left too, mostly because Levi was hellbent on dragging them back to the Devildom in a jealous rage. Obviously THIS is the kind of shit that happens when he leaves his room!

No plans are ever made to go visit again, which he's very happy about. He hated being out in "the real world" anyway.

Satan

Nice as he could be, that temper was bound to catch up to him eventually…

There would be small incidents. A kid cuts him off on the sidewalk and he'd get a little loud and snippy about it. A dog won't stop barking at him and he'd just glare and send it away with a terrified whimper. These things were… worrisome. But not all that demonic.

Then other red flags started showing up. A person on the street would be rude to him and he'd look honestly ready to kill. It'd take MC physically holding him back to keep him in place. Their family was worried about them… Had they'd fallen victim to a possible abuser...?

MC had never listened to what their family had to say, always claiming that they were perfectly safe with their boyfriend. That he had to listen to what they said. But no one really bought that…

Well if there is one way to piss Satan off (and there are many) probably the fastest and most lethal is to doubt his intelligence. Especially if you're only one of those everyday, average humans...

That poor employee at the bookstore had no idea what kind of mistake they made when he told Satan he wasn't looking for Camus but Kafka then refused to double check. Satan doesn't make mistakes about his authors. Ever.

What was originally just supposed to be a relaxing afternoon with the family turned into a night in the station as everyone was questioned about the employee whose head got flattened against the store counter-top. The police weren't entirely convinced a demon did it, but they would look for a blonde.

Said demon had chucked MC over his shoulder and took off before the police arrived to investigate, which as far as they're concerned also kind of amounts to kidnapping.

Satan's now a fugitive in the MC's hometown and on the FBI's Most Wanted List so safe to say that they won't really be visiting anymore.

Asmodeus

Not as surprised as you might think. There were some signs…

Asmo had a bewitching quality to him that went well into the unnatural. He could soothe and win over right about any person or animal to an… uncomfortable degree.

He also kept bringing up and babbling about nonsense products all the time. He always seemed to have the perfect hair treatment or know the best drinks but no one else had ever heard of any of it. What the heck even is Demonus…?

But the real kicker was, well, just how lustful he was. There were horn dogs and then there was this guy. It felt like he could flirt with a potted plant sometimes.

Though he was nice, no one in their house thought Asmo was faithful to MC. And even if he were, his blatant willingness to tease right about anyone he came across was showing them disrespect.

Unfortunately, they had made the poor decision to confront him about it and claim that he didn't actually "love" MC….

There are few things more brutal and less forgiving than an enraged Asmo. Here he was with these humans, people he had been nothing but nice to, and they were doubting his love for MC?? What gave them the right!?

He had his demon form out and his whip already raised to teach these slanderers a lesson! Even if he had grown to like some of them, his anger took over his reason and he had to vent his displeasure NOW.

The MC stepped in before he could crack the whip and made him stop. Their family was terrified but he charmed them into calming down while he and MC talked things out.

They (by which I mean mostly a fuming Asmo) decided that since their family couldn't understand their love for each other, they didn't deserve to see it.

They leave the house calmly and don't come back. MC still sometimes calls their family, but they refuse to leave the Devildom or their beautiful fallen angel, no matter how much their family pleads for them to come home.

Beelzebub

On the one hand, absolutely no one wants to believe it… But it also does make a lot of things make more sense in hindsight.

Like, he was built like a linebacker so it was sort of understandable just how many calories his body seemed to need but there was a limit.

He. Just. Kept. Eating. Never-endingly hungry. Always poking through the kitchen or ordering a mountain of pizzas. More impressively, he never made any leftovers… Ever.

He was such a sweetheart though… They tried to turn a blind eye for a while. Make excuses and rationalize the impossible… but it couldn't last.

It was only supposed to be one nice dinner out. MC had gone over the rules with him ten times before going, "This is a human restaurant and I'm paying, so you HAVE to stop at thirds. Okay? Okay??"

He tried. But the food was sooo good, he just couldn’t stop! And, like clockwork, here comes the manager to cut him off and there goes an angry Beel. Full demon form, tossing tables and wrecking chairs to everyone's absolute horror.

MC had to use the pact to stop him. They could only leave their family with a quick goodbye before they had to book it from the cops on Beel's back as he flew away.

To say there was a mini-meltdown among the members left behind would be an understatement. What the HELL just happened to the sweet young man they had come to know???

The damages were paid for by Lucifer a "mysterious donor" and everything was explained to their family by MC over video call from the Devildom with a very guilty and apologetic Beel in attendance.

When it was clear that the MC wasn't going to leave him or literal Hell despite their protests, they either had to accept it or never hear from them again. Members made their choices, but it's pretty hard to stay mad at someone they've grown to like so much...

He's no longer allowed to go visit them in the human world (which is probably for the best) but shows up on MC's video calls regularly. They still kind of think of him as family even if he could eat them all. He's just such a nice lad, you know?

Belphegor

…. You know, there was always something kind of off about that kid.

It was always hard to place what made Belphie so… different. It could have been the way he never seemed to take any of them seriously or the kind of amazing lack of energy he brought to things.

It also could have been the fact he kept making comments about being a demon, going to "hell," knowing Satan personally, etc. but always played them off as jokes.

Honestly when it finally came out that yes, he was actually a demon, it was almost a relief because it made waaaay more sense than not.

Still fucking terrifying, though.

One of their family members had made the mistake of waking him up from a nap when he and MC were there for a visit

Now. It's not easy to wake Belphie even on a good day but an airhorn to the face is probably not the way to go about it.

When he sent said family member soaring out the window, one-handed, with his horns and tail on full display and a familiar look of murder in his eyes, MC knew the charade was pretty much up...

True to his word, Belphie doesn't let some humans keep MC away from him. He scooped them up and hopped out the broken window before they could really even protest or explain anything.

Which, I mean, how does one even go about smoothing over the fact your demon boyfriend just yeeted one of your family members out of the house?

Their family is kind of able to put two and two together themselves regardless. Which is good because neither Belphie or MC are probably coming back any time soon. If ever. Hope they enjoy postcards...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #still too fun to write #satan runnin' from the FBI man #beel would call your parents mom and dad #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

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I've been working out a little bit (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes.

Summary: Spencer has been working out with Penelope, and they are doing their best to keep it a secret. Until (Y/N) finds out and tries to help. And though he doesn't want to because he is embarrassed about his poor athletic performance, somehow she manages to help.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: Curses, frustration. Good old fools in love.

Word count: 3.8K

A/N: Hello, pretty people! I've missed you! I hope you like this little story. It's one of the last requests pending on my list. Tomorrow I can finally visit my grandparents, I'll be taking care of them for at least two weeks, and though I know it's hard work, I am just so happy I can be with them again!! I miss them! Take care, whenever you are! Love you!

Masterlist

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

- "No fucking way, Spencer!" (Y/N) widened her eyes and laughed so hard tears filled her eyes. She was sitting at her desk at work, staring at her best friend, who could barely walk due to the two hours he had spent that morning training with Penelope.

- "Please, don't tell anyone."- he whispered and looked around the bullpen. He was too embarrassed already to let anyone else know he had to take the mandatory fit test. He wanted to avoid the jokes, especially Derek's.

- "Your secret is safe with me, as always, chipmunk"- (Y/N) smiled and bit her lips, trying not to laugh anymore- "But why on earth are you working out? You have enough case hours to cover a fit test!"

- "Apparently, I can't skip it this year. Both me and Penelope have to take it."- Spencer whispered and sat down very slowly, pain written all over his face.

His best friend stared at him reading the mix of embarrassment and physical pain he felt with each movement he made. (Y/N) smiled and opened one of her drawers, looking for the last Snicker she had hidden in case of need. Watching Spencer in pain was precisely the case. She stood up and handed him the candy, making his heart skip a beat. Spencer did his best to hide the blush on his cheeks and just looked away.

- "I can help you if you want."- (Y/N) whispered and cut him the most adorable smile she had.

- "Help me what?"

- "Working out."- she replied and bit her granola bar- "I can teach you how to kick ass, and I do look hot wearing sweat shorts."

Spencer nearly chook. He flushed and closed his eyes, trying to cover up his embarrassment. But (Y/N) giggled and turned around. Her job there was done. Now Spencer had to be picturing her in her sweat shorts.

Of course, he was. He couldn't stop, actually.

The two agents were the youngest of the team, and somehow sometimes in-between cases, it showed. Especially when they were on their own, and their conversations ended up in casual flirting.

(Y/N) was head over feet in love with Spencer, though she was never going to face it. God knows Penelope had tried to force her to deal with her feelings. But she was closed as an oyster. No matter how much Garcia insisted or how drunk they were, (Y/N) kept denying her true feelings in public.

Spencer wasn't indifferent. Not at all. As a matter of fact, he was in love with (Y/N). Everything about her bewitched him. Ever since the first time he laid eyes on her, he felt it. She was tailor-made for him. If only he weren't a nervous wreck each time he saw her...

After two years working together, Spencer had managed to overcome part of my shyness and awkwardness around (Y/N). They were best friends, and they would usually hang out in their free time. The little free time they had in the BAU. But even when they could playfully flirt all the time, Spencer was sure she didn't like him that way. He convinced himself she was just joking.

(Y/N) headed to the Batcave holding a large frappuccino and knocked on the half-opened door before walking in.

- "Penelope García, I had the feeling you were running caffeine low."

- "Oh my pretty little thing! How do you do it? You read my mind!"- the tech analyst nearly hyperventilated as soon as she held her ice and creamed coffee.

- "Reid and I were out for a little break, and I knew you would like one of these to cheer up your afternoon"- Garcia sipped her frappuccino and nodded. But as soon as she had finished savoring the perfect coffee, she asked.

- "So, you and Reid..."

- "We were out getting coffee, like the best friends we are."

- "But, there's coffee here in the kitchenette. There's no need to go out and get coffee unless you want to find an excuse to be alone with him."- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and sighed. Garcia did that every single chance she got.

- "You and I know the FBI doesn't share our concept of "good" coffee."- (Y/N) looked at her friend and just smiled- "Besides, I told you, I felt you needed some extra sugar and joy in your life after your early workout session this morning."

- "That little snitch!"- (Y/N) chuckled and shook her head.

- "Don't get mad at Reid. He didn't tell me anything. I kind of figured there was something wrong 'cos he looked in so much pain just breathing."

- "Oh man, he is sored, but I am sure he would be way sorer if you train with him."

- "I offered myself to help him"- Garcia raised an eyebrow at (Y/N) 's words, and the young agent wide opened her eyes, blushing- "Stop staring at me like I'm a perv! I meant helping him train for the test. I could help you too."

- "Thank you, but no, thank you. I trained with you, and there's no way we are going to do all that boxing again."

- "Come on! You said you had fun!"

- "I did! I really did... but I could barely move the next day! And I had a date! I couldn't even dance, less doing... other... nevermind"- Penelope stopped herself in her tracks and shook her head.

- "Shit, PG!"- (Y/N) closed her eyes and chuckled- "Spare me the details."

- "Sorry... anyway... you and the little genius should definitely train in a more... horizontal way."

- "Garcia! Stop it!"- (Y/N) laughed and stood up- "I'm gonna go back to work 'cos clearly you have some hormonal issues today, and you are projecting."

- "Stop acting like you haven't thought about it!"- Garcia said and chuckled as her friend walked away.

- "I'm not telling you anything."

- "That means yes!"

- "No! it doesn't!"- (Y/N) was blushing; that's why she refused to turn around and look at Penelope.

- "Oh! It so does!"

The end of that day found Spencer even more sore, hungry and weary than he had felt in years. All he wanted to do was go home, eat pizza leftovers from the night before, and go straight to bed.

Until...

- "Hey, chipmunk!"- (Y/N) looked at Spencer, gathering all his things and getting ready to go home.- "Dinner at my place tonight. My treat."

- "I can pick the take out tonight?"- he said immediately and asked himself where did that come from if, a second earlier, all he wanted to do was to go to bed. Probably from the same place that kept coming back to the image of her in sweat shorts.

- "Even better. I'll cook"- (Y/N) answered and winked, playfully- "You deserve a proper homemade dinner after all the workout you did this morning."

Spencer looked at her and didn't even notice the silly smile on his face. If he had known how in love he was looking, he would have probably slapped himself. (Y/N) sighed and stood up.

- "I'm gonna take that silence as a "Great (Y/N)! Thank you! How considered! I'm so lucky to have you in my life".

Spencer rolled his eyes and shook his head.

- "Thank you, (Y/N). But I'll give you more praise if your food turns out to be eatable"- the young agent gasped, pretending to be insulted by his words, and hit Reid's arm with her knuckles.

- "Auch! (Y/N)!"

- "I'm being nice, and you are insulting me! I'm having second thoughts about driving you over!"

- "I can take the subway! You are such a slow driver I can actually be there faster."

Spencer stuck out his tongue at her and ran to the elevator, 'cos his friend widened her eyes and ran after him, probably to hit him again.

Morgan and Prentiss stared at the scene in silence, sharing a few looks, both of them thinking the exact same thing: "When are these two goofs ever going to hook up?"

- "They are annoying"- Rossi stood next to Emily's desk and crossed his arms on his chest.

- "They are in love"- she corrected, but David shook his head and sighed.

- "I know, and they are adorable, but it's so annoying staring at the same scene over and over again, waiting for something, anything, to happen between them."

- "Are you turning into a bitter old man who completely forgot about the charm of being young and in love?"- Prentiss raised an eyebrow and turned to Rossi. The Italian stared right into her eyes and shook his head.

- "I'm just saying someone should try to tell them something."

- "I've tried to talk to him about her a million times. But Reid is one private kid."- Derek said from his desk as the three of them stared at Spencer and (Y/N) getting into the elevator, still arguing and playfully playing.

- "And he is so insecure. He doesn't think she likes him."

- "Likes him? She is clearly in love with him!"- Prentiss said, annoyed- "I swear, if nothing happens between them this weekend, I'm going to intervene."

- "Now who is forgetting about the charm of being young and in love?"- Rossi joked and sighed- "Come on guys, dinner's on me."

(Y/N)' s dinner was a success. Spencer ate two portions of honey mustard-glazed chicken bake. She even managed to make him eat vegetables. And Spencer didn't even argue. Not only because it was delicious, and his body really needed some homemade dinner. But also 'cos (Y/N) got him wrapped around her fingers, even without knowing it. And if she asked him to eat veggies, Spencer (no matter how much he would argue) would eat his damn veggies. And he could actually enjoy them.

- "Ok, chipmunk, you ate all your food. You earned your dessert"- (Y/N) smiled and picked the dirty dishes from the table.

- "Let me do that. You already fed me. The least I can do is do the dishes."

Spencer followed her moves and took the dishes to the sink. (Y/N) didn't argue with that. It wasn't the first time Spencer cleaned the kitchen with her, after all. They had been good friends, close friends, for a long time, and they were used to being around each other.

But this time, it felt somehow different. Like there was something in the air warning them things were about to change for good.

- "Ok, doc. Do you wanna eat your dessert watching tv for a while?"- (Y/N) handed Spencer an ice cream bowl with chocolate chips on top and some whipped cream.

- "A smiley ice cream bowl?"- Spencer chuckled as he stared at it. He loved it.

- "Yes, you are never too old to eat food with a smile on it. And that's a life lesson, Spencer Walter Reid."- she said and walked to the couch, holding the remote control.

- "You are filled with wisdom, (Y/N)"- Reid teased her and sat by her side.

- "I know. It would help if you let me train you. You would pass your fit test in a blink."- she said and continued surfing channels.

- "Thanks, but no thanks. I wanna do it on my own."- Spencer glued his eyes on the screen and ate his dessert. (Y/N) just nodded and continued surfing channels.

- "Why?"- she asked him after a few minutes. They had been watching an old movie in silence, just eating their ice cream.

- "Why what?"- he whispered and looked at her just for a second. He didn't trust himself around (Y/N), especially under those circumstances: alone in her house. She had changed into leggings and an old extra-large sweatshirt. Her hair was in a messy bun. And Spencer didn't feel able to look at her into the eyes, 'cos he was going to cave in. He was going to grab her face with both hands and kiss her right there. No questions asked.

Which is why he avoided looking at her.

- "Why don't you want me to help you train?"

- "Just because"- he answered and glued his eyes to the screen. But (Y/N) knew better. She moved closer to him on the couch and held his hands. Spencer shivered right away at the sensation of her skin. It was so warm and soft. All he craved was some more of that. He wanted to feel her. Touch her. Taste her.

His head was going way too fast, and just because she held his hand.

- "Spencer, look at me"- she whispered and practically begged her friend to pay her attention- "I just wanna help. It's just a stupid fit test. It ain't hard."

- "For you."- he mumbled and looked down at his hand as her fingers played against his skin.

- "I didn't want you or anyone to help me 'cos I'm a fucking SSA who should be perfectly able to perform a simple fit test on his own. But no. I can't! And do you know what that means?"

- "That finally I know there's one thing you are not good at?"- she answered and smiled at him. Spencer raised his eyes and met hers. He knew his cheeks were all shades of pink, but for once, he just didn't care. He just wanted to look at her and see if she meant it. Or if she was just teasing him.

- "Right"- he snorted and shook his head.

- "I mean it, Spencer. You don't have to be good at everything."

- "It's a fit test. It's basic to be an agent. I need to be able to catch an unsub."- (Y/N) frowned and tried to understand where all that self-doubt and insecurity was coming from. To her eyes, Spencer had nothing to be ashamed of. To her, he was perfect in every single way.

- "You already catch unsubs, chipmunk. Everyday. You don't have to kick down doors to make a profile. And you don't have to run six miles to get the bad guy. Everything that you do every day at work is what an SSA is supposed to do. And you excel at it."

(Y/N) sighed and smiled at her best friend, trying to push aside the urge she felt to kiss him. His golden-brown eyes looked so big, like honey pools, she could stare for a lifetime. Spencer didn't know what to say. He really wasn't good with praises. He wasn't used to them. Not in that way.

- "Besides"- (Y/N) added after a few seconds of silence when she realized she might have said too much and started panicking.

- "It feels good to finally know there is one thing I am better than you at."

- "What are you talking about?"- Spencer answered right away, in the sassiest tone of voice.- "Just because I suck working out doesn't mean you are better. Even at my lowest, I'm still better than whatever you can do in a gym."

Reid was obviously joking. He knew (Y/N) could kick ass. Not only had she saved his life many times on the field, but also, he had seen her working out. And she could definitely kick his ass if she wanted to.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to tease her just because.

- "You take that back, Reid!"- she threatened him and

- "No"- he sentenced and crossed his arms on his chest

- "Last chance. Take it back, or you will pay for it."

- "Make me."

And that was it.

In a second, (Y/N) was on him tickling him, and trying to practice a chokehold on him. But Spencer was faster, and somehow, stronger than her. Maybe it was because he was struggling with himself. A part of him wanted her closer, and a part of him didn't want her too close, 'cos he knew his pants were going to start feeling too tight if she did.

Whatever the reason was, after two minutes of wrestling, Spencer had (Y/N) pinned down against the couch. And the way she panted against the fabric of the cushion wasn't helping him with his pants.

- "Spencer, it hurts"- she cried and tried to move from his grip, but he didn't let her go.

- "If you want me to release you, you have to say I am the best agent in this house."

- "Never!"- (Y/N) quickly answered and continued struggling.

- "Just say it, I've got you held, and I'm not going to let you free until you say it."- something in his tone of voice, it was teasing but also... sexy? (Y/N) knew Spencer wasn't trying to act that way, but it was working for her in a way she hadn't imagined. He would be so soft. And now, there he was, acting like a dominant man, holding her tight, not letting her move, literally pinned against the couch.

If only it were all happening in a different context.

- "Let me go, Spencer Reid!"- (Y/N) battled against his arms, but it was useless

- "Just say it"- he leaned in and whispered in her ear, and (Y/N) sword she could almost feel his smile as he spoke.

- "You are the best agent!! There, happy?"- she mumbled, making her best to sound annoyed and not turned on. Spencer released her, and she quickly sat down properly, rubbing her left wrist.

- "Did I hurt you?"- Spencer whispered and noticed how flustered she was. That was a first.

- "No. But I gotta tell you, you are stronger than I thought."- she said and stuck out her tongue to him, trying to be playful and innocent, though you could feel it in the air. That moment was anything but innocent.

- "Yeah, I've been working out a little bit."- Spencer answered and chuckled at his own words.

- "Well, you are going to have to learn how to control your new strength, 'cos this is going to leave a bruise"- (Y/N) whined and showed him her sore wrist. Spencer winced, ashamed he had been so hard on her without meaning any harm. He moved closer to her and held her wrist carefully. (Y/N) just looked at him as he kissed her wrist a few times.

That man couldn't be real. He was such a tease.

Did he know all the things he was, in fact, doing to her with that simple touch?

He surely had to know. Otherwise, there was no explanation, she thought.

- "Thanks"- (Y/N) whispered and fixed her eyes on his lips, still landing small kisses on her wrist.

That was when she stopped breathing. Spencer was literally breathtaking. He smiled at her, and she just couldn't help it anymore. (Y/N) leaned in and kissed him. It was a soft, short peck. But she had dared to do the unthinkable.

She kissed her best friend.

Spencer widened his eyes, shocked, and looked at her, not saying a word. They just stayed still for a good thirty seconds until Spencer finally made his move, cupping her jaw carefully with both hands and pulling her face against his.

The way she moaned into the kiss made him feel more in control than he had ever been before.

It was a soft kiss but intense. Spencer's lips rubbed carefully against her mouth, and his tongue moved carefully, making its way until he could taste her. (Y/N) moved closer to him until she was basically sitting on his lap, and his arms wrapped around her body, locking her against him.

They were in heaven.

Until it was over. Their phones buzzed at the same time, breaking the spell, ending the charm. (Y/N) jumped from Spencer's arms and grabbed her phone.

- "We've got a case"- she whispered and turned to him. He was agitated, his cheeks were red, his pants felt tight, and he was starving for more of those kisses.

- "Ok."- he replied but didn't move.

- "I'm gonna change, then we can go."- (Y/N) added, but he didn't say a word. To be fair, Spencer wasn't processing what was going on. He was still trying to elaborate a coherent thought. And most of all, he was fighting the boner in his pants that didn't let him stand up.

You could blame all the sugar in his body after the massive bowl of ice cream, or all the praising (Y/N) had given him, but Spencer found a new level of courage in that kiss. He decided it was time to stop overthinking it. It was time to act on his feelings.

- "(Y/N)"- Reid knocked on her bedroom door and heard her from the walking closet.

- "I'm almost ready. Did you talk with Garcia?"

- "No, but I don't wanna leave things like this. I wanted to talk about what just happened."

(Y/N) sighed and took a look at herself in the mirror. She could still feel her cheeks burning after that kiss, after feeling her best friend hard underneath her body, holding her against him. But she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what Reid was about to say. Most of all, because she was sure it was going to be something along the lines: "That kiss was a mistake, you are my friend. I don't wanna ruin this."

- "That kiss was..."- he mumbled and walked to her as soon as she showed up in the room, but words were hard to find when she looked at him that way.

- "Spencer, I..."- she tried to speak, but he just continued.

- "Would you like to..."

- "Pretend it didn't happen?"

- "Go out on a date with me?"- the two of them said at the same time and widened their eyes in shock.

- "What?"- (Y/N) questioned and stared at her best friend in shock- "You want to go out with me?"

- "You want to pretend it never happened?"- he asked her, scared he might have rushed to the wrong conclusions.

- "No, no, no, I don't... I can't pretend it didn't happen"- (Y/N) quickly answered and held Spencer's hand, afraid she might have ruined everything.

- "I was just scared you were going to reject me or..."- (Y/N) bt her lips and dared to look at him- "I wanna go out on a date with you"- she whispered and watched his whole face change as a big silly grin drawn on his lips.

- "Really?"- he murmured, still not sure it was actually happening. He asked her out. She said yes. He was sure that was never going to happen in real life.

- "Really"- she assured him and leaned in slowly to kiss him one more time. But her phone rang again, and so did his. This time it was a message from Hotch. Wheels up as soon as they reached the FBI.

- "But after we catch the bad guy."- (Y/N) added, and Spencer chuckled.

- "Sounds like a plan."

Spencer Reid’s taglist:

@calm-and-doctor @all-tings-diego

Requested by @shilohpug

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #babymetaldoll writes #babymetaldoll edits

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valarhalla · 5 years

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People have been nagging me to share “the curry story” on here for ages, so alright, I’ll do it. (If you’re Indian and reading this, I am so sorry).

I swear to god, everything I am about to say in this story is true.

When I was eleven, I moved to a small town in rural England and acquired a new best friend at school. Her at that point seemingly-very-normal-parents- nice suburban house, three kids, trampoline in the backyard- invited me over for dinner, and said they were making curry and rhubarb crumble.

“Curry and rhubarb crumble”. Never in the history of mankind have words been so untrue.

The “curry” consisted of, I swear I am not making this up, a vague mixture of * deep breath, oatmeal, tofu sausages, corn, tomato juice, chopped onions, raisins, “leftover broccoli leaves”, kale, and scrambled eggs. The only spice in it was the tiniest smidgen of turmeric. All these ingredients were vaguely stirred together, undercooked, and stuck under a broiler for ten minutes.

They gave me a massive portion. I somehow, I still don’t know how, was polite enough to finish it.

“I’m done,” I said.

“No,” said her father. “In this house, we LICK our plates clean.”

He did. They didn’t make me hold it up and lick it like they all did, but they did make me clean the plate with a piece of bread and my fork until they were satisfied.

Desert came. The rhubarb crumble was entirely unsweetened. Not so much as a raisin. I can’t remember what the crumble part was, because my mind is still haunted by the memory of being forced to eat an entire bowl of unsweetened rhubarb. You know in old Looney Tunes when characters would be tricked into eating allum and their heads would shrink? That’s what eating it felt like. They made me clean my bowl of that too, and wouldn’t let me leave the table until I finished.

The next time, (I was in middle school and as yet too polite to turn down my best friend’s parents) they made “spaghetti and meatballs and salad”. The spaghetti was utterly plain and so undercooked it was crunchy, the “meatballs” consisted of a single large orb of some grey material i have yet to identify, and the salad was, i shit you not, limp boiled lettuce. Crunchy spaghetti, unidentified lumpy grey stuff, and boiled lettuce.

The fascinating thing is that, while yes, these people were obviously health nuts, it was so much more than that. They were health nuts who also cooked like aliens who had never seen human food before. Or like small children making “potions”. One of the more edible things they served to me once was a dessert they made up which consisted of halved apples rolled in cornflour with some milk poured on top. One time, they were convinced to make pizza as a treat. They decided to put an onion on it. Fair and fine, you’d think. Not in that house. They just cut the onion in half once, and stuck each unchopped half facedown on one side of the pizza.

Speaking of onions, one time, my friend decided to make a banana and yoghurt smoothie. Her dad came in, said it wasn’t healthy enough, and made her add an onion to it.

They had a homemade cereal I thankfully was able to opt out of trying which 100% looked like the contents of a vacuum bag. I still have no idea what it contained.

Amazingly, it was by no means just me who experienced this. It was a small town, and every girl in it my age had a selection of horror stories about being invited to dinner at this friend’s house in the exact same ritualistic horror-film fashion. We used to sit around comparing them at sleepovers. Age did not exempt you. One time, this friend’s six year old brother had a friend over for dinner at the same time, poor soul. His mom arrived to pick him up, and wasn’t allowed to take him home until he finished whatever crime against cooking was on the menu that night.

Every story was the same. The ritual that never varied. Every time, these people would make a huge fanfare out of inviting you over for dinner, act all hospitable and excited, set the table, and then serve you a massive helping of the worst food in the world, and make you clean your plate of it, desert included. Who the hell forces you to finish your DESERT?

It’s a mystery to me. They clearly had SOME degree of self-awareness, because after I came to my senses and started coming up with excuses to avoid eating at their house they would tease me saying things like “ohoho, you don’t like LIKE our food do you”. If they had been a bit more fun and less generally puritanical sort of people, I could totally believe this was a family trolling activity where they secretly schemed to come up with the worst possible dishes, secretly filmed themselves forcing people to eat them and watched it and laughed afterwards, I could believe it.

All I’m saying is I’m pretty sure they weren’t aliens, but the more I type this out, the more tempted I am to believe it. Fuck it, maybe they WERE aliens.

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olivetreehugger · 3 years

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SnK Warriors as Health Care Workers

I’m an ICU nurse, and I’ve come across a tonnnn of different types of healthcare workers in my line of work. These are just my hc’s for what kind of HCWs the Warrior unit would be. These are totally my opinion! Also, real healthcare is NOT the same as TV healthcare, not every doctor is a surgeon (and they’re not the best, either). Anyway, here we go :)

Warnings: mentions of blood, medical procedures, opioids, death

-Zeke: he’d be a fourth year neurosurgery resident. Neurosurgery residents are either cold, arrogant assholes or fun bros. No in-between. They’re always on the move or in surgery honing their skills. They don’t sleep and they’re on call 24/7.

Zeke is always carrying a strong, black Starbucks coffee and reeks of cigarette smoke. He’s always exhausted because he's covering all the neuro patients in the hospital overnight and then rounds with the attending (Magath? idk) in the morning til like 2pm. It’s a miracle he doesn’t kill anyone. He’s wicked smart and super talented in the OR, but kind of a dick with the nurses. He shows up at the bedside to do a quick procedure, doesn’t tell the nurses ahead of time. He grabs all the supplies on his own because “the nurses don’t know what I like” and then when he’s done he’ll leave the leftover dirty gloves, removed drain, stray bloody gauze, and empty boxes all over the room. He has a somewhat asinine attitude towards patients, poor bedside manner. He doesn’t order pain medication for the intubated patient before removing a drain bc “they’re sedated, right?” No, Dr. Jaeger, neuro patients don’t get heavy sedation. Please order a small dose of pain meds. You’re hurting them. “Oh, right. I’ll order that.” No, he won’t. Zeke always promises to throw in orders, always forgets.

You’ll spend your shift paging him for orders, cleaning up after him and getting rude comments over the phone. He’s gonna make a fantastic neurosurgeon, though. He’ll save your life.

-Porco: An ER resident for SURE. He loves the chaos of the emergency department. A typical male in healthcare-he loves the trauma, the blood and guts, the crazy. He tries to avoid pregnant women and kids, they freak him out. BUT, that didn’t stop him from holding a woman’s hand when she gave birth right there in the ER lobby. Great bedside manner. So smart. And he’s super sweet, actually??? He also creates secret handshakes with the kids and sweet talks the old ladies to make them more comfortable. He tells them to call him Pock or Porco, not Dr. Galliard.

Unfortunately, When he first started, he got a little too cocky and claimed he didn’t need to scan a patient after getting hit in the chest with a hockey stick. Patient suffered a ruptured vessel and almost died right there. After a very rigid monitoring program, he was able to practice again. He’s also a giant flirt. He dated most nurses in the hospital and they ALL talk about his dick game.

Porco rides his motorcycle to work and sometimes skips his helmet. All the nurses shame him for it, reminding him of the horrible head injuries that come in through the trauma bay because of motorcycle crashes. He comes in double fisting Monster energy drinks and jamming to whatever his air pods are playing probably Hamilton. ER residents are chaotic and funny and Porco is no different. During a code blue (a patient’s heart stopped) he kept calm and hummed “stayin’ alive” while they performed CPR. He runs a code like a goddamn CHAMP. He has ACLS memorized to a T and intubates better than most attendings. The nurses will tell him the patient’s labs look better after the medication he ordered and he’ll be like “Hell yeah, let’s keep it goin’” or “A’ight let’s get crazy” before an emergency procedure. If the nurses can’t place an IV, you bet your sweet ass he’s grabbing the ultrasound and throwing a few in for them <3

Pieck: She’s an infectious disease PA. She’s very soft-spoken, patient and intelligent. Orders and notes are always flawless. Apologizes whenever she orders blood cultures and even offers to draw them for the nurses if they’re busy. She buys everyone pizza when she’s on the unit. All the nurses love her. She’s perfect.

Annie: A nightshift CVICU nurse. There’s a joke online that cardiovascular/cardiothoracic ICU nurses are the biggest bitches ever. And it’s true, most are. BUT. Annie is probably the best nurse to have if you’ve just come out of open-heart surgery or had a lung transplant. She knows exactly what to do when a patient is crashing and is a BEAST when it comes to chest compressions. She is a pro at putting in IVs and troubleshooting pumps/machines when they don’t work. She has every single lab value, test and medication stored in that brain of hers and can pull it out before you can finish asking a question.

She gives a quick, concise report on all her patients and expects the same. If you don’t, she rolls her eyes at you and rushes you. “I don’t need useless information. What drips are you running?” She gets in trouble sometimes because she makes her student nurses cry, but “why don’t they know how to zero an arterial line? it’s not my fault they don’t know their stuff.” No, Annie. You’re supposed to teach them. “Oh.”

She wears the newest, cutest scrubs and has an ivory and rose-gold stethoscope. Don’t tell her it’s basic, though, she’ll put you on her shit list lol. She also hates being floated to the medical ICU because “they don’t know what they’re doing”.

Reiner: Our king is a medical ICU nurse who started in the ER. He loved the wild west that was the ER but started to feel burnt out after seeing so many child deaths and cases of abuse. When he finally realized what it was doing to him he applied for a medical ICU position on night shift and transferred right away.

Baby, he thrived there. This guy is so compassionate with his patients and knows how to advocate for them well. He has a great rapport with all the physicians (except Porco, when Reiner was working ER they would butt heads frequently) He’s great to give report to, never gives the previous nurse a rough time. When he reports off to the next shift, his rooms are a little messy sometimes but he ALWAYS has extra supplies for you and the patient is clean. He learned so much from the patients and his peers that he was eventually promoted to charge RN. He’s the best charge nurse. Knows all the protocols and will call any doctor for you. Anytime you need help doing a procedure, he’s your man: IVs? “How many you want?” Blood draw? “I’ll grab the tubes”. Patient’s about to code? “I got compressions”. Call security for the violent patient down the hall? “I AM security”.

His scrubs are a little snug around his shoulders and chest and he knows this. Baby likes to show off. He likes to flex his muscles for anyone watching, but he’s not a douche. Reiner is an absolute gentleman with his female coworkers, never complains when they ask him for lifting help. In fact, he loves being of use. It’s why he’s a nurse in the first place: he loves helping people <33

Bertholdt: He started with Reiner in the ER but wanted something more stable so he transferred to the burn unit (get it?). Reiner still hasn’t forgiven him.

Colt: He’s in nursing school but loved the idea of being a trauma nurse. Then he did a clinical rotation in the trauma ICU and fainted when a confused patient ripped a screw out of his fractured arm. After that he decided to do pediatrics lol.

#aot headcanons #zeke jaeger #reiner braun #porco galliard #pieck finger #annie leonhardt #colt grice #bertoldt hoover #bertholdt hoover #zeke headcanons #reiner headcanons #porco headcanons #pieck headcanons #annie leonhardt headcanons #attack on titan #snk

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Text

cosmetology anon: this is for you, although I tweaked the idea a bit. i hope you don’t mind!

Acquiring Tony Stark as an Asset had been purely by chance; after all, he wasn’t planned on being in the car. He was still an insolent teenager, angry with the world and angry with his father. They didn’t think he would’ve gone to a business party.

But his mother...well. They hadn’t thought that Tony Stark was a mama’s boy.

Because there Tony is, gasping for air while glass glitters all around him, looking near about like an angel that was torn from heaven with how it surrounded him.

They had thought he was dead.

At least, up until the point when he had looked Winter Soldier dead in the eye, said “hey you fucking asshole” and got a pretty damn good shot in the thigh.

Someone on the brink of death might have tried the gun, but never the insult.

So Hydra gets a brand new toy.

Not easily broken, which is a pain-and-a-half to deal with. At least with the Winter Soldier, he was too delirious with blood loss to notice who was operating on him, what they were attaching.

Tony Stark is on a whole other level.

He bites, he kicks, he scratches. Quite annoying, they just want him to tire himself out.

“Stark Industries doesn’t negotiate,” he hisses, trying to kick one of the nurses in the teeth.

“Who said anything about negotiating?” says the head doctor viciously. His teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting, scalpels reflecting brilliantly onto the walls. “As far as the media knows, you’re dead. No one is going to come looking, and no one even knows who we are.”

They make him sleep on a cot nearby Winter Soldier. Which is terrifying, to say the least. Not that he can kill him. He can’t touch him either.

He’s in a deep freezer. Eyes closed, thank god. But they put him there and they tell him all about how he came to be there.

“Everyone thought Barnes hit a rock and died,” one of the techs says, checking the machine. “He nearly did, but Zola helped us fix him up. Course, that was after a couple of times where he got to someone’s neck, and that was even before programming.”

“Programming?”

The tech leers at him, grinning. He’s standing, Tony’s sitting. It shouldn’t be as intimidating as it is.

“Oh yeah, Stark. They’re gonna fix you all up.”

“I don’t need fixing.”

“Tell that to Winter Soldier.”

“And what if your little machine gets rid of me, hm? Kills me?”

“We add you to the other disappointments, or we dig a shallow grave and hope you’re found decades later.”

Not exactly promising.

But here’s the thing: the tech was wrong. They won’t add him to the pile of disappointments.

The last time he went to a therapy appointment, his therapist said he had a “deep-seated need to be liked and be useful, which could be dangerous later.”

He’s assuming that Doc Chesterfield wasn’t exactly expecting Tony to be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Murder Machine, but Doc wasn’t really the kind of guy who was “in the know” about a lot of things.

That need to be liked and useful was about to come in handy.

Barely able to legally drink, he goes to the main doctor in charge. “You need me.”

The doctor looks at him incredulously.

“You think we need a kid to do all this shit? You think we haven’t figured it out?”

“You can’t have Barnes-”

“Winter Soldier, boy.”

“Fine, your little toy soldier. You can’t keep him out longer than necessary, otherwise his brain realizes that all of you are shitty and tries to break out. Again. You need someone else to take a look at it, and I’m the best bet you got.”

“And why would that be?”

Tony grins, and they see a shadow of what he has had in his life, exactly just who he used to be. Who he still is, at the moment.

“Whether you want to admit it or not--I’d say go ahead and admit it, I’m fun like that--I’m the smartest one in the room, maybe in the country. Maybe in two countries. I could swing the UK, it’s not like they’ve had anything interesting for the last hundred or so years--”

“Get to the point,” the handler hisses.

“I can help with arm maintenance. I’m not gonna do anything else to this poor guy, but I wanna stay alive and I’m not letting you erase my fucking mind because you want to have another toy soldier to march to your drum.”

“You almost make a compelling case,” the handler says. “We do need a mechanic on the arm, so to speak. But if he only comes out when we need him...well. Maintenance is manageable.”

Tony pushes his chin out.

“I can do better than your best.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t care. You’re too big of a liability.”

It is at this moment that Tony realizes he cannot talk his way out, or fight his way out, but damn he gets a scalpel and tries.

Manages to slice across the face of the handler. Nerve damage, tissue damage, quite potentially a very ugly nose. All very nice.

That gets him moved up by a month.

They send him to a chair that’s probably a lot worse than he’s imagining, give him a mouth guard, and tell him to scream all he likes. Sometimes it’s better to not have a voice later.

They say it like they’re quoting one of those shitty articles from Cosmopolitan that discusses the top forty-five best ways to move in the bedroom or something. He and Rhodey use to read it all the time whenever they visited one of the sororities.

(He misses Rhodey, more than words can say. The tears burn in his throat as the chair powers up, but he doesn’t dare cry. He hasn’t told them about Rhodey, and he doesn’t want him used against him.

He doesn’t want to be used against Rhodey.)

Tony Stark becomes the Mechanic. He stares too long, moves a bit slow at times, and doesn’t like people touching his things.

Hydra thinks it’s a success.

Tony thinks they should’ve done more than three sessions of go-round for their little buzzy-chair.

Just god, have none of them had to act before? Is that what this is?

So long as he doesn’t show any aspect of any real personality, they think he’s a walking-talking robot.

Should’ve just called him Chatty Cathy and attached a pull-string to his back with loadable phrases if they were just gonna call him the Mechanic and think his silence and weird staring habits were fine.

Winter Soldier needs maintenance.

Tony tries very carefully to keep his persona up. He thinks he’s doing a good job until the nurse leaves the room for her smoke-break and Winter Soldier gives him a look that’s so...different.

"They think you’re like me.”

“I am.”

“No.”

“And how can you tell?”

“You’re not hurting my arm.”

“Well I can, if you wanna be a masochist about it.”

He blankly stares.

“Why didn’t it work?”

“Not enough rounds.”

“We need to stop talking or they’ll watch the cameras.”

“Got it.”

Tony is not facing the cameras. They have no suspicion now, and if they can’t see him move his lips, then there’s no worry.

He faces Winter Soldier.

“You wanna get out of here? Tap once on your left, right on my thigh for yes. Twice for no.”

Tap.

There it is.

“Well, it’ll take time. You okay with that?”

Tap tap.

“I can’t make wishes come true,” Tony says sarcastically. Soldier hides a smile. “But. I have someone who might be looking for me. Or he’ll know it’s me.”

“A friend?”

“Something better. Family.”

It takes a little while. Despite Hydra’s incompetence at programming Tony out of his own system, they’re good at watching. They’re good at sniffing out undercover plans, so they set nurses to watch him and give him the worst food in his life.

And he can’t say anything about it.

They’re probably rations leftover from World War II, and here he is, pretending like it doesn’t bother him.

The first mission they’re out on, Tony wants so badly to break free. It looks too easy, probably because it is.

“The first time I escaped, they dragged me back and nearly gave me a matching leg to go with the arm,” Soldier murmurs in Russian.

(Tony’s had to take Russian classes. God, he’s lucky he has an eidetic memory otherwise he’d be up a paddle with a slotted spoon.)

“What, didn’t want to put more value on yourself?”

“Something like that,” Soldier says grimly. “Pay attention. They’re gonna put you in a cafe, have you run surveillance. You report back to me. Call me Winter.”

“Call me Mechanic.”

“That’s the name they chose?”

“Didn’t count my vote.”

Winter snorts.

“Time to get a move on.”

Tony has never been good at hiding his emotions, but by god he’s learning on the fly. At least Winter has a mask, and they’re...well, they’re working on one for him.

It’s not exactly priority, because everyone in the world thinks he’s dead.

Well. Shouldn’t say everyone. There is one guy who has decided that Tony didn’t die.

James Rhodes is a very smart guy, graduated top of his class at MIT and has full honors.

He also knows that Tony has fallen off of beds, out of chairs, down one flight of stairs, and tripped on just about everything.

And he’s lived. He has defied near-death experiences before, and he’s been fine.

Maybe Rhodey is crazy. He most likely is.

But he doesn’t mind being crazy if no one can actually confirm that Tony died. The funeral was closed for the family, not even Rhodey could go.

“Sorry kiddo,” Obie had said, not sorry at all. He’s never liked the kid, thought him too blunt about situations that he didn’t need to be blunt about.

So Rhodey thinks that this is a conspiracy, only he doesn’t want his best friend to end up on a YouTube video five years later talking about the “tragic disappearance” and how “no one could figure it out.”

He’s James fucking Rhodes. Sometimes goes by Rhodey. And he’s got this.

Winter Soldier does not “got this.” He is currently being thrown against a wall, and grunting as he looks at the target.

Tony is currently trying very hard not to have a full-blown emotional show-off, because he is supposed to be fixing up some of the weapons and sending them out.

It is rather stress-inducing, once you start thinking about it.

He tries not to.

God, he’s not even getting pizza after that. He’s probably going to get some bullshit like a vanilla nutritional protein shake.

Out everything he’s been put through, and that’s the thing that makes him retch.

Barnes is looking...rough. He got shoved a lot, the mission didn’t exactly go to plan, which turns out to be quite the large problem.

Because Tony took over. They found out that he can actually assemble weaponry and aim with nearly-one-hundred-percent accuracy.

They think it’s because they fried his brain and injected some sort of back-alley-serum.

It’s not.

He’s not even sure if their serum worked, if he’s being completely honest.

But this? Oh god.

The doctors look at him with an almost giddy joy.

“We’ll have Soldier train you.”

"He is not going back into the cryogenic chambers?”

“No, not...not until you prove yourself.”

“I have proven myself accurate with mechanical fixes.”

“Always best to diversify your skills.”

“Expand.”

(Tony’s been messing with them a lot. They’re not positive he knows advanced vocabulary. He does, he just hates them.)

Barnes is...not exactly excited that he’s not becoming an ice-pop.

“I’m...training you?”

“Yeah, looks like it. You wanna teach me how to choke someone with my thighs?”

“Only when they send the Widows.”

“Who are they?”

“Best damned assassins you’ll ever have the displeasure of experiencing.”

“Aw, you’re learning how to curse!”

“Shut up, they’re onto us.”

Winter Soldier and the Mechanic have a...cordial relationship. At least, out of the ring.

In the ring, they don’t rather like the other that much. Mechanic much prefers to avoid Soldier at all times.

“You can’t just run from every opponent,” Winter hisses.

“You’ve been doing it since 1948,” Tony responds in a robotic tone, nearly missing a kick to the shins. “I don’t see why not.”

He smiles at that one, looking at Tony.

He was...Tony was unique. He would whisper stories in the dead of night, mostly about a man named Jarvis and a boy his age named “Rhodey.”

“His parents...they didn’t actually name him that, did they?”

Tony has to bury his face in his pillow to hide his face from laughing.

Winter got a good look at that smile.

It’s chillingly nice to look at it, and maybe that’s because he hasn’t smiled in years, or maybe it’s because he’s never seen another person smile with joy in it for decades.

For a couple more months, nothing on their side happens.

Rhodey, however, learns how to use Tony’s homemade AI for illegal purposes!

He’s figured out lots of things.

Tony was never confirmed dead. Technically, he’s a missing person.

Which means they don’t know if he’s dead because they never found him.

Secondly, there’s a strange email to someone who goes by Zola.

Well, Rhodey and Tony didn’t stay up until three a.m. to solve impossible codes for nothing.

James Rhodes figures out that the Winter Soldier isn’t some whispered about myth, and so he decides to try and find him.

He’ll need to ask Mama if he can use the sedan, but it should be fine. After all, he has a friend to find.

Hydra is getting too used to having them out. Tony’s been coaching Barnes on not letting his reactions be at the front and center.

He’s remembering a lot more. Starting to become a bit more human-like.

He actually doesn’t like the food now, which is a tasteful improvement.

“When we get out,” Tony whispers in night. “I’m going to make sure that you get the best goddamned pizza the earth has ever seen. And we’ll celebrate your birthday.”

“When is my birthday?”

“I...huh. I don’t know. That’s not the fact I remember from school.”

“So you remembered that my favorite movie star was Hedy Lamarr, but not my own birthday?”

“In my defense, Ms. Lamarr is far more memorable than a simple date on the calendar.”

Barnes smiles.

“I can’t wait to see a picture of her.”

“You will, soon.”

Rhodey is getting close.

The only barrier is convincing his mama to use the sedan.

“What for?”

“A trip.”

“To?”

“Washington DC?”

“Why are you questioning that, young man?”

“Um, because of gas money? Maybe?”

Mrs. Rhodes stands up to her full height of five-foot-two and stares.

“What’s the real reason? I didn’t raise a son who could lie to his mother successfully.”

Rhodey sighs.

“Tony’s alive. I think. I’m, like, ninety-five-percent sure.”

Her face softens.

“Oh baby, you’ve talked about this with your therapist, and-”

Rhodey glares.

“It’s not about the therapist’s opinion, mom. I broke into some records. There was a closed-casket funeral, and technically? They didn’t have a body for Tones. I know he’s out there, and I think I got a lead with the help of Jarvis.”

“I thought Jarvis was dead.”

“Not Edwin, Mama. Tony’s creation, an AI named Jarvis.”

Mama looks at him carefully.

“You sure this is what is going to make you happy?”

“I don’t care about being happy, I want to see if I can bring him home, Mama.”

She dangles the keys.

“If you scratch this car up, I will not hesitate to tell every single aunt at church about this and have common sense walloped into you.”

“I promise I won’t,” Rhodey says. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I’ll pack you a bag. And you need your church clothes.”

“Ma...”

“Don’t Ma me, I’m your mother, I know what’s best,” Mrs. Rhodes says, sweeping into the kitchen. “Don’t tell your daddy what you told me, you’ll give him a heart attack.”

“I thought I was gonna give you a heart attack,” Rhodey says.

She turns, eyes twinkling.

“You got a lot of learning to do, young man. But go on to DC for me.”

First stop: gas station.

Next stop: saving Tony.

If Tony had known that his friend was so dedicated to saving him that he would drive his mama’s sedan five miles above the speed limit, perhaps he would have stayed put and played nice.

But Tony did not know this, so he was currently working on fixing Barnes’ arm to shoot projectile missiles that looked like screws to the security cameras.

“You think they’re counting each screw when none of them even know what your arm can actually do? Not like Zola is physically around anymore,” Tony mutters, holding a screwdriver in his mouth.

“What’s your plan for escape?”

“Element of surprise, my dear Watson.”

“Don’t like that,” Barnes mutters. “What’s your plan once we’re out?”

“New York City.”

“That’s it?”

“You underestimate exactly how much you can hide,” Tony says. “Believe me. We’ll live in an apartment in Queens.”

Rhodey is about ten minutes away.

Tony and Bucky have eventually decided to break out, and are having a lovely time shooting a base and putting people through the walls. Really, they shouldn’t have made it out of drywall. Too easy.

“What fucking vehicle are we taking?!” Barnes yells.

“I...I will work on it!”

“You didn’t think about that?!”

“I was thinking about escaping from a shitty Hydra base!”

Here comes the sedan!

Rhodey thought there was only one person, so now the ex-assassin is sitting on his little sister’s school folder, and getting pink glittery on his military pants.

This was not the plan.

He is also still only going five over the speed limit, because this is Mama’s sedan.

He forgot about the little sticker at the back that says “My Son is on the Honor Roll at MIT!”

“Rhodey love of my life, please go faster than forty miles an hour,” Tony hisses.

“I can’t believe you’re alive, let me do one thing at a time,” Rhodey stresses. “I bought you hot fries, they’re on the floor in the green bag.”

“You thought of road trip snacks?” Bucky asks.

“Yes! And who are you?”

“Bucky Barnes.”

Rhodey whips his head around.

“You lived?”

“I’ve been told. Eyes on the road and turn left.”

One tire barely is on the road as he whips the wheel, slamming onto the curb.

“We are not allowed to fuck my mama’s car up!” Rhodey yells. “Tony, Bucky...do whatever you have to.”

“How amenable are you to me paying for a new back window?” Bucky asks, left arm already raising.

“What do you mean-?”

And...there goes a projectile!

After twenty minutes of driving around, ten of that being avoiding police blockades, they finally are out on the highway, no one in sight.

Tony finally breathes.

“Put on your seatbelt,” Rhodey murmurs. “To New York?”

“To New York.”

By all accounts, the table of three men who look slightly rattled and in danger is not actually the worst table that waitress has ever had.

In fact, the only odd thing that she’s going to say about it is that the young man on the left is wearing a polo shirt, and it is not Sunday, so no church services. A personal outfit choice.

The man in the middle seems to know this.

“Rhodey, seriously?”

“What? It’s laundry day!”

“I know you had other shirts. I know you did.”

“Just because you hate polo shirts doesn’t mean you get to hate on me, especially after the shit I just pulled.”

“He has a point,” says the man on the right.

“You have no opinion on this. I just met you.”

“Are you guys ready to order?” She asks nervously, tapping at her notepad with a chewed-up pen.

They all stare blankly at the menu, and then back at her. She taps her pen one more time.

“I’ll...um...give you some more time.” She shakes her head. She’s not gonna ask, she doesn’t get paid enough.

Rhodey looks at the two of them. He knows that things...well.

Tony probably isn’t going to be playing Jeopardy! with this experience.

Hell, he probably won’t want to see a therapist about this, and Rhodey will have to play Jeopardy! or some obscure dating show simulation with Tony to even help.

And then there’s the matter of a man who’s supposed to be dead.

That and...Rhodey decided to finish up college with a master’s degree.

No one ever said life was easy.

But.

It might be fun.

163 notes · View notes

imagines-hoarder · 4 years

Text

The Devil in the Dark- Dark!Steve Rogers

Warning: smut, murder, abuse, gaslighting, swearing, drug and alcohol abuse

Word Count: 6,400

Summary: 70s AU; When a handsome stranger rolls into town, you get caught up in being the center of his attention. You could never expect how falling in love with him would change your life forever.

Masterlist

*I don’t think I’m pleased by what I’ve created, and honestly no one asked for what I am unleashing. This is my first dip into the marvel universe and probably the darkest thing I have ever written so be warned; this is not for the faint of heart. For those of you who can get through all 6,000 words, I’d love to get your feedback. This may only be the beginning. xoxox*

The room has become muggy and sweat clung to your neck as you pawed the velvet sofa. Everything had felt fuzzy at the edges after you smoked a joint in one of the shady rooms upstairs. After a couple more shots, you hit the dance floor and everything else in the last 30 minutes had been a blur. Now you sat watching everyone laugh and feign geniality without your rose-tinted lenses. You were at a party that you should have been ashamed of. Cigarettes, booze, and coke had awoken something sinful in the partygoers and after getting your own fill, you just preferred to watch.

Mel had tried to sell it to you earlier that evening as something else entirely: “It’s just gonna be a small thing, okay? Brian wants to see everyone again before we go back to A-State.” She had called just after your mother and her boyfriend departed for their first barstools of the night. She knew better than to call any earlier.

“Last time I checked, Brian doesn’t really do small gigs. Remember when he put on your birthday party last year and invited all his buddies? I'm pretty sure his scrawny friend was the one who puked in your fish tank,” you responded, twirling the landline cord around your finger and picking at a slice of leftover pizza. “You know I'm coming anyway. It’s gonna get really quiet around here in a couple of weeks when you go back to school.”

“Not if you come with me,” she said with a singsong tone.

“That’s why I’m staying here in the first place.” The pizza didn’t sound too appealing as your stomach turned sour. “If I wash and style a couple more heads, I should have enough money to join you and the meatheads for the Spring semester. Then we can get hammered every weekend together… just like old times.” You find comfort from her laughter on the other end.

You had spent the last couple minutes recalling the last time you saw Mel before you started people watching from the sidelines. You're pretty sure she was the one who rolled your joint, sitting wasted on Brian’s lap. When your eyes ached from staring at crowded bodies, you laid your head back and shut your eyes, letting the beat of the music ground you.

It couldn’t have taken more than a moment for the couch to sink under the weight of another person. “You alright over here?” It was a dude; no doubt he thought you were passed out or an easy lay.

You rolled your head to get a good look at him, and it was like the Big Man himself had decided to serve you sex on legs, carrying a Miller Light and smelling like cigarettes. He wasn’t from around here and wasn’t in college, that much you could tell; no guy fresh from adolescence could grow a beard like his. He wore a button-down that was half open and exposed how warm he was as a bead of sweat trickled down his neck. You had been so ready to tell him to fuck off until you met that pretty blue gaze. You must have looked like some creep undressing him with your eyes.

“I’m steller. You probably think I’m a burnout that can’t control myself,” you shouted to him, though he was close enough to hear you just fine.

“Well, I never said that.” His low laugh sounded like music. “I saw you come from upstairs. Wanted to make sure you weren't choking on vomit.”

“That would make a fun story. Instead, I’m just people watching.” You turned your attention back to the bodies getting hot and heavy on a makeshift dance floor and hoped he wouldn’t notice the red blooming in your cheeks.

“I think that can be fun, especially when everyone around you is a stranger.” It was clear he wasn’t from Arkansas. His voice was as smooth as butter but lacked the draw everyone else in the room had.

When you looked back at him, he was still looking at you. You extended your hand and he took it into his own for a firm shake before letting it far to the couch. You introduced yourself and smiled when you were able to restrain your nerves. “Now we’re not strangers to each other.” He returned the gesture and gave you a smile so dazzling it nearly sobered you.

“Name’s Steve.” He gave the room a passive glance-over without ever indicating he spotted another familiar face. “I’m not from around here. Just met a guy in town today and he told me I should stop by; he said he was the host.”

“Brian?” He gave you a nod but you’re sure he couldn’t recall what he looked like. “Yeah I know him; we grew up together. I’m actually really close with his girlfriend, Mel.” You knew he was listening but didn’t want to lose his attention to small talk. “And I know you’re not from around here, Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m a townie, born and raised. I would have noticed a man like you if you were kicking around any earlier than now.”

He rewarded you with another smile, stained with allure. “I’m just passing through Arkansas and thought I would stay the night. I’ve never even driven through Arkansas; kind of one of those places you forget is on the map.”

“How do you think I feel? I’m living in this unremarkable town in a forgettable state.” He joined you in laughing as the music became white noise. You pulled your legs under your body as you leaned in closer to him. You quickly realized you must have looked so young and so enamored; no stupid. You couldn’t move now but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You know, I like your style. You’re a beauty with a mouth on you.”

“Do you want to see what else my mouth can do.” It fell from your lips before you could stop it. You quickly looked away from him in hopes of returning to the conversation you were pursuing before you ruined it. His gaze burned into your face before he got up. You could have scolded yourself for how soon you played your cards. Before you could blame the substances in your system for your poor behavior, he stood in front of you trying to regain your attention.

When you looked up, his head jerked toward the door. “You wanna smoke outside?” Something about the question made you tense. You could use some fresh air and thought Steve could make good company, but you didn’t want him to think you’d be an easy lay he could fuck around the corner; you were sure that was the impression your lewd comment left. He must have sensed your reluctance. “We can stay here if you want but I can barely hear you over the music, doll. Promise I won’t try anything on ya,” he disclosed.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but you decided to go anyways. He offered you his hand as he detached you from the velveteen sofa. Before you were even out the door, he was pulling a have-full carton of cigarettes from his pocket and wedged one between his lips. No one else was outside, but you could hear the muffled rhythm of a Donna Summers tune starting up by the time you settled at the edge of the house. After supplying you with a cigarette of your own and drawing close to light it, you reached a comfortable silence that let you take your drags in peace.

“So why California,” you asked. You supposed his brusque appearance could sell magazines or movie tickets. “Trying to catch your big break in Hollywood?”

“Nah, just need a fresh start. I’ve been living in the cold all my life, just wanted a fresh start somewhere warm, you know?”

You give him an affirming nod. “The weather’s not too one this end of the country, I guess. Where are you coming from anyways?”

He just chuckled it off with an air of skepticism. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”

“Well we aren’t strangers anymore, right? We’re sharing a smoke, having a laugh...”

He just shrugged, deflecting the question in the process. “Maybe I wanna know more about you.”

“There’s not much to know about me.”

“Well, I don't believe that for a second.” You roll your eyes and lean against the brick wall, listening but refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing you blush. “You’re young, you're beautiful… girls like you aren’t born to both start and end in nowhere Arkansas.”

''I want to, but not all of us have the luxury of up and moving to California, Stevie.” When you looked over to him, he had a look that you hoped wasn’t pity. “Plus, I’m earning my Associates Degree at Arkansas State. I’ve got one more year of being tied to this place.”

“Stevie... Gosh, I haven’t been called that since I was a kid.” You smirk at him, taking his change in the subject as an olive branch. The air became quiet again, but you were thankful there was no ill-ease. You just closed your eyes and inhaled the last of the smoke warming your lungs. Maybe if you stood in the moment a little longer, you could convince yourself this handsome man was real once you sobered up.

All too soon, you had put out the cigarette butt under your shoe and took it as a sign to start walking back home. It had to be past four a.m. and it looked like the moon would make its departure sometime soon. “Well it was a real pleasure for you to meet me Stevie, but I should start moving before it gets any later.” You pushed yourself off of the wall and tucked your hands in the pockets of your jumper dress. “I hope you find what you’re looking for in California.”

He threw his butt out into some nearby rocks before stepping a little closer to you “Come on doll, let me drive you home. It’s late and everyone else is wasted out of their mind. Plus, I don’t think Brian even knows I was here; he just invited me cause I helped him jump his car this morning.” He was too nice to be true, but you didn’t think your mind was capable of creating something as beautiful as him. Maybe you wouldn’t mind it so much if he stuck his rough hands up your dress after all. He’d be gone in a day anyways.

“You know, young women aren’t supposed to take rides from strangers, right?” You started to walk down the driveway and tried to restrain your smugness as you heard his heavy footsteps trail behind you.

With the extra height he had on you, he caught up in no time, carefully tugging at your arm so you looked back at him. Your arm rubbed against his chest and you now knew for sure that he had more than just a pretty face on him. “I thought you said we weren’t strangers,” he retaliated. He didn’t seem like the type of man to take no for an answer, but you weren’t hoping to put up too much of a fight. As you looked at him in the moment, you saw him look you over and his cornflower blue eyes held a look that said there was something he desired about you too.

He let you pull away from him as you decided to make your final impulsive decision of the night. “Alright hotshot, which ride is yours?”

You had him drop you off a couple houses away when he drove into your neighborhood. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to invite him inside for a beer and a ‘farewell gift’, but you were sure that your mom and Pierce were already passed out and drained any bottles that were left in the fridge on their way in. Still, you spent a couple minutes steaming up the windows in his car as he slowly pushed up your dress.

You pushed at his chest and pulled down your dress when you thought the neighbors would start getting suspicious of the unfamiliar ‘73 Chevelle Malibu with the clouded windows outside their house. “Look, Steve, I gotta go. Drive safe.” You tugged at the door handle but he stopped you before you could get out, pulling you back into an attack of fervent kisses. “Steve!”

“Look, I’m staying at that Motel Court on Birchwood, Room 174. I want you to call me in the morning.”

“I thought you were just passing through...” You groaned as you pushed at his wandering hands again, trying to keep from giving him the pleasure of making you breathless.

“I am, but we can get breakfast or something? Shit, you’ll probably be passed out until noon so it’ll be lunch.” He finally let you pull away and you could see how his hair sat rugged from your needy gripping, a winded look splayed across his face. He looked around for an old receipt and pen and scribbled the name and room number of the motel on the back. He buried the sheet in your palm and you hesitated before accepting it. You reached for the handle again and he didn’t stop you as you stepped onto the sidewalk, only leaning over the seat and throwing you a wink. “You’ll call me, won’t you?”

You leaned into the frame so you could get one more look at his pretty face. “I’ll be up by 11… I’ll catch ya later.” You shut the door before anything else could be said and dragged yourself home.

After talking and teasing him at Kitty’s Diner the next morning, you let Steve take you back to his room where you got hot and heavy the rest of the day. You caught a case of Deja Vu when he dropped you off in the early hours of the morning again. You couldn’t hide your amusement when he said he planned to stay in town. “Just a little bit longer,” he professed. Steve had his arm around you as he pulled you towards him, almost tugging you into his seat. He wouldn’t say it but you had understood that he was enjoying himself too much to leave at the moment.

You spent the next five days in his motel room between your shifts at work, enjoying his body between listening to his stories and sharing your own. Mel had needed so much time to pack her life up for her return to college that you didn’t think she even took note of your absence around her place. You didn’t mind it though. He had been busy telling you about all the national parks he had stopped for and the best foods he’d tasted at 24-hour diners across the country. You’d mention your job at the beauty parlor down the street and your hope to travel cross-country yourself. He made even the bad parts of being on the road sound like an escape from your reality. You would talk about Led Zeppelin and Fleetwood Mac and write down music recommendations to keep an ear out for on the radio. One day he pulled out a little book and a set of pencils as you laid naked and fatigued in the tangled sheets. He kept looking up at you as he scratched into the page. After keeping his head buried in the book for half an hour, he joined you on the bed and showed you the drawing he was working on. It was you in all your bare glory. After your face had run hot and asked if you could keep it, he didn’t hesitate to kiss his way down to your wanting body. He was over six years your elder, and it was clear that he had prior experience with female anatomy, not that you minded.

He was a man of passion in many ways. Between finding new reasons to hold you a little closer to him, he would talk about his favorite novels and the literary techniques of authors like Kurt Vonnegut. He knew so much about a world that you had barely seen, and it would have been difficult for any ordinary woman to resist the combination of his charm, good looks, and intelligence.

Every hour you spent with him only further suspended your disbelief that he was truly living in your presence. You were happy that he spoke toy you on Brian’s rundown couch that first night, and after a week of finding entertainment in one another, you help him pack up the trunk of his car with what little he had traveled with. Even though you were enamored, you weren’t stupid; he had been sweet on you, but you were sure he had a trail of women he must have left behind before crossing every state border. How could a man like him not? It made your chest tighten more than you cared to admit. A week after the party, he was dropping you off for the final time.

His lips worked slowly against your neck as you sat back in the passenger seat, enjoy the last moments of his attention before he became nothing more than a memory, “I’m sure that you’ll have a new gal by the time you get to California, but will you give me a ring when you’ve settled anyways,” you moaned into his ear.

Steve pulled his head back to get a clear look at you as if he’d sobered from his lustful haze. He relaxed back into his seat and ran his hand through his messy mop with a heavy sigh. You were sure you’d killed the moment before he spoke up. “What would you say if I wanted you to come with me?”

“What?”

“I wasn’t messing around when I said you deserved better than Arkansas. You were born here but you don’t have to spend your whole life here.” Your mind was moving rapidly but you could barely focus on a single thought. “I think I’m in love with you. If you can come to California, you can keep doing hair, you can finish your degree, anything you want.” By the time he finished, only silence sat between you and he fidgeted with his keys. He waited for your response and only got more nervous when you didn’t have one. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything, doll. I’m s-”

“I’ll come with you,” you said.

The words took a minute to settle before he could laugh out a sigh of relief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Stevie. I… I think I love you too. I wanna go with you.”

He pulled you back against him and toyed with the ends of your hair. “God, you’ve made me the happiest man alive, baby. I don’t think I could have left without you.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to.” You kissed at his beard and stroked his cheek. “I need to start packing if we’re leaving in the morning.”

“Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“No, just... Just give me 15 minutes and I’ll be fine. I can go back to the room with you and we’ll be good to go in the morning.” You knew there wasn’t much to be gathered in your room. Just some clothes for warmer weather and books. You’d grab your cosmetology kit, some family photos, and some cash that you’d hid before your mom could notice in her drunken stupor. There wasn’t much worth salvaging from your current way of living. “I’ll call Mel later and tell her I’m leaving. She can tell the salon that I won’t be in for my shifts next week.”

“I can wait out here for you unless you need help.”

“No, just sit here and I’ll be back soon.” You kissed him one more time before exiting the car, walking with haste to get into the house.

When you walked inside, only the T.V. lit up the front room and it was if every step you took awoke the house. You were quick to pack your bag once you reached your room, grabbing for things that you decided were necessary in the heat of the moment. Once you cleared through your desk and closet, you pulled at a loose floorboard and grabbed the wad of bills you’d been saving for your semester tuition. Once you emptied your smugglers hold of some photos worth saving, you replaced the floorboard as if nothing were ever there.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You nearly jumped out of your skin as you caught a look at the figure in your door frame.

“Didn’t know you were home yet. Thought you and Pierce were still out for the night.”

“When I come home I expect you to be here. Do you know what goddamn time is?” Your mother was not and never had been a happy drunk, and when her boyfriend would come around it only made things worse. She started to walk towards you as you stood from your crouched position, hiding the cash and photographs from her sight.

“I was with Melissa. She’s going back to school this week and I wanted to say goodbye to her.”

“Don’t you lie to me,” she seethed. You knew this would not be the easy getaway you had wanted. “You were probably out whoring around again.”

“I’m not going to let you talk to me like that. I just told you where I was,” you challenged. You walked to your bed and filed away the contraband into your bag knowing that it was the last of the important items you could grab before leaving.

“You probably think you’ve been real clever coming in after we’re every night, but I’ve fucking noticed. You’ve never been all that smart.” She had stumbled into your room and the smell of whiskey was so strong it made your nose burn.

You weren’t able to offer her a retort or a farewell before you heard more footsteps from down the hall. “What seems to be the problem here,” Pierce said. Drunk. They were both always drunk.

“Little Miss thinks that she can just whore herself out and then come home without consequences,” your mother announced.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving anyway.” You grabbed your bag and made an effort to quickly escape the room, pushing past Pierce in the doorway.

“Don’t you walk away from us, bitch!” Pierce’s shouting became incoherent hollers and you sped towards the living room, but you could hear her footsteps behind you.

By the time you could see the front door, you felt a tug on your hair so strong it nearly pulled you to the floor with a shriek. “You think you’re just gonna leave and move on, huh?” Your head throbbed as she raged in your ear. “You’re nothing and you’re worth nothing. Once you’re not useful for whoring anymore, you’ll end up in a ditch on the side of the road.”

You punched her in the face before she could see it coming, something you had only thought about doing to her in your wildest dreams, and it was enough to throw her to the floor. You took the chance to grab your bag and run outside without a care for your dignity or the grace of your departure. You could hear her screams from down the street and you knew that at any second, the neighbors would be looking to see what had happened.

You slammed the car door as soon as your foot was inside, startling Steve. “What the hell hap-”

“Just drive, Steve!” You all but shouted as your mom stepped onto the front lawn with blood dribbling down her chin. He didn’t need any further explanation as he put his foot on the pedal. Your mother was still screaming, that much you could hear, but her slurs were muffled as you flew past the house.

You hadn’t noticed a smudge of your mom’s blood on your knuckles until you got back to the room and you spent the next 10 minutes trying to scrub away the ghostly red specks. You couldn’t stand the feeling of it. Steve stood in the doorways with his arms across his chest the entire time. He didn’t look too thrilled about how everything played out but didn’t say anything about it.

“My mom and her boyfriend were home and fucking wasted. I didn’t even know until she came in screaming at me, calling me a whore and stuff.” He walked up to you as you dried your hands on an off-white towel. “Sad to say that’s not really an unusual encounter.”

“Are you gonna be okay, doll?” He looked concerned, maybe even a little angry for you, but the furrow of his brow did little to extinguish your distress. You just wanted him slightly closer and you held faith that he could obliterate the memory of this night.

“I’m fine... I just think that the sooner we get out of here, the better.”

“We’ll be gone before the sun even rises. Let's just get a couple hours of sleep and then we’ll be on the road.” He drew you nearer to him and you nodded as you looked past through him. “This will all be behind us in a couple of hours.”

He bent down for a kiss and you readily gave into him. In so little time he had made you feel alive. He made you feel wanted. You had so little in the world — your mom was a drunk and your father had long hit the road; you were low on friends and even lower on funds — and now you had even less. You were about to take any sense of stability that was left in your life and chuck it out the window in the morning. But it didn’t matter because even one more day with Steve would make you feel more alive and more loved than you had known in your entire life.

His mouth became eager and he pulled you even closer, working his way to your chest and down your stomach as his hand wandered up your skirt. Before you could think of touching him, he had you lifted over his shoulder with a squeal. He said nothing as he moved smoothly across the room and dropped you on the bed, casting himself over you. You tried to caress him, but he quickly pinned your hands under his and he sucked at your neck. You had transformed into a puddle of moans in no time.

“Please Stevie,” you choked out. You ground your hips against his jeans but the friction wasn’t enough.

“Please what, doll?” He reached between your legs and knew he could feel how wet you were. “You’re gonna have to use your words for me, baby.”

“Please… I need you inside of me.” You squirmed in hopes to pull your hand from his grip but it was pointless. You think he got harder just feeling you struggle under him.

“That's all you had to say,” he whispered in your ear and gave you a carnal kiss against the lobe. He shifted his weight to sit up as he pulled his shirt over his head. You didn’t have more than a moment you gawk at him before he was roughly pushing your skirt over your hips. All it took was him unzipping his jeans and he drove his cock all the way inside of you. You couldn’t find a sound to make as all of the wind was knocked from your lungs.

By the time you could find your voice, he was thrusting into you at a savage pace. You cried out in complete ecstasy and he held you down; your brain felt like it was turning to mush. He growled for you to open your eyes so he could so much you loved his cock and he looked back at you with something that could only be described as darkness. It was immoral and wicked, but you couldn’t find the will to care as the man above you grabbed you like he owned you and fucked you to oblivion.

He hissed as you came around him the first time but you knew he was not done with you. He didn’t let up on his strokes until he was mirroring your moans and he never looked away from your flustered face. One of his hands began loosely circling your throat as you clenched around him again and you could feel him throb as he came inside of you. With a grunt, he pulled out and let his hot cum escape your body onto the sheets. He let his weight fall to the bed without ever letting go, and you laid on his chest in post-coital bliss. If you could choose one moment in your life to relive, you were sure it would be this one, time and time again.

“Glad to know you can keep up,” you choked out jokingly. You felt his chest vibrate with laughter as he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Always, doll. We’re only getting started.”

A heavy knock on the door had broken the silence. Steve cursed under his breath as he zipped up his pants, and he placed you back on the bed. He took his time walking to the door but it was clear that the person on the other side was growing inpatient. He looked through the peephole and cursed again before turning away. He unconsciously ground his death with his furrowed brow.

“Who is it,” you asked, trying to keep your fear at bay.

He pointed at you with a stern look and a firmer tone. “Stay right there. Don’t say anything.” Before you could ask him what was happening, he undid the chain door lock and pulled it ajar, just enough to let the unwanted visitor see his face. “What do you want, man?”

“Where the fuck is she?” Pierce. It was Pierce and you could tell he was still drunk.

“Look, I don’t know what fucking drugs your own, but if you start beating on my door again I’m gonna beat your face in,” Steve fumed. Your jaw dropped as you listened in on the conversation; you’d never heard him talk light that before. He was always the type to open the door for you and smother you with pet names. He tried to close the door but you jumped at the sound of it slamming into the wall as Pierce threw all his weight onto it. He was bursting into the room before Steve could catch him and your blood ran cold as he saw you on the bed.

“Your mother's right. You’re just some lying, ungrateful whore.” His grip on your shoulder was sudden and he threw you to the floor. Your vision was spotty but you had other things you needed to worry about. “Only God knows how bad she’s gonna beat you for busting her nose like that.”

You heard a loud crack as Steve’s fist met Pierce’s face and you grabbed at the bed, trying to gain your footing. Everything was still a little blurred at the edges, but you could see as Pierce pulled Steve to the floor with him. As they threw punches and swore for each other's misfortune, you could only clearly make out the dark blood dripping from Pierce’s mouth onto Steve as he gained an edge over him, swinging at his face a couple more times.

You looked around the room for something, anything to make them stop, but Steve had already taken most things to the car. You could hear Steve grunt as Pierce attempted to bash his face in. He had only tried to help you and now he was paying for it. That’s when you saw it. A butterfly knife sitting on the side table next to the cigarette dish and Steve’s wallet. You didn’t hesitate to grab it and before you could even understand the consequences of your actions, you plunged the blade between Pierce’s shoulder blades.

He dropped to the floor without hesitation as he howled in pain. “You fucking bitch!” He sounded like a wounded dog as he sprawled on the floor, and you could only watch with wide eyes. God, what had you done...

Steve pulled himself from the floor and every breath he took was heavier than the last. He had missed most of his opponent’s drunken punches, but his lip was busted and he was rattled by the brawl. He looked crazed, and as he rose to his full stature, he moved to stand over Pierce who could do nothing but cry out in the fetal position. The knife was still wedged in his back.

You ran to Steve and cried as you tugged on his arm. “Steve, I don’t… I don’t know how he found us,” you choked out between heavy tears. “He must have seen the car.”

Steve said nothing. He didn’t even look at you, and that’s what scared you the most. His neck and back were tense and your touch wouldn’t be enough to soothe him. In erratic movement, Steve reached down and pulled the knife from between Pierce’s shoulder blade with a grunt. You gasped as Pierce choked out a sob. He shook in pain, blood puddling onto the carpet under him.

It was like a nightmare. Steve crouched over Pierce, looking into the old drunk’s soul as he squeezed the knife in his hands. You wish you had done something, wish you had said anything. With hasty slash and a depraved glower, Steve slit Pierce’s throat and you couldn’t turn fast enough to not see it.

Blood. Blood poured out Pierce’s wound like a broken fire hose, pooling at your feet while it splattered on Steve’s face and chest. For only a moment, Pierce sounded like he was choking, and then there was no more. No more cries, no more movement. It was just you and Steve standing over a corpse. Everything felt frozen in time as the room reached an eerie stillness that could be described only as insidious.

Steve was the first to move. He stumbled to the bathroom and threw the knife in the sink, letting the faucet run until the steaming water cleansed the weapon of blood. He bent over the sink and he watched it with morbid fascination.

You stumbled towards him, knowing that you couldn’t look at the body on the floor or you’d lose the last ounce of your sanity. It was only when Steve looked at you over his shoulder, the craze in his stare having vanished, that bile rose in your throat. You bent over the toilet and released everything you had ate during the day and maybe a little more. You could hear the sink faucet still running but Steve moved to your side.

“Doll-”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, Stevie,” you sobbed. His arm wrapped around your waist as his forehead fell to you back. Exactly where you stabbed Pierce. You flinched at the thought and Steve pulled back.

“Listen to me, okay?” He pulled you away from the toilet and directed you to look at him. There was blood all over his hands and on his torso. “Everything is fine.”

“He’s fucking dead.”

“I know, baby. But we had to do it”

“How are we gonna-”

“You don’t need to worry about that alright?” You nodded but it was a lie. You could do nothing but worry. “You’re gonna get in the shower. I’ll join you in just a second, but you’ve got blood all over your legs and I need you to get cleaned up right now.” You looked towards the ground and noticed that your feet were painted red; a trail of bloody footsteps led into the bathroom. “I need you to tell me you can do that for me.”

You took a breath in and tried to control the cry building in your throat. “I can do that.” You began taking off your clothes, looking for any bloodstains on the fabric only to be surprised when you saw none. You felt like you were covered in blood; there must have been a spot hiding somewhere. Steve had left the room when the saw you step inside the porcelain tub and you tried not to think about what he was doing in the other room. You let the lukewarm water run down your head and trickle down to your feet as you closed your eyes, willing you consciousness to hold on just a little bit longer.

Steve returned to the bathroom faster than you thought he would and was quick to strip his jeans and boxers. You could hear the curtain slide open as he joined behind you, pushing himself under the stream alongside you. He kissed at your shoulders and cheeks, as to tell you he had taken care of everything, and he scrubbed the crimson from his chest. You could only watch with a haunted expression as it all disappear down the drain. He turned off the water after he scrubbed both of your bodies to a level of cleanliness that you probably hadn’t reached in months. You threw on the clothes you had stepped out to close to the present and you felt dirty all over again. Steve must have retrieved his shirt from the bedroom earlier because he now looked like the version of himself from an hour back when he had nothing on his mind but loving you. Your sandals sat in the corner of the bathroom for you to toe on. When you fastened them both on at the heels, he opened the bathroom and your eyes snapped shut. You couldn’t see it again.

“You don’t need to look,” he whispered to you. “I’ve got everything in the car already. I just need you to take my hand and we’ll never be back here again.” You could want nothing more right now.

You felt for his hand and his calloused fingers wove between yours. He tugged you out of the bathroom and you could feel him navigate you through the mess you had both created. The irony stench of blood crowded your sense and you wished more than anything that you could protect him from having to see the sins that had been committed on this night. The layout of the room would be drilled in your mind forever and you were sure he wouldn’t forget either. Only when you heard him shut the room door behind you could you find the will to open your eyes but you never let go of his hand.

He put you in the car and got in on the driver's side, but he said nothing as he started the car and pulled out of the motel parking lot. You could feel it; the body was still in that room, soaking up a pool of blood. As you watched the hazy lights on the town dim in the dreary night, you got on the highway and knew that you would never see Arkansas again.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark! steve #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #marvel #marvel one shot #marvel imagine #dark!marvel #dark!steve x reader #stever rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #dark!steve #dark!steve rogers imagine #dark!steve rogers one shot

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k-banning-kellum · 4 years

Note

I know where jeff is now. He’s actually chilling at my place and he ate all my leftover pizza :(

Does he know his brother is a millionaire because he took an offer from a fanatical preacher effectively betraying the first true person to accept and even develop affection for him through his applied obtuseness to the fact that said preacher harassed her family to the point they had to move by literally carrying out a planned and comprehensive event in which she was supposed to believe she was about to be murdered?

Jeff spared Liu but no one spared poor Vivianna.

#vivianna is groovy #liu is not #liu woods

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mauserfrau · 4 years

Text

Mau's Very Silly Headcanon Post

Since I have two pieces of fiction going live this weekend and they’re both going to be late due to butting into each other XD.

I did another one here and there’s going to be some overlap, but less bodily function stuff in this one (mostly spit) (also some vague references to medical trauma).

A lot of this is small potatoes because I didn’t want to spoil anything. How Phaseleech actually works ends up being a plot point in what I have pending, so I actually can’t just come out and say what’s going on. That said, I’m sure there are people here who want to know what’s on my mind, but who don’t want to sit through 50K words with half a dozen squick warnings.

That said: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauser_Frau

Questions welcome, about this, anything else I think about Borderlands, what exactly is in Chapter 13 of Satellite, if it’s true the one flashback actually happened to Mom...

Both

-Look, the only thing I did that’s appreciably off-canon is let them have emotions. Maybe I drove into left field with what those emotions were, but that’s really all anybody’s got to do to fix this situation. Go with the deity of your choice.

-If I was headed for a Gearbox ending, it would be for the scrapped one, not the one we got. See this and this other thing.

>>>I would still have written the twins as having something resembling a meaningful relationship regardless of whether that turned out romantic or not. As things went and are, them as a couple was something I knew how to write and my mom shipped them (no, I’m not kidding).

-I’m not going for a canon ending. Mercy, did I find a thread I could snap and take the whole sweater out.

-Both had blue siren markings when they were born; Troy’s turned red after they were separated.

--Which was a complicated mess-- they were upside-down verses each other and had several secondary adhesions, the most notable of which was Tyreen’s face to Troy’s thigh.

---Leda never 100% recovered from the emotional or physical trauma, but she put on a brave face for the last sevenish years of her life.

---Troy’s tissue loss was severe and left him with a notable pit in his upper right side.

---Tyreen also has heavy scarring running from her right armpit to her right hip. It’s not as complex, but it is very visible. Missing a fair amount of intestine compared to the average human, but this has apparently never bothered her beyond the fact that visiting the toilet when you don’t eat is not fun.

-Semi-identical twins. Have 82.5% of their genes in common. LSS, neither one is a parasite. They’re two sperm plus one egg and they didn’t divide right.

--Ms. Phaseleech* didn’t know any better. #oops

--If you get them relaxed enough, they will indeed curl up together in their “fish” position.

-Tyreen is the one who would wail first if separated from her brother when they were very small, but they don’t like being apart even as adults.

-Both very well-read, used to recite The Odyssey to congregants instead of scripture (‘cause they didn’t have any scripture).

-Good to excellent hunters. Depends what they’re hunting and if they’re together. Prefer to go barefoot if there’s no one else around.

-The circumstances surrounding Leda’s death are appreciably worse than fanon baseline to the point I don’t think I ought to leave them lying around in a Tumblr post.

-Both have wavy hair if they don’t iron the daylights out of it.

-Prefer to be on the road and around people, even if a fair amount of those people are going to end up dinner.

-Get weirdly soft-hearted around kids, especially little boys with a similar complexion to their own.

-Do they have any concept that they’re horrible people? Yes, but it’s very academic and not something that motivates them. You’d be way more likely to hear them frame themselves as hedonists, which also explains their worldview to a certain extent.

~*~

Troy

-Skinnier than most other Troys. You could put him in a room with every fandom Troy and sort them by muscle mass, you’d find him at the bottom end, partying like this was an accomplishment.

-Has an X-linked connective tissue disorder which is more extensive than he lets on. He really should not do about 90% of the stunts he does because of the vascular involvement.

-Made a categorical decision to treat the associated pain with a lot of cannabis and massage. Has a distinct resin and honey body butter smell because of this.

--Also, if you get him off-hours, there’s going to be a fair amount of “but why are we here, man?” discussion.

-Has a kink in his upper back. His spine tilts to his right. Not super noticeable, but if you were on massage duty, you’d realize something felt out of place.

-Used to get catastrophic nosebleeds, though these have lessened in frequency and severity over the years.

-After a certain point, has a permanent latching socket port installed on his right side, allowing him to switch arms out as he likes.

--Because he has a selection of eccentric ones. What? It’s a challenge to learn to use non-human aspects like claws or feathers or forty joints in a tentacle.

--Still flounces around without one if nobody of consequence is watching and generally won’t sleep with one in.

-The insides of his ear gauges are messy and don’t even get him started on changing the jewelry on any, erm, other piercings he might have. (Nipples and one off-center PA. That was QUITE enough after what it took for his tattoos to cooperate.)

-Will frame any illness or off-day as a migraine, which he does get.

-Had really bad teeth before his mouth mods. After that, has none of his natural teeth remaining. Primarily uses his exceptional bite radius to annoy others, show off, eat sandwiches in a disturbing fashion and do unspeakable things in bed. They’re for show. They’re not functional in any serious way.

-Doesn’t have great control of said mouth mods in the heat of passion or if you get him laughing hard enough. Hope you like spit!

-Still has rather heinous-looking feet, but he’s concerned about losing his calluses if he has them fixed. You’d be more likely to see him open on an operating table than barefoot in public.

-Always wants to be the little spoon. You’re a tink? You’re a third his size? So what. He wants to be the little spoon. Just give in.

-Genuinely likes tea, especially flower-based tea. Favorite foods include grits, polenta, tamales, campfire beefy rice, beef and broccoli layered onto somebody else’s leftover noodles, beef curry, beef sandwiches soaked in jus, steak tips on day-old fries and look just give him a sloppy plate of starch and dead cow if you need him to shut up.

-Drinks vodka so cold and over-filtered it tastes like water, then follows it up with extra greasy, burnt-to-hell texas toast while talking about his mother.

-Lactose intolerant. Please do not feed the rat child pizza. Or chipped beef on toast. No, not even if he begs.

~*~

Tyreen

-Abnormally acute senses, especially hearing/smell and including a form of intuition which targets where things she can leech exist nearby. She’s only aware of any of this in the context of it being different from how Troy’s senses work. She knows where to get food. Don’t most people?

-Doesn’t perceive herself as 100% human. The Leech is part of her and she likes herself. Mama said she was perfect. The details are whatever. You got a problem here? Well, that’s easy to fix…

-Would have been sorted as a tomboy growing up, but had no companions to do so. As is, prefers the company of masculine individuals, loves showing people up in a boyish fashion and is absolutely going to tune you out if you start talking to her about the topic.

-Reeks. You might smell something “off” with her around in a meeting room, but get her sweaty or worked up and forget it. It’s not even a human smell. Petrichor and spray paint, menstrual blood and chlorine, dead leaves and solvent. It’s chemical, it’s uncannily biological. It’s really not OK. She can’t smell it and Troy’s used to it.

-Doesn’t shave. Has fluffy armpits that don’t match her dye job and a rather spectacular bush that extends onto her upper thighs. Does pluck here brows and the witch hairs on her chin, but otherwise, you know what, nah.

-Heavily tattooed, but this is limited to her torso. The viewing of said tattoos, as well as her scars, is a ritual in her particular CoV.

--Not that she cares about being naked. A body is a body. You people are so uptight.

-Will reflexively guard her lower stomach before anything else and sometimes in error. Do not call her on this. You will piss her off.

-Has an eye-shaped siren marking, but it’s on her left shoulder blade and she tends to forget it’s there. More aware of the “pointer mark” underneath her navel.

-Poor tolerance for any drugs.

-Can only ingest salt, sucrose and 80 proof or better clear alcohol without retching.

--Which is to say she doesn’t eat “people food”.

--Fatty or high-fiber foods tend to make her ill faster. She could possibly keep tofu or chicken breast down for an hour or more, but it’s still not going to end well.

--Can and does eat cinder toffee because it’s one of the few things she can chew and digest. Konpeito is nice too, but sometimes the dye upsets her stomach.

--Milk, maybe. Human works better.

-Enjoys swimming or long baths.

-Ambidextrous. Was either born that way or picked up doing certain things left-handed because that’s what her brother had to work with and she had to show him how to do stuff somehow.

-Good with a forearm-mounted crossbow. Either hand is fine.

-Used to drool precipitously when she leeched something “good”. Mostly has a handle on this by the time the CoV gets to be a thing. Mostly.

-Deeply immature love language which might include her actually asking to play with her prospective partner and a good bit of bullying.

-SHE IS NOT SHY ABOUT HER NEEDS AND KINKS. THE HELL WITH YOU. YOU’RE MAKING SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING. HOW DARE YOU. DO YOU WANT TO BE SKAG BAIT ON THE NEXT LIVESCREAM. UGH. #nottsundereatall

~*~

* The Leech IDed herself as, erm, herself in some stuff I’m not sure I’ll ever post but ANYWAY.

#borderlands 3 #headcanon post #calypso twins #troy calypso #tyreen calypso

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thehikingviking · 3 years

Text

Thor Peak, A Winter Hike from Whitney Portal Road

With limited snowfall throughout California, I had the opportunity to climb in the High Sierra in mid January. I wanted to climb Thor Peak because it resides in the Whitney Zone and it was outside permit season. I called the Lone Pine ranger station all week, and while it was clear that the road to Whitney Portal was closed, no one was able to give me a clear answer as to where the closure started. I spent the day before climbing several desert peaks, and since I was kind of in the area, I decided to drive to the visitor center in Lone Pine to see for myself. Upon arriving, I found a reduced staff due to Covid, and the only person there was a cashier who had no knowledge of the road conditions. Apparently it was safe enough to have someone onsite to sell merchandize, but not safe enough to have someone onsite to advise on the latest mountain conditions. Alas, I decided to drive all the way up Whitney Portal Road to see for myself. There is one giant switchback on the road to the trailhead. At the base of the switchback there was a Road Closed sign, however there was no gate. I decided to drive past this sign, and while I felt a little uneasy at first, I found many cars parked along the road up above. There were some sections of road covered with snow and ice, so 4WD and snow tires were definitely good to have. I finally reached a closed gate at 7,549 ft. Starting here would add an extra 3 miles and 800 ft of elevation gain to my day, but I felt this was well within reason. I sat at the road closure sign and meditated for an hour, doing my best to acclimatize over that short period. I drove back down to town where I booked a room and informed Asaka that I planned to stay one more night. I was exhausted from a poor nights rest the night before, so I got an early dinner and retired to my room. I cranked the heater and watched some playoff football before going to bed.

I woke up in the dark the next morning and packed the car. I ate some leftover pizza for breakfast as I drove the lonely road up towards the portal. Judging by the large amount of cars parked alongside the road, it was clear that I would not be the only one on the mountain that day. I was able to find a parking spot within a hundred yards of the locked gate. I started off up the pavement under headlamp just after 5:30am. After a half mile or so, snow completely cover the road. I alternated between walking on icy and snowy sections, finding the easiest stuff to walk on somewhere in between. After a mile and a half I made it to the usual parking lot, and shortly after I took a right up the Whitney Trail. The snow dissipated as I switched back up the canyon. I guess most of the snow resides at the bottom of the canyon where there is minimal daytime sunlight. Light began to crest over the Inyo Mountains shortly after I began up the trail.

I had been up the trail five weeks earlier, so much was familiar. This time I had the luxury of getting a later start so I had plenty of light before reaching the North Fork of Lone Pine Creek.

There was snow up the canyon, but the trail was well trodden and it was obvious to know where to go. The snow cushioned each step. It was the best type of snow to walk on.

-Ebersbacher Ledges

As I ascended the Ebersbacher Ledges I got my first view of Thor Peak.

I saw my first group as I neared Lower Boyscout Lake. I asked the group of three where they were coming from, but this question is almost meaningless here since almost every time I am told Mt Whitney. I asked if they summited and the one who I assumed was the lead sharply said no. The other two he was with had big smiles on their faces. I could only shed sympathy on the disappointed hiker as I myself had been in similar situations, not making it to the summit due to going with a group that was not up to task. Mt Whitney peered down on us from above.

I made it to Lower Boyscout Lake and was surprised to find almost no snow on the northern facing aspect of Thor Peak. I know snow makes steep climbing easier at times, but I was thankful that I didn’t have to deal with taking out any extra gear. I said hello to a backpacker meditating on a large rock in the fresh morning air then crossed the creek.

I left the trail shortly after and began up the talus field leading towards the ridge above me. I looked back at the route to Cleaver Col, which I used to access Tunnabora Peak the month prior.

-Mt Whitney

-Mt Russell, Mt Carillon, The Cleaver & Gambler’s Special.

At first I was having an okay time scrambling up some large boulders, but as I got higher, the boulders thinned out and I was stuck in some loose scree. This was a bad case of two steps up, one step down, and in some cases it was even two steps up, two steps down. I found myself on all fours and by this time I was wishing that there had been snow on this section. After suffering for a bit, I finally found myself back on rock and was able to scramble the remaining distance to the top of the ridge. I had a front row seat for views of Mt Inyo, Keynot Peak, Voon Meng Leow Peak, Survivor Peak & New York Butte.

The summit was now clearly in sight.

What ensued was about a thousand feet of slowly steepening hiking. I followed a use trail at first but this disappeared as I neared the top. There was some easy scrambling on the final section and I reached the summit at 10:20am. To the west was Mt Whitney.

To the northwest were Mt Russell, Mt Carillon and Gambler's Special.

To the east were the Inyo Mountains.

To the southeast was Lone Pine Peak.

To the south were Mt Irvine and Mt McAdie.

I could see why the peak is recommended by the Sierra Peaks Section. While this peak doesn't have much prominence, it provides a nice perch in the middle of the surrounding giants. Rather than return the same way I came, I decided to make a loop out of it. To my south were cliffs and the ridge towards Mt Whitney didn't look trivial. I followed this for a while, looking for the opportunity to drop to the southern slopes below. I couldn't find anything that looked easier than class 4, so I kept on searching. I recalled a trip report which described descending through a notch. I was able to find a window, and while I'm not sure if this was the aforementioned notch, I was able to downclimb from here down to class 2 sandy slopes below.

Once on sandy slopes, I plunge stepped down towards Mirror Lake. I remember trip reports highlighted some cliffs, and I was able to avoid these pretty easily.

From there I walked down grassy slopes. I was enjoying my day and then wham, I was on the ground. I slipped on some ice underneath the grass and slammed myself on the hard rocks. Damn that hurt. I continued again, but this time more carefully, and I again slipped and fell. Luckily I didn't break anything but I had some big bruises afterwards.

I considered walking across the ice, but instead went around the right side of Mirror Lake. This ended up being a mistake. I found myself bushwhacking and breaking trail through waist high snow. If it weren't for that half mile section it could have been a perfect day.

I reconnected with the trail soon after. I put on my MICROspikes to get a little extra traction for the icy sections of trail, and powered myself downhill towards the car.

Prior to reaching the North Fork of Lone Pine Creek, I spotted the old Mt Whitney Trail. While unsigned, the trail looked pretty decent. I felt like a true veteran as I hiked down the steep switchbacks. I continued my quick pace down the road, and I wore my MICROspikes until there was no more snow on the road. I tried a light jog, but in the end was content to walk. I chatted with a lady for the last half mile. There was some rockfall on the road that needed to be cleared before reopening.

It took me 7 hours and 45 minutes to complete the hike. My total mileage was 13 miles so doing this hike from Whitney Portal would be a cinch. I grabbed a coffee in Lone Pine then drove back home to San Jose that afternoon.

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torannosaurusrexy · 4 years

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Champagne & Pools

Chapter 1/?: “Commando”

➝ Genre: Fic

➝ Pairing: Jeon Jungkook | Reader

WARNING: This AU contains language, recreational drug usage, and sexual themes that some readers may find unsettling, please take caution when reading.

➝ Word Count: 5.2k

➝ Summary: After a night full of red solo cups, gyrating bodies, and too many hot frat boys to count ends, you wake without a memory of it. Jungkook however, remembers all of it, and will do whatever he has to to convince you that it was the greatest night of his existence.

➝ Chapter Song: < LISTEN HERE >

Pain floods your head when you wake this morning. Bounds of bad decisions coalesce and force the pain to get even worse when you open your eyes. Whatever happened last night was more than you originally signed up for. Flashes of colorful lights, jello shots, and cannon balls assault your hungover memory. You press the heel of your palm into your sore sockets, pining for a relief that never comes. When removed you examine the room around you. It’s not yours that’s for damn sure, unless of course you forgot how to clean and own a bong. Not Yoongi’s either, he’d never live in a room that wasn’t a shade of gray.

You must still be at the frat house. Its the only true way to explain your hangover and the fuzzy memories you have of vibrating bass and—oh shit, where is your phone and your…panties? With your mind bombarded and worrisome tendencies you hadn’t even come to realize that astride your body, with an arm holding you firm at the waist is a slumbering young man. His hair is a deep cocoa color. His lips are parted by incoming air, and his other hand is tucked neatly behind his head. Slowly, you try to peel yourself away from him but of course, his bed creaks more than your sore bones.

You manage to escape, finding the jeans you wore last night. Thankfully, your bra is still on and a shirt remains flush against your body. Fuck your panties, leaving before he wakes up is more important right now. Besides, they were not your favorite pair anyway. Creeping over discarded socks, questionable pizza boxes, and condom wrappers, you enter the hallway.

You jump upon spotting your best friend, fingers toying with the button to your jeans.

“You look like shit.” Yoongi chimes, brushing his teeth.

“Morning to you too.” You whisper, trying to keep your pain at an all time low.

He chuckles, pausing his teeth brushing to point at you. “Fly’s down.”

“Huh?”

He points again, shrugging, “Your shutters are open. Y’know, I can see bikini bottom…are you commando?” He spits into the bathroom sink, filled with crushed beer cans.

“Shhhhh, I’ll explain later, please tell me your bed is open; I can’t possibly walk home right now.” Yoongi smirks, a knowing look.

“That good huh?” He rinses the toothbrush.

You scratch your head, suddenly worried about your hair and the clown mask smeared across your face. “Nothing memorable that’s for sure.”

“You don’t remember last night?”

“Just the couple hundred jello shots I downed.”

Yoongi sucks air through gritted teeth, “Yikes.”

“Yeah…now, bed?” You point at his door, across the hall and ajar from him coming out of it.

“Sorry Captain Commando, unlike someone…I scored last night.”

“Who’s to say I didn’t?”

Yoongi crosses his arms, amused. “You didn’t, I handed you off to Jungkook when you tried to strip near the pool. I figured if you were going to be naked I’d rather you do it behind closed doors.” So that’s who’s bedroom you woke up in. You should’ve recognized him, it must’ve been your rush to leave that kept you from realizing.

You clear your throat, “I’ll repeat my question, who’s to say I didn’t score?” You cross your arms.

Yoongi continues his assault, smiling wide. “I. Handed. You. Off. To. Jungkook.”

You nod, still confused. You have just emerged panty-less from a rather attractive college frat boys bedroom. To many, that’s enough to say you got laid. Then again…you don’t remember getting dick, and you have a feeling Jeon Jungkook’s would be rather memorable. “Yeah…Jungkook is the designated panty dropper of BTS, and clearly he snatched mine.”

“Nah, he knows you’re off limits.”

You cluck your tongue, “Which only makes me more desirable.”

Yoongi sighs, rolling his eyes. “None of the guys will touch you because you’re friends with me. Get used to being dry sweetheart.”

“Ugh, cock block.” You sigh, smiling because you know he’s right.

“Trust me, Jungkook would be just as surprised as you were this morning to find you half naked. He was clothed wasn’t he?”

“Yeah…”

“That should be enough to prove me right. Now if you’ll excuse me…morning head is calling.” He walks towards his door.

“Fuck you Yoongi." You call after him.

He whispers back, sending you a kiss. “Love you too babe, there’s food downstairs if you wanna make some breakfast. Jin might have a spare pair of panties too if you’re interested.”

“Hard pass.” Jin’s collection of hoe’s lingerie is enticing, but equably disgusting.

What Yoongi called food was leftover chicken stir-fry, a questionable jar of mayonnaise…and whipped cream which you have a sneaking suspicion is Taehyung’s and isn’t meant for regular consumption. Thankfully, they own a box of just add water pancake mix, and you count that as a major score. You try not to make too much noise, considering you’re probably not the only one around here with a pounding headache. You’d already searched for some sort of over the counter relief only to come up empty. So you settle for a glass of water instead. Using your phone to play some light music, you flip the pancakes with ease. While doing so you can’t help but let your mind wander back to the night before.

What could have possibly led to you falling asleep in Jungkook’s arms? To be fair, you are a rather flirtatious drunk and think that could have led to Jungkook being fished in by Yoongi. Yoongi would have enjoyed watching you make a fool of yourself all over Jungkook. He definitely saw more than he bargained for. Then again…knowing Yoongi, he would’ve pushed for Jimin instead. Its possible that Jimin was…preoccupied and Jungkook was a last stitch resort.

Poor Jungkook, the kid has only been part of the frat for a couple months now and he’s already been subjected to assault via drunk you. You figured he would’ve gone at least a year without that happening. Now that you’re thinking about it, you probably cost him a hookup last night.

“Crap!” You yelp, inhaling smoke from a now charred pancake, hacking it back up.

“Having trouble?”

You turn, finding Jimin shirtless and leaning against the countertop.

“Clearly.” You choke, drinking him in. “I’ll blame it on the hangover.”

Jimin laughs, gleaming under his faded orange locks. His roots are darker now, smothering the orange in an inky hue. It has definitely been a few months since the initial dyeing. Curse the fact that he makes it look so fucking good. “After last night I figured you would have one. I’ll make you a protein shake, god knows I need one.”

“Thank you, I’ll return the favor in pancakes.” You clear your throat, trying to sound less squeaky. “What do you mean by ‘after last night’?”

Jimin licks yogurt off a spoon, pointing it at you after he does so. “Right…Yoongi mentioned that your memory might be a little fuzzy.”

“You saw him this morning?”

Jimin grins, eyes on what he’s preparing. “Nah, heard him though.” You shiver. “I caught him kissing some girl late last night, dragged him by the ear to find out if you were alright, he mentioned it then. Considering the unholyness I heard when I passed his door, I think he found her again after we talked.”

You blush, clearing your throat. “And..?”

“He said that your liver couldn’t handle Jin’s jello shots and that he called time of death just a few minutes before I found him.”

“That bastard.”

You both chuckle lightly at Yoongi’s dark humor. “Yeah well, thank god that wasn’t the truth.”

“Maybe not, but this pounding in my head is making me re-think the whole living thing.”

You hear something rattling behind you, and turn to see Jimin shaking a small pill bottle. Advil no doubt. “Breakfast of champions.” He smiles, tossing it to you.

“Balanced as all things should be.” Jimin laughs, watching as you place two on the counter before pushing the bottle back to him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jimin turns the blender on. You flinch. “Sorry.” He says once that step is complete. “I should have warned you.”

“No it’s okay, I deserved that.”

“And this.” Jimin winks, sliding a freshly blended protein monstrosity towards you.

You shut off the stove, serving your pancakes on a large plate next to the drinks. The sound of their preparation may have ripped your mental state to shreds, but the taste of protein pumped berry goodness was well worth it.

You end up moaning out loud when the shake hits your tongue, a soothing hint of mint serenading the thumping of your skull. You swallow the Advil with it. When you open your eyes Jimin is watching you closely, taking a hefty swig from his own shake. “Good?” He asks after swallowing, a knowing grin smeared across his pillow lips.

“If my moan wasn’t clarification enough, then yes.” He nods, pleased with your answer. You pick up a pancake, dousing it in the syrup you found in one of the cabinets that wasn’t dedicated to hot Cheetos or peanut butter.

“So, I heard about the pool.”

“Oh god don’t remind me. All I know is Yoongi handed me off to Jungkook at some point…I’m assuming it was after my thirty-second jello shot, but before my walk of shame.”

“Yikes.”

You hum an affirmation, “Yeah, I think Jin cut me off at some point. So maybe doing a strip-tease by the pool was my form of rebellion.”

“It definitely was something.”

“Oh great, you saw it too?”

“Everyone saw it love. I hate to say it but…you were the highlight of the party.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head too much, Namjoon ended up slipping in some puke last night, landed in Tae’s lap. Everyone forgot about your debut into stripperhood by then.”

“Phew, good thing Jungkook was there when he was. There could be a viral video of me naked by your pool if he wasn’t.”

“Would that be such a shame?” Jimin smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. You punch his shoulder.

“Trust me, it would have been.”

Jimin pauses his sipping, “I’m kind of surprised Jungkook was by the pool at all. I figured he of all people would’ve been drowning in some freshman pussy.”

You chuckle, but deep down you’re worried that pussy may have been yours in the end.

“Yeah I woke up next to him this morning, it seems like he took watching me pretty seriously.”

“If he took advantage I swear I’ll--”

You laugh, “I don’t think you need to worry. Yoongi laughed when I mentioned that possibility. He said I’m off limits.”

“Shame.”

“Hm?”

“I just feel bad. I would have gladly given you my bed instead beautiful.”

You blush, licking remnants of syrup from your fingertips. The plate of pancakes now finds itself empty, syrup littering the expanse. “I’ll remember that for next time.” You manage to say, a finger brushing your lower lip. Jimin gleams. “I should probably meet up with Raegan, she’ll want to know if I lived.” Gulping the last bit of shake, you grab the last strand of dignity you have and start for the door.

“You sure you don’t need a ride or anything? I don’t have class today.”

“Thanks Chim, but my dorm is only a block or so away, I’ll manage.” Jimin follows you into the foyer, ripped streamers and empty solo cups littering its usually pristine landing. “Thanks for the shake. I feel a lot better.”

“Anything for my favorite girl.”

You roll your eyes, “I thought that was Tae’s spot, don’t let him catch you slipping.”

Jimin laughs, “Tell that to Namjoon. I’ll text you.”

“Okay, bye Chim.”

You close the front door behind you, finding the sun to be more bearable now that your stomach is happy and your liver doesn’t want to kill you. “Holy shit, Jimin wasn’t wearing a shirt. And I was able to talk…this has been a strange twenty-four hours.”

“Strange isn’t the word I would use.” Hoseok emerges from the bushes below the front steps, his shirt is half unbuttoned and he has leaves in his hair. “What time is it?” He rubs his eyes subconsciously.

“My god Hoseok! What the fuck!” You hold your heart, coming down from the scare you just received.

“Ow! Don’t fucking yell dipshit!” He screams back, squinting at you under messy red locks.

“What in the sam hell are you doing sleeping with the worms?”

“I must have blacked out here, that rager really was something.” He points to the mulch he used as a mattress, an assprint pushed into it. “Leaving so soon princess? The party isn’t over yet.”

“Funny, but it’s noon and I have an iced coffee with my name on it. You need to eat something solid, and find a breath mint.”

“I can give you something solid.”

“Goodbye Hoseok~” You say as you continue down the frat house walkway, giving him a cute little wave as you do so. You can hear him laughing, and it makes you smile. Hoseok may be gross, and he passes out in bushes…but as Yoongi said before, he and the others know you can’t be touched. It sure is funny watching him try though.

“And the jello shot junky returns!”

You do a sarcastic pageant queen spin, complete with an ending pose. “I prefer pong princess. Here.” You hand Reagan her usual order from the Starbucks down the street.

“Thank you, slave.” She smiles through whipped cream dusted lips. You chuckle, plopping yourself into the corner of your shared L-shaped couch next to her. Stained with remnants of Italian Nights and Taco Tuesdays. “So…did you ever find your panties?”

“Fuck, I forgot about those.”

“How could you forget you’re nakey when denim is all up in the Cock Kingdom?”

You exhale a laugh out of your nose, “First of all, please never refer to my place of business as the Cock Kingdom ever again.”

“Would you prefer Pussy Palace? Dick Dungeon? Phallus Fort?”

“No I- Dick Dungeon? That’s not bad actually…but still a hard no.” You shake your head, both equably disappointed and proud of Rae for having the braincells to come up with such a cacophony of nick-names after the mental beatdown both of you surely took last night. “I forgot to look for them before I left.”

Raegan huffs an affirmation. “My money’s on the pool pavement. It’s definitely out there just waiting to be found by an unsuspecting frat boy. Maybe Jin will add them to his collection…he does have one right?”

“A collection of conquests panties? Sadly yes. And let’s just agree to forget that whole strip tease ever happened.”

“It was more than a strip tease Honey. I will be sure to play the video on your wedding day!” Raegan sips her peppermint monstrosity unphased, mint on her tongue.

“What?” You turn your head violently to face her, sitting up in a rush.

Raegan continues to describe the horror of a maid-of-honor speech you need to start preparing for, its bound to be a whopper at this rate. “It can be part of my maid of honor speech. Be all sentimental and crap, then just when moms in tears…BAM, stripping at a frat party.”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, you shake your best friend and recorder of all embarrassing moments in your life, “Rae, did you say you have it on video?!”

She breaks free, steading herself with another sip. “Well obviously, drunk me still has her priorities straight.”

“Can I see it?!” You yell.

“Alright alright! Don’t get your panties in a—oh wait…”

“Shut up.”

She laughs, pulling out her phone and scrolling through what must be hundreds of selfies and videos from last nights mistake. Raegan has always been the social drunk. She’s constantly throwing herself in the arms of strangers and chanting the words ‘Lets take a picture!’ through alcohol slurred lips. You are honestly shocked she didn’t wake up alongside Hobi in the bushes this morning.

“Holy shit, Rae is that Taehyung?” You point at her screen, a blurred mess of a snapshot smeared across it.

“Nope, Namjoon.” She beams.

“What is he—“

Raegan swipes twice, “Here wait I have a better picture of it.”

“Oh my god! Raegan Louise!” You yelp, clarity making you look away.

“What?! I saw an opportunity…and I took it!”

“Never in my life would I picture Namjoon as a human shot glass!”

“His belly-button was the perfect size. Carpe Diem my love.” Raegan shrugs, acting nonchalant about slurping a mouthful of tequila from the frat presidents belly button.

“Fair enough, now where is this life-ruining video of yours.”

She scrolls further, finding a couple from just after the incident along with a zoom in of your panties.

“If I knew this was going to happen I would’ve worn a cuter pair.”

“Oh cmon, the giant panda face on the back is so innocent~”

“I’m burning my wardrobe.”

“Here, I found it.”

Raegan presses play. The video shakes for a second and there’s far too much yelling to make out any coherent words. At first, she’s recording the inside of the house. In the background Taehyung is seen doing a keg-stand. If you weren’t so concerned with the upcoming turn of events you would’ve glanced at the way his shirt is gathered around his neck. Instead, you see what Jimin meant by Yoongi kissing some girl. More like swallowing her.

That’s when you hear it, a cheer so loud it turns heads. Someone runs into the room, informing all of those in it that you’re about to turn the heat up a notch. Yoongi bolts from the girl, no apology leaving his lips when he separates from hers. She follows, wounded and confused. You can hear Rae muttering a profanity under her breath. The camera fumbles in her hands, she pushes past the crowd to reveal you, half-dressed with your arms behind your back about to unclasp your bra.

You watch in horror, hands over your agape mouth. “Oh god no.”

“Oh honey yes…”

She fast forwards a few seconds, revealing a starstruck Jimin who rushes forward with Yoongi in tow. Before you know it Jimins shirt is off and thrown towards your face. You catch it with a giggle, shimmying your panties off before Jungkook suddenly appears from behind you. He grabs both your legs and throws you over his shoulder. Your ass is completely exposed to all those watching. The cameras final frame shows the slammed back door before it cuts out and all else is left to the imagination.

“Welp, there you have it.” Raegan says, shrugging.

You are absolutely starstruck, embarrassed and shocked. On the bright side, you now know exactly what happened. Also, that Raegan seemed to be the only one sober enough to record. That’s the hope. “Delete it.”

“What? But I just said—“

“Raegan please. I can never see that video again.”

“Okay, just know that doing so brings me great pain.”

“I apologize.”

Raegan deletes the video with just a few taps, the first frame disappearing from view in lieu of a conversational meme she’s uses over text. “There, goodbye sweet sweet memory.”

“And hello sweet sweet relief.”

The days following seem to be for the most part normal, you attend your classes normally, pumped full of caffeine and dreading finals week. The only ones who spoke of The Incident were Raegan and the BTS boys. Yoongi in particular, just couldn’t let the story go.

“I still can’t believe you made Raegan delete the video. That shit was comedy gold and could have had you going down in BTS rager history.”

“As invigorating as that would have been, I really don’t think I need my portrait framed above the words ‘Pool Panty Princess.’”

“I beg to differ.” Yoongi looks away, swirling a finger around the spoon he submerged in liquid energy. “He told me that he’s been looking for you.”

“What? Who has?” You take a jab at the plate of disco fries ahead of you, doused in gravy and snug beneath layers of cheese. Yoongi watches you do so, content with his black coffee and dark intentions.

“Jungkook; he’s been acting strange since the party.” You pause your eating, mouth full of the one dish you wish to be buried beneath. “You swear nothing happened between you two?”

“Why are you asking me when you were so sure I would be left high and dry?” You fall back against the booth, worn with previous diners butts. “Besides, I can’t remember anything after darts with Jimin. Everything is a messed up blur.”

“I know. Its just really weird, I’m so used to seeing Kook as the kid who never shuts the fuck up. Lately, he’s been the opposite.”

“Elaborate.”

“Alright well, I was in the kitchen with Jimin the day after the party. Kook came down from his room in the middle of the conversation we were having. Your name happened to come up and he froze.”

“Half the guys have been like that, the party was crazy. Also, what kind of conversation were you having with Jimin where my name was involved?”

“Irrelevant, have you even seen Jungkook?”

You roll your eyes, “No, why?”

“My point exactly. He’s avoiding you.”

“You just said he was looking for me.”

“I’m just saying, it seems like he’s conflicted. Confront him, clearly he remembers something you don’t.”

“How the hell would I do that, Jungkook is like a baby bird. Flightless, skittish, and far too innocent.”

“Geez, and here I was thinking you always had eyes for Jimin.”

“Besides the point, Jungkook’s in my psychology class, I’ll see him then. I’m sure everything is fine.”

Yoongi laughs, taking another sip from his mug. You blush, suddenly losing your appetite. “You’re not very good at hiding things.”

“And you’re not very good at giving head, so shut up.”

“Oh honey, now you’re just grabbing at straws.”

“Yeah even I knew that was wrong before I said it.”

“How would you know? I’ve never given you head—is this your way of asking?”

“God no! I’ll pass.”

“I’m sure Jimin would oblige, and given the way he’s been acting I’m sure Kook would be down too.”

“Relationship advice from Mr. One Night Stand himself? I’m honored.”

“Eat your fries.”

“Hey.” You try to say the word with some power behind it, however it falls flat against the tile of the stingy classroom floor. Jungkook slips into the seat next to you, looking your way when you speak.

“Hey.” He copies, slipping his red backpack off and tossing it to the floor.

You bite your lip, hearing Yoongi’s voice like a mantra in your head.

When you look up from the face of your desk Jungkook’s eyes are on yours and the class is silent. He looks away almost as fast as you looked up, brushing a hand through his fluffy hair. It’s now or never and you can’t possibly let Yoongi berate you about putting this conversation off any longer.

“Jungkook, I need to ask you something.” You watch him lift his head, promptly scanning the class before answering.

“Okay?” He whispers, displaying a slightly crooked tooth through an agape set of lips. “If this is about finding an old childhood photo of you dressed as a milk man in Yoongi’s wallet then I swear I didn’t tell a soul.”

“No Kook!” The class shushes you. “I’ll explain that another time, this is about last weekend.” Jungkook raises an eyebrow, confused. You explain further, “I woke up in your bed…I didn’t have pants on…ringing any bells?”

Jungkook smiles, on the verge of laughing. “I think I’d remember sleeping with you ______.”

“I beg to differ, you sleep with a lot of girls Jungkook.”

“You calling me a tramp?”

“Maybe, just tell me please. Did we have sex?”

“Why? Do you want to?”

“Kook!” Another shush from the class.

“I have fifteen before my next class, there’s a janitors closet down the hall, meet there?”

“Jungkook, no. I just want to know if we did anything.”

Jungkook looks away, searching his memories for something helpful. “Tell you what, come to the BTS house tonight, maybe Jin’s jello shots will spur your memory.”

You roll your eyes. “Just what I need, more vodka.”

“I’d love to help; except there’s still some parts i’m trying to remember myself. So, sorry sweetheart, my lips are sealed…tight.” He puts emphasis on the word tight and it makes you shiver with some kind of foreign anticipation.

“What if I said please?”

“Get on your knees and i’ll consider it.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re starting to sound like Yoongi.”

“Ouch.” Jungkook stands, fellow students rising to rush off to their next lecture. “See you later.” He winks, leaving promptly.

“And how dare you assume a lady like myself would do it in a janitors closet!” You yell after him, but he’s already gone.

“He said he was still trying to figure it out himself, and then he tried to seduce me into a janitors closet.”

“I admire his boldness, but the fuck?” Yoongi licks peanut butter off the knife he’s holding, gingerly using it to cut his sandwich into four little triangles.

“You sound like my inner monologue right now.” You lean against the countertop in the BTS Frathouse kitchen. To your surprise, it looks very nice when the counters aren’t covered in solo cups, horny sorority princesses and stale chips.

“What happened afterwards?” Yoongi continues, pouring himself a glass of OJ with enough pulp to scare oranges into hiding.

“Nothing, he invited me to the house party tonight—which you happened to not tell me about.”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” He slurs through the first bite of PB&J.

“I sense sarcasm.”

“At least now you know he wants you here. Maybe stay away from the jello shots this time?”

“I know that much, thanks.” You steal a triangle.

“And if you’re going to do anything with anyone tonight…maybe shoot for Jimin.”

You pause, placing your hands on your hips. “I guess the whole ‘off limits’ thing is shot to hell now.”

“That was before I thought you had a shot with not one, but two of the guys currently drooling at your feet.”

“Oh please…they’re not drooling.”

“You’re right, the word slobbering fits better.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go, people are going to laugh and say stupid shit about the last party.”

“So what, you have me and the other guys here to back you up. There’s nothing to worry about. Besides, everyone was wasted that night.”

You hear heavy footsteps cascading the staircase as Yoongi speaks, its obvious that they belong to a focused Namjoon even before he slips into the room. “’Sup guys?”

“Hey Joonie.”

“Hey Hyung.” Yoongi barely takes a breath before continuing to bombard you with reasons to attend tonight. “I’ll tell you what, the second your social meter runs out I’ll give you my room key and you can hide in there all night if you want.”

You fake a sniffle, “You’d give up the chance at some random freshman pussy for me?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Just say yes before I change my mind.”

“I would’ve gone anyway but you just kept going.”

“Fuck you.” Yoongi laughs.

“What’s this I hear about pussy?” Taehyung says, bouncing into the kitchen with a suspicious glass of clear liquid in his hand.

Sadly, you’re the one to catch a whiff of his breath as he passes. “Taehyung its not even noon yet what in the holy mother of hell are you doing with that?” You point to the glass, and he smirks.

“Five o’clock somewhere.” He shrugs, sipping generously. “I’m kidding, its sparkling water, here.” He slides it towards you before walking next to Namjoon who’s absorbed into the grilled cheese he’s trying not to burn. You scrunch your eyebrows, lifting the glass and taking an experimental sip. Immediately, you gag as the raw tequila touches your tongue. You jump up and spit it into the nearby sink, drawing laughter from everyone in the room.

“Sparkling water my ass!”

“I’m sorry, you made it too easy!”

“Fuck!” You turn the tap on, sticking your head underneath to rinse your tongue and gargle water.

Due to your luck, both Jimin and Hoseok walk into the room as you turn the water on and they get to watch as you stand head back and tongue in the wind. “Ah fuck, this situation looks vaguely familiar.” Jimin chuckles, picking up the glass you hastily sipped from. He sniffs it, ripping his head away the second his nose hairs are disintegrated. “Jesus Tae.”

“Oh cmon, I saw an opportunity!”

“You okay?” Jimin slips past the crowd and slowly rubs your back as you wipe your mouth and nod. You catch a glimpse of Yoongi smiling into his orange juice, his eyes suggestive.

“Hm? Oh yeah, psh, fine…thanks.”

“Want a grilled cheese?”

Yoongi nods furiously, dropping not so subtle hints.

“No; its okay, I think I’m gonna go for a swim. Thirty minute rule…you know.”

“Good call, I guess I should skip the grilled cheese too.”

“What? No!” Your hands land of Jimin’s stomach as you reflexively move to stop him from following. He looks down, confused until you revoke them, “You should eat, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Join me after?”

Jimin grins. “Okay.” He says in short, a smile still on his face even after you’re moving towards the patio. You look over his shoulder one last time to see Yoongi slam his face into the countertop, awash with disappointment.

The sound of their distant talking fades once you escape to the back patio, however you aren’t alone for long as Yoongi and his orange juice joins you.

“That was painful to watch.” He says, walking towards you.

“Leave me alone pulp boy.” You sulk, sitting on the edge of the pool and putting your feet in the heated water.

“Woah, my pulp never did anything to you.” Yoongi frowns, a short-lived sarcastic feature. He joins you.

You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Ugh, did he say anything after I left?”

“Babe, Jimin’s a guy. The second you left he asked Joon to make him a grilled cheese and snorted a line of pre-workout.” He slurps more of his juice.

“Really?” You look up at him, a worried lip.

Yoongi suddenly feels bad for playing with you’re feelings…but can’t stop himself. Taehyung’s right, you make it too easy. “No, first he looked at your ass.”

“You’re lying.” You swallow, turning red.

Yoongi smiles, suggesting he’s joking. “Thats what you get for insulting my pulp.”

“Asshat.” You grumble, slightly disappointed. You couldn’t help but hope Jimin looked, or at least glanced.

“Cocksleeve.” He gibs back, finishing off his orange juice as you once again lay your head on his shoulder with a smile.

#Champagne & Pools #C&P #JJKxReader #Jeon Jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #fic #collegeAU #BTS #q:chokeonthis

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afictionaladventure16 · 5 years

Note

So you’re asking for Chris Evans requests? Would it be possible to get a Chris Evans single dad x teenage daughter reader? Chris had too reshoot some movie scenes and missed the readers softball game. The two fight about it but eventually make up. Maybe the reader says something like she wished she choose to live with mom instead. Hurt/comfort. Please and thank you!

The Main Source of Her Pain (Chris Evans x Daughter!Reader)

Actor Fics Masterlist

A/N: I loved this request!! send me more requests like these! I loved writing this fic!

Song Title: When I’m Gone by Eminem

Warnings: hurtful words, fluff

Word Count: 1,972

*Not my gif

Chris looked at his phone, a reminder popped up that your softball game was today and he couldn’t be late. He made a mental note about it and went back onto the set. He knew how important this game was to you, you’ve mentioned it multiple times and just having your father there to support you, meant the world to you. Especially since your mother lived all the way in California, you knew if she could she would be there for the game, as well.

You were batting, you just needed one home run to win the game, you could feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. You glanced at the stands, hoping to see his familiar face. You spotted your Uncle Scott, he smiled and waved at you. You sighed and focused your attention back at the pitcher in front of you. Your eye on the ball, you gave the bat a good swing, hitting the ball. You were shocked at how hard you hit it, the way the bar went high up in the air, “RUN!” You heard your coach yell, you quickly scrambled through the bases, making that home run.

Your team ran over to you, cheering, your team won and you guys would be going to the state championships. It wasn’t long for the excitement to die down, you grabbed your gear and walked over to your Uncle Scott who sat on the bleachers waiting for you, “what’s his excuse this time?” you asked with a hint of anger in your voice.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, you shook your head, “you know he wouldn’t forget it.”

“Then where is he?” Scott stayed silent, you let out a scoff, “just take me home.” The ride home was silent, you focused your attention at the dark clouds coming in, the calm before the storm. You thanked Scott for dropping you off and quickly walked inside the house, instantly being greeted by Dodger. You placed your gear by the door, then placed Dodger outside to do his business, then you ran upstairs to shower.

Once you showered you went into the kitchen, heating up leftovers from the night before. Your dad had promised pizza for the special occasion. Your dad had also promised he wouldn’t miss the game but he broke that promise too. Once you ate, you sat on the couch in the living room, watching T.V. and waiting for him to come home.

You heard the garage door opening, and then you heard his footsteps, “you’re still up?” He asked as he came into your view. You gave him a small glare as you focused your attention on the T.V. show. “(Y/N)?” You raised the volume on the T.V. your dad let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing the remote, turning the T.V. off.

“What the hell!?” You exclaimed as you got up off the couch.

“Language, young lady!”

“Sorry, Cap,” you retorted as you sat back down on the couch.

“What has gotten into you? What’s with this attitude?”

“You don’t remember what today is?!”

Chris felt like he was married again, forgetting his anniversary, he looked at you confused. That’s when he spotted your softball gear, “shit,” he muttered to himself, “I’m sorry, (Y/N), we did some reshoots and it just slipped my mind!”

“When doesn’t it?” You snapped.

“Don’t be like that, (Y/N).” The sound of thunder erupting caused you both to stop talking for a second, Dodger whimpering at the sliding doors begging to be let in, Chris walked over and let the dog in. A second later the power went out, “shit,” Chris muttered as he quickly turned on the candle that was on the coffee table.

“You never go to my games,” you whispered, “it would’ve been nice to have you there for once.”

“(Y/N), you know if I could I would, but with my schedule-”

You groaned, “forget your damn schedule! What about me!? I exist too!” You felt tears well up in your eyes, you were thankful for the power outage, thankful that he couldn’t see the tears.

“I’m doing this for you!” He remarked out of frustration. He had a long day at work and all Chris wanted to do was relax, not argue with his daughter.

“That’s what you said to mom and she still left,” you scoffed, you regretted saying it but it was true.

“(Y/N)!” Chris was taken back by your words, “It’s just a game!”

“Just a game!?” You pushed him, you actually pushed him out of anger, “it’s just a movie! It’s just a show! It’s just a premiere! I’m just a kid!” you yelled, pushing him with almost every word and he let you push him, your pushes, after all, didn’t have much effect on him, “I’m sorry, I bother you with my ‘Just a game’!” You were fuming, “I wish mom got custody of me instead of you!”

Chris felt his heart shatter, but he let his anger get the best of him at times, “maybe it would’ve been best if she did.”

You looked at him in shock, “you sure are the world greatest father,” you said sarcastically as you ran up the stairs, Dodger in toll, and into your room.

Chris let out a frustrated sigh as he sat on the couch, he let his emotions overcome him, he felt like he was doing a horrible job at this parenting stuff. Especially with being a single dad to a teenage daughter. He took out his phone and called the one person that he knew was best at this stuff, “hello?”

The sound of the soft voice brought comfort to Chris, “hey, mom,” Chris sniffled.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Chris then explained what had happened, not forgetting to mention that you wished your mother got custody instead of him. “Hon, I hate to say this but you’re both in the wrong.”

Chris understood how you were wrong but he quite didn’t understand how he was wrong, “how am I wrong?”

“Sweetie, when you have kids, you have to push things aside to make time for them and that means your work too. I understand, the acting industry is different from the domestic lifestyle but sweetie, you still have a say. You have to put your foot down and say that you have a priority at home because right now, to her, it just looks like she isn’t even a priority. She probably feels like you don’t even care about her.” The electricity turned back on, Chris looked over to the photo on the mantel. He walked over to it, gently grabbing the frame, you were just a toddler in the photo. It was as if Chris blinked and you were a teenager.

“She means the world to me, mom,” Chris said softly, “it hurt when she said that she wished her mother had custody of her. (Y/N), just brings me so much joy, I don’t know how I would handle it if she lived all the way over in California.”

“Chris, Sweetie, you need to apologize to the poor girl and you need to show her that she is your main priority in your life.” Chris knew his mother was right, he thanked his mom before hanging up. He looked at the time and decided to go to bed, all this took an emotional drain on the guy and it was already almost midnight. Chris walked up to the stairs and into his room, getting into his PJs and then drifting off into a deep sleep.

Chris woke up in a panic, he glanced at the bedside clock, 3:04 A.M. it read. He sighed, deciding to grab a glass of water, he walked out of his room, passing your room, but the sound of sniffling stopped him from walking further. He walked over to your door, opening it slightly, you sat on the floor beside your bed, “(Y/N)? Sweetie?” Chris said softly.

You quickly wiped away your tears, “Go away,” you grumbled.

Chris sighed, he hated seeing you this way. He walked over and sat on the floor beside you, wrapping an arm around you. The gesture was enough to break the damn inside you, you let out a sob into your dads chest, “I’m sorry, hon,” he said softly as he placed a kiss on top of your head, “I don’t want you to live with your mom, I don’t think it would have been best and I’m sorry I missed your game. I didn’t have my priorities right, from now on you will be first, I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, “I didn’t mean anything I said, I was just-”

“I know,” he whispered, “you were hurt and that’s my fault.” Your dad sat with you on the floor, gently rubbing your back as you calmed down.

“Tell me about the game,” he asked as soon as you calmed down.

You wiped your tear stained cheeks with your sleeve, “I’m pretty sure Uncle Scott recorded it but I got a home run and we won because of it,” you said proudly.

“No way! I’m gonna have to ask Scott to show me that video!” Chris beamed, “I’m proud of you, (Y/N), I really am,” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Hey, we’re gonna have to reshoot that scene,” the director said to Chris.

Chris sighed looking at his phone, he was going to be late. He shook his head, “I can’t, sorry, we’ll have to do it tomorrow or something but right now I have to be somewhere.”

“Seriously, Evans?”

“Yes, seriously, my daughter is playing State Champs today! I can’t miss it!” Chris said as he walked over to the make-up trailer, hoping they could get the make-up off quickly.

You let out a huge sigh, as you looked over at the crowd from the dugout, you spotted Uncle Scott with his phone in hand, recording everything. You rolled your eyes at him, “Evans!” You heard your coach yell, “you’re up!” You felt anxious, you grabbed your bat and gave the crowd one last glance.

You beamed at the sight of your dad making his way over to your Uncle. Your dad looked over at you and waved, he didn’t break his promise.

“Come on, Evans! We don’t got all day!” You heard your coach say, you smiled and ran over to the plate.

It was starting to be a close game, Chris was beginning to feel anxious. It was your turn, one home run and the championship was yours.

“She’s got this,” Chris said as he watched you step up to the plate once more. “She’s got this, Scott.”

“Are you trying to convince me or you?”

Chris rolled his eyes at his brother, focusing his attention on you, “Come on, baby, you’ve got this!” Chris yelled causing you to turn and give your dad a thumbs up. Chris turned to his brother, “this is more intense than the superbowl.” He watched as you got into place. Swinging and hitting the ball. Chris stood up as he watched the ball go high up in the air, he then focused on you, you were passing second base, “Come on, (Y/N)!” He yelled. Chris and Scott cheered as you hit the home plate, “that’s my girl!” Chris yelled.

Everyone began to run onto the field, you slowly got up from the ground, dusting off the dirt. You looked up to see your dad running towards you. You smiled and ran into his embrace, “you did it!” He yelled as he let go of the embrace, cupping your face with his hands, “I’m so proud of you!” You were so happy, not only because your team had won your softball state championship but also because your dad was there to see it.

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letsbenditlikebennett · 4 years

Text

Home Sweet Home || Ariana, Celeste, Layla, & Ulfric

TIMING: About a week ago. PARTIES: @laylacooke @big-bad-ulf @celestelavie @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana brings home another wolf. Introductions and story sharing occur. Ulfric’s trailer is now Full House.

After Layla had reluctantly decided to follow Ari home, she was starting to have second thoughts as they inched closer to the trailer. The place was secluded and not at all what Layla had in mind. In fact, it made her heart pound just thinking about what she had gotten into, but Ari had been kind, and if that had been Layla’s last meal walking to her death, at least she would go out unsuspecting of anything. How did the saying go? Ignorance is bliss? “You’re not taking me to be murdered are you?” She glanced behind her, her ears perking at the sounds all around her. “Maybe this was a bad idea, Ariana. What if your friend doesn’t like me?” She looked to the girl for a response.

More than anything, Ariana had been happy she was able to cut through some of Layla’s very apparent paranoia. She was still a bit nervous about this whole thing though. Ulfric had said he wasn’t angry, but he definitely didn’t seem thrilled with her either. She kept herself cool and collected though, she knew Layla needed as much from her and she assured, “Definitely not trying to have you killed… maybe, uh, stay away from the weird looking squirrels though.” She shook her head, she doubted that would be a problem. Layla was another wolf after all, if anything she was more worried she’d be freaked out about Celeste being a hunter and the bounty that was on her own head. “You don’t need to worry about that. I mean, even if for whatever reason they didn’t like you, they wouldn’t hurt you. Ulf does want to make sure you’re fully brought up to speed on our current situation though. If you don’t feel safe here, we’ll figure something else out.” She led the way up to the door and gave Layla a final reassuring look before opening it. She called out, “Ulf? Celeste?”

Ulfric sat on the roof, staring silently off into the shadowy tree line. He’d taken up that that position partly because would allow him to see anyone approaching from a distance and partly because it freed him from being cooped up inside with the hunter who’d made herself at home there for a few precious moments. Unfortunately, it did leave him alone with his spiralling thoughts the key ones being ‘what the hell was he doing?’ and ‘why did he think it was good idea to bring home another stray when threats still loomed around the first?’ As he heard the panic in the approaching voices though, he reminded himself that leaving an inexperienced wolf in turmoil to fend for themselves was worse, unthinkable even. Noticing the two young women approaching, he smoothly slid down from his perch to the ground, knocking twice against the back wall of the trailer to signal their arrival to Celeste swiftly rounding the structure to meet them at the front door. “Hello, Layla. Ariana and I hope you’re willing to come inside and talk, though you should know we don’t intend to keep you here any longer than you want to be.” He announced himself, giving Ari a stern look as he said her name to convey they she shouldn’t push the other young wolf into staying.

As she reached the trailer, Layla wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but when Ulfric came to greet her, she hadn’t expected to see a giant standing in front of her. Well, at least he’s a fellow ginger. It was the only thought that seemed to come to mind as her nerves began to get the better of her. Stepping back behind the shorter girl, Layla tried to hide herself as best she could, “H-Hey...Uh, sure…” She looked to Ariana, who was her source of comfort in all of this. She didn’t know this man, or what he was capable of, but if Ari trusted him, surely she could, too. However, she wasn’t going to make the first move. She would let one of the people standing in front of her do that. That way, if something told her to run, she could quickly back out and take off, never to be seen again.

Ariana knew she hadn’t exactly put Ulfric in the best situation on quite a few counts at this part. She nodded as he said her name and knew she should avoid pushing anything at the moment. Stern wasn’t quite the look she was used to getting from him, but it was warranted. Talking to him about this ahead of time would have been the better thing to do. It was already a little late for that. She’d have to apologize to him for all this later. For right now, Layla was looking to her for a next move even though she agreed to come inside. She gave her a soft smile and led the way in. “Yeah, if at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can leave without anyone trying to stop or hurt you.” It appeared Celeste had been waiting close by. She’d heard Ulfric’s knock as he came down from the roof and knew that meant Ariana must have been home with this new wolf. She knew she’d have to have a talk with Ariana later. She knew better than to bring someone home when they were already guests. The other girl appeared to be nervous and Celeste was sure to keep her own features unthreatening by not encroaching upon her space. Her voice was soft as she said, “Layla, sweetie, it’s good to meet you.”

Ulfric shut the door softly behind them once they were all inside, but didn’t lock it, not wanting their newest guest to feel any more trapped or bombarded than she likely already did. Noticing Celeste’s attempt to appear non-threatening, he nodded his approval. “She’s on our side, despite what your gut’s probably telling you right now,” He reassured Layla, knowing that being sealed inside a tin can with a hunter wasn’t exactly the most comforting venue for this conversation. Even if she didn’t know what it meant, it was hard to suppress the survival instincts that triggered in such close quarters to what was supposed to be their natural enemy. “Maybe it’s better if you explain yourself,” he suggested to Celeste, before turning to Ariana who was closest to the kitchen area of the crowded space. “There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, you said our guest might be hungry.” Settling down on the couch, so that he was closer to Layla’s level, he looked over the young redhead finally. She was slight, though that said little about how powerful she’d be in her true form, and looked worse for wear though he was relieved to note, not badly injured. Conditions were a little cramped to play field hospital. “Would you mind telling us, in your own words, how you ended up here?”

Layla watched as the door closed behind her. Shifting her head, she looked to the three other people occupying the small trailer. Celeste. She held a different familiarity, and when the larger wolf explained the situation, she realized why Celeste had seemed so familiar. She was a hunter. Would she be able to tell if Layla had once been a part of that world? She prayed she wouldn’t. That was the last thing that needed to come out. If either of the wolves in this room felt threatened, they could end her just like that. As she watched Ulf sit down, she backed against the door. The wall gave her something to lean against to support herself, and just like earlier, when she had first met Ariana, she could feel her heart beating fiercely, except this time, she resisted the urge to growl, and used her words instead, “Uh…” Looking to Ari for some sort of comfort, she let her eyes soon shift to the floor as she resumed speaking, “I-I was in a bad situation at home. M-My parents found out about me...being...like you...a-and they wanted me dead. I guess you could say, I’m the disappointment of the family.” That she was certain and could say with ironic confidence, “My nose led me here...To White Crest, I mean.”

Celeste nodded as Ulfric spoke. She knew the girl needed to know their situation before making any decisions. The poor girl looked so scared and she knew their situation wasn’t going to be any comfort to her. “I was supposed to be a werewolf hunter, technically genetically speaking I still am,” she started and searched Layla’s features for any sign of further discomfort, “I can sense them, but on my first hunt I opted to save Ariana. She was only three at the time. We’ve sort of been on the run ever since, but finally settled down here. My parents have been trying to find us all these years and it turns out there’s a bounty on Ariana. I can assure Ulfric and I are taking steps to keep everyone safe.” She listened along as the girl nervously explained herself. The more maternal side of her wanted to wrap her in a warm blanket and comfort her, but she was sure it would be unwelcome. She frowned slightly at the mention of her parents wanting her dead. She found it hard to imagine parents that weren’t hunters wanting to kill their own child, even if they were a werewolf. “I’m sorry, dear, I know it can be difficult to cope with your own parents wanting you dead.” She kept her voice soft and soothing, “What did you say your name was?” Ariana turned to Layla and gave her a nod to let her know it was okay. She hadn’t said as much earlier. Were her parents the wolves that turned on her? “I’m sorry, Layla, I didn’t realize they… I’m just, that really sucks.” At Ulf’s suggestion, she had put the pizza slices in the toaster oven and returned her attention back to Layla. “Celeste pretty much covered our situation, I know it’s like… a lot. I wouldn’t really wish it on someone else.”

“I’m sorry.” Ulfric replied, his attention fixed on Layla, not really knowing what else to say because nothing he could think of would be enough to fully acknowledge the immensity of that sort of rejection. He had been forced to exile himself from his own family due to mistakes in his past, but at the end of the day he knew they still loved and accepted him as their own. Layla, on the other hand, likely had no choice in her transformation, yet her family had condemned her for it to the extent they’d decided she didn’t deserve to exist. “It took a lot of strength for you to leave, more even than it would’ve taken to survive the turning in the first place.” He added, though he knew the praise would serve as little consolation. “If you didn’t know where you were going, that makes it a lot harder for them to follow you, if you believe they would?”

Layla listened as Celeste spoke. Her feelings were mixed on the entire situation. On one hand, she had felt horrible for Ariana and Celeste. Being on the run at such a young age had to have been nearly impossible, but they had survived. On the other hand, would it put a new target on Layla’s back or possibly give her parents clues as to her whereabouts? She couldn’t be sure, but looking around at the three of them, she knew being here had to be safer than being out there. There had been talk around town about strange things happening, and as much as she thought she could lone wolf it, this just wasn’t the town to continue doing it in. “I’m sorry to hear that about both of your families. Just being on my own has been hard enough as it is, and I haven’t been out there that long.” When she was asked about her name, she paused. Would this hunter know her family’s name? She had to, but if she was going to reside here, she knew she needed to be as honest as possible, especially considering that Ulfric called the shots. He had been nothing but kind so far. A little intimidating at first, but knowing his genuine concern for her helped her to know what to do. She just hoped it wouldn’t turn into something deadly. Voice quivering, Layla came clean, “My name’s Layla...Layla Cooke. My parents are werewolf hunters. I was supposed to be born with some gene, but it skipped me.” Her voice continued to shake with fear, “I am trained as a hunter, b-but I promise I don’t want to hurt anybody. It’s one of the reasons we used to argue so much, because I would always try to find peaceful solutions to not hurting things.” By now tears were in her eyes, and she was spewing out her life’s story as if it depended on it, which it did, “My 18th birthday I was sent out into the woods...for our family, it’s a rite-of-passage that you kill a werewolf, but we all know how that ended, case and point, me standing here...Please, don’t hurt me. Look, I’ll go if you want. I don’t want to put anyone in danger. And you’re right, sir...I’m hoping that because I didn’t have a set path in mind that they won’t find me anytime soon…” She continued to keep her head low as a sign of submission.

Celeste frowned at her admission of what brought her to White Crest. She had this itching feeling and it turned out her instincts were spot on. She had to think most human parents didn’t get the inclination to kill their children, even if they did go through such a huge change. She did her best to convey sympathy through her eyes and slowly approached the girl. “May I,” she asked before pulling her in for a hug. She gently stroked her hair and said, “We’re not going to hurt you. I appreciate you trusting us enough to tell us what really happened.” She watched Ulfric carefully waiting to see how he was taking the news. There was a certain amount of trust she had for him, considering he was letting her stay in his home, but she couldn’t quite predict how he’d feel about a girl who was trained as a hunter being turned into a werewolf. She really had to give him credit for being such a good sport thus far. She focused her attention back on Layla, “It’ll be okay. I know firsthand hunter parents don’t take kindly to abandoning violent family traditions. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.” Ariana was still looking at Layla incredulously. She hadn’t expected all of that but immediate inclination to be defensive around other wolves made so much more sense. “Shit,” she muttered, earning her a glare from Celeste. She nodded, still kind of speechless about the whole situation. She thought her situation was fucked up. This was a whole other world of crazy.

Ulfric remained still in thought for a moment, his grip tightening on the arm of the sofa and eyes narrowing as he processed Layla’s presence again in light of this new information. He’d never considered the possibility that a pair of hunters could produce a child without immunity. He still wouldn’t have believed it if he couldn’t sense the wolf within her so clearly from across the room now. It was an evolutionary mistake, but one that worked to his kind’s advantage. As was the fact hunters seemed to be very hit and miss at raising loyal offspring. “Right, we’re not going to hurt you. That’s what we said.” He repeated Celeste’s in as measured a tone as he could muster. If Ariana hadn’t already pleaded with him to let the other young wolf stay he might have turned her away. Until he could be sure she truly accepted what she was, she was a liability, to him, to Ari and to the rest of his kind. But he had already given his word, if he cast Layla out now, he risked severing the tentative threads of a pack that he’d started to wind together after so long on his own. No, if the girl was going to leave she’d do it of her own accord, and if she didn’t, then at least he could easily keep an eye on her. “From where I’m sitting you can look at this situation two ways. On the one hand, if we stay together and we’re at the nexus of two hunting trails, the chances of one or both parties catching up to us increases. On the other hand, neither of them are expecting you to have back up. They’ll be seriously underestimating what they’re walking into.” He stood again as he spoke, stretching to his full height with his arms crossed. He shared a look between all three women that confirmed no one, hunter or otherwise, would get off lightly for messing with him, finally settling on his newest guest. “So, the question remains, where do you want to be, Layla Cooke?”

Layla didn’t expect the hug, but it was welcomed. It made her feel safe. And for the briefest of moments it made her feel like everything was going to be okay. It seemed, to some degree, these people knew what she was going through and were accepting her, despite the danger it could potentially bring. When Celeste let go, Layla had relaxed a little, but Ulf standing up caused her anxiety to return, and she could feel herself backing up against the wall, pushing herself against it as hard as she possibly could. He intimidated her, and he was the last person she wanted to disrespect or make angry. Keeping her posture in a non-defensive position, she refused to look Ulf in the eyes, but she did want to stay. She didn’t want to be out in the cold with the rats and things that went bump in the night. She just wanted somewhere safe to be with people who she mattered to. Clearing her throat and managing to squeak out a reply, she responded to Ulfric, “I want to be here, sir, w-with you and Ari and Celeste.” She let her eyes shift to the other two women, before slowly and nervously looking up at Ulf.

Ariana was still a bit shocked by the whole situation, but she was glad Layla decided to stay. By herself, she was a sitting duck and opened to all the elements in White Crest that were less than safe. Sure, there were more hunters potentially in the picture, but it was starting to feel like there’d always be another asshole hunter in the picture. There was a certain feeling of worry twisting in her stomach, but a sense of solidarity was what was strongest. “Good, you shouldn’t be going through all of this alone.” Celeste nodded along with Ariana, giving the younger girl a soft smile. Their situation grew more complicated, but she knew they had to do what they could to protect each other.

“Very well.” Ulfric accepted Layla’s answer, finally removing his eyes from her when he made out the resolve in hers. “Make yourself comfortable, you can take the couch, or I can, it doesn’t matter to me,” He shrugged knowing that sleep was unlikely to come easy either way, now that he had another werewolf mess to untangle. “Celeste, it would help if you both compared notes. We need to stay up to date on what’s coming our way. I’ll take first watch,” the older werewolf vaulted over the back of the couch and out the door into the cool night air as he called out his last instruction. “Ariana, see that Layla gets settled in.” Things inside the trailer were starting to turn overly-sentimental, and he didn’t want to stick around for that. Not when he needed to keep his guard up. As potentially dangerous as his new guest’s uncertain intentions and loyalties were, clear and present dangers continued to threaten all of them, and somebody needed to be ready to face them.

#home sweet home #celeste #with celeste #layla #ulfric #wickedswriting

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years

Link

Painful Death for the Lactose Intolerant - BCE (Before Cult Events) -

Words: 1,964 Warnings: Food, Alcohol, Heights, Dirty Humor, Cursing Characters: Remy, Virgil, Remus Universe: Painful Death for the Lactose Intolerant Genre: Idiocy

Sanders Sides Teenager AU - Friendship - Humor - Angst

Virgil and Remus and Remy have been drunk idiots who are barely coping for a long time. Do you want more Teenage Debauchery? Because you’re getting teenage debauchery and a little angst, as a treat.

Please read Painful Death for the Lactose Intolerant First if you haven't already- there are minor spoilers for it!

Chapter 5: A Cozy Night in

“Babes, my dad just left, get the fuckin’ tequila,” Remy said into his phone as he quickly headed out the door and started jogging to Virgil’s house.

“Yes, I was hoping he would!” Virgil hissed. “Do you like pina coladas?” Virgil sang.

“And getting caught in the rain!” Remy could hear on the other end of the line, muffled.

“That’s rum, babe, I don’t think you even have half a brain,” Remy chuckled.

“Wastin’ away again in margaritaville!” Virgil amended his song choice.

“Searchin’ for my lost shaker of salt!” Remus barked more than sang in the background.

“Closer, but that song is garbage. I’ll be right over, mix me something strong, I have had a week!” Remy said emphatically.

“Mood,” Virgil said plainly and Remy hung up, picking up the pace to get to Virgil’s.

—

“Remy!” Virgil and Remus cheered as Remy burst into the house.

“Booze me!” Remy slid into the kitchen and right into one of Remus’s signature bear hugs. Virgil was holding a cup out for Remy when he was released, feeling a little light-headed from Remus’s mauling. Remy slammed the drink with a satisfied smile despite the foul taste.

“I’ma order pizza, we ran out a few days ago. What do you want, Rem?” Remus asked, pulling out his phone.

“Breadsticks, cinnamon sticks, pizza sticks, garlic sticks. Every stick,” Remy supplied with a nod.

“I’ll get every stick ever, but what pizza do you want?” Remus laughed.

“Extra cheese, chicken, bacon, peppers, olives” Remy said after a moment of consideration.

“Hawaiian with bacon and sausage,” Virgil requested. “And lava cakes,” Virgil added, tilting his head.

“Are you seriously going to spend like seventy bucks on pizza?” Remy rolled his eyes.

“Not including tip! I know the family pizza login, it’s on my parents. I’m not even dipping into my allowance,” Remus smirked.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll get in trouble?” Remy asked incredulously.

“Who cares?” Remus rolled his eyes. “They’re shit at passwords, I’ll figure out the new one when they change it if they even notice,” Remus shrugged. “You can have leftovers to take home. We have once of those cool yeti lunch boxes and some ice packs, it’ll last 3 days under your bed and you can collapse it and sneak it back to school easily on Monday,” Remus explained his food plan for Remy.

“Thanks, babe,” Remy took a sip of his drink, trying to hide how touched he felt. But Remus smirked knowingly.

“Love you, too,” Remus blew Remy a kiss. Remy huffed and sat down on at the kitchen table.

“Ring of Fire?” Virgil offered, pulling a ridiculous plastic chalice out of a cabinet.

“Fuck yeah,” Remy said, holding up his drink.

“Oh, they have 7-up, we can make poor man’s marg’s,” Remus said, clicking around in the app.

“I forgot 7-up was a thing. I can’t remember when I last saw it,” Remy mused, pulling the deck of cards into a large circle in the middle of the table.

“Get some orange soda and coke, too, we can save money on grocery day,” Virgil said, placing the cup reverently in the middle of the ring of cards on the table.

“They have Dr. Pepper, not Coke,” Remus supplied. “Must be some brand deal,” Remus pursed his lips.

“Heathens,” Virgil hissed.

“Hey, I like Dr. Pepper,” Remy shot, scowling at Virgil.

“It’s the south, if you don’t have coke you die,” Virgil crossed his arms. “It’s rum and coke or jack and coke, not Dr. Pepper and anything,” Virgil said, huffing.

“Dr. Pepper’s pretty good with rum,” Remus shrugged. “It’s not like we have a choice,”

“True. Double the dessert sticks if we’re getting DP,” Virgil sat at the table with his drink. Remus wiggled his eyebrows at Virgil, and they broke out laughing.

“So what you’re saying is you need double the sticks for DP?” Remus grinned widely, lifting his eyebrow a few times.

“That is exactly what I am implying, my good fellow,” Virgil wiggled his eyebrows right back at him.

“You guys are fucking dorks,” Remy rolled his eyes humorously. “Come on, order your pizza porn so we can play,” Virgil and Remus laughed at that, but Remus diligently clicked through the menus and made the order. He sat dramatically at the table and raised his cup. The other two joined him.

“Dear drinking gods, get us real nice and fucked up,” Remus said solemnly.

“Pretty please,” Remy and Virgil chimed in right after him and they all bumped cups. Remy pulled out a jack from the pile.

“Drink every time somebody cusses,” Remy suggested right away.

“Oh, good one,” Remus smirked. He drew a 7 and shouted “Heaven!” Right away, and everyone pointed straight up. Remy was last and happily took a drink. Virgil drew a king and poured some of his drink into the chalice in the center. Remy drew a card.

“Two. Remus,” Remy supplied and Remus took a drink. Remus drew.

“Eight. Remy’s my mate,” Remus smiled.

“Aw, babe,” Remy cooed, fluttering his eyelashes at Remus.

“Only the best getting faced for you, sugar,” Remus blew Remy a kiss, and Virgil reached out to intercept it and ‘spiked it’ into the king’s cup with a satisfied smirk.

“Oh my god, somebody’s gotta drink Remus’s kiss, the stakes have never been higher!” Remy laughed while Virgil drew a card. He held up the 9 and faced them.

“Pizza,” Virgil smirked.

“Treatza. You know, from lunchables?” Remy provided.

“Nice,” Virgil nodded, impressed.

“Podgorica,” Remus smiled smugly.

“What?” Remy and Virgil looked to Remus in confusion.

“It’s the capital of Montenegro,” Remus smirked. “I knew you’d pull this shit after we banned orange,”

“Shit,” Virgil drank.

“Cussing!” Remy shouted and everybody took a drink, Virgil taking a second one.

—

“I went inside to pee for like three minutes, you fuckheads, how are you already on the roof?” Remy laughed, looking up to Virgil and Remus playing pattycake on the roof.

“We’re spry,” Virgil offered and Remus stopped, shifting to a stable angle in the roof and holding down his arms. Remy held up his arms and Remus pulled him up, swatting his butt as he clambered up on to the roof.

“Remy,” Virgil cheerily drawled and held open his arms, pulling Remy in for a long hug. “I missed you,” He slurred.

“It was harrowing, I’m sure, being away from my shimmering presence,” Remy rolled his eyes. “Let’s put on a jam,” Remy said, pulling out his phone from under Virgil’s arms wrapped around him. Remy put on some music he liked and slid it back in the front pocket of his jeans, speaker end up. “It’s kinda hot out for clingin’ on to me like this, babe,” Remy said.

“Way ahead of you!” Remus peeled off his shirt and threw it down to the patio.

“You freakin’ nudist,” Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remy go. Then Remy yanked off his shirt and threw it over Virgil’s head to Remus, who smacked it down to the patio before it hit the roof. Remy and Remus stared at Virgil expectantly. Virgil dramatically rolled his eyes and dropped his shoulders, giving in and throwing his shirt at Remus who spiked it down on top of his.

Remy stood up carefully and climbed up to the peak of the roof, standing on either side of the pitch and dancing to the music from his pocket.

“Did you pick dark psytrance just for me, you flirt?” Virgil laughed, crawling up to sit on the pitch and danced along with him while staying seated.

“I picked it for me, but you can listen,” Remy winked and gyrated to the beat. Virgil blushed wildly and Remus laughed, joining them at the top of the roof and dancing with his friends.

—

“Virgil, every time you pick the movie you pick absolute garbage,” Remy groaned, leaning back on the couch while Virgil typed in his choice.

“I’m down for anything titled ‘Legend of the Ooze’,” Remus laughed.

“Oh, god, those creepy turtle suits from the 90s?” Remy drawled as Virgil leaned back into him to cuddle.

“I watched the other one where they go back in time to feudal Japan and honestly after a bit you don’t notice the creepy suits, I swear. Otherwise I wouldn’t watch it, either,” Virgil defended his choice.

“What in the world are mutant turtles doing in feudal Japan?” Remy rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Virgil. Remus came back with a bowl of popcorn and scooted the table closer to put it down.

“Move, fuckers,” Remus said and Remy shifted so that Remus could sit down, pulling the both of them into his arms.

“Um, I don’t remember. I had pretty bad insomnia when I rented it. They flew kites. And the samurai that came to 90s New York played hockey with Casey Jones,” Virgil offered with a little shrug.

“That sounds pretty killer, honestly,” Remus chuckled. “I wanna play hockey with Casey Jones and 17th-century swordsman,” Remus raised his eyebrows and nodded like it impressed him.

“Okay, yeah, I’d watch that,” Remy conceded.

“Move a ‘lil, lemme shift my leg,” Remus grunted.

“Just lay back and we’ll both lay on you, we’ll fit,” Remy laughed.

“Double drunk hugs? Deal,” Remus smiled, leaning back against the couch arm. Remy laid against the back of the couch and Virgil tucked himself under Remy’s arm, holding the popcorn bowl so everyone can reach it. They watched in silence for a little while, other than occasional drunken giggles at the TV and the sounds of munching popcorn.

“Okay, I just realized the suits don’t creep me out anymore. You’re right,” Remy admitted.

“Told you. Is it just me or is Casey Jones kind of weirdly cute when he’s decked out for sports murder?” Virgil laughed as he asked.

“I think you’re just kinky, V,” Remy laughed and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“I don’t wanna fuck him, I just wanna watch him do sports murder,” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“I think I’d be willing to watch anybody sports murder ninjas, it's badass,” Remus added, sounding very interested.

“So Remus is the kinky one,” Remy chuckled.

“I don’t think anybody ever questioned that,” Virgil munched on a handful of popcorn.

“If I’m being roasted, I’m throwing both of you in the neighbor’s pool,” Remus sang cheerily.

“We’re not roasting you, Ream, we’re just agreeing that your cyptid kink is probably kinkier than Casey Jones,” Virgil said.

“Oh, yeah, that’s fair,” Remus laughed. “The character exemplifies the sports murder kink, but nothing is kinkier than slenderman porn,”

—

“Hey, V, wake up,” Remy shook Virgil gently. “You picked the movie, and you slept through the ending!”

“I was warm,” Virgil grumbled, shifting off of Remus and sitting on the floor with a wide yawn. “Time to go?” Virgil asked sadly.

“Yeah, time to go. If dad goes out this weekend I’ll come over, hon,” Remy said consolingly, though Remy was probably more bitter about leaving than anyone else.

“Okay,” Virgil grumbled, getting up and hugging Remy tightly after he crawled off the couch.

“Babe, we’ve been cuddling for like two hours,” Remy rolled his eyes as he reached up to hug Virgil back.

“I wasn’t awake for all of it. Lemme say goodbye, you ass,” Virgil grumbled into his chest. Remy chuckled and pat the top of Virgil’s head before Remus enveloped the both of them in his arms.

“We’ll miss you bud. Text us anything you want from the store,” Remus said softly. “Let’s get your pizza lunch box packed before you go,” He smiled and motioned with his head towards the kitchen.

“Oh, shit, yes, pizza for breakfast,” Remy hissed as Remus let go and all three headed to the kitchen.

tags: @elizabutgayer

#tsss #sanders sides #tsss fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #tsss fanfic #painful death #ayri writes #teen!virgil #teen!remy #teen!remus #alcohol #teenage delinquents #food

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lostandwonlove · 4 years

Text

In a Lonely Place

Some Rafa ramblings courtesy of the ‘Rona. Hope you like.

On paper, there was no way she would ever be interested in someone like you.

You, the mature, meticulous, ADA. She, the prodigious detective recently transferred to Manhattan SVU from some Podunk police department upstate.

Really, Liv? You had asked her as she walked you to her office to discuss the new serial rapist case they’d just caught. There was no one experienced enough in any of the other five boroughs to take this job? Or has Carisi put you off that for life?

Just wait until you meet her, Rafa. She’s done some pretty incredible stuff up there, and I think she’ll be a great addition to the team.

You’d harrumphed. Do they even have juries up there or do is it just a farmer and his 11 sheep?

Just ten actually, you heard a voice say and it made you jump.

I’m sorry?

The owner of the voice, a dark-haired woman in a leather jacket perched on the edge of Liv’s desk, got up and walked towards you. Just ten sheep actually. One of them got caught by the big bad wolf. Real shame. Farmer’s sheepdog makes up the twelve, but honestly, his attention span is poor.

You smirked. So in that sense maybe not all that different from a New York City juror.

Her eyes flicked over you, appraising the candy-cane shirt and tie combo you’d opted for that morning. Well I can see why if you’re wearing that outfit in court.

You’d do well to take a leaf out of my book. Biker-chic doesn’t play well with a jury here.

Play nice, Liv had interjected before taking you through the case they’d built so far.

Your eyes met behind Liv’s head and she smiled at you, mouthed touché, and you felt a sort of uncomfortable lurch in your stomach that you hadn’t really felt since Lauren Sullivan in 11th Grade.

Best to ignore it. No way she would ever be interested in someone like you.

ii.

- or might she? The way she caught your eye and held it for just a second too long in meetings; the way her eyes flicked over you before she made some comment about the tie you’d taken far too long to choose that morning; the way she always managed to end up sandwiched next to you in the booth at Forlini’s after a big case.

The way she told Amanda ‘all my boyfriends have been older than me’ in response to a drunken conversation about silver foxes, her eyes resting square on you as you felt your heart leap before she burst out laughing and took a sip of her drink.

So what’s your type counsellor, Carisi had asked you, and uncharacteristically relaxed after a big win and two scotches, you’d told him it was girls who wear hoop earrings. You can take the boy out of the Bronx you’d said while the squad hollered around you, so loudly that you almost missed when she leant forward, tucked her hair behind her right ear and pointed at a scar on her earlobe. Learned the hard way that hoop earrings and chasing down perps really don’t mix, she whispered and her warm breath in your ear made your stomach lurch again –

iii.

Alarm goes off at 6.00am. First cup of coffee ten minutes later. You check your emails while you brush your teeth and shave.

Three times a week you jog, just enough to get the doctor off your back about your cholesterol.

Get dressed. Cufflinks, pocket square, tie.

You don’t eat breakfast, never have, even though you can always hear your mother’s voice telling you it’s the most important meal of the day.

Briefcase, packed the night before, by the door. Second cup of coffee on your way to the subway. In the office by 7.30, saying good morning to the night-time security guards who are just about to come off shift.

It’s been that way ever since you can remember.

It’s the same single-mindedness and determination that got you out of Jerome Avenue and to where you are now.

She is no less determined, but where you are all clean lines and black and white, she is hazy, mixed up and all different shades of grey. She always seems to be running late for something, has a messenger bag full of scrunched up old receipts and crumbs and hair ties, leaves the squad car filled with empty soda cans and takeaway boxes.

You find yourself compiling facts about her life. Two brothers, one older one younger, a roommate who works in the mayor’s office, a landlord who was taking forever to fix a dripping faucet in the bathroom. One date that went badly, one date that went realllly well as you overheard her tell Amanda in the break room, and one date that didn’t happen at all.

I need to get off those apps, you heard her tell Fin one day as she fiddled with her phone, waiting outside the court room for a verdict, and you found yourself silently agreeing.

iv.

- all this before you knew that she slept on the right hand side of the bed; hated coffee but drank gallons of diet coke; could do a killer impersonation of Chief Dodds; loved nothing more than classic movie marathons on TCM, your neighbour’s Labrador puppy which reminded her of her childhood dog, Dex, sleeping past noon at the weekend, the crusts of pizza dipped into hot sauce–

Home. Sometimes 9pm, sometimes later.

You pick up dinner along the way. Sushi, salad, noodles. Or leftovers wrapped in foil from Sunday lunch with your mother.

You eat at the dining table, case files spread out in front of you. One scotch, maybe two.

Bed. Sleep, when it comes, is fitful.

More and more you find yourself joining in for squad drinks – ignoring Fin’s raised eyebrows – or taking the slightly longer route past the bar on your way to the subway just in case they’re there – although really you’re doing it for the extra exercise and the fresh air, and it takes you past one of the better bodegas, anyway…

One night in January you run into her on the courthouse steps after a particularly gruesome first trial day and you fall into step.

Is it always like that? She asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of the courthouse.

With Buchanan as defence counsel? Pretty much. You did a great job with your testimony though; you have nothing to worry about.

She gave a half smile. Only because I have a really good ADA.

You reach the bottom of the steps in companionable silence and as you think about the leftover Pad Thai and empty silence waiting for you back at your apartment, you find yourself doing something you haven’t done for a while.

Do you want to grab a drink? You blurt out, and already regret it. I mean, I was going to with Liv but she had to bail to go pick up Noah and it’s been a long day and…

Sloppy seconds, huh? She raises an eyebrow at you.

No, I just mean…

She smiles. Lucky for you, I have no objections to that. But I’m picking.

vi.

- when you told her later, much later, that you hadn’t asked Liv for a drink, never had any intention of doing so, she’d just laughed, told you she’d waited on the steps for half an hour in the hope she’d run into you –

vii.

The place she picks is some dingy, basement dive bar, Dempsey’s, Kelly’s, Dennehy’s, something like that – a place you must have walked past hundreds of times but never really noticed.

This feels like the type of place where my defendants would hang out. You feel out of place in your three-piece suit and cashmere scarf, and can’t ignore the stares of some of the other patrons who were clearly confused as to why you were there, and with her no less. Judging from the bottles behind the bar, you were going to have to find something other than Scotch to drink.

Yeah, your defendants and me. She pulls off her coat and jumps up onto a stool at the bar, where the tattooed bartender places two bottles of generic lager in front of her.

Thank you Stan, she smiles sweetly. And…? She gestures throwing back a shot and he laughs and nods, pouring tequila into two shot glasses and placing them besides the beer. He gives you a perfunctory nod, clearly puzzled as to why she’s with you.

So this is where you hide then. You take a sip of the beer and try not to wince. You can’t remember the last time you drank beer.

Does that mean you’ve been looking for me then, Mr Barba? She smiles at you over the top of her beer and you feel yourself flush.

Only when I’m trying to track you down and reprimand you for illegal search and seizures. You emphasise illegal, and take another sip of beer. It’s beginning to grow on you.

That was one time, she says, in mock dismay, eyes opening wide. And it cracked that case, so I don’t know what you’re complaining about.

Me? Complain? Never.

She rolls her eyes. Ha. Well I’d rather have you on my side than anyone else.

I’m far too modest to respond to that.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. Modest and Rafael Barba in the same sentence is an oxymoron. It’s the first time you’ve heard her use your first name and you’re embarrassed that it gives you such a jolt of pleasure.

It’s true though, she continues. I’ve worked with some really dismal prosecutors in my time. Guys who turn up, collect a paycheck, go home again. I feel like you live and breathe this. Like you were always supposed to do it.

That’s weird, you quip. When I was younger I always wanted to be Hawkeye Pierce when I grew up.

She looks puzzled.

You groan and take another sip of your beer. No! You cry in mock dismay. You cannot be so young that you don’t know who Hawkeye is. MASH? Alan Alda?

She shakes her head and wrinkles her nose. When I was younger, I wanted to be Hannah Montana, she offers by way of consolation.

Oh Good God, you say as you rest your head in your hands. How old are you? But when you turn to look at her she’s smiling, her tongue between her teeth, and you can tell she’s messing with you.

Just kidding, she says. For me, it was the Pink Power Ranger.

Thank God. I was worried I was going to have to prosecute you for under-age drinking.

You both laugh at this, and then she stops suddenly. She leans closer to you and you wonder whether this is it, whether she’s going to kiss you. What she does feels much more intimate. She reaches over and grabs your tie, loosening the knot. You’re not in court now, Rafael. She clinks her shot glass to yours, tosses it back before she runs her hand through her hair and smiles at you. You notice, not for the first time, just how pretty she is.

viii.

- when you wake the next morning you realise you’ve slept through your alarm and two missed calls. Your head is pounding and your mouth feels like a cotton wool pad, but you realise, as you frantically splash water on your face that you can’t stop smiling like a maniac –

ix.

Nothing happened that time. Or the time after. Or the time after that.

When it did happen, it wasn’t at all how you imagined. In your head, you were cooler, calmer, way more collected. It was you who initiated it, you who would open up and tell her how you felt at the bar after a couple of drinks. You would ask her out, set a date, pick somewhere nice, dress up.

In reality, the bar rang last call and she signalled for two shots.

No, not again, you laughed. I’m still having to grovel after turning up later after the last time.

Who said one of these was for you? She knocked both of them back herself, one after the other.

Dutch courage she told you and your puzzled expression as she placed one hand on each of your knees, jumping down for the bar stool to stand in between your legs, so that you were eye level. I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re never going to act on anything, so I’ve got to do it myself.

Your heart quickened. What…

But she cut you off as she covered your mouth with hers, her breath warm and sickly sweet from the shot. You felt her mouth curve into a smile as you kissed her back. Good, she murmured. It wasn’t just my imagination.

- God, you were like a horny teenager or something, hands all over her at the bar, continuing outside in the street after you were finally kicked out. You weren’t thinking straight, weren’t thinking anything at all really. Only a bunch of drunk Wall Street bros wolf-whistling broke you out of your reverie, and you stood, staring at each other, panting, lips parted. She pulled at the bottom of your jacket and pressed her body into yours. Well Rafael, I’d invite you back to mine but I have a roommate so –

xi.

In the end, you never really had that date you had planned. She just went from not being in your life to – well, being there.

Now you sleep until 7.30, wake rested, satiated, ready for the day. You drink your coffee in bed, gag in mock horror when she makes you eat breakfast, get dressed while she sings loudly in the shower.

You whistle on your way to the subway, say hi to the morning security team who you don’t recognise, buy coffee for Carmen and the other assistants on the corridor.

She splashes colour right across the black and white of your life.

She leaves coins that she empties out of her pockets on every available surface. She never puts the top back on the toothpaste, leaves the tube snarled and twisted because of her insistence on squeezing from the top and not from the bottom like a normal person. She folds down the corner of pages in books that you’ve kept pristine for years, chews on the end of your pens while she does the crossword, leaves the bed sheets in a crumpled mess, when she wakes up late than you, her damp towel on the bathroom floor.

You leave work on time. She cooks dinner. You work while she stretches out on her stomach on your L-shaped sofa watching black and white movies, while you pretend not to notice the red wine she spills on your cushions.

xii.

- without telling anyone, everyone else seems to know too. Amanda raises her eyebrows knowingly at you when you leave the precinct one night together. I’ve never seen you so relaxed, Liv says, it looks good on you. Most mortifyingly of all you run into Nick at a pharmacy, when he comes up behind you as you’re picking up a box of condoms. Evening counsellor, he says, smirking as he strides past you, turning to wink at you -

xiii.

We’re a bit like them, she had said one night, gesturing to the flickering screen in your apartment where some old black and white movie was playing.

Hmmm, you responded, barely paying attention as your eyes scanned a case file at the dining table behind the sofa where she lounged in shorts and a vest top.

Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart, she said. He was the older, debonair man. She was the sultry younger woman. She paused stretching her legs up in the air seductively, cocking an eyebrow at you.

You laugh half-heartedly. I always thought of myself more as a Gary Cooper.

She looks at you appraisingly. No, definitely a Bogie.

Oh, great, you say. The guy who was so much older than his partner that he died about ten years after they got married.

But he drank and smoked like a sailor.

You raised your glass of scotch to her, tapping it with your index finger. One out of two ain’t bad.

Yeah you need to cut down on those.

And who was it I had to put to bed last week because she drank too much red wine and fell asleep in the taxi home?

She stuck her middle finger up at you. I’m not an old man though.

You grimaced, your exaggerated facial expression only just masking the real pang that shot through you with her words.

She rolled over and jumped off the sofa, stretching and arching her back so that her vest top lifted and you could see the smooth, pale skin of her stomach.

Careful, you’ll give this old man a heart attack.

She turned towards him and grinned. Right on cue, on screen Lauren Bacall turned to Humphrey Bogart.

You know how to whistle, don’t you Rafa? You just put your lips together and blow. She purred as she pushed your papers to one side and straddled you, just before showing you what else her lips could do.

xiv.

- but then all of a sudden it’s sloppy mistakes, uncrossed t’s and undotted i's. It’s McCoy in your office, eyebrows raised in surprise that he’s even having to pull you up on these things. I don’t know what’s got you distracted he says, but I need you to sort it out before we really blunder, the DA’s office can’t afford another mistake –

xv.

On weekends you sleep in, go out for brunch. You walk round the park, laugh as she refuses to accept your help with the crossword. You make plans to try that new French place that’s opened across the street from your apartment, to help her paint her room, to take her skiing.

One weekend you barely even leave the bedroom. After the third time you ask her to slow down, I’m an old man, I’m not like the young studs you’re used to.

She grins and rolls to splay on top of you, her face fitting into the crook of your neck where she says you smell most like you. And where can I find these young studs of which you speak she murmurs, biting your earlobe causing you both to start convulsing with laughter until you’re both on top of each other again and your laughter is replaced by something else entirely.

xvi.

- you seen Barba’s new piece? You hear a male voice, one you don’t recognise, come into the restroom. Whoever he’s with laughs. Yeah, who would have thought? Must be some real Daddy issues going on there. Then there’s a crude joke about what you’re like in bed. You feel your face burn with anger, but also shame, and you wait until they’re gone before you unlock the cubicle and come out to wash your hands –

xvii.

One Sunday you take her to lunch with your mom. When you pick her up she’s wearing a dress, carrying a bottle of red wine. Is this OK? She asks. Do you think she’ll like it? She fusses with her hair as you knock on the door and wait and you squeeze her hand in reassurance.

You eat your mother’s ropa vieja and hide your embarrassment by drinking your wine while your mother tells the story of how she knew you were going to be a lawyer after you’d argued you, Eddie and Alex out of detention for breaking up a fight on the school bus.

She compliments your mother on her home, asks to see photos of you as a child, clears the table without being asked and gets to work washing up in the kitchen.

Your mother eyes you over the table. You look happy, she says finally.

Why do I feel like that’s not a compliment, you ask.

She takes a sip of her wine. She’s much younger than I was expecting, mijo. Just be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.

You make some joke about not being as fit as you once were, but that you weren’t that worried about your cardiac health while she fixed you with a pointed look.

xviii.

- she carries home a Tupperware container filled with leftovers on the subway, asks you how she did, if your mom liked her. She tells you that her big brother is going to be in New York for work next month, that maybe you can all go for dinner at that Thai place you tried last week. You kiss her on the lips and tell her that sounds great, not without noticing the looks you get from the two women sitting across from you who whisper something to one another, the man standing by the door with headphones on who smirks at you –

xix.

You start to doubt yourself.

You notice how the eyes of younger men, better looking men, men with biceps and triceps and god knows what other else-ceps, linger on her when she walks by. The unis in the squad room, the court officers, the barista in the coffee shop by your apartment.

You become ever more aware of the grey hairs creeping into your sideburns, of the way your shirt stretches across your stomach.

You don’t miss the glances her friends exchange with one another when you’re the first to leave drinks to head home.

Jailbait, you hear. Cradle robber. Mid-life crisis. Barba? Thought he was gay. Must be rich, huh.

It starts to feel wrong, illicit. You lie and tell her you need to stay late at work, that maybe it’s best if she doesn’t come over tonight, you’ll see her at the weekend.

xx.

- you don’t tell her how much it hurts when she sends you a selfie of her and Carisi and Amaro later that night. Her eyes are scrunched up in a smile and she has one arm draped lazily over Nick’s shoulder, while Sonny’s hand grabs her waist. Hope work going ok, she texts with a winky face emoji. You lock your phone and place it face down on the coffee table at home where you’ve been all evening, drinking scotch and watching CSPAN –

xxi.

You’ve never really broken up with someone before. It’s strange for someone who’s normally so assertive, so intentional about their life and their work, but you’ve either just let things fizzle out slowly or pull back long enough for the other person to break up with you.

That doesn’t work this time.

We need to talk, she says as you open your front door to you one night. You’re caught off guard, expecting the delivery driver with your Chinese, and she marches straight past you, arms folded, mouth in a line.

What the hell is going on with you?

Nothing, you say. I’ve just been busy. I keep meaning to call you.

Seriously? She says. That’s what you’re going with?

Unusually, you find yourself lost for words, stunned into silence by her eyes that are shiny with rage. You try to think of something clever to say but find yourself only able to shrug half-heartedly.

Because from my point of view you’re behaving like a frat boy asshole, and I’m way too old to have to deal with that shit anymore. I don’t understand… She tails off, as if she’s tired herself out. She collapses on the sofa and you realise that her eyes are not shining with rage, but with something else entirely. Hurt.

What did I do, Raf?

You didn’t do anything you want to say. You’re beautiful and perfect and incredible and deserve so much more than me and what everyone else says about us. You’re better off without me and I wish things were different. You don’t say any of that, throat so thick with emotion that you barely trust yourself to speak at all.

I just don’t see this working out, you say instead.

She stares at you wordlessly, apparently waiting for you to continue. When you don’t, she stands, winds the scarf she’s been holding in her hand around her neck and moves to leave. She stops at the door, looks back at you. God, I’ve been such a fucking idiot, haven’t I.

You move towards her, reaching a handout to touch your shoulder. I still really want us to be frie…

She recoils like you just slapped here. Don’t even say it, she had snapped suddenly, pulling away from you, eyes flashing. Fuck you.

And then she’s gone, door slamming behind her, leaving you stunned into silence until its broken by the door buzzer going again. Your Chinese food has arrived.

xxii.

- only to have that thrown back in your face months later when you joined the squad for drinks, Amanda asking what had happened to you guys, oh we decided that we’re better off as FRIENDS, she said, but you couldn’t miss the hard edge in her voice, the split second when she made direct eye contact with you –

xxiii.

Your alarm goes off at 6.00am. Coffee, emails, shower and shave.

You get dressed. Cufflinks, pocket square, tie, avoiding the yellow and black striped one she said made you look like a bumblebee.

Briefcase, coffee shop, subway. You ignore the security guards gossiping as they finish their shift, head straight to your office.

It’s always Nick or Amanda who come to collect the warrants or to drop off files now. When you’re forced to go down to the precinct for a line-up or to meet with Liv, she’s conspicuously absent, always out on a job or on a coffee run.

You think you catch a glimpse of her in a packed courtroom one day, but she leaves right as its adjourned, takes the stairs and doesn’t linger out on the courthouse steps.

Excellent job, says McCoy, fantastic work on the Barker case. The folks at City Hall are really taking notice. Rumours of a judicial appointment are circulating.

You go home late, when it’s already dark. It’s quiet. Your bed is perfectly made, the dishwasher stacked exactly how you like it, the towels are hung up. You turn on the lights, unpack your take-out and eat it alone at the dining room table in silence.

You like it better like this, you tell yourself. Everything back to the way it was.

xxiv.

- but sometimes you ran Turner Classic Movies while you worked late at night, until you caught a snippet of Humphrey Bogart speaking to a woman in a car. I was born when she kissed me, I died when she left me, I lived a few weeks while she loved me, he said. You turned it off and worked in silence for the rest of the month –

xxv.

She calls you once. It’s Thursday night, you’re still in the office.

Hey, she says, long and slow and you can tell she’s be drinking, can tell from the background noise that she’s probably still out somewhere. Her voice is warm and syrupy and you feel your stomach tighten.

I miss you, she says.

Please don’t do this, you ask.

Do what, she says. I just wanted to phone to speak to you. Like friends do. Her voice turns sharp and bitter then before she bursts out laughing.

I think you should go home.

There’s nothing on the end of the line then, just shouting and static.

Hello? You say.

Sorry, she slurs. I dropped the phone. What did you say?

I said I think you should hang up this call and go home. I think you’re going to regret this tomorrow morning.

OK Dad. She starts laughing again. Dad, that’s what everyone said to me when we were dating, like I had some sort of Electro complex.

Electra, you correct.

Yeah that’s the one. Which is ridiculous, because I just liked you so much.

She pauses. So so much.

You sigh. I’m going to hang up now, you tell her.

Not if I hang up first, she responds and then the line goes dead. You put your phone on silent and bury it at the bottom of your desk drawer but she doesn’t call back.

xxvi.

- she’s running late the next morning, Liv tells you as you sit in her office. Something about a broken shower. You see her walk in two hours later, sunglasses on, dumping her coat and her bag on the floor beside her desk, avoiding eye contact with anybody. When you leave Liv’s office she bolts from her desk, mutters something about needing some fresh air and she’s gone before you can say anything -

xxvii.

It’s a cold, overcast March Monday the next time you see her.

We need you up at Green Haven, Liv tells you over the phone. A low-level trafficker offering to spill on the rest of the organisation in exchange for a few years off a sentence. I’ll send someone up with you, I seem to remember Uber doesn’t go that far.

You roll your eyes at the joke that you’ve heard too many times for it to be funny. Just send anyone but Carisi, you say. That guy insisted on listening to Journey the whole way there and back.

When you head out to meet the car a couple of hours later, it’s not Carisi in the driver’s seat. It’s her, staring straight ahead, hands clutching the steering wheel, sunglasses on despite the clouds.

Save it, she says. I was all for inflicting Carisi’s one man Journey tribute act on you, but according to Liv I’m the only one who has a rapport with this guy.

xxviii.

- it’s not until you check your phone at a rest stop that you see the message from Liv with just the winky face emoji –

xxix.

The silence is excruciating. She fiddles with the radio as you head of the city but the reception keeps dropping in and out until the only station you can pick up is some call-in show about vegetable gardening that even she can’t stand listening to. She turns it off and you continue in silence.

The visit itself goes smoothly, the trafficker spills without any encouragement. You agree three years off the sentence if the information turns out to be true.

Then you’re back out again, her striding towards the card ahead of you. Hey, you say. Come on. I really don’t want to spend another 2 hours with you in complete silence. Can we talk?

She stops and turns to look at you. You know I’ve always thought Greenhaven Correctional Facility had the perfect ambience for difficult discussions with ex-lovers.

You laugh despite yourself. I didn’t mean here. Look, what was that place we passed on the turn-off on our way here? Ray’s? Jay’s?

As it turns out, it was Sal’s, and that’s where you found yourself sitting next to her on the hood of the car, drinking one of the worst cups of coffee you’ve ever had in your life. You’re both quiet for what seems like an age, the low hum of the cars passing on the highway the only sound.

I feel like I owe you an apology, you finally start.

She snorts derisively.

I treated you like a – what were the words you used again – ah yes, a fratboy asshole. That gets a weak laugh out of her. I’m sorry.

She shrugs in a way that seems defeated. I just don’t understand what happened, Rafa. I thought things were going great, I met your mom – which, you should know, is not something I do with every guy – and then next minute you’re just gone.

She takes off her sunglasses and looks at you dead in the eye for what’s probably the first time that day. I just want to know why.

You take a deep breath. Honestly? You ask.

Honestly, she says.

I got sick of people making comments about us. I’m what, 20 years older than you? And I look it too. It felt like everyone was judging me, making me feel like I was some sort of perv. I started to believe it; maybe it was disgusting, maybe you were better off without me.

She laughs outright at that. Seriously? Don’t you think I get to have a say in whether I’m better off without you? She says. Because I don’t think I am. People can say whatever they want to, I only care about what me and you say.

She pauses. Also, you are a bit of a perv.

That makes you laugh softly too. You know, I wish I’d had a girlfriend as mature as you when I was your age. I’d probably be in a lot better shape than I am now.

She purses her lips and moves her head from side to side as if she’s considering something. Yeah well, maybe you’d be married to them and you wouldn’t even have noticed me. And I’d probably be dating some fratboy asshole who could never make me nearly as happy as I was when I was with you.

You sit in silence briefly. Then you slide your hand over to cover hers laying on the hood. Was, you ask? Past tense.

She just takes a sip of energy drink from some luminescent can and makes a face. Ugh, she says. If I’m going to date you, maybe it’s finally time I learn to like coffee.

xxx.

When you open your eyes the next morning, its light and for the first time in a long time, you don’t remember having wakened in the night.

You can see a pile of change and scrunched up receipts on your bedside table. A pair of jeans thrown on the chair in the corner. You can hear the shower running and her voice as she sings along to the radio.

You smile.

#law and order svu #law and order: special victims unit #rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #svu #rafael barba imagine

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